Ladies and gentleman! Boys and girls! Without further adieu; it is my honor to present the spectacular, the awe inspiring, the captivating aerial stylings of... The one and only WONDERBOLTS!
A show of lights, fire, the defying of death, and beautiful stunts all wrap up in a nice aerial-acrobatic bow. That's what a Wonderbolts show was. And tonight's show was no different. The crowd filled with ages young and old screamed the names of their favorite Wonderbolt as they danced with danger and astonished them all. What music the stadium had playing to accompany their acrobatic stunts was easily snuffed out and drowned out by the constant cries of the loving audience. They were rouse to say the least. Up out of their chairs, cheering along to every motion the Wonderbolts did.
It was a night to remember; much like every show the team pulled. But, the show must end at some point. And for this night it did. Ecstatic audience members still whirling from the amazing show they witnessed filed out of the stadium, hoping to catch one of the Wonderbolts to seize an autograph. At the end of each of the shows, the team would set themselves up to meet and greet some of their fans; if only for a moment. But despite how much the fans would love to shake the sweaty hands of their heroes, the team would have to change and shower off. And when that happened, they would head out.
A few signatures here, a few there; a selfie with a fan or two. It was all a part of the job.
The stadium provided the Wonderbolts with privates showers and changing rooms for each of them. However, Spitfire -their captain and coach- turned down the whole offer. Wonderbolts showered and changed together as a team. No gender was abstained from the rule; no matter what. So that left the whole of the Wonderbolts in the coed locker-room; packed together with the thick musk of sweat and steam to slowly fill their nostrils. For the moment, however, as the rest of the team discarded their jumpsuits and stockings, Spitfire stood under a lone running shower. Beads of hot water mingled and mixed with the drops of sweat she had come to wash off her strained chest. Her fingers touched against her tender breasts, sighing to herself.
Another night on stage, another day to the page. A huff as she thought. Her fingers thumped a rhythmic pattern against her dampening chest. Behind her she could hear the chuckles of playful teammates recounting how so-and-so missed a cue by a second. They messed with one another, but they loved each other like family. They always have. Spitfire looked up into the stream of water, letting it patter against her tired visage. Tonight wasn't any more stressful than the last. It never was. And yet, her chest was as sore as her head.
Spitfire put her index finger against her temple, muttering empty words into the flow of water cleansing her tired body. A moment ago she was flinging high in the sky, not a net to catch her or a doubt to restrain her. And tomorrow she would just be doing it again; doing what she loved without a care. But it wasn't the show that was weighing on her mind. Her fingers balled into fists against her forehead as she stood there in thought. Behind her she could still hear her team playing around with each other. From the sound of it, it sounded like someone had the misfortune of being the center of a game of "Monkey in the Middle" as their clothes were being tossed around.
Jokers... Spitfire thought. Her hand went to turn the nob to her shower, bringing the sprinkle of water to a dying trickle. For a moment she stood under the slowly stopping water spout, her damp hair draping over her eyes. She swung her palms back through her hair, letting the wring of it cause a new puddle of water to spill behind her and down her slender back as the water drained from her fiery hair. Off to the side she picked up one of the towels left for the team by the stadium comity. Around her hips and over her chest, Spitfire wrapped the towel around her as much as she could to hide her body from the rest of her team. She knew her breasts weren't anything to write home about already, but she still felt a little twitch of embarrassment when she would see how small her entire frame looked behind a towel. Even still, as the slick of water over her body brought the towel to cling to her figure, her well toned and athletic body grew more pronounced under it.
Tucking the hem of the towel in over itself one more time gave her enough reassurance that it wouldn't fall. Spitfire drew back the curtain that split the showers from the locker-room and stepped soundly into the room where all her team were supposed to be changing. Only a few Wonderbolts took to notice their captain and greeted her warmly while the others kept playing around or just simply changing out of their uniforms. Spitfire quietly regarded the ones to greet her with a simple nod before heading to her own locker in the corner. They put on a great show tonight, Spitfire. Let them have their fun.
It didn't take long for Spitfire to change into her blue jeans and white-T; unlike most of her team mates, many of who were still sporting towels around their hips. Spitfire tugged at her collar a few times to give her still hot and clingy chest to cool off; all the while, she scanned her eyes over the collective Wonderbolts. All of them were fine performers, even the rookies. But she had to stop when she saw one special face. His blue hair and cheeky, laid-back smile could out him a mile away. The moment her eyes met him, her chest started to burn hotter then ever before and her mind pounded louder with a swirl of thoughts.
Soarin... I... Is it time? Without noticing, Spitfire had started to take an unconscious step towards her teammate. She quickly caught herself mid-stride and staggered back before anyone could notice her. Her heart fell flat and a darkness came into her pretty eyes as she collected her thoughts. No... It's never time, is it?
"Captain!" A slap came crashing against Spitfire's back.
Spitfire shot to attention as all her senses awoke in that one second. The scent of sweat, the feeling of burning cheeks, the sight of her team mingling in front of her, the sound of someone greeting her, the taste of a lump in her throat. A quick turn around told Spitfire that the one calling out to her and swatting her back was Fleetfoot; who had joined the club of Wonderbolts who were already changed it seemed. Looking at her, Spitfire had to quietly admit to herself that Fleetfoot was a very pretty woman. Some called Spitfire herself 'hot' or 'cool'; but Fleetfoot was a different kind of looker. She was petite, soft-skinned, and perky. Most notably to Spitfire, her ample breasts. Maybe they were normal size or above average; but all Spitfire knew was with the gray one-piece suit Fleetfoot always wore, they looked larger then her own.
"What's up, Fleet? Hey! Good hustle out there!" Spitfire brought her hand to spank her teammate on her rear; as was her tradition for anyone.
"Really? Wow. Thanks, captain," Fleetfoot turned pink at the cheek, "So -uh- hey!"
"Hey," Spitfire returned the greeting.
"H-Hey... Um... So I noticed you're sorta daydreaming a bit," Fleetfoot commented.
"Oh," Spitfire scratched her cheek with an anxious giggle, "You noticed that?"
"I'm not like the stupid boys around here, captain. I know when someone's in a mood."
"Naah. They're not all stupid... Just a majority of them," said Spitfire with a snarky smirk.
Fleetfoot laughed at her captain's comment and put her hand over Spitfire's shoulder. "You're kind, captain. Letting them off easy. But -hey- I was wondering..."
Spitfire took a moment to look over her shoulder to see what Soarin was doing. In the time she had taken her eyes off him, Soarin had changed into his public clothes. Today... Today's the day... I have to... She snapped out of her focus on Soarin so she could give Fleetfoot her attention; even if her mind was still elsewhere.
"Hm? Yeah? What's up?"
"I was wondering... If you're done signing autographs for the night, and you're not planning on thinking up any new stunts for us to try next time..." Fleetfoot started to grumble a bit.
Spitfire thought for a moment. No. I wasn't planning on doing any stunt planning... But...
"No such plans, Fleet. Sorry. But maybe you can help me make some new stunts another night. Alright?" Spitfire picked Fleetfoot's hand off from her shoulder with a friendly smile.
"That wasn't what I was--" Before Fleetfoot could get a retort out, Spitfire turned away, waved her teammate off, and went walking up to Soarin. "--Going to say..." Fleetfoot flopped her arms to her sides and her shoulders fell as she skulked away down the locker room aisle.
Soarin was finishing up a few words with some of the other Wonderbolts as Spitfire came up to him. The moment the other team members saw the captain, they scattered away and wished Spitfire a few quick 'good lucks'. He got to his feet, towering over Spitfire by a good foot and a half. The smile that was perpetually on his face stayed there, though it brightened as he looked to Spitfire. "He-ey! Spitfire! You were nailing it out there tonight! Gotta give you props, man," Soarin nodded to his own words.
"Thank you, Soarin," she turned her gaze down to the floor, not wanting to meet his eyes, "That means a lot coming from you... Listen... Are you doing anything later tonight?"
"Tonight? Huh... Nah, man. Was just gonna mellow out at home. Maybe stroke a cat or something..." said Soarin with his usual candor.
No backing out of it now, Spitfire. It's now or never... "I think we should go out to dinner tonight. You know... For all the hard work we've been putting in..." Spitfire swung up at Soarin, knocking his shoulder once in an attempt at playfulness, "Buddy."
"Out to dinner...? Yeah! Sounds awesome. I know just the place. I'll text you the location and meet you there around nine. Cool?"
It wasn't ideal, nor would it pass as normal, but it'd have to do. Spitfire agreed with nod and left the locker room before her nerves could break. Finally... I have him all alone... No distractions... No obstacles... No excuses... Tonight will be the night, Spitfire.
The dinner date came and went as fast as a candle being lit and blown out. The two met at their destination, mingled their greetings and stories of how hard it was to find something to wear. Soarin forgot he even owned a suit and talked about his surprise when he found it buried deep in his closet. Spitfire found it so funny that he picked such a fancy restaurant that has a dress code when he didn't even remember if he had a tuxedo or not. Likewise Soarin couldn't help but laugh at Spitfire's clothing situation. It was only minutes before they met up that she came to decide on which dress she would wear. She felt so embarrassed about saying she half considered calling off the whole thing because she was caught between dresses.
Still, the two of them made it. For an hour they talked of their days passed and the crazy fans they've run into. For each fan story one had, the other had another to top it. That was until Spitfire told the story of a fan who stole her jumpsuit while she was showering one night and was later seen wearing it in a home-made porno. Which was weird in itself, but stranger that they sent the video to her along with the jumpsuit with a coating of semen on it; and a slit by the crotch where the wearer poked out his own crotch. The fact it was a man wearing her jumpsuit had Soarin pounding the table in laughter.
The only moment where they weren't talking and joking was when their food came out. Medium-Rare steak and potatoes for Soarin; a taco salad with ghost peppers for the lady. Honestly, Spitfire wasn't a fan of peppers... But making a bet at who could hold a ghost pepper down the longest was too hard to pass up for her. It was Soarin who won that; but Spitfire who had the bigger laugh as he ran to the bathroom. All in all... The night went perfectly.
Stories and fun were both shared. And there was not a dull moment between them. Even when eating, the two made 'see-food' faces at the other; even as the waiters and other patrons gave the two strange, judging looks. It didn't matter to Spitfire or Soarin. They were having the time of their lives. As they finished up the table, putting things aside and piling their silverware onto their plates, Spitfire's face become very serious. Now's the time...
Slowly, she brought her hand to cup around Soarin's own hand. Soarin looked a bit surprised by her sudden action, but looked her in the eyes all the same waiting for her to say something. "Soarin... Tonight has been spectacular," Spitfire said with a warm smile and loving eyes.
"Totally. Can't imagine a better night with anyone else," Soarin smiled back, earnest as ever.
"You say that... But..."
"I mean it, Spitfire. Honest. You're a great girl. No way can I--" His words were cut off suddenly as Spitfire braced her hand tightly around his own.
"I love you..." Spitfire blurted out.
The words hung there for a moment. The sound of etching forks and knives coming from far off tables still sounded through the air, along with the string music playing in the back. The sounds seemed so much louder now as Spitfire thought about what she just said, and how Soarin would respond. "I've always loved you... You're the greatest guy I know. You're talented, strong, funny, and so sweet. I can't help but love you, Soarin..."
Soarin was silent for a second, his brow etching down and his smile leaving his young face. He seemed bewildered as he looked at Spitfire closely. Suddenly, his put his free hand onto Spitfire's head, ruffling down her flared up red-yellow hair. "Heh... I love you too, Spitfire. Is that the whole reason we're here? So we could tell each other that? Why wouldn't I love my little sis, sis?"
Her hair matted down over her eyes as her older brother Soarin messed with her hair. As her hair fell over her eyes, they watered and a beautiful smile carved out across her face. "Stop it, Soarin! I'm serious!" She swatted at Soarin's hands, letting go of his first hand to try and fend him off, "Let me talk! Alright?"
Soarin staggered back in the booth they were sitting in, a bright smile back on his face. "Alright, alright. Go for it..."
"I love you, Soarin... That's why I wanted us to do this. We never get to talk anymore. If we're not working together on a big show, we're training together. And when were not, you're off with your friends or sitting at home resting. We don't have any 'us' time anymore, Soarin. I miss us..."
"Yeaaah... I know... Man," Soarin slumped down in the booth, "It's been -like- ages since we talked. I mean like real talk... We should do this more often."
"Yeah... We should..." Spitfire took Soarin's hand once more, giving it a tight squeeze, "I'll always love you, bro..."
"And you'll always look out for me, little sis, won't ya?" said Soarin.
"Someone has to, you dunderhead," Spitfire used her free hand to bonk Soarin over the head.
They both sat back in that booth, laughing and talking once again. The air was cleared between them, and their thoughts were free. Finally... I have my stupid big brother back...
"So... Dating anyone?"
"Heh-heh... Uh... Well, I'm seein' someone..." Soarin bashfully looked away.
"Tell me..." Spitfire poked at Soarin with her words, and a few times with a fork to get the truth out.
"She's -uh- she's a substitute for another team. It's nothing serious. Honest... What about you?"
Spitfire shrugged and took a simple sip of water as she looked at Soarin, letting him sit before she answered. "Oh... No one, really..." She gave a wink to her brother, leaving him to groan and flop onto the table in disappointment.
Author's Note
If we do well, there will be a REAL sex chapter to this. But only if this new writing style I did here checks out well. Thank you for your time. Comment and like! See ya!
