Author's Note

Chapter contains: Human/Humanized, Incest, Unrealistic Anatomy, Voyeurism, Solo Female

Desire

I couldn’t remember when I had first become attracted to my big sister, but as I stood there, watching her straw-colored hair blowing in the breeze underneath her old cowboy hat, I couldn’t imagine not feeling the way I felt about her. I watched her move, her boot-clad feet taking heavy steps across the soft grass of the orchard. Her legs, large and muscular from years of farm labor, were squeezed into a pair of worn, faded jeans that gripped them tightly as they stretched and flexed. Her large, muscular butt cheeks looked rock-hard as she bent to pick up a basket of apples, though I had never been lucky enough to confirm that firsthand. A toned stomach bridged the gap between her wide hips and her chest, which boasted a pair of large, teardrop-shaped breasts hugged tightly by a button-up shirt. Despite being covered in sweat, her face was still the most beautiful I had ever seen, with its grassy green eyes and the smattering of freckles underneath them.

I must have gotten a bit distracted watching her, because the next thing I knew, I was being summoned back to reality by the voice of the woman I had just been admiring. “Anon!” said Applejack in an aggravated tone.

“What?” I said, snapping out of my reverie and moving my gaze up to her eyes, which were scrunched into a familiar “ya dun goofed” expression.

“It ain’t quittin’ time yet, lazybones,” she said. “Stop standin’ around and get your butt back in gear!”

“Yes, ma’am,” I said sarcastically, tearing my gaze away from her and back to what I was supposed to be doing. I turned around and picked up the basket at my feet, which was heavy with fruit. I carried the basket over to the cart sitting nearby, which already had several baskets loaded on it. I walked back to the trees, where I continued helping Applejack load the baskets we had spent a good while filling up. As I worked, I tried to sneak some more glances at Applejack when I could, but had to be subtle about it. After what felt like forever, we finally got the last basket loaded up and were ready to head back in.

I walked around to the front of the cart and lifted it by the handles, shifting its weight back onto its two wheels. With a mighty heave, I pulled the cart forward and got it moving. We walked back to the barn along one of the many dirt paths that weaved their way through the hills and slopes of Sweet Apple Acres. Lucky for me, Applejack walked in front of me as we went, giving me ample opportunity to observe her ample assets. I watched her butt cheeks rhythmically pump up and down with every step she took, with only the slightest hint of jiggle to them.

Applejack lifted her arms into the air, stretching out the tired limbs. “Another day, another bit,” she said happily, rolling her shoulders and stretching her neck in turn. “Although, we’ll probably be makin’ quite a few bits once we get this load to market.”

“Yeah,” I said in an absentminded monotone, still mesmerized by my sister’s body.

“The way things are goin’, I reckon this is gonna be a great year for the Apple family,” she said.

“Yeah,” I said again.

“Hey, you took care of that hole in the chicken coop this morning, didn’t you?” she asked.

“Yeah,” I said.

“Good. We wouldn’t want them gettin’ out in the middle of the night. Or worse, somethin’ else gettin’ in,” she said.

“Yeah,” I said.

Applejack looked over her shoulder at me, but I was too distracted to notice. “Anon?” she said.

“Yeah,” I said as flatly as before.

“What’s goin’ on?” she asked in a concerned tone.

“Yeah,” I said yet again.

Applejack stopped walking and turned around to face me, breaking my line of sight to her butt. With her hypnotic posterior out of sight, I finally came back to my senses, just in time to realize that she had stopped short in front of me. With a grunt, I managed to bring the cart to a stop just before I slammed into her. She didn’t even flinch; she just stood there, arms crossed under her massive bust, staring at me with those eagle eyes of hers. I stood there, frozen and eyes wide, silently cursing myself for my lack of self-control.

“Y’know, you’ve been actin’ mighty peculiar today,” she said in a suspicious tone.

“W-What are you talkin’ about?” I said, trying to act natural.

“You’ve been slackin’ off all day, starin’ off into space and not payin’ attention to what you’re doin’,” she said. “And now that I think about it, your face is redder than a prize-winnin’ apple on fair day.”

“Oh?” I said casually, despite my rapidly increasing fear.

“Yeah,” she said. “You’re not comin’ down with somethin’ are you? If you go gettin’ sick, then there’s no way we’re finishin’ the harvest on time.” She stepped forward, bringing her arms up and placing her hands on my shoulders.

“What are you—” I began, but stopped short when Applejack quickly leaned her head in and gently pressed her forehead against mine.

My mind went blank as I struggled to process what was happening. Being slightly shorter, she had stood up on her tiptoes to get at eye-level with me. Her eyes were closed, and the tip of her adorable freckled nose was pressed up against mine. Her thick, slightly-chapped lips hovered mere inches away from my own. Her large, soft breasts were pressed up against my chest, a visible valley of cleavage peeking out of her shirt. As I watched, a drop of sweat rolled down her cheek, over her jawline, down her neck, and vanished in between the two mountains of feminine flesh.

As I breathed in, I could smell her scent. I could detect the smell of sweat and dirt, with a dash of straw and leather. But after a moment, I realized that there was something else mixed in as well: the vary faint, but unmistakable aroma of apples. The overall effect was overwhelming. Despite the state she was in, despite the situation, and despite the nature of our relationship, my sister was undeniably the sexiest woman I had ever laid eyes on. Part of my brain was desperately urging me to reach out, wrap my arms around her, and press my lips against hers; it took every ounce of my willpower to keep myself from doing so.

Hours of mental buildup watching her beautiful body bend, twist, and stretch, culminating in such close, intimate contact between us was quickly getting the attention of Anon Jr. I started to panic as I felt my pants grow tighter around the crotch region. Considering that our hips were only inches away from each other, the prospect of getting a boner at that moment was one which I very much wanted to avoid. I tried to empty my mind of any thoughts related to the gorgeous woman pressing her body up against mine. I tried thinking of something boring and mundane, like the chickens whose coop I had fixed earlier. Unfortunately, the thought of chickens led my train of thought to roosters, which then led it to my excitable friend who lived in my underwear, and then to some of the things I had imagined using him for while I was alone in my bedroom at night.

The entire moment probably only lasted a few seconds, but to my frazzled brain, it felt like hours. Eventually, Applejack pulled back her head, let go of me, and stepped back. Her big, beautiful eyes opened as her face contorted into a puzzled expression. “Well, you don’t seem to have a fever,” she said. “Maybe you’re just tired. You go to bed on time tonight and get plenty of rest, you hear?”

“Uh, yeah. Yeah, I sure will,” I said, grateful that the true explanation for my behavior had not been discovered.

Applejack turned back around and we resumed our journey back home. On the way, I managed to force myself to pay attention to my surroundings, so that I wouldn’t invite any more awkward scrutiny. We made it back to the barn without further incident, either mundane or intimate. We parked the cart inside for the night, then closed up the barn doors. I looked over at the horizon and watched as the sun slowly lowered out of the sky, courtesy of Princess Celestia. As the last gentle rays of sunlight began to fade away, Applejack and I walked around the building to the front door of the farmhouse.

As we entered, I felt the warm air of our family home wash over me, driving out the evening chill. I could smell the scent of a delicious homecooked meal wafting from the kitchen nearby. Applejack walked over to the boot jack laying near the door and deftly removed her tall cowboy boots. I bent to untie my own, steel-toed work boots while watching her in my peripheral vision. She slid the boots off one by one, revealing the worn, raggedy socks underneath. A large hole in the sole of one of them gave me a glimpse at the pale-pink skin underneath. The smell of her sweaty feet began to fill the room.

“Applejack, Anon, is that you?” said a familiar voice from the kitchen. “Come and wash up. Dinner’s almost ready.”

“Comin’, Mama,” replied Applejack.

When we had both finished removing our shoes, I followed Applejack into the kitchen. The cozy room was even warmer than the rest of the house, the air wrapping around me like a warm blanket. I could detect the smell of roast chicken emanating from the oven, and could see bowls of mashed potatoes and green beans sitting on the counter. On the other side of the room, the rectangular kitchen table was set with five place settings, two on each side, and one at the far end; the head of the table was empty, as always. Dozing in her chair to the left of the empty seat was Granny Smith, snoring loudly.

Standing in front of the stove, bending down to inspect its contents, was my mother, Buttercup. She was widely considered to be one of the most beautiful women in town, although no one had ever made her privy to that fact. While I would have reserved the position of “most beautiful” for a certain other member of my family, I could not deny that she was definitely a contender for second place. She was in her early forties, but years of farm work and healthy living had given her the appearance of a woman five to ten years younger than she was. I stood there for a moment, appreciating the body that the universe had seen fit to grace her with.

Her medium-sized feet were bare, letting me see their soft, smooth curves and the unpainted toenails at the ends of her adorable toes. Above her feet towered her large, plump legs. While thicker around than Applejack’s, Buttercup’s were not nearly as muscled, a large portion of their mass made of up of soft, doughy flesh that jiggled noticeably every time they moved. About midway up her thighs was the bottom of the pale orange sundress that clung to her body closely, giving an excellent view of her curves. Her legs terminated in impressively wide hips, almost twice as large as your own, which screamed “fertility” to anyone who saw them.

As she bent down to remove the roast chicken from the oven, I got a stunning view of her most awe-inspiring physical feature: her huge, plump butt. I had seen firsthand the stares of men, and even some women, as she went walking through town, her butt jiggling like gelatin with every step. Several hundred bits worth of property damage and at least one major injury had been positively attributed to that distracting pair of cheeks. While Applejack’s butt was massive in its own right, when compared to Buttercup’s, it looked positively average. There were few women in town whose derrieres even came close to rivaling hers, such as Mrs. Cake the baker, or Applejack’s friend Pinkie Pie. Her dress hugged those massive mounds of soft flesh tightly, making them look like two, giant pillows.

Buttercup pulled the chicken out of the oven and rose, placing it on the stovetop; she turned around to look at me and Applejack. Above her wide hips, I could now see her suitably wide waist and stomach. While no one in their right mind would have called it “fat”, her stomach was not quite as flat as Applejack’s, having an appealing feminine chubbiness to it. Hanging above her stomach were the other two mounds of flesh that had made her famous around town: her massive breasts. They were a few cup sizes larger than even Applejack’s sizable breasts; they were the breasts of a woman who had given birth to three children and had never prepared a bottle of formula in her life. They were larger than those of almost every other woman in town, with only a few beating her out, such as Applejack’s friend Fluttershy. The large breasts clung to her chest, her heavy-duty bra doing its part to keep them in check.

I looked up at her sweet face with its delicate features. Her skin was smooth, its only blemish being the tiny wrinkles at the corners of her eyes. Her eyes, speaking of which, were blueish-green, and lit up like a candle as she looked at me. I had many childhood memories of those eyes looking at me, overflowing with love and care, her gaze comforting me when I needed it most. Like Applejack, she had a smattering of freckles under her eyes and on her cute little nose. Her face was framed by heaps of orange curls, which flowed down past her shoulders before being tied off in a ponytail at her back.

Buttercup’s plump, feminine lips stretched into a smile. “You hungry?” she asked me.

“As a horse,” I replied.

“Alright, then,” she said happily. “Wash your hands and have a seat. We’re almost ready.”

I did as I was told, walking over to the kitchen sink where Applejack was finishing up washing her own hands. When she was done, she moved out of the way and let me take my turn. I rinsed, lathered, and repeated, taking extra care to scrub the dirt from under my fingernails, knowing Applejack would send me back to do it if I forgot. When my hands were about as clean as I could reasonably get them, I turned off the water and dried them using the hand towel hanging nearby. I then joined Applejack at the dinner table; she sat to the right of the empty seat, with me sitting to her right.

“Were you two able to bring in today’s batch alright?” Buttercup asked us both.

“Yep!” Applejack replied. “Got ‘em all in the barn, ready for packin’.”

“Good,” said Buttercup. “I’m sorry again for leavin’ you two out there alone. I told Cookie Crumbles I was busy this week, but of course, she invites me to the spa anyway. Normally, I wouldn’t have even considered it, but she was just so persistent. I love that woman to pieces, but I swear...”

“Hey, don’t worry about it, mom,” I said. “Like I said before: you deserve to relax and spend some time with your friends every now and then, what with everythin’ you do around here.”

Buttercup turned away from the stove for a moment and looked at me. “Thanks, Anon,” she said, smiling at me. “You’re a real sweetheart, you know that?”

“I learned from the best,” I said.

Buttercup chuckled softly and turned back to the stove. “Applejack, would you be a dear and call your sister down?” she said.

“Sure thing,” said Applejack, rising from her seat and walking out of the kitchen. A few seconds later, I heard her voice echoing through the house. “Apple Bloom! It’s supper time; get down here!”

From upstairs, I heard Apple Bloom reply. “Alright, I’ll be down in a second,” she said. Applejack walked back into the kitchen and sat back down at her spot next to me. A few moments later, I heard a door open upstairs, followed by the sound of footsteps as someone walked down the hall, down the wooden stairs, and through the living room. As I watched, the figure of my younger sister, Apple Bloom, appeared in the doorway of the kitchen.

Her petite, girlish feet took light steps across the kitchen, showing off her cute little toes with apple-red-painted nails and her gold toe ring. Her long, slender legs carried her over to the refrigerator, which she opened. Her years on the farm had not made them nearly as muscular as Applejack’s, but not as plump either. They were still stronger than those of most young women her age, but maintained a girlish slenderness that made her the envy of many of her peers. She bent down to reach for a soda at the back of the fridge, giving me an excellent view of her posterior.

Apple Bloom had been gifted with wide hips like her sister, but not nearly to the same extent. They were still impressive for a teenage girl, especially one who had never had children, and gave her a noticeable thigh gap. She had a decently-sized bubble butt, the round cheeks being large enough to give her a presence, but small and shapely enough not to distract from the rest of her figure. Her hips and butt were squeezed into a pair of denim short-shorts so small that a tiny bit of her cheeks was visible at the bottom even when she wasn’t bending over. The two back pockets had rhinestone apples emblazoned on them.

Retrieving her beverage, Apple Bloom stood back up and closed the fridge, turning around. Above her hips, a smooth, shapely stomach was visible, with a piercing in the belly button. Her slim waist curved significantly inward from her hips, giving her a feminine, hourglass figure. On her chest hung a pair of above-average-sized breasts, large enough to make for a good handful, but small enough to keep her from looking top-heavy. The round, perky breasts were squeezed inside of a tight yellow crop top t-shirt, with the word “Juicy” written on the front in flowing script.

Apple Bloom’s face was fair and well-shaped, puberty having given it an air of feminine maturity, while letting it keep a hint of girlish youth. Her beautiful orange eyes were framed by a heavy amount of eyeshadow and eyelashes smeared with a generous helping of mascara. Despite her skin being smooth and flawless, a thick layer of makeup coated her cheeks, giving them an artificial rosy hue. Beneath her small, cute nose was a pair of thick lips coated with apple-red lip gloss; in her ears was a pair of small, apple-shaped ear studs. Her long, red hair was unadorned, her signature red bow having been discarded years ago.

Altogether, Apple Bloom had the sort of body that, in any other household in the country, would have been considered stunningly attractive and undeniably feminine. However, in that particular household, in that particular room, standing in the presence of her ridiculously well-endowed mother and sister, she looked significantly less impressive than she would have otherwise. As I watched her crack the seal of the soda in her hand and raise it to her lips, my focus was not actually on her body itself, but the clothes and accessories adorning it. The combination of revealing clothing, heavy makeup, and body jewelry made her look like the sort of woman you probably wouldn’t want to bring home to meet your parents. Consequently, it was no surprise to me when I saw Applejack’s reaction to the display.

When Applejack caught sight of Apple Bloom, her eyes went wide and her mouth hung agape. She tried to form a sentence, but was initially unsuccessful, only managing to stammer out a few words at a time before starting over. Eventually, her apparent anger overcame her shock, allowing her to exclaim, “What in blue blazes are you wearin’, young lady?”

Apple Bloom lowered the soda from her lips, giving Applejack a sly smile. “Relax, AJ,” she said casually. “This is how all the girls at school dress.”

“I don’t give a hoot what the little harlots at your school are wearin’!” Applejack said. “And when the hay did you get your belly button pierced? Does mom know about this?”

“Calm down, it’s just a clip-on,” said Apple Bloom, demonstrating her ability to easily remove the piece of jewelry. “Sweetie Belle lent it to me. Isn’t it cute?”

Applejack shook her head in disbelief. “Oh, there is no way you’re leavin’ the house lookin’ like that!” she said.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Apple Bloom said sarcastically. “Am I too pretty for your tastes? Maybe I should go put on some dirty jeans and dusty ol’ cowboy boots, then I’ll look as ugly as you do!”

“You got somethin’ to say about my boots, girlie?” said Applejack, swiftly rising from her seat.

“Girls, stop it! Both of you!” said Buttercup loudly, whacking the wooden spoon in her hand on the counter and whipping around to face them.

Apple Bloom and Applejack both looked down out of shame. “Yes, Mama,” they said together.

“Now, we’re all gonna sit down and have a nice supper together,” Buttercup said sternly, but in a more normal volume. “When we’re through, then we’ll have a talk about what you’re wearin’, Apple Bloom.”

“But, Mama...” whined Apple Bloom. Buttercup shot her a look that made me shiver just seeing it secondhand. “Yes, Mama,” she said quietly.

Buttercup returned to the dinner preparations; Applejack sat back down and Apple Bloom took her seat at the table across from me. Despite Buttercup’s admonishment, the two sisters had clearly not gotten over their spat, as they continued to glare daggers at each other silently. Though not nearly as impassioned about the issue as Applejack, I also had a negative opinion of Apple Bloom’s getup. I recalled the image of the happy, adorable little girl she had been just a few short years before. But when her “edgy teenager” phase had hit, it had hit hard, robbing me of my little sister and leaving behind a snide, aggressive teen in her place.

Apple Bloom must have sensed me looking at her, as she shifted her intense gaze over in my direction. “What?” she said, quietly but harshly.

“Nothin’,” I said, looking away.

A short time later, Buttercup was finished, and carried the various bowls and platters of food over to the table. She gently roused Granny Smith from her slumber, before taking her seat next to me and Apple Bloom at the end of the table, opposite the empty seat. The five of us bowed our heads while she led us in a short grace thanking Princess Celestia for the sunlight that allowed our food to be grown. When we were done, we finally began eating, our hungry family polishing off the food in no time at all. I made sure to get my fair share of creamy potatoes, buttery biscuits, and juicy chicken breast.

As I ate, I looked around the table at all of the most important women in my life. If someone were made privy to my more private desires, they might make the assumption that my taboo feelings would be directed not only toward my big sister, but also to my mother, and perhaps my younger sister as well. While I could understand why they would think that, they would still be completely wrong. I wasn’t blind; I knew that Buttercup and Apple Bloom were both considered attractive, and I considered them both to be beautiful women in their own right. However, I had never thought of them in the same way I thought about Applejack.

I thought back to my youth, around the time my friends and I had started to take an interest in the opposite sex. I could remember them making assessments of how attractive my mother and big sister were, even going so far as to ask me if I agreed with them. I would typically respond to such comments with open disgust and a playful punch in the arm. When several years had passed, and I had started to hear such comments about my younger sister as well, the punches became significantly less playful, and I soon stopped hearing them. Of course, after making such a show of my reactions, I was never able to tell them when I eventually realized that I shared their opinions of Applejack.

When supper was over, Granny Smith headed off to bed, while Buttercup led Apple Bloom upstairs to address her outfit. Apple Bloom went without protest, knowing that continuing to fight her would only make things worse. Applejack and I were left to do the dishes; she washed and scrubbed, I rinsed and placed the dinnerware on the drying rack. “Can you believe that girl?” she said as we worked.

“What do you mean?” I replied.

“You saw the way she was dressed,” she said.

“It was a bit much,” I said. “But don’t you think you might’ve...overreacted a bit?”

“Anon,” Applejack said, pausing her scrubbing and looking up at me, “I’m her big sister. It’s my job to look after her and keep her from makin’ stupid mistakes. What do you think would happen if we let her walk around town lookin’ like that? Those darn teenage boys would be all over her like horseflies on honeysuckle. It’s hard enough keepin’ those good-for-nothin’s away from her as it is; I don’t need her rilin’ ‘em up any more than they already are. She’s an adult now; she needs to start thinkin’ about these things.

“And that goes for you too,” she said, wagging her soapy finger at me. “There’s whole bushels of women out there with morals as loose as a sidewinder’s skin on sheddin’ day. Women like that would love to get their claws on an innocent boy like you.” I managed not to laugh at the dramatic irony of the comment. “If you ever have some little tramp come up to you and try to make a move on you, you run and find me, you hear? I’ll take care of ‘em.” I might have appreciated her concern more if I didn’t know from experience that her definition of “tramp” was “any woman under thirty she wasn’t friends with (or was named ‘Rainbow Dash’)”, and her definition of “making a move” was “any conversation lasting longer than a few seconds”.

“Thanks, Applejack,” I said as sincerely as I could manage. “I can always count on you.”

We went back to the dishes, soon getting them all sparkly clean. When we were finished, Applejack left, heading upstairs to take a shower. She always got to shower first, another privilege of being the oldest child, in addition to being able to boss her younger siblings around. I stayed behind to finish the last little bit of tidying up that needed to be done, before leaving the kitchen myself. As I returned to the family room, I heard a door open upstairs and heard two sets of footsteps heading my way.

Down the stairs descended Buttercup and Apple Bloom, the latter of which was looking noticeably grumpy. Apple Bloom was wearing slightly more conservative shorts which actually covered the entirety of her butt, and did not have the garish rhinestones her other ones did. Her crop top had been exchanged for a longer t-shirt that actually covered her stomach, with the design of an apple on the front of it. Most of the makeup on her face had been removed, with only a modest amount remaining on her cheeks. She had presumably been allowed to keep her ear studs, but the rest of her body jewelry was gone.

“You two get the dishes done?” Buttercup asked me.

“Yep,” I replied.

“Good,” Buttercup said with a smile. “Now, I should be back at the usual time. I’ll drop off Apple Bloom at her slumber party on the way to bunco, so you don’t need to worry about that.”

“Mom, I don’t need you to walk me to Sweetie Belle’s,” Apple Bloom said. “I’m not a baby.”

“I’m headin’ that way already, so we might as well go together,” Buttercup said to her. “Besides, I need to make sure her mama doesn’t spend too much time gettin’ ready, or we’ll never make it to Sugar Cube Corner on time.” She walked over to the closet and retrieved her coat, which she put on over her dress, addressing me while doing so. “It’ll just be you and Applejack here till I get back. Don’t open the door for strangers, and get to bed on time. If there’s an emergency, just go and wake up your granny.”

Unlike with Applejack, Buttercup’s concern was endearing, not annoying, especially her comment about waking Granny Smith, a woman who could sleep through a hurricane, if they needed help. “Mom, don’t worry about us,” I said comfortingly. “We’ll be fine. Just go and have a fun night with your friends.”

“Oh, alright,” said Buttercup with a smile. “But you can’t blame me for worryin’ just a little. You two may be adults, but you’re still my babies.”

“You have a good time too, Apple Bloom,” I said, looking at over at her. Apple Bloom gave me an annoyed look as she put on her jacket, but said nothing.

When the two of them had finished putting on their coats and their shoes, and Apple Bloom had collected her overnight bag sitting by the door, they headed out. I stood by the door and wished them goodbye as they walked down the path from our house to the dirt road that led into town. I watched them for a little bit just to make sure they were alright, before I stepped back inside and closed the door. I walked around and turned off most of the downstairs lights, but left one on so that Buttercup wouldn’t have to fumble around in the dark when she got back later that night. That task complete, I walked upstairs, planning on heading straight to my room to rest after the hard day’s work and hearty meal I had had.

I reached the second floor and began walking down the hall to my bedroom. On the way, I saw the door to the bathroom that I shared with my siblings; only the master bedroom had its own bathroom. The door was opened a small crack, the sound of running water emanating from it. An image of Applejack in the shower popped into my mind unintentionally, instantly making my pants tighten. I shook my head to try and get the lewd thought out of my head. I resolved to quickly get to my room and scratch the itch, so that I could get a reprieve from my troublesome feelings.

As I walked past the bathroom door, I heard something that made me stop dead in my tracks. From behind the cracked door echoed the unmistakable sound of a deep, feminine moan. My mind went blank, unsure of how to respond to what it had heard; I tentatively turned my head towards the door. The first thought that popped into my head when I had mentally recovered enough was that Applejack had somehow gotten hurt. My worried brain immediately conjured up an image of her slipping and falling in the wet bathtub, injuring herself and leaving her unable to properly call for help.

I slowly approached the door, leaning my head in close to try and hear anything that I could. When a moment had passed and I had heard nothing but running water, I decided to call out to her and check if she was alright. I had opened my mouth to speak, but before I could get out the first syllable, I heard another moan, much louder than the first. I froze, realizing what I was listening to. It was not exclamations of pain I was hearing, but those of pleasure.

I had been aroused just thinking about Applejack standing under the cascade of hot water, but after hearing what I thought I had heard, my arousal increased tenfold. My heartbeat quickened and I began to breathe more heavily. I was conflicted; on the one hand, I desperately wanted to see what was happening on the other side of that door, on the other hand, I knew that doing so would be way out of line. Looking at her when she was fully clothed, or on the rare, lucky instances when I got to see her in her bathing suit, was risky enough. Spying on my sister while she bathed would be a crazy move that I could not possibly hope to explain away if I got caught.

My internal conflict was interrupted by Applejack’s voice from within. “Oh, yes,” she moaned quietly. When those words made it to my ears, my fate was sealed. My arousal spiked, overpowering any last reservations I still had about what I was about to do. Gulping heavily, I slowly kneeled down in front of the door and placed my hand on it. Steeling myself, I pushed on the wood, opening the door as gently as I possibly could so as to not make any noise. It took a long time, the tension of the situation and my burning desire making it feel like ages, but eventually, I got the door open wide enough to peek through.

I hesitated only a moment, before I cast the proverbial die and slowly leaned my head through the crack. With my limited vision, I was able to see the interior of the bathroom. It was a modest bathroom for a modest house, containing a sink built into a small counter, a mirror on the wall above it, a medicine cabinet, a toilet, and a shower at the far end. Above the tub hung a translucent plastic shower curtain, which was stretched out to its full extent. Despite the steamy air in the room fogging up the curtain, it still provided me with an excellent view of the woman standing behind it.

While I could not make out fine details, I could see the general shape and positioning of Applejack’s body, which was more than enough to make me more aroused than I could ever remember being. I visually traced her curves from her thick legs, up to her large, round butt, past her flat stomach to her giant breasts, up to her shapely neck and head. She was facing forward toward the shower head, her left hand placed on her chest and her right hand down between her legs; her head was tilted back, facing up at the ceiling. I saw her right hand rhythmically pumping away at her nethers, while her left hand massaged the mounds on her chest. All the while, she continued to vocalize, doing a poor job at keeping quiet.

I stared transfixed at the sight before me, taking in every detail, burning the image into my brain. Never in my life had I ever thought that I would get to see Applejack, the most beautiful and attractive woman I knew, in such a vulnerable and sexual situation. It was at that moment that I realized that I could never go back; I could never again be satisfied with just watching from afar. I knew what I wanted most in the whole wide world, and it was her. As I knelt there, listening to my big sister coo and moan as she touched herself, I made a silent promise. I swore to myself that I would no longer hide in the shadows, keeping my feelings a secret; I would share them with her, regardless of the consequences. She, of all people, deserved the honest truth.

Applejack walked out of the kitchen and up the stairs, the wooden steps creaking as they struggled to bare the weight of the hefty woman stepping on them. When she reached the top, she walked down the hallway, passing by Apple Bloom’s bedroom, the sound of Buttercup’s and Apple Bloom’s muffled voices coming from within. She stopped in front of the door to the bathroom and opened it, stepping inside and flicking the light switch by the door. The bathroom light turned on, illuminating the small room and its contents.

Applejack closed the door behind her and locked it, before beginning to disrobe. First came the hat, of course, reverently placed on the counter. Next, she reached up and began unbuttoning her shirt. She started with the button just below the small bit of cleavage peeking out from under the cloth, working her way down, over her breasts, across her stomach, and finishing with the button at her belt line. She reached back up and grabbed both sides of the now-separated garment and gently pulled them back, pulling the shirt down and off her arms, depositing it unceremoniously on the floor.

Now shirtless, Applejack then moved on to the off white bra still wrapped around her chest. The bra was simple, modest, and sturdy, like the woman who wore it. The cups were large, but they did not even come close to covering the huge breasts they supported. Applejack was fortunate that her mother had given her plenty of hand-me-downs over the years, so she never had to worry about having large enough bras to wear. She reached her hands behind her back and unhooked the clasp, then slid the straps off her shoulders and removed the bra from her body, dropping it on top of her shirt.

As the restrictive garment was removed and her girls were set free, Applejack breathed a sigh of relief. She paused, taking a moment to look at them in the mirror above the sink. Her breasts were pale pink, the skin slightly lighter than that covering the rest of her body. Despite each one being as big as her head, they were fairly perky, holding their teardrop shape well, with only a hint of sag. A large, thick nipple adorned each one, with wide, pink areolae surrounding them, looking well-proportioned on the large breasts. Applejack brought her hands up and cupped them, lifting them up slightly to get a feel for their weight. If she didn’t know any better, she would have said that they had grown a bit recently.

When she finished checking out her breasts, her hands moved down over her toned stomach, on which could be seen the faintest outline of her abs. She took hold of her leather belt and undid the buckle, allowing her access to what lay beneath. The button of her jeans strained to hold the pants together under the tension of her wide hips. It seemed to give its own sigh of relief as Applejack undid it, freeing it from its burden. Her deft fingers then went to the zipper, which she slowly pulled down, giving a glimpse of the panties underneath. With all the necessary steps completed, she hooked her thumbs under the waistline of her jeans on either side, bent over slightly, and pulled them down.

Few sights could have compared to that of Applejack’s butt slowly emerging from its denim prison. Like the sun rising up over the horizon at daybreak, her butt gradually emerged as the jeans descended across them. As the tight fabric released its hold on the massive cheeks, they seemed to expand slightly, as if taking a deep breath after surfacing from a dive. Her butt was covered by a pair of matching off white panties which, like her bra, were of a modest design. Also like her bra, the panties did not even come close to concealing the mountains of feminine flesh they were meant to cover.

As the jeans finally completed their journey over her butt, they then began their trip down her long legs. Years of hard work had turned Applejack’s legs into towering pillars of muscle, thick and tough like the trunks of the trees she loved so much. While the muscles underneath were rock-hard, the legs were wrapped in a layer of soft, feminine flesh that jiggled slightly as she moved, especially around her thighs. The jeans continued their journey downward, passing her knees and calves, before finally arriving at her ankles. Applejack swiftly pulled her feet up and out of them, one after the other, before rising back up and tossing her jeans aside, leaving her standing there in nothing but her socks and panties.

Applejack placed her right hand on the counter in front of her, leaning on it as she lifted up her right leg and rested it against her left thigh. With her left hand, she reached down and took hold of the calf-length sock that covered her right foot and began pulling it off. The soft fabric was pulled down to her ankle, over her heel, across her long arches and the ball, and over her toes. The relatively cold air felt heavenly on the warm, sweaty skin of her foot. Despite being a bit large for a woman, the foot was soft, and ended with a quintet of adorable, unpainted toes. Finally free, the foot scrunched and flexed, its toes wriggling in delight. When she had finished with her right foot, Applejack adjusted her position and did the same thing for her left one.

For all her work, Applejack was still not yet done; only one last piece of fabric still clung to her body: her soft, white panties. As she had with her jeans, she hooked her thumbs underneath them and gently pulled them down over her butt, across her legs, and down to her feet, where she stepped out of them and tossed them into the pile with the rest of her clothes. She rose, standing before the mirror as naked as the day she was born. The panties gone, her most private area was revealed to its audience of one. The air felt good on the warm, puffy lips of her womanhood. The skin surrounding it was smooth and soft, without a trace of hair to be seen.

As Applejack stood there, examining her curvy body and flawless skin, a troubled expression came over her face. She turned around to face the opposite wall, looking back over her shoulder at her reflection in the mirror. The mirror granted her a view of the subject of her concern: her massive butt. The huge, round globes hung off the backside of wide hips that would not have looked out of place on a mother of multiple children. While not as large as those of her mother, her pale pink cheeks had been hardened into buns of steel on par with those of professional bodybuilders, thanks to a lifetime of bending and lifting baskets of apples.

Applejack moved her hands back behind her and placed them on her cheeks, gently squeezing the soft, warm skin. Like her legs, her muscled butt was covered by a healthy layer of womanly fat, which her fingers sank into quite a bit. She grimaced as she examined the plump flesh. She clenched her butt, the muscles inside turning rock-hard, but the soft exterior remained. She then lifted the cheeks up and down several times to get a feel for their weight. On the last lift, she raised them up high and released them, causing them to fall down, smack together, and jiggle noticeably. If Anon had been a fly on the wall in that bathroom, he probably would have had a heart attack and died at the sight.

Applejack sighed. “I really gotta lay off the pie,” she said to herself. She turned back around and reached for her long, yellow hair, removing the hair tie holding her ponytail together and tossing it on the counter. After all her work, she was finally ready to get in the shower. She walked over to it and pulled the shower curtain out to its full extent, making sure it was tucked inside the walls of the bathtub. Walking back to the door, she unlocked it, opening it just a crack to help vent the room.

Applejack approached the shower again, reaching in past the curtain to the handle, taking hold of it and pulling it as far as it would go. The shower head rattled for a moment as water rushed through the old pipes of the house to get to it. A stream of water began flowing out of it, falling down and impacting on the hard surface of the tub. She held her hand under the icy-cold water, waiting for it to heat up. When it finally went from cold to warm to hot, she adjusted the temperature, getting it to a nice, soothing warmth. When she was satisfied, she went to the other side of the tub, pulled back the curtain, and stepped into the tub, closing the curtain behind her.

Applejack stretched out her foot and dipped her toes into the stream of water. Its heat immediately radiated into her skin, feeling amazing after a long day on her feet. She quickly stepped forward, letting the water wash over her legs, stomach, breasts, neck, and finally, her head. She closed her eyes and stood there for moment, letting the water flow over her entire body. It felt amazing as the sweat and dirt coating her skin was slowly washed away. In addition, the soothing water also melted away her stress and fatigue, its warmth reaching deep into her tired muscles.

Applejack leaned her head forward and pulled her hair over one shoulder, letting the water flow down her smooth, strong back and over her butt, cascading like a waterfall from the prominent shelf. As her hand passed over the back her neck, it made contact with the small symbol emblazoned on the skin, depicting three red apples: her cutie mark. The accidental touch reminded her of its existence, which she normally thought about as often as any other part of her body. She reached a hand up and lightly stroked the area in question. The skin the mark was on did not feel any different from that of the rest of her neck, but she had always gotten a sort of nostalgic comfort from caressing it, as she did then.

Applejack continued touching her mark, letting her mind drift away under its soothing influence and that of the warm water. In her hazy state, she didn’t notice her other hand subconsciously drifting over her thigh and towards the spot between her legs. It wasn’t until her fingers made contact with the delicate lips and a jolt of pleasure shot through her that she snapped back to reality, yanking her hands away from her skin. The pleasure radiating throughout her stopped when the hand was removed from her womanhood, but a noticeable ache remained. She was shocked when she realized what she had been trying to do without even thinking about it.

Applejack reached up to her face and lightly slapped her cheeks to clear her head. She silently admonished herself for the carnal act she had been about to commit. She was not going to masturbate, she told herself; only perverts and tramps did such dirty things. Well, them and her brother, Anon, that is. She had given him quite the lecture the day she had accidentally walked into his room and stumbled upon him in the middle of a very private moment, but she had the worrying suspicion that he had not really taken it to heart.

Even she had had a hard time avoiding the temptation over the years, Applejack thought. She recalled the many nights she had spent tossing and turning, kept awake by the incessant ache between her legs. Of course, she had always slept very soundly on those rare occasions when her willpower had crumbled and she had allowed herself to put out the fire burning within her. When she woke up the morning afterward, she would inevitably feel guilt and regret for what she had done, kneeling beside her bed and praying to Princess Celestia for forgiveness. She was proud of herself for having a relatively clean track record, and was not about to give in if she could help it.

That’s what Applejack told herself, and yet she still felt her womanhood calling out to her, begging to be touched. She tried to put it out of her mind; she tried to distract herself by thinking of anything else she could. She thought of apples, the delicious red fruit with soft, tender flesh that filled your mouth with sweet juices when you nibbled on it. She thought of a big, strong farmer penetrating fertile soil with a spade, pulling his tool out and jamming it back in repeatedly, defiling its pristine state. The farmer forcefully plants his apple seed in the ravaged earth, where it grows over time into a baby tree. Another surge of pleasure broke her out of her reverie, and she realized that her hand had, once again, drifted where it shouldn’t have been.

Applejack grunted angrily and cursed her lack of self-control. Desperate to stifle her growing urge, she reached out and seized the shower handle, turning it from its current position squarely into “cold” territory. The water raining down upon her quickly changed from its gentle, warm temperature to a harsh, cold one. She gritted her teeth and forced herself to stand still as the rapid change made her shiver, her body begging her to save it from the onslaught of icy liquid. She stood firm, letting the water wash over her and steal away the warmth it had given her just a short time ago.

While the heat rapidly drained from the rest of her body, the heat between her legs remained, much to her frustration. To make matters worse, the cold water falling on her breasts was chilling her skin, causing her nipples to slowly harden. She looked down at them, a flash of curiosity taking hold of her. She tentatively lifted a hand up and gently squeezed one of her nipples between the thumb and forefinger. The touch sent another wave of pleasure shooting though her, and she quickly removed her hand.

Applejack grew increasingly frustrated with her predicament. She turned the water back to its previous position, reasoning that there was no sense in her being both cold and aroused. As the water heated back up, she got to experience the feeling of its warmth all over again, made even more potent due to her cold skin. It felt like she was sliding into a hot bubble bath, her mind being assaulted by a wave of more platonic pleasure. She looked down at her nipples again, hoping that they would have softened under the warm water, but she found that they were still just as hard as before, if not harder.

The ache between her legs maintained its strong presence as well. If anything, the tactile stimuli she had subjected herself to had made it grow more powerful, not less. The feeling was becoming overwhelming, her mind clouded by carnal desire, despite her efforts to maintain control. As her will slowly crumbled, her hips began thrusting forward slightly, driven by her subconscious instincts. To her credit, she put up a valiant fight, holding out for much longer than almost any young woman feeling what she was feeling could have. But as strong as she was, she was not unbreakable, and so break she did. After suffering in silence for so long, she finally gave in, allowing her right hand to reach between her legs.

The shock that surged through her when her fingers made contact with their target made her knees buckle, but she managed to keep herself from falling. She let out a loud moan unintentionally; part of her recognized the need to be quiet, but the rest of her mind was far too preoccupied to care. She rubbed her lips quickly, but gently, each stroke sending a new wave of pleasure coursing through her. Her hips continued to thrust forward, seeking to bring her closer to the ministrations of her fingers. She pursed her lips to silence herself, but soft moans and grunts continued to emanate from her throat.

While her right hand tended to her womanhood, her left headed upward toward her breasts. Her nipples had responded to the sensory onslaught by standing at attention, expanding to their full size and turning rock-hard. She took hold of her left breast and squeezed gently, her fingers sinking into the soft flesh. She massaged it, kneading it like dough, the pleasure mixing with that coming from down below, assaulting her mind on multiple fronts. Her fingers gradually moved up her breast, getting closer to her nipple. When they finally made the jump from squeezing the tender flesh of her breast to pinching the hard nipple at its pinnacle, it felt as if she had been struck by lightning. “Oh, yes,” she moaned, a shiver running down her spine.

Applejack then moved her hand from her left breast over to her right one, taking hold of it and massaging it as she done before. Her forearm rested on her left breast, pressing up against it and rubbing the nipple. Her fingers slowly worked their way up to her right nipple, her thumb drawing circles around her areola when it got there. When she could handle the teasing no longer, she reached up and pinched her right nipple hard while pressing her arm into her left one. The sensations from the dual-assault shocked her, causing her to raise her head and open her mouth, releasing a loud, drawn-out moan.

Both of her hands increased speed while she stood there, letting the warm liquid splatter on her face. As her fingers furiously massaged her lower lips, she pressed against them just a bit harder than she had intended, sending her middle finger slipping in between and stroking her inner folds. The touch sent out another wave of pleasure, which she felt from the tips of her toes to the crown of her head. A moment of hesitation passed as she considered whether or not to retreat or to press onward. She had touched her entrance before, but she had never actually gone inside while masturbating.

In the end, sexual curiosity beat out timidity, and Applejack gently slid the tip of her middle finger inside herself. It was a tight fit, but the penetration was made easier due to her being dripping wet, and not just from the water. As her finger rubbed against the tender skin of her inner walls, it sent out shockwaves throughout her body, making everything that came before it pale in comparison. She slowly pushed further in, stopping when she had gone about an inch deep. Her muscles clenched around her finger and she breathed heavily.

Steeling herself, Applejack slowly pulled her finger back almost all the way out. When she pushed it back in again, it was still a tight squeeze, but it went in slightly easier than it had the first time. She continued the cycle, pushing it in and pulling it back out again, each repetition pushing her to greater heights of arousal. While she was known for her physical endurance when it came to every other part of her body, the inexperienced woman did not have the stamina to hold out for very long against the particular kind of pressure she was experiencing at that moment. Soon enough, she had been pushed to her peak, and was ready for release.

As she rose to her climax, the hormones pumping through her veins filled her head with lewd thoughts. She closed her eyes and imagined that the hands ravishing her body were not her own, but someone else’s. She imagined someone coming up behind her and wrapping his hands around her body. With his left hand, he seized her breasts, massaging with them with a strong, but gentle grip. With his right hand, he reached down and stroked her aching womanhood, before sliding his finger into her hot, wet folds. As he held her, driving her further and further into the depths of her lust, she turned her head, looking up into the face of her lover. The face she saw in her mind’s eye was that of her younger brother.

Her eyes flew open in shock when she realized what she had thought, but it was too late. Despite her eyes confirming that she was indeed alone in the shower, the damage had already been done. Her fantasy pushed her over the edge, and Applejack experienced the most intense orgasm she had ever had. Her muscles clenched, her toes curled, and her body shook all over. She almost lost her balance and fell over, but her left hand shot out and braced her against the wall. Her walls tightened around her finger, and she felt a tidal wave of feminine juices flow forth and coat her hand. She opened her mouth and let out a loud, feminine squeal that would have definitely been heard by anyone who happened to be nearby.

As she rode out the ecstasy, her mind was in a panic, trying to address the images it had conjured up for her. Part of her knew that what she was thinking about was wrong, that imagining her brother doing such things to her was an absolutely horrible and unacceptable thing to do. But another part of her didn’t care; he was a man, and she was a woman, and that was all that mattered. She tried to push the fantasy out of her mind, but it stuck to her like glue, the image of his face burned into her brain as she climaxed. The waves of pleasure gradually decreased in intensity, until they faded entirely, with an occasional aftershock making her sensitive body spasm.

It took her a minute to recover from the physical and mental exhaustion she felt. She stood there, breathing heavily, one hand one the wall and the other still down below, a stream of warm water pouring down her back. Recognizing her awkward position, she gently removed her finger from within her, wincing a bit from the contact on her sensitive folds. A few drops of liquid fell from the area onto the floor of the bathtub, mixing in with the water before being washed away. She leaned back from the wall and stood up straight, but immediately lowered her head into her hands.

As her brain regained the ability to have complex thoughts, the reality of what she had just done began to sink in. Not only had she been weak and given in to her carnal urges, but she had pleasured herself to the thought of her brother, she realized. She was in disbelief over the whole thing. How could she have chosen to direct her feelings toward the one man in Equestria who had the same parents that she did? She felt incredible guilt and shame for her actions, especially when she considered how she had been looking down on Anon for masturbating just a few minutes ago. She resolved to pray extra hard for forgiveness that night.

When Applejack had finished feeling sorry for herself, she lifted up her head again, preparing to do what she had intended to do when she had gotten into the shower in the first place. She had already wasted too much time already; if she stayed in much longer, someone might get worried about her. The last thing she needed right then was for Anon to come knocking on the door to check on her. She swiftly got to work soaping and scrubbing her tired body with the soft, round loofah she had hanging on a hook on the wall. She took care to be gentle when washing her more sensitive areas. When she was clean, at least physically, she rinsed off the soap and turned off the water, the bathroom falling quiet.

She reached past the shower curtain to the towel hanging on the towel rack nearby. She used the fluffy towel to dry her face, her long hair, her chest, back, butt, and legs, before gently patting dry her loins. She stepped out of the shower and over to the counter, pulling her comb out of a drawer and combing out her wet hair. When she had removed the tangles from her hair and dried herself about as well as she could, she wrapped her towel around herself and gathered up her clothing, preparing to head to her bedroom. But as she turned towards the bathroom door, she noticed something strange.

The door, which she had left open a crack, was now closed. She stared at it, puzzled as to how it could have made such a noticeable change in position. Her first thought was that it had been blown shut by the wind, but immediately disregarded that explanation due to the lack of a draft inside the bathroom itself. The most straightforward explanation would have been that it had been closed by a person, but that was not an idea that she wanted to consider, given the circumstances. It was then that she noticed something sitting on the floor by the door, in between the wall and the counter. The item was a dark, masculine wallet that she was unfortunately familiar with, due to it belonging to her younger brother, Anon.