Getting Laid

“That doesn't prove anything.”

Dash stared at Twilight; she continued to speak.

“It's sad and it's interesting and I think I'm gonna hurl once it all sinks in, but it doesn't prove anything.”

Dash snorted.

“And you think Applejack's gonna give you a picture perfect pony?”

The road to Sweet Apple Acres had a peculiar sort of quality; it was just steep enough to allow one to bring a full cart down with as much reduced effort was possible while still allowing its puller to take breaks, and yet not so steep that it would impede a pony's movement as he returned with an empty cart.

This is an utterly pointless thing to know, not least because this means it was more or less flat.

“No,” Twilight said as they came up to the door of the Apple family home and knocked, “but I'm gonna increase my sample size before jumping to conclusions. She seems normal enough.”

“For Celestia's sakes, Twi,” Dash said, as she failed to notice the door opening, “just get a whore.”

“I'm not one to meddle in the country business of other ponies,” Applejack said, tilting her head a bit as she let the door rest against the inside, “but may I inquire kindly as to what in tarnation are y'all talkin' 'bout and why're y'all bringin' it to my doorstep?”

Dash rolled her eyes. “Twilight wants to hear how you lost your virginity.”

Applejack's raised an eyebrow. “Forgive me for sayin', Rainbow, but subtlety ain't exactly your prize melon. You do know I’m, uh—what’s the word? Not attracted t’anybody?”

“Asexual?” Twilight said, raising an eyebrow.

“Huh. I thought that there word only worked with plants. Well, I ain’t no virgin,” Applejack said, shrugging, “but yes, I s’pose I am.”

“Well,” Dash said, rolling her eyes, “are you gonna tell us?”

Applejack glared at her. “Now, why the hay would I go do somethin' like that?”

“Dash says that the only way my first time won't scar me for life—” she began, trailing off.

Applejack winced. “—will be if y'all do it with a ten-trick-pony with a two-bit cutie mark walkin' down the streets?”

“Something like that, yeah.”

“Hey,” Dash said, indignant, “I'll have you know that I've got a very reputable place in mind.”

“Sure y'do, Dash.” She shook her head. “If it'll keep you safe from Dash, Twi, come in. I'll fix y'all up some apple pie and write y'all up a good old yarn.”

“Wait,” Twilight said, “You're gonna write us a yarn?”

Applejack snorted. “I'll have you know I kiss my sister with this mouth.”

“And your brother,” Dash said, snickering.

—

“An earth pony is very strong, but very precise; control is an integral part of earth pony neurophysiology. Their pioneering of advanced mechanical technology is a fundamental display of the fact; while it isn't nearly as spectacular as unicorn magic and far more complicated, the misoperation of a printing press is far more likely to break a pony's hoof than rend it apart.”

—Ehrenbürger Mars, Das Kapital: Kritik der politischen Ökonomie

Rainbow Dash, who had never read Das Kapital, might have been driven to admiringly compare the difference in the injuries she had sustained between the two if she had; Applejack's buck had left a perfectly round, swollen mark centred in her periorbital region, but Twilight's now-faded magical maiming had left an irregular, blotchy sort of impact, its edges peeking out from under the earth pony's multiple, careful, almost simultaneous deep strikes.

She did know, however, that it hurt like a bitch trying to nurse off her—an experience which she had indeed had—and was going to take several days to stop stinging. She ate her slice of pie moodily alongside a quietly giggling Twilight as the typewriter clattered in the background.

“And—done!”

Applejack came bearing six sheets of paper clamped between her jaws, bound through a hole in the upper-left corner by a meticulously-tied bit of string.

“Wow,” Twilight said, her magic surrounding the stiff sheets as Applejack opened her mouth obligingly, “That was quick.”

Applejack shrugged, turning out the room. “Used t'be a stenographer for a while on th’weekends in Manehattan. Granny's asleep, so try not t'blabber her awake, would you kindly? And try not t'let Apple Bloom see it when she comes home.”

Twilight nodded and, spotting Dash's imploring one-eyed stare, began to read aloud.

—

In the glorious nine-hundredth and ninetieth year under the Mistress Celestia wherein I had the pleasure to have turned the age of eighteen and thus rendered under the law of the saints and scholars eligible for courtship in the principality of my birth and place of contemperaneous residence, where I had, in Manehattan, just completed the final year of my studies in my second sojourn from my homestead, I was returning to the student dwellings wherein I had stayed for the prior years. By my incompetence at a part of the quadrivium of liberal arts, namely arithmetic, geometry and astronomy, I had forfeited my right to participate in the celebrations that heralded the completion of my matriculation, and as such I was greatly disheartened as I trotted from the institution of learning which I had once been so audacious to almost have called my home.

Before I was half-way returned, however, bearing my graduate cap, I was politely accosted by a gentlestallion a hoof's-width taller than me.

—Hey, aren't you from that prep school down the block? he said, trotting up alongside me. Just graduated?

—I am and have indeed, I said, giving him a polite smile.

—So, you didn't make the cut? he said, giving me a sympathetic frown.

—Indeed so, I said. It is quite the pity, but I nonetheless wasn't going to make great use of it. I am but a simple apple farmer from the town of Ponyville, as my cutie mark portrays me.

Presuming our dialogue to be thus concluded, I began to depart. Nonetheless, he placed himself before me.

—Hey, wait. You say you’re from Ponyville?

—Indeed, sir. I was born and raised in Ponyvillle, formally la-Ville-des-Poneys-sur-la-Gorge-affreux-en-face-du-fôre—

—Whoa, whoa, he said. No hablo Cabellano. I just wanted to ask you if you were interested in a little job.

Being a pony even then wise to the world, I gave him a very skeptical sort of look.

—Am I to understand that you are offering me a position in the pornographic film industry?

He gave me a somewhat embarrassed sort of look, though my glare did not change in intensity towards him.

—Yes.

—

Rainbow Dash broke into peals of laughter. “Twilight—”

“Shush,” Twilight said, “or I'll stop reading this aloud.”

She quieted herself down rather quickly.

—

I had made a great many inquiries to the producer, and bargained as thoroughly as I could, using to my advantage my virginity and the quaintness of my origins and the various circumstances I had been subjected to so that I would surely obtain the highest price that I could find myself, which was very high indeed. I had, of course, never before participated in any acts that might jeopardize my virginhood, for I never felt any urge to, but I nonetheless must assure the reader of my tale that I was, at the time, feeling greatly fitful, and found myself caring little for either society or myself and I have found myself maintaining the same pragmatism throughout my lifetime, for it is a miserable state, for one to confine themselves out of principle like I had before.

I found myself at the studio of the producer in high spirits, freshly cleaned. There were a great many elements to the ritual, however, of the cleaning to which I was almost immediately subjected; I will not bore the reader with them, except to mention that my pudenda had never been so properly clean in my life.

I was also told to wear a certain ensemble, composed of the following articles:

* a mortarboard, or square academic's cap

* a uniform superficially resembling that of my former school's, though considerably more comfortable

* a small saddlebag containing a false diploma, printed entirely (and unrealistically) with 'F's

I was eventually put into an enclosed chamber, whereby a stallion 'interviewed' me; it was a dull interview, scripted as all are, but it was nonetheless greatly humiliating in a way that I cannot say was unpleasant: I was interrogated as I had been told I was, spoke eloquently about my (false) aspirations in science, made a great fuss about how I had (not yet) disappointed my family, and noted (falsely) that the mark upon my flank, the mark of my sundorcræft, had been received along with my failing assessment, concluding with the truly incredible news of my recent foaling; I cannot recall the details of the conversation, though the tape is surely by now publicly available, but I do recall that it concluded thus:

—So, you're a failure?

—Yes, I said, making sure to smile as though I wished to cry. I am.

The red unicorn stallion before me, one of the three who surrounded me, then used his magic to force the lower part of my bottom coat apart, revealing my teats, which were engorged, forced into lactation by some sort of unicorn fertility magic. I made a great show of seeming fearful as he pounced upon me and dragged me to the floor by my tail, my cap falling to the couch, and let out a slight yelp as another stallion, a light blue pegasus with a dyed blonde mane—unusually feminine—pulled my hair backwards, and very quickly put his member up against my face; it was dripping rather furiously—no doubt under the influence of some sort of magic, for his horn was glowing—and he grabbed my hair, done into pigtails, with his hooves—here, I quickly jerked my head back before he committed his act, as I had been instructed, to ensure that he did not break his forelegs with the shock—and yanked downwards, my jaw gaping open as his magic stroked at his male organ, pushing downwards and rubbing itself at my face, as sticky strands of Cowper's fluid strung themselves from my 'chanfro', as it is known in Poneibeluese, to bridge itself over my open mouth before he held my skull and thrust it into my throat, swooping immediately to its base; I choked for air as his scrotum slapped against my eyes, stinging very slightly.

The pony who had pulled me before then inserted himself at my cleft of Venus, keeping himself above me; I am later told that his glance, hidden from the cameras, had the slightest note of concern within it, and as I felt his pushing I tapped his upper thigh, as is customary and just under the laws of the Princess, to indicate my final consent; such being given, he pushed slowly, but found that he could not penetrate past my clenched loins—then tight from the stress caused by the somewhat occupying organ within my throat, the scenario being so constructed with the peculiarly urban sensibility that my inability to see my own 'deflowering' would be so demanding psychologically that they would be compelled, by their ethics, to offer me a slightly greater payment, as strange as the custom might be—and thus attempted, unsuccessfully, to prize my vaginal labia apart with his magic to ensure that his own organ was not harmed in the process of penetration; this eventuality being accounted for professionally, however, he then put his horn against my feminine entrance and pushed upon it very hard, the blunted tip forcing through my hymen, which stretched rather widely with a mild discomfort; the sensation of penetration, however, was greatly overwhelming, and the pegasus, in a motion which was likely choreographed, pulled himself from my throat so that I could shout.

The targeted audience for this film was clearly male and heterosexual, for my colleagues did not make the slightest voluntary sound but various small bits of praise and calumniation— even the unicorn, who had just put a direct channel to his central nervous system within an unbearably tight orifice, remained admirably almost silent. I pulled his head from within me, making sure to make it look as if it were an effort, and groaned; I was (falsely and loudly) informed that I would not be compensated if I did not follow through entirely, and the camera turned off for half a minute so that I could be gifted with hastily-applied teardrops, that miracle of acting, before they brought the camera close to my face so that I could sadly conclude my assent.

This melodrama thus concluded, the unicorn horn coated in my fluids and a dash of magically-conjured false blood thus penetrated me again, once, as if in spite but in reality to test my openness, before he mounted me, coarsely fondling my soft teats. A great volume of milk spilled from them as he did so, and I groaned theatrically as he berated me for abandoning my nonexistent child for a life of perversion, before he finally used his stallionhood to penetrate me.

My groan was unceremoniously interrupted with a slap to the muzzle in the form of the pegasus stallion's member, and I was slightly distressed by this, yelping in surprise, that itself cut off by the sudden repeated penetration of my throat. This having been expected, I stuck my tongue out around the member, and tasted it—I shall not endeavor to explicate in great deal my quale, but it was an interesting taste—upon which occasion I moaned rather salaciously.

The third stallion, purple in color, beforehand out of the picture, then came in; he was an earth pony, but the cameraman intentionally seemed to wish to obfuscate this—perhaps as a subtle sort of pandering, for the name under which the studio had released my film under had an interesting name, which I forget exactly though remember as relating in a very subtle way to the tribal nomenclature, and though they never went so far as to call me a 'mud pony', they were quite happy calling me a 'big earth mare'—as the other two pulled out of me so that he could flip me onto my front and put his greatly lubricated member up against my similarly virgin anus; I made a great deal of screaming as though I were a common animal until I was quickly gagged by the organ of the unicorn which had heretoforth been penetrating my vagina, and the earth pony, using a great deal of his strength, penetrated deep into my rectum, causing in me a great series of shudders; I did not feel a great deal of pain, for a great deal of lubrication had been used and my natural endurance played a great role in it, but the shudders continued nonetheless, and filled me with a beastly feeling, and I began to feign struggle—I might have struggled in reality, if I was not afraid of causing grievous injury to the workmen involved—only to be 'held down' by the pegasus above me, at which point I shook my hooves halfheartedly under his 'strong and firm' grip.

We then proceeded to engage in various varieties of intercourse, descriptions of which I will not bore the reader with; the earth pony did not at any point find himself anywhere but at my rectum, which had settled by a gel of rather ingenious composition to become comfortably numb, and the other two switched positions on occasion. There were two breaks, I recall, where I was given water—no snacks, however, for the production was not emetic in nature, though I would not have minded it greatly if the studio had offered the option.

The ending, however, is notable: I found myself kneeling upon my hindlegs unpenetrated, still wearing my torn, rather terribly messy clothes, and was told to pull from my saddlebag my false diploma; I did so, and it was promptly taken from me; I was told to put it up against my chin, and, recalling this part of the script, did so; this being done, I opened my mouth, at which point the three masturbated upon me; their semen fell over my face and covered it entirely, and one of the stallions put his hoof up against it and pressed it against my face, sticking the paper to me by the semen; I could not see, but I felt quite vividly the thence-forgotten graduate cap being shoved roughly upon my head, leaving me a rather picturesque wreck.

I was then again interrogated—after the soiled paper was removed from my face and I was 'made' to tear it to shredsand there came the pause of the camera for the miraculous eyedrops—and quickly recalled my lines; the dialogue was similarly immemorable, and doubtlessly very arousing for certain people. I had not at any time reached hysterical paroxym, but then again I had not at any point felt sexually aroused.

I was given a small bonus for my evidently outstanding performance. I must admit, however, that there was a single thing I did which I was not supposed to do before the credits were meant to roll.

I smiled.

I really was given quite a lot of bits.

FIN

—

Twilight Sparkle took a deep breath, her narration finished.

“Wow.”

“So,” Dash said, “does this mean I win, or—?”