The air in the town square was clean and clear, but it held the nippy undertones of the oncoming Fall. Applejack was loping along beside Granny, thankful that for once she didn’t have to remind her walking partner to slow down---her belly was feeling more and more taut every day, and she was sure the bowing in her legs wasn’t just her imagination. A few more months an' I'm gonna be waddlin', she thought. I'm startin' to feel like the Fat Lady in the circus! I'm gonna haveta hire somepony to hose me down---

A little warm trickle against her thigh made her wince, reminding her of the errand she’d foisted onto her grandmother. “Now, Granny, are y’sure this is okay? I mean, I don’t want you to feel embarrassed or anything---“

“Oh, I’ve been caught buyin’ worse. Don’t you worry about a thing,” Granny said, patting her elbow. “You go visit yer fella, and I’ll pick up yer... equipment.”

Applejack’s cheeks heated up. She was glad Granny had had the uncharacteristic discretion to not say ‘breastmilk pump’ out loud; it had been mortifying enough to be caught squatting in the bathtub, squeezing her teats into the drain. Thank Celestia it had been her grandmother who’d walked in and not Big MacIntosh!

“I’m a li’l surprised you started this early. Most mares don’t get their milk in ‘til later on down the road.”

Her ears drooped. So much for discretion. “Well, uh, the doc said the foal was big fer her age. Maybe that’s got somethin’ to do with it.”

“Could be. Y’know...” Her eyes got misty, which usually signaled the beginning of one of her stories. “Yer Ma was a regular Holstein when she was carryin’ yer brother. If she sat down wrong, she could squirt across the whole room! Almost hit me in the face once. That was before they had these fancy pumps, y’see, so she had to attach a funnel on the end of the garden hose---“

With an involuntary shudder, Applejack shrunk down in a mixture of embarrassment and disgust, and it took everything in her being to keep from screaming at the top of her lungs. “Granny!!!"

"What?"

She'd pulled her hat over her eyes. "W-why don’t we grab a bite to eat, huh?”

“I ain’t hungr---“

“I’m a mite thirsty,” she said, steering them towards Sugarcube Corner, and away from the gawking ponies who’d been unfortunate enough to overhear their conversation. “Let’s go see if Pinkie’s got some a’her famous punch. Whaddaya say?”

“Aw, I can’t turn down an offer like that.”

Anything to keep you from bringing up Ma’s teats again. “My teat. TREAT! My treat.” She sunk her molars on the insides of her cheeks as she held the door open. If Granny had caught that slip-up, she didn’t let on.

The place wasn’t busy, but there were a few ponies in line ahead of them. That was fine; she could use a moment or two to collect her thoughts. Applejack groaned quietly as she rubbed under the brim of her hat. Nopony told her that pregnancy could be so... so mortifying! Aggravating, sure. Painful? Of course. But things were starting to get downright cringe-worthy. Upon awaking she’d nearly had a heart attack when she found herself lying in a puddle, only calming down a bit when she noticed it wasn’t yellow. Her damn breasts had overflowed in the night. She’d been doing those ‘clenching’ exercises ever since she’d read her first book on pregnancy, so she hoped she could stave off any incontinence problems---but she still couldn’t keep the what-ifs out of her mind. What if I get hemorrhoids? What if I start leaking milk, and everypony can smell it on me? What if my blood pressure goes up, and I start having fainting spells? What if... what if I can’t do it? What if it hurts too much? What if---

Her train of thought ended abruptly when somepony cut in front of them. “Whoa!”

Granny chuckled and tapped the mare’s hip. “’Scuse me, dear,” she said. “Age before beauty.”

Without bothering to look over her shoulder, she shot back "Pearls before swine."

Applejack’s lips peeled back in a snarl. “HEY! You watch what yer sayin’ to my Granny!”

But the pony in front of them wasn’t paying attention. “Give me a black coffee and a daffodil sandwich.”

Mr. Cake’s eyes darted over the stranger’s back, and he flashed the two Apples an apologetic look. Turning back to his customer, he stammered “Ma’am, I-I believe you cut in front of---“

“Are you DEAF?” she shouted, banging her balled-up hoof on the counter. “Coffee, black! And a daffodil sandwich!”

“I’m talkin’ to ya!” Applejack rapped her hoof against the tiles, trying to get her attention.

“And make it fast!” she snapped as Mr. Cake fumbled around with the pre-packaged sandwiches in the cooler. “I have a family emergency!”

“That ain’t no reason t’go shoutin’ like that! Yer bein' rude!”

Applejack tried to move around this imposing pony, but she took a quick step to the side, keeping her stolen place in the line. That flattened her ears and set her jaw. No---too much was too much. Taking the obviously-dyed mane in her teeth, Applejack yanked back as hard as she could. “Ain’tcha got any manners? We---“

She whirled around with rage in her eyes. "Don't you dare fucking touch me, you bitch! Try that again and I'll have you booked for assault!"

She quickly clamped a hoof over Granny's mouth, but it was trembling. The mare she was staring at was vaguely pretty, but had clearly lived a difficult life, which was showing in the faint lines around her muzzle. Everything about her looked hard, rough. Familiar. She was styling her mane differently, and was wearing far too much makeup, but... Applejack recognized those eyes. Those old, sad eyes. She'd seen them before.

"S-sorry," she mumbled.

"Don't you apologize!" Granny snapped, shoving Applejack's hoof off her lips. "That mare ain't nothin' but trouble!"

She knew she had to choose her next words carefully. “Granny, you... you should take it easy on her,” she said slowly, watching her gather up her purchases with a huff. “After all, she’s probably under a lotta stress... considerin’ her little brother’s in the hospital.”

Although her back was still turned, Applejack could tell by the bristle up her spine that she’d hit the mark.

“That’s yer ‘family emergency’, ain’t it?” she pressed on. “Yer little brother’s hurt, an’ he’s got a bleedin’ disorder, right?”

The mare turned to face them, very slowly and deliberately. She was clearly shaken, but she held her ground well. “What did you say?”

"I said yer little brother's hurt, an' he's got a bleedin' disorder," she said, regaining her confidence. “And, uh... you got two brothers, dontcha?”

There were a few tense seconds of silence. Granny’s ears were usually droopy, but they’d perked up, her eyes shooting from her granddaughter to the stranger and back again.

Applejack tried not to look too smug. “They’re twins, right?”

Her painted mouth thinned as she pressed her lips together. “What’s it to you?” She’d said it haughtily, but that didn’t disguise the look of shock on her face.

With a good-natured laugh, she held up her hoof. “I was wonderin’ when I’d get t’meetcha. I’m Applejack...” When it became obvious the hoofshake wasn’t going to be returned, she lowered it to her belly. “An’ this here’s yer niece, if I’m not mistaken.”

“Unh!”

Trixie gasped as the last shreds of dreaming tore away from her, leaving her blinking and bleary-eyed on a chewed pillowcase. After a few grumbles, she pushed herself up on her forelegs, and stared at the bitemarks she’d left on her pillowcase. She squeezed her sticky thighs together in frustration. Dammit all! Why do I always wake up right before it gets good?!

It had been like this since puberty---no matter how hard she tried to stay asleep, her juicier dreams always ended right before the grand finale, making “flick the bean” her first morning priority. A muffled snore from behind her made her smile... sure, it wouldn’t be the Royal Guard gang bang like in her dream, but when it came to relieving her tensions, the stallion lying next to her had always proved to be up to the task.

She rolled over and nibbled on his ear. “Are you awake?”

Flam just mumbled something and pulled the covers around him, sliding them off her body. Trixie grinned when she saw the familiar shape tugging the sheets to the side; she didn’t know why stallions were prone to the Dawn Salute, but she didn’t mind a bit. Running her hoof over his hip and around to his belly, she purred in his ear “Wake up, pookie.”

He grunted and jerked away from her.

“I said waaaake uh-uuuup,” she sing-songed as she pushed her hoof lower. “Trixie has a surprise for you.”

“Mph.”

She toyed her hoof against his sheath. “I think you’ll like it.”

“S’too early,” he muttered.

“Flam,” she said, “I’m horny.”

He groaned and pulled the pillow over his head. “Five more minutes.”

Her mane ruffled as her ears pinned back. Nopony tells Trixie to wait! “Fine. Enjoy those five minutes...” She nipped at the nape of his neck, and pulled him back when he tried to roll out of her embrace. “...Because you won’t know what hit you.”

The first kiss was between his shoulderblades, which still tasted like the sweat from last night’s tryst. Her lips brushed down the bumps of his spine, one by one, until she reached his tail. A quick snap of magic and she’d swept it up against his haunches; while that did seem to rouse him a bit, she wasn’t finished. Prying him apart with both hooves, Trixie pressed forward, her snout buried between his cheeks, and laved her tongue up from his balls to his dock.

That did the trick. “Sweet holy Celestia, what---?!”

“Mmmnnn.” Up and down, and up again. “G’morning.”

Flam flipped himself over, but overshot a bit, doing a rotation and a half before landing face-first at the foot of her cot. “Trixie! What?! What are---what?!”

Her tongue was still poking out, so she blew a raspberry at him, giggling. “Didja sleep well?”

“Are you INSANE?!”

She propped herself up on a hoof. “I told you I was horny.”

“Trixie, there’s horny, and then there’s fucking certifiable!” he shouted as he righted himself. She couldn’t help but smirk when she saw him swiping his tail back and forth across his ass. “Do you have any idea what that particular part of my anatomy was designed for?!”

“Eating out?”

“Okay.” Flam put his hooves over his face and tugged at his sleep-sagged eyelids. “It’s officially too early for this.”

“Come back to bed,” she purred as she traced her hoof back and forth over the mattress.

He hesitantly took his place next to her, making sure to stay face-to-face. “No funny stuff.”

With a playful pout, she took his hoof in hers and pulled him in close. “I thought you said you had a good sense of humour.”

“Yes, but not at seven in the damn morning.” Flam’s eyes widened when one of his stifles brushed against her sex. “Sweet Sun above, you’re dripping like a honeycomb!”

“Luna was very good to me tonight.” She ground against him. “She gave me the most wonderful dream... five stallions at once!”

He laughed, pushing his face into the crook of her neck. “Trixie, you may be talented, but even you couldn’t take five stallions, let alone at once.”

“Oh, ye of little faith,” she said with a titter. His teeth were working on the sore spot he’d chewed on last night, and the added jolts of pain and tenderness were amping up her pleasure. “One in my mouth, one in my ass, one in my pussy, and one in each hoof. That’s five.”

He reached around to grab a big hoofful of her rump. “I still think that’s anatomically impossible. Wouldn’t at least two of the stallions be pretty much lying on top of each other?”

“Oh yes." She raised a cocked hoof to her mouth, poking her tongue against the opposite cheek in a gesture she'd learned years ago. "A few of them were having a go at each other while waiting for a turn with Trixie.”

Flam rolled his eyes. “I thought you said it was a good dream.”

“It was! I got to watch!”

“Why would you want to watch something like that?” he said incredulously.

By now her tongue-tip was worming around his hock joint, her frog gently massaging his balls. “What, stallion-on-stallion? It’s hot.”

“I find that hard to believe.”

“Oh, come on. You’d cream yourself if you saw Trixie with her face stuffed between some mare’s legs, wouldn’t you?” She smiled when his cock lurched up. “Thought so.”

“That’s d-different,” he managed. She was brushing her mouth against his groin, feather-light. Every now her lips would catch on his flesh, and the wet inner rims would tug at him, briefly forcing her mouth open, before she’d close it again and go back to those maddening little kisses.

“Different? Why? Because, unlike me, you’re too much of a coward to try it?”

Staring down at her, he breathed out “Wh... you mean you’ve...?”

“I have.”

He sat bolt upright, and she just barely had time to blink before his dick slapped against her face. “WHAT? Really?”

“Mm-hmm,” she said with a sloppy lick.

“When? Why did---WHO?“

“Oh, nopony you would know.”

He seized her shoulders and yanked her up with a yelp. Now that she was looking at his face instead of his cock, she could clearly see the curiosity in his eyes, shining under a layer of lust. “Tell me!”

Trixie grinned. Stallions were so predictable. “Well...” She gave his lips a little lick, and gasped when he sucked her tongue into his mouth. Apparently he either had forgotten where that had just been---or he just didn’t care anymore. After nuzzling her snout against his whiskers, Trixie ended the kiss with a slurp, pulling away and leering at him. “If you insist.”

“I do.”

That made her shiver a little---those two words... that was the first time she’d heard him say them out loud. It shouldn’t have been. She should have heard “I do” so many years before---but she quickly shook that thought out of her head. No matter. “She was a lowly little thing, far beneath Trixie’s usual standards---”

“’Standards’? So... you’re telling me you have a ‘type’ when it comes to mares?”

“Oh, Discord’s swollen nutsack, no.” She pressed her knees together, trapping his dick between them. “I’m no fillyfooler!”

“But you’ve slept with a mare!”

“Only in the loosest sense of the word,” she replied with a squeeze of her thighs. Her tail was swishing around, flicking in teasing caresses between his legs, and she moved it to curl around his perineum. “She was so pathetic... I let her go down on me, sure, but mostly out of pity.”

He seized one of her teats with a tight pinch of magic, and beamed when he saw her eyes briefly cross. “Was she good, at least?”

Trixie made a so-so motion with her hoof. “Decent.”

He was smirking, tugging at her nipple. “Not as good as me, though?”

“Pfft. She wasn’t in the same ballpark. Not even in the same solar system.” After buffing a hooftip against her chest, Trixie brought it up to her face to examine. “Let’s just say that you, my love, are a game of chess. She, on the other hoof, was more like checkers with a few pieces missing. You---“

She squeaked when he caught her by surprise, flipping her around and onto her back; she tried as hard as she could to not look too smug when she saw the dribbles of precum burbling from his cock.

“And? Keep going!”

“What, with the compliments or the story?”

“Either. Or both.”

She giggled as he began kissing her neck. “Let’s see, where was I? Oh yes...” Angling her head to and fro as he moved his wet lips around her throat, she stretched her limbs out, draping a foreleg around his shoulders. “You see, Trixie’s been around the block so many times they should have named a street after her by now, so this bumbling little farmer’s daughter was nothing too special. Still...”

Flam had moved from her neck to her chest, so he missed the brief flicker in her eyes. “She was... intriguing, at least. I’ll give her that.” She bit her tongue as she thought back to that first night, curled up in a ball on scratchy bedsheets, sobbing as she rubbed her aching muscles. The sound of her bedroom door creaking open usually made her wince, but that eerie monotone was so strangely soothing. However, she didn’t want to burden Flam with hearing about how many tears she’d shed during that back-breaking job. “She started grooming me, and, well, one thing led to another...”

“Like this?”

She shuddered as he pressed a tickling kiss against her pussy. “Mm. Indeed.”

He started a gentle licking, ducking his head a bit as she rolled to the side, her hindleg raised so as not to block his access; it wasn’t until he heard her dresser open and shut again that he lifted his head, and frowned at what he saw. “Oh, for Celestia’s sake, Trixie. Put those back!”

“Why?” she said with a little smile, and tugged a photo loose from the stack. “I told you I think stallion-on-stallion action is hot, didn’t I?”

“Put them back.”

At first it looked like she was about to do so, but instead she just placed them on top of her bedside dresser. She was still staring at the one she’d selected. “Why did you leave some with your brother, anyway? Did he want some ‘stroke material’ to keep him entertained?”

Flam looked between his legs. “Great. It’s retreating faster than a Prench army.”

Trixie sat up and turned the picture over. “This is my favourite.”

When he slammed his hooves over his eyes, she let out an exasperated groan. “Oh, come on. It’s not going to kill you!”

“That’s debatable.”

“Honestly, Flam. Look. This one doesn’t have any dangly parts showing.”

One hoof slowly lowered, but the eye underneath was still closed. “This isn’t a trick, is it?”

“Don’t you trust me?”

Oh dear---he could hear the beginnings of a sulk in her voice. Very gingerly, he let his hooves drop, and eased his eyes open one by one.

The photo was right in front of him, floating in her aura. She was right; it wasn’t explicit. In fact, had the context been a bit different, it could almost have been adorable. Almost. Flim was holding the camera in his hooves, blushing and laughing as Soarin’ lapped at his horn. Sighing, Flam levitated the photo back to the others on her dresser.

“See? I told you it was cute.”

“And you felt the need to show it to me because...?”

“It turned me on,” she said in his ear. Her husky whisper brought a bit of life back to his cock, as did her hoof rubbing slow circles on his belly. “That’s one of the reasons Trixie has always favoured unicorn lovers... the horn is just so much more fun to play with than feathers, don’t you think?”

He wasn’t sure how to answer, in part because he’d never been with a pegasus---and also because he knew the wrong answer might set off a tantrum.

But he didn’t have long to react---Trixie had hopped onto his lap, and planted her hot mouth on the base of his horn. “Mmm.” She grazed the surface with her teeth, which made that hss-hss sound she loved so much; when she reached the tip, she opened her lips and took him in.

“Guh!”

Flam wrapped his arms around her, gripping her waist with his fetlocks, and tried to angle his cock between her haunches---but just as soon as he felt his flare brush up against her sex, Trixie pulled off his horn, a thin string of saliva hanging from her muzzle. “No!”

“W-what?”

His dick slapped against his belly as she flopped off him. “Trixie isn’t in the mood for vanilla,” she murmured. Lots of practice made presenting an effortless task, and she had her winking pussy up in his face before he could make another grab at her. “Horn me.”

“What?!”

“Horn me,” she repeated. With an encouraging thrust of her hips, she said “I can tell you haven’t buffed it in awhile---it’s all bumpy and scaly.”

He put a shaking hoof to his horn, and flushed in embarrassment. With all the hubbub that had been going on, he’d forgotten to file down the overgrowth. “I... I’m sorry, I---”

“Just the way I like it.”

“Huh?”

“Fuck me,” she hissed. Running her tongue around her mouth, she could still taste the faint traces of his magic clinging there. “Fuck me with your horn. It’s so rough... Please...”

“Well,” he said, his voice trembling, “When you ask like that, how can I say no?”

She laughed when she felt the caress of his ears against her rump. “Good boy.”

Flam bit his lip. He wasn’t about to tell her about the time, four or five years ago, he’d tried this with somepony he’d met in a booze-soaked haze---nor did she have to know about the extremely awkward E.R. visit shortly thereafter. Oh well. He was sober now; his aim would be better. With a deep breath, he leaned his head down, and nudged the tip around until he could feel the warm moistness of her inner lips. “Tell me if it hurts.”

“You’re doing fine.” Trixie keened deep in her throat when he magicked her labia apart, sliding the first inch in, right up to the top flute of the spiral. “AH!”

“What? What is it?”

Lowering her hoof to the mattress, she shook her head and mumbled “N-nothing---I just didn’t expect you to be, uh, using it when---“

Oops. He wanted to jerk back, but didn’t dare risk it. “I’m sorry!”

“No, no. It’s fine.” She looked under her body, and flashed him a wide smile when they made eye contact. “It kind of felt like a vibrator!”

He cracked a grin, and pushed another inch inside. “You have a vibrator?”

“No, pookie. I don’t have ’A’ vibrator.”

Now he was laughing, and had to hunch his shoulders up to keep his head from shaking. “How do I compare to the competition?”

“Well, Trixie’s toys don’t flap their jaws when they’re supposed to be pleasuring her!”

She’d said it playfully enough, but he didn’t want to make her impatient. One final slide and his head was flush with her body; he brought a hoof to his mouth and sunk his teeth into it, trying not to squeal. Her hot, slippery walls were clinging to him, holding his horn in a wonderful silky embrace. “Y-you okay, sugarplum?”

“Oh, yesssssss,” she breathed, dragging the last syllable through her teeth. A little whine escaped her when his mane brushed against her clit. “This is just what I needed.”

He carefully pulled back, and they both laughed at the squelching sound that made. She was clutching him so hard that pushing back in was tricky; after a few stuttering attempts, he managed to sheath himself again, and teased her ass with flicks of his ears.

But she stopped him when he tried to repeat the process. “This isn’t going to work.”

“Huh?”

He was trying to pull out, so she clamped down on him, earning a loud yelp. “No! No, keep it in. But stop thrusting.”

“Was I doing it wrong?”

“Of course not,” she said soothingly, hiding her smile behind her hoof. Good gods, a stallion’s ego is so fragile! “Just... light it up instead, okay, pook---”

With an audible crack, her neck snapped right up like a whip, and she screamed up to the ceiling. It had been as sudden as a slap---he’d just filled her, shaken her up from the inside-out, sending rumbling vibrations up and down, from her lips to her cervix and back. “Wha...? Ah, ah hah!”

He smirked. “Bet your toys can’t do that.”

“Wha-ha-hat was that?” she squeaked.

Rubbing his frogs up and down her shaking legs, he shrugged and said “Nothing in particular. I just thought it might feel nice.”

Being so intimately connected, he could feel every heave of her body as she gulped her breaths. “You h-have to teach me how toAAAH!”

“Oh, brava! I didn’t know you could hit that note!”

“Don’t make fun of me, Flam! I---“

This time he sent the magic in two directions at once, and even under her scream he could hear the windowpanes rattling. “A little louder, sugarplum? I don’t think they heard you in Canterlot.”

Her head drooped back to the sheets, and her salty sweat dripped into her mouth as she snarled “Oh, you wanna play rough, do you? Well, two can play at that game!”

That gave him pause. Trixie tended to go a little off the rails when she was in a dominant mood---he would never be able to forget her creative use of a fly swatter and a roll of tape---but before he could mention the possibility of a safe word, a hot burst of her magic had kicked his hindlegs apart and yanked his tail up in the air.

“Are you familiar with the saying ‘she’s got you by the short hairs’?”

He didn’t have time to respond. She was already swirling his balls around like a pair of lucky dice.

When she heard his whimper, Trixie grinned triumphantly and said “Now, you keep those vibrations coming and your smart mouth shut if you know what’s good for you!”

“I certainly do,” he said as evenly as he could, but as he was gearing up to give her another blast, he felt something tickle up his perineum... and he had a pretty good idea of where it was headed. “Trixie!”

“Something the matter, pookie?”

He froze. If he pulled away now, she’d either yank him back in, or lay on one of her patented guilt-trips. He knew she’d never push him farther than he could go---she had an innate sense of his limits, for some odd reason---but whether or not he was prepared was another matter. “...You’d better be careful.”

“I always am.”

She sighed when he slowly rotated his head to the side and gave her thigh a sweet kiss. That was his way of giving her the go-ahead. He had reassured her many times before that he’d never hurt her when they were making love, and she had no intention of doing so, either. With as much focus as she could muster, Trixie formed a thin tendril of magic and, after a few steadying breaths, eased it inside him.

“Ahh!”

“Just keep breathing,” she whispered. “It’s okay.”

He was shaking, which jiggled his horn around inside her, but he’d stopped his magic. That was for the best; she needed to concentrate to get this right. It took a bit of prodding, but she finally found what she’d been after, and was rewarded with a cry of delight. “See? Doesn’t that feel nice?”

“Oh, Celestia,” he panted.

“That’s what it feels like when you’re inside me,” she said gently. “Please, keep going!”

She shrieked when he pulled his horn out of her, but he was atop her again in a flash, his weight pushing her down into the sheets. She was so soaked that the penetration was swift and painless, and she could tell by the tightness in his balls and the quivering flesh against her cervix that he was almost on the verge.

“You’d better make me come!” she shouted as he started frantically slamming inside her. The thin beam of magic was still connecting them, and she could feel his squeezing mimicking her own. “You better screw me right through this mattress!”

She wasn’t sure how he did it exactly, but he gathered whatever strength he had left in his lust-addled mind and sent a bolt of magic down between them, crackling their hides with electricity, and into his cock, sending it buzzing. Trixie’s eyes bugged; sweet Sun above, even his balls were vibrating! They were sending sparks from her clit straight into her brain as he bore into her over and over again, rutting her like a wild animal, the scruff of her neck firmly between his teeth.

“Flam, please!” The first twitches of her orgasm were already upon her. “Please! Just like that! Please!” One final curl of her magic against his prostate, and he was gushing inside her. The flood of warmth pricked tears behind her eyelids, and she shuddered underneath him as she came. “Ah—AH! Please! I love you, I love you!”

She wasn't sure what happened next---just that a warm, calming darkness washed over her, and she happily sunk down into it.

When she opened her sticky eyelids again, she was lying on her back, breathing heavily as Flam groomed her mane. “Whu...?”

He paused, his tongue on her ear. “Are you okay?”

She tried, and failed, to stifle a yawn. “Wha-what happened?”

“You blacked out, sugarplum,” he said with a gentle nicker.

“Really?” The feeling of his tongue in her messy mane was making her drowsy again. “...That’s a first.”

Flam smiled when she curled up against him, yawning again. “Ssh. It’s early. Just go back to sleep.”

“Mm-hm...”

He kissed the top of her head. “I love you, too.”

It wasn’t long before she was snoring, her breath ruffling his coat. Flam lay there for awhile, staring at the ceiling and absent-mindedly letting a hoof drift through her mane. That had been exhausting, but he wasn’t ready to go back to sleep; strange new emotions were clattering around inside his chest, and he wasn’t quite sure how to deal with them.

I wonder... was she as lonely as I was when we were apart? he thought, watching her chest rise and fall. Then he cracked a grin. I wonder how many toys she's accumulated over the years.

After checking and double-checking that she was safely asleep, he eased out from under her and ducked his head under her cot. Using his horn for illumination, he spotted something that looked like a dusty box, and pulled it out from its hiding place. When he held it up in the faint morning light, however, he realized he was holding an old photo album, Trixie’s name adorning the front in glitter glue, clearly done when she was just learning how to write.

Flam looked over at his sleeping lover, then back at the album. Oh, one little peek won’t hurt.

He smiled as he turned the pages. The photos became newer as Trixie got older; they went from a pile of baby pictures, many of her cutely sprawling on a rug or a quilt, to her first steps, to a pigtailed filly grinning a gap-toothed smile on what appeared to be her first day of school. The images of her unusually early cute-ceañera made his smile falter; Trixie never did have many friends, and despite a table full of enough treats for twenty or more, only three other fillies had shown up. The next page was surprising---she’d gone from a filly to a young mare in her teens with no pictures in between, almost as if she’d lost a few years’ worth of photographs. Interspersed with the photos were tickets and posters from her early shows, as well as newspaper clippings. Despite himself, Flam felt his heartbeat pick up when he realized he was looking at her in her high school years; that meant that he was only a few pages away from seeing pictures of them together. He knew he wasn’t a looker---he never had been---but, despite the awkwardness of his teen years, he thought he’d looked pretty sharp in those engagement photos.

The next page was blank. So was the one after it.

Frowning, he flipped through the rest of the empty album. She didn’t have a single photo of the two of them together. Not a single one.

He was about to slam it shut when something stuck to the back cover caught his eye. He pushed the overlying page back to examine it more closely, and immediately wished he hadn’t. Even after witnessing celluloid evidence of his own brother’s... flexibility, this had to top the list as the most disturbing picture he’d ever seen.

It was a family portrait. Trixie, still a young filly, was seated beside her sister and in front of her parents. She’d told him years ago that her father had died when she was very young, and that she didn’t remember him much. In fact, she’d barely said two words about him. So he couldn’t understand why she had felt the need to furiously scrawl all over his face with black ink, a slash of red drawn over his throat. She used to smoke in her teen years---he still caught her sneaking one from time to time---and from the looks of it, she’d used a lit cigarette to burn his eyes right out of the photo. With a trembling hoof, Flam turned the picture over. Over and over, the shaky letters overlapping one another, was written

I HATE YOU I HATE YOU I HATE YOU I HATE YOU I HATE YOU

He quickly flipped it right-side up again, staring at what was left of the stallion’s face. Without his eyes, and under all that ink, his expression was unreadable, but Flam did notice something surprising: he didn’t have a horn.

“She... she’s half-Earth...?” he whispered. It seemed to make sense---he’d always wondered how such a little unicorn mare could haul around a heavy caravan---but the realization was still jarring. Flam cringed when he remembered some of the things that could come out of her mouth when she was in her cups; she’d been thrown out of quite a few bars, especially if they had Earth pony bouncers.

He looked down at the little filly in the picture, and for the first time noticed her tight, forced smile---and the fear in her eyes.

“What in Equestria did he do to you?”

“I’m sorry I was so irritable,” she finally said, her eyes moving down to Applejack’s belly. “As soon as I got the telegraph, I-I caught a red-eye train all the way here. Didn’t get a wink of sleep.”

“Aw, t’aint nothin’,” Granny said with a forced smile. “Y’know, Applejack here used to be mighty cranky in the mornings. She used to have nightmares somethin’ awful. Woke her up three, four times a night---“

“How did you know who I was?”

Applejack hesitated and glanced at Granny. Normally being interrupted warranted a lecture about respecting one’s elders, but she was strangely silent. Turning back to their guest, she stammered “Uh, Flim showed me a p-picture of the three a’yes’. He told me a bit about you, too, and, um....” And what? You really are the ‘mean, conniving old harpy’ he described? “...And he’s good with words,” she finished lamely. “I recognized you right away.”

She nodded, and levitated her food over to a table. “Come. Sit.”

“Uh, sure.” Applejack cleared her throat when she remembered why they’d come in here in the first place. “We’ll, uh, jes’ get somethin’ to drink first.”

When they got to the counter, there were already two glasses of punch waiting for them. “It’s on the house,” Mr. Cake said with a nervous smile. “I’m really sorry about that. Normally we have a zero tolerance policy when it comes to cutting in line, ever since---“

Applejack held up a hoof. She’d heard the horror stories about Fluttershy’s minotaur-induced rampage. “I’m payin’, Mr. Cake. That wasn’t yer fault.”

“An’ we’ll make sure to keep a lid on that one,” Granny added as Applejack slid a few bits across the counter. Ducking her head, she whispered “So what’s yer take on her?”

“Uh... you always told me that if I didn’t have anything nice to say...”

They both peeked back at the mare, who was impatiently tapping her hooves against the table. She opened her purse, pulled out a package of cigarettes, and loudly cursed when she found it empty. “Well, one thing’s fer sure---she’s got a short fuse. Let’s not keep her waiting.”

“Maybe this is a good thing,” she whispered as they made their way back. “If Big Mac finds out she’s gonna be his sister-in-law, he might call this whole thing off.”

Granny tutted and shook her head. “We can only hope.”

After shuffling off her saddlebags, she slid the drinks from her head to the table, and put on her best smile. “So, uh, I’m Applejack---I think I said that already---and this here’s Granny Smith.”

Granny bobbed her head in a half-curtsey, plopping her saddlebags next to Applejack’s under the table. “Nice to meet you,” she lied.

She took a prim sip of her coffee. “I’m Contrarian. The boys call me Connie.” She must have caught Applejack’s little smirk, because she added “And if you think you have something funny to say about that, I can assure you I’ve already heard it.”

“It’s a... nice name,” she offered as she struggled into her seat.

Connie's eyes followed her awkward motions, lingering a bit too long on her teats. “How far along are you?”

“Five months.”

“That’s an unpleasant time,” she said, as if to herself. “Flim and Flam were quite destructive when their horns were growing.”

“Well, this one jes’ likes throwin’ things around,” she said with a smile that, like the earlier hoofshake, wasn’t returned. She’d noticed the confusion on Granny’s face, and made a mental note to explain later. “So, uh. Flim tells me yer a singer,” she said carefully.

“I am. I take odd jobs to fill in the gaps.” Her eyes drifted to the side. “It wasn’t easy raising two disease-ridden colts when you have to pinch every bit til it squeals.” They suddenly snapped back up to meet Applejack’s. “The twins are sick, Applejack. They always have been, and always will be.”

“I know.” It came out a bit more curt than she’d intended.

“Are you prepared to deal with that?”

Leaning back in her seat, she placed a hoof over her belly. “I’ve dealt with worse.”

“I’m sure you have.” Again, her gaze wandered off to the side. “Now, I’m not sure what your intentions are with Flim---“

“My intentions?” she said, her voice rising. “My intentions?! Mine have been nothin’ but good! I jes’ want what’s best fer all of us!”

She still wasn’t making eye contact, and now an irritating smile was starting to form. “How very noble of you.”

“Why’re you here?” she spat.

“Because my little brother’s in the hospital, and he’s knocked somepony up.” She took a bite of her sandwich, frowned, and threw it across the room, missing the garbage by a few inches. “That’s all Flam wrote.”

I’m gonna have to have a word with him, she thought with grim determination. “I hate to tell ya this, but neither a’them like you much.”

It was meant as an insult, but Connie just laughed. “You’re blunt. I like that.”

“I’m honest is what I am,” she snapped. “An’ I’m not sure what yer up to, exactly, but, well, speakin' of intentions, I hope yers are good! I jes’ want---“

“I know, I know, you ‘want what’s best’,” she said with a flick of her wrist and a little “pfft” sound from between her lips. “Here’s some free advice, sweetness: if you really want what’s best, raise the damn foal on your own.”

She slammed her hooves on the table and stood up on her hindlegs. “What’s that sposta mean?!”

Granny put her foreleg around her granddaughter’s shoulders, guiding her back into her chair. “Easy, now.”

“Exactly what it sounds like,” Connie replied. “Flim won’t make a good father, or husband, for that matter. He won’t be able to provide for you.”

“You don’t know that.” Her voice was wavering a little.

“Yes, I do. I know him better than you.”

“Yeah, well, you don’t know what the future’s gonna bring!”

Now she put her elbows on the table and leaned forward until she was so close to Applejack’s face that they could feel each other’s breath. Hers smelled like the saccharine sweetness of mint, with a hint of smoke below. “I mentioned taking odd jobs. Turns out singing isn’t my only talent. Do you know what raked in the most money?”

“No.”

“Psychic readings.”

She let out a caustic laugh. “Oh, please.”

“It’s true. I can give you one if you like.” She winked. “The first one’s free.”

“And what’re you gonna do?” She pointed at her purse. “You got a crystal ball in there or somethin’?”

“No, I don’t work that way.”

Applejack jumped when an unpolished hoof brushed against her cheek.

“I read ponies’ energies,” she explained. “Their magic, their auras, if you will. It all depends on how open they are... you have to let me in before I can work my wonders.”

It sounded like a well-rehearsed script, but she had to admit she did it well.

“Besides, I told you it was free. What do you have to lose?”

Well... that was a good point. Glancing over her shoulder at the half-filled shop, she mumbled “It won’t... y’know... cause a scene, will it?”

“No, not at all. It’ll look like we’re praying together.”

She exchanged an uneasy look with Granny. Praying? Had this mare ever prayed in her life? She wasn’t sure if she wanted to trust a pony with a hatchet for a cutie mark, someone who referred to her own kin as “disease-ridden”... but then again, she was making what seemed like a generous offer. Maybe this was her way of making up for her less-than-acceptable first impression?

“Okay,” she said, “Go ahead.”

“It’s not as simple as it might seem,” Connie said in a breathy voice. Her eyes were closed, her head bowed. “I’ll need some participation from you.”

“What---“

“Close your eyes,” her voice said in its lilting, dulcet tones. “Both of you. It’ll help if you both just close your eyes, and focus your thoughts."

She did as she was told, trying not to gasp when she felt her hooves being seized. All around her, she could hear the whirling, fluttering sound of magic, even though she couldn’t feel it touch her. The only contact they were making was between their clasped hooves.

“That’s it. That’s it... just take deep breaths, and just focus... Focus on Applejack. Send her energy to me.”

For some reason, her heart was starting to flutter, and the movement seemed to catch the foal’s attention. Applejack gulped when she felt a tiny hoof press against her ribs. She still wasn’t sure about this---but if it was for real, could Connie pick up on the foal’s ‘energy’, too? What would that even be?

“Hmmm,” she said from deep in her throat as she released her grip on Applejack. “Okay... I’m getting something. You can open your eyes.”

She cracked them open and waited, her breath snatching in and out of her chest. The glow of magic crackled and disappeared from Connie’s horn, and she released her hooves and sat back, chewing her lip as if mulling something over.

"You were born twenty-six years ago," she said with a faraway look, "In the Spring. There were white blossoms on the trees in your parents' orchard."

The little hairs on the back of her neck began to prickle, and she quickly smoothed them back down. Sure, she'd got her age spot-on, but to guess she was born in the Spring...? Well, she only had four seasons to choose from---that's probably just chance. Right?

"Aha!" Connie pumped a hoof in the air, as if she’d just discovered something amazing. "No wonder I had such trouble getting a read on your sign! You're a cusp!"

"A what?"

“You’re a cusp,” she repeated, leaning forward and again gathering Applejack’s hooves in her own, giving them a light squeeze. “Very rare.”

“But---“

“You were born at the cusp between signs,” she said as she carefully pulled away. She was smiling, and it looked oddly maternal. “Most ponies have one astrological sign, but you...? You have two!”

She could feel her ears darting back and forth against the rim of her hat. “What’s that mean?”

“You were born on the Aries-Taurus cusp. You have a very special blessing. You,” she said, jabbing her hooftip against Applejack’s chest, “Were born on April the twenty-first, just at the moment when the stars changed alignment in the sky. You are luckier than you believe.”

She tried to speak, tried to say something---anything---but she could barely breathe. That was just uncanny. She’d often wondered why her horoscope was different from paper to paper.

Connie kept talking, her sweet voice dripping like honey. “You have the temper and trusting nature of the Ram, as well as the deep emotions of the Bull. You also have the stubbornness of both.” She paused, tapping at her chin. “You have a very large, very wide circle of love surrounding you," she went on. "I suspect you have a big family, and some very close friends. However, that doesn't take away the hurt that you've experienced..."

"H-hurt?" she whispered. A quick look to the side, and she could tell that Granny was just as stunned as she was.

"Yes, the hurt." She closed her eyes, and traced her hooftip over her chest in a large loop. "There's a deep, dark aura hanging about you; I could sense it on you the moment I walked by."

Applejack glanced from side to side, as if it would appear for her, too. "What?!"

"Poor thing," Connie said quietly. "You've suffered a great loss, and it left a deep wound on your heart. Every now and then, when you're alone, you pick at that scab, even though you know it'll only make it hurt more. Did somepony die?"

Ignoring Applejack's little whimper, she finished with "A lot of ponies judge you by your appearance and demeanor, but you've got much more going on than just being a little hayseed. You go to the library on a regular basis, and you sometimes sign out some fairly complex literature. You're also an organ donor, which is quite generous of you. Oh, and you care a lot more about Flim than you'd ever admit."

The chair screeched against the floor as she pushed it back. "That's all I could read of you, sweetness. I hope you enjoyed it."

Applejack nodded numbly, watching the older mare as she slung her purse over her shoulder on her way out of the shop. She finally got her voice back just as she was about to leave: "Wait!"

Connie paused in the doorway, but she didn't turn around.

"Wait!" Applejack repeated. "Wait! I... you have to give me another reading!"

The unicorn laughed. "The first one's free, darling. After that, I have to charge you."

"I don't care! I'll pay!" She spared a glance back at her grandmother, and went on: "I... I have to know about the baby! And... please, tell me how it's going to go with Flim!"

"I can't tell you about the baby."

"Why not?!"

Now Connie did turn, and there was a weird smile on her face. "Because, sweetness, I'm not psychic."

Her legs were shaking, threatening to give out. "But... but how did you know about me...?"

"Call it a good guess."

"A good guess?!" she said, her voice raising into a shout. "You read me like a book! Y'can't look me in the eye an' tell me y'ain't psychic!"

"I just did," she said with a sickening grin.

She stamped her hoof. "Dammit! Tell me how y'did that!"

They stared each other down for a few moments... then, with a chuckle, Connie reached under the table, grabbed onto Applejack's bags, and then threw them back at her.

"Easy: I went through your saddlebags."

Her jaw dropped open when she inspected them; indeed, the clasps had been unbuckled, and her belongings had been rifled through. Her wallet was unzipped and lying open, her I.D. cards and family photographs scattered about.

“You...” she whispered, “You bitch.”

“And things with Flim are going to end in disaster,” she added as she sailed out of the door. “But you don’t have to be a psychic to know that.”

Author's Notes:

Phew... this is getting darker and darker. Flam gets a new perpective on Trixie's racism, and Applejack gets to meet the sinister older sister.

I'm going to leave it up to you guys to decide how much truth Trixie was telling about her enounter with "the farmer's daughter".

(BTW, that section was inspired by Fou Dubulbe's tumblr. Go check it out!)