(AiE) "Can I Fuck Ponies?"

>Be Anon
>A robin chirps with a fat worm, wriggling in her beak, freshly pecked from the border between the park’s path and the rain-soaked grass and soil.
>It’s a giant, rebellious worm, hard to keep still in her beak’s hold.
>It is no use for the poor bug to fight.
>The only way the worm will survive is if the robin decides so, dropping it to find bigger prey.
>And she contemplates if she should do just that, staying there with her worm for a moment, tilting her head with quick movements as she thinks.
>Eventually, the robin decides the worm is good and leaps, flapping her wings, flying up to her branch and her nest.
>Upon her return, three hatchlings cry needily, wailing from hunger.
>And then, there’s you, sitting on a nearby park bench with Pinkie, watching Mother Robin get to work on the branch above.
>“Gee! That was one fat worm, huh?” giggles Pinkie. “Like, really fat! Like, so fat it could eat a caterpillar!”
>You almost make a joke about having seen bigger worms — again, /almost/.
>Instead, you nod.
“Yep. Sure was.”
>“Oh! I wonder if griffins like to eat worms, too?” continues Pinkie. “You think they do? I mean, I wouldn’t know, I’ve only met one really, and she was kind of mean. Oh! But I’m sure not all griffins are mean! That’d be silly, right, Anon? Oh, wait! I forgot. You’ve haven’t seen any griffins yet! My bad!”
>As she continues giggling and talking and giggling some more after talking — only to giggle some more — you slouch in the bench with a tired sigh.
>It is finally upon seeing this that Pinkie slows her girlish tittering to a halt.
>“Heeey, why do you look so tired all of a sudden? Are you okay?”
>You don’t respond.
>You just stare the thousand-yard stare at Mother Robin with her worm, directly feeding it into the mouths of her tiny others.

>Unfortunately, Pinkie disrupts your ‘Hello-Darkness-My-Old-Friend’ing with a shoulder-poke.
>“Whatcha doin’?” she asks.
>Then, she pokes you again...
>“Whatcha doin’?”
>...And again...
>“Whatcha doin’?”
> ...and continues to poke you mercilessly.
>“Whatcha doin’, whatcha doin’, whatcha doin’, whatcha— ”
“Stop.”
>She ceases a millisecond before poking you again, her hoof a fraction of a centimeter away from your arm.
>Then, she pokes you anyway.
>“...Doin’.”
>She smiles sheepishly.
>“Sorry. Had to.”
“Meh...”
>“Aw, are you okay? You aren’t sad, are you? Cause that would be really sad if you were!”
>She gasps at an idea.
>“Oh, I know! Wanna hear a knock-knock joke?”
“...I’m not sad.”
>“Really? Then why are you acting like a mopey-shmopey moper-pants?”
“I’m not. I’m just thinkin’.”
>“About what~?”
>You look at her optimistic, curious gaze, and sit up on the bench with a deep breath.
>If only this were easy for you to bring up...
“Pinkie...do you ever wonder why Twilight makes me spend every Tuesday with you?”
>She shrugs, tilting her head cluelessly, like a cute, carefree puppy.
>“Nope! Not really.”
“Because you were supposed to answer the questions I was afraid to ask,” you tell her. “That was the deal, remember? When I first got here, Twilight asked Princess Celestia if she could be responsible for me — integrate me into this weird society of horses. And Twilight, she decided that having a day of the week where I’m stuck with one of you would help me adapt.”
>“Ooooh, yeah!” beams Pinkie, recollecting the events. “Applejack taught you some important history stuff about old Ponyville, Rarity about how to be fancy-smancy and hippity-dippity, Rainbow Dash about pegasi and what they do here with a buncha clouds and construction and stuff, and Fluttershy taught you...uuuuummmm...”
“Nature stuff.”
>“Yeah! Nature stuff!”
>You nod.

“And do you remember what you were supposed to teach me?” you ask.
>Pinkie Pie nods like a bobblehead.
>It’s cute, though slightly unnerving.
>“Uh-huh! I taught you how to bake, how to make desserts, and we had a sleepover and— ”
“Pinkie. You were just supposed to teach me how to act in town. Simple, basic. What’s normal and what’s not, what’s funny and what’s sad, and so on. That’s why Twilight /still/ makes me see you.”
>“And?”
“...And if I had any questions that I felt were too weird to ask, or say anything I needed to say, you were the pony I was supposed to talk to. You were. I mean, Twilight offered, but she gets overwhelmed, ya know? She’s a great landlord, has been unimaginably kind to me, but I can’t tell her everything about what I’m thinking, you know?”
>You poke Pinkie, right in the shoulder.
“But you...you don’t really judge. You listen, react, but ya don’t judge. And when it comes to secrets? Well... yeah. Pinkie promises. You’re someone I can be totally open with.”
>Pinkie laughs, waving a hoof dismissively at your praise for her.
>“D’aw, I just wanna make sure you’re happy, that’s all!”
“Yeah, but...Pinkie. Pinkie, you’re my best friend, and I know I can ask you anything, talk about anything I feel...but there’s just something I have to talk about. I can’t take it anymore. It has to come out.”
>“Yuh-huh? C’mon, spill it out! Auntie Pinkie’s a-listening’!”
>You look at ‘Auntie Pinkie’, at how open she is to listening, to talking...
>If you say what’s so deeply on your mind, there could be a whole new level of closeness between you two.
>Or the opposite.
>Yes, you’ve asked her about risky subjects to discuss for ponies, but what you have to say now goes beyond that and into the realm of possible taboos, the blurring between what is acceptable and vulgar.

“Pinkie. I’m going to be more honest than I’ve ever been before,” you warn. “I don’t know how gross or weird or strange some of it will sound, but I need answers. I need them.”
>“Go on...” she says.
>She still has the eagerness to listen, as if she can handle what you have to say.
>You sigh.

“Pinkie Pie...? I am so. Damn. Horny.”

>At that moment, you can hear the record scratch in her brain, right as her pupils shrink and her smile breaks into a crooked, surprised mess of a grin.
>“OH.”
>She darts her head from side-to-side, looking to see if they’re any other ponies nearby, letting out loud, stifled laughs as she does so.
>“AH HA, UM, WEEEELL…”
“No, Pinkie, listen to me: I’m so alone here. I...I have great friends, a good life, and it’s all thanks to you guys, but I can’t live like this anymore! I have needs, for fuck’s sake, ya know?”
>“O-oh boy,” stutters Pinkie, her chest rising and sinking with quick breaths.
“I mean, friendship is super cool. I love it. But man, I need to fuck something already. I don’t know who, I don’t care what; I just have to fuck something and fuck it hard. So hard...”
>Pinkie Pie tries to grin, making sure she can be the friend who’s okay with that open honesty you were so afraid of.
>Instead, she looks terrified.
>“Y’know, y-you...guh...uh, um...uuuuuumm...”
“Like, Pinkie, I mean...jerking off my fucking cock can only do so much. Am I fucking destined to be able to do only that for the rest of my fucking days!? What about making love!? Is it even allowable to do that kinda shit here with another creature!?”
>“A-anon, just— ”
>You stand up from the bench, massaging your forehead.

“I mean, I want to make sweet fuckin’ love, Pinkie. I wanna have someone to hold and care for and love. And I wanna fuck them, so they know how much I love them. And I got a lotta fucking love, man. So much love. And if I can’t do that, Pinkie, I don’t know what I’m gonna do! I can get over being separated from my world and starting over — it sucks, but I’ve accepted it. I’ll never say goodbye to my friends, my family, my favorite foods or shows — but what am I if I’ve been denied the right to have a lover? Or a family?”
>You shake your head in sad disbelief.
“If I can’t fuck anything, again and again, what do I do!? Should I just fucking donate my cock and balls for the Equestrian god-damn sciences!? Put ‘em in a mother fucking museum!? Fuck, I can hear ‘em now saying ‘And here is the only specimen we have left of the alien — his fuggin’ dick and scrote! Truly magnificent!’ Fucking Hell, Pinkie, this shit’s been givin’ me fucking nightmares.”
>Pinkie Pie, still in shock, rises from the bench, trembling as she walks towards you.
>“W-well, um, eheh, m-maybe we could—”
“Do other species fuck each other, Pinkie?” you ask. “Are some more inclined to than others? Please, I need to put my dick in something, feel someone in my arms as I pleasure them. I got strong fucking hips, Pinkie! I thrust like a fucking rocket to Uranus! Pun VERY much intended, thank you!”
>Pinkie Pie looks up at you, sopping wet in her own sweat, breathing heavily and twitching.
>“J-Jesus Christ...A-anon you can’t say things like that i-in public...”
>You don’t care how she knows about Jesus.
>This was a pony who could summon a canon from thin air; a name drop was pretty tame in comparison.

“I don’t care, Pinkie. What’s the point? It’s not like I’m ever gonna fuck anyone or talk to most of them. Fuck, there’s hardly anybody — er, anypony here. Just you. Me. And I need someone to love — to know if it’s okay to love them. To fuck them. To fuck them until I make sure that they won’t be seeing straight for at least a week.”
>“Ohboyohboyohboyohboy—”
“Pinkie, please...” you say, kneeling down on your knee, placing your hands on her shoulders.
>You stare straight into her eyes — into her /soul/.
>“...I must know, Pinkie. Can I have rough, powerful, room-destroying sex with anything — anything! — in this world? Is it legal for me?”
>“Uh, I-I, um...u-unf!”
>You shake Pinkie by her smooth, sweaty shoulders.
“Please, Pinkie! Tell me!”
>She makes more noises — strange, uncertain sounds — as you shake harder.
“Oh God; am I cursed to be a literal involuntary celibate forever!? Fuck, I can’t be that, Pinkie! I wanna be a man!”
>“U-unf...!”
“An alpha-male!”
>“Mmmyes...!”
 “And a fucking beast in the sack with someone to kiss tenderly whom I so love and care for with all my righteous heart!”
>“H-hyyeah...”
>You wrap your arms around Pinkie’s moist barrel, bringing her tightly to your chest as you stand up, holding her in a desperate bear-hug.
“Pinkie...you’re my closest friend. I-I love you, ya know?”
>“Nng! Ff-fffuugggyeahmmm...!”
“And...I just...Oh, God, Pinkie, I’m so scared...”
>“H-haah...nyuh-huh...mnnmyaaa...”
“And it's not just the sex I want — I want love, too! I wanna pepper somepony with kisses and hold them every night! I don’t know if it’s taboo for me to do that with any of the creatures here, but I long for it. I wanna be loved, Pinkie...and to love back!”
>She grunts in your hug, tightly hugging back with all her might.

>“Ffffnnngghffuckyeshugmetighteryoufilthyslutyeahfuckingsqueezemesogoodnnyaaggfuckyesssohmygodyou’resostronghnnnngggfuckahohmoremoremoreIwannaffuuuooohhh!!!”
“Wait, what?”
>You look down at Pinkie in your strong arms and gawk at what you see.
>Her mane is messy, her sweat, along with some other warm fluid, stains your shirt, and her entire sweat-slickened body convulses against your own.

>Clearly, she is crying for you.

>Your hug’s strength increases with the power of sadness.
“I see. I cannot love here. I’m...not surprised. Just...just hold me Pinkie. It’ll probably be the closest thing I’ll feel to another lover’s arms around me in sweet, soothing comfort.”
>Your sadness must affect how harshly she cries for you in sympathy of your dilemma.
>She’s practically thrashing in your hold like a psychotic parrot in a birdcage.
>Truly, she understands your pain.
“You’re my best friend, Pinkie. Thank you for telling me. It hurts...but having you here to tell me makes it hurt less. I love you, Pinkie. I don’t think I’ve ever had as good a friend until I met you...you and your sweet, Summer smile...”
>You sniffle.
“You’re my bestest friend forever, Pinkie.”
>“OOOOOOHHHYESYESYESYESYESYESYESOHMYGOSHGUUUUUUUYYYYAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”
>...
>...Well.
>That was loud.
>There is a new warm liquid stained to your shirt now...
>You look down again at the pony in your arms.
>She feels heavy.
>Limp.
>Her face is the very meaning of absolute bliss.
>You blink, clueless.
“Um...Pinkie Pie?”
>“Ooohohoho fuuuck…”
“D-did you just— ”
>“Woooh yeah,” she says with a lazy, satisfied laugh. “Big time...”
“As in you...”
>“Yeppers...”
“Oh. OH.
>You clear your throat.
“So, um, does that mean that I can— ?”
>“Yuh-huuuuh…”
>She places a hoof on your cheek, humming softly as leans her head against your chest.
>“Ya wanna...”
>She rubs herself off on you.
>“...Y-ya wanna hang out some more, Anon?”
“Y-yes please.”