Wonderbolt
Soarin was at the top. The Pegasus was in an incredible strike of victories, held most of speed or stamina records, and was the most famous athlete in all of Equestria. There was only one race standing between him and the status of best flyer of all times: the Silver Swirl race. If it’s named sounded rather common, the course actually held the place of Equestria’s deadliest racetrack… with a large lead. The track started in Cloudsdale, by a free fall to the dry ground, and the entrance of a large natural cave. The same cave that led to the dreaded Ghastly Gorge, in which the competitors were to fly during approximately five kilometers, and to be left only when they had to fly up, back to Cloudsdale. The race entered the cloud city near the infamous Rainbow Factories, and finally arrived in front of the statue of the old Pegasus hero, who gave the track its name.
The competitors were warming up near the starting line, often glancing worriedly to the dark, stormy clouds a few hundred meters below. A tempest threatened to burst out at any moments, but the organizers refused to postpone the race. The pegasi would have to fly through the clouds to stay in the track, and even the fastest Pegasus wouldn’t be able to avoid lightning. Soarin, on the other hand, sported his widest smile and greeted the crowd, confident. He had already run the Silver Swirl twice, but hadn’t been able to win it, back then. However, he was now the grand favorite, and the most skilled competitor right now. Most of the Wonderbolts made it for the occasion, and they were cheering him along with the crowd. Spitfire, his closest friend, chanted his name with most of the watching pegasi, and smiled when Soarin looked at her.
Suddenly, the loudspeakers howled, and the competitors set themselves on the marks. The clamor got louder and louder, as the time left before the start kept diminishing. The tension was at its height. The others contestants judged Soarin, looking for any weak spot they could use. He smiled, looked back at Spitfire, winked, and jumped in the void as the timer reached zero.
They flew through the clouds at high speed as the storm raged all around them. Soarin was first, his wings flapping frenetically. Beneath him was a cave, right on the flank of a mountain, which gave way to the rest of Ghastly Gorges
They split through the clouds, diving, as the storm raged all around them. Soarin was first, his wings flapping frantically. Right below him was a cave, hillside, which gave on the beginning of the Ghastly Gorges: he had to cross it in order to stay on track. The most common way to do that was to let yourself fall from Cloudsdale, gradually slowing as you approached the ground, and then get safely into the cave, yet losing the velocity from the fall. However, Soarin had trained for months, and he had found a much more effective yet dangerous way : fly directly into the cavern by executing a hard turn, without losing the speed accumulated during the descent. His wings would be subjected to an incredible pressure, but he was certain they could take it. The Pegasus would then have a consequent lead on the rest of the ponies. He checked no Pegasus was around him, and prepared for the maneuver.
Soarin did a straight turn to the side and entered the cavern, his wings flapping as fast as possible to avoid him a painful crash into a stalactite. He zigzagged swiftly between massive rocks and obstacles, an occasional drift disorienting him in his flight, but never enough to stop him. He did it! Looking for a split second behind him as he exited the cave, he noticed none of the other Pegasus had even entered the hole in the mountain, assuring him a large lead.
He flew out of the cavern like a bullet, flying into the much wider Ghastly Gorges. Some earth ponies had gathered on the edge of the canyon, and hearing his own name shouted by dozens of ponies gave Soarin a shot of adrenalin. He advanced quickly into the gorge, never seeing as much as the shadow of any challenger. The storm raged on all around him, but he had not been endangered by any lightning strike yet. The victory was his ! He only had a couple more corners to pass, and then he could fly up to Cloudsdale to finish the race.
Suddenly, a large fragment of rock, projected from the canyon by thunder, hit him violently. He fell into the void, his cry shutting down the cheering from the crowd instantly.
Everypony heard clearly the echo of a bone shattering, then nothing.
The pain. An Endless pain, assaulting him from everywhere. Every ounce of Soarin was burning in pain. Every part, but one : his right wing. He focused on it, holding it like a lifebelt. He fought against pain for what seemed like an eternity. It finally diminished and, when it became bearable, he opened his eyes.
He was in a hospital. Nurses and doctors ran along the corridors, and occasionally looked up when some alarm rung. He pressed the help button, then waited. He must have been there for quite some time, as he could tell from the flowers now rotting on a nearby shelf. Several perfusions injected liquids into the Wonderbolt, and he noticed by following their hoses that he had both of his hind legs plastered.
A nurse entered the room with a doctor, obviously surprised of seeing him awake. The doctor approached him, rapidly checked his vitals, and asked:
“Sir Soarin, how do you feel?”
“What in tarnation am I doing here?”
“You don’t remember then? I supposed it’s understandable, you were in such a terrible accident…”
“Well?” Nervously asked the Pegasus.
“You were hit by a rock while you were flying. When you fell, it crushed you against the ground, causing multiples fractures and incredible damages to your body, especially your wings. You were almost declared dead if it hadn’t been for the weakest heartbeat I heard in my whole life. Only the pony magic of helpful spectators kept you alive. You stayed in a coma for six months, and you now recovered from most of your injuries, although I would recommend you to stay in bed for a while. We were going to take out your plasters this day.”
“When will I be able to fly again ?” Asked Soarin, frowning.
The doctor had a pitiful look. He lifted a hoof, and left it on the Wonderbolt’s shoulder.
“Your right wing was literally crushed. We had to amputate.”
Knock! Knock! Knock!
The door revealed a friendly faced, which slowly filled with sadness as it saw the person who just knocked on the door. Spitfire had often visited Soarin when he was in a coma, but she was in a race when he woke up. She naturally wanted to check on him, but he insisted on visiting her. She hadn’t seen him since he got out of the hospital, six days ago. The Pegasus wanted to help Soarin to avoid depression, but when she was his face, she thought it was a little too late.
The Pegasus hadn’t shaved since he woke up, and didn’t take a shower either. The impression of dirt he sent was reinforced by the heavy smell of tobacco, alcohol and sweat he reeked of. The cripple’s eyes were red with blood, and had wide bags hanging under them. His large vest, which he wore in order to hide his mutilation to others, was covered in stains.
She hugged him and invited him to enter, trying to hide her pity with a wide smile.
“So…uh… How you holding up, Soarin?” She regretted immediately asking such a stupid question : he was obviously on the verge of suicide.
“My accountant has disappeared, with the entirety of my money. I am dying under debts, both from the hospital and taxes. My home is going to be seized soon. I have no jobs and no perspective.”
“Soarin, I…”
“Forget about it. I didn’t come here to cry and ask for compassion. I came here to ask a favor.” His look was hard, and so cold… Spitfire couldn’t believe she was looking at her ex-teammate, who used to be so warm and friendly. “I need a job. I need you to ask to the manager to hire me as an assistant, counselor, trainer, anything. I won’t be able to sort it all out without help.” His voice shattered at the end of the sentence. The Wonderbolts had been bought by a rich investor, who decided to only keep the three bests and an emergency wheel.
Spitfire decided to help her long-time friend has well as she could.
“I will! And I’m sure he’ll accept. You were -Soarin had a nervous twitch- the best of us, and I’m sure you’ll be a fantastic coach. Moreover, you’ll always be welcome here if you ever need help, a bed where to sleep, a table to eat, or a friend to talk to.”
“Thanks for your compassion, Spit’, but I can take care of myself. Just send me a letter if the boss accepts. I still have my house for a few days.”
He headed for the exit, but Spitfire put a hoof on his shoulder, and almost begged him to stay, drink a bit, in the memory of the good days. But he pushed her hoof off, whispered something about people he had to talk to and left, leaving the crying Wonderbolt alone.
Soarin whistled as Spitfire flew through the finish line. The two other Wonderbolts arrived several seconds later, Gravely Mane last as usual. The Pegasus, who replaced Soarin after his accident, was the first to boast about his status, but barely outmatched regular flyers. And they were the Wonderbolts, damn it! Not some old casual racing team!
“Spitfire, even better than usual! Curly, you have to slow down after the finish line, not before! Gravely Mane, you’re still under the set time! There is only one month left before the competition, and if you fail the qualifications, the whole team will be disqualified. Sometimes, I wonder why I even bother with you.”
Soarin sighed and looked at his performance lists. He got back on track, and even if he was still a bit depressed, he was trying not to show it. When he looked up, he saw a hoof. Then he felt it crush his face. The cripple fell backward, his papers blown away by the wind, and lifted a hoof to his face.
“Fuck! Not only are you slow, but you’re also stupid!”
He immediately regretted his taunting when the Pegasus jumped on him, screaming, and hammered down his stomach. The newcomer was far more massive than Soarin, who lost a lot of weight during his coma. Spitfire tried to intervene, Soarin defending himself as well as he could, but Gravely Mane pushed her away and kicked Soarin’s jaw. He spat blood and tried to crawl away, but he was drawn back and beaten again.
“Gravely! Stop!”
Spitfire collided with the powerful Pegasus at high speed. Gravely Mane, caught by surprise, was thrown several yards away. She approached Soarin to look at him. The Pegasus was in a terrible state, blood leaking from his nose and mouth down to the clouds, coloring them red. His breath was taken away, and he growled as Spitfire lifted him on her back.
“Sorry, but you need help, and I’m way faster than medics !”
Gravely Mane looked like he was going to attack Spitfire, but he gave up and laughed as she flew away to take Soarin to the hospital.
I have no choice. I have no choice.
That’s what Soarin kept thinking as he was whipped. His customer was particularly vicious. She hit the male while masturbating herself frantically, moaning continuously. He was bound, his back to the wall, to some sort of wooden cross, in a room that could challenge even the more daring porn movies. Greasy dildos and handcuffs, whips and gagballs laid on a stained and stinky carpet. He had a shot break when she came, but he couldn’t help but groan when she pushed something cold and slimy in his lower backside. She laughed, and slapped him.
“It would be unfair of me to keep all the fun to myself, don’t you think?”
She strapped a gagball on his mouth and licked his cheek, leaving a long, sticky trail on the face of the half-pegasus. Then, she knelt and started playing with his masculinity, first with her hooves, then with her mouth, deep-throating him and sometimes lightly chewing on it. After a few minutes (and some action concerning the muscled behind of the stallion), he groaned and unloaded in the mouth of his customer. She got back up and spit what she had in her mouth on his face, then kissed him on the nose. As the sadistic unicorn picked up a strap-on, she laughed:
“Time to get serious, honey!”
The cripple looked at the clock on the opposite wall. Still an hour to go…
Soarin exited the rich house, staggering and holding firmly a bag of coins, the unicorn sent him a kiss and closed the door. His whole body was hurting, but he managed to haul himself up in a taxi to get back home. When he entered his modest flat, he threw himself in the bathtub before anything else. He was covered in fluids, some of which he didn’t even know the origin. The ex-Wonderbolt let out a long sigh as he felt the hot water clean and comfort him.
This is what he became. The great Soarin, the fastest Pegasus in all of Equestria, the star everyone admired… a whore. He couldn’t help but cry, and let himself sink into the steamy water to hide his tears, pretending to still have dignity. The stallion sent his time in customers’ houses, selling his body to rich ponies, every one more perverse than the previous one. None of them had shown compassion, even his regulars, and his new “job” let him dying for a rest at the end of the day. He didn’t even had normal sex anymore: he was too tired.
He got fired from the Wonderbolts after the fight with Gravely Mane. Curly had supported the newcomer, pretending the cripple attacked first, “seeking someone to blame for his infirmity”. Spitfire had sided with Soarin, of course, but the manager didn’t care the single bit for a single-winged trouble-causing Pegasus, and quickly fired him. Again.
He was a double-ex-Wonderbolt.
This thought brought fresh tears to his eyes. Flying had been his reason to live, his only passion, and his job. He lost everything to a single accident, even his wealth and the love from the other. Soarin had to leave Cloudsdale and move in in Canterlot, some kind of “friend” promising him easy money. Easy, right… he only had to lay down and let his body get violated.
While he washed himself, he noted with horror several red buttons around his stallionhood. One of his customers must have had some infection she “forgot” to talk about… the half-pegasus hit the wall in rage, and two tiles fell down to reveal a gigantic cockroach. He cried in disgust and quickly escaped his bath. And took some cocaine.
Soarin raced through the clouds, the wind gushing into his mane as he got closer to his target, a fast Pegasus flying a high-speed near the ground. He worked his way up fast, his wings flapping at an insane speed to catch up with his opponent before the finish line. He got closed to him, then took the lead as the other Pegasus couldn’t help but slow down, his limit reached. While Soarin was screaming joyfully, the now-second flyer bit his tail and disoriented him completely.
In a desperate tentative to avoid falling, he punched his pursuer and both fell on the ground, a few dozen meters from the finish line. After some stumbling, they got up but didn’t fly away immediately. They looked at each other, panting, knowing that all the other racers were far away back, and that the issue of this confrontation would decide of the winner. The crowd cheered, everypony screaming the name of one or the other. Both competitors focused on each other, like in a cow-pony movie, and suddenly both started flying, reaching mad speed in a matter of seconds.
The action was over in the blink of an eye : in fact, most of the ponies were still watching where the both of them had been a moment ago. There was so much dust they could barely see anything. But Soarin had won! The weak sound of a whistle was heard, hidden behind the sound of the crowd screaming at the top of their lungs. And then, Soarin’s hoof was lifted up in the air by the referee. The crowd howled his name madly:
Soarin! Soarin ! Soarin ! Soarin ! Soarin…
Soarin suddenly woke up in his uncomfortable bed, sweating crazily. Another dream. There wasn’t any more night without his dreaming of his glorious life as a Wonderbolt. He sobbed, and got up. Today, his work would be different. His pimp hadn’t been able to find him any lady to sell his body to.
However, he had found him men.
Drugs, his state of mind and the lack of exercise hard started to tarnish his body, but he was still quite handsome. He had been introduced to drugs by one of his regulars, who used to have sex under influence. He had kept on taking it to feel the same sensation he had the first time, but it kept on getting fainter and fainter. And the price of it forced him to work even more.
The cripple exited his shabby flat, walked through an empty, filthy corridor, almost slipping on a used condom, and got out on the street. He lived in the poor part of Canterlot, and the only kind of jobs that existed here were those of sex and illegal substances. The customers were for the most part upper-middle class, who drove down here to get their coke, or a quickie.
Not the best place to live. Soarin sighed as he opened the door of the whorehouse in which he worked when his customers couldn’t afford him to come directly at their house. His boss waved him, indicating there was already work waiting for him.
Right in the middle of his third pass and despite the quantity of drugs he had already taken, the prostitute suddenly felt like he had already seen before the man he was fellating. He lifted his head to take a better look. As they were closely looking at each other’s eyes, the ex-accountant and the ex-Wonderbolt recognized each other at the exact same time. As Soarin was spitting what he had in his mouth to get up, he was blinded by a projection of hot semen right in his eyes.
The other dashed for the door, without even trying to pull his pants back up. Unfortunately for him, Soarin still was somewhat athletic, and he jumped him blindly, the two ponies rolling on the floor, in the middle of exotic sex-toys. Soarin found himself on top of the other Pegasus, and whipped his face clean with one hoof, punching the accountant in the face with the other.
“Let me go, or I’ll call the guards!” Whined the Pegasus, who simply wanted to have a good time, and was now threatened by someone who had his stallionhood in mouth just seconds ago.
Soarin snorted, laughing, and smiled:
“The ponies here are used to screams, honey. And we still have half an hour, mister Quickypants.”
Soarin was much more muscled than the chubby accountant, and he quickly tied him up to a strip-tease pole, handcuffs to all four hoofs and a gag (made out of one leather strip and a middle-sized dildo) forced into his mouth.
The crippled Pegasus was finally going to take his revenge. He wasn’t hoping to get his fortune back which, judging by the clothes of his customer, couldn’t be more than his wage. On the other hoof, making someone pay the price for his social downgrade was very tempting. Soarin took a whip, and started warming up the accountant.
After a good fifty whip, Soarin decided to get a bit more into it. He positioned himself behind the Pegasus and, after an envious look to his pair of wings, started rutting into him. He laughed as his victim cried, then fainted a few minutes after. The prostitute now rapist finished himself inside the accountant, painting his inner walls snow-white, and decided it was time.
After waking up the Pegasus, he whispered in his ear:
“I bet you wonder how it feels, to have nothing but one wing…”
Without letting him time to answer (not that he could have had, with the toy stuck in his mouth), Soarin bit the right wing of his client savagely, and pulled as hard as he could. The wing started coming off, it’s owner screaming in pain. With a wet “flop”, it fell on the carpet, leaking blood.
The accountant, now a crippled as well, was shaken by spasms of pain. Soarin picked the wing up and walked in front of his victim, showing it off.
“Not as strong as mine used to be… this one would barely even lift you off the ground. But I digress!”
The carpet, wet from all the semen, tears and blood it had absorbed, made squishy sounds as Soarin went to pick up an horribly long dildo, then came back near the accountant. He claimed, dramatically:
“And now, ladies and Gentlecolts… the execution!”
Without any more waiting, he pushed the plastic penis deep inside the throat of the Pegasus, as far as possible. The accountant made gargling sounds, but the vomit that tried to escape his mouth was stopped by the toy. After a few seconds, he stopped moving, and his body went limp.
Satisfied with his work, the surviving cripple backed away and looked at it. He didn’t feel any remorse. At all. He finally got back to work, to dispose of the evidence. Pulling out the dildo from the throat of his victim, he pushed it into the anus of the deceased. He couldn’t keep that one, and the accountant certainly wouldn’t mind… besides, Soarin found it amusing.
Hopefully for him, the room in which he had killed his customer had an emergency exit which gave directly on a dark alley nobody ever used, and a heavily polluted river. He checked it was empty, and he dragged the body outside. Soarin threw him into the river without a second thought, and went back into the whorehouse to tell his pimp the client went out by the back door, to avoid being seen.
Then he came back home, happy for the first time since a long, long time.
After a few weeks of mostly masculine clients, Soarin had gotten used to it. Sure, the choice hadn’t been completely his, but after all, it wasn’t all that bad. Most of them were nicer than the ladies, and a few regulars were even friendly, thinking about his pleasure too. He even lost the habitude of getting scratched, and spit at. Surprisingly, his infirmity seemed to excite a few ponies, and he sometimes had to pleasure them with his wing.
But today was a special day: one of his regular (not one of those with the amputation fetish, luckily) had asked him to come to a party he was having, as a stripper. The wage was consequent, and he accepted without a second thought. And that’s how he found himself dancing almost denuded in front of dozens of ponies, next to an anorexic, drugs-filled unicorn named Fleur-de-lys.
The place was populated, but not enough to become annoying. Some ponies gesticulated awkwardly on the dance floor, but most of them were sitting at the bar or at VIP tables in the corners. Soarin was mildly bored, and the music was fairly old, but he was only here to dance and shut the fuck up, so that’s what he did. Maybe he’d be asked to come in the backroom later, and he would be able to make a few more bits.
The night went on calmly and, as he had hoped, the Pegasus who hired him invited the cripple to join him in the back. Leaving the unicorn shake her plot alone, he followed the pony in the VIP room, and started bouncing his back as he walked.
“So, handsome, do you want some of my love? If you’ve got friends, I can take two at the same time, if you pay me a bonus…”
The Pegasus winked at him, and opened the door for Soarin. He teasingly walked inside, already near naked with his scene outfit, and approached another Pegasus who was waiting in the room.
“Hmm, aren’t you a beautiful specimen…”
The ex-Wonderbolt started lap dancing in front of the Pegasus who was sitting in the sofa, to his already growing pleasure. He heard the door open and close again, then two ponies approaching in his back. The cripple turned playfully as they came closer - and froze when he was the newcomer.
Gravely Mane.
Soarin’s reflexed kicked in, and so did his hoof as it collided with the face of his replacement. Gravely Mane was taken by surprise and fell to the ground, but the two other Pegasus jumped on Soarin and nailed him on the ground. Gravely Mane got back on his hooves and kicked Soarin, again and again, until he was sure he wouldn’t attack again.
Then, they lifted him and set him up on the sofa, throwing the bucket of ice that kept the champagne cool at his face. Soarin inspired heavily, then moaned and took his hooves to his stomach.
“I suppose…”whispered Soarin, interrupting his phrase to moan in pain again. “I suppose… you finally got kicked out of the Wonderbolts, didn’t you? I knew that Spitfire… would get you fired. You never were a good racer and never will be.” He ended his phrase coughing.
“As usual, you’re completely wrong, Soarin. The three Pegasus who just beat you up are the three actual Wonderbolts.”
The surprise that painted itself on Soarin’s face cheered the three Pegasus.
“You’re lying! Spitfire was so much faster than you, there’s no way…”
“Spitfire is dead.” Simply said Gravely, his grin getting wider and wider as he saw the horror replacing the surprise on the cripple’s face. “She flew straight up into a mountain, and died instantly, on a risky corner.”
The ex-Wonderbolt couldn’t believe it. Spitfire had been his closest friend ever… he would’ve heard her death, and…
His thoughts were interrupted as one of the Pegasus turned him on the couch, his stomach against the cold plastic.
“Wait, what are y-“
A horrible pain invaded his back, and Soarin cried as the Pegasus he hated most in all of Equestria raped him.
They had kept on doing it for hours. The Wonderbolts had fun as they used his body, sodomizing him brutally without giving him any rest or even lubrication, sometimes even the both of them at the same time. They finally got bored of him, and were now drinking champagne, laughing. Soarin was resting in a puddle of cum on the floor, his back feeling like it had been filled with lava. He eventually fainted.
The cripple woke up in an alley behind the nightclub, next to a pile of garbage. He was completely naked, and it was still night, meaning he couldn’t have been out for more than a couple hours. After a few minutes crying for Spitfire (and the pain in his ass), Soarin got up and slowly walked down the street, naked, injured and covered in dried semen. The disgust of the few pedestrians was obvious, and some of them spat at him. One earth pony even kicked him in the stomach, as Soarin had stumbled.
The half-pegasus had no idea where he was. He had no money on him, and was dying of thirst and hunger. Soarin finally stopped in the middle of a bridge, tired to death. Some carriages drove down the road under him. He walked to the edge of the rail, and decided it was enough. He had nothing to lose anymore, and nothing to look forward at. There was no point in living anymore. He might as well die now.
He got up on the rail, and jumped.
Then came back to reason.
I DON’T WANT TO DIE, OH CELESTIA PLEASE HELP ME
Soarin flapped his left wing frantically, but only changed his course. He crashed brutally on the roof of a vehicle, who didn’t even slow down, and bounced back on the side of the road.
The crowd was shouting his name. Soarin ! Soarin !
He landed on the first place of the podium, proud as never before, and Celestia herself set the crown on his head. He was the best flyer in all of Equestria. His heart raced like crazy.
His heart raced like crazy to try and uselessly bring blood to his organs. His broken ribs had pierced through vital organs. Soarin spat a puddle of blood, and looked at the sky. The beautiful night sky, filled with stars.
I am Soarin.
I am a Wonderbolt.
