Grab the neck of the bottle to pour...
Author's Note
This is some kinky shit, so if you're a sensitive vanilla little flower, you should really stop reading for your own emotional and mental well-being. Seriously. Stop.
Oh, you're kinky as shit too? Ah, you can stay then.
Pull up a drink, I'll join you.
Grab the neck of the bottle to pour...
You gently place the empty wine bottle on the floor of Berry Punch’s house next to the two others. It clinks, teeters, and falls over before rolling across the wood slats to bump into a nearby table leg with a glassy thud. Though you could have sworn you set it down straight, you stare accusingly at the bottle which you must have not steadied fully. Fucking thing, being all disagreeable and shit. Doesn't it know how drunk you are? However, when you turn your attention back to a grinning Berry Punch, you can’t help but grin too.
“Well,” you admit begrudgingly. “I’m done. Yep.”
You honestly wouldn’t have thought it possible, but it’s happened. You’ve been out-drunk by a pony. Berry Punch continues to leer like a jack-o-lantern at you from across the table, gray stains showing on her front teeth. With a name like hers you probably shouldn’t have known you were in for an inebriated time, but you fell for it anyway. She’s been one of your best drinking bros since you arrived here (probably the most bro girl you’ve ever hung out with regularly), but you’ve never seen her put it away quite like this. She sways on the pillow she’s sitting on.
“Hah, I told you,” she jeers. “I can drink more than any pony here, and more than you too Anon.”
She stretches both arms into the air with a delighted smile and shuts her eyes.
“I am shupreme champion!” she decrees in a holler.
You can’t help but laugh.
“You’re radicalous,” you tell her, stumbling over the long word.
Fuck, you’re too drunk for that kind of talk, why even attempt it? Trying to sound sophisticated when you’re drunk will only end in tears, as you’ve found out more than once before. Best to cut it out now.
“You know it baby!” she says emphatically.
You watch as she stumbles to her feet, teeters there, then steadies herself. She extends a hoof solemnly for you to shake.
“You put up a good fight though, Anon. And I…I shalute you.”
She hiccoughs as she leans out to take your hand in a sort of fist bump. At the little jolt of stomach, throat, and sound, she loses her balance and topples towards you. You reach out to catch her as she falls, slipping your arms under both of her front legs. With a grunt, you manage to maintain your seated balance and still hold her up somewhat. With rosy cheeks, she looks contentedly up into your face.
“Hugs work too,” she coos.
Dawwww.
You prop up the syrah colored pony on her back hooves again and lace your arms around her neck in a gently hug.
“I love you man,” you mumble stupidly against her purple booze-scented fur as she leans against you.
Oh come on, get it together. She may be your bro, but she's still a mare, saying shit like that is going to be a regret in the morning.
“Hug me tighter Anon,” she says softly. “Everything is feeling sort of fuzzyish.”
You squeeze your grip around the pony a little tighter and you feel her give a short sort of little gasp. Her body goes a little limp in your arms. Fuck is she fainting? Passing out from all the wine? You steady yourself and hold her as tight as you can, ready for her to become dead weight against your body. A shudder runs down the length of her back. Then you hear a muffled sort of gurgle from her head on your shoulder.
“Berry?”
You glance over at her face and see it’s deathly pale. The area around her mouth even looks a little blue and her eyes look distant. Fuck! You’ve been pushing your shoulder into her neck! She’s been fucking suffocating against your arm this whole time!
Huh…you’re the worst hugger ever, aren’t you?
You’re not entirely sure you don’t go a little pale too as you utter a broken swear word and drop her.
“Shi-I’m so sorry, Berry, fuck, berry are you ok man?”
You look her over as she gasps in a fresh breath of air and puts a hoof up to her neck. As the color returns to her face you notice something a little strange. She’s…smiling. She gingerly places the tip of her hoof to her throat and traces it down towards her chest.
“Berry?” you ask again, thinking you may have muted her somehow.
Her smile gets a little wider and she closes her eyes. She looks as if she’s in pure ecstasy, to be honest.
“Anon,” she says in a distant sounding voice. “That was…was…”
Rather than finishing her sentence she just makes a low humming sigh. Wait. Wat. That reaction, is that… Your alcohol-fuzzed brain tries to put pieces together, but it’s like a two year old going to town on a rubrics cube.
“What do you mean,” you ask, blinking at her cluelessly.
Ok, so you’re a bad hugger and you’re pretty slow too. Want to blame that on the wine? Sure, we can do that. She opens her eyes but still maintains a dreamy gaze at you.
“You uh…” she say slowly. “Wouldn’t want to do that again would you?”
What, the hug?
“I…I don’t know,” you stutter. “I almost just, you know, choked you out. I wouldn’t want to hurt you again so-“
“No!” she almost shouts as she reaches out for you. “That’s what I want!
“You…want me to hurt you?”
Even through the drunken glow in her cheeks, you can see her blush.
“In a way,” she admits. “I mean, I don’t want to die or anything but do you think you could…”
“Yes?”
“Maybe…”
“Yes?”
“Choke me a little?”
You continue to blink at her. You stammer, mouth open a little like an unsuspecting fish as things start to finally click in your mind.
“You want me to choke you?” you practically squeak out.
She hesitates, then nods sheepishly.
“Really?”
She nods again.
You’re way way too drunk to be having this conversation. You shouldn’t even be considering doing something potentially life threatening in your inebriated state. You’ve heard of safe, sane, and consensual somewhere before, and right now the words blare in your head like trumpets. Though…yeah you’re pretty out of it, so maybe they’re like smooth abstract jazz trumpets. God, fuck jazz.
“Berry,” you stutter. “I don’t think I should.”
“But I want you to.”
“It’s dangerous, and I don’t know…I can’t…”
She grins evilly at you and edges closer.
“Hey, I won the drinking game, so you should do this for me.”
“But-“
“What, you’ll love it I bet,” she says seductively. “Having me on my back, writhing in pleasure and pain as my eyes get cloudy and my breaths slip away?”
You swallow hard as she leans against you and traces one hoof up your chest towards your neck. What is she doing? She’s your bro, bros don’t get all sexy on each other like this. Well, except that time at football practice once, but you swore never to speak of that again. She leans towards your face and you can smell wine on her breath.
“Putting your weight on me, looking down into my face, having complete and total power? You want to tell me you wouldn’t like to do that?”
“I…” you stammer, but can’t think of anything to say after that.
She gives a fake sigh of exasperation and taps the tip of her hoof against your throat.
“Or maybe you wouldn’t like that,” she says slowly, cooly.
Her tone is somehow even darker now, even crueler. You should stop her, you should say something. Anything really. But it’s like you're spellbound as you listen to her hiss these delightful merciless words at you.
“Maybe you’re not into being the one in charge. Maybe you’re the kind to sit back in the shadows, be too afraid to talk to anyone or take charge, is that it? Hmmm? Maybe you don’t have the courage, maybe you’ve never had the courage.”
What is she doing? This is such a sudden, sober-feeling change for her. She’s so cruel suddenly, so direct, so precise with her language. Like she’s done this a million times before, like she knows how to hurt you. You can feel your hands shaking a little. It feels like she’s winding up something inside your body tighter and tighter.
She giggles softly.
“Maybe you’re not into mares at all. Is that Anon?” she says, and you feel something inside your body sink.
How dare she? She knows better, you’ve talked about this before! She knows how hard it is for you to talk to girls besides her, she knows how your friends back at home would make fun of you. You want to tell her to shut up, stop, but also you feel a longing sensation, a rush. Some part of you wants to see how far she’ll push you. Again, you want to blame the wine and leave it at that, but she doesn’t stop there. She delivers a killing blow.
“Maybe you’re into stallions, Anon…” She smiles “Are you some kind of fucking bitch?”
Everything snaps.
In whirl of motion you lunge against her. She lets out a sudden cry as the two of you topple backwards onto the ground together. It’s almost like you’re watching someone else’s hands as they move up to her neck and pin her onto the ground. Your thumbs find her windpipe and push down against it. Hard. She gasps for air, and gets next to none. You press one knee to the floor between her legs to keep her still, accidentally giving a sudden blow against her marehood, and a whispery moan gurgles in her throat.
What are you doing? Stop it. Anon, you’re drunk. Go home.
But you can’t now. After everything she said, after the way she said it? No, you have to do this. She wants you to, she’s been begging for you to retaliate, and now you have to prove you can. To prove to her you’re dominant, not a wuss, not some loser. To prove it to you.
Somehow, you started crying. When did that happen?
You grit your teeth and tighten your grip on the pony’s neck as tears quietly leak from the corners of your eyes.This is so wrong, but you love it. Shouldn't love it, but damn it you can't help it. Besides, she asked for this. She asked you to do this and then pushed and pushed…
Below you, the pony struggles. Her back hooves flail against the floor loudly, and her hips buck forcefully against your knee. You can feel how wet she it all the way through your jeans. She looks up at you with slitted eyes as her face gets to be a puffy red, then pale.
“Thank you,” the barely more than whispers.
“I’m sorry,” you mutter back. More a reflex than anything else.
You’re breathing hard, breathing for the both of you, and you can feel your limbs trembling. Your dick pushes instantly at the front of your pants and you can’t help feeling more turned on by this than you’ve ever been. Again, you wonder when exactly you started to get hard, or when you started to feel this sober.
“Harder,” she groans as her lips drain of pink.
You squeeze tightly and she lets out a restrained gulp. Her mouth opens, gasping reaching for air. Her chest shudders below you and her flailing begins to die down. Her bloodshot eyes roll back into her head and her tongue darts forward in her mouth.
Why are you doing this? Why is this getting you so hard?
Stop, Anon. Stop!
All at once, she stops moving.
You loosen your grip a little, but she still lies still. You skitter back away from her, panting and shaking all over. Oh god. Is she…did you… Fuck Anon, you knew you were too drunk for this. And now you’ve killed your best pony bro. You’re sitting there, looking at her dead body with the biggest boner of your life, unable to speak or move. You’re a terrible person Anon, you’re-
She gasps in a sudden breath of air.
Ok, you’re not a terrible person, just pretty bad.
You scramble over to her and raise her head from the floor with tender hands, like you’re lifting the shattered pieces of a faberbé egg. With one hand you fan her pale and ghost-like face, trying to get her air. All the air in the world if she wants it. Her eyes are still closed, and you’re not sure she’s even really fully conscious yet.
“Shit, Berry…” you almost sob. “Please be ok, please…I’m so sorry I’ll never…”
“Anon,” she croaks. “You…what the fuck Anon…”
“I’m sorry, I just-“
“I didn’t say stop.”
“…what?”
“I didn’t say stop,” she says again, a smile growing on her quickly pinking lips. “And you were doing so well too.”
You look down at her in disbelief, and all at once you’re smiling too. Though the now fading tears, through your fear, you’re smiling. And you feel…satisfied somehow, knowing that you both wanted this. She opens her eyes slowly and looks up at you, and she looks so alive then, so connected with you, that it almost completely takes your breath away.
Man, that’s a messed up thing to think right now.
You’re not sure why this all spiraled out of and back into control, and you’re not sure how it came to this, but you get the feeling that this is the start of something truly, deeply fucked up. Fucked up, but beautiful.
-End-
