Spitfire loved her job, the rank of captain of the Wonderbolts offering many benefits, and the one she relished the most was the task of hazing the new recruits. The current captain a stickler for tradition, and the time-honoured tradition of fazing the fresh faces never seemed to grow old, as spitfire continued the practices to the present day as in her mind it built character. The golden mare still remembering when she had experienced the unpleasantly of putting on her flight suit only to find the inside coated in shoe polish, leaving her to wallow in the showers after practice for over an hour as she rinsed the grimy gunk from her sweat caked body to the tittering of her peers.

It might have seemed harsh but looking back on it, Spitfire could only smile as some of the chuckling tosspots were now her closest friends. Fleetfoot and Soarin undergoing similar tribulations and both took it on the chin and from there the rest was history, as Spitfire could not ask for better wing ponies. The experience had bloodied them, and in that bonds of brotherhood had been forged, so in the Pegasus’s book a couple of tears for a more cohesive unit was a fair price to pay, and their unparalleled synchronicity in the skies seemed to validate this outlook.

Of course, this tempering was no easy task, and Spitfire now spent more than a little time thinking of the correct boisterous banter to inflict on each fresh recruit to truly test their metal. Normally it was pretty vanilla stuff, “The long weight” being a personal favourite as it just made a prospective flyer loiter at the stores like a tit for an extended period of time until they realized that the weight was actually a wait, creating the perfect test of patience. Tasks like this would get the job done for reserve cadets, but when it came to the show squad, well Spitfire was more inclined towards something more drastic, as to truly weed the grain from the chaff.

It was because of this more vigorous vetting process that Misty Fly found herself bound and gagged after practice. The neon maned mare grabbed and squirrelled away to one of the back buildings on the base where no one would disturb what was to come, as if Blaze’s induction was any induction there was going to get rather loud. Some might say what was to come was a bit excessive, But to be hoof picked for the Wonderbolts was more than payment for a little bit of degradation, though based on the concerned looks in the backs of the fettered Misty’s eyes indicated she was starting to have second thoughts. The mare no doubt aware of the severity of flight teams fazing methods, and as such there was little doubt the anticipation for what was to come was seeding fear in the Pegasus’s heart, though she seemed to be putting on a brave face for now. Misty squirming slightly in her binds as she tried to get comfortable as she sat propped up on a worn wooden chair that had seen better days.

Spitfire waiting a few more seconds before stepping from the shadows with almost dramatic flair as the older Pegasus had decided that her prisoner had stewed enough. The captain’s toned and supple body rippling on the few casual hoof steps it took for her to close the gap and get almost uncomfortably close to her captive audience, who was looking at her with the full attention her rank enshrined. Misty’s sea-green eyes looking at Spitfire expectantly, as they just locked eyes for a moment, as Spitfire dared the rookie to blink, which after a few moments she did as the ropes holding her still were more than a little distracting with their persistent chaffing.

“I would like to congratulate you Misty, you're getting promoted to the flight team….” said Spitfire sternly, the Pegasus in instructor mode, so she only exuded confidence and authority. The word promoted causing a glimmer in Misty’s eye and Spitfire could have sworn she saw the equine smile around her gag, though with the cork stopper in her gob it was hard to tell. Though this optimism soon warped to a confused look as Spitfire continued her sentence that left Misty’s ears twitching in discomposure.

“… I think integration into the team’s captain is a fitting fate, you’re going to look great on my flanks,” concluded Spitfire as she gave her words a moment to sink in before she began. Misty giving her a look of disbelief as she had no clue what her commanding officer meant, though this uncertainty soon morphed to stifled screams when Spitfire stooped down and started swallowing her underling hooves first. The sudden realization that she meant that the only way Misty was getting onto the team was as Spitfire’s plot padding washing over the entangled mare, who began to emit muffled meeps, that would fall on death ears.

Spitfire slotting the twitching frogs between her lips and with a gentle swallow, she inched forward as she began to gradually gulp the stunned mare. Misty not sure how to react, she had expected to be tarred and feathered or some other form of off the cuff bullying, which was a far cry from the powerless sensation of slowly oozing into the hot gullet of her boss. Spitfire murmuring slightly at the taste of her quarry, as the mare had not had the time to shower before she had been captured, leaving her still glazed in the salty secretions and natural musk that only a hard flying could paint a muscular body with. The taste pleasing on the tongue, with a slight hint of caramel, forcing Spitfire to use some restraint or she would have practically inhaled the delectable morsel that Misty was being reduced to.

The feeling of the chiselled legs twitching in her gullet as Misty slipped into Spitfire’s elastic throat was strangely pleasing, as the powerful limbs could do nothing but quake the flesh as they were tucked away under a yellow fur coat. Misty could still not believe it was happening, her body instinctively resisting with erratic bucks of the hip as she could do nothing but enjoy the warm damp sensation that was creeping up her back legs at a snail’s pace. Spitfire looking sure as with each rippling swallow she edged a little further up Misty’s eye-pleasing body, wrapping her uptight in the moist cavity that was pulsing rhythmically.

Misty should have been terrified, she was going to die, her exercise regime pointless as instead of being a top flyer she was going to be a glorified lump of nutrients and a prismatic pellet of indigestibles come morning. Fat and scat, the thought should have horrified her, as she was going to be objectified to but food and used for that sole purpose as her individuality was stripped from her and replaced by just a well-formed hunk of mare meat in a simmering stomach. the lips rimming her gaskins seeming to cement this fate, but then again she should have known better, you don’t get such an eye-catching body like Spitfire’s from just normal food, so at least in the short time before she digested Misty knew the truth that it was a horse meat supplemented diet.

Misty would have complained, but she was rather partial to the captain’s plot, her eyes wandering to it on more than one occasion as the bubbly mounds tended to bounce attractively when the wind buffeted against the meaty mounds when in flight. The fact of domination boring into Misty’s mind as against her better judgment she became moist and her wings began to fan in arousal like a strutting peacock. Spitfire none the wiser as her own wings were splayed like a sunning cormorant, thoroughly enjoying her meal as she slipped up the still spasming Misty like a biological body sock. The Wonderbolt moaning lightly as she experienced every nook and cranny of her prey, sure she was going to let Misty out afterwards, but there was no reason to not savour each swallow as she took her lesser into her in a manner most pleasurable.

The plan was to tuck her away, let her wallow in the stomach for a bit, then hock her up in the showers to a round of applause for having braved the digestive depths. The two mares would have gotten more than a little intimate, but Misty would be none the worse for wear once she let the tepid waters of the rusty old showers cleanse her fur of bile. It should have been fine, but as Spitfire began to scale the wide hips of her prospective meal, she heard moans over the wet glugs of her own contracting gulps. Opening her golden eyes, Spitfire was shocked to see Misty looking blankly off into space with the mist of lust in her eyes like some nirvana induced shell shock. The mares bucking no longer sporadic but instead rhythmic as she was rolling her hips as if expecting a phallic docking.

This was enough to give Spitfire pause, as she had not expected this reaction from the mare, as it was the polar opposite of the panicked worming of Surprise and High Winds when they had taken the gastric slide during their induction rituals. Spitfire looking at Misty with a cocked eyebrow as her face went red, the captain unsure how to act, as for whatever reason the mare was getting off to her slip and slide to the stomach. the pair both hot and bothered, though in the neon blue maned mares’ case it was for a whole other reason as she began leaking like a sieve.

Spitfire giving another swallow, as she looked at a trail of drool trickle from Misty’s quivering lip, as she began to encroach on the cutiemarks of this newly discovered gut slut. The captain not sure what to do other than continue, a shiver running up Spitfire’s spine as despite the lewd longing in Misty’s eyes and the sudden awkwardness of the Pegasus’s biological imperative she was a very delectable dish. Ignoring the saucy sounds of her dinner, Spitfire remained professional and continued her swallowing at a slightly accelerated pace as she longed to stow this skank before she suffered a pelvic earthquake in some premature one last thrill.

This unexpected discovery gave Spitfire a lot to think about though, but that could wait for the weekend, as she might add a third wheel to her plans with Fleetfoot. For now though, she had a job to do, and with a tug of the oiled oesophagus, she continued her journey up the unexpected heel turn that was this very willing foodstuff….

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A reward I got from  TeaBucket for supporting them on patreon. The end result was as good as I expected, and I am very pleased, so they can expect my continued support moving forward. :)

In this little adventure, Spitfire is hazing Misty Fly as she is promoted from a reservist to a full-blown member of the flying team. The wonderbolts though enjoy their fazing methods, unfortunately for Spitfire, it seems that Misty is rather aroused by being ingested. I am sure this won't lead to further deviancy in the future or at the very least a humiliating nickname for the skilled flier when the captain tells the rest of the team how the induction went.

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