Brand New Flavour

by KitsuneRisu

Rating: mature
Tags: Comedy, Pinkie Pie, Sex, Applejack, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Dark
Length: 6440

Applejack helps Pinkie Pie with her secret Creme Brulee recipe

Applejack is just a normal, homely pony, not accustomed to the rules of love. But when Pinkie decides to divulge the secret to her amazing Creme Brulee recipe to her, what will Applejack do when she realises that secret involves a sexual ritual to accomplish?

Published 2012-07-26 07:24:01 UTC
Last updated 2012-07-26 07:24:01 UTC

Brand New Flavour

Thanks to all the aid from Twifight Sparkill, who broke two brains reading this.

Brand New Flavour

Crème brulee. A tasty delicious morsel, sweet and tart, yet buffered by a slightly acrid tone of burnt sugar and toasted caramel. Two flavours that mix so well that one compliments the other in a dance upon the taste buds and causes each to intensify in layers.

And in the end it was as simple as it being burnt cream.

Nothing fancy about it.

Custard in a bowl, a sprinkling of sugar, and a little bit of fire.

That's all it took.

Sometimes with a little strawberry on the side, but otherwise, there wasn't anything else to it, and nothing else that Pinkie Pie did to make it special. It was just delicious as it was, and any pony walking through the doors of the Sugar Cube Corner would be happy to get a whiff of them being fired up behind the counter just before being served.

And Pinkie Pie did just that, every single time. Her touch was perfect, her skills unparalleled. Even Mr. and Mrs. Cake, the owners of the very shop, had to bow away to her abilities.

Never let it said that a pony should only be known for only one talent.

The Crème brulee was introduced to the menu as a regular item after a short try-out period, one which showed its appeal to the masses, and all five of Pinkie's best friends in turn.

Of course, when Pinkie initially brought the idea up, carrying a huge bucket of the unprepared custard into Mr. Cake's room, it took a bit of convincing to have him give it a shot – an idea that was smoothed over with the promise of better presentation.

And so, as it was, Pinkie Pie remained the single chef of the now-popular Crème brulee dessert at Sugar Cube Corner, serving them up left and right while they sat in their little glass bowls, glistening and twinkling in the heavy shop lights above.

"How ever do you do it?" Rarity asked, plunging a runny spoonful into her mouth. The cream, cold and smooth, ran down her throat and cooled her tummy. "This is absolutely marvellous!"

"I concur," Twilight agreed with a nod, taking a spoonful for herself. She held it up to the light before digging in, observing its nature. It sat, wobbly and white, on the spoon, tinges of yellow glancing off the thick substance and flecks of brown dotting its top. "Maybe if I brought some back with me I could figure out how she makes it!"

"Hey, no fair usin' magic, y'all!" Applejack laughed, sucking at the top of one as it sat in the specially open bowl for easy access. It was necessary; certain ponies didn't have the magical aid of spoons. She drew a small deal into her mouth, running it over her tongue and letting the flavour set it before swallowing heartily. "This sure is one of your best ever, Pinkie!"

"Ymmph!" Rainbow Dash yelled. Or at least, she tried to. It was hard when your face was stuck straight in, leaving smears of white cream dribbling down your face and clinging to your hair. She grinned though, pulling her head back out of the now-empty bowl, gulping down heavily. "So good!"

"I… um… I spilled mine," Fluttershy muttered, eyes hiding behind her long, pink mane.

"How did you get it on your flank, Fluttershy?" asked Twilight. Genuinely, it was a mystery.

"Oh, it doesn't matter!" Pinkie cried, jumping forward with a fresh round; and two bowls for Fluttershy. "This one's on me!"

"Cheers, Pinkie!" Applejack started, and the rest echoed with their thanks and general agreement.

But the day wore on slowly, and the time for snacking was at its end. Empty glasses littered the table, and Pinkie was seeing the last of her friends out of the empty shop.

"Well, ah, thanks again, Pinkie," Applejack said, the final one out the door. "Don't suppose…"

"What?" Pinkie asked, always happy to be of service.

"Well, I don't suppose y'all would…"

"What?" Pinkie asked again, pushing her face closer toward Applejack.

"Don't suppose I could get the recipe, could I?" Applejack grinned sheepishly. She knew she shouldn't really ask, it was impolite; but she really, really loved that dessert.

"Oooooh, I don't know about that," Pinkie replied, still not dropping the bubbles in her voice. "Well, maybe one day, but right now? It's a secret!"

"One day, huh?"

"Yeah! One day! What about it?"

"I dunno," Applejack said, the grin still there, but now fading into strange meditation. "You said that in a strange sorta way. You know how like, in movies or in stories, when they say 'one day', that very thing happens on the very next."

"Oh, don't be silly," Pinkie waved the notion away with a hoof. "I can't give away this secret! It's way too… secretive!"

The pony of peculiar parties gave a little giggle.

"Besides," she continued. "This isn't a story! There's no way I'll be telling you tomorrow! I mean… I know that sounds bad, but you understand, don't you?"

"'Course I do, Pinkie," Applejack nodded. She was right. As she sauntered out the door after a final wave goodbye, she mused on that small bolt of silliness. There was simply no way that tomorrow held anything different. Perhaps, she thought, she might even get the recipe another way.

–––

"I'll tell you how I make it!" Pinkie screamed, happily, into Applejack's face at the first sight of dawn. There wasn't a time or place when Pinkie wasn't being abhorrently flippant, and this was just a fine example of her baseline nature.

"What the…" Applejack coughed, trying to blink the sleep out of her eyes. Today was supposed to be her off day, darn it, and she usually started a day like that by sleeping in. "D… didn't I say somethin' about this yesterday?"

"No! It was probably in your mind. Or my mind. Oh well, pay it no mind!" came the response. "Anyway, you asked me for the recipe, right?"

"Well… yeah," Applejack nodded, pushing the barn door open all the way for her friend to join her inside. "So we did have that conversation yesterday, then!"

"Well… yeah duh," nodded Pinkie. "I mean, if we didn't, how'd I have known to come on the next day?"

"… nevermind," Applejack gave up, with a smile. It was at these sort of logical times that it was best to let Pinkie understand it all on her very own. She needn't have to drag any others down with her, that's for sure. "So… why'd you change your mind?"

"Well," Pinkie replied, cautiously. "Somepony up in Canterlot made a huuuuuge order! And I mean huuuuuuuuuuge! Like… tons of cups! I'll have to make a whole mess of it, and I can't do it without your help!"

"Well, I guess that makes sense. I mean, I'm the only one 'round these parts who can bake worth squat," Applejack declared, before tacking on a little saving grace to the end. "Uh, I mean, 'sides you of course."

"Of course!" Pinkie squealed, bouncing up and down. "We're like the baking sisters! Or should that be baking brothers? But we'd have to be stallions, won't we? But it flows so much better off the tongue! Brooothers! Baaaaking!"

"Alright there, Pinkie. Calm yourself down now."

"Anyway, I just need you to help me make a couple buckets of custard for the dish!"

"Well, that oughta be simple enough. What'cha need, Pinkie?"

"Buckets!"

"Well, sugar, an' milk…" Applejack trailed on, thinking of the main components that went into a delicious flan.

"Buckets!"

"And some vanilla, if you use that, and… um…"

"Buckets!" Pinkie cried, pushing her face into Applejack's.

"Buckets." Applejack repeated, trailing her hoof in the stray straw on the Barn floor.

"Maybe a bench. Some pillows."

"What are you…"

"Applejack? Don't freak out, okay? Because I know you're absolutely gonna freak out when I tell you this, but don't freak out, okay?"

"Y'know, telling me not t' freak out…"

"I've always wanted to make my own desserts, you know? Ever since I was a filly, and it was just so hard! Mr. Cake never saw the appeal in my 12-alarm chilli muffin, or my toothpaste surprise cake! You know, so that you don't have to brush after eating it? But I guess they all weren't very good ideas, or you'd be asking me for the recipes, right? But don't ask, they're secrets!"

"Wasn't gonna, Pinkie," Applejack muttered. You had to be focused to talk to her for periods longer than a few minutes. Right now, all of the brain cells that she had that were awake were focusing on the task of catching up with her yammering.

"So I went to Zecora, and she gave me a potion! Oooooh, potion!" Pinkie giggled. "And that potion, she said, would let me find the source of great custard within myself!"

Applejack froze. Something started to sound very wrong here. A small prickle of warning appeared at the back of her head; the beginnings of an alarm.

"So maybe I drink too much everytime I need the spell to work, or Zecora got it wrong, or maybe it was because I decided to add cheese to it, but…"

Applejack swallowed.

"Um… I mean, even I know the spell wasn't supposed to be literal, but…"

"Oh… Celestia…" Applejack's hoof flew up to her mouth.

"I don't exactly make the custard?" Pinkie said, her head tilting to the side and her eyes closing in a jokey expression.

"What… what have we been eatin' all this while?" Applejack yelled, suddenly.

"Well, it comes out of me. You know," Pinkie explained. Having reached this point, it was the first time where she brought her happiness down just a touch. Just a touch. In order to smoothen the process.

"Where? In Celestia's name, where?"

Pinkie smiled, a tiny bit of guilt crossing her eyebrows for just a moment, and her hoof went around, and behind, to a spot between her legs.

"You pee it out?"

"No! It isn't that easy!" Pinkie clarified, giggling all the way. "It comes from the place that takes a bit of… coaxing! You know!"

"Oh ur.. Urk!" Applejack choked, gagging on an instant reflex. "T… you fed this to us! Ya knew all this time! And you…"

"No! It's… it's clean! It's magic! I mean, I don't even know where it comes from myself! I just know… how to get it out. And it goes in the oven anyway, it's not like it's unsanitary, or anything!"

"It is so unsanitary!" Applejack argued, her eyes still boggling. "Nah… nah… y'all kiddin' ain'tcha? Y'all joking with ya old gullible pal Applejack. Well, good one. Good one on ya. Let's get the sugar now, alright? The… the sugar?"

Pinkie just smiled. That faint, harmless smile of hers. That smile that she gave when she had no answers, only realities. And Applejack, deflating by the minute, knew that this crazy concept was the real thing.

"Y… y'all shouldn't…"

"Oh come on," Pinkie chided. "If I hadn't told you, you'd still be eating it every day like the others!"

Those images of her and her friends tucking into the delicious creamy substance just yesterday crossed her mind's eye. Watching as they all put spoonful after spoonful into their gaping mouths… or, in Dash's case, the entire thing at once… it was disgusting. It was foul.

Wasn't it?

It's true, she had been putting it into her own mouth, day in and day out, for quite a while now, and there was no side effects. And it was genuinely delicious, but… the source… the source!

Applejack wiped a bead of sweat that ran from under her mane to her nose. The strangest thing was, the more she thought about it, the more it seemed… no. You're a good girl, Applejack. Good girls don't think about things like that. Good girls certainly don't get excited about the concept. What's wrong with you? Tell her to leave. Tell her to leave right now, Applejack!

"Wh… what d'ya need me to do?" Applejack muttered, her hat sliding off the side of her head and crumpling on the floor. A soft boiling feeling appeared in the pit of her stomach, a mix of all the insects that had simultaneously decided to dance in an ugly bug ball.

There were the butterflies of apprehension – she, truth be told, was curious to see this happening. It was too fantastical to be true.

There were the worms of disgust – the same feeling that she got when she heard about all those nasty stories that were told behind the yard house.

But there were also the ants of anticipation – this nasty disgusting thing, so unlike her down-to-earth and natural self, was kicking her in a way that she didn't even consider possible.

And Pinkie gave an answer that made those ants explode.

"Well, I'm usually able to get it out myself, you know? It's easy! Like a genie in a lamp, just rub-a-dub-dub and you get your wish! Or my wish, or the wishes of every pony who walks in and orders a delicious crème brulee!"

Applejack swallowed hard.

"But this is a huge order, and I need it by tomorrow! So what's where you come in!"

"M… me," stammered Applejack.

"Mm hmm! You're here to make me happy! Well, I'm here to have you make me happy, I mean, since we're in your barn! But you know what I mean!"

"Me…" she trailed off.

"Yeah, you! I know, you're thinking, why not Rarity, or Twilight, or Fluttershy, or Dash? Well, Rarity and Twilight already have their weird basement thing, if you don't know about that, I didn't say anything! Fluttershy's got her own deal with her animals, I think! You never know behind closed doors, and Fluttershy's doors are always closed! And Rainbow Dash is…"

"… is?"

"I don't like her mane."

"What… what, that's it? You chose me over her just because my mane's nicer?"

"Well, nah, I like you, Applejack! I really do!" Pinkie nodded inanely. "You're always a good friend, and you're the only one I can count on for nearly everything!"

"Well… gee, thanks, I guess. I mean, I like you too… as a friend, I mean."

"So help a friend out!" Pinkie said. "The better I feel, the more custard I'll make. So get the buckets! We might have to go a few times, you know? But we don't have much time!"

"I… I don't… think I can…"

"You wanna help me, right?" Pinkie said, nudging up against Applejack, pushing her into the wall.

"I…"

"You wanna help me, right?" Pinkie repeated, squishing her body against her friend's.

"Well… m…maybe," Applejack said, caving under pressure.

"Then we both win! Get the buckets!"

"I… I have a trough," Applejack said, pointing to a corner.

–––

The set-up was simple, but odd. The trough, a long, rectangular feeding bowl that was normally reserved for livestock, had been thoroughly washed and cleaned out with plenty of disinfectants and other things, and it was as pristine as it could be to collect something of this nature.

It lay in the middle of the barn floor, and with the doors locked up tight and triple-checked by a furiously blushing Applejack, Pinkie reclined on one of Rarity's old silk-lined loungers that had been set up just at the edge of the trough.

Why Applejack had one of Rarity's old loungers was something that even Pinkie Pie had to raise an eyebrow at, but it was explained easily away when Applejack had said that she was just holding it for the time being while Rarity was arranging furniture back in the boutique.

'Time being' simply meant that Rarity and Applejack had both forgotten about it and eventually it remained, half-buried under a pile of hay, against one of the walls of the barn.

At least it had a use now.

Applejack seriously hoped that she wouldn't have to return it.

Truth be told, it was a pretty piece. Good craftsmanship; brass studs lining the borders, a cushioned back and seat, all covered with a silk screen with embroidered flowers and vines and other such fancy things. Its beauty was lost on Applejack, but she didn't have to like something to know that she should appreciate it.

Neither did Pinkie, as it turned out, who, after having downed a small vial of the potion, was now attempting to use the lounger as a trampoline, its four carved legs creaking from the strain.

It was funny. Applejack was a timid, homely pony, one not akin to considering such things of an adult nature. She was sure, almost certain, that Pinkie wasn't either. But here Pinkie was, talking about such things like it was nothing… the idea bothered Applejack, and played on her insecurities.

And now she was roped into being part of this? Oh, she could take competition just fine, and sports was nothing. Showing love to a family member or a friend came quick and natural, but darn it if she wasn't just squeamish about matters of a more visceral nature.

She opened her mouth to speak as Pinkie finally landed on her rear and sat there on the seat in a very uncomfortable-looking position.

"So… um… how…" Applejack muttered, looking more at the metal trough than at Pinkie. "How does this potion work?"

"Well, I just took it," Pinkie explained. "It doesn't last any longer than forty minutes, usually! During this period, whenever I… you know! All the custard comes out all over the place! It's real messy."

Applejack felt the heat rising to her head again, causing her to look down and away in embarassment.

"See, it only works once every couple of days, so I can't just keep drinking it. And I've also noticed that the amount of custard created depends on how… you know, how happy I am! I can't make this much by myself, so you have to aid me!"

"I… I still don't see how I…"

"Don't be silly, Applejack! I wouldn't have asked you if I didn't think you could! Anyway, I'm enjoying myself already! Just keep doing what you're doing!"

"I ain't doin' anything… How… how do we even start?"

"Well, we just get to it!" Pinkie cheered.

Applejack peeked up, her mane getting in the way. Somehow, with all the running about, her hair had become quite dishevelled indeed, and parts of her fringe were now hanging down her face.

But through the strands of gold she peeked and saw Pinkie already busy at work, and she felt her heart clench once again. It tightened in her chest, a white hot pulse growing in the pit of her stomach. It was… so… soon. So fast. So immediate. Wasn't she allowed to get comfortable first?

But no, thrust right into the middle of it was Applejack, the farm mare, brain trying to comprehend exactly what she had gotten herself into. She was almost like Fluttershy now, with her meekness and her reservation, but really, it was just this one thing. And yet, she found it hard to tear away from watching her friend, looking on in morbid curiousity.

Pinkie's hoof roamed vigorously, and even her actions in this circumstance were quite comical indeed – tongue stuck out and brow furrowed as if she were reading an article explaining the advances of brain surgery. It was certainly Pinkie Pie, there, in the flesh, touching her flesh.

She did it as if it was the most natural thing in the world. Applejack was standing right there. Watching. Peeking. Silently breathing past her locks of golden corn, but still… present. And Pinkie was there doing something that Applejack rarely did alone, let alone in the presence of a close friend.

Her hoof stopped; her panting increased before Applejack had even consciously acknowledged. With a few huffs she turned upward to stare old Jack straight in the eye.

"Well? Join in!" she said, her voice strained.

It was a new kind of voice. The high pitched joy was there. But it was sieved. It sounded like it took some effort to get out, like as if Pinkie were lifting a very heavy weight at the time.

"Don't just stand there, silly!" She chortled, and resumed her rapid leg movements.

Applejack took a tentative step forward, like approaching a cave where the darkness within might hold terrors she couldn't fathom. Her eyes were glued to the rhythmic waving of that pink hoof upon other flashes of pink of different shades, and she shuddered as she breathed out a last, self-comforting breath.

And then she moved in.

"What… what do I do?" Applejack asked in a whisper, lowering her head down to Pinkie's level.

"J… just… watch me! Watch me!" Pinkie yelled, trying to grin.

"I have been, su…sugar. I…"

"No! I mean… watch me! Put your face… you know, right up in there!"

"I… I don't know 'bout this…"

"Do it!" Pinkie squealed in that encouragingly whiny way of hers. But this time, she aided with Applejack's indecision by placing her free foreleg on top of Applejack's crown and pushing her head down between her open legs.

"Wheeeeee!" Pinkie laughed, inhaling sharply. Strangely, a soft moan emanated from her lips, her hoof switching to the other to take over duties while the first one got a little rest.

It was all because Applejack was now half-kneeled, having stumbled awkwardly from the push, and had a quivering jaw rattling around while this sight unfolded before her eyes. It was a front-row seat to a first-class performance, and Applejack could see, hear, and smell everything.

Wetness was the sound. A lot of sliding and sticky smacking. It wasn't normal. That much, she knew. And there was a sweet – nay, delicious – smell coming from deep within. Already, small traces of what looked like milk or thick cream started building up around the workings, being spread all over like Pinkie was buttering a piece of toast.

Pinkie's hoof finally moved upward to a specific spot that didn't obstruct the rest of Applejack's view, and focused on bringing it home. Applejack, in turn, wished she were home, still in bed… enjoying her day off…

Oh wait, she was at home, wasn't she?

It was just frightening. She couldn't explain why. She didn't want to try. But being so close was terrifying her.

She gasped, her eyes growing wide and her haunches flexed in response to a sound. It was a sound of humming, but like how one would do at the end of a great chug of that soda you always loved, or a creamy mouthful of cheesecake.

"Mmmmmmmmmm!" Pinkie hummed, and from a dark recess that should not contain anything remotely near custard, came a spurt, a blob, a mass, a congealment of white sticky cream, cannoning out from within and hitting Applejack square in the face.

She reared back, falling squarely on her flank, trying to decipher what had just happened. Traces of the liquid continued to pour out, in smaller spurts, dribbling in chunks to the floor and all over the seat.

And running down Applejack's entire body was a layer of fresh, silvery goo, as creamy and bouncy as any master chef could make it. It was even already cold; there was a pleasant temperature about it, and it was not uncomfortable.

At least, not uncomfortable unless your brain decided to realise what it was.

"Bu… buh… buh…" Applejack burbled, the custard dripping off stray hairs and down her chest. There was an insanely large amount of it too. A day's supply, just from that.

"Yearrrrgghh!" she yelled, suddenly, scrabbling to scrape off as much of it as possible, but only made it worse by spreading it around. It got in her nose and mouth, and she ended up choking, since screaming while eating is never a good idea.

Pinkie just burst out laughing, even more squirting out of her each time she gave a 'ha ha ha' to the scene.

"Ahhhhhhhhhhh!" Applejack continued. She was just about to cry.

"Don't worry! Don't worry!" Pinkie chanted. "That's what happens! I'm sorry, you got it all over you, but it's alright! Don't worry!"

"Oh Celestia! I… I can't do this!" Applejack lamented. "I can't do this!"

"Sure you can! It's easy, isn't it?" Pinkie chimed in.

"What? Are ya crazy, Pinkie? Look at me!"

Pinkie did, and Pinkie couldn't help but snigger. Context aside, it looked as though Applejack had come into an accident at a sweets factory, and that was all it was.

The mound of custard gathering under Pinkie's flank in a small mountain was growing as it continued to trickle out sporadically.

"You know, you're just afraid. I mean, I understand! There's a lot of weird things going around, and all this custard isn't helping! But I remember a long time ago, I sang a song about this, about giggling or something, I can't remember! Anyway it doesn't matter! What matters is just laugh at it, Applejack! And all your troubles will disappear!"

"If I laugh will you go away?" Applejack blurted out.

"Hahaha!" Pinkie cried out. Inadvertent jokes were sometimes the best.

Applejack too… the corners of her mouth edged upward ever so slightly. Guiltily, as if smiling at the ridiculousness of it all would be a sin. But it crept in, and the smile felt good. It felt comforting and warm. But it wavered. By no means was it a cure-all, and while it bolstered confidence, she was still incredibly nervous.

"Applejack! Come on, take over!" Pinkie encouraged, pointing to herself.

"Take… take over?"

"Yeah! I can go one more time! Just one! Come on, just… you know, put your hoof on me. Pretend I'm an apple tree if it helps! I can try to pretend to be a tree!"

"Y…yeah," Applejack said, half-listening to the one on the couch. The first collection had failed, and the trough remained fairly empty. Most of it was on Applejack herself. But this time she circled round a bit to the side, eager not to get a face full of it again, and bit her lower lip.

"Come on, come on!" Pinkie nodded.

"I… I…"

"Yeah! That's the way," Pinkie yelled.

"I haven't done anythin' yet!" Applejack cried.

"Oh yeah, but you're so cute when you're nervous. Normally you're always so confident and strong, you know? Out there in public, you always have everything under control! This is a whole other side of you, Applejack! And it's kinda workin' for me!"

"W… you're getting' off on me bein' this scared?"

"Yeah! Now touch me!"

"Yearrrgh!" Applejack roared suddenly, her subconscious brain listening to that sudden command. Her shaking hoof shot out, plunging straight for the prize. It stuck there, to the outside of it, the feeling of it under her hoof slowly penetrating her mind. It was… Pinkie Pie. It was her, all of her, and she had her hoof right on top of it.

Applejack's mind buzzed.

Slowly, she retracted her leg, strands of sticky pudding-like tendrils connecting their two bodies like webs. Her body heat had livened things up a little, and the custard around that area was just that much more glutinous.

"No, go on!" Pinkie said again, looking down.

Applejack closed the gap again, those strands rejoining the viscous pool underneath her hoof. But now the touch was far gentler, no longer the vapid punch she had given earlier.

"Now, move," instructed Pinkie, Applejack's brain unable to think for itself.

And she did. She moved. Firstly, slow draws in a circle, around and around, a child playing around a tree stump. And then more still, a scratching motion, a pulling down, the stickiness created by the sugar helping with the friction.

And together they played, child and stump, until Pinkie, who had been mysterious quiet for nearly three minutes now, let out a sharp gasp and her legs closed ever so slightly.

"No! More!" Pinkie yelled, stopping Applejack suddenly. "No! No! More!"

"Wh…more?"

"Your mouth! Use your mouth! Oh, go on! How about your mouth?" Pinkie danced. "Try it! Try it! Do it!"

Applejack merely shook her head. No. No way. That was… just… I mean… what was she asking her to do?

"Mrfhghhghffff!" She yelled, muffled, as Pinkie once again pulled her into that horrible, personal spot, but this time made her face make contact. She clamped her lips together, her eyes blowing up wide, refusing to let any of it touch the inside of her mouth. Her frantic and panicked breathing blew air out the side of her cheeks, and a rather odd tuba-like noise started playing from Pinkie's groin.

"Hehehehehe!" Pinkie giggled. "I didn't know you were a musician, Applejack!"

She, holding Applejack's head tightly in her hooves, started to rub herself up and down with it, slender pieces of wet flesh grinding themselves against Applejack's resistant face. Across her cheek, over her mouth and nose, it felt like a clam was trying to attach itself to her head.

Her head shrank into a tiny ball. It felt dehydrated, painful. Sharp knives working on it as she lost the will to even fight this. All she could do is stop thinking and retreat inwards as… as this violation continued.

She should have said no. She should have. I mean, she did want to help, but not at this cost. It was so horrifying. It was so wrong. Her eyes started to flick around, pulled up and down by the fierce grinding that Pinkie was giving her. And all the while, that eerie, innocent giggling echoed in her ears. She could cry. She should.

"Look at me," Pinkie asked, panting like a dog in heat. She was on the verge, on the cusp. This violent side of Pinkie who was revelling in her friend's misery. This side of her that was always hidden by a layer of playfulness and fun. She was ready, but she needed one more thing. "Look at me!"

Applejack turned her head upward, craning her neck, her eyes full of tears and that sticky fluid smeared all over her face and hair. And when the tension broke, two solitary tears rolled down each of her cheeks.

And Pinkie smiled. A smile so wide and with eyes so focused that she looked almost insane. And that image, of the pony between her legs, all her shame and all her fear, finally gave Pinkie what she needed.

"Mmmmmmmmmm!" she hummed again, ragged voice sounding out like sandpaper. Squeezing muscles and tightening bones meant that Applejack knew this time around what would happen, but in her frenzy and half-hypnotized state she didn't back away.

The second time was much stronger than the first. Astonishingly, even more came pouring out, but Applejack's face was as a stopper on the end of a hose, and custard shot out from the sides, squirting everywhere.

The floors, the rafters, even Pinkie herself had a jet of custard crawling across her torso in a line. Applejack's mouth filled up from the force, a bit of it squirting out from her nose, and left her falling backwards again, choking, coughing, gagging, wheezing, crying and shuddering.

Pinkie arched her back, laughing inanely and huffing all the way, a constant, steady stream of the yellow offerings funnelling neatly into the trough. It was messy, uneven, but Pinkie reached down and helped herself apart, and the stream soon became one unified, unbroken custardy jet.

Like a play-fountain, it started and stopped with each tightening of Pinkie, the custard welling up at the bottom of the metal container. Applejack stared up at the ceiling. Her head felt dizzy. Her mind was numb. This was insane. This was destructively insane.

Where had it all gone wrong? What kind of nightmare am I in? How does so much come from a pony so tiny?

All those ran through Applejack's head, as she felt her hold on reality slip away.

Enough was enough.

A bubbly metal tub full of leakage.

A friend who had a curse, more than a spell, placed on her.

What was she doing?

"Applejack," a voice said, calmly, and happily. It sounded tired, but still confident. It sounded blissful, but still focused. "Hey, Applejack."

"Y…yeah, Mac?" Applejack said.

"No, silly! It's Pinkie!"

She turned her head to the side, staring upward at the pony who had hopped off the ruined lounger and made her way beside her.

"Oh, hi, Pinkie," Applejack said, dream-like. There were only a few things she could focus on right now, and she just picked the one that was right next to her. It helped her to focus on something other than the absolute terror that she was just put through. And as she stared, she realised the trough, even after all that, was only half-full. "I'm sorry, sugar. Guh…guess it was all for nothin', after… after all."

"It's okay," Pinkie bubbled, stepping through the layer on the floor, the custard clinging to her hooves. "I know this must have been a lot for you."

"Y…y'all have no idea," wheezed the farmer. "This… sure ain't… like apple buckin'."

"I'm sorry," Pinkie actually apologized. "That must have been weeeeeeeird for you!"

"It… it was," she intoned.

"Don't worry, its over!" Pinkie giggled. "You did great! I managed to make so much, more than I've ever done before! So don't worry, alright? It's over!"

"It… it is?" Applejack's eyes moved again, looking at Pinkie's face. It was almost a cry, a beg for it to be true.

"Yeppie!" Pinkie nodded, reaching out a pair of hooves to pull Applejack back up onto her feet. "I mean, I know that must have been hard for you, and I really am grateful. So… I guess I just wanna return the favour now!"

"What… how'dya mean?" Applejack asked, gathering herself and perching on the edge of the trough. Strips of the thick liquid still peeled off her hair and her body. Her mane was coated through, and her skin felt clammy and ragged.

"Well… just hold on a minute!"

"Wh..whut?" Applejack asked, leaning a leg over the side of the trough. She was too tired to stand, too tired to think. She didn't even know why she felt this exhausted, but she did, and her head bowed down and she closed her eyes.

The last thing she saw was Pinkie moving away from her, but it was only when Pinkie returned that she reeled in shock.

She had planted her mouth, full and rich and flavourful, on her own, and gently pressed forward with a deep, fulfilling kiss. Applejack's eyes couldn't remain open through that, and she felt a sweetness rush into her mouth and trickle down her throat. It was comforting and warm and wonderful, and the sensation of that was something she never anticipated. It was… actually, it was rather nice.

She just wished it didn't have to happen after what she went through. She wished it didn't have to happen while they were both sitting on the edge of a pond of Pinkie's leavings. She wondered why she didn't start with this. It would have been so much better.

They broke.

"Buh," Applejack said, summing up every emotion she had right now.

"Right?" Pinkie smiled. "Didja like that?"

In Applejack's mind, something clicked. In her broken head, and shattered psyche, something emerged.

Instinct took over, and Applejack shot forward, hungry but not lustful, wanting, but not greedy. She wrapped herself around her companion, who returned the hug in full, and as they both struggled to get to a place more comfortable, they fell into the trough, custard erupting over the sides and covering their entire bodies.

But Applejack didn't care. For all that she went through, all the things she'd just seen, her body and mind both cried for something comforting and something relieving. All she wanted was to know that it was alright. All she wanted was to know that everything didn't have to be horrible. And for just that moment, her thoughts switched off, and her body selfishly decided that she was going to allow herself to let this moment be all hers.

"By the way," Pinkie Pie whispered, right into Applejack's ear. "I lied."

"Whut?" Applejack's eyes expanded, her expression going dead as she sank into the yellow bath. "Wh…what?"

"I love that face!" Pinkie screamed, plunging her legs up to the elbows into the bath as she held Applejack down. "I'm sorry, I said we're done but we're not! It was a just a little white lie. I just needed to slip something into you!"

Pinkie licked her lips, and Applejack's faint traces of joy were obliterated. Once again, everything closed in. She felt creeping darkness appear in the borders of her eyes, and felt her field of view freeze on Pinkie's smiling mug.

"Well, the happier you feel, the more'll come out!" giggled Pinkie, pinning Applejack down in the sludge, as the orange pony's pupils contracted to pricks. "And believe me, I'm gonna make you feel goooooooooood~"

–––

"This is simply amazing, darling!" Rarity chittered, licking her spoon clean. "I am adoring this new flavour! How did you come up with this?"

"Well! I had a big order yesterday, and I made waaaay too much! Had a little left over, so I decided to sell it!" Pinkie explained, while carrying a tray of the one-day-only Crème brulee specials to another table of hungry ponies.

"This is really, really good. Why aren't you having any, Applejack?" Twilight asked.

She sat there, like a porcelain doll, unmoving, unblinking. Her eyes dried out but yet, not bothered. A faint smile was on her face, but it seemed as though it were painted on.

"I… I just don't want any," Applejack said slowly, robotically.

"Well, more for me then!" Rainbow cried, stealing Applejack's bowl.

"There's a certain something in it," Fluttershy muttered, licking hers like an icicle. "I can't really put my hoof on it, but it tastes great."

"Oh! It's got a very special ingredient!" Pinkie said, returning to her friend's table with an empty tray, hovering over Applejack's shoulder and giving her a soft pat on the back.

"You know, if I didn't know better…" Twilight declared, musingly.

Applejack stared straight off into the far end of the room, that faint smile twitching at what Twilight said next.

"… I swear I can taste the faint hint of apples somewhere!"

The End