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 >The Resettlement Office hasn't got any news about positions for you yet.
 >But the clerk assures you that your resume has been made available to potential employers.
 >Besides, there are always positions for creatures with good manual dexterity.
 >Most such positions requiring fine-scale manipulation have traditionally had to be filled by unicorns, which gets expensive, as labor goes.
 >Of course, the labor market is currently struggling under the sudden burden of millions of funny-looking hairless apes like yourself.
 >The Law of Supply and Demand means that wages have taken a serious hit.
 >But she is happy to provide you with your weekly living allowance, courtesy of Her Gracious Majesty, Princess Celestia.
 >At least, that's what she tells you as she passes you a small pouch of bits marked with the seal of the Royal Treasury.
 >You thank her and head out, turning up your coat collar against the wind.
 >Baltimare ain't such a bad place.
 >If all else fails, you might even be able to pick up a crew position on one of the many ships in and out of the harbor each day.
 >But after that news, you decide you could do with a drink.
 >And maybe a new drinking buddy.
 /Eh, what the hell. Let's see where this goes./
 
 >So, on the way back to your new pad, you stop to rent a movie.
 >You also pick up some six-packs of cider.
 >And a couple bottles of good stuff.
 >The shop ponies aren't used to humans enough to determine your age on sight, so you get carded.
 >Sale completed, you walk out of there like a boss.
 >You also stop to get some groceries for yourself, since you have some money left.
 >Baltimare being an international port city, the market caters to all diets, and the pony ringing you up doesn't even bat an eye at all the meat in your basket.
 >Thus laden with your new possessions, you head home.
 >As you unlock the front door and let yourself in, Annabelle cheerily greets you from the kitchen.
 
 >"Hey, Anonymous!"
 >Hearing the sound of machinery, coupled with water gurgling, you head to the kitchen and open the fridge, setting the cider and meat inside.
 >The closet at the back of the kitchen is open, revealing what looks like a washing machine.
 >Annabelle is cheerfully fussing about, tidying up other things.
 /Huh./
 >In the living room, you double check to make sure that the movie you rented is a format compatible with her player.
 >The living room has also been tidied and dusted.
 /How about that?/
 >Curiously, you risk a peek into her bedroom on your way to yours.
 >Though still cluttered, her clothes have been picked up.
 >In your room, the pile of soiled sheets is gone, presumably into the wash.
 "Hey, did you do all this?"
 >"Well, yeah. I admit, I was kinda inspired by you tackling the kitchen yesterday."
 "Don't you have work?"
 >"I have today and tomorrow off, thank goodness. I don't think I could stand to look at jerkface for a while."
 /Her ex, presumably./
 "Cool. I thought maybe we could get to know each other a little bit."
 >The fussing noises in the kitchen stop and her head peers around the corner, smiling.
 >"Really? I mean, sure, if you want to..."
 "Yeah, I mean, we're going to be living together for a while, we may as well."
 >Her head withdraws, and you hear her putting things away.
 >As she walks into the living room, you show her the movie you rented.
 >"Oo-ooh, good choice, I haven't seen that one yet!"
 >Good roll of the dice.
 >You knew nothing from pony movies, you just thought the cover looked interesting.
 >Annabelle takes more interest in the freshly-opened cider you offer her.
 >"Thanks."
 >She chugs it all in one go, then sits heavily on the couch beside you, leaving you a fair amount of room.
 >"Well, what are you waiting for? Put the movie in!"
 >It turns out to be a detective drama.
 >You have a cider while watching, Annabelle has three.
 
 >Annabelle isn't as interested in the movie as she is in telling you about herself.
 >Recent college graduate, working a crap job while she slings her resume around, looking for work in her field, Dendrology.
 >Apparently she's an Arborist. Makes sense.
 >A ding announces that the washer has reached the end of its cycle.
 >"Oh, give me a hand with the laundry okay? Get it? Hand?"
 >Sighing, you pause the movie.
 >Yeah, you got it, and you've heard dozens of variations on that joke since your arrival in Equestria.
 "Where's the dryer?"
 >"Who can afford a dryer? I do it the old-fashioned way, here."
 >She leads you through her room and opens the oversize window, revealing a clothesline on the balcony outside.
 >"Ta-da-a!"
 >She reaches into her closet and pulls out a basket of clothespins.
 >With a shrug, you help her hang up the laundry to dry.
 >No expensive appliance, cuts the electric bill.
 >Not bad, actually.
 >Returning to the couch, you produce one of the bottles of good stuff you got.
 >Her eyes light up. "I haven't had this before, how adventurous of you!"
 >She goes and gets a couple of glasses from the kitchen and sits down a little closer to you this time.
 >You pour about half a glass each.
 >She picks hers up, and with a simple, "Salut!" downs it all in one go.
 >Darn if you're going to be out-drunk tonight.
 >You slam yours.
 >Big mistake.
 >That stuff was far stronger than you had suspected, and Annabelle pats you sympathetically on the back through the resulting coughing fit.
 >As you head to the fridge for a cider chaser, she brims her glass and drinks again, then refills yours.
 >Annabelle gets up and stops the movie.
 >Returning with your chaser, you notice your refilled glass with curiosity.
 >But already your head is telling you that this is a good idea.
 >Annabelle eggs you on, and you manage to drain your glass without hacking up a lung this time.
 >She cheers you on as you follow that with another cider chaser, trying to blunt the aftertaste.
 
 >You are now feeling no pain, and neither, apparently, is Annabelle.
 >She keeps her eyes on you and giggles coquettishly at nearly everything you say.
 /I'm funny./
 "I jus' liked th' look of this bottle, I don' knowhut it is..."
 >You hold up the mostly empty bottle, examining the amber liquid inside.
 "What is it?"
 >She laughs.
 /I'm a smash. I'm smashed./
 >"It's Bourbon."
 "I's cert'nly strong Bourbon..."
 >She giggles again.
 /I'm still funny./
 "C'n I ask you sumthin' kinda personal?"
 >"Sure!"
 "You seem like a great gal..."
 >Annabelle blushes at this, taking another drink to hide her smile.
 "Howcum yer BF broke up wi' you?"
 >"Hmm. I guess he was tired of looking up to me."
 >She lapses into a giggling fit.
 "Wa-wasn' he a giraffe too?"
 >"No, he was a pony."
 "Oh, I see."
 >"Well, you're starting to."
 >She shifts her weight on the couch, turning towards you and moving closer.
 >"You wanna see something else?"
 >You shrug, the alcohol sloshing around your brain making anything seem like a really good idea right now.
 "Sure."
 >Annabelle lowers her head to your level.
 "Whatchoo doin'?"
 >"Just watch," she tells you, with a mischievous smile.
 >She sticks out her tongue.
 /Well, that's different.../
 >It's a dark purplish color, almost black. It's wide and flat, and the tip twitches a bit.
 >Then she slowly sticks it out further.
 /What.../
 >The tip still twitching, her tongue continues to emerge.
 /Holy.../
 >She keeps her eyes on your face as her tongue finally stops, about an inch short of your lap.
 >Which seems to have pitched a tent.
 "Whoa... Um, how long is..."
 >You trail off, fascinated by the appendage.
 "Can I touch it?"
 >Her eyes widen a bit, and she nods, smiling.
 >Extending a finger, you carefully feel the slick surface.
 >It's a little rougher than yours, and much wetter.
 >As you near the tip, it suddenly curls tightly around your finger.
 >There's some muscle in that thing.
 >Annabelle draws in her tongue until your hand comes into contact with her muzzle, then releases your finger.
 
 "That is some neat trick."
 >In fact, that was kinda awesome.
 >More than awesome, if the raging boner in your pants is any indication.
 >She leans in, placing her mouth next to your ear.
 >"It wants to touch you too," she whispers.
 >Part of your brain has serious reservations about where this is going.
 >But that part of your brain is also thoroughly hammered, so another part of your brain that thinks this can't possibly be a bad thing propels your decision.
 "Oh, it does?"
 >Her fuzzy lips momentarily grip your earlobe, producing a blush.
 >Annabelle sits back a bit, looking into your eyes.
 >"Would you like to play a game?"
 "Games are fun..."
 >She rises from the couch and goes into her room.
 >"Take off your shirt." she calls from the other room.
 >Your brain, swimming in booze, whispers,
 /Doo-oo-oo ee-ee-eet!/
 >So you undo a couple of buttons and reach behind your head and grab your collar, pulling your shirt off over your head.
 >Annabelle comes back into the living room, carrying a strip of cloth.
 >"Put this on."
 >You take the proffered strip of cloth and look at it, comprehension having deserted you.
 "Put it on where?"
 >Annabelle laughs.
 >"Over your eyes, silly."
 >This raises alarms in your head, but they are well-dulled by booze.
 "What for?"
 >"It's part of the game," she replies, studying you through half-lidded eyes.
 "Okay."
 >You carefully put on the blindfold, excited and curious to see where this game is going.
 >"Okay, now just sit back and relax. Whatever happens, don't move."
 "Why not?"
 >She giggles again.
 >"My game, my rules."
 >You lean back on the couch and get comfortable, and then wait.
 >You can't see what she's doing, but you feel her breath wash across your skin.
 >And every so often, a little tickle from the hairs on her muzzle.
 >There, on the chin.
 >And another, on your shoulder.
 >Ah, left nipple. That gets your motor running.
 >And now on your belly.
 
 >The first assault begins at your navel, making you shiver as her warm, soft, and very damp tongue trails up the middle of your torso.
 >It leaves a very damp trail up your sternum to your neck, finally finishing with a flick at your jawline.
 >After a moment, she blows air on the trail she left, producing a chilly sensation.
 >You feel a tickle at your shoulder, and the second assault curls under your armpit, emerging behind your shoulder to tickle your neck.
 >She squeezes your shoulder a bit, while the tip probes at the muscle where your neck and shoulder join.
 >As she slowly retracts her tongue, you are rock hard.
 >A tickle at your ear, and she nibbles your earlobe with her plush lips.
 >Then the third assault slithers slowly under your chin, curling up to tease your earlobe on the other side.
 >You hear her moan softly into your ear.
 /Wow, is she getting off on this?/
 /Because I sure am!/
 >Again her long tongue slowly withdraws, leaving behind copious amounts of drool.
 >Another lick unexpectedly crosses your lips, the muscular tongue forcing its way between them, but stopping at your teeth.
 >The fact that you can't see her pick her next target makes this incredibly arousing to you.
 >You swear you could smash diamonds with your pecker right now.
 >The next assault curls around your right breast, the coil constricting, shrinking, until it pinches your nipple in its moist, sinewy grasp.
 >You hear her moan again, as her breath warms your chest.
 >The twitching tip of her tongue touches the side of your abdomen, just under the ribs, and probes as it slowly curls around to your back.
 >Again, it slowly withdraws.
 >Only to reappear at your elbow, coiling around your arm, and slowly sliding up to your shoulder.
 >As the warm muscle retreats from your skin again, you hear her giggle.
 >"What do you think of my little game so far?"
 "Keep playing"
 
 >"Okay, Anon, remember now, no moving."
 "Right."
 >"Ready for 'hard mode'?"
 "What's hard mode?"
 >Without another word, she sticks her long tongue down your pants.
 >You gasp, but manage to keep mostly still as the moist, muscular appendage follows the crease of your thigh inwards, and curls under your balls.
 >From there, it slowly drags up, coating your scrotum and penis in warm saliva, before emerging from your waist band.
 "Heh, 'hard mode', huh?"
 >"It's just getting started..."
 >Once again the probing tongue invades your waistband, feeling along slowly until it encounters the base of your penis.
 >Then it starts to coil about your shaft, slithering slowly up its length.
 >You let out a moan, and find it answered by Annabelle's excited giggle.
 >You grip the couch cushions to try and keep still.
 >The tip of the tongue rubs across your tip, before the slippery invader begins its slow retreat.
 >Whatever her game is here, you can tell she's going to win it soon.
 >Her muzzle tickles your ear, followed by a flick of her tongue at your earlobe.
 >"Help me out here," she whispers.
 "What about the rules?"
 >"Temporarily suspended," she breathes into your ear, then traces another slow lick from the hollow of your throat along your jawline.
 >"Please..."
 >Welp, she was going to win anyways.
 >Reaching down, you undo your belt, open your fly, and shove your pants and underwear to your knees.
 >"Thanks," she whispers into your other ear, giving it a flick with her tongue.
 >"Rules back on."
 >Taking a deep breath, you settle against the sofa cushions, trying to relax.
 >As if you could relax with her hot breath and the tickle of her muzzle slowly, teasingly, descending along your chest.
 >And then her tongue curls slowly about your glans, squeezing tightly, before her soft lips descend over your shaft.
 >She exerts quite a suction, and you lose it immediately.
 >She doesn't spill a drop.
 >As you descend from ecstasy into bliss, you feel her muzzle at your ear again.
 >"I win..."
 
 >You wake up the next morning, in your own bed, feeling like the floor of a taxicab.
 >Which is to say your head is pounding, and there is dried saliva all over, making you feel slightly uncomfortable.
 >You can smell coffee though, so that's something.
 >And, memories of last night's shenanigans begin to filter into your consciousness.
 >Whatever you were drinking last night, it was powerful stuff.
 >You stand and wait for the room to stop spinning, then head into the bathroom and manage to have a shower without puking.
 >Putting on some fresh clothes, you head for the kitchen.
 >Annabelle is humming to herself, holding a steaming mug of coffee.
 "Good morning."
 >Annabelle starts, her cheeks flushing, and drops the mug into the sink.
 >"Oh, ah, er... good morning. Um, coffee?"
 "Please."
 >You shuffle to the table and sit down.
 >Whatever reserved nature last night's drinking had overwhelmed in Annabelle seems to have returned in force.
 >"Errm... about last night..."
 >She puts a coffee cup in front of you, then goes to pour herself a new cup to replace the one that broke.
 >"I think I may have gotten a little tipsy, and done something to make you uncomfortable, so I hope you can forgive--"
 "Actually I kinda liked it."
 >Another coffee mug bites the dust.
 >"Really?"
 "Sure, I mean, what harm done? That was probably the best night I've had since coming to Equestria."
 >Her head swoops into your view as she gives you a hug.
 >"So that wasn't too weird, or anything like that?"
 "Oh it was weird, but really, really, erm, ahem."
 >You're not sure what a good word for this situation would be.
 "Don't worry yourself about it."
 >"Okay."
 >She straightens up and heads back over to the counter.
 >"So, what would you like for breakfast?"
 >You sip your coffee.
 "Something simple, please. My stomach isn't too happy with me right now."
 >She giggles.
 >"I know how you feel."