This. This was nice. Just laying around, listening to the wind blow on the old wooden house and cheesy, played out Hearth’s Warming tunes, sipping warm cider (with an unhealthy splash of whiskey for the adults), and a warmer body to snug up to. You close your eyes and tangle your toes with Applejack, who chuckles in her adorably deep tone.

AJ sighs, laying into your chest with her cheek, fiddling with the rock necklace she got from her extended "family". "I just can't believe Twilight would go out and do all that without us," she sighs again, at least the third time tonight. You wrap an arm tightly around her waist and lean your head on hers.

"You heard what she and Starlight said, though," you reply softly, at least for the third time. "It was circum-"

"Circumstantial, I know!" She sighs and kicks her socks off, rolling over to rest her head in your lap. "Just feels wrong. Twilight and our gang always did stuff together. I guess tellin a story ain’t nothin to miss, ‘specially when you’ve heard it a million times."

You touch AJ’s long, silky blonde hair and stare up at the ceiling. Her room is nice and toasty tonight, thanks to what messed up her sheets just about ten minutes ago. The two of you decided not to crack a window, savoring the sweaty air. You stroke her hair and try to think of something to say, not rushing. Maybe silence is the best answer.

“Aw, shoot,” she sighs a short moment later, standing on her elbows and looking up to you. “Sorry. I keep on complainin’, when I should be happy as a clam now that yer home. I missed ya, soldier boy.”

“It’s great to be back, AJ.” You smile and touch her cheek as she crawls forward, her long hair hanging down over your body. Her skin is so warm and soft. You could touch it for hours. You smile as she slowly nears, a kiss from those beautiful lips inbound, her freckles dropping towards your face. AJ closes her eyes, as do you, as she tenderly lays those soft, warm lips on yours-

“APPLEJACK!” a girl’s voice cracks through the heavy wooden door, followed by heavy knocks. “HEY, SIS! DO YOU WANNA PLAY WITH YOUR PRESENTS?”

“I sure as shit do, Applebloom,” AJ says quietly to you, pinching your lower stomach. “No! Now git!”

“GRANNY SAYS YOU GOTTA COME OUT SOMETIME!” not-so-little Applebloom shouts from the other side of the door, a duo of giggles could be heard after her harsh timbre faded.

“Well, that can be tomorrow!” AJ shouts back, her tank top falling off her shoulders. She does nothing to fix it as she takes another breath. “Tristan just got back yesterday, and we’s gotta talk about things!”

“Yeah! Like tons of sex!” another rowdier voice cries out, followed by an explosion of girly laughter. Thankfully it faded as they romped off, feet falling hard.

You pounce on the opportunity and roll AJ onto her back, getting between her long, strong legs. She laughs herself and lays on her splayed hair. It was too fucking sexy when it was down and out of that little ponytail she liked to wear. “What if they’re right?” you ask, kissing her neck, so wonderfully warm and tender. “What if we can’t come downstairs because we’re fucking like rabbits?”

“AH!” she cries out shortly, grabbing your short hair in one clasping hand. “You dog!” she chuckled, wrapping her legs around your waist and pulling you in with her freakish strength. Your growing stiffy presses against that soft mound of flesh. She always had such a puffy, incredibly sexy pussy.

The best part was that this was all real. No bugs, no transformation, kidnappings, no split-second decisions on who is and isn’t your best frien-

You inhale sharply, pushing the memory down. Yourr fingers slide up her shirt, lifting the thin bit of cotton and polyester up, up, over her bare breasts, nice and round and soft-“yEAPPLEJACK!” An old voice crowed at the door, followed by an even heavier set of knocks. “You git yer little apple bottom out here right now! Tristan’s been back two days now, you come down and share with yer family!”

AJ groans into a pillow, her body going limp save her arms holding that fluffy pouch to her face. She throws it to the floor and sighs, looking you in the face, red, smiling tiredly. “Yes, granny!” she replies with an obedient cry. “Oh Celestia, I can’t stand my family sometimes.” She pulls your face down for a deep, warm, wet kiss, then pushes you away. “Sure makes me jealous of all that freedom you got ta have in the guard. I mean, when you were off duty.”

“Every second was spent missing you,” you say, kissing her again, just a long peck. “And believe it or not, your crazy family. Oh, and I gotta thank you and your granny for all that jam and cookies. My friends were crazy for it. Almost as crazy as those photos.”

“Tristan! You-”

“NOW, missy!” Granny cried out again. “I ain’t askin again! And fer Celestia’s sake, please wear a bra!” Another trio of giggling could be heard distantly.

AJ flung her head back, frustrated visibly. “Yes, granny.”

“Damn it, I like it when you don’t wear a bra.”

“We ain’t done with this,” she says, sitting up, pushing you off so she can stand. You follow close, fixing your belt and shirt and, of course, sliding your erection up into your waistband.

It’s tough not to stare. Even in a modest sports bra, AJ’s rack is amazing. Only a few girls in town could compete, to include Pinkie Pie. The threesomes hadn’t picked up again, not yet. But, it was still only the second night back in Ponyville. After four years enlisted in the guard, not shaving and not mustering before the sun everyday was luxury redefined.

You fix your short hair, eager to see it long again. Following AJ is pretty embarrassing, but no one seems to mind.

Of course, down in the family room with the kids, Big Macintosh, and Granny, Applejack’s big, soft tits weren’t on the menu. You grin, happy you can think about them again. It was always tough since the attack-

“So what’re you grateful for, Tristan?” little Applebloom asked, hardly little anymore. Her presents included clothes, as usual, one of the few times she got them. She was fiddling with a new dress now, it would go well with her red hair. At the ripe old age of sixteen, the little girl was almost all grown up. You laugh and muss her hair up. You lean into AJ as she lays her head on your shoulder, the sofa was all yours, Granny in her chair and Big Mac whittling away at a walking cane in the loveseat, his carving knife freshly sharpened.

You take the moment to tap your foot and look at the trio of young women laying and sitting against the couch. Sweetie Belle looks the eldest, but they were all quite young, birthdays within four months of one another somehow. Nearly ten years younger, all are certainly to leave a trail of broken hearts anywhere they roam. “That’s easy. I’m grateful for the adversity I was forced to overcome in the army. Without that, I wouldn’t have grown out of my highschool-shell. I’d still be the same boy, driving recklessly and not heeding the world. Now, I appreciate the things I’ve learned that I was taking for granted.”

“Awww,” Applejack and the girls all say. Big Macintosh gives a smile and a nod, then returns to his woodwork. Granny Smith’s sleepy expression grows just the slightest bit dour. She doesn't comment, but an uneasy chord is struck someplace deep inside you when she starts to rock back and forth in her old wicker chair. Despite her erratic eccentricities, Granny always had a penchant for the clairvoyant. She didn’t like that answer.

“Big Mac?” Sweetie Belle asked as she leaned on her purple-haired comrade. She sure was looking at him a lot.

The stallion of a man sat back in the old leather chair. He stopped carving and looked to the ceiling, scanning the ether for answers with his deep, thoughtful green eyes. The barrel chested brother was far from a dunce, he was incredibly sharp, in fact. You’ve learned through the years his protective nature is deeply rooted in his ties to his family. Of course, the family man answered as expected: “Kin,” he said simply and wore a satisfied, tranquil grin. He turned his eyes down to his work, shaving down a knot in the oak.

Scootaloo slipped her hand down Sweetie's side, resting her fingers on her friend’s side. Was there an amorous intent with that seemingly platonic touch? You shift your legs, trying not to care about them as AJ slides her hips down the sofa to rest more weight on you. “What about you, Granny Smith? What are you grateful for this time of year?” Applejack asks.

The matriarch chuckled and rocked deeper and faster. “OOooh, youngin’s, y’all best wait on my answer last. Ain’t proper ta make yer ole Granny Smith ta rush her answer ta such a question.” Her eyes fix on yours, but her smile seems happy and genuine.

AJ chuckles herself and squeezes your hand. “Well, you heard her, pumpkins,” AJ says in her little drawl. “Why don’t you three go? Least you could do after assaultin’ my boyfriend with a question like that.”

Scootaloo and Sweetie blush red, but Applebloom laughs and looks back, resting her head on the couch cushion you find yourself on. “Well, shucks! I’m grateful for my crusaders, that’s easy. We three are thick as thieves. I just don’t know WHAT I’d be if’n we’d never met!”

They laugh and scoot closer, all resting on each other in a little pile. “Aw!” the girls cry out in unison, annoying as ever, especially since puberty had started to lower their voices. “Cutie Mark Crusaders BFF’s!” Applejack just squeezes your hand as Big Mac laughs quietly to himself. Granny, however, is beside herself with laughter.

Applejack kisses your cheek and rests her head back on your shoulder. “I’m grateful the princess gave me back my handsome Tristan. It’s been a long four years,” she says, kissing your cheek again. “A long, hard four years, baby,” she whispers in your ear, barely breathing it.

“Alright now, Granny,” AJ says, nuzzling your cheek with her head. “I reckon all these girls are gonna say the same thing if we ask ‘em. We all went, what is it you’re grateful for?”

The elder cackles into the air, then begins hacking and coughing violently, as she’s taken to recently. Especially the last month or so, so says AJ. “Well now,” she croaks, letting out one last phlegmy cough. Granny spits into the spittoon by the fire and adjusts her loosened dentures. “This whole tradition is mighty sweet. Sure reminds me of when I was a little filly, and of your parents, little ones. They would be so proud of the lot of ya,” she said with a sad little laugh. “Even you, Tristan.”

Talk of the late Mr. and Mrs. Apple was almost unheard of. In your foursome years with Applejack, they only came up twice, both in passing. Now, Granny talked so casually. It was… eerie. “Now, my little late kiddies, yer parents were the honorable and hard-working sort. They ploughed the fields and harvested, just as you do, but there was a side to the pair you might not know. Now,” Granny said, a tear rolling down her cheek. “I’m gittin’ on in years, and-”

“Gran, hush,” AJ says, sitting up. “You don’t go on, talkin like that! It’s late, we all need some shuteye. Tomorrow is Monday and we ALL got some work to look forward too.”

“For what?” Granny asked defensively. “Those two fools up’n died when you weren’t but lil’ saplings! Now, I’m afraid as your grandma, I’m one of the few ol’ mules that still done holds onto some recollection, so you shut on up and listen! Bifore my old noodle dries up.”

You feel Applejack’s grip disappear as she holds onto the edge of her seat. You lean back towards her and touch her lower back. Granny continues. “They were beautiful as can be: a perfect picture. Now, about twenty years back, just after your lil sis was born,” she said to Mac, “yer momma was drafted! Now, not many folks know about the first changeling war, but that Queen Bugbutt? Chris, a, oh, I can’t remember her galdarn’d-”

“Chrysalis,” you interject.

“That’s the one! That buggy freak was no one-hit wonder. She done did some covert scoping out of that there royal city Canterlot, about one score year ago and then some! A more vile creature, I’d never seen! But she was here! Right on Sweet Apple Acres!”

AJ grips your hand hard. Of course it had to be Chrysalis. Was she going senile? No one had heard of changelings before, not many, they were just some obscure trope from fairy tales. AJ and Big Mac had dropped everything to lean in and listen to Granny Smith, while Applebloom and friends were misty-eyed to hear any details, breathing silent, short breaths.

“Now, those of the faint of heart,” she paused, swallowing, feeling her temple. “No. Little Applebloom, yer a big girl now. You and your friends been through some troubles, y’all ought to know. If us kin’a yers are so important, Big Mac, you’ll listen, and listen well.

“That awful queen done knew about this little slice’a heaven, you better believe it! Sweet Apple Acres wasn’t the massive, productive orchard it is today back then, but still, it was a mighty fine piece of land. Fertile as anything. That… thing impersonated yer pa and… well, there ain’t no way of sugarcoating it.

“She, if you can imagine that demon has a set of lady parts, stalked and stalked and stalked, for months. Yer pa one day was up’n a tizzy bout, oh, somethin’ or other, don’t matter much. He went to bed that night after a nasty little fight with your ma, oh it was particularily. My son had one hell of a temper growin’ up, but this took the cake! Well, almost. Back when his girlfriend at the time said no to the Ponyville Fall Formal, first of it’s kind! Oh, but was he persistent! He-”

“G-gran,” Scootaloo interrupted. “I’m fascinated, but aren’t you getting a bit sidetracked?”

Granny Smith gave a flip of her wrist and went back to rockin’ “Kids these days, no patience fer nothin’! Now, when you’re buyin’ by the bushel, or, er… where was I?”

“Papa was gettin’ in a nasty fight with ma one night,” AJ said hurriedly.

Granny nodded. “Thank you kindly, Applejack. Oh, was your papa ever angry! Kickin’ over chairs and buckets and stomped right off into the woods, didn’t come back for supper! We was worried sick, but your ma, she figured he needed a night to cool off. He was mighty persistent, your pa, and one little spit wasn’t ‘bout to derail their love. He could sleep on a bended arm out in the summer air, ain’t the first time. If only it weren’t the last.

“‘Ceptin, your pa warn’t angry at all when he came back in the mornin’. In fact, he looked like he spent a night in a spa, not the south orchard! His crow’s feet gone, he looked fit as a fiddle. It was strange, and he was mighty happy. Acted as if nothin’ were wrong with the world, even in pourin’ rain!”

An afterimage of your barracksmate Blue Bull came to mind. Passed out drunk under his bunk, woke up looking fresh and morale at an all time high. You took a deep breath and forced the image of his head coming… no, no that wasn’t something to be remembered now.

“Well, the day went on, and neither said a word bout the whole spat, so I figured it was all water under the bridge. Life is mighty strange, after all. The next day was pleasant and sunny, so as I busied myself with chores alongside your ma and you, lil Macintosh, you was juuuust old enough to do the washing, your pa done strolled into town to sell some apples. Noon came and went, so your ma went off to see how he was faring, and I suspect try to feel out their relationship. I wasn’t there, mind you, I remember changin’ your little diaper, Applejack, and Mac had a little cut from somethin’ or other, so I was plenty busy babysittin’. But I wish your ma hadn’t strolled down to town that day.

“She killed yer ma. Broad daylight, right in the market as she was conversin’. The townsfolk, mind you, acted right on the spot, and chased him down an alley as he fled, blood on his hooves. He was cornered, they took him to th’judge. He was hung within an hour.”

“NO!” Applejack shouted, tears streaming down her young, cute face, hands clasped over her mouth. Big Mac held his knife in a very tense hand. The young ones clung together in a teary pile, whimpering. You gulp and stare past the images.

Granny took a deep breath. “When the rope yanked taught, it wasn’t the handsome young man that married your mother. It was a nasty, creepy creature, eyes bulging and wings like rotten apple skin. I’ll never forget that thing.”

“So it was a drone?” you ask, heart pounding.

Granny nodded. “Yesmdeed, vile demon of a thing. The worst part… it almost looked like a human, even dead and swingin. The queen you must know, Tristan, never did show her face. But I’ll recognize one of those awful buzzers anywhere.”

Your heart pounds in your chest. Images of Bull having his face go slack as a bullet spun through his skull-

“Tristan,” AJ says, more shouts. “Relax, honey,” she says, her hands clutching yours as yours holds her thigh. You look to her, eyes screwed up in pain. Instantly, your strong grip relaxed.

You breathe a short pained breath as Applejack rubs her leg, wincing. “You alright, sugar?” she asks, but you are too dumbstruck to respond. “Sugar? Tristan, that hurt, what’s wrong?” She moves into touch your side and lean close, but you stand and leave everyone in awe, all twelve eyes fixed on your sweating self.

You turn and walk to the porch without a word, struggling to treat the old, creaky screen door gently. Those damn hinges must be old as granny, such a convenient burglar and rebellious teen alarm. The air is bitterly cold, stinging your skin just seconds outside. Your breath forms fog as you draw your arms in close and walk out into the knee deep snow, wearing only pajamas and sneakers.

“Tristan!” Applejack calls from the porch, her little feet bare. She must be so cold. “Tristan, wait! We can talk!” You keep walking downhill.

There isn’t a cloud in the midnight sky, and the stars sparkle as you trudge downhill through the deep snow. You find yourself running, sprinting, your chest burning like your face, hands, ankles, waist, all exposed to the biting wind or freezing snow. The north orchard was no good for trees: too many rocks and snake holes. A bastard of a plot of land, all that liked to grow here were swollen ankles.

You stomp on, uncaring to what may be a commotion behind you. Bull’s final moments replay as you sprint away. The shouting, the crying, the torn clothes and battered weapons, the ceremonious day ruined by some pretenders. His blood was red.

His blood was red.

The drone next had green blood. Just like those lieutennants, Sergeant Comb and privates Bulk and Farmwald. All green. But Bull… he failed the challenge, and he bled red, unlike everyone else. The rifle was heavier that day than every other drill day, even after doing longarmed holds for twenty minutes straight. It was so fucking heavy. He was at the morning brief, and Celestia, did it drag. The hot summer sun was happy, just like the day. All of the Sanctum Guard were elated to be on duty, unlike the usual groan of standing still and being the subject of tourist photoshoots.

“Wish I could see the ceremony,” he said, buffing a scuff in his golden armor.

You crack your neck and check that your weapon is on safe. “We didn’t enlist to see pretty princesses get married, man.”

He laughed at that, his little raspy chuckle rattles around in your head. “Yeah, I never knew I’d be wishing for that kind of thing. If only I was one fucking inch taller. Coulda made the elite.”

“Yeah… get fucked. Come on, sarge wants us outside in twenty. We better start walking.” You spit out a wad of wet tobacco, a secret Applejack would never get to know about.

“You got some shit in your teeth, dude,” Blue said, spitting out his own pouch.

You always gave him shit for the pouches, but they were convenient and cleaner. You drop your spitter in the trash and rinse your teeth with some water. Bull checked your teeth and gave a thumbs up before putting his cover on.

The day was damn bright, despite the Captain’s semi-transparent shield spell. The tourists may still be put off by it, but that magenta glow was almost a comforting sight by now. Dynamic perception, Gunny said. Bullshit, this armor still chafed after twelve hours.

A short brief later, Sergeant Vault mustered everyone up, and sent everyone on patrol or to their sentry stations with a “don’t fuck it up” speech the likes of which never before seen. You and Bull are in the castle courtyard, the most junior lance corporals get the worst duties, naturally. Not that you’re junior. Bull had just made E-3 a month ago, and the boot was your friend. He was a bit of a hot shot, always was on point, looked great in formation, which was imperative at a “dress” command. He knew all the general orders, the infantry creed, all that crap you had dropped a year out of basic. Just two more years, then it was terminal leave. Apple cider on a sun-kissed hill was just those two little years away.

You feel a chill, despite the sun beating down on your back as you walk calmly, chest out and back straight, ceremoniously ornate rifle weighing your hand down as you cradle it to your shoulder.

“You excited to see the princess get married to Shining Armor?” Blue asks, staring straight forward with the requisite stoic frown.

You grumble, digging fibers out of your lower front teeth. “Way too fancy for me. I’d prefer to elope to Las Pegasus, or have a little church wedding.”

“Oh, come on,” he said, chiding you. “You can’t just go on living disgruntled and hating everyone.”

“I’m a veteran.”

Blue laughed, then stowed his smile. “Dude, I know you’re terminal, but I seriously hope the gold weenie didn’t really take your soul. You’re a four and out guy.”

You reach your post and about face in unison, wordless, synched with a man your polar opposite. “Nah,” you say, staring straight out as you guard the right side of one of the castle’s more popular entrances. Guests were milling in a large crowd, even at this mid morning hour. “For all my bitching, I’m pretty excited for today.”

“I knew you loved the celebrity banquet type thing,” he said, a little monotone as you both were chosen for this command based on the ability to keep a super sat uniform and a stone cold straight face.

You shift your loaded ceremonious rifle to the other shoulder. “Nope. Couldn’t care less. But, my girlfriend is part of the staff.”

Blue, ever a fan of “the celebrity banquet” type of fan, could be heard almost squeaking. “No fucking way,” he said, his lips barely moving. A civilian approached, a little squirly man with a loud suit. He showed his identification, something to do with the magic department. Blue passed him through and continued. “Is she in charge of the decor? Music? What?”

“Catering.”

The little excited girl inside Blue could be seen in his clenched jaw. “Your girlfriend is going to be making all the food?” he asked, tense, looking over with his eyes. “You said she was part of the staff, not the wait staff.”

“Everyone’s gotta eat. She can make the meanest apple pie. Oh, and she knows that one girl. Twilight Sparkle.”

Blue broke his pose and looked over, eyes bugged out. “No way!” he hissed, then turned right back, red in the face, breaking a sweat.

You clench your rifle’s butt harder and try not to laugh. “I’ll try to get her to sign your panties next time we all get together.” You clench your eyes and try not to crack. Blue is red. After the moment and a few civilians pass into the castle’s grand hall service entrance, you continue. “I’ve met her. She’s a wonderful person, very smart, and really fucking hot. Like,”

“Thirty-three, twenty, thirty-six,” he says. “Cup is D, I think, but not sure.” Blue blinks, casually looking over. “What? She’s the best princess, why can’t a guy dream?”

You laugh quietly as a queue starts to form. “Stalker. Look alive, the guests want to get in. It’s almost time to let the general attendees in.” The next hour passes quickly as you finally get to do your job as castle security, or “Canterlot Guard of the Royal Colors,” as the title on your orders states. One or two forgotten ID’s, nothing suspicious besides that. There was little worry beyond the ambiguous “threat” made against Canterlot. Of course, the guard was doubled at the castle, the city left to it’s own devices. In perfect honesty, Canterlot was probably the safest city in Equestria. Which is exactly where the most precious people would want to keep themselves and their possessions.

Once the line died down, you stretch your arms by switching shoulders repeatedly in smart movements while Blue hums a little tune. You don’t mind so much. Anything to break the monotony. Another hour passes, then another, standing still, shaking knees, switching sides a handful of times just to move. Plenty of Equestrians take pictures, but that was the point. The chain kept them back, even the little idiot children. One got a little rambunctious, a little pudgy thing. No one swung on the Princess’s chain.

“You have the door,” you sharply state, snapping your rifle to the right shoulder.

“Aye!” Blue shouts, staring out a million miles.

You march out, knees high, steps measured. You face right and march two steps, take a deep breath and bend over slightly, eyes locking with the pudgy little squirt. “STAY OFF THE CHAIN!”

The fat toddler scrambled off, visibly shaken before you were finished with the word “chain”. It was a treasure to catch rebellious kids imposing on a boundary. You march back, Blue, watching behind you for any signs of malcontent, like a good sentry should. The kids scream and giggle as they run away, scrambling, one shouting something about “recording everything”. It’s no matter, you were following orders. It was a practiced skill, one you hoped wouldn’t carry over into your new life at the orchard. The alicorn shits on the first and the fifteenth, you tell yourself, imagining Applejack wearing a beautiful diamond ring.

The next hour was painfully boring. The ceremonies were underway, surely everyone was gathered in inside the castle’s western wing, the main entrance to which you remained guard at. A few busy people milled about, cars whizzed by, but pedestrians were still few and far between. Just six more hours, six little, boring, nice, easy hours ‘til the reception. Then you could find AJ, out of this damned uniform, or not, it hardly mattered. A little awful dancing, a little incredible cake, then a little time alone in her private quarters. There sure were perks to knowing Celestia’s pupil’s close friend. You ponder the possibilities for a long while, mind drifting, eyes scanning details utilizing your reptilian brain as your higher thinking portions fabricated details about Applejack’s body. It had been so damn long.

Minutes crawl by at first, but then an hour passes, two, three, almost four, then the chimes go off, signalling the beginning of the ceremony proper. Things crawl on by, you could almost hear the fanfare and Celestia’s introduction, when you hear a crash. A fellow guard, a sergeant in another squad, sprints by inside, the fear of the Goddess in him. “Wait! Sarge!” Blue calls out, running inside. You grip your rifle, one small movement from at the ready, and flick the safety off. Blue runs inside as you widen your stance to guard the door. You look back to see a commotion, mass panic, as civilians sprint away from a flash.

The magenta-tinted sky flashes, over and over again at tiny dark points, like disgusting little shooting stars. You notice there’s actual, awful black creatures attacking the magic sphere.

“Blue! Blue, get your skinny ass out here! We’ve got a problem!” You look over your shoulder and see a mob of well-dress crazies. They all spill towards the nearest hole, the door you’re sentry to. You pull slow geriatric aristocrats to the street and out of the doorway. “MOVE, PEOPLE, CLEAR THE WAY!” You sling your weapon and use both arms to pull a plus sized gentleman clear, barely able to fit through. “Get out of there!” you shout. Once the thickest of the throng is through, you swim inside through the chaos to what seems like the aftermath of a hurricane.

Trash, scraps of clothes and jewelry and decor and food are strewn about randomly. The crowd thinned quickly, and only a wide eyed woman with a perfectly styled blonde hairdo, now ruined, falls to clutch your breastplate. Her streaming makeup soils her formerly regal appearance. “Help! They’ve taken the entire room! The princess!”

“Who? Who’s they? Ma’am, calm down-wait!” Before you can get an answer, she slips by desperately, sprinting on heels to the exit you once guarded. How could anyone get inside? Every guard at the command was on duty, as well as at least two hundred from other cities.

You swallow at a lump in your throat, smelling smoke in the air. “Fuck,” you spit, readying your rifle. You check the magazine and chamber quickly, then continue up the stairs.

The first flight of white marble is adorned with a lavender carpet, likely worth thousands, now splattered with dirt and debris and oh Celestia, so much blood. And green… stuff. Goo? It looks like the gunk from a split flower stem, or snot. You gag at the stench and continue on.

Bodies, dead ones. You’ve only seen one, back home, a sad day for the entire family. Now, three were crumpled like an author’s rejected drafts. Worthless, just hunks of meat wrapped in something unnecessarily expensive. A seargent, one you knew, and two junior men from the town, the next one whos name escapes you. You memorize their names and faces without thought and move on, around the corner, en route to the grand hall.

Suddenly a fourth corpse, just a little further ahead. This one looks like a giant insect. Green eyes are glazed over, green bile drips from his slack jaw, you assume he’s a him. There’s no going near it, horror stories have taught you too well. One squeeze, and the carpet had a few new stains and a new bullet hole under his head. The rifle sounded like a cap gun.

You clutch your rifle and peek around the corner to see a senior enlisted, at least a gunnery sergeant, enough stipes and rockers. His head pops like a fucking melon. A man who likely spent twenty years of loyal service to his country, who likely had a wife, a good probability that she was divorced, with kids, now gone. Forty something years of precious, loving time, wiped out by a little ball of lead. You contemplate all that from behind the marble wall and take another peek. The shooter is scanning the hall, he looks-

“Blue?” You blurt, and his rifle snaps to your direction. Instinct saves you as the marble explodes an inch from your eye, sending out chunks of stone debris and a cloud of dust. “Fuck! Fuck fuck fuck! Fuck this, Princess, fuck you!” You stand a few inches further from the edge and get ready to do… something. Anything!

He shouts. You can’t make it out, but it sounds like your name. “Hey!” You hear now. “Tristan! Is that you?!” You swallow again. “Tristan, I thought you were one of them!”

One of what? A fucking guard, doing his job for once? A senior guy, probably in charge of a hundred junior servicemen. Or was he like the bug just a few feet back?

You knock the back of your head on the wall, wishing you had a ballistic helmet and armor, like normal. Fuck these stupid dress uniforms. You rip off the medals and toss the breastplate off, there goes two-hundred bits, plus a hundred for the stupid chest candy. You swallow and clutch your gun tight, and risk a peek. The shooter is definitely Blue, just outside the shut doors to the grand hall, the dense crystal doors an import from the northern Crystal Empire. “Blue, what the fuck are you doing?” You shout out from behind the safety of the stone corner.

“My fucking job, man! These, these things, they ain’t fucking people! They’re fucking aliens or something. They take over other people’s bodies! Fuck, how do I know it’s really you?”

“What?” You ask, leaning out, only to have another dust shower as a bullet ricochets off the marble an inch from your temple. “Shit! Blue! It’s fucking me! Stop shooting before I fucking KILL you, asshole!”

You hear him switch magazines, told by the sound of him charging the bolt. So much for baiting to fire dry. “No fucking way, man. I’m not risking it.”

“You know it’s me! How do I know it’s you?” You ask, sure he’s fucking insane. Guards didn’t carry spare mags, did he fucking take one from the bodies? He probably had all the rifles, too. This wasn’t good.

“Of course it's me! How do I know you’re you?”

“What’s Twilight’s waist size?” You shout out, finger already putting two pounds on the trigger.

A long pause, you ready your rifle and step back, aiming at where you know his head to be. “What? What are you-” BANG

Just like that, you end your close friend’s life, with a quick lean, lift, pull, and squeeze, the sights aligned right to those piercing eyes of his. Now, they’re dull, looking into the horizon. You check the hall and walk forward, sweating profusely.

You advance and take a look at the body, his body. The jaw is gone, and you can’t hold back breakfast. You bend over and hurl, stomach rejecting out everything.

When you wipe your lips, you’re grateful you ditched the metal. You wipe off the chunks of egg from your white undershirt and try not to stare at the... Blue was just acting up. The nerves? What if he was just crazy? For a little bit. Or, maybe forever, he’d still be human, and your friend… somewhat. Holy fuck, what if he was like Gunny? What if he was Gunny? Fuck, he was Blue! He had a girlfriend, he was going to propose next time he had leave! Now, those hopes and dreams were staining the lavender carpet-

Just like the last of your breakfast is on the carpet… and some of last night’s beer. You wipe your face again and fall forward to the door, and feel the cold crystal. The opaque doors are thick, there’s no seeing through keyholes or hearing through these.

You sit on your ass, legs outstretched, rifle at the ready. “What the fuck,” you spit, wishing for a drink of water to rinse your mouth, followed by a gallon of whiskey. Good stuff, like Applejack likes. You shoulder your rifle as someone shouts something from the hall you just left. You rest your cheek on the stock and aim down the sights, you’ve only aimed with intent once before, and that was seconds ago. Now, you feel your shaky arms solidify, you feel ready to pull the trigger again, natural as crapping.

Three men round the corner, shouting, uniforms a fucking mess. Suddenly, wrinkles are the last of their problems. Blood sprays from all their chests as one round pierces each of them. The first, a junior member, from his two medals, has those precious bits of chest candy ripped asunder as he drops cold. Dead, no doubt. The next is an officer, a fucking fresh little butter bar, barely aged enough to know a swear, but he doesn’t die, no, the bullet hits his side somewhere. He’s not in a good way. The third is another boot, Celestia, his high and tight is so damn fresh, til a lead pill cures all that ails him. He had to fall backwards, mutilated collar up.

You snap your rifle back to the officer and stand up on watery knees. He’s grunting and spitting up blood. Obviously saveable, but that’s not the point. The first soldier’s body writhes, spasming.

You step forward, something awful happens. You are frozen, unable to look away. The boot’s eyes burn away, rotting, invisible maggots devouring them, the most savory, wet, easy bits to eat. They’re replaced with a green fire, the flames consuming his absent flesh and leaving in the ashes a pair of bulging, bright, pale lime green orbs one may consider optical organs. The same happens to his handsome, clear skin on his face. The result is a waxy, oily, crunchy shell of a face, features completely changed. Almost human in appearance, the well dressed, fit young man burns away, and in its wake, a gnarled and twisted insect the size of a teen. The limbs are filled with holes, like cheese. On his back are waxy wings, structural spines lace a thin layer of chitinous stuff, like firm cellophane.

“Why-” the sir gagged, vomiting. You turn to face him.

You breathe heavily, wiping away a little puke from your chin. There’s an awful stench all around. “I don’t know. What do you mean, why?”

You stand over him as he rolls over. He probably maxed out all his PT scores, there wasn’t an ounce of fat on him. “Why did you shoot me? Why are those things- things, why are they here? Where’s...”

“I’m sorry,” you say, looking at the warm steel of your barrel. “I had no clue who was who-”

A gunshot rang out, and just like that, blood sprays your face. You look up, fear gripping your heart. Leveled at you, shit, you can see the rifling, is a large caliber handgun, likely a forty-four. The sir shriveled up and writhed, sans his head, and transformed into one of those awful black bugs.

“He was going to extract information from you and telepathically communicate it to the queen. No one lies to a dying man. These things have a hive mind. I know you’re not one of them, they don’t feel disgust, or they’re no good at faking it yet.” The man talking was none other than the executive officer Lieutenant General Comet Striker. What the fuck was he doing here?

“Tristan, are you alright?” he asked, eyes a warm, sweet green. Gosh, they were just pretty. “I’ve never seen you run off like that! Yer gonna freeze to death out here.”

“Sir?” You close your eyes and swallow, feeling so cold, painfully so. Your skin tingles with pins and needles, like a cold fire is burning you. You swallow and lean into the warm body holding you. “S-sir, he… he’s not human. He’s dead, he… oh, AJ.” You turn and hug her tight, burying your frozen face into the warmth of her neck. You sigh and take one deep breath. With another, you lean back and crack your neck. You rub your chin and check your hand, no vomit, at least as far as you can tell by moonlight.

Applejack sits silently. She’s either dumbstruck, doesn’t know what to say, or as you suspect, is wise enough to know better than talk right now. You swallow and wipe your face with snow, anyway, still feeling the changeling blood and sick all over it. The cold stings, but it’s a good pain, enough to remind you of reality. “Sorry,” you tell her. “It’s been years. I thought I was through all that.”

Applejack gently touches your bare, wet arm, then holds it close. “It’s alright, darlin. I’m here for you, always. We can sit out here for a little while longer… it’s a clear night. The hills look pretty in the moonlight.”

You nod, looking up from your feet. You rub them, getting a little circulation. The orchard sloped downhill, this pasture's acne scars covered with a blanket of blue midnight snow, a down pillow of fluffy cream smoothed over the awful land. Gently, the slope falls to the creek below, the one on one summer night you found love. The heat in Applejack reminds you well. Beyond were the wilder bits of the orchard, the trees a little less fruitful. Nonetheless they were groomed and harvested, yielding smaller, tarter fruit. Good for hard cider, you smile. The tree tops merge, indistinguishable more than a mile out, each tree blending into a sea of twiggy black, moonlight struggling to reflect effectively, despite Luna’s mighty show. The moon took the sun’s rays and shone them brilliantly, so bright it hurt to gaze across the white sea, or it would if your skin weren’t dying.

“Not for too long, Applejack. It’s below zero tonight.” You gulp, shivering, like her. She leans on you. God, why did she have to do something like that? How could anyone ever lean on you? You literally run from memories. “The hills are beautiful,” you say, smiling, despite yourself. She just had to run after. She’s going to catch a cold, probably be out of work for a day or so, or worse, power through it and make it so bad she’s OOC for more.

“You know you need to talk about it,” she said, and that was that.

“I know.” You sigh, the cold freezing your snot inside your nose, making you breathe through your mouth. It hurts your lungs to breathe. “I got hard, earlier.”

AJ giggles. “Yeah you did. I’m proud of you. Damn kin, don’t understand how much we needed that.”

“Lets get inside and warm up.”

“Don’t overdo it on the whiskey.”

You sniff, or try, and wipe your eye dry before your lashes freeze over. “I won’t.” They do anyway.

“Come on,” Applejack says, tugging your arm. You accept her help and stand, pulling her up next. You shiver and high step it up the hill, wishing you ran off uphill so you could return down instead. Granny shoos the teenagers off as Big Mac looks on, sliding off a thick workman’s jacket.

You swallow as he catches your eye. The days of fear of the big man had passed long ago, but maybe there was always an unspoken understanding. You were showing you might start harming his kin. He wouldn’t have that. You look at him sternly, he returns, not glaring, just looking. He’s concerned for the two of you.

AJ slides her hand down your arm again, and you take her hand as you enter the kitchen, big brother behind. You lean on the counter with AJ as he gives you two a blanket. “Thanks, Big Mac,” you say.

“Mmhmm.” Always one for brevity. Granny gave her daughter a kiss on the forehead, then, you as well. She leaves on her crickety, ninety year old hips.

AJ gives you a little kiss as Mac pulls down a bottle of whiskey from the cupboard. “Did y’all git into my whiskey last night?” He asks innocently enough.

“Nope,” AJ replies for you. “We had plenty to drink with the girls after he got in on the train.”

Big Mac grunted. “Either yer lyin, Granny’s teeth are achin’, or Applebloom and her friends got some explaining to do.”

“Seein’ as I’ve got a reputation and Granny’s teeth are in a glass at her bedside, I’m fixin’ to bet our lil sis is feelin’ adventurous.”

Big Mac just sighed and poured three hefty glasses, looked at you, frowned, and gave one glass a healthy splash more. “Hey, at least she’s breakin’ the law at home. Don’t pretend that we didn’t get wild at her age.”

The draft horse of a man cracked a solemn little smile in the dim light cast from above the kitchen sink. Many meaninful discussions happened by that light at this time of night. He pulled the glasses forward, giving you the fullest. “Thanks again,” you say, accepting it. “Look,” you offer, sighing, AJ pulling the blanket closer around the two of you as she takes her glass. “I’m sorry for running off like that. It was years ago when the royal wedding… happened. It wasn’t exactly fun for a lot of the guards and townspeople. Imagine your best friends, guys you’d literally throw yourself in front of a bullet for, solid guys, shooting each other without a second’s thought because of… of what might be. I… holy... “

AJ plants her lips on your cheek. “Shh, shh that’s alright, baby,” she says, cupping your cheek.

You grip her thigh gently and let her know you’re solid once again. “Just, I need to say it.” You take a sip, then another, a breath, this was good whiskey, it tasted like dirty trash wood. You take one long gulp, making AJ’s eyes widen, Big Mac’s to a lesser degree. You burp and wipe the four-year old egg breakfast and beer from your lips. “I killed two good, good men. It… it could have been four, and watched another die, saw too many fucking bodies. And, and then we managed to get some semblance of control. AJ and her friends, they ran past, Celestia, I was so proud and happy. I, we rallied, managed to find more and more uncloaked bugs, put them down like mosquitos.

“I murdered my best friend. He had a kid on the way and I had no idea, til I showed up at his f-fian…” You take another drink. “Her door.. His girlfriend was a month pregnant. He was going to propose in two. He didn’t know. I… I held the woman who he loved as she cried. I...“ you swallow, draining the drink and blink back water. “I had to tell another guard’s parents I killed their son. A loser before he enlisted, but the kid was a hot shot. More medals than me in half my time. He had a lot of enlisted friends, and they all understood. But his parents, his fucking, his fucking dad punched me so hard, I bit part of my tongue clean off. Right there,” you say, opening your mouth in a tired smile and pointing to the slightly off shape on the right side of your tongue. “Said I should be in prison, said I deserved the fucking chair. He was right. He’s still fucking right.”

You slide to the floor and lean against the counter, sitting, empty whiskey glass and head hanging in your lap. “I killed them, I killed four people. I shot four people.”

Applejack drops next to you and hugs you close. She rubs your arms firmly, just leaning and breathing with you. Celestia, she was too good for this. You reach back and hug her swallowing. “I’m okay… I’m okay. Thank you, AJ.” You swallow and stand again, breathing in hard through your nose and breaking a snotty barrier, feeling power enough to live and come back. “I’m alright.”

Big brother nods, smiling warmly. He reaches out with his glass, holding his dense arm out stoically. “That’s the past. It’s war. I wanna say thank you, and I wanna offer my condolences for losing all those people. This land’s been through a hell of a lot, lately, and I’d say between the two of you, you both deserve a damn long break.”

AJ laughs shortly, smiling. “Eeyup.” She grins warmly and hold her glass out. “No foolin, sweetie,” she says to you. “You’ve been through a lot, and there’s no downplayin’ that round here. But that sun’s still gonna rise. I wanna be with you when it does.”

You swallow and wipe your eyes, feeling blood and vomit on your face again. You resist the urge to wipe it away. It still feels so real. “To a new day,” you say, able to wear an honest smile, the first one in years. You raise your glass, empty, and give them a hearty clink. The sibblings both pour a portion of their glasses into yours, rough equal parts three ways. You tilt your head and knock the whiskey back. Oh, it burned, a deep, red burn, like a long campfire, not like the cold burn in your toes and fingers, or the vomit-like burn of bile, evaporating in green flame. This burn is of wood and alcohol, and it’s physical, earthy.

Applejack kisses your cheek and slides her body in as close as can be. “Gonna need a beer, hun?” She asks, resting her head on your shoulder.

With a sigh, you set the glass on the wooden countertop and hold her close, smelling her soft, long blonde hair. Such a beautiful, strong girl, understanding, as much as anyone could be at this point. She was there, after all, likely not far from the bloodbath. How much did she have to see?

“Hun,” she says, and you realize you’re clutching her hair a little too hard. Instantly you take your hand away and rest it on the counter.

With a little frown, Big Macintosh takes your glass and sets it in the sink. “I’ll leave you two to the dishes. Goodnight. See you in the barn tomorrow, AJ, horses ain't gonna feed and groom themselves..”

“Night, brother,” she says sweetly, but she never leaves your side, even nuzzling in closer. She rubs her cheek into your shoulder warmly, biting her little lip. As the big bulky man climbs the creaky stairs, AJ’s hand touches your chest. “Mm, baby, I missed you so much, I just want you to be so happy.”

“I am, AJ,” you say immediately, taking her hand into yours. You kiss her head and hug her little waist close. “You’re too kind and perfect and beautiful. I don’t know what I did to deserve you.” Ow, flexing fingers hurt so much right now.

She smiled, oh Celestia that smile. “You had to drive that old piece of junk,” she said with a little laugh. “Oh, I still remember that first day. Gosh, we got right to it, didn’t we?”

You smile, recalling those events, on the blanket. So much sweat. “I didn’t know I was into squirters back then.”

“Oh, fuck, I exploded like a fucking fire hydrant,” AJ smiles and giggled. “Mmm, I wish I had time to meet you the night before, Tristan.”

“In Canterlot?”

AJ nods, rubbing her silky blonde hair into your face. “I was so mad when you left, but I was over it, I really was. I just wanted to see you, but,” she gulps and leans back. “I love you so much,” she sobbed. “Please, don’t ever leave, Tris.”

“I promise, I won’t,” you whisper, holding AJ close. She rolls to press her body into yours, breasts laying into your chest. The warm, squishing sensation would normally be incredibly hot… but dynamic perception, that was the buzzword Gunny had used, you don’t know what you had ‘til it’s gone.

You rub her back and try not to take her for granted. AJ was too precious: an immovable rock in an uncertain sea. You have changed; for the better, yet, the change was there. Maturity and knowledge, as well as a rounder butt, thanks to many many miles of rucking gear pointlessly were all blessings to an extent. You smile, grateful for all those years of discomfort, except the motorpool and armory waiting and fuckfuck games. You can’t help but chuckle, remembering the misery. Oh how good it was to be on the outside.

Applejack leaned her head back, eyes watery, an indignant frown on her face. “What’s so darn funny?”

You laugh again and rest your hands on her lower back, smiling down. You swallow, the knot in your throat suddenly feels manageable looking at Applejack.”It’s good to be… home. Not moving around, or stuck in an upscale prison of a barracks. But, with these heavy wood walls, the nice iron stove, a real house, as long as you’re here, I could see this being home for, um…”

You trail off, afraid of the sheer level of commitment you were nearly about to confess. Your eyes refuse to leave Applejack’s, as if caught in a spell. “For who, Tris?”

You return her little smile.

“Wait here,” you tell her, standing up. You fly up the stairs as she waits, holding both hands to her collar. You invert your giant green bag in her room and dump out all the clothes and uniforms and things inside. You turn on the light and rifle through the most squarely shaped, deeply packed items. There! A little square box with round corners, covered in velvet. You race downstairs, taking them two at a time and catch good purchase on the wood floor with your bare feet. You run forward, heart racing and not from the sprint. You round the counter and hold Applejack’s hands in your left, your right playing with the box behind your back, orienting it just right.

“Applejack,” you say with a full, somehow steady voice despite the hurricane of butterflies in your gut. “I was going to wait until dinner tomorrow, but,” you drop to one knee, smiling wide, the fluorescent light bouncing off the little navy blue box in your shaky upturned palm. “Will you make me the happiest man on the planet, and marry me?” Your eyes are on hers as hers are on your hand, you almost forget to open the box. She eyes the diamond ring and goes all squeaky, she never did that, jumping up and down twice. She shouts out ‘YES!’, and you stand to catch her in a tight hug.

“I suppose, us.” The leviathan words pop out, no more than little soap bubbles floating in the air, making the two of you grin wide.

A little moment passes, looking at her face and just grinning, giggling a little. AJ rushes forward and pecks your lips, then again, then falls into your body, hugging you as tight as she could. You return the favor, getting her vice-like grip to falter, the strong country girl not quite able to best marine muscle. You pick her up and plop her body on the counter. Not light, but not fluffy and unwieldy, AJ is a wonderful dummy to haul around. You give the girl a kiss on her forehead as she sits on the counter, gigling and grinning.

A blush on her face shows how warm she is. “Oh, sheesh, you drank twice as much as I did and I’m feelin’ it. Oh, darlin’, I love you so much.”

“I love you, too, baby,” you say softly, sliding into her spread legs to kiss her deeply. You sigh and pull her body into yours, pressing those round tits into your chest. She moans at the amorous grasp, but…

You break away and go to the cabinet. “One little drink.” You don’t look back, but pour two drinks from Big Mac’s reserve. A small splash each. You return. “I’m not an alcoholic, despite what the corps tried to do to me. This,” you say, “is a special toast. AJ, I’ve never, ever told anybody what I saw other than the official debriefing. I just, thank you.Thanks for making me tell it. I don’t know what I’d do if I kept that bottled in. It was just, so…”

She silences you with a kiss, that awful, helpless guilt fades away. You smile, eyes closed, and kiss her again. “Drink,” you say softly, offering the glass, looking at her face. Your fabricated version of her blush is just a few shades deeper than this one.

AJ takes the glass and holds it up. “To the luckiest girl in Equestria, me,” she said. “I get to have such a strong man in my life, and I’m so grateful he’s mine.” How could you make if for forever?

“To Big Mac?” you ask, getting a slug in the arm. She laughs with you and clinks your glass.

“To us,” she says, then swallows the whiskey down. You follow right away, loving the burn, it’s a good one, one that reminds you of happier times when the worst thing about life was an extra early muster, a surprise ruck, douchebag first sergeants or dumb boots. Maybe enough would burn away the pain.

Applejack halts that train of thought before it departs the station. “Come, darlin’. It’s mighty late, and you’ve got a nice, warm, soft bed to climb into with me.” You set your glass in the sink, thirsty suddenly for another drink, but it’s not a need. You climb up the stairs again, AJ suddenly not in a rush. You realize before a few steps that she’s trying to draw your eye, and gets a pair of hands. “There ya are, honey,” she whispers, laughing. You push her up the stairs and into her bedroom, then close the door behind you.

The woman falls into bed, and you follow. You kiss her neck and undo her shirt, then the rest of her clothes as she clumsily rolls on top and helps you, stumbling as she turns to straddle your waist, bare ass facing your face. You grab it as she holds your half-hard manhood, taking it quickly into her warm, wet mouth. You kiss her round ass as she slurps up, then pull her waist down to your face. Her pussy lips are hot, and even shaven. “You were definitely trying to give me a warm welcome.”

Applejack rolls her hips down, moaning, trying to please your cock. You give her big butt a squeeze and push her up. “Sweetheart,” she protests, being made to sit at your side. “Are you not in the mood?”

She lays at your side and hugs you close. You can’t exactly speak, emotions suddenly flooding you, a relatively alien sensation. “It’s alright, darlin’,” she whispers, kissing your neck. “Just know I’m here for you.”

She doesn’t say anything else, just hugs you tight, no comment as you sob. There’s nothing to help it. There’s no shame in it. For once, a shoulder to cry on. And that’s just fine. It’s finally fine.

Blackness is torn away by the harsh, sudden glow of light. It’s understandable that a damn E-3 has to stand post at midnight, but can’t a guy get a fucking break? The midwatch tonight is-

You sit up, and feel nothing but a little headache, damn yellow morning sun. AJ’s room is relatively neat, all the furniture older than the two of you combined, the most modern item seems to be her alarm clock, which is still wind up. You swallow and swing your legs over. It’s still hard not to look for your combat boots and blousing straps, those cursed little elastic demons. You smile, but still feel a hollowness. You look over your shoulder at a messy blonde girl, sleeping a restless, alcohol-induced sleep. You stand, nude. A sniff makes you frown. You remember now, her mouth was down there. Celestia, it felt great, but the smell of dried saliva was far from that. You find your briefs and slip into them.

That clock, how old it was, read eight o’clock and some change. You sniff and try to remember the day. Thursday? Friday? It was hard to tell on leave, especially terminal. You finish getting somewhat dressed and walk to the door. You groan, turn and grab some shower gear, and look to AJ one last time. You wipe a persistent little eyebooger away, instantly remembering last night’s… cry. It’s almost surreal. You hadn’t cried, not really, since you were a little kid. You can’t even recall a specific time.

“Guess I was overdue,” you mumble, smiling at Applejack. You steal one kiss, making her face curdle. She’s likely in need of a bucket. Silly civilians, not having a reason to binge drink nightly.

You think on the way to the bathroom, walking past a particularly unsettling snoring noise from Applebloom’s room, if it was really all that bad. The tub, supported on four little nubs for legs, was old, yet clean. You climb in once the water is running and brush your teeth, a stupid time-saving habit. If civilians don’t drink at least a six pack every night, are they worse for it? You recall doubling that regularly. Why, then, did the military have such a shitty life? Sure, there was a call for discipline, but treating soldiers, sailors, and marines like humans couldn’t be too impossible, right?

As you rinse shampoo out of your hair, which was joyously growing out of regs, you ponder this. If the store opened at eight, why bother showing up before seven-thirty? You regularly mustered at the range an hour, or more, before muster, regularly! You spit and set your toothbrush down, then get to scrubbing your body. “Man,” you mutter, inspecting your toes and ankles, still red. “I’m lucky AJ found me when she did. I can’t believe I did that-”

A click. You lean forward and grab an invisible weapon at your, shaking your head. Damn active shooter drills. “Who’s there?” you call out.

“Tristan?” Applejack calls out, sounding utterly sick. “It’s me, hun.” She shuts the door behind her, walking in. Her silhouette is cast against the plain shower curtain, giving you a little show as she undresses. She turns to the side, and the shape looks that of a goddess. A well fed goddess.

You set your toothbrush down, smiling, realizing you were ready to use it as a knife. Fuck the corps. You laugh silently at yourself, grateful you can laugh at yourself now, and stand out of the stream of hot water. She steps forward and pulls the curtain aside, and you pounce. She squeals, being hoisted by her slim waist into the tub laughing voraciously. You bite her neck and hug her close, groaning in her ear. “Mmm, who dares invade my privacy?” you murmur in her ear, giving her a wet kiss.

“AH!” she shrieks, covering her mouth. “Tristan!” she hisses, giggling. AJ pushes back against you. “Gosh, you’re an animal!” Applejack laughs, though, pulling the curtain shut. “Oh, baby, don’t-gwah, don’t be movin’ me like that so suddenly. I can’t keep up with y’all soldier boys when it comes to the morning after.”

“What are you talking about?” you tease in her ear, cupping her breasts. “We’re going on a twenty mile ruck in five minutes. Grab your pack, what’s a hundred pounds?”

You pinch her nice, round breasts, resting your gruff chin on her shoulder. Wouldn’t a beard be nice? “Oh, I see you’ve already got your pack on,” you kiss her ear. “Or is it rack? I forget.”

Applejack giggles the entire time, surely everyone could hear. You relent a little, smiling as you finally feel a guilt-free erection. She sighs, silenced by you massaging her thighs, now, your pecker prodding her round, firm cheeks. “Ah, all them hikes and PT sure made you nice and fit, T,” AJ moans over her shoulder, hands reaching back to touch your buttocks. You stand tall and press your hips forward, giving her a flexed marble statue to feel, you watch her bite her lip.

The girl smiles wide, rubbing her nose against your neck as you grab some girly bar soap, thankfully not apple-scented. Even the Apples must have had a limit on how much apple they allowed in their day to day. You start with, naturally, her round breasts. They were just as perky as they were four years ago. The only real change, you think to yourself, is the sheer length of her hair. Uncut for most of her life, Applejack sure had a knack for growing out that mane. You massage her back next, flipping that blonde mass over her shoulder and admiring that...

“Oh my god,” you murmur, inspecting her.

She looks over her shoulder, wiping water from her eye. “What is it? What?!”

“This!” You softly shout, holding your hands out, showcasing her, her! “You, oh, my, god! Applejack, you’re too beautiful. I, this back is so fucking sexy. No artist could sculpt a being this fine.” The words falling into the wet, warm air were honest as facts. You touch her as she blushes, slowly massaging clean soap over her body, your dick growing stiff for her.

She rolls her eyes, but her face is red. “Mmm, you flatterer,” she whispers. AJ stands statue still for you as you bring your body forward and clean her perfectly strong ass. Her wide hips made this so much better. You kiss her lips, her foul morning mouth not even registering. You are so indulged in her, all of her, breath included. You sigh and slip your tongue into her mouth, but she retreats.

“Darlin’, I ain’t in much of a state to be kissin’ on your fresh mouth,” she said retreating.

You kiss her cheek. “Don’t worry, AJ, I don’t even mind at all.”

She turns and kisses you again smiling, but only a long peck. “As in, if you grabbed me a little tighter, I might lose last night’s dinner. I wasn’t jokin’ when I said I can’t keep up with y’all.”

You laugh shortly, feeling as if you had personally wounded this beautiful creature. “That’s alright, AJ. Let’s get you squeaky clean, then we can do… whatever I’m supposed to do on vacation. I only took leave twice before, and all we did was-”

“Oh! I remember my last birthday well, loverboy. I had to peel myself off the sheets.”

“Good thing we got a hotel,” you laugh. “I was sort of backed up.”

Applejack laughs, then gags. “Don’t make me think of swallowing yer cum again, baby. I’m sick as is.”

You relent and grab her shampoo, the expensive stuff. “This doesn’t exactly suit you, baby. ‘Elusive Noir’? Who even names this stuff?”

It sure smelled nice. “Ugh, my girlfriends thought you’d like it, you know how they can be.”

“What, generous? That’s the opposite of a problem, AJ.”

She laughs. “I call it imposing. Speakin’ of, the girls wanted to take us out to dinner tonight.”

“I remember,” you say, working in a ‘generous’ dollop into that long, long mane, it went to her round, firm ass. You give her a squeeze while you’re down there working the mix into her tips.

AJ sighs, turning to lean against the shower wall. In this case, the plain-old wall. “Ever had Germane?” she asks, looking at you with one adorable green eye.

After a stolen kiss, you bring her to you, to rest your cock on her ass as you rinse her hair. “I’ve been to Germaney twice, baby.”

“Ah!” she giggles. “I can’t believe I forgot! Shame on me.” AJ sighs as you grab her hips, her hair suds-free and impossibly soft.

“That noir stuff sure does make your hair soft, AJ.” You tell her, lips on her ear once more. You touch her breasts, just to touch them. The soap, unfortunately, dries out skin on the touch, making her feel a little rubbery. Applejack kills the water and steps out, leaving you feeling frozen again.

She wraps her mane in a towel, a big one, and laughs. “Glad you like it, sugarcube. I might actually have to buy some from Rarity, seein’ as you’re here for good and all.” She tenses up, squatting and bending over in a spastic fit. “Oooooh, I can’t believe it! I get to say that! You’re here! For good! Oh, Tristan, it’s been such a long time! I can’t believe I took you for granted way back when. I promise, I’ll cherish every moment with you.” She kisses you once more, hugging you tight. You return the kiss, hands on her lower back. She moans, lifting a leg, leaning her soft, wet tits into you, til she suddenly pulls off. AJ bends over the sink and looks ready to expell as mentioned, but she gags and hold on. “Ah… I think I need just… a little time to sleep this off. Ugh, my guts feel like they’re trying to claw their way up and out my throat-ugh!”

“I’ll get you some water, baby,” you tell her, stroking her back. With a little peck on her cheek, you retrieve a fresh towel from the closet. You dry off, often looking over her beautiful body, and pluck up yesterday’s dirty clothes. “I’ll bring you some soda and water, AJ. Just go ahead and lay back down.”

“Tristan?” she asks as you reach for the door.

You turn and face her. “What?”

She swallows. “I’m sorry. I know you wanted some in the shower, but I, I just-”

“Shh,” you silence her. “It’s alright, AJ. We can have ‘some’ anytime we want. It’s not like I’m on leave and I’ll be gone at the end of the week.”

“Oh, don’t say things like that, Tristan.” Applejack sits on the toilet, smiling, resting her cheek on her hand. “It’s like when things are goin’ to shit, so you say ‘at least it isn’t raining’, then it starts to fuckin’ rain.” She laughs dryly, then sighs. It’s a happy, warm sigh, one of content. “Love ya.”

“I love you, too, Applejack.”

They day was a lovely, lazy winter day. The sky was clear, but you somehow don’t feel like playing in the snow with Applebloom and her gal pals, despite their attempt to drag you along. Big Mac only had a little grunt to say at the considerable amount of fine whiskey you and his sister wasted last night. Wasted, of course, being a relative term. You vow to return what you took, but he doesn’t seem so upset at any rate. They day crawled along, with plenty of lounging and napping by the fire under a wool blanket with Applejack and her unbrushed hair. Just this once, chores be damned. You hold her tight and watch the logs crackle for a few hours while she snoozes, just like her granny in her rocking chair. The light chores to be done are taken care of by yourself and the youngin’s, just sweeping and dusting and tending to the animals. You have a light lunch, a little ham sandwich, of which AJ manages a few bites. You tease her, but not much. Sunset comes, along with a doorbell.

Applebloom runs and answers it as you stretch, feeling a little overnapped. You stand, waking Applejack at last. “How you doing, AJ?” you ask as she sits upright. She gives you a little hug and rubs the sleep from her eyes.

“Mmmmm,” she groans. “Slept to darn much.” She lets out a long yawn. “Who’s at the door?”

“APPLEJACK!” Applebloom shrieks, what an awful noise. “IT’S YER GIRLFRIEND!”

“Honestly, Applebloom, we aren’t dating!” A woman’s voice carries around the corner as she enters. A tall, slim woman, about AJ’s height, but missing about thirty pounds of meat. The pole of a woman smiles bright, seeing the messy pile of humans in the living room by the fire. “Tristan!” she says brightly, lowering her purse to the end table near the sofa you are climbing up and out of, followed by AJ, in no particular hurry. “Are you well? It’s hardly the time for sleep.”

“Rough night last night,” you answer, accepting a hug. AJ only grins.

“We’re fine, Rarity,” she says with a little laugh. “Tristan just drank me under the table is all, so we spent the day lounging and recovering.”

“Well, I hope you’re up for dinner, then,” she says over your shoulder, finally pushing away. Her perfume isn’t quite choking, but it isn’t quite as fresh and inviting as a little natural, clean smell, like Applejack was keen to wear.

“Absolutely, sugarcube. I hope you don’t mind waitin’ on me brushin’ up my hair. I’m a right mess.”

“Not at all, darling!” She helps her up, giving her a hug, too. “Oh, it’s so sweet to see you two together again. I can’t express how happy I am for you two.”

“No need, Rarity,” she says, looking into those bright blue eyes. Surely there was a man who gazed into those regularly. Or, maybe a lot of men. She was wearing a long, stylish black coat, but her heels, jewelry, and less than modest makeup sure looked like an invitation. Not inviting, but an invitation. Maybe Applejack’s green eyes had already stolen a bit of that killer instinct in your core.

“We in a rush?” AJ asked, scratching her side, lifting up her soft cotton undershirt to do so. She was wearing just that and some shorts, god, they were gorgeous on her. She wore the lazy sunday look well.

Rarity giggled. “Reservation’s at nine, darling. Take your time, and don’t overdress. It’s only a little local restaurant.”

“Germane, right?” you ask. “I wonder if they have Schwarzwaldküche.”

From Rarity you learn of recent events over Ponyville way. A slew of day to day mundanities, you know: monster invasions and weddings, to the naturally universe threatening battle between her royal Highness Twilight Sparkle and that Tirek guy. You listen intently, glad for the fresh perspective as AJ freshens up. You follow suit shortly after, only putting on deodorant, washing your face, and slipping into a nice button down shirt. You leave your flask behind in your bag, a bag that really should be unpacked. A little combing, and you look well enough for a nice dinner out with AJ and her friends. Your friends, now, you reason.

Even with awful roads, the drive across town to the establishment is a mere forty minutes. You help AJ out of the car. She’s wearing a flowing little green dress, complimented by a long brown coat, covering her legs well enough. Her neck is covered by a white scarf, a garment that would nearly look alien on her, save for the way it matched her outfit. She looks fit to dine out or rustle cattle in this little thing, complimented naturally by her stetson. All she needed was a six shooter and a bandolier. Maybe the bandolier was overkill.

You hold her hand in the crook of your arm as you walk inside. It seems you three are the last to arrive, behind the other five. Fluttershy, the little busty woman, had a man of her own, and she’s sporting a fresh rock on her finger. You feel in your pocket for the-

Fuck. God… fucking dammit. You swallow, feeling calmly in your coat and shirt pockets, touching your rear pocket and smiling, pretending to find your wallet.

“Rarity wouldn’t be NOT fashionably late if it killed her.” You laugh quietly at Rarity with AJ as the slim girl leads the way to the table.

“AJ! And her plus ONE!” Pinkie Pie, who could forget her? Memories of three and foursomes of summers passed as you accepted a full bodied hug, to include those impossibly huge jugs. Goddess, they had to be H-cups or something. You exchange lengthy pleasantries with the rest, but as you sit between AJ and Pinkie, you feel cornered. It’s not an unwelcome feeling. Applejack makes sure you understand who you’re with, though, with a stealthy cupping. You gladly look away from that cleavage…. So deep… Pinkie’s v-neck was so fucking low. Oh, goddess, what was one more threesome?

“Tristan,” a girl asks, you have to look up rapidly to see lips moving to spot the owner. It’s the purple-haired princess, Twilight Sparkle.

Wouldn’t Blue sell his soul for this? She’s tall, curvy, and extremely attractive, in an innocent, benevolent kind of way, like a librarian? “I hear you’re getting out of the Canterlot Guard Corps,” she says with a smile. “Are you excited for civilian life?”

Such an innocent question. “Honestly, I couldn’t be more excited if I tried,” you answer. “Last day was five days ago. I’ve done my duty, and I want to finally return to Applejack and make a life here in Ponyville.”

“But what’s a guard got to do on the outside?” Rainbow Dash asks, her hair making it easy to identify her. “You’re trained to shoot and stand still!”

“Rainbow!” Rarity hisses.

“What? It’s true. Wonderbolts actually get to fly.”

She seems to pout, but it’s well enough. “You’re right,” you counter. Rainbow Dash seems pleased at first, but she sits up, a little embarrassed as you fill her in, her bully tactic, intentional or not, undermined completely. “I mean, there’s not much value in self discipline, honor, or the required weekly landnav and survival exercises. It would be amazing to be a pilot, but there’s skills to be-”

“Oh, hey there, Berry!” Applejack says, regarding he busty waitress with a cup of your groin, cutting you off before you either open a can of worms or get a taste of your own foot. “Hey, we were just looking over the drink menu!”

“I wasn’t,” the pink-haired girl says, wearing the most modest sweater ever. Her gold ring on her finger, however, shines in the light. Her, holy Celestia, those were a set of breasts hidden in that thick sweater. Was there something in the water here? All the girls were sporting some serious chest. Her husband was just as quiet as her, a rather unassuming guy with brown hair. Stock as they come. Looked fine enough, though.

“Gin and tonic?” the traditionally dressed waitress asked pointing her pen at Rarity, her cleavage trying to rival Pinkie’s. She nods, making an affirmative little hum. The redhead jots down a few letters, then regards Rainbow, to her immediate left, directly in front of you. “Hmmm, you like… Oh, you’re cutting carbs, you’d like a glass of water, right, Rainbow?”

“Nah, tonight’s a little bit special. I’ll take a whiskey and diet coke.” She sits back, arms behind her head. She had some decent B-cups, too, and her fingers were bare. Jeez, was she crazy or a dike? Both seemed likely. Whoever was laying pipe in her was either lucky or doomed.

“You got it, Dash. Fluttershy?” she asks, writing. “You always like something different.”

She swallows, and picks up the drink menu. “U-um,water, please,” she says, blushing. “I’m not drinking tonight.”

“Same,” the man says plainly. What a boring guy. But, Fluttershy’s taste was her own.

“All yours, sweetheart. Something sweet, Pinkie?” And now, you notice again, Berry Punch is sporting quite a set. It must be the water, or the hormones in the beef, or something.

She giggles and grips your knee, leaning forward and resting those big breasts on the table. “Uh, Long Island for me, Berry. And don’t worry, Twi is driving.”

“Good to know. Thanks in advance, princess,” she says with a little wink. “And for the sir?”

You look to AJ, but she merely smiles. “Whiskey on the rocks, please. Two.”

“You got it, hun. You’re together?” she asks you and AJ, the both of you nod. “Cute couple,” she coos. “Water for the princess?” she asks, getting a little nod. “Alright, I’ll get you your drinks in a jiffy. Special’s on the menu-”

“PRETZEL!” Pinkie blurts, giggling. “Two big ones, with that special mustard! That’s a good appetizer!”

“If you don’t plan on fitting into a flight suit any time soon.” Pinkie giggled, but Rainbow Dash looked more sad than snide.

AJ laughs with her, leaning back against the wall. Pinkie leans over and asks Twilight something as Berry writes some more. “Two pretzels coming right up. Menus are on the table. I’ll be back in a second with your drinks and take your orders, everyone.”

“Thank you, darling,” Rarity said, accompanied shortly by everyone else. Her long black hair up in a curly bun arrangement-thing. God, she did know her way around a brush and a set of curlers. Her hands were free from jewelry, you notice, as she picks up a menu, her nails painted blue, matching her earrings. Normally, such things would never interest you. However, since spying the modest rock on Fluttershy’s finger, you can’t help but see these things and compare to the one in your bag. Damn ring. Of course you had to forget it.. You wonder if anyone else notices the absence of metal on your and AJ’s hands.

The thought comes in casually, but it sits it’s fat ass down with a thunk and makes your brain rattle. Marriage. The simple notion, it’s terrifying. You look to the menu and try to distract yourself.

“What looks good, hun?” Applejack asks as she leans in, touching your shoulder.

You frown and try to translate without the description in Equestrian. A four-month deployment in Germaney was great practice. “This… um, has cheese. That’s meat,” you grit your teeth. “This one’s just cabbage. Seriously, who would eat that?”

“I would!” Pinkie says, her face suddenly next to yours. Both girls laugh, and suddenly, a hand is in your lap under the table. It isn’t AJ’s. “But I think you already knew that I swallow,” she whispered in your ear.

“Pinkie,” AJ says sternly, but still smiling. You just sit and take it, letting cards fall where they may.

The other girl scoffs. “So I’m out of the loop, now? Am I no longer welcome to your pants parties?”

You breathe out through your nose, trying not to laugh at the quiet argument. “Maybe later, Pinkie,” AJ says, laying her hand on your other thigh. You sneak a peek over the menu and catch Rarity’s eye. She only winks and looks back down. She sure had a lot of makeup on for a little night with the girls. Or was she just like that? “Tristan's been gone for a long while and he needs a little one-on-one TLC. Ain’t that right, sugar?”

“Pinkie,” you say as her hand moves north to touch a semi-hard bulge. “I love the attention, but, maybe later. I’m kind of not exactly ready for a sweaty threesome.”

“Those are the best, right?” she says, leaning back. She gives your groin one last little squeeze and leans back. “That’s alright, I don’t wanna make my friends upset. Do what you need to.” She sits up and slides out her phone, instantly opening a dating app, she seems pretty popular.

“You three know what you want?” Twilight asks, looking up from a little pocket Germane dictionary she was referencing.

“Something light,” AJ says, smiling up at you. “My appetite isn’t as big as it usually is.”

“And this menu is carb carb city,” Rainbow says, flipping through it. “Those Germane supermodels sure as shit don’t eat local. It’s all bread, potatoes and beer!”

“That’s the best part!” Pinkie giggles. “I know what I want.”

“Me, too,” Fluttershy says, her husband just as quiet as her. She was looking a little “healthier” since you last remember seeing her. Maybe time was just catching up to her. She couldn’t have been over twenty-five or so.

You put your menu down, finding the one dish you remember loving back across the pond. “I’m ready.”

“As am I.” Rarity brushed an errant bang back across her ear. She sure had mass up there.

Twilight slapped her menu closed with a leathery thump. “Looks like we’re set then, since Rainbow’s going to have the diet water.”

Everyone had a little giggle as Berry stepped up, sporting a tray full of drinks. Rarity got her gin, Pinkie her Long Island, Dash her coke drink, you and AJ whiskey, something she seems to flock to as of late. A round of thanks were given, as were orders for hot food. You pick something with what you think must be pork. Pinkie insisted the food was great, no matter what you ordered.

Conversation ensued. Up til now, things had been a little awkward, but pleasant. Now, dialogue flowed quite naturally, with you not in the spotlight, despite being the guest of these girls. AJ holds your hand under the table, whispering comments to you, making Dash blush. The time flies. Twilight tells the story, with the tone of exhaustion and modesty, of how she conquered the most intimidating foe they had fought: a monstrous creature, some say he was a centaur. Pinkie’s grand embellishments are dispelled by a blushing princess, but everyone laughs anyway. The magical power involved, the might of four princesses, was dwarfed by a combination of sheer will and, of course, harmony magic, the most powerful in recorded history. You’re grateful such a weapon literally requires goodwill to wield.

Just as her tale draws to an end, Rainbow begins another, slightly smaller in scale, but she’s clearly so deeply rooted in the grandiose nature, it’s no less entertaining. Her boastful ways surely spice up the retelling of her battle. Her tale began. She retells a lesser known adventure, but one no less dangerous. Ever a magnet for danger, the six girls had been called into a new, yet familiar place: their dreams. Rainbow starts off with the princess of the night gathering them urgently into Twilight’s new castle to sleep, under the effects of the princess’s spell. They chased an apparition, a ghostly creature who jumped between realms as easily as Twilight jumped into books. The story is enthralling, and the woman has everyone on the edge of their seat, even if six of eight were there in person. The final fight seemed impossible. The Tantabus was on the precipice, the threshold, the very brink of penetrating it’s way through the veil and infecting the waking world, where it would be impossible and with constant supply of doubt and fear. But, thanks to heroic shows of ferocity, the insecurities of the famous, loved princess melted, and with them, the demon’s power. Rainbow told of her leading the entire town, yet, the town of thousands, in a charge for the creature, rending it with a lance of literal, physical hope, like a weaponized sliver of moonlight. An uplifting story with an explosive climax, Rainbow sat back, all but pointing a smoking six shooter to the brim of a mud-speckled stetson brim and blowing out the smoke trailing from the muzzle.

“Okay,” Twilight says, smiling and rolling her eyes. “Suffice it to say, you boys, that that wasn’t exactly how it went.”

“More or less, though,” Rainbow grinned.

Pinkie let out a laugh, and everyone was smiling. “So Dash likes to talk tall, we all were there, Twi.” AJ leans forward, touching your shoulder.

“It’s a better story that way, and she’s not really far off. The people of Ponyville sure did do their part. And I swear, Dash, that damn Tantabus gets taller each time you tell that story.”

She only shrugged. “Sue me. I liked it! What’d you think, Tristan?”

With a little gulp, you look back to all seven people looking at you. Was it warm in here? “Well, sure seems stranger than fiction. Kinda weird to think an entire town fought a monster in a dream together.”

“Oh, it’s documented,” Twilight said. “And not the first documented case of shared dreams. Princess Luna is pretty spectacular.”

“Yeah. She sure likes to dream,” Rarity said with a little sip of her drink. “I was going through one particularly rough soiree a year or so ago. My little sister was quite troubled with a bout of jealousy, nearly sabotaging a vital little bit of work I had, and, well, I’m afraid I’m not one for telling stories. The princess arrived in person and helped to give Sweetie Belle a change of heart. Oh, I was so proud!”

Twilight coughed, and Dash leaned in. “Rarity, you’re leaving out all the good stuff! What about the gut-wrenching choices? The dark sense of overwhelming hatred and jealousy!”

Rarity scoffed. “Darling! A sisterly spat doesn’t have ‘dark, overwhelming’ hatred.”

Pinkie laughed. “Girls, come on. Food’s coming, let’s dig in and figure out what we wanna do for the rest of the night!”

As if on cue, the door to the kitchen swings open, and out came two massive, round trays balanced on two hands, eight large plates on, a foldable table in the crook of the arm of the busty waitress. “How did you-”

You’re cut off by a little laugh in your ear. “Don’t question it, hun,” AJ says at your side. “Pinkie’s always been like that. She knows some stuff before it happens. Usually when it’s mighty convenient.”

You look at her and she winks, swiping away at her phone. Attention turns to Berry Punch as she serves up dinner. She hands out the dishes to an eager crowd, and you all dig in quickly. The fare is, as Dash said, laden with delicious carbs and fat. Well, some dishes. AJ and Rainbow both, uncharacteristically for the former, enjoy a salad, while Pinkie and Fluttershy, uncharacteristic for the latter, have a hunk of roast. Conversation for the while is sparse and light, a few questions for John, Fluttershy’s spouse, and a few for Twilight and Pinkie as they plan the rest of the night. A movie night for all interested. Rarity and Twilight both offer to host, but Pinkie insists. Fluttershy calmly declines, holding onto her husband’s hand. Dash checks her phone one last time, then says she can’t. A total of zero pressing reveals she has a hot date, at midnight.

“Whaddya think, darlin’? Wanna go?” AJ asks, stroking your thigh.

You lean in and look at her great green eyes. “What do you want to do?” you ask.

She looks down, her hand slipping up a little higher and squeezing. “Well, I don't’ right know. We could go, or we could go home for the night. I’m feeling better than I was,” she says with smile and a kneading of her hand on your thigh. What she was looking for was hard, and she could feel it. You weren’t exactly fond of the idea of going back home and disappointing again.

“Hmmm, why don’t we head back home, then?” you say, hoping to provide. A happy smile grows across her face.

Applejack pecks your cheek softly and returns to look at her cleaned plate. She sighs, swirling the last of her whiskey. “Well girls, looks like we’re gonna pass, sad to say.”

“That’s fine,” Pinkie perks. “Hey,” she says, pulling her phone out and showing Rarity. “Whaddya think? Wanna invite him, too?”

Rarity’s makeup doesn’t hide the color draining from, then rapidly returning to her face. “Oh, no, no no, darling. I know him. That’s just, no!”

“Oh, crap, I didn’t even notice! Strings looks totally different.”

“Yeah, no,” Rarity says flatly. She stated qutie flatly. “Not after what he did.”

“I had no idea it was so serious,” Fluttershy said, idly rubbing her neck.

Rarity waved it off. “Enough about that. Pinkie, if you do find a cute boy, please do be sure to not invite him if I’m coming. I’d rather not be in the same situation twice in such a short time.”

“Oh, no, that goes without saying Rares. But, you did just say, so, well, it goes with saying, too.” Pinkie giggled, as she was prone to, and leaned forward. “I completely understand.”

AJ looks up and sees your evidently puzzled look, then leans in to whisper. “Long story. Rarity’s ex was a bit of a, whatcha callit, satanist? No, the type that’s into pain and such in the bedroom-”

“Sadist,” Pinkie less than softly slips to the two of you.

AJ rolls her eyes, but Rarity looks away, sipping her water.

“Girls night!” Twilight says brightly, obviously trying to salvage things. The ladies perk up and rally around their leader in a moment of darkness. The check and mandatory doggy bags for most everyone, save Pinkie, AJ and yourself, come. With them is the slow, full-bellied retreat of everyone back to the cars. Rarity gives the freshly reunited couple, yourself and AJ, a lift back to her farmhouse, while the other girls depart for their ventures.

With a long hug goodbye, AJ parts from the dark-haired, drop dead gorgeous designer. AJ’s earthen charm captures your arms and climbs the shallow, snowpacked driveway to the farmhouse.

“It’s pretty late, but I’m not so tired, darlin,” AJ says as she opens the unlocked door to the silent house. “What do you wanna do?”

Without a word, you turn to give her a warm kiss. “Would you like to share a drink and head upstairs?”

AJ leans up to give you a wet little peck on the lips, then the chin, lingering in your guard to just enjoy your body. “Sounds wonderful, darlin’.” She slips her hands down your body, palms tracing your shirt. You head inside with her, carefully and quietly kicking off your boots near the door.

The beautiful girl pulls out a flask from behind a cookie jar above the fridge and takes a pair of glasses from the cupboard. She adds a healthy splash to each, then two ice cubes. “Just some corn whiskey my uncle in the Appleachian mountains stilled.”

“Same one who’s blind now?” you ask, taking a cautionary sniff of the shine.

Applejack punches your arm, but laughs. “Sure is. He’s been blind since his first batch of shine, though. I think he’s gotten a bit better since.”

“I’m trusting my sight to a blind moonshiner,” you shake your head. “Here’s to old grandad’s mountain dew.”

Applejack lifts her glass in the dark of the kitchen, offering a toast.

With a clink, you knock your drink with hers and take a long, hard swill, taking nearly half the drink down, and attacking AJ the second her lips return from a grimace. You press your lips firmly with hers, listening to her swallow, then let out a long, soft moan as she wraps her free arm over your neck. You suck her lush lower lip and press her into the counter, careful of both beverages in the dark.

She hops up, sitting on the hardwood with that amazing apple ass. She pulls you in for one last wet kiss. “Feel like heading upstairs? I’ve got one hell of a welcome home present for you.”

“AJ,” you sigh, resting your head on hers, inhaling with your nose and feeling, smelling the warmth of her breath. “I, you know I can’t-”

“Hasn’t stopped you from trying. Remember two years back? On leave, we went to that little hotel in the red light district of Canterlot.”

“How could I forget?” you ask, smiling with you. It’s impossible not to give her a warm, wet kiss.

She continues in the dark. “You were throbbing so hard. I just had to keep stroking, and you managed.”

“That didn’t count. It was pre leaking out. Remember when we first met? I came like a cannon.”

She kisses your pursed lips as you swallow back a lump. You let her suck your lips softly, touching the shape of your collarbone. “I think we should try one last time. I know you can do it. Keeping it up ain’t no chore, but I know you wanna finish. I just wanna make you happy, baby. You’re my world.”

“I don’t know what I did to deserve you.” You rest your cheek on her head, pressing your body forward til your hips meet the counter between her knees. She curls her feet behind your knees and hugs your tight. “I love you,” you whisper, letting her soft, fragrant, long golden hair soak up one little tear.

Without so much as a pause, she hugs you tight, and you can’t hold back a small shudder. “I love you too, darling. Hey,” she speaks up a little, leaning back. “Maybe we had a breakthrough last night. I bet you’ll cum if I give you it all. You always like it when I’m on top.”

You smile, looking at her. Nightvision had started to grow in the dimness, and AJ’s body was just a little brighter in her dress. “Worth a shot. Anything for you, Applejack.”

She lifts her cup to her lips again, smiling that beautiful straight-toothed smile. She closes her eyes and takes a gulp, wincing. You drain your drink with ease, and let out a little burp, not apologizing to a soul. Applejack struggles a drink, another, another, and finally lets you polish off the last gulp. It's nothing to joke about. The firewater she had stashed away was surely more potent than most anything from a bottle.

Applejack leads you up the stairs, teasing by wiggling her big, round, tight butt in a sudden stoppage, but she doesn’t flinch as you bury your face in her flesh. She giggles voicelessly, gyrating her hips some, falling forward as you push her on. She skips up the steps barefoot to her room and immediately starts to slip out of her gorgeous little green dress. The moonlight casts its cold winter glow into her frigid room. Since you last saw, not much had changed. A few more momentoes from her travels, spectacular and pedestrian alike adorned the walls and flat surfaces, bringing character to the little farmgirl’s bedroom.

There she stands, in her modest cotton underwear, arms close at her sides. From her strong ankles and thick, supple, strong thighs sprouts the rest of her body, starting at her wide hips. There’s a visible gap right at the center of her lower body’s symmetry, two faintly distinct yet healthy lips sit inside the soft support of cotton, the homemade rug visible behind her there. The pubic bone casts straight, carved lines leading to the top of her hips, the angle perpendicular to the curves of her waist, which is modest and slender. Her flat stomach has a hard set of abdominal muscles, lacking no femininity. The line laying across her navel draws upwards to her sternum, the peak of which joins her nearly invisible ribs. Just up were the healthiest, most perfectly fitting breasts that would never succumb to a cup designation, filling a man’s hands perfectly should she choose to let one hold them. The little pink nipples were hiding, but rigid from the cold, showing vividly through her bra. The straps of it led to her shoulders, work hardened and grown with meals of meat and potatoes. And of course, that heart-breaking, innocent face. Each freckle unique, from her chin to her button nose, showing off her bright eyes the color of spring leaves catching a warm afternoon sun. Cascading across her forehead and over those strong shoulders was golden lengths of cornsilk softer than down feathers, smelling of everything a woman should and nothing more.

She placed a hand on her hip, smiling wide. “I know we had our roll in the hay the other evening,” she said softly, as if trying to sneak out in her teen years. “But I want to make this night a little more special than a quickie.”

You swallow, releasing a breath you did not know you had held in. With great effort, you work your mind for words to say. When none come, you simply step forward and take her by her hips. Nothing is needed. You kiss your woman, and she kisses her man. No teenage, sloppy, passionate and furious tongue thrusting, no disheartened peck, it is a kiss meant for a lover. You press firmly, inhale deep through your nose, show her with a pair of hardened hands on her statue-perfect body how much she deserves. You break only to close the door and take off your shirt, a decent button down, and work on your belt.

Applejack slips into the bed, laying on her front, quickly bundling up and shivering in the frigid down comforter. You drop your pants and underwear on the floor and slip inside, instantly hugging her tight with your nude body, penis erect and slipping over her hot, soft skin. She moans and lays on you, compressing her breasts and lips against you. With warm hands, you hold her round butt, slipping her underwear down. AJ sacrifices touch to undo her bra and let the staps dangle around her shoulders as she slides her tongue deep into your moaning mouth.

The cheeky teenage need for quiet and guile dissolves into a hedonistic need to fulfill pleasure of every sense. Applejack sighs and moans as you touch her, throaty breaths rasp from your desirous mouth, licking and kissing her neck as you feel the heat of her womanly lips. They’re soft and warm on the outside, but wet and searing hot just between those outer folds. You carefully massage her with your fingers, getting them thoroughly wet as a tingly feeling grows over your lips; the shine makes you smile and buck your hips, pressing your stiffness into her belly.

Applejack spreads her legs wide and bends her knees, touching yours with her toes. One thick pointer finger dives slowly into that perfect canal, not virgin, but unsullied by a childish search for teenage love. She rolled her hips, pushing with her shins up and down over your body, rubbing your chest with hers, pulling her bra down as she moaned in your ear half words and nothing. You feel her cervix, a dimple in a subdermal mound of denser flesh than the hotness that encases your finger. Your tip circles around, feeling the recesses around the sides, the details fuzzy and hard to distinguish. Your throbbing cock is leaking again, something it hasn’t done since she last vigorously stroked away. Her hand slips down to feel that pole with the damp, warm, pulsing tip. She sighs fresh into your ear, her cheeks likely smiling as it presses into your temple. You pull out your finger and give the hood unknown to many men a vigorous press and shake. Those round shoulders buckle, knocking into your chin. You masturbate the girl stroking you off with a firm, practiced grip for a long minute. Her hand is amazing, and you hope you can keep up.

What’s next is obvious. She lifts her hips, looking into your eyes as she stands on knees and an elbow, her other arm aiming your weapon. “I love you,” she breathes, smiling wide.

You kiss her deep, and let her pull away. As she does, you return the statement. “I love you, Applejack.”

She lowers those strong hips and whines out, a soprano trill tickles the walls and surely leaks out the door. The frigid sheets are now nice and toasty, but the stiffness has remained in those nipples. AJ sinks her body onto you, slipping the thick pole she made stiff into her slit you made soaking wet.

“A-aah! Tristan!” she calls out unashamed, eyes clenched shut, smile faltering as she works her mouth. She grits her teeth and sinks down all the way, the smile with returning every inch that fills her. You grab those hips tight and lay your lips on her neck, abs clenching up to hold her closer.

Applejack, arches her back as you hold her as tight as possible. She is in control of her hips, but you control her whole body. With sure motions, you thrust up into her, filling her hard with your penis. She rolls her hips down, stuffing the long pole even deeper inside.

You lift her up and pull your hips back, spreading your legs slightly. In a rolling thrust, you inject yourself deep and hard, filling her up, then roll again, again, again, pumping her wet pussy with slow, sure motions. A long groan escapes your lips as you use her little pussy to milk your own dick. She’s in love with it, hand grasping your shoulder, her hips moving with you, eager to ride.

A minute goes by, the pace picking up over time, now rapid. She arches her back, throwing her head back and sitting tall, pushing off. “Ah, that’s it, you like it, don’t you?” she asked with a little giggle. “Come on, you know I’m yours. Take me.”

With that you grab her hips and pull her down as you forcefully thrust up into her body. She bounces, falling forward to lean over you with her arms out straight. You pull her hips firmly, the skin so soft and hot, her pussy so wet. Your hard dick throbs, the numbness there makes you press your head back, clenching your eyes shut.

Quickly you open them, no need to see that right now. You pant out, pushing your face into her healthy, swinging breasts, smiling and squeezing them. AJ giggles her precious little laugh and leans into you all her weight as you pump away in her. Sweat covers both your bodies. The bedroom air is thick with sex.

You hold AJ tight and roll over quickly, burying your face in her neck, grunting softly as you lay into her. “Ah!” she moans out, despite her rule for keeping quiet in the house. You lay your hips against hers, staying nestled deep inside as she fixes the blankets over the two of you. Tongue first you kiss her, groaning, tasting her breath, rolling your hips and laying your cock as deep in her as you can, over, and over, and over. Fast at first, but then more hard, breathing over her face, clutching her soft hair, her neck, her collar, her waist, lifting her up.

“AJ,” you pant out, rolling your hips. Your hard cock feel so fucking amazing, you just can’t stop. With a little shift, you lift her hips up and pull her into your thrusting body. Her body is so wet, covered in sweat, the slapping noise now louder than your groans of pleasure.

Forever this goes on, rolling your hips, AJ shivering in orgasmic joy, squeaking, going half limp as you continue, dick rigid as stone. Your stamina lasts for a long time, heart beating, muscles slowly growing hotter and tiring. Instead of quit, you kiss and suck her neck, she hugs back weakly. You lay into her, gently, deeply, penis fully erect and nestled deep inside.

You stop, finally finished, but no climax. The tool in her vagina throbs softer, growing back down. You breathe deep and pull out, wincing at the sensation, it felt good to feel that wet motion. Applejack instantly touches your face and leans in for a kiss, but you deflect her to your cheek. She hugs you close, wrapping her strong, soft legs around one of yours. You rest on your side facing her, eyes buried in her blonde hair, and swallow at the lump in your throat. She orgasmed, several times. But would she ever be satisfied? You leave your eyes closed, breathing through your nose in her hair, swallowing sometimes at that lump. You can’t stop them, now. The images come back. Gore and dead eyes, asking why. No answer, except rote primal defense and weapon specifications. Caliber, length, weight, you can feel the wood in your grip, the sling smart and taught, everything maintained to perfection. Not a spec of dust, not a drop of excessive oil. Even the magazines and bullets had inspections.

“You know it doesn’t matter,” a woman’s voice said. You look up, from the carpet between your legs, you realize they’re the same stairs you defended. The crimson carpet didn’t hide the blood. Your white uniform sleeves are speckled with blood, not yours. You let the rifle rest on your leg after checking the safety on.

At last you look up and see her. In an decorated, long black gown is Princess Luna. You don’t answer, no energy. Barely enough energy to keep eye contact. She holds out her hand, an order or an offer, you’re not sure. You want to obey. You swallow at the denser lump and take it, finding her skin soft. You stand, looking to her, withdrawing your hand, inspecting for grime. “I’m sorry, princes,” you say wiping away dirt on your filthy pants.

“For what?” she asked, face stoic, but not dead, thank goodness not dead.

You swallow again, one of the few comfortable things, focussing on the discomfort of it. “Not cleaning my hands before touching you.”

She smirks. “A little dirt never killed anyone,” she said, turning towards the large door behind you. You face it as well, feeling as if you had just ran a marathon. “You’ve visited many, many times the past few years, yet you’ve always been looking down that hall, putting an end to so many lives. Your rifle’s jammed, the barrel has burned the wood stock, all sorts of awful things have come of it. You’ve tried so many tactics and strategies. Shoot, hide, don’t shoot, beg, interrogate. Never once have you thought of what was behind this door.”

“The grand hall. Where everyone was. Applejack, the princesses, the wedding and all those guests. I was protecting them.”

“Think. How else could a flying threat enter the grand hall, young one?” she asked, stepping in front of you, her height imposing.

You look down, wishing to break down and cry, to raise your weapon. You do nothing, as your arms are spent. “There’s, there’s big, stained glass windows. I remember from my tours on duty days.”

“They broke in without warning. I was doing my part elsewhere trying to evacuate the city. Was I successful?”

You recall the funeral service the following week. So many dead from attacks, and it was only one evening long. Most casualties were friends killing friends, doppelgangers taking advantage, deception. “Most of the upper city evacuated to the lower, but,”

“Over a thousand in a city of three hundred thousand died. Do you call all but one third of one percent successful?” she asked, her tone still cold and dead as those buried.

You look up, asked to judge a princess. “I, I don’t-”

“They were lovers. Husbands, Fathers, wives, daughters, brothers and sisters, business partners and best friends. All those lives, all three hundred thousand, surely more, resent our actions to not make that number to zero. Our, actions, lance corporal. Yours and mine. You’ve relived this memory so much, you’ve changed it, perverted it with the lense of self hatred and guilt. Recall Blue,” she commanded. From this angle, he cowered behind a pillar, resting his rifle against the corner he hid behind.

“Blue,” you softly say, tears coming to your eyes.

She held out her hand, and he shouted: “My fucking job, man! These, these things, they ain’t fucking people! They’re fucking aliens or something. They take over other people’s bodies! Fuck, how do I know it’s really you?”

“Oh, god, I killed him!” You clench your fist, and Luna’s hand touches your shoulder, like a mother to her toddler son.

“Watch.”

You shout out, clear as day from behind the pillar, “What’s Twilight’s waist size?” Then, he does something. He loses focus, seeming completely confused.

The man’s lips wordlessly say something, like he’s asking someone answers on a test. Luna lifted her reassuring hand once more, pausing the recreation. “He’s asking his fellow changelings for guidance. He wants you to lower your weapon, lead you to other survivors, end more lives. He’s asking plainly,” she said, snapping her fingers and rewinding things a second after you utter the challenge only he would know. “Comrades, what is that girl Twilight Sparkle’s waist size? He’s asking me to make sure it’s his pervert friend.”

“Then he shouts, trying to buy time, pretending to not understand.” And so he did. It was incredible.

“Then why didn’t he change?!” you shout, staring at his body. You and Luna watched unashamed at you inspect the body, vomit, and move on to the defensible position to rest. You watch Blue’s corpse, still breathing, but not much. It’s almost imperceptible. His chest is covered with a metal breastplate, his jaw is shattered. The living corpse is like a puddle in a sun scorched desert.

Luna takes a step to your side, you look back at yourself wiping your face, back to the door.

His body does indeed burst into green flame, obscured by the corner he was hiding behind. Blue Bull slowly morphs with his dying breath into a demon, a changeling. You look to Luna, feeling a foot taller.

“And those three others?” Like clockwork, they ran down the hall and were dropped by three aimed shots.

Luna remained silent. The officer changed after the general put him down. The privates, only one did. The other was a red-blooded Equestrian. “One. Not three. One man slain, the others were insects not fit for life on this planet. Those things are not living in the sense we think of. They are as alive as robots, unthinking drones to a master. They deserve to be destroyed. In that regard,” she said, turning to you, now of equal stature. “I thank you.”

You look at your hands, now clean, mostly. You swallow. “What was his name? I don’t recognize him.”

“Private Accord, from Fillydelphia. He left behind a grieving father, a mother, and two brothers. He’s the only one in the military. Thanks to those awful creatures, Fillydelphia lost a promising young singer.” Luna strolled to the body, mangled above the neck. “A gruesome death for a loving soul. Left behind a trail of broken hearts back in Fillydelphia, too. He is remembered well for his hair barely in regs and the way he could revive the old greats from radio ages past. A loss. But you, you are not to blame.”

You take a deep breath. “How? I pulled the trigger-”

“On a rapidly charging threat, when you knew there was a shapeshifting infestation! He was a fresh private, not five months out of infantryman school, followed by new pencil pushing lieutenants. Your aim was true on your enemies. No one could ever hold that against you. These bastards, are just that! Fatherless and motherless creatures of pure hate, out to only take. Take! To GIVE is human, do you NOT AGREE?!”

Luna took one breath, her intense face growing calmer, but no less serious. She swallowed and continued. “Aimless Accord has been and will be remembered. These awful things, they too, will be remembered, but not loved. Like a virus, we shall carry the memory, so that we may better compat and squash these bugs. I need you, Tristan, and I need you well. Tell this story, but tell it true. Bear children and pass on this story. You likely are not surprised to hear that these Changelings know my sister and I by name.”

She stepped forward, and the steps leading to the great hall melted from their lavender hue into violet, like the tapestries adorning the round room you find yourself standing in, Luna’s pale, slender arms draped across your shoulders, her eyes catching yours. “Luna,” you say softly, heart racing. “I can’t believe, all this time,”

“There were many others, and their suffering even greater. I can only bear my face so many times a night, Tristan. I would have come sooner.” Her face for the first time was something other than dead serious. A sorrow, a desire to do even better, though she did so much. At least it sounded like she worked herself to wits end. What else could anyone do but their best?

“I know you must hold a kernel of resentment for me. Why I couldn’t come sooner? Why did I let this happen in the first place? I’ll show you.” Luna, ever the dramatic, turned to the doors. She opened them without effort, as easy as pushing over a house of cards.

The giant castle doors flung wide open and off their hinges to fall into an abyss. Luna motions you to walk, and you do, to the edge. Beyond the plane is a mesmerizing sea of lunar color, stars dot a swirling sea of astral shapes, not unlike Luna’s illogical hair.

You look back, and she wears a soft smile. You look down and set your rifle on the ground. You think if you tried to pick it up, it’d weigh two hundred pounds. You put one foot out, as if you were ascending stairs in the dark, unsure if there was another step. The space is solid as stone. You rest your weight forward and walk on. Luna follows.

As you stroll forward, no goal in sight, a corridor of doors appears, each unique as a person or experience. One was a modern looking pneumatic contraption with a symbol on it. The next, pink and white. The next was a particularly dense looking stone door. “These doors lead to places, events in the minds in the sleeping people of Equestria. Most are abstract, odd, benign. Others, erotic. Dangerous. Traumatic. More and more, thankfully, are wholesome and hopeful. This is your soon-to-be fiance’s door.”

How did she…? Stupid princesses and their stupid dream magic. She stopped at a green one, three apples painted upon the top half, bold. She opened without looking inside, pushing the door in for you.

You step to the doorway and push the doorway open all the way, the painted wood was solid and firm. In her dream, she was riding a bull with features disturbingly similar to your own, wearing tight, sturdy jeans and leather chaps, her finest rodeo shirt and bolo tie, and of course, one hand on her had, of which she had dozens.

The bull wasn’t bucking, no matter how she kicked and gidded. “Come on, damn nag. Buck! Do somethin’!”

You turn away, blushing and cringing. “Holy shit, she really is upset about it, huh?”

“It wouldn’t take a psychologist or animal husbandry expert to figure that out,” Luna said flatly. “Would you like to buck her around for eight seconds? Literally, and somehow metaphorically, I suppose.”

You grin up to Luna. “Princess, do you mean, um,”

“Just walk through the door and rock her, cowboy.” Luna grins and giggles, much more girlishly than expected. She leans in and gives you a wet kiss, sighing ever so softly. Her soft lips are chilled, her blue lipstick beckons you to lean in. As she pulls away, you fall forward some.

“Gotcha,” she laughs and pats your ass. “Go, walk on through to the other side.”

You swallow, placing your clean hands on her hips, desireable, nice and curvy, much like AJ’s. “Princess,” you breathe, finally smiling yourself. She does, too, those pouty lips look beyond kissable, just like… “Will I be able to, you know. Finish?”

She smiled a little more warmly, such a sight. “Yes, and I advise you have a plan for your discharge. Two years is one hell of a time to blueball a man.” She winked and kisses your cheek, those words somehow not souring your opinion of the graceful woman. She owns a certain look in her eyes. You try to read it. That woman was a mystery in an enigma.

Luna leans in to kiss your lips again, eyes closing. You follow suit, finding your uniform so tight around the crotch. Her smell is addicting. You inhale deep and lean in, placing your lips against hers, so soft.

She throws you now into the doorway as your lips press together firmly. You stumble through, your hooves struggling to find purchase in the mud. You look up, seeing a gate locked in front of you. You feel energized, like you’ve been caffeinated and riled up. You kick, sending dirt flying. There’s something on your back, but when you bend down to buck, your horns scrape against metal, and when you lean back, your flanks hit more metal. You snort, furious.

There’s a laugh and a beep, you recognize AJ is on top. You smile, reel up, and jump forward the instant the gate is launched open. Her legs tighten up on your sides, bootheels digging in as she pulls the rope on your back tight. You buck, hard, and again, harder. Spin, kick, jump, buck, ‘til she’s flying in the air. You run and jump, heart racing, and kick the wall as hard as you can. Dirt flies from under your hooves as you trot on over, tail whipping like your head.

She reels back, scrambling in the mud, beaming wide. You stomp, over and over, just you and her. She stands and eases her hands forward, stepping closer. You want to run into her, but she makes you smile. God, her pretty green eyes were so… pretty. She makes it to you, shushing and placing a gloved hand on your head. She takes it off and touches you with her bare palm to your nose. “Easy, big guy,” she says, coming in and standing a little taller, white and green cowgirl shirt stained with dirt and muck. She kisses you muzzle, and you close your eyes.

You open them and find darkness,your hand not feeling, as if chopped clean off. You blink, not seeing a thing, only blackness. A spiderweb tangles across your face, a hot, hard stone weighs your body down. You take a deep breath and push with your good arm, making some creature growl angrily. You stop, blinking more and more. You swallow as the creature shifts, a soft, slightly damp mound of flesh presses into your pushing hand.

“Mmmng- strolmmmmff…” a woman grumbles incoherently. You curl your freed arm and pull her in. Luna? Why were you thinking of Luna? You swallow, feeling the need to pee, your rod stiff and a little sore. Celestia was it hard. So fucking hard, and aching. Throbbing. You reach down and pull it free, untrapping it from someplace hot. “Tris….” she says. So familiar.

You swallow and sit up, instantly bombarded by cold, the little fleshy creature holding your body hostage curls instinctively, her bottom pushing into your lap. You grit your teeth, warm skin slipping over the underside of your hardness.

The moonlight trickling in through the heavy curtains illuminates only the barest of lines. Squirming in front of you is a balled up hourglass, groaning. “Tristan,” she grumbles, rolling over to face you. “I’m freezing, lay back down,” Applejack whispers, reaching out blindly and finding your thigh. She hugs her body towards yours, meeting your stiff cock with her cheek.

“Hey!” she squeaks, pressing her lips to your hips, where your short hairs grow. She groans, then lets out a little giggle, yanking the covers over her head. You close your eyes and relax, smiling as her hot breath flows over your erect head. She wraps the meat pole in her soft, wet lips, moaning, vibrating everything. You touch her head under the thick blankets and sigh out, smiling, relaxing. She’s so wonderful.

“AJ,” you moan out, sighing, her muffled moans giving the best vibrating sensations. Both hands fall upon the blankets conforming to the shape of her head, begging her for more. She swallows and gags softly, taking more, the tightness on your head such a wonderful feeling. Her throat muscles are at an awful angle, but she still presses on, begging for more. She is so perfect, so wonderfully perfect. A loyal little girl, eager to make her favorite person happy. You pant out, throbbing so hard as she pulls back to cough and gag. It’s not a filthy sound or feeling, but one of endearment. She’s doing this out of pure love. Not of the act, or even the organ, but of you. Or that’s what you tell your murky early morning mind.

There it is. That familiar feeling, of pressure welled up, on the precipice of erupting. You’ve felt it so much, it nearly brings dread. Somehow, though, this feels different. “AJ,” you groan down, lifting the blankets to see the pale shapes and shadows of her face, lips wrapped around your member and bobbing quickly. She’s trying her best to suck away, even though dozens of attempts have failed in the past.

Before you can even utter a word, the sight of her face working away at your member brings about the expulsion. Everything tightens up, and your legs pull your pulsing cock back, the head pushing against her cheek. A flex, one unimportant little bodily reaction, that’s all it takes.

“GAH!” you both shout, cream firing forth and slathering her pretty cheek in steamy hot seed. The next round is far more forceful, and you manage to lean your hips back for it, giving AJ a chance. You don’t want to take her head off, but it’s too late, and pulling back further would mess up her sheets. You see the white cream fire into her open mouth, long, forceful rope after rope, three, four. She giggles out a little shout, holding your hips in one hand and taking your cock in her other. She wraps those lips around the tip and moans, taking every hard, forceful shot. Her moan vibrates your cockhead, coaxing out another six volleys or so. You lose count. The pleasure is insurmountable, each launch lasting a second or more, making your spine tingle and body spasm, the last thing you can control is your hips, and you thrust with those. In your vision is only white, growing in from the edges. You continue to ejaculate for eternity, ropes numbering someplace like twenty? That couldn’t possibly be right. It lasts for so, so long, feeling so, so good.

You fall to your back, sweating, spent wholly, breathing after the marathon orgasm you just loosed into Applejack’s mouth.

The bedside lamp suddenly turns on, stabbing your eyes. You groan as Applejack rolls over on top of you, mouth full. She strokes your chest, breathing hard through her nose. You peek up, the dim yellow bouncing off the walls like staring into the sun. “I came,” you mumble, smiling up at her.

Applejack giggles again, mouth full. “Shouh I shwawow?” she asks, smiling, swishing her tongue around. Naturally, you nod, watching closely. Applejack laughs more and sits up, her wet little lips on your rod, which is half hard, and so damn sore. In a little sloppy flourish, she takes both hands back and pulls her hair behind her head, her frizzy, messy bedhead belonged in the before shot of a shampoo commercial. You stroke her hips and watch.

AJ looks directly into your eyes, smiling, some white cream dripping down her cheek. With a hard grimace, she gulps once, twice, then opens her eyes and mouth, beaming, her warm little mouth clear. She giggles and strokes your bare chest. “All gone. How did it feel, baby?” she asks gently.

You smile up at her, feeling like an elephant decided to climb off your shoulders. “Amazing,” is all you can say, but it is completely accurate.

AJ giggles and leans back, lifting her breasts once before she grabs your ankles, her feminine lips smushed into your spent organ. “What made ya cum?” she asks.

You open your mouth to speak, but there’s no clear answer. “You. I don’t know. Sexy dream, maybe. I think letting out my, um, problems… helped.”

In a second, AJ is laying across you, breasts pressing into your chest as she kisses your neck. “I love you,” she whispers.

“Love you, too,” you breathe, smiling, closing your eyes and hugging the most beautiful girl in the world.

She squirms in your embrace, slipping her thigh along yours, knee at your side. You reach over her shoulder and feel her middle back, her long hair tangled in your fingers. You take a sniff of that messy blonde hair, she’s addicting. You feel a soreness in your groin not felt for a long time, but your member is still semi hard, pulsing lazily against Applejack’s flat, hard stomach.

She holds it, tenderly, a lovestruck girl holding your cock as casually as your hand. With such gentleness she squeezes and pulls on the sticky skin, the hard callouses on the insides of her knuckles kept away as the pads of her tips press into your hot skin. She stirs, snuggling her nose into your collar, breathing sweating with you. “AJ…” you groan into her mane, feeling drained, yet energized. You just want to roll over and pin her, give her another dose of cock. But the mere thought is draining.

She sighs and presses her chest into you. “Love ya,” she sighs, wiping her chin. “God, you came so much,” she whispers, giggling. “What got ya to finish, baby?”

You see that her cheeks and nose and chin are smeared with a messiness, her lips relatively clean. “So?” she asked, stroking your stiffening member.

As AJ looks up, you search your brain. “I, god, I’m bad at remembering dreams…” You swallow and think, touching her hair as Applejack strokes on your half flaccid penis. With great effort, you recall the begining details. Things grow clearer and clearer, and she adopts and understanding, serious face once you mention the princess.

“Did she blow you?” she asked bluntly. “Damn princess is a nympho if I ever knew one. Don’t go tellin no one, but she has a thing for my brother. I swear, I hear him moaning out her name through the damn walls once a week.”

“Um, no,” you say, a bit stunned.

She shrugs. “Wouldn’ta held it against you. She’s got that moxy tall girls get. Glad you stayed faithful to yours truly, though, big guy.” Applejack laid a little wet kiss on your cheek, then moved on down, kissing her way across your chest to your abs, then the short hairs, then, your sore dick. Suddenly, you remember and also don’t feel so guilty about the kisses. You groan softly as she takes the whole softish thing into her mouth, moaning, vibrating it fantastically. The soreness fades fast, as does the softness.

It takes no time before Applejack is riding again, sighing as she’s filled with hard cock. Her strong, tired legs bounce her sexy body up and down, stroking you, milking the veiny length. She’s none too shy about the noise level, either, moaning out, squeaking the bed like a bad set of shocks on a bumpy road. She leaned back, using her amazing ass to lift her wide hips up and down, stroking the length, giving you a sight to remember: her puffy lips spread wide, wrapped tight around your rock hard cock.

“Gimme another load, baby,” she squeaks, her little voice far from her normal deep alto. You grip her hips and obey by taking charge. Since she wants it so bad, you drive your hips up into the girl, pushing your stiff pole deep inside, getting all seven inches soaking wet deep inside her hot pussy. She squirms, throwing her head back as you rapidly pump your hips deep, stroking every bit. In just three short, hard, sweaty minutes, you find yourself at the point of no return. Your numbish dick is just throbbing.

Suddenly, you pull out, letting the pulsing organ breathe. AJ marvels at it, frowning, pouting. “Come on, inside me, sugarcube! Don’t make another mess.” She sighed as she stood tall on her knees and sank on the rocket she aimed at her pussy. Applejack leaned forward, pressing her tits to your chest as you take her hips and thrust again hard enough to lift her up. She braces on the headboard as it bangs into the wall. You bite her neck and grunt, hard, sucking air as your long cock flexes. The head swells as it erupts once more, your sore balls supplying another dozen salvos deep, deep inside, filling her up. You clench your eyes and curse her, yourself, now there was a damn risk. Oh well, something morning Tristan had to worry about.

You calm down, sucking air, sweating bullets just like AJ. She stands on her knees, looking down her sweaty, sexy body. “Take that, princess of adultery. My man is my own!” She panted out, leaning back again. “Mmmmmm, wouldya look at that?” she asked, rubbing her red little lips. “You’re fillin me up right, big guy. I love you so much.”

You stroke her hard thighs and swallow, suddenly dehydrated. “I love you too, baby girl.” She smiles as your eyes meet, her little pupils constricted by lamplight, showing off her bright green eyes. They were beautiful, but beautiful wasn’t good enough. You swallow, your parched throat scratchy. Finding better words would be morning Tristan’s problem, too.

Applejack takes your hand and pushes it into her breast, breathing hard, her heart fluttering as you can feel. “I wanna fuck you forever,” she sighed, “but I’m just so beat. I don’t wanna leave this room for a week.”

You smile and pump your hips teasingly, drawing a little satisfied giggle. “Glad you like it half as much as I do,” you say, reaching up with both hands to juggle her sweaty breasts.

The girl fell back onto the foot of her bed, back arched. She lifted herself back up, face in a state of pure bliss. You longed for a camera. She pulled herself up and off, moaning as your half flaccid cock flopped out, along with a trail of white cream. She let it ooze as it may as she sat her round ass in your lap. You grab her little waist and pull her close, rolling onto your side. “You need to give me a minute, girl,” you growl in her ear.

After a little giggling and groping and kissing, her round butt is slapping yours as she rides again, facing away. Next, she stands at the side of the bed as you take her from behind, finishing on her face after much begging from her. AJ mops up every drop and savors it before swallowing. Next is just missionary, but her legs wrap around your ass and pull you in, her tongue filling your mouth. Then a little spooning, followed by sex in the same position. A quick bathroom break, then doggy, and she makes you pull her hair and spank her amazingly hard ass. Then she insists on sucking it, then missionary with you standing at the bedside.

At last, you collapse, in so much sore pain you can’t even get it hard enough to fuck proper, you dry hump her anyway, pushing rope. She’s panting out, drenched and sticky, just as you are. You suck on her neck, the other side, so many marks. Her big, round tits are groped, soaked in sweat. “I love you,” you croak, drained.

AJ mumbles the same in your ear, her body coated in sweet sweat, her chest rising and falling slowly and regularly. You shift a touch and find her chest to be an amazing pillow.