[RP] Grounds Inspection

 

~~~~~

 

Valiant always adored when the opportunity came up to wear his dress uniform, along with the medals and ribbons he had earned. It was a rare thing to see, actually, as the previous captain had worn a family heirloom uniform and the standard uniform for a guard- even the Captain- was that of light brass armour and short sleeves. The dress uniform was green, with pockets on the breasts, and matching pants. Thus it had been since the re-organization of Equestrian defense institutions a hundred years ago.

 

The Royal Guard was, after all, a conventional military force even if a well dressed and relatively small one.

 

Today the excuse for this dressing-up was simple: Valiant was staging a surprise inspection of the Wonderbolt academy and headquarters. Something he had been planning for a while, and behind him a few officers would sweep in to audit things and go through the actual paperwork. He had arrived in the early afternoon, and quickly breezed past the gate guard to enter the headquarters building. Only minutes later Spitfire's office door swung open, and he stepped inside. The unicorn was tall- especially compared to the relatively short-stacked woman that called this her office.

 

"Captain Spitfire..." Valiant spoke, his voice rough and militaristic as he really went for the surprise. "At attention."

 

Spitfire jumped slightly as she heard her office door swing suddenly open, followed by a deep, masculine voice she was only too familiar with.

 

Although she had just been rifling through some papers in a filing cabinet, her back to the door, she already knew very well who it was standing in the room with her now. "Captain Valiant..." the firey mare replied with a short huff, rather irritated at the suddenness of his entrance. Yes, he may be the Captain of the Guard, and yes, he may technically outrank her, but Celestia darn it, the stallion could at least have knocked. Would've been the much politer thing to do.

 

Spinning around and snapping a sharp salute, Spitfire's eyes roved up and down the Captain's admittedly handsome figure, her expression neutral but nonetheless a bit surprised to see him wearing his official officer's uniform. What was this colt up to, then...?

 

"To what do I owe the pleasure of this visit?" Spitfire continued, suppressing the urge to roll her eyes as she caught the well-built captain..."appreciating" her figure with his gaze.

 

Spitfire had always been a shapely mare, although recently as her paperwork and office duties grew and actual flying duties waned slightly, she was not proud to admit that the past few months had seen the addition of a couple new pounds on her frame. No more than a dozen, to be sure, but nevertheless she had just been too darn busy to work it off. It didn't help matters that her quick snap-to sent some of her assets bouncing ever so slightly more than she was necessarily accustomed...

 

"Inspection," Valiant replied simply, and stepped around her to look through her office. The wonders of being in a military- he was literally entitled do anything. Spitfire was below him, he could order her to go clean the latrines and get away with it.

 

"It's been a year and six months since the Wonderbolts were last inspected, Shining didn't exactly care too much about the back end work- but I do... and it's an excuse to get out of Canterlot and actually get some fresh air," he spoke, and turn pivoted to face Spitfire properly.

 

"It's a good excuse to see you again too, and you know I love being in uniform- so how have you been taking to your command, 'Captain'?" Valiant inquired. She got her command before him- the Wonderbolt's had been looking for a leader as capable as her for years- but now the tables had turned nicely.

 

"I could ask you the same, sir..." Spitfire replied smoothly, her fiery gaze unflinching. "As I'm sure you're well aware, I was promoted to my post several years ago and, though it may be a bit unbecoming for me to say as much, the Wonderbolts have been running smooth as silk for years, now. I hardly consider that a coincidence, Captain."

 

Ah, so there WAS an alternative motive to this "inspection". While Spitfire was sure there would in fact be an actual inspection, and equally sure that it would be passed with flying colors, she had known for some time now that Valiant had eyes for her. Though it was flattering to be sure, Spitfire had been far too busy a mare to consider such frivolities before, but with the inevitable end to her career drawing ever nearer, perhaps it was time to cast an eye to her future...

 

And she had to admit, there was...something about this particular stallion, something about the way he carried himself, the way he spoke, his constant, utter confidence...she daresay it reminded her of herself.

 

Valiant nodded, and idly picked up her desk nameplate. Captain Spitfire, it naturally read, and it appeared to be the most well-dusted thing in the room. She was as proud of it as he was of his own rank.

 

"It has, Spitfire, but even so I have to make everyone remember that decisions come out of Canterlot, not out of Cloudsdale. It'll be good for your officers to be put in their place," Valiant spoke, not so subtly insinuating that was exactly what he was doing to her. "You may have beat me to your first command, but the Royal Guard is the command," he added, and then stepped closer to her.

 

"Plus, I heard you were worried about your career- why? I know Wonderbolt captains tend to come and go quickly, but Rainbow is far too hotheaded to run things and you're still the best we've got. So why the worries?" Valiant inquired, and allowed his eyes- for just a moment- to admire the curves of her uniformed body.

 

God he loved a girl in uniform.

 

Spitfire frowned ever so slightly as she fought desperately to keep the color from her cheeks. Blast this colt! It was almost as if he could read her mind, peer into her very soul and pick out her greatest worries and fears, exploiting them to gain the upper hand...

 

Fine. If it was a game of words he wanted, it was a game of words he would get. Contrary to what the common pony might think, Spitfire was a highly intelligent mare. She didn't just waltz into her position after all, it had taken years of hard work.

 

"I suppose that's what you're here to find out, Captain? I trust you will find everything here at the Wonderbolt Academy in order, every piece in its rightful place...I would consider it a personal failure if you were to find anything but." Spitfire allowed a slight smirk to creep onto her face. "And as for my career? I don't know what nonsense you've heard or read, things couldn't be going better. The only question that remains is what to do with myself once I inevitably retire?" A soft chuckle escaped her lips. "I suppose I'll just have to get inventive..."

 

Valiant leaned back against the wall, and looked to her with a slight tilt of the brow.

 

"Planning so far ahead? I'd think a mare like you would just take her fat pension cheque and find somewhere nice to settle down, maybe run a private flight school- or else you could get on the academic circuit. I'm sure the insight of a former Captain would be invaluable to military studies."

 

He placed the nameplate back on her desk, and continued to look towards her. It was time to put things on another foot, and he pressed further. "You've put on weight," he noted, as matter of factly as possible. A simple comment, a statement of the obvious, and how she responded would give him clues as how to proceed. However, for all his dominance he wasn't perfect- his eyes had glanced to her tits when he said that, perhaps giving away his interest in her.

 

Wha...? Th-the nerve of this colt! Spitfire couldn't help herself, the suddenness of his comment caught her wildly off-guard, almost as badly as if he had simply slapped her in the face. For the briefest of moments, and yet far too long, she felt the cool, collected facade of professionalism she had so finely honed over the years slip as her eyes widened and her jaw hung open just the slightest amount. "E-Excuse me...?" she stammered weakly before her higher brain functions could reel her in.

 

Immediately she felt her cheeks flushing shamefully and she knew she was powerless to prevent it. Nothing for it but to get a grip as quickly as possible and soldier on, Spitfire swallowed as she struggled to regain control.

 

"W-well..." damn that insufferable stutter! "...whatever your assessment may be, I assure you that every member of my staff, myself included, are still well within the required physical constraints. So while your concern is appreciated, ultimately it is unnecessary."

 

Valiant smirked, "Spitfire, the Wonderbolts have no physical requirements, the only check is that you have to clear everyone for duty- and I suppose you're not going to refuse to clear yourself, are you?" Valiant returned, and then glanced down her body. "Besides, it was a statement of fact- not one of derision. You've clearly put on weight, but only an idiot would hold it against you. So long as you command, and command well, I can forgive you a vice or two."

 

He grinned at her, a spark of fire in his eyes for just a moment. "I have my own, after all."

 

In that moment, that brief moment, he had looked on her posessively with a dominant gaze in his eyes. Something some mares knew, the look of Valiant when he saw something- or someone- that he wanted, and he wanted her. Unlike most, however, he wanted her on her own terms.

 

"Would you care to give me a tour, Spitfire, or shall we spend this entire inspection in your office?"

 

Spitfire sucked air through her teeth as she grimaced slightly, whatever notion of control or dominance she may have held were now utterly dispelled by her superior. As much as she hated to admit defeat, she was too smart of a mare to struggle in futility. That didn't stop her posture from sagging ever so slightly as she acquiesced, however.

 

"Of course, sir," Spitfire said, her tone carefully neutral as she stepped towards the door of her office. "If you have no objections, I'd recommend starting in the mess hall and working our way out and up." Maybe if she was lucky, she could just get this over with quickly and get him out of her mane.

 

Valiant gestured forth. "Lead me then, Spitfire- but do bear in mind who's given the orders," Valiant spoke. His plan to carefully place himself in a dominant position was so far working, and every subtle reminder helped with that.

 

Once they were out in the hall, and with one of the Wonderbolts within hearing range- Fleetfoot, if Valiant knew correctly [she was apparently arguing with another Wonderbolt about flight assignments] he continued. "The mess hall certainly seems to be your favourite place on base, doesn't it Captain?"

 

A perfectly timed remark, both informing anyone that saw them that he could tease Spitfire and get away with it- and calling attention to her weight gain.

 

Spitfire bristled at her superior's comment, her hands clenching and her teeth grinding against her will as she stewed in her anger. Here he was, belittling her like this in front of her own subordinates, and there was absolutely nothing she could do about it.

 

She forced herself to remember that she only had to put up with him for so long before she could pack up, go home, relax, and perhaps even enjoy a slice of that decadent chocolate cake she had picked up the other day...Celestia knows she could use the stress relief...

 

However, just to make matters worse, Fleetfoot appeared to have most definitely heard Valiant's comment, and Spitfire groaned internally as she mentally braced herself. Fleetfoot was an old friend and a senior Wonderbolt in her own right, and somehow managed to get away with far more hijinks than seemed possible. Oh, and she LOVED to tease Spitfire every chance she could, as old friends were wont to do.

 

Didn't mean she didn't feel like strangling the mare a bit every now and then...

 

Fleetfoot, however, seemed only to have eyes for Valiant, giving a shy wave and wiggling her shoulders a bit, putting on a bit of a show with her pleasantly sized rack that probably had a good deal to do with the nonsense she was able to get away with.

 

Desperate to save face, Spitfire simply replied with, "actually sir, I much prefer the solidarity of my office..." but even she couldn't help but cringe slightly at how utterly weak that sounded.

 

Valiant was not one to let opportunity slip, and spoke in the same authorative tone as earlier to Spitfire, "Stop," he ordered, and directed his gaze to Fleetfoot. "You, at attention. Name, Rank and position," he demanded.

 

At the Captain's sharp order, Fleetfoot's coy smile devolved into a gentle smirk as she swiftly snapped-to. "Lieutenant Fleetfoot, sir, Wonderbolt, first wingmare to Captain Spitfire herself, sir."

 

Valiant nodded, "Good, so you're second in command. That's perfect, I've got some questions- step forward and present yourself."

 

The stallion was, perhaps, clearly playing to Fleetfoot's own rumoured sluttiness and enjoyment of fucking with Spitfire. His words, first 'position' and now this, were opening dripping with innuendo- and his eyes wandered rather readily as he looked to her.

 

"I want you honest opinion on a few things, Leftenant, and I expect you know better than to try and play coy with your answers- is that understood?" Valiant posed, and his own Canterlot birth was suddenly made obvious by his odd pronunciation of her rank.

 

God he loved when he was in a position to talk like this.

 

Spitfire cursed her luck yet again, her mind busily producing all sorts of very real nightmare outcomes depending on what Fleetfoot were to say. Whatever it was, Spitfire was sure that it wouldn't be particularly flattering.

 

"Of course, sir," Fleetfoot responded quickly in a chipper tone. "Happy to assist you in any way possible~"

 

Spitfire sighed internally, Fleetfoot was the only service member she'd ever seen manage to so routinely get away with speaking to her superiors in such a manner. She took comfort in the knowledge that at least it kept her from advancing as far through the ranks as she had.

 

"Good," Valiant spoke, and stepped close enough to Fleetfoot that her curves filled all of his vision, but not too close. It was however relatively clear that he had gone from professional space- to flirty space.

 

"In your opinion, is Spitfire fit for duty as Captain of the Wonderbolts, and has she been effective in those duties?" Valiant asked, his voice as matter of fact as possible.

 

Immediately Fleetfoot's eyes darted to Spitfire and then back, that telltale twinkle of mischief she had seen so many countless times plain as day. Spitfire prepared for the worst.

 

"Truthfully sir, I would say that Spitfire is a more than adequate leader..." Wait, what? Did she seriously just compliment her abili-

 

"However..." Drat, spoke too soon. "The Captain has seemed particularly stressed lately," Fleetfoot continued, her voice containing just the slightest bit of mock concern as she leaned forward, her chest very narrowly grazing Valiant's and offering him a truly delectable view of her considerable cleavage.

 

"I'm worried that all the stress may have started to have a large impact on her health..." Oh, buck you, Fleetfoot.

 

Valiant made note of this. "I appreciate the input, Fleetfoot. Please, accompany us on the inspection, I'm sure you'll have further... insight," Valiant directed, and just barely covered up the fact he was just trying to mess with Spitfire.

 

Soon enough he turned back to the Captain, and gestured down the hall. "Shall we?"

 

The next few minutes passed by without incident, the hooves of the two commanding officers clacking against the floor as everypony in their path hastened to step aside and stand at attention. Spitfire walked briskly, as she normally did, but was careful not to give away her discomfort by moving too quickly. So far the evening's events had been far from ideal, and she was hopeful to move things along quickly without having to sacrifice too much more of her dignity.

 

After a few more hallways and a short staircase, Spitfire pushed open the double doors and breathed an ever-so-small breath of relief as she saw the large, spacious room was mostly empty, only a few groups of cadets scattered here and there as the dinner hour wound to a close. Coming to a stop and turning sharply on her heel, Spitfire saluted again as she addressed her superior officer.

 

"The mess hall, sir. Not much to see here, but it is large, spacious, and located more or less in the center of the Wonderbolts Academy compound. Effectively the hub of all major movement about the building. From here we can proceed to wherever you wish."

 

Valiant stepped past her, and behind him so did Fleetfoot. She was delighting in this, and according to Valiant's orders had been tagging along to add her own input. It wasn't altogether too much of an odd request on Valiant's part- Fleetfoot was the #2 around here, after all, and Soarin was apparently out at the moment.

 

Spitty got a good view of Valiant's tight rear end as he looked around, but Fleetfoot openly leered at it.

 

Their commander was on his way towards a pair of cadets, and quickly ordered them to attention. A mare and a stallion, and he spent just a few moments inspecting them before his words got Spitfire's attention.

 

"Empty your pockets," he ordered, and after some hesitation repeated that more firmly.

 

Two condoms, seventeen dollars in pocket change, chapstick, and a small vial of entirely banned aphrodisiac potion. Everything you needed to have a fun Friday night, and Valiant turned back to Spitfire, a wrapped condom between his fingers.

 

"Captain, while I certainly approve that your cadets are using protection, is it normal for them to keep it on hand on duty?"

 

Those two were blushing so goddamn hard that one could swear their faces were about to explode, and they were sweating as well. Cutely, they had grasped each other's hands as they waited for an expected dressing down. This is what happened when you got fit, sexually attractive, persons of the opposite (or in some cases, same) sex in one place. It's not out of the question for Wonderbolts to bone on base- but keeping this stuff on your person? That was entirely out of line.

 

Not even Spitfire could maintain her facade of professionalism in the face of such ridiculous circumstances. Releasing an explosive sigh of exasperation, the Wonderbolt captain dragged her hand down her face as she attempted to regain her composure. Of all the blasted things a pair of numbskull cadets could have on them...

 

After a moment, she finally spoke. "I hope you two realize how poorly this reflects on the Wonderbolts Academy as a whole, and especially on myself as the captain," Spitfire growled. The two shook their heads vigorously as they stepped slightly closer together, waiting with bated breath for what would surely be the end.

 

Spitfire sighed before returning her attention to Valiant. "Clearly we have done an inadequate job of making our rules and expectations clear. I accept full responsibility for this incident." Glancing over her shoulder at the shellshocked cadets she narrowed her eyes before continuing, "I suggest the two of you make yourselves scarce before I change my mind." In the blink of an eye the cadets were gone. Spitfire shook her head as she sighed again in exasperation. If only they could apply such speed to their drills...

 

"Well hey, at least they have the good sense to use protection," Fleetfoot commented, perfectly timed for Valiant to agree with her.

 

"Actually I'm inclined to agree, that's a positive note- although keeping it on her person raises some interesting questions."

 

Fleetfoot, again, spoke quickly: "I'll lock the broom closets," she returned teasingly, and then stepped away for the moment to leave Spitfire and Valiant alone.

 

Valiant stepped up to the short (Five foot three and not an inch more, to her mild annoyance) Wonderbolt Captain.

 

"On a more positive note, I'm impressed by how well maintained and orderly the cafeteria is. I trust the selection of food is... appropriate?"

 

Fleetfoot had returned with a donut in her mouth. It was, unfortunately, entirely not. There was plenty of health food on offer, to be sure, but an equal amount of junk behind the glass barriers. When one looked between the regular area and the officers only selection, the ratio of wholesome food to garbage shifted drastically towards the latter- and Spitfire was going to have to somehow explain that to Valiant, as he clearly expected her to show him what was available.

 

"Here at the Wonderbolts Academy we don't baby anyone," Spitfire replied quickly. "While it's certainly straightforward to maintain a sufficiently healthy diet given what's available, we do not go out of our way to regiment everypony's diet for them. In my book, if you can't keep your hands off the sweets enough to maintain an adequate level of physical performance, you aren't Wonderbolt material. Simple as that."

 

Looking (upwards, much to her chagrin) to meet Valiant's eye, she continued. "Being a Wonderbolt is more than just being physically capable. We demand responsibility and mental fortitude in all aspects." She couldn't resist her eyes from flicking down to the condom still in Valiant's hand. "Evidently we have not demanded firmly enough."

 

Valiant flicked it between his fingers, and then pocketed it for now. Fleetfoot, standing beside them and revealing an inappropriate level of tits, swallowed down half of her donut and then spoke up. "Responsibility, Captain?" she spoke, and glanced towards Spitfire's middle. There was clearly a muffin top there.

 

A muffin top that soon growled, catching Valiant's attention. "Skipped lunch, Captain?"

 

Spitfire grimaced as her cheeks flushed slightly. Recently her stomach had been getting her into all sorts of trouble, and this was just about one of the worst times for it to start acting up. She swallowed audibly before responding. "I assure you that I am taking the necessary steps to maintain adequate levels of performance. A bit of hunger here and there stands no chance against my willpower."

 

"Yeah, just like how a box of donuts doesn't stand a chance against her either," Fleetfoot piped up, nodding sagely to herself as she took another bite of hers, all the while maintaining a flawless poker face. Spitfire bristled at that comment but said nothing. She continued to curse her bad luck that Fleetfoot had walked in on her in such a...*compromising* position that one morning...

 

Fleetfoot idly thought that promising Soarin' a beej for taking her place on today's training flight was turning out wonderfully. Not only was she able to skip that- but she was getting to have a wonderful amount of fun in general. Stallions put much value in that- it only took like, five minutes tops. Some people called her a slut- she just called herself confident in her sexuality.

 

Valiant noticed that Fleetfoot's eye had wandered down to his pants and for the first time the tables shifted, "Eyes up here, Fleetfoot- and zip up your damn flight suit, I was willing to let you get away with it because I had hoped you would have the sense to do it yourself."

 

Thusly the mare ended up being effectively slut-shamed, and for the first time this morning Spitfire came out superior, and Valiant was soon turned to face her. "Captain, go get something to eat while we walk. There's no need for you to go hungry, but I don't have enough time to take lunch with you."

 

Spitfire wanted nothing more than to protest that she was fine, that she could go without and for him to not be worried in the slightest, but Spitfire knew that nothing good ever came of disobeying a superior's orders. Giving a quick salute, Spitfire turned and reluctantly made her way towards the serving area. "As you wish, sir."

 

She grumbled under her breath as she picked her way through the meager offerings that remained. Most of the good stuff was long gone, eagerly chowed down upon by cadets looking for that elusive balance between taste and health. Spitfire grimaced as she made to grab some carrots and celery, definitely nothing satisfying but after all, she was trying to lose a bit of weight...

 

Just as she was reaching for her "snack", she froze as her eyes fell upon something *much* more appealing. There, just a few feet away, sat a plate of donuts, the very same ones that Fleetfoot had just snatched from. Spitfire warred internally with herself as she looked back and forth between the boring vegetables and the succulent donuts, their smooth, chocolatey glaze looking oh so appealing beneath the gentle light of the heat lamp above them...

 

Spitfire knew she shouldn't. She also knew that her so-called "willpower" had been sorely tested as of late, and much to her shame, had been occasionally defeated. Grabbing one of those delectable pastries would almost certainly invite further ridicule from the ponies waiting behind her, but on the other hand, they just looked so delicious...surely just one wouldn't hurt? Especially if she ate it real quickly, scarfing it down before returning with something more appropriate in her hands. Neither of them would even have to know...

 

Fleetfoot and Valiant were left together then, and the mare was put in her place, perhaps, but was still eager to explore where the limits were. This gave Spitfire a distraction for now, as as she sat herself down at a table, crossed her legs, and then leaned back to push out her chest... so that the zipper of her suit once again peeled downwards and exposed her breasts.

 

"Oops," she teased, "Guess my girls are just too much."

 

Valiant faced a choice. Ostensibly, he had to push back against this behaviour- but he didn't, and instead stepped up to her and gently pulled the zipper down just a bit more. "When it's just you and me, Fleetfoot, you have permission..."

 

And then he yanked it right back up and held his fist against her neck, blocking airflow for a moment. "If it's not just you and me, behave."

 

Fleetfoot had never in her life needed a mans dick in her as badly as she did at that moment.

 

Fleetfoot gasped for air as she was released, her ample chest heaving as she desperately tried to regain her breath. "Y-Yes, sir..." she managed weakly. "Ohhh...a-anything...for you...sir..." she continued, gazing up at Valiant with sheer adoration in her eyes.

 

Meanwhile...

 

"UUUUUURRRRPP!" Spitfire was brought back to reality in a hurry as she let loose with a deep belch, blinking her eyes in confusion as she tried to figure out what had just happened. She had come back here for a snack, and was going to grab some healthy veggies before she had spotted a large plate of donuts...

 

Oh no. Looking down simply confirmed Spitfire's worst fears. Not only were her fingers covered with incriminating chocolate glaze, her slight pooch of a belly was now a full-blown gut, swollen and round as it gurgled ominously, its depths clearly packed with chocolate and fried dough. "Celestia damn it..." Spitfire cursed softly as she quickly sucked the chocolate off her fingers, her stomach gurgling morosely as it struggled against the confectionary onslaught.

 

"Oof..." Spitfire puffed out her cheeks as a hand came to rest on her belly, a slight feeling of sickness setting in as her body finally realized how much junk it had consumed in so short a time. She couldn't believe that she had let herself get swept up in yet another dessert binge, but for some reason that had been happening more and more lately. Perhaps it was her body starting to give in to a more luxurious life, trying to convince her that her time as a top athlete was coming to an end.

 

As loathe as she was to admit it, that time was approaching, and perhaps her unwillingness to face that fact was the cause of her sudden weakness. But whatever the reason may have been, the fact was that it had gotten the better of her yet again, although this time instead of being able to lounge in her chair borderline comatose as she digested, she had to head back out there to face Valiant and Fleetfoot and continue touring the building. Standing up as straight as she could and sucking in her gut as much as possible, she headed back out into the mess hall proper.

 

"Good girl," Valiant returned to Fleetfoot quietly. He knew her type- she was like Fleur in many ways. Confident, intelligent- and very sexually charged. He knew just how to manipulate those sorts to what he wanted, and he ordered her back to attention before he turned to greet Spitfire on her return.

 

Fleetfoot spoke first. "Holy shit, Captain, did you eat the fucking chef?"

 

Spitfire did not... look well, and Valiant noticed it as much as she did. Her face had paled slightly and took on a slightly green hue, and her middle had gone from a muffin top to outright bloated. Considering it was bloated with dough, chocolate, and sugar one could easily determine why she was sick. Her throat bulged when she came before them, but lucky for her it was simply a low belch that released from her despite her own wishes, followed by a low bubbling of her gut.

 

Valiant was left... bemused, and glanced between her and the still flush in the face Fleetfoot. "Captain..."

 

Valiant was cut off when Fleetfoot went for the nuclear option, reaching out to grasp that potion from earlier. Valiant watched as she offered it to Spitfire, "You look sick, here I just happened to have a uh- antacid?"

 

Fleetfoot's plan hinged on Spitfire being sickened enough to not be thinking entirely straight, and if it worked- Spitfire would he as horny as Princess Cadance, in heat.

 

"Uuuugh...thanks, Fleets..." Spitfire groaned miserably, her glazed-over eyes barely sparing the potion a passing glance before quickly grabbing it and tossing it back. Valiant could only stare in open-mouthed arousal as the scene unfolded before his eyes. The responsible part of him knew that this was wrong, that he shouldn't allow this to happen, that he was taking advantage of these mares' vulnerabilities...

 

But every other part of him *screamed* to watch and see where this was going. Spitfire made a funny face and smacked her lips slightly as she handed the bottle back to Fleetfoot. "Hunh...what an odd flavor, what kind did you say that was again Flee-URGH!" Spitfire was unable to finish her sentence as she suddenly doubled over, grunting in pain and clutching her suddenly roiling belly. Her face started to flush red and her brow beaded with sweat as she panted like a mare in labor, her wings slowly unfurling behind her.

 

"Uhhhh...wha-what...feels like I'm...burning up inside...oh goddesses..." The next sound out of her mouth was a loud, long moan, a curious mix of pain and arousal as the last of her composure melted away, the sound causing Valiant to absolutely *throb* with arousal.

 

Even Fleetfoot was surprised at how intense the effects were, and that was probably due to how much Spitfire had been having to suppress her needs this morning. She was still a mare, and while she was a professional one... between Valiant's attractive stature and Fleetfoot's constant slutting it up she had been low-level aroused for the last hour.

 

She was also surprised by the effect this had on Valiant. The moan she made and the actions of her, the sudden shift of her voice from authoritative to much more feminine, it all perfectly sung in his masculine mind. Valiant clenched his fists, and took a slight breath.

 

With them both a bit... out of it, Fleetfoot spoke for them. "Perhaps... perhaps we can continue this in the Captain's office?" she suggested, and clenched her legs slightly when she saw just how intensely Valiant was staring at Spitfire. That is the look she wanted, she didn't even mind it wasn't on her- Spitty had just taken a potion after all, and she had her own...

 

"That would be.... a good idea," Valiant spoke. Somehow this was... levels beyond arousing. Fleetfoot was a slut and Spitfire was so up on aphrodisiac potion she'd probably offer herself up to the first dick she saw- if he got them alone... his mind ran red hot with fantasy.

 

Oh he would be inside her, and Fleetfoot led the way for them. She knew full well Valiant's eyes were on her shapely rear, and she led them out back the way they came.

 

Spitfire's thoughts swam in a jumbled mess as she struggled just to keep breathing at a steady pace. The bubbling nausea in the pit of her stomach combined with the sudden roaring inferno of lust left her just about numb to the world around her, literally incapable of processing any input besides the overwhelming amount coming from within her. She couldn't remember what she had been doing, she couldn't remember how she got here, she could barely remember where she even was, and who she was with...

 

A pair of voices suddenly grabbed her attention. Though she could barely make out what they were saying through the miasmic haze choking out her mind, she did hear the word 'office' and just like that, a mental picture of her office floated through her consciousness, and she knew THAT was where she wanted to be right now, sitting in her comfortable chair and passing out, letting...whatever the Tartarus was affecting her right now run its course.

 

Now, how did she get there again...? Spitfire frowned, her eyes still clenched tightly shut as she tried desperately to focus. She swayed unsteadily on her feet before a strong pair of hands suddenly grasped her shoulders and started to gently push her forward. Taking one staggering step after another, Spitfire stumbled forward, grateful of whoever was guiding her forward.

 

Valiant had sensed that this potion was, at least for the moment, leaving Spitfire with all the mental capacity of a drunkard. "Fleetfoot, I swear to Celestia if this has any permanent effects I'm throwing you under the bus so hard you'll be tasting concrete until the day you die."

 

Fleetfoot shuddered slightly as she led them. Despite the obvious and open threat to that statement her partial fear was amplified by arousal. She glanced back at Spitfire, slightly worried, but from the looks of her she simply wasn't used to this sort of thing. Fleetfoot was... when she took it she tended to have her bra off within seconds and someones dick inside her seconds after that. Sometimes... multiple.

 

For Spitfire the ultimate effects remained to be seen, but the ease of which she was guided by Valiant- who told her to stand straighter and she immediately did so- is perhaps evidence of how it would get to her. Fleetfoot had always wondered if their commander might be secretly harbouring submissive fantasies...

 

She shrugged. "She'll be fine," Fleetfoot spoke, and pushed open Spitty's office door.

 

Valiant squinted at her as he passed. "What are you getting out of all this?" he asked, and found a finger on his lips, and Fleetfoot leaning towards him.

 

"You." Fleetfoot delighted in the mix of emotions that rapidly flickered across Valiant's face, but before he could settle on one she turned around and took over guiding her drugged captain to her desk...but not before waving her now heavily-scented tail right under Valiant's nose.

 

"C'mon, Spits, have a seat already, you look about ready to be sick." It was not a lie. As Spitfire flopped heavily into her chair, her queasy, gurgling stomach began its complaints anew. Her face couldn't decide whether it wanted to be red or green, so instead settled for a sickly looking mixture of the two. Sweat continued to pour off her brow, her tongue lolling and chest heaving while her wings twitched erratically against the back of her seat. Essentially oblivious to the world around her, Spitfire undid the buttons on her jacket and let her swollen, sloshing stomach plop heavily into her lap, rubbing and stroking it in long, gentle circles as her now exposed bosom heaved up and down above it.

 

Spitfire groaned in pain again as a particularly loud gurgle rumbled through her guts. Her cheeks puffed out for a brief moment, but she swallowed heavily, keeping the storm at bay for a few moments longer. Finally opening her eyes, her vision swam but slowly a remarkably handsome figure right before her started to come into focus. And, Praise Celestia!, she even knew him!

 

"Uhhh...Vuh...Vaaaal..." Spitfire slurred drunkenly, pitching slightly to her right before shooting upright again with a jolt. "I...I nuh...I neeed..." she trailed off, unable to muster the effort to form any more words. But from that look in her eyes, the way she stared at him fiercely, unblinkingly, told Valiant all that he needed to know.

 

*Direction.*

 

That's what Spitfire needed, and Valiant soon broke. He was not a perfect stallion by any count, and he himself was capable of being manipulated- as he had been now. Fleetfoot had started the fire in him, and the door slammed shut and locked. Fleetfoot soon enough felt his hands on her neck, and he squeezed slightly.

 

"If you tell anyone about this, or even insinuate this happened, I will find you, and I will bleed you dry," he threatened. He was egotistical, controlling, dominant- and all those things were in play now as his arm bulged and Fleetfoot physically lifted from the floor. Spitfire would have to wait a moment, this came first...

 

Stars exploded in Fleetfoot's vision. She writhed and rasped in rapture as she came right then and there, her juices dribbling down her legs and pooling on the carpet beneath her. She was unable to form any words, but was pretty sure she didn't need to. She had never in her life been treated this way by a stallion, and by Celestia it drove her WILD.