Blitz looked into the mirror, and wondered if there was anything left of Rainbow Dash under all of that. The morning sickness had barely touched her this morning. Just a bit of queasiness. But…
She stepped back, a bit, from the little mirrored cabinet-front, and tried to look at herself in profile. No full-body mirrors for one of Wind Rider's bottomland slum-apartments. Not in this particular flop.
But Blitz shouldn't complain. It was actually a pretty great place, once you got past the bombed-out neighborhood, the skinny, hard-eyed neighbors, the filth and the general debilitation on the outside. Inside, it was clean. Water was hot when you wanted hot, cold when you wanted cold, and it didn't flip from one to the other when somebody - someone flushed while you were taking a shower.
Usually Blitz, if she was being honest. She had always been a fast bather. Never saw any point in luxuriating under the shower-head. Not when there was stuff to do.
The bedrooms were comfortable, the furniture was all lived-in but sturdy and, well, comfortable.
As slumlords, the Steel Horsemen weren't bad. Blitz had known worse, when she'd actually had a roof over her head, and a place that wasn't an RV she was renting by the square foot from somebody she was, more often than not, sharing that same crowded living-space with.
It had rarely mattered where you laid your head, working the carnivals or the circus. Time spent in the RVs was time you weren't making money, for yourself, for the bosses. Life was hard with the carnies, but flashy, quick and always doing, always busy.
And the money was good, got Blitz her first bike, her baby-bike. The good stuff had come later. The chopper that wasn't built for babies, but rather, her baby. Whenever she wasn't busy with the carnival or the circus or whatever… she had her baby to ride. Always something to do.
Blitz didn't have anything to do, damnit.
Admittedly, it was four in the morning. The nausea had woken her up, but now that she was staring at herself in the mirror, under the awful fluorescent lighting that half-witted property guy of Rider's had installed in here, she didn't feel like going back to sleep.
God, she was getting fat. Look at that flabby body!
They weren't letting her ride anymore. It was bad for this baby.
Blitz made a face and poked at her upper arm, It actually moved. Like jelly. What did that song say about Kris Kringle?
Blitz wasn't used to having fat on her. It was… disorienting.
Rainbow Dash would have laughed and laughed at her plump self. Said she was turning into Pinkie Pie.
Blitz's hand crept downwards, in the mirror, and stroked the rounding around her waist. It was actually visible now. There was no denying it.
It wasn't that damn witch's trick. It wasn't all a magnificent scam.
This was real. This was her. This was Blitz.
She stared, mesmerized, as that hand moved over the blue, marbled flesh. It was definitely still a member of the family in that mirror. An older sister. Some lost aunt little Rainbow Dash had never been allowed to meet, because she was disreputable or dangerous or just embarrassing to Rainbow Dash's parents.
They always had high standards for family and friends and- pretty much everyone they let their darling interact with.
Always the best coaches. The best trainers. The best for their very best, their precious trophy-winning dynamo.
What did they know? They thought Zephyr Breeze was the danger, when all along, it had been Fluttershy.
Fluttershy and that damned, sketchy, depraved gymnastics coach.
Rainbow Dash hadn't even been much for gymnastics. The girl that Blitz had been, had been more of a sprints and team sports girl.
But her parents had thought it was 'broadening'. And 'balancing'. And might give her a bit of an edge in the more balls-out sports.
To be honest, the ballet had been more useful. Gymnastics was too restrained and fussy and set-piece for ambitious, aggressive Rainbow Dash to ever make anything happen, outside of the ritual performances, ritual sets.
The ballet instructor had been safely gay, too, so there had been that. Although nobody except Fluttershy had known about the gymnastics guy.
But Fluttershy just had to tag along, go where that predator had gotten his hooks into her. Both their parents, Flutters and Rainbow's, had thought it was a good idea. Get Flutters some self-confidence, some polish, get her outside of her own head and her animals.
More like gymnastics got inside of Flutters' pants. Well, the disgusting gym coach, at least.
His blood had been so red… until it had been white. And yellow. And Rainbow Dash had gotten scared, and ran, with half-dressed, stunned Fluttershy trailing behind her...
Well, that had been the end of 'Rainbow Dash'. As far as Blitz and the world were concerned.
She'd run far enough, and fast enough. Left poor, innocent, abused Fluttershy behind to explain.
Nobody'd ever tied the butch girl with the buzz cut in Texas to the teenager with an attempted murder charge in California. Blitz had been careful to 'dress up' and do everything she could to make people think she was older than she really was.
So nobody made the connection.
Blitz didn't think. Was fairly sure. Hadn't ever really come up, to be honest.
As bad of a reputation as carnies and bikers had, she'd rarely had any contact with the cops. It had been kind of surprising, how far she'd disappeared into anonymity.
Not even when the circus had started using her as a 'face' had it mattered. And it wasn't as if carnies didn't color their hair, use make-up, wear wild, flamboyant clothing.
So she disappeared so far into Blitz that she even stopped yelling when somebody made fun of her hair.
Blitz played with her short multi-colored locks. Getting too long, maybe she should find a barber? But no point in getting it colored. Too damn hard to keep it dyed. The colors always came out. Best she'd ever been able to do was turn it into a sort of straw-themed rainbow spray. Still looked like the same damn Rainbow, no matter what she did.
It was part of why she'd taken so strongly to Soarin. A hot biker boy who loved to cross-dress? Tartarus, she'll have some of that. And it gave her an excuse to wear the full dyke regalia, and join the full dyke club.
Never did get into the 'girls' thing, however much Gilda rode Blitz's ass about what a terrible lesbian she was. Letting down the side, not batting clean-up like a good bull dyke.
Gilda never quite understood that Blitz liked the look more than the lifestyle.
Soarin got it. Soarin had been so easy-going. So open. So accepting.
Up to the moment he lost his fucking mind, and tried to play gangster.
Blitz hadn't understood that part. Still didn't understand, not even after having met Soarin's horror of a father, at the viewing, afterwards at the funeral.
The fucking witch said that Soarin had been trying to be a man, been trying to be a daddy. Blitz didn't believe it. Soarin hadn't been a witch, hadn't been that observant.
No way he'd known Blitz was knocked up before she herself had figured it out.
Damnit, now she was hungry. Time to go get something to fill this bottomless hole that had taken up residence just under the fetus's developing heels.
If she didn't fill the hole, the baby might fall in.
Blitz knew it was a crazy thought, was insane. But the moment she'd pictured it, the week after the witch had told her she was pregnant, Blitz had freaked out. Full balls-out wild beating the walls and cursing and yelling.
Blitz had been so mad at herself, when she'd figured it out, worked it out in her head. This was the goal, this was her race, her wall. Time to climb it.
'Butterscotch' and Gilda hadn't had to force her to stuff herself after that. Blitz couldn't help herself. The kid would lay on a couch made of premium, half-digested food, if Blitz had anything to say about it. The kid wasn't leaving before Blitz was good and ready for her to come out.
And when she did, she'd be the biggest baby in five counties.
Blitz looked in the mirror, at the bump which was all she had left of Soarin, and wondered what Rainbow Dash would have said about it, about Blitz being so thoroughly knocked up.
Probably have decided she was going to be an aunt, Blitz decided.
She should go get dressed, and see what was left inside of that huge fridge Soarin's people were supposed to be keeping fully stocked. Rotten people, outlaw bikers the lot of them, and hangers-on. But once things had been explained to them, they'd gotten… well, interesting. Being the potential mother of Wind Rider's only grandchild was, apparently, a big deal among the Steel Horsemen.
Well, she'd take it. Wasn't as if she'd be able to do the carnie thing as fat as she was getting. Or, for that matter, as if she'd be able to find a circus or a carnival up here in fucking Virginia. Way off the circuit, and even if it were on the circuit, they were all Floridians in this part of the country.
There had been rumbles Blitz had… well, not seen, she'd stayed out of it, but whenever Blitz's outfit had tried to cross over the Mississippi, well, carnies could be as territorial as anyone else. And Texas & Florida carnies didn't mix.
Didn't really matter, did it? No carnie life for New Blitz, outlaw biker mother!
Or something like that. She didn't know. The Steel Horsemen didn't seem to know what to do with biker girls who weren't bitches. Apparently dyke clubs weren't a thing in this corner of Virginia.
Well, she and Gilda'd fix that. In time. No point in making enemies while Blitz was gestating.
They even had their own bitch! And wasn't it a trip when she and 'Butterscotch' had met up again, after all those years? Who knew little Fluttershy would end up so damned tall?
As for all the rest of it, Blitz wasn't sure how much of the mess that the girl who had once been Fluttershy ought to be laid at her former self's feet. Rainbow Dash had tried to protect her friend. Done her damnedest. But it'd all turned to shit.
Well, Blitz would have to do better this time. Keep 'Butterscotch' from getting into any more trouble.
She'd have to be strong. A different kind of strong. Not racer strong, not soccer-star strong. Momma bear strong.
Blitz looked in the mirror, and shot her guns, trying for big and intimidating. Huh. She might have some fat on her, but look at that, the muscles still popped. Maybe she could find somewhere to work out? Nothing intensive, but some weight work. Upper body stuff. Keep her hand in. Nothing below the waist until the little nipper was out and sucking on a teat.
Blitz poked at those. Still nothing more than mosquito bites. The witch had said they'd come in, in time. If not, there were things to try. Witchcraft, Blitz supposed.
She'd do what was needful. Even drink whatever witch's brew the witch came up with.
Because if 'Rainbow' Blitz was going to be a mother, she'd be the best damn mother anyone in the Commonwealth of Virginia had ever seen. She'd be fucking prize-winning.
And she'd punch anyone who said otherwise.
Her eyes went down to her baby bump one last time.
And if it was a girl, she'd name it after that girl Blitz couldn't find in the mirror anymore.
Who'd care if there was some kid in back-country Virginia with Soarin's eyes and Blitz's hair? Your time to be Rainbow Dash, kid. Lots to live up to, but we're hell on wheels, Rainbows. You'll see.
Author's Note
Thanks to Flashgen for the editing and pre-reading assistance, and thanks to Shrink Laureate for the cover art & last-minute proofreading.
