> Procrastination
>  by DylanDragon
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

> Prologue
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

	
Procrastination


	Prologue—Party Games Ponies Play


	


The room was dark, with only stray strands of light trickling through the closed pink curtains next to the door. The four ponies in the room could hardly see each other, and only faint outlines proved their existence. The smell of cake and frosting wafted through the air, and the humidity in the room increased its perceived sweetness tenfold. Whispering was scattered about:
“Where is he?”
“Shh! It’s supposed to be a surprise,…Lyra?”
“You shh…”
“Do I have to come over and make you both shut up?”
“C’mon, it’s not like he’s coming in right now.”
“Oww, my leg! Stupid table!”
“Shh!”
“Who was that? Was that Big Macintosh?”
“Did that even sound like him?!”
“Eeyup.”
        “Oh stop it, you two.”
        The door suddenly opened and the doorknob hit the wall with a thud. The whispering ceased, leaving a taut silence that seemed to stretch out time like a thin line of rubber. A couple of hoof-steps later, the light turned on, bathing the room in yellowish light. Caramel screamed. 
        “What are you doing here?!”
        “Erm…Surprise!” Rose said awkwardly.
        “Happy birthday, Caramel!” yelled Lyra, throwing her hooves in the air and waving them around. 
        “At least he was surprised,” Bonbon conceded. 
        “Um…heart attack more like it!” Caramel shouted, rubbing his hoof up and down his chest. 
        “Happy birthday, Caramel.”
        “Aww, thanks, Mac!” His heart fluttered. 
        “Psh. Of course Mac gets all the attention.”
        “Be nice, Lyra.”
        “You’re not the boss of me, Bonbon!”
        “As your spouse, by definition I am!” she said triumphantly.
        “So anyways!” Rose said loudly, clopping her hooves together, “We have this really awesome party for you that uh…[cough]…I put together.”
        “Ooh, what is it?” Caramel asked. “I hope there’s not too much dancing,” he thought, “I can’t really dance…”
        “Well, what do you want to do first?” Lyra asked. 
        “Erm…” Anything but dancing “How about a game?”
        “Perfect!” shouted Rose. “Do you ponies wanna play Never Have I Ever? Perfect for getting to know your fellow friends!”
        “Never Have I Ever?” Macintosh asked. 
        “It’s a simple game,” she said, as if that was all the explanation needed.
        “Oh, this game always gets sexual,” Bonbon said, waving her hoof. 
        “So? That’s when it’s the most fun!” Lyra said. 
        “Okay, so I have a deck of cards in the drawer over there,” Caramel said, pointing to the mahogany table in the middle of the living room. They all sat down on the green rug next to the table in a circle. Rose set herself down next to the brown table, preferring to lean against something. Lyra and Bonbon sat together to her left, and to her right, Macintosh and Caramel. 
        “So everyone knows the rules, right?” Bonbon asked. 
        “Ah don’t.” 
        “Oh, well, it’s easy,” she explained, “We go around the circle saying ‘Never have I ever,’ then something you’ve never done. The goal is the pick something that you haven’t done, but other ponies have. And if somepony says something that he or she has never done, but you have, then you take a card from the middle. And we stop when all the cards are gone, and we see who has the most cards. It’s fun! You’ll see!”
        “Eeyup.”
        “Okay, so I say that the birthday colt goes first!” Rose chuckled. 
        “Oh, okay…um…” Caramel began thinking. His mind was drawing a blank. Every possible idea seemed too far away to grab. Oh Celestia, I can’t think of anything…
        “Start with something simple,” Lyra suggested. 
        “Oh, got one! Never have I ever played tennis.”
        “Ooh, good one,” said Rose, as she drew a card. Lyra drew one, as well. Psh. “Good one,” she says. She’s probably just being polite. Caramel mentally giggled. 
        “Ah guess I’m next,” said Macintosh. After a long pause: “Never have Ah ever been to Canterlot.”
        Bonbon let out a small “tcha…” and slid a card from the top of the deck, onto the carpet, and in front of her. 
        “My turn!” said Lyra. “Never have I ever seen a timberwolf!”
        Macintosh silently took a card. 
        Bonbon propped her head on her forelegs. “Hmm…” she mused. “Oh, I know. Never have I ever dated a colt!”
        Everypony else drew a card. “That’s not fair!” Caramel exclaimed with a giggle. 
        “It totally is!”
        Rose thought silently for a moment, then said, “Never have I ever eaten tomatoes.”
        “What? Really?” Bonbon said incredulously. “Never?”
        The mare shook her head. “Never.”
        
        Their game continued for some time, and as promised, the statements grew increasingly sexual and yet, more engaging. This is such a great bonding activity. I’m learning so much about my friends!
        At first, the sexual rounds were only mildly so. Rose made everypony else draw a card with, “Never have I ever kissed somepony of the same gender.”
        Then, it became more so: “Never have I ever made love to somepony outside of home,” and “Never have I ever used bondage equipment.” Maybe I’m learning too much…
        The game continued in its depraved vortex of sexuality until Lyra’s turn. “You know, we all have so many cards except for Caramel and Macintosh,” she observed. “This one’s just for you two. Never have I ever had sex with a stallion.”
        Caramel coughed. “Erm…” his voice faltered. He gradually became aware of the faint buzzing coming from the fluorescent lights in the silence of the room. 
        Macintosh remained silent and looked at the corner where two walls meet the ceiling.
        “What…aren’t you going to…oh Celestia, really? Really? Really?!”
        Bonbon giggled. “You shush, Lyra. Nothing wrong with that.”
        “Wait, you’ve never…?” Rose asked. 
        Macintosh shook his head. “Eenope. We’ve only been datin’ for about a year.”
        “Our anniversary is next week,” Caramel said softly. Wow, am I really that much of a prude? Is it standard to make love to your coltfriend at the six-month mark? Two months? I’ve heard of some couples doing it on their first date! Is there something wrong with me? Something wrong with…us…?Oh Celestia, it’s a sign that we’re not meant to be! 
        “There’s nothing wrong with that, Caramel,” Bonbon said airily, waving a hoof around as if swatting a fly in slow motion. Then, she laid it on his foreleg. “You and Big Macintosh just take your time. I mean, Lyra and I waited a month to do it—”
        “Really?” interrupted Rose, “I normally uh…I kinda do it within a week.”
        “Everypony has different…schedules,” Lyra added. 
        “So…we’re not…weird…?” Caramel asked tentatively, clopping his hooves together shyly. 
        “Well…it’s…unusual…but not bad…” Lyra said. 
        Caramel nodded. I feel so pressured to…do it…but…I don’t really want to. What if something goes wrong? What if it ruins everything? What does Mac think? He looked over to his right, and thought he saw the red stallion wink at him. 
        Caramel fainted.

> Rumor Has It
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------


Procrastination


Chapter 1—Rumor Has It

 
                The ponies outside shoved into one another. On Saturday mornings, the marketplace was crowded, and seeing as it was spring, the flower shop was especially busy. Customers flocked to the store, and every new pony brought promises of profit. The little bell on the door tinkled frequently, and the line looped around in front of the cashier twice.
                Frazzled, Rose rushed back and forth between the back room and the front desk. Her handling so many flowers gave her an unmistakable patina of pollen in her cream-colored fur, and Caramel was sure that her repeated paths between the two rooms would cause the tiles to have a permanent track. Ponies edged to the front of the line and bought arrangements off the shelf, or gave special orders. Some asked for arrangements of roses only. Others ordered bunches of all yellow. One pony wanted a bouquet that consisted of red and orange flowers in a striped pattern.
                Caramel worked silently in the back, and was unaffected by the chaos outside. Rose’s hard work in the front obviated any need for Caramel to take his eyes off of his creations. His hooves worked delicately—at least he imagined it to be—around each petal, and his inserting flower stems into the green foam was gentle, yet deliberate. Green and purple contrast nicely…I really like the orange here. But roses don’t go well with cosmos. I haven’t used tulips in awhile. How about some more orange here, between the greens? Yeah, I like that. That’s good.
                The tan stallion pushed his most recent creation to the edge of the metal island counter, and returned to his own end. Soon enough, Rose burst in through the blue cloth curtains, grabbed the basket of flowers in her mouth, and promptly left to sell it.
                Saturday mornings always looked like this. Until around noon, there was no rest. Rose frantically sold, and Caramel quietly created. Once the flow of customers died down, however, the shop was nearly empty, and boredom ensued.
                Without the clattering of the customers, the sound of cicadas chirping outside was faintly heard through the open door. The soft breeze blew inside, swirling the pollen and fallen petals on the floor.
                Rose sighed and shook herself all over, freeing some of the pollen, but unsuccessful in ridding herself of all of it. Caramel licked his hooves, nursing the newest pricks he had received from the thorny roses. Celestia as my witness, someday I will work here and not cut myself at all. Caramel sighed. Why do I have to be so clumsy…?
                “Oh Luna…” Rose sighed, as she came into the back room. “That was a busy morning…”
                “Saturday,” Caramel shrugged, “what do you expect?”
                “True…Hey, did you like the present I gave you yesterday?”
                “Yeah! I really liked it, thanks! I needed a suit…” I’m sure Mac liked it, too…
                Rose chuckled. “Good! Oh yeah! Remember when I told you that it was just part one? And I would give you part two today?”
                “Oh um, yes. What’s part two?”
                “Well, I didn’t want to say it in front of the others…I got you a year’s subscription to Stallion Style!”
                “Um…that’s a magazine, right?” I can tell because of the word “subscription.”
                “Yes. It’s a…no foals magazine…Thunderlane recommended it.”
                “So…I’m guessing that…” He would do something like that…
                “Yeah…apparently, last month’s theme was ‘Colts in Jocks.’ Sounds interesting…”
                Caramel blushed. “Um…thanks…”
                “Here’s the first issue…Oh, and the subscription comes with a pair of free hoofcuffs. So uh…yeah. Look out for those in the mail.” She displayed her jazz-hooves to emphasize the excitement she expected him to have.
                Caramel took the magazine in his hooves. The front cover displayed a tightly muscled stallion, whose everything would have shown, had there not have been the subscriber’s address conveniently blocking it.
                “Thanks, Rose…” Caramel said, stuffing the magazine into his saddlebag. “Well, I’m going to go now, if that’s alright. I have to go work on my anniversary present.”
                “Well technically, I still got you for two hours, but since it was your birthday yesterday, I’ll let you go early. Part three, if you will.” She tilted her head to the left and smiled. She straightened her neck. “Oh, you’re making one yourself?”
                “Eeyup!” he giggled. I sound like Mac!
                Rose laughed. “Well, good luck. I’m sure he’ll love whatever you make!” She shouted the last part, for the stallion was already partly out the door.
                Rose is such nice pony. But I think she understands me too well…Stallion Style, huh? Sounds exciting…Is this what my love life has come to, though? Caramel sidestepped a mare and her foal coming down the road. He set his course for the sculptures shop. Why do I need those magazines when I have a coltfriend? Is it because we don’t…do…that…? I mean…is our relationship…broken? Caramel shook his head violently, trying to break out of the harmful thoughts. Nah, that’s silly. Lyra said there’s nothing wrong with that. He nodded affirmatively. He noticed a few schoolfillies looking at him funny. He smiled awkwardly and continued walking.
                Caramel arrived at the blue sculpture shop. The owner’s name was Vidro Indigo. They went to college together, and kept in touch. Vidro Indigo, true to his name, was a deep shade of blue. His mane and tail were a light purple, and he was known to be quite the gentlecolt. Some attributed his sophistication to his foreign background, but Caramel knew it was because he was raised by a successful business-pony whose name was never disclosed. His cutie mark was so faint, that some ponies didn’t see it at all. It was, in fact, a pane of glass. Vidro’s works of art were all made of glass, and Ponyville citizens paid high prices for extremely intricate moldings and sculptures.
                Inside, there were wooden shelves arranged in aisles. They held various glass figurines. Some were ponies. Some were animals. Caramel spotted a shelf dedicated to pony mythology. He continued into the back room, where Vidro was working on shaping marbles.  
                Caramel had been coming to Vidro’s shop—creatively named “Solid Water”—for the past month. In his spare time, Vidro had been teaching him how to create his own sculpture. He had finally finished the sculpture itself the day before. It was a crude depiction of two stallions snuggling on top of a giant apple.
                After spending weeks making a clay version, the brown prototype was encased in a polymer-based liquid that hardened into a mold. Just less than twenty-four hours ago, under the watchful eye of Vidro, Caramel poured molten glass into the mold. Today, he would be polishing the sculpture, completing the month-long process from sand to sculpture.
                “So just hold it up against the drum. Let the cotton do the rest,” the blue stallion said with a slight accent.
                “Like…this…?” Caramel asked tentatively, using his hooves to push his creation into the white rotating belt. It was almost as big as his head, which made it difficult to maneuver.
                “Yes. Perfect!”
                Caramel angled his creation different ways, so the rotating cotton drum could reach every crevice and wrinkle in the glass. He took the statue in his hooves and admired it. The light from the open window to his left caught on the curves and the facets of his creation. The rays of sunshine reflected throughout the glass piece, and scatterings of rainbows shone in streaks of curves and angles across the tiled floor. Even the glass version of Big Mac is good-looking. I look so average next to him.
                “I’ll go get a box,” said Vidro, leaving.
                Caramel tilted it in the light, creating more rainbows.
              Suddenly, something captured his attention. What was that? I heard something…I know I did…what was it…?
                “Of course, that Big Macintosh! Which one were you thinking of?” came a very loud feminine voice from the store. Big Macintosh…The name piqued his curiosity immediately.
                “Keep your mane on, Crystal,” said another voice. This one was a bit lower, but still filly-like, perhaps even older.
                That’s my coltfriend! What are you talking about…? Suspicious, Caramel silently stepped to the side of the silver curtains separating the back room and the store.
                The voices continued. “So what about him?”
                “Well, I saw him…”
                “Congrats, Crystal. Is that it?”
                “Let me finish! I saw him…going into the Colt Club last week…”
                “…The Colt Club?”
                “Yeah. You know…that coltcuddlers bar over by Daisy Street?”
                “Uh…I don’t go to coltcuddler bars, if you haven’t noticed.”
                “Oh, you should come!”
                “What?! But it’s a coltcuddler bar! I’m not a coltcuddler! I’m not even a colt!”
                “Inky!, lots of mares go there! It’s better than a bar where half the stallions are hitting on you.”
                “Oh…”
              Caramel had heard enough. Big Macitosh? Going to a…coltcuddlers bar? Without me? Why would he do that?
                Okay, Caramel…don’t overreact again. It’s just a silly rumor. I’m sure he’s never been to any…Colt Club…He wouldn’t be unfaithful to you like that. He’s Big Macintosh! He’s not some kind of cheater! He’s my coltfriend, and I trust him.
                “Is this good?”
                “Hrm? Wha…?” Caramel turned around. Vidro gave him a red box with pink ribbons.
                “I said, ‘Is this good?’” He raised an eyebrow and smiled.
                “Oh yes. Thanks so much!”
                “You’re welcome. Good luck!” he called out as Caramel left with the boxed up statue in his mouth.
                Caramel saw the two mares still in the store. They were both lavender Earth ponies, but their hair styles were different. As he left, he cast them a glare dirty enough to make Rarity cringe.
 
                “Hi Mac!” Caramel said cheerily. He waved at the stallion coming out of the barn.
                “Howdy, Caramel.”
                “I was wondering…” he said, looking down and drawing little circles in the dirt with his hoof.
                “Yes…?” came the slow, low reply.
                “Maybe you’d like…to come see a movie with me tonight? Er…right now?” Caramel looked up hopefully after noticing the time, and his circles veered off-center to form spirals and springs.
                Macintosh drew a deep breath through his teeth. “Ah can’t…Ah’m sorry. Ah have plans tonight. Maybe tomorrow night?”
               “Oh um…okay…what are you doing tonight?” You’re not going to that coltcuddler bar, are you? Nope, nope, nope, nope, nope, bad thoughts, bad thoughts, nope.
                “Uh…just errands. Stuff Ah gotta do.”
                “Like…?” He took a step toward him.
                “Like…” Macintosh took a step back. “Like goin’ to Miss Rarity’s to get a hat fixed…”
                “Your hat looks fine…” Another step forward.
                A step back. “It’s uh…frayed on the inside. Ah’ll see ya later, Caramel. Love ya.” Twenty steps back. Macintosh walked off toward the setting sun.
                The Carousel Boutique is to the east of Sweet Apple Acres…But…Daisy Street is to the west…Caramel’s chest tightened, and his heart slid half a meter down his body and into his abdomen. Where are you going…? Please don’t be that place…please don’t be that place…


> You Can't Handle the Truth
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------


Procrastination


Chapter 2—You Can’t Handle the Truth


 

                The inside of The Colt Club was painted a light purple, and the dim lights cast faint shadows on the walls, flickering like an old-style movie. On the left were tables with green leather cushions, the kind that squeaked when somepony sat on them. Scattered here and there, mares were sitting at those tables, chatting while sharing hay fries with fruity drinks. On the right was a bar with a working bartender with an obviously dyed mane. At the bar sat many stallions, also with fruity drinks. To the back was a dance floor, bathed in darkness save for the hundreds of multicolored lights on the floor, on the ceiling, and rotating and flashing with different patterns on the walls. Ponies—mostly colts—danced on the floor, most by themselves, others with a partner (or for the more promiscuous ones, three). Even from outside, the heavy bass of the music could be heard. It might have been the fruity drinks, or perhaps the perfume worn by the mares and some of the stallions, but there was an unmistakable scent of coconut in the air—the kind that was overpowering if one stood too close to its source.
                Sitting on one of the blue barstools was a red stallion with a green apple for a cutie mark. The bartender mixed him a hard apple cider. Next to him, a gray pegasus with a thundercloud cutie mark ordered the same.
                “So what did you want to know?” the gray one asked.
                “This is kinda embarrassin’…”
                “It’s okay. We’re friends, right? I mean c’mon…I told you like…everything back in service…”
                “Alright. Do y’all know anythin’ about…?” the red stallion leaned in close, “love-makin’?”
                “Er…you mean sex? Yeah…I think so…” He raised an eyebrow.
                “Can ya teach me?”
                “Whoa, whoa, whoa. Mac…I got a fillyfriend…and she would probably turn me into an orange if I did anything like that…”
                “Ah meant…like…just explain it…”
                “Can’t you look it up…?”
                “Ah uh…Ah’d like to stay away from the library as much as Ah can.”
                “Still awkward?”
                “Eeyup.”
                “Okay…well…I guess I could teach you.”
                “Really? You’re the first one to say yes. Everypony else says Ah should figure it out myself. Thank ya, Thunderlane.”
                He shrugged. “I’m special like that. So, the first thing is—wait…Do you want the nice colt version or the dirty colt version?”
                “Uh…” Mac stared blankly.
                “Well, Caramel’s more sensitive than a filly in estrus, so probably the nice colt version…”
                “He ain’t that sensitive.”
                “Sure…” Thunderlane winked. He shook out gray hooves and cricked his neck. “So basically, start with the mood. Make sure it’s…romantic? He’s uh…he’s more of the lovey-dovey type, ain’t he? Gotta have the mood before you get the goods.”
                “Thunderlane.”
                “Oh…sorry…”
              “Ah just need the details on the actual…ya know…how do ya do it? Ah just wanna make sure he’s not hurt.”
                “Okay…” He took a sip from his apple cider. “Start by…exploring each other. Get…passionate? I guess? That’s probably a good word with it. I should probably start paying attention to Twilight’s vocabulary lessons on our dates…”
                “How do Ah do that?”
                “Oh Celestia…” Thunderlane face-hoofed. “I really gotta teach you everything, huh?” The gray pegasus put his hooves on the red stallion’s shoulders and slowly slid them down. “Like that. Just…do things with your hooves until he moans. That works.”
                “Okay…”
                “Then, as things really start getting heated, you go for the cock. Like…just go for it…do what you want…”
                “Er…” Mac blushed, turning his cheeks a deeper red.
                “This thing here, buddy,” Thunderlane said with a smirk, poking his hoof at the special area between Macintosh’s haunches.
                Macintosh closed his hind-legs. “Ah get it.”
                “Then, you…Well, I’m guessing you’re dominant, so I guess then you penetrate him.”
                “Penetrate?”
                “Yeah…stick your love rod into his love tunnel. He’ll love that and scream for it. And you, too…” he added hastily.
                “Anythin’ else Ah need to know?”
                “Oh definitely, yes. For the love of Luna, use lube. If you don’t, he’ll scream so loud, he’ll wake up Fillydelphia.”
                “Ah thought you said screamin’ was good?”
                “Uh…other type…”
                “Er…could ya explain to me more on that stuff about…everythin’?”
                “Oh Celestia, I’m sorry, Mac. This stuff…you just can’t teach. I’m sorry, but you just have to learn it for yourself, okay? You gotta have experience. That’s just it.”
                “Where do Ah get experience?”
                “With your coltfriend! Go and…mate with him until he can’t move. That’s what I’d do with him if I were you.”
                Macintosh glared at him. “Can Ah…practice with you? Like the stuff before pentation?”
                Thunderlane groaned. “Fine. But no touchy the special areas. This is all reserved for Twily.” He made circular motions with his hoof in front of those areas.
                The red stallion rolled his eyes. “Ah know. Just for practice.”
                Thunderlane got up from his stool and stood in front of the stallion. He began sashaying his hips like a filly, swinging them from side to side so that his tail whipped around. He batted his eyelashes and held his hoof close to his chest. “Hey there, Mac…Wanna make me yours tonight?”
                “Er…sure…Caramel…” Macintosh put his right hoof on Thunderlane’s shoulder. Closing his eyes tightly, he slid it down slowly until it hit the pegasus’ abdomen.
                Thunderlane jerked away. “Okay, I’m sorry. This is just so awkward.”
                “You’re right. Ah feel…dirty…” He looked at his hoof with disdain.
                “Yeah. Do it with your coltfriend. Do what feels…right…Just go and have fun with him, okay? You’ll figure it out. It’s not hard.”
                “Okay. Thanks, Thunderlane.”
                Macintosh turned to leave.
                “Hey Mac?” the pegasus called out.
                He turned around.
                Thunderlane saluted firmly, bringing his right hoof up to his forehead.
                Macintosh smiled and returned the gesture before stepping through the open door into the night. He sniffed the cool air, glad to be in an environment without the sickly stench of coconut. He heard some mares chatting as they walked down the street next to him. They giggled when they spotted him. A cat mewed in the alleyway behind, probably looking for its own dinner. The slight breeze made him shiver, but looking into Luna’s moon, he found warmth—enough to journey back to Caramel’s home to apologize.
 
                Celestia’s sun was slowly setting, and only part of the golden orb glowed half-heartedly above the horizon. Caramel waited thirty seconds until the red stallion was far enough away before silently following. Once on the main road outside Sweet Apple Acres, he kept a safe distance, always walking on the other side of the street to maintain a minimum length between them.
                Thoughts of disloyalty and unfaithfulness simmered his mind. I should trust him. He’s my coltfriend. I need to trust him…But…those horrible mares said that he was going there! I don’t want him to go there! Ohh…what if he’s doing…other things with other stallions? Doesn’t he love me? Psh. Of course he does. He…does, right? He’s not going there; he just can’t be. Ha, he isn’t…
                No matter what he told himself, he couldn’t shake off the thoughts that convinced him bit by bit that Macintosh had left him. His imagination carried him from reality to the crumbly realm of drastic speculation.
               The sinking feeling inside him increased with every step—every step that brought him closer to the Colt Club. When the purple and blue building appeared in his vision, his chest felt as though it were exploding. When he saw Macintosh going inside—even after silently begging him not to—it became the opposite. Caramel’s heart began to squeeze tighter and tighter.
                I KNEW IT! HA! YOU CAN’T TRICK ME. HAHA!
But…why… Why…? Why here…? Why are you here, Mac? Please tell me you’re not here for some colt…I’m your colt…You said that you love me! Are you here to meet with a mare, Mac? Please talk to mares, Mac…I know you’re not interested in them…Are you here to get a drink? Get a drink and go!
                He watched through the large window. In order to keep himself semi-hidden, he stood off to one side, only letting the side of his muzzle poke out from the edge of the window. He knew other ponies on the street saw him staring inside, but he tried to ignore them.
                Bit by bit, Caramel collapsed inside. When he saw the gray stallion, he gasped in horror. When he recognized him, his knees became weak. You! Stay away from him! He almost screamed out loud. At first, he rationalized. Maybe they just met randomly… He found more and more possibilities. He gave Macintosh every chance to explain, to escape. He gave his heart every chance to stay whole, to be safe. Maybe they’re just here for…friend reasons… As the sun set, however, so did Caramel’s hope. He began running out of chances to give, and the truth dawned upon him. It was like he were falling off the edge of a building, trying to save himself, but only seeing the pavement that would eventually meet his lifeless body with a deep thud.
The sight of Thunderlane touching his coltfriend made him sink down onto the hard cement sidewalk. The little pebbles imbedded themselves into his tan fur, and his cheeks tickled when the first tears rolled down. He didn’t care who saw him now.
When Mac touched him back, Caramel smiled. Of course…This is why you’re here. You love him. With that realization, his mind finally broke. The last few strands of sanity snapped, and he began sobbing. I thought you loved me. You said that you loved me. You lied. Why did you lie to me, Mac? He suddenly laughed. Of course. You would never truly love somepony like me. Nopony would. He let out a few more heavy, almost forced, laughs. The universe hates me. Nothing good ever comes to me. Even the one good thing I thought I had was actually fake. Outside the window lay Caramel with tears running down his face, whimpering softly. Eventually, the sounds died down, and he was only mouthing the words, “How could you?”
Through the peripherals of his blurred vision, he caught sight of Macintosh getting up to leave. Don’t come near me. Please don’t hurt me anymore…Please… He stood up with difficulty, for his legs were still shaking from shock. He almost fell onto a cat that was eloping every which way. Every time he blinked, more tears escaped, and the world became darker. He took a few steps, breathing frequently and shallowly. The air rasped in his throat, and he was very aware of the air flow rushing through his windpipe. His head swung side to side, liberating more tears, and for a moment, he thought he would throw up. His head pounded, and sensation dwindled in his hooves. He broke into a canter, a quick trot, and then he did the only thing he could think of doing. He ran.


> Neighlor Swift Has it Rough
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------


Procrastination


Chapter 3—Neighlor Swift Has it Rough


 

                As Caramel ran, the little pebbles that wriggled themselves into his fur when he lay on the sidewalk shook free. His head dangled side to side, as if he were shaking his head violently to deny the reality he watched. His hooves ached from the running, as did his tongue, which he kept tightly locked between his teeth to prevent himself from crying—not that it worked. The tears flowed anyway, and the wind that rushed past his face only served to drive the pearly droplets off-course and across his cheeks. I want to go home, I want to go home, I want to go home, I want to go home, I want to go home…He whined and whimpered while he ran, from both grief and exhaustion.
                He passed the two mares who he overheard while in Solid Water. At the sight of them, he suddenly wished to sprint over and thwack his hoof across their smug muzzles. Far too reserved for such violent behavior, he resisted. He didn’t have the courage to look back to see if Macintosh saw him. His mouth began tasting salty for two reasons. Firstly, his biting his tongue had finally drawn blood. Secondly, the urge to throw up increased while he was running.
                Finally, his house came into view. Once inside, he locked the door with fumbling hooves, closed all the curtains, and stumbled into the bathroom.
                His tiled bathroom had a shower in the corner, and that was his destination. On his way there, he caught sight of himself in the mirror. He paused. His face was matted with tears, and he was still breathing heavily. True crying had not set in yet, but he knew the heaves would eventually come if he let them. Some of the pebbles weren’t free from his fur yet, and were embedded near his joints and in his tail. This isn’t happening. Please Princess Celestia, please come and take me away right now to a mental hospital. Please tell me I’m crazy. I didn’t lose Big Macintosh…I just can’t…
                Breathing heavily, he staggered into the shower, almost tripping on the metal railways caulked to the tiled floor. He slid the shower doors closed on the rails and turned on the cold water. Since it was almost summer, the water wasn’t freezing, but it was chilling. It rained upon him and splashed on the tiles and the glazed glass doors, leaving crystal clear droplets that ranged in size from miniscule beads to pea-like. His round abdomen flexed inward because of the sudden cold, and his teeth chattered. The remaining dirt and sand washed out of his fur and trickled into the drain.
                His breathing was still heavy, and he whimpered. It’s not real…It’s not real…What I saw was just a hallucination... Caramel turned the handle on the faucet to the furthest right he could manage, and slightly colder water poured on his head. Maybe I can drown myself here… Deciding against a death by drowning, he turned off the water and stepped out of the shower.
                Caramel dizzily and clumsily walked directly to his dark bedroom without drying off. The air brushing past him as he stumbled down the hallway made it feel colder. The numbing of his flesh calmed him down. He fell back onto his twin bed with a flump, letting the water transfer from his fur to the sheets. He kicked out his legs in frustration, whining loudly with no words—just repeated sounds of disappointment and desperation. His thrashing hooves pulled the blankets out of their neat corners, and he wrapped himself in the fluffy blue sheets. The uncomfortable feeling of his wet fur against the damp sheets elicited another set of shivers. His bed sheets smelled musky, but he ignored it and tightened their grip around him.
                I didn’t see that. I didn’t see anything. Macintosh and Thunderlane were not…doing…things…I’m crazy. I’m just crazy. It was all a dream. I’m here in my bed, and I just woke up, and I had a horrible nightmare that Mac was with another colt, but he really loves me. He loves me. He only loves me because I only love him. He stretched, simulating his waking up. He hoped with all his heart that the sun was out and Macintosh was working at the farm, looking forward to seeing his colt later that day. When he finally opened his eyes, however, it was still dark. It was still night. He was still wet. Mac was still with Thunderlane.
                No…no…I can’t…He couldn’t…You couldn’t, could you, Mac? He closed his eyes, squeezing out more tears. The image of the large stallion formed in his mind. Mac? Why were you there? Please tell me that you love me…Please…? I need to hear it… The ghostly Big Macintosh said nothing. Mac…you were with Thunderlane, weren’t you…? You…you…you love him, don’t you? You hate me, right? You never loved me? I’m a horrible pony who doesn’t deserve anypony and I should die, right? You want me to die, Mac? You really want me to die? I…I…Why don’t you love me anymore? Caramel gasped. Is it because we haven’t done anything yet? Is it because we haven’t…made love? Another gasp. And you don’t find me attractive so you don’t want to…That’s why…
                By this time, Caramel was sobbing heavily. His stomach tucked inward erratically as he cried, and his throat burned from the rasping sounds he made. “M-Ma…Maaaaac…” he moaned. He halfway hoped that his stallion would appear next to his bed, apologizing profusely and explaining that what he saw was not really what it seemed. In the other half of his mind, however, it all made sense. Macintosh didn’t find him attractive at all, not physically or emotionally or any other type of –ally there was. It explained why they hadn’t done anything yet. Until the party yesterday, I didn’t even know that it wasn’t normal…I should have known… Now Mac has a new colt…
                He closed his eyes again, preferring the imaginative Macintosh over the real one who broke his heart. Mac…? Again, the image said nothing. Remember yesterday at my birthday party? And afterwards you stayed behind? And helped me clean up and stuff? And then…And then I asked you why you loved me so much? And then you said it was because I was so special and irreplaceable? Well…you said another word, but it meant that. Macintosh made no sign of recognition. But you replaced me…You love Thunderlane…You never loved me…But I loved you so much! I would have given you anything! I would have given you my life…Would it make you happy if I gave it to you? Would you love me? Please love me… The memory of Big Macintosh’s words—real and imagined—increased his misery. Caramel had unknowingly set forth the vortex of memories that would torture him to—and past—the brink of insanity.
                They rushed forth, and like tree branches, when one emerged, the rest rustled. Caramel drowned himself in his experiences. Remember when it was your birthday, and I baked you a cake, but it tasted really bad, but then you still ate it, and you said I was perfect anyways? Also, remember when we went to see La Chupacaballito, and I got scared, so you held me for half of the movie? And remember when I got hurt on the farm and you took care of me? That was when I found out I love you, Mac…
                Each memory of what he had before, and what he had lost, found a fragment of his heart and stepped on it, grinding it into the dust until it could no longer be put back together. Caramel longed to be in the past—with a Macintosh that loved him—not in the present, with nothing but pain. “Maaac…” he moaned, “It hurts…so much…” He whispered, “Please make it stop…” His words were fragmented, broken up by his sobbing.
                He swiped at the red box with pink ribbons on his nightstand to get it closer to him, although it took him a few tries through his vision clouded with tears. He noticed his foreleg was drenched. The covers he had wrapped himself in combined with his heavy sobbing mixed perspiration with the water, creating a sticky coat. He ignored the uncomfortable sensations. It distracts me from the real pain.
                Once in his grip, he opened the box and took out the glass statue he had spent a month creating. The glass apple was nearly perfectly curved, and under the moonlight streaming through the cracks in the blinds, he tried to make out the tiny figures at the top.
                There he was. There was a happy Caramel. They love each other. They still do. But not me…Why doesn’t my Mac love me…? He held the sculpture closely, hugging it close to his chest. He squeezed more and more, wishing he could somehow switch places with the Caramel on the apple. Part of him wanted the glass to shatter in his embrace. He knew that if it did, it would fragment into millions of shards, cutting him repeatedly until he was just a wet, bloody mess on his bed. At least it would be something else other than this…this pain…Anything but this…
                Caramel rolled conically in his sheets to the foot of his bed. He took a breath and rolled off, falling half a meter onto the carpet. He groaned, kicking half-heartedly until he escaped from his tangled blanket prison. His head was almost completely soaked with some sweat and water, but mostly tears. He stumbled into the hallway still sobbing and moaning his stallion’s name. Finally, he reached the kitchen.
                Reaching into the top drawer below the counter table, he shuffled the contents inside before he used his mouth to pick up a smooth-edged knife with a black handle. The blade glinted in the moonlight shining in from the window, and for a moment, he could see his reflection, until it was broken up by the sharp edge. Still holding the knife with his teeth, he staggered into the living room and lay down on the carpet. The fuzzed carpet stuck to his wet fur, and made his stomach feel clammy. He reached up with his right hoof onto the table and swiped down a picture of Big Macintosh.
                Seeing the image of what he had lost gave him another pang in his heart, and the tears leaked out faster. It hurts too much…I want to feel something else…He stared at the picture. Have a nice life with Thunderlane, Mac…I hope you’re happy with him… He positioned the knife above the hoof on his left foreleg and turned his head sharply, cutting past his yellow-tan fur and into his flesh. Immediately, deep ruby red liquid leaked out. It stained the fur around the cut and dripped down onto the carpet.
                It burned superficially, and the slitting of his foreleg caused Caramel to wince. He opened his mouth in pain and dropped the knife. In doing so, he caught another glance at the photograph—another reminder of why he couldn’t deal with the pain of losing Macintosh. Gripping the knife in his teeth, he cut himself again, a centimeter below the first. He dropped the knife again. This time, Macintosh faded from all conscious thought. The only thing that hurt was his foreleg. He sighed in relief, focusing on the physical pain emanating—yet dulling—on his left foreleg.
                Suddenly, the memory of Macintosh touching Thunderlane inundated into his mind, and he cried out in agony. I can’t… He picked up the knife and worked his way up his foreleg. One by one, he carved notches, some a few centimeters long, others much more. Rows of red lines and flowing blood decorated his foreleg. It leaked down the sides in branching rivers. It trickled through his yellow fur, dying it red, and pooled onto the floor. It hurt, but it never hurt more than the knowledge that Macintosh was loving somepony else.
                The pain lessened as the cutting continued. A sense of calm crept over him, and he continued. The pain of Macintosh’s leaving him dulled slowly until it was only a weak whisper in the back of his mind. The burning in his foreleg also diminished. In fact, it was starting to become numb. Not just his foreleg…his whole body… He closed his eyes, squeezing out another tear, and let out one more moan, “Maaaac…” before blacking out.


> I Want to Believe
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------


Procrastination


Chapter 4—I Want to Believe

 
                The sounds of a clock ticking, the clopping of hooves on hard floor, voices garbled by a thin wall, soft beeping of some kind of…machine, the incessant buzzing of fluorescent lights, and the vents blowing air, all tapped on Caramel’s ears, causing them to twitch in every direction. He only now realized the smell of cleaning fluid, alcohol, and cheap detergent.
                He stretched his arms and legs out, bending his tan body backwards. He held his breath as every muscle was pulled taut, and then released his breath as they all relaxed. He rubbed his eyes, and sighed in relaxation, keeping them closed. It’s so loud in here! Is there a construction zone outside my house? Ugh…
                Suddenly, everything came back to him—seeing Macintosh with Thunderlane, the crying, the cutting, and then…nothing else. In a panic, he sat up and opened his eyes to see a room he didn’t recognize. The floors were made of white and gray linoleum, and the walls were painted light blue. It was brightly lit by the buzzing lights. His bed was made of dense plastic, and his sheets were scratchy and white. He gasped when he saw the machines next to him. In a flurry, he took off the electrodes on his chest and head, but didn’t have the courage to remove the intravenous needle in his right foreleg. His left foreleg was wrapped up with white gauze. He turned his head left and saw a red stallion sleeping on a black corduroy-lined couch that was clearly too small for him.
                I…I’m in the hospital? Why am I here…? Why is…WHY IS HE HERE?! Tears silently dripped from his eyes. Did I…did I cut too far? Oh… He looked over at Macintosh, who was still sleeping. He…He stayed here for me? His heart began to rebuild itself from shattered fragments. Hope seeped into his chest. He’s here for me…
                Right then, he remembered why he was crying in the first place. Oh…Forget it. He doesn’t love me anymore. What I had before…it’s gone. It’s all gone. Mac doesn’t love me anymore, and I can never get him back. I’d be kidding myself if I thought I could somehow have him again. Construction fell apart, and his heart exploded again. He let out a whimper, and fought the urge to cry harder.
                Hearing the sounds of sadness, Macintosh groaned and stretched. He yawned, rubbed his eyes, and then opened them slowly, adjusting to the brightness in the room. His eyes flitted every which way like a fish freshly caught on the line. They settled on the colt in the wheeled bed who was sitting up, but slumped over and sniffling.
                “C—Caramel?”
                “M—Mac…” he stuttered, turning left toward the sound of what used to be his love. The fur on his muzzle was unkempt, and his mane stuck out in all directions. His normally bright red coat seemed duller, and his usual calm eyes were glazed with relief.
                Macintosh scrambled to his hooves from the couch—with difficulty, due to his size—and ran the three steps to Caramel’s bedside. “Y’all are okay…”
                Caramel said nothing. He didn’t trust himself to open his mouth without breaking down. Don’t pretend you care.
                Macintosh continued, “Do ya…do ya want anythin’? I’ll get ya somethin’ if ya want…Do ya want some water? Are ya hungry?”
                Caramel let out a small whine.
                “Caramel…” the stallion cooed, putting a red hoof on his brown hair.
                The tan colt closed his eyes, letting out more tears as he pushed the hoof off him and turned away. “Go away,” he whispered.
                “Wh—what…?”
                “Go away!” he said louder, “Please just go…It hurts…”
                “C—Caramel…Why…”
                “I…I saw you with Thunderlane yesterday…”
                “You did? Ah thought you’d be happy, Caramel.”
                “Happy?” he whispered. “Happy…” He suddenly shouted, “Why would I be happy that you found a better colt?!” He lay back and sobbed, pulling the rough blankets over his head so he wouldn’t have to look at the stallion who abandoned him. He rolled over onto his front, letting his muzzle sink into the down pillows.
                “Ah was with Thunderlane to get some advice!” he said indignantly.
                Caramel shook his head violently under the sheets, trying to drown out the sounds.
                “Ah saw how bothered you were at the party, that we hadn’t done anythin’ yet…So Ah went to get some tips from him…He was my bunkmate in the service a couple of years back. He couldn’t replace ya…”
                “I saw you do…everything,” Caramel choked out. He gripped the sheets tighter.
                “Ah was just practicin’! Ah was just tryin’ it out to see the best way to do it with you, Caramel…” He sniffed.
                “No…” Caramel whimpered, “I can’t…” I can’t believe him…If I believe him, it’ll just hurt more later…
                “It’s true…Ah wouldn’t touch any other colt besides you…Ah only love you, Caramel…”
                He remained silent. Please go…
                “When Ah got back from the bar, Ah wanted to check up on ya and apologize that Ah couldn’t go with ya to the movies…If Ah hadn’t…Ah wouldn’t have found you…and…”
                There was a pause, and Caramel could hear some sniffles. I’ve never heard Mac cry before…but it’s too late…He doesn’t love me anymore…
                Macintosh continued, “Ah’d never been so scared…Just seein’ ya there…” His words became more fragmented, and the register of his voice fluctuated. “Y’all weren’t movin’…and there was so much blood everywhere…and Ah tried to wake you up…but ya’ll didn’t say anythin’…Oh Caramel, Ah was so afraid that Ah’d lose ya…Ah wrapped up your foreleg in a towel, and then Ah called the hospital…They took ya away on a stretcher, and they brought you here, and Ah ran here as fast as Ah could…”
                Does he still love me…? Maybe he does… A glimmer of hope appeared in front of him—a flicker of light in the darkness that surrounded him. But…he’s with Thunderlane…I can’t believe him…I just can’t…I’ll get hurt again, and this time it’ll be so much worse… The shimmering star of hope withered away, and once again he was bathed in nothing but dark—the dark that he had been in for days.
                “The doctor said that ya lost a lot of blood, and that y’all wouldn’t wake up for a long time…Ah didn’t want to leave you…Ah couldn’t…Caramel…Ah love you so much…Why did you tell me to go away…?”
                “Because…Because…Because I don’t believe you!” he sobbed. “You don’t love me anymore!” he wailed. “You only love Thunderlane!”
                “Why won’t ya believe me…?”
                “If I believe you, and then it’ll hurt so much when I find out you’re with Thunderlane again…”
                “Ah only love you…”
                “Please just go…Please…It hurts too much…” Please…Enjoy your life with him. No, really…I want you to…
                “Caramel…” Macintosh said softly, putting a hoof on the blankets over the colt’s head.
                “I said go!” Caramel shouted, pulling the sheets off to reveal his face matted with tears. He reluctantly looked at his ex-lover. Macintosh’s eyes were red as his fur, and glistening with his own tears. They were filled with exasperation and desperation. He was no longer standing on all four legs, but sitting on his haunches. His head hung with disappointment.
                “If y’all want me to go, Ah’ll go…but Ah’ll be back…Ah ain’t losin’ ya, Caramel…Ah ain’t losin’ ya ever again…And y’all can do whatever ya want, but Ah aint’ losin’ ya again.” Macintosh slowly stood up and walked away from the bed toward the corner of the room. He opened the door and left, leaving a broken-hearted colt to cry alone.


> Better Than Phoenix Wright
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------


Procrastination


Chapter 5—Better Than Phoenix Wright

 
                It’s funny how things happen…in a sick, twisted, cruel way… I had Mac almost a whole year, and I was so happy then. Haha…so funny…heh…It’s too late now…I’ve lost him, and I can never get him back. Hah… Caramel’s eyes were sensitive due to his constantly rubbing them, and his throat hurt from all his crying, but the tears had finally died down. Time had passed, and his shock and sadness had gone away and were replaced by a cynical depression. Now, instead of being in a perpetual state of shattering, his heart had been replaced by a hole—a void that could never be filled.
                I’m going to go home and kill myself. It’s not worth the pain. I’m going to do it. I really am. I’ll just take a knife and cut again until it stops hurting.
                 Everything poured on his mind like water until he struggled to breathe. The waves crashed over his head, each one drowning him further in his sorrows, unrelenting in force and frequency. There was no desire to swim—to save himself. His hooves dangled limply in the water as more frothy waves swirled above him. He could see the light above the water, but he made no attempt to reach it. Instead, his body hung in the water, motionless. Let me die here.
                Suddenly, the door in the corner opened. Caramel sat up in bed to see the pony whom he hated more than anypony else in the world: Thunderlane. His fur was grayer than the gloomiest forest. His eyes, the color of death itself; his mane, the shape of the gates of the underworld.
                “Caramel, you silly pony,” he said with a disappointed tone. He walked to the foot of the bed.
                The tan colt bit his pillow and ground his teeth against the fabric, hearing the scraping vibrations travel up through his jawbone. He narrowed his eyes and shot a glare of pure venom. Tugging on the pillow with his hooves, he tried to rip it in half to demonstrate his might and to intimidate the gray pegasus.  Instead, it slipped from his teeth and landed between his hind-legs with a wet slop. He massaged his jaw. “What the hell do you want,” he stated flatly. Come a little closer so I can kick you in your smug muzzle.
                “That’s not the way to treat somepony who’s trying to explain that he never stole your coltfriend from you.”
                Caramel scoffed. “Don’t you dare try and ride this off as some ‘misunderstanding.’” He narrowed his eyes and swished his hooves in air-quotes. “Mac never loved me, so you can just go home.” Saying those words with conviction only strengthened his sadness.
                “Y—You’re kidding, right? You know Big Macintosh pretty much lives for you, right? You wanna know why he goes to the Colt Club? He asks other coltcuddlers how to make love to somepony. He has no idea, the poor stallion.”
                “Obviously to do it with you. So go on. Go screw him until you both die.” Caramel looked away so Thunderlane wouldn’t see him start to cry.
                “Caramel…he’s really faithful to you, okay? He only loves you…Why won’t you believe me?!” His voice became more and more impatient.
                “Because then it’ll hurt more!” he shouted, tears running down both sides of his tan face. He turned to look Thunderlane straight in the eyes. “Because he’ll abandon me again, and then…by then, I’ll really kill myself!” He held his bandaged foreleg.
                He sighed. “Caramel,” he said, “I promised Macintosh that I wouldn’t leave you alone until you believe me that we weren’t doing anything. He wanted to practice what he’d learned, but we didn’t really do much. Both of us felt weird just touching each others’ bellies when we already had coltfriends and fillyfriends.
                “Listen. I know I was really horrible to you when Rose set us up for a date, and I’m sorry. If you hate me forever, then I can’t help that. I sort of deserve it. I was a jerk to you, and I treated you really badly, so you know what, Caramel? I’m sorry. I’m sorry for all the hurt I’ve caused you, but please, for the love of Celestia, believe me when I say that Macintosh and I are loyal to the ponies we love, and we would never try to do anything them, including our friends and our families.”
                “It hurts too much now…and if it happens again…I don’t know what…” Caramel said softly, but his words died off near the end.
                Thunderlane sighed again. “Okay…please don’t kill me, Macintosh…I didn’t want to have to use this…but I swear, I’m just trying to make things right.” He walked to the bedside after turning his head around to make sure the door was closed. “Okay…do you remember last Wednesday? Did you notice that Macintosh walked really funny and was sort of irritable?”
                Caramel nodded.
                “Well…he was hung over. We went drinking the night before—not at the Colt Club, by the way—and he got sooo hammered…He said he’d kill me if I told you…”
                “See, he just keeps secrets from me. He never loved me…”
                “No, listen. He didn’t want you to know that he drinks. The one thing he fears more than anything is that you ‘realize’ that he’s not good enough for you and you leave him for somepony else.”
                I’m the one who’s not good enough for him…
               “So anyways…he was totally drunk, and this low-life stallion starts hitting on him. Don’t look at me like that, Caramel. I would never hit on somepony who wasn’t thinking straight. Anyways, and then Macintosh goes crazy. He hits the pony in the face, and then shouts, ‘Ah got a coltfriend!’ And then we almost got kicked out, but the bartender actually didn’t like that stallion anyway, so she let us stay. And then Macintosh spends the rest of the time there crying and begging you for forgiveness.”
                He…he cried over me? He hit somepony for me? That’s sort of morbid, but…that’s so sweet…Maybe…maybe he does love me…? No…no…don’t be stupid. Don’t fall for it. It’ll just hurt more later.
                “Why should I believe you?”
                “Because being the amazing lawyer-pony that I am, I brought a witness.” Thunderlane walked to the door and opened it, calling in a creamy-orange unicorn.
                Her hair was spiky and bright green. Some of it stuck up, and other spikes hung down. Her cutie mark was an empty martini glass. When she walked, her forelegs and her hind-legs crossed each other so that it looked like she was in danger of tipping over with every step.
                “Caramel, this is Coco Spritz.”
                “Hi there,” she said. She spoke with a slight Manehattan accent. “So Thunderlane asks me to tell you what happened last…Tuesday night? Yeah, sounds about right. I don’t know why you want to know, but hey. Ten bits.
                “So uh…okay, this stallion. The name’s Rayo. Earth pony who’s a total scumbag. Never pays his tab until I swing a bat over his head. Hits on every mare and stallion in the bar. Anyways. Starts puttin’ his moves on this red one. The red one was all drunk, by the way. So Rayo goes over, tryin’ to get him to go home with him. And the red one just stands up, shouts how he has a fillyfriend, and hits him. Serves him right…
                “I have a policy of kickin’ out anypony who starts a fight. But you know what? It’s Rayo. I’m thinkin’ I’ll let it slide. So then the red one starts cryin’. It’s not that uncommon, cause you know…it’s a bar. Colts cry about their fillies a lot. Except this one is devastated, you see? He goes on about how his fillyfriend…name starts with a ‘K.’ Anyways, he starts cryin’ about how he’s too good for her, and how he only loves her. And then…for about an hour, he’s just there cryin’, beggin’ for his filly to forgive him for hittin’ somepony and for drinkin’…yeah…we get a lot of those.
                “Is that it? Yeah, I think so. Alright. Need me for anythin’ else? Nope? Alright. I’ll see you sometime, Thunderlane. Thanks for the ten bits,” she said, leaving.
                He…he really loves me…? Is it possible…that…he did love me all along? It only happened last week… But…what if it turns out it’s all fake? And then it hurts even more…
                “You and Mac really weren’t…doing anything?”
                “I swear upon my wings that we weren’t. I’ll admit that what he did was pretty stupid, but he kept insisting because he really wanted to learn how to make you happy.”
                He wants me make me happy? Maybe…he still loves me…maybe he still wants to be my coltfriend…I want him to… Oh screw it! I need him to! I want you back! I want you back, Mac!
He gasped. Oh Celestia, I sent him away! How could I be so horrible?! I…I could’ve had him back…
                “It’s too late…” Caramel said very brokenly, “I told him to go away and leave me forever…”
                Thunderlane scoffed. “Haven’t you been listening this whole time? He’d never leave you just like that, even if you told him to. Speaking of leaving, I have to go clear the sky, or Rainbow Dash is gonna slit my throat. I’m gonna leave you with Macintosh, okay? And uh, by the way, if he ever asks, I didn’t tell you that he drinks, and Coco was visiting somepony else and got lost. Yeah. Have fun with Macintosh.”
                “M—Macintosh?”
                “Yeah. You didn’t think he actually left, right? He just went and got me and basically asked me to come and ‘make things right.’ Alright. See you sometime. By the way, Twilight misses you and wants you and Macintosh over for tea sometime. And uh…I’m really sorry…It seems like I only hurt you…but I swear I’m a good pony—mostly…Bye!” He left.
               Before the door could close fully, a red hoof was inserted between the doorjamb and the slowly closing door. It pushed in and swung to the side, opening the passageway once more. Macintosh entered and cantered to Caramel’s bedside.
                “Did…did Thunderlane talk to ya?”
                “Yes…” He looked down. I can’t look at him right now…so much…guilt…so much pain…but also…hope…?
                “Do ya finally believe me? That Ah love you with all my heart?”
                Mac loves me… “…I do…”
                “Do ya still love me?”
                Caramel finally looked up and saw his coltfriend’s green eyes, iridescent with hope and care. It made sense. It all fit together. Mac didn’t really abandon him at all. He was just caring for him in another way. Everything behind him shrunk down in size, and everything ahead of him grew brighter. A bubble of air hesitated in his throat, until it finally burst out: “Oh Mac!” he cried, wrapping his hooves around the red stallion’s neck, “I’m so sorry! I’m so sorry I told you to leave! I’m sorry I cut myself! I’m sorry I made you stay here for so long! I’m sorry for not believing you!” He sobbed into the red fur. Next to him, the IV stand was pulled down by the tube, still connected to Caramel’s arm.
                He felt a foreleg around his back, rubbing up and down. “It’s okay. Ah forgive you. Do ya forgive me for goin’ to that bar?”
                “I do! Mac? Will you…will you please be my coltfriend again?” he stuttered through his tears.
                “Ah never stopped…”
                “Oh Mac…” Caramel’s heart entered construction. The miniscule fragments gravitated toward each other, connecting and attaching into larger and larger partitions. These partitions attracted one another, and they, too, stuck together. The void slowly filled with warmth, and he could feel a rising sensation inside him, as if a warm, glowing balloon had inflated within his chest and was carrying him higher into the sky. I…I feel better…I feel…sort of happy…I feel loved. I’ll never do this again. I shouldn’t have cut myself…it was a silly thing to do…I have Mac…Haha…
                Caramel’s heart rebuilt itself from the dust, and he felt full again—full of the support and compassion that his coltfriend had given him.
                “Ah took a vacation from the farm for awhile. Ah’m not goin’ back until Ah’m sure you’re okay.”
                “That’s really sweet, but you know, you don’t have a monopoly on Caramel,” a voice said. It was feminine, and very familiar. Caramel couldn’t see who it was because a red blob blocked his vision.
                Hoofsteps gradually increased in volume until the form of Lyra emerged. “Hey there Caramel!”
                He quickly let go of Macintosh and inhaled deeply, trying to end the heaves from his crying. He held his breath and wiped his tears—although they were now more due to joy instead of pain. Everything…just…gets better…
                “Lyra, did you just interrupt a heartfelt moment?” somepony else asked.
                “Uh, I guess?”
                “Well, since the damage is done…Hi Caramel!” Bonbon said, entering the room as well. “Oh, and Rose is here, too.”
                “R—rose?” Caramel asked.
                “She’s here.”
                “Where?”
                “Behind you,” said a voice softly. A warm breath blew on the back of his head.
                Caramel turned around slowly, and the murderous face of the cream-colored earth pony filled his view. “Gah!” he yelped.
                “Caramel…” she sang, although her voice was saturated with threat. “Did I hear correctly? That you cut yourself?”
                “Erm…yes…I’m sorry…”
                She chuckled. “Oh Caramel…you will be…As soon as you recover, I’m going to cut you up myself and send you right back here FOR NOT THINKING OF TALKING TO ANY OF YOUR FRIENDS,” she shouted.
                Caramel cowered. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry! I just…I didn’t think of it!” That was so stupid of me…Rose probably would’ve made everything better… “It’s okay, though. M—Mac loved me the whole time, and I don’t feel bad anymore. I feel really…happy now, actually. You still love me, right, Mac?” He partially feared that he would say “no.”
                “Eeyup.”
                “See?” I feel…better now…
                “Well,” continued Rose, “I’m just glad you’re okay.” She sniffed and wiped a single tear from her eye.
                “Th—thanks…” he gave a soft smile.
                “We all love you, by the way, so talk to us if you ever need to, okay?” Bonbon said gently, laying a hoof on his right foreleg.
                “Especially me.”
                For the first time in days, Caramel smiled.
 


> One Year Later
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------


Procrastination


Chapter 6—One Year Later

 
                Before Caramel could leave the hospital, he found himself in a network of red tape and regulations. He was the poor insect trapped in the web of a voracious spider, who tugged at the strands just to see him thrash about.
Various doctors and nurses came to check on his vitals throughout the day, and he was given what seemed like an ultimatum: he had to return to the hospital every other week for the next month to make sure his wounds were sterile and his body was functioning properly. He was also given talks from three psychologists and a psychiatrist. The administration assigned him a specific psychologist that he was to meet with every two weeks for the next six months, and then every month for the next two years. He was to undergo equinistic therapy immediately if he felt a possible “spontaneous recovery of self-destructive behavior.” I just want to go home and be with Mac…Our anniversary is in like…four days! I can’t wait anymore! I lost him, and I just got him back. WHY WON’T YOU LET ME BE WITH HIM?
                Finally, he was discharged on a Wednesday morning. Before he could take three steps from the bed, however, Macintosh stopped him with a hoof to the chest.
                “Eh?” he asked, looking down at the hoof, still pressing onto his fur.
                “Eenope. Ah said Ah was gonna take care of y’all, and Ah will.” He lowered himself onto the tiled floor. “Climb on.”
                “…I can walk, Mac…” he said, but couldn’t help but smile.
                “Caramel, Ah’m gonna carry ya home, and that’s final.”
                “Fine…” He sighed. “If I must…” He mentally giggled. Oh this is so wonderful! I mean…I feel bad that I did something so terrible, and I feel worse that I put my friends and my coltfriend through this, but one good thing came out of it; Mac gives me a lot more attention now! Well…he kind of did in the first place… Am I taking advantage of the situation? Psh, nah. I’m an opportunist, as they say.
                Who am I kidding? I’m totally talking advantage of this. It’s okay though. I deserve a little pampering after…the incident…of my stupidity…Celestia save me from myself.
                Caramel wrapped his hooves around the stomach of his coltfriend. He giggled. My stallion’s gotten a lot bigger!
                Noticing the giggle, Macintosh replied, “Ah’ve been stress-eatin’…”
                He suddenly felt a pang of guilt, but it went away as quickly as it struck. They proceeded out the hospital doors and into the broad daylight of early summer. It must be weird for other ponies to see me being carried like this… Nah, they’re used to it…
                “HI CARAMEL!” came a ditzy voice from behind.
                He turned around to see a gray pegasus flying upside-down. She was clutching a mailbag in her belly, and she swooped down, almost clipping the edge of Macintosh’s hair. “Hello, Derpy!” he said cheerily.
                “I haven’t seen you in a while,” she said, turning around for another dive. She pulled away at the last second—again.
                “I’ve  been uh…busy…”
                “Me too!” she said, and then flew away, as if he were taking up too much of her time.
                
                “Eeyup.”
                Caramel hopped off and opened the door to his home—never locked. To his surprise, Macintosh followed him inside.
                “I’m really sorry for taking up so much of your time…but you can go back to Sweet Apple Acres now, if you’d like.” He smiled sheepishly.
                “Ah already told ya, Ah’m takin’ care of ya, so Ah’m stayin’ here…until y’all are better.” He beamed. “Ain’t getting’ rid of me that easy!”
                Caramel giggled. “In that case…what do you wanna do?”
                “Ah don’t know. We only have a couple of hours before we gotta go.”
                “Um…plans for tonight?”
                “Eeyup. Figured I’d take ya someplace nice for our anniversary.”
                “Anniv—Anniversary? T—Today? F—Few h—hours? What? How…how long was I asleep?”
                “Unconscious,” he corrected, “for three days.”
                Three days? Oh Celestia… He suddenly felt a mix of emotions, which took a few minutes to decipher. First came the guilt of making Macintosh stay in the hospital with him for over three days. Second was the shock that he had been asleep—unconscious—for three days. Finally, there was the excitement of the night’s promising events.
                “I…wow…I’m sorry…I didn’t mean to—” Before he could continue to apologize and offer eternal servitude in return, a very familiar hoof found its way inside his mouth. He let out a muffled “meep.”
                “Ah don’t need ya to apologize. Let’s just put this thing behind us, ‘kay?” Macintosh asked.
                Caramel nodded, and then spit out the hoof. “Blech. Please don’t do that again…”
                “Sorry…”
                
                Luna’s orb glowed softly in the night, but nopony paid attention to its mystical pearly iridescence. Instead, attentions were all turned to the neon and tungsten lights mounted on every sign, wall, window, and track. Ponies strained their necks as they craned skyward to soak in all the lights mounted on the tallest roller coaster. Their eyes twirled round and round the ferris wheel and all of its neon stripes.
                Waves crashed on the beach, just ten steps away from the boardwalk. Not many ponies were on the beach, since it was nighttime. Most of them were in line for rides, eating funnel cakes, or simply walking up and down the boardwalk. The breeze from the ocean blew onto the beach diagonally, creating a dangerous situation for anypony wearing a hat. The smell of salty seawater mixed with the oily scent of carnival fare and was laced with a hint of throw-up.
                The sound of ponies’ screaming penetrated the air every so often like an alarm. It was always shrill with the high-pitched shrieks from fillies as they plummeted down the tracks. Every so often, the oscillating waves would crash at the same time a roller coaster dived, and the two noises clashed.
                Caramel walked with his legs criss-crossed, much like Coco Spritz. His head pounded, and every breath elicited a strong desire to throw up. He held onto Macintosh’s neck with a foreleg, and they walked slowly past the exit to a bench.
                “Ah suppose y’all don’t handle spinnin’ rides too well.”
                “Nope,” he said after taking a deep breath. “It’s okay though. I’m fine with anything else. But this one…it’s like a centrifuge…”
                “A what?”
                “A centrifuge. It spins super duper fast. I think they use it in labs to separate liquids.”
                “Would ya like to go home now?”
                “Yes, please…”
                It definitely was not a good idea to eat a funnel cake right before riding The Orbiter… Who’s a silly pony? I’m a silly pony. It’s okay, though. I had a good run. We went on the ferris wheel, which was oh so romantic…but Mac is afraid of heights…so actually not really… The big wooden roller coaster was pretty fun. I think he really got a kick out of it, too. I sort of wanted to take a romantic walk on the beach, but eh. I think I’d rather go home before I see that funnel cake again.
                Luckily for Caramel, the boardwalk was only twenty minutes away from Ponyville by walking, so he had plenty of time to recover from vertigo and regain control of his stomach. By the time the edge of their town was in sight, he felt fine. “So…can we go back to my house?”
                “Ah was gonna go there anyways,” Macintosh said, smiling.
                “Oh. Well, I was going to say that I have to give you my anniversary present.”
                “Ah left mine at your house, too.”
                “What? When did you do that?”
                “When y’all were puttin’ on your mask, Ah hid it under the coffee table. Y’all really didn’t notice that your table was floatin’?”
                “You mean mascara. Well, I guess I didn’t really pay attention…But you know, you really didn’t have to get me anything. Just having you really is enough for me.” I mean that completely. I would be totally fine with nothing else but you, Mac.
                “Ah go above and beyond, and that’s why y’all love me,” he chuckled.
                One of the many reasons.
 
                “Happy anniversary, Big Macintosh!” Caramel exclaimed, holding out the blue box with two hooves in front of him. Thank Celestia I had enough time to stuff this thing back in its box and tie it back up…
                “Thank ya, Caramel.” He opened it to reveal a glass sculpture of him and Caramel, sitting on a giant apple. “This is…this is really amazing…did y’all make this yourself?”
                Caramel nodded. “With help from an old friend.”
                “Thank ya so much…Ah’ll keep this on my nightstand. Here’s yours,” he said, lifting the table with one foreleg and taking out the large box with the other. He set the table back down so that all four legs once more touched the carpet.
                The box was wrapped in multi-colored polka-dotted wrapping paper. Upon closer inspection, Caramel noticed that each polka-dot was actually a colored apple. Of course. After struggling with his hooves to find a seam in the paper, he tore a hole in the crisp paper using his teeth. Finally, he was able to rip open the paper.
                He opened the box to find a sea of red. It was a fluffy mound of fabric. He poked it, but it didn’t move. It sunk down under the pressure of his hoof, then sprang back up immediately.
                “It’s one of them plushies. Ah made it myself!” he said.
                “Oh wow!”
                “With Rarity,” he coughed.
                Caramel giggled. He gripped the red cloth with his two hooves and pulled upward. With some effort, it came free of the box. Staring back at him was a large apple with a face. It had two black eyes, a mild smile, and patches of pink for blushes. “Aww, I was hoping it’d be you!” Caramel said.  
                “Y’all have the real thing. Why do ya need another one?” he asked with a small laugh.
                “Thank you, Mac!” he said happily, giving the red stallion a hug.
                Macintosh returned it. “Ah’m glad y’all like it…”
                They let go of each other. “Hey Mac, when you were at the Colt Club…”
                “Eeyup?”
                “Did you learn a lot about…love-making?” If so, please enlighten me.
                “Eenope. Everypony just told me to figure it out myself. They said that it’s somethin’ that comes naturally, and that y’all wouldn’t mind if Ah didn’t know what Ah was doin’.”
                “So it just…happens?” Now I’m worried that it won’t happen…
                “Eeyup.”
                “How do you know it…works?”
                “Ya just have to try…”
                “Um…Mac…?” Maybe we can…try…?
                “Eeyup?”
                “…Never mind.” Darn! Stupid shyness! It wasn’t meant to happen anyways…
                “Eenope.”
                “Eenope? As in…?”
                “Eenope.” Macintosh suddenly picked up Caramel with one hoof—with extreme effort.
                “Ack! What is this?!” He thrashed half-heartedly, but couldn’t suppress a giggle. “Put me down!”
                Ignoring further questioning, the red stallion carried his coltfriend into his bedroom and closed the door.


> Picking Flowers
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------


Procrastination


Chapter 7—Picking Flowers

 
                Caramel could hear his heartbeat in the total darkness. If he listened hard enough, he could make out Macintosh’s own rhythm. The blinds were still closed, and the moon shimmered on the other side of the sky, leaving nothing but darkness to infiltrate the cracks.
                “Wait…Mac…I…I can’t…see…” His words were broken by kisses left on his lips.
               Caramel waited patiently as his stallion reached to his right and turned on the bedside lamp. With a soft click, the room was bathed in a gentle yellow glow. Caramel could finally see the large figure of Macintosh situated above him. As he lay on his back, he had a perfect view of everything. Just looking up, he could see the caring face of his stallion leaning down to give him another set of kisses. By tilting his head down varying degrees, he could see Macintosh’s chest, belly, and the hint of a protruding stallionhood. He shuddered with both desire and embarrassment when his vision captured the latter.
                “Do ya…do ya want to?” Macintosh panted. He kept himself supported with his forelegs as he hovered over Caramel.
                “Um…will you be gentle…?”
                “Eeyup.”
                “Then I want it…” I trust you. He closed his eyes as the red stallion dipped again. He expected more kisses on his muzzle, but instead felt them on his neck. A tingle traveled from wherever Macintosh’s lips touched all the way down to his hooves. The stallion moved down further. Keeping his eyes closed, Caramel felt kisses travel down from his neck to his chest. From there, a trail led down to his belly.
                Caramel whimpered with anticipation. The hooves on his hind-legs tapped together nervously, and he held his forelegs tightly on his chest. He fidgeted with the bandages still wrapped around his left foreleg. He felt soft licks travel from his lower belly, past his sheath, and down to his sack.
                The first few licks surprised him. His body flexed backward, and he whined softly. It was ticklish, but also had a deeper feeling. It caused his brown sack to tighten slightly. The next lick was better. The deeper feeling intensified and traveled upward slightly, and he became aware of his own member starting to emerge. It poked out timidly, and he could feel warm air from Macintosh’s breath on the tip. More licks. Caramel continually whimpered. All the gentle touches with the stallion’s tongue were adding onto the pressure building up in his haunches. It’s really different from clopping…
                Before long, Caramel’s member was stiff and throbbing with every tongue-touch. Macintosh stopped licking his sack and hesitated. Caramel could hear him quietly “umm…” to himself. He didn’t hesitate for long.
                The red stallion ran his tongue from the base of Caramel’s cock up to the tip. While holding it steady with his hooves, he twirled and swirled around the flare. Caramel let out high-pitched noises that—if any louder—would become shrieks. Luckily, they were held back in his throat before being released into the air. He felt Macintosh engulf the head with his mouth while continuing to circle his tongue. The muffled shrieks became more frequent. The pressure in his haunches heated up, and Caramel tried to relieve it, but couldn’t. He grinded against the air, but that only added to the pressure. He squeezed his hind-legs together, but that did nothing. He grabbed onto a nearby pillow and hugged it tightly. Finally, Macintosh let off.
                “How was that?”
                “Uh…ah…” Caramel panted, “it was…so…nyah…nnng…”
                He chuckled. “Ah’m glad ya liked it.”
                “Can I…uh…ah…can I try?”
                “Eeyup.” To comfortably tongue Caramel’s cock, Macintosh was sitting on his haunches on the floor. He climbed back onto the bed. “Eenope,” he said, gently pushing Caramel back down when he tried to sit up. He straddled the tan stallion’s chest, and his already hard stallionhood rested on Caramel’s muzzle.
                Caramel tilted his head upward and flicked his tongue out a couple of times. He heard Macintosh inhale sharply through his teeth. He ran his tongue up and down, but only covered about a third of the long shaft. In the dim light, he could see that Macintosh’s cock was black. It looks…oh Celestia, I don’t even know how long that is, but I know it’s going to hurt…Just that flare scares me… He raised his head and pushed a pillow underneath to keep it elevated. Wiggling his hips and his shoulders, he scooted upward on the bed. He immediately took advantage of this position by enveloping the tip of Macintosh’s cock with his mouth.
                Copying his stallion, he swirled his tongue around the flare. He could hear the moans he was eliciting. With that confidence-booster, he moved his head forward, pushing more of the throbbing stallionhood into his mouth. He knew he couldn’t fit all of it in, but he wanted to do his best to please Macintosh. He moaned happily into the cock in his mouth, and he heard a quiet “Ah” of surprise. He backed off and saw his work. The tip and some of the shaft was slick with his saliva. Caramel giggled. “Mac…I want to try something I saw in Stallion Style…” Sure was nice of Rose to give me the first issue already…I feel silly trying this, though…
                “Uh…Ah uh…Ah don’t know what…”
                He giggled effeminately again. “It’s a magazine. Let me show you.” He wiggled and squirmed under Macintosh until the red stallion got up from his chest. “Lie down…No, on your back, silly.”
                Macintosh lay on his back, extending his forelegs and hind-legs outward. Caramel crawled on top, but in the opposite direction. In the process of doing so, he was poked in the face by a large cock. He laughed awkwardly, and decided to break the resulting empty silence by snacking on his coltfriend’s member. In this position, however, he had more flexibility. As a result, he pushed his head down and engulfed more of Macintosh’s stallionhood. He suppressed his gag reflex the best he could, but he began to tear up. He spit it out by pulling his head back up, and he panted. “Sorry I can’t go all the way…I really wanted to…”
                “It’s okay.” Macintosh wrapped his hooves around Caramel’s hips and hugged them closer to his chest.
                “Eep!” he squeaked. He sashayed his hips and lifted his tail. “Only for you…” Even though I’m saying that, I can’t help but feel sort of slutty…Celestia, I’m such a tail-raiser…
                The next feeling he was not prepared for. It immediately made him clench every muscle in his body. The flexing was quickly followed by a sudden relaxation, and his forelegs and hind-legs failed. He collapsed on top of the red stallion. He whined out, “Maaaaccc…”
                “Sorry! Ah’m sorry! Ah was just tryin’ things. Ah didn’t know that would happen!”
               “It’s okay…” He stabilized himself once more, positioning himself so he could properly fill his muzzle. “Wait, Mac?” he asked, after pulling off the stallion’s cock with a wet smack, “Um… can you do that thing again? Whatever it was?”
                “Um…this?” he asked, and licked his tailhole.
                Caramel let out a loud “Nyaa!” and collapsed again. “Yeah, that!” he panted. “It feels…weird…but I…I kind of like it… Can you please do it again, Mac?”
                He braced himself by hugging Macintosh’s belly. He felt a poking at his rear end. It flicked and circled his hole, and he shivered with pleasure. He closed his eyes and weakly lapped and the tip of the stallion’s cock. Moaning, he stretched his back, pushing more of his tailhole into the muzzle of his waiting mate.
                Suddenly, Caramel felt a sensation that was a combination of the best and worst. As Macintosh’s tongue pushed into the tan stallion’s tailhole, he moaned and groaned simultaneously. He loved the wetness and the wriggling, but the stretching left him hugging Macintosh’s belly tightly and whimpering.
                “Mac…further please…” he moaned. I don’t care if it hurts. I just want him inside…
                He felt a deeper penetration, and he wailed, “Maaccc!” The wriggling paused, and then restarted with twice the frequency. With his eyes nearly closed, he could barely make out the outline of the stallionhood in lying flat next to his muzzle. He half-heartedly stuck his tongue out, but could only lap at the air.
                Macintosh pulled his tongue out. “Do ya have any lubricant?”
                “Uh,” he panted, “I don’t…uh…think…so…um…do we…need it?”
                “Ah think Ah’m supposed to make sure your hole and my uh…thing…are real slippery.”
                “Oh…can we just use…our saliva?”
                “Ah…Ah guess that could work…”
                Caramel redoubled his efforts, and despite the sense-stealing motions of Macintosh’s tongue, he managed to lay his tongue on every bit of area on the cock in front of him. He sucked at the top and played with the small hole at the tip. He ran his tongue up and down the shaft, and he lapped at sack at the bottom. Soon, it was shiny with his saliva. He ran his hoof down it, letting it slip and slide as it went.
                “Ah think that’s good…”
                “You…you think so?”
                “Eeyup. On your back, love”
                “Love? That’s new…”
                “Ah thought it’d work…”
                “No, no, it does…I like it,” he said. He and Macintosh quickly switched places. As Caramel lay on his back, he became aware of his own stallionhood, which had begun to leak pre-cum. He prodded it with a hoof, and squeezed it from bottom to top like a tube of toothpaste, freeing a long strand. He circled his hoof in his belly fur, rubbing it in. This is going to stain, huh…
                While Caramel was busy playing with his own fluids, Macintosh was struggling with finding a comfortable position. He began by sitting between Caramel’s open hind-legs, but after realizing his that his own hind-legs would obstruct their movements, he decided against it. “Um…Ah guess…no…Eenope…Eenope…Eeyup? Eenope.”
                “Maybe you can raise my hips?”
                “Eeyup. We can try that.” He lifted Caramel’s hind-legs up, revealing his shiny tailhole. “If Ah stand here, and lean over, that could work.”
                The red stallion positioned his hind-legs to stand right at Caramel’s hips, keeping his entrance open. He licked it again to keep it wet, eliciting another moan. “Erm…Ah think this is gonna hurt…”
                “It’s okay…just be gentle please…” Caramel could no longer see anything but the face of his mate as he arched over him.
                “Howdy there,” Macintosh said, as he situated himself right over the tan stallion, planting his hooves firmly on either side of Caramel’s shoulders.
                He felt a poking at his hole—just a gentle pressure. He couldn’t see what was happening. It increased, and he could feel a force pushing him higher up on the bed. Macintosh was staring into his eyes with concern. “Tell me if it hurts too much,” he said.
                “Okay, I will.”
                Suddenly, Caramel’s entrance opened, and the very tip of Macintosh’s cock pushed in. He shrieked. The red stallion panicked.
                “Ah’m sorry, Ah’m sorry! Ah’m so sorry!” he retreated immediately.
                “No…Mac…” he whined, “don’t take it out please…Please put it back in…”
                “Are ya…are ya sure?”
                “Please…” Just get it over with…
                “Okay…”
                The pressure on his hole returned. It increased and increased until it popped in. Caramel held back the yells building up in his throat. “S—Slower…p—lease…” he stuttered.
                The invasion of his tailhole paused. He took some deep breaths, and tried his best to relax. It didn’t work.
                Mactinosh’s penetrating continued. Caramel groaned loudly. It’s like I’m being torn in half…vertically… It stopped, and Caramel caught his breath. It hurts…it really hurts…it’s…it’s so bad…but I want it more than it hurts… It spread apart his tailhole, and even though it was gentle from Macintosh’s point of view, it was brutal from Caramel’s. His hole burned and he struggled with both the desire to take it in more and to push it out completely. His eyes watered and tears dripped down the sides of his face.
                The introduction of the red stallion’s cock into Caramel’s tailhole was punctuated. It went slowly, then paused. Then it began again. Caramel was breathing deeply, trying to hold back his shrieks. It felt as though the invasion wouldn’t ever stop. It stretched him further than he’d ever been before. The burning was mainly around his outer ring, but to him, it hurt all over. He whimpered softly, but tried his hardest not to make too many noises. If I scream, he’ll stop…
                Finally, Caramel felt his stallion’s strong hips meet his own. He let out the breath he had been holding, and panted. It’s…it’s over now…He’s inside me…That definitely hurt a lot, but I think it was worth it…
                “Um…Ah really want to uh…ya know…can Ah?”
                “Hm? Oh yeah…go ahead…”
                Macintosh pulled out slowly. Huh? That’s it? That’s making love? Shorter than I th—The red stallion thrust inward, and hilted.
                Caramel shrieked. “Ow, ow, ow!” he wailed.
                “Sorry, sorry, sorry! Ah’m sorry!”
                “Slow—slower…please…” There’s…there’s more…
                Macintosh pulled out again slowly, but this time, when thrusting inward, he did so gently and delicately. Caramel sighed out in relief and pleasure. It rubbed up against his prostate nicely, although the pain partially inhibited his ability to feel the pleasure.
                The burning dominated his senses. I’m not…I’m not really enjoying this…it just hurts… Although he was groaning with every thrust—and although every time Macintosh hilted, he felt the need to scream—he held his tongue.
                As time passed, however, Caramel began to notices that the pain began to ebb away. The sliding was smoother, and the burning diminished. His hole was more relaxed, and he wasn’t trying to push it out anymore. It was just…there. He sighed in relief, and closed his eyes. He could finally focus on the pleasure that his stallion was pushing into him.
                “Do ya…do ya like it?” Macintosh panted.
                “Y—yeah…I…I like it…you can…you can do it…harder…if you want…”
                As Macintosh thrust and hilted into his colt, it made a loud “pat-pat-pat” sound when their hips collided. It feels…it feels really good now… He began moaning with every thrust, because every time, Macintosh’s cock rubbed his prostate. He opened his eyes a crack to see a sweaty stallion still arching over him, and his own cock leaking a deluge of his pre-cum.
                “F—Faster…”
                Macintosh obeyed, and the “pat-pat-pat” sound became more frequent.
                “H—Harder…”
                The “pat-pat-pat” became louder.
                Caramel’s moans were the answer to the sound of their hips colliding. When his stallion thrust faster, his sounds became short and shrill. When it became harder, his moans picked up volume.
                Soon, however, the moans began to increase by themselves. In due time, he wasn’t just expressing his pleasure through gentle moans. As the pressure added on between his haunches, he began wailing for release.
                He hugged his pillow tightly, but it didn’t help with the pressure. As Macintosh stimulated his prostate more and more, Caramel was brought ever so close to the edge. He stayed there, and his needs just festered.
                “Maacc…I need…please…” he whined loudly.
                “Caramel…soon…”
                “S—soon? What…?”
                His question was answered with an extra hard thrust that hammered all the noise out of his throat. He screamed loudly. That hurt…for the first time in…a long time…The air kept flowing, but the volume went down. The scream was demoted to a moan, and that moan fluctuated in pitch when he felt the warm liquids sloshing in his tailhole.
                “Maacccc…did you just…did…”
                “Ah’m sorry…did ya not want me to?” he panted.
                “Mac…please…it…it’s really…hard…”
                Macintosh pulled out slowly, and the wetness of their love-making was audible from the sticky sliding sounds. His stiff cock dropped down like an awkward pendulum, snapping the few strands of his seed connecting the tip and Caramel’s tailhole.
                Without Macintosh to support his hips, Caramel’s hind-legs fell back down to the bed with a “whump.”
“Mac…please…I need to…it feels…so…I need…” he begged.
                Macintosh engulfed the tip and slid down.
                The pressure increased again. It was as if all the water behind a weak dam was churning, and a flood was occurring upriver.
                The twirling licks continued, and finally, the dam cracked and exploded.
                Caramel let out a loud shriek, as his pent-up cum flooded out. Spurt after spurt, he shot into Macintosh’s mouth, which wasn’t able to swallow it all. It leaked from the corners of his muzzle and dripped onto the tan stallion’s belly fur. Macintosh moaned deeply, wriggling his tongue to get every taste he could.
                Caramel’s screaming softened to moans, and then pants. Macintosh pulled off.
                “How was that?” he panted, “Did ya like that?” His mouth was sticky with white seed, and strands broke and reformed in his teeth as he talked.
                “Yeah…” he sighed. He rubbed his sticky belly. Heh…cummy tummy…
                “Are ya…okay?”
                “Yeah…” His eyes drooped lower and lower, and grains of sleep trickled into his eyelids, weighing them down.
                “I love you…” he yawned.”
                “Ah love you, too.”
                Macintosh’s lips on his bandages were the last thing he felt before falling asleep.


> Status Quo is Best Quo
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------


Procrastination


Chapter 8—Status Quo is Best Quo

 
                “So, how do you feel now?”
                “Um…a lot…happier, I guess?” He means…like…around this time, right? And not…at the current moment exactly?
                “Good. And how is Macintosh?” The brown unicorn moved his glasses down with a hoof to better see his client up close.
                “I think he’s a lot happier, too.”
                “Do you feel…guilty? At all?”
                Caramel rubbed his hooves on the rough surface of his cushion. “Um…yes…I feel really bad that I put my friends and coltfriend through this.”
                “And what about your family?”
                “I don’t…I don’t want to talk about my family.” He looked at his hooves.
                “Okay. Whatever you feel like talking about. We only have a couple of minutes left anyway.”
                Caramel looked around for inspiration in Dr. Dynamic’s office, which was painted light blue. That’s a funny name…Doesn’t really have to do with psychology at all…I think… All of his degrees and certificates were framed on a nearby wall. The doctor himself was sitting on a gray folding chair, and Caramel was comfortably situated on a purple corduroy cushion. Finding nothing, he stammered, “I don’t…I don’t know…” He scratched at the fuzz on the cushion.
                “Tell me why you decided to…follow him?” Dr. Dynamic
                “I…I wanted to know if he was going to that bar or not.”
                “You doubted him,” he suggested.        
                Caramel nodded.
                “And what planted that seed of doubt?”
                “Two mares I overheard. Gossiping,” he added.
                “And if you heard about this in a different way—from your friend, Lily, perhaps—would you have reacted better? Would you have talked to him instead of pursuing him and seeing a situation which you misinterpreted?”
                Big words…he’s like a male Twilight. Awesome… “Rose,” he corrected. “I think I would have still followed him. If something like this happens again, I’d definitely talk to him first, though.”
                “That’s what I like to hear.” The unicorn’s levitating pen scribbled some notes on a pad sitting on a nearby table. “And about your self-harm? Do you feel the urge to repeat this behavior?”
                Caramel shook his head. “Nope.” I…I hope not…
                “I want you to reflect on it. What do you think of your cutting yourself when looking back?”
                “Um…I think I really rushed into and I should’ve stopped to think first. Because it really hurt. So if I kill myself, I’d want it to be more painless…”
                “We’ll…we’ll work on that.”
                What…? I thought that was a good thing…Isn’t it good that I recognize that I rushed into it? Argh. What do I need working on…
                “Okay, Caramel. I appreciate your coming today. Our time, unfortunately, has ended, so I will see you in two weeks.”
                “Huh? Oh o—okay. See…see you…” He stood up and left the office, leaving the doctor alone, still scribbling on his notepad. I’m…I’m confused…is this supposed to help me?
                Wandering onto the road, he sniffed the warm air. It was dry, a little dusty, and was hinted with the scent of flowers planted outside the psychologist’s office. The sounds of cicadas chirping in the summer sun filled the background, and in the foreground, was the clopping of hooves on the dirt road.
                He ambled onto the road after looking both directions like he was taught. I know this psychologist thing is supposed to be for my own good, but I really don’t know why I have to do this. I’m totally better now.
                Caramel yawned. I can’t believe I had to wake up early for this. He passed by a shop selling corn cakes and stopped to admire the decorations on each cake. They had yellow frosting and sprinkles arranged into letters, and they spelled “Happy Summer” in the display.
                Suddenly, a familiar set of voices struck him sharply. He turned to his right to see the two mares of his disdain walking toward him. The crepuscular rays reflected off their pale lavender fur so that they seemed innocent and angelic. To Caramel, nothing could be further from the truth.
                One had light blue hair that stuck up in spikes. Her cutie mark was a calculator. Probably for counting how many lives she’s ruined. The other had dark purple hair that hung down but puffed outward, effectively making her head look like a mushroom. The latter’s cutie mark was notepad. For writing down lies about other ponies.
                They walked past him without even a passing glance. As their paths crossed, he caught a snippet of their conversation:
                “Did you hear that the librarian’s coltfriend cheated on her?”
                “I heard that, too! And it was with a stallion!”
                Caramel galloped to catch up within shouting distance, and yelled out, “Keep your idiotic gossip to yourselves, you mules!” He promptly turned around and walked away, not looking back to see their expressions. I hope they seriously reconsider their behavior. So unrefined. He held his head high, let out a high-pitched “hrmph!” and effeminately trotted home while giggling to himself. I’m glad I got that chance to tell them off. I hope they never bother me again. Stupid fillies.
                
                His head tilted in curiosity when he saw the open package on his living room table. The box was about the size of a cantaloupe, and the flaps were open. Peering inside, he saw a myriad of green and white foam peanuts. More of these puffy figure-eight’s were scattered on the rug around. He cautiously inserted his right hoof into the sea of packing foam.
                Rooting around, he found nothing but more peanuts. His brow furrowed into a confused “V.” He lifted the flaps and folded them back—first the short ones, then the wide ones. He smoothed the address sticker with a hoof, pressing down the jagged triangles that had been sliced by a knife. He could make out, “Sta        le HQ, Canterlot.” He confirmed that the package was addressed to him.
                He let out an audible “Huh?”
                I don’t…I don’t remember opening this…And where the hell is Stale? Or…Sta something le…? Did somepony break into my home and…open a package? How…how dare you…? I don’t know the proper reaction to that… I should start locking my door. True to his thoughts, he trotted over to his front door—with a hint of wariness—and secured the deadbolt. For extra caution, he drew the curtains in his living room, as well.
                He sauntered into his bedroom to lock the window. Instead, he found a scene that sucked the life force right out of his lungs.
                On his bed, was a large red stallion. He was on his back, and his forelegs were hoofcuffed to one of the posts on the headboard. A pillow case was rolled up and tied around his head and into his mouth, so that he could not speak. Another pillow case was secured around his eyes so he could not see.
                Caramel diverted his attention to the red stallion’s belly. Taped to his abdomen, which was undulating regularly with his breathing, was a sign: “Ride me like a pony.”
                Caramel fainted.