Twintwined In Twincest and Twinbreeding

Chapters

Over a Barrel
Party of Two
Under a Barrel
Since Always

Over a Barrel

The cold settled fast in the evenings around Hope Hollow. It was a quirk of the area so well known to the locals that it had its own name, ‘evenset’. While most residents were inclined to close up shop early to get indoors, the town’s pegasi were never ones to complain about the cold. The Barrel Twins were no exception.

The sky began to turn gold as the sun kissed the peaks of the distant mountains. Trees whipped and rustled as the pegasi siblings skimmed the green canopy of the old growth woods, kicking up a spiraling flurry of leaves in their wake. They traced a pair of wide semicircles before rejoining and shooting straight up in an arc side by side. Once at their zenith, they split apart again to descend in two lazy, ever widening helixes like a pair of feathers slowly rocking their way down to earth. At the ground their paths aligned for a wouldbe head on collision. they parachuted their wings outward, touching down on the clearing’s surface like ducks landing on a still pond. Their hooves skidded in the soil, leaving shallow plow marks behind. The twins slowed to a stop just inches apart, face to face with almost perfect synchronicity.

Pickle exhaled in relief, and dropped to his haunches, internally celebrating their well executed maneuver. They’d messed up the end of that one before and it wasn’t pretty.

“Alright, we have time for a couple more.” he declared emphatically. “Next we’re doing the cone twist down.”

They’d blown the whole remainder of their after school time on aerial practice and now it was almost dinner time. They didn’t want to make their mom come looking for them again.

“It’s my turn to pick,” whined Barley.

“We’re not picking anymore, remember?” he explained haughtily. “This is our new training regimen that’s designed to prepare us for the Wonderbolts.”

“Yeah but we already know cone twist down probably the best out of anything. Let’s do something new; we should push ourselves more.”

Pickle put a hoof to his chin in thought. “Yeah, okay, fine.” he sighed. “You can pick one. Maybe we can rotate our routine for variety.”

“Let’s do mirror maze,” she suggested.

“Sure.”

“But hang on a second,” grunted Barley, walking away. She grabbed her water bottle from off of the step platforms, tilted her head back and took a big swig.

This secluded clearing was like their clubhouse, a space a ways from town that they’d claimed for themselves as a training camp. It did have a tiny fort with a sheet metal roof at the treeline but the grounds were mostly inhabited by serpentine course gates and other low altitude agility obstacles that they’d built just by copying designs they’d seen in photos from books and a Wonderbolts brochure that Rainbow Dash had left them. Everything was made out of logs, scraps from dumpster diving and wood stock of unknown ownership that they thought better to not ask about.

The filly lined up on the runway blocks and turned expectantly to her brother. “Okay. Ready when you are.”

Pickle trotted over and settled his hooves on the blocks right beside his sister, a little over one wingspan apart for them. He coiled up and began to count. “One… two… three!

The two sprang into a gallop down the chalk lined runway and quickly flapped into the air. A moment later they had leveled off about the trees, staying shoulder to shoulder. Then they began their routine. It was called mirror maze because they were supposed to remain next to one another as each other's reflections through every turn like they were zooming through a maze of mirrors. They'd both memorized the route. It was mostly just a matter of timing to get their synchronization locked down.

The two performed an s-bend where thet crossed their wings, bumped shoulders and wobbled.

“Hey, you’re crowding me,” growled Pickle.

“You’re crowding me,” she shot back with a huff.

Pickle pushed back, nudging his sister off course. She overcorrected angrily coming back in. They collided once more, rougher this time, and lost altitude. Now unable to correct their flight path, they began to panic as they sank into the treetops. Their flailing limbs caught in the branches, sending them tumbling through the air.

They screamed in unison as they exploded through the thick foliage, taking knicks and scrapes from unseen branches. Barley emerged first, somersaulting backwards on the ground till she came to a stop face up in the grass. Pickle landed off balance on his forelegs, skittering and stumbling forward till he tripped on his face and his lips connected roughly with something warm and soft.

Stunned, Pickle laid there for a moment, wondering why his own heavy breaths seemed to be coming right back inside of him. The sensation on his lips wasn’t just soft and warm. It was wet too. He pushed up with a groan until his panting, wide-eyed sister came into focus beneath him. Disoriented and full of surging adrenaline, they just stared into each other while their brains caught up with the situation.

“That was… stupid,” she breathed shakily.

Reflexively he licked the bit of his sister’s saliva that lingered on his lips. Then, realizing it was weird, wiped his mouth with the back of his hoof. That was her lips… on his. Their lips touched and it wasn’t just a short little brush. They’d basically… accidentally… kissed.

This was a revelation that they'd both made but in the moment it didn't feel as impactful or disgusting as they thought it should have. Too shaken by their tumble, it was just nice to know that they hadn't been seriously injured.

“Are you gonna get off?” she murmured weakly.

“Huh? Oh, yeah.” He groaned as he got to his hooves, an ache in his hind leg and a few stinging cuts on his underside.

Barley snatched up her hat and pulled it back over her head though she remained sprawled out on her back. Suddenly she felt a strange buzzing in her flanks but before she could investigate, her attention turned to her brother who's own flank was… glowing with white light.

Pickle looked back at himself and gasped with mouth agape. The strange light faded away, revealing a strange mark emblazoned upon him. He gasped again, eyes nearly exploding out of his head. “I- I got my- I got my-”

“I got my cutie mark too,” shouted his sister in triumph, having shot to her dancing hooves.

“Yeah!”

They high hoofed and hugged, laughing in delirious elation.

“What’s yours?” asked Pickle, craning his neck to see.

She looked back at her own flank again for a closer inspection. “It looks like a barrel full of barley and… there's… a pickle in it?”

“That's what mine is,” he blurted. “We got the same cutie mark?”

They spun around to touch flanks and compare them side by side. It was true. They were like mirror images of the same mark. A standing wooden barrel filled with barley and a large pickle sticking out of the top like a flag on a sandcastle.

“I’ve never heard of that before,” shrugged Barley. “What does it mean?”

“I have no idea,” he breathed slowly.

It was clear that their names were being referenced with each element depicted in the image but they were left scratching their heads about the deeper special meaning that every cutie mark had. True, there were ponies with cutie marks essentially identical to their names but they still always alluded to a unique skill or destiny.

“Well, hold on, think back,” suggested Barley. “What did we do? How did we get it?”

Pickle put a hoof to his chin in thought. “Um… We fell… We hit some trees.”

“We’ve fallen and hit trees before,” she droned. “Also that would be a really stupid cutie mark if that's what it's from.”

Pickle mumbled to himself, now less sure this was going to get them the answer to their question. “We hit the ground.”

“Done that…”

“I fell on top of you… and our lips touched?”

Barley blushed and grimaced at the suggestion that that one strange moment carried some huge significance. “That can't be it.”

“Well what is it then?” he shrugged. Not that he wanted that to be it but there really wasn't much else to go with.

“I don't know but it just doesn't make sense. This feels like a weird dream.”

“We need to show mom!”

“Yeah, c'mon!” - - -

The twins hit the ground running outside their humble cottage, bursting through the front door with explosive fervor.

“Mom!”

They shouted as a warm, savory steam cloud hit them in the face. They came to a skidding stop in the kitchen where their mother stood cooking over the stove.

Brandy Barrel spun around with a wooden spoon in her wingtip. “What's all the commotion about?”

“We got our cutie marks,” they blurted triumphantly in unison.

The two siblings turned their broadsides to her and stood flank to flank.

Her eyes landed on the pair of identical cutie marks and she dropped the spoon and gasped with both hooves over her mouth. “Oh, my stars, you did! And they look identical! That's so special!” She sat on her haunches and drew them into a tight hug, one in each foreleg.

“We don't know what it means, though,” worried Barley.

“Oh, let me look at them.” she said standing back up.

They turned to show her their yellow flanks once again. She eyed them back and forth, first one, then the other. Then she scratched her head, befuddled at what looked like a lazy visual mashup of their names that seemingly conveyed nothing exceptional about them.

“Well, they're definitely the same anyway… What exactly were you doing when you got your marks?” she asked thoughtfully.

“Nothing really,” shrugged Barley. “We failed at a maneuver and then crash landed.”

“We kissed,” interrupted Pickle.

“Pickle?” she groaned in embarrassment. “It was an accident,” she clarified to their wide-eyed mother.

“Yeah but we still got the marks like pretty much right after that,” he added matter-of-factly.

Brandy chuckled nervously. “Oh, well I'm sure that's unrelated.” She cocked her head to the side. “Did I ever tell you about your aunt Tulip? When she got her cutie mark, everyone just assumed it was a tulip bulb until a year later when grandma saw it up really close and figured out it was actually a beet which made a lot more sense because she was better at canning than gardening.” She laughed again. “Anyway,” she sighed. “Your cutie marks probably just have something to do with cooking.”

The twins exchanged skeptical glances.

“But we weren't cooking or doing anything with food at all,” argued Barley.

Just then the stove hissed as the pot boiled over with foam. “Oh dear.” she whirled around and moved the pot from the burner with her mouth. Then she turned down the flames.

“Speaking of cooking… Why don't you two set the table for us? Dinner's almost ready.” - - -

“We'll have to plan a little cute-ceñera for ya,” chimed their mother, scooping up a steaming spoonful of vegetable soup.

“Yeah,” agreed Pickle,” stirring his own bowl absently. “But I don't think we should have it till we know what our cutie marks actually represent.”

“That's fair,” she shrugged. “Could take a while before we figure it out though. You might not want to wait too long.”

The twins frowned at that thought.

“Well… how do we figure it out?” cried Pickle.

“We'll figure it out eventually,” she assured him thoughtlessly. “You know, maybe you should write a letter to your friend, Rainbow Dash. I bet she'd love to hear about it and it might make you feel better.”

They looked at eachother with sudden excitement burning in their eyes.

“Yeah!”

“After homework though,” she added. “And I want you to eat everything in your bowls. Don't avoid the celery.” - - -

Barley spat out her pen on the desk and slid the letter close to herself to see. “Okay, here's the whole thing:

Dear Rainbow Dash, This is an official letter from the Hope Hollow chapter of your fan club. We hope you are doing well and can't wait to see you and the Wonderbolts in action this year at the Southgate Expo. Pickle and I still practice our flying routines almost every single day. Our training grounds are really big now and we'd love to show you our course if you're ever in town again. But the real reason we're writing you is because we got our cutie marks! We got them at the exact same time and they match. We're really happy but we don't know what they mean. We hope to figure it out soon so that we can have our cute-ceñera party. Well, keep being awesome. See you later.

Barley Barrel: President

Pickle Barrel: Assistant President

Does that sound good?” she asked, turning to him in her chair.

“Yeah,” he nodded.

She looked at the note again, not reading it but more looking at the shapes of the words. “We are happy… right?”

“Yeah,” he answered slowly.

The initial delirious joy of just getting a cutie mark had evaporated, replaced with confusion and anxious uncertainty. The likelihood that their heart's desires and their destiny matched up seemed to be fading away before their eyes.

Barley carefully folded up the letter and slipped it into an envelope already addressed to Rainbow Dash. She licked it closed, grimacing at the sourness of the adhesive on her tongue.

“Here, you do the stamp.” she commanded, sliding the envelope toward her brother. - - -

Brandy stood alone in the Hope Hollow Cemetery just as the sun was vanishing below the horizon. The headstone before her was polished gray granite, marked by a modest bouquet of now brown flowers.

Her excited breath turned to a puff of steam. “Honey, I'm sorry; I'll bring you some new flowers next time. I have to make this short because you know I'm not supposed to be here after sundown but I just had to tell you, Pickle and Barley, they finally got their cutie marks today.” She smiled weakly as her voice cracked.

“I don't know what it means yet but I'm so proud of them. I wish you could tell them that yourself because I know you would. They're growing up so fast.”

She looked up at the few brightest stars just coming out upon a canvas of navy blue.

“I should go now. I promise I'll come back soon.” - - -

That night the twins laid awake in their beds, finding it very difficult to shut off their brains.

“You know what?” whispered Barley at the ceiling. “I'm pretty sure our marks have nothing to do with being good at flying.”

“I know,” he agreed grimly. “That sucks.”

Barley wiped a tear from her eye. “Yeah… I always imagined it would happen right after we perfected some amazing routine and then we'd get cutie marks for that and then after we became Wonderbolts, they'd have our really cool marks on jerseys and hats and stuff but I don't know of any Wonderbolts who have cutie marks like this.”

“I can't think of anything less aerodynamic than a barrel,” grumbled Pickle. “Maybe we're actually not even that great at flying.”

Barley rolled over to look across the room at him in the dim blue moonlight. “But we're the best fliers at school,” she argued.

“There's forty-six foals at our school,” he sighed. “Only fifteen of them can even fly and most of them are younger than us. How can we really know? We might just be average.”

Barley’s stomach dropped at the thought. They'd been laboring under this fantasy of supreme aerial acrobatics for so long. It was all they ever wanted and to think that all their efforts and love was misplaced and all for naught shook her to the core.

“Rainbow Dash thinks we're good fliers,” she breathed.

Pickle rolled over to face the wall and redoubled his efforts to fall asleep. He kept thinking about what their cutie marks could mean even though there wasn't much to figure out. It was an infuriating jigsaw puzzle with only two pieces and they didn't fit together. He stewed in his own disillusionment over becoming a Wonderbolt or even a good flier but he was also blindsided as unexpected thoughts of feeling his sister's lips drifted into his mind. He knew she was his sister and they both had crushes on others but it still felt… nice and admitting that to himself made him uncomfortable. - - -

“Pickle, where are you?” called Brandy from the table. “Your breakfast is getting cold and you’re going to be late for school.”

The bedroom door creaked open and the colt emerged with a sigh. He came to the table with a conspicuous new article of clothing in addition to his usual red hoodie.

“What's with the pants?” asked Barley as her brother pulled out his chair.

“Are you trying to hide your cutie mark?” added their mother.

“Yeah,” he groaned indignantly.

“Why?”

“Because I don't want anyone asking me what it means because I don't know and it's probably something stupid anyway.”

She frowned. “Oh, honey, it's not stupid.”

“We don't even know, mom.”

“Everyone's gonna know anyway,” posed Barley. “They're gonna see mine and then they're gonna see you wearing pants which you never do.”

“Fine,” he grumbled, sliding out of his chair. He grudgingly kicked off his pants, leaving them in a pile under his spot. Then he got back in his seat and began thoughtlessly cramming food in his mouth.

“I know it's confusing and maybe even a little disappointing right now but you'll feel a lot better about everything when we figure out what it means.”

The twins said nothing.

“Did you write a letter to Rainbow Dash?”

“Yeah,” grunted Barley.

“You know, around seventy percent of ponies with cutie marks have a mark that corresponds literally with their name in some way,” offered Brandy in an attempt to comfort them.

“Well then I wish you had named me something cooler,” lamented Pickle bitterly.

“Pickle,” she gasped in hurt disbelief.

“Gonna be late,” he growled, jumping back out of his chair and snatching up his saddle bag. He fluttered out the front door without another word.

Barley finished her orange juice and followed in his hoofsteps but not before giving their mom a hug with a lackluster goodbye. She caught up with Pickle at the post office mailbox where he'd dropped off the letter bound for Ponyville.

“You shouldn't have said that,” she chided.

“It's true though,” he mumbled stubbornly. - - -

At school the twins got right into their desks and uncharacteristically didn't say a word to anyone before the bell rang and the chatter settled. For a while class just went on like normal as if nothing had happened. But after just halfway through the first period, the filly next door to Pickle took notice.

“You got your cutie mark,” whispered Shady Fern in astonishment, trying not to disrupt the lecture and get in trouble.

Pickle blushed, fighting the urge to cover his flank in embarrassment. He wished so badly that he’d gotten a lightning bolt or a cyclone instead. Something fast or powerful that would impress her.

“Yeah,” he nodded listlessly.

“That's great.”

“I guess,” he agreed tepidly.

By lunchtime, word had spread and everyone knew. The teacher usually made announcements about such things but the siblings downplayed their interest in calling attention to it which in some ways just made it weirder.

At recess, Barley left her sulking brother behind to go play on the field with Seafoam. Pickle sat alone against the wall, lost in worry again. Shady sat down, not next to him but near him. She was a pale copper green earth pony with orange braids that had green bows in them.

“You don't seem very happy today,” she began. “Is it about your cutie mark?

“Yeah,” he breathed.

“Why? What does it mean?”

“I don't know,” he shrugged. “But I don't think it's something I care about.”

Her expression darkened. “Oh… Maybe you'll learn to like whatever it is. Sometimes that's how it works.”

“I just wanted a cutie mark from flying well or… fast. Something to give me Wonderbolts cred because this doesn't do it at all. This looks like something an earth pony farmer was supposed to have. No offense. It's just not what I was expecting.”

“Having it doesn't make you a worse flier though,” she contended.

“I guess so,” he agreed.

“What's your favorite candy?”

He blinked in surprise and looked up at her. “What?”

“Your favorite candy. Mine’s those little dots that come on strips of paper and you bite them off.”

“Oh,” he laughed weakly. He scratched the back of his head. “Uh, I guess anything chocolate filled with peanut butter.”

“Okay.”

When he looked back at her she had left the wall and was running to the field. - - -

Almost two weeks had passed and they had not figured out the meaning of their cutie marks despite a trip to their small local library and humoring their mom's guessing game gauntlet of culinary adventures. They'd only shown mild interest and only achieved mild success in every project they’d tried under her direction. Whatever their cutie marks meant, it was reasonable to assume it didn't have to do with baking, cooking, canning or distilling.

Candy and cards for school's Hearts and Hooves Day laid on the counter. The family sat around the cluttered table, eating lunch around the aftermath of their latest cutie mark quest when there came a knock at the door. Everyone looked up but no one made a move to answer it.

“I'll get it,” sighed Barley, shuffling out of the kitchen. She pulled open the door a crack to see none other than her hero, Rainbow Dash grinning back at her.

“Hey, are ya busy?”

“Rainbow Dash,” she gasped, flinging the door wide. She reached out her forelegs for a hug.

It wasn't long before Pickle skittered out of the kitchen to see if it was true.

“Rainbow!” He latched himself onto her other side.

Their mother emerged from the kitchen lastly with slack-jawed delight. “Oh, you came all the way out here! What a nice surprise.”

“Hi, Brandy. Hope I'm not interrupting anything.” She looked down at the two foals in front of her. You’re not still having trouble figuring out your cutie marks, are you?”

“Uh-huh,” answered the twins in unison.

“I have good news for you then, ‘cuz I brought some cutie mark experts with me.” She stepped aside, revealing the three Cutie Mark Crusaders and the anchored purple hot air balloon they'd all flown there in.

They all waved sheepishly to one another.

“This is Apple Bloom, Sweetie Belle and your fellow Rainbow Dash Fan Club member you've never met, Scootaloo. They're in the business of helping ponies achieve and understand their cutie marks. I told them about your problem and they jumped at the opportunity.”

“We're so happy to have you all,” replied Brandy. “Please come inside.”

The twins ran ahead into the living room. “C’mon,” they shouted excitedly.

Brandy walked alongside Rainbow and told her almost in tears, “I'm so glad you came. It really means a lot to them. Pickle has been taking this especially hard.”

“You don't need to worry any more,” promised Rainbow. “I have confidence we'll figure this out. My experts may be young but they have a great track record.”

It wasn't long before they were all standing in a circle in the living room and Brandy was back in the messy kitchen fetching everypony snacks.

“So let's see your cutie marks,” began Rainbow eagerly.

The twins turned and presented their marks for Rainbow and the Cutie Mark Crusaders. The fillies got in close, not really saying anything to them but still communicating with each other through pantomime and knowing looks.

Rainbow watched curiously over their heads.

“So what happened just before you got your cutie marks?” asked Sweetie Belle.

The siblings eyed each other warily.

“We weren't really doing anything,” began Barley. “At least not successfully. That's why this is so confusing. We were trying to do a synchronized aerial maneuver and then we ended up crashing in the dirt. Then we got up and our cutie marks appeared.”

Apple Bloom raised an eyebrow. “Is that really all that happened?”

“Well… I landed on top of Barley and… our lips touched,” admitted Pickle.

“And then you got yer marks?”

“Yeah.”

“Do you like your marks?” Rainbow asked directly.

“No,” groaned Pickle.

“I don't really like it either,” replied Barley.

“Why not?”

“I don't think we can be Wonderbolts with cutie marks like this.”

“That’s ridiculous,” scoffed Rainbow dismissively. “Sure, most Wonderbolts have weather or flying marks but there are plenty of strong fliers who don't have marks related to flying at all.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. Being a Wonderbolt isn't out of reach just because you have a barrel on your flank. Thunderlane’s special talent is actually bowling but he's still in the Wonderbolts.”

Pickle and Barley exchanged tentatively hopeful glances. Then their mom came in with a tray of pretzels, carrots and juice, setting it down on the coffee table.

“So, do you know what it means?” asked Barley.

The Cutie Mark Crusaders looked at one another with measured expressions. “We think so,” nodded Apple Bloom. “But we wanna talk ta yer mom alone first.”

The twins looked at each other with wide-eyed astonishment.

“Well, hey, why don't you show me your training grounds,” suggested Rainbow.

“Yeah,” they agreed excitedly.

“I wanna see,” said Scootaloo with a mouthful of crushed pretzels.

“We can do some flying too,” added Barley.

“Alright.”

Sweetie and Apple Bloom nodded in approval and the four promptly filed out of the house, leaving Brandy alone with the two non pegasi.

The remaining Cutie Mark Crusaders sat together on the sofa with their juices.

The anxious mother took the edge of the chair across from them as she waited for the news. “You really know what it is? Just like that?”

“Yep,” nodded Sweetie. “This one was actually pretty straight forward. We've seen it before.”

“Well, what is it,” gasped Brandy in breathless anticipation.

Apple Bloom cleared her throat with a grim expression. “This may not be what you wanna hear but those matching cutie marks are a breeder bond. It means they're destined to be each other's special someponies and um… breed… a lot.”

Brandy blinked. “I'm sorry, I don't think I heard you right.”

Sweetie Belle yanked a book from her saddlebag, cracked it open and began magically flipping through the pages.

“Ah know this might come as a shock to ya but it's not as uncommon or strange as ya probably think it is. When a foal gets a namesake cutie mark mixed with the name of another relative, it means they're s'posed ta breed each other.”

Brandy possessed all the color and warmth of a marble statue. “I don't understand.”

Apple Bloom and Sweetie Belle looked cautiously at each other.

“Barley and Pickle are s’posed ta have lots a sex and make lots a babies together. That's their destiny. That's what their cutie marks mean.”

“It's a nice euphemism for incest,” added Sweetie Belle, still looking through the book.

“No, I know what you meant by breeding but I've never heard of such a degenerate thing. Just breeding? That's it? And your own sibling no less?”

“Yup.”

Brandy threw up her forelegs. “How do I know you're right about this?”

“They got identical cutie marks that reference both of their names. The reason ya haven't found what they're good at is because the marks are referencing each other by name. It's not about the food at all. They got their marks at the same time after kissin’. There's not much else ya can infer ‘bout it once ya read all the signs.”

Deep down Brandy knew that already but didn't want to admit it.

“Look here,” said Sweetie, floating the book to the distraught mother.

Brandy took it and began skimming the section titled ‘Breeder Bond,’ which included an old photo of a pair of foals with identical cutie marks.

“Ah even seen it in mah family too,” continued Apple Bloom. “The cutie mark thing, that is. The incest isn't that big a deal once ya get over it. Even some of mah relatives who ain't bound by cutie marks have been known ta engage in incest, even breed. In fact mah parents are actually brother and sister but Ah was raised callin’ ‘em brother and sister and mah grandma and grandpa Ah call ma an’ pa.”

“I call my mom, ‘big sister’ too,” shrugged Sweetie. “And my dad is also my grandpa.”

Brandy bowed her head in shame. “But… What will the neighbors think? And they already have crushes on other ponies.”

“Well, now they’ll know exactly who they're supposed to be with,” explained Sweetie Belle. “Any relationships like that with other ponies are a waste of time and destined to end in heartbreak. It would be best to steer them away from that and toward each other. Cutie marks are never wrong.”

Apple Bloom nodded. “And get ‘em ta start breedin’ as soon as possible.”

“But they're still so young,” pleaded her mother.

“It may sound strange but the sooner they start, the better they'll feel ‘bout everything because they'll know they found their purpose. They wouldn't have the marks if they weren't ready yet.”

Brandy buried her face in her hooves. “I’m sorry. This is a lot to take in and it feels weird taking parenting advice from a foal.”

“Don't think of it as parenting advice,” replied Sweetie. “We're just giving you the information. It's still your job as the parent to do with it what you think is best. It's all there in the book.”

Apple Bloom finished her juice. “Mah sister suggested we do things like this from now on ‘cuz of a kinda awkward case we had where we told the filly first and there was a lotta confusion and it really upset everyone. Sometimes ya ferget how sensitive everypony is about this kinda stuff and if they don't understand, we shouldn't have ta be tha ones ta explain it.”

“Your sister… mom… suggested that?”

“Yes, ma'am.”

“That was a good idea.” Brandy’s eyes fell to the floor as a thousand ugly and difficult thoughts consumed her from within.

“Do you have any questions fer us?”

“Why did this have to happen?” she asked rhetorically.

“Some things ‘bout cutie marks are probably always gonna be a mystery,” sighed Apple Bloom.

“I guess there's nothing to do but grin and bear it.” Brandy smiled unconvincingly. - - -

Rainbow and the Cutie Mark Crusaders stuck around visiting and training for a while. They had accomplished their mission but it was strange to make such a long trip and not spend time with them. But the longer they stayed, the antsier the twins got about learning their destiny. Everyone else knew what it was but they were being kept in the dark and it didn't make sense.

“Well, gotta get these three back to Ponyville or they're gonna miss school and Hearts and Hooves day. You should come visit us some time.”

“Then we could show you our clubhouse,” added Scootaloo.

The foals high hoofed goodbye.

Rainbow turned to Brandy and scratched her head awkwardly. “Well… good luck.”

The family waved goodbye from the ground as the balloon ascended. It didn't take long for the badgering to begin.

“Are you gonna tell us now?” blurted Pickle.

“Yeah, mom, what is it?” added her sister impatiently.

Brandy bit her lip as she continued to wave. “Okay… Let's just get inside the house first.”

The twins bolted inside immediately. Their mother turned to the door with a defeated sigh. She sat down in the living room before her two anxious children and took a deep breath.

“Your cutie marks don't have anything to do with food.”

“We know,” groaned Pickle. ‘We tried to tell you.”

“And you know I'll still love you no matter what cutie marks you have.”

The twins exchanged puzzled looks.

“Are we assassins?” gasped Pickle.

“Just tell us,” cried Barley.

“Your cutie marks are what they called a breeder bond. And that means that you're destined to be each other's special someponies but also…” she swallowed, “rut and make lots of foals.”

For a long time they all said nothing.

“Is this a joke?” Pickle finally asked. “Breeding? Just breeding? With my sister?”

“It all checks out,” argued their mother. “You got your cutie marks at the same time when you kissed and they're referencing both of your names put together. Just about everything they said was corroborated by the book they brought. There's really no other explanation.”

The conversation sputtered into silence again as this new grim reality sank in.

“I don't wanna have a cute-ceñera anymore,” mumbled Barley. - - -

Brandy stood before her late husband's headstone, pawing idly at the short, well kempt grass.

“So I have some good news and some… well… it's not… necessarily bad news… It's just kind of difficult to take.”

The twins laid awake in bed in much the same way they had when they first got their cutie marks. What kind of destiny was this? Didn't most cutie marks have some kind of usefulness that could be leveraged to craft a career from? What good was just being an incest foal factory?

Barley shook her head at the ceiling. “I can't believe this is what we're supposed to do? What do we tell our friends?”

“We tell them nothing,” Pickle shot back in alarm. “We make up a story and stick to it till our deathbeds.”

“Like what? They're about food?”

Pickle laughed weakly. “Like Rainbow said, we can be good at multiple things. We just need to practice and get good at something like that just to have a believable alibi.”

“Can we really still be Wonderbolts though?”

“I probably can,” replied Pickle. “But you're probably just going to be some stay at home broodmare though.”

“Shut up.”

Barley rolled over, still thinking about the improbabilities of everything and how their cutie marks had upended their whole lives. Not only that but now the seemingly inevitable prospect of getting rutted by her brother began to assault her brain. She didn't know much about that kind of stuff; neither of them did but somehow that act had apparently come to define their existence. She kept thinking back to that moment in the woods where he'd pinned her down with his lips on hers.

Party of Two

Brandy placed a stack of steaming heart-shaped pancakes on the table and sighed. This was going to be the most traumatic Hearts and Hooves Day they'd ever seen.

The twins emerged from their room with a subdued demeanor.

“Good morning,” chimed their mother with put on zeal. “Sleep well?”

The twins exchanged is she for real glances as they pulled out their chairs.

“I hope you feel better today.”

“I don't really,” replied Pickle flatly, picking up a fork with his wing. “But thanks for the pancakes.”

“So, what do you have planned for today?” she asked cautiously.

“What do you mean?” asked Barley, drowning her hotcakes in maple syrup.

“Well, it's Hearts and Hooves Day. I know you both have someone special you like. You weren't by chance planning on giving them a little extra special attention or something, were you?”

Pickle blushed and looked away. “Uh… well… I was sort of gonna give Shady Fern something…”

She nodded in acknowledgement. “And what about you, Barley?”

“I was… just going to ask Seafoam if he wanted to go with me to the ice cream place after his game.”

Their mother sighed sadly. “I’m really sorry about this. I know this is going to sound mean but I think before you go any farther in your friendships you should make it clear that you can't be their special someponies.”

“Why?” gasped Barley.

“Because it's contrary to your true destiny and it will never work out. It's best to just end it early in the nicest way possible. You can tell them any excuse you like and you can still have them as friends, just not in a romantic way.”

“This is because of our freaking cutie marks?” scoffed Pickle bitterly.”

“Yes,” she admitted. “I know this is going to hurt, especially on today of all days, but trust me, it will only hurt worse the longer you wait. This is going to be kind of a rough transition for everyone but I promise things are going to get better once you start finding fulfillment in your cutie marks.” She smiled tentatively, not expecting them to return the sentiment.

“What exactly do you mean when you say finding fulfillment?” asked Barley, still whittling her hearts into little bite-sized pieces.

“Just let me worry about that part for now, honey,” she answered dismissively.

“Can't believe this,” muttered Pickle.”

The twins finished their breakfast in just as sour a mood as ever, said bye and left with their saddle bags stuffed with holiday cards and candies. They took to the air, gliding at a leisurely pace as their minds reeled desperately for the best path forward out of this train wreck.

“How are we supposed to do this?” asked Pickle absently. “What do we say? I can't think of an excuse for rejection that doesn't make me sound like a jerk and I don't want to lie.”

“Maybe we should just tell them the truth,” suggested Barley. “That's the only thing that makes sense and they'll understand. It's not like we asked for this. How can anyone look down on us?”

“But I still don't want to tell that to anyone,” he shook his head fearfully.

“Is it better or worse than lying and making enemies? I don't think they'll tell anyone if we just ask them not to.”

Pickle bit his lip apprehensively. It would be best if they had a single cohesive story that they stuck to or it would just make things worse. If they both told the truth, at least it would spare them from being caught in a lie.

“Fine,” he groaned. We have to make them promise though. - - -

Ready or not, the class had their Hearts and Hooves Day exchange right after first period. Fillies and colts excitedly made their rounds delivering treats and stock expressions of platonic love to every desk.

Pickle returned to his seat and began taking inventory of the candy collection in his box. It all looked small and generic, nothing special which was a relief until Shady Fern showed up timidly in front of him with a little heart-shaped box of chocolates and a card.

“He- here you go, Pickle,” she stammered.

His heart sank while simultaneously fluttering in his chest. This was clearly a larger gesture than what anyone else was giving or receiving. What was he supposed to do now, especially right here in the middle of class with everyone?

Pickle held out his hooves to take the box from her. “Thank’s, Shady.” His words felt like sand in his mouth. “Um, I have something for you too but… can I give it to you at recess?”

She smiled and nodded shakily “Okay.” She turned to leave for her seat but looked back at him once more before bumping absentmindedly into the desk catty cornered to his. She was happy about this. He felt awful. Through class he could think of nothing else but the willful misunderstanding they had and the eventual confrontation that would put a dagger in her heart.

He lifted the lid of the box to see an array of artisanal peanut butter chocolates from the old fashioned sweet shop in town. He didn't try one but he knew they were amazing. He opened the letter during math class even though the thought of reading it made him physically ill. He unfolded the pink piece of paper to find a short, simple question: Will you be my special somepony?

The bell rang and the twins were so preoccupied with their problems that they didn't even look for each other at line up. Pickle tucked his gift into a satchel and met up with Shady who'd waited for him just outside the door.

“C’mon.” He cocked his head toward the far end of the playground, wanting to make this exchange as private as possible. They crossed the field side by side till they were at the fence. When he turned to her, he saw a nervously expectant spark in her eyes that practically choked him.

Pickle fumbled for his satchel as he struggled mentally to navigate the sensitive situation. There was no going back. The best thing to do now would be to just go through the motions of a happy Hearts and Hooves Day confession.

“Um I- I made you this,” he held out an unorthodox looking card that appeared to be a long, folded up banner. Then he pulled it back from her hesitantly.

“But… before you open it… the thing is… I can't be your special somepony.”

Shady’s expression collapsed from anticipation to dismay.

“It's not because I don't like you. I just can't. I want to tell you why but you have to promise not to ever tell anyone.”

She paused as if trying to piece it together herself what could possibly keep them apart. Her pained expression grew. “I can keep your secret. I just want to know why.”

He took a deep breath. “I’m only supposed to be with one specific pony according to my cutie mark and that pony is… my…” He felt his throat trying to close up again before he could divulge something so anathema, so destructive to his image. “My… sister.”

Shady blinked and shook her head in disbelief. “Your sister? No way. I’ve never heard of something like that.”

“We researched it over the weekend and figured it out,” he explained gravely. “There’s nothing else it can be.”

“You’re supposed to be with Barley? Like… get married to her?”

“I… I guess so? I’m still getting used to the idea of any of this. I’m sorry. This doesn’t really mean what it was supposed to anymore but I still want you to have it.” He hoofed her his gift he’d made in earnest this time.

Shady carefully opened her card. It accordioned out to reveal a long paper with matrices of colorful candy buttons affixed to it. As she spread it out, she began to notice that some of the buttons were missing but strategically so. They made letters, a whole message, the same message she’d given to him: Will you be my special somepony?

“I won’t tell anyone,” she whispered.

On the other side of the grounds near the bleachers, Barley was having a very similar conversation with Seafoam.

She pawed anxiously at the dirt. “It’s completely because of the cutie marks,” she explained desperately. “Believe me, I didn’t want this at all. If I could be a blank flank for the rest of my life instead, I’d choose that in a heartbeat.”

Seafoam sagged like a deflating pool toy. “So… you’re saying your whole purpose is to be with your brother like seriously his wife or something? Are you supposed to get married and all that?”

Barley cringed at hearing it all laid out nakedly like that, right in front of someone she respected and had tried so hard to look cool in front of for months.

She pulled her beanie down low. “Well, I hadn’t actually considered that part of it but… maybe?”

“What? You actually might marry your brother?” came a derisive voice.

Barley gasped and the two looked up to see Hailstone leering down at them over the top seat of the bleachers, his lips curled in disgust.

“What are you doing here?” demanded Seafoam, angrily.

The blue pegasus began to goose step down the seats away from them with an obnoxious grin on his face. “I came over to hoot at you ‘cuz I thought you went to the bleachers to kiss or something for love day but that was next level gross, not what I was expecting.”

“Maybe mind your own business and it won't be a problem next time,” scoffed Seafoam.

“Wait, Hailstone,” pleaded Barley. “It's important that no one knows about our cutie marks. Please don't tell anyone.”

He looked back at them with feined sympathy “Oh, of course not. I won’t say a word about your little incest marks and your bro fiancé. You know me. Why would I want to stir up pointless drama?”

Barley frowned as she watched him flutter back toward the school buildings.- - -

The twins sat together at an empty table eating their lunch while the rest of the student body giggled and cast dirty looks over their shoulders. Even Shady and Seafoam, despondent as they were, were too embarrassed to sit with them right now. Never had the siblings felt so mortified just to be seen together. Every eye must have been on them. Every conversation must have been about them. Their social lives were over and it was all because of their cutie marks.

“Well, I guess we're all we have now,” mumbled Barley, eyes fixed on the table. “I guess that's all we need anyway, right?” She swallowed, trying to fight back her tears.

“Hey, when's the wedding?” laughed one filly.

“I am going to kill Hailstone,” whispered Pickle.

Barley and Pickle toughed out the rest of the school day as pariahs and laughingstocks but the second the bell rang, they were out the door. They went straight home as fast as they could fly, eyes full of stinging hot tears. They burst through the door sobbing and summoning their mother from her cleaning chores.

“What happened,” she gasped in concern as she galloped into the room.

“Everyone at school knows we're freaks now,” cried Pickle.

“No one would even come near us for the rest of the day after Hailstone told everypony,” choked Barley.

Brandy expected them to be consoling them about their quasi breakups at the end of the day, not the obliteration of their school lives.

She drew them into a comforting hug. “I'm so sorry this happened,” she cooed. She held them against her chest until their sobbing subsided into quiet shudders.

“You’re not freaks. Ponies can be so cruel.”

Pickle stepped away and wiped his eyes with his fetlock.“What are we gonna do?” he asked, shaking his head in hopelessness. “How can we even show our faces in school again?”

She tousled their manes. “I'm going to think of something but in the meantime, why don't you two go to the training grounds for an hour or so and when you come back I'll have something special for both of you.”

Under a Barrel

The twins practiced at the training grounds for a while but lost interest sooner than usual. Their heads weren't in it today. They retreated to their fort to mope. That was fine because peace and solitude were what they wanted most.

Looking out the window, Barley could just barely see the spot in the distance under the trees where they'd accidentally kissed. She could see her brother in her mind's eye, laying on top of her. It was such a short moment that should have been eclipsed in their memory by them getting their cutie marks but she found it impossible to strike from her brain. Not only that but every time it replayed in her head, something about the encounter would change. They'd accidentally kiss. Then he'd kiss her on purpose. Then she'd kiss him back. Their kissing would get rougher as he pressed her into the ground. Then his kisses would start going down her barrel, trailing all the way down to her- She clenched her eyes shut and shook her head, trying to dismiss the strange fantasy. She'd never thought about her brother like this before. Why was it happening now? Was it the cutie mark affecting her brain or was that brief physical contact the catalyst for some kind of awakening within her? Was Pickle having the same intrusive thoughts about her?

“Think it's been long enough?” he mumbled, looking up from his comic book.

She glanced back at him and shrugged. “Maybe if we walk back.” - - -

It was early evening by the time they returned to their cottage and the cold was beginning to set in.

“Welcome home, greeted Brandy in the kitchen. Why don't you two take a shower together while I get your dinner ready.”

Pickle shrugged. “Together? Why?”

“It'll help you bond,” she smiled. “You'll see.”

“Haven't we already bonded, being siblings and twins for our entire lives?” posed Barley.

“Yes, but this is a different kind of bonding.”

Pickle cocked an eyebrow but started toward the bathroom.

“Oh, and one last thing,” she added, opening and then closing the oven again. “Don't wash or dry yourselves; only wash and dry each other… and make sure you get everywhere,”she nodded.

The two shot dismayed glances back at her.

“For the bonding,” she explained through happy, gritted teeth.

Slowly they turned away and plodded to the bathroom. The shower was boxlike and missing a few little tiles from the wall but it was spacious enough for two foals. Pickle shut the door. Barley turned the knobs and a hush of falling water filled the bathroom. She took off her beanie and was the first to step in when the air became heavy and hot with steam.

“C'mon,” she called, eyes closed, head under the warm downpour.

Pickle pulled off his red hoodie and tossed it on the counter. Then he opened the curtain to find his sister shrouded by her dripping wet mane. He scooched in behind her. She whipped her hair back and sputtered as water ran down her muzzle. Barley moved aside thoughtfully so that her brother didn't have to shiver longer in the corner.

In the tight quarters he brushed past her slick body to get under the water. He turned in a circle to quickly saturate his whole body, then just stood there zoning out and enjoying the warmth entering his body. It wasn't long however till he was reminded of the strange goal they had been tasked with.

He flinched in surprise as he felt something stroke his withers. Almost slipping on the tiles, he turned to see Barley with a sudsy poof in her hoof.

“Sorry,” she shrugged. Mom said we have to wash each other.”

Pickle furrowed his brow. “Yeah but… we're actually doing that?”

“I guess…”

“Okay,” he mumbled suspiciously, putting his head back under the water. He felt the poof slide down his back from his neck to his dock and back again until his coat was lathered and soap dripped down his sides. The smell of cedar filled the air. As unfamiliar and unnecessary as it was, it felt nice to have somepony wash him. He accommodated her efforts by extending his wings and letting her ruffle his feathers.

Barley went down his side and under his barrel. Then, lacking any real method, just followed his foreleg down to the floor. On the way back up, she stole a glance at her brother's tranquil expression and the rivulets of water streaming down his neck from his soaked mane. She gave the same treatment to his other leg and went in circles around his neck, ending with a scalp massage. Then she turned her attention to his hindquarters.

Pickle sighed as he washed the soap from his mane. His sister began to scrub his flank, wishing it would wash off the cutie mark and make their lives normal again. Her eyes wandered over to his tail and then below that where she saw a couple of round protrusions that had gone totally ignored up to this point. Mom did say to wash everything. She held her breath. It was time for her to go where no filly in her class had gone before.

Pickle's eyes shot open and he tensed up like a statue as Barley began to softly caress his balls from the back, lathering them cautiously with suds. She side-eyed him surreptitiously as she moved down to cradle them between his legs. He said nothing. She couldn't feel much through the poof but she could sense a bit of weight to them as they swung loose, sliding in or out of his slicked up thighs. She'd seen them before on occasion but of course never touched his or anypony else's. What a weird thing to have on your body, she thought.

Barley swallowed as it occurred to her that these were not the only mysterious boy parts that needed attention. She moved on to his undercarriage where she began to scrub up and down his sheath. Pickle closed his eyes again as he felt an immediate response in his loins. His sheath began to fill and then his head emerged with mortifying eagerness. His sister had moved on before she could inspire a full scale erection in him and he hoped that she hadn't noticed.

Barley held up the poof. “Now you do me.”

He blinked. “Uh… okay.”

Pickle did a circle under the water to rinse himself off thoroughly. He shook his head and flicked his tail, casting off drops in all directions. Then he took the poof and they switched places. He added in a squeeze of her lavender soap and started on her mane, lathering it excessively as he usually did for himself. Barley closed her eyes to keep the soap out of them. She lazily let the water run over her head as he moved onward to her back. He scrubbed her sides and her legs, like his sister did, avoiding the most intimate parts till last.

He came up her hind leg to her cutie mark knowing he'd need to give her the same treatment he got. He tended to her right and left flank first. That wasn't too bad. He didn't usually touch her there and the washing gave his actions a more sensual feel.

Pickle steeled his nerves and pivoted around her backside. Her inner thigh trembled as he cautiously slid the poof between her hind legs. He pushed up into her nethers and began to scrub back and forth.

Barley moaned softly in response as the slippery poof slid down her folds and then back back again, flourishing with a slight tingle. She bit her lip as her tail flagged involuntarily, giving her brother sudden unobstructed access to her plot. Pickle blushed as he got a front row eyeful of his sister's puffy slit.

Barley shifted awkwardly even though the feeling of soap between her legs was pleasant and she was admittedly a little disappointed when it stopped.

Pickle cleared his throat as he abruptly took the poof away. “Well, I think we're all clean now.” He fled the shower while his sister rinsed off. She came out to find him standing awkwardly, dripping on the bathroom rug.

“I forgot about the dry off part.” He sheepishly hoofed her his towel.

She worked it back and forth, drying his mane first and just shimmied all the way down across his wings to his tail which she rang out. She moved on to his legs, giving his crotch a quick once over before calling it good. Then Pickle grabbed her towel and returned the favor. Thinking it awkward that they always did the hindquarters last, he went straight between her hind legs and began to rub. It did not make it less awkward but at least they'd both forgotten by the time he finished drying her mane.

They said nothing of the whole experience or the things that were surprising or enjoyable. Pickle pushed open the door, allowing the, by comparison, crisp, cool air to rush in carrying with it the smell of mom's home cooking that they were so used to. They left their towels on the hooks and wandered out with damp manes and fluffy coats.

It didn't take long for them to notice omething was different about the house since their shower. All the curtains were drawn, making it extraordinarily dim inside, almost like a faux night time effect. They entered the kitchen to find it glowing with candlelight. The table was set for just two with the nice dishes from the hutch. Their mother was just setting something on the counter straight from the oven.

“Oh, perfect timing,” she chimed in excitement. “It took me a little longer than expected so you're actually just in time. Dinner is ready.”

“Mom… this looks like it's supposed to be a date,” droned Pickle, her number one foil.

“It is.”she replied unapologetically.

The twins looked at each other skeptically.

“You two just have a seat at the table and I'll serve you up and get out of your hair.

By this time they were both very hungry and had little reservations left about what or how the food was presented. Was this really so different than how they ate lunch at school every day? Other than being alone together and it being harder to see?

“Whatever,” grumbled Pickle, getting in his chair. Barley sat across from him as the steaming food landed on her plate.

“I made your favorites,” crooned their mother, trying to lighten their dispositions and get them excited. “Hay burgers and jojo potatoes.”

“Thanks,” said Pickle as a cascade of seasoned potato wedges tumbled onto his plate.

Brandy discarded the empty baking tray on the counter. “Alright, I'll just leave you two alone.” She disappeared briskly from the room. Shortly after, there came a crackle and then the sounds of soft classical music on vinyl filled the house. The comical juxtaposition of fancy and non fancy things did not escape the foals.

“I don't think you can get burgers at a place that plays violin sonatas,” quipped Pickle.

“Just let her have this one and enjoy the burger,” sighed Barley.

Pickle squeezed a dollop of ketchup onto his plate. “So… Come here often?” he mused facetiously.

His sister snickered as she tried a potato. Despite the awful weightiness of the day. the absurdity of their surprise turned out to be a pleasant distraction.

The foals didn't say much. After all, it wasn't like they needed to get to know eachother. They were more interested in stuffing their faces. They finished their food and their mother reappeared promptly, having been watching from around the door frame like a creepy housemaid.

“Don't worry about the dishes; I'll get them later. Let's go have a look at your room.”

“Why?” grunted Pickle.

“You'll see. It's a surprise. C'mon.”

The foals shot each other dubious glances but obliged her, plodding to the open door of their room. They noticed the surprise immediately. There was now only one bed.

Their mom turned and smiled at them. “I forgot to ask but how was the shower?”

“Fine,” mumbled Pickle dismissively. “Um, where are our beds?”

“Oh they're still here.” She pointed to the freshly made bed in the center of the room. “I just pushed them together to make one big bed.”

“Because?”

“Because you're a couple now and I want you to start sleeping together. Not just in the proximity sense but also in the…” Her face contorted uncomfortably, “having sex… sense.”

The twins said nothing but continued to stare into her.

“I want you two to try having sex with each other tonight,” she explained, her smile wavering. “Now- now don't worry, I will be right here the whole time to help you through the process and answer any questions you have along the way. I have visual aides to help explain how it all works.”

She snatched up a select couple of pages from atop their dresser and held them high in her wings. They were clipped from a pornographic magazine. “Only the basic stuff,” she assured them. “I don't want to overwhelm you when you're just starting out.”

Was this the correct way to do this, she wondered. There were no books explaining this part but if there was a right way to do it, it was probably something like what she was doing, counter intuitive as it felt.

“Mom, this sounds completely nuts,” Pickle deadpanned. “You can't be serious.”

“Please just give it a try. If you don't like this, I'll never ask you to do it again but the odds are heavily in my favor that you'll enjoy it.”

The twins slowly turned to one another, still not quite believing this was actually happening.

“Remember, this is what your cutie marks are about and you haven't even tried it yet.”

Pickle scratched his head. “I… guess…”

“Barley?”

“Ugh… okay.”

Their mom swallowed nervously. “Great. So let's start right now. Go ahead and lay on your bed facing each other. I'm just going to stand behind the open closet door just to give you a little more privacy.”

The twins slunk to their strangely large bed and laid down woodenly just as she prescribed.

“So, I know you've already had sex ed which means thankfully we're not starting from a blank slate here. You know basically how this works but there's probably a few things they glossed over in class like foreplay. That's the part where you're preparing your bodies for the act of breeding.”

“Are we literally breeding here?” asked Pickle, mystified.

“Um, we'll see but don't think about that right now; stay in the moment.” Brandy decided not to mention then that Barley had already ingested most of a fertility potion at dinner. She sighed with embarrassment as she put her spiel together in her head. “So anyway, in short, Pickle, you need your penis to be hard. Barley, you need your vagina to be lubricated and those things typically happen naturally during foreplay. So I want you to try this: lay face to face, close your eyes and kiss.”

Barley blushed. Pickle's heart was beating in his ears. They laid there, staring into each other until finally Pickle took the initiative and closed his eyes and suddenly things felt a little easier. He pursed his lips as they slowly scooted their faces together. First he felt her hot breath. Then he felt a familiar softness landing on his lips, stirring up memories of their accident in the woods. It was so much more tender this time. They parted gently and then opened their eyes again. They looked warily back at their observant mother, only finding her her eyes peeking around the edge of the closet door.

“That was good,” she encouraged. “Now just keep doing it for a while.”

They closed their eyes again and felt for each other. When their lips connected, they felt an unexpected spark. Inexperienced and still hesitant, they kissed with clearly punctuated pecks.

As strange as everything about this was, it still felt nice and Pickle could feel a tightening between his legs. Slowly they came to discover that slightly parted lips intensified the sensation and they began to feel the wetness in each other’s mouths.

Barley moaned softly the way she did when he touched her in the shower and it did something to him. Brandy checked in on them uncomfortably as their makeout session gradually became more passionate. They seemed to be taking to this whole thing quicker than even she was hoping. There was now no doubt that this was their calling.

Their hooves began to travel one another’s bodies. She waited a bit longer before initiating the next phase.

She cleared her throat. “Um, okay, let’s take a break and see what your bodies are doing.”

The twins pulled away from each other and looked down their bodies to see the tip of Pickle’s rock hard cock staring back at them.

Brandy’s eyes went to the floor. “Well, it looks like Pickle is ready. How about you, Bar? Notice anything different with your body?”

“Um… I’m not sure,” she replied timidly.

“Reach down between your legs and check.”

Barley slid a hoof down to her fillyhood and began to explore her own folds. As she kneaded them apart, it didn’t take long to discover a slick wetness there that wasn’t residual shower water. It was coming from inside her. “It’s wet,” she murmured.

Their mother nodded. “Then you’re all ready but first do you mind if Pickle checks you too?”

“O- okay.”

“Go ahead, Pickle.“

The colt reached hesitantly down between her thighs and began to feel around. His hoof teased her lower lips apart, eliciting a tiny gasp from his sister.”

“Uh, yeah, it is wet,” he agreed.

“Keep exploring,” prodded their mother. “There’s a special spot just above that wet hole that’s very sensitive to touch. See if you can find it but be gentle.”

Ignoring the presence of their mother, Barley shifted from her side to spread her legs apart a bit more. Pickle held his breath as he began to clumsily map out his sister's labia, smearing her juices around and making it a slippery mess.

Barley squirmed as he grazed the center of her pleasure node. That was something she needed more of. He circled around, believing he'd found the right area until Barley took his hoof and guided it straight to her clit where she began to work it in tiny circles much to her delight.

“That feels good,” she breathed shakily. “Keep going.”

Pickle continued to massage the little fleshy nub with the edge of his hoof. He was gentle but firm as he tried to emulate the brief motions she'd shown him. The tensing of her whole body confirmed to him that his efforts were indeed having an effect on her.

She clenched her eyes tighter and bit her lip as the pleasure began to mount inside. Her legs shook involuntarily and her breathing became labored as her brother serviced her fillyhood. She let out a high pitched squeak almost sounding pained.

Pickle slowed his pace in concern. “Are you okay?”

“Keep going,” she gasped without opening her eyes, almost as if she were trying to hold onto that moment.

Pickle redoubled his efforts, not quite sure of what was happening to her but trusting of his sister's emphatic command.

Her pelvis continued to wriggle as her vocalizations became louder and more frenetic. It really sounded like she was in distress but he kept rubbing her, wondering how much larger her outbursts could become.

She cried out one final time. Then arched her back, mouth open wide as she suddenly seized in a full body shudder. She gave a heavy sigh, then relaxed.

“Okay, you- you can stop,” she panted.

“What just happened?”

“You just gave her an orgasm,” offered their mother, peering ambivalently from behind the door and looking like a pony braced for an explosion.

“Oh, well that's good, right?”

“Why don’t you ask your sister?”

He turned to his twin who was still reeling in the afterglow.

“That was the best thing ever,” she slurred.

”Good job, Pickle. And while we’re talking about it, it’s important to remember that when you have sex, not everything you do will feel the same for both of you which is why you should make sure that everyone is having a good time and is satisfied in the end.”

He looked at his own hoof, noting the light playing off his sister's juices as he gestated on the words of his mother for a moment though it was difficult with the ache between his legs. “So… now what?”

“Well, there’s a lot of really fun things that you can do, for instance what you just did was called a hoofjob but you can explore more of that stuff later. I think it’s probably a good idea to get to the main event now. So, Barley, whenever you’re feeling ready, why don’t you stand on the floor.”

Barley exhaled and rolled off of the bed. She stood on the rug as instructed, a little unsure about whatever was happening.

“Alright, Pickle. Now you mount her just like this.” Brandy held out a page she'd ripped from a porn magazine depicting two ponies rutting vanilla style in the throes of ecstasy but not explicitly showing penetration.

“Oh, yeah,” nodded Pickle as if some scholastic memory had just jared loose in his brain. He stepped carefully off of the bed and looked at his sister's rear and her teal tail.

“It's easier to find the target if you move your tail out of the way, Bar.”

Barley flagged her tail to the side and waited nervously. Pickle looked to see her glistening, slicked up entrance just waiting there, all for him. He swallowed nervously before rearing up. His forelegs came down on either side of her barrel. Barley jostled under his wait but stood solidly. He inched up close to her till he felt himself poke into her rear and his tip nestled into a little warm pocket. Barley gasped at the pressure at her entrance and the impending invasion of her most sacred place.

Pickle paused on the precipice. He’d never felt anything like this and he wasn’t even inside her yet. This was it. Once he was in there, there was no going back. He could never say he hadn’t fucked his sister.

“Now be very gentle at first,” cautioned their mother. “Then, depending on how Barley is feeling, maybe you can speed up.”

Pickle inhaled sharply and pushed forward. His cock squeezed inside her, all the way in till their thighs kissed. He grunted into his sister’s mane, overwhelmed as their bodies interlocked in the most perfect of ways and he felt his entire length embraced by her. They groaned in unison as he pulled back and pushed into her again, her pussy clenching hungrily around his base.

Brandy averted her eyes to the floor. With any luck, her consultation was no longer needed and instinct would guide them.

Pickle soon found a rhythm in his hips as he wrapped his forelegs snugly around his sister's barrel. Barley widened her stance a bit as she rocked on her hooves with the soft impact of her brother's thrusts. Pickle nuzzled into the crook of her neck as they both moaned. Hearing no protest from Barley, he sped up a little, chasing the pleasant buildup of pressure in his loins. The longer they went, the better it seemed to feel. It was both unreal and indescribable. There was nothing to compare to the sensation of being buried deep in her pussy.

Barley threw her head back with a gasp as their thighs began to clap. She squeaked, her cavern throbbing with every plunge from her brother.

Pickle was fast approaching his peak. His mind went blank as his first climax rocked his body. He squeezed his sister for dear life as his cock pulsed inside her. Instinctively he pushed deeper, grunting and trembling atop her. The wave of bliss crashed over him. His body relaxed atop his sister and he let out a labored exhale.

When it felt like it was over and his legs had stopped being rubber, Pickle dismounted and pulled out of his sister. A bit of his seed dripped from her swollen lips before they disappeared behind the veil of her tail. His sloppy colthood retreated slowly as they stood panting, scarcely believing what had just happened.

“Well, it seems like you had fun,” began their mother, suddenly reminding them of her presence. “From now on you can do it any time you like as long as you’re being safe and private about it. I certainly don’t need to be present in the future and if you’d like more ideas about other things you can do, you can take a look through the little stack of visual aides I’m leaving you. And if you have any questions, you can always ask me anything. I'll just leave you two alone for now.”

Not wanting to be there any longer than never, Brandy nodded curtly and left to go process this seismic paradigm shift in their family.

For a few moments the twins stood speechless and unable to tackle either the enormity or the strangeness of the moment.

“I feel like I need another shower,” Barley murmured. - - -

That night the twins laid awake in their new bed, thinking about having to go back to school and face their peers again but somehow the issue seemed dwarfed now by the discovery of their enjoyment of sex and the fact that they now suddenly had free reign to explore this huge, uncharted frontier together.

Together they'd poured over the hooful of visual aides their mother had left in their room which stirred up a whole kaleidoscope of lewd fantasies in their brains. New amazing things were just waiting to be discovered tomorrow night or whenever they had four walls and a free moment.

“I want to do it again,” whispered Pickle. “Like, right now.”

“Me too,” agreed Barley. “But I don’t want to get out of bed.”

“I can just lay on top of you, like in the picture,” he suggested eagerly.

“Oh yeah, we can try that.”

Barley grunted as he rolled clumsily on top of her, still beneath the sheets. They found each other's lips in the dark and let out a mutual groan of sensual satisfaction. Pickle planted his forehooves on either side of her head, their kissing deepening pushing the boundaries of what they had done so far.

Barley hummed as their mouths gradually opened wider and wider with each kiss as if trying to devour each other. Their form was lacking and they were coating each other in saliva but their roaring desires made up for it.

Between Barley's legs she felt his engorged flare skim tantalizingly across her slick entrance.

“Ready?” he groaned in a delirious head rush.

The only answer she gave was wiggling a forehoof between their bodies to push his tip down inside her. Then she recaptured his lips with her own. Pickle pushed all the way inside causing them to groan into each other's mouths. He pumped slowly as their kissing returned to its previous intensity. Barley raised her hind legs around her brother's midsection and was immediately rewarded, discovering that it allowed him to go even deeper. His balls slapped her plot as the bed began to creak softly. Her pussy squelched with each pump from the cum and dampness left over from their previous session.

Pickle broke their kiss to catch his breath but did not slow the pace of his thrusts. His sister's hind legs quivered around him as they went careening into mutual ecstasy. He went back to smothering her mouth with his as her impassioned squeals became higher and higher as she climbed toward climax.

Barley grabbed around her brother's withers with trembling forehooves as her pelvis bucked violently, setting off fireworks in her brain. Her clenching pussy vigorously stroked Pickle's pistoning length. That combined with his sister's erotic cries pushed him over the finish line. He grunted and shook in the vice grip of her legs as he erupted inside her for the second time that day.

When both of their bodies had settled into a hazy tingle and the only thing they could hear was soft panting and beating hearts, Pickle rolled off of her, dizzy and exhausted. They had never cuddled before. The closest they'd ever come was when trying to comfort one another but tonight it just felt right. They nuzzled in close, head to head but at such an angle that they weren't getting facefulls of each other's breath. Their bodies were apart but their hooves were together.

Though they were new to this, they were learning fast. Everything just seemed to click naturally between them and that night they both fell asleep believing they truly were meant for each other.

Since Always

Life's slings and arrows pushed the twins closer together. In the wake of getting their contentious cutie marks they became each other's safe space and, sex aside, the dynamic of their relationship began to change to something resembling significant others. They became more withdrawn from socializing and from the town in general but at the end of the day they always had each other.

Their reclusiveness gave them more time with their new favorite hobby, sex. They tried everything in the provided pictures and some things that weren't, mostly different positions. They agreed that everything they’d been shown was pretty good and that it only got better the more they practiced.

They tried to keep their activities discreet, and they were for the most part, but their blossoming libidos were sometimes considered an emergency. They could usually just fly home to the privacy of their bedroom but they'd also used their fort at the training grounds and even a bathroom in town once but never ever anywhere at school. There were already enough disparaging rumors flying around there without becoming a legitimate spectacle. Though many of the unverified stories were actually true or close enough, the twins tried to act normal and platonic in front of their classmates. Though they were always on their best behavior, there was no getting back their previous lives of respect and normalcy.

As much as their mother wanted to wave a magic wand and change public opinion of a natural phenomenon which they had no control of, things were what they were and when Barley turned out to be pregnant, everyone agreed that their time at Hope Hollow had to come to an end.

Ponies might have been more accepting, or at least less scrutinizing, of their family in the big city but they'd only visited there a couple of times and they just weren't used to the chaos. Small town life was what they knew and loved best and there was only one small town where they knew where they'd be welcome. - - -

“Rollcall,” blasted Scootaloo from behind the Cutie Mark Crusaders Clubhouse podium. “Pickle?”

“Present,” replied the colt calmly from his seat.

“Barley?”

“Present.”

“And I am also present,” muttered Scootaloo, ticking the final box with the pencil in her mouth. “Everyone's here. This meeting of the Rainbow Dash Fan Club will officially commence. First order of business, how's the new fan club member coming along?”

Barley looked down at her big bulge and gave it a stroke with her hoof. “Um… coming along,” she shrugged with a wrinkled smile.

“Great! Any new interactions with Rainbow?”

Pickle raised his hoof. “I asked Rainbow if I made it into the Wonderbolts when I'm old enough, would we be on the same team together? She said it was theoretically possible because she says she probably has a lot of years left.”

“That would be so cool,” said Scootaloo. “If I could fly, that would be my life goal.” She sighed and looked down at her paper. “Oh, look. It says here that this weekend, Rainbow Dash will be best mare at a certain wedding you may have heard about.” She looked back up at them expectantly. “Are you two nervous yet?”

Barley shook her head. “No. Well… kissing in front of everyone is going to be kind of embarrassing,” she added. “I know we have to do that.”

Her concern about that of all things instead of the cake or the flowers or her dress underscored the fact that just because they were having sex and pregnant and getting married didn't mean they were… mature.

After the move, the Barrel Twins at least had built in acquaintances and ultimately fast friends with the Cutie Mark Crusaders; it was a good soft landing to help them adjust while they attempted to build trust with the foals at their new school. Miss Cheerilee did everything she could to help with their transition and give a dignified explanation to the class about the situation with Pickle and Barley who was already showing when they arrived on their first day.

Many of their classmates seemed ambivalent about their story, not exactly because of the incest but more because of having never seen a mated pair of foals and such a young pregnancy. But at least they weren't outwardly mean to them for it. Surprisingly they'd encountered no more bullying than the usual they'd experienced before getting their cutie marks. That change alone was worth being uprooted from their hometown.

For their own peace of mind, the family would have liked to sever all ties to Hope Hollow but the twins still harbored no grudge against their wouldbe special someponies. For their mother the hardest thing to leave was her husband. She said goodbye not knowing if she'd ever have the time and courage to come all the way back to town just to talk to him again. But maybe the distance would give her the reason she needed to start looking for relationships again. - - -

Dappled sunshine draped the entourage at the edge of the Apple's property. Princess Cadance graced the front, standing behind the two stunned foals who stared nervously into each other's eyes.

“There's a rare poetic beauty in being together from the very moment you came to be and for perpetuity onward. A built in companion for life that just gets you in a way no one else can. In the end isn't this real life fantasy what we all want, a soulmate who just falls from the sky, so to speak. Never having to experience the heartbreak of rejection when a relationship falls apart. Never having to search. Never having to date.”

She paused while the audience chuckled.

“It's a perfect love but that doesn't mean it's always easy. You still have a lot of growing up to do but that's just another journey you'll take together. You’ll still fight like siblings and soon enough you'll fight like a husband and wife fight but during those times, you'll always know no matter what happens that you're meant to be together because the reminder is tattooed right on your flank.”

Brandy sobbed quietly into her kerchief.

“And so we come to the beginning of the next chapter of a very long book. Do you, Pickle, take your sister to also be your wife?”

“I do,” he replied with conviction.

Do you, Barley, take your brother to also be your husband?”

“I do,” nodded the filly.

Cadance looked back and forth between them before giving the final word. “Then by the power vested in me as the Princess of the Crystal Empire, I now pronounce you mare and stallion… Now kiss,” she smirked.

The twins blushed but closed their eyes and leaned in. There came an irreverent, teasing holler from the crowd, especially from the Apple Clan. The blush deepened on their faces before they broke the kiss and laughed.

Ponies cheered joyously and rang cow bells. The intimate gathering arose to eat and socialize.

They cut the cake which was a combination wedding and belated cute-ceñera cake with their little figurines standing together atop their shared cutie mark made of frosting.

Apple Bloom caught the bouquet in her teeth with an agile leap.

“‘Bout time a suiter came yer way,” ribbed Granny who was also among the gaggle of eligible bachelorettes. “Ya ain't gettin’ any younger.”

“I can't thank you enough for coming all the way out here just to officiate the wedding of a couple of foals you'd never even met,” gushed Brandy. “It really means a lot to us that the Princess of Love did this for us.”

“I know it's important,” agreed Cadance, floating her cider glass from her lips. “That's why I did it. When Twilight wrote me about the situation, I just felt like I had to. I'd be remiss in my duties if I didn't use my stature to help destigmatize a completely natural love coupling like breeder bonds. They might be married but they're still just foals. They shouldn’t have to suffer through such consternation over their cutie marks.”

On the other side of the venue, the Rainbow Dash Fan Clubbers ate cake and snacks with their favorite Wonderbolt who still wore her dress despite the ceremony being over and her aversion to dresses.

“Did you turn in my papers for the Junior Wonderbolts Summer Program?” asked Pickle excitedly, scooping a chunk of cake with the fork in his wing.

“Yeah, I did,” answered Rainbow.

“Awesome! Once I actually get to show them what I got, I'll be on the Wonderbolt shortlist for sure.”

Rainbow laughed nervously. “Um, well… about that… Pickle, I really didn't want to tell you this at your wedding… ceñera but I was actually looking through the rules and regs about being a Wonderbolt and it turns out they actually have a ban on ponies with certain cutie mark types and one of them is breeder bonds.”

Pickle’s jaw practically hit the ground, wet crumbs falling from his mouth. “What?” he cried in disbelief. “You mean they won't let me in no matter how good I am and I can never be a Wonderbolt now?”

Rainbow scratched her head. “Yeah… Really sorry about that. You can still do the junior program but you can never be an official Wonderbolt. I asked Spitfire about it and apparently it's a measure created to reduce conflicts of interest in the ranks and that includes ‘career breeders’ who are barred to keep them focused on the responsibility of raising their foals.”

Devastated, Pickle buried his face in his hooves. “I could do both,” he whimpered.

Both Barley and Rainbow put a comforting foreleg around him.

“Sorry, kid.”

“That really sucks but It'll be okay,” said Scootaloo. “It's another thing that we have in common. I wish I could be a Wonderbolt too but… I can't even fly. At least you still got that.”

“Would it make you feel better if I let you try my hard cider?” asked Rainbow, shaking her glass in front of his face.

“Mom said we're not supposed to,” he grumbled.

“I know, but it's your wedding. C'mon.” - - -

The twins spent their wedding night in Ponyville at a hotel. It was to be their honeymoon for lack of a better word. Their mother wasn't keen on the idea of just sending them to Manehattan or Vanhoover alone for a week and going with them to supervise seemed to defeat the purpose. She felt more comfortable with the compromise of letting them stay alone in a hotel and just kicking around their new home town on their own schedule.

Pickle laid alone on the pristeen king sized bed, his consciousness threatening to fade out now that the big day was finally done… or was it?

“Hey, Pickle,” called his sister in a singsong voice from the bathroom door.

The colt rolled over to face her and his eyes went wide. Barley stood there proudly, wearing a slip of white transparent tulle that swept over her baby bump and ended at her hips. It was accented by garters on her thighs and a corset-like boning around her waist. She looked like some classical fertility goddess.

“What are you wearing?” he asked in amazement, having never seen such a thing before.

“Oh, this? Got it at the wedding shower. Rarity made it especially for me for moments like this. She said it was extra special because they don't really make clothes like this for pregnant foals. Granny Smith called it… What did she say? A negligee.”

Barley pranced, wings out, in a five-forty and stopped to present her supple, lace-framed ass. She looked back at him and flicked her tail aside to provide just a titillating glimpse of her plot.

“Like it?” she smirked.

“Yeah,” he nodded with conviction.

She hopped onto the bed and slid down alongside him. Pickle drew her into an embrace with his free foreleg and sighed wistfully.”

“You're still brooding over the Wonderbolts, aren't you?” she groaned sadly.

“Yeah,” he muttered.

“Happened to me too. It's okay. All you need is time and maybe a few fun distractions.” Barley extended her wing and dragged her primaries playfully across his undercarriage, causing him to chuckle and squirm.

She went lower, down between his legs, lightly tracing the outline of his empty sheath. Pickle fought to keep his composure as blood rushed to his loins, summoned by the slightest of touches in his most sensitive area.

She continued tickling him there until the head of his cock popped out, much to her delight. It was like a fun magic trick, some kind of conjuring spell for pegasi. She wriggled down his barrel until she was chin level with her brother's colthood. Then she wrapped her lips around his semi hard flare and began to suck it like a straw. She ran her tongue over his dome.

Pickle grunted in approval. His length stiffened quickly, naturally pushing itself into her mouth with nowhere else to go. His medial ring slipped past her pouting lips. His tip push down her gullet. Soon his entire length had filled out firmly and had slithered its way easily down her throat just at the coaxing of her tongue and the welcoming wetness of her maw. Barley had found this to be the best way to get him all the way in her mouth without gagging.

Still on their sides, she began to bob her head with a sucking slurp. Pickle let out a shaky breath and placed a hoof on her head. With one wing still out she began to tease his balls with her feathers. They clenched in surprise and she felt his girth flex powerfully between her lips, the same way it did when he came but he wasn't finished yet. She glided up and down his length in slow, deliberate strokes.

“Ugh, that's so good,” he grunted, eyes clenched shut.

Hearing his accolades suddenly made her acutely aware of the cascade of wetness happening between her own legs. She switched to short bobs with her lips around his base and her chin bumping his balls rhythmically.

His breaths became short and frenetic as his pleasure rapidly snowballed. His forehoof shook on her head letting her know he was getting close.

Pickle's mouth dropped open with a guttural finality and he thrusted once deep into her mouth, holding himself there.

Barley felt his base throb as he fed her his salty cream. She waited for him to stop firing, then swallowed his load in one gulp. She laid there for a moment while her brother played softly with her mane. She pulled back slowly, letting his flare pop from her mouth. She licked the residual savory musk from her lips and crawled back up to lay beside him. “Feel better?”

“Yeah… a little.”

“A little?” she scoffed, shoving him playfully. “I swear, you're the biggest grump. C'mon, it's our wedding night. It's supposed to be fun and sexy… even though we're really tired.”

“Yeah,” he sighed in agreement. “Better get myself going before I just pass out.” He nudged his sister over onto her back presenting her huge laced belly to the ceiling. He shimmied down to the space between her hips where he found her glistening slit shrouded behind an almost ethereal white veil. He licked his lips as he slowly lifted the covering to fully reveal her fillyhood. He pressed his muzzle to her and inhaled deeply, sending shivers of anticipation up his sister's spine.

Barley hummed as Pickle dragged his tongue through her little valley. He rooted around in her folds, unable to see her expression behind her big stomach. He sucked her clit into his mouth like a wet noodle. She gasped, arching her back and placing both forehooves on her brother's head as if she were afraid she'd fall.

Pickle laid out flat on the bed and wrapped his forehooves around the outside of her quivering thighs. He pushed his muzzle further into her mound, eliciting an impassioned whimper from Barley. He pulled off with a smack and lapped at her nub, bouncing it up and down on the tip of his tongue. Her hips gyrated, rocking into his mouth. Her hooves pushed his head down, forcing him to suck her again.

Barley mashed her lips together, paralyzed by pleasure. She cried out as euphoria rushed through her body, causing her to lose all control and presence of mind. She felt the foal squirm inside her as she seized violently. She let out a satisfied groan. It felt like she'd just landed in a big puffy crash pad after falling from the sky. Everything was spinning and it felt wonderful.

Pickle planted a loving goodbye kiss on her pussy that made her shiver.

He stood up slowly on the bed. His dick swung from his undercarriage. It was solid again from eating out his sister. Though he was ready to collapse, he felt the night wouldn't be complete without a rutting. Was that not the tradition and the whole point of the clothes she'd dawned?

Since growing large with child, he could no longer lay atop her but she probably wouldn't want to stand tonight, he figured.

“I can do another round,” he told her breathlessly. “You can stay on your back if you scoot your butt to the edge of the bed.”

Woozy but still eager, she shifted, crawling till her tail was draped over the bed’s edge and her hind legs were splayed wide, up in the air and waiting to be mounted.

Pickle hopped down from the bed and reared up planting his forehooves on either side of Barley's waist. He bowed his head and lifted the veil once more, this time with his teeth. The colt eased forward, lining himself up with her entrance. Then he watched as her folds parted around his shaft and he plunged straight into her welcoming fillyhood with no resistance.

Barley moaned as her brother filled up her snatch with his meat. Pickle was quick to start pounding her, legs straddling him in the air, a drunken smile on her face. Her clit was reawakened by his pistoning length, sending pulses of pleasure through her once again.

Their thighs began to clap as they grunted softly. She ran her forehooves down her bouncing belly, keeping one there as if to restrain it. The other ventured further down to where it could feel his slick member sliding in and out of her. Her hoof was compelled to slip into the apex of her slit where it began to rub, her hunger roused again even after cumming just a couple minutes prior.

Pickle kept thrusting with a dazed lust. Somewhere off in the hazy distance he could hear his sister squeaking as a second, smaller orgasm broke over her weary body. Her legs squeezed his sides before she went limp like a rag doll. She was a toy now.

He increased his speed as she laid there heaving and completely at his mercy. He let out a triumphant groan as he reached climax. His body shuddered as he pumped a second surge of cum inside her. His expression looked pained though he was in ecstasy again. It faded quickly, leaving him with his exhaustion and a heavenly full body tingle.

His forelegs crumpled, almost leading him to topple onto his twin. Once he'd regained his balance he withdrew from her. Her collapsing folds yielded a little spurt of his seed. Pickle wobbled back onto the bed and wriggled lazily under the covers. Barley blew out the light and joined him, spooning up to his side and draping a foreleg over his barrel with a contented sigh. It was a quite satisfactory ending to the amazing day. Well, it was an amazing day except for the Wonderbolts part, she lamented.

Barley grazed her lips across her brother's ear. “You know,” she breathed softly, “we may never be Wonderbolts but with our combined genes and the number of foals we’re going to make, there's a decent chance we'll at least make a future Wonderbolt. There could even be one inside me right now.”

Pickle laughed weakly with his eyes closed. “I guess you have a point. Maybe I can learn to live with that.”

Author's Note

Ignore the date on the last post and don't be afraid to leave a comment if you have a thought.

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