Not*worthy: A Story of Sex and Introspection

I clean up in the colts’ schoolhouse restroom. My anus stings. My insides feel bruised. I haven’t slept in far too long; there are dark blue bags under my reddened eyes. Some unidentified emotion is stirring deep inside me, but I completely ignore it. I’m too tired, and today’s been pretty good, all things considered.

The sinks in the colts’ room are low to the ground. The warm water hardly flows at all from the faucet, so I open the cold valve all the way. I wash my face of natural lubricant for the second time. I feel like it should be gross, but it’s not. I really like eating mares out.

I stare at myself in the mirror. The greenish tint in my golden eyes has always disappointed me. Green eyes are beautiful, like Cheerilee’s and Applejack’s. Golden eyes are pretty too, like Lyra Heartstrings or even Derpy the mailmare. Mine are somewhere in between, like florescent puke. I hate them.

The water runs over my hooves while I study my own face in the glass. I look so tired. I’m not smiling, even when it feels like I am. I sigh. I blink several times.

I twist the knobs around the faucet and listen to it drip. As soon as the coldness of the water subsides, I’m reminded of the pain in my rear. I grind my teeth together briefly and hobble out of the restroom. I deserve it. I deserve this.

Cheerilee is at her desk in the classroom, grading papers. Her face is glowing; she’s smiling even before she knows I’m there.

I poke my head into the room and knock on the doorframe. “Hey.”

“Hey!” She smiles wider. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah.” I jerk my head backward. “I think I’m gonna take off.”

Cheerilee’s smile fades. “Oh?”

“I’m sorry. I’d love to stay and be with you.” I clear my throat and point to my own eyes. “But I need to sleep. I hadn’t had the best schedule lately.”

Her face falls even more. “Oh…” I watch her tongue the inside of her cheek before she says, “Um… can I ask you something, Noteworthy? Really quick, before you go.”

“Sure.” I take a step into the classroom.

She winces. “I know it doesn’t matter… and I really shouldn’t be asking, it’s none of my business.”

“Just say it.”

Briefly, she bites her bottom lip. “Am I… am I the only one you do this with? Or are there―mmm―other mares in your life?”

I smile very gently. My eyes are locked with hers. “It’s just you, Cheerilee,” I say.

She takes in a light breath. “Really?”

“Really.” I close my eyes. “I’m sorry, I really have to go. I’m falling asleep standing up.”

“Oh! It’s fine. It’s fine.” She quickly trots to me from behind her desk. “I’ll just, um… I’ll just finish up here, and, uh…” She smiles. “I’ll see you later?”

“I certainly hope so.”

She kisses me. Very softly. Right on the lips.

“Cheerilee!” I’m surprised, but I say it softly.

“Thank you, Noteworthy,” she says. “I loved it.”

I grin lopsidedly. “Me, too.”

She giggles. It’s so young, so foalish. She clears her throat, fixes her mane, and trots back to her desk. Her dimples are showing.

I leave the schoolhouse. Nopony notices me. Nopony ever notices me.

But I don’t go home. I’m hobbling, limping, grinding my teeth. The pain is intense. She must have gone easy on me last time; this isn’t the worst pain I’ve ever felt, but it’s certainly the most annoying. I need to numb it. That’s the only thing I can think, over and over. I need to numb it before I go home.

The solution is too obvious. I roll my eyes at myself for even considering it. But I’m really not good at ignoring ideas. There’s only one thought, one beautiful face I can chase out of my head every time. Other impulsive ideas might as well be doctrine. I’m terrible at redirecting myself.

So I find myself trotting unstably to Ponyville’s poorer districts. I take a left around a duplex, a right past a row of small apartments; my head keeps drooping from exhaustion, but the pain in my colon pulsates with a constant reminder that I will not sleep well, if at all.

The sun is shining high. It must be just past noon. I wonder if she’ll even be home.

I reach a three story home. It must have been quite nice once; now it’s divided into three mangy apartments, one per level. The grass around it is uncut and the roof is very saggy.

I sigh again, longer than ever. I glance around, but there’s nopony on the street this bright Saturday. So I crack my neck and ring the middle bell.

A window opens above me. I back up a little and glance up.

She’s squinting down at me. Her dark pink mane is messy, her light plum coat unclipped. Her eyes, squinting hard, are on violet on red.

I manage a bored smile. I wave up to her.

She sighs and drops her forehead in the crook of one foreleg. The other flops out the window and waves for me to come up. Then she retreats into her dark abode, slamming the window shut along the way.

I can’t help but laugh. I open the door to a narrow hallway and climb the stairs at the back. They take me to her landing, where her apartment’s front door is already open. I step into its darkness and shut the door behind me.

“So dramatic, Berry,” I say before I see her. “You didn’t have to let me up.”

“I know,” she drones from another room. “But I’m -hic!- horny.”

I stumble through the dim front room, littered with pizza boxes and plastic sacks full of garbage. My hoof hits an empty glass bottle, which rolls past her couch and clinks against more glass.

“What time is it?” I ask.

“I have no idea.” Berry sniffs loudly, guiding me into her tiny bedroom. “Sun’s up.”

“Excellent observation,” I say.

“Shut up.”

“I’m not judging you,” I said. “In fact, uh… I could use a drink myself.”

“Oh?”

I’m in her bedroom now. Curtains block all sunlight, and somehow it’s even darker than the front room. My eyes find her outline eventually. She’s curled up in a stiff wooden chair next to her own bed. There’s a wineglass in her hoof.

“I, uh… I stubbed my hoof pretty bad this morning,” I say. “It won’t stop hurting. Mind if I have a drink?”

“Drink up.” Her silhouette points to a nearby dresser where two tall bottles stand side by side. “One’s empty. I dunno -hic!- which.”

“Thank you.” I trot closer to her and reach for the wine. “I owe you one.”

She leaps up from her chair, glides around me like a cat, pushes my hindquarters with a strong hoof, and yanks my tail so that I spin around. I yelp, and end up sitting in her wooden chair with my legs spread wide and dangling to the floor.

“Ouch! Dang it, Berry…” I hiss. “I told you, I’m in a lot of pain.”

“Shut up.” She knocks one of the wine bottles into my hooves. “Start drinkin’.”

I catch the bottle and raise an eyebrow. “Can I have a glass or…?”

“Just drink it.” Berry drops to her belly right in front of me and arches back so that her face is in my crotch. “Ohhh yeah…”

“Oh, come on, Berry, let a stallion―hwup!”

She grabs the tip of my penis between her forehooves and stretches it out to its full, floppy length.

“Whoa! Ow!” I reel down at her. “Berry! What the heck?”

“Shhh… drink.” She dips her muzzle under her own hooves and licks my penis from my balls all the way to the tip.

Blood flows into it immediately. She doesn’t have to pull so hard. I shudder, roll my eyes, and take several liberal gulps from the sloshing bottle. “Hmm… this is actually pretty good.”

“Was a gift.” Berry doesn’t put on any sort of voice. She drones everything she says, even while she licks the side of my growing cock like a popsicle.

“Jeez, Berry, just get in there, why don’t you?” I shiver from hooves to ears and drink more wine. It’s sweet and warm and I can feel it falling into my stomach. “Sitting up is weird…”

“Makes it easier.” Berry runs her left hoof up and down my erection while her lips bathe its opposite side in wet kisses. She listens to me react with little whines, then switches sides. When my dick is as hard as it’ll get, she grabs its base between both hooves, nearly pinching my balls, and closes her lips over the tip.

“Whew!” I shiver again. “Ah ah! That feels really good, Berry, but augh! Be careful! It’s sensitive!”

She ignores me completely. Her tongue twirls and slides along the underside of my dick while her smooth teeth bump back and forth over the edge of the glans. She’s gentle, but it’s somehow very scary.

“Eegh! Urrgh!” My hips bounce off the wooden chair involuntarily. My penis pops deeper into her mouth. “Hey! Please, I’m here to feel less, not… whoa!”

She swallows my penis, pushing her lips all the way to my balls. She gags and moans and stays there for several seconds, squeezing her throat around the tip, before backing up and letting go with a loud smack. “Ahhhh!”

“Berry Punch!” It’s like an expletive. “What was that!?”

“I’ve wanted to do that -hic!- forever,” she says. “I’m jus’ fine’ly drunk enough to try it.”

“Well… be careful, seriously.” I shift in the seat and bravely take another long swig of wine. “There’s no need to try and impress me-heeee-heeee!”

She’s at it again, burying my cock in her throat, wrapping her tongue as far up and around the shaft of my penis as she can. She pulls back, but doesn’t let me leave her mouth, moaning louder as her lips play with the front half of my penis.

I’m squeaking. My back hooves are twitching, my forehooves latch onto the wooden armrests. I look at the black ceiling and breathe deeply while she sucks on my dick, sliding her mouth over its smooth surface again and again and again. I feel spit drip back onto my balls. My veins are pulsing in her mouth, and I wonder if she can feel it.

Her hooves feel the insides of my thighs, then reach around and stroke my Cutie Marks. I yelp again as my eyes roll back in my head.

Berry releases my dick from her mouth and climbs on top of me. I’m inside her before I know it. She does all the work, sliding her pussy up and down my long blue cock in the darkness. She barely makes any sound, grunting every now and then. I can’t see her expression; I assume there isn’t much of one.

It gives me time to think. She doesn’t expect anything of me. She had been completely honest: she was horny. The smell of alcohol is everywhere, and I wonder if she’ll remember this encounter. It didn’t matter much. The wine is reaching my head, and the soreness in my rear had subsided.

Sex seems to be the answer to everything. As Berry Punch rides me in silence, my mind races an infinite track, like the moments before falling asleep. Perhaps that’s exactly what’s happening: in the darkness of her apartment, I can hardly tell if my eyes are open or closed.

The answer to everything… I feel lonely, so I go to Twilight. I feel nostalgic, so I go to Rarity. I feel guilty, so I go to Cheerilee. I feel sore, so I go to Berry Punch. Have I really strung out this much of a web? Have I found a mare for everything?

Everything but happiness, I realize. There’s only one mare for that, and I certainly haven’t caught her by any definition. It shouldn’t matter. Seeing Princess Twilight’s blush, receiving Cheerilee’s smiles and kisses, helping Rarity see a truer reflection of her wonderful self… these things make me happy, right? They make me smile. They make me feel. How many mares is enough? How many cures is enough?

Am I sick? I’m starting to feel like it. I’m really not one for alcohol, especially not guzzling gulps from the bottle. At least my asshole stopped hurting… and Berry stopped moving…

I blink back into reality. Berry has collapsed on top of me. Her mouth is in my ear, her forelegs drape limply at my sides. Her breath is slow and even.

I swallow hard. Carefully, I use my hind hooves on the ground to push the wooden chair backward. It shifts enough for me to drop out of its seat, squatting instead on the floor. Balancing Berry on my shoulder, I awkwardly pull myself out of her pussy, wriggle sideways to my hooves, and lift the poor mare into bed.

I can’t help it. I tuck her in. She shows no sign of waking up. I gather a few empty bottles around her room and add them to a plastic bag. I sling three full bags over my back and leave the apartment very quietly, taking them to the large receptacle across the street. The sun is incredibly bright and I grumble while throwing the garbage away, then grumble some more as I make my way home.

I’m not quite drunk yet, but my vision is blurring. I hurry through the back roads, farthest from the center of the city where most ponies spend their Saturday. I reach my little abode at the western edge of town and stumble inside.

My legs are shaky. I feel like I’m going to throw up. I don’t give myself the opportunity. I make my way through my empty house to my own tiny bed. There are no crystal thrones here; no racks of cloth, no constellations, no bottles or bags or pizza boxes. I have almost nothing, and absolutely no one.

I drop my face into my pillow and instantly fall asleep.

I dream, of course, of wings.