Your eyes hurt from hours of straining to see the invisible. Your hands shove thrice-checked folders across the desk. Your brain tries to find another explanation, but there’s only one conclusion to be reached.
 
The numbers just don’t add up.
 
You sigh and lean back in your chair. The school is empty save for you, the setting sun, and the janitor. As the accountant for Camelot Academy’s Student Body Association, it is your job (as Sunset Shimmer has constantly reminded you, to your annoyance) to keep track of each club’s budget. Somehow, the SBA’s accounts are a thousand dollars short- and it’ll be your head if you can’t find where the money went.
 
Your first thought was that the catering expenses had run over; Pinkie Pie loved her mixers a little too much, and she didn’t exactly have a head for finances. When that search turned out to be fruitless, you’d moved on to the fashion and fine arts club. Rarity had a taste for fine cloth, but she could usually be counted on to keep her club’s projects within their budget. Sure enough, the record was flawless there too.
 
Hours of searching after school, when you should be writing that book report. The tiny room is full of receipts, reports, and statements. Not a hint of impropriety in any of them. So much effort for nothing. And yet…
 
You drag yourself over to the ancient file cabinet labeled “construction and renovation.” There hasn’t been any real work done on the Academy in years. Upkeep and cleaning money is handled by the school. Still, it’s the one place you haven’t checked.
 
You tug open the cabinet’s top drawer, wheezing as a cloud of dust explodes in your face. Eyes watery, you finally find what you’ve been looking for. There, lying at the front of the stack, is a freshly filed “bill” for one thousand dollars’ worth of maintenance- and it’s missing a receipt.
 
It’s time for you to pay a visit to the Cider Barn.
 
The next day after school, you make your way to the outskirts of campus. The buildings start to thin out and are replaced by wide open parcels of grass and trees. You duck to avoid a Frisbee, then haul ass to get out of the way of the boys chasing it.
 
There are a few students lying on the grass reading. You glance at their texts and notice the distinct lack of spellbooks. Contrary to popular belief, the Academy is devoted to the study of all magic, not just the sexy, flashy, mana-based kind. Headmaster Celestia could always be heard saying that the subtler, more subdued earth magic was just as important to mankind’s harmony as its two counterparts.
 
You join up with another group of students headed in the same direction. Applejack’s started selling the Academy Orchard’s cider, and it’s a hit as usual. One girl whispers that if you slip a few extra dollars under the table, she’ll give you a shot of hard cider on the side. Tempting, but you’re here for other reasons.
 
You skip the impressively long line and go right to the stand in front. Applejack is seated behind a shoddy wooden booth with an equally shoddy hand-painted sign advertising her “premium, homestyle cider.” The thrown-together design is all part of the appeal, though.
 
The salesgirl herself is pleased as punch. She’s every bit the classic country girl: sandy blonde hair, sun-kissed tan skin, and a smile spreading from cheek to freckled cheek. She’s wearing an orange flannel shirt, sleeves rolled up to show off her guns. Completing the outfit is her trademark Stetson hat, set at a slight tilt back.
 
“Thanks for your business!” Applejack waves her customer goodbye and looks to you. “Uh, sorry, sugar cube, but you’re gonna have to wait at the back o’ the line.”
 
You smile and shake your head. “That’s fine. I just wanted to clear something up about the barn. Did it get work done on it a few weeks ago?”
 
Her smile fades. “Yeah… so?”
 
“I need to get a receipt for that. I’m in hot water if I can’t show where the school’s money is going.”
 
“Uh… sure. Yeah. Let me get right on that.” Applejack wipes some sweat from her brow and stands up. “All right folks, show’s over for the day. Pack it up!”
 
A massive groan rises out of the line. “I’ve been waiting for hours!” shouts one boy.
 
“I’ve been waiting for days!”
 
“If I don’t get this cider now, I’ll never have the chance again!”
 
“Boo! You stink!”
 
“Yeah, yeah. Buncha hecklers.” Ignoring the crowd, Applejack pulls out a ring of keys and unlocks the tailgate of a pickup truck parked behind the stand. “Hey, Anon. Lemme get this loaded and I’ll… uh… get right on that.” She squats down and hoists an empty cider barrel up onto her shoulder, setting it down in the bed of the pickup.
 
She does the same for another empty barrel. You can’t help but notice how delightfully snug her jeans are- tight enough to show off her thunder thighs and bubble butt. Applejack’s muscular figure is built like a brick house, sure- but she has it where it counts.
 
She finally reaches the barrels that haven’t yet been emptied. They had to weigh a ton. “Do you want some help with that?” you ask.
 
She grins. “Just watch and learn, bookworm. Let a real girl show you how it’s done.”
 
Applejack squats down and hugs the upright barrel, hands reaching underneath. She grunts once, struggles for a second- and then something changes. She lifts with her legs, carrying the barrel against her chest like it’s nothing. Holding it tight, she sets it down on the tailgate of the truck, which sags with the weight.
 
She cocks an eyebrow at you, hands on her hips, green eyes alight with something you can’t place. In a flash, it hits you: she’s using earth magic! You can’t help but be impressed.
 
“You don’t need to pack up just because of me,” you say, continuing to watch her load the heavy barrels of cider into the truck.
 
“Ah… Ah had to leave soon, anyway.” Applejack sways slightly as she says this, straining to hold onto her barrel. She gets it under control, but just barely.
 
“Hey! This flyer said you’re open until four! It’s barely three thirty!” shouts one girl.
 
“Uh… those flyers are from last year.” Applejack bites her lip. Her eyes flick downwards. “Now git gone! Shoo!”
 
The thirsty crowd does no such thing. The murmurs grow louder. You start to get nervous, but then see the towering form of Big Mac plow its way through the crowd. Nobody would start anything with him around.
 
Applejack, meanwhile, is loading another barrel of cider into the truck bed. Even with her earth magic, she is having trouble lifting them; she’s red-faced and sweating. As she squats down for another barrel, her jeans give an ominous creak. Unaware of her tight denim’s protests, she places the barrel inside the truck. Only one left.
 
Applejack squats down one final time. You can tell what’s about to happen. You can’t look away from the amazing ass in front of you. What kind of panties is she wearing? Your money is on boyshorts.
 
With a tremendous ripping noise, AJ’s jeans split right down the back. You’re wrong: peeking through the tear is the frilliest set of bright pink panties you’ve ever seen. The pleated pink trimming is so ridiculously overdone that you wonder if it Applejack got it from Rarity’s reject bin. Applejack squeals and drops the barrel. The lid pops off, spilling the precious cider into the dirt.
 
All hell breaks loose.
 
A third of the crowd lunges for the cider, crying out in desperation. Another third of the crowd whips out their phones, cheering in delight. The last third just kinda cowers next to Big Mac.
 
Applejack claps her hands to the split in her jeans, brushing over the exposed silk frills of her panties. Her face flushes red as the realization hits her.
 
“So that’s what a ‘real girl’ wears? Hah!” taunts one girl.
 
“Are those your riding panties or your ‘get ridden’ panties?”
 
“I’ll give you the video for some cider!”
 
Applejack presses her back against the pickup truck, paralyzed. Not only had she dropped a barrel of cider, she’d exposed herself to what felt like half the world. Now they’d think she was a weak, girly-girl bookworm. The embarrassment is too much to bear; holding her palms against her ample butt, she hurries for the driver’s side door to the pickup.
 
Applejack had to pull one hand away to fish out her keys, flashing a bit of pink frills in the process. Hands sweaty, she fumbles the keys as soon as they’re out of her pocket. She reflexively bends down to get the keys- and her jeans rip open even more. Now she’s flashing the crowd with the crotch of her pink panties.
 
By now Big Mac has managed to push away most of the crowd save for a few foaming-at-the-mouth cider fanatics. You, however, are spared. You get a front-row seat of Applejack cursing and pounding on the old pickup’s door. Apparently it refuses to open, even with the key.
 
Fed up and embarrassed beyond belief, Applejack throws caution to the wind and just decides to run for the club barn, where she has something else to change into. She gets three steps before she trips and falls flat on her ass. When she gets up, you snort- she’s managed to rip the back of her jeans nearly clean off. The denim is flopped open like a trap door, revealing all of Applejack’s pink prissy panties. They’re full-backed and surprisingly sturdy. With an ass like that, she probably appreciates the coverage!
 
You consider chasing after her. You do have unfinished business with the missing thousand dollars, after all.
 
Of course you follow her. The missing $1000 is due tomorrow, and Sunset Shimmer will have your head if you don’t find out where it went.
 
Applejack doesn’t even bother to cover herself. The seat of her jeans has been all but torn off; the denim is drooping down over the back of her thick, solid thighs. She’s given up caring about the show she’s putting on. Everyone’s already seen her frilly pink panties. Big Mac’s managed to keep the crowd back, leaving her to do the walk of shame with her underwear showing.
 
The crowd may be held back, but you’re free to follow. You do the decent thing and walk right behind Applejack so no cameras can get a clear shot at her. The excellent view you’re getting is just a bonus, of course.
 
You stare at Applejack’s magnificent apple ass, covered only by those unexpectedly girly pink silk panties. You can’t look away from those thighs, pushing her wonderfully curvy butt up with every stride. Her ass jiggles just slightly, the movement barely visible underneath the pink frills.
 
Her panties hug her curves invitingly. Even her full-backed panties can’t contain her amazing assets: just a little of the sides of her golden ass cheeks peek in and out of view as she walks.
 
“Anon!” Applejack whirls around, face flushed. Her hands fly to her tush. Not that it would do any good.
 
“I thought we were going to the barn? You know, for the missing receipt.” You don’t beat around the bush. She’s not going to shoo you away when she thinks she’s in trouble.
 
“Ah… right.” Applejack bites her lip. “Uh. Pardon me fer a sec.” Unbelievably, the day is about to get even better: she starts to unbutton her orange flannel shirt. “I can’t walk around like this.”
 
Applejack whips off her shirt and your eyes go wide. Underneath she’s wearing a beat-up, skintight t-shirt. The white shirt’s been pulled up to just below her breasts, with the extra cotton tied in a knot right in the center of her chest. The getup shows off her killer abs and dynamite biceps. She could probably out-bench you even without earth magic.
 
As Applejack ties the arms of her orange flannel around her waist, you notice that you can perfectly make out the shape of her breasts. Her round tits are perfectly sized, just begging you to reach out and take a handful. They’re certainly not as big as Fluttershy’s legendary knockers, probably not as full as Pinkie Pie’s gobstoppers, but damned if they aren’t just fine on their own. They jiggle just the tiniest bit when she tightens her makeshift skirt- she’s not wearing a bra!
 
“Ah trust you’ll keep quiet about this,” she says, crossing her arms under her chest, pressing her breasts together. Applejack has unintentionally confirmed that she is most definitely not wearing support beyond that tied-up T-shirt.
 
You nod enthusiastically.
 
The walk to the barn is uneventful, save for the occasional glimpse of eye candy. Applejack’s covered up some, but you don’t care. Getting to walk next to a braless beauty is just fine in your book. The best part is that she doesn’t seem to care about it- she probably lets the girls go free pretty often! You’ll have to remember this for later.
 
The old cider barn has seen better days. The story is that the Academy bought it from a couple of old hillbillies who’d used it to make moonshine back in the day, then converted it to make cider. You don’t know if it’s true, but the place certainly looks beat-up enough to fit the bill.
 
“Jes’ a second,” says Applejack. She fiddles with her keys, grumbling. She tries key after key, but none seems to work. “I don’t get it. It’s like someone went n’ changed the locks.” Again, she bites her lip and whips her eyes back and forth. Has Applejack always been this strange?
 
“What about the back door?” you ask.
 
“No! Not the back door!” AJ practically shouts. “It’s… uh… booby-trapped. By Pinkie. Yeah, that’s it.”
 
You raise an eyebrow, but don’t question it. “So how do we get in?”
 
AJ points a finger at an open hay loft. “Yer’ gonna have to boost me up. Kneel here and hold out them hands.”
 
You do as you’re told and take a knee next to the barn door, clasping your hands together. “Like this?”
 
AJ nods. “Now boost me up once ah put my boot in.” She places one leather boot into your hands. “Up!”
 
You lift her up with a bit of effort- she’s heavier than you expect. As you push her up from beneath, you get a clear view up her flannel “skirt.” Catching a glimpse of her pink frilly panties is even sexier than before, now that she’s tried to hide them from you.
 
Applejack grabs on to the edge of the hay loft and pulls herself up. At the last moment, however, she slips, falling right towards you. Acting on pure reflex, you reach out to protect yourself. Guided by some divine force, your hands slide under her flannel, past her broken denim… and catch her with two palms full of soft, sweet apple ass.
 
Time stands still as you hold her up by her prodigious posterior. She scrambles to get a grip on the loft. Meanwhile, you’re still stunned at how lucky you are to get to grope the best ass in the whole school. Your hands are full of soft silk, pink frills and warm, supple skin.
 
Applejack struggles, trying her best to get up and away from your grip. “Almost there! Jes’ a little more!”
 
Well, she did ask for it. You give an obliging push. One final grope of her cushy cheeks and Applejack is up and away. At least, she would be if your fingers hadn’t caught on the torn denim of her jeans. AJ tugs herself up to the loft. The crotch of her jeans, still stuck on your fingers, is caught in a tug-of-war between you and AJ.
 
One final rip seals the deal. Applejack’s jeans tear right down the middle, fall off her legs and land right in your face. Her pants smell of spilled cider, horsehair and the sweet aroma of a young woman’s sweat. Before you can clear your vision, AJ has disappeared into the hay loft.
 
 
There’s nothing you can do but marvel at your good fortune. Here you are, holding Applejack’s destroyed jeans in your hands. Her boots have come off, too; her jeans must have swept them down too. Inside the barn, she’s in there in just her panties and a t-shirt pretending it’s a bra. You could be a gentleman and wait for her to find something to change into… but where’s the fun in that?
 
“Applejack? You make it in there okay?”
 
“J-jes’ a second, Anon!” There’s the sound of metal clanking and boots pacing rapidly over wood. “Go on! Git!”
 
“Huh?” you say, confused.
 
“GIT! Move!”
 
“AJ? What’s going on?”
 
“Ah said HOLD ON A SEC’!” AJ shouts back, a bit of panic in her voice.
 
You wait a few more seconds, but a tremendous crashing noise makes you jump. “AJ, what the hell?!” You can’t wait any longer, not when lives could be in danger. You try the barn door- it’s unlocked!
 
The inside of the barn is chaos. There’s gardening equipment everywhere. The place smells like a pigsty. The wood in the roof is so rotten it looks like it’s about to give in at any moment. None of that matters, though, because all you care about is the nearly naked beauty on the other side of the barn.
 
Applejack is standing there in just her shirt-skirt, shirt-bra and pink panties- apparently, she hasn’t had time to change. She slams the back door to the barn as you enter. Hearing footsteps, she whirls. “A-anon! How did you get in?”
 
“Door was open,” you say, you master of wit, you. Your eyes can’t decide what to focus on: AJ’s panting chest, her flushed, panicked expression, or the front of her pink panties. The front of AJ’s panties isn’t as elaborately done as the back, but there is a single pink gem sewn just above the silken gusset. Definitely Rarity’s handiwork. “I heard a crash…”
 
“Oh! That! That was nothing! Jes’ the woodwork settlin’!” She bites her lip again. A very odd habit. “Let me get you that receipt!” She takes off through the barn, practically sprinting.
 
“Hey! Wait up!” you cry out. “Watch out for that-“
 
But it’s too late. AJ’s foot catches on a strip of garden hose and she stumbles right into the wall of a cider stall. The force of her impact knocks a barrel loose from the rafters up above. It tips over and spills the precious, precious cider all over her.
 
By the time you make it over to her she’s drenched. AJ is lying on the ground, shivering from the cider and stunned from the fall. You look for something- anything- to dry her off with. You spot a heavy wool blanket nearby that’s meant to keep horses warm in cold weather. It’ll have to do. You drape it over her and shake your head.
 
It takes a minute for AJ to warm up and come to her senses. She pulls her legs to her chest, leaning against the wall with the blanket wrapped around her.
 
“What’s going on, AJ? What happened back there?” you ask.
 
She sighs. “I’m sorry, Anon. No more lyin’.”
 
 “Lying? Is this about the missing money?”
 
AJ nods her head. “Yeah. Lyin’s brought me nothin’ but trouble. I figure I might as well come clean.
 
“See those empty stalls over there? Fluttershy’s been runnin’ an animal shelter in the barn. I’ve been tryin’ to give her some supplies, but she’s been askin’ for medicine, and bandages, and all this expensive stuff… So I took it outta our budget for cider.
 
“But a lil’ while ago, she brought a bear cub in. A BEAR! An’ it’s hungry, an’, sick, an’ noisy, an’ keeps gettin’ out of his stall… so I had to get some extra money to get it a safe spot, that it can’t get outta. And all of this adds up.” Applejack’s expression turns dark.
 
“It’s all Sunset Shimmer’s fault. She said that we couldn’t turn the Ess-Bee-Ay into a charity for wild animals. I said hooey on that an’ took the money for the barn, an’ spent it on the animals.”
 
She looks at you pleadingly. “I don’t care if I get in trouble. But keep ‘Shy outta this. She’s doing everything she can for these poor critters.”
 
“Uh… I don’t know,” you say. “Technically, it’s embezz- wait. Did you say a BEAR?! Was THAT was you moved out of the barn just now?”
 
“Yeah,” she says. “What about it? I put him in the back stall, next to the old grazing field.”
 
“This is the same bear cub that you said kept getting out of his stall?”
 
Applejack blinks.
 
“Aw, horsefeathers!”
 
She leaps up off the ground, dropping the heavy blanket. Her white T-shirt is clinging to her wet skin. Stars above, you can see right through it. Her light brown, rock-hard nipples are practically poking through the transparent cotton. Her areolas are perfectly circular and a slightly lighter shade than her nipples.
 
“I gotta git him back inside!” AJ says. She grabs a length of rope and rushes out the back door of the barn, completely ignoring her state of undress.
 
“Wait! Stop!” you shout after her, but she’s already gone.
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
“Is that a…”
 
“What? Uh-oh.”
 
“It is! Ohmygoshit’ssoCUTE!”
 
“You had better not be doing what I think you’re doing.”
 
“C’mere, you lil’ widdle beary weary cubbie wubbie tushie wushie…”
 
“Oh my God, Rose, if you say another word that cub is going to die of diabetes.”
 
The two girls gathered around the bear cub. Rose, ever the curious one, absolutely needed to see if the poor thing was as cuddly as it looked. Daisy, meanwhile, was determined to not get mauled.
 
“Look, Rose, just let it go. It’ll find its mother eventually.”
 
“I wanna be his mommy!”
 
“…That just doesn’t sound right. Anyway, we need to-“
 
Rose never found out just what Daisy needed to do, as Applejack picked that moment to tackle her from behind and hogtie her.
 
“Uh… help?” Rose said, more confused than afraid. A second later, she too had been tied up.
 
“Stay here and forget what you jes’ saw!” Applejack said. She cradled the bear cub in her arms and dashed back to the barn.
 
Rose and Daisy just stared at the nearly-naked AJ as she ran off.
 
“…I didn’t know she wore such filly panties.”
 
“…”
 
“I want some.”
 
 
 
 
AJ has finally gotten the bear back in his pen. You can’t believe she’d actually dash over an open field in her underwear to get a bear cub, but she’s proven you wrong in the best of ways. Her orange flannel shirt came undone on the way over, disappearing in the weeds. The bear cub even managed to untie the knot in AJ’s t-shirt-turned-bra, meaning you got to see her boobs bounce freely all the way back to the barn.
 
“Glad that’s settled,” said AJ, wiping the sweat from her brow. “Where were we?”
 
“Probably getting you some clothes?” you say, pointing at her chest.
 
AJ glances down. Her brown buds are still poking proudly through her shirt. “Oh. Oh boy.” She slaps her hands to her breasts and whirls around.
 
“I won’t tell a soul,” you promise. “But those two girls you tied up might.”
 
“Ah, shoot. I’ll have to get ‘em to swear secrecy. About me AND the bear cub.” She hurriedly digs around in the locker next to the bear’s pen.
 
“Actually… I think I can get you the money for Fluttershy’s animal shelter. I’m sure Headmistress Celestia would love that.” You sneak a peek out of the corner of your eye, taking in the sight of Applejack bent over, showing off her magnificent money maker.
 
“Really?” AJ glances back over her shoulder. “Hey! No peekin’!”
 
“Sorry.” You’re totally not sorry. In fact, you’re a little upset. You’ve gotten to see almost all of Applejack, but haven’t found her Cutie Mark.
 
That was what the whole school was founded on, really. The magic behind Cutie Marks (or “Duty Marks” for the boys) was intricately bound with a person’s identity. People who had found some deep inner truth, or come to some insightful revelation about themselves, would spontaneously have a sort of tattoo appear on their body. With it came self-knowledge… and power.
 
Cutie Marks were therefore intensely personal. While some more outgoing people had theirs appear on a place like a bicep (like Snowflake, the champion weightlifter), other Marks appeared in more private places. Very few people ever got to see those; boys around campus bragged about ones they’d been privileged enough to see. Or, more likely, they were spouting complete horsecrap.
 
Everyone at the Academy had a Mark. It was one of the requirements to get in, after all. So if you’ve seen all of AJ but beneath those frilly pink panties, you know exactly where hers is hidden.
 
There’s only one place appropriate for a girl with an ass as great as hers to have her Mark.
 
A single bear paw sneaks between the wooden boards of its pen. Slowly, it reaches for the bag of treats next to Applejack.
 
“No! Not yet! Git yer paws away from those!” Applejack slaps the bear’s paw away without looking- and its claws slice right through the frilly waistband of her panties.
 
Her panties whip across her bubble butt, baring it all. The skin underneath her panties is pale white, in stark contrast to the rest of her well-tanned body. And there, in the center of her left ass cheek, is her Mark. As Cutie Marks go, it’s a plain one: three apples grouped together.
 
“Ah! Shoot! You dumb bear!” AJ scrambles to tie her panties back together, but it’s too late. You’ve seen it all.