Author's Note

Characters used: Anonymous, Berry Punch
Perspective: Second Person, Anonymous/Berry Punch
Fetish: Somnophilia
Type: Clop

F#1.1: Weekend at Berry's

"Hey Berry Punch!" you say joyously, dipping low to give the cute mare a hug. She weasels her way around you and hugs you back, pushing you in the door and out of the rain.

"Jeez you're drenched!"

"Yeah, I know," you answer, shaking off like a dog, "it just started pouring out there!"

She closes the door behind you and suddenly gets deadly serious, "did you bring the stuff?"

You spin around, smiling wryly, from under your suit jacket you reveal a short stubby, rectangular bottle. Her eyes light up and her tongue rolls out, and she squees in excitement.

"I'm sorry hon but I already had a swig on the way here," you add with a laugh, unscrewing the cap and handing the bottle to her.

"Anon you," she grabs it and takes a sip, "you dog!"

She trots further inside to the living room. The atmosphere was relaxed in Berry Punch's cozy home. It's midsummer, but the night is cool because of the rainstorm. Berry has her windows cracked open slightly, a nice cool breeze and the spirit-soothing smell of petrichor. Your muscles come unclenched and you let out a sigh. Nothing like chilling with your good friend Berry Punch on a Friday evening.

"Do we need cups?" she asks from the living room, about to settle on the couch.

"Do we ever?" you reply with a laugh, going to join her. You plop down across from her in a recliner, a short coffee table between you.

She takes a deep pull of the bottle, licks her lips and wipes her mouth before passing it back, "that is some killer whiskey, dude."

"How did your week go?" you ask, pausing before taking a sip from the bottle. It's getting low already!

"Ugh, so badly!"

"Tell me about it, sister. Crushing grapes must be hard work."

She gives you the eyes, you know, the "really?" eyes.

"Anonymous, we're friends for a reason, you now how it can be right? With other ponies some times? They just don't get us," she says softly, eyes low and head hung sadly.

You reply, but its more of a croak than a 'yeah' like you intended.

She stretches out a hoof and pats your hand, then takes the bottle, "I just need someone to comfort me."

You follow after the bottle, coming to her side of the table, cuddling up to her. She laughs cutely, eyes getting misty.

"Oh come on now, fuck those ponies, they're not even worth your time," you say wrapping an arm around her. You run your hand along her flank to comfort her, tickling the fur and brushing it slightly. She nuzzles her snout under your arm and into your pit.

"We should finally do that thing we've been talking about, you know," her big wide eyes pleadingly looking up to you.

You let out a huff, trying to put on an air of thought and consideration. Inside however, the little monkey playing the cymbals in your mind had put down his instrument and got out his cock. You'd been waiting for this for months! Sure Berry Punch was a nice girl and all, and sure you liked the talks you had. But that flank is what you really love.

You squeeze her slightly, the line of plushy fat coating strong muscles underneath. She's springy and warm, sleek coat now all ruffled. A little pinch illicits a cute squeak from her. She quickly tries to hide her embarrassment behind anger, "Anon!" she yelps, hitting your chest with her hoof playfully.

"So, we just gonna get really drunk and do it?" her tone was unsure and apprehensive.

"Well we were gonna get drunk anyway, so let's sweeten the deal."

"Sweeten the deal?" Her eyebrow goes up.

Out from a little pocket in your jacket you pluck a mini ziplock of white pills.

"What's that?"

"Magic Rohypnol."

Her eyes light up, "oh boy! Are we really going to do this?" she wiggles in her seat clops her hooves together. "I feel so naughty just thinking about it."

"Ah, but who will drug who?"

She scrunches up her nose in thought, "I have always wanted to be the date rapist."

"Same," you reply suavely. (Although, is suave date rapist somewhat of a oxymoron?)

You take another chug of alcohol, the harsh taste sliding down your tongue quickly. "What about a game to decide?"

She turns her head quizzically, and you tell her to fetch two cups, ones that weren't clear. She comes back soon enough. You return to your side of the table and sit their smugly, hands folded together. After hoofing you your cup she nestles her fat flank onto the couch.

"So? First one to drink themselves under the table gets fondled?"

"Better!" you declare, motioning for her to spin around. She does, shoving her face into the seat of the couch.

Deftly you pour whiskey until the two cups are half full, and then plant the roofie. "Done," you say, looking up just in time to catch a peek at her rear, which she graciously reveals by swishing her tail to the side. She gives you a cheeky, blushing smile before covering herself and sitting down proper.

"Hmm, so which one is it?" she says, looking down at the two cups.

"And so it begins! And it'll end when you decided which cup you want, and we both drink."

She's confused at first but smiles, "easy."

"How so?"

"I know you, Anonymous, simple and straightforward, you placed the drugged cup right in front of me, thinking me to expect a trick."

You fake a slip of your poker face, luring her into a deeper trap. She reaches over confidently and takes your cup, and you take hers. The two of you drink at once, both smiling.

"See?" she says, but her expression quickly changes and she looks down to her cup in contemplation.

You stand and loom over her, mischievous grin on your face.

"But how?"

"They were both poisoned, I spent the last few weeks building up an immunity to magic roofies." Which is not the truth at all.

"Huh?" she says listlessly, falling over slightly, "w-why is it working so fast?"

"It's magic, Berry, duh."

"B-buuuh," she groans, heavy eyes blinking shut.

"I don't gotta explain shit," you whisper, brushing her mane out of her eyes and stroking her neck.

After another minute she's completely out of it. You cackle madly to yourself, throwing your head back with joy just as a strike of lightening lights up the room. You pick her up, and boy is she heavy, and toss her on the table, tummy-up. Her tail flops down and her legs lazily hang off the edges of the table.

You lean over her like a monster in an old horror film, the helpless damsel in your clutches. The lustful warmth in your chest surges as you press your crotch against hers, kissing her chest and cheek. With one hand you fondle her small breasts, and the other you run through the inside of her thigh. Her leg twitches slightly, causing a magazine to fall off the table.

You trace the outside of her horse pussy with your digits, going around slowly in circles until you feel her start to get wet. Her clit winks weakly once, pressing against the palm of your hand as you place your index and middle finger into her passage. You gently space out her interior, rotating your hand back and forth as much as your wrist would allow. She lets out a croaking moan, rear hoof gently patting against your leg in pleasure.

A grin creeps across your face, and you begin thrusting your fingers into her depth with more vigor, occasionally stopping to spread her as best you could, savoring the tightness and her shivering contractions around your fingers. She lolls her head back and fidgets again, breathing more labored now.

You pull out, sitting back on the couch behind you. What will you do next? Mouth-fuck? Good ol' missionary for the sole purpose of date rape? Plucking off your shoes and socks, you toss them behind you, and then you slide off your pants and discard your suit jacket. The sweet smell of warmed grapes, Berry's musk, and the earthy smell of the rain hits your nostrils, an odd but satisfying mix. Naturally, Berry's essence and her splayed out form before you caused quite the primal response. Unleashing the beast, you grip your cock at its base a position it just before her dripping entrance.

"Hello, my name is Anon Y. Mous. I have not ejaculated in three months. Prepare to be fucked."

With a deep inhale, you slowly push into her, guiding yourself (seeing as she couldn't) as deep into her as you could. With shuddering pleasure she greets you, unconsciously, with a teasing squeeze of your erect penis. You exhale roughly, hot breath washing over her exposed stomach.

You wantonly begin mashing yourself into her, humping vigorously. The entirety of your focus is in your dick, you move and interact with the world through him. And on this journey into the wet, loving hole of Berry Punch you were an explorer on a mission. You thrust with such shuddering confidence that you thought you could drive right into her uterus and lay down the seeds of a mutant satyr spawn.

Skin flush and red, sweat dripping, you almost felt a twinge of embarrassment at your state, but then you look down at the drooling Berry and find no judgement. Perfect! You: entirely alone with her body, her mind drifting gently on the shores of a dream. One no doubt in which she was being reamed by a great ape on some luxurious beach.

If you even have the lucidity to think of it through the pleasure of rampaging her sleeping hole, you might notice how much raggedly you are breathing. The cool breeze of the rainstorm outside tickles your skin, cooling your feverish, pleasured flesh. The stresses of the world melt away as you unleash three months of unbridled sexual fury onto your helpless victim.

Limply she shakes forward, unresistant to your vaginal assault. With the initial outburst wavering now you slow to a pace more your own, the nibble of a building orgasm working its way up your shaft, but you're not done yet. Now you thrust slower, hips jerking slightly of their own accord as you struggle between pacing yourself and enjoying the experience, and letting loose your urges.

Berry Punch groans and turns her head to the side, cunt squeezing against you, clit winking harder now as it pulsed with pleasure. Her sopping puss began to feel more and more like home as you slowly carved out a niche in it with your cock. And now, to decorate with a dashing of paint!

You heave and ho, rocking her boat like a crusty old sailor fucking his one lay on shore-leave. Griping tightly on her rear you use your diamond dick to dig into her fox-hole, pumping so fast she almost couldn't produce enough lubricant for you. Her natural juices spray everywhere, a sticky, dripping splash across your abdomen.

Yowling like a great furry beast ravishing its prey you thrust and shudder one final time, cumming as deeply inside her as possible. No witnesses! No worries! No satyr babies! Your hips jerk weakly, fighting between pleasure and sudden post-orgasmic sensitivity.

"Berry, you succubus," you whisper to yourself, flopping over in her post-coital shivers. Kissing her neck and breathing heavily, you carefully slide yourself out. Half-chub mode is in effect, the radiating glow of muscular release. Stumbling over to her face, you giggle to yourself as you watch her snooze.

"I wonder if—" you plant your softening pole in her mouth, and she latches onto it with her lips, snoring loudly and sending a pleasant spine-tickling vibration up your shaft.

You clean yourself up on her fur, dress, and down what little is left of the whiskey. A good fuck, a good drink, a good storm and to all a good night.

BAD END

Anonymous sits across from you, trying to faze you with his unflinching gaze. You know something he doesn't though, he doesn't know Berry Punch is an expert at distracting ponies!

"You have to pick one eventually," he mutters.

Suddenly you pop up and clap your hooves together, "what's that over there!?" you shout, pointing behind him.

"Where?" he asks, turning his head suddenly. You take this time to make a shuffling noise with your cup, but don't actually switch them.

"Oh, it must have been nothing," you say calmly, laughing.

"Chose, Berry, this battle of wits must come to an end," he says with confidence.

You do casually, selecting your own glass, and he picks his. He grins to himself. And you smile right back on at him.

"Seems you've lost!" he declares, eyes already becoming droopy.

You just shake your head as he starts to slump in his chair. Silly Anon, how could you ever hope to outwit Berry Punch, 5-star drunkard?

With a hoof you claim the little sloshing remains of the whiskey, looking at his now unconscious form splayed out in the chair. The rustle of the leaves outside tickled your ear holes, the pleasant patter of rain a simple drum beat to which they fluttered. With a sultry sigh you plod over to him, shaking your flank a little extra for no one in particular.

He's not awake to enjoy it, but it made you feel sexier. After a quick sip, you set the bottle aside and plunge your face into his crotch, taking a deep inhale of his human musk.

Huh, smells like crushed Smarties.

You unzip his pants with your teeth, exposing his member, a paltry lick and kiss through his boxers and he's already growing in size. With a quick look up you find him grinning like a school boy. With gusto you tug down his boxers and give the shaft a real like, and it wiggles up like a worm in the rain, desperate for more attention.

"Oh I know," you say in a hushed tone to his sleeping form. You snag your lipstick from underneath a magazine on the table, slowly applying the light red make-up to your pouting lips. Feels strange, dolling yourself up for someone entirely dead to the world.

You plant a wet, lipstick-y kiss right on the head of his cock. With a grin, you think to yourself that he wouldn't really notice if you took his wallet and slipped out for more booze. The liquor store is open late on Fridays. . .

"Au revoir, love, we will meet again when I return, six bottles of high proof alcohol in my hooves," you say as you exit your home, blowing him a kiss.