Inside of the Ponyville clocktower it was cool, much cooler than the warm day outside. The weather team had made certain that today would be a sunny and warm so that the muddy fields around town would be dried out for tonight's Festival. But the old stones of the clocktower were still slowly drying and this kept the inside downright chilly.

Clickspring shivered as he slowly made his way up the narrow stairs, carefully placing each hoof as a tumble down the spiral staircase could easily end in broken limbs or a busted head. His head had had quite enough busting done to it already. Unicorns were adapted to living in high places; mountains, cliffs, mesas and of course wizardly towers. It was why they had evolved cloven hooves, which were far superior to an earth pony or pegasus hoof for picking a path through rocky elevations.

A small sphere of yellow light led the way, bobbing gently in the air a short ways in front of his nose, and Clicky felt proud of his small accomplishment in casting it. His lessons with Rarity were paying off, although he had brought a lantern along as well, just in case. His saddle bags were loaded with wrenches, screwdrivers, an oil can, rags, and he had also brought a picnic dinner as he planned to stay for a while.

At the top of the stone stairs, he fished out a key with his magic, inserted it into the lock in the wooden floor hatch (from this side it was a ceiling hatch) and used a hoof to unlock it. Popping the hatch open he walked up into the mechanism room of the tower.

“Ready for your weekly windup and health check, ma’am?” he asked the clock’s interior.

He trotted over the creaky wooden floor and dropped off his equipment at the base of the clock’s mechanism, then walked over to where the driving weight hung suspended on a rope. With the weather getting cooler he would have to add a little more weight to the driving mechanism before winding it up.

He picked up one of the spare cast iron disks from where they were haphazardly stored on the floor, as he slipped it into place on top of the suspended weights his glowing light popped like a bubble and he was left in the dark. He sighed and with a quick flick of magic he lit the oil lantern which he'd left with his saddle bags. True to his cutie mark, Clickspring was adept at lighting things on fire; it was one of the few spells he could cast as easily as breathing.

The loud 'tock-tock' of the clock went silent when he stopped the swing of the pendulum and locked it in place. Then he slipped the crank handle into the rope drum and wound up it up, lifting the stack of weights up to the ceiling. Even the rope was looking worn thin and smelled musty as rot slowly worked its magic on the hemp fibres. With a grunt he yanked the winding handle free and then unlocked the pendulum, giving it a light push to get it swinging again.

Armed with a tin of oil and a cloth he lubricated and cleaned up the clock mechanism and gave it a thorough inspection.

He sighed and told the clock, "You're just about ready to fall apart, ma’am. Sorry old girl, I'll send the town hall another request for a strip-down and rebuild, but it'll just end up in the round bin again."

The town paid him every week to take care of the clock and they'd most likely employ him to rebuild it when it finally broke down. He was the only clockmaker in town after all. While he enjoyed the extra bits for keeping the old machine running and 'accurate', it made him uncomfortable to let it wear out.

After checking the watch that hung on a chain around his neck, he slipped a small pin out of one of the clocktower's gears, thus disengaging the hands. He climbed up onto a small stool so he could reach the long shafts that led to the clockface and grasping the minute hand shaft in his fetlocks he grunted with the effort of turning it. It was a simple but effective way of correcting the weary clock's growing inaccuracy. He'd be up here every blasted day during the winter to take care of this because just like an old pony, the clock became even more cranky during the cold months.

Popping the pin back into place, Clickspring's maintenance was finished. But he planned to stay holed up in the tower until well after sunset. Tonight was the earth pony Festival, and while he didn't feel the Call, wandering through Ponyville while randy mares and stallions made their way to the Festival ground was a recipe for disaster.

Or at least embarrassment and discomfort.

After settling down on the wood floor and leaning up against the cool stone wall, he dug his dinner and a novel out of his saddlebags and settled in for some quiet time. Quiet, aside from the loud tocking and hourly bell ringing.

Attending a funeral was a grim way to begin one’s Festival day, and Dirt Nap thought it was probably for the best that the widow, Mrs. Nicker, was far too old to feel the Festival’s Call. He couldn’t imagine having to go from mourning in the morning to rutting in the evening. Then again, perhaps that could have provided some relief from the grief? One thing Dirt Nap had learned from working with his pa was that everypony reacted differently to a death; most were understandably sad, but some dove headlong into being alive.

He and his pa, Patch Balm, stood a little ways off from where the family of the departed were clustered around a grave that they had dug this morning. Their heads were bowed in respect and his pa held his scruffy, old straw hat against his chest with one hoof.

Patch Balm—dwarfed by his big son, who took after his ma—had a mottled grey hide and a once-green mane, now faded to a matte grey that almost matched his coat. Born and raised in the back-of-beyond had made him a tough, bony and scarred old pony who’d come into fatherhood very late in life, losing his wife in exchange.

A celestial priest wearing a half white, half black robe spoke a few words of comfort while each family member took a turn to toss a hoofful of earth into the grave. Tears were shed, comforting hugs were exchanged, a small bag of bits was placed atop the gravestone and the family of mourners moved away with the priest in tow.

Patch Balm put on his hat and picked up a small sack of various pony remains that they had unearthed while digging the grave. The cemetery had been in use from even before the founding of Equestria; there was even a prehistoric barrow sharing the hilltop. So whenever a new grave was dug it almost invariably meant digging through somepony else’s last resting place.

After gently depositing the sack of bones on top of the coffin, Patch Balm scooped up the bag of bits, pocketed it and turned to smiled wanly at Dirt Nap. He said, “Shame,” and then picked up one of the two spades in his forelegs and got to work.

Dirt Nap picked up the other spade and asked, “Yeah, pa?”

The grave was a good third of the way filled before Patch Balm replied, “No rain.” He looked up at the sky, shook his head and got back to work.

Patch Balm had clear-cut ideas on what made for a good burying: gloom and rain were required. Dirt Nap couldn’t agree with his pa though, rain made a bucking mess of digging and then filling a grave, even if it did set a more appropriate mood than the bright, sunny weather they were enjoying today. There was something unsettling about planting a pony while birds chirped, little critters scampered and merry music played in the distance.

After they finished filling in the grave and tramped the earth down with their hooves, they placed cut sod over the dirt rectangle and loaded the excess earth into a cart. Somepony was sure to have a use for it in their garden.

As he pulled the cart Dirt Nap could feel an exciting thrum pass through his hooves with every step, a mild jolt that almost felt like electricity or a deep bass note hum. The earth pony Festival Call tugged at his senses, making him horny and promising something wonderful if only he would turn south-west and head out of town.

Dirt Nap unhitched himself from the cart and followed his pa inside of their house, which was the town’s funeral home as well. There was a morgue in the basement, which some ponies might find creepy but it didn’t bother Dirt Nap none. Dead ponies weren’t anything to be frightened of, it was the live ones you had to keep an eye on. The deceased were very patient. There was one down in the cellar right now but she’d quietly wait for her turn, which wouldn’t be until after the Festival.

After a thorough shower and brushing they ate a light dinner together, nothing fancy or heavy. Nothing was said, as Patch Balm was a quiet sort and Dirt Nap couldn’t think of anything he wanted to discuss with his pa. All of his thoughts were on the Festival and he felt both eager and afraid… he still hadn’t decided. Mare or stallion? Or maybe both? And what was he going to do about his pa’s reaction if it wasn’t just ‘mare’?

As the sun crawled towards the horizon, Dirt Nap and his old pa headed out onto the dirt road leading out of Ponyville and towards the Festival. They joined a stream of happy ponies walking that direction, many wearing their best get-ups; nothing ‘Canterlot fancy’, but everypony wanted to look good. Eye were bright, ears were all perked up, hooves were lifted high in energetic trots. Mares were whipping their tails around, some flagging high, most kept demurely low over female parts made slick with anticipation. Many cocks were dropped, flopping around or held up at half mast beneath twitching bellies.

Dirt Nap did not look over at his pa as he certainly didn’t need to see that. Nope! His own droopy, hanging-out-for-all-to-see condition made his ears flush with embarrassment. But he kept walking despite it.

“Patch, you old gloomy gus! C’mon, hop on up here and take a load off!”

One of the passing waggons held a party of older ponies, and an old stallion was leaning out over the tailgate to yell at his pa. Patch Balm took off with a grunt and was quickly hauled up onto the waggon by a couple of the occupants and after getting settled he waved a hoof to Dirt Nap. Who shook his head and tried not to look over at the waggon for fear of what he might accidentally see.

“No, pa. Ah’ll catch the next one.”

Patch Balm shrugged and moved deeper into the waggon, looking for a place to rest his weary legs. There was no way, no how, that Dirt Nap wanted to go bouncing along the dirt road in a waggon load of grey, old ponies, all sitting around with boners or wet old mare parts. Dirt Nap shuddered at the thought as the next waggon in line rolled past.

There was no room on it, or the next one. They were packed solid with ponies who were playfully groping one another, drinking hard cider and lifting their voices in raucous song. So Dirt Nap just kept trudging along the road, with all the rest of the ponies who hadn’t caught a ride. The warm throb of the Call rising up through his hooves with each step was energising and strangely calming as well, so he wasn’t in a hurry. Trotting would’ve involved far too much bouncing of floppy parts anyway and he hoped there would be somewhere to wash up once he arrived at the Festival. Nopony likes a dirty dong after all. Well, almost nopony.

Dirt Nap’s ears twitched as he heard some familiar music with an insistent, throbbing bass-line and high pitched, electronic twittering for its melody. Stopping and looking back over the heads of the shorter ponies that herded down the road, he spotted a waggon covered in tinsel, with a small platform built into the centre of it. Rising out of the platform was a pole and two stallions were dancing on it; very lewd dancing that involved rubbing up against the phallic pole and one another. He recognised them from his trips to The Back Passage, so he walked back toward the waggon, almost walking in the ditch beside the road so he wouldn’t get in anypony’s way.

He did have to venture out into the ditch in order to get around the crowd of ponies—mostly mares—who crowded around the waggon. Stallions being randy with one another held a fascination for many mares and some of them were catcalling and hooting as they stared up at the dancers, egging them on.

Dirt Nap squeezed his way through to the back of the waggon, rubbing shoulders with the sweaty and aroused group who were following the party-on-a-waggon. He spotted a pony he knew and called up to him.

“Hey, Double D! Mind if ah catch a ride?”

The bright pink bartender looked down at Dirt Nap in surprise. “Oh! Hi, Napster. Sure, why not? Think we have enough room for one more hot body.” He reached out a hoof and locked fetlocks with Dirt Nap, and was almost pulled down from the waggon as the big youth clambered up.

This was more like it. Certainly much better than riding along in his pa’s company, at least the ponies on this waggon were having a good time. A half dozen or so ponies were up on their hind hooves dancing, and along the sides of the waggon others were sitting, chatting, waving to ponies who were walking. Dirt Nap was tempted to barge in on the dancing, but as that would likely end with somepony being knocked over, he settled down opposite Double D.

He felt strangely less embarrassed about having a boner, sitting amongst ponies he knew or had at least bumped into at the Back Passage. Everypony was happy, relaxed and aroused at the same time. Being away from the ground helped a little, the Call wasn’t quite as intensely arousing.

Somepony yelled at the dancers, “Hey! Hey, lads! Remember; no poles-into-holes! Not until we get to the Festival at any rate.”

There was laughter all around as one of the dancer’s blew a raspberry at the yeller, and several voices, both on and off the waggon, called out “Awww”, “Spoilsport” and “Go for it!”

A half hour of partying later they arrived at the Festival’s location: a pair of farms which hadn’t had the greatest crop yields this year. One night of rutting by the town’s earth ponies later and this land would be restored, ensuring a bumper crop next Fall. Farm ponies were always reassured if they had a bad year, because they’d get the honour of hosting the Festival and next year’s harvest would more than make up for it.

The Back Passage waggon rolled up the driveway to a farm with the unimaginative name of Tater Fields, and Dirt Nap saw that his pa was waiting for him near the arbour gate that marked the entrance to the Festival grounds. Dirt Nap saw his pa stare at the dancers, who were wrapping up their routine with one of them mock mounting the other, his pa then looked right at him while he wished he could ooze down through the wooden floor. One of the old stallion’s eyebrows raised in what Dirt Nap imagined must be disappointment, before he turned and trotted away through the gateway.

Dirt Nap groaned and dropped down off of the waggon.

The Tater and the Turnip families were keeping very busy, welcoming guests as they arrived and Dirt Nap found himself being greeted by a pretty little mare the colour of a red potato.

“Welcome t’the Tater Fields, stranger!” she said, with a big grin on her freckled muzzle. “Best lil tater farm in all’a Equestria. Ah’m called Ruby Spud, what’s yer name big fella?”

“Uhmm… Ah’m Dirt Nap. Pleased t’meet ya, Miss Spud.” Dirt Nap felt a little proud of how easily he was able to talk to this strange, energetic mare who was very much invading his personal space. It seemed like spending time around Pinkie Pie at the group sessions was paying off.

“Awww, jus’ call me ‘Ruby’.” She blew a lock of her white and yellow mane out of her eyes and waved a hoof to the entry arch. “C’mon, I’ll help y’all get rigged up for the Festival.”

‘Rigged up?’ Dirt Nap didn’t know what she was talking about, but the Call was pulling him towards the gateway, along with everypony else.

The breeze around the arbour was heavily scented by the masses of late blooming flowers woven into the trelliswork and as they passed through, the Call abruptly changed. Instead of the hot, pulsing waves which made his hooves itchy, the field’s earth felt cool and soothing. It was like walking from hot sand into a cool stream.

Just past the gate were a dozen or more wooden poles set into the ground, each with a rainbow of brightly colour ribbons loosely tied around them. Dirt Nap chuckled and shook his head when he realised that the flared tops of the poles were meant to symbolise a stallion’s cock. Milling around the posts, ponies were stopping to take a ribbon and tie it around the dock of their tail, or rather somepony else would tie one around a pony’s dock.

Ruby Spud trotted over with a yellow ribbon dangling between her lips.

“Hlld still, big boy.”

Dirt Nap backed away from her, his eyes wide. “Ahhh…”

She squinted and trotted past him mumbling, “Dnn be uh fuull! Ah dnn baht.” As she went past he noticed that she already had a bright blue ribbon on her rump. Once she was behind him she whipped the ribbon around his tail, stood up on her hind legs and stretched up to slide it up and around his dock, where she quickly tied it in place.

“They ya go.” She patted his cutie mark and said, “All set fer the contest.”

“Contest?”

“Yup! It’s yer first Festival, right? Well, when ya… y’know… you collect the other pony’s ribbon. The stallion n mare with the most ribbons when the moon’s on high are crowned the Prince and Princess of the Festival.”

She walked on past him and out into the field. “C’mon, Dirt Nap. Ah’ll show y’round, seein’ as it’s yer first time an all.”

A dozen or more tables and carts were set up in the courtyard between the Tater family’s farm buildings, all decorated with garlands of flowers, streamers, balloons and brightly painted signs advertising their goods: Adult toys, disposable towels, foods of all kinds and drinks both hot and cold. There was also a photo booth and a hoofful of games, like ‘Bit Toss’ and ‘Plot Darts’.

Phallic and vaginal symbolism featured strongly in the decorations and Ruby Spud treated him to a basket of deep fried potatoes that had been carved into the shapes of dicks and labia. He felt somewhat embarrassed about eating them but true to her promise they were quite tasty. The Tater family were rightly proud of their produce. Ruby Spud certainly was and she talked his ear off with facts about potato growing, potato storage, and potato recipes.

What he really wanted was some apples!

“Uhh… Ruby, how’s ‘bout ah treat you to dessert?”

Ruby Spud shrugged and said, “Ok. Thank you kindly.”

Dirt Nap moseyed on over to the end of the line in front of a waggon with a fabric sign for Sweet Apple Acres held up over top of it on a pair of poles. As they waited in line, Dirt Nap tuned out Ruby Spud’s ongoing stream of facts about the wonder of the common potato and looked around at the gathered crowd of ponies.

It was just like any other pony festival so far as he could see, other than the lack of young-uns. Just ponies standing around in the field’s dirt, some of them dressed to the nines, chatting, laughing, eating and drinking, nothing like he’d expected. Sure, there was some kissing, a lot of dropped cocks, quite a few erections and such, even some affectionate smooching and snuggling. But nothing like the hot and heavy stuff he’d seen in the back passage.

Realising that they’d reached the counter, Dirt Nap turned away from the crowd, threw four bits up onto the table and said, “Two apple fritduhhhh…”

“Two apple fritters comin’ riiight up! Granny, two fritters!”

As ancient, green pony tottered around behind the table, getting his order put together, Dirt Nap’s brain went on vacation. She was beautiful. Her orange coat and yellow mane had been brushed until they shone, but it was her impish grin that made Dirt Nap’s heart stop. The way her cute muzzle crinkled and those pretty little freckles on either side of her limpid green eyes. Her body was muscular and athletic, but also somehow sleek and feminine. An earth pony princess!

“Uhhh… y’all right there, mister?”

Applejack waved a hoof in front of Dirt Nap’s face. “Hello? Anypony home?”

Dirt Nap’s mouth snapped closed and he glanced around. Ruby Spud was staring at him. An old green mare who was impatiently holding out two paper bags for him to take was staring at him. The stunning, green-eyed beauty was staring at him!

There was only one thing he could do.

Dirt Nap ran.

“Now whut in tarnation stuck a bug up his bee-hind?”

Ruby Spud shook her head and lied to the green grandmare, “Darned if ah know. Only just met him m’self. Stallions, eh?”

Applejack chuckled and shook her head, before waving the next pony in line forward. Ruby Spud took the two bags of apple fritters, not her favourite food by any stretch of the imagination, and wandered off in search of Dirt Nap. It had been plain to see how twitterpated he’d been over the apple selling mare, but his galloping off like wolves were chomping at his bits didn’t make any sense to her.

Tonight was all about meeting somepony and getting sticky after all. She’d been kind of hoping that somepony might be Dirt Nap, but now there was no sign of him anywhere. After wandering through the crowd in her own family’s field, she went through the gate into the adjoining fields that belonged to the Turnip family and hoofed around for a while through the slightly less dense crowd of ponies. Nope. No sign of him.

Growing tired of carrying the nauseating bags of sweet smelling fritters, she dropped them off in one of the waste bins and pondered where he might’ve gotten to. The farm buildings seemed like the most obvious place to look, so she started off towards the Turnip family’s barn.

“LADIES AND GENTLECOLTS! MAY I HAVE YOUR ATTENTION, PLEASE?”

Mayor Mare’s amplified voice rolled out over the fields and the random clumps of ponies began making their way over to a stage at one end of the Tater Fields.

‘Aw, heck. Time to get the night started.’ Ruby Spud sighed and began making her way towards the stage as well, abandoning her quest for the hottest young stud she’d seen all night.

She squeezed her way into the large crowd and found a spot to stand, though she couldn’t really see the stage it felt nice being surrounded by other ponies. Living way out of town on the Tater farm was frequently quite a lonely life, so being pressed from all sides by warm, sweaty bodies that reeked of sexual excitement felt really, really good. She loved being part of something bigger than her own dull existence.

That she’d get shagged at least once tonight and might meet a nice colt to go steady with kindled a warm glow in her heart and under her tail.

“Ahem! Ladies and gentlecolts!” Mayor Mare stood at a lectern and waved a hoof in the air, “Welcome to this year’s Festival, the festivities and contest will begin shortly. But I want to extend a special ‘thank you’ to the Tater and Turnip families for hosting this year’s event.”

There was much hooting and stomping of hooves on the recently ploughed earth.

“Everypony do your part to ensure they have bumper crop come next fall. Does everypony have their ribbon tied on? If you’re missing a ribbon, now is the time to speak up and one of the Festival wardens will be happy to help you. Once the moon is overhead we’ll count ribbons and announce this year’s Prince and Princess of the Festival.”

The mayor raised both hooves in the air, “The moon is rising! Let the Festival commence!”

Everyone’s voices were raised in a cheer, a certain pink pony bounced way high in the air shouting, “Woo hoo!” as her party cannon exploded and showered everypony with colourful streamers and confetti.

Ruby Spud chuckled as a couple next to her exchanged a sloppy smooch and then he got to work, mounting up onto her back and getting himself lined up. She didn’t know if they were serious competitors for the title or just couldn’t stand to wait any longer. Several other couples in the crowd were also getting right down to business as most other ponies trotted off, mostly in pairs with a few groups and singletons. Many were heading for one of the shelters that her family had spent days setting up around the property. Colourful lean-tos mostly, but a few tents here and there, all set up to provide a little privacy for those who wanted it.

Feeling pretty damn horny and single, Ruby Spud decided to invest just a little bit more time into looking for Dirt Nap. A quick tour of the farm buildings and then she’d give up and look for love with some other pony. The farm buildings were off-limits, so one of her brothers was standing guard, wearing a warden’s mask that was painted to look like a cascade of fall leaves. He was playing at being a guard and snapped to attention as she walked up, giving her a salute.

“All quiet, ma’am!”

“As y’were, Private Tuber.” She giggled as she walked into the barn and had a good hunt around for any delicious ponies that might be lurking. But there was no sign of the shy, grey and brown stallion.

Getting into the Turnip’s barn was a bit more tricky. But since she was on her own and the Taters and Turnips were good neighbours, Purple Top just waved her on in. As Ruby Spud walked through the door she felt a stinging pain across her rump accompanied by a loud crack sound.

“Hey!” she cried and whipped around to glare at Purple Top.

The other mare giggled and made kissy faces at her while wagging a willow switch held in one of her hooves.

“No fair!” Ruby groused, “It ain’t that late yet.” She pouted and rubbed at her stinging rump.

“Jus’ a friendly reminder, shugar cube. Let me know if y’all want a helpin’ hoof with that ribbon, ok?” Purple Top made more kissy faces and threw in a very broad wink.

Ruby Spud sighed and walked into the barn. After rooting around, poking her nose behind dusty storage bins and climbing up into the hayloft, she’d made sure that no Dirt Naps were hiding in there. She stood alone in the barn, grunted in annoyance and yelled, “Sod this!” It was time to go look for somepony else.

The Hay Pole was always a good bet, so she headed over to where it thrust up into the night sky. The long, colourful ribbons were being unwound after the last dance, so she cooled her hooves in the dirt while waiting.

Dirt Nap was sweaty and dirty from his frantic gallop through the Festival, dodging around surprised ponies and eventually leaping the fence and almost disappearing into the forest.

The suddenly hot-again Call had drawn him to a quick halt, like a leash tied around his scrotum, and he’d stood out there at the edge of the forest, panting and cooling off while he tried to sort himself out. These feelings that seemed to come from nowhere, crashing into his heart and setting it racing. He’d only seen that apple mare for a few moments and suddenly she was all he could think about! The shape of her cheek, the way her mouth had moved when she smiled at him, her eyelashes, the sound of her voice; “Y’all right there, mister?” The warm curiosity and honest concern echoed inside of Dirt Nap’s head.

It didn’t make no sense!

He’d been around plenty of other mares and nothing like this had ever happened. It was intoxicating and terrifying. But, one thing was certain, he couldn’t just stay out here, not without risking that terrible Curse that poor Clickspring was afflicted with. Dirt Nap shuddered, raised his head and looked around.

There was no way in Tartarus he could get up enough speed to jump over the fence again, there just wasn’t room between the forest and fence. So he started walking beside it, following it along and looking for a gate that would let him back in.

He looked up into the fields and could see ponies had broken up from the large gathering and had spread out across the fields, where many of them were getting down to it. Or up to it in the case of several stallions who he could see up on top of their partner’s back. Dirt Nap’s dong drooped back down out of the sheath it had retreated into during his wild escape, flopping about between his thighs as he looked for a gate.

There weren’t any ponies down at this end of the field as there weren’t many torches for light and it was where the temporary latrines had been set up. The scent of dung made his nose wrinkle as he quickly trotted past them and finally found a gate through the fence.

Making his way back towards the top of the field to where the concession stands were set up, Dirt Nap tried to avoid tromping through any of the various ‘love nests’ that ponies were using for, well, making love. Or at least making one another sticky. The path of least resistance took him right through the middle of the field, past a small stage on which several ponies were putting on a show.

Judging by the masks and costumes that the actors were wearing, Dirt Nap figured it was some kind of mythology play. As he trotted away the small audience broke into politely clopping applause when the music, and the participants, came to a climax.

At the top of the field, near the farm buildings, he hid beside a waggon and gazed across the open space between it and the Sweet Apple Acres sales booth. Sure enough, the stunning orange mare was still at it, selling everything apple and edible to a much shorter line of ponies. She was still beautiful, so that hadn’t been a fluke and he still had no idea what to do about it. Trying to think about how to approach her, Dirt Nap took a few paces forwards and then nervously pranced back behind the waggon again.

What would he say to her? His father would likely not say a thing, so that was no help. He’d seen a few ‘pick ups’ at the Back Passage, but while he was thankful that his time there had made it easy to wander through a field of ponies in rut, he didn’t think the slick pick up lines he’d heard would work on an honest mare.

She really did such like such an honest, simple farmer pony. He squinted his eyes while watching her cheerfully hand apple treats to a customer.

‘Orange mare, hat, apples...’ His mouth fell open in shock. Was he lusting after The Element of Honesty? ‘Nope! Nope, nope, nope!’

Dirt Nap quickly backed up behind the waggon and his trembling legs geared up for another round of fleeing across the countryside, when suddenly he felt a stinging slap across his rump accompanied by a loud ‘CRACK’ sound.

Squealing in shock he leapt out from behind his cover and wheeled around to see what had assaulted his ass. He found himself facing darn near the biggest stallion he’d ever seen, with a coat of red, a long birch made of bundled sticks in his mouth and a guardian’s mask over his face. The mask was painted a dark green and jutting out from the papier-mâché forehead, just where a unicorn’s horn would be, was a long phallus which was painted a lurid purple.

The shock of being surprised and assaulted like that didn’t keep Dirt Nap from eyeing up the stallion. He was very well muscled, even more so than Frostbite, and he had the kind of solid, big boned body that was built for working the land, not a gym club. Even with visions of Applejack dancing through his head, Dirt Nap couldn’t help feeling drawn to the big, red stallion.

He stood, mouth hung open and imagining being cuddled by the big brute.

The big brute who swung his head and caught Dirt Nap a light, stinging blow across his withers with the birch held in his mouth. He walked forwards and bumped his chest into Dirt Nap, pushing him back and turning him. In moments he was being herded across the open area, towards the apple sales booth, with light swats on his rump.

At the start of the Hay Pole dance, Ruby Spud had made certain to grab one of the pink coloured ribbons in her mouth. Pink was for a mare seeking a stallion. There were other colours for other sexes and preferences.

After an energetic dance around the pole, with half the ponies going clockwise and half going counter, weaving in and out, she found herself nose to nose with a handsome enough stallion. His name was Caramel Apple and although he was a smaller stallion than really rang her bell, he was handsome enough. And willing. Enthusiasm certainly counted for a lot, to Ruby’s mind anyway.

As they wandered around the Tater Field, looking for an unoccupied lean-to, they walked past a stallion who was lying on his back on a blanket spread over the earth. A very pink pony was bouncing up and down on top of him giving him a wet, messy and noisy ‘cowgirl’ ride, her poofy mane bouncing up and down with a half dozen ribbons tied into the curls.

Ruby Spud was admiring her enthusiasm when she abruptly stopped and yelped, “Twitch-a-twitch! Twitch-a-twitch!”

Ruby Spud was certain she was having an orgasm and from the loud groan that the stallion gave, he certainly was. But the pink pony abruptly leapt up off of her partner and hared away through the field, leaving the stallion’s cock jutting up into the air as he came a white geyser of spunk.

Ruby Spud’s nose wrinkled and she hurried after her stallion, but she saw a pink blur as the pony suddenly reappeared, ducked her head down between the stallion’s legs and then went scooting off again with a ribbon hanging from her mouth.

“Hey there, Big Mac! Looks like ya done found him.”

Big Mac spat out his birch, caught it in the crook of a foreleg, and said, “Eeeyup.”

Dirt Nap stood stock still aside from a little trembling as Applejack walked out from behind the Sweet Apple Acres booth to get a good look at him. She almost seemed to have a glowing aura as she walked up, looked him over with an appreciative eye and said:

“Y’ll do.”

The voice of an angel!

She walked past him and when she saw the ribbon tied to his tail she said, “Looks like we both done got ourselves an itch to scratch. Well, c’mon, ah got an ‘rangement with the Taters for someplace comfy-like.”

Dirt Nap wasn’t completely sure what was going on and just stood and watched as Applejack trotted off towards the farm buildings. Big Mac bumped into him and nearly knocked him off of his hooves. The bigger stallion grabbed his birch in his mouth and motioned for Dirt Nap to get going.

Granny Smith watched her grandfoals leave and sniffled a little. “Ain’t that just the sweetest thing? Young-un’s off to get their itches scratched.” She wiped one of her eyes and turned back to the waiting lineup of ponies. “Ah well. Ah ain’t got no itches no how, just lumbago an' vittles to sell. Come’n get yer fresh apple watsits! Fresh pie! Fresh cider! No bumpin’ or humpin’ in line now!”

Applejack stopped at the barn door to talk to the warden who was guarding it. “Why don’t y’all go off n get yerself a lil somethin’ an’ Big Mac here’ll take over for ya fer a while?”

Since he was still wearing his ribbon and Big Mac had already gotten rid of his, the Tater family’s son nodded and eagerly trotted off into the field. Dirt Nap wasn’t sure what to make of any of this, but when Applejack turned, tipped her hat back and smiled warmly at him his brain decided that thinking wasn’t really needed right now. His painfully erect cock agreed and all thinking was put on hold.

“Awww… Big Mac, look’t how eager he is. Bet this is yer first time, ain’t it, shugar cube?”

Dirt Nap numbly nodded.

Applejack’s grin even wider and she patted his cheek. “Boy howdy, I loves me breakin’ in a colt. Well, c’mon shugar cube, ah won’t buck ya too hard, now.” She turned and flicked her tail against his muzzle before trotting into the barn, her warm laughter like music in Dirt Nap’s ears.

Big Mac bumped up against him and gave him a light shove with one of his hooves.

With his brain switched off Dirt Nap looked over at the big, handsome and somewhat sweaty stallion pressed up against his side, and kissed him. It was a fumbling, confused and awkward kiss, but one with a great deal of passion behind it. Big Mac just stood there and took it, with a very surprised look on his face.

“Come on, shugar cube! The hay ain’t gettin’ no less lonely in here!” Applejack’s voice called from deep inside the barn.

Big Mac stepped away, shook his head to clear it and gave Dirt Nap another push. “G’wan. Git.” As Dirt Nap stumbled off into the barn he took up watch next to the door.

The inside of the dirt-floored barn had a dusty odour from the heaps of potatoes in sack and bins along one of the walls. It was dark, aside from a lantern towards the back, which is where Dirt Nap walked slowly and eventually he found Applejack. She was laying on her side in a big pile of hay with a few stacks of hay bales around forming a hidden ‘room’ in the barn. Her signature hat was hung tossed aside and her long, yellow mane was down, almost blending in with the hay.

Applejack waved to him with a hoof and then patted the hay next to her. “C’mon in an’ lay yerself down.”

Feeling disconnected from the wonderful reality in front of him, Dirt Nap stumbled forwards and laid down on the crinkly bed.

“What’s yer name, shugar cube?”

He stammered, “D-Dirt Nap.” After a moment’s hesitation, he politely added, “Ma’am.”

Applejack captured his chin with one of her hooves, turned his head to face her and she kissed him. Her eyelashes fluttered and she smiled as she said, “Ah’m AJ. I was right flattered by yer twiggin’ out earlier. Ain’t often a stallion gets so worked up over me that he runs away like that.” She chuckled and winked at him.

“Ah… Ah’m sorry, ah jus…”

She pressed a hoof over his mouth and murmured, “Don’ matter none. Y’all come back, so ah guess ah must be pretty enough after all. Though I felt kinda bad for the lil filly y’left standin’ there with fritters instead of a fella.”

Dirt Nap’s ears flattened and he really, really didn’t want to think about that right now. Neither did AJ apparently, as she kissed him again and his ears popped right back up.

“Now, c’mon. Lemme show you how to please a mare.”

With what he’d read—or rather what the pictures had shown him—in the books Dr. Cake had loaned him, and with AJ’s helpful guidance, Dirt Nap found that eating apple pie was great fun. He didn’t mind putting off his own throbbing need, and AJ’s moans of pleasure sent his shaky confidence soaring. He was so intent on pleasuring the beautiful mare and playing with the new ‘toy’ she’d loaned him, that he didn’t notice somepony walking up behind him.

He felt a hot breath as somepony nuzzled his tail aside and suddenly his aching balls were extremely warm and wet as a large tongue slithered over them. He moaned into AJ’s sopping wet labia as the newcomer’s tongue slithered higher and he found himself on the receiving end of the same kind of oral attentions he was lavishing on AJ.

Applejack’s shaking hoof pushed his muzzle away, she rolled over and climbed up onto her hooves. Flagging her ribboned tail out of the way she winked at him and in a husky voice she said, “A’right, stud. Time fer the main event.”

Dirt Nap was torn between staying right where he was and enjoying the stranger’s tongue or moving forward to mount up. The decision was taken out of his confused mind as the tongue disappeared and two big hooves were placed on his rump to shove him forward.

Sliding along AJ’s sweaty back, Dirt Nap fumbled for a moment before his cock slick into her, his own groan of pleasure matched by her high pitched moan. Then a big, hot, sweaty body slid up over top of his own back!

“B-Big Mac! What in the hay?!”

Applejack’s startled yell echoed slightly against the roof of the barn, where Pinkie Pie had wedged between a one of the barn’s trusses and the roof. She stuffed a hoofful of popcorn into her muzzle and muttered to herself around the mouthful as she watched Applejack, Dirt Nap and Big Mac.

“Wow! So that’s what that ‘twitch-a-twitch’ means. I’ve never seen anypony make the Beast With… Um… One. Two. Three. … Eight Legs before! No. Ten Legs. Oh! No...”

Applejack had collapsed but was still in the game. “G-git y-yer own...” she brokenly moaned.

Pinkie Pie rubbed her chin. “Nope. Six Legs. Being squished against the ground like that counts as no legs.” She nodded and shoved another mouthful of salty, buttery popcorn into her mouth and settled in to enjoy the messy, squelchy, moany, groany show.

She was going to miss out on being Festival Princess, but this was oh, so much better! Seeing ponies caring and sharing always put a smile on her muzzle and she knew just what kind of cake she was going to bake for Dirt Nap’s ‘Special Someponies’ party.

Author's Note

So much for my plan to write a chapter a week...

I may write a blog post on why this took me so long, but in summary: Life sucks sometimes. The next chapter will come out whenever I finish it; no more trying to stick to a schedule. Schedules are helpful for getting things done, but only seem to make me feel worse when life gets in the way of sticking to them.

Editorial fixes courtesy of Cross Lament.

Please let me know if you spot any issues... aside from how I spell 'shugar'. Thank you.