Berry Punch stared into the mirror with her rump raised high and tail to the side. There, inbetween the fun cheeks, where her pert ponut used to preside proudly, was a large, round, and hard object occupying her rectum. Berry didn’t know how it got there or, more importantly, why it didn’t cause any discomfort. There was a full feeling in her rear, and an urgency to do something about it, but Berry was far too hungover to deal with it right now. She had too many errands to worry about this morning to worry about what could be stuck up her ass today.
Berry trotted away from the mirror and out from the bathroom, grabbing her bit bag as she made her way out past the front door, ready to start her morning shopping trip. Her posterior problems would have to wait. She needed food, more booze, and strong coffee.
Berry stepped past the threshold of her front door and was immediately hit by the light of an angry, late morning sun. Wincing back a bit, Berry renewed her resolve and returned her thoughts to her task at hoof. Unfortunately for the berry, the object tenderly nuzzled in her ass had other plans.
Something beaconed her onward through town. She knew exactly what the pulsating pain in her posterior needed. Hair of the dog. Then, maybe after a few glasses of wine, she’d be fit to hit up a grocery store or snag an espresso with Connemara cognac. Or even more wine. Maybe sangria, because it’s basically grape juice anyway.
Berry moved one hoof in front of the other and found herself in front of her favorite haunts. It was a quiet little bar that wasn’t too far from home. It’s inside had a sorta sci-fi theme to it, like some of the popular Equestrian films from a few years back, which made the place charming but not so novelty that it lost it’s quaintness. It was the perfect place to lie low and drink in peace.
She pushed the door to Seven Coralle open and was relieved to step out of the blinding sunlight. As she walked inside, her eyes adjusted to find the place fairly empty. Who would have thought that a bar would have had patrons before the afternoon started? Certainly not Berry, because she had a goddamn bottle of wine in her ass. Like, what is she even supposed to do? Drink it? That would just be shitty.
Sliding up to the empty bar top, Berry tapped her hoof and her usual order slid down to rest in front of her. She lifted the glass to her lips and sipped heavily at the deep amber drink, taking in the subtle caramel and vanilla flavors. Setting the drink down, she noticed a new patron had taken a seat a few stools down from her. The stallion, as she noticed, had a light brown-orange coat with a simple combed brown mane. Berry also noticed his cutie mark was 3 horseshoes in a ring. She noticed this not because it was interesting, but because dat plot. Umph.
The stallion tapped the wood of the bar top and the keeper stepped over.
“Mornin’ Caramel. What can I get for you?” said the bartender.
“Hmm. I think I’ll try that one” Carmel said as he pointed to a bottle sitting mid way up the shelf behind the bar keeper. A wonderful and equally delicious 18 year old, Prench Oak scotch from the wonderful country of Prance.
“Scotch? That’s not something I’d ever figured you’d try, Caramel,” The barkeep said.
“Well, life is short, and I feel like trying something new for once. Maybe spice up the day a bit,” Caramel said crossing his forelegs casually.
“Right, right. Some existential minotaur shit right there,” The barkeep said sarcastically, then setting the bottle and a tumblr glass in front of Caramel.
Berry was content to watch the stallion continue to learn the ways of Hidden Whiskey, Crouching Scotch. Caramel wasn’t hard on the eyes either. She could see herself drinking a few glasses of his homebrew beer. She could even say, she was quite smitten with the little brown stallion.
“Hey, can I get a tall glass of ice, and a can of Pokey Cola?” Caramel lightly tapped the bartop once again.
“Sure thing, Caramel. You need a chaser for that scotch?” The barkeep said as he slid the can and glass down to Caramel’s waiting hoof.
“Eenope. Just something to mix this with.”
Wait. Did she hear that right? Something to mix this with? Berry’s pony pucker tightened at the thought of someone committing blatant sacrilege against the Gods of Booze. You Don’t. Mix. Good scotch.
Before Berry could even say anything, Caramel had the bottle in his hoof, the cork pulled, and was pouring the fine scotch into the glass of ice. Berry’s brown star tightened further. The object was clearly getting the shit end of the stick as the pressure increased. Berry was beside herself. The once cute stallion, who had just committed one of the deadly signs of alcohol abuse, now only looked like a demon in disguise. As the glass reached half full, Caramel set the glass back down. He didn’t even re-cork the bottle before moving to the can of Pokey Cola.
Berry could only sit and watch as Caramel’s hoof moved to pop the top on the can. It was like watching a train wreck. She couldn’t look away as he moved the can over the glass of soiled scotch. Caramel began to pour the cola into the glass. The scotch was truly and honestly robbed of its innocence. Raped by the ice and cola by Caramel the Defiler. That was the final straw. There was no more the object could take.
Have you ever had your asshole tighten so fast, it whistled?
Suddenly, the object lodged deep inside her rectum let out a sickening pop and shattered. Berry moaned in pain as deep red liquid ran from the seams of the glass like splits. Berry was now very sure that it was either a wine bottle that had found itself lodged in her now, pouting pony pucker, or she was going to die. Or both. As the smell of wine filled the air, so to did the feeling of pain fill her rear as glass shards dug in and pierced her rectal walls.
Berry doubled over in pain as she fell to the pool of blood and wine. She hyperventilated as the realization, that she would die from this, settled in. Berry scrambled to her hooves, but couldn’t find any stable ground and slipped back onto the loose shards of glass in the puddle of blood and wine.
Lol. Spoiler. Berry died. gg.
Author's Note
Pencil. I have a confession. I mixed Macallan Gold scotch with Pepsi and used a tall glass with ice.
No regrets.
