"Applejack."

Her brother's voice rang in her skull. She didn't dare look at him.

"Applejack. You didn't."

She just stared at that horrid little cardboard box, and the crudely-drawn filly grinned back up at her.

"Tell me you didn't. Look at me and TELL me you DIDN'T!"

One tiny, hot prick of a tear formed in the corner of her eye as the memories came flooding back....

***

"Good morning, my darling," he said with a shit-eating smirk. "Or, uh... is 'good afternoon' more appropriate?"

Applejack didn't know what to say. She just stood there, trembling with a barely-contained rage. Flim flashed her a grin, flicked the towel over his shoulder, and began to tidy the room. He even had the nerve to whistle his and his brother's irritating theme song.

Okay, Celestia, you can wake me up now, she thought as she watched his half-hearted attempt to make the bed. This IS just a bad dream, right? Right? Puh-lease tell me I didn't... not with HIM...

And then that nagging little voice in the back of her mind piped up: Aw, quitcher whinin'! He made ya come, didn't he?

"Seven friggin' times," she sighed.

Flim glanced over his shoulder. "Hm?"

"Coffee!" Applejack said, a little too loudly. "Y'want some? It's nasty stuff, but..."

"Sure. Five sugars, no milk."

"Gonna rot yer teeth out," she muttered, but went to work getting it ready. It helped her stay calm, and gave her something to look at besides... him. He kept glancing over at her, grinning. Applejack scowled. That smile was so....

His smile. His big toothy smiled triggered a flashback: near the end of their tryst, right before Flam began his bitching, she'd been bouncing on top of Flim, riding his cock with wild abandon, already feeling stretched and sore but still hot, desperate, and frantic. Every other bounce, she'd lean down and peck him on the muzzle, right above his Cheshire grin. It wasn't fair, really; she'd never been with a unicorn before, and when she felt the buzzing edges of a magical aura begin tickling at her clit she threw her head back, wailing.

"Unh!" he grunted as he thrust his hips up to meet her. Applejack's wet ponytail was whipping against her back as she bounced, and he started smacking her flank with every downward thrust, hard enough to leave marks. "Yeah, take it! Take it all!"

She grinned down at him, looking ravenous. "Take what? Yer little toothpick?"

"Oh, you think it's small? Well, try it like this!" He reared up and shoved her clean off him; Applejack landed back on the soggy mattress with a yelp, legs flailing in the air; before she could recover, Flim grabbed her left hindleg, threw it over his shoulder, and began plowing her sideways.

She winced as he slammed inside her. It felt like he was ripping through a ring of fire. "Ow!"

"You like that, huh?" He reached down and mashed her clit with the underside of his hoof. "You like it rough, you dirty little bitch?"

Sinking her teeth into the coverlet, Applejack let out a quivering groan. Yes, she did like it rough. She always had. This bastard of a stallion was treating her like a whore and she loved it. The pithy little exchange they'd had on the dance floor had got her hot, and the way he'd nipped on her ears and neck as he dragged her back up to his room made her drip like honey. She'd never, ever admit it to anypony, but the snide, self-satisfied way he'd treated her when they'd first met had caused a weird little shiver up her spine, and now...

He was staring down at her with a lascivious grin, looking just as dominant as when he'd thought he'd won the first time. Her pearl was rubbing on the inside of his thigh while his balls smacked up against her sweaty ass, and, oh, it definitely felt deeper this way; deeper and dirtier and so horribly good that Applejack's tender little pussy began to spasm again. The first orgasm knifed through her, and as the second ricocheted into the third she screamed:

"YEE-HAW! Aww, yeah! More more PLEASE more!"

He sunk his teeth into the flesh of her leg, reared back, and pounded furiously. The words fell out of her mouth before she could stop them....

"Flim! Flim! Flim!! Yer the best! Ah, Flim! The best! The best I ever had!!"

...Snapping out of it, Applejack shoved the steaming mug at him. Their eyes met; as if reading her thoughts, he smiled at her, looking very fucking pleased with himself. Her eyes darted away.

"You look a little cranky, my dear," he said as he took a sip. "Why the scowl? Didn't you have fun last night?" He waggled his eyebrows suggestively.

Applejack couldn't speak. It took every fibre of her being to keep from punching the smug right off his face.

"Well, in any case, I certainly did." Flim leaned forward, brushing his cheek against hers, and whispered in her ear: "Mmmm. Remind me to send you a nice bouquet. I've wanted to taste a slice of your pie since I first laid eyes on you, my sweet little Apple."

She clenched her jaw so hard she nearly turned her molars into powder.

Nipping gently at her ear, he continued: "...and, might I say, you were just as tart as I'd---"

"I'M-A HAVE A BATH," she barked, shoving him aside. She stomped into the bathroom, jerked at the taps, and wearily glanced at the mirror as the tub filled. Yikes. It was worse than she thought. Not only was her mane wild and crusty in places---she decided it best not to try and guess with what---but the right side of her neck, from jawline to shoulder, was dotted with truly obscene-looking hickeys so dark they showed through her coat.

"Hm." She tugged her mane into loose pigtails and draped them over her shoulders. "Nope." She found the paltry excuse for a first-aid kit under the sink, but it only had two tiny bandages. "Nuh-uh. Maybe Rarity knows how to cover these...?" She blinked at the pathetic face in the mirror and sighed. "Yeah, that ain't gonna happen."

The door creaked behind her. "Applejack?"

She didn't lift her head. "Y'all just don't know when to quit, do ya?"

"Listen to me, I---"

"No, you listen'a me," she snapped. As she turned to round on him, her hoof caught on something on the floor and she nearly tripped; looking down, she recognized the straw hat, the crumpled white shirt, the stupid striped vest and... suspenders? Why in the hell would he need suspenders?

Applejack balled up his outfit and tossed it at him. "Put yer clothes on and get out."

"Mm, I don't think so. The room's in my name," he said as he threw the bundle back towards the bed.

"Then leave me alone. I'm tryin' to have a bath, in case y'didn't notice." She narrowed her eyes.

He rolled his. "Ooh, yes, you do need your privacy. I might see something indecent."

"Okay! That does it!" Applejack reared back and bucked the door as hard as she could.

"OW! Dammit!"

She slammed the lock into place and crawled into the bath, wincing a little at the unexpected iciness. "Figures he wouldn't leave me enough hot water."

Flim started knocking angrily. "If you brog de door, you're baying de debosit!"

For the first time that morning, Applejack smiled. From the sound of it, she'd given him a bloody nose. Good.

"Oben up!"

"Didn't yer folks teach ya manners? I'm havin' a bath!"

"I need de doilet baber. Oh, buck, I'm bleedig on de carbed!"

"Oh, quit bein' such a baby," she said as she slid deeper into the water. The bottom of the tub still had some heat, and it was doing wonders for her tense muscles. "Pinch yer nose between your hooves and tilt yer head back. Don't you know anything?"

That granted her a few minutes of blessed silence. Then...

"Abblejag! You bidge! Oben de door!"

With an exasperated sigh, she muttered "Fine."

The threadbare towel did little to stop her from dripping all over the discoloured tiles, so Applejack shuffled it off and used one of her back hooves to wipe up the puddles. To her surprise, the second she pulled the lock back, a blood-soaked Flim shoved her aside, bolted for the sink, and began coughing and sputtering; by the time he'd hacked up a huge glob of blood, Applejack felt a truly unwanted pang of sympathy.

"Uh... you a'right, there?"

"No!" he snapped. "I'b a hemophiliac!"

"A what?"

"A hemophiliac!"

A shudder of disgust went up her spine. "You... you mean... yer into little fillies?!"

"Oh, you fuckig idiot," he said as he turned both taps on and stuck his face under it. Applejack stared with amazement as huge gushes of blood poured down the drain; she'd had her muzzle smashed a few times before, but her nosebleeds had never been this... prolific.

Flim finally pulled away from the water long enough to splutter "HE-MO-PHI-LI-A. Not PE-DO-FIL-LY-A. It's a birth defect. When I get hurt, I can't stop bleeding." He shot her a poisonous look. "So, thank you very much for the nosebleed."

She swallowed heavily. "Um... I didn't mean... I didn't know---"

"Okay." He held a hoof to his nose, withdrew it, and then wiped it on the side of the sink. "Okay, I think it's over."

"I... I thought you said it wouldn't stop...?"

He waved her off. "I'm on medication. It's fine."

They stared at each other for a few tense seconds. Applejack's gut twisted when she noticed how pale he looked. Who knew that a smack on the snout could hurt him so bad?!

"Er, speaking of which..." Flim cleared his throat, glancing away, "I meant to ask you something last night..."

"Li'l late now, ain't it?"

"I suppose."

"Uh, y'got a bit of blood there..."

"What?"

"On yer muzzle, it's, uh, it's still drippin'..."

He smeared it away with the edge of his hoof. "Thanks. Um...I meant to ask, er... are you in season?"

Applejack stiffened. "Why?"

"I'll give you three guesses," he snapped, "And the first two don't count."

That's when something that felt like a cold, slimy icicle stabbed into her gut. Applejack was a farmer, and farmers knew their seasons: the trees back at home were popping with gossamer blossoms---and that meant it was nearly time for her to make that trip into the Everfree Forest and get three months' worth of potions from Zecora. She'd meant to do it a few days ago, but... something had come up.

FUCK!

"Well?"

Applejack blinked. She hadn't realized how much her back legs were shaking.

"Y'know what?" she said with as much resolve as she could, "I'm gonna get some a' their incontinent breakfast. I'll see ya later."

"Continental."

"Sorry, Flim. I don't speak Latin."

"I didn't---"

She let the door slam on his answer and jogged as fast as she could down the hall. No. No, she wasn't nauseous. That was just the booze talking.

Right?

****

"Mac," Applejack said between long, slow, laboured breaths, "I.... y'ain't gotta worry."

"Don't I?"

Their eyes met. They both knew it was a rhetorical question.

"This..." Applejack glanced down at the little pink box on the ground. "This is MY business, and nopony else's. Y'hear?"

Slowly, painfully, he replied "Eeyup."

"And yer gonna keep yer trap shut about it!"

"Eeyup."

"So..." Applejack cleared her throat a few times. "This, uh, this... this stays between the two of us?"

And, finally, a gentle smile. "Eeyup."

***

"I'm coming!" Cheerilee called to the pounding door. She pulled the last of the curlers out of her mane and threw it back in a quick ponytail. This morning was going from bad to worse; her alarm clock had stopped working some time around midnight, she was running late, had no time for a shower, and now her mane was starting to frizz up like it did in that regrettable yearbook photo. And whoever was at the door did not sound happy.

"Hold on just a minute, I'm coming!" she said, grabbing her saddlebags in a flash as she sprinted across the living room. She glanced at the clock as she passed; ten minutes to get to work! Smoothing down her mane as best she could, Cheerilee put on her 'presentable' face as she opened the door. The smile quickly turned to a little 'O' of surprise.

"Colgate?"

"THIS," her sister-in-law said, handing over an extremely wobbly Berry, "is YOURS."

Berry grinned, burped something that sounded like "Hi!", and fell flat on her face.

Cheerilee groaned internally. "Oh, Colgate, I have class in nine minutes!"

"Your sister needs class right now," she shot back. The anger that scrunched up her face didn't hide her bloodshot eyes or the bags beneath them. Cheerilee bit her lip. The poor thing had probably been up all night, wondering where her wife was. Again.

"I'd love to help, but.... can't she sleep on your couch?"

"No. She puked on it." Colgate slammed the door. Then she opened it again, poked her head back in, and added, "Twice!" before leaving.

Sighing, Cheerliee knelt down beside her sister and gently ran a hoof through her mane. "Oh, Berry. What am I going to do with you?"

"You could gimme a coffee," she slurred. "That'd reeeally help."

"Are you drunk or hungover?"

She pondered that very carefully. "Um.... can I choose both? Is 'both' an option?"

"You can get your own coffee, Berry. It's in the kitchen." She tightened the strap on her saddlebags and turned to leave.

"Aaaawww! Are you mad at me? I know Colgate is..."

This time the groan was audible. "Berry, sweetie, I really don't have time for this. I need to get to work!"

"Okay." Berry managed to get to her hooves, after six or seven attempts. "Ooh, I am one hot mess. But at least I didn't get in as much trouble as Applejack!"

The hoof Cheerilee had on the doorknob froze. "Uh... really?"

Plunking herself down on the couch, Berry shot her a grin. "Oh ho ho! You would not believe who took that filly home last night!"

Cheerliee glanced at the clock, then at her sister, at the door, and at the clock again.

"Okay," she said with a wink. "You have five minutes."