Fecundity: The Roseluck Lovemaking Anthology

Today’s entry into my collection of sensual stories is a bit of a surprise.

Europa has been busy organizing the seasonal migration of the dog-faced fruit bats into their southern roost sites for the upcoming winter and I’m left to hold down our arboreal fortress alone — with the help of several paid servants to oversee maintenance of the property, carrying in supplies and dealing with the laundry.

Have I mentioned that our property has dedicated buildings just for storing food and clothing?

Without making this latest chapter a detailed description of household logistics for over twenty ponies, I want to thank the hard-working staff at Europa Manor in writing for helping to keep my family comfortable and happy. Thestralslovakia is so much different culturally and in terms of climate from my old home in the desert, but the close-knit communal attitude and ‘all in it together’ mentality of the local community reminds me that ponies are ponies wherever you go. And that I’m appreciated by those virtues of kindness that make us all truly one nation and tribe.

But we’re not going back to Nuevo Dureingo this time. Europa would be disappointed if my first retelling of the story took place when he wasn’t around to give live feedback and even livelier sex to me afterward!

Instead, I’d like to take you back to last night, on a lonely patrol, inside the corkscrew corridors of my arboreal abode when I heard a disruptive racket.

Most of my foals were already asleep. The sounds of their slow, rhythmic breathing penetrated the walls as I passed the doors to their rooms — big ears aren’t just a turn-on to thestrals in general and my batty husband in particular; they mean I can pick up on a lot that passes by regular ponies — with the peace of the night at least initially disturbed only by the muffled steps of my slipper-clad hooves.

That all changed, however, when my oversized sensory organs suddenly caught the unmistakable evidence of passionate lovemaking and barely bit off cries of pleasure. I smiled at the sounds, basking in memories of my youth and first time with what turned out to be one of my many striped suitors from another continent.

It contented me to know at least one of my daughters, Aitne, was being well and truly bred by her zebra lover; I could hear her moans of pleasure literally echoing throughout the house, the sound being channeled through the vents connecting each of the rooms, making it sound like a dozen Aitnes were being serviced by an equal number of enormously endowed zebra stallions.

I mention this specifically because Europa insists this kind of hearing range isn’t normal when I bring it up. He says most ponies can’t hear sound vibrations dimensionally and track them through obstructions like this, but my ability sounds just like those of the bats he’s talked to when I bring it up.

He calls it echolocation, but whatever it is, it’s perfectly normal for me and them. I’m willing to bet those bats he’s met weren’t as sexually active with him as I am, though!

This is all to say the air that night was already filled with the expected but occasionally discordant sounds of sloppy sex. And yet, among all the existing cacophony, I could still make out the fact at least two of my foals were up to no good, doing things that they were very much not supposed to.

I set my jaw, knowing that sound would offer me the perfect cover to surprise my not-so-ancient but well-respected rival in the aural arts — namely, my daughter, Phoebe. She’d been the only one of my offspring so far to be born with my ears, and they were every bit as sensitive as mine, allowing the young mare a keen sense of hearing that allowed her to disobey rules and cause no end of trouble when she had a mind to.

Which nowadays seemed to be far too often. I frowned as I made my stealthiest approach up the twisting hallway passage, certain I was finally going to catch them in the act. And yet, even as I approached as stealthily as I could, the lack of noise discipline by the offending pair of adolescents had me second-guessing myself. Might this all be a misunderstanding? I shook my head silently. Of course not, it was definitely them. And by Luna’s ancient husband, I wasn’t going to allow any unnatural relations to happen under my roof!

My paranoia increased exponentially as I approached a beam of light emanating from a small crack beneath the door to my daughter Phoebe’s room. My shallow breathing sounded like a windstorm going full blast inside of my head but would have been entirely inaudible to everypony else. My creaking joints could put the settling of a home’s foundation to shame and my hooffalls sounded like a fifty-foot-tall giantess flattening Manehatten.

And yet, despite what had to be my obvious approach, there was no alarm from inside the room. Oh, they were trying to keep their voices down but Phoebe was so distracted that she hadn’t noticed me.

At least, not until my daughter suddenly grunted and I heard the rustling of blankets being thrown aside from inside the room. It was swiftly followed by a high-pitched voice whispering, “Aw shoot! I told you Mom would hear us talking!”

Busted. Mission failed. I hung my head and accepted defeat, approaching the door without any attempt at stealth and knocked at the door. “Phoebe! Charon! Bedtime was twenty minutes ago. You know the rules!” I opened the door and stepped through it.

Two innocent little breezies were sat on opposite sides of the bed with an untidy stack of stack of old books between them. I recognized several of them as bedtime stories I’d read for the foals and felt a pang of gratefulness that I should bear such wholesome offspring. And here I’d been doubting them.

“Sorry, Mom!” Charon looked down at me, apologetically, ears bowed in submission. “I guess we lost track of time.”

Phoebe looked up at me innocently from where she lay on her back, a patterned nightcap resting between her towering, blue-furred ears. “It’s nine already?”

I stepped past my daughter’s throwaway question and started taking in the scene inside the bedroom. No evidence of any funny business, whether by sight or scent; just a pair of books atop the bed and a box of tissues on the bedstand next to Phoebe.

No scented lotions, oils or candles to be seen, only the pill container Phoebe used to keep the medicine she was on organized and an empty glass. No bottle of Thestralslovakian wine either, for that matter. Just an after-hours meeting between two siblings with an unhealthy fascination with each other, meeting in secret under the cover of white noise generated by their highly-satisfied sister. To read books.

I mentally shook myself. Surely Phoebe wasn’t feeling well enough to be fooling around. She’d been battling the bat-pony variant of the feather flu all week — and no, before anypony or anybatty asks, not having feathers doesn’t make you immune to it — and her good-hearted brother was keeping her company so she didn’t have to be sick all by herself, reading to her to judge by the open book beside them.

My jaw clenched as I looked into my daughter’s eyes for any hint of deception and found none. I looked at my son, laying in bed next to her. He looked a lot more guilty of something but lacking any evidence, I couldn’t be certain of exactly what. But my sweet innocent son didn’t have an ounce of guile in him. He wouldn’t be caught guilty of stealing a glance!

I nodded my head at the pair of them, giving up on meting out any discipline for the time being. “Yes, it’s after nine. You can read her more stories tomorrow.”

“But I’ve been asleep for most of the day,” Phoebe replied. “I’m not tired at all.”

“You’re still sick, Phoebe,” I reminded her. “You need all the rest you can get so you can get better.”

“But I’m always sick!” Phoebe leaned up to say before letting her head fall back against the pillow with a soft thud.

I felt a pang of sadness and guilt. “Phoebe, your dad and I are doing everything we can. We just…” the pair stared at me, looking almost heartbroken at the thought of being told to go to bed like normal ponies. “We want you to get better… and so does your big brother. Right, Charon?”

“Yeah!” Charon smiled, unfurling a wing and resting it on his sister’s head. “That’s why I’m here, actually. I was looking up something in these books for Phoebe…”

I reached up and grabbed one from atop the sheets. It was clearly a book on pony anatomy and judging by the dry, antiseptic nature of the cover, one of the books we used for homeschool classes. The cover was telling a little lie though as the page it was turned to had a diagram of a stallion’s penis on it, complete with its many delicious details. Sadly, such dry descriptions and diagrams couldn’t describe the glory of the sweet friction of the real thing plunging its way inside your depths. Ahh, the finer things in life come free more often than most ponies give credit.

Despite that, my gaze narrowed. “This is pretty heavy study material for two foals before bedtime!” My eyes scanned the page before quickly giving it up. How any foal expected to learn about sex this way was beyond me. All due credit to the illustrators of the world but some things need to be practically demonstrated.

“What are you trying to figure out?” My expression brightened as I considered the glorious implications. “Phoebe, Charon! Are you starting to think about going outside and finding other ponies to sleep with? I’ve waited for this day my entire life, you know!”

Phoebe and Charon glanced at each other and back at me, their faces flashing crimson.

“Surely by now, you know exactly sex works?” I looked at the two, exasperated. “You’ve all seen sex happen in class with two eager and willing participants!”

Sidenote, but Europa says it isn’t typical of schools in Thestralslovakia to show practical examples of two ponies having sex in class and especially not with roleplay between two ponies before they consummate the act. It’s a wonder Thestrals ever have sex with that attitude. I mused that I should join the PTA until I remembered that none of my foals go to public school.

“Well, we, um…” Charon stammered. “Phoebe, can you take this question?”

“Well, we, uhhh…” Phoebe gestured over to the book. “We thought maybe the book would go into detail on doing sex safely, you know?”

“Safely,” I repeated blankly. Why would two safes ever desire to sex with one another and how in Tartarus could that ever work?

“You know… safely so nopony gets hurt.” Phoebe gestured with her forehooves something like a huge log getting rammed into an invisible hole or perhaps a cannon being loaded from the breech. One can’t be entirely sure.

I nodded. “That’s not usually a problem unless…” I frowned as I noted the size difference between the tiny Phoebe who looked barely older than eight despite being twelve years of age and the towering Charon who was fifteen going on twenty-one judging by his size and bulk. “Unless the stallion is much larger than the mare.”

I was suddenly aware of why this study session was taking place in secret.

“And you wanted to learn about this because… you’re both interested in finding your own mates in the village… right?” I said in a highly conspicuous manner, hoping they’d pick up the hint.

“Oh yeah! Sure!”

“Right… right…” the two replied, nodding, eyes conspicuously directed at the walls and ceiling.

“Good. Keep in that frame of mind.” I set the book back down onto the bed. “Look — I appreciate the fact you’re both showing interest in sex. It’s only healthy that you should want to learn about these things now that you’re starting to notice other ponies around you as something potentially more than just playmates. And it’s so seldom I get to have one-on-one meetings with you foals about these things. So if you’re willing to keep this between us, I’ll let you stay up past your bedtime this once. I can tell you both a story if you’d like.”

“A story about having sex?” Phoebe’s eyes lit up like a filly’s on Hearth’s Warming Eve morning. “Maybe one about a handsome stallion who was really, really big?”

“And a beautiful mare who was really really small and cute?” Charon added, hopefully. “With ears out to here!?”

I chuckled at that. “I wouldn’t call myself ‘small,’ exactly, but I’ve been told a lot that I’m cute. As for the stallion, he was so large, it was in his name. Big Macintosh.”

“Oooooooh!” the two foals replied.

“So are you two interested in hearing one of your Mom’s old war stories?” I prompted, to which the two nodded eagerly, smiling. “Well, get yourselves comfortable because this one’s a doozy! It will be about the largest, most endowed stallion I ever got tucked in by.”

There was a flurry of movement as the pair tucked themselves in beneath the blankets, the two huddled so close together, that their bodies were touching. They must have caught something in my expression they didn’t like because they quickly put distance from each other, looking up at me with a pair of unconvincing smiles.

Maybe it wasn’t the best idea to be telling them both this together, but I figured my presence would ensure order and chastity. Satisfied, I pulled Phoebe’s bean bag chair up to the head and bed and sat in it. “Now that we’re all comfortable, let’s begin. And I’ll explain to you how safe — and fun! — sex with a much larger partner can be.”

“Recon in Ponyville”

I’ve mentioned before that I used to live in a desert, and it’s what most ponies would describe as a “dry” town. But dry can mean different things. Some creatures have sought to ban alcohol in the places they live according to their local customs of which I don’t understand. Such places are also called ‘dry’, and are places I’ve had little interest in visiting.

But there is one other kind of dry place — perhaps the most unfortunate of all to a mare. The driest and most desolate of all wastelands. That place is one where the ratio of pony genders hits 87/13 female/male.

No joke. The ratio of mares to stallions in Ponyville is the most striking across all of Equestria. An eye-popping eighty-seven percent female. It’s considered a selling point because fillyfoolers — mares who exclusively seek out other mares for sexual companionship — move there specifically to find other mares to partner up with. It’s how their numbers became so lopsided in the first place as the movers keep on moving ‘em in. There are not one but three tribe-specific fillyfooler groups that organize and do activities there from competitive sports to less competitive bathhouse orgies.

And the stallions? Those that existed were either paired off already or too young to breed. I understand in these parts, earth Ponies like the Apple Family have taken to inbreeding within their local clans. Not for prestige or connections like the unicorns, but to keep from dying out entirely.

Fresh off the train in Ponyville, my prospects for penile penetration were dim, to put it mildly. Days became weeks and weeks became months with no sex. And I was slowly beginning to lose my sanity to the point that even the mares were starting to look deliciously inviting to an avowed male-lover like myself. Oh, but that, dear reader, is many many stories for a different day!

No, today, on a steamy summer morning in the hills of Coltucky, within her Majesty’s township of Ponyville, there wasn’t any snow to be tossed at a passing pegasus or female companionship to be had anywhere. Just my boss, Daisy, lying on her back on the concrete floor of the greenhouse next to our home, manipulating a strap around my barrel — the effervescent scent of moist earth and the nectars of hundreds of different flowers inside row upon row of dirt-filled troughs, wafting past our noses.

“I suppose this means it’s too late to ask for the day off?” I asked sheepishly as she secured the last of three straps binding me to the covered wagon.

Daisy snorted, the breeze tickling the fine hairs of my beige coat. “You suppose correctly.”

I sighed and pinched at one of the straps, which so cruelly marred my soft bristly belly. “This one’s a bit tight. Could you refasten it?”

“No!” Daisy exclaimed, furrowing her brow at me. “I’ve already adjusted all three of them repeatedly. You’re just stalling for time now and I have a train to catch!”

“Alright, alright! But I really should apply another layer of vanilla sunscreen to my ears. Can you pass me the bottle from my bag?” The first two layers had started pouring down my sides within minutes of me putting it on. Why did it have to be so blasted hot at eight in the morning? Were the pegasi on strike, or just enjoying sitting on cooler mountaintops or clouds at much higher elevations where the temperatures were blissful and the wind was refreshing?

Whatever the answer, Daisy passed me my bottle with an expression of supreme smugness. “You won’t last another week friendless in this town!”

“Watch me…” I grumbled, squirting a splotch of edible, flavored white cream into both of my forehooves before rubbing it into one ear at a time. “A mare is nothing but a mare but before I let you fillyfoolers beat me down, I’ll die with a stallion on my land.”

“That’s the spirit, Rose! Dizzy Twister says you won’t make it to one year before one of us ladies gives you the night of your life, but my bits are on you continuing to be an obstinate donkey. Don’t let me down!” Daisy reached into the back of the wagon, briefly disappearing from view until she reappeared carrying a small telescope in her teeth. “You forgot to put this in your saddlebag.”

“Oh right!” I took it from her and placed it in the bag.

“Just remember that some of the mountain passes to Canterlot are pretty steep. You don’t want to go up while another pony is coming down. Remember the rules of the road and don’t get complacent out there,” Daisy said as I nodded solemnly, wishing nothing more than to be behind the counter at Daisy’s flower shop smiling and chatting with the customers, safely out of the sun while a fan blew in my face.

“Right,” I said shortly, still wondering if there was any way I could stall my departure that Daisy would accept. Probably not.

“Just be careful and watch out for the potholes outside of town,” Daisy continued. “The county doesn’t maintain Ponyville’s roads until outside the city limits, and Ponyville itself can barely afford to patch up the main road through town.”

Considering the large-scale disasters that struck Ponyville every week, one could hardly blame the city council. As a point of interest for those reading, Twilight Sparkle was two years away from coming to Ponyville and changing the history of the town, making it the center of commerce, tourism and attention it is today. It also meant when things went wrong, it took much longer to make them right again.

But I knew I could always count on ponies to help each other out so put the issue out of my mind. “Maybe Applejack can spare a hoof to help fix the wagon once she’s done thumping me for trying to steal her brother away from the fields!”

“All I can say is with that attitude, don’t be surprised if you end up becoming a permanent fixture of Applejack’s two-hundred-acre property really soon!” Daisy winked at me before walking over to the rolling wagon door and pushing it up — the sudden burst of early morning light making my eyes water. “But that’s enough talking. Time is bits, friend!”

“Yes, ma’am!” I threw my manager a sloppy salute.

Having finished carefully applying my sunscreen — nearly bringing myself to climax involuntarily from the cool cream against my warm and sensitive ears multiple times in the process — I wiped the sweat from my eyes. Taking a deep breath, I set off into the steamy sunlit scene; the tight harness traps pressing firmly against my lean, muscular back and belly. It felt curiously reassuring as if the wagon were the object of my nurture.

I was no mere filly anymore but not like the mare I am today. I was still a bit tall and gangly, my exaggerated appearance made all the more obvious by my long ears standing erect over my head like antennae. My body lacked the pleasant roundness that so many lovers and friends have associated with my name, hardened into layers of powerful muscle fueled by constant exercise; but all the same, my tender meat found the burden imposed by the load of flowers mere foal’s play to bear.

I moaned with pleasure as the wind picked up, causing my ears to sway lightly as I left the town limits and started to ascend in altitude, cresting a small hill that brought a refreshing breeze over the top. The brief respite from the heat and humidity instantly turned my mind to some comfortable topics. And shortly to much more uncomfortable topics. It always happens when you work alone and was one of the reasons I was fearful of taking up this assignment.

Namely, the topic of why the wind was the only action my ears were getting these days. Or the rest of me for that matter.

The answer came to me quickly: because you left the zebras behind.

“Argh!” I flicked my tail in anger. “I was such a fool! I left striped stallion paradise and for what? For what!? To be stuck in the most sterile, sexless, backwater, platonic form of elementary school!?

It scares me to think back on how upset I was. It was everything I could do not to swear, knowing what my mother would say to it. To tell the nearest rock or tree how peeved I was! It pains me that I was even tempted to resort to such a word to represent my anger, but I can’t take back how I felt.

“They would have accepted me back home…” I kept muttering to myself, perhaps glad to have somepony’s voice to keep me company, even it was my own.

So imagine how surprised I was to get an answer. “But you are home, Rosebud. And you are accepted here!”

“Eep!” I turned to face the sound of a mare’s voice, speaking nearby to be along the rugged dirt road. The most beautiful Earth Pony to ever live smiled back serenely — her three-tone mane of red, gold and green twisted into tight braids tightly wound by cords of ethereal, glowing green silk.

“Grandma Rosa!” I lowered my head in acknowledgment of my ancient progenitor. We’d met before, of course, but such details I’ll spare until the main timeline catches up with this one. Again to my husband, I’ll say, I’m very sorry for recalling events out of order! “It seems like forever since we’ve had a chance to speak, and I need your advice now more than ever!” I insisted.

She favored me with a warm smile that quickly faded. “Well, I can’t say I’ve followed every single thing you’ve done since you came to Ponyville, but I can tell when my great-great-great… et cetera… granddaughter really needs to have sex!” Rosa gave me the stern look of a dissatisfied teacher.

“So why aren’t you? There are so many ponies here who would love to share their warmth with you.” Rosa looked up at the sky, turning her gaze one way and then the other. “I sense their desire all around us. Can you not feel this bond between yourself and your neighbors? I’m disappointed, my love. After so much time in Detrot, I expected more from you.”

“Hey!” I quicked my leisurely stroll to a trot down the road, perhaps involuntarily trying to distance myself from the truth I feared to face. But to little surprise, she kept pace with me the whole time. “That’s not fair! You know I’ve never backed down from a lack of prospects before. But Ponyville is on a whole other level of dry. And work keeps me too busy to travel long distances. A-and I don’t want to sleep with mares, either!”

“Oh, my wayward greatest granddaughter… where do I even begin?” Rosa asked rhetorically with a sad shake of her head. “I could address your points in order, but first I want to make one thing crystal clear to you about Detrot: you did the right thing in leaving, even if you didn’t go about it in the best way. We both know this. You’re far too young to settle down and raise a herd.” A hint of bitterness seemed to creep its way into my spirit matriarch’s voice. “I wish somepony had told me…”

I slowed to a walk and hung my head in shame at having disappointed the one being, living or otherwise, that I least wanted to. “Rosa, I’m sorry!”

I felt her muzzle rub up against mine, She was warm to the touch. Unnaturally so, even. But I knew full well that it was the love for her family that gave her a physical form, even if it was for only a short span of time before she disappeared back into the realm of spirits once more.

“No, dear. There’s no need for that.” Rosa was smiling now. “If I’ve one regret, it was my timing. But I’ll never regret my family’s existence. But you, my granddaughter, face a lifetime of regret if you second-guess every decision you make in your life.”

I lowered my large ears even further at her admonition. What can I say? Grandmas are never wrong about anything. “You’re right. But…” I gestured back at Ponyville, which had disappeared behind a row of tree-covered hills. “I still feel like I’m lost here. Do you think I should leave? Pack up everything and leave my friends? It just feels like life has completely stopped.”

“And yet you march forward with determination to live.” Rosa reminded me with a soft nicker. “Somewhere over the next hill holds all the answers to problems you face today, if your eyes aren’t too impatient to find them. That is my advice to you.”

I arched an eyeridge back at her. “Is that where Ponyville’s stallions are all hiding or something?”

Rosa laughed gayly in response, making me wish I could roll my eyes at that moment. “I can see many things from the other side, Rosebud, but even I can’t tell the future. I am merely suggesting which paths might be more fruitful based on what I can observe now.”

I sighed and gave an involuntary flag of my tail. “Fair enough, I guess.”

“But if that isn’t helpful enough for you, might I make a humble suggestion?” Rosa asked, waiting for my nod. “The mares in this town are really cute and really eager. If you wanted to, they could see to your immediate sexual needs.”

I snorted hard and looked back at her defiantly, shifting my head once to the left and then to the right.

“Stubborn to the end!” Rosa laughed again, poking me on my shoulder with my hoof with surprising force for a spirit. I grunted softly at the contact but kept walking along with my flowery cargo. “As long as you can live with your decision to abstain from rutting mares, I can respect that. It’s your decision, after all. But I can’t help but wonder if that’s what you truly desire, or if something is holding you back.”

I felt a mass of guilt drop into my stomach. “You could read my mind, but I don’t want to talk about it.”

“No, no, no, silly Rosebud!” Rosa replied. “I detest spoilers. And reading minds sounds scary and mean-spirited. Ponies should be free of such intrusions.”

On that, we could agree. “Thanks, Grandma.” I exhaled hard in some relief.

“Don’t mention it, Rosebud!” Rosa replied, the pair of us stopping at the top of another small rise in the rolling terrain. I wiped the sweat from my forehead before getting a good look at my surroundings. Steep hills covered in conifers swathed in a hazy mist surrounded us, boxing us into an enormous rolling green valley filled with apple trees. Alas, we were nowhere near Canterlot yet and my back was already beginning to ache some, less from the load than the sweltering summer heat.

Not even half of the way into my trip and I was already adding to my list of regrets ever going on the trip in the first place. I was young and strong, but not yet muscled enough to have the stamina to make long trips like this all in one go.

“Rosebud, look over there!” Rosa pointed up at an oddly designed wooden structure atop a nearby hill. “It’s a carrot house!”

“Pretty neat, huh?” I said, my eyes taking in the sight of a huge carrot placed precariously atop a small spire adorning the roof of the structure. “I’ve met the mare who lives there. Big gal. Built like one of the Earth Pony warriors of old. Has a bit of a funny accent, but then I suppose I do too if you asked her.”

“Interesting.” Rosa brought a hoof to her chin, appearing to be in thought. “An Earth Pony warrior, you say? This mare seems more like the farming type judging by that house.”

“Oh, she is! Not at all the fighting type but she could thump someone if she wanted to, I bet. I see her every now and then at Daisy’s shop. She’s really nice and thankfully hasn’t found a reason to thump me yet.” I said meekly. “Her sister though… now there’s a warrior type if I’ve ever met one. The kind of gal who’d suplex a boulder just because she can.”

“Goodness, she sounds epic! We should stop by and pay her a visit. Rosebud. You do look pretty tired and there’s a long road ahead. Take a break, sweetie!” Rosa offered, tempting me but I shook my head.

“Nah. It’s a small farm and she doesn’t spend a lot of time there. If all the gossip I’ve heard about her is accurate, she spends most of her time in town hanging out at a small bar called the ‘Foolers Rush In’ getting sloshed.” sat down in the middle of the road, thinking about my options. “I really could use a break, though.”

“Hmm,” Rosa pointed towards a barn off in the distance, its purple spire only barely visible through the mist and trees. “Who lives over there? I bet they could offer you some fresh apple juice if you asked them nicely. Perhaps even some warm apple pie!”

“I hope you haven’t got any particular ideas about pie!” I waggled my eyeridges back at Rosa. “But I’m not sure about that idea either.”

“Why not?” Rosa asked, sounding concerned. “Who turns down the prospect of free pie?”

“A mare named Applejack spends most of her days there, and well, she’s not a big fan of mine.” That was an understatement. She’d caught me looking at her brother and must have caught some bad vibes coming off of me because she’s not trusted me ever since. Did she know something about me that I didn’t? I’d ask her, but for as sturdy as she was built, she could easily take me in a fight. And probably take me in other ways, but I didn’t want to think about that either.

“It wouldn’t be wise to anger a rival of yours, surely. But maybe this is a good time to make amends with her. I think you should stop by and say hello, Rose.” Rosa looked into my eyes, a reassuring hoof resting on my shoulder.

I looked anxiously over at the barn as if it were an enemy camp filled with griffon soldiers ready to make a meal out of me.

“I can see how tired you are, Rose. Don’t be afraid. Trust in the goodness of your fellow mare.” The outline of Rosa’s body began to flicker and I could now see straight through her. I wrapped both of my forelegs around her back in a tight hug, determined to bind her to the world of the living.

“Rosa, pleeease stay a bit longer! I’m... I’m scared and I want you to stay with me.” My eyes began to well up with tears. “I love you!”

“I’m sorry, Rosebud. I love you too, but my time in Equestria grows short. I am being called back to the Summerlands.” Rosa sounded almost defeated. “All I ask is that you not fear Applejack. Your goodness is her goodness. She is a reasonable mare. Make amends with her and you’ll both be happy. Promise me you’ll try!”

I felt Rosa slip out of my grasp and begin floating up into the sky.

“I’ll try, Rosa. I promise! Please visit me again!” I called up to her as she continued to float away.

“Count on it, Rose!” she called back. “Until then, find a stallion and end your dry spell!” Rosa then turned into a ball of light and streaked up into the sky.

I kneeled in thanks to the immortal alicorns who gifted me my moment with Rosa, however brief. And then immediately I felt bad because I’d promised to do something really dangerous. Couldn’t she have stayed to give me moral support or promise to notify my next of kin that I’d be joining her in the Summerlands soon?

Resigned to my fate of being bucked to death by an angry Applejack, I made peace with it and carefully backed my cart down the steep hill as I’d been trained to do. I may have had a pretty nice cushion for the pushin’ but not enough to balance the weight of an entire wagon!

I parked my wagon alongside the road and unhitched myself from it. I had to admit it felt great to have my freedom of movement again. I worked the kinks out of my back and for a brief moment, felt a wave of optimism, which meant I was feeling my old self again. Maybe there were stallions in these hills for me and I’d be able to seduce one of them. But first things first. It was time to talk to Applejack.

But no bad news without more bad news, as Lily Valley would say. To get to Sweet Apple Acres, I’d need to cut through the massive, unfamiliar property to get to the family’s ranch house. Have I mentioned the trees utterly ruining my view of the surrounding area? Hills are useless, I concluded as I began making my way towards the ravine where a shallow creek separated me from the edge of the property.

What I wouldn’t have given to be back home in the desert without all these trees in the way. It was like trying to navigate inside of a huge city like Las Pegasus, minus all the well-built stallions, casinos and restaurants that make them fun places to be.

I splayed my ears and covered my face as best as I could, moving through the thicket on the other side of the creek. Angry tree branches were bent on avenging my mental disparaging of their honorable work by nibbling at my ears with their abrasive touch. Swatting at the offenders only made them angrier, lashing back in defiance with leafy slaps.

“Having met the forest, I prefer flowers,” I grumbled to myself bitterly as I exited the wooded area and was greeted by a welcome sight; a field of wheat waving lazily in the warm breeze. By now, I was ready for a cool drink and the thought of some freshly juiced apple cider was looking better by the minute. But before I could complete that thought, I reached the edge of the wheat field and what I saw made me stop cold and dive to the ground like I was infiltrating enemy territory only to spot a crossbow-wielding sentry.

The tall, muscular red stallion I recognized instantly as Big Macintosh stood in a dirt field with patches of rough grass here and there filled with giant watermelons. He had a long strand of grass in his teeth and was looking over a particularly large one the size of a fully grown adult mare. It probably weighed nearly as much too!

It figures this particular Earth Pony boon of being able to grow uncommonly large fruits and vegetables would belong to a farming family like the Apples, whereas, the boon of my family was the ability to bear dozens of offspring even late into life. By reputation, the life span of the Apple Family Earth Ponies was also greatly extended — the family matriarch, Granny Smith, is said to be over five hundred years old and the founder of Ponyville.

I don’t personally know what madness possesses a mare of five hundred years to spend it farming and not making love to every stallion she meets but that’s what makes us all so different. I suppose somepony has to bake those amazing pies Ponyvillians love so much. And the cider! Mmm! But back on topic…

Big Macintosh’s attention was entirely fixed on the watermelon as it was as he appeared to cut into it with a small blade clutched in his dominant hoof. I could make out a small pink spray as it pierced the delicate green of the oversized fruit. As he twisted the blade, pulped fruit poured from the hole and into a puddle on the grassy open field. The scene might have held a more innocent meaning to me if he hadn’t been sporting the largest erection I had ever seen — made all the more striking by its distinctive mottled skin that accentuated every bump and curve.

This watermelon was not for eating.

I knew at that moment I should just leave and allow the handsome farmpony to indulge himself. He’d been working hard all day and just wanted a break. And who could deny him the chance to use such an exquisitely crafted tool for its intended use? But chances like these don’t come nearly often enough and if I wasn’t going to get lucky that day, I could still appreciate the display of male artistry.

And so, using the cover so graciously provided to me by the Apple Family’s melon field, I kept low to the ground and watched as he carefully withdrew the blade and placed it somewhere off to his left. From where I lay, it was impossible to tell, but it left me with the impression this was no work of sudden inspiration but a carefully-planned ritual he’d indulged in many times before, and this melon was to be sacrificed on the altar of wanton need.

My marehood squelched loudly behind me, making me squeak with surprise and duck deeper beneath my cover. A few moments passed before I realized nothing had happened. I keep forgetting other ponies can’t hear anywhere near as well as I do, and what sounds like a catastrophic explosion to me is completely inaudible to them.

When I looked back over the grassy lip of dirt on the edge of the what field to look in on the action, he’d already mounted the massive melon and started slowly humping it, the initially measured and almost leisurely piston action of his hips bringing with it a steady trickle of fresh melon juice trickling down his dark brown applesack, and into the growing pool of sweet and sticky fluids beneath.

I had to bite into my grit-covered hoof to keep an empathetic moan escaping into the wild. While its juicy insides, warmed by the sun no doubt felt comfortable on his supple stallion flesh, no mere melon was going to have the sinew to resist the forces of such generous endowment for very long — even the fortified product of such a magically-gifted Earth Pony. With each unhurried but eviscerating thrust, his male vitality would slowly destroy the fruit from the inside as it carved the opening wider and wider.

My hind legs trembled with anticipation as Big Mac bucked his hips more vigorously now. He could sense he was getting close as the substitute mare beneath him began to gush more and more sugary sweetness into the field, muddying it with their combined essence. Deep cracks began to form in the melon’s striped skin that grew wider and wider as they gushed pink and strong. And yet, through it all, the stallion’s face was a mask of deep concentration; his jaw was set, eyes closed, the straw still dangling loosely from his lips.

The melon was quite the lover, even if it couldn’t repeat the feat or take action of its own. Its wetness filled the air with a satisfying squish that even the most excited filly couldn’t possibly match, and the intoxicating scent of sweet fruit and spicy stallion spunk was threatening to carry me over the edge of climax just witnessing it.

I groaned into my hoof as my ears began to tingle. It was self-torture tricking my body into thinking it was me up there, receiving the affection I craved. By great-grandma Rosa’s enormous ears, why couldn’t it be me being filled? Having my ears pleasured and carrying his seed in my belly? What could be better and more satisfying in life than being a humble watermelon?

Not my proudest thought, but one I must be truthful in reporting.

At last, the brute stallion finished ravishing his lover and with one final push, the melon erupted, fragrant creme bursting from the skin as it burst along its seams, spewing chunks of pink flesh and seeds in an arc of kinetic force that left Big Mac covered from head to hoof in melon juice.

He hadn’t made so much as a single grunt until he suddenly roared with savage satisfaction; the grass on his mouth fluttering slowly to the ground and he arched his back blissfully to sink his entire length into the ruined fruit as it all but exploded.

It was a magnificent show; one I could only barely restrain myself from bursting forth and openly applauding. And yet, he wasn’t done. Where I’d expected his stallionhood to be slowly softening after his flared head had burst the melon into smithereens, I could see him being brought to full erection once more. His seed-filled sac, so recently emptied, was already engorging and expanding once more before my very eyes.

He’s a super producer! I thought to myself, feeling more than a little faint. A stud, capable of producing as much seed as was necessary to impregnate all of his female partners in such a stallion-poor town. But there were no such mares to be found in this forsaken field.

All except for one.

And in that minute, in that very moment where time and the world itself seemed to stand still, she was the one who could satisfy him.

“I… oh no!” I whimpered as my vision began to swim. My fantasy had gone too far. With a muffled cry, I fired a jet of heated filly creme that struck my tail with enough force to sting the skin beneath it. “What the…?” Sensitive hearing or no, Big Mac heard me and trotted over to where I was concealed, swiftly finding me in a small shrub-shrouded rut from where I’d been watching him.

“Uh… hey there,” he said easily, even as looked straight at me with an almost pleading expression. His flushed face was an instant tell that he’d been surprised and embarrassed, but there was something else I couldn’t describe. “Are you lost? Can I help you with something, Miss?” Even as he asked it, I could sense that wasn’t what he wanted to say. He was trying to be polite and neighborly, but his own trembling form and throbbing phallus belied the tone of his words. Could it be that it was far more him than me that needed help just then?

“Big Mac? It’s Roseluck!” I said in an unnaturally high-pitched voice that gave lie to my forced casual tone. “F-from the flower shop! I… Well…” His erection was twitching now — fully firm and slapping against his powerful belly as he studied me, his applesack bulging bigger as I watched.

I thought about lying, I thought about apologizing, I thought about simply bolting. And yet, what came out of my muzzle were seven words that I realized instantly might lead me to ecstasy with this fine and fertile stallion followed by agony as his sister found us together and bucked me clear in the summerlands to join my beloved Rosa “I’m here to help you out today!”

“Help me!?” Big Mac looked uncomfortable enough to leap out of his furry skin if he could. He looked back as if in impulse towards someplace I couldn’t make out behind a line of trees. Was he expecting Applejack perhaps to emerge from behind them? “I mean, uh…” he seemed uncharacteristically flustered given how easygoing I knew he normally was.

“Of course!” I replied as diplomatically as I could, smiling politely as I sauntered up to him, swaying my hips from side to side, letting him take in the sight of my soft curves. “Sorry, I surprised you like that. That wasn’t very neighborly, was it? I just really appreciate having you as a neighbor and so I’m here to… you know… help out…”

“How?” he replied, in a far more characteristic one-word reply. No wonder Big Mac kept to himself so much; clearly, conversation wasn’t this stallion’s forte.

“Let me show you how!” I kissed him on the cheek and walked over to the remains of the exploded watermelon, the top of which now resembled a pink and white nest with a lump of spent seed perched atop the borehole serving as the egg. I turned back to face him, lofting my tail high in the air to give him a good look at the vastly superior option I had to offer. “May I clean this up for you, Big Mac?”

“Uh…” Big Mac seemed reluctant to answer but kept switching his gaze between me and the watermelon.

“It’s up to you!” I said encouragingly, taking pains to swish my tail and flutter my flanks at him. “If you’d rather just skip to having your way with me, that’s good too!”

I swore he urked! as he gave his belly a hard thwack with his swollen stallionhood; when I turned back to him I saw that his eyes, in true gentlecolt fashion, were fixed on mine. Was I coming on too strong for him? I couldn’t help but wonder.

“Eenope!” Big Mac shook his head vigorously, tossing his coltish-styled mane of straw-colored hair. “Umm…” Suddenly unable to speak, he pointed at the watermelon with a shaking hoof.

I understood instantly what he was unable to say. “You want me to clean that up first, don’t you?” I offered helpfully. “Not a problem!”

I bit down into the mound and took the whole ‘egg’ into my maw. The load was so massive my cheeks were puffing out in a most unladylike fashion and even as relatively inexperienced as I was back then, I knew I’d lost seduction points in my overeager execution. I couldn’t help it, though; the salty tang of his spunk mingling with the sweet nectar of the melon filled my whole mouth to the point I knew showing his load off to him was out of the question.

“Wow!” Big Macintosh rumbled low and slow in an awed basso profundo, starting to rock his hips again to the sight. “Don’t stop now…”

Not a problem, I thought as I swallowed it down. It was like drinking a very salty yogurt. “I knew you’d like that!”

A spot of precum appeared on the tip of Big Mac’s ‘Little Mac’.“Eeyup!” he replied, something like expectation in his eyes. But he just kept standing in place as I stood before him; his throbbing erection being denied its just dessert.

I did what he wanted. Why isn’t he moving to mount me? Is he waiting for a sign from the heavens? Come on, Mac! I screamed at him in my thoughts. I was sweating, thirsty and still suffering from a terminal lack of sex. This standoff had to end eventually! Okay, calm down, Rose. Use your head… That’s it!

I grinned wickedly at my own cunning: The perfect seduction technique handed down over generations to win the heart of any stallion. “You look like you could use something to… break the ice.”

“Maybe, Rosie. Or maybe… he’s just wondering why ya’ll didn’t ask for some apple cider!”

I spun around, my face a mask of terror as I started into the face of my eventual executioner. Standing as tall at the head as the tips of my ears, forged of sinew and as solid as stone, wearing a cowpony hat over her river of golden mane and sporting a grin of sheer smugness that would make me otherwise want to smack her if I knew it wouldn’t result in my instant demise.

“Applejack!” I clasped my forehooves together as I silently accepted my now-certain death, amazed I could face the end with such small talk mixed with brazen boasts. “What a surprise! You read my find, filly. Cider would be great! Or not. I know how popular that cider can be, am I right!?”

“Not as popular as my brother, eh Big Mac?” Applejack slipped her tail between his legs, tickling his throbbing erection as I watched in shock; doubly so when he whinnied in apparent approval. “But you’re right. ‘Fraid won’t have cider to sell for months now. But not to worry yer pretty little head — we got plenty of good ol’ fashioned apple juice!”

“Oh… Ohhh!” Have I mentioned Applejack is brutally honest by reputation? There was no mistaking it. AJ was taking every inch of her brother and loving it. And here I was moving in on her prize stud!

The implications of that terrified me more than anything else at that moment. “Uh, Applejack: Is it too late for me to start running?” I asked uselessly, knowing that even without her lasso, she could catch me effortlessly. “Or will you spare my life with offers of free flowers?”

Applejack narrowed her eyes in apparent disapproval. “Hmph! Now there ain’t no need for any of that talk, sugarcube. Reckon you got Mac all hot ‘n’ bothered on your own or else he would have told you to git by now. Ain’t that right, Mac?”

“Eeyep!” he said happily, his tongue hanging over his mouth and eyes unfocused as his own sister continued to stroke him.

A stay on my execution! “It’s true! I swear I just came here to ask for help with my wagon. It’s broken down out by the road. I came to get help and found…” I looked sympathetically at poor Big Mac’s Little Mac. “I had to help him, AJ. But… but I can’t seem to!”

Applejack laughed, tossing her cowboy hat over her head. I followed the path of the stetson as it wobbled unsteadily through the air, latching on to an old rusty nail sticking out of a nearby tree. Celestia, what a showoff! “Eh, ya don’t know Big Mac like I do. Ya’ll just got him jammed up is all.”

“Jammed up?” He was cumming quite happily into that watermelon when I found him!

“Yep! He must really think you’re something. Scared stiff! It ain’t yer fault, Rosie. The only way to get him limbered up is with a familiar pard’ner.” Applejack kissed his brother on the cheek and lowered her shoulders.

Big Mac wasted no time, mounting his sister. Satisfied, he bit down on the scruff of AJ’s neck and began thrusting his hips with ursa-like strength, filling the air with her maresong as his stallion spear struck deep.

“See? J’just nerves!” Applejack whinnied with each clap of her brother’s sack against her well-toned rump, her flushed face wearing an uncertain grin. “Mac is shy, see? But he opens right up, well… while he’s opening me up!” She has to raise her voice by several decibels to make herself heard over the squelching sounds of their familial bond.

I said nothing but could not look away. Every part of Applejack was quivering like a flan in the middle of an earthquake. Her teats, swinging like bladed booby traps that Daring Do had described in Auizotl’s Temple — yes, I really liked her books as a foal — looked sharp enough to cut glass as they trembled from each cosmic impact of Mac’s vital advance. The ground beneath them deformed slightly as Applejack’s shoes gouged themselves into the earth, drawing strength from its permanence as she ably supported the larger male’s muscular bulk.

My teeth clenched and the vestigial toes beneath my hoof tingled with excitement as the stoic mare absorbed foot after foot of Big Mac’s length, as thick as a filly’s leg. It was only then she saw something in my wonderstruck expression that brought a wild smile to her face. Or perhaps it was the stallion seed streaming from her nethers, forming a fragrant pool in the black soil below.

It was a violation of nature. A basic rejection of society’s standards. There wasn’t even any foreplay! It was sheer unbridled lust and biological imperative. Applejack wasn’t his lover, sister or even friend. She was a life-sized watermelon for him to enjoy but felt infinitely warmer and more cuddly. And better yet, was good for a lot more than one use!

It was one of the hottest things I’d ever seen, and I will deny it in public for as long as I live. And when the sound and fury of two lusting bodies in coitus finally ended with a loud pop and draining and their combined love juices, I came out of my trance — my right forehoof saturated with floral scent. It was only then that I realized just why Applejack had been smiling, only able to smile awkwardly back as my marehood continued weeping my hidden shame.

“Thanks, sis…” Big Mac wasted no time diverting his attention to me. I squeaked playfully, moaning between giggles as he licked my ear, whether for my sake or his I could only ponder. Did this cowpony truly understand the intense sexual stimulation New Neighicans felt when their ears are touched?

I got my answer when he stopped feasting on my huge auricles long enough to straddle me, the full weight of his still considerably swollen sack, laden with musk and the Honeycrisp apple scent of his sister resting atop my muzzle; I twitched my nose as it soaked into my fur.

The tips of my ears, piercing erect at his rock-solid chest, gave slightly at the helix beneath his impressive barrel. I desired nothing more than to feel his powerful body pressed up against my inner ear and relaxed them enough that they splayed backwards. “So strong!” I moved my head slightly forward and back, grinding my ears into his abdomen, my eyes crossing from the sensation.

Even without ever having been with me before, he must have known what I liked well enough to begin to rock back and forth, his soft belly fur brushing along the entire length of my inner ear.

“Ahn~! Big Mac, don’t stop!” Through my ultra-sensitive ears alone, I could count the number of muscles in his chest, even feel his circulation pounding through his fur coat which caressed my ears like a mother’s womb. The scent of sweat, straw and apples mingled with my floral concoction flowing down my inner thighs. He could have carried me to climax with that alone had he continued. But like any stallion, he had his own needs.

He dragged the length of his erection across my head and let it slowly creep its way across my spine. I thanked Celestia for the blessing of being smaller than Applejack because it meant it wouldn’t have to bear his full weight as he thrust himself inside of me. I leaned forward and cocked my tail askew as he straddled me again, showing surprising gentleness as I led him down my garden path, breathing deeply to relax myself as I dilated.

He didn’t break through in the first try or even the second, so it was minutes before I could accommodate the overwhelming hugeness of his glans and suck it in fully. He was being too cautious so as not to hurt me, so I pushed back hard on his stallionhood, letting it slowly sink its way to the bottom. It was now up to him not to hurt me, with nearly half of his length still exposed to the warm summer day.

“Hafta say, you had me worried for a second, Rose!” I had completely forgotten Applejack was even standing there! “Not just any gal can fit Big Mac! Why, I bet he’d be hitched already if I wasn’t the only mare who could fit him!”

Right after she spoke, I heard a gentle thud against Big Mac’s backside. I guessed it was AJ’s stetson.

“Eeyup!” I felt the vibration caused by Big Mac’s voice all the way to the base of my teeth!

“It was my pleasure, Big Mac!” I tilted my head back and brushed my ears against his breastplate. He bent his head over enough to just reach their tips, which he nibbled affectionately.

“You done good, Rose. But you still have to let him finish! Then Ah reckon we can rustle up some grub for the two of you.” Applejack swatted Big Mac on the rear again, earning a whinny. “Alright, Mac. You got yer mount! Now giddy up!”

“Eep!” The sudden shock of pleasure caught me off guard as the well-lubricated stallion engine sprang to life, sending a fountain of spoor bursting forth from my feminine entrance with each thrust. As much as I tried to relax, I couldn’t unclench myself from him. There was nothing to it but allowing him to continue, slowly stretching me wider, making me his melon of choice.

“Thank you! Thank you!” I cried out blissfully as his pace quickened, the familiar sound of love pumping filling the air behind me. Love spatter covered my teats, thighs, and haunches, flowing fresh with each passing second. My head swam from the sensation of being filled utterly, pried wider than ever before and filled to the brim with the most magnificent stallion meat I’d ever known. And it had happened here, of all places, in the most male-poor area of Equestria!

“Coming… Mac!” I cried out.”

“Eeyup!” He grunted back at me, the flare engaging with the force of a Sonic Rainboom, piercing my womb fully and filling it as our combined lovesong rustled the trees all around us.

Applejack came into my line of sight, placing her stetson atop my head. “Not bad at all, Sugercube. This means yer an honorary Apple! And that also means you’ve earned yourself some cider!”

A loud pop and I felt Big Mac pull away, leaving a stream of stallion seed gushing out of me in his wake. I rolled over onto my back through the puddle of juices and reveled in the act of my latest victory. I’d had no business taking a stallion as huge as Big Mac, must less doing so in front of my assumed nemesis. But yet again, Great Grandma Rosa had been right — everything had turned out well!

And as far as Applejack sleeping with him? I could forgive it, so long as she could do the same for me.

“B-but I thought you said you were out of cider!” I said contentedly, my tail swaying from side to side above me.

“I said we didn’t have any to sell, sugarcube.” Applejack winked at me. “But we do have cider to give.”

“Oh…” And so they invited me inside for lunch. A couple of hours later I was back on the road, my wagon fixed and I was able to make my delivery, however late.

I suppose any good story deserves a moral lesson. And the lessons I have to teach are twofold: You can stretch a lot more than think for the stallion you love and you can always count on the kindness of your pony neighbors. But that doesn’t mean you should screw up and get caught!

“So in other words… Do as you say and not as you do, Mom?” Phoebe asked with a smirk.

“Er, something like that, dear,” I grinned sheepishly at my daughter. “Now you two get to sleep. To your bedroom, Cheron. And don't get lost along the way.”

Satisfied, my two foals had gotten the message, I went off to bed myself, planning my next entry carefully once I’d gotten this one down on paper I had an obligation to my husband to resolve the story of younger me at the Filly Funzone, and I wasn’t about to let my hubby down!