It hits you like a hammer
You felt the burn of the alcohol flow down your throat, its warmth settling in your stomach. Bringing the glass from your lips, you sighed and massaged your tongue on the roof of your mouth. Your empty glass finding its place on the bar once again.
“Another root beer?” A deep voice gruffed.
You looked across the bar to see the tender there, a mustached brown unicorn stallion, cleaning a mug in his magical grip, “Yeah, Oaken, another would do nice.” You replied.
Oaken Cask nodded and started pouring you another large mug from the tap. You frequented this pub often: the Leaky Barrel; It was a rustic little place, no bigger than your own apartment, and barely big enough to fit the small bar where you sat, and a few tables. This was also the only place you could find a decent drink here in Trottingham (and the only bar with minotaur-friendly seating).
The pub was quite alive at this hour, the murmur of conversation and the haze of pipe-smoke filled the air. It was a Friday night after all, and with the winter weather starting to come down from the frozen north, a lot of ponies were wanting a nice warm-me-up. You didn’t mind the crowd, even in a small place like this, especially since you were the only one sitting at the bar. So long as none of these ponies got touchy-feely (like last time) you’d be alright.
A sizable mug was floated before you, and your empty one was carried away. The liquid within was black as tar, with a nutty brown head. You took a long gulp. It was rather sweet, very much like a soda; the drink left a warm burn of sarsaparilla and alcohol in your throat, and a syrupy sweetness on your tongue. This was sadly the closest thing you could get to a nice stout beer here in this pony land, and it seemed that every hard liquor you tried tasted like fruit or chocolate or other sweet things.
Sighing in shallow contentment with your drink, your mind naturally wandered to the events of the past week. First had come the excruciatingly difficult days at work, then the gaping tear in your only overcoat (right at the edge of winter), and on top of all that, the mare you’d been sweet on went and got with some stallion and skipped town, without even so much as a goodbye. And there you had thought you’d at least been friends…
You’re going to need a few more drinks.
As you rose the mug to your lips, you felt a rush of cold air hit your back, and heard the slam of the door as it shut. The murmuring quieted for a moment, ponies surely peering to eye the newcomer. You sipped your ‘beer’ as hoof-falls thudded against the wooden floor, and heard the pony walk right up behind you. So much for you being left to your own devices.
“Wow, Celestia you’re a big bastard aren’t you.” A feminine voice whistled.
Lowering your mug once more, you went to peer behind you, but jumped slightly as a hoof slammed into the bar, “Manehatten Sunrise, bartender, asap!” The pony shouted, and the conversation in the bar died slightly at the sudden outcry for liquor.
Oaken Cask gave the pony a deadpan look, “I’m right in front of you, no need to shout.”
You took the opportunity to look down at this shouty newcomer. She was a pegasus mare, her teal coat glistening from melted flakes of snow, her orange and yellow mane swept back and slightly unkempt, and with golden yellow eyes peering across the bar in her reared position, her fore-hooves up on a stool.
“Yeah, well I just wanted to make sure you could hear me.” The pony said to Oaken.
The tender looked at you, and turned to take a few bottles off the back shelf. You heard the creaking of the old barstool, and turned to see the pegasus settling her plot in the padded seat. Now her head craned up, and her golden irises fell upon you.
“Wow, your face is really bucking weird.”
You cocked a brow, it was true that when you first arrived here, ponies found your body to be very alien, but most ponies didn’t so much as bat an eye now-a-days, “I get you’re new around here?”
She looked you up and down, or maybe that was a nod? You noticed she was swaying a little bit in the chair, and her face was a little rosy. She’d likely been at another bar (or maybe two) before this, you figured. You weren’t sober either, you’d downed about six of these beers, they were big mugs too; you’d lost some feeling in your mouth and fingertips, and your vision was a bit blurry at the edges.
“Passing through.” She replied, “What? You’ve never heard of me?” You shook your head, “Lightning Dusts’ the name, and speed is my game! And I play to win.” She crossed her forelegs, a smug grin on her face, “I’m a pretty big deal.” There were a few murmurs that rose up from the ponies sitting at the tables at the mention of her name.
You stared at her as she did her little introduction, not so moved by her words, “Nope, that doesn’t ring a bell.”
Lightning Dust’s grin fell slightly, but she recovered quickly, “How in the hay have you not? Ever heard of the Washouts? We’re the best damn fliers in all Equestria!”
Again, you shook your head, “Kind of rings a bell, you all some kind of stunt team?”
“Do you live under a rock or something?”
You gave her a blank stare, “Look lady, if I had a dollar for every hot-shot pegasus that’s rolled through here thinking they’re hot-shit, I’d have a fat stack of cash.” You brought your mug up to drink.
She squinted her eyes at you, “Not like I care that some no-pony doesn’t know who I am.” Leaning on the bar, she eyed your drink, and scrunched her muzzle slightly.
“Something wrong with this?” You shook the mug in your hand lightly, the black gold sloshing around within.
“Yeah, that stuff tastes like cough medicine. How in Celestia can anyone drink that crud?”
“You’ve got to have an iron stomach.” You snided, “And be pretty tough, I guess.”
She squinted her eyes, “I’m tougher than most ponies, colt. But I’d rather not ruin my throat with axle oil.”
“You sure don’t look so tough.”
“I could fly circles around you and be half-way to Canterlot before you could blink.”
“So you’d run from a fight? That’s good to know.”
“That’s not what I meant colt, and you know it!”
“So you think I’m dumb too?”
“You sure as Tartarus aren’t the brightest bastard on the block, especially if you haven’t even heard of me!”
“Again with the ‘me me me’, who are you again?”
“Something more than you’ll ever be, you drooling brain-dead minotaur.”
You took a long gulp of your root beer and smacked your lips, you saw Lightning Dust look away in disgust. Oaken placed a martini glass before the mare, the liquid inside a deep reddish-brown, garnished with an olive, you harrumphed, “You know. Now that I think about it.” You noticed her ear turn towards you as she nursed her drink, “I think I do know about you.”
You looked up at some of the memorabilia settled around the walls, it was all completely random stuff, there only to make the place look not so barren, but in one frame was a poster of the Wonderbolts, the ponies cutting through the sky in their blue flight suits, “Washouts, eh? Kind of like the discount Wonderbolts, right?”
Lightning Dust clenched her jaw as you said that, you were looking at her now, “Shut it colt, don’t talk to me about the Bolts.” She hissed, clumsily sipping the little daiquiri between her hooves, spilling a bit on her muzzle.
“Aren’t they a bunch of rejects? Ponies that couldn’t make the cut?” You leaned over, “Guess that’s why you'd be in with them, right?” You chuckled, waving for Oaken to bring you another beer.
“If you don’t put a cork in it, your already mangled face is going to look like minced hay.” She threatened.
“You know…” You reached for your new glass, “...you’ve got a lot of nerve coming in here and acting like you’re tough-shit. Thinking you’re some hot-shot mare that’s worth knowing about. Why? Because you’re in some stunt show? Get a fucking grip.” You brought the mug just before your lips, the scent of the alcohol intoxicating, “You know what I got to say to that?”
You looked over at the pegasus, her ears were flicking in agitation, her left eye twitching slightly as her face contorted with a mixture of bewilderment and rage, “You’re just chicken-shit.” You touched the cool glass to your lips.
A rush of liquid found itself spilling past your mouth, down your shirt, and even up your nose; the beer burning your nostrils as you coughed and sputtered. Gasps erupted from the bar and the viol player in the corner stopped their song. Once you got your coughing under control, you put the now half empty mug on the bar and looked over yourself:
Your shirt was drenched with cold root beer, and your pants had suffered a similar fate, it looked like you’d pissed yourself. Even now you could feel the syrupy stinkiness from the sugar drying on your hands and face. You looked across the bar to see Oaken with a wide-eyed expression, and to your left Lightning Dust sat with a smug, triumphant grin.
“Alright, filly.” You leaned over towards her, “Let’s play it your way.” You grabbed her little daiquiri and splashed it into her muzzle. The fruity drink you could smell from a mile away, and she quickly went to wipe her face with her hooves. The gasps from the crowd were louder this time.
She was on you in an instant, roaring in anger. Her jump was a bit clumsy, her stool falling over and clattering to the ground. But despite her drunkenness she was still lightning fast. You felt your shirt yanked up as she hovered before you, her muzzle almost pressed to your nose, one hoof ready to beat your face in. You, in turn, snapped one hand to her foreleg, the other to her throat.
“Stop!” The two of you froze and looked over to see Oaken, his horn glowing a dull gray as he powered up a spell, “No fighting in my bar.” He declared, “You two have problems? Take it outside.”
You looked between Oaken and the mare in your face, and nodded, “Alright Oak, alright.” You let go of the mare, and she let go of you, “Outside. Now.” You grunted at the mare. She shot you a venomous look and started for the door. You followed her, but looked back to Oak for a moment, “Save my drink, I’ll be right back.”
Grabbing your coat and beanie cap you were out the door.
It was snowing outside just slightly, and there was about two inches of snow on the ground, you could feel it’s cold even through your boots. It was dark, the only light being that of the moon and the lamp outside the pub’s door, and street lights. You spotted Lightning Dust waiting for you impatiently.
“I should beat the snot out of you, right here, right now.” She growled.
You waved her off, “Why so everyone can see me beat the shit out of you? No. We fight down here.” You started to make your way to the side of the building, where a small alley was.
She shook her head as she peered down into the dim side alley, “Buck no, colt. I’m not letting you cut me down in there.”
You rolled your shoulder, “If I was going to pull, I would have done it in the bar.” You looked down at the mare, a thick wool red scarf around her neck, “And if we fight in the street, we’ll get arrested for sure.”
The mare was silent for longer than a second for the first time this night, likely thinking about it. If you were going to be honest, you didn’t want to fight this mare. You really didn’t feel you were a violent guy, you just tend to speak your mind when drunk. It’s a bad habit that’s gotten you in trouble more than once. Plus, you were already starting to get cold.
“Well?” You said, “We doing this shit or what?” Please say no.
Lightning Dust looked up to you, and squinted her eyes, then trotted into the dim darkness of the alleyway. You blew air out of your nose, and rolled your shoulders, looks like you were doing this.
The two of you went about halfway down the alley, before coming to a stop where there weren’t any doors or random bags or barrels in the way. You’d been mentally preparing during the walk that felt like an eternity, but it still wasn’t long enough. Well, you might as well teach this mare a lesson on humility while you were here, even if you had to beat it into her.
You cracked your knuckles and let Lighting Dust take her place ahead of you, she turned, her nostrils flaring with breath, and her chest rising and falling a bit faster than you had seen before. Was she just as nervous? That fiery look in her eye didn’t betray it to you if she was.
“I’m going to lay you out.” She declared.
You finished putting on your three fingered (fingerless) minotaur-made wool gloves, and stretched your neck, “I’d like to see you try.”
She was on you in a flash, shooting into the air with her wings and leaving a cloud of snow dust behind her. Damn she was fast! Zipping up and down with expertly controlled speeds. Luckily for you, you aren’t as dumb as a ‘drooling minotaur’, and was a bit strategic with choosing the alleyway. It was narrow, the walls nearly sandwiching you just shy a few inches, so Lightning Dust, while quick, didn’t have much space to maneuver.
It was easy to dodge her fast downward sweeps, and block the hits you couldn’t. You were a bit surprised, either she was a very light attacker, or her hooves didn’t hurt as much as you expected (or perhaps it was the alcohol in your system). You could do this all day! You just needed to figure out how to get a hold of the speed demon flying circles around you.
You snapped out at her silhouette with an arm, and caught her leg. She yelped in surprise as the two of you went tumbling into the snow. You went for the grapple, you knew ponies weren’t good wrestlers, and this mare was likely half your weight, it would be a good way to end this fight quickly, you thought.
You pressed against her, keeping a hand on one of her forelegs, another on her neck, though you made sure not to choke her. Meanwhile, you pinned her small hinds with your own legs. She struggled under your weight and you could feel her strike you a few times in the stomach with her free hoof. It hurt, but most of the force was absorbed by your thick coat, so you let her punch and half-kick all day.
Eventually she relented, her breath hot enough to form fog in the cold air. So the two of you laid in a stalemate, belly to belly, your face but a few inches away from her muzzle. You noticed now through your half blurry vision that her face was a bit blushed (even compared to when she walked in the bar), she was clearly very drunk. But, so were you, it made you wonder how your face looked to her. Her eyes were also very nice to look at, something about the ferocity that had swelled up in them.
“Give it up, Lightning, you can’t get out of this.” You stated.
She struggled weakly again in vain, “Buck you.” She sniped.
“I beat you, fair and square. Admit you’re a bitch and I’ll let you go.” You put a bit more force on her neck, hopefully she’ll realize that she’s been beaten. She grunted under the force, her eyes slamming shut, her face going a bit more rosy.
Through a strained breath, she managed a sentence, “Why don’t you make me?”
You felt her hindlegs struggle against you once more, trying to part your legs. She found a bit of success, your soaked knees slipping in the snow. When you let go of her neck to balance yourself, she struck. In a sudden burst of power, she had you on your side, then your back, with her straddling you.
You covered your face, preparing to take a few blows, but instead of hooves striking your hands, you felt something you didn’t expect. Your crotch was suddenly very warm, and was being pressed against hard. You lowered your hands to see Lightning grinding her plot against your lower body.
Now you were drunk, very drunk, and clearly you weren’t thinking properly, but this was a bit much especially in your current state. You watched as this mare, her mane ruffled and unkept, wings extended aggressively, and her face scrunched in a competitive focus, was dry humping you.
“Come on colt.” She grunted through her movements, “Don’t tell me you’re tired already.” She leaned down so close to your face that you could taste the sweet, fruity liquor on her breath, “Or are you really just a limp-dick bastard?”
Even your drunken mind caught on pretty quickly, this mare was clearly into the whole thing (hell, she probably threw the fight), you could feel her mare-juices soaking your pants, and your penis was starting to get painfully hard in your jeans. You mentally shrugged, you hadn’t been laid in awhile, and you could admit that Lighting Dust was pretty cute despite all that crap she’d said in the bar (you’ve surely heard worse).
You turned the tables on her, pinning her as you had before, though this time you were quick enough to pin both her forelegs with one arm. With the other hand you drunkenly fiddled with your zipper and button. She squirmed under you, her legs kicking out trying to find some grip (though, in reality, you felt her spreading them for you).
With your jeans loose, you pulled them down with your underwear and let your hot member expose itself. You heard her gasp as you rubbed it between her soft lower body and your upper crotch.
“I’m going to lay you out.” You smiled deviously.
With one hand you guided your member to her slit, which was already soaking the tip of your length just from resting on her lips, she tried kicking out again, but it wasn’t any use as you entered her quick and rough.
“Hngh!” She moaned through clenched teeth. Her marehood felt divine as you penetrated her sacred place, her slick velvety walls clamping down on you as you soon bottomed out inside her. It felt like you’d just stuck your dick in a furnace, and you grunted from the heat alone. “You bucking…bastard.” She hissed.
“You can…still give up.” You grunted. She tried her best to lock her legs around your waist, and that was the only answer you needed to start pounding into her.
She tried her best not to moan, keeping her mouth shut and her teeth clenched, but as you hammered into her, ravaging her marehood, she couldn’t help but whimper and moan out as the slaps of wet flesh on matted fur echoed through the alleyway. You let go of her forelegs to help yourself balance, figuring she wasn’t going to put up much more of a fight.
You were proven a fool. You don’t know how she did it, but you were on your back again, your member still lodged deep within her pussy. She was in the same position as before, but it was so much hotter taking in her details: her messy, shining mane, her coat matte with sweat, wings stretched out erotically, her face rosy with blush and heat. Not to mention the cute scarf.
You had to admit, she was fucking sexy.
She steadied herself on you, pressing her forehooves against your chest, and rose her rump into the air, pulling on your member with her clenching walls, only to slam down. You instinctively grabbed her tone hips, digging into her soft fur, and helped her ride you with ferocious effort.
Lightning moaned with each hop, joined by your grunts and groans, filling the alleyway with a cacophony of pleasure. As she rode you, you watched her messy mane bounce on her head, a bit down her shoulders where it had been pressed into the snow, and her wings flapped and twitched occasionally.
Without much of a thought, you ran a hand from her rump up her side, and took hold of her wing joint. She moaned out loudly and slammed herself into your pelvis with force. You felt her wing stiffen at your touch, and ran your fingers along the delicate appendage.
“You know I could snap this thing like a twig.” You groaned, entranced by the softness of her wing feathers. Then you parted her primaries, running your fingers between them.
“Aahh~” She clenched down on your member, her head going limp as you caressed the feathers. You didn’t know much about pegasi wing anatomy, but you knew there was magic involved, and these things, especially the feathers, got sensitive during sex. Lightning was a mess at your touch.
“You’re close?” You muttered.
“MMhmm!” She whimpered above you.
You brought the hand that wasn’t molesting her wing to the back of her head, grabbing hold of a hand full of that golden orange hair. She suppressed a groan as you pulled her head back, “Me too.” You muttered right up against her exposed throat.
Then you bite down.
She gasped in surprise, a tinge of metallic blood on your tongue as you started pounding up into her with thunderous force. Your tip bottomed out at every upward thrust, only to pull out nearly all the way, and slam back in. Lightning Dust was basically vibrating on top of you, and you could feel your chin nuzzling against her soft scarf as you held her exposed neck with your teeth.
“OH SWEET CELESTIA DON’T YOU BUCKING STOP FOR ANYTHING YOU BUCKING BUCKER!”
And you didn’t. Not until you could feel the painful pressure growing in your bladder, you were excruciatingly close. It was made worse as the mare clenched around your cock, her walls pulsing as she came, her hot fluids drenching your crotch and lower coat even more than they already were.
You bit down harder on her, twisted the hair in your hand, and clasped around her wing as you reached your breaking point. Like a warhammer crashing into your cold, exhausted body, you came. You felt the thick, boiling hot cum rocket out of your length into her tunnel as you pressed your hips as close to her as possible.
She shuddered as you filled her with your seed, the thick, viscous ropes painting her insides white, and squirting past the tightness of her squeezing walls onto your soaked crotch. You didn’t know how long you stayed there conjoined at the waist, your head pressed against her neck, but you never wanted the feeling to end.
Sadly, such was soon the case. You felt your soft penis slip from it’s confines, unleashing the torrent of virile seed upon your lower body, and you let her neck go, the mark of your claiming clearly visible as small beads of blood matted her fur, and in the true fashion of a drunk, exhausted man, fell back into the snow, gasping for breath.
Lightning Dust worked to get her breath under control with deep, easing ones, and once she finally seemed to get over her earth raking orgasm, managed out a few words, “That…was bucking intense.” You could only nod as she raised herself off you with shaky legs, “But Celestia damn it, you really are a bastard.” She reached down to feel the pool of cum on your crotch, “You came inside, what happens if this bucking knocks me up?”
You looked over at her, “Hopefully…” You fought to catch breath, “...the kid will take after me…maybe then it won’t be such a bitch.”
For the first time, you saw Lightning Dust smile. Not some smug, ego-fueled smile, but a true, genuine one. “Come on you dumb-ass, we’ll catch our death out here.”
You got your pants on and the mare helped you to your feet, “So…where to?” You questioned.
The pegasus walked beside you, letting you lean on her for support, “Back to my place, I’ve got to shower, and hit the sack.”
“But we already did that last part.”
“Don’t make me leave you out here.”
“I’ll survive.”
“You’re a real tough bastard, aren’t you?”
“And you’re one sexy bitch.”
Through the smoke and the haze of the Leaky Barrel Pub, Oaken Barrel cleaned a glass in his magical grip. The laughter and music of the place was muted in his mind, he’d become accustomed to it a long time ago. Hanging the glass up on its place above the bar, he looked to the door and slacked his shoulders.
The human still hadn’t come back, nor that antagonistic mare. It had been awhile. Oaken Barrel debated on calling for the Guard. He looked over to the half finished root beer still sitting on the bar where the human had sat, eagerly awaiting the return of its master.
One thing was for sure: nopony else was going to drink that crud.