Its been 1000 Years, but a new The Long And Short Of It is here · 12:38am May 6th, 2023
>You couldn’t manage to motivate yourself to get up.
>Instead you just laid there, chuckling to yourself at the internal schadenfreude.
>Of course you just charged into the mares’ locker room like a maniac, of fucking course.
>Wait... does that even matter?
>It's not like ponies care about others seeing them undress.
>Are you even actually breaking a taboo here?
>”Is he alright? He hit the ground pretty hard there,” asks a new voice.
>You can hear hooves on the tile as more of the team approaches you.
>”We should probably call a doctor. Stallions have hollow bones, he might have broken something,” another speaks up.
>”You idiot!” A third shouts, “He’s a unicorn! /We’re/ the ones with semi-hollow bones.”
>Both wanting to end their asides and itching to get this awkward introduction over with, you let out a loud groan before forcing yourself to your hooves.
>You doubt anything is seriously injured, but man are you sore right now.
>Finally centering yourself, you take in your surroundings and see it's exactly what you expected.
>A high-tier YMCA locker room, full of mares doing all the things you’d expect someone to be doing in a locker room.
>Undressing, stretching, showering...
>Yet nearly all of them had frozen in place, eyes locked on you in awkward silence as you worked up the nerve to break the ice.
>You’d never been particularly uncomfortable in front of crowds, but you couldn’t help but find their looks just the slightest bit unnerving.
>Capping off that feeling is the /range/ of expressions you’re seeing.
>On your right, the reactions you’re getting are what you’d expect to see if a girl just barged into a frat’s locker room.
>The further left you go however, they seem to be... afraid?
>Some of them are even grimacing as they look at your side.
>Oh God, did you like cut yourself open on a loose piece of tile or something?
>Hurriedly checking your side, you notice you’re covered in pins.
>Most of them are stuck to your saddlebag but a few have managed to cling to your bare side as well.
>They must be magic or something because you certainly don’t /feel/ like there are half a dozen pins jammed into your skin.
>Wait a second, you recognize these! They’re from that dude you plowed into!
>And they’re covered in absolutely /terrible/ slogans.
>“Down With The Matriarchy” is okay you suppose, but “Penis Power”? Really?
>”It's one of those guys Legal Ease warned us about!” one of the mares abruptly screams. “Everypony, scatter!”
>Almost all of the previously frozen ponies explode into movement.
>Tearing their way past you, they go for doors, windows, lockers, and anything else that’ll put a barrier between you and them.
>Before you can even get a word out, the once packed room is practically a ghost town.
>Of the over a dozen mares originally in view, only a scant few remain.
>And by the sound of it, these mares must be the bravest of the brave.
>...Or the ones the least concerned with legal repercussions.
>Opening your mouth, you /intend/ to clear up the misunderstanding, but the mares don’t give you a chance.
>”Well well well,” says Spitfire, strutting toward you. “What do we have here?”
>She openly starts sizing you up, and you get the feeling she’d be attempting to look down on you if you weren’t so tall.
>Stopping in front of you, she strikes a pose you recognize immediately.
>Pulling her head back while thrusting her chest forward, it's the same pose Pike makes whenever she wants you to look at her chest fuzz.
>Spitfire had already unzipped her suit until it was below her chest, so it /kind of/ works.
>But her fur’s all matted from being pressed by the suit, and covered in sweat.
>Her actual tuft is much smaller than Pike’s too, and not in a cute way like Cut’s is.
>Frankly, you’re not entirely sure what Spitfire is even going for here. Sexy? Intimidating?
>Either way it's not working.
>”Come to hear some of our “locker room talk” with your own ears?”
>You're about to very enthusiastically answer “no”, but something stops you.
>You may not be that familiar with the Wonderbolts, but this seems like a pretty serious departure from their public personas.
>Especially Spitfire, she /seemed/ like nothing but a consummate professional before.
>But you suppose you shouldn't be surprised, no matter the planet jocks will be jocks.
>She even used the famous meme, "locker room talk"!
>Just like back home, you're sure all kinds of shit gets said behind closed doors that a team would never let slip in public.
>Especially to someone like a reporter...
>But say, a random stallionist who barged into your locker room?
>That’s as far from a reporter as it gets!
>If you were a reporter in the fifties, you sure as shit wouldn’t use “hearsay from a feminist” as your source.
>Nobody else would either.
>The team would know that too.
>And that means no PR filter, no reason to hold anything back.
>Every off color opinion and spicy detail, laid bare...
>The thought makes you salivate.
>Seems like that idiot at the entrance accidentally gave you a golden opportunity.
>You're going undercover!
>Thanking your lucky star that they didn’t already notice it, you quietly use your magic to fold the press pass in your hat upon itself.
>A part of you is really looking forward to this, for once you have a legitimate reason to antagonize an annoying source.
>You’d just better make sure you don’t get /too/ in character...
>Wanting to start strong, you do something you know will get under Spitfire’s skin.
>Raising up to your full height, you make a deliberate show of looking down at Spitfire’s tuft.
>You can see her grinning at the edge of your vision, at least until your eyebrow comes up.
>You stare down at that ratty-ass tuft like it's an unexpected hairball in your shower drain, and /just/ when Spitfire gets the picture, only then do you look up to her face.
>She’s sure not grinning anymore!
“As a matter of fact, I did. Especially anything pertaining to one stallion...”
>”Wind Rider.”
>You are Fleetfoot, third wing of the Wonderbolts, and you’re holding back tears of laughter.
>Sweet Celestia, you weren’t expecting /this/ kind of after show entertainment!
>Between you and yourself, you’d have to admit you were a little worried at first.
>The way he charged in here, you could /almost/ be fooled into thinking he had some serious business.
>But it turns out that “serious business” is Wind Rider.
>Wind /Bucking/ Rider!
>Nopony gives a buck about Wind Rider, no pony!
>Only the most deranged of stallionists would even consider that worth their energy, and this dude is waaay too calm to fit into that category.
>Way too attractive too.
>No, you know why he's /really/ here.
>Unlike Spits, you've hung out with your fair share of stallions.
>By now you've acquired an acute understanding of how they operate in the sheets AND the streets.
>And stallionists are creatures of pride.
>They want— no. They /need/ to feel like they're the ones in control.
>But at the end of the day they're still stallions, and every stallion gets a craving that brings them back to the shellfish buffet.
>He's clearly got it bad too!
>Running in here like a stallion possessed... practically throwing himself at your hooves...
>And the way he /stared/ down Spits' tuft?
>Sure he tried to play it cool, but you all saw. He's not fooling anypony!
>Okay Spits looks like she's absolutely seething so he probably fooled her, but that's beside the point.
>It was clearly an act to keep up his pride, just like this Wind Rider stuff.
>But that's fine with you, you've played this game before.
>Spits is trying to stand tall enough to look him in the eyes, so she's obviously playing bad cop.
>And you'll play good cop, and before you know it the two of you will have a good old fashion gang bang on your hooves!
>Buck hitting up the dress club, here's the way to unwind after a show!
>You really wish you'd gone ahead and learned that mind reading spell after all.
>Sure, Pike was right, it probably would have made you "a massive pain in the flank".
>But God, you'd kill to know what exactly Spitfire is thinking right now.
>The mare is two-thirds your size (and knows it) yet she's putting every angry atom of her being toward standing high enough on her tip-toes so that she can look you in the eye.
>And failing, of course.
>Aren't most mares shorter than most stallions anyway?
>Why would this of all things be a point of pri— woah hey what the fuck!?
>/Something/ just brushed against your fucking nuts!
>It felt like someone's tail, and whipping your head around you see it /was/ someone's tail!
>Fleetfoot.
>Apparently while you were busy with Spitfire she thought it appropriate to circle around behind you and swat your nuts as she passed by.
>That's disconcerting, to say the least.
>What's even worse is she does not look like someone who just got caught tickling someone else's nuts.
>If anything she looks confident, like that was the right move.
>You've got a bad feeling about this.
>Abruptly, she pulls in close beside you.
>Not close enough to touch, but close enough to clearly violate your personal space.
>"Now what's a handsome guy like you want with somepony like that?" She asks.
>It's times like this that you're keenly reminded that you're still far from being used to the opposite sex being the forward ones.
>For the briefest of moments, your eyes were probably the size of dinner plates as you hastily stumbled back.
>Shit, you're breaking character!
>She may be attractive but she just touched your balls without asking!
>Remember that righteous anger and channel it!
>Physically straightening yourself out, you loudly say:
"I want to know why he did it!"
>And considering what just happened, you've got a perfect line of inquiry.
Angrily pointing between the two of them, you shout, "And I want to know what /you all/ did to him!"
>The two of them roll their eyes.
>Which, while not unexpected, still wasn’t really the reaction you were gunning for.
>”Oh please,” Spitfire hawks the words out like a loogie, “Like we’d need to do anything to get that old churl going.”
>You just barely catch the tail end of Fleetfoot shooting Spitfire one /nasty/ look before she turns to you.
>"What Spits is trying to say is, you've got us all wrong! We didn't do anything to that poor stallion."
>That coming from the bitch who just tickled your balls? As if!
>Do these people think you're fucking stupid?
>...Of course they do, you're a stallion.
>No, no!
>You've got to remember: to them you're a stallion/ist/ not just a stallion, there's a difference!
>But even with that in mind, there's more than a little genuine bitterness in your voice as you shout back.
"Don't bullshit me! Everyone's heard about what you did to Bench Warmer."
>It's a lie, of course, you've got no idea what happened to Bench Warmer.
>But you certainly feel like you've got enough to make an educated guess!
>"WHAT!?"
>Spitfire apparently disagrees.
>"The only thing we "did" for that ungrateful bastard was a favor!"
>By the end of her statement, you could see Spitfire the drill sergeant come out just a little.
>And honestly? It was kind of terrifying.
>However, it's not so terrifying that you aren't completely enraptured.
>Wind Rider might end up a bust, but you'd certainly be willing to settle for the inside scoop on Bench Warmer.
>You're not that picky!
>Making it even better is the visible horror on Fleetfoot's face.
>"Spitfi—"
>"I don't care what Legal says, Fleet," Spitfire swiftly cuts her off. "The facts are on /our/ side!"
>If you weren't worried about breaking cover you'd be drooling right now.
>You're a shark, and they just chummed the water.
>This is an ongoing investigation and yet, Spitfire's clearly ready to spill everything.
>All she needs is a little /push/!
"/What/ facts?" You say in the most condescending tone you possibly can.
>Fleetfoot tries to put herself between the two of you, but it's all in vain.
>You know you've won as the fiery mare pushes past Fleet in order to angrily shove herself in your face.
>"He wants to tell everypony we benched him because he's a stallion? Horseapples! We've /got/ his performance stats on record. If a mare flew like that she wouldn't even make the bench!"
>The sweet taste of victory is quickly turning to ash in your mouth.
>You know you won't like the answer, but you're in too deep now.
"So why keep him on the team at all?"
>"Becau—"
>This time, Fleetfoot takes no chances and shoves her hoof into Spitfire's mouth.
>Keeping the momentum up, she shoves Spitfire out of your way and steps to take her place.
>"Because," she continues for Spitfire, "We at the Wonderbolts realize our team is a little mare heavy! So we wanted to give that uh... promising young stallion a real chance to shine! Despite his *ahem* /questionable/ performance record."
>You sit there in silence as your mind begrudgingly processes what you just heard.
>It takes you all of ten seconds to figure out the real reason why.
"So it's because he was hot."
>Fleetfoot awkwardly scratches at the back of her neck.
>Refusing to look you in the eye, she only manages a weak, "Well...."
>”...I won’t feed you manure and pretend like your stories will get front page billing.”
>You are Anonymous the freshly minted Unicorn, and you’ve finally found someone willing to hire you.
>Although from where you’re standing, willing feels like it's a bit of a stretch.
>”Or, probably second or third page billing for that matter. But! You’ll have an editorial all to yourself! Gossip, fashion, all the things you stallions like to write and read about.”
>You've been throwing yourself at every employer you can think of for months, and this is where you've ended up
>Sitting in front of J Jargon Justification of the Canterlot Canteror
>Not as an apprentice reported to be trained up of course, just the gossip writer.
>That’s it.
>Your only options now seem to be: continue fruitlessly struggling and hope someone else will give you a chance, or accept your position here as the token stallion.
>Considering how most of the businesses in Canterlot have already turned you down, it’s not much of a choice, really.
>”And the mares will just love having you around!”
>You choke down the grimace that tried to make its way on to your face.
>Considering the way they were eyeing you walked in, you’re sure they will.
>Swallowing your last bit of pride, you put on a fake smile and raise a hoof.
>Remember, it’s a bump, not a shake!
"Sounds great boss, when do I start?"
>Wow.
>Back in the present, you have to admit that hits a LOT closer to home than you were expecting.
>Apparently you had a lot more in common with this Bench Warmer than you'd presumed.
>And /that/ revelation leaves you stunned.
>Fact is, that’s likely the only reason you made it past your first few months with Jargon.
>She certainly wasn't keeping you around for what you wrote, she didn't even read it!
>Probably still doesn't.
"That's horrible."
>You didn't even mean to say that out loud, it just slipped out.
>The line between you and this stallionist character just blurred considerably.
>Is it even still there?
>"Oh don't be dramatic," Spitfire scoffs. "Aren't you types always harping on getting more stallions in the workforce?"
>”Yeah, come on,” Fleetfoot says while placing a “comforting” hoof on your withers. “We were just creating a job for him! A very /lucrative/ job at that.”
>You physically recoil, a magic hand shoving the mare’s hoof away.
>You’re going all in now!
“It’s /demeaning/ is what it is! Would you two /seriously/ be fine being stuck doing nothing all day just so some people could stare you down!? People who only want to fuck you and nothing else?!”
>Spitfire and Fleetfoot share only the briefest of glances between each other before turning back to you.
>”Yeah,” they say in perfect sync.
“Well..!”
>Whatever pathetic diatribe you were going to spew dies in your throat.
>Yeah, of course that was their response.
>They haven’t been there, they’ve got no idea what it's actually like.
>To them it probably sounds great!
>Shit, it would have sounded great to you too two years ago!
>But you know better now.
>You can bet the nuts these mares love so much that you know exactly how Bench Warmer feels.
>You’re just the one who was lucky enough and ingenuitive enough to excel despite that.
>Him? Who knows how long he’ll stay stuck on the bench.
>Wait, what’s this feeling in your chest?
>Is this empathy? For these annoying stallions?
>For the feminists back home?!
>Oh God, do you actually /understand/ where they’re coming from!?
>Like a character in an HP Lovecraft novel, you can feel your mind buckling under the weight of these revelations.
>Forget the interview, you need a moment to process this.
>In the professional opinion of yourself, THE Fleetfoot, this is going great!
>If things keep along this path, you think there’s a real good chance you and Spitfire will be gettin laid tonight!
>Oh yeah!
>Sure, things got a little dicey once Spits started spilling the beans about Seat Warmer.
>However, you think it turned out for the best.
>You thought he was really gonna let you have it there for a moment, but it seems your flawless logic has stunned him into silence!
>You’d never managed /that/ with a stallionist before, and they’d usually still let you hit too.
>That’s no reason to rest on your haunches though.
>A deal is only sealed when the key is IN the lock, and his silent ponderings are providing you with the perfect opportunity to actually plan your next move.
>Leaning towards the Captain, you beckon for her to huddle up with you.
"Psssst, hey Spits!" You whisper in her ear.
>Spitfire spares one last bewildered look towards the stallion before leaning in towards you.
>”What is it?”
>You quickly glance back at the stallion yourself to make sure he’s still stunned before you continue.
>He is.
“That was great! At first I wasn’t sure what you were thinking by bringing up Seat *Ahem* Bench Warmer, but that was really inspired!”
>Spitfire silently stares at you, obviously giving you permission to continue.
“I think if we keep up this good cop bad cop routine, this’ll be a done deal!”
>You pause, wanting to give Spitfire a chance to give her own thoughts on your progress.
>She blinks at you owlishly instead.
>”Fleetfoot, what the buck are you talking about?”
>You roll your eyes, of course she knows what you’re talking about.
>What, has she /not/ been trying to get him in bed this whole time?
“Hello? Getting this guy to sleep with us?”
>Her eyes go wide as she stumbles back, rapidly looking between you and the stallionist.
>For once in your life, you just saw Spitfire balk at a suggestion.
>”Wha— You think this guy’s going to /sleep/ with us? Are you insane?!”
>Clearly uncaring whether or not he notices, she points a hoof right at him.
>”He busts in here talking about Wind Rider and Bench... Fleet, I’m pretty sure he /hates/ us!”
“Oh P~lease!” you dismissively wave your hoof. “That’s how every desperate stallionist acts! And that’s all it is, and act.”
>You can tell she doesn’t believe you by how high her brow is raised.
>In a surprisingly touching act however, she places a hoof on your withers.
>Pulling herself even closer, she whispers, “Be honest, has this whole thing with Bench Warmer gotten to your head? Last thing I need is my wingmare going AWOL here.”
>You dismissively knock her hoof away.
“I’m sorry, /how/ many stallionists have you slept with again?”
>Spitfire starts to answer, but you cut her off when you catch the stallion coming to in the corner of your eye.
>You know the answer anyway, it's zero!
“Hey, there’s a can in your bag right?”
>She looks offended you’d even ask.
>”Of course!”
“Great! Keep playing rough with him but follow my lead.”
>Are you, Anonymous, a bad person?
>No, you’re just psyching yourself out.
>You’re too in your own head, you’ve got to—oh shit you’re WAY too in your own head!
>There’s still a damn interview going on!
>The adrenaline that comes with that realization helpfully brings you right back into the moment, you can have a crisis of beliefs later!
>Thankfully your “subjects” seem less than begrieveed by the sudden lapse of conversation.
>In fact, Fleetfoot looks positively ecstatic!
>You don’t like that.
>”Say, you don’t mind if Spits and I do a few stretches while we talk, do you? It's always best to limber up after a /hard/ workout.”
>Admittedly you’re very tempted to end the interview then and there.
>But, objectively speaking, this plan has been a complete success for you.
>Mental anguish notwithstanding, of course.
>In such a brief time you’ve been given more than enough information that you could turn the Bench Warmer scandal on its head.
>If you push just a little bit further, surely you can find something useful out about Wind Rider.
>Forget quitting while you’re ahead.
>Hopping back into the moment, you try to avoid thinking about how your answer and the stallionist answer are one and the same.
“If you /insist/.”
>Fleetfoot grins and immediately makes for the nearest bench, but you notice Spitfire hangs back.
>For the briefest of moments, you spy her worriedly looking between yourself and Fleetfoot, before silently following the other mare’s lead.
>Hm, /that’s/ unexpected. Makes you wonder if something happened while you were distracted.
>Putting that aside, you follow behind them without resistance.
>It doesn't take them long to pick out a spot, and before you know it they’ve started posing.
>You were expecting them to try something, but so far it seems like they’re actually doing regular old post-workout stretches.
>They’ve even zipped their flight suits back up to the neck!
>Perhaps it's too much to hope they’ve given up on sexually harassing you.
>Fleetfoot, stretching out her back legs like a cat, even starts things off for you.
>”So you wanted to know more about Wind Rider, right? What he was like?”
>Now you’re really suspicious, this is too easy.
“As a matter of fact, I would.”
>”Ha! No you don’t,” Spitfire barks as she pulls a forehoof behind her head. “The dude was a massive dick.”
>Fleetfoot spreads her wings wide as she responds, “I wouldn’t say it like that but the Captain is right. It may sound silly, but he was a straight up misogynist.”
>Ha! Now that’s a word you haven’t heard in a long time.
“Pffft, really?”
>Once again the persona reflects your honest thoughts.
>Fleetfoot leans back, and for the first time you notice how insanely tight the suits are.
>You always thought Silken took a few liberties with her Wonderbolts recreations, but now you're not so sure.
>”Surely you heard what he did,” the blue mare continues, “If he’d gotten away with it, that would have been the end of Cadet Dash’s career! Just because he didn’t want /her/ name to replace his.”
”It's not like he was subtle about it either.”
>You are Spitfire, Captain of the Wonderbolts, and you’ve picked up where Fleetfoot left off.
>You’re still completely unsure about this featherbrained scheme that she’s cooked up, but she was right: you’ve never managed to bag a stallionist before.
>He’s also stuck around, despite all odds, so maybe she’s on to something after all.
>Bending in a way that’s sure to show off your back legs, you continue.
“Sure he could act the part in public, but get one cider in him and the bitter old stallion would jump right out. I nearly had to escort him off base at our reunion three years ago after he threatened to go up on stage.”
>You notice Fleetfoot look over to you.
>”I always thought you /did/ escort him out.”
>Ha! Of course that’d be the version Fleet remembers, she was /trashed/.
>Heck, she was the reason he threatened to go up on stage to begin with.
“Nah, Nimbus talked him down and he left. Thank Celestia.”
>The stallion “hms” from behind you.
>Twisting around to look at him, he seems like he’s not paying attention to your bodies at all.
>Which is what /you/ assumed from the moment he scoffed at your tuft.
>Most stallions would have been tripping over themselves for a view like that, and he just pops an eyebrow.
>Maybe Fleet’s flown the coop after all.
>”Nimbus who? I didn’t see her on the program,” he continues.
>Fleet jumps in, eager to try to steer the conversation.
>”Nimble Nimbus, she’s out with an injury right now.”
>What she doesn’t mention is that it's a possibly career ending one.
>Not because it's particularly bad, but because Nimbus turned twenty-nine last year.
>Most mares have already retired by then, and that’s without having injuries that put them out for most of the season!
>”He was such an ornery guy. She was the only mare he tolerated and he /still/ barely liked her.”
>You keep your mouth shut for the moment, completely unsure where Fleet is going with this.
>Thankfully, she seems like she is going somewhere.
>”That’s what happens to stallions that grow old alone I suppose. All get all /gray/ and /bitter/.”
>She quickly shoots you a wink, and you realize that’s the signal.
>Reaching your hoof under the bench, you grab for your gym bag...
>You are Anonymous, and to be honest you haven’t been paying attention to most of what Fleetfoot was saying.
>The moment she gave you a name, you tuned out.
>Nimble Nimbus.
>Sounds like the pony you should talk to if you /actually/ want to get anything useful.
>And more than reason enough to finally leave, you’ve gotten everything you came for.
>You’ll just excuse yourself and—
>*Pssst*!
>The sudden sound startles you.
>Quickly checking around, you can’t quite pinpoint where it came from.
>It almost sounds like it came from /them/ but you don’t see any sort of can on them.
>Oh shit, Fleetfoot’s still talking.
>”It would be such a shame for a sweet guy like you to end up like that too, wouldn’t it?”
>Before you can figure out what she’s talking about, she and Spitefire do what you’re assuming they’ve been planning to do since you walked over here.
>Stretching like a cat, they lean their front halves down, while allowing their backsides to jut out.
>And holy /shit/ you thought their suits were tight before!
>You can practically see the entirety of their—
>Wait, what’s that smell?
>It almost smells like... OH JESUS CHRIST!
>You, Fleetfoot, can barely contain your excitement as the anticipation builds.
>And builds.
>Aaaaand builds.
>”*Hrrk*”
>Dang it, you’d like to get at least one wolf whistle in your life!
>At least that reaction was new, you suppose.
>It sounded like somepony holding in a cough, but that’d be a wildly abnormal reaction to say the least!
>Losing to your own curiosity, you peek around over your shoulder.
>He’s pressed himself up against the wall as he clearly tires to hold back a cough, and his eyes seem wide and... afraid?
>Oh Tartarus, were you coming on too strong after all?
>No, those are tears forming at the corners of his eyes, and you’ve certainly never made a stallion /cry/ by being too forward.
>Something else is up...
>Suddenly the damn breaks, and all at once he descends in a coughing fit.
>A fit that’s growing worse by the second.
>Spitfire’s noticed by now too and has completely abandoned her pose.
>”Hey, are you alright?”
>Her only response is the cough growing even worse, and the occasional gag.
>Suddenly, it all makes sense.
>Sprinting over to Spitfire’s gym bag, you begin tearing it apart looking for the can.
>Come on, where did she put it!?
Giving up, you shout, “What color /was/ that!?”
>She seems fairly occupied scanning the room for a first aid kit, but she manages an answer right as the stallion’s gagging reaches a crescendo.
>”Green?”
>You know it's not the right time, but you feel your temper boil over none the less.
“GREEN AXEL BODYSPRAY!? HOW MANY TIMES HAVE I TOLD YOU—”
>”HurUUUUUAAAAAGHAGHUUUUUUH”
>You never even saw the vomit coming.
Is there a joke about green axel body spray that I'm missing? Is it like the equestria RGRE version of Axe body spray?
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Yeah its meant to be axe body spray. The implication is meant to be that green smells particularly terrible, even for axe.
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i have so many memories of soldiers not showering and just Overdosing on spray deoderant in the field. Imagine a piece of shit soldier wearing body armor, working, in 110 degree texas heat, for a week, who hasnt showered. They don't have the piece of mind to do a field shower/bath
5726685
A more dangerous weapon than the nuclear bomb
What was Fleetfoot's plan, exactly?
Sneakily apply some fragrance to entice the strange, leggy stallionist who secretly wants an excuse to bang?
She seems to have done this in the past, so has that worked before?
Also, thanks for the chapter!
Always a delightful surprise.
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God, I got flashbacks to high school locker rooms. Fucking hilarious that Fleet thinks it's attractive, just like every empty-headed teenage jock. The regular jocks take real showers, lmao.
Also, thank you for the new chapter. Your story is so hilarious and it inspired me to write one based on the same general idea, RGRE
Anon's habit of mentally checking out is going to get him hurt someday, because he was too busy navel gazing to pay attention to or even notice an "oh shit" moment's cue.
5726690
Essentially, yeah! What she doesn't know is, it worked despite liberally applying axe body spray. Not because of it lmao.
5726691
A line that sadly ended up getting cut was
>IT SO MUCH WORSE THAN JUNIOR HIGH! CURSE YOUR HORSE NOSE!
5726704
You're welcome, and thank you! I'm glad to hear it!
5726718
You're not wrong.
5726724
.
I eagerly await Anon's "klaatu verata nikto" moment with the Equestrian equivalent of the Necronomicon, which will happen because he zoned out to think about what Caramelldansen would look like with ponies while someone was explaining the safe words to him
its always a joy to see these!
5726782
Glad to hear!