Morning can be a dreadful time for some ponies, and that goes double for those who might spend their nights binge drinking and partying the way the Wonderbolts usually did. Misty Fly, the newest member was beginning to experience one of the worst hangovers of her entire life. Sure, she’d been smashed dead before, but not like this. Not this hard, at least. She rolled away from the sun that peered through the walls of Soarin’s manor which having the whole place be made of thinner, pure white clouds made things that much brighter. Digging her face into the soft bed in a futile attempt to shield herself away from the dangerously approaching light, she thought about how grand it would be to simply fast forward the next eight hours of her life along, for anything would’ve been better than the thorough pounding she felt against her temples. At that time, the young pegasus began to think over her drinking habits. “Mhh… Maybe I should be a bit more considerate with what I drink…” she said aloud, but she was happy about one thing, she was a Wonderbolt now. That was worth the worse hangover anypony’s ever experienced. The only thing that could’ve quite easily made it any better was if Soarin’ had actually taken her up on her offer of a better time than just sipping wine, or whatever it was she and he had.

The magazine that she had been looking through was still open at the foot of the bed, still flipped to the page of the blurry orange mare circled in red ink. Misty rolled around towards it and took another look, this time more thoroughly. Whoever he had brought attention to on that page, the only thing she could figure out was that she was orange, and she sold pies. The photo was out of focus, and it was impossible to see her face in the blurry background, considering the focus was on Prince Blueblood; which Soarin’ must have scribbled a moustache on, as well as marking out a few teeth. Blueblood was a dumbass anyways, so she didn’t really care. If anything, it got her to chuckle despite having a hangover. All she cared about was this orange girl…

She ran her hand along the red traces while mumbling, “Goddess… I can’t even get past that thought right now…” Crawling out of the bed, she adjusted what little clothing she still had left hanging from her arms and legs, and even pulled her jeans down for a second to stretch her panties up over her hips where they belong. She wanted Soarin’ to get a good look at her and see what he was missing, while he wasted his time looking for this orange girl. It was time for round two with Soarin’, and now that she was sobered up, maybe she could convince him to give her a second chance. Even a quickie before they had to go would suffice.

Unfortunately, that first step towards the door proved she was not sober enough. A quick rinsing from the sink would leave her damp for sure, but at the same time, awake enough to at least reach the knob.

When she walked into the living room, she was welcomed with the delightful sight of Soarin’ hanging from the rafter shirtless, grunting as he muttered off the last couple of sit ups from his set. There seemed to be little stopping the pegasus, too, for she could plainly see the empty bowl and motionless pill bottle sitting beside him. With a few tablets of headache medication downed and a couple of protien shakes flowing smoothly through his intensely built system, he was back to normal, or at least as normal as he could get. He noticed Misty slinking into the room practically naked. She was still on that train of thought; the one about them sleeping together, something he had hoped was just a drunken idea influenced by a crap ton of varying alcoholic beverages. It made him groan a little, that she was still trying, and so hard, too, just to sleep with him. It was almost sad. He gave her a little wave and returned to his set, counting the lifts as he did so.

“Hey there Soarin’…” Misty cooed, flying up towards him and getting all in his space. She grinned at his blatant expression. “Wanna… I don’t know, take a break from your workout? Or, maybe try a different kinda physical practice? Here, I can even help get you prepped and ready.” She reached for his shorts, trying to grab the waistband so she could yank it up. Having him upside down was too perfect for her deviant little mind.

Unfortunately for her, though, Soarin’ would have none of it. He let himself drop out of her grasp, and with a flip, landed on the floor. Then he got to work with doing a few after workout stretches to keep him limber as though nothing had happened. “Nah, don’t worry about it, I was wrapping up anyways. You should probably think about putting some clothes on as well, there’s a good chance Spitfire and the rest of the team will show up soon. You know, to make sure we all get to Canterlot on time, and you don’t want to keep the boss waiting.” Stopping for a moment, he lifted up his arm and took a whiff. To him, it was his personal musk. A natural scent primitive in its nature: to arouse the opposite sex. To Misty, it was pretty much the same thing, but to all his adoring fans and close friends, it was nothing short of a putrid, rancid horse odor. “As for me… I need to shower.”

“A shower?” Misty pondered curiously with devilish intention.

“Oh, geez,” Soarin grumbled under his breath.

“I’ll join you if you want! I could… scrub your back for you!” She leapt onto him while he faced the door, wrapping her arms around his broad shoulders and pressing her chest up against the base of his back. She wanted to make sure he could feel her breast massaging him, and if she got a squeeze of his pectoral out of it... “Maybe I could shampoo your wings, or clean… other areas as well. We’ll see where this adventure takes us for sure,” she flirted.

Now, in his younger years, Soarin’ probably would’ve flushed. After all, another mare to rut was like winning the national fligher’s race all over again at that time. By this point in time, however, all he could do was roll his eyes. He hated this kind of attention, the kind he got solely because he was a Wonderbolt, where the pony was uncaring and uninterested in learning about the real him, and who he is inside. The pegasus shook Misty off, trying to retreat as politely as possible. “Thanks for the offer, but my shower has a maximum capacity of one, and I wouldn’t want to exceed that. You know, in case of a bathroom fire.”

Misty raised an eyebrow, unamused. “A bathroom fire? Really?” She latched right back onto Soarin’, wrapping her arms around his waist and slipping her hands down his shorts, trying to cop a feel of his legendary length. “C’mon, let’s just do it!” she teased. “I’m horny, we’re about to be auctioned off… I’m horny.”

“I’m saying no…” Soarin’ voiced in the same tone as Misty. “And this is really starting to make me uncomfortable… and you’re not listening, are GAH!” He gave out a shrill yell, not because Misty had gotten a hold of his sack, but because through his cloudy door came the one pegasus he didn’t want to see right now, especially considering that the new recruit was wrist deep in his shorts.

“Jackpot!” Spitfire chimed, her eyes, widening as Soarin’ and Misty Fly froze in position, their faces couldn’t have been any redder. “This… is… beautiful!” She almost jumped into the air with happiness as Misty fled behind Soarin, not wanting her captain to see her naked. “So this is what you’ve been doing when you said you were busy. You were just getting busy, you magnificent bastard, you. And here I thought you were just getting squishy on me, but you were just banging the new girl! High five!” She raised her hand towards Soarin’, expecting to feel the sting of his palm impact her’s. “C’mon dude, don’t leave me hanging.”

“Spitfire, this isn’t what it looks like,” Soarin’ said with a deadpan look. He remained surprisingly calm, like this wasn’t the first time Spitfire had walked in on something like this.

Spitfire’s smile dropped. “But I want this to be what it looks like. Soarin’, don’t you ruin this for me!” She turned to Misty, who was trying to sneak away from this situation, covering her chest and sinking into one of the clouds. “Do not tell me that you passed her up. I mean, I would totally tap that!”

“Yeah, actually, I did pass that up,” Soarin’ admitted, stretching out a bit, thankful that the prying hands of Misty were scared away. “Because that is nothing more than another mare that wants to sleep with ‘Soarin’ the Wonderbolt’, and not Soarin’ the pegasus.”

Spitfire only had one response to that. “Oh my lord, you’re so gay!” She spat humorously. “I’m sorry, but you just might have a bigger vagina than I do.”

“No surprise there,” he muttered. “You do seem to have more testosterone than most stallions I know do.”

As insulting as it might’ve sounded, were it not for a slight smirk crossing Soarin’s muzzle, Spitfire might’ve been taken back. Instead, she bursted out in laughter. “You’re damn straight I do!” She gave him a Charlie horse as she walked into the kitchen. “You got anything to eat here? I’m starved!” The sounds of rummaging through his fridge indicated that she was already scavenging through his food. “Why do you have so many pies in here?”

“You know why!” Soarin’ called out, entering into the kitchen as well to find that Spitfire was already taking an arm-full of pie. “But you can help yourself, I don’t really like them anyways.”

“Why not?” Spitfire asked while she submerged a slice into her mouth. fter swallowing, she remarked, “This is pretty fucking fantastic.”

Soarin’ pushed her aside, reaching into the farthest depths of the fridge and grabbing an un-open bottle of orange juice, popping the lid and take a long drink, sighing from the refreshing citrus taste. After half of the bottle was emptied, he placed it back where he found it and offered Spitfire an explanation. “The apple slices are too sour, the crust wasn’t caramelized, and the flour was too bitter.”

“Okay, foodie,” Spitfire groaned, throwing the pie tin into the trashcan with all the other uneaten pies. “You seriously need to move on. It’s killing you, and I don’t mean that figuratively, you’re eating way too much pie. I’m surprised you’re not a colossal fatty right now.”

“I told you. I’m not stopping till I find her,” Soarin’ frowned, folding his arms together and leaning against a counter. “I… just need to know who made that pie.”

“Okay… well, let’s say hypothetically you actually do find this mare. What are you going to do, marry her?”

“I don’t know, probably not,” Soarin smiled. “After all, once I find the right company, or whatever the hell she was working for, I gotta find the mare who made those wonderful apple brown betties at Rainbow Falls a few years ago. That’s going to be a whole new headhunt all together.”

“Yeah,” Spitfire sighed. “It’d just be easier if they were just the same pony.”

“Well then I’d have to marry her.” Soarin’ chuckled. “After all, fastest way to a stallion’s heart is through his stomach.”

“Really? I always thought it was through his dick,” Spitfire winked, laughing afterwards at her own joke. Soarin’ remained unamused and just rolled his eyes, which the yellow pegasus took little offense to. After all, she was used to Soarin’s straight man persona. He’d always been a bit like this, even when he wasn’t on some wild goose chase for a pie lady. “Well anyways, I hope you find this girl, if not for you, then for my sake so I don’t have to deal with pies anymore.” She took a look at the time from the clock on the wall. “Holy pony feathers, it’s already ten? We needed to be in Canterlot thirty minutes ago!” The Wonderbolt let out a chuckle. “Oh, the sponsors are going to be pissed. You get Misty ready and I’ll round up the rest of the team. We need to double time if we want to get to Canterlot without getting chewed out at too much.” Spitfire opened her wings and dashed through the cloudy wall. “Don’t be later than you have to be!”

“Yeah, yeah, I’ll try not to be!” Soarin’ shouted out after her. He grumbled a few thoughts under his breath about how Spitfire still acted like a child after all these years. However he couldn’t get distracted by that right now. He needed to take a shower and get the all too frisky Misty Sky ready for the Wonderbolt weekend. His bathroom was directly above him, so he just flew up through the cloudy floor and into his shower, letting his shorts fall down and around his ankles, only to be kicked away across the fluffy floor. Cloud showers were one of the few traditional appliances he kept in his home, as water would be heated by lightning and then popped open with the slightest pinch against their surface, and it would slowly drizzle out.

It was quite relaxing to have this time to himself, without somepony or another attacking him. Part of him thought that he should just tell Misty about his pilgrimage to find the pie mare, thinking that it would maybe get her off his case, but another part of him thought otherwise. If Misty was as horny for him as she seemed to be displaying, confessing that he had eyes for another might drive her to do something they would both end up regretting. On the other hand, he could just rut her. It wouldn’t be like other times, where he was looking to satisfy himself. It’d be like most times, where he had to solely pleasure the female until she just couldn’t hold onto reality, and passed out. Ever since that pact, though, as said before, he hadn’t been with anyone else. Any one because Soarin’ was known to be the type for taking a fancy towards the more exotic beings found in Equestria; griffons in particular. Still, nothing beat that orange mare, not even a fellow, green feathered flyer.

“Damn it,” he said with drizzling water running down his chest. He got thinking about that pie mare again, something he wished he could get away from for at least five minutes. Why was it so hard for him to remember her face? More importantly, why was it so hard to get her out of his mind? All he remembered was that she was orange, or a shade like it, and made the best pie in the world. If only that damn article in that magazine didn’t focus so much on that ass, Blueblood, then none of this would have been a problem, nor would he had wasted the last few years on this endeavour. And now, he had to go waste more time by going to this stupid charity event. It wasn’t so much the cause that he thought was stupid, but rather the fact that it would be three whole days he would have to waste with whoever happens to get lucky enough to win.

However, as the warm water began to wash over his coat more, and his shower cloud started to dissipate, he thought that maybe this was for the best. Spitfire was right, he was going to kill himself if he kept up like this forever. This weekend could act as a much needed vacation from his goose chase. So, he decided right then and there that this weekend, he would forget all about this pie mare and just focus on whoever bought him during the Wonderbolt Weekend.

As the final few drops of water leaked from the cloud, Soarin’ fetched a fresh towel from the rack and dried himself off, wrapping it around his waist, and snuck back into his room. Thankfully, it was vacant, and Misty was nowhere in sight. He grabbed his suitcase, which he had the hindsight to pack ahead of time, and searched his closet for a fresh uniform. It was laughable how tiny his uniforms were made. It’d probably be better fitted for a grown colt, but that was the point. It had to be a tight fit to keep his fur matted down. It was the only way the designers could increase the level of speed he needed without shaving his glorious body. After applying a little baby powder to his chest, legs and back he waddled into his tights, pulling them up his long, muscular legs, over his large, broad shoulders, and through his larger than normal wings, ending it by zipping himself with one, quick tug on the metal with a loose finger.

Looking into his mirror, he sighed at the sight of ‘Soarin’ the Wonderbolt’. “Alright, let’s get this over with.” He walked out the door, searching for Misty. Thankfully, she had some sense in her head, as she was actually dressed in her street clothes. “Hey, good. You’re ready to go, how ‘bout that… Where’s your uniform?”

“At home,” she said, twiddling her thumbs, smiling innocently. “… I don’t suppose you have a spare uniform on you? I don’t really want to have to fly all the way across town just to change.”

“Well, unless you want a guy’s uniform, you’re out of luck. Shame too, we’re running late so you’d better hurry up.” Soarin’ brushed his tail along side her as he made an attempt to exit the house. He stopped, looked back and smiled her way. “Don’t worry about it too much. I’m sure if you ask one of the other girls, they could lend you a spare. It’s not like it’d be the first time one of our members arrived for a show naked… But, uh, not for a charity auction. I don’t think that’s ever happened.” While his hand rubbed his chin in thought, remembering a few ex-Wonderbolts that did just that, he had to wonder if any of those were charity events as well. “Catch up later, okay?” He asked suddenly before taking off into the air, catching a draft in the winds and gliding around for a moment. Misty took off right behind him, following closely until they were insight of a flock of familiar pegasi, the rest of the Wonderbolts.

He flew up into line at the front of the flock, right where Spitfire was gliding, singing something to herself under her breath. “Time keeps on slipping, slipping, slipping… into the future…” She hummed, peeking out from the corner of her eyes. “Fly like an—oh hey Soarin’! What took you so long?” She asked, moving over a little to make room for her fellow flyer. “Did you wise up and get freaky with the new girl?”

“My god—you’re still on that, aren’t you? I told you, I’m not interested in her,” he groaned. “I was getting showered up and readying myself, you know, like you asked and all. But no, next time I’ll screw the new chick, pinkie promise.”

“Really?” Spitfire pondered, raising an eyebrow in interest. “You know if you make one, you’ll have to keep it…”

“Forever!” A voice called from seemingly nowhere.

“Yeah, forever,” Spitfire laughed. “So you better nut up and spread her soon, or at least with somepony! Hell, even if it’s with me again, I’d be happy, as long as you’re getting some action.”

“Yeah… no. I have no intention to make any promises that I’m not going to keep. So yeah... can we just keep flying?”

“Fine, fine…” sighed Spitfire, focusing back on the trail they flew across. Together they drifted in the wind current, the silence being too much for Spitfire to bare. “So… aren’t you going to ask me how my night went?”

“I hadn’t planned on it,” Soarin’ said, trying not to look at her. “What happened to just flying?” he asked. “You know, me and you, and the others-”

“Most of the female population of our group is staring at you with gaga eyes.”

Soarin’ checked the rest, and found Spitfire to be one hundred percent correct. “That may be, but I deal with that on a regular basis. Remember?”

Spitfire nodded. “Yeah, I know. But, these aren’t your fans.” She came closer to him to she could reach his ear, and whispered, “They’re your friends.” Like a stone, Soarin continued flight, letting the rest sulk over their lustrous fallacies. With her nudging him a little, tugging on his arm until he looked over to her, Spitfire pressed on about her night. “It was pretty awesome, I mean it was just me… and Fleetfoot... all alone in my manor, tipsy with a passed out Rapid-fire, and you know me. I would never pass on such a golden opportunity, I’m such a wimp when it comes to temptation.”

Soarin’ gave her a strange look, wondering what she could be talking about, but his mind was already deviating the countless things that Spitfire could do with those two in her house. Even if they weren’t drunk, Spitfire would find a way. “I’m going to guess that you’re going to tell me regardless of what I say or do, even if that’s completely ignore you while you banter on and on?.”

“Smart boy,” Spitfire smirked as she began her tale. “Well… Me and Fleet managed to get Rapid-fire back to my place, but we were pretty bored afterwards. So we tried to find things to entertain ourselves… then I got a great idea…”

Soarin’ rolled his eyes as she began her tall tale. With him being less interested in her wild stories as compared to the pony he was years ago, she did what Spitfire normally did those days and talked on with him barely listening. He did, however, become interested the more she went on.

“Spitfire… I don’t know about this,” Fleetfoot gulped while she tried her best to prevent her blushing cheeks from showing even a little. She didn’t want to feel like the odd girl out, not with her other two friends standing right there in kitchen along side her. Both mares were barely able to stand on their own two feet, and Fleetfoot just about lost her balance over what Spitfire just suggested. “I mean… it’s sort of…”

“What’s the matter, Fleet?” Spitfire grinned, slouching forward a bit towards the light-blue pegasus. “You’re not getting cold feet, are you? Because that’s not the Fleetfoot that I know. No, the Fleetfoot I know is up for anything… willing to try just about anything, too.” She traced one of her arms up with her finger, because by now, her fur was on end, nervous and enthralled by the situation. Goosebumps riddled her arm anxiously, but she was definitely interested in the little game Spitfire had recommended. However, there still remained few few hoops Spitfire needed to leap through to get her on board. Luckily for her, she did that on a regular basis. “Come on, deep down I just know you can’t resist giving it a shot.”

Spitfire wasn’t fibbing, either. The idea did certainly sound exciting, enough to even make her heart race, and just from the mere thought as well. Thinking about all the possibilities, and one mighty beat screamed “yes” in her head, but the following beat arguing with the first set of voices, Fleet chose to do what she always did. “I… guess, maybe? I’m just a little nervous. I mean, I’ve never tried this before… Are you sure you’d want to do this with an amateur like me?”

“Are you kidding?” the leader of the Wonderbolts questioned aloud, staring into Fleet’s eyes. “With you, I could mold you into my own little creation. I could teach you how to do it right, show you things and positions that would blow your mind.”

“I don’t know…” Fleetfoot muttered with an embarrassed tone of voice, looking over Spitfire’s shoulder and spying on Rapid-fire who laid unconscious on the couch. The only thing keeping the scene from feeling more romantic was that image. Spitfire looked dazzling no matter how intoxicated she truly was, but to see a snoring sleepyhead like that right behind her, with drool sliding down the cheek, there was no way she’d even be able to call this cute. He seemed fast asleep at the moment, but every now and then he would twitch involuntarily. Not only was he a killjoy, but what if he woke up in the middle of their fun? What would he think? More importantly, what would he do? “What if we wake him up?”

“We won’t wake him up,” Spitfire reassured. “Trust me…” She placed both hands on her shoulders, pulling her in slowly until their mouths almost touched. She then leaned into her ear and whispered, “You’ll never forget the fun you had this night.”

That’s was it was to Fleetfoot. The promise of fun was too much for her. With an eager mind and an inebriated body, she nodded and said, “Okay… let’s do it.”

Spitfire chuckled to herself, smiling slyly as her frisky hands reached around Fleetfoot’s waist and onto her kitchen’s drawer. “Hey, can you move your butt? You’re leaning on the knob.” Fleetfoot blushed a little, but moved aside quickly with a snicker. Spitfire opened it up and pulled out two sharpie markers. Then, she asked a very important question. “Do you want the red one, or the black one?”

“Th-the red one,” the raspy voiced Fleetfoot said, taking the marker in hand. With their weapons drawn, they snuck out of the kitchen and into the living room, lingering over Rapid-fire’s sleeping body. He looked so peaceful, so innocent. “Well… let’s do this!”

“Hell yeah,” snickered Spitfire, uncapping her sharpie. “Now… how do you spell penis again?”

*****

As Spitfire finished up her tale, Soarin’ stared dumbfounded at her. Like every other one of Spitfire’s stories, it left him sweaty under the tights, and utterly confused. “So… you drew a bunch of dicks on his face?”

“Well we did that, as well as some boobs, a few other nasty things, and we wrote every single dirty word we could think of on every inch of his body. Although, I gotta admit, we were pretty drunk at the time, so I think I might’ve signed his ass at one point.” Spitfire laughed heavily, almost crying. “Oh, he was straight up pissed when he couldn’t wash it off in the morning! Isn’t that right, Rapid-fire?”

She looked over her shoulder to give a thumbs up to her friend, who in turn flipped her the bird. “Soarin?” he asked.

“Hmm?” Soarin’ replied.

“Never let yourself fall asleep if Spitfire hasn’t had sex with you beforehand. I might not look like this right now, smudged in black all over… had she…” He looked at Spitfire while flapping forward with a bit of anger showing. “LEFT ME ALONE!”

“Yeah, see? Pissed the hell off, it’s awesome.” Spitfire watched deviously as Fleet sank down, sorry for what she’d done by now. “I’m sure whoever wins him in the auction is going to be curious about all of that,” she said after glancing back at the path that laid before them.

“Uh-huh,” droned Soarin’. “So… that’s all you guys did last night? Draw a bunch of stupid shit on Rapid-fire?”

“You’re acting like you were expecting something else,” Spitfire beamed, winking at him. Soarin’ didn’t buy it though, and just stared at her. He knew if he stayed silent long enough, Spitfire would eventually spill everything, which she did. “I mean, we had lot’s of sex as well. Is that what you were waiting to hear?”

“Somewhat,” Soarin’ sighed cheerfully. “After all, I just loved how you were able to describe what Fleet felt, particularly better than yourself.”

Spitfire chuckled, “Yeah, well, you know. I just happen to know my girls like that.”

“I just needed to check that you were still an immature, sociopathic, pansexual and not just immature. Not that I didn’t mind the change of scenery, I just wanted to make sure you weren’t broken or anything.”

“Says the sarcastic prude with the pie fetish…” Spitfire replied smugly, sticking her tongue at him. “Whatever, at least I’m getting some. You on the other hand need to loosen up.”

“I will,” Soarin’ said. “In fact, you’ll be happy to know that I’ve decided I’m taking the whole weekend off from my mad pie chase. So, take that as you will.” He looked down towards the ground below, and to the large kingdom resting on the mountainside. Canterlot was just a few wing beats away. He took a deep breath of confidence and began his descent into the city. Soon, he would get pampered up to be displayed for thousands of screaming fans just so they could bid on his freedom. He could get snatched up by anypony from an elderly old cougar with a pegasus fetish to some big, burly stallion that wanted to make him their… he didn’t even want to go there, bad thoughts and memories. Maybe he would get lucky and have somepony normal win him this year. Some nice girl that’d just have a couple of fangasms and take him on a few dates. Personally, he just wanted this weekend to be done so he could pursue his other interests.

“I wish you the best of luck this year, Soarin’,” Spitfire said. “You know you’re probably going to get some crazy chick like last year.”

“I don’t want to think about that, Spits,” he groaned. “So… many boxes... But, yeah, I always seem to get the really psychotic ones. I remember that she had me dress up in a froo-froo dress and a curly blonde wig and talk in a Trottingham accent… real nut job, that one was.”

“Don’t you still have a restraining order against that mare?”

“I’m renewing it next month,” Soarin’ muttered. “I still get the occasional odd love letter from her written in magazine clippings. Anyways, I’m sure that this year won’t be that bad…”

“Well whatever happens, I’m sure that we’re in for a very interesting couple of games,” laughed Spitfire. With that, the Wonderbolts began their descent into the great city of Canterlot for their charity auction. None of them expected anything too special to happen that weekend, at least nothing apart from what they normally had to deal with. However, for one certain pegasus, it’d be life changing.

Author's Note

Art Inspired did some great work here.
Sorry for lack of clop this chapter, it was only teasing and stuff...

But to make it up for it, I'll let you guys decide between two potential clop scenes:
What Fluttershy get's up to...
Or What Rainbow does when the lights are off. Let me know! :3