Pink Lemonade


                                            >You are awoken by a knock at the door and a frosting-stained invitation stuffed through your letterbox.

                                            >After wiping away some of the sprinkles and rubbing the sleep from your eyes, you quickly discern that it’s from Pinkie.


                                            “Dear Nonny!

                                            I need a good friend to help me out with something super duper important! Get your cute green keister over to Sugarcube Corner lickety split!

                                            -Pinkie Pie!”


                                            >You smile and slip into your Sunday best.

                                            >Which in this case is an oversized T Shirt and the pair of sweatpants with the least stains on them.

                                            >If Rarity caught you in this getup you’d be hanged and quartered for crimes against fashion, but fortunately for you clothing choice is the last thing on Pinkie Pie’s mind.

                                            >You’re not sure what she needs help with, but the extra bold underlining of the word ‘important’ lets you know it’s something crucial.

                                            >Not wanting to keep Pinkie waiting a moment longer, you leap through the door and hurry across town.

                                            >As you pull up outside Sugarcube Corner, your labored breaths a reminder of your poor physical condition, an alarming realization crosses your mind that you might have the wrong day.

                                            >Or maybe even be too late.

                                            >Because all appearances seem to indicate the place is closed for business.

                                            >The lights are all off, the closed sign hangs in the window; you curiously press your face up to the glass.

                                            >Seems empty.

                                            >That is, until, out of absolutely nowhere a happy pink face bursts into view and the door swings open.

                                            >The suddenness almost throws you off your feet.

                                            “Agh!”

                                            >”Agh! To you too, Nonny!”

                                            >Clutching your hand to your chest to still your heart, you follow her inside and close the door behind you.

                                            >Crisp morning sunlight streams through the windows and over the counters. It’s actually quite surreal to see Sugarcube Corner in this state.

                                            >As a local hotspot it’s usually abuzz with activity. There’s almost an eerie quality to the emptiness but you don’t have long to think about that.

                                            >The more you look at Pinkie, the more you begin to suspect she’s a little off today.

                                            >The mare bounces in place on all four hooves, her back ones crossed.

                                            >Rivulets of nervous sweat trail down her brow as she bites her lip.

                                            >Even for Pinkie Pie this behavior is strange.

                                            “So, uh, what can I help you with?”

                                            >Pinkie gazes off into nothingness.

                                            >”Wh- Huh? Oh, right! Y’see, Nonny, I need some help prepping today’s lemonade!”

                                            “Lemonade? Ah, well that sounds easy enough!”

                                            >Pinkie’s face twists up with a rife pang of urgency. Looks like she’s really eager to get started.

                                            “So, where are the lemons?”

                                            >”Lemons?”

                                            >She tilts her head to the side, glaring at you like you just spread her grandmother’s ashes on toast.

                                            >”You don’t make lemonade with lemons, silly!”

                                            “You... don’t?”

                                            >This is getting weirder and weirder.

                                            >”Well, duh! Of course not! That’s the BORING way to make lemonade. Us Pies have our own patented family recipe that’s... ughh...”

                                            >Pinkie’s bouncing intensifies.

                                            >”Uh... it’s, um...”

                                            >Her entire body begins to shudder.

                                            >The pressure within her mounts and mounts.

                                            >Until you hear a few accidental drops of something piddle against the floor.

                                            >”Uh oh.”

                                            >This prompts Pinkie to let out a shocked squeak and spin around on the spot, her tail lifting swiftly to show you what’s underneath.

                                            >You feel yourself blush at the plump, bubblegum-pink horsepussy thrust into your face without warning.

                                            >A few more glistening drops of gold roll through her lips and fall to the floor in a light drizzle before she manages to clench herself shut again.

                                            >You have several questions racing through your mind right now.

                                            >The first and foremost one being “Is that piss!?”

                                            >But before you can get over your speechlessness and ask, Pinkie speaks up for you.

                                            >”C’mooon, Nonny! Grab that jug over there! I... ooh, I can’t hold it much longer!”

                                            >Her eyes widen as a more powerful spurt slips out, shooting all the way over to land at your feet in a little puddle.

                                            >Still confused at the situation but unable to stop and question it, you lunge for the large bell-shaped glass jug and hold it out in her direction.

                                            >She takes this cue to finally let loose, and what pours out of her is reminiscent of a whole reservoir of water feeding through a tiny crack in a dam.

                                            >"Ahh!"

                                            >A thick streak of bright, well-hydrated fluid spouts from between her fleshy pink folds, forming a perfect arc.

                                            >You have to reposition the opening of the jug by a few inches to make sure all of it goes in.

                                            >But once it's where it needs to be all you can do is stare in both awe and lingering confusion as Pinkie steadily fills the receptacle with warm pee.

                                            >This act should be shameful, surely.

                                            >You may not have interacted with a whole lot of people back home, but you're pretty sure pissing in front of your friends was considered boundary breaking to some small extent.

                                            >Yet here in Ponyville it doesn't seem to weird Pinkie out at all.

                                            >As you crouch there, staring intensely at the rich golden juice flushing and roiling around in the bottom of the jug, all the pieces finally slot together and the context of this little chore of Pinkie's finally catches up to you.

                                            >She said lemonade... didn't she?

                                            >So that must mean that the ponies here drink her...

                                            >A sharp nervous chuckle leaps from your mouth. To say you're confounded by this situation would be an understatement.

                                            >Along with the heat, the scent of Pinkie's fresh whizz soon drifts through the air to greet your nostrils.

                                            >Remarkably, it smells... pretty good.

                                            >You take another curious whiff.

                                            >It's not just good, it's sweet!

                                            >Soon you're taking deep, deliberate sniffs at the humid smell in the air.

                                            >It's just like pink lemonade!

                                            >Warm pink lemonade, but pink lemonade all the same.

                                            >There's that sour, fruity strawberry tang. The sweetness that reminds you of powdered sugar, and beneath it all the zesty bite of lemon rinds.

                                            >The idea that ponies would drink this suddenly doesn't seem so crazy after all, that is if it tastes half as good as it smells.

                                            >Quite soon the hollow sound of liquid trickling against glass deepens into more of a splash.

                                            >It sounds more like she's relieving herself into an actual toilet now, rather than a water jug.

                                            >And tearing your attention away from the sight of the rising water level to look up at Pinkie, relief is exactly what she's experiencing right now.

                                            >A long, soft sigh spills through her lips.

                                            >Her eyes roll back into her head, her tongue lolling out and even drooling a bit as the tremendous satisfaction of emptying her bladder washes over the mare.

                                            >Her back right leg lifts like a dog, and begins to shudder.

                                            >"Ooh, yeah... that's the stuff..." She giggles delicately, giddy with bliss.

                                            >You can't say you're surprised at her level of relief.

                                            >The jug is half full and her straight, unerring river of piss shows no signs of stopping.

                                            >How much is this mare holding!?

                                            >Well, you don't have to wait much longer to find out the extent of Pinkie's supply.

                                            >Because you're so enamoured by the sight of liquid gold squirting into the jug that you almost don't notice the fact that the jug is almost full!

                                            "P-Pinkie!"

                                            >She snaps out of her reverie and looks down between her legs.

                                            >"Aw, poop! Time for the second jug already? Maybe I overdid it a little on the cider..."

                                            >With some exerted effort from Pinkie, the flow winds down.

                                            >But not before firing off one last splurt that overshoots its mark and soaks the front of your shirt with hot liquid.

                                            >"Hehe, sorry!"

                                            >Only now do you notice how heavy the jug is.

                                            >Your feeble arms quake as you struggle to hold it up.

                                            >The surface fizzes with a bit of of froth before turning still.

                                            >"U-Uh... second jug, Nonny! Quickly!"

                                            >She still has more!?

                                            >That first jug has to be at least two liters and yet there's even more to come.

                                            >You're flabbergasted to say the very least, but there's no time for sitting around contemplating the limits of Pinkie Pie's bladder.

                                            >Carefully placing the first jug down on the table, you grab for the empty one beside it.

                                            >Good thing Pinkie had the foresight to set two of these things out. Looks like she was expecting a big output today.

                                            >You return to your dutiful crouched position and she resumes almost a second too early.

                                            >This time her glistening nectar comes forth with a little less pressure, starting as two separate streams that dribble on the floor before converging and meeting their mark.

                                            >The second jug fills slower, giving you a chance to watch her stream with a strange fascination.

                                            >You start at the source, staring quite brazenly at her baby pink lips. Her yellow spring seems to appear out of nowhere, its origin hole buried slightly between her outer lips.

                                            >Then, it leaps through the air, catching the sunlight in beautiful bursts of shimmering, glittering pure gold. It sparkles like a precious stone.

                                            >At last, it flows into the wide round neck of the jug, hitting the far side and washing down the edge in a wide trickling fan of fluids.

                                            >You really shouldn't be gazing so intently at literal piss, but you can't help yourself.

                                            >You lick your lips.

                                            >A single thought arrives in your head and no matter how hard you try, you just can't seem to shake it.

                                            >What would it taste like?

                                            >Taking another whiff of that delectable fruity aroma, the question redoubles.

                                            >It's not just a question now; it's a desire.

                                            >You HAVE to try it. Just a drop. Just a taste.

                                            >Pinkie has no difficulty in getting the jug halfway full.

                                            >Her stream loses a little power now, more of a gently spilling brook than a roaring river.

                                            >You cup your available hand beneath the jug.

                                            >It's oh, so warm.

                                            >Hot, fresh, heated by Pinkie's internal body.

                                            >It's like clutching a jug full of warm mulled cider.

                                            >And it only makes your wish to taste it stronger.

                                            >"Nonny?"

                                            >Your gaze snaps up to Pinkie in alarm.

                                            >She peers back beneath her low, dreamy eyelids.

                                            >A pleasured sigh slips from between her parted lips.

                                            >"Don't think I don't see you staring back there, mister."

                                            >Uh oh.

                                            >The jig is up.

                                            >She knows! It's her weird Pinkie sense or something, you bet. You feel like she just drilled into your thoughts and plucked all of your perverse desires out from the darkest depths.

                                            "I just, uh- I, um-"

                                            >"Hehe! You want to try some from the source, don'tcha? Usually I wouldn't, but seeing as you've been such a helpful assistant today..."

                                            >The flow halts.

                                            >For a moment you worry that she's expended her stores until you realize she stanched it intentionally.

                                            >"Just this once, I'll make an exception."

                                            >A couple of beads of piss drip from her invitingly succulent labia.

                                            >You don't even know what to say.

                                            >She just gave you permission.

                                            >Giggling in disbelief like a madman, you place the half-filled jug on the floor and sink to your knees.

                                            >You sidle up to Pinkie Pie, the warmth of her body and smell of stawberry urine even stronger now.

                                            >After a moment's hesitation, you bring your face in closer, closer, and wrap your puckered lips around her puffy pink snatch.

                                            >The feeling of supple, ripe flesh is absolutely wonderful against you.

                                            >Her pussy is soft as silk.

                                            >But the best is yet to come.

                                            >Only a couple of seconds later Pinkie gives a soft grunt and starts up lemonade production once more.

                                            >This time, though, it's flowing over your tongue and directly down your throat.

                                            >The current is slow enough for you to keep up, but that doesn't make this experience any less surprising.

                                            >Intense flavor explodes over your tastebuds.

                                            >It turns out the scent of fresh Pinkie Piss WAS rather misleading after all...

                                            >Because the taste is one million times better!

                                            >A natural hint of saltiness mingles with the pink lemonade flavor to form something truly otherworldly.

                                            >Pinkie giggles everytime your suckling lips brush over a ticklish spot, she smoothly grinds herself into your face as she empties her golden gift down your thirsty throat.

                                            >It just keeps coming and coming, you wish this could last forever.

                                            >The delicious taste... the way you can feel the warmth slithering down your gullet and filling your stomach.

                                            >The next few moments are occupied only by the sound of you gulping and breathing through your nose and the muffled hiss of Pinkie's piddle welling in your cheeks and spilling down your neck.

                                            >But sadly this can't last forever, and just a few seconds later the spring withers to a few sporadic spurts and dribbles out.

                                            >"Okay, Nonny! That's all you get. I need to save SOME for the customers, hehe!"

                                            >You wish you didn't have to pull yourself away from Pinkie's spring.

                                            >But all good things must come to an end.

                                            >You lap up the last few droplets, making Pinkie shiver and giggle-snort at the sensation of wet tongue digging through her lips, and then unseal yourself with a wet plop.

                                            >"Mmhh. How was it?"

                                            "So good."

                                            >"Yeah, I bet! Y'know I'm kinda jealous I'm not flexible enough to bend down there and try a little right outta the gate for myself! Maybe I can convince Twilight to fix up a portal spell for me or somethin'..."

                                            >She winks at you as you grab the jug and get it back in place.

                                            >This has to be her almost empty. The mare has been peeing for almost six minutes straight.

                                            >She has filled not only one and a half jugs, but also your stomach.

                                            >Despite that though, she still has a little more in her.

                                            >You have to hold the jug directly below her fleshy mound so the soft terminal trickle can fall down into it.

                                            >Each time it loses strength she squints one eye, grunts and manages to coax out another little burst.

                                            >The jug is almost full now.

                                            >"Agh... say, Nonny, could you reach up and push on my bladder a little? I know there's some more in there but it's being stubborn!"

                                            >With everything else she's had you do today this doesn't even phase you at this point.

                                            >You just laugh and reach your hand up underneath her, giving her lips a quick poke on the way which makes her laugh along with you.

                                            >Two fingers settle on her pubic area.

                                            >"Little to the right... left... perfect!"

                                            >You apply pressure and watch with a steady smirk as more juice splatters out, the final dregs of her lemonade.

                                            >It feels like you're working a drinking fountain rather than a living, breathing creature, but it falls right in line with Pinkie's bizarro logic.

                                            >A few more pulses of dribbly urine later and that seems to be all she's got.

                                            >This jug isn't quite as full as the first, but still her productiveness is nothing short of remarkable.

                                            >All of Pinkie's earlier desperation has been completely washed away in those two trusty jugs.

                                            >Even her usual bubbly energy is dampened by that overwhelming release.

                                            >"Not bad! Not bad at all!"

                                            >You place the second jug down beside the first and step back, slapping your hands up and down to mark the end of a job well done.

                                            >"I'll go get the ice and lemon slices, don't even think about taking a sneaky sip, mister! You already got loads of free supply right here!"

                                            >She pokes her hoof into your belly with a snort.

                                            >"I'll be baack!" Her voice sings as she bounces her way into the back room.

                                            >At last, you have a moment of respite to attempt to process everything that's happened.

                                            >The wonderful taste of tangy strawberry lemonade infused with a pinch of salt still rests the back of your throat.

                                            >If nothing else, one thought surfaces in your mind as you stand there, gazing out at the steady buildup of ponies waiting in line for the store to open.

                                            >Pinkie bounds back in and fills the jugs with icecubes and a couple quarter slices of fresh lemon.

                                            >You take a step toward her and let your guts do the talking for you.

                                            "Uh, Pinkie... I was wondering?"

                                            >"Yyyes, assistant?" She grins.

                                            "I don't suppose you have any... permanent positions open right now? Here?"

                                            >"Hmm, well... to be honest Nonny I DO have my hooves pretty full getting everything ready all by myself each morning."

                                            "Yeah?"

                                            >"Uh huh. I guess it could be pretty helpful having another pair of ho- I mean hands... to help out around here!"

                                            >Your heart lifts.

                                            >"Oh, I know! I got the perfect job for ya! How do you like the sound of executive pink lemonade drinker? You did such a good job today that I know I can trust you!"

                                            >In the moment, you can't help but laugh.

                                            >Executive pink lemonade drinker.

                                            >That has a nice ring to it.