//------------------------------//
// Thirty Drinks Drunk Dirt Cheap 
// Story: Flutterburp 
// by Super Trampoline 
//------------------------------//

	"So, um, where are we going to find all this soda?” Fluttershy asked tentatively.

“Oh, uh, well I have a horde of diet pop stored in the industrial freezer in Twilight’s basement.”

“Twilight has an industrial freezer in her basement? How unusual.”

“Oh yeah,” Spike replied, “she stores cadavers in there for dissecting.”

“Oh, that’s um, nice?” Fluttershy said hesitantly.

The two continued to walk from Fluttershy’s cottage toward the Golden Oaks Library. Fluttershy couldn’t help but feel she was about to dirty herself, and while that made her feel bad, it also made her feel a little naughty thinking about it. She did her best to shove these conflicting feelings to the back of her mind.

Before she knew it, she and Spike had descended the stairs to the basement, and she soon found herself standing in front of a large sturdy door she didn’t remember being there.

“Spike, is this new?” she asked.

“Yeah, pretty new,” he answered. “Twilight had it installed about a month and a half ago with grant money she got from Trottingham University. She’s exhuming bodies from the Ponyville Happy Acres Cemetary to study the genetic history of the town but, well, you know, she’d kind of like to keep that on the DL, if you catch my drift.”

“Oh yes, of course Spike; I won’t tell a soul.”

"Pinkie Promise?"

Fluttershy smiled, relaxing a little. "Yeah, Pinkie Promise."

Spike twisted a metal wheel on the door, and with a grunt, pushed the sliding door to one side. A whoosh could be heard as the cool basement air rushed into the even cooler freezer. The dragon puffed a breath of fire into a hole in the basement wall, and several gas lamps lit up freezer’s vast interior. It had at least the footprint of the rest of the basement, but at the moment had nary but several hundred generic-brand diet soda pop bottles pilled haphazardly in a corner.

"Um Spike, won't these be frozen?" Fluttershy asked as she tepidly stepped into the freezer. 

"Nope, I raised the temperature to thirty seven degrees. They're nice and chilled, that's all."

"Oh, well okay, let's um, bring some out to the desk." Two and three at a time, the duo carried bottles into the main basement room, onto the desk they had cleared of Twilight's crap. Soon they had thirty bottles assembled in front of them.

"So Flutters, you ready to do this?" Spike asked greedily.

"Yeah, I guess I'll try it." Fluttershy sat down on a cushion and popped the cap off the first diet cola with her wings. She lifted it to her muzzle and leaned back, taking a nice long, refreshing gulp of the bubbling liquid.

"Awwwww," the two said, one from the refreshing taste, one from feeling stirring in his loins.

Tens swallows later, the first bottle was discarded back onto the table.

"Okay, there you go Spike," Fluttershy chirped. Really if that made the little drake happy, that wasn't so bad was it?

"Awww, what? That's it?" Spike complained. "Why do you think we brought all these bottles out?"

"Oh, you want me to drink more?" she asked.

"Yeah. Pleeeease?" He looked up at her from across the table/desk with big beady eyes.

"Welll, alright." She took the next bottle and popped the lid again with a satisfying hiss. Soon, it too was empty. She grabbed a third specimen and slurped it titillatingly.

"Oh yeah, that's it Fluttershy. Drink it! Drink that up. Ohhhh Gawddess, that's hot. Yessss"

Fluttershy continued to chug the soda. One bottle after another she downed with frightening speed. two, four, six, seventeen empty bottles of diet generic cola piled up beside her. Spike was staring at her in aroused amazement, jaw slack and his little Spike stiff. "Oh wow."

Amazingly, soon all thirty bottles of diet generic pop had been consumed. "Uuuuuugh, I don't feel so good." Fluttershy moaned.

Spike however, was close to the big moment. "Oh man, that was nice. Now burp Fluttershy! Give me a nice fat belch!"

"Oooof!" Fluttershy moaned as she tried to shift positions, "Ponies can't burp."

That killed his hard on. "Wait, what, they can't?" he asked, alarmed. "I thought..."

"Spike," Fluttershy groaned, "I'm a veterinarian. I know a thing or two about anatomy. Ponies can't burp."

"Oh. Drats. That's a mood killer."

	Or is it...