MP - The Party Never Ends (One-Shot)

> Downing the last of your drink, you slam it on the table as cheers erupt all around you.
> You are Anonymous. And you are having the time of your fucking life right now.
> You are fucked up on more things than you know the names of, and the entire room is a swirl of colors.
> “Hey! Anon! Come dance!”
> You’re fairly certain that’s a mare… but it could be a male buffalo.
> Whatever, fuck it. Dance time.
> The heavy beats are already threatening to push you over with sheer force, so… time to show them who’s boss.
“I want thish table covered in drinks when I get back…”
> One of the ponies at your table nods, you think, and that’s enough for you.
> Pulling yourself up off your chair, your whole entourage follows suit, following you out to the dance floor.
> In your state, you’re already swaying to the beat by default. Your body knows better than your mind how to rock the beats.
> That might actually just be you staggering to try and find your way out there.
> And when you’re out on the floor, all the ponies make way.
> Most of the ponies make way.
> You may have tripped over one of them and faceplanted. But then you got back up and got back into your groove.
> Much to the approval of the entire club.
> A shame the wifey couldn’t come tonight, but that didn’t mean you couldn’t have a bit of fun.
> Get a little high. A little loaded.
> A lot high. Excessively loaded.
> And toss around a few mares like they’re made of of cotton candy to an absurdly paced song.
> It’s a good night for some carefree fun.
> Hell, you arranged this shindig. It would just be inappropriate of you to not carry through.
> To make sure things stayed exciting.

“Sho, I told them to eat their own damn asphalt. And the fucker actually did it! He shtarted eating it!”
> You couldn’t even comprehend the words which were coming out of your mouth.
> They might be gibberish, you don’t fucking know.
“Fucking dragons, man, I’ll never understand how they work. S’like, some can be little pussies like our resident purple, and some can just swallow molten rock like a fucking boss.”
> Despite the utter stupidity of your story, the entire table is sufficiently out of it to crack right the fuck up in a raucous display.
> When you had finally had enough of getting jiggy with it, you had managed to find your way back to the table, and were now continuing the proud tradition of getting hammered.
> Well, somepony found their way back, and dragged you along.
> Though you can still hardly hear it over the thundering music in the club. And it’s only getting louder…
> No doubt you’d have to deal with noise complaints in the morning, but fuck those ponies.
> It’s a damn good DJ, if you do say so yourself. Your wife had made the connection years ago.
> Some blue haired bint with a taste for the sort of music that ran the nightlife.
> Plus, she had some real good shit on her which she was willing to share.
> You have no idea what it was, but that hasn’t stopped you before.
> And now here you are…
“A toasht! To good friends and better beats!”
> “And to getting so baked I’m basically a fucking cake!”
> Cheers erupt, and drinks clink, but the word cake sticks out in your head.
> You would need to visit the Cakes soon, but you can’t remember why…
> Who cares. Sober you can be responsible.
> Drunk you has shit to do.

> “Hey, hot stuff. Heard you got this little party together…”
> Blearily, you manage to force your head up from your drink, to look at what might be one of the finest looking mares you’ve seen in a while.
> She’s almost pink, but more to the purple side. Couple of grapes on the side of her arse.
> You smile at her. She seems like your type of mare…
“That I did. Want something a bit better than what they’ve got on tap?”
> Reaching into your jacket, you withdraw a little case, and from that take out a little piece of paper.
> The mare’s eyes light up at the sight, and she closes her eyes, sticking out her tongue.
> An expert. That’s good, you always felt a little bad about indoctrinating the novices.
> Settling the little tab on her tongue, she whines a little as she curls her lips into a pout.
> “Awwh, and here I was hoping for something… saltier.”
> The way she runs her tongue along her lips with the tab still on it drives you crazy.
> Fuck, this mare knows her game.
> But you can see the LSD working its way into her system. She handles it fairly well.
> Gently, you bring a hand up under her mouth and close it, smirking.
“That’s for later. Can’t go getting my cock out in the middle of the club, you know…”
> You watch her carefully shift the tab under her tongue, her lips curling away from their frown into a smile, before she leans towards you.
> “Well then, I… eagerly… await.”
> She accentuates each comment with a little kiss to your jawbone.
> You’re half tempted to make an exemption to your not-fucking-at-a-party rule.
> But you know better than to do that, even when you’re completely fucked up.
> Besides, you still had a hell of a lot of drugs to finish off tonight.
> Couldn’t end up getting thrown out and losing out on half the fun.

> “I… the room is so… spinny. But not like a bad spinny, you know? Like a good spinny… with colours and stuff.”
“You don’t even know spinny. I know spinny. It… spins. Like, a lot~”
> You trace off into a little delusional giggle, as the mare snuggles up under your arm and starts licking the sweat off your chest.
> At some point, you lost your shirt. You don’t quite remember how…
> But ponies didn’t really give a shit about nudity anyways. Plus they loved the smell and taste of your sweat, the freaks.
> You hadn’t really intended to get quite this fucked up. But you always ended up there before the end of the night anyway.
> A natural consequence of throwing the kinds of parties you did.
> “We… should… we should fuck now. Right here. While the high’s still strong, it would make it so much cooler…”
> She grinds her sex up against your thigh, getting your pantleg wet with her essence.
> With a firm slap to her flank, you pull her up and over you, her legs parting around yours as you stare up into those eyes.
> Those damn purple-pink eyes.
“No. But… we could head back to mine. I’ve got a lot more shit there if you wanted to really get fucked up…”
> She practically purrs as she lays her head next to yours, excitement coursing through the two of you.
> “I hope you mean that in more than one way…”
> You sure did…
> You were a master of fucking ponies up, after all.

> “Oh, Anon… you’re so strong.”
> The little pony was riding your back as you walked back to your place.
> She had tried to walk on her own, but she could barely managed to move three feet before stumbling and falling over.
> Four feet instead of two made it a lot trickier to coordinate them when buzzed out of your skull.
> You had enough of a tolerance for the drugs by this point that you could still function even when high beyond all belief.
> You had enough familiarity of the way back to your house to take her there even when like this.
> And you hopefully had the tolerance to still fuck her silly in your bedroom.
“Mmm… do that again.”
> She was sucking on your earlobe, and it was sending the weirdest jolts of electricity down your spine.
> Rubbing herself at those angles where you could perfectly feel her.
> Those little pants and whines near your ear as you felt her roughly pawing at herself in public, like a ravenous mare in heat.
> And she continues her little tricks all the way back, such that you already have a raging erection by the time you reach your house.
> You fumble with the keys briefly, before you throw open the door and charge in, throwing your pony cargo on the couch.
> Moving over to the kitchen, you quickly pull out a little baggie of white powder, and come back to see her still dazed from the toss.
> And probably a little bit from the drugs still in her system.
> But not so dazed as to miss your little gift for the two of you.

“I’m going to fucking wreck you…”
> The night had largely become a blur once the two of you had… indulged.
> You’re in your room now.
> She’s lounged out on your bed, giving you fucking ‘come-hither’ eyes from hell.
> The sorts of eyes that could absolutely wreck a man. They remind you of your wife’s eyes.
> No… they’re not the right colour.
> They’re not right…
> “Well? I’m waiting…”
> You can barely make out anything in the neigh-complete darkness of your bedroom, but you can still spot where to jump to land atop her.
> Your hand instantly seeking out her drooling sex. The drugs had certainly done their work…
> She’d asked if you had an aphrodisiac somewhere, and you just so happened to have some on hand…
> “Please… no foreplay. Just fuck me… I need it so bad right now.”
> Perhaps the greatest perk of using drugs to get what you want. Sex with no real effort involved.
> Unbuckling your belt, you let your pants and boxers fall off the side, and fall overtop the pony once more.
> Lightly grazing your cock over her tunnel, when she looks up towards you and plants a kiss on your mouth briefly.
> Immediately a certain nostalgia strikes you, as she draws back softly with that utterly aroused expression.
> A certain train of thought…
> Those fucking eyes.
> “Anon?”

“I… I’m sorry, but I can’t.”
> You can practically feel the confusion in her, your cock at her entrance.
> “W-what? I… I’m not going to pull any consent bullshit, I promise, just… please…”
> You can feel her try to press you into her, but you hold her steady, still trying to get a grip on yourself.
> She’s definitely not sober enough to consent, but neither are you. And that’s not where your reservation came from…
> Pulling away from her, you fall back off the bed, suddenly feeling a massive migraine through your buzz.
> The room is spinning.
> It always ends up like this…
> “Anon!”
> She can barely manage to lift herself up, but she does eventually manage to spin around to look at you.
> Too late for her, sadly, as you rebuckle your belt, and rouse yourself from the floor to head over to your closet to find a shirt.
> “Why? What did I do wrong?”
> You’re not thinking. You’re just acting.
> You can’t do this…
“There’s shit in the fridge if you want to sleep off the buzz here, help yourself. I won’t be back ‘till morning.”
> It’s amazing how quickly all that could clear your system.
> How the feeling of revulsion spreading through you did as much as actually vomiting to make you feel like it was all gone.
> Like you were sober again.
> On your way out the door, you pull a beer from the fridge to drink as you walk.
> You don’t want to be sober again…
> You don’t want to be sober ever.

> The dark Ponyville streets look intimidating to some at this time of... well, morning.
> But you always wandered them around now, when it was so dark and silent, to get away from the life you lived.
> It was a tranquil sort of way to let your high wear off. It… cleansed you, in a way.
> Made you feel better about yourself, if only for a bit.
> While the drugs were a nice escape… they didn’t really work their magic for you like they used to.
> Didn’t mean you weren’t still drinking a beer as you wandered.
> While it’s an advantage sometimes, other times… it’s a curse, not being so affected.
> Not being able to hide like you used to so well.
> It meant you had to face reality all the time. And you hated facing reality.
> But during these little walks, it didn’t bother you so much, because you felt like you were headed for some absolution.
> A crackle of thunder echoes out overhead, and you begin to feel the first few drops of rain on your skin.
> Fuck. There was a big storm scheduled for tonight…
> Finally, you managed to reach your destination, the crooked and rusted gates permanently open, and the rows upon rows of stones looking like they always did.
> You walk past the gates like you had a million nights before, off to visit your wife.
> She was probably going to be upset you were here so late. It was usually a sign you had done something wrong.
> Which, to be fair, you absolutely had.
> But she’d understand…
> She always understood.
> She was the best for you…

[spoiler]https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0wCAXa6Z6CY[/spoiler]
“Hey, Pinks.”
> No words rang out in reply to you. Only the cold silence of the night, and the thundering roar of the rain.
> Slumping down onto your ass, you sink a bit into the mud, your back coming up against the thick stone.
> The other side had three balloons etched into it.
“I thought I’d drop by and say hello.”
> Pulling up your beer, you take a deep drink. She never approved of how much you drank.
> She’d probably approve less of the other things you did now.
“I… uh, I threw another party tonight. A huge one, got half of Ponyville to come along.”
> One of the last things she would ever want was for Ponyville to be without someone to make them smile.
> To keep everyone happy. Everyone...
> Sadly, you always failed to hit that mark by at least one person.
“Everypony really seemed to like it. I wish you could have been there.”
> Sort of. You know she would never have approved of the way you made things so exciting.
> You used to do such innocent parties with her. But the longer you went without her, the harder that got.
> Drugs made it easier to socialize now. Made it easier to still carry on her memory, even if…
> Even if…
“I haven’t managed to quit yet.”
> Your breathing is getting heavier. It’s harder to speak.
“I… I’m sorry. I know I shouldn’t, but I need it to get by, and… it’s the only way I can make the parties work. I can’t do it alone.”
> It felt like you were perverting her memory doing that.
> Using drugs as a crutch.
> But… you couldn’t do it on your own. You couldn’t…
> You couldn’t do her memory justice without them.
> You finish off your beer.

“I tried to move on again tonight. Couldn’t do it.”
> You drop the bottle into the mud beside you, and it sinks a little into the ground.
> She’d wanted you to move on even when she was around. Near the end, when things were… certain.
> Said she wanted you to find some mare you could be happy with. To stay happy with.
> But… you never could. No matter how hard you tried.
“I think she looked too much like you. Guess I’ve just got a thing for those eyes… but it makes it a lot harder.”
> The eyes weren’t even the same colour… Why did they remind you of her?
> Your breath keeps catching in your throat. You wish it wouldn’t do that…
> She hated it when you were sad. You weren’t supposed to cry when you were around her…
> She wouldn’t want that…
“But it’s progress, right? I took her home and everything. I just couldn’t seal the deal.”
> You should probably move somewhere else. Start up a new life…
> But you can’t. You couldn’t just leave her… you can’t just let her be forgotten.
> She can’t be forgotten…
“I… love you, Pinks. I always will.”
> You swear you can see her, but…
> You can’t really see anything in the shadows. Your vision is too blurred from the rain.
> The rain. Because you weren’t crying. She wouldn’t like that.
> She would have a song and a cake to cheer you right up…
> Not something like you peddled to cheer ponies up.
“I’ll try again next week… I promise. One day I’ll manage to make good on my promise.”
> Your promise to be happy, even without her. To make every day feel like it was amazing for you and everyone you touched.
> Like you had made every day amazing for her, or so she said.
> You couldn’t keep it.
> You were a horrible husband. Couldn’t even grant her dying wish.
> A fucking failure.

> By the time you stumbled back to your home, it was nearly morning.
> You were soaked through from the rain.
> Through the soft sunlight filtering through your blinds, you could see all the pictures again.
> The first night you met. Your first co-authored party. The first time you baked a cake together.
> Your wedding day.
> They line the walls of your bedroom.
> Berry Punch was gone.
> Walking over, you collapsed onto your bed, clutching tightly at the pillow.
> Your chest still seizing against your will.
> Thoughts of suicide always accompanied visiting her. Ending it, and finding some way back to her…
> But you knew by now you could never find your way back to her. Even if there was something after… she deserved better.
> So you kept on existing. Kept on carrying on her memory…
> Kept on throwing the parties. Even if you were doing more harm than good.
> Reaching out, you tear open the drawer beside your bed, and it slams down to the ground.
> Bending over the side of the bed, you reach down, tossing aside some papers and pulling out a needle. You ought to clean it first, but you can’t make it to the bathroom right now…
> She wouldn’t approve…
> But you need it.
> With a hiss, you shove it into the spot you always knew where to put it, and squeezed that sweet relief into your veins.
> You never would escape this. You lost the only drug that kept you sane a long time ago.
> But sometimes… when you’re high…
> You feel like she’s right beside you.
> And it doesn’t hurt so much.
> Maybe one day you’d end up where she was.
> But you couldn’t get there on your own.