Sickly-Sexy

by Frostworthy

Rating: mature
Tags: My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Rainbow Dash, Sex, Fetish, Slice of Life
Length: 3746

Rainbow Dash is home alone after a party, so she drunkenly masturbates and throws up.

Rainbow Dash is home alone following a party at which she drank a little too much. In her drunken state, she begins to feel both quite horny, and quite ill.

And thus, she discovers a whole new way to get off, incorporating her own stomach contents into the fun.

Just a heads-up- Contains: Uh, vomit. Lots of that. Sexily. And gratuitous self-pleasuring Would avoid if eating.

Published 2017-05-20 04:20:01 UTC
Last updated 2017-05-20 04:20:01 UTC

*Urp*

*Urp*

"Urf..." Rainbow Dash moaned as she was gently rolled onto her bed. Twilight had been nice enough to carry her home. Well, it had been between the undignified half-drag, half-carry across Ponyville, or spending the night in a ditch outside the castle after she'd gotten just a little too drunk.

Applejack had bet she couldn't drink an entire barrel of cider. How was she supposed to know which was hard and which wasn't? They weren't labelled! Her swimming vision, goofy grin, and nausea were basically all Applejack's fault. She'd give that farmpony a piece of her mind in the morning, that was for sure!

"...Dash. Please! Come on, focus. Listen to me." Twilight's slightly panicked, stressed voice caught her ear and she turned to face the princess. "Do you have any plain food, like bread or oats? You need to eat something simple to try and soak up some of that alcohol." And there she went, acting like she was oh-so mature and in control of the situation. Like she hadn't been the one who had been giggling and swaying half of the way home. Judging by the look on her face, and the utter lack of slurring, she'd probably used that stupid sobriety spell again. Typical unicorn-with-wings- Alicorns, that was it. No fun allowed.

Dash hiccuped, snorting a little at the silly noise it made. "Oats're for mud-dirt- uh, earthponies. And bread is borrring. Do I look-" She let out a long, loud burp and proudly grinned at Twilight, "-Boring ponies can't do that."

Twilight put a hoof to her head. She looked annoyed and began muttering, "If I wasn't the princess of friendship, and I didn't technically owe you for my cutie-mark, you'd be in the road right now." She sighed deeply and forced a smile. "I'll pop out and get some bread to start sobering you up. You keep drinking plenty of water, and I'll be back in a couple of minutes." Without a second breath, she had slipped through the cloud door and slammed it shut.

Twilight was boring. She was a boring princess. But she was a good friend, and she was adorable when she got annoyed and had to blow her mane out of her face. And she had a cute butt. She probably had no idea she held her tail so high when she got mad.

"Booorrred." Rainbow sighed, slumping as flat as possible onto her bed. She tried to sit up, but it took far too much effort, and lying sprawled was a lot comfier. How was she supposed to get a drink though? She was growing thirsty, but the kitchen was all the way down the corridor, and walking was pretty tough without a spare pony to hang onto.

Maybe she could just wait it all out. But what to do? Twilight was gone, and she didn’t feel like talking to her Wonderbolts dolls again- Plushie Spitfire was nowhere near as rude and snappy as the real thing, and now that she was personally friends with the real thing, it felt cheap to whine to a mock-up.

Spitfire was pretty hot. Plushie or otherwise. Of course, she’d rather have the living, breathing, muscular, sweating pony, but if she wasn’t available…

She slumped sideways and looked at the pin-up poster on the wall. There was the sexy pony being sexy: Spitfire with her damp mane hanging down her shoulders, her eyes half-lidded and her smouldering gaze beaming out as she seductively unzipped her flight-suit.

Dash stared hungrily, replaying in her mind the times she and Spitfire had showered and changed together at practise- When her fur was soaked and her tail was splayed against her shapely flanks, showing off a teasing glimpse of her nethers as she trotted about. As her eyes closed, she could almost feel the firm, slim body of her captain rubbing up against her as she ran a hoof down her chest, enjoying the feeling of her smooth, warm fur. She let out a dainty squeak as she rubbed over one of her tiny, perky teats, and her whole body twitched slightly at the touch. Her legs began to spread themselves reflexively as she moved down. She moaned into her pillow, a string of drool dampening it as her mouth fell open and she began to breath more heavily.

“Mhmmm.” She hummed deep in her throat, as the edge of her hoof reached the outermost edges of her marehood, earning a little pleasurable shiver. “Oh, Spitfire…” She mumbled, her other foreleg poorly muffling her sighs. If only she was here, and as drunk as she…

She swiped the plush from her bedside and murmured in the huskiest, sexiest voice she could manage as she held it right up to her face. “Hey there, Spits. What say you-” She put on what she assumed was a coy smile, “-ram your face into my snatch and let me hump you ‘til I cum?” She finished enthusiastically. The doll, of course, didn’t reply. She gave it a quick kiss on the nose, and got to work.

True to her word, she pushed the soft, cloth pony between her thighs, shuddering as the silky-yet-firm muzzle nudged at her waiting pussy-lips. The fabric was...A lot coarser than she remembered. She ran the edge of her hoof along her slit, hissing as the cool, smooth keratin slid by. She brought it to her muzzle and gave it a tentative lick- Nothing. Not even damp.

She hiccuped again, causing her to buck involuntarily, kicking the plush away. The alcohol had left her a little numb and slow, it seemed. “Hic!” At the slight ache the spasms produced, she quickly lost the warm fuzzy feelings of horniness to a more pressing sensation- she was thirsty. Another cider would go down a treat.

“Twiiiiiliiiiight.” She moaned loudly, but there was no reply. She was long gone. There was one other pony she could try- the only one who managed to sneak up to her house on a regular basis, or at least, the only one she tolerated arriving unannounced. “Scoooots? You- Hic!- around?” She should probably have checked if her little friend had been around before trying to clop off...

There was a scuttling somewhere further down the hall. Something knocked a dish over in the kitchen and slammed a cupboard.

“Scoots?”

A soft, grey ball of fluff and wings charged into her room. She snorted, too drunk to be angry, and watched on as the pigeon fluttered about frantically for a moment, bumped into her wardrobe, then headbutted the window with a solid clunk and dropped, stunned, through the cloud floor.

“Huh.” She would have pondered the fate of the feathered rat further, but then she burped once more. “Euch!” She sputtered as she felt the scorch of bile in her throat. It was only dull, as the booze numbed the feeling, but the taste, however muted, was disgusting- a horrible mix of cupcakes, sweets, and the smooth rot of cider, all tinged with acid. She held stock-still for a moment, willing it all back down until the feeling passed, leaving her throat dry and painful. If there was any lingering lust in her, it was pushed right down.

She really needed a drink now.

With a resigned sigh, she gently patted her belly and rolled over. It seemed fine. As long as she was careful, she would be alright. It was only a short journey anyway.

Her hooves touched the floor with a gentle poof as the clouds squashed down. Steadily, she pushed herself off her bed onto her wobbly legs. She had to stifle a giggle as the image of a pony made of jelly came to mind. Things were far too funny...And tricky.

It took little over a minute for her to reach her bedroom door, and then she slowly made her way, trotting at a snail’s pace and wavering on every half-step. The feelings of sickness had calmed right down, and it was only her raw throat that was stopping the creeping craving for some greasy food of some sort to fill her drunken body. There was a cold hayburger or two in the fridge leftover from Scootaloo’s fast-food binge the other night. That would do- she could almost taste the stale, rubbery cheese and unhealthily-stodgy oat-hay patties already!

The fridge, it turned out, was a great resting post. From there, she could eat with one hoof, and perch against the door with the other whilst standing on her back legs. And the sink was only a sideways lean away she could stick her face under the tap, gulp back a few mouthfuls, and carry on eating, all without having to move much.

The cool, chewy burgers went down a treat. They didn’t taste of much, but that hardly mattered- as long as they felt like food, they were good. Her belly was feeling nicely full, and the crunchy, if a little old, sliced onions and chillies carried just enough flavour that her lips tingled pleasantly. She dropped the wrappers- the bin was a long way away, and besides, maybe Twilight would clean up when she got back in one of her mad neatness sprees- and slumped over the sink. She swallowed a few deep mouthfuls of cool water, soothing her throat then hopped down and began the slow waddle back to bed. She didn’t bother turning the tap off, or rather, the fiddly handles wouldn’t let her get a grip. They were a lot slippier than they had been when she was sober.

Two steps down the corridor, and her stomach rumbled. It wasn’t hungry though, just a strange twinge. Probably where she had wolfed down those oh-so-wonderful burgers. She stifled a spicy burp and carried on.

Then the nausea began again. It started as a dull, tiny ache in the very pit of her stomach, as if it was just bit of trapped wind. As she slowly trotted onwards, the feeling grew. It was like a kick in the gut, and every step was prodding the bruise. By the time she made it to the door of her bedroom, she was gritting her teeth and groaning, the ache becoming painful and hard to ignore.

She crawled to her bedside at a clip that would make Tank proud. During hibernation. Applejack could read faster than she was moving!

“Hnng…” She whimpered, as a particularly painful judder ran through her body. She slipped onto her bed, lay back, and took a long, shaky breath. She would be fine if she stayed cool and still.

Another long breath. She wished she had opened a window. The cold nightly breeze would be lovely and soothing.

A third deep, slow breath. That was it. The feelings of sickness were receding. With a lovely full belly, and her thirst quenched, and the alcohol still swimming through her system, her gaze shifted from the ceiling to the pin-up poster of Spitfire once more.

“Might as well.” She smiled. Twilight would be gone for a while longer; If she hadn’t already gotten back, she was probably being delayed. And, well, if she was caught clopping, it wasn’t like Twilight hadn’t seen it all before anyway. Her hoof was already snaking down, before her stomach gurgled unnervingly.

She paused, frozen. It didn’t feel like anything was wrong, but she didn’t fancy going through the pains again, so she waited. A few moments passed, so she assumed it was safe to continue. She could almost feel her body begging for it now, after being interrupted.

She set to work, lying flat, as her wings flared out and her hooves ran down to her lower belly. She was warm to the touch, and even the sensation of the gentle rubbing around her inner thighs was making her snort and whinny quietly. She tentatively touched the warm pink of her sex, letting out a long hiss of pleasure. She drew it away, noting the slightly dampened fur and the long, clear string of sticky fluid that hung off. “Much better.” She mumbled, licking it off whilst slowly massaging her teats with her other hoof. “Mmmff.” Biting down on her lip, she whimpered as she began to gently run her hooftip in small circles on her little clit, her legs twitching randomly.

Her hooves weren’t enough. As manicured and smooth as they were, she needed something more- something inside her!

She flailed blindly for her bedside drawer, wrenching it open to reveal a modest collection of sex toys. By familiar touch alone, she selected a smooth, thick, glass stallionhood and brought it out to rest on her belly, licking at the cool tip to wet it, before gently suckling on it. Even the weight of it pressed against her was arousing, so much that she was taking several inches of it into her muzzle before she could think in her simplified mind.

Her nethers began to ache for the penis, and she pulled it from her eager mouth, trailing saliva down her chest as she slipped it down to rub against her damp lips. “Mmh…” She felt her hips buck up a little, presenting her cunt and begging for it.

“Hrck!” Her gut twinged.

There was no way she was stopping now, as she teased her flower open with the flared tip of the dildo, her mouth hanging open as she pushed forward, sliding the firm length slowly into her. “Oh...fuck...Mmf!” It felt amazing, even the little she had in, stretching her moist twat-

“Ah!” It stopped moving in so easily at her touch. Her own spit and juices weren’t enough to lube the cock enough to get it in deep. She cursed her booze-numbed sex as she pulled it free with a quiet squelch. She did not want it deeper in her, she needed it! She licked down the full length of the clear shaft in one fluid motion, trying to cover it in spit-lube as fast as she could. She panted as she pressed it to her lips, moaning as she tasted her own pussy fresh on it, and let her drool run down it in thin channels, matting her coat and darkening it.

Something didn’t feel right. It was masked by the frantic feelings of giddy lust, but there was something niggling and sore. Like a knot in her stomach, drowned out by the need to stretch her vag around a good, hard stallionhood.

“Oh- Hrrck!”

Her whole body bucked and heaved, and her throat snapped tight and dry, as if she were trying to breath through a blocked straw. She let out a long, plaintive whine of something between discomfort and neediness, before it was cut short by a shuddering hiccup.

She choked, clutched her chest, and then, before she could stall it, a wave of extreme nausea washed over her and a disgusting, burning flood rose in her throat. She bucked and heaved, “Urgh!” and a torrent of foul, yellow-green, frothing vomit poured out of her gasping maw, splattering down her chest. She jerked up as the hot, lumpy slop tumbled over her fur, matting her coat and the scraps of mane that lay too close, rivulets of off-white goo sliding down her sides and pooling on her bed in fetid puddles.

She shuddered in disgust and shock, before retching again, bringing up another bellyful of grotesque partially-digested goo that slapped onto her, piling up in a foul, warm pile. It was a fine mess of the junk food she’d eaten at the party, the hastily-chewed cold burgers she’d taken from the fridge, and a mix of grass and oats from earlier that day, all at various stages of breakdown, all covering her front, from chin to lower belly in hot, stinking slime.

Twice more, dripping mouthfuls of thick spew sloshed onto the mound, until she finally lay back, gasping and coughing, with only the occasional dry-heave to interrupt her recovery.

She was, as far as she could see, absolutely coated in the vile contents of her stomach. The dullness in her head from her rush of lingering drunkenness, hormones, and sudden, violent discomfort did much to stop her fainting out of sheer disgust. She wasn’t a prim and proper pony, but she had some standards, and lying in a small lake of her own horrible chuck was quite below her arguably low bar.

Despite the pain and nastiness, it had done nothing to quell her amour, if anything, the denial turned her on even more!

She moved a foreleg from her gunk-coated side, grimacing as the slime dripped and rippled, wobbling in a foul jeer as a little more cascaded onto her filthy bedsheets. “Ew…” It was wrong, so wrong, but the warmth and slickness all over her chest was strangely arousing, and combined with the longing heat lingering from before she was interrupted, she was feeling quite hot and bothered.

Her bed, and, she felt, a part of her innocence, would never recover from it, but her body’s needs threw such thoughts aside, and she reached down to her begging cunt, a slime-coated hoof going to work once more. She watched, carefully moving her head up as to not upset the bulk of the vomit resting on her, as streaks of hot stomach-gunge began to trickle down her crotch, like so much off-colour cum.

And it felt...incredible! Thick, gooey slop dribbling over her nether lips as she ringed her clit and felt her nipples tingle under the warm goop. Her spare hoof ran smoothly over her body, gliding on the layer of foul lube, the depravity of the whole thing just making it all so much hotter. She recovered her dildo from the hill of vomit, and barely managed to suppress a heated sigh of pleasure at how warm and slick it was. In a smooth motion, she slid it down to nestle against her weeping slit.

The faintest thought of what Twilight might think if she were to arrive back at that moment flickered across her mind, before being banished by the wonderful feeling of taking the slimy faux-dick into her pussy.

“Mhhh…” She hummed lustily, pushing the length deeper, feeling it push against the walls of her dripping lovetunnel. The extra slop was spilling out around the cock, dripping down between her legs, causing her to shiver in surprise and pleasure as it trickled around her tailhole. “Oh, fuuuck…” She sighed, pushing it further and further, until with a shuddering gasp, she had taken the full length.

It was too much- the filth, the heat, the almost painfully-blissful feeling of having her twat stuffed and dripping! She could almost feel that familiar tingling ache already sparking deep inside.

With a long moan, she pulled the cock out, savouring the slow, sloppy squelching it made as the feeling of emptiness followed, before ramming it back in faster, and in, and out, and in, and out.

The smoothness and slickness let her fuck herself as fast as she could, and she quickly forgot about the mess, splattering bits of spew and her own secretions all over herself and her bed. The filthy slime splashed about, matting her fur, covering her face as she licked her hoof clean, only to spit the gooey gunk back out all over herself and rub it all in, in a lust-filled frenzy.

“Ah!” The feeling was building too fast! She wanted to ride it out for longer, playing and fucking herself in the disgusting mess, but her own body would not let her- making her slam the dildo into herself time and time again, whilst tweaking her clit and rubbing her teats.

She felt the orgasmic moan coming as she did, and she tried to muffle it, but instead she face-planted a puddle of stomach-slime, and recoiled. “Ohh, fuck! Aah!” She came, marecum squirting from around the cock embedded in her quivering snatch. Her thighs bucked and shivered, and her backlegs twitched and spasmed as she panted and moaned, “Oh, fuck me…” She gasped, enjoying the feeling of a full cunt as she rode out the afterglow, “That was...wrong...But sooo good!” With one last squeeze, she let the stallionhood slip out of her with a wet splat, a small waterfall of spew and cum leaking after.

She lay back, utterly relaxed, her post-orgasm buzz chilling her out entirely. The warm vomit that had repulsed her before, seemed devilishly alluring and comfortable as she lay in it, the odd kick being all that interrupted her stillness. She’d be doing it again, that was for sure- she hadn’t clopped off that well for months!

She sniffed about a little, and wrinkled her nose up. It fair stank though. But she could probably just dump some air-freshener in her room, and stick a few new clouds about the place and it wouldn’t be noticeable. Until she did it again...Was there a way she reliably make herself puke at will? Perhaps Pinkie would know something- that mare was into all kinds of things she’d never even heard of outside of their drunken party discussions.

But she could think about that later. For now, she just wanted to lay back and-

The door slammed open, “Rainbow, are you alright? Pinkie stopped me to ask after you, and I got a little distracted.” Twilight was here!

Rainbow almost thought about stopping her coming in.

“Ah, hey Dash. I got some water, oats, and some headache tablets for tomorrow morning, because I think you’re going to need something after all you’ve drunken today.” Hoofsteps, muffled by the cloud-floor, clopped towards her room. A lavender horn poked around the doorway. “It smells something awful in here, Dash, do you want me to open a window- Oh! What!?”

Her jaw dropped open, her disgusted and shocked stare trying frantically to piece together an explanation for her own tired head.

Dash giggled. She matched Twilight’s gaze with a grin, then lifted up a dripping hoofful of slop, and splattered it into her sopping, messy cunt with a loud squelch, followed by an involuntary “Ohh…” as the warm slime slithered down her crotch.

Twilight was aghast. Her jaw spasmed for a moment as her mind tried to give her the words to convey what she was seeing.

“Nope.” She retched, and then she was gone.

Author's Note

An off-hand comment that turned into a thought, then a fic. I only regret it somewhat.
Blame the people that didn't stop me. They had their chance.