Author's Note
Rated mature for being gross. It could get away with teen probably, but mature just to be safe.
You will not enjoy this. Read at your own risk.
Canterhagen Long Cut
A warm summer rain is both nice to feel and good for the crops, but the hot sticky air that follows is a hard price to pay for it. Applejack wiped sweat from her forehead with a hoof while taking a breather from her chores. She flicked her Stetson from her head and allowed it to fall onto the grass next to her while she lounged against one of her many apple trees. She rested her back against the tree trunk and crossed her rear legs in front of her.
The heat was really getting to her and her constant hydration just made her feel bloated and wet. Her pearl snap red button down shirt was soaked through with sweat, and her golden mane was a disheveled mess. She ran a fore-hoof up her breast pocket and pushed her Canterhagen can out of it. She popped open the top, tongued out a pinch of the leaves, and stuffed the tobacco into her right lower lip. She put the lid back on the can and tossed it on the ground next to her hat.
Granny Smith believes that tobacco stunts the producing power of the trees, so she would be very upset if Applejack spit her dip out in the grass. The urge to spit comes on quickly with a fresh pinch, so Applejack reached to her apple cart and pulled it closer so she could retrieve her jug. She put her lips to the bottle and let a tobacco browned glob of saliva ooze into the nozzle with a brief raspberry at the end of the spit.
The relaxation was already setting in as the nicotine made her blood cool and her face tingle. Ahh, the desired effect, she thought to herself while put her spit jug down, and picked up her water jug.
Drinking with a dip in can be tricky at first because the user doesn’t want to swallow part of the pinch, but Applejack was skilled at drinking and dipping. She extended her tongue just far enough over her teeth to press against her lower lip. That was a sufficient barrier between the water and the dip that it would allow the liquid to flow down her throat and bypass the tobacco altogether. She put her water jug down, leaned her head back against the tree, and closed her eyes to enjoy the brief nicotine high.
The wind was light and breezy in the harsh heat like a whisper of kind words in a world of screaming profanity. Her shirt swayed gently in the breeze and the sweaty spots felt like super cooled patches of ice as they intermittently contacted her coat. She drew in a deep and cleansing breath and sank further into contentedness.
A sudden clog in her throat violently sat her up as the distinct burning sensation of misplaced tobacco coated her esophagus. She coughed several times to try and get it up before running out of breath and being forced to swallow it. Her tonsils and inner chest stung like acid as the dip made its way into her stomach. She quickly tongued her pinch to find that she hadn’t swallowed a lot of it.
The taste of swallowing tobacco was painful and all she could think about was ridding herself of it, so she grabbed the jug, took a swig, and swallowed quickly. Too quickly, because she had done so before realizing that the liquid was gravelly, viscid, and hot. Her eyes locked onto the jug she had drank from and saw the thick and transparent spit that was riddled with the floating black specks of the morning’s previous tobacco uses.
A spicy sensation grew from her sternum and cut off her breath. She tried to stop herself, but the pressure built up to a climax against her will. She clamped her jaws closed, put her fore-hooves to her mouth, but the vomit burst through her hooves like an explosion of waste spraying onto the ground before her and coating her torso. The puke ran down her hooves while she heaved again and her stomach contents splattered onto her rear hooves.
She had barely made it upright when she vomited again with such intensity that she dropped onto her knees. The puke blew back from the ground and spattered her face and the acids burned her right eye. She tried to wipe her face, but was overcome with another violent heave.
The sickness was so prolonged and powerful that she began to feel a deep movement in her belly. Her body involuntarily straightened again as a vicious heave flexed her guts and shot yet another stream of vomit onto the ground. She clenched her anus, but was unable to stop the flow of excrement from squeezing out and a chunky soft stool ran down her legs and soaked her tail hair.
One final dry heave, and involuntary bowel movement, concluded her sickness fit. She gasped in the exasperation of the violent puking and spit the chunks of partially digested apples from her teeth. She was so exhausted that she plopped onto her rump which squished the stool into her fur. She spit again and then looked up slowly to remind herself that the house was only a hundred meters away.
No pony could see her like this, so she devised a plan to slink into the barn and hose herself off completely before returning to work like it didn't happen. A string of saliva and vomit hung from her chin and connected to the ground. She tucked the remaining dip from her mouth with a wave of her lip, and it fell onto the ground as she grabbed her water jug to rinse her face. She took a mouthful of water, swished it around and spit it onto the ground.
“Wow.” She said to herself as a familiar empty pain struck her stomach, and she nodded to herself while giving a small shrug. She didn't feel the need to ignore her hunger because of the recent event. She rinsed her mouth again, and began to trot to the barn, leaving the cart at the tree.
A sudden dance of dark red color danced in her peripheral vision on her left side, and she snapped toward the horrifying sight of Big Macintosh approaching. She tripped on her own hooves as she wanted to break into a sprint for the barn, but decided in the same action to stop and recognize the embarrassing position in which she was.
“Sis, you okay?” Big Macintosh asked as he stopped a few meters from her, and then he backed away slowly to distance himself from the grotesque medley of smells.
“Ah'm alright, Big Mac.” She said shamefully, “I'm just havin' myself quite a day over here.”
“I see that.” He said while seeing the globs of vomit that clung all over her coat and her rear legs stained with greenish brown chunks of excrement.
“Ah'm goin' to the barn to hose off. Can we ...” Her eyes cast down as she scratched the back of her head, and then quickly looked at her hoof to observe the piece of apple that somehow found its way behind her ear. “... Can we not mention this to anypony?”
Big Mac stifled a laugh and then nodded, “Eeyup.”
