Title:           AKANAME - day two (NSFW, creepy)
Author:          AngryWino
Pastebin link:   http://pastebin.com/BiJBgrJz
First Edit:      Monday 7th of March 2016 01:52:51 PM CDT
Last Edit:       Last edit on: Wednesday 13th of April 2016 04:29:06 PM CDT

>You are awakened by sunlight piercing through your bedroom curtain and assaulting your face.
"Fuck you, Celestia."
>It's something of a daily ritual for you, now.
>Hand to your face, rubbing the sleep out of your eyes, you vaguely wonder why the hangover hasn't hit yet.
>This part of the morning was normally spent throwing up and dry heaving.
>Maybe you were starting to develop a tolerance.
/Time to up the dosage, then./
>So far, every night, you had passed out before you could finish the job.
>For some reason, your boxers have been removed, and added to the heap of unwashed laundry that almost totally obscured the floor of the room.
>You wonder why you're naked.
>Then memories begin to creep in.
/What in the fuck?/
>There is no sign of your bony red paramour from last night.
/Was that all just a dream?/
>Your stomach growls at you, complaining of not having had anything except alcohol for at least sixteen hours now.
"Shit. Let's see what I have for breakfast."
>You gracelessly lever yourself up from your bed, pull on a pair of sweatpants, and meander haphazardly towards the kitchen.
>Along the way, you note the pile of furniture in front of your bathroom.
"Welp, I didn't dream that part, I guess."
>In the kitchen, you open cabinets, looking for food.
>You come across a box of oat cluster cereal.
>Opening the fridge, you discover a carton of milk, and not much else.
>The smell informs you that the milk has gone off, so you stuff it into your overfull trash.
>Other bits of trash fall out, and a rodent of some kind jumps ship and runs under the counter.
/Later, little dude./
>Yeah. You’re totally not bothered.
>You reach into the box and grab a fistful of cereal.
>Equal portions are stuffed into your mouth and scattered on the floor.
>You check your booze stock.
>It’s starting to get low, and you’re planning to up your consumption.
>Plus, as long as your body insists on clinging to this weird pony-fucked, technicolor vale of tears, you’d rather have something to eat besides dry cereal.
>So that means it’s time for one of your least favorite things.
>You have to go into town and buy stuff.
>You add some items to your outfit.
>Socks, sandals, T-shirt, bathrobe, sunglasses.
>More for your own modesty.
>It’s not as if those fucking nudist ponies care what you’re wearing anyways.
>You pull a bag of bits out of your dresser and drop them in the pocket of your robe.
>And you carefully lock your house when you leave, lest Rarara make good on her threat to return with the Fire Brigade.
>One of those equine busybodies has cleaned the debris field off your lawn.
/Shit./
>Well, since you couldn’t get into your bathroom because of the furniture blockade, you decide to water the grass.
/Fuck if they’re watching. Don’t care./
>You don’t even bother tying the bathrobe shut afterwards.
 
>”Good morning, Anon!”
“Fuck off, ya cunt.”
>The random, cheerful stallion stares at your back as you walk into the grocery market.
>”What’s his problem?”
>Grabbing a basket, you begin perusing the aisles to see what’s good to eat.
/Oh. I’ve always wanted to try that./
>You pick up the container, open it, and eat it right there in the aisle with your fingers.
/Not bad./
>A small foal, following his mother, stops to gape at you.
>You beckon him closer.
>He doesn’t move, but keeps staring.
>You stamp your foot and lunge at him.
>The little shit runs after his mother.
>You look at the price for the thing you just ate.
/Nah. Too expensive./
>You drop the open container on the floor and keep shopping.
>You fill your basket with a few basic foodstuffs.
>And as much booze as you can possibly carry.
>Heading for the only checkout line, you stack your stuff on the counter as noisily as you can.
>Just then, you notice who is in line ahead of you.
>”Oh, h-h-hello, Anon,” the yellow pegasus stammers.
/Fucking Fluttershy. Just perfect./
>With a huge pile of food for her critters, too.
“Are you gonna be long? ‘Cause I got shit to do.”
>Well, not really, but you’re not going to tell her that.
>”Oh, w-well,” she stammers, “I suppose I do have a lot of things. Y-you can go ahead of me, i-i-if you want.”
>With a grunt, you pick up your items and move them ahead of hers in line.
>Even though she moves to make way for you, you still end up uncomfortably close to her.
>Well, 20 yards or less is uncomfortable, for Purplesmart or any of her friends.
>The cashier begins ringing up your order, eyebrows raised at the amount of booze you’re buying.
>All different bottles.
>You weren’t about to make it easy on him, of course.
>”A-Anon, did you take a shower this morning?”
>You turn and give Flutterbutt your best “fuck you” glare.
“Why, is one missing?”
>She shrinks a bit.
>”It’s just that you don’t smell as bad as when we came to visit you last night.”
“You mean when you and your co-conspirators laid siege to my castle?”
>Flutters actually stamps a hoof in frustration.
>“Oooo, why are you always like this? We just want to help you!”
>”That’ll be 84 bits,” the cashier tells you.
>Ignoring Yellow for the moment, you turn and count out the money to him, then pick up your sacks.
“Go help someone who deserves it, and quit bothering me.”
>You stalk out of the store before Bananahush can reply.
 
>On the way home you walk across an intersection without looking.
>A blue-maned pony pulling her milk cart the other way digs in her hooves to stop her milk cart and avoid hitting you.
>”Hey! Why don’t you look where you’re going!” the milk mare yells.
>You set down one of your sacks, flip her the bird, pick up your sack and continue walking.
>Arriving home, a flutter of wings announces another unwelcome visitor.
/Not in the mood, whoever you are./
>You dig out your keys and unlock your door as hastily as you can.
>”Anon! I have your…”
>You dart inside and slam the door in her walleyed face.
>…mail.”
>With a sigh, the grey pegasus mare sets your mail down on the porch, then leaves to continue her rounds.
 
>After eating some food, you feel good enough to take a look at the pile of furniture currently blocking your bathroom.
>It would be really nice to have your armchair back, for drinking purposes.
>Not to mention, someplace other than the yard to take a shit.
>So after taking a long pull at the first bottle to fortify yourself, you start disassembling the blockade, putting the pieces of furniture back where they belong.
>You work up a good sweat in the process.
>It’s a lot harder to move furniture when you’re not riding an adrenaline rush.
>And you’re not in that good a shape anymore.
>After another pull at the bottle, you pick up the armchair and heave it back to the living room.
>Mission accomplished, you sink into its cushioned embrace, and polish off the bottle.
>You sit back and wait for the comfortably numb feeling to overtake you.
>A noise startles you, and you stand up, looking around the room.
“Hello?”
>You reach between the cushions of the seat and grab a pair of nunchucks you’d managed to bring with you to magic horseland.
>You’re no good with nunchucks at all, but they make you feel safer.
>You look out the front door, seeing that the street is empty.
>But you do spot your mail.
>With a shrug, you bring it in.
>The most interesting article is a parchment envelope with gold trim, bearing a yellow wax seal that looks kinda like a sunburst.
/Huh. What would Sunbutt be writing to me about this time?/
>You crack the seal and open it up, reading her neat, fancy writing to yourself.
>”My Dear Anonymous, It is with no small amount of distress that I received word from the Princess of Friendship of your continued refusal to accept her offer of yada-yada-yada”
/Yeah. The usual bullshit./
>You fold the letter in half once, then twice, and then a third time, rising from your seat.
>The folded parchment is just the right thickness to stop your table from wobbling, once tucked under its leg.
>Satisfied with your work, you open another bottle and take a drink.
>There’s that noise again.
>Putting the bottle down you retrieve your nunchucks and go through the house.
>Nothing in the kitchen.
>Nothing in the living room.
>Nothing in your bedroom, apart from the piles of dirty clothes and your bed.
>Nothing in the spare room, except spare stuff.
>Relics, of a time before you decided you wanted out of Equestria, and chose alcohol as your escape.
>Now just clutter.
>So. The bathroom.
>You open the door and reach for the light switch.
>The light doesn’t work.
/Because you broke it, dumbass./
>But you didn’t, did you?
>The sun is going down, so you go back to the kitchen and light a candle.
>You fortify your courage with another big swig from the bottle.
>You cautiously go back to the bathroom, candle in one hand, nunchucks in the other.
>You can’t see much by the flickering light, but it almost looks as though someone has cleaned in here.
>It sure as hell hadn’t been you.
>But the bathtub ring is gone, and the stains are gone from the commode.
>You take a step in, intent on investigating further.
>”Put out that damn light!” a raspy voice screeches above your head.
>Looking up, you spot that emaciated red pony from your dream clinging to the ceiling, and glaring at you with her yellow eyes.
“FUCK ME! IT WASN’T A DREAM!!!”
>The monstrous pony hisses.
>You swing up your nunchucks to defend yourself.
>You manage to knock the candle out of your own hand and swat yourself in the head with them.
>The candle falls in the toilet, and is extinguished.
>You fall over backwards and land on your ass, half in and half out of the bathroom.
>The noise you’d been investigating is repeated, hooves on tile, and you feel a weight settle onto your legs.
>And a pressure on your crotch.
>Snifffffffffff…
”Holy shit! You’re still here?”
>”I told you, human, I live here now!” the voice comes from inside the dark bathroom.
>With horror, you realize that she is dragging you back inside the bathroom.
>You reach for your nunchucks, which you dropped when you fell.
>”Nope!”
>That long, clammy pink tongue slithers out of the doorway and seizes your wrist.
/Shit! that part wasn’t a dream either?/
>You are dragged further into the bathroom, effectively putting the nunchucks out of your reach, and the tongue releases your hand.
>Then it begins to fumble at the waistband of your sweatpants.
“What the hell are you doing?”
>The tongue withdraws, and the creature’s head emerges from the bathroom into the dim light of the fading day coming from your window.
>”Why, I’m going to have myself a real meal, and a little fun in the bargain as well!”
>Hooves at your waist, tugging at your sweatpants.
>”Why do you wear all this crap?”
“NO! No way, you can’t do that!”
>”Well why not, it was your idea, wasn’t it?”
>With a grunt, the repulsive bony thing manages to shove your sweatpants down to your knees, exposing you.
>”Ah, there we go!”
>Without any further preamble, her tongue slithers forth and wraps around your flaccid member, and with a squelching wet sound begins to pump.
>Against your will, and in spite of the clammy, slimy feel of it, you start getting hard.
/Why boner? You fucking traitor!/
>Clearly you’re not drunk enough for whiskey dick yet.
“I don’t want this! How the hell is this my idea?!”
>The emaciated thing ignores you, continuing her ministrations as you harden further, trying to push her away.
“Answer me!!”
>Finally, the awful tongue withdraws, and the monster lifts her head, getting right in your face, and pinning your arms with her forelegs.
>She leers at you with stained teeth.
>”You said, and I quote, ‘FUCK ME!’”
>Something cold and slimy presses against your tip.
“NO!!!”
>As you open your mouth to scream, the monster’s tongue invades.
>She surges forth hungrily, mashing her muzzle against your face in a deep, sloppy kiss.
>Teeth-clashingly, gag-reflex-deep.
>At the same time, cold, slimy folds begin to envelop you, as she sinks her weight down upon you, until her bony rump rests on your thighs.
>Twiggy Sporkle was wrong.
>After all this time, you’ve just lost your pony virginity.
>And it’s far more horrifying than you ever imagined.
 
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