Not fucking up the OP edition
>Oh look, another text-based CYOA, what's with this one?
Glad you asked.
Welcome to Super Pony, a CYOA taking place in Maretropolis, a city where the forces of good and evil are at a constant struggle.
You play as Easy Ride, also known as Road Rage, and this is your quest to get back at Boomerang for sending you to prison and subsequently ruining your life.
Catch up on this and other CYOAs here: http://anonpone.pineapplecomputing.com/capeshit
>Were unsuccessful at finding boomerang, but took her fanclub to a candy store
>Owner of the candy store said he had some relation to Boomerang
>Began Storm’s mission to rob an armored truck.
Rev up those engines, because here we go.
>From your position in the alley, you can see at least ten vehicles, the convoy centered on a military-looking black van, the armor on the front slanted backwards.
>"Guess that's our cue. Don't get caught for a while, okay? Soon as I hit the van, I'll come find you, see what I can do to help, if you're still in trouble."
>You nod, letting the flames on your head, tail, and hooves light, casting the alley in a bright green light.
>With a beat of her wings, she's off the ground, hovering just a few feet above you.
>"Oh, and Road Rage?"
>She casts a glance to the oncoming convoy.
>With that, she shoots into the sky, taking cover atop one of the buildings.
>Turning your gaze to the street, a smug smile grows on your face.
>You rev the bike and your tires squeal, pushing you forward out into the street.
>You come to a momentary halt in the middle of the road, steadying your stationary bike with a hoof.
>Sitting sideways, the screaming mass of blue and red draws ever closer, and you rev your bike in response.
>They would have to be blind not to notice you, but their only response is to draw closer to the van, slowing down as they approach.
>Seems they’ll need a little more convincing to follow you, what’s the plan?
>You swing the chain around your head, attempting to threaten the convoy.
>The chain whistles and clatters as it orbits your bike, the metal barely visible in your spot underneath the streetlight.
>You whip the road, a dull clanking ringing through the air as your weapon impacts on the asphalt.
>Several police vehicles begin to react, breaking away from the armored car, moving ahead of the rest of the pack.
>It’s a disappointing number, and the car’s still too well defended, perhaps it’s time to step it up a notch.
>You light a flame, crackling and dancing as it rests on your hoof, and throw it at the lead police car.
>The flame impacts on the cement, green flame dancing across the surface of the road, and the lead car, shocked, swerves to avoid your blast.
>Like bees whose hive has just been disturbed, eight cars speed ahead of the armored van, leaving only two flanking the heavy metal vehicle.
>Police chariots scream towards you, and you rev your bike, turning away to face the street ahead.
>If your reckoning is correct, you’re in the northern part of town, facing east.
>To your immediate right is the alley you just exited, which does lead to another street.
>It’s a tight fit, and the cops would only be able to squeeze through one at a time.
>About twenty meters beyond to your right and left, there’s another alley, though you’re not sure if this one reaches all the way through to the other street or not.
>Fifty meters in front of you, an intersection crosses with your street, leading north and south.
>The cops are about fifty meters behind you and gaining, what's the best option?
>You pull out, your tires spinning as they gain traction, driving you away from the pursuing police.
>Storm will just have to handle the last two, eight on the hook is plenty.
>You gun it towards the intersection, the police following a few car-lengths behind you.
“That’s close enough,” You mutter, conjuring a fireball and aiming just in front of a car.
>Unfortunately, a stray bump on the road causes you to totally botch your shot, and the green ball of flame soars very high and right, headed towards one of the buildings.
>The fireball sails straight through an open window, catching the ceiling on fire.
>Wagering another glance back, you see the sprinkler system activate, alarms blaring.
>Silently hoping you don’t burn down the whole building, you press on, reaching the intersection.
>You lean into a hard right turn, the cops skidding behind you to keep up.
>The open road stretches in front of you, and the cops are just behind you.
>This appears to be a main street, much wider than the one you just left, and the police fan out into a V formation, focused on you.
>Mild night traffic pulls off to the side as you shoot past, cops in tow.
>There are no alleys on this street, but on the sidewalk, there’s an abandoned hotdog stand, easily in reach of your chain.
>The street stretches on in front of you, and there’s another intersection just in front, leading forward, to the left, and to the right.
>The fireball sails straight through an open window, catching the ceiling on fire.
>Seizing the opportunity, you pull to the side and throw the chain, which wraps around the hot dog stand.
>Quickly, you clip the other end around the back of your bike and let the machinery do the work.
>The stand topples, spilling condiments, buns, shrink-wrapped pieces of meat, and hundreds of pounds of metal out onto the street.
>The stand, however, fails to detach from the chain, and you’re left towing a three hundred pound anchor.
>Sparks fly from the stand, and many of the police swerve to keep up their pursuit.
>Finally, the stand detaches on its own, catching one police officer off guard.
>The bumper of his car clips the stand, but all of them remain in pursuit.
>Seems like you can’t catch a break.
>You pull to the left onto a much smaller street, the police mere feet behind you.
>The sound of their sirens is deafening to you, and a mustachioed stallion wearing a navy blue hat glares at you from the driver’s seat, a look of contempt on his face.
>You reach the intersection and take a hard left, leaning hard into your turn.
>While the police seem to match you in speed on the straights, you have them beat when it comes to maneuverability.
>The closest car overshoots the turn, clipping a streetlight with their rear bumper, soon resuming their chase.
>Given more time to compensate, the remainder of the cars make the turn successfully.
>Save for the final two cars, which fail to make the turn, staying on the main road as they continue south.
>Turning bought you about twenty feet of breathing room, and you’re still unscathed.
>To your immediate right and left, streetlights illuminate alleyways, which go through to the next street.
>It would be a tight turn, but you could probably make it.
>Ahead of you, the street reaches a T intersection, paths running left and right.
>You find yourself torn, so you choose a path at random.
>Coming to the end of the intersection, you turn to the right.
>Pulling onto the next road, the sirens don’t fall far behind, and they feel a bit too close for your comfort.
>Once again, you turn, chucking a fireball in their direction.
>And once again, you miss.
>The fireball sails miles ahead of your intended target, landing uselessly on the pavement about a hundred meters back.
>Cursing your third stroke of awful luck, you at least didn’t burn down a building with that one.
>Mumbling profanities, you return your gaze to the street before you.
>Coming to the intersection, you see why the police had pulled off earlier.
>To the right, you faintly notice blue and red flashing lights.
>Further ahead, there’s another intersection, leading to the left and right, but a single car rests between you and the intersection
>Normally, this would be no problem, but something about the vehicle seems off to you.
>Taking another second to squint, the contour of the vehicle becomes clear.
>A sleek pink vehicle sits stationary in the street ahead, coming straight at you.
time to light her up!
>Your mind goes into a blind state of panic.
>You know exactly who this vehicle belongs to, and who must be behind the wheel.
>Time for a little game of chicken.
>You drive straight for the pink lamborghini, a fireball in your hoof.
>The ball flies through the air ahead of you, and finally, you score a hit.
>However, the damage appears to be next to minimal, green flames resting on the hood for a few moments before burning out due to the lack of fuel.
>You continue your path straight towards her, lowering your head.
>The car starts its engine and squeals towards you, and the sounds of sirens disappear from your mind.
>All the police cars vanish, all that exists are the boomerangmobile and you.
>You pass the intersection and the distance between the two of you closes.
>a hundred meters
>As the car passes underneath the streetlight, you catch a clear glimpse of the driver’s seat.
>You narrow your eyes and gasp.
>The seat is empty. It appears that no one’s driving.
>Still want to bet on her flinching first?
As an addenum, can we set our wheels on fire and try to burn up the car that way too?
>You stare straight at the car.
>That pointed nose, the sloped front…
>You lean forward, making yourself as small as possible as you head straight for the car.
>At the last moment, you lean back, pulling your front wheel up into the air.
>A tense second passes as your wheel makes contact with the boomerangmobile’s hood, and you push on the accelerator, driving yourself forward.
>It’s a jarring contact, but nonetheless, you clear the pink vehicle and go airborne, soaring through the air beyond the vehicle.
>Your rear wheel makes contact just before the front, and you’re in the clear.
>The boomerangmobile, now a large pink roadblock, blocks the police, preventing them from advancing.
>Quickly, they’re back on the chase, the pink vehicle now taking the lead, but they’ve lost a lot of space.
>Looking forward, the roads seems clear to you, except for something moving on the rooftops.
>You just barely spot it, about thirty feet above you.
>On the building on the corner of the next intersection, a small pink object is plainly visible in the dim night, lifted high.
>Images flash into your head, of tires popping left and right, drivers crashing all around you as you raced
>The boomerang flies through the air, coming straight for you.
>Still, you remain calm and collected.
>Just think of how to stop it, and act.
>But what to do?
>Aiming carefully, you grab your chain, throwing it towards the incoming projectile.
>Just barely, you make contact, the metal whip striking the side of the pink boomerang.
>The boomerang wobbles, thrown off course by your attack, but not entirely knocked out of the sky.
>It makes contact with your side instead, eliciting a wince from you.
>You’re jerked to the side, but you maintain your balance, thankful that the sharpened edges didn’t cut into you.
>Your side throbs, and it’ll probably bruise, but it’s nothing major.
>The boomerang lifts off the ground, flying back towards Boomerang.
>Her pink vehicle pulls next to the building, and Boomerang leaps, falling towards the now open top.
>While in the air, she catches the boomerang, looking to you as you continue to speed on by.
>You hadn’t noticed moments ago, but clouds have covered the sky, obscuring the moon from your vision.
>Soon, you reach the next intersection.
>continue on the current road, or take the next street left or right?
>You hang a left, and soon find Boomerang making the turn behind you.
>But, thankfully, only two police officers follow behind.
>Whether the rest gave up or went back, you don’t really care
>You just hope that Storm’s managed to accomplish her mission by now.
>For the moment, Boomerang’s at the front of the pack, a fair distance back, but steadily gaining on you.
>Your mind wanders to the button. Sure, you could probably use it to lose her, but you’d also be draining hard on your orb.
>For now, there’s an alley to your right and left, but from this distance, you can’t be sure whether they’re dead ends or not.
>You shudder when you notice an entrance to an underground parking garage just down the street.
>Or you could try to gun it down the rest of the block.
>A single raindrop lands on your visor.
>For now, the parking garage is your best bet.
>You briefly press the button, ducking down to decrease the resistance.
>The rain begins to trickle down more heavily now, stray drops spattering against your helmet.
>You’re pulled backwards by the sudden acceleration, but you’re held fast into your seat by the straps.
>Taking your opportunity, you slide into the parking ramp, first going down into the lower level.
>You take the parking ramp up, driving in circles as you reach the top.
>The bike takes you up to the fourth floor, and you come out onto the roof.
>The entrance is in the corner of the building, just on the edge of the roof.
>Totally barren, the landing lies before you, parking spots painted neatly in rows, and a foot high concrete barricade preventing any unfortunate accidents.
>A stairwell sits in the opposite corner,
>The rain is coming down in a light drizzle now, and you have to flip up your visor to see.
>The sirens increase in volume, and a quick glance down the roundabout shows an approaching pink vehicle.
>All of the buildings are at least ten feet away, and would take a good running start to reach if there was a ramp.
>However, the roof is totally barren of things that could be considered a ramp.
>You glance around the roof one more time.
>The stairway in the opposite corner does have a door, though you’re not sure whether or not you could yank it free and set it up in time.
>You’ve already used Boomerang’s car as a ramp once, maybe she’ll have caught on by now?
>What’s it going to be?
For something potentially game-ending, not a chance.
>No, she’s too close for the door, you’d just get caught.
>You think of throwing a fireball at a gas tank by Boomerang, but as before, the parking garage is totally barren.
>For now, it seems as though your ramp is coming to you.
>You back up, making sure to get as good a runup as possible.
>When your back wheel touches the wall, you sit, waiting.
>Seconds pass like eons, the rain hissing as it makes contact with your head.
>Finally, Boomerang’s lights crest the rise, but you’re far ahead of her.
>You throw a fireball to the side, hoping for a possible distraction.
>The bright green light glows brightly next to the car, and you can see Boomerang shield her eyes.
>How’s that infrared working for you now?
>You gun it, pressing the button on the right throttle and gunning straight for Boomerang’s car.
>Following just behind her, you hear the police’s radio
>”Citizen, there is nowhere to run, surrender no- Holy shit!”
>Boomerang panics in reaction to the officer’s outburst and your rapid advance, slamming a button on her console.
>Two Boomerangs fly from the vehicle, connected by a length of rope.
>They wrap around the steering column on your motorcycle, reaching all the way to your withers and barrel, effectively tying you to your bike.
>Thankfully, it doesn’t have the desired effect, and while the ropes prevent some difficulty steering, you still keep the bike under control.
>It’s all you can do to lift up, placing one wheel on her hood, then the other following suit.
>Your wheels leave her car, leaving you flying thirty feet off the ground.
>Trying your best to keep the bike steady, you try to lean back, hoping to land on the roof fifteen below.
>Unfortunately, the ropes make it difficult, and you make a hard landing, your front wheel hitting the ground before the back.
>Against your will, you jerk the handlebars sideways, dumping the bike and sliding on the slick surface.
>You land on your side, but the bike took most of the impact, and though your side and legs are quite sore, you’ll live.
>The ropes from the boomerangs slide off easily enough, and your bike is still running.
>You cast a glance back to the top of the parking garage, and find Boomerang and the police out of their car, staring down at you in disbelief.
>They quickly return to their cars and begin driving down the parking garage.
>You would say you’re free, but you’re still on a roof about fifteen feet off the ground.
>You take a deep breath and gun the throttle, heading for the edge of the building.
>As you take to the air, you try to prepare for the inevitable hard landing.
>And hard, it is.
>You make you impact on the slick ground, landing simultaneously on both wheels and sliding a little on the pavement.
>While the bike takes the landing nicely, bouncing on its suspension, it still hurts.
>You didn’t have the same speed you did from the top of the parking garage, and much of the energy is transferred to your flank.
>Wincing and biting your lip, you turn and drive away, heading south away from the rest of the commotion.
>Even without using the magical nitrous, it takes a long time to go down a roundabout, and you’re plenty out of sight by the time they get down.
>The rain is pouring now, little streams of water running down the sides of the road into the storm drains.
>It weighs heavy on your jacket, and you’re sore all over.
>Still, you can’t help but be ecstatic.
>You break into a fit of laughter, perfectly timed with a clap of thunder.
>You just tangoed with Boomerang and didn’t get carted off to jail.
>Sore all over, tired, but still very much free.
>And certainly, if you weren’t the best motorcycle villain in town before, you are now.
>Mentally patting yourself on the back, you begin the ride back to the hideout, a grin plastered on your face.
That’s gonna do it for tonight. Thanks to you all so much for playing, and I’ll see you all tomorrow.
Feel free to put any questions, meta or otherwise, comments, critique, dank memes, or otherwise here, and I’ll stick around for a little to answer them.
Maybe one of these days Easy Ride will get her very own
>The ride back to the hideout leaves you cold and wet.
>Thunder cracks all around, and rain falls in sheets, leaving your leather outfit clinging tightly to your coat.
>The light of your single headlight illuminates your path, shining on the drenched pavement and reflecting off the falling droplets.
>A firetruck shoots by, lights flaring and sirens flashing as it heads north, presumably towards the building you caught on fire.
>Accidentally, you hastily add.
>As it passes, a wave shoots to the side, cresting over your body and further drenching you.
>Your mane and tail flicker out, the water and your exhaustion finally quenching your flame.
>Making another turn, the alley comes into sight, and you park your bike up next to the building, as safe from the rain as you can make it.
>The single light flickers above the metal door, casting an eerie beacon in the night.
>A couple raps on the door later, you’re let inside, and you immediately make a break for the bar.
>As you plop your sore rear on a bar seat, the door flies open, revealing an equally soaked but beaming magenta pegasus, a bag held between her teeth.
>She canters over, taking the seat next to you.
>The bag drops to the counter, and she shakes her wings, her feathers shedding water as she dries them.
>Draft slides two glasses of Scotch across the table, one for each of you.
>She turns to you, glass in hoof, and a playful smirk on her face.
>”Hey kid, you won’t believe the night I had.”
>”You certainly did a bangup job as bait, since neither of us are in jail. Why don’t you tell me how it went?”
“I finally found Boomerang.”
>Storm coughs into her drink, pulling a hoof up to her mouth.
>”Shit, Boomerang got in on this, and you got away?”
“Yeah, there might be a Super, I believe is what you said.”
>”Well, damn, I didn’t expect her to get in on this. I wouldn’t have tried if I knew that."
“No harm done, showed her up pretty well, seeing as I got away.”
>”Well, what else happened?”
“Meh, the usual. Ramped off some buildings, burned down some others, you know how it is.”
>You take a swig of your drink, the fiery liquid running down your throat.
>”That part I saw. It’s tough to miss a burning office building. Why’d you do that anyway?”
“That was a mistake."
>”Well, it kept them on you, and that’s what counts.”
“So, how did your night go?”
>”I figured I got the short end of the stick, having to deal with a cape. I’m just glad it wasn’t Boomerang. “
>She takes a brief drink before continuing.
>”Some weird chick with teleportation powers, but she wasn’t too hard to beat down, and hey, I got what I was after, and a little something for you, too.”
>Her hooves shoot to the bag, and she overturns it, several objects falling out.
>A small pile of golden bits fall onto the table, followed by two statues, one depicting a zebra standing on her hind legs, a lightning bolt in one hoof and a cloud in the other.
>The other appears to be a statue of Celestia, if a bit off.
>Two horns curve back from her crown, and her necklace seems thicker than usual.
>And more importantly, instead of flowing behind her, her hair reaches upward, appearing to be on fire.
>Embedded in her crown, a red gem sits encased in a larger glass orb, small jets of flame pulsing from the red diamond like a heartbeat.
>Poking the zebra statue, Storm speaks up. “This is what I was after, Totem of Storms. You may have noticed the weather?”
>Holding up a soaking hoof, you reply.
“It’d be tough not to.”
>”That was the work of yours truly. Oh, and the rest, it’s all for you.”
>You pocket the bits, counting them as you do.
>The bits total a little over fifteen hundred, which is a tad bit disappointing.
>However, the Celestia statue intrigues you.
>You pick it up and turn it over in your hooves, feeling along the smooth, expertly carved stone.
“I can dig a nice head of fire, but I’m guessing this thing’s a little more than an ornament. Any idea what it does?”
>She shrugs, “Beats me. I saw Celestia, a flaming diamond thing, and a flaming head, and I thought of you. If nothing else, at least it’d be another questionable thing for you to put in your mouth.”
>Storm taps on the glass of the statue, eliciting a dull clink.
>”I don’t know much about magic or anything like that, especially stuff like this, I was more hoping you could tell me.”
>You narrow your eyes and put your hoof to the statue’s heart, trying to get a feel for it.
>The flames pulsing inside the orb shoot towards your hoof, pressing against the glass as if they were trying to escape.
>You attempt to reach out with your mind and touch the diamond, trying to see what it’s like.
>Where the orb’s magic was a calm, gentle warmth, this is a raging, fearful inferno.
>The diamond is like a sea of fire, massive tidal waves of flame rippling out from a heart in the center.
>Your own flame seems little but a candle to the flames inside the glass orb, and your mind’s eye seems to burn from the heat, you feel as though if you were to dive in, you would be overtaken by the flame.
>Pulling your mildly singed hoof away, you set it back on the table.
“Whatever you got there, it’s something else.”
>”Well, if nothing else, you could probably find someone to sell it to, maybe find some way to use it, or if you’re feeling extra crazy, I guess you could probably eat it.”
>You get a passing thought about looking it up on something called the ‘internet?’
>You’ve never heard of such a thing.
>Perhaps a library would be better suited to your needs.
“Though I am feeling a little crazier than usual after tonight, I think I’d rather keep my face and internal organs, at least until I found out more about what this is.”
>Storm nods, downing the last of her glass.
>”Probably a good idea, guess even you aren’t that crazy.”
“Not yet, at least.”
>You finish the last of your drink as well, pushing the statuette into the saddlebag.
>When you look up, Storm has a playful smirk on her face.
>”What do you say we really hit it hard tonight? As a celebration of success and… What was it you said earlier, making our own future? Besides, I want to know how much of a lightweight Road Rage is."
“Did I just hear “Summer Cloud” call someone else a lightweight?”
>”Why, what are you gonna do about it?”
“You of all people should know how well I burn through drinks.”
>You make a motion for Draft to come over, and he looks between you.
>Storm looks him straight in the eye and nods.
>A row of shot glasses appear in front of you, soon followed by a bottle of whisky.
>The unicorn at the bar pours you both a glass, which you both hold, eyes filled with determination.
>”Just don’t be too upset when I blow you away.”
“Please, I’m just getting warmed up.”
>The two of you down your first shots in a moment, and you try to employ your cunning strategy.
>You try to burn off some of the alcohol as it goes down, and though you still feel a buzz from your two drinks, you think the effect might be lessened a bit, but it’s too early to tell.
>”It’ll take more than that to take the wind out of my sails.”
>Better think of some
awfulgood jokes lest you get out-punned.
>It’s a practical firefight as you down beverage after beverage, matching each other sip for sit.
“Things are about to get heated, Stormy.”
>”I hate to rain on your parade, but I’ll be taking this win.”
>You each down another drink, slamming the glass down on the counter.
“You feeling the burn yet?”
>”Nope, washing down these drinks is a cinch.”
“Can’t handle the heat? Cause I lava good competition.”
>”You call that hot? I think you need to chill out.”
“Wanna hit the restroom for the downpour?”
>”Tell me when you spout some real jokes, your puns are all washed up.”
>You down your fifth drink, and both of your voices begin to slur. Storm seems visibly more affected than you.
>”Man, your jokes are really watered down, your little jokes are just a drop in my ocean of great humor.”
“It’ll take more than an ocean to douse this girl’s flame.”
>”You think so? Water you waiting for? Give me a good one.”
>You down another drink, slamming it back on the counter.
“You can just call me Molotov with all this booze I’m burning.”
>”Well you’re a wet… Fuck”
>She hiccups, her head falling to the counter.
>”You know, you’re really good at this.”
>She laughs, all the blood having rushed to her cheeks as she tries to pick up another drink.
>Storm can’t find the dexterity, the drink slipping from between her hooves and spilling on the counter.
>You laugh at her, slamming your ninth drink on the counter.
“Looks like you couldn’t handle the high pressure, huh?”
>”Oh shut up.”
“Guess I’ve won this flame war.”
>The two of you break into laughter again, nearly falling off of your chairs.
>Your mind is lost in a fog of alcohol, and though you’ve been burning off a good deal of the alcohol, you’re still certainly drunk.
“Uh, I can feel a heat wave comin' in, and my fire is, ah screw it.”
>”Ah man, you run out now?”
>Again, you’re not certain what’s so funny, but you simply cannot stop the laughter from coming.
>From the corner of your eye, you catch Draft removing the bottle, wiping the counter and carrying away the glasses.
“You know,” you slur, putting a hoof on Storm’s withers, “You’re pretty great.”
>The sudden weight seems to be too much for the magenta pegasus, and she starts to tip towards you.
>She seems unable to tell that she’s falling, and she soon ends up crashing to the floor, the stool falling with her.
>At the last moment, she grabs onto you, pulling you down with her.
>The two of you end up a hysteric pile on the floor, you on top of Storm.
>Soon, you stand, and you help Storm up, keeping her steady with your body.
> “You’re great too,” She hiccups, her voice audibly slurred, “and when you wear the jacket, you look really cute.”
“Thanks, but I don’t look cute, I look badass.”
>She shakes her head and stumbles in front of you, turning to face you.
>It takes her a couple tries, but she eventually manages to boop you.
>”No, you look totally cute when you wear it.”
>You harrumph, plopping down and crossing your forelegs.
”Fine, I guess.”
>”All I’m saying is that I’d totally hit that.”
>”Fuck yeah, I’d hit that right now.”
>She looks unapologetic, but it's certainly the alcohol talking. What do you say, would you 'hit that?'
>Turning the idea over in your mind, you sit there, thinking.
“I’d totally hit that.”
“With a truck.”
>You place a hoof on her chest, dragging it up to her chin.
>Hold on, something’s missing.
“Wait, you’re supposed to buy me dinner first.”
>”I got you a statue thingy, that counts.”
>You accept this immediately, nodding.
“Where’s your room?”
>”It’s in the back, let’s go.”
>The two of you stumble to the back, opening the locked door with much difficulty.
>As you enter the back, you find that the bedroom door is closed, but the rest of the garage is totally empty.
>You manage to piece together that everyone must be asleep, and in the shared bedroom.
>Luckily, there’s a perfectly good couch.
>As you near it, Storm stops you.
>”No, you have to wear the jacket.”
>Shrugging, you toss your Road Rage outfit off and replace your much drier jacket, struggling to find the holes for your front legs.
>Similarly, you have to help Storm out of her super outfit, which soon joins your outfit in a pile.
>Storm hops up onto the sofa, lying on her back.
>You aim to join her, but first extract a familiar pink object from your saddlebag.
>Brandishing it, you hop onto the sofa, standing above the magenta pegasus.
>Her legs are spread, giving you a clean view of her marehood, and she looks at you with half-lidded eyes, begging you.
And then they fucked, indeed.
I don’t mean to blueball you all, but I’m going to have to call it a week here. I’ll put the sex scene on the backlog to likely finish at a later date.
For now, thanks for playing, and leave questions, comments, or snide remarks for me. I’ll stick around for a little to answer them.