Of Green, Orange, White, and Black
Twilight Sparkle shut the door. She froze for a moment, nervously waiting for Applejack to pass out of sight and ear-shot after dropping Twilight off. The lighted library was warm inside while the late autumn night was cold. That fact might have been refreshing to Twilight had her mind been clear. She might have simply dragged herself upstairs and prepared for bed, but her mind was a jagged frenzy—a collage of erratic, agitated shreds of thought—glassbroken memories of that night: of her and Applejack—of wind, sounds, light, and colors. A cold breeze, leaves rustling, laughing—moonlight—green, orange, white, and black.
Twilight knew it must have been late, but it didn’t feel late to her. Time was motionless now. Her mind was frantic, and a frantic mind operates outside of time and is simultaneous with nothing. She glanced at the clock anyway: 3:15 AM. Spike will have been asleep for a few hours now. She couldn’t use him as a distraction to take these things off her mind. This was that late hour when everypony else slept and skipped through time, while those with troubled consciousness were made to endure the ever-slowing hours.
She took her saddlebags bearing her astronomy notes for that night and levitated them onto the nearby coat rack. Tonight she was up late recording something or other. She had forgotten that all-together for the time being, so preoccupied with her thoughts.
“You can go home whenever you want, Applejack; I’ll be fine alone here.” Why did my voice have to crack then?
“Oh, don’tcha fret now, Twilight. Big Mac is takin’ over my chores tomorro’, so I don’ mind stayin’ up a little late.” She didn’t have to stay up with me; she wanted to hang out. She could’ve left whenever she wanted to. I wasn’t bugging her. Why do I even care?
Twilight would need to organize her thoughts. She quickly trotted over to her quill and parchment.
There on the hill—that highest hill at Sweet Apple Acres—Twilight with her telescope and notes—Applejack with her kindness. Showing off her lasso. Her body bobbing and twirling.
Twilight’s heart was fluttering unpleasantly remembering it. But it wasn’t Applejack that was distracting her. I mean, it’s not like I’m gay. Twilight had concluded, however, that her lack of a partner was keeping her from thinking her clearly. It had been three years since she had lived in Canterlot—three years since her last involvement with a stallion. This would explain what happened that night. But nothing even happened! In her loneliness, Twilight projected her longing for a partner onto Applejack and subconsciously interpreted their interactions that night as romantic ones. As psychology wasn’t really her field, Twilight could only pretend to be a psychologist—still, this explanation of hers seemed to make sense.
She quickly sketched this explanation down on her parchment. Below it, she wrote “Having a Romantic Relationship,” and below that, drew a T-chart with columns labeled “Pros” and “Cons.” She had to be sufficiently analytical about this.
But then she caught herself. I can’t just find some stallion! Twilight found herself so opposed to the idea that she almost said it aloud. She didn’t find herself interested in any of the stallions in Ponyville, and she definitely couldn’t simply ask out somepony that she didn’t know. Quick to excuse herself from the idea, she wrote “finding a suitable stallion” under “Cons.” Oh, and I’d have to make sure I had enough time for my studies. She added “insufficient study time” to the list. And let’s not forget my friends. “Insufficient sororizing time.” And I’d have to write to my parents, of course. “Obligation to notify parents.” And the obvious problem. “Insufficient romantic experience.” Twilight paused for a moment. She slowly added to the list “Inevitable break-up.”
Twilight stood back and looked at her filled-out “Cons” list, and her empty “Pros” list. She didn’t terribly want to write down any pros. With a sigh, she wrote “Relief of distraction, loneliness, frustration” in the empty column, then paused. Maybe if she compressed her items in the list this way, the list wouldn’t be too long. What else… She was mostly humoring herself thinking of more. Well there’s the obvious: “Sufficient stimulation and time with an attractive partner.” She blushed slightly writing this down. On second thought: She went back and crossed out the word “loneliness” out of embarrassment. She wasn’t lonely. She had her friends, and they got out often enough. And Spike was always there for her.
But the late nights at home. Those moments she took from her studies to feel the warmth of her home—an uncaring warmth she only wished were coming from a stallion she loved. She stared out into the night sky—past the firmament and the stars into the expanse of time and space—into a boundless universe she devoted her life to and loved—a universe that didn’t love her back. The longing was so aching, it kept Twilight from realizing what it was for. Now she knew she longed for the warmth of a stallion—to curl up by his side—to enjoy the company of his person and the weight of his caring body, and to stare into his eyes—past the lights in them and into someone she loved—who loved her back.
It’s just a dream. An obsession. Twilight took her list and trotted upstairs to think things over in her room.
Applejack showing off her apple-bucking. Twilight glancing up from her notes and seeing her legs rearing. Twilight blushing.
Why did I? Twilight was kicking herself and trying to shake the memory away, mortified. She still believed that her explanation for her distraction was correct, but there was more to it, it seemed. Unless—
It’s not. Twilight paused at the top of the stairs. It’s not Applejack. I’m not gay. That’s just not me. She’d never thought of any mare that way, nor looked at a mare that way. Not as far as I can remember, at least. No mare had really done it for her before. She’d never thought of herself that way.
Legs rearing—Twilight blushing—green, orange, white, black—
If it were true, how could she tell her friends about it? They were all mares after all. And what about her parents? What would they think about it? What would Twilight think about it?
Her green stare—her orange dance—the white light in the black sky.
Twilight just needed to think clearly again. She hurried over to her bed and hoplopped onto it. She laid on her back and stared intently at the pros and cons list she levitated above her head. The words laid static on the page, their meaning slowly fading away the more she stared at them. Her vision was grainy and her thoughts foggy. She brought the parchment closer to her face hoping she might be able to better decipher the scribbles she had written. But all Twilight could see were the racing blurs of color in her memories; all she felt was her heart fluttering while thinking of that night, and her rage growing for the torment that Applejack brought upon her.
Twilight needed to distract herself from this distraction. She thought her dream stallion again. The two of them curled up together somewhere. On a bed? No—on a rug in front of a fireplace, away from the cold night wind. What would he look like? Twilight figured he’d have a white coat, like the handsome Royal Guard. He’d have deep violet eyes. Like mine, I guess, but that’s not why they’d be violet…
She wasn’t too good at the specifics. But while she didn’t have much experience with stallions, she knew exactly what she wanted. It wasn’t very proper for the Royal Guard to expose themselves, but on occasion, Twilight was there to see their tails blown aside by the wind, revealing their hefty balls and perky assholes. She knew what she wanted, and it was that, not some mare.
She imagined that sight on her dream stallion. Her parchment had fallen to her side by that point, and her hooves had moved in between her legs, fidgeting and clopping together. She imagined herself rolling over next to her partner (although she’d have to turn around first from the position she imagined herself in). She would nose between his haunches and find his black, leathery balls to suck on. Hopefully she wouldn’t be being too forward. Twilight would open her legs for him and he would bend over and partake in her love—if he could do that comfortably in the position he was in. What if she got distracted by how good it felt and couldn’t please him well enough?
Twilight gave up. She laid staring at the ceiling playing with her pussy lips with a hoof. It wasn’t real enough. She didn’t know what she was imagining, and she didn’t know what she wanted. She needed experience. No longer distracting herself, thoughts of Applejack crept back into her mind.
They were the two of them wonderfully alone in the autumn night—the night which spun with wind the leaves rustling and the twigs crackling. The night was cloudless and black—so perfectly black—and the moon and stars so bright. That black, so perfect and pure, was alive in how black it was. The moonlight dotted her green eyes and painted a broad brushstroke down the edge of her golden straw hair. The stroke became a fine line against her orange back, drawing down, then up over her rump, then broadening down her gold tail again. The white moonlight on Applejack’s back against the black sky—a white silverfire in a black abyss. Oh how dark the night was—how bright the night was—and how alone they were!
She was her straw mane reflecting the moon as it bobbed in the wind. She was the green eyes that smiled at Twilight; she was the faint smile that saw Twilight at last. She was her legs rearing. She was her strong haunches—burly, fibery muscles twitching. She was every muscle fiber in her body moving. She was her shoulders rolling, her veins pulsing, her rump round, her loins stretching, her lips smiling, her lips hidden—
Twilight was playing with her clit with her other hoof and fapping furiously now. She would need more. She levitated a spell book hidden under her bed to her and, with her hooves still between her legs, turned quickly to a spell she’d only used once, and not for some time. She closed her eyes strained as her horn hummed, glowing a soft purple. There was a loud crack, and a flash of white before her, then feeling started to grow in her new organ.
Twilight opened her eyes. Her new dick was leathery and black, already hard and throbbing, with weighty balls laying loose, sprawled out above her pussy. She impatiently grabbed it with her hooves and started whacking away. She levitated a nearby dildo and shoved it into her with a shallow gasp. I couldn’t possibly wake up Spike. Heavy sleeper. Twilight let out a soft moan that pushed her on.
She wasn’t thinking about stallions anymore. It was Applejack, that cruel mare, for confounding Twilight so. Twilight moaned. How could she understand the way Applejack made her feel? how Applejack tormented her own identity? Twilight didn’t even know what she didn’t know. She just knew of that night. Oooh. Alone. The cool nightwind. White on black, green on orange, white on gold on orange on black. So alone! Her swaying, throbbing haunches. That rump. When an apple rolled to Twilight. “Sorry there, Sugarcube!” She was breathing faster now. Every little glance she gave her. Her breathing was shallow now. When she dropped her off at the library. She was moaning now. “See y’all tomorro’, Twilight!” She pounded harder and deeper with the dildo. Applejack winked before taking off. Twilight felt it. She pounded and fapped as fast as she could. Why did she wink? She was almost yelling now. She tried to hold it as long as she could. Faster. Her dick was twitching and throbbing in her hooves. Harder. Why did she wink?
Twilight let go. She let out a long yell. Her hips pumped into the air with the first shock of pleasure. She felt how wonderfully thick it was before it came shooting out—long, thick, white ropes of cum straight up in the air—Aaahhh!—they came falling on her face—big hefty gobs of steamy, hot, white love on her face and in her open mouth—Mmm!—before she could swallow, the next shot landed warm on her chin—then on her chest—and finally one oozed out and dribbled into a thick pool in her belly button—Mmmm—she squeezed out one last sweet glob out, pumping her hips more while riding the last waves of pleasure. She held her hips up for a moment more, then slowly let go and collapsed on her sweaty sheets. She was panting by now, her breathing calming down. She took a few more deep breaths, then closed her eyes and laid in her lovemess.
It was quiet. The night was still the same pitch black. Twilight felt the cool night air from outside coming from her window mixing with the warm air of her home and felt cool against the cum and sweat on her body. The night was still now. A light rustling of the treehouse leaves. A cricket chirping somewhere in the distance. No doubt seeking his love.
Twilight let out a soft singsong sigh, then curled up towards the wall and cooed to herself in contentment. She scooped up some cum from her plump belly and licked off the luscious white globs from her hoof. It was a lovely mess she had made. Twilight smiled to herself, almost proud of it. She moved on to lick the rest of her cum off her body, humming to herself. She felt a new confidence. She deserved to take pride in her mess and just lay in it—the first time in a while she could be so open with herself. Twilight swallowed the last sweet, gooey drop. She sighed with a smile and hugged herself, curling up in cute little ball. Cool and warm. Relieved. Night. Quiet.
Applejack.
Twilight Sparkle peeled her sticky body from the bed. She rolled off and started cloppacing around her room, already planning the days ahead. I can’t just avoid her. I’ll end up seeing her again at some point. It was Friday. Or rather, it was Saturday morning. She approached her nightstand and picked up her to-do list for the week. It was pretty well filled out, but nothing she wasn’t used to handling.
Twilight braced herself for her decision: I have to talk to her. She didn’t know what she would tell Applejack, but she had to say something. She didn’t know what she was feeling, but she might know with an answer from Applejack. She didn’t even know who she was anymore, but now, she was prepared for finding out, and she’d be comfortable with whatever the answer might have been.
Twilight took a nearby quill to her to-do list and wrote at the very top where she couldn’t miss it: “This week: AJ.” It was sufficiently vague to arouse Spike’s suspicion. He didn’t have to handle the list this week. She’d take the burden off his hands as a favor. Twilight rolled up the parchment and set it back on her nightstand.
It was well past four now. Twilight was more comforted now, and could finally consider sleep. She stood there in the middle of her room, staring nowhere in particular. How much would any of this change her life? She couldn’t talk to anypony about it this soon. And what if Applejack rejected her? What of their friendship? What if she didn’t reject Twilight? Did Twilight even want it?
She did know one thing, and she decided to write in the margins of her to-do list as an idea for a letter to Princess Celestia: “Friendship can change who you are.”
Twilight Sparkle wandered to her window and looked out. She looked out through the window pane, past the leaves of her treehouse, over the houses of Ponyville, past the billions of stars, and into the void. She wasn’t looking at the sky, or at the stars, but beyond them, into the uncharted realms of the universe. This was her soul: the unknown and unknowable. She wasn’t the fully-understood being she thought she was. Staring into this void used to make her feel uncared for. But now, a spark was lighted. She knew she could love someone—someone outside of her head and real. And now she could imagine someone real loving her in return, and in looking into the it, something made Twilight feel that love in the void—it was hope.
Author's Note
So yeah, first fic ever.
I wasn't really planning on expanding on this for three reasons:
1. I suck at dialogue;
2. I don't think I can write sex scenes, if that's indeed where this would go;
3. It might detract from the point of the story.
