Soda Pony: New Coke

>be you
>working min-wage job at Hot Dog Emperor
>should've gone to college, ya dummy
>can't keep these hotdogs in the warming tray any longer
>into the trash they go
>the bin's full but nobody took it out
>lazy nignog coworkers
>drag it outside and over to the dumpster you share with all the other businesses
>heave that shit
>you hear a little yelp and a sniffle
>what, is your dumpster sentient now?
>swear to god, they'll give anything a personality these days
>lift the lid back up and peek inside
>wat
>blueish pony sitting on a pile of pizza boxes and trash
>she looks like she's... translucent?
>you can totally see some sort of brown liquid sloshing inside her
>she brushes her mane aside, smearing some of the ketchup and mustard on her hoof across her forehead
"...the fuuuuuuuck is this?"
>she looks up at you and lets out another sniffle
>jeez, it looks close to tears
>this probably counts as animal abuse or something
"People are assholes,"
>you mutter and turn over the trash can
>you hop up on it and lean over the side, grabbing the thing around the middle
>being grabbed seems to surprise it and it looks back up at you confused
>it's warm and radiating its own heat
>like when you leave glass in the sun for too long
>shit, heavy, too
"C'mere, come on out."
>she picks up on what you're trying to do and hops toward you, putting her hooves around your neck
>lose your balance and fall off the trashcan
>great, now you're covered in grease and ketchup and shit
>ugh
>bring it over to the side of the building
"Hold still, girl. Let's get clean,"
>you turn on the spigot and wash the grime off of it and you
>she just looks at you, looking grateful but wary
>when you're all done you give her a pat on the head
>turn to go back inside
>she starts following you cautiously, a little layer of bubbles forming in her with each step
>you try to close the door on her
>she stops, looking even more dejected than when you first saw her
>"ANON! WE GOTS A RUSH, GET YO' ASS IN HERE!"
>she just stares up at you, watching
>...eh, y'know what?
>fuck those roody-poos
>you dig in your pockets for your keys and walk over to your car
"C'mon, pony-thing."
>she follows, still cautious, each step making a little clinking sound
>you open the back door and pat the seat
>her face splits into a huge appreciative grin as she hops inside, exploring the tiny confines of your car excitedly
"Stay here, we'll figure something out after work, 'kay girl?"
>you roll down the window
>yes, manually roll
>your car is old as shit
>she doesn't seem to mind, her tail swishing as she turns back around and stares at you
>what, is she crying?
>"Ohmygosh, thank you!"
>oh
>oh god it can talk
>you blink a few times
"W... what?"
>she hops up a bit and hugs you, brown tears running down her cheeks as she squeezes you
>"Thank you so much! I... wow..."
>she sniffs, rubbing her nose with a hoof
>"You're like the nicest person I've ever met!"
>she sniffles again, finally letting you go
>"ANON! BEST GIT YO NONDESCRIPT ASS BACK IN HURR OR YOU FIRED!"
>shit
>that's the manager
"N...no problem? Uh, listen, we should talk. Since you can talk apparently."
>you look over your shoulder and grimace
"Like, after work."
>she giggles and nods, then bounces to the other side of the back seat, before laying down
>"Okidoke. Thanks again, by the way, mister."
"Yeah, no problem, um... do you have a name?"
>"I'm New Coke."
>...
>that might be why she was in the garbage when you found her
>well, nothing for it now
>you nod and close the door, running back inside before your boss goes full monkey rage on you
>guess you'll have to figure out what the fuck is going on after work
>On your way back inside, you wipe your cheek
>New Coke left some tears on your face when she hugged you
"..."
>everyone always makes jokes about that failed soda rebranding thing from the 80's
>you wonder to yourself for a second
>then lick your hand
>yes
>her tears are delicious

>praise da lawd, work is done
>fuck your manager, fuck Jamal, fuck Tyrone, fuck Chaniqua, fuck Yolanda, and FUCK Bradley
>you make your way out to your car
>New Coke is sitting in your back seat, curled up with her eyes closed
>now that she's not covered in marinara and filth, you can see that she really is see-through
>you notice she's "fuller" than she was when you pulled her out of the trash
>you also notice a cut in her body in the middle of her back
>well, looking closer, it's more of a chip
>poor gal
>pop the driver's side door and climb in
>her head shoots up as soon as your door opens
>she smiles so wide you'd swear her cheeks were touching behind her head
>"Oh, you're back! Hi! Um, I... I cleaned up your car a little, is that okay? I didn't know whether that was okay, I hope it's okay!"
>you look into the back seat
>oh hey
>you can see the floor mats again
>and the passenger's seat is a seat instead of a pile of wrappers and bottles and such
>all that's left is a couple to-go bags full of the other trash and tied up
>huh
>well, your good deed for the day has already paid for itself
>you start the car
"Oh, yeah yeah, better than okay. Hey, do you wanna sit up here? I kinda put you up in the backseat because I didn't know you were... uh..."
>you trail off awkwardly
>you didn't know what the hell she was
>still don't, technically
>"Oh, no, it's fine! Totally fine, you don't have to, I totally get it,"
>she waves it off like it's nothing
>you give her a little smile
"You sure? My A/C doesn't work for shit, it's gonna be hot back there."
>she looks at the cleared-off seat for a second
>you roll your eyes and pat it
"C'mon, hop up."
>she beams again and crawls onto the center console and then into the seat
>she plops down and a bunch of bubbles foam up to her neck
>she opens her mouth and lets out a little
>*buuurp!*
>before clapping a hoof over her mouth
>"Oh, sorry! That was rude, I'm sorry!"
>you can't help but laugh
>that wasn't bad
>nothing compared to your friend Ogre back in high school, but not bad
"Pffft, no, that was pretty good. But uh, calm down, huh? No need to keep apologizing."
>"Oh, sorry, I'll stop!"
>you give her a confused smile and pat the top of her head
>back out, throw this bitch in drive and get the fuck away from work
>headed from your shitty job to your shitty apartment
>they give you a free meal at work, but after eight hours straight, you're starved
>pull into Micky D's
>sitting in the drive-thru
>you turn the A/C on full blast and angle your vent at your face
>shit that feels good
>New Coke apparently shares your appreciation
>she's got every vent she can reach pointed straight at her
>tongue lolled out in relief as she basks in the Arctic hurricane she created
>you drum your fingers on the steering wheel
"So... uh... I'm going to be blunt about this. I know you're New Coke, but what the hell are you?"
>she looks over at you and fans herself, still panting with her tongue out
>man, that must feel amazing
>"I'm a cola pony. I'm a pony and I'm fulla cola."
>an awe-inspiring revelation
>how could you have ever guessed
"Rrrrrright, but where did you come from?"
>"I'unno!"
"Okay, then who're your parents?"
>"Classic."
"Classic and...?"
>"Just Classic."
"That's not how biology works."
>is it?
>do they reproduce by budding?
>no, c'mon, that's ridiculous
>"Sorry, I dunno! I just know I came from Classic."
>you're about to refute this when the speaker crackles beside you
>"WhckmaMdnads, Hmahserutduh?"
"I'll have a Number 9 large, a Number 6 with extra dip,"
>a Number 7, two Number 45's (one with cheese)
"a large soda, and..."
>you look over at her
"You want anything? I'm buying."
>obviously
>what, is the animated glass pony full of soda going to carry a wallet?
>she just shakes her head politely
>"No, you don't have to, thanks!"
>she looks down at the floorboards a second
>"But... maybe some ice? I'm really hot still..."
>weird, but sure
"A cup full of ice."
>"...uhcpflluvice?"
>did you fucking stutter?
"Yeah, cup full of ice. Like, biggest you got I guess."
>"Ytotlisfrttnnntsven, please pull around to the second window."
>you pull forward and dig out your wallet
>she's staring at you again
>your curiosity gets the better of you and you reach out and put a thumb on her forehead
>she just watches, her eyes crossing slightly as they follow your hand
>you slide your thumb down her and it lets out a dull little squeak
>yep
>glass, or close enough to count
"...Simbaaa..."
>you chuckle at your own joke
>to your surprise, she laughs too
"Really, though, if you're hungry later, don't blame me."
>"Thanks, but I won't be, don't worry."
>she gives you a little smile and you pull up to the window
>fifteen dollars is highway robbery, but it beats trying to cook in your cramped-ass apartment
>you pass her the cup full of ice and start unwrapping your burger
>she pops the lid and starts crunching down on the ice
>each mouthful she swallows you watch drop into her soda
>when she's a third of the way done she leans her head back against the seat
>"That's sooooo good... thank you... uh..."
>the glass under her eyes turns a little pink
>"Stupid, stupid New Coke... I'm so sorry, I was so excited I forgot to ask, what's your name?"
>yeesh
>she beats herself up like owes herself money
"I'm Anonymous. Or just Anon. Whatever."
>Thank you, Anonymous."
>you shake your head
>the nicest stuff you did for her when you assumed she was a weird-looking dog
"Don't mention it."
>you finish out the rest of the drive in silence and pull into the complex
>dammit Ron, the spots are numbered for a reason
>you park in a guest spot and unlock the shitty one-bed one-bath apartment
>all this for $550 a month
"Welcome to Chez Anon,"
>you beckon her in and she obliges, each hooffall making a pleasant tink-ing noise as she trots
>you flop down on your couch
>time to enjoy them chickun strips
>she lays down on the shitty linoleum floor and munches quietly on her ice
>c'mon, what's her deal?
>sit on the couch like a normal person
>er, pony
>...soda pony... thing
"Hey, so... uh, again, blunt question. Why were you in the trash?"
>she winces at that one
>that was kind of insensitive
>"I dunno. People just don't like me very much, I guess. Not as much as my mom, anyway."
>huh
>well, if her tears were anything to go on, you like New Coke just fine
>it's sweeter than regular coke, but not bad
>maybe you're one of those weirdos who likes it
>or maybe you just didn't buy into the marketing hype that Pepsi threw down
>either way
"Eh, some people just have shit taste."
>she chews up the last mouthful of ice
>sticking her nose down into the cup to get a few stray chips
>she looks up with the cup stuck on her nose
>she shakes her head a little trying to get it off
>damnthat'scute.jpg
"Was that enough ice? I've got more."
>"No, I couldn't, thank you though!"
"Is that an actual no, or a polite no?"
>you finish off the last chicken strip and wander to the freezer
>she follows you over, using a hoof to bat the cup off her snout
>you grab a couple of cubes and bend down, offering to drop them in the cup
>instead she reaches out and gently takes a couple with her mouth
>her lips and tongue tickling your palm as she does
>not what you were going for, but sure
>she smiles and nuzzles against your now-empty hand
>"Thanks, Anon."
"Uh... no problem?"
>she giggles and you pop open the fridge door
>she just stands there, enjoying the cold feeling rolling out from it
>hmm
>eh, she seems more like a soda than a living thing
"Hey... if I cleared all this shit out, would you like to cool off in here?"
>her ears perk up and she looks up at you surprised
>"You'd do that? Yeah, thanks Anon, that'd be great!"
>it's just a few boxes of leftovers, filly
>hell, you toss out half of them
>not exactly climbing Everest
"Ugh... shoulda grabbed a 12-pack while I was out."
>"Why, are you thirsty?"
>nah, you like to have a dozen sodas in your fridge in case of medical emergencies
>obviously you're thirsty
"Eh, a little bit."
>you bend down to move the last styrofoam to-go box off the bottom shelf
>two glass hooves wrap around your neck
>oh sweet Atheismo that's cold
>you look over and New Coke's lips press against yours
>dafuq?
>you taste something sweet on your tongue
>actually quite a lot of it
>you have to awkwardly swallow in the middle of her kiss
>double-dafuq?
>she holds you there as pop flows into your mouth
>Catch the Wave™
>after a few gulps of that very special flavor she breaks off and hops into the fridge
>"Thanks again Anon. If I fall asleep, could you maybe let me stay in here overnight? If that's okay, I mean. I don't want to impose."
>she curls up with her tail around her and smiles at you, before yawning and closing her eyes
>apparently oblivious to how fucking weird that was
>...
>well, it wasn't BAD
>and technically it was just getting a drink
>kinda
>you shut the fridge door and scratch your head
>really, boner? Is now really the right time?
>it's always the right time, Anon

>aww yeah
>you are on your way home from Hot Dog Emperor
>another shit day of tolerating shit customers with shit coworkers
>another day of barely-survivable minimum wage pay
>but who gives a flying fuck, it's quittin' time
>you hop in the car and drive over to the grocery store
>popcorn
>twizzlers
>milk duds
>two bags of ice
>hit the checkout line
>fuckin' hyped
>you pull into your spot at the complex
>(Ron must've finally pissed off the wrong person and got towed)
>you carry all your shit to your appartment
>open the door
>get on the floor
>no, wait, absolutely not
"Guess what time it is?"
>New Coke pokes her head out of your room, putting the feather duster in her mouth down
>"Movie time?"
"Movie time!"
>she trots out happily and holds a hoof up
>high fuckin' five
>she hasn't seen a single film that came out after '85
>the moment you learned this you hopped behind seven proxies and started torrenting the hell out of every great film you could
>you felt you had a civic duty to educate the poor mare
>in the couple weeks since you met her, she's come out of her shell a bit
>she managed to crack a joke at your expense the other day
>still apologized profusely for it, but that she made it at all was impressive
>plus, she took the liberty of cleaning up your sty of a place
>it was actually almost roomy after she picked up the clothes and threw out the trash
>"least she could do" she said, "after you put her up like this"
>truth told she doesn't eat your food, helps around the house, and doesn't even take up space to sleep
>pretty much the perfect roomie
>so you pop up some popcorn and shake half a bag of ice into a bowl for her
>rest goes in the freezer
"You got to watch Groundhog Day yet?"
>"No, not yet, sorry. Should I have? What's it about?"
>you chuckle
"You're about to find out!"
>you flop down on the couch and she crawls up on your chest
>the cold is better than any fan in this heat
>hit play
>Bill Murray, shit yeah
>alright, scene change
>you pull her head down to you and lean in for a kiss
>she returns it and you take a few gulps of her before breaking to watch Bill find new ways to kill himself
>you've already set a precedent of asking direct questions, so you don't even bother to preface it this time
"So, are all your bodily fluids... uh, you, I guess?"
>she shrugs, resting her head in the crook of your neck
>"Except for sweat, yeah. That's condensation, it's just water."
>you shake your head, keeping your voice low so as not to interrupt Bill's existential crisis
"That makes no sense, sweating is part of the excretory system. Shouldn't you sweat New Coke too? Or at least piss water?"
>"I don't know, probably? I dunno why, it just happens, sorry Anon."
>you roll your eyes
>you're not sure how prevalent cola ponies are, but their whole biology seems weird to you
>wait...
"So you cum soda?"
>the absurdity of the question is too much for her
>the glass pony snorts, throwing her hooves up to her nose
>"Oooowowowow, don't say stuff like that, Anon! Ow, that stings!"
>you laugh at her snorting coke
>and then again at the idea of her snorting coke like a soda-filled Scarface
"Sorry, sorry, it's just, that would be amazing. I'd eat women out all the time if they came carbonated beverages."
>she laughs at you and shoves you lightly
>"You'd have to get a date with one first!"
>ouch
>alert captain, shots fired
>return fire, a salvo across her nose
"Oh, right, and how many times have you gotten laid, exactly?"
>direct hit to the pride
>across her nose, not up it, you idiot
>she gives you a slightly indignant look, still smiling though
>"Do you really want to know how many dicks have been in the soda you're drinking?"
>augh
>okay, okay, you give
"...I withdraw my question, your honor, the prosecution rests."
>she gives a proud little smirk and goes back to watching the movie
>you scritch her idly behind one ear while you watch Phil deck Ned Ryerson across the face
>you've got one arm draped over her back as Bill Murray gets dubbed the fastest jack in Jefferson County
>your body heat's warmed her up somewhat, making her go a bit flat
>she nuzzles her head against your chest and sighs
>"Hey Anon?"
"Mmmn?"
>you look down at her
>both of you are getting a little sleepy
>"If a girl really did cum soda, would you go down on her?"
>whoa-ho, looks like some of your bluntness is wearing off on her
>her cheeks get a cherry tint to them
>aww, it's cute that she's such a prude about it
>you let out a little chuckle
"I dunno, depends on the flavor, right? Can you imagine, wine and dine a lady, show her a good time, do the flirting bullshit, get her home, go down on her holiest of holies, bring her over the edge, and getting rewarded with..."
>you pull a face of disgust
"...Crystal Pepsi?"
>she claps her hooves to her nose again as she snorts with laughter
>"hahaha, owowow..."
"Oh god, I'd be livid!"
>she giggles and nuzzles against you again
>you give her a second to compose herself
"...Should I ask about the sperm count of my favorite beverage?"
>she gives you a sardonic stare
>"Anon, I'm a glass pony filled with soda in a flavor nobody liked; what do you think?"
>well... epic self-burn, you guess
>and you guess that's realistic
>what're the odds of finding a male glass pony filled with soda?
>who wasn't a Pepsi flavor?
>(you found out the hard way she's not too fond of Mountain Dew or Dr. Pepper)
>still, you tilt her head up and take another sip or two from her lips
"Correction: a flavor relatively few people liked. Unless I'm nobody."
>she blinks at you a couple of times, then leans in for another sip
>you take it and pat her head again
>Bill Murray wakes up next to his ladyfriend; Groundhog Day is finally over for him
>as the credits roll it occurs to you
>usually when you take a drink of New Coke
>it doesn't involve tongue
>...interesting
>you give her mane a few more strokes and another ear-scritch, before switching to the next movie
>alriiiiight, Independence Day
>as you put your hand down on your shirt, you feel a dampness
>aww, what
"Hey... are you like leaking or something?"
>she picks her head back up to look at you
>"Hm?"
"I think you're leaking or something, turn around real quick. Lemme take a look."
>her tail adjusts slightly and she looks guiltily at you
>"Um... don't worry about it? I'm sorry, I didn't mean to, I'll run your clothes through the wash. Sorry."
>you shake your head
>you can wash your own damn clothes if you need to
"No, c'mon, this is a legit concern."
>probably
>you don't know, it could be
>and for once the fact that she doesn't know works to your advantage
>hesitantly, she stands up on your chest and turns around, laying back down with her tail facing you
>"Do you, uh... see anything? Is it okay?"
>your brow furrows as you inspect her backside
>fingers running along the mostly-clear surface of her flank looking for any cracks or drips
>she lets out a little shiver but otherwise stays still
>then you feel it
>a drip of moisture on your shirt
>you carefully lift her tail out of the way
>she looks pointedly up at the ceiling but doesn't stop you
>drip
>another drop of brown liquid soaks into your shirt from her marehood
>it's still chilled despite her laying on you for hours
>she's not meeting your eyes when you look up at her
>hmm
"Think I may've found the source,"
>you explain nonchalantly, placing your finger at the point where the drop fell
>"That's... that's goOOOoood?"
>she squeaks as you run your index up the length of her slit
>you take a taste of what you've collected
>it's sweeter and thicker than what you've gotten used to
>like... syrup?
>bueno.jpg
>you pull her rump closer, and she finally turns around to look at you again
>her cheeks are going to melt if they get any hotter
>"A-Anon? You don--"
"Just need to... get a... closer..."
>you run your tongue along the same path your finger took
>that's so good it just has to be unhealthy
>you watch her hooves shift anxiously as she lifts her tail out of the way
>that's good enough encouragement in your book
>soda horse anatomy 101 is a go
>you give her a couple more tastes
>she's dripping like a faucet as you lap her undiluted flavor away
>cautiously, you press a finger in, up to the first knuckle
>ah-ha, there's the little whicker you were listening for
>that's a sound normally reserved for when you get her into the freezer after being out in the sun all day
>useful information to have
>as you start to finger her, her panting breaths give way to little squeaks of pleasure
>she looks back but completely lacks the ability to say anything
>irrelevant, as you switch back to your tongue to sop up her accumulated pleasure
>you can actually feel it winking as it squeezes futilely at your tongue, trying to wring an orgasm from it
>she scoots back, pressing her full flank into your face even further
>the smell is... strong, but not unpleasant
>like you'd expect a candy shop to smell, sugary with hints of spice
>you're sure the exact description is hidden in a vault somewhere in Atlanta
>suffice to say
>pretty fuckin' good
>you bury your nose and mouth in her marehood, and she rewards you with a spritz of soda and a hearty moan
>"Nnngh, ohmygosh, that's so good! Ooh~, please don't stop! Please? Please?"
>well
>she did ask nicely
>you resume your ministrations, hands squeezing and rubbing her thick see-through thighs
>leaving just your mouth to catch the quickening stream of syrup
>her hips start to buck, aching to push as much of her winking muff in range of your tongue as will reach
>each thrust sends a few more bubbles to the top
>it's quite a head of foam she's got bubbling in her
>not often you can actually see an orgasm forming
>the promise of her release spurs you on
>you pause just long enough for her to wonder
"You taste so damn good."
>then you use both hands to spread her and tonguefuck her to the climax
>it's not a long trip
>a few agonizing seconds of you kissing, licking, and slurping at her high-fructose vag is enough to get her the rest of the way
>she doesn't disappoint, either, wailing as she sails over the edge of her self-control
>you're hit in the face by what feels like a goddamn seltzer bottle spray
>you close your eyes as a deluge of sticky, sweet, scrumptious mare-cum pours over your face
>you drink in what you can, true to your words
>not that she's too intent on your reaction
>the glass pone huffs and thrashes in the throes of her orgasm
>jesus fuck it's still going on
>your hair is soaked
>your face is sticky
>it's
>everywhere
>your hands finally let go of their death-grip on her plot, giving it a gentle pat instead as the flood at last begins to slow
>her eyes finally roll out of her head, and she takes a few more ragged breaths as the deluge slows back to a trickle
>she lays her head on your thigh, taking a moment to recover
>you survey the damage
>you can see a few inches of liquid in each hoof and a shallow pool in her belly
>the rest of it either made it down your thirsty throat
>all over your face
>or
>...
>shit, this couch is RUINED
>still, worth it though
>you reach up and pat her flank again
"...Whew... damn, girl. Beats the shit out of Crystal Pepsi."
>she smiles over her shoulder at you
>weakly she pulls herself upright, turning back around to lay face-to-face with you
>"Th... thank you."
>she wraps her hooves around your neck and kisses you again
>plenty of tongue
>very little soda flavor
>but even if you had a vault full of fucks, you would have not one to give about hat
>you return in kind, hugging her close as you smooch
>you break for air
"By the way,"
>you give a look to the coke-soaked upholstery
"remind me to buy some scotchgard when I go shopping."
>she giggles and nods, before you're back to muchas smoochas territory
>pretty good for a Thursday


>nngh
>whoever decided the sun should rise at this ungodly hour needs to be hung
>you grumble and roll over on the couch
>the saccharine-sweet smell of New Coke doesn't help your efforts to sleep for another hour
>this only makes you grumble louder
>you go to hug your glass pone tighter only to realize she's not in your arms
>well that's disappointing
>oh right
>you and your cola companion fell asleep watching Will Smith beat up aliens
>wait, what's all that clinking?
>it's loud enough to be what woke you up, actually
>you sit up
>urk
>hair... sticking... to couch...
>ow
>do you want ants?
>because that right there, that's how you get ants
>if you're going to make last night a habit, you've got to start cleaning up after at least
>"Oh, you're up! Morning!"
>New Coke has bowls and stuff from your fridge and pantry out on the floor
"Nngh... morning... what's with the mess?"
>she looks around apologetically and points to your computer
>"I was trying to make a recipe I found. For a cake! Is that okay? I didn't think you would mind, sorry..."
>you hold up a hand to stop her
"Nah, it's fine, just... didn't know what was happening. Oof, let me get a shower, though, and I'll lend you a hand."
>"Oh, that's okay, I mean, you don't have to. I think I've got it!"
>she taps an egg against one of the mixing bowls, managing to get a little more than half the white in the bowl along with the yolk
>uh-huh
>you pat her head
"No, but seriously, I'll help out when I'm out of the shower."
>"Don't worry, I got this!"
>she waves you off as you make your way to the bathroom
>best make this quick
>not that you don't trust her to clean up, but if your cola-mare burns down the apartment, you'll have a lot of explaining to do
>and you really like that
>uh...
>well you're sure there's something in your apartment that isn't shit
>you wouldn't want that destroyed
>whatever it is
>you turn on the hot water and step into the tub
"Ya dada daa da world to sing, in perfect harmony..."
"...begging mercy for their siiiins, Satan laughing spreads his wiiiings, oh lawd yeah! Da-na-naaaaaaa, naaa..."
>bitchin' air guitar solo goooo
>you dry off and wrap the towel around your waist
>almost out of the bathroom
>wait, who's that handsome motherfucker in that mirror over there?
>that's just you
>you run a comb through your hair
>now let's see, what are you going to wear
>well, judging by the contents of your bureau, you'll be fashioning that towel into a toga
>shit
"New Coke, where's my pants?"
>"What? Oh, sorry, I washed them, they're in the living room! I'll get them for you, sorry, sorry!"
>that mare has a terminal case of the apologies
>she comes trotting in, a set of clothes draped across her back
>worn out jeans, shitty band T-shirt, boxers, socks
>perfect laying-around clothes
>(about 80% of your clothes are laying around clothes, not counting work shirts)
"Thanks. Should I be calling the fire department while I dress?"
>she gawks at you for a second
>well, not at your face
>...
>you adjust the towel a bit, which startles her out of her stare
>"Uh? No, no, everything's fine!... mostly. The oven's still heating up. I'll clean it up, I promise!"
>she just stands there for a second
>so do you
"You... mind if I get dressed now?"
>she blinks at you a couple of times, nonplussed
>then it dawns on her
>"Oh! Oh, right, sorry. I'll uh, get back to it!"
>she trots back to the kitchen
>you see her pause and look back over her shoulder at you on the way
>goofball
>you throw your clothes on and stick your head back in the bathroom for one last comb
"Man I'm pretty,"
>you joke in your best Elvis impersonation
>alright, let's see what the damage is
>you walk into the kitchen/living room area and hear a sound like water being poured on sand
>"Ahhhh..."
>your glass mare is squatting over a bowl of dry ingredients, eyes closed
>you can't see the source of the sound
>but you can guess
>she lets out a little shiver as her cola level drops slightly
"..."
>she opens her eyes to you staring at her dumbfounded
>"...uh."
>you arch an eyebrow
>and the two of you sit there in silence for a moment
"...Come on. Don't... I... New Coke. Come on."
>she blushes so bad it's actually hard to see through her anymore
"What the actual literal fuck."
>in the most nonchalant way one really can, she climbs over the bowl to sit on the floor with a dull thunk
>"It... the recipe called for coke?"
>she hazards a smile
>augh
>okay, yeah, you will acknowledge all of the facts of this
>all of her bodily functions involve coke
>you drink from her through makeout sessions
>the whole... thing... last night
>all of that is totally 100% true
>but... come on
>you rub the bridge of your nose with your fingers
>"the measuring cup was too small! Besides, I'm really good at estimating, I swear!"
"Not remotely the point. New Coke, I know it's an arbitrary boundary, but I really don't think I'm okay with you pissing in the cake. Or... pissing in anything, really."
>she blushes, if possible, even harder
>her eyes suddenly find the most interesting thing in the world on your ceiling
>why--
>...
"It's not piss, is it."
>"Weeeeeell, I should probably get some rest, see you when I can show my face around here again!"
>she scampers for the fridge, fairly well throwing herself in there with her momentum pulling the door closed behind her
>she was going to bake you a cumcake
>so sweet and tasty
>cumcake
>don't be too hasty
>no no no no
>this needs to be a discussion
>iiiin a couple minutes when she's calmed down
>so you take a few paper towels, wipe up the spills, and get all the scattered ingredients organized
>there's no way this isn't going to be awkward
>so let's be direct about it at least
>you place the mostly-prepped batter on the counter and take a deep breath
>pop open the fridge door
>"Sorrysorrysorrysorrysorry I'msosorryyyyyy... ohmygosh I'm so dumb, I'm sorry..."
>she whimpers, eyes still closed and hugging her tail tightly
"Hey, no, come on. Chill."
>pat her head lightly
>she's still kind of warm
>must not've rested after falling asleep last night
>she just curls up further as little drops of cola bud at the corners of her eyes
>you give her ear a gentle rub, then stand up and grab a few ice cubes from the freezer
"Relax, it's fine. I was just, ah, a bit surprised, is all."
>she lets out a sigh and looks up at you
>at least she's not blushing quite so hard now
>she nibbles on a couple of the cubes in your hand before she musters up the courage to speak
>"I... just wanted to show you my appreciation for, you know, everything. Taking care of me, letting me stay here... last night..."
>she really must not've been paying attention
>otherwise she'd know that that was far from just for her sake
>she nibbles on another cube
>"I didn't know that was going to be weird for you, but I should've. So, sorry, again,"
>she wipes a tear with one hoof
>you scritch behind her other ear and she leans into it a bit
"Don't worry about it, eh? How were you supposed to know? You were trying to do something nice."
>you give her a little smile
"Even if your way of doing it kinda weirded me out."
>she gives a sniffly smile back
>good, crisis averted you hope
"...You wanna stay in here a little longer and cool off?"
>"If... if that's okay, yeah. Thanks..."
>give her a nod and another gentle pat and close the fridge
>time to look at what you've got here
>looks like she was most of the way through the recipe
>adding the coke was just about the last step before baking, just needs a little vanilla extract and another stir
>...
>weeeeell, it would be a shame to just toss the whole thing out
>and she did try really hard
>...
>add a little vanilla and mix the wet and dry ingredients together
>dip your pinkie into the chocolate batter and put it to your tongue
>shit
>that's really not bad
>are you seriously going to?
>you wrestle with the idea for a moment
>the oven dings, it's up to temperature
>about an hour later
>you knock on the fridge
>it opens just a crack
>"Huh?"
"Hey, guess what time it is?"
>she gives you a weary smile, pushing the fridge open a little further
>"Movie time?"
>she hops out and shakes a few drops of condensation off her coat
"Movie time."
>you hold up a hand that she meets with a half-hearted high-five
>you nod towards the TV
>Bruce Willis is looking extremely determined next to Samuel L.M.F. Jackson
"Die Hard with a Vengeance. You remember the original, right?"
>you guide her over to the couch and she hops up next to you
>"That was the one with the German guy, right?"
"Yeah, this one doesn't have him though. It's got Sam Jackson, who's BETTER."
>you wink at her and hit play
>she starts to nuzzle against you, but seems to think better of it
>now now, none of that
>you give her a quick hug and then reach over to the coffee table and pick up your fork
>it takes her almost until Bruce is done expositing the backstory for her to notice
>"Uh... what're you eating?"
"Cake."
>you give her a sideways glance and a smile
>"What... kind of cake?"
>heh
"I dunno... some recipe I found online."
>she's starting to blush again
>best not to let her get on a roll with that
>you pull her into another snuggle
>this time she doesn't lean back away when you let her go
>"Is it any good?"
>you chuckle and lick your lips
"It's goddamn delicious. But I'll tell ya, it's a little dry and I'm getting thirsty. Come here, huh?"
>so here you are again
>always such a pleasure
>you swap back and forth between bites of cake and sips of her sweet kisses, neither of you paying much attention to the movie
>not that it matters, it's a black guy and a white guy blowing shit up
>"I'm, mmph, glad the cake isn't bad... sorry it grossed you out,"
>ugh, looks like you have to go all "very special episode" on her
>okay, let's resolve this
>you take another bite and pull her onto your lap, taking a few seconds to chew and swallow
>talking with your mouth full of literally orgasmic dessert is definitely rude
"Mm, shorry, hold on a shec,"
>you swallow the last bit and lean back so you can look at her properly
"Let's get this straight right now. I like you, New Coke. Legitimately, absolutely, I like you. But it's tough to get to know you when you're always apologizing for who and what you are."
>you lean down and kiss her on the nose, which lights her cheeks up again
"I don't expect everything you say or do to line up with what I like or want. I hope you don't expect that of me. Different isn't always bad."
>you lick your lips again and lean in close to her ear
"After all, eating your marecum cake is different, but I'm definitely not complaining."
>you're almost getting used to the feeling of cold hooves around your neck at this point
>almost
>it still makes you jump a bit as she mashes her lips against yours
>one of these days she's going to drown you with a kiss like this
>but you try to put as much effort into the delicate dance of your tongues as you do into keeping soda out of your lungs
>she doesn't seem to mind your divided attention in the least
>her whole body pressing against yours
>legs wrapped around your waist
>the absurdity of this registers in the back of your mind for a second
>any objections you may have disappear when you grab dat plot, soft and pliable despite being made of living glass
>she lets out a little whimper
>you can feel a dampness forming on your shirt
>her hips begin to shift, rocking gently against you as your hands caress her
>the motion, as usual, stirs up a layer of foam inside her
>she breaks your kiss (finally) and turns to one side, letting out a polite little belch covered by one hoof
>you take the opportunity to suck down some much needed oxygen
>she looks below her, letting out an inarticulate whine of need
>she can feel the itch for it, even feel its pressure against her when her hips roll
>this would be a great time for a lesson in asserting herself and going after what she wants
>but y'know what?
>there are more important things than reinforcing good interpersonal habits
>she reluctantly scoots back a bit on your lap at your behest
>you reach down and unbutton your jeans
>boxers down
>expanddong.p64
>she brings one hoof down from your neck to trace up its curve
>her touch is gentle, just as you'd expect
>...ohgod
>coldcoldcoldCOLDCOLD
>you let out a hiss of distress as she runs the hoof back down to the base
"Nnnngh okay maybelessofthat"
>she looks up in surprise and gives you an embarrassed smile when she realizes why
>she scoots a bit further back and leans over
>then you can feel something far less cold against your member
>her breath is still cool, but not as cold as those hooves
>at least your dick won't get frostbite
>her lips press against the head and you let out another hiss
>this one has nothing to do with temperature
she looks up at you but doesn't break the seal of her lips to your tip
>instead, she keeps her gaze locked on you as her lips part and she dips further down
>and further
>and further
>shit, do soda pones not have a gag reflex?
>oh, nope, never mind, there it is
>she lets out a little cough, and you feel a spritz of soda accompany it
>the pop runs in rivulets down to your thighs
>good thing you already declared this couch condemned after last night
>you can tell this is going to be messy
>she draws her lips back up and you can feel her tongue exploring instinctively
>you place a hand against the back of her head
>she responds to your lightest touch
>tongue lapping at you with each downward pass
>lips slicking you down with each upward bob of her head
>you slow her down more than once, not eager to finish just yet
>finally, you can't take it anymore, and you lift her all the way off of you
>her lips let go of your dick with a muffled pop, and she licks them hungrily
"Damn... that was good..."
>you give her plot a gentle pull as you bring her upright, one of her forehooves resting against your chest, the other around your neck for balance
>she looks down through her body as you lower her, biting her lip anxiously
>"I..."
>you can feel her trembling slightly as Keymaster meets Gatekeeper
>"I'm ready..."
>slowly
>painfully slowly
>she lowers her hips, impaling herself on your length
>you can feel her contracting around you, every second pulling you deeper inside with that rippling, squeezing action
>with each inch she lets out a coo of pleasure
>apparently she enjoys the tortuously slow descent
>finally there's nothing left to take, and she lowers her weight onto your thighs
>Descartes would be proud
>now that everyone has taken their seats
>the ride can begin
>you grab her around the waist and lift her up ever so slightly
>she gasps a tiny bit at the feeling of you leaving her
>much more as your hips start to pump
>she lets out a squeak with every smack of your hips against her
>the hoof on your chest starts to paw at it anxiously
>as your pace quickens, she runs it over your chest and stomach, the cool sensation much more welcome there than down below
>her breaths are coming out ragged now, in between a melody of moans and cries and soft-spoken encouragement
>for your part, you're huffing and puffing too, the rare grunt of approval escaping your throat as you jackhammer away at her sopping snatch
>when you lean back to breathe, you see something that you can only think to describe as 'fucking awesome'
>your thrusting along with her own bucking hips has shaken her up something fierce
>that's nothing new, though you've probably never gotten her shaken to this extent
>but so much liquid has turned to foam that you can see the silhouette of your member inside her through the cola
>not only can you feel that heavenly velvet vice trying to squeeze an orgasm out of you
>you can actually watch it happen
>your staring catches New Coke's eye too, and she looks down through herself again, cheeks flush at the sight
>"That's..."
"Hot as fuck,"
>you finish for her, rocking your hips again, watching yourself move inside her
>"...Do it."
>she leans forward, both of you now angled to watch the show as you grab hold of her haunches and resume thrusting
>you watch enraptured as you drive into her, more suds sloshing up her insides as you shake her
>"I'm... I'm gonna..."
>she whimpers, breaking her stare down at her body to look at you
>"Are you? Can we... together?"
>you nod silently, meeting her gaze and leaning forward
>your lips meet and you shift into
>MAXIMUM OVERDRIVE
>she moans into the kiss and you can feel strong, milking squeezes on your shaft and a lukewarm splash of liquid as you buck wildly
>it's too much
>you thrust up, feel yourself seize inside her
>and
>BOOM goes the dynamite
>she breaks the kiss, moaning and riding out the rest of her orgasm as you continue to deposit inside her
>she huffs, each ripple of muscle against your member accompanied with a small groan as they fade in intensity
>at last, she lets out a final-sounding sigh and hugs you, resting her head on your shoulder
>you pop out of her unceremoniously, your own orgasm spent, and she slides in closer to you, dripping a mixture of white and brown as she rests her body against yours
>"Ohmygosh... that was... was so... so..."
>"...urp..."
>you frown
>that's an odd normal post-coital pleasantry
>you look down her back
>she still has all that carbonation built up
>...uh-oh
>*BRAAAAAUUUURRP*
>"...'scuse me... ohno--"
>*BUUURRRARP*
>"sorr--"
>*BRAAAAPURP*
>"I didn't mean t--"
>*BURPARPURPURP*
>you can't help but laugh as the poor mare covers her mouth and tries to stifle her burps
>and of course you laughing shakes her slightly and extends the cycle
>so as gently as you can, you lift her up and off of you, setting her down on the couch next to you
>then it's off to your room to change again
>oh right
>still no clothes washed
>dammit New Coke
>you walk out to the living room naked and grab a pair of boxers that you hastily climb into
>no sense getting more dressed than that
>the glass pony is still letting out little burps every few seconds, though nothing as loud as those first couple
>you nudge her over a bit and sit down on the only non-coke-covered section left in the middle
>she rests her head against your chest as you restart the movie
>you pat her belly and hug her close
"...Think you can stop apologizing so much now?"
>you ask as the opening credits roll again
>she nuzzles into you, putting a hoof over your hand and letting out a sigh
>"I can try. Is it okay if it takes me a little bit to get used to it?"
"Absolutely. Trying is all anyone can ask for."
>you kiss the top of her head and the two of you turn your attention to the movie
"...Think I could get another cake made with your marecum?"
>she giggles, wrapping both hooves around your arm still scritching her belly
>"Maaaaybe."
>she leans back and stares up at you, some of the soda flowing into the bottom of her head as she lays in your lap
>"You might have to help me with some of the ingredients though,"
>she winks and waggles her eyebrows at you
>oh no
>perish the thought
>how will you ever manage
"I guess I could try to make that happen."
>you lean down and kiss her, softly, before turning the volume up to fully appreciate how many times Samuel L. Jackson says motherfucker
>man, you think as she lays against you, watching intently
>you sure do love the taste of New Coke