It was evening, and the end of what had been an extraordinarily sunny and hot day in late summer. The sun had set a few moments ago, now hiding just behind the horizon and bathing me, my living room, and the whole land in its magnificent golden light.
I was sitting on the sofa, watching a boring documentary about the mating habits of broadmouth catsharks. Well, watching might have been exaggerated. I had watched the news about half an hour ago, then drifted off and was now merely watching the colorful images flickering on the screen while my mind was off to other, more interesting places than my ever-boring and monotonous living room.
Slowly, I let my head sink back against the sofa cushion behind me, feeling my eyes gently drift shut as the toll this hot day had taken on me was starting to show, and I could feel sleep, driven by fatigue, exhaustion and boredom, wash over me.
However, just before my mind could drift off into dreamland, I could feel my ears perk up as the front door was opened and slow, heavy steps came walking into the hallway. Counting both, the fact that she was three hours late and the way she slammed the door upon entering together, I quickly sat up on the sofa, reaching for the remote and switching to the sports-channel, knowing that this would be the best first step in my endeavor to cheer her up.
Sounding like a juggernaut trudging through a minefield, she came walking into the room, giving a heavy sigh as she unbuttoned her uniform and let it slip to the floor, revealing her still slightly wet with sweat yellow fur and her fiery orange mane, hanging down her head on all sides and looking surprisingly … cute.
“Hey.” I said casually, knowing better than to jump headfirst into the dark pond.
She replied with another, heavier sigh as she dropped her head, walking over to me and jumping onto the sofa next to me. A moment of silence passsed and I could see her attention focusing the TV from the corner of my eyes. They were showing a recorded NASCAR-race from a few days ago - I knew she liked these.
The silence continued, only occasionally broken by the sound of roaring engines and excited commentators coming from the TV. She didn't seem in the mood to speak, and I knew better than to force a talk on her while she clearly didn't want to.
Finally, however, it seemed her mood had improved enough for her to be able to talk, as she gave a third sigh and, keeping her look focused on the television, asked, “Why am I doing this?”
Knowing that it was a rhetorical question, I just shrugged.
“Why am I busting my back every day?” she continued, her hoarse voice indicating that her recruits had indeed gotten to hear a lot of it this day. “Who am I trying to impress here?” she let herself drop against our sofa’s backrest, letting her head sink back. After another moment of silence, she continued, “Seriously, it feels like whatever I say, they’ll have forgotten about it only a day later! I might as well talk to a wall!”
Again, I replied nothing, knowing her good enough to know that she needed to let this rant out before she was able to receive any input from me.
She remained silent for another moment, then turned her head towards me, her orange eyes giving me a half-serious look as she asked, “Seriously, am I stupid?”
I locked eyes with her at that, giving her the driest, most sober look I could produce, but saying nothing for a few moments. “There’s no right answer to that question, is there?” I finally asked.
I could feel relief wash over me as that comment managed to get the thinnest of smiles from her. “You’re a dork, you know that?” she said, shooting me a half-serious frown and giving me a soft punch onto my upper arm with her hoof.
However, I was quick to find out that my work wasn’t done just yet, as she then slumped back onto her backside and was back to frowning at the ceiling.
That called for some serious measures. I didn’t know what she had experienced at work that made her this sulky, but if teasing didn’t work, there was only one thing that could help in this situation.
Nodding my head to myself as if to confirm my resolution, I leaned back, revealing my free lap, and turned to give her an inviting look.
But she was too focused on her staring-contest with the ceiling to notice me, so I softly tapped my hands against my legs and called for her. “Spitfire!”
“Huh?” she asked, losing the battle against the ceiling and looking at me instead. Her eyes rested on my hands and lap for a moment and I could see temptation rising up inside her, but she fought it down, seeming to prefer sulking instead. Giving a curt “Nah.” she lowered her head again, challenging the ceiling to a rematch.
But I wouldn’t give up this easily. I knew that I could lead a horse to water, but not make it drink, but that didn’t mean that I couldn’t give a pony what she obviously wanted and needed after a day like this, even if she didn't know it herself yet.
“Come here.” I said and reached over her, placing both my hands around her torso and picking her up off the sofa.
“Hey, what are you doing!?” she gasped as her body lifted off. Instinctively, her wings wanted to stretch, but I held her tight, well-aware that letting her go now would probably result in a devastating kick to my face. Sure, she would apologize later on, but god knows there were more pleasant ways to end this mild summer evening than driving to the ER and ending with a fractured nose and a juicy medical bill.
“Let me go!” she squealed as she squirmed in my grip, her rough voice reaching a cute high pitch, “Let me go! That’s an order, recruit! Let me go right this instant!”
I couldn’t help but chuckle as her military side came out again, but both of us knew that struggling was futile, and at least I knew that she would thank me for what I was about to do in less than a minute.
Slowly, I lowered her squirming body onto my lap, leaving her fore-and hind legs rest on mine and her belly exposed between my knees. She was still verbally struggling, her mouth threatening me with all sorts of military disciplining, reaching from a hundred pushups, over an immediate demotion, up to a lawsuit in Equestria’s military court for physically assaulting an officer, but her body had given up already, knowing about its owner’s secret desire and giving in to what was about to happen.
I slowly led my hand up to her head, reaching a finger behind her ear, and gently started scratching.
And just like that, the roaring lioness on my lap turned into a purring pussycat. With an incredibly relieved groan, her tirade stopped, her body went limp like a sack of spuds, and she leaned her head against my hand, giving in to my touch for all she was worth.
“Hmmm.” she literally purred as my left hand continued its work on her ear. Meanwhile, my right hand wandered along her body, finding its way to her wing. I hesitated, knowing that this was a rather sensitive spot for her, but she didn’t protest in the slightest, and the pleased shudder that ran through her body as I carefully spread out her wing and ran my hand through these incredibly soft, tender feathers of hers let me know that I had made the right choice.
For a moment, I caught my mind trailing off, finding it funny that a mare like Spitfire - the captain of the Wonderbolts; a mare respected by her comrades, admired by her recruits, and feared by those that would step out of line, was this easy to turn into a soft, purring pile of pony. Sure, the fact that she had known me for almost a decade by now, trusted me, and knew that, as one of her best friends and housemate, I wanted nothing but the best for her, certainly played a role in this phenomenon, but I still found it fascinating how soft, gentle and kind this normally so strict and rough mare could be if her buttons were pushed properly.
“Y’know…” Spitfire groaned in pure bliss as she pressed her head into my hand, “If you were a Wonderbolt, this’d get you an immediate promotion.” she took in a sharp breath as my hand caressing her wing hit a sensitive spot on her wing's base, “Ever thought about joining?”
“Without wings?” I retorted dryly, tightening the grip of my fingers against the base of her wing and getting a relieved sigh of her in return as I started softly massaging the strained muscles. A whole day of flying in this heat sure had left its mark on her body, even if she didn’t like to admit it.
“Who needs wings when you have hands?” Spitfire cooed back, seeming to be in a land of pure bliss.
“Fair enough.” I replied briefly, taking my right hand off her wing and letting it retract as I led my hand down to her belly. Only by focusing could I hold back a pleased shudder as my hand ran through her unexpectedly soft belly fur. Spitfire, however, wasn’t quite as good in containing her emotions, as said shudder now ran through her body and I could see her close her eyes in bliss.
“Really know your craft with these things, don’t you?” she said, turning her head and giving me a relieved smile.
I gave a curt shrug, my hand never leaving her belly where it was tracing small circles around her waist. “You gotta be good at something, right?” With a knowing smirk directed at her, I suggested, “Hey, if I'm so good at this, I guess could join the Wonderbolts after all! I could be the team’s personal massager or something.”
“No way!” the sharp reply came like a shot from a gun, and the pony on my lap fixed me with a freezing glance, her bliss forgotten for a moment.
Noticing only now her outburst, she cleared her throat and turned her head away. I swear that was a blush on her face.
“I-I mean … I’m sorry, but humans can’t join the Wonderbolts. It’s for pegasi only. Too bad, right?” she explained without looking at me.
I couldn't hold back a short laugh at that. “Are you sure? A friend of mine said he was offered a job as a promoter just a week ago.” I teasingly poked her toned belly with a finger, gaining a poorly suppressed chuckle from her in return. “Are you sure you don’t just want me all to yourself?”
Again, her head shot around, her muzzle scrunching up as she fought to ignore what I was doing to her ticklish belly and did her best to give me an angry glare. “Yes I’m sure!” she affirmed, and I could tell it was getting harder for her to keep a somewhat straight face, “Now stop it! You’re basically assaulting me here!”
“Okay!” I obliged innocently and quickly pulled both my hands back from her. Her head, now without a hand to support it, sunk to the side, and she needed a second to recover.
She fixed me again, and I was sure there was a good bit of begging in her voice as she snarled, “You’re a jerk! I didn’t mean stop like that!” She managed to keep that admonishing look up for a few more seconds before her ears folded back and she turned her head to the side, meekly asking, “Please continue. It’s been a pretty hard day, and I could really use the relaxation.”
“Aye, ma’am.” I said, mocking a military tone, and continued my work, scratching her head and rubbing her belly, gaining another relieved sigh from her in an instant as I could feel the tense muscles in her body relax again.
Again, the two of us rested in silence for a few moments. The sounds coming from the TV, now more a nuisance than a source of entertainment, were ignored by both of us as she enjoyed the touch of my hands against her fur, and I enjoyed the touch of her fur against my hands.
“Y’know…” I finally spoke up as I could feel that oh-so tempting sleep wash over me again, catching myself before I could doze off. “It’s been a long day for both of us. How about we hit the hay?”
“Mhmm.” Spitfire agreed softly, seeming too relaxed to give a proper reply.
“You should take a bath or at least shower first, though.” I pointed out, “Your fur and mane are all sticky.”
The pony on my lap replied with a muffled grunt, indicating that she wasn’t too pleased with that idea.
“Come on.” I said, finally loosening my hand from her ear and running it through her mane which was still slightly wet with now cold sweat. I couldn’t deny that I liked her mane the way it looked like right now. It made her look so … comfy; relaxed, and easy-going. Quite the opposite to what she was like when she was in action. I had seen her a couple of times during the Wonderbolts’ training, and had witnessed just how much of a fury she could be. Sure, this was what she was like, and I was sure she would have never made it to being the captain if she wouldn’t know how to open her mouth and put ponies in their place, but nevertheless … I couldn’t deny that I liked her when she was like she was right now; possibly even more than when she was in captain-mode. And for some reason I felt like she would stay like this -soft, relaxed, and calm- if only her mane would stay like this.
I remained silent for a moment, contemplating that thought, but then shook my head. Really, this was just ridiculous. Being loud and strict was part of her job; was part of what made her the pony she was, and I knew that, no matter what would happen, I could make her be this calm, relaxed pony again. She would be this calm, relaxed pony for me.
“I don’t wanna.” Spitfire replied back, interrupting my thoughts, “I just wanna stay here. No work, no stress.”
I couldn’t help but smile at that. She had a point, really. For all I cared, we could stay here for all eternity, just sitting on this ever-comfy sofa and not caring about anything else.
But at the same time I knew that this wasn’t possible. She would have to be back at the academy tomorrow morning, and I had to be at my job a few hours later, and I knew that we would only curse ourselves the next morning if we would stay on this sofa all night, making any sort of restful sleep impossible.
“Come on now. We’re both adults, we both have responsibilities.” I tried to reason with her. But to no avail.
“Nawww.” Spitfire replied defiantly, “In that case I’ll gladly be a filly again. Screw being an adult.”
Again, I couldn’t help but chuckle. If her recruits were to see her like this, her reputation within the Wonderbolts Academy would most likely go down the drain, and the fact that she was willing and ready to show this immature, careless side of her character to me spoke volumes about the trust she must be having in me.
But nevertheless, my point stood. And if she wouldn’t listen to reason, I knew there was something she would react to - and an almost ridiculously simple way to make her obey. She was only a third my size, and about a quarter my weight after all.
“Permission to leave, ma’am?” I asked with a knowing grin on my face, placing my hands under her body.
“Granted.” Spitfire grunted back without hesitation. By the time she thought about it and realized that she wasn’t talking to one of her recruits, I had already put my hands around her and picked her up, now arising from our couch.
“Oh come on!” she whined, “Just five more minutes! Please?” she begged with me, but I ignored it.
“No deal.” I replied dryly, walking out of the living room and towards the door that led to the bathroom. “Trust me, you’ll thank me for it later.”
“Damn you.” she murmured, giving a defeated sigh as I lowered her into the bathtub.
“Come on, chin up.” I said with an encouraging smile, “You'll feel like a new pony when you'll wake up tomorrow." I started an attempt of reconciliation, "I’ll even wash your uniform for you.”
As Spitfire didn't reply to that and just continued to glower at me, I turned around and was about to walk out of the bathroom when I was stopped by a sudden “Wait!” coming from the pony in the bathtub.
I turned around, giving her a confused look … and felt my jaw drop.
Spitfire; captain of the Wonderbolts, known for her fiery temper, her pervasive voice, and her relentless determination for her recruits to be the best of the best -secretly called ‘the wildcat’ behind her back by said recruits- was standing in our bathtub, looking like a drowned cat, and giving me the best, most ‘d’awwww’-inducing puppy eyes I had ever seen.
“Five more minutes?” she asked, tilting her head to the side and pushing her under lip out. "Please?"
I said nothing for a moment, needing some time to realize that she was so desperate for more petting that she would make use of such devastating techniques.
I managed to stand up to her look for a solid three seconds, but then, fearing an imminent heart attack, turned away and gave a defeated, “Fine. Five minutes it is.”
As I heard a pleased “Good.” come from her direction I turned around again, and found a completely restored Spitfire staring back at me with a triumphant, self-confident smirk. “I’ll be with you once I’m done here. And remember,” she added, giving me a serious look, “My uniform needs to be washed with the delicates. I don’t want any wrinkles in it. Got that?”
I smirked, somehow glad that I hadn't softened her completely after all. “Yes, ma’am.”
“Good.” she said with a brief nod of her head, and I was about to go and leave her some privacy as she spoke up again. “And…”
I turned around again, focusing her with a questioning look.
“Thank you.” she said with a genuinely thankful and gentle smile, “I really appreciate you helping me put up with all this. I don't think I could do it without you."
“Anytime.” I said with a smile, walked out of the bathroom and closed the door behind me. I walked back into the living room, picking up her uniform off the ground and tossed it into the hamper standing ready next to the door, then sat back down on the sofa and rubbed my hands against each other, preparing for when she would come out of the shower.
Because no matter how tough Spitfire might be, both on the inside and outside, there was no way I was going to give her belly rubs with cold hands.
