An Alicorn in Ponyville

Part III

Eat Randy

The pastel colored love of my life and I are trotting towards her friend's home and business, which I'm informed is wholesomely named 'Sweet Apple Acres.' (Before then a few boring things probably happened, like blahblahlah we trotted out of the door or whatever, but you know how it is with boring stuff in dreams it just doesn't stick in the memory.) Unfortunately the salient points of this journey, such as its purpose, are still pretty unclear to me, but at least it's another pleasant sunny day.

"Twily-" I break the silence, but am cut off.

"I really wish you'd stop calling me that... only my brother calls me that."

Not wanting to be incest-zoned I assent. (Still not calling her 'Twilight' though.) "Twi. I love meeting your friends, I really do! But I really need you to help me out here. The last time I met these two I'm sure that your cyan friend – uh, Rambow or something-"

"Rainbow."

"Yeah - Randy. Anyway, you said something to her and she attacked me. I don't understand. I mean I usually make a good first impression... everypony says so." (A slight exaggeration, but absolute honesty isn't a practical basis for a strong relationship, I feel.)

"Ugh! You wanna KNOW why she attacked you? You're impersonating an alicorn! That's kind’ve a  big deal! We thought you were a Changeling, and some of us still think you might be. But even if you're not then whatever you are can't be good! I've never even seen illusion magic like this."

I switch topics from the subject of my horn (my alicorn). It stands to reason that the deformed ponies of this town would find my wholesome, fully formed horn rather trying after all, and I just want to put her at ease with her more feminine, diminutive spire.

"Did I ever mention that I really respect what you've achieved here? The power and range of magic you're using is incredible! Are you some sort of prodigy? Has anypony told you that you're beau-"

I notice that the mare isn't listening, and is instead looking around distractedly. "RAINBOW! APPLEJACK! SHE'S HERE!" Twi suddenly shouts.

There is no visible, audible or other type of response amenable to pony sensory apparatus that is discernible from the scene in front of me.

"But Applejack is never late... Rainbow must be delaying her! UGH!" my purple streaked companion complains. I take my chance; it might be a while before I was alone with her again. I lean in, speaking softly and closing my eyes:

"As I was saying; the way your mane falls over those fine cheekbones of yours, and round that perfectly formed snout, is the most beautiful thing I've ever seen." I'm unable to restrain myself; I finally slide my snout against hers and push my tongue through those dark, tremulous lips. Or I would have anyway if her muzzle had met mine.

Instead I hear her say "COME ON!" from some distance away. To be honest though, I don't mind; the chase is worth it. If anything it only makes me more eager. I trot once more after the purple streaked tail which offsets and highlights the faintly glistening and swaying flank of Twi.

--

Awkward narrative

We trot through a charming agricultural landscape. (This in itself is a clear give-away as to the unreality of my situation. In a modern agricultural economy rural landscapes are anything but charming; they're typically flat, brown, noisy, poorly serviced for casual clopping and contain often un-aesthetically pleasing ponies called 'farmers'.) I admire the landscape dotted with fields full of different crops implausibly at similar stages of development, [smartflank ~ ed.], and observe, after trotting a while, a bright red farmhouse nestling in the midst of this scene. I fail to notice in the distance a smaller, carrot topped, farmhouse. I sigh contentedly and look at the small purple wingless mare beside me.

She doesn't reflect the calm serenity of the scene before me. Her head is down, her ears are down, her eyes are hooded and her gait is irritable. She's muttering something about 'tardiness'.

We approach the red farmhouse. A bell sounds. Not on its own, I suspect. (I think that Twi probably pulled some sort of bell-pull, but I missed that. I'm SORRY! First-pony style has its drawbacks! I know that now .) Nothing happens for a while. After that while, nothing happens again. I can sympathise there; I'm no avid bell-ringer, and even with good friends I leave a respectful two-and-a-bit whiles between rings. However, when you have a narrative and a stranger waiting for a door to open you do need to engage in an awkwardness proportionality exercise; ringing again too soon might make me look like a busybody, but ringing too late makes it look like I don't mind my guest waiting around in the cold. It's a doozy. Anyway on the third while of nothing happening Twilight rings the bell again.

What would be awkward is if nopony answered the bell again. Which did happen, and it was awkward.

(Well... that is what happened. What of it? Never read an awkward narrative before? What right has text got to be departing from the mundane reality of everypony's day to day existence? What... so you think this is all about making things easy for you? Don't you think that'd leave you a bit complacent?  You think I'm narrative's slave? I'm an independent pony! I do what I please! Do you know what... maybe the ponies got their wires crossed and the entirety of the coming narrative will be about Twilight double-checking the messages on her phone, embarrassedly saying things like "oh well... the weather's nice today... um... so out of character for those two, ha ha. Somepony is sure to answer the door soon, ha ha." And all the while Applejack and her family have gone on holiday in another state and don't appear for the rest of the fanfic. <-- Imagine 3k-ish more words of that! I'm warning you I could do it! And then what would you do?)

On the third and final ring... (You know what, screw you all!) On the awkward, not narratively sensible, arbitrary and dissatisfying 8th ring a green zombie-pony lolls its head out of the saloon style door, its sickly hanging skin draping over the glistening red woodwork. The unnatural being animates suddenly, its eyes boring into mine and its cavernous mouth gasping open.

Bridle Gossip

[The editor would like to convey his sincerest apologies for the ageism of the last paragraph. Age is nothing to make light of, and affects us all deeply. If you, or anypony you know, have been affected by age please contact Age Concern.]

"Ah say A-Wha-AAT ih-IHS iiit? 'darnable younguns ah bustling een... in the middle oh mah naahp!" the decrepit nag says/grumbles in a tricky to portray warbling southern tone which instantly makes me think 'even if she's a bit on the wrong side of the century she's a spunky old gal ain't she'.

"Oh hello Granny Smith, is Applejack in?" Twi asks.

"Ah done thingk soo young'un! Ah think she's... ah spending time with Raaambow down in tha- there yon baa-AAAHN!" Twi continues. NOT! (Gotcha! That was Granny Smith again! See you should really be more careful.)

"Oh! Thank you Granny Smith! We'll go there now!"

"It's uh niiiice too meet-cho again too um.. uhhhhm"

"It's 'Twilight', Granny Smith." Twi says indulgently. She turns to me to explain. "I'm kinda new here."

"Naaaaa'ce to meEET you Twwaaahligght annnd yor biiiihg friiieehnd!" she warbles and wheezes with particular strength as she looks up at me. I notice the elderly pony's lower lip becoming covered in slobber through the extended and emphatic speech. I don't mind about that though, as age occurs to all of us [much better ~ed.].

We wave our hooves to the nag, and we turn to trot companionably towards, and indeed inside, the barn indicated. In the musty silence of the sun-streaked dust-shadows a steady, low panting can be heard. The panting is unmistakably coming from two hot, young mares; the shallow breaths seem to indicate that the mares were until recently exerting themselves strenuously and suddenly stopped, as if interrupted by me and Twi in the middle of...

My cheeks are instantly burning, and my wings thrust achingly against the confines of the 'shirt' covering my wings. (I didn't mention this before, because it didn't come up ok *glowers* but this isn't the overdesigned shirt I was wearing the other day. This one was a small red number, borrowed from Twilight, although the label reads 'Property of Fluttershy if that's um ok with you'.)

I look down. However, Twi doesn't seem fazed. "Applejack is that you!? What are you doing?" Her voice conveys genuine incredulity. Either she was a brilliant actor or she genuinely couldn't guess! Such purity, such innocence.

"Uh! Twah! Uh… hey! Uh... I'll uh... be right down. I'm uh... restin! up... here... all on mah own ha ha an musta forgot the tahme! You jus… uh... go back into the house and we'll uh… finish up... oh hayseed," the cowpony's voice sounds out from the hay-loft, accompanied by the unmistakable sound of hoof hitting snout.

"'We', what do you mean?" Twi asks, reasonably.

"Uh Twah.. uh ah.. call mahself 'we' as in... uh... the royal... uh... we!"

"Umm... AJ, what's going on..?" she pauses and mutters "Perhaps El has corrupted her like Discord did? I must help her!" "You stay there AJ. I'm coming!" (I like to think that the ponies in the hay loft said something witty and erotic like 'so are we' but they were presumably too aroused to come up with anything.)

The next bit suffers greatly from me not being able to fly up and see. I don't think I've ever been so frustrated in a dream. Throughout the following conversation I tried everything to get the wretched red 'shirt' off. I was so desperate I even jumped up and down trying to see. The problem was that there didn't seem to be a ladder to the hay loft and there was no obvious other form of access on hoof. (Just so you know: this didn't bother my teleporting companion.)

Anyway the conversation went like this:

"Rainbow! What are you doing here!? I thought you said... are you... WHY ARE YOU WEARING A BRIDLE!"

"NNNGGG NNNGGG," a frustrated, muffled sounding Randy replied, evidently restricted by something in her mouth.

"Uh… Twah… it's not what it looks like!"

"Why... uh... what's that jar of maple syrup doing here?" (If I hadn't been so desperate I might have reflected on the fact that she sounded genuinely curious... my poor sweet innocent Twi.)

"Uhhhm."

"NNNNGGG!"

"Why... it's all over your snout Applejack!"

"Uhhmmm?"

"NNG NNNG NNNNNNGGGG!"

"Here... let me take the bit out. I can't make out a word you're OH SWEET CELESTIA ARE YOU OK RAINBOW?"

"She's fahne Twilight... dunno how that got there ha ha"

"She's... she's tied up and practically impaled on a broom! What's going on..!?"

There followed a great deal of whisperings, 'oooooings' and 'aaaaahings' as the mares consorted. This culminated in a deal of crashing, thudding, whinnying and what can only be described as squelching...

--

Essential to the plot

Suddenly the purple mare appears next to me. She looks determined. She also looks likes she's seen things maaan. Snorting dismissively at the hastily assembled farm-equipment 'ladder' I was in the process of making she says "There's no need. Come with me."

(My state of arousal at this point is roughly on a par with Britain's state of alert, which is to say substantial).

We leave the barn and trot slowly back to the farmhouse. She breaks the aroused silence: "I imagine you're wondering why I've brought you here?"

For a foursome with you and your sexy friends? I think, but I don't want to rush the dream so I limit myself to saying: "Oh... yes?"

"Well... ok you might as well know. On the basis of my quantum-friendship studies I have constructed a working hypothesis that beings with high level of latent harmonium, or its opposite, discordium, are affected by exposure to the elements of harmony. An alicorn Princess, such as Celestia or Luna, has high levels of harmonium and will therefore be attracted to the elements of harmony; similarly a monster will be repulsed by the elements due to their discordium levels; a normal pony meanwhile will be unaffected. I plan to observe your behaviour with my friends, who are also elements, and evaluate your state of attraction and repulsion."

"Oh." I respond. (To be honest I think that was more for your benefit anyway. Read it again or something. I'll tell you where my mind is right now: 'My hooves push Twi's horn into **** and Randy gives a muffled yelp as I *****. Finally my own horn flares as I *******... [section deleted: 'irrelevant speculation' surely not worth the mature rating ~ ed.] We finally stop and rest on the hay mattress. Twi, who is now wearing the cowpony's stetson (comically falling over one her eyes) and a white work shirt, murmurs into my perky pony ear 'Oh Leonard. You're such a stud.' Her friends coo in agreement as they play with my curly pony chest fur.)

The voice of the real Twi cuts into my reverie, switching from a scientific to a commanding businessmare-like tone.

"The elements of loyalty and honesty are indisposed. It is my intention to retrieve supplies from the farmhouse that will restore them." She trots ahead. I notice for the first time that she is actually seething with anger, which perhaps explains the clipped delivery. On realising this I feel, if possible, even more horny. I barely avoid describing her as 'spunky'.

She doesn't seem to expect a response, so I simply watch the plot ahead of me sway as she clops over the cobbles. That plot... promising, promising promising... soon there would be climax... and then warm reconciliation and resolution. My mind drifts on in a sexy haze.

We reach the farmhouse.

"Stay here!" I'm told, firmly.

I stay. Like a good colt.

After a while spent thinking about ***** [... ~ ed.] Twilight returns carrying a bottle of strong spirits, some rope, and a long leather riding whip. We return undescritpively to the barn; needless to say my mood could be described (poorly) as very-anticipatory-of-sexypony'y'.

The Pony Caterpillar

"Stay here." Twi commands again. My ears, horn, tail, snout, lower horn etc. droop with disappointment.

She teleports into the basement NOT {her friends are in the 'hay loft'; I was just checking that you're clued into the, if I may say so myself, finely worked out and consistent physics of this story; and not baffled by the arbitrary narration and dubious grammar}.

From the hay loft come mutterings. I like to think that Twi was priming them with the hard liquor to accept that I tie the cowpony to her with the rope and fit herself into the cyan one (horn to 'tail') so that I can ride them all round the barn whipping them with the whip. I vaguely wonder who would make the cutest noise in that scenario, and have to concede that I suspect the tough tom-colt would squeak like a starling.

Occupied by yet another ludicrous fantasy I fail to notice immediately that the muttering has ceased. It appears the pony-caterpillar-to-be has reached a decision.

"EL EL!! Will ya get up here?" I hear Twi shout from the hay loft. "Kinda need your help." (Told you it was a good idea to stick with the dream.)

My various pony parts return to attention and I gallop majestically up the hastily constructed farm equipment 'ladder'  (from before) and leap through the air not unlike a male Black Beauty. Thanks to my new ardor, and the dwarfish scale of the barn, my front hooves find the edge of the hay loft; I trot gracefully into the roomy space, kicking up some of the hay whose loft this was.

Unlike in the real world I don't feel faintly nervous at the thought of the enormous pony-orgy I was about to have with these (still gloom-hidden) nymphettes. I feel calm, cool and powerful as I strut through the heavy air of the loft.

My eyes adjust to the dimness. Twi's plot greets me, and shortly afterwards, so does her face.

"I think you better be the one to explain AJ..." she says in a weary voice. I notice the cyan one sulking, her face obscured  by an arrangement of leather straps, her lips rudely parted by a metal bit and her wings tied to her body.

"Well gee El... ah am sorry for hahdin from yah. We thought that Twah might'a brought one ah the others along, and we didn't want them to see..."

As she had been speaking I had already begun clopping forward to begin the business. I notice the cyan one's cheeks are crimson... I haven't even done anything and I feel close to climax! I try to stay cool. I really don 't want this to be over too fast.

"Well anyway Miss, as you can see, Rainbow here is in a spot 'o' bother."

So close... so close... too close! I try to think of unsexy things. Dustin Koski comes readily to mind. That ugly c***.

"I... uh... yes!"

"Ok what happened was we were havin like a competition cus we knew Twah wanted 'the strongest friend' to go first wi' your test thingie. An ah said...", she turns to the cyan pegasus, wags her hoof at her, and adopts an 'I told you so' sort of tone, "...'Rainbow you may be the fastest but no way are you the strongest.'"

Twah, uh I mean... 'Twi', snorts disapprovingly.

(Personally I'm fine with this; I do admire build up in a sexypony roleplay. When you're into a bit of bridle-an-stirrup ;3 you want to really believe that the pony tied up really is a defenseless young faun etc etc, and that requires a believable story.)

The cowpony turns back to me. "Anyway ah won... o course." she cocks a knowing eyebrow at the unfortunate cyan pony. "She's got good forelegs from all that landin and takin off an flighty stuff, but those wimpy hindlegs ain't [sic] cut it."

"Please Applejack!" Twi interrupts impatiently.

--

My name is buck

"Ah raaht Twi I'm gettin to it. So anyway how this here mess happened was that Rainbow wouldn't accept loosin! She kept goin on and on at me sayin that I had an advantage becus ah my applebuckin! As if that was ANYTHIN lahk her cheatin with her wings! Ah knew that you and El was comin round an I ahm sorry, but ah just had to shut her up! She was jus' unbearable..! Worse 'an Pinkie even! So ah agreed do one fahnal game to decide the winner."

I clop a hoof, not quite skittering, but getting a bit tired of the exposition. As I said, I do love build up... but I'm thinking that this is possibly going a bit far; I'm still as horny as a herd of reindeer though, so not too many complaints.

"This game was a balancin' game. Raht here in the hay loft. Who could balance the most stuff on our snouts the longest. Rainbow there got that broom, but that were'nt good enuff for her! No she had to go an' get mah jar o maple-syrup too! Anyway consarn the mare she DID balance it all raht by STICKIN EVERYTHIN ON WI' PINE RESIN! Well ah realised pretty quick what was goin on seein as anypony who's raised a barn knows the smell oh a bit oh pine resin... an ah may have lost mah temper a bit an bucked a pot oh resin over her cheatin head... That was when she got stuck to the floor... an shortly after with her buckin an'all... the broom an the syrup an' everything got stuck to her! An then she was hollerin so much that ah got one oh gran's ole bridles on her... then you two came in!"

Was... this... part of the roleplay? Something was off about this certainly, and not just the inconsistent portrayal of her ahhccent, but I remained hopeful that the sexypony would begin soon. It stands to reason that nopony's psyche would be so unnecessarily cruel.

As the cowpony had been talking Twilight had been busy applying the spirits to the fur, feathers and hooves of the cyan pony.

"But now that's all cleared up and ya know what's up we jus need you to help with the broom." the cowpony says matter of factly. "Need a unicorn because everytime I try to touch it..."

I begin to tune out the cowpony's southern drawl. I peer at the broomhandle in the gloom. It disappeared up the mare's remarkably athletic, trim, cyan flank only to bury itself under her rainbow coloured 'spunky' tail. What happened next is therefore not my fault.

Assuming the cowpony's request to be a come on I pick the broom up with my magic and push it into the mare. Because I'm rather turned on, and because I think that the tom-colt looks like she must be into that sort of thing, maybe I didn't make it the gentlest of shoves, but I didn't 'ram' her with it or anything! I'm not that sort of stallion.

Anyway the mare goes freakin CRAZY! She wriggles madly and screams into the bit so hard she's frothing. The cowpony picks up the rope that Twi brought and tries to lassoo her friend. Twi just looks shocked and does nothing.

The mare, aided by Twi's solvent, manages to get her hind hooves unstuck. She doesn't use this new found freedom for my benefit. To be precise she uses her now free hooves to buck me on the chest, very hard.

I fall back, winded, and actually like really really really sore in my chest. Like more sore than I've ever felt there, or anywhere on my pony body. I'm also pretty much unable to breathe. Now I'm not a sadist but I'm certainly not a masochist. I don't associate any pain with sexypony, but especially not my own. Nor do I do the whole asphyxiation thing. Anyway my boner dies a gruesome, withering death; but that is only the beginning of the fight for the life of the, uh, rest of me.

"Dash! EL! NO!" Twi whinnies in surprise and falls over.

"Wait up Twah I got her!" the cowpony readies her improvised lassoo again. The utter implausibility of her doing so fails to bother me even a little as I see the rope wind round the shoulders of the enraged mare and begin to drag her some way away from me so that her next buck misses my face, by inches.

I fall on my plot. I also fail to breath again. I feel really cheated by this... I have the same right to breath as anypony, and I just hate having my rights violated. I begin to feel quite upset. Not only am I not having sex, it looks like I'm going to die from asphyxiation as well! I know I've not always been the best pony, but I don't think this is fair.

Through darkening eyes I see the cyan pony bucking madly, but just about restrained by the cowpony's rope.

Next I see Rainbow lit up in Twi's familiar magical aura and lifted bodily into the air.

The last thing I see is the cowpony's face looming into mine as she forces her lips hard against mine and exhales.

End of Part III