Harem Alliance

Spitfire very often competed in these things, and almost always, she was with a partner or two. But Fleetfoot was undergoing psychiatric care, and Soarin was injured, so today, she was flying alone. Rather than focusing in of her synchronicity and providing support to cover the failings of her peers; that is, Soarin being a goofball and show-off that had to focus in, and Fleetfoot being so competitive that she needed somepony to restrain her, Spitfire was free to fly as she pleased.

She was way ahead of her usual placement because of this. As a soloist, Spitfire was, hooves-down, the best flyer in all of Equestria, and perhaps even the world. She had seen parts of herself in other ponies, of course. Her loyalty in Soarin and Rainbow Dash, her competitive spirit in Fleetfoot and Lightning Dust... But none of them came close to her in raw skill. Or refined skill, for that matter.

It was the final lap of the final race, with everything on the field. Right now, the only pony able to keep pace with her was Lightning, and she was about to leave her in the dust.

"You're still pretty spry, for an old lady!" shouted Lightning, just barely lagging behind. "Don't you think it's time you hang up the crown?!"

Spitfire didn't say anything back, she just chuckled. There was something she knew about the moving pillars in the slalom. The refs knew it, and Rainbow Dash knew it, being the only pony to make it to a one-on-one race with her and be this far ahead at this time, but the final weave had a delay when it was just starting up. Since they'd made it here so fast, the beams hadn't begun yet, but they were about to, and being even half a second off could mean the first jolt would strike them. And that's just what Spitfire was counting on.

She heard the sudden rush in her ears, and immediately, she knew. Bank left seventy-five degrees, pitch up five degrees, pull in her hooves. Lightning Dust, just like Rainbow Dash, was so sure of herself that she'd not altered her vector and had smacked face-first into a cloud pillar, and was knocked off-course, while Spitfire had missed the suddenly-moving post by mere millimetres.

She turned the bank into a roll and managed to weave through the remaining pillars with ease, crossing the finish line in first place. Not that it mattered, of course. She'd done so well in all of the other events that she could have come in last and still qualified. Of course, that would mean that the Redwings would qualify, and as this was their last chance to make the cut, they were out of the league this year, replaced by the Ivy Rushes. Being down two players had really been a detriment to them. She'd offer them her condolences, of course, as she was a good sport, but she thought it might be best if they were to have a good excuse for not playing this season, to keep tempers from flaring too high.

Soarin approached the podium, arriving as the last contestant crossed the finish line. Usually, this was Spitfire's job, but today was certainly not a normal day, even among league qualifications. "Well done, everypony, for this wonderful display of sportsponyship and physical prowess. To the eight teams that qualified, we look forward to seeing what else you have for us in the coming year. To those who didn't make the cut, we hope this doesn't dissuade you from competing next year. And now, I'd like to turn things over to Major Spitfire, the captain of our top team this year."

There was a loud round of applause as Spitfire approached the microphone. Last year, and four of the nine years before, she had skipped the introduction, as she was both the presenter and the team captain, and just skipped to the speech after the platitudes. "Thank you, Soarin. I would just like to say that we have a wonderful lineup this year, and I look forward to seeing them in action throughout the season. And to those that didn't quite make the cut, I can say with absolute certainty that you are all great competitors, and I offer my condolences for your loss. Speaking of, I'd like to take a moment of silence in remembrance of those lost this past year. Though they may be gone, they live on in our hearts."

The entire stadium was silent for a minute and a half, with heads bowed in solidarity. Not everypony participated, of course, as Spitfire could hear whispering behind her and saw some ponies in the stands not standing still, but she wasn't about to call them out for being disrespectful. She was going to show her respect, and that was what mattered.

"Thank you. That is all."

Soarin motioned to the camera crew, who cut the feed to the monitors below. Immediately, Spitfire felt her loins set ablaze as the zebra who had presented his coupon walked out onto the field.

"Are there any children in the audience?" she called out. No answer came. It was all adults. "As a special aftershow, I will now have intercourse with this zebra while all of you watch."

There was a brief moment of silence in the crowd, followed by the most raucous cheering Spitfire had ever heard.

Soarin ran up to her, a panicked look on his face. "Are you crazy?!"

"No," answered Spitfire. "He had a coupon. Legally, I have to do this."

"Didn't you say that no mare should be forced to do this?" he argued. "I'll find a loophole."

"No, you won't," answered Spitfire. "He doesn't know who I am. This wasn't his idea. You're going to find out whose idea this was. You have until his time is up; two hours after penetration. I can only hold him for half an hour after that, so work fast."

Soarin swallowed. "Are you sure about this?"

Spitfire smiled. "I'll live, Soarin. Now, you have your orders. Hop to it, soldier."

With a strong salute, something he had to sit down for so as not to faceplant, he turned and started waving the other competitors off the field as the zebra took his place.

"Now," said Spitfire, grabbing the microphone. "Who wants to see me swallow this cock?"