Storm in a Teacup

While Flash excused himself to shower, I started my trek over toward Wonderbolts HQ. The locker room was empty as I trotted in, with a note on the bench that simply said Sleet Storm: Put this on. Wait here. I'll be running late. Under the note was a fresh Wonderbolts' uniform.

I really wanted to take a quick shower myself; I could smell the rank stench of body odor from my coat, which had simmered under my armor in the sun all day, but soaking myself in the shower would weigh me down during my try-outs, so that was a bad idea. Besides, I would just work up a sweat again. So instead, I put on the uniform.

It wasn't the full flight-suit uniform that the Wonderbolts typically wore during their performances. Because of some of the more extreme stunts, those suits were designed for maximum thermal protection while maximizing flexibility. The uniform in my hooves was an acrobatics uniform designed to give a wider range of motion, at the cost of less protection. As such, it only covered the chest, sides, and legs, while keeping the rest of the body exposed. That was fine with me; I hated the skin-tight suits anyway, and these ones breathed a lot better.

Once I had the suit on, I started doing stretches. Thanks to my position, it had been some time since I'd done any serious flying, so while I'd done some daily exercise, I was definitely not in top form. My confidence faltered as my stretching caused a brief cramp in my left wing.

Before I worked the cramp out, though, the sounds of approaching hoofbeats drew my attention. I glanced up to see Soarin, the top stallion performer in the 'Bolts coming through the entrance. He trotted straight up to me, a wide smile on his face.

"Ah, you must be Sleet Storm?" I nodded. "Yeah, Spitfire told me you were hot, and damn... she wasn't kidding."

His eyes were roaming all over my body as he stepped around me. Even if he was famous, I wasn't some mewling fanfilly who was going to let him ogle my entire body; I turned to face him as he circled me, trying to maintain eye contact. It mattered little, as his own eyes were never on my face. By the time he stopped circling me, I had turned around entirely, with my back to the door.

He frowned. "You're making my job difficult."

I raised an eyebrow. "Your job?"

"My job," he said, nodding. "I'm supposed to be evaluating you. If you'd please hold still, I need to see all of you."

"Why's that?" I asked. He continued his survey of my body. This time, I stood still, though I continued to crane my neck around, watching him like a hawk. It occured to me that one of the uses for this particular uniform was because it was the one used in 'promotional images'—the kinds with provocative mares on the covers, with their teats exposed and their tail only barely hiding the goods. The kinds that catch male attention.

"The Wonderbolts aren't just about skill, we're also about image," he explained. He placed a hoof on my flank, and I had to resist the urge to slap him with my tail. "If you can't fill out the uniform properly, you will not make the cut." He pressed firmly in a few places. "Lovely muscle tone you have here. Could you spread your wings for me?"

I couldn't help but notice his stallionhood dropping from his sheathe and wished my glare could have turned to literal daggers. Normally, this kind of hooves-on inspection was done by medical staff; this asshole was clearly getting off on this, but I knew that there was no way I'd get into the Wonderbolts and out of my current miserable posting if I pissed him off.

"Wings, Miss Storm?" he asked again. With a heavy sigh, I slowly began lifting my wings outward for him. "Eyes forward, please, I need an idea of how you look when you're flying." Grumbling under my breath, I turned to face forward. "Good filly."

Nope.

I whirled on him, fury burning just under the surface. "Don't you 'good filly' me!" I shouted. "I'm not your plaything!"

He seemed utterly unfazed by my outburst. "Well, that kind of attitude will not get you very far," he said, as if stating a simple fact. "Is this examination over? Shall I send you back to the Guard with an unsatisfactory rating?"

I deflated, feeling blood rushing into my cheeks. "No," I whispered. "You can continue." Once again, I spread my wings and turned away from him, furious rage and embarrassment boiling just under the surface.

Once again, his hoof touched me; this time on my side, right where my wing would normally rest. I shuddered at the intimate touch - it wasn't exactly an erogenous zone, but it was very unusual for a stranger to touch a pegasus beneath her wings. It was becoming increasingly clear to me that his brazen nature was probably being driven by some sick satisfaction of his perverted desires, but I really, really, wanted this promotion, and if all he wanted to do was get a little hoofy with me, I would tolerate that much.

His hoof wandered up to the joint of my wing and pressed firmly a few times. "You have beautiful wings," he mumbled, pulling his hoof away. "Please keep them extended." I nodded slightly, relieved that his hoof had stopped teasing me.

The sound of the tapping of his hooves clicking against the tile floor bounced off the walls as he stepped around my backside, reminding me of how empty this place was. "Very nice," he said, coming up around the other side. His hoof touched my other side in the same invasive place as he had before, only this time, he put more pressure on it, like he was giving a massage, and, at the same time, something brushed against my sex.

I gasped and jumped to the side, spinning to face him. His hoof was still raised to where he'd been touching me, and he simply looked at me quizzically. His stallionhood had fully descended now, standing straight out and on display.

"Is something wrong?" he asked.

"You touched me!" I shouted angrily.

"Yes, that is part of the examination," he said matter-of-factly.

"You touched my lady bits," I growled, desperately wanting to whirl around and buck him in the face. It would absolutely ruin any chance I had of getting into the Wonderbolts, the thought of which barely kept me in check.

"I did no such thing," he denied. He still hadn't lowered his hoof, which he waved as if to exaggerate his point. "Your tail must have touched you."

Even a mare like myself could tell when her tail was flagged, and it wasn't uncommon to brush your own sensitive bits while flagging, if only on accident...

And my tail was absolutely flagged.

The blood rushed back to my cheeks as I realized I had been presenting to him the entire time. Which meant his erection was probably just from the smell. I had to admit to the possibility that his body was reacting involuntarily to my pheromones, and maybe he really wasn't trying to perv on me, and was, in fact, simply being a gentlecolt and not mentioning my growing heat.

I sighed heavily. "Sorry... Have you seen enough?"

He nodded. "Yes, I have. You're quite a fine specimen."

Somehow, the way he said that seemed both really clinical and really skeevy. Couldn't he have chosen a more normal way to compliment me?

"Come, follow me," he said, trotting toward the office. "There's some basic paperwork we need to get out of the way before we begin your try-out proper. Liability and stuff."

That seemed... off to me. The Wonderbolts was a military branch, and all liability-related issues should be covered under that umbrella. But I couldn't put my hoof down on exactly what. I cautiously followed behind. He stopped just inside the door and gestured for me to enter, and once I was inside, he closed and locked the door. Immediately my internal alarm bells started ringing. Why would he lock the door? Was it just a habit? I could still just turn the lock and leave if I needed to, so it wasn't like I was literally being locked in here with him, but I didn't feel this was so important we had to ensure nopony else interrupted.

Soarin went around to the other side of the desk, and it was then that I noticed several photographs spread out on it. They were all of a stallion - a vaguely familiar stallion - in several compromising positions with another pony just out of frame. He didn't look happy in any of them.

"Oh, sorry," Soarin' said, scooping up the photos. "I meant to put those away." He missed two photos as he tucked them into a small folder behind the desk. One of them was my own photo, which proved one of the Wonderbolts had been the thief. And I might have been enraged if I hadn't been utterly horrified by the other photo.

Starfeather: the missing stallion. And in that last photo... A mare I didn't recognize was sucking on his bloodied penis while another unknown stallion's dick was stuck into... the hole in Starfeather's neck, right where his head once was. His head was missing.

Terror shot through me as I looked up to Soarin in shock. He simply smiled. "I see you understand the situation you are in."

"Y-you... you killed him."

"Oh, no, my dear. I did no such thing," he said, laughing out loud as if it was an everyday misunderstanding. I tried to will my legs to move, but sheer terror kept me glued to the floor. "You see, he did that to himself. A desperate attempt to get away."

He took a step toward me. The Wonderbolts were in peak physical condition, but didn't necessarily get combat training or regular sparring exercises the way the Castle Guard did. I was ready to fight if I had to.

"So, Sleet Storm," he said my name as if he was trying to flirt with me, before his face soured. "Or was it Slut Storm? I don't remember, you never gave me your name like a proper filly."

"You know I could report you to the authorities," I said in desperation.

"With what evidence?" he said, picking up the photo of Foggy and me with his wing. "Or do you think a he-said-she-said scenario will turn out in your favor against one of the stars of the Wonderbolts?" He waggled the photo in front of me. "Or maybe this evidence? Perhaps you should be the one concerned about being reported, yes?"

I was reasonably confident I could take Spitfire or Fleetfoot in a fight, but Soarin? Even with my training, the sheer power difference between stallions and mares was considerable, and I knew that even an untrained-but-athletic stallion could overpower me if he got even a remote amount of leverage.

"What is it you want?" I feared the answer.

"You," he said. "I want you to carry my foal. I'm going to knock you up, and you aren't going to tell anypony about it. Or you'll end up like your little homo-friend here." He flicked his wing across the desk and the photo of the decapitated stallion fluttered to the ground right in front of me.

I lunged for the photograph. It was my best hope of proving he was a maniac. But as I dove forward, his hoof shoved my face into the ground, and the rest of my body collapsed behind me. I barely avoided biting my tongue as my chin slammed painfully into the hard tile.

"Ah-ah," he scolded. He lifted his weight onto the hoof standing on my head, painfully pressuring my skull, and kicked the picture away with his other hoof. "You will cooperate like a good filly."

Shame and rage welled up in my chest. I couldn't fight from here. I'd made a stupid decision and put myself in a dangerous position. Though he'd put his weight back on the other hoof again after kicking the photo away, the pressure on my head told me that he could easily kill me if he wanted to. My best hope was to simply cooperate for the moment and try not to piss him off. But I wouldn't give up so easily; if he let his guard down, for even a moment...

His wing was fiddling with something I couldn't see behind the desk and then I heard a drawer click open. Then he pulled out something that sounded metallic. A bridle dropped in front of me. The steel bit bounced off the tile with a terrible clanging noise.

It suddenly dawned on me: He was going to restrain me. I'm sorry, Foggy. It was the only thought running through my mind as I closed my eyes and tried to ignore what was about to happen.

"Put it in your mouth," he commanded.

I knew where this was going to go. He'd been extremely blunt with his intentions. And I felt completely powerless to do anything about it from this position. The pressure on my skull came back as I lay there, motionless. There was an implicit threat that he could seriously harm me. But I was still going to make him earn my cooperation. I wouldn't give him the satisfaction of giving up so easily.

My hooves moved as slowly as I felt I could risk as I gathered the bit and pulled it toward my mouth. The pressure lessened slightly as it got closer, but then increased substantially as he pushed off of my head and snatched up the bridle's straps and yanked the bit firmly into my mouth, briefly pinching my tongue against my teeth.

Fuck! That hurt!

"You basheerd!" I yelled around the bit in my mouth, unable to form the correct syllables. He pulled my head back and cinched the bridle tight, pulling me up and back. Now he was sitting with his weight across my back. He inhaled deeply.

"Mmm... the smell of a mare in heat. My favorite."

I wanted to use my wings to shove him off of me, but that would make my most vulnerable part of my body defenseless. Without airspace above me, spreading my wings right now would accomplish nothing anyway. Instead, I tried bucking him off my back, but couldn't get the leverage from my prone position.

He reached down next to my head, and I saw a clip out of the corner of my eye click around a ring on the leg of the desk. I tried to pull my head away to get a better look at what he was doing and rapidly realized he had just anchored the bridle to the desk. And I could see from my position that they bolted the desk to the floor. He locked the clip into place with a heavy padlock.

Weight lifted from my back, and Soarin sat down in front of me. His pendulous balls flopped against the tile, mere inches from my head: They were wrinkled and disgusting. I nearly retched onto the floor as I realized I was close enough to smell them; a revolting odor of rank ball sweat. I'd heard of it before, but never been unfortunate enough to smell it.

I tried to push myself up and get away from them, but I couldn't. Pulled as tight as it was, there were scant few inches of slack for me to even attempt to move with the bridle latched to the desk.

He rubbed his dick across my muzzle, grinning madly as I tried to withhold my rising bile. If a stallion had done this in other circumstances, I would have bitten it off. He knew it, too.

"It's really too bad I don't have an O-ring," Soarin lamented mockingly. "But I don't trust your teeth."

The thought that he might put that tower of veiny, pulsing flesh inside of my mouth disgusted me. I thrashed against the bridle, flapping my wings madly in spite of the risks, but it wouldn't relent.

Soarin laughed, stroking himself mere inches from my face. I closed my eyes, only to immediately feel a hoof slap across my muzzle. The smell of copper invaded my nose, and I immediately knew he'd bloodied it with the strike.

"Eyes open, slut," he commanded.

"Nghoo," I intoned around the bit.

A second blow struck, significantly harder than the first. "Bitch! Don't make me knock out your teeth and force you to swallow them." The threat seemed so ridiculous on the surface, and yet I was in no position to mock him. After what they'd done to Starfeather... I opened my eyes.

"Good filly," he said condescendingly. Fuck him.

He continued to stroke himself as I watched in apprehensive horror, waiting for his putrid seed to streak across my face. Part of me hoped he would blind me with it so I wouldn't have to see what other hell he might try to put me through.

There was no such luck. Instead, he stopped and smeared his pre-cum across my muzzle before standing up and disappearing from sight. I soon felt him seize one of my wings. If there was one thing I wouldn't do, I would not let him mangle my beautiful wings.

"Come on, now. You've got the head down, now you just need to put your ass up," he commanded, pulling upward on my wing. That was an action designed to get pegasi to comply, as wings were not meant to bend far in that direction, and wing injuries were some of the most painful things for a pegasus: not only did they hurt like crazy, but they took away your freedom until they healed up. If they healed right.

I quietly acquiesced, doing my best to get my hind legs beneath me. Fortunately, he did not harm my wings, instead letting go once I had managed to stand.

"Good filly," he repeated. Every time he said those words, I wanted to murder him all over again. An impotent rage welled up in me as I thrashed against my bindings.

From this position, there was no way I could get the leverage to buck him properly, but if he went behind me, I was ready to try. I couldn't turn my head to look, though, so I would need to wait. Instead, I felt him slide beneath me.

"These teats are even more fantastic up close," Soarin said. I felt a pinching on one of my nipples, followed by a violent twisting. I was into rough nipple play, so I was used to that kind of pain, but never from somepony other than Foggy. And the rough treatment combined with my heat had the unfortunate effect of making me feel aroused.

Aroused and ashamed.

I'm sorry, Foggy.

"They'll make for good nursing for all of our beautiful children."

ALL OF THEM!? I didn't even want one child, even with the pony I loved.

I tried to scream at him, but because of the bit, all that came out was unintelligible noise. He seemed completely unconcerned, laughing loudly at my struggle. Instead, my other nipple was twisted, even more harshly than the first. In response, I continued my slurred, broken, incomprehensible ranting, only vaguely aware of the fact that he slipped out from beneath me.

Then, I heard more steel scraping along the tile.

My attempts to continue screaming at him immediately ceased as my brain went into overdrive trying to identify the noise. What was happening now? What was he doing?

Suddenly, a clamp went around one of my hind hooves. I tried to kick at him with the other one, but the awkward attempt made contact with nothing. Before I could even process that, he grabbed my outstretched leg and held it in place as a second clamp snapped around it.

"Whaddudo?" I slurred into the bit.

He didn't answer. My legs were spread uncomfortably wide, and I felt a pressure on the inside of either hoof, forcing them to remain apart. I knew what a spreader bar was—I'd seen some mares with them before in various magazines and even a stallion in one particularly kinky gay bar I'd been to with Foggy. But I had never imagined that I would wear one.

"Well, that seems to be good enough," he said. His voice was behind me now. Unfortunately, with my legs bound like this, I couldn't kick him if I'd tried. Something touched the outer lips of my slit. I cringed and closed my eyes. That was the one thing I could do right now: he couldn't see that I was closing them while he stood behind me. His tongue continued to probe my outer lips. "Seems you're excited about this, too," he said.

It did not excite me at all. And yet my tail stood, flagged. Traitorous heat.

His lips wrapped around my winking clit and I moaned softly. Involuntarily. His teeth bit down, ever so lightly, and soft suckling noises reached my ears as he did something I had never permitted a stallion to do. "Oh, filly, Spitfire doesn't know what she's missing," he mumbled between licks.

My nether lips parted and his tongue began probing inside of me. A place no stallion had ever explored. The warm muscle danced against my inner walls, up and down, in and out. My excited clit winked against his chin, sending a bolt of pleasure up my spine. I tried desperately to imagine that it was Foggy licking me.

His tongue lashed again, stronger and firmer, teasing at my clit once again. Imagining Foggy was counterproductive—that was only turning me on more! I was torn; I could stop thinking about her, and suffer through the experience, or I could pretend I was with her and enjoy being raped.

I didn't have long to debate it, as only moments later, Soarin's tongue withdrew, and a fuller, more firm sensation pressed against the entrance to my tunnel. I knew immediately what it was; warmer than any of my dildos, but the shape was familiar enough. I screamed around the bit in my mouth and struggled against my bindings in one last act of defiance, before I rocked forward with his first stroke. A warm spire of flesh lanced into my maiden's tunnel.

It filled me with pulsing warmth and a firm softness in a place I'd only ever felt a lifeless, cold stiffness before. I'd taken thicker toys, but that was of little relief; the pain I was feeling was entirely psychological.

"Fuuuuuuck, you're a great slut," Soarin murmured. "I can't wait to fill up your womb."

He began pumping slowly into me. I rocked with each thrust, every time feeling relief as he withdrew, only to gasp in both despair and relief as he slammed forward again. My muscles seized around him, my traitorous heat becoming an involuntary, instinctive response to his stallionhood. Soon, I felt the tip of his shaft knocking against my cervix.

I hated every moment of it. And the worst part was that my body was giving in to the physical sensations. Despite my loathing of everything going on, it began to feel good. A little moan escaped my lips.

"Yeah," he whispered in my ear. "I knew you'd like that. I can't wait," he said, continuing to thrust. I shivered at the intimate invasion. "You're so damn tight."

I tried to unclench everything down below. I couldn't stand the idea that I was giving him pleasure with my body. It was imperative that I prove him wrong.

"That felt amazing, little filly," he breathed, still thrusting away. "Do it again."

My winking clit—that little button of pleasure that had a mind of its own—winked outward again, and his thrusting shaft rubbed firmly against it. I was losing myself as a muscle contraction forced its way through my mental defenses. I seized up, clamping down strongly on the invader with my entire body coiled up like a snake, ready to strike.

Soarin wasn't oblivious, either. "Yeah, cum for me, slut. Cum on your rapist's dick."

The world went white as I lost control of everything. My entire body, rocking with Soarin's continued thrusts, began spasming wildly. White hot pleasure filled my mind, blinding me as I came harder than I'd ever cum before in my life. I screamed.

As I ran out of air, my voice died and I could hear my fluids gushing around his cock and splattering to the floor below. I panted heavily, trying to get my breath back. Soarin didn't hesitate, pushing through it all, never stopping his ceaseless pistoning. I could feel him growing more erratic and more desperate.

Something gave way, and in the ending throes of my orgasm, I felt the tip of his cock pierce through my cervix in a bizarre, deep penetration I'd never felt before.

"Good... filly," he groaned, hilting as deeply in me as he could and pausing for a moment. "Just... open up..." Then, he pulled back again, and I felt his cockhead pop out of my inner sanctuary. It felt amazing to my heat-addled mind, yet utterly alien. He gave me no time to consider the strangely pleasurable feeling as he slammed into me harder still, sinking even more of his cock past my cervix. "And take it!" His thighs slammed into my ass, bringing a slight relief that he couldn't go any deeper, no matter how much he tried.

He stopped thrusting, his dick shoved into me at the deepest point, and leaned in close to my ear. "Let Daddy Soarin knock you up."

I tried to scream for him to stop, but nothing intelligible came out. He laughed as he pulled himself out, and then drove himself inward again and again. Each time, that strange sensation of a cockhead slipping past my cervix stimulated me in ways I had never known. A second orgasm began welling up. Hot tears spilled from my eyes as my own body betrayed me again, seizing up in ecstasy around my assailant. "Cumming!" Soarin groaned as my body clamped down and desperately milked his cock. I was vaguely aware of a throbbing, pulsing, filling sensation in my lower self as I came down off the high of that second orgasm.

Soarin collapsed onto my back, no longer thrusting. I felt kick after kick, pulse after pulse as his cock throbbed inside of me, slowly expelling more of his essence into my life-giving chamber. Shame burned in my cheeks as the weight of his actions crashed down upon me. He had cum directly in my womb, at the height of my heat season—it would be a miracle if I didn't end up with foal.

"Fffffuck, I'm so glad I could knock you up," Soarin moaned into my ear. "Nothing like a good broodmare to start the weekend right."

The gravity of what had just happened to me weighed on me far more heavily than Soarin did. I couldn't let him see me cry. I wasn't going to give him the satisfaction of seeing me cry.

But no matter how much I willed it away, the dam broke. Loud, wailing sobs erupted from inside of me; sounds I never thought I would make. My body shuddered. My nose was running. My eyes were watering. I wiped my snout with my foreleg, only to pull it away with a sticky sense of blood, snot, and tears matting my coat.

Soarin simply laid on me, his cock occasionally twitching inside of me as he ever-so-slowly went flaccid. His breathing slowly returned to normal as I shook and wailed around the bit. "No reason to cry about it, filly," he said, reassuringly. "You'll get to keep the baby."

Too distraught to vocalize my opposition, I rocked my head back and forth in denial. He rolled off of me, pulling out of my ransacked pussy with a sickening squelch, and the sound of cum and my own fluids splattering to the ground.

Suddenly, my head was yanked back violently by my mane, forcing me to look up. The tears, now unable to fall properly, burned at my eyes. And through the painful, blurry tears, I could make out the colors of Foggy and myself: the photo.

"You will carry my foal," he reiterated. "Or your little marefriend might get hurt, too." He placed the picture back on the desk, and I felt him stepping away from me as my mane was released. The lock jostled, and the door opened. I heard one more piece of metal grinding against the tile.

"Pleeea nom," I pleaded, dreading whatever the sound was.

"Oh, there's no more for tonight, but if you're a good filly, maybe things won't be so bad in the morning. Now, say goodnight to your baby daddy."

Terrified of what might happen if I defied him again, I did as I was told. "Goomiite," I cried into the bit.

The lights clicked off.

The door closed.

And I was plunged into an inky black darkness.