Personal Time with the Captain
Lightning Dust waited anxiously outside of Spitfire’s office, though she did her best not to show it. After all, the last time she’d sat in this chair was right before the Wonderbolts captain sent her off to pack her things and head home after the fiasco at the Academy. That was a while ago, though. A few years was enough time for things to cool off and accidents to be forgiven, right?
The mare blew a stray hair of her mane out of her face and folded her hands together, fingertips touching as she waited to be summoned. She shifted her weight back and forth, trying to find a comfortable position with her nervous energy. She knew Spitfire was making her wait this long just to get inside her head. Well, Lightning had waited three years for this moment. What was a few minutes more?
Then the door finally opened, and Lightning sat bolt upright, trying to assume a perfect, disciplined posture. Spitfire’s face appeared in the gap between door and frame, and she lowered her aviators further down her muzzle with a fingertip. “Well?” she asked, opening the door a little wider. “Come on in. Let’s hear it.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Lightning said, hopping to her hooves and doing her best to calmly walk toward the door. She needed to show Spitfire that she’d changed. That was her only way at getting her second chance.
Spitfire gestured to the seat in front of her desk, and Lightning quickly took it and sat down. The Wonderbolts captain took her time walking from the door to the chair behind her desk, giving Lightning ample time to look at the Wonderbolts memorabilia hanging around the mare’s office. Sure enough, she saw Rainbow Dash in several pictures, and she did her best not to frown or scowl. If she wanted to prove to Spitfire that three years was too long to hold a grudge, then she needed to get over her own grudge fast.
Finally, the yellow mare sat down across from Lightning, and she crossed her legs over her desk as she leaned back in her chair. “So. You’re back.”
Lightning hesitantly nodded. “Yes, ma’am. I’m back.”
“Didn’t think you would be.” Spitfire studied her for a long moment, then raised an eyebrow. “What makes you think you’re welcome back?”
The question made Lightning squirm, but she did her best to answer it as honestly as she could. “I never thought anything of the sort. I just… I want my second chance, Captain. What happened three years ago? That was a mistake. It never should have happened. And… I’ve learned my lesson. I’m sorry.”
Spitfire didn’t say anything—at least, not at first. Just as Lightning felt herself starting to fidget, the captain spoke. “Well, that’s a good start, then,” she said. She took her legs off of her desk and began to sift through its drawers, though she glanced back at Lightning as she did so. “But you know we’re not in recruitment season. It’s not as if I can just snap my fingers and you’ll be back in a uniform tomorrow. Plus, well… you’ve got to earn your way back onto the team.”
“Whatever you want, I’ll do,” Lightning Dust said. “I can do anything, and I will do anything, to get back. Being a part of the Wonderbolts has been my dream since I was a filly. Whatever you want from me, you’ll have it.”
“Hmph. Just what I wanted to hear.” After digging through the furthest recesses of the lowest drawer, Spitfire finally pulled out a scroll and a quill made from a peculiar pink feather. Lightning eyed it as Spitfire laid it out flat, then tossed the quill on top of it. “Look, recruitment season doesn’t start for six months. So, it doesn’t matter how well you fly now, because it’s not going to get us anywhere. However, you can help out the team in another way. You can help me out with modeling and photo shoots, and then we’ll see where we’re at in six months. It’ll be a start, at least.”
Lightning Dust almost asked Spitfire what she meant by modeling and photo shoots—she certainly didn’t know anything about photography, but on the other hand, she knew she was pretty sexy—but she stopped herself. Would asking questions really help her get on the team? She’d gotten an offer from Spitfire, and that was good enough. She didn’t want the captain to change her mind now. “I’m in. You won’t be disappointed with me, ma’am.”
“Good.” Spitfire smirked a little, then tapped the scroll. “Just sign your name at the bottom and we’ll get started.”
Lightning looked it over, but hesitated. She expected some paperwork or something, but nothing like this. “What is this, ma’am?” she asked. “It’s, uh... different.”
Spitfire snorted and raised an eyebrow at Lightning. “It’s the old Wonderbolts charter. Every recruit does it. You gonna make a big fuss about it now after I’m giving you another chance?”
Lightning snatched the quill in her fingers, then smoothed out the scroll. She definitely didn’t want to make a fuss, now that the offer was on the table, so she ignored the gibberish on the scroll. She certainly couldn’t make sense of any of the strange runes dotting the paper anyway, but she saw the line she needed to put her name on easily enough. So, wetting the end of the quill in some ink sitting on the table, Lightning quickly scrawled her name onto the parchment.
When she was done, she passed the scroll back to Spitfire, who took the quill and signed her own name below Lightning’s. “That’s that,” Spitfire said, pulling out a stamp and applying it to the corner of the page. “Your job starts right now.”
“Right now?” Lightning asked, confused. She opened her mouth to say more, but a hot tingle ran through her body from head to hoof, and she lost her words. She felt herself begin to sweat profusely, even though the room was a comfortable temperature. She pulled at the collar of her blouse, loosening the top two buttons, and fanned her wings out as she started to pant. “Is it… did it suddenly get really hot in here?”
She noticed that Spitfire was sweating too, though the captain didn’t seem worried about it. Instead, she took her fingers to the buttons of her uniform and undid them, one by one, slowly exposing the golden cleavage hidden beneath the blue jacket. Lightning found she couldn’t look away as Spitfire shrugged her top off, revealing her modestly-sized breasts, bound by a lacy black bra. But even the bra didn’t stay on very long before Spitfire tossed it aside, revealing perky pink nipples that seemed to be calling to Lightning.
“Go on, get a good look,” Spitfire said, standing up and slowly moving around the table to Lightning. Her hand brushed aside the scroll, which Lightning barely noticed was now glowing, and she stopped right in front of the green mare. “After all, you’re going to be getting very familiar with them for the next six months.”
Some unseen force caused Lightning to lean forward, closer to Spitfire’s chest. Before she even knew what she was doing, Spitfire’s boobs were right in front of her face, glistening with a faint sheen of sweat. Swallowing hard, Lightning Dust reached out on instinct, her hands caressing Spitfire’s rack, her fingers tingling at the warm, soft sensation. Not only that, but they seemed sticky, and Lightning soon found that her hands were practically glued to Spitfire’s chest.
Then Spitfire placed her hands on Lightning’s head and pushed her forward, directly into her chest. There was a sharp tingle, a surge of shock, and a tidal wave of pleasure, all coursing through Lightning’s body at once, melting her from the inside out.
It was too much; Lightning blacked out and knew no more, save for a lingering high of ecstasy that chased her into the darkness.
Lightning Dust didn’t know how long she’d been out for. Her memory was hazy, and on top of that, she couldn’t see much of anything. Her whole world was dark, save for a couple of motes of light in front of her face. It was hard to tell how long ago she’d finally regained consciousness.
But what she couldn’t see, she could certainly feel. She felt like she was wrapped up tightly in a warm cocoon, pressed in from all sides, like she’d been buried under a massive pile of weighted blankets. Then again, gravity seemed all off. It seemed like a hammock was holding her up, pressing her firm against something, stopping her from falling to the ground and collapsing. But when she tried to explore her surroundings, she found she couldn’t move. She couldn’t even feel her arms or legs or wings. She couldn’t even feel her face. What had happened to her? Why couldn’t she move? Why did she feel like somepony had stolen her skeleton, leaving her heavy and helpless?
Then she noticed she was rising and falling in a soothing, stable rhythm. It took her a little while to even notice that much, but once she did, she noticed other things as well. She could hear the th-thump, th-thump of what sounded like a heartbeat, beating somewhere from her behind, completely out of sight… not that she could turn her head to look for it. She felt herself twitching ever the faintest amount as something rushed into and out of her with each beat… her blood? She’d never been this aware of her body before. What was going on?
Something brushed against her right side, and then her right side brushed against her left, skin against skin, lubricated by the slightest touch of sweat, and that was when she realized that she seemed to exist in… halves? It felt like somepony had divided her in half, equally, and put half of her boneless mass on the left, and the other half on the right. And whenever something touched her… oh Celestia, that sensation! She felt so sensitive, and every little brush, every little rub of her fabric cocoon, put a tingle of pleasure through her two halves and tickled at her mind. Being touched felt so good… but who was touching her?
She heard a grunt, and her center of mass shifted. Little bounces, left and right, set her jiggling ever so slightly, though her fabric hammock dampened those movements almost as soon as they arrived. She was… moving somewhere, though certainly not of her own volition. She tried again to find any way to move herself, but still felt as helpless as ever.
Hello? she tried calling out, but found she couldn’t feel her mouth. Come to think of it, was she even breathing? That rise and fall, the gushing of air in and out of something… that was somepony breathing. But she had no control over it, and she didn’t even feel herself breathing. It was like her head was held against somepony else’s chest, though she had no idea whose.
Then she came to a stop, and something poked and prodded at the hammock mashed up against her face. It agitated that need inside of her, that desire to be touched and squeezed, and she didn’t even know why she was feeling it. But, bit by bit, more light entered her world, until she could see a hazy silhouette in front of her, beyond that last layer of fabric. Then, after swinging about just a little bit more, she felt her hammock loosen, and finally fall away, giving her a clear look around herself for the first time since her meeting with Spitfire.
What she saw was Spitfire herself standing in front of her, completely topless and shrugging off her bra. It looked like she was in Spitfire’s bedroom—how did she end up in there? Maybe it was whomever had moved here there while she was wrapped up? But where were all the blankets that had been put around her?
But then she noticed that when Spitfire moved, she moved as well. And shortly after that, she realized that she wasn’t looking at Spitfire, but Spitfire’s reflection. And if that was Spitfire’s reflection… then where was she?
That question was answered almost immediately when Spitfire moved a hand to her left tit and squeezed. Lightning Dust felt it immediately, that little squeeze dominating her world with sensitive pleasure. Spitfire felt it too, as she bit down on her lip and her eyes fluttered as her fingers massaged around her nipple. And it was only then that Lightning Dust realized what Spitfire had done to her.
Spitfire had turned her into her tits.
“You’re probably awake by now,” Spitfire said, and her entire voice seemed to pass through Lightning Dust, setting her vibrating with the mare’s own body—because she was part of Spitfire’s body now. “Well, you have plenty of time to get used to your situation now. Like I said, you can help me out with modeling and photo shoots, and adding you to my tits certainly gave them a little boost. It’ll look great on camera, trust me.”
Spitfire swayed her hips from side to side as she turned around and walked toward the bathroom, exaggerating the jiggling Lightning experienced. “Now, the most I can say is get used to being my tits, because that’s what you’ll be for the next six months. At least your role is pretty easy—you don’t have to do anything except hang there and look perky. But I figure, six months of personal time together will be plenty for us to get over our differences. When that’s done, I think we’ll be all set to go back to square one. Let’s call it ‘disciplinary action’ for what happened three years ago, and when we’re all done, you’ll have a clean slate. Sound good?”
We could have worked this out another way! Lightning tried to shout back. This is… this is messed up!
Though of course, she didn’t have a voice, so she wasn’t in exactly the best position to make her opinion heard. That was reinforced when Spitfire chuckled lightly and sat down on her bed to take her pants off. “I’ll just assume that sounds good. You don’t really have a way to talk to me. Honestly, it’s like I just got a boob job, without any of the downsides. Pretty easy to forget that I’ve got another mare in my chest, were it not for everything being so sensitive.”
That put a cold feeling of dread inside of Lightning Dust. Not only was she completely helpless like this, but Spitfire was the only one who knew what happened to her. How was Lightning going to explain her sudden disappearance for six months when she was finally done being the Wonderbolts’ captain’s busty yellow rack? It certainly wasn’t like she could put ‘six months as another mare’s breasts’ on a resume.
Then Spitfire picked up her bra and shrugged herself back into it. Lightning could only watch in dismay as that black fabric came closer to her two halves, ready to cocoon her in darkness once more. It pressed up against her boneless, jiggly bodies, smooshing her against Spitfire’s athletic frame, smothering her senses and leaving her with nothing but the sound of the mare’s breathing and her beating heart. It even damped her swaying and jiggling whenever Spitfire moved, almost like she’d been placed in a sensory deprivation tank, save for whenever something poked or brushed her. Then she got an overwhelming burst of sensation, coupled with a tingling pleasure that left her yearning for satisfaction she couldn’t provide to herself. She was merely a sex organ now, and whatever part of her being wasn’t devoted to nursing a foal was focused on stimulation and arousal. No wonder every little touch made her feel the need to climax, the need to orgasm, and yet she could do nothing to help herself.
“Sit back and relax, Lightning,” she heard Spitfire say, once again her voice making her tremble and vibrate as the sound passed through her body. “It’s probably going to be a long six months for you.”
Of that, Lightning had absolutely no doubt.
The first few days of Lightning Dust’s bewildering new life would be something she’d never forget.
It’d taken almost a full day for her shock at her transformation to wear off and for her panic to finally start settling down—though of course, that didn’t help her the following day when she woke up completely disoriented and found her entire world turned sideways, half-obscured by blankets, her right half pressing down on her left half, pushing it into Spitfire’s soft mattress. She’d forgotten her strange situation during her sleep, and it only came crashing back down on her when Spitfire yawned and got out of bed, bringing Lightning along with her. She spent most of that first morning panicking as well, which wasn’t helped by the fact Spitfire acted like she wasn’t even there, save for giving her a little bit of extra care in the shower.
That first shower though… Lightning enjoyed long and hot showers as much as the next mare, but the whole experience was a completely different level when she was nothing more than another mare’s sensitive rack. The hot water warmed her two soft halves to their cores, and she could feel every pitter-patter of water coming from the shower head and bouncing off of her soft and supple flesh. Her nipples had perked erect almost immediately, and whenever Spitfire ran the bar of soap over their perky points, Lightning found herself gasping in her mind as a shivering sensation overwhelmed her. It was such an unstoppable surge of ecstasy and bliss experiencing all those situations that she was dismayed when the shower finally ended and Spitfire rubbed her down with a towel, roughly jostling her this way and that as she got dry. And then, in the aftermath of the shower, Lightning could only curse at herself for enjoying the sensations that came along with being nothing more than a pair of tits. It was like her new fleshy prison was trying to get her to like being Spitfire’s tits, to completely give into the ecstasy and forget that she was once a mare. But she wouldn’t forget, no matter how much her new form tried to tempt her. She was a proud mare, damn it, and she wouldn’t give in this easily!
Unfortunately for Lightning, being a helpless pair of boobs had a lot of downsides apart from the obvious ones, like not even being an independent mare anymore. For one thing, Spitfire generally ignored her, going on with her life as if her tits didn’t have the soul of a magically transformed mare stuck inside of them, so the lack of social interaction was practically maddening. That was only compounded by the fact that being a set of tits was boring. Lightning couldn’t go anywhere without Spitfire taking her someplace, and she certainly couldn’t do anything either, considering she was just too lumps of fatty tit flesh. On top of that, the only times she could see something was when Spitfire was naked, and apart from sleeping and bathing, Spitfire kept her covered up as any decent mare would. Lightning would cry out in dismay every morning when Spitfire put her bra on, the fabric cocooning her in darkness as it squeezed her against the Wonderbolt captain’s ribs, knowing that she’d spend the entire day with nothing to focus on other than awkwardly jostling as Spitfire moved about. Relief would only come to her at night when Spitfire took her clothes off and slept topless, though Lightning didn’t have much of a chance to enjoy herself before Spitfire fell asleep, and her host’s exhaustion forcibly dragged Lightning off to dreamland as well. That was another loss of control that Lightning loathed; she couldn’t even sleep on her own terms!
But all of those downsides were nothing compared to whenever Spitfire went to exercise.
Lightning knew as soon as Spitfire put on her workout clothes that first time that she was going to be in for an experience like nothing else. She knew how hard she herself would go during her daily exercises; doubtless the captain of the Wonderbolts would be much the same. And those fears were quickly proven right when, after a jog to warm up, Spitfire hit the weights with an intensity that put even Lightning’s workout to shame. Very soon, Lightning found herself coated with sweat, the sports bra holding her in place soaked and damp; she was just happy that she didn’t have a nose to smell the salty, sticky sweat she was quickly bathed in.
But that wasn’t the worst part; that came when she felt gravity shift as Spitfire got down onto her hands and knees, then adjusted her position to do her pushups. Lightning repeatedly felt her face (faces?) get gently pummeled into the ground with each dip, Spitfire resting on her new and improved rack for a split second before bouncing up to her starting position. Not only that, but Lightning could feel Spitfire’s pectoral muscles flexing underneath her fatty weight, and the sensation was strange and confusing. She was a part of Spitfire’s body, but she could feel the other parts of Spitfire’s body working, inanimate and soulless, around the tit flesh that was once a mare. Lightning wasn’t sure if it would have been better to be one of Spitfire’s muscles, or if the simple nature of being two lumps of fat was preferable. She had the feeling that being forced to contract by another mare’s brain would be even more freaky than sitting helplessly on her chest… not that she considered being a pair of tits all that wonderful of an option to begin with.
And of course, it wasn’t like Spitfire exercised alone. While the Wonderbolts’ gym was exclusively for the use of its organization, Spitfire wasn’t the only Wonderbolt that made good use of the team’s well-equipped gym. On that first workout, Misty Fly and Fleetfoot were both making good use of the gym, and it wasn’t long before Spitfire’s new and improved rack caught their attention.
“Hey, Cap, you look a little different today,” Misty noted as Spitfire took a quick water break between exercises. Lightning couldn’t see more than Misty’s silhouette out of the corner of her bra-obscured vision, but she could tell by the way Misty posed with a hand on her hip and the playful edge in her voice that the Wonderbolt was about to tease her captain. “PR finally make you get a boob job or something?”
“Yeah, and they want me to put some powder in my wings to give them a gradient, too,” Spitfire joked back. “All the pegasus fillies are doing it these days, or so I’ve heard. What do you think would look better: Wonderbolts blue, or fiery orange?”
“Might as well go for silver, you old hag!” Fleetfoot called out from across the gym, and Lightning heard weights clank and clatter as the mare set a barbell back onto its stand. “Big tits ain’t gonna make up for the fact you’re getting gray and wrinkly!”
“Oh yeah?” Spitfire asked, and she crossed her arms underneath Lightning Dust, propping the fleshy mare up and taking a little bit more gravity off of the former mare’s boneless weight. “You obviously don’t know teenage colts that well, Flatfoot. They’ll jerk off to anything with big enough tits.”
“That goes without saying,” Misty cut in. “I’ve got a nephew who gets our calendars every year, and I know that colt isn’t using it to keep a schedule.”
“Pfff, he ever give your picture a fresh coat of ‘whitewash’, Misty?” Fleetfoot asked.
“No, but I know he loves your picture. That’s what happens when you’ve got the biggest rack on the team, though I think Cap’s got you beat now with whatever the fuck she did to her tits.”
“As if. Magic and makeup ain’t got anything on the real deal. Maybe we should go compare in the showers when we’re done, settle this like real mares.”
Lightning felt her gut clench—or at least, she would have, if she still had a gut to clench in the first place—at that challenge. It was bad enough that Spitfire treated her as nothing more than her tits, but now Fleetfoot and Misty Fly as well? These three mares had been her heroes before that ill-fated stint at the Academy, and now all three only referred to her as an inanimate pair of boobs instead of a mare… not that two of them knew any better. But that didn’t stop the experience from being any less humiliating, being reminded with every word that she’d been reduced from a mare with her own life to a pair of inanimate tits helplessly bound to be a dependent part of Spitfire’s life for the next six months.
She just had to tough it out for six months, and then she’d be part of the team. Six months of being the Wonderbolts captains’ tits was nothing compared to finally becoming a Wonderbolt herself. And besides, she could at least try to look at this in a positive light. Now she finally had the chance to be close to Spitfire in everything the captain did. There was no better opportunity to learn from the best than this.
Though of course, being the object of two Wonderbolts’ teasing didn’t help her learn anything in the present, especially not when Spitfire let the two mares have their fun at her expense. “I’m sure you could do with a lesson in humility, Flat, but I don’t need to turn the lockers into a whorehouse by mashing our tits together to see whose are bigger. You’re already enough of a slut as it is, you and Blaze both.”
“There’s always room for a threesome, Cap,” Fleetfoot said, and Lightning saw her silhouette pull her towel off from around her neck and flick it a moment before the end snapped against Lightning’s left half. Not only was it like a sudden punch to the face for the sensitive tit-mare, but it sent an intense sensation shooting through her left body, even bleeding over into her right half as she bounced from the snap. Spitfire gasped and staggered back a step, her hand immediately moving to her left boob to massage the away the stinging spot, and Fleetfoot and Misty Fly laughed as the Wonderbolts captain grumbled at them.
“Guess who just volunteered herself for locker room cleanup after the next show?” Spitfire said, shaking her head as Fleetfoot and Misty walked away to continue their exercises. She shuddered as her thumb brushed over her left nipple, and she turned away from the gym to head toward the track outside. “I think a run and a flight’ll be a good way to finish today off. Sorry about that, Lightning. That probably stung you more than it did me.”
You’re right about that, Lightning thought back at her host. But there wasn’t anything else she could do about it. She was just a helpless part of Spitfire’s body for the next six months… but at least Spitfire still cared about her wellbeing enough to apologize to her.
It was something, at least.
Lightning Dust’s first Wonderbolts show happened far differently from how the mare had imagined this day would be in her youth.
She’d been transformed in the middle of October, which meant that Spitfire had pressed her into her boobs right before the Wonderbolts’ final show in Canterlot about a week before Nightmare Night. It was, by far, the biggest show the Wonderbolts pulled off annually, where they’d perform before the princesses of Equestria and the rest of Equestrian high society before getting a chance to slow down and relax through the fall and winter. Lightning had long dreamed of participating in this show—what pegasus obsessed with the Wonderbolts wouldn’t?—but she’d always imagined that she’d do some, you know, flying. The last thing she’d imagined when she’d gotten that letter to attend the Wonderbolts Academy all those years ago was that she’d be participating in that first show as another mare’s tits.
Somewhere, the fates had to be laughing at her, that much was certain.
At least by now, she’d become accustomed to the sensations of being nothing more than a pair of helpless and sensitive mounds of fat and flesh. It still humiliated something inside of her whenever she realized that she wasn’t freaking out about her current situation, but after a week or so gradually accepting her new lot in life for the next six months, she’d found that she’d made some peace with the situation. She didn’t think she’d ever be able to look at Spitfire the same way when this was over, but that was future Lightning’s problem. She just needed to stick things out and take life one jiggle at a time, and hope this would all be worth it in the end.
But on that morning, as she found herself pressed tightly against Spitfire’s athletic frame by the form-fitting spandex of the Wonderbolts’ uniforms, Lightning couldn’t help but feel nervous about what she was about to experience. She’d (unwillingly) participated in one or two rehearsals before the big show with Spitfire and the rest of the ‘Bolts, but they hadn’t done it in uniform, and it’d been very low-stakes, since it was only a rehearsal. Now, though, she felt the pressure of that uniform keeping her snug and tight, and all that accomplished was to make Spitfire’s heartbeat even more pronounced. Usually, Lightning could ignore it, since she heard it so often, but now, that anxious flutter stood out to her more than anything else in the world. Even the captain of the Wonderbolts got pre-flight jitters, it seemed.
Before the show kicked off, Spitfire gathered the team around her, which Lightning only knew was happening because she clearly heard Spitfire’s voice vibrate through her two halves with every word the captain said. The spandex flight suit was so tight and form fitting that Lightning couldn’t see anything more than hazy shadows beyond the fabric. But she could certainly hear the little pep talk Spitfire gave her squad before the flight—a squad that just so happened to have Rainbow Dash on it.
To think that she and Rainbow were flying together in a Wonderbolts show, even though Rainbow didn’t know it…
“Last show before the winter break,” Spitfire said, addressing her team. “We’ve got our routine and our schedules, but after we finish with our debrief meeting and dinner with the princesses, we get to go clean out our lockers and break for the winter. I’m sure most of you will be heading someplace warmer for the winter—‘cept for you, Surprise, I know you’re a sunbird if there ever was one—and, truth be told, I’ll probably see some of you down in the Caymares myself. But I’m proud of you all. We’ve got another season under our belt, and we all worked hard to make it the best one yet. One last show, and we get our well-deserved break until spring. So, let’s get to it, alright?”
“Ma’am, yes ma’am,” the assembled Wonderbolts answered her, somewhere beyond the dark cocoon of Spitfire’s spandex suit. Lightning Dust imagined what it would be like to be standing among their number, dressed in that fine blue and yellow flight suit, ready to go put on a show that only pegasi could master. Instead, she was on the other side of the room as Spitfire’s tits. Granted, she was still wearing the uniform, but only a small part of it, and Spitfire had had to really try to stuff her into it. There hadn’t been enough time to get a suit larger around the chest, and it wasn’t like the captain of the Wonderbolts could realistically commandeer the suit of one of her subordinates, even if Fleetfoot had the next closest bust size on the team. It was more than a little ill-fitting, and the threads at the seams groaned by the time Spitfire finally got it zipped up, and it all came together to make the suit extremely uncomfortable for Lightning—not to mention that she could feel everything with her increased sensitivity to anything touching her.
I feel like I can’t breathe, and I don’t even need to breathe, Lightning remarked to herself. Maybe I’ll pop the zipper when Spitfire does some high G stuff. That’d be one way to get some air, and a little bit of humiliating payback for what she did to me. But after six months of this, I’m gonna have to learn to fly again. Hopefully they give me some time to get back into the swing of things before they decide to kick me off the team after all this…
The remainder of the time until the flight began seemed to pass by in a blur, as Lightning had no way of keeping track of what was happening and where her host was going through the darkness of the spandex flight suit. On top of that, Spitfire’s heartbeat kept her from hearing what was happening around her, save for Spitfire’s voice whenever she had something to say. And the way the flight suit compressed and squeezed her… Lightning found herself struggling to think straight and keep a clear mind. That tickling pressure was building up an arousal that was getting harder to ignore, and it irked her to no end. Her transformed biology was pressing its own desires on her mind, trying to get her to give into the sensation of being another mare’s tits, of embracing her life as a pair of boobs and enjoy the simple pleasures of attention and arousal. But she was determined to resist it, and fight it until the end.
She just hoped she’d be able to last the remaining five months plus change until she was finally turned back into a mare.
A lurch in gravity managed to push those distractions to the back of Lightning’s mind as Spitfire spread her wings and accelerated into the sky. Every flap of the captain’s yellow wings pushed Lightning against the fabric of the flight suit, but the suit at least was strong enough to hold firm. Truth be told, it was a more pleasant feeling than whenever Spitfire flew around normally, as the suit mitigated most of the jiggling and bouncing. But as Spitfire started to speed up and slowly work her way into her flight route, every sharp turn or little twist seemed to press Lightning further and further down under her own weight. It felt like somepony was sitting on her face, but not exactly in the fun way—though the compression and relaxation teased with her nipples enough that that omnipresent feeling of arousal started to creep back into the forefront of her mind.
But the flying and rolling and climbing and diving of the routine was quickly disorienting, and if Lightning still had a stomach, she felt like she’d be sick. Without seeing what Spitfire was about to do, Lightning could only hang on for dear life as gravity pulled her this way and that, making her feel weightless one moment and heavy as lead the next. She was getting a firsthand experience at what her own tits went through when she practiced her stunts and drills back when she was a mare; she was never going to take them for granted again when she returned to normal and got them back. And the overwhelming noise of Spitfire’s heartbeat, her deep and measured breathing, and the rush of wind ripping by her chest was almost too much to process. It was a cacophony of noise and sensation, certainly not helped by the fact that as the show went on, all that squeezing and rubbing was just making her hornier and hornier. Fear, anxiety, discomfort, and arousal all clashed in her mind as her simple tit brain tried to process everything and failed to separate what she should focus on from what she should ignore. She felt like being Spitfire’s rack was taking its toll on her mental sanity, like it was trying to get her to think like a pair of boobs, to toss away her identity, to become Spitfire’s Tits instead of Lightning Dust. But she just needed to hang on…
And then, seemingly all at once, it was over. There was a harsh bounce as Spitfire landed at the end of the show, and through her panting and racing heart, Lightning could hear the noise of cheering crowds and the show announcer booming over the microphone at the stadium. Lightning rose and fell with each deep breath Spitfire took, and she was thoroughly soaked through with the mare’s sweat. She could feel the spandex suit clinging to her, glued into place by that sweat, and she wondered if her sensitive nipples were hard enough to poke through the suit or not. But it was an eerie feeling regardless, to know that she had just completed her first Wonderbolts show and hadn’t beaten a single flap of her wings from start to finish. Instead, she’d done it as a literal part of her captain, feeling Spitfire’s hot blood rushing into and out of her fatty self, listening to her heart hammer furiously, and hearing her lungs work like two giant bellows. But hopefully, the next Wonderbolts show she was in, she’d be flying as her own mare.
“Hey, Captain,” Lightning barely heard Soarin’ say over all the noise both within and around Spitfire’s body. “Your place tomorrow to relax when all this is done and over with?”
“You read my fucking mind, Clipper,” Spitfire answered back. “After all the pomp and ceremony tonight, a day for just the two of us sounds awesome.”
“Maybe we can blow off some steam some other way, too,” Soarin’ suggested. “We haven’t had a little bit of alone time since the tour started…”
“Hey, can you two save it for after we do the stinkin’ meet and greet?” Rainbow Dash shouted at them from somewhere off to Spitfire’s left. “Sheesh! C’mon!”
“Yeah, yeah, Crash. Don’t worry, I know you and Rarity have plans when you get back, too.”
“Yeah, well…”
The rest of their banter was lost on Lightning Dust as she worried over the implications of what she’d just heard. Soarin’ and Spitfire having some alone time? She suddenly found herself filled with fear and dread. Lightning knew exactly what that meant… and she was about to be unwillingly stuck right into the middle of it. Quite literally, too.
Maybe a little release won’t be so bad, came a little thought from the back of her mind. I’ll certainly get all the attention I could possibly want… No, no, what am I saying? I’m a mare, damn it, not some tits! Get ahold of yourself, Lightning, come on!
She managed to push those thoughts away for the moment… but they were still back there. And now that Spitfire wasn’t flying, the gentle squeeze of the clingy spandex flight suit kept reminding her that she wasn’t a mare, at least not right now. She was a pair of tits, and she was going to get played with tomorrow.
It was going to be a long, long day.
The doorbell rang, and Lightning’s heart began to race. Or, rather, it was Spitfire’s heart, but if Lightning still had one, it would be racing right now. She jostled as her host uncrossed her legs and stood up from her chair, slippers lightly padding across the floor as Spitfire walked toward the door. Lightning jiggled with every step, the little rub of Spitfire’s oversized t-shirt tickling her nipples and making her hornier than she had been in a while. Spitfire wasn’t wearing a bra, which Lightning was thankful for, but the reason why terrified her.
Yellow fingers twisted the lock at the door and Spitfire pulled it open, revealing a stallion’s silhouette standing in the doorway. “Hey, Clipper,” she said, kicking her hip to the side and making Lightning’s halves bounce again. “Long time no see.”
“Feels like it was the last rally yesterday,” Soarin’ answered back. He took his arm off the wall and stepped inside, and the two pegasi embraced and kissed. Lightning shouted silently in distress as she found herself squeezed between their chests, and shivered when they separated and Soarin’ ran a finger down the side of Spitfire’s left tit. “I see you’re enjoying something loose after squeezing into that uniform. You’re going to have to get the team tailor to widen the chest a little, aren’t you?”
“Something to handle over the winter,” Spitfire said, grabbing Soarin’ by the hand and dragging him inside. She kicked the door shut with a hoof, and she playfully swatted the stallion on the nose when she caught him staring at her tits again. “Later,” she teased him. “I’ll let you play with her in a bit. I know you’re excited.”
Lightning caught the little slip up of ‘her’ instead of ‘them’, but Soarin’ apparently didn’t, because he didn’t have anything to say about it. Instead, he just chuckled and made his way to the couch in Spitfire’s living room, tossing himself down on it and spreading out his wings. “So, got anything special for tonight? Or are we just hanging out?”
“Well, the Las Pegasus 500’s on the tv,” Spitfire said, following Soarin’ and sitting down next to him. Lightning felt gravity shift and her fatty weight falling in on itself as the mare leaned back into Soarin’s lap. “Maybe order some kirin food for dinner? There’s a place that opened up that does delivery. I bet it’s spicy.”
“Spice is nice,” Soarin’ agreed, wrapping an arm around Spitfire and propping Lightning up with his forearm in lieu of Spitfire’s absent bra. His thumb brushed over Lightning’s right nipple, causing it to stiffen in response. Spitfire groaned and grunted as she shuffled into a more comfortable position, coming to rest on her right shoulder and letting Soarin’ cup her right breast in his hand. Lightning felt the warmth of his hand wrap around her, hold her tight, and occasionally drum her side through Spitfire’s shirt. As pleasant as it felt, however, she was panicking. She could tell by Spitfire’s heartbeat that she was aroused, and the surge of hormones saturating her blood made it all too clear what Spitfire planned to do later. And Lightning, helpless tit fat as she was, could do nothing to stop it. All she could do was plead in her own silent, fleshy prison.
She was suddenly having extreme doubts she could even bring herself to join the Wonderbolts after all this. She wouldn’t be able to look at anypony on the team in the same way ever again.
But she had a long time to wait before that, and it didn’t do much to help calm her nerves. Spitfire and Soarin’ turned on the tv and watched the automobile race together, which took a few hours; it was 500 miles long, after all. And all the while, Soarin’s hand would gently stroke her, poke her, rub at her right nipple—all of which only served to make Lightning hornier and more desperate for some kind of relief. She was losing control of her mind, desperate for attention, and she had to fight and struggle to not give into her titty nature. She was a mare, she had to remind herself, not a pair of tits!
Her only moments of reprieve came when Soarin’ had to get up to answer the door when the kirin food came, and Spitfire went to the kitchen to pour drinks for the two of them. Lightning felt herself bouncing once more, disorienting her thoughts, especially coming down from the arousal Soarin’ had been stimulating her with. Then the two ate side by side, with Soarin’ briefly fleeing to get milk to deal with the spice of the food, and Spitfire laughing as she only ate more. Lightning could only stare helplessly at the food in front of her through Spitfire’s shirt, listening to the quiet gurgling of Spitfire’s esophagus as she ate, and remember what it was like to eat spicy food, watch tv, or do anything she wanted to instead of being nothing but a pair of inanimate boobs entirely dependent on Spitfire for everything. She had no agency anymore, she had no say in anything that happened or anything she wanted to do. Her job was just to hang from Spitfire’s chest, be full and perky enough to attract attention, stimulate Spitfire with pleasure during sex, and afterwards, fill up with milk and nurse a foal. Thankfully, at the very minimum, Lightning wouldn’t have to deal with that before she turned back into a pony again. But the other stuff…
She didn’t have to wait long to experience it firsthand. As soon as the two Wonderbolts finished their dinner, and as soon as the race came to an end, Soarin’ leaned over, scooped Spitfire up in his arms, and tossed her over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. Spitfire giggled and playfully ordered him to stop as his commanding officer, to which Soarin’ only responded that this was a mutiny, and he was off to steal the captain’s booty. Lightning’s world flopped, bounced, and inverted, and she found herself staring at the ground as Soarin’ and Spitfire moved away from the living room. Clop, clop, clop came Soarin’s hooves on the tile floor of Spitfire’s Cloudsdale penthouse, and Lightning quickly realized where they were heading, having grown familiar with Spitfire’s penthouse after all her time as the Wonderbolt captain’s tits. She barely had time to mentally brace herself before Soarin’ tossed Spitfire onto her bed, and Lightning bounced violently against her host’s chest.
“I have been waiting so long for this,” Soarin’ said, and Lightning watched in horror as he removed his shirt. Fingers brushed her underside and sides, and Spitfire soon tossed her shirt away as well, leaving Lightning to hang free in all her perky glory and fully see what was about to happen to her. “Abstinence during the final tour gets really frustrating, you know.”
“The last thing we need is getting caught fucking while on tour in Canterlot,” Spitfire shot back, sliding further up her bed and propping herself (and Lightning) up with her hands placed behind her. “It isn’t a good look for our dear princesses.”
“Why? They’re not the ones we’re getting laid with,” Soarin’ said, hopping onto the bed with Spitfire. “Though that would be pretty nice, I gotta say…”
“Oh, cut the chatter, Clipper,” Spitfire said, and a little arch of her back pushed Lightning out a little further. “How about you put your mouth to better use than that?”
“Yes ma’am,” Soarin’ said, licking his lips before lunging forward to press them against Spitfire’s. Lightning found herself squished again between the two pegasi’s chests, and Spitfire moaned as she wrapped her arms around Soarin’ and pulled him close as they started to roll about the bed. Wings and feathers were everywhere, though Lightning only saw them in little bursts and glances at the periphery of her magically fixed vision—her view was instead dominated by Soarin’s chest, slipping between darkness and pale white blue depending on how hard she found herself pressed into the lieutenant’s chest. The smacking of lips added a regular wet popping to the room, though Lightning could barely hear it over Spitfire’s racing heart, or focus on it over the intense stimulation of her bodies being smooshed and jostled about in their embrace.
After what felt like an eternity, Soarin’ shifted and began to move lower. Lightning could see it in his eyes before she felt his fingers trace along her curvy contours, and he wiggled them back and forth a moment, making her bodies jiggle like gelatin on Spitfire’s chest, before he reached out with his hands to grab Lightning firmly in each one. The mare-turned-tits cried out in pleasure as Soarin’ gave each of her halves a squeeze, his thumbs rubbing over her perky, erect nipples, teasing them ever so gently before pressing down firmly on them as if he was trying to push them back into Spitfire’s boobs. Spitfire gasped and started to pant, her heart continuing to race, sweat starting to perspire all over her. Her host’s far away brain sent the signal to Lightning’s bodies, and she had no choice but to begin sweating, feeling the salty water begin to whisk away the heat of passion, but also helping Soarin’s fingers stick to her supple and soft skin. The little bit of friction only made Lightning hornier and more desperate for Spitfire to climax, as she had long ago lost the ability to cum herself. And when her entire essence had been transformed into a pair of tits, climaxing was all she could think about in the heat of the moment.
Then Soarin’ moved in for the kill.
Clutching Lightning’s right half between his thumb and his fingers, he shifted slightly on the bed and leaned down. Lips brushed Lightning’s nipple, leaving her figuratively shuddering in her helpless state, and firmly planted themselves on her soft tit flesh before he began to suck. Lightning squealed in ecstasy as she felt her right nipple suck up into Soarin’s mouth, the inverse pressure creating a prickling tingle of sensation around her areola. The warm wetness of his lips only made her nipple harder, and then his tongue danced over it, flicking it this way and that, the rough, wet surface tickling Lightning like nothing she’d ever experienced before. Teeth nipped at the tip of the nipple, and Spitfire gasped for the both of them, her hands clutching the sheets of her bed into her fists. Her whole body shuddered from head to hoof, and Lightning was no exception to that. She could feel Spitfire’s blood flooding with hormones and adrenaline, and it drove her mind wild.
Yes! Yes! she cried out in her silent ecstasy as Soarin’ playfully bit her nipple again. His right hand squeezed her left half in all sorts of ways, his knuckles kneading her nipple while his mouth continued to toy with the other. Lightning knew if she was a mare, the amount of ecstasy she was experiencing right now would have been like nothing she’d ever experienced. As a pair of tits, though, it practically broke her mind. This is what she was supposed to do, and by Celestia, she loved it. And some part of her mind knew that she was passing that pleasure directly onto Spitfire, and that thought was oddly comforting, but she couldn’t quite put a finger on why.
Once Soarin’ was certain that Spitfire’s right tit had gotten enough attention, he moved to the left one and repeated the process. Once again, Lightning found herself under assault from intense waves of ecstasy, the feelings on each of her two globes reversed and evening out the sensations running through her fleshy bodies. Spitfire continued to pant and pant, and Lightning quickly realized between her own blasts of colorful pleasure that the Wonderbolt was starting to teeter toward the edge just from that alone. But instead of Soarin’ moving down further on Spitfire’s sleek yellow body once he finished assaulting Lightning’s two sensitive halves, he stopped when Spitfire reached a hand out and grabbed his shoulder. “Take your pants off,” she whispered in a husky voice. “I got something special for you.”
“A surprise? I can get behind that,” Soarin’ said back, and he crawled back to toss his pants off, followed by his underwear. In the meanwhile, Spitfire rolled off of the bed, Lightning bouncing and already feeling red love marks starting to rise on her boob skin, and kneeled on the floor. Lightning thought Spitfire was about to give Soarin’ a blowjob as he positioned himself at the edge of the bed, but when Spitfire raised her back a little straighter and her head a little higher, Lightning soon realized that wasn’t what was about to happen.
Lightning’s vision was dominated by Soarin’s cock, standing erect from his groin like a ship’s mast, a tiny glistening drop of precum dotting the top of its flared head. It was massive, at least to Lightning, who had to remind herself that everything seemed much larger when she was just a pair of tits, but there was no doubt that the stallion was well endowed. It twitched once as she watched it, the skin a slightly darker white-blue than the rest of Soarin’s body, and then Lightning could do nothing but watch in horror as Spitfire swung her tits closer to Soarin’s dick, until it disappeared in the blind spot of Lightning’s magic vision.
Moments later, Lightning felt it press between her two halves, a warm, twitching shaft between her two fleshy halves. As it nestled into her voluminous cleavage, Spitfire squeezed Lightning together around Soarin’s dick using her forearms, and she began to rise and fall with a little help from her wings braced against the bed. Lightning felt it sliding up and down between her two bodies, lubricated every so slightly by the sweat trapped in Spitfire’s cleavage, the flared head and the medial ring bumping and rubbing Lightning from above and below as Spitfire gave Soarin’ a vigorous titty fuck. The jostling stopped Lightning from thinking, and Spitfire’s panting was the only thing she could hear as her lungs filled and emptied directly behind her sense of hearing. And to Lightning’s surprise, it seemed like the extra sensitivity she gave her host was driving Spitfire closer and closer to climax just from the titty fuck alone. She could feel her master peaking, the hormones in her blood growing more intense, the adrenaline heightening every single little jiggle and jostle tenfold. Lightning was sweating, but she was also raising goosebumps on her round bodies.
And she was so close to that release she realized she desperately needed, wholly craved, desired more than anything else in the world. She hadn’t cum in so long it was driving her mad. It was what she was supposed to do as a pair of tits, right? She was a sex organ, an erogenous zone, what made a mare a mare and made her the object of everypony’s beauty. She was helping her master cum, and she herself couldn’t cum until Spitfire did it for her. She needed Spitfire to cum, and to try and help her along, she threw herself wholly into focusing on every little sensation she felt, trying and praying that it would be the little bump that pushed Spitfire over the edge.
Soarin’s cock twitched once, twice, and a third time, and the stallion let out a shuddering gasp, his fingers curling on the bedsheets. “I… I-I’m gonna...” he panted, biting his lip and hissing as he tried to last a little bit longer. “Oh… oh fuck…”
“You like that, Lieutenant?” Spitfire panted out, sweating as she herself found herself getting closer and closer to that edge. “Do it, then. That’s an order!”
There was a fourth and final twitch between Lightning’s two halves, and Soarin’ grunted and moaned as his cock let loose right in Spitfire’s cleavage. Hot, sticky seed oozed out of Spitfire’s cleavage, blasting up with the last thrust of Soarin’s penis like geyser of semen, coating both of Lightning’s halves and Spitfire’s upper chest. It tickled and burned in a strange sense, and one last rush of what felt like some kind of supernatural tingling finally delivered that kick Spitfire needed. Spitfire shuddered and her body opened up the floodgates of estrogen that exploded across her being, filling Lightning with iced lightning that dominated her entire existence in a way she struggled to process. Spitfire’s climax flowed through her, consumed her, became her, ripping her thoughts away and simply drowning her in ecstasy and bliss like she’d never experienced before. For that moment in time, Lightning Dust the mare ceased to exist, and in her place was only the vague awareness of Spitfire’s Tits.
Both pegasi slumped back, Soarin’ onto the bed, Spitfire across the floor, with her semen-soaked passenger Lightning Dust collapsing under her own weight on Spitfire’s chest. Not a single coherent thought passed through Lightning Dust’s mind for seemingly hours. She merely surrendered herself to the afterglow of Spitfire’s climax, let it permeate through her, and focused what mental capacity she had left on embracing it. Even the strange tingle of Soarin’s seed on her bodies started to fade away, leaving Lightning’s mind feeling sluggish and slow.
But she didn’t care. After all, she was just Spitfire’s tits. Nothing more, and nothing less. And that was all she wanted to be.
Lightning Dust could barely remember the rest of the night. Even in the morning, she struggled to think about anything else under than that climax and the titty fuck she’d been forced to give Soarin’. It was like that one orgasm had broken something in her, and now she was struggling to put the pieces of her identity back together. Every little brush of Spitfire’s arms against her rack awakened some spark of desire for the mare to climax again, and she found herself silently pleading with her master to give her some more special treatment.
She got it during the shower.
Spitfire untangled herself from Soarin’s sleepy embrace and made her way to the bathroom, her steps bouncing Lightning from side to side and waking her up from her grogginess and that heavy fog clouding her mind. By the time Spitfire stepped into the shower, the pitter-patter of warm water pelting Lightning’s bodies from all sorts of angles had quickly seized her attention. It soon pushed Lightning back into desperate need for another orgasm even before she’d fully cleared the hurdle of the afterglow of last night’s experience, and in her growing desperation and frustration, she didn’t even notice Soarin’ had stepped into the shower with Spitfire until his hands appeared on the edges of Lightning’s vision. She only saw them moments before he squeezed Spitfire’s tits and blocked Lightning’s sight entirely—not that she could even focus on that when the squeezing of her halves sent shockwaves of pleasure rolling through her fleshy prison.
“When are we getting those unisex showers?” Soarin’ teased Spitfire as the mare leaned back into his embrace, letting the water run over both of them. “Budget’s pretty tight next year. We gotta cut spending somewhere, and do we really need two showers?”
“Why? So you can get your dick wet while you get your dick wet?” Spitfire pushed back against Soarin’ and lowered her hips, her breath hitching as she found something firm to rest on. Electricity ran up her spine and straight into Lightning’s helpless form as she slid slowly back until her hips were flush with Soarin’s groin, and she reached out to brace herself against the shower wall. “Maybe we should give it a trial run… right here?”
“You read my mind…”
Soarin’s hands slid down Spitfire’s body until they rested on her waist, leaving Lightning hanging free and pointed at the floor. When Soarin’ began to thrust back and forth, Lightning found herself swinging with each motion of Spitfire’s body, made only worse by the panting and gasping Spitfire made as Soarin’ intimately explored her womb. The roiling waves of ecstasy and pleasure washing over her made it so very hard for Lightning to focus on anything else, but she did catch bits of the two pegasi’s conversation as they simultaneously cleaned and dirtied themselves in the shower.
“So… about Lightning…”
“Yeah?” Spitfire asked. “You like her?”
“It’s an… improvement alright.”
Somewhere in that suffocating blanket of pleasure, Lightning Dust recognized her name. She tried to push through the sensations to focus on what they were saying, tried to ignore the arousal that was overwhelming her being as she swayed back and forth, back and forth with each thrust…
“Well I… gave her what… she wanted,” Spitfire said around her gasps and moans. “She’s a part… of the team… just not how… she probably thought… it would be…”
“You going to change her back later?”
“Not now. She feels so… so good. And now, well… that weird spell becomes permanent… if a specific… ahh… very specific bodily fluid… touches the signee…”
“So that titty fuck… that was you sealing the deal?”
“Yeah… and I bet she… she enjoyed it too… ahhh.”
“That’s fucked up, Cap… but kinda hot.”
“That’s what I thought too…”
A sense of panic started to shoot through Lightning’s mind. Permanent? All because Spitfire used her to give Soarin’ a titty fuck? No, there had to be a way out of it, a way to let somepony know what had happened to her… but she hadn’t really let anypony know she was going back to the Wonderbolts in case she got rejected again to save herself the embarrassment, and who would look for a missing mare inside of another mare’s tits?
She’d been played by the Wonderbolt Captain, and now she was paying the price. She should have given up and just done something else with her life, like… like…
Oh, Celestia, she moaned as another wave of pleasure rolled over her. She was still swinging back and forth, still feeling a surge of hormones and adrenaline flow through her, heightening her sense of touch to unimaginable sensitivity. It was all she could focus on, and she could feel her mind beginning to break again. What was she trying to think again? She was supposed to be focusing on something, something important… but what?
Spitfire gasped, and Lightning’s reality broke apart like a brick flying through a window as her owner came alongside her coltfriend. The overload of sensation hit her again for the second time in not even twelve hours, pushing aside her ability to think about anything else. It was just as strong and good as the first time, if not more so, heightened as it was by the warm water and steam of the shower. That sensation was like a drug, and what was left of Lightning was addicted to it. She wanted more, more, more, and Spitfire’s body delivered. And as the waves and waves of climactic pleasure ripped through her, Spitfire’s Tits could only hang from her owner’s chest and revel in every little bit of it.
When that high finally came down almost an hour later, there was little left of the mare that was Spitfire’s Tits. She knew that she had originally wanted to be a Wonderbolt, and had come back to Spitfire to try and make it happen, but she’d been tricked into becoming a part of the team in a different way, and she loved it. She was Spitfire’s Tits, a pair of big bouncy boobies, a robust rack that served her owner faithfully, and was taken good care of in turn. Her old life had been boring, frustrating, disappointing, and filled with uncertainty. But Spitfire’s Tits could barely remember that life. She couldn’t remember her name anymore. It tickled at the back of her mind, but she couldn’t grab onto it. Because now, instead, she fully threw herself into what she was now in her current life.
She was Spitfire’s Tits. She’d spend the rest of her owner’s life making her look good and giving her pleasure. Her future was full of bouncing and rubbing and groping, and she looked forward to it. Maybe one day, she’d fulfill her other purpose, depending on if her owner ever settled down to start a family. It had to happen one day, right? And she’d still get to experience flying with the Wonderbolts. That pleased what was left of the mare she used to be. A fitting compromise in the end.
She was finally part of the team. And it was better than she could have hoped for.
