1    
>While nearly all pegasi were naturally athletic, none could compare to those in the Wonderbolts
    >Each mare and stallion in those lofty ranks were the best of the best
    >Stronger, faster, better; they were nothing less than the pinnacle of their tribe
    >Even so, their bodies, as elites as they might be, needed proper maintenance and care
    >Flying at high speed took a toll on the body, and high speed was a Wonderbolts life
    >Because of this, their training and housing hub, known as Thunder Plaza, was at the forefront of athletic science
    >Everything from chambers full of liquid rainbow to yak-fur blankets soaked in shaman potions were a common sight
    >There was also an army of staff to see to the crew
    >Each one was in the top of their field, who's sole duty was to see to these elite ponies
    >From injuries to diet to bowel movements, everything was carefully watched and recorded
    >For all of this cutting edge technology, and all of these skilled workers, the true secret to the athletes' success might have been the best kept secret that was held above the clouds
    >This secret, this creature, had helped cut injuries, fatigue, and stress for each mare and stallion by eighty percent at least
    >The stallions of the team tolerated him
    >The mares loved him
    >One such mare, lieutenant Fleetfoot, second only to Spitfire in leadership and seniority, found herself splayed out on the creature's massage bench
    >The room that she was in was a dark blue
    >The only light were candles that surrounded the room
    >There was a scent of vanilla and lavender that tickled her nose with each breath she took
    >All in all, just what would make up an average spa experience
    >What wasn't average, even a little, were those appendages turning the muscles in her back and haunches into butter
    >Fingers they were called
    >Long and slender
    >They looked weak at first glance, but she knew they were strong enough to dislocate a mare's ribs and subsequently pop them back in with little effort
    >He liked to do that to the newbies, if they got a little too fresh or grabby
    >Most learned quick
    >She had not, and even now she couldn't help but flick her tail at him on occasion
    >While it would hurt like a bucker for a few moments--even longer if he was particularly annoyed and didn't pop it back in right away--that pain would quickly disappear
    >Those hands of his were better than any spell, any potion
    >Every ache and pain left wherever he touched
    >Fleetfoot let out a groan as she felt those wonderful hands sink into her flank
    >Her back leg twitched
    >Her wings, stiff and pulsing, gave a little flap
    >She was leaking onto the bench
    >She always did
    >All the troopers always did
    >The newbies were always horrified about it, especially when those hands would give them a squealing orgasm by accident, but the veterans were used to it
    >Their otherworldly massuer was a complete professional, and didn't give a horseapple how big a mess they made
    >There was no judgement, no disgust
2
>It was just seen as something that sometimes happened in this room
>That meant Fleetfoot could just relax, close her eyes, and enjoy herself
>Her massuer's hands went all the way down to her hooves, then back up
>Every inch of her was poked and prodded
>If tension was noticed, the spot was attacked relentlessly
>His technique was slow and methodical, often using the meat below his thumbs to knead her muscle
"Hmm~ Could you get my left joint again? I think I twinged something lifting."
>Those hands raced up her back
>Fleetfoot groaned again, wiggling from side to side
>Those fingers dug into the pit of her wing, sending a jolt of relief and pleasure down the length of her body
>The smell of her own arousal hit her nose, and she attempted to stretch like a cat
>A hand found itself on the small of her back, pushing her back down 
>She let out a whine of protest as the hand went back to her wing
>It went up the length, up the humerus and ulna
>Fleet felt wings being pushed into their proper place
>She sighed, the entirety of tension in her body disappearing
>She became to relaxed that even moving her ears seemed to difficult
>The only thing that refused to relax was her tail dock, which stayed stubbornly raised
>The pegasus drifted in and out of conscious, just riding the wave of relaxation
>That was, until a finger flicked her side
>"Sit up," a deep, brassy voice said, their accent just... alien. "Get on the edge table."
>It took two more flicks to get Fleet out of her stupor, but the mare eventually sat up, her lower belly soaked with her own arousal
>She could see him now
>The human Anonymous
>As usual, he wore a masseur outfit, with Wonderbolt colors
>His green eyes seemed to shine in the dim light
>Predators eyes
>Annoyed predators eyes, staring right at her
>She quickly sat on the edge of the table
>The giant of the stallion began rubbing her chest, fingers digging into her chest fluff
>It took all she had no to purr like some dirty gryphon as those hands made their way to her neck
>"Three, two, one..."
>There was a crack as her head was suddenly twisted one way
>She let out a snort; she had been expecting it, but no matter how many times he did that it was somehow a surprise
>"Three, two, one..."
>Her head was snapped the other way
>She let out a shudder, her eyes slowly closing
>She might have fallen off the table, if not for the hand on her shoulder
>"You all good? Any other problem areas I should know about?"
"Na-huh..."
>"You sure?"
"Ah-huh..."
>Anon stepped away
>"Then get going," he said, patting her side. "I need to clean up."
>Like a drunk, Fleetfoot hopped off the table
>She took a few steps, before turning toward the human, who was already washing his hands of the massage oils at his personal sink
"Anon?"
>"Yeah?" he said, not bothering to look at her
"I know I've said this before, but I swear to Celestia I'll suck your dick if you want," she said. "All that stuff you do with those claws of yours, it'd only be fair."
3
>The human snorted
"No joke. It doesn't even need to be sexual," Fleet insisted. "I just..."
>"I get more than compensated, lieutenant. Trust me," Anon said. "The offer is noted, but not needed. Now get going and get yourself cleaned up. I believe you have your fourth meal of the day in a few minutes."
>Fleet, staring at him, slowly nodded her head
"Alright, but seriously, the offer still stands."
>"Goodbye, lieutenant. Make sure you close the door behind you."
>Not wanting to upset the human--doing so was always a REALLY bad idea--Fleet quickly fled the room
>It was a shame
>She could have had any male in Equestria if she wanted
>Barely legal or dilf, single, married, unicorn, earth pony, or pegasus
>Not Anon though, who she was pretty sure made triple what Captain Spitfire made
>Eh...
>Maybe someday...
4
    >Being a masseur for the Wonderbolts could be a messy job
    >A lot of ponies got... excited
    >After most sessions, everything within arms reach needed to be thoroughly wiped down
    >With a lot of the stallions, a bucket was needed to be placed underneath the table, where there was a hole for "comfort", so that any fluids would be collected and immediately disposed of
    >Some stallions were much worse than others, but you could deal with them
    >The pony you really couldn't deal with was Rainbow Dash
    >The mare was an eager beaver
    >A hair trigger if you will
    >Every ten seconds, you'd get a screaming, squirting orgasm out of the pegasus
    >She's soak everything
    >You, the floor, the table, the fucking ceiling somehow
    >It didn't matter where you touched her, or how hard you'd touch her, there'd be an orgasm
    >Once, just curious, you just flicked some hairs on her mane to see what would happen
    >Just like clockwork; orgasm
    >After most hour sessions, she might have close to fifty or sixty orgasms in a row
    >Honestly, you were more amazed than upset by the end of the session, as the mare would expel more fluid that her body should have been able to hold
    >You always did her appointments last, as a cleaning crew would need to spend the night with your room
    >Your clothing, of course, was burned as well
    >Was it annoying?
    >Absolutely
    >You were a professional however, and never said anything to the mare about it, just urging her to drink some goddamn water whenever she crawled off of your table and left
    >Just a hazard of the job you supposed...
5
>The mare cum was easy to get rid of
>Just take your cum bucket--as you began to call it-- over to the sink and dump it
>With a bucket full of stallion splooge, you were forced to get a little more creative
>Just like on earth, stallion spunk was worth considerably more than gold
>Mares wanted the best, and there was no better stock than Wonderbolt stock
>There were no other workers on the base that you could trust
>Even the stallions would take it to be sold to some rich mare that wanted a world class filly or colt to brag about to her friends someday
>It was one of the main reasons why you were paid so much, so you wouldn't start selling colts' cum
>And there were buyers
>Dozens of them, all offering stupid amounts of bits just for an ounce of fluid
>Some were so desperate that offers of bits became threats
>Twice, "hit ponies" had tried pushing you off the edge of the base
>Unfortunately for them, you weight like ten times more than a pegasus, and are a lot stronger
>Things were so bad that you just dumped a cup of hydrochloric acid into the bucket and mixed it up real good 
>Stunk to high heaven, and the base needed to get a special tank to dump the concoction into, but at least there was no bastard foals running around Cloudsdale and Manehatten 
>The team's stallion were eternally grateful
>During Hearth's Warming and your birthday, they all came together to get you some killer presents
6
>Like the other bolts, the mareliest mare military captain Spitfire cums herself raw from her mandatory post flight wing massages.
>They had become mandatory for her because she kept skipping them due to her embarrassment.
>Eventually this ended in her getting in a nasty crash from a pulled muscle, putting her out of commission for weeks.
>Now if she skips a session you have the authority and obligation to capture her and give her a massage, right where you catch her if necessary.
>One would think the added embarrassment would curb her behavior, but instead it only made her skip MORE massages, making you hunt her down around the campus almost after every flight.
>It wasn't particularly hard to find her, her work was scheduled the same for each day, the tricky part was getting a hold of, and subsequently pinning one of, if not THE strongest and fastest pegasi in the world.
>Your only real chance was to ambush her, or corner her in a room with a low ceiling, difficult to do as she mostly stayed outdoors, so you've had to become creative.
>One of your most successful captures was when you hid inside the dizzitron, waiting until her back was turned to creep up and pounce on her in front of the cadets.
>As you ripped off her little uniform, she had almost begged for you to take her to the massage room, but your mercy and patience was drained, the little fucker had evaded you for over a week and was paying for it by cumming her brains out in front of everyone.
>The cadets learned that day what happens when you skip too many sessions, and that just because you were slow didn't mean you couldn't get your hands on them eventually.
>These search and capture sessions had started to make Spitfire paranoid, avoiding bushes and enclosed spaces if she could help it, her office window always open for an easy escape route.
>You felt a little bad for her, now whenever the marely commander saw you she starts shaking in her horseshoes, her wings flaring and eyes scan for exits even if she already had her session.
>Still, you don't feel too guilty, if she just came to you in the first place none of this would have to happen.
>You were also starting to suspect she was getting a thrill from it, her... enjoyment seeming to have intensified in the last few weeks.
>That didn't mean she made it easy for you, but her nervousness around blind corners and human sized cover was now accompanied by a hiked tail and a wet trail behind her.
>Plus, when you caught her, she'd all but roll over and show her belly to you with how submissive she had become, no longer caring about her colty screams and lewd phrases she uttered even when right in front of her teammates and cadets.
>You didn't have enough schooling to be a psychologist, but you think hunting her down and inadvertently forcing her to cum somewhat against her will, routinely, might have had an adverse effect on her mental state.
!highlight!>You just hope the other mares don't have their only two synapses fire and copy her.