Dry Spell

by StickySyrup

Rating: teen
Tags: Spitfire, Slice of Life, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Soarin, Other, Romance
Length: 4907

Soarin', Spitfire and Bluewave go on a night out to help Soarin' with a problem.

When Soarin' becomes bored and frustrated, Spitfire invites him on a night out with her friend Bluewave. They decided to go to a popular and familiar nightclub. But what do each of the ponies have in mind for the night? Also, When things get heated and take a turn for the worst, how will the group respond & react to one another? Contains heavy shipping.
This fic is based on a true story that happened around two years ago to a good friend of mine. Read the introduction for a more detailed explanation.

-----Warning-----
This is rated teen for swearing, alcohol use and suggestive themes. Enjoy ;)

Picture by RescycleTiger. If you want me to remove it, I will (awesome pic though!)

Published 2012-08-06 18:14:03 UTC
Last updated 2012-08-06 18:14:03 UTC

Chapter 1 - An Old Friend

Introduction

This is a ponified version of a true story that happened to a friend of mine about two years ago. The name of the club, events that transpired are all true to an extent, the only difference is that I was present then. In this story, I’m not. I shall be the good author and not involve myself in the world of Equestria. I’m not usually into writing shipping, but this story is kind of romantic and I thought it would be nice to share it.
I have decided to dedicate this story to our fellow Bronies (male and female) who may be stuck in the friend zone, or going through a:

Dry Spell

Chapter One - An Old Friend

Celestia’s sun shone bright over Equestria. As always, it reached every corner of her land, illuminated every dark crevice and shone bright; allowing everypony to enjoy their day in warmth and light. There was one place, however, that refused the light entry. Soarin’ sat in his room, curtains drawn. According to his alarm clock, the time was 11:43am on a Friday, but the room was nearly pitch black, and the stallion had nothing to do. He sat on his large leather computer chair, soaking in the deep blue light of the computer screen as he stared into the void; daydreaming. The sounds of fillies playing outside and birds chirping on his windowsill kept distracting him from his conscience sleep. The young stallion span 360 degrees on his chair, looking up at the ceiling. His head began to swirl, making him feel nauseous, but he continued anyway due to the incredible amount of boredom he possessed.

When was the last time I saw any of my friends in the flesh? He though, still looking up spinning. His daydream flicked through the images of his friends. It included a couple of old friends, some new ones too, but his mind eventually finished on Spitfire. He smiled as he remembered his best friend. They had grown up together, gone to the same kindergarten and school. After just both graduating, he felt like she was more of a sister than a friend. He remembered their application to the Wonderbolts, his birthday where he drank too much and she ended up carrying him home, her weird and crazy art that she produced and finally ending on the crazy, bright yellow and orange mane she possessed. He laughed to himself, allowing the memories to swallow his boredom. This lasted for another three or four minutes before a sudden thirst broke him of his trance. With a strain and copious amounts of effort, the lazy stallion got up and slumped down stairs to his small kitchen. After taking a dirty mug in-between his teeth, running it under the tap and filling it up again, he swigged some water. The whole house was silent. His parents had gone on holiday and he enjoyed the lazy lifestyle. Although he was athletic and competitive, it was nice to just slump around for the time being. The sun shone off the work-surfaces, making the room glimmer. It was starting to irritate him so after throwing the mug back into the sink, he walked into the living room, but before he could throw himself onto the sofa, a hard knock on the door made him jump.
Quickly flicking his blue mane back over his head, he trotted over to his large wooden door and after three unlocks, swung it open.
Spitfire stood in the doorway smiling. Her warm coloured mane made even more vibrant in the summer sun.
“Hey. You’re home. ‘bout time.” She said, entering the room and making herself comfortable on his couch.
“Hey Spitfire, what brings you here?”
“Not much. Just bored, came round to tell you something, but I forgot, so I was thinking we could just hang out?”
Soarin’ laughed.
“Yeah okay. I’m not doing much.”
“Good. I can’t stay too long. I’m meant to be picking up Bluewave from the train station but her train doesn’t get in for half an hour… so I guess I’ve got time.”
“Good.” Soarin’ replied, secretly happy to be spending time with his best friend for once. “So what you been up to lately?” He asked, trying to spur on some conversation.
“Not much. Been flying a lot for the Wonderbolt’s application, but apart from that just been avoiding all contact with the outside world.”
Soarin’ laughed again. He commented on their similar lifestyles, and was met with more conversation, much about the Wonderbolts. The time ticked on and the two friends just talked about their past, present and future. The conversation only became strange when Spitfire asked:
“So, you’re still single aren’t you?”
Soarin’ scratched the back of his neck and looked down to the floor, slightly ashamed.
“Yeah… can’t hold em back.” He replied sarcastically. Truth was, he hadn’t had any romantic contact with anypony for nearly a year. Although he was silently worried, the blue Pegasus made sure that his best friend didn’t find out.
“Someone’s going through a dry spell aren’t they?” Spitfire instantly commented.
A stone dropped in Soarin’s stomach.
Eurgh.. how does she always know me better than I know me? He questioned himself.
“It’s been a while,” was his sombre response.
Spitfire jumped up in excitement.
“Hey, you should come out with me and Bluewave! It’s her birthday and I think your gonna like her.” She said wide eyed. “We can go to ‘Neon’ and see if I can’t be your wingmare.”
“You’re already my wingmare Fire..,” Replied Soarin’
She frowned. “In the air maybe, but on the ground, it’s an entirely different playing field. Come on, it’ll be fun. I promise!” She pleaded.
“Fine.” Agreed Soarin’ with a sigh.
“Yay, can’t wait!” Squealed Spitfire in excitement. “So, ten o’clock outside Neon?”
“See you there.” He replied with a half-enthusiast smile.
“Good. Look sexy for her.” Commented Spitfire with a wink before trotting towards the front door. Soarin’ laughed to himself, and as Spitfire left, he bolted the door shut three times. Neon was a popular and nostalgic night club that Spitfire and Soarin’ had gone to a couple of times. It held a lot of good memories for them, and because Soarin’ had got lucky there once, it was instantly the best club in the whole of Equestria.
What have I done…? He thought to himself as he walked upstairs. Looking up at the ceiling, he pushed himself around on his spinning chair in his room once again, feeling pessimistic about the night ahead.

Chapter 2 - Club Neon

Chapter 2 - Club Neon

The time was 10:23pm. The streets outside Neon were busy and cold. Not only that, but the night decided it would be funny to compliment his failure with an icy cold wind and light rain. He shivered in the bustling crowds, breathing in the smells of cigarette smoke and stale alcohol. Spitfire was late, to no surprise. However, he had expected this and had himself arrived fashionably late. When he got there he lined up. The pegasus decided it would be nicer to wait in the warmth of the club rather than the line. Just as he entered the line, a familiar voice called out to him:
“Hey there he is! SOARIN’ let us in!” Spitfire yelled as the warm coloured pegasus mare budged her way through the crowd. A light blue and white unicorn followed her closely. He recognised her as her friend Bluewave. She was a pretty unicorn, with tight curves and a complimenting colour scheme. Her bright green eyes were like small emeralds shining in the line as she got closer to Soarin’. They joined him and Spitfire bear-hugged her best friend. He responded with an equally as pressured joke hug lifting her off the ground, causing her to cough and laugh. He put her down.
“Hey, you must be Soarin’!” Said Bluewave. Her voice was solid and confident as she held out a hoof in a formal manner. Soarin’ shook her hoof in response, introducing himself. They smiled at each other as the line moved up towards the bustling club.
Soarin’ noticed that they were both looking really sexy. Their manes had been worked on for what must have been hours, and that was before their make-up. He shook his head quickly as the line progressed to rid himself of the sexual thoughts that surfaced. A large male stallion got bucked from the club by a bouncer, making the three laugh. It was however unnerving to Soarin’ as it only illustrated the pinnacle of failure in the deep end of the social pool. The large door opened in front of them, greeting the group with the humid mist of the club, along with the booming thud of bass. It was an exciting experience. After entering and securing their possessions behind the desk, Bluewave went to the bathroom. Soarin’ and Spitfire entered the main dance floor.
It was dark, noisy and busy. Very busy.
The crowd was in full swing, moving with the energy of the music, like leaves caught in a current. The swaying motion coupled with the progressive trance music made Soarin’ feel euphoric (and slightly dizzy). They walked over to the corner of the club where a large table and booth had freed itself up. He sat down with his best friend.
“So, seen anypony you like?”
He laughed and looked around, desperate to find any mare to call his ‘target’ so Spitfire would stop asking questions.
“I guess she’s pretty cute” He said, pointing to a lime green unicorn.
“Wow, your standards have lowered.” She replied with a giggle. Soarin’ laughed along. It was true; he knew the lime green pony was out of his league. Out, and under. He could do better than that.
“What about the one behind you on the table to the left?” He motioned, Spitfire turned around to see a blue and black mare in full, romantic contact with another mare.
“Good going, genius. Pick the only lesbian mare in here. I’m sure that’ll work.” She said sarcastically, with a small laugh.
Frowning at his disappointment, he scouted the dance floor for another target. A unicorn crossing the edge of the room caught his eye. She was levitating a tray of drinks above her head. The black silhouette of the pony shifted majestically across the dance floor. Her body moved like a liquid that had Soarin’ in another daydream. It was an awesome sight.
“That one there!” He said pointing, knowing he has chosen well.
“Err… which one?” Asked Spitfire, confused. Before Soarin’ could respond, the mysterious mare came into view. It was Bluewave, carrying over the first round. He suddenly felt the blood rush to his head as the embarrassment took over.
Oh shit! What if Spitfire saw me pointing at her friend? It’s Okay, calm down. There’s no way she could have seen. He reasoned with himself as Bluewave sat down. She put down four shots of a clear liquid and two shots of a strong smelling, chestnut coloured liquid on the table with her deep blue magic.
“These are for you, and these two are for me.” She said.
Spitfire laughed “How can you drink whisky straight? Seriously Blue. That’s nasty!”
“You know me Fire, I HATE vodka!” Replied Bluewave.
Soarin’ eyed the unicorn with interest. She was generally fascinating. What started out as a mundane interest in a regular mare has turned into somewhat of a fascination for him. He craved to know more about her. Obviously, she wasn’t your ordinary club attendee and that just drove his questionable mind onwards. Spitfire cradled her two shots and lined them up in front of her. Soarin’ did the same. The clear liquid smelled strong, almost like an adhesive. He knew the smell well.
“Alright, vodka to start then?” Spitfire questioned.
“I guess so.” Soarin’ replied. “Should we just down em?”
Before he could answer, both Bluewave and Spitfire had downed their drinks. Feeling out-gunned, he did the same. Putting his mouth over the glass, he threw his head back, allowing the cold liquid to burn its way down his gullet. The warmth that followed made him shiver and his coat tingle. He took the second one straight after, and the burning sensation doubled. He coughed once, tasting and swallowing his alcoholic saliva. The vodka had made its way up to his head almost instantly. Spitfire cheered as he placed the glass back on the table. He smiled as he remembered the joys of drinking. It wasn’t something he indulged in on a regular basis, but it allowed him to free himself up for just one night, which he cherished.
“I'll get the second round.” Soarin’ offered. He got up and made his way over to the bar, mood improving. This was going to be a good night.

Chapter 4 - The Deep End of The Social Pool

Chapter 4 - The Deep End of The Social Pool

The black silhouette figure, who he had seen earlier in the night, walked onto the dance floor. He knew it was Bluewave, and wouldn’t let this opportunity go. Bluewave turned and looked directly at him. Soarin’ quickly hid behind another dancer in panic, before regaining his posture and state of mind, and returning to the centre. Bluewave was only just visible. The full spectrum of colours that shone bright made out her slender figure, nothing more. It was like a work of fine art. Soarin’s heart picked up pace as she moved closer to him. He knew Spitfire had told her about him. It was like a game he had already won. Might as well show off for the crowd. She stood in front of him.
Time didn’t slow down; the music didn’t get quiet in a romantic sort of way. The crowd didn’t separate leaving them alone on the dance floor. If anything, the club got even more stressful. Coming together, they danced in unison. It was strange at first, but after a couple of minutes, the two ponies began to feel more comfortable around eachother. The black silhouette of her body began rubbing against his. He felt her heartbeat quicken under a coat moist with perspiration as they flowed in coherence. The music slowed in pace as he wrapped his neck around Bluewave’s. They swayed to the beat, ignoring the other dancers. Alcohol influenced clouded minds worked their hooves together. She leaned against him for support as her unstable legs worked overtime to support her. Soarin’ accepted her weight against his side. Her head was next to his, her sweet breath in his ear.
This is a dream. It must be! He thought, pleading the thought wasn’t true.
They continued like this for what felt like a lifetime. He felt her knees weakened beneath him. It was a sexual motion which they shared. Removing his neck from her shoulder, he took the jump and went for the kiss.
It started off slow and nervous. She accepted his lips, but nothing more. He broke away, feeling slightly embarrassed and disappointed, but before he could catch his breath, she advanced straight away into a full lock. He closed his eyes, allowing the pumping music to compliment the blood rushing in his ears. He felt the presence of her tongue enter his mouth, making his coat stand on edge. Soarin’s total self control abandoned him as the blue Pegasus co-operated. She met her tongue with his as they danced in the bridge they had created between them. The magical bond of companionship, passion and sex coursed through them both. Their lock lasted for a good three minutes, but, after what felt like an eternity, they broke away. The music changed into rave, which summoned the bright white strobe light. Soarin’ kept his eyes closed, savouring the taste of Bluewave’s saliva. Her cherry chapstick, the vodka in her mouth….
Wait… Vodka? Bluewave hated vodka!
Soarin’ opened his eyes. The white strobe illuminated everypony’s true colours for less than a second.
Bluewave had turned orange. How was this possible? Unless….

OH SHIT!

Spitfire stood in front of him, a look of sheer shock on her face. Soarin’ lost his breath. He couldn’t breath, speak or even move. He stared into his best friends eyes as the strobe lighting illuminated them for split seconds at a time. He felt sick, pained and embarrassed all at the same time as he began to shake. His body took control as he raced away off the dance floor, knocking one or two other ponies on the way out. He collected his things from behind the desk of the club and burst out the front door. He was met by a large crowd of smokers and ponies waiting for cabs. The cold night air coupled with the icy rain stung at his previously warm coat. He could still smell her on him, taste her in his mouth. His stomach swirled as he struggled to keep its contents down.

“Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit… what the fuck have I done?” He said to himself, pacing away from the noisy club and out onto the road, crossing it and darting into a small deserted park. Finding a bench on the side of the path, he rested. The alcohol, coupled with the shock of what just happened became too much for him to handle, and he vomited on the ground. Spitting three times, he felt his mind clear. Ashamed, he moved away from the sick and continued into the park. He had begun to sober up, which wasn’t helping his guilt and anguish. The empty feeling in his stomach represented his self respect. “Eurgh… why me!?” He yelled into the air frustrated.
Soarin' suddently had a craving for water to wash away the taste of his stomach contents. Looking around, he spotted a public fountain and gulped what felt like his own body weight in water. He could no longer taste his stomach in his mouth, which allowed him to focus. The cooling rain alerted him to his mistakes. How could he just leave his best friend at the club?
She’s probably going through the same right now. He pondered. Ahh this is so awkward, I’ve known her from when she was a filly! We grew up together! Ok calm down, it’s not that bad. It was only a kiss, nothing more. The thoughts rushed through him like an active network of signals, keeping him sane and sober.
It did feel like more though. She wanted it, and so did I.
What felt like embarrassment and regret soon turned into confusion. He needed to see her tonight before things got even weirder. If she was still drunk, then maybe it would be easier to apologise and explain his actions. He walked back out of the park. The night had ceased on the wind for the time being, leaving him with the light pitter-patter of rain echoing in his ears. He could see the club down the road. It was still busy, and the crowd huddled around some outside burners that kept them warm. Taking a deep breath, Soarin’ walked towards the noise.

Soarin’ pushed past the smoking crowd. He scanned the faces of the occupants outside Club Neon looking for his best friend.
She might be inside. He thought.
Using his stamped hoof, he gained instant access to the club. The dance floor was still packed and moving. With a sobering head, he scanned the tables, bar, dance floor and cloakroom area. The lighting was brighter which helped him to identify the sea of ponies. He couldn’t spot her or Bluewave anywhere. A sudden thought hit him:
Maybe they left and went home without me?
A strange feeling of loneliness overtook him. With a heavy heart, he turned and left the club for the last time that night.
Stepping onto the road, he looked left and right. Just before he went to turn away, a flash of a flame coloured mane caught his eye. He looked over at the corner of the club to see Spitfire holding back Bluewave’s mane with her teeth, as a mixture of whisky and her last meal erupted from the light blue unicorn in the alleyway next to the club. He had never been so happy to see his friend, especially after what had happened between them. He trotted over to them, not taking his eye off Spitfire. She turned and saw him. Their moment only lasted for a couple of seconds before Spitfire pleaded:
“Soarin’! Thank Celestia. Can you help me please? We need to get her home.”
Without thinking, Soarin’ immediately apologised for his previous actions, but was interrupted by Spitfire.
“Not now, Soarin’. Let’s just get her home.” She said sternly and frustrated.
He felt more embarrassment resurfacing as she was obviously sobering up now too. It wouldn’t be too long a trip back to Spitfire’s house. She lived close, but because Bluewave was a unicorn and couldn’t fly, they had to walk which would mean a certain increase in the amount of time it would take. Lifting Bluewave up and resting her on his back, Soarin’ carried her to the end of the road in silence. He could hear Spitfire’s hoof-steps clopping behind him on the cobblestone road. It kept him sober and alert. He dared not speak, and risk more embarrassment. Licking his lips, he tasted cherry again. It made him think through all the things he had eaten that day; none of them contained cherry.
Probably some of the cocktail. He thought.

Chapter 5 - The Walk of Shame

Chapter 5 - Walk of Shame

The streets were empty. It must have been around 3am, and Bluewave had basically fallen asleep on his back. Spitfire kept walking next to him, head down deep in a emotion only she was at liberty to share. Now completely sober, Soarin’ turned the corner to the street on which Spitfire lived. He knew the area well, as he had grown up there as a colt. The Pegasus could see his friends house at the end of the street; a small but cosy semi-detached property with a front yard and cute staircase leading to the back door. He had sat waiting on those stairs for who knows how long for his friend to be ready in previous engagements. However, this visit was almost terrifying. A rumbling sensation on his back alerted him to something he had previously overseen. Bluewave woke up long enough to apologise before throwing up all down his back and side.
“This night has been fucking brilliant!” He said sarcastically in the dark street. Spitfire laughed and helped him prop Bluewave up into a more hygienic position. Soarin’ simply laughed. He was already ashamed, embarrassed, regretful, tired, hurt and covered in sick. What more could go wrong?
Spitfire’s house loomed on them quickly. It looked different at night. Bigger and more obtrusive. He successfully carried the nearly paralytic unicorn up the stairs and into the living room. He set her down on the sofa, using his strong wings to let her roll onto the soft seating. Bluewave snored peacefully, head to one side. It was just him and Spitfire. Alone.
“Let’s get you cleaned up.” She said, leading him upstairs. They entered her en-suit bathroom, and she ran a bath. Her room was a small affair, but felt like home. The game console controllers were strewn over the large double bed, several Wonderbolts posters and popular bands littered the walls. Her obsession with weird and wonderful art proved itself with the numerous amounts of paintings and sculptures on her windowsill and walls. He loved her room. It felt so... Spitfire. She emerged from her bathroom followed by the sweet aroma of bubble-bath. The atmosphere was incredibly sexual, but Soarin’ didn’t notice. He simply wanted to rid himself of Bluewave’s stomach contents. He hopped right into the bath without closing the door, relishing the warm water on his coat. Spitfire had left him to go check on her friend, and he savored the peace and quiet. He heard her hoof steps coming up the stairs. After washing and pulling the plug, he stepped out, wrapping a towel around him. The Pegasus spread his wings and shook the water off. After he was clean, smelling good and dry, he cautiously approached Spitfire. She looked confused, yet re-assured. It was strange to see her friend in such a way. Her fire coloured mane was messy and tangled, her hooves muddy and worn. She looked amazing to Soarin’. He spoke first,
“Hey, I’m really sorry about what happened. I guess I was just really drunk and I didn’t know it was you. I swear!”
She let out a laugh and looked down smiling. It was just the reaction he wanted. It was going to be okay. They probably wouldn’t talk for a bit and then take it as a joke. Another crazy night out, an adventure which they shared. Before his thoughts took him away, he noticed her moving closer. This was new. He suddenly realised what she was doing. His heart quickened as the adrenaline coursed through him. It felt so wrong, yet so right.
She got close to his ear and whispered,
“You’re not the only one who goes through dry spells.”
His whole world swirled in a cacophony of emotions. Confusion to pleasure, right to wrong. It was all so weird. Before he could respond, her tongue was back in his mouth. He played with it, not giving a shit anymore. If it was going to happen, he might as well make the most of it. She forced him back with the power of her body until his back legs met the bed. He closed his eyes, and that night, he was no longer frustrated.

The End?

Authors note.
Want to read more? My friend has written a more ‘mature’ extended ending. I don’t agree with ‘clopfics’ as such, but I must admit, it’s well written and I won’t judge. If you want to read it, then PM me and I can give you the link.

Thanks to:
Nickstern - Helping proofread and edit the story (google docs banter included, mulit-editing. So funny!).

Another Authors note

I have been wanting to write another fic in a similar style to this, but I have limited inspiration. If you have a story that is interesting, true (or at least, based on a true story), compelling and have the desire for it to be ponified, PM me or comment below saying you're interested.

I will be working with you if I get a response of course.

Chapter 3 - Intoxication

Chapter 3 - Intoxication

Chapter 3 - Intoxication

“ROUND FIVE!” Soarin’ yelled as he planted two large pitchers of a strong unknown cocktail in front of them. The two mares laughed at a joke they indulged in before he returned. He could see they were starting to get really drunk. Soarin’ looked at the clock behind the bar. It read 11:56pm. They had only been there just over an hour and already the room was spinning. Putting a hoof around the jug, he poured his friends a drink before himself. Bluewave winked in response. He smiled back.
They drank and shared stories for the remainder of the pitchers. The club began to play harder music, and he could see Spitfire looking at the dancefloor with lust. He knew what she wanted, and he wanted it too. The alcohol needed to be burned off, and the only way to do that was dance!
Bluewave got up and made her way to the bar, empty glasses levitating in front of her. She stumbled down onto the dance floor, making Soarin’ and Spitfire laugh at her poor drunken hoof-eye coordination. The two friends were alone, but they didn’t say anything for another minute until Spitfire broke the silence.
“I think she likes you.”
Soarin’ blushed. He had chosen his target, and Spitfire knew it. She smiled back at him in reassurance.
“You think so? I like her, she’s awesome.”
“Then go for it stud! I think she’s been going through a dry spell too.”
A sudden burst of alcohol fuelled confidence surged through him. He finished the last of his drink in one foul swoop, and then another before standing and making his way onto the dancefloor.
“I’ll send her your way!” Spitfire yelled after him.
The dance floor was an ecstatic jungle of bodies, sweat, mist, coloured lights and pounding bass. The rhythm of the club had poisoned the dancers, putting them in a collective trance. The heartbeat of the music flowed through them all as the smooth sounds erupted from the daunting speakers. Soarin’ began to move. He didn’t really know what he was doing, but then again, no pony did. He went with it, feeling the beat under his hoof. The lights span in a mixture of alcohol and confusion as he moved his body. The music was brilliant. He looked up to the large DJ booth to see a white unicorn with an electric blue mane and purple glasses. He didn’t recognise her, but the newcomer was good. The music was fast paced and heavy. The blue pegasus danced on by himself, getting in photos and enjoying himself, by himself. This, however soon came to an end.