Title:           Spa Shenanigans (Addiction part 1)
Author:          CropTool
Pastebin link:   http://pastebin.com/RrjYx9Pk
First Edit:      Sunday 1st of April 2012 03:48:46 PM CDT
Last Edit:       Last edit on: Monday 26th of January 2015 01:49:01 AM CDT

Addiction is a continuation of PimpRarity part 2
It gets a little gross.
 
>You swallowed your pride, went back to Rarity and got yourself a job at the Ponyville Spa
>It hasn't been too bad. The sisters can be absolutely vicious when no customers are around, but you've gotten pretty good at what you do and all the ponies leave relaxed
>Your soothing hands have been good for business and you've actually gotten AJ and Fluttershy to calm down and stop with the attempted assaults.
>You've got a half-hour session scheduled with a first-timer and then you're done for the day
>Wait, what the heck does 'full service' mean?
>You were very clear when you started, you would not do anything sexual with a mare
>It suddenly dawns on you that you have made a mistake in your wording
>A very big, red mistake
>"Howdy Anon"
>Big Macintosh walks in wearing an ill fitting robe, hangs it on the door and lies face down on the table.
 
>Maybe you've got the wrong idea about what full service means
>Maybe this doesn't have to get weird
>Maybe if you just work out the tension in his muscles he'll be on his way like all the others
>"Anon, the backrub is nice and all, but that's not exactly what I paid for."
>You look at the clock, you've been working on him for nearly an hour, well over what he was scheduled for
>Alright Anon, you're a professional, you can do this
>You can whack off this marshmallow pony
"Oh.. Yeah.. Would you mind getting off the table? I think it'll be easier if your hind legs are on the floor."
>He gets up and 'mounts' the table, you kneel under him and get a look at what you're dealing with
 
>It's as bad as you expected, they don't call him 'Big Mac' for nothing
>He's not even hard and it's almost as big as your arm
>He grunts as you grab his floppy horsecock and start pumping
>You start slow, working faster as he gets harder
>You're going to need two hands for this
>Suddenly, you realize what the bucket under the table is for
>Bless those neon witches, at least they gave you that
>The only way you can get a good grip on Mac is by lying on your back underneath him
>From this angle his junk looks comically huge, and you can see his balls starting to pulse
>They're pretty big too, how have you never noticed this before?
>Goddamn it Anon, focus. You're not in to ponies and you're not gay for horsecock either
>Pump, pump, pump, you can tell he's getting close
>More grunting, you get the bucket ready
 
>My word this stallion can jizz
>He's been shooting thick, ropey streams into the bucket for what seems like minutes
>Finally he's done and you're trying as hard as you can to ignore the small bit that splashed on your lip
>Keep it together Anon, don't lick it.
>"Thanks, buddy. See ya around."
>He grabs his robe and walks out, you're left holding a bucket full of pony spooge
>A brief lapse in concentration, why do you suddenly taste apple cinnamon?
>You licked it.
>You licked Big Mac's jizz off your mouth and it was the greatest thing you've ever tasted
>You know there's a drain in the back where you can dump the bucket
>You can feel how warm it is through the plastic
>You walk in to the back room
>Don't do it Anon, it tastes delicious but it's not worth it
>Just dump the bucket and walk away
>You can quit the spa, you'll find work in town, you always have.
>Dump the bucket and walk away
 
>You can't do it
>You can't let it go to waste
>What the hell is wrong with you
>You just jerked off your friend and now you're seriously about to drink a bucket of cinnamon apple horse semen
>Better not let it get cold
>You hold up the bucket and it's contents slowly flow out into your mouth and down your throat
>This is the best goddamn thing you've ever tasted
>The Apple family makes some damn fine fritters and pies but none of that can hold a candle to the white goo that's filling your mouth and running down your neck
 
>You're lying in the back room, stomach full, uniform ruined.
>You're not sure if you want to cry, shower or just bask in the glory of the best thing you've ever eaten.
>You throw out your stained clothes, wash yourself off and change into your tshirt and jeans
"Sorry ladies, but I can't do this anymore. I quit."
>You run home, lock your doors, shutter the windows and reflect on what your life has become.
>You don't leave the house or even eat for the next two days