Author's Note

[Explicit] [f/f/f] [Unconcious sex] [Watersports] [Drunken foals] [Exhibitionism] [Foal pornography production]
Contains: [The CMC]

[NSFW] Whiskey by +redacted+

I like my mares how I like my whiskey: nine years old and mixed up with coke.
-- Princess Luna

“C’mon Sweetie, it’s supposed to be just like apple cider, only stronger. You like the taste of mah apple cider, don’tcha?”

“Well, yeees….”

“So why wouldn’t you want a drink that’s even more like it?”

“Rarity says that whiskey isn’t ladylike, and foals aren’t supposed to drink it anyway.”

“Well, yeah, but Granny’s got so much that she won’t even notice a little goin’ to a good cause.” With one final flourish of the bottle, Apple Bloom finally convinced the reluctant Crusader.

They poured three glasses, and tried to sip at them in a sophisticated way. On discovering that it tasted quite unlike they had expected, however, they forced themselves to chug the deceptively soft-coloured liquid down before they gagged. A discussion of its merits followed, although they struggled to come up with any. Soon the conversation wandered, until Scootaloo asked, “Wait, wait, wait. What were we trying for again? Our cutie marks, I mean, what cutie marks were we trying to get?”

“Ah think it was somethin’ to do about posh ponies,” Apple Bloom supplied.

“What?! That’s stupid! Why would we want cutie marks in being posh, like that pink brat and her sidekick? It can’t have been that. How stupid can you be?”

Sweetie had a point, and they mulled it over. Apple Bloom shifted her bow back and forth on her head before answering, “Well, if it weren’t that, then it must be something ponies do when they’re drunk. What do your sisters do when they’re drunk? Mine just beats me then fu…uuh… She doesn’t do anything that we’d have wanted to do with each other.
What do your folks do, ScootaSweetie, Sweetie? Sweetie Belle?”

“Weeell, they don’t really get drunk, I guess. Rarity does, though. When she’s drunk she either goes out or she takes photos of herself and sends them to her friends.”

“So, like, she does modelling when she’s drunk? Makes sense, ah guess, that’s the kind of thing she’s into. Well, if that’s the best we got, let’s do that.”

“N-no. She takes icky photos, I don’t think we should. Besides, I really wouldn’t want anypony to see them.”

“Relax, we could send them off to other ponies who wouldn’t recognise us. Ah’ll send yours to New Appleoosa, and you can think of somewhere for mine.”

“No. No, we shouldn’t do that. I think it’s illegal, even...”

“Alright then, we’ll do mah thing if it’s so important to you. You’re me, be real careful not to speak now, we don’t want your sister wondering what happened.” Apple Bloom’s face was deadpan as closed in.

Sweetie relented. They started off by documenting their now unconscious pegasus friend in forensic detail. From there, things rapidly went downhill. Apple Bloom soon grew bored of their poses, and insisted that they take “action shots”. Lewd kissing became the mainstay, then pressing their slits up against each other’s or each other’s muzzles. Then, they mounted their unconscious friend like stallions, one in front and one behind, and Apple Bloom sealed the triangle by taking Sweetie’s horn in her mouth. From that point forwards, they were rutting more than they were posing.

At one point, while Sweetie sat on Scoot’s chest and pushed the orange muzzle against her crotch, and Apple Bloom sucked her horn, the unicorn filly lost control of her bladder. She watched in rapt fascination, then started to play her stream over her friend’s face. She saw it run down and soak the pegasus’ chest fur, and bit her lip in pleasure.

Luckily, Apple Bloom had had her eyes closed, and Sweetie gladly reminded herself that nopony who knew her was going to see that photo. They’d think she was really weird, watching her friend’s face with such excitement as she peed on it.

After that, she didn’t want to pose with the damp filly any more, so she just went with AB. It wasn’t long before they started to forget what they were trying to do, and the only photos being taken were of two sweaty, happy foals entwined with each other and grinning hazily at the camera they’d just remembered about.

It should have been an unforgettable night. Unfortunately, the whiskey did a fantastic job of wiping things clear. When the guards dragged their sisters off, they could only stare at the evidence in shock. They couldn’t even remember being used like this. How could their sisters have made them do such things? They must have been drugged, or something. That would explain how their sisters made them do it as well. Sweetie gawped at the last one with Scootaloo in particular horror. The monstrous sight had her fighting back tears.