Dude's Night Out
You and your best buddy Braeburn are barhopping as more and more bars close for the night. The two of you have been looking for a mare to wreck, but none of the snooty bitches will put out because you're too drunk. And a different species. The racists.
You down the last of your beer, crush the can in your hand, and throw it over your shoulder with a belch, earning you a nasty look from the Bartender.
"Fuck, man. " you say, heading toward the door with Braeburn. "This is the last bar nearby. I guess we have to call it a night."
He stumbles slightly as he gives an exaggerated sigh.
"Yeah, I reckon so."
"Shame." you say, pushing the door open, and walking out into the chilly night. "I was hoping to score some poon tonight."
Braeburn chuckles, followed by a hiccup.
"Why y'all wanna fuck a pony, anyway, Anon? They ain't even your kind!"
"I am so far beyond the point of caring."
"Well, I suppose we could just buy a whore or sumthin'." Oh yeah; prostitution is legal in Appleoosa.
"Are you kidding me? I can't afford one of those overpriced showgirls you guys have here."
"Well, y'all could always find a... "freelance" girl." he says, thoughtfully.
"Ugh... sure, why not. Lead the way."
Braeburn leads the way, stumbling, off the main road and into a series of back alleys. The difference is shocking. The once clean streets are now piled high with garbage and what appears to be various bodily fluids. And the SMELL.
Scattered throughout the alley are mares in various forms of attire, ranging from "slutty nurse" to "slutty maid" to just plain "slut." Looking at the inventory, you sigh again and shake your head.
"I dunno, Brae. These girls still look pretty expensive."
The second you say the word "expensive", a cardboard box in a nearby alley starts to rumble, before a raggy looking zebra bursts from it. The creature bounds up to you in an instant. You and Braeburn exchange a bemused glance. This has to be the ugliest looking thing you've ever seen on your life.
"I'LL SUCK BOTH YA DICKS FO TWENNY BITS"
Shit, for that kind of price, she's beautiful!
"Well well well, that sounds like a great price!" you say, approaching the suddenly pretty, although still very smelly zebra. "Come on, Braeburn, we can't leave this nubile young thing waiting!"
Braeburn recoils slightly, but follows you and the zebra back into her alley.
"So, how are we gonna-"
You're cut off as she throws you against the wall and rips your zipper apart to get your cock out, before going to town on your half flaccid junk. She's not very good at it; you keep feeling teeth and she doesn't use her tongue at all. It doesn't help that you've got a case of whiskey dick that just doesn't want to get up. But, you know what they said about the worst blowjob in the world: It was great.
Eventually, Mr. Happy wakes up and stands attention. Glancing at Braeburn out of the corner of your eye, you see he's standing there, bemused, trying not to laugh, which in turn, makes you want to laugh. However, you have your penis in the mouth of a very angry whore zebra, and you'd hate to be the reason she snaps and bites down, so you hold your laugh in.
Suddenly, you feel her patting around your ass.
"Hey, what are you doi-"
"I DIDN'T TOUCH YO WALLET!"
"What!?"
You step away and check your back pocket. Sure enough, your wallet is missing.
"Where's my wallet!?"
She gets up and tries to run, but Braeburn blindsides her. Bending down over her, you quickly frisk her, finding your wallet in her thick, matted mane. She must have slipped it in while she had you... distracted.
"Bitch!"
You kick her in the ribs and spit on her, then turn to walk away.
"DADDY!" she screeches loud enough to break glass. "I GOT TWO JOHNS WHO AIN'T WANNA PAY!"
Instantly, there's a rumbling in the building beside you, before a nearby door is kicked clear off it's hinges. Out walks a minotaur, a foot taller than you, and absolutely rippling with muscles. He catches sight of the two of you, and snorts; steam shooting from his nostrils. You both stare at each other for a moment.
"Run, bitch! He gonna KILL you!" you hear some random whore yell. Finally snapping your head into gear, you and Braeburn turn and run from the leviathan. He's hot on your tail a split second later.
For a minute, it looks like you might outrun him. Unfortunately, without their zipper, your pants no longer have a way to keep themselves on your body.
They fall to your ankles, your semi-erection flopping around for all to see. A second later, you're knocked off your feet as the minotaur bull-rushes you. Pinning you down, he flips you over, and runs his fist into the side of your face. It's a good thing you're still drunk, or that would have hurt a lot more than it already did. He gears up for another punch, but Braeburn bucks him off you.
"You ain't gonna treat my friend that way!" he yells, standing between you and the wall of beef. He charges the cow man as he stands.
"Go for the knees!" you shout.
Braeburn kicks the minotaur right in the stomach. His hooves bounce right off the iron-like abs of the beast. Before he can react, Braeburn's neck wanders into the minotaurs grasp. He lifts the tiny pony off the ground with one hand, and starts delivering punches to his fleshy stomach.
Looking around quickly, you spot a boarded up window. Climbing to your feet, you nearly trip over your pants. Hobbling over to the window, you tear off a 2x4. Ditching your pants completely, you run behind the minotaur and bash the back of his knees with the board. He screams in pain, and falls backwards, finally drops Braeburn, who lands in a heap, gasping for air.
"I said go for the knees, you stupid shit!"
The minotaur tries to get to his feet again, but you smack his knees again. And again. And a few more times, why not.
The giant pile of muscle lies on the ground crying; you and Braeburn have a black eye and some bruised rips, respectively. You'd call that a victory. The two of you stagger away in silence. You do your best to ignore the stares from the few ponies still out at this hour. Neither of you say a word until you reach your apartment, and Braeburn sets off to his own house.
"Hey Anon!" he calls, just before you close your door.
"Yeah?"
"Wanna go out again tomorrow?"
"Fuck yeah I do!"
