Author's Note

Here is the very first Cloacajack greentext, originally posted as 40680202 and 40680204. It is reproduced with the permission of the original author, who wishes to remain anonymous. Some typos have been corrected.

Extra: The first Cloacajack story

“Now, Anon, I know this is your first time, so don’t worry, I won’t judge if you don’t last long.”

With a wink, she turns around and lifts up her tail.
aaaaAAAAA WHAT THE FUCK WHAT THE FUCK WHAT THE FUCK!!!!
Applejack looks at you quizzically
“Well hey now, Sugarcube, I know I don’t bathe as often as I should, but I don’t think that was warranted…”
WHY IN GOD’S NAME IS THERE ONLY ONE HOLE????
She cocks an eyebrow.
“Well, what did you expect my cloaca to look like? Also who’s god?”
Applejack gives you a side-eye glance.
“Anon, do women not have cloacas where you’re from?”
NO!!! EXPLAIN THIS SHIT RIGHT NOW APPLEJACK!!!!
With a sigh, Applejack explains that Equestria has this weird form of female circumcision for mares where shortly after birth, a knife is run from her vagina, to her urethra to her anus.
Once the scar tissue is removed they are left with a singular large orifice to urinate, shit, and give birth from.
Sometimes they are stretchy enough to carry things inside.

“Well Anon, if you’ll withhold your vapid horror, I haven’t got all day. Either get in or stay out.”

God, your first day in Equestria couldn’t get any weirder. First you get triple raped by three fillies with machetes, and now this?
You reach into Applejack’s cloaca.
shlorp
With a groan, you insert your other arm and spread it large enough to make a hole for yourself.
You figure that this is probably going to be a shoes-off thing, so you take off the dress shoes you wore to your high-school grad and plant one socked door inside her cloaca, feeling her walls shiver around you under the added weight.
You trip and fall the rest of the way through. You can feel your other foot sticking out the back of her muscular cheeks.
You take a look around. Oh, for fucks sake.

It looks like you’re in a university professor’s study, complete with bookshelves, a hardwood floor, an easy chair and a single naked lightbulb dangling from the moist, pliant ceiling.
You sigh and pull your other foot the rest of the way through.
shlip. Smells like someone emptied a whole bottle of apple-scented Febreze in here.
You hear something muffled from above.
you yell back, I CAN’T FUCKING HEAR YOU!!!
no response
You pull out a book from the bookshelf and sit down on the easy chair. A single apple looks back at you from the cover.
You open the book to discover that all the words have been replaced with unicode-style black and white apples, because of course they have.
You flip through the tome. More of the same. Fucking fantastic.
More muffled voices. Everything’s moving now. Applejack must be on the move. You drop the book and cling onto the easy chair for dear life.
Suddenly, a sphincter in the ceiling sphincters open. You hear something that sounds like a winch turning.
A shoebox descends from high above, touching down a few feet in front of you.
Warily, you approach it, keeping low to the ground.
With both hands, you deftly open it up. An overwhelming smell of alfalfa hits you in the face.
Oh my god.
Is this her snowpity?
Nope, it’s just alfalfa.