Author's Note

!!!!!! Warning !!!!!! Warning !!!!!!

The following story contains Incestuous scenes involving a mother and her son. Specifically, the sexual encounter is detailed in the chapter "A Mother's Love" which you can skip if you wish to avoid direct reference to that, however, there is emotional (non-physical) incest throughout the story, so if this isn't something you can handle you should stop reading now. You have been warned.

!!!!!! END OF WARNING !!!!!!

For those of you who've come further to take this journey with me; I thank you for reading and hope you enjoy every moment. I appreciate any comments and ratings that you'd like to provide and thank you all in advance for your support of this website and all its great authors.

Arillia Lightheart

Twister Darling's Introduction

My name is Twister Darling. I’m an earth pony who came to live in Ponyville a good many years ago. I was fourteen, young and silly with thoughts of meeting and marrying one of the handsome royal alicorns, or even becoming friends with one of the fine court ponies and landing one of the coveted positions serving the princes and princesses in the castle. My family… we weren’t the kind of ponies that anypony would write stories about or even think to include in important matters. We were the ponies who stood in the background of everyday life all over Equestria, doing our best to make ends meet and to find a life of meaning for ourselves.

When I met Storm Break, my pegasus; he was as good as any royal to me. We fell in love almost the moment we met. That blustery August twilight when I’d been walking back to the RV with bags of groceries and the wind had caught hold of my only good scarf and set it tumbling through the air, only to be grabbed up in a flash of dark fur and feathers as he darted in and snatched it from the air even before it could hit the ground and become sodden. He had the mark of a passing storm with a rising sun behind it on his dark gray flank that was almost black unless it was caught in the midday light. I can still recall how his dark purple mane caught and danced around him on the wind as he folded his magnificent wings and came down to land beside me. His lavender eyes met mine and a tingle of warmth spread into me from where his hoof touched me as he wrapped that scarf back around my neck.

From that moment, we were almost always together. I’d hated living in the RV with father, stepmother, and two stepbrothers. My older sister had been gone for a couple of years by then, and I hadn’t heard from her at all in that time. That was why I began spending all my time at Storm’s little apartment even while he spent a good deal of his time soaring up to meet the violent storms that came down from Mount Everhoof to threaten Ponyville and its surroundings. This was his calling, his first and truest love, and it was also the thing that took him away from me just before my seventeenth birthday, while I was still heavy with foal and the wedding that we’d planned was still weeks away.

I’m not ready to write that part yet. But the fact is that the loss of Storm Break and his parents has little role to play in the rest of the story, except that its result was that I was left on my own in the aftermath. My family had moved on almost a year before, my father having to move constantly from place to place for his job and my stepmother and siblings having little desire to make their own way by up and leaving the way I did. One day I’d gone to deliver the groceries I brought for them every week when I got paid for my little part-time job and found their spot empty save for a few scraps of discarded trash. I can’t remember what job father had anymore. I know that seems strange, but so many years have flowed past like water through the floodgates of a dam. Some things just weren't important enough for me to hold tight to the memories. What it was that kept him constantly moving from town to town in that old RV has long fled, leaving behind only cobwebs and perhaps a little long held resentment.

After I’d born my son, and buried my pegasus and his folks, I went to live on the farm Storm’s parents had owned. Since I knew nothing about farming, I had to look for other work and because I had no skills or experience to speak of I took what I could get, working odd farm jobs for a while, before getting hired as a waitress and short order cook at The Hayloft Diner in Mustang, a small town about an hour southwest of Ponyville and just fifteen minutes by truck from my farm. But I didn’t have a truck back then, so I had to trot, which kept me in shape but took a good bit longer. Mustang was about as country as that word could imply. There was The Hayloft, a hardware store, and a used car dealer with only three used vehicles on the lot on any given day, all on one side of the main street, while the other side held the service station, the Piggly-wiggly, and the farmer’s market, which filled up with farmer’s and tourists most afternoons and weekends during the summer.

But this story isn’t about me, or not really. It’s about the greatest love of my whole life, Stormfeather, my son. He was born, as was proper for a pegasus of his father’s lineage, during the worst summer storm that I can remember. His coat is dark gray, like his father’s, but his mane and tail are golden like mine, and his eyes are a sparkling amethyst that glitter with a special light when there's lightning on the horizon. He has a broad muzzle that’s a bit longer than usual. His chest is broad, and his wingspan is wider than the usual pegasus, though that’s because he’s also more heavily muscled across his chest, legs, and back, having inherited my earth pony build more so than his father’s lighter pegasus frame. The cutie mark is a shooting star.

Stormy was a wonderful foal. We worked together in our little garden out behind the house and we always got a little spot at the farmer’s market in town during summer weekends when the tourists were through the most. He was smart too; way smarter than I ever was. It was this realization, as he grew older and smarter, that eventually led me to realize that I just couldn’t provide him with the kinds of opportunities that he deserved. That’s why, when the invitation came just after he’d turned twelve, I decided to send him away. I loved him more than anything, but he’d progressed beyond my ability to teach, and the scholarship to the Wonderbolt Academy, one of the finest academies in Cloudsdale; was too good an opportunity for me to hold him back just because I’d miss him.

Putting him on that bus was the hardest thing that I’d ever had to do. He’d cried, one of the first time’s I’d ever seen him cry that I simply couldn’t sooth away the hurt, and I wanted nothing more than to wrap him up in the quilt that I’d made for him and carry him home where we’d never have to be apart. But I couldn’t deny him the chance to show everyone else in Equestria what I already knew; that he was something special. And he was special, but not as a pegasus.

A mother’s love and the rose-colored lenses that I wore weren’t shared by the rest of Equestria, and it turned out that Stormfeather had too much earth pony in his blood, from my side, to be an exceptional flier like his father. He could make long lazy flights but he couldn’t battle storms the way his father had, and so he never made much of an impact at the academy, and after graduating he ended up living much as my father had, bouncing from place to place, always in the background to the lives of more important ponies that were always grabbing headlines and making waves. He rubbed shoulders with royal guards, spoke to princesses and their friends, but he was never more than a side note in any of those stories.

We hadn’t seen each other in years by the time circumstance, or destiny, or just coincidence, brought us back together. I’d lived alone on the farm ever since Stormy rode away on that bus, never having much use for stallions after Stormy’s father passed. I had the occasional summer fling here and there. Choosing a customer from the diner, or a young farmpony who’d come to the market to sell their families produce, but these never went beyond meaningless dalliances. This meant that I had nobody around to help me when the front section of the porch that went around the entire exterior of the old farmhouse, collapsed under the combined weight of a late winter ice-storm and a slightly plump pony lady.

My rear left leg snapped in at least two places as I fell atop it while boards splintered and fell to the ground around me. I crawled out. It took what seemed like days but turned out to have been only a couple of hours after the collapse. The rural post pony delivery driver had spotted me lying, half-conscious, in the drive where I’d finally passed out from the pain as I was trying to reach the road where some passerby might spot me.

I spent the next couple of days in the Ponyville General Hospital, my leg first set and splinted by a doctor and then wrapped in a plaster cast that went all the way up to mid-thigh.

It was there, in room twenty-two where this story really begins.