SFW version of >>1055119
Also included the companion story by Bass Cannon below:
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He tried to get off the alcoholic high, but this new AJ Cider was just too much to say no to. It had a tingling, almost magical flavor to it, and the intoxicating smell of it also made it the drink of the new generation. There were strict guidelines though; no more than 10 cans per week, or the company “Sweet Apple Acres” would not guarantee your integrity, or whatever they meant.
But Chuckster, as his friends like to call him, was not really a fan of label warnings, or really common sense. So after his friend Ace made a bet with him that he could not chug 12 of those bad boys in a hour, he quickly shook the hand and bought the large pack for himself. The first 5 were a breeze, as his trained stomach made no arguments against the dance with the devil. One he got to 9 though, things got a lot more complicated. His vision was getting hazy, and both his nose and mouth began to drool.
He stammered, but managed to open the 10th can. Everything in his body was buzzing, and saying no, but a bet is a bet. He began chugging the bubbly nectar, as it glowed in a magical way, going down into his now desperate stomach.
A new, numbing sensation came over him, as he felt a pressure all around his body. Bathroom began to ring in his pounding head, and he tried to get up,only to fall flat on his face. His legs were being stretched into new positions, as did his arms. Purple began to cover his skin, first timidly, but then in waves of color.
He managed to get up, the clopping of his… Hooves on the parquet evident. What was happening to him? A mirror! Yes, he remembered the big mirror in the bedroom. Almost dancing from dizziness and the new sense of gravity, Charles managed to lean onto the mirror. His waist had already gained a hourglass shape to it. Not to severe, but the curves were there. His hazy look first looked at his right hand, the fingers merged into a purple hoof, with the thumb holding the can, and apperantly his humanity as well. The other hand was just about to merge its fingers, a sensastion that made him groan in pleasure. Whatever was happening, his body wanted more.
And soon enough, as his face began to stretch, and a precious muzzle, fit with bigger eyes and a quirky mane replaced the old male features, pleasure started to come back in. His new ears flopped back, sign of fear, and confusion.
Lastly, as his pants fell down, and the raging boner he had began to suck back in, he knew that the end was coming. Each push inside made him number, and more aroused. Everything he ever was was now under siege in his mind, as the penis kept retreating, one violent thrust at a time. Then, as only the tip remained, the pulsating assault on Charles stopped.
“I’ll never drink again…” was all that Charles could muster.
Then it hit him, and she collapsed on the floor, losing consciousness. The new vagina began to leak fluids of pleasure, as the mare twitched on the floor, a tired but happy smile on her face, the personalities mixing like a nice wine and some fresh Coke. Charles was right, he would never drink again, but Berry? Berry Punch might just be the damn mascot for the cider.