Big Trouble in Little Pony Town

Chapters

Babbling Behemoth
Just a Little Off the Top...
Daisy Chain
Harvest of Havoc
A Blootert Barbarian

Babbling Behemoth

In the near decade since Anon had walked the land of Equestria, he’d seen all manner of odd and captivating sights: magical duels which shook the earth, nightmarish creatures born from Tartarus itself, chimeric gods who bent rules of reality with ease. But nothing - nothing could have prepared him for the peculiar scene he stumbled across that morning. In the Ponyville market, surrounded by droves of townsponies, stood one of the largest, most powerfully built mares he’d ever laid eyes upon.

Covered in a creamy coat, with a fiery mane and tail, she easily dwarfed any of the Princesses in sheer size - for fuck’s sake, she was almost as large as an actual Earthly equine! Though she was seated on the ground when he first spotted her, he could instantly tell that she was an absolute behemoth. Taken aback by her bulk, it took him a moment to realize what in the hay she was even doing.

Resting on her rump, with her forelegs braced behind her on the dusty street, her hindlegs lay clamped around a rather sizable watermelon. Sweat beaded her brow, her eyes were pinched shut, and the muscles about her massive thighs bunched and tightened beneath her lightly colored coat. Though the stubborn fruit between her lower limbs was somewhat distorted, it wasn’t until she unleashed a primal bellow that everything went to hell.

The melon exploded, showering the onlookers in the shattered rind and sweet, pink flesh of her vanquished foe. The crowd went wild, yet not everypony was pleased with the spectacle. While a few of the onlookers tossed spare bits in her direction, a great many of the spectators seemed put off by being covered in the sticky remnants of fruit. As for Anon, he couldn’t help but stare in wide eyed wonder at the mysterious giant.

Slowly, ponderously, the colossus got to her hooves, brushed herself off, and glowered down at the earnings from her rather unorthodox show. Where most ponies only came up to Anon’s thigh, this particular mare stood squarely at eye level with him. Blowing a sprig of hair from her face, she only eventually noticed him standing there.

“Whit err ye keenin at, ye lanky bas?” she groused, glaring over at him.

“I...what?” he coughed, shaken from his stupor.

Rolling her head, she turned to face him. “Ah jalouse ye cannae ken me?” she pressed. Her voice, though marish and effeminate, strung the words together in a bizarre, almost sing-songey fashion.

“What?” he repeated, trying and failing to figure out what in the hell she was saying. He’d heard any number of accents before, from the unique one held around Baltimare to some of the thicker country ones found in the sticks, but the titan’s speech almost sounded like another language entirely.

His continued confusion seemed to sour her mood, as she eventually turned her eyes down to her meager earnings dotting the ground. “Nae even enough fur breakfast,” she grumbled to herself.

“Wait wait wait,” Anon interjected, shaking his head and causing her to peer over at him. “Did you say breakfast?”

“Aye, breakfast, ye eejit,” she responded, her arctic blue eyes locking dead on his face. “Urr ye offering?”

While he was only able to decipher every third or fourth word, it didn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out two things. First of all, she seemed like she needed a helping hand and, unless she had some sort of melon-based exhibitionistic kink, was likely flat broke - secondly and more prudently she was probably hungry. Given her size and the slabs of muscle piled about her frame, she probably burned calories at a prolific rate.

“I can get us breakfast, sure - heck, I was just about to go to Sugar Cube Corner for a scone and a coffee,” he noted, hitching his thumb over his shoulder.

“Whit’s th’ catch?” she countered, squinting at him.

“Catch?” he parroted, cocking his head. “There’s no catch. If you’re hungry, you’re hungry! Just consider it a friendly introduction!”

Truth be told, since he’d found himself in Equestria, he hadn’t met a single pony who wasn’t friendly - that is, with the exception of that megalomaniacal filly who nearly destroyed society. It wasn’t like his job at the post office left him with tons of disposable income, but he had enough spare bits to treat the oddly speaking and immensely sized mare to a bite to eat. He had no idea who she was or where she’d come from, but she’d immediately piqued his interest.

Studying him from top to bottom, possibly trying to gauge if he was on the level, she nodded once. “Juist a bite, then a'm oan mah wey…”

“By the way,” he began. Inching closer to her, he extended his arm. “I’m Anon.”

Firmly grabbing his hand in her hoof, causing a pained look to cross his face, she shook her foreleg. “Òrd.”

“Nord?” Anon hesitantly repeated.

“Na, ya daft cunt. Òrd! Lik' whit ye skelp nails wi'!” she blared, hammering her hoof into the ground.

Be damned if he knew what she was saying, but her name sure as shit seemed to match her lively personality - heck, she even looked like a viking! Unsure of what exactly set her off, he simply reached out and softly patted her on the head. “Come on, let’s go get you something to eat.”

Her scowl waned, if only in the slightest degree, before she tersely nodded. Gathering up her effects, which had been heaped aside for the somewhat bizarre show, she deftly donned her garments. Besides a quartet of leather shoes, for lack of a better term, her ensemble consisted of a fitted vest and a tunic. It was rather odd to see a pony casually wearing clothing - then again, she didn’t appear or act like an everyday pony, so the man didn’t dwell on it. If or when they got a chance to chat, granted he could understand her, he could eventually inquire about her outfit.

“Ur we aff tae staun 'ere a' day or urr ye aff tae git me breakfast?” she asked - at least, he thought it was a question.

Turning towards the bakery, Anon waved his newfound companion forward. “So...I’m guessing you’re new to Ponyville?”

“Aye, ah woke up in a muckle castle this mornin'. Sin ah wis hungert, a clocked masell oot tae fin' something tae sloch. Then ah fun ye 'n' ye shored,” she stated, smirking to herself. “I’m nae sure how come a' body is sae wee, or whaur thae buildings cam fae, bit that mystery kin wai’.”

“Uh...huh…” he noted, nodding to himself. Once again, he was left even more confused that he had been before - still, he took stock in the fact that she appeared to have calmed down a bit.

Opting to stay quiet for the remainder of their brief stroll, lest he be subjected to more gibberish, they soon reached their destination. Holding the front opening the door for his enormous companion, he ushered her inside. She slowed as she passed, grinning over at him.

“Aren't ye crakin'!” she chuckled, turning to examine the bakery. Sniffing the air, eyeing the various confections and baked goods on display, her eyes went alight.

“Take your pick,” Anon remarked, waving to the counter. “Breakfast is on me.”

Taken aback, Nord’s jaw hung open. “Urr ye joshing or urr ye trying tae git intae mah breeks?”

“No, really, get what you want!” he urged, hesitant to assume what she’d said.

He hoped that getting some food would give him some time to figure out what he was going to do with her. As things were, there was no way he could let her just wander around Ponyville alone. Not only did she stick out like a sore thumb, but there was a damn good chance that most ponies wouldn’t be able to grasp what she was saying. Standing by the exit, watching her excitedly yammer at one very flustered Mrs. Cake, the door violently swung open behind him.

Glancing over, noticing Twilight panting heavily beside him, he stepped to the side. “Lemme guess...You’re here for her?”

“Anon, thank goodness, I came as soon as I heard she’d kidnapped you!” the Princess huffed.

“Kidnapped?” he parroted, knitting his brow in consternation. “She didn’t kidnap me, I just brought her here to grab a bite. I’m not sure who she is or what in the hell she’s been saying, but she doesn’t seem mean or anything.”

“Tell that to my library!” Twilight seethed, leveling a hoof at the giant mare.

Glowering down at the irate little alicorn, Anon lowered himself into a squat. “What do you mean?”

“I thought my colleagues in the highlands had sent me an artifact they’d dug up - well, I mean, they did send me an artifact, but how in the hay was I supposed to know there’d be some ancient pony inside?!” she lamented. Rocking back, sitting on the floor, she buried her face in her hooves.

Pursing his lips, he patted her shoulder. “Twilight, please start making sense…”

“Ok - a few archeologists unearthed a cask that they presumed held some sort of hard cider. The barrel was intact, perfectly preserved by the peat it was found in, and I thought it would be a great chance to study ancient fermentation techniques. Not a day after I got the shipment, that explodes out of it,” she groaned, once again pointing in Nord’s direction.

“So...she was pickled?” he asked.

“How am I supposed to know? Nopony should have been able to survive in a cask of alcohol - let alone for several hundred years! Near as I can figure, she dates back to the time of the Pillars!” Twilight sighed. “I don’t know who she is, how she came to be in a barrel of cider, or what in the hay she’s saying - the only thing I’m sure of is that she made a mess of my castle! I...I’m not even sure what I’m supposed to do with her! I -”

“Och mah jings!, this is pure guid!” Nord’ interrupted, sauntering over with a cookie sheet heaped with confections. “Dae yi'll waant yin, wee jimmy?” she sputtered through a mouthful of muffin. Stopping beside the man, she extended the tray towards him.

“Oh - uh - sure,” Anon uneasily hummed, plucking a scone from her platter. She beamed down on him and trotted away, seating herself at a nearby table. “You know,” he mused, “she almost reminds me of Rockhoof.”

“Rockhoof! Anon, that’s it!!” Twilight bleated, grabbing his shoulder. “If you can keep her busy for a while, I’ll get in touch with Rockhoof; he might be able to translate for us! She just offered you food, that has to mean she’s ok with you!”

Though the truth was the other way around, Anon shrugged. “I mean, I guess I could keep an eye on her,” he impulsively responded.

“Perfect!” the Princess chirped. “I’ll be back in no time!”

As the realization of what he’d just agreed to dawned on him, Twilight was gone - disappeared in a flash of light and Pop of displaced air. His eyes lingered on the spot where she’d sat, if only for a brief moment, before he peered over at his oversized charge. Seated at the table, wolfing down tiny cakes and confections like it was her last meal, the mammoth mare’s sole focus seemed to be on gorging herself.

“Anon?” a voice called, causing him to turn. Mrs. Cake stood nearby, holding a rather lengthy receipt in her hoof. “Here’s your bill…”

His heart sank, noticing what Nord had ordered; she’d spent nearly a week’s worth of his wages on a single meal! Fishing into his pocket and digging out every last bit he had on him, swearing to Mrs. Cake that he’d make up the difference later, one thing became painfully evident - he’d need to find some way to supplement his income...

Just a Little Off the Top...

“Whaur ur we gaun again?” Nord inquired, cocking her head over at him.

“If you’re asking what I think you’re asking, for the umpteenth time, we’re going to find you a job. I can’t afford to have you eating me out of house and home, so you’re going to have to work. Thankfully, there are a few places that are hiring in town,” he explained, rushing to keep ahead of her.

By the sweet, merciful grace of Celestia, the titan had passed out shortly after he’d escorted her back to his apartment. Once she’d seen herself into his room and collapsed on his bed, he was given some peace and quiet to plan his next move. Sneaking outside, taking care not to rouse his snoozing guest, he stole his neighbor’s paper and browsed the classified section.

After circling a few prospects, he curled up on his sofa and pulled his spare pillow over his head. Sleeping on the couch wouldn’t have been an issue, were it not for the fact that Nord’s snores sounded like a mixture of some primeval monster and a train engine; to make matters worse, as he was quick to discover, she also talked in her sleep. Needless to say, with the excitement of his day, all the noise, and having been robbed of his bed, his sleep had been less than spectacular. Upon waking up and ushering his guest out the door, the two set off on their little expedition.

“And here we are,” he sighed, waving over at one of the local barbershops. Retrieving one of the ads from his pocket, he handed the neatly cut slip of paper over to her. “Just go in, show them the ad, and see what they say. You can cut hair, right?”

“Aye, A've shorn a few an aberdonian`s burd,” she responded, smugly holding a hoof to her broad chest.

Taking a deep breath to steel himself, Anon clapped a hand on her shoulder and stared into her piercing blue eyes. “You got this…”

Giving him a nod, she turned and trotted into the shop. Anon stood outside, keeping a silent vigil through the large storefront window. The barber, a squat little stallion with a spruce mustache, looked a bit surprised with her introduction, though he had the wherewithal to listen to her. Though the man couldn’t hear what the two were saying, he noticed the coiffure point to the chairs, the tools resting on the counter, then to the door.

With his rudimentary instructions complete, the barber then eyed her from top to bottom. Shrewdly rubbing his chin for a second, pondering on some mystery, a eureka moment seemed to strike him. Tottering into the back, he disappeared behind a small curtain; moments later, he reemerged with a dusty cardboard box. Fishing within, much to Anon’s amazement, he produced a striped, collared shirt that looked to be just Nord’s size.

Having given his jumbo employee her uniform, and presumably having told her what she needed to do, the shopkeeper hopped into one of the corner chairs and began reading a paper. If being handed an outfit and allowed to tend to customers wasn’t a sure sign of success, nothing was. With his job complete, and Nord adorned in her uniform, Anon turned away.

Just as the man was about to head back to his house, more than happy to abandon her at the establishment, Thunderlane strolled by. On any other day, he wouldn’t have given a random passerby a second glance, though his curiosity got the better of him. Slowing and looking over his shoulder, he noticed the pegasus step into the barbershop. Seeing as how he was interested to see her first swing at hairdressing, he turned around and peeked through the side of the window.

Thunder faltered, noticing the gargantuan mare standing between the pair of barber chairs, but he didn’t stop completely. Beaming over at her prospective customer, Nord motioned for him to have a seat. The stallion paused for a minute, before reluctantly creeping forward and easing himself down to her left.

To Anon’s amazement, Nord really seemed to know her stuff! Rubbing his shoulder, she craned her neck and retrieved an apron for Thunder. Happily chatting away, despite the pegasus’ anxious expression, she fastened the smock around his neck, reclined the chair slightly, and eyed his mohawk. With everything going smoothly, and the shop owner blissfully ignoring his new-found employee, the man contentedly sighed - that was, until the mare bent over, rummaged around behind herself, and produced an honest-to-goodness battle axe.

Where she’d retrieved a medieval weapon that rivaled the size of a pony, or how in the nine hells she was holding it so proficiently in her mouth, he couldn’t say, but everything quickly went to hell in a hand-basket. With the barber distracted and Thunderlane frozen stiff, likely suffering some minor coronary and/or too shocked to move, she adjusted her grip and swung the axe downward in a large, sweeping ark.

The closest thing Anon could equate it to was like watching a train wreck - no matter how hard he tried to look away from the imminently horrifying decapitation, he couldn’t tear his eyes off the sight. The bearded blade soared down, barely missing the seated pegasus by a hair’s breadth. Shearing off the entire top of Thunder’s mohawk, revealing the dark flesh of his scalp, the weapon buried itself in the tiled floor with a thunderous CRASH!

Without saying a word, Nord stood, brushed off the shaved bit of the stallion’s head, and righted her customer’s chair. It was only when she started sweeping his mane off his shoulders did the man notice just how bad the situation was. The owner, undoubtedly having heard the commotion, sat with his mouth agape, though that wasn’t the worst of it. Poor Thunderlane had either fainted or flat out died in his chair and, if Anon had to guess, there was a good chance he’d soiled himself.

Realizing he only had a moment before either of the stallions recuperated, or possibly fell out of their seats, the man ran inside and grabbed Nord by the shoulder. “What the hell? You could’ve killed him!”

Knocking his hand away, she shot him an angry glare. “Ah juist teuk a bawherr aff th' tap! Whit's th' kinch?”

“You can’t just go swinging an axe around at people - er - ponies!” Anon muttered, tugging at her shirt.

Dismissively batting a hoof, Nord gestured to the terrorized pegasus. “Ah did juist braw - forby, he seems chuffed wi' it!”

Yet again, the man didn’t have the foggiest clue what she’d said. Regardless of how pleased she seemed to be with her work, they needed to leave and leave fast. Not only was Thunderlane in a catatonic state, but a substantial fissure had been cleaved into the floor. Between the destruction of property and psychological trauma, there was no way in hell her earnings from the single ‘haircut’ would cover the damages - as such, hightailing it was likely the wisest option.

Turning towards the door and tugging at his guest, Anon attempted to flee - that was, until she slipped from his grasp. Looking back, seeing Nord working to unbutton her shirt, he shook his head. “We can bring it back later - for now, just grab your stuff.”

The mare glanced over at him, shrugged, and moved to retrieve her things. Swaddling her clothing in one foreleg, she seized the axe in her jaw and pulled it clear. As she skillfully flipped the weapon onto her shoulder, she turned to face her guide and nodded. “Ah jalouse tis aff tae th' neist yin…”

Though he wasn’t sure how they’d be able to repay the barber for the trouble, or if they’d inadvertently committed a crime, he led his charge out. With any luck, the remainder of their attempts to find her a fitting job would be met with more success...

Daisy Chain

“Roseluck,” Anon announced, strolling up to the florist’s stand, “you doing well this morning?”

“Morning, Anon! What brings you out…” the crimson maned mare trailed off, looking up and spotting the hulking titan plodding along behind the man. “H...Hello.”

“Rose, Nord. Nord, Rose,” he introduced, stepping aside and waving between the two.

“Tis Òrd, ye baw juggler!” Nord loudly complained, staring daggers at her chaperone.

“But, yeah, she needs a job,” Anon deflected, hitching a thumb over at the giantess. “Anyway you could help her out?”

“W...well, I mean…” Rose sputtered, clearly uneasy about the prospect. Turning her attention to the behemoth, she craned her neck upwards. “Do you have any experience with flowers?”

“Ah used tae hae a back green! Tis easy as bridie!” Nord proudly proclaimed, nodding down at the comparatively miniscule pony.

The florist confusedly cocked her head. “What - uh -”

“Oh yeah she has!” Anon asserted, strongly patting his guest’s withers. “She’s got one heck of a green thumb - er - hoof! Trust me, if there’s one pony who could keep an eye on things at your stand, it’s her.”

While it was painfully evident that she wasn’t completely sold on the idea, Rose caved. “I do have to go make a few deliveries. If you can mind the stall while I’m gone, that would be really helpful.”

Waving a hoof, shooing the proprietor away, Nord trotted behind the flower stand. “Gang oan, ah will mynd th' shop. Nah fashies.”

Shooting Anon an uneasy look and seeing the man smile and wave, Rose gathered up several arrangements and bouquets. Trotting away, sneaking a few anxious glances over her shoulder, she saw herself off. Pleased with the fortuitous turn of events, Anon dusted his hands. There was no way Nord would be able to fuck this up.

“Alright, I’m gonna go get some coffee. Do you want anything?” he asked, peering over at the veritable amazoness.

Smiling, Nord shook her head and eyed the vibrant array of flowers. “Ah think ah will a'richt.”

“In that case, I’ll be back in a bit,” he remarked. While he felt certain that she wouldn’t get up to any mischief, he was hesitant to leave her unattended - especially after the disastrous debacle at the barber shop. Headed off to Sugarcube Corner, to pick up some breakfast and pay the rest of his debt, he left her to her work.

Walking along, intent to treat himself to a donut, a nagging thought occurred. Given how much his guest had eaten the evening prior, he was left to assume she had the metabolism of an actual horse - as such, despite running perilously low on funds, he thought he’d pick her up a snack. Even though he thought she said she was fine, it would be a nice congratulatory gesture for landing the job.

It took less than fifteen minutes for him to pick up some java, fully repay Mrs. Cake, and pick up a half-dozen donuts, yet in that short amount of time everything had somehow gone tits up. Even before he rounded the corner to reach the market, a soft sobbing drifted to his ears. His pace instantly quickened, wondering what was going on, until he came into view of a tumultuous and disheartening scene.

The flower stall was virtually bare, with only a handful of woody stems and bits of torn foliage littering the counter and earth below. Looming over Rose, who was openly weeping on the ground, Nord affectionately patted the mare’s back. The question of what could have happened was magnified exponentially, as he spied a large, colorful, and very flowery bowl of what appeared to be salad.

“What...what did you do?!” he croaked, jogging over to the pair.

“A' ah did wis mak' a salad fur us! She keeked lik' she wantit something tae sloch - tae skinny-malinky!” Nord insisted.

Then it hit him - the salad, the missing flowers, the large fork resting in the bowl. “You ate all her arrangements?!?”

“Nae a' o' thaim! Ah hate posies,” she shot back, pointing to three untouched corsages.

“I’m ruined!” Rose sobbed, burying her face in her hooves. “What am I supposed to do now?!”

Anon rushed over and knelt beside the crestfallen pony, attempting to give her some comfort. “I...I’m not sure how much all this cost, but I’ll take care of it. She just doesn’t -”

“It’s HER fault!” the grief stricken mare attested, shoving him away and leveling a hoof at the source of her torment. “That...that oaf ate several hundred bits worth of arrangements!” she continued, pushing herself up. Stepping to the nonplussed colossus and jamming a hoof in her chest, she scowled up at her transgressor. “What do you have to say for yourself?”

Nord sat mute, chewing down another mouthful of her unconventional and very pricey salad, before swallowing. “Ye shouldn't hae made thaim sae gusty!”

Squinting upwards, Rose’s looked absolutely livid. “They weren’t made for eating, they were made for looking pretty!”

At the remark, the giantess rocked back and guffawed. “‘Keek bonny’. Ah tell ye, ye'v git a sense o' humor!” she snickered.

Lifting a foreleg, unable to contain her mirth, she smacked the florist on the back. Had she been any other mare, the action would have possibly served to upset matters more - unfortunately, she wasn’t any other mare. The lighthearted blow quite literally sent Rose tumbling forward - crashing to and through the wooden face of her stand. Apparently Nord thought the result was hilarious, because she toppled over and began roaring in laughter.

It took Anon a second to comprehend what had happened, but he quickly ran over to check on Rose. He hadn’t seen a pony take a hit like that in - well - ever. Carefully removing her limp form from the smashed remnants of her stall, he prayed she wasn’t dead. Dazed and probably seeing stars, she wearily peered up at him. While he was glad she hadn’t been outright murdered from the impact, she’d definitely seen better days.

“Hey,” he whispered, wiping splinters and detritus from her mane, “you ok?”

“My...my begonias…” she mumbled, before passing out in his arms.

“‘Begonias!’” Nord hawed, slapping her knee.

Part of him was thankful that Rose was unconscious, since she would have likely torn into the both of them had she been awake - still, the circumstances were less than ideal. “We gotta get her to a doctor,” he flatly stated. Cradling her to his chest, he stood.

The giantess wiped a tear from her eye, before steadily getting to her hooves. “She'll be braw - juist teuk a wee coup.”

Her dismissive and nonsensical response notwithstanding, Anon headed in the direction of the Ponyville General Clinic. Even if Rose wasn’t grievously injured, he couldn’t just leave her in the shattered remains of her stand. Taking off at a brisk pace, wholly abandoning his breakfast and coffee, the sound of heavy hooffalls caught his ear. Glancing over, seeing Nord keeping pace with him, he grimaced.

“Hungert?” she asked, skipping along on three legs and offering him the bowl of greens.

With two of the three potential jobs utterly ruined, there was only one left to try - after he made sure Rose wasn’t suffering from a concussion or chest flail, of course. Trundling the senseless mare in his arms, spotting the clinic down the road, it was all he could do to hope the remainder of their morning went a little more smoothly.

Harvest of Havoc

“Ok, this is your last shot. All you’d need to do is pick apples,” Anon instructed, leading the way to the Apple family orchard. “Just pick,” he added, extending an arm and plucking one of the succulent fruits from a tree, “the apples.”

“Anon, ah'ament daft. A've bin picking apples sin ah wis a bairn!” Nord huffed, testily flipping the fiery mane from her face.

As much as he would like to believe her - what he’d presumed she’d said, at least - the morning had been a disaster. She’d demolished a flower stand, destroyed the floor in the barber shop, and left several traumatized ponies in her wake. If there was one mare who could fuck up picking apples, it’d be her - even if he wasn’t sure how she’d bungle the job.

Passing the fruit-laden groves, it wasn’t long before they spotted some colorful activity within the orchard. Moving between the timber, bucking at the thick base of the trees, was Applejack and Big Macintosh. While Anon would have been perfectly happy walking to their homestead, finding them so soon was a boon - not just because it saved some time, but because he was going to make good and damned sure that things didn’t go off the rails.

“AJ!” he shouted, catching the sturdy earth mare’s ear. “You still looking for some help?”

“Anon? Shucks, I sure am!” Applejack responded, momentarily pausing in her work to greet the man. Her brother quickly followed suit, marching over to receive the odd pair.

“This here is Nord,” Anon proclaimed, sheepishly smiling over at his oversized guest. “She’s just as strong as she looks and she’s trying to find work.”

“Ah swear tae god, if ye dinnae git mah name richt, a'm aff tae kick ye intae neist week,” Nord darkly rumbled, only eventually smiling over at the sibling farmers.

“Well golly, she sure is a big’un!” Applejack fondly noted, appraising the massive mare. “If you can buck half as many trees as Mac, we’ll be done in no time!”

“Eeeeeyup!” the amaranth stallion intoned, solemnly nodding.

“Just walk her through what to do,” Anon gently pleaded, “for my sake.”

“There ain’t nothing to it!” the smaller mare chuckled. Trotting to one of the many surrounding trees, she wheeled her ass-half towards the timber. “All ya gotta do is buck the tree hard enough to get the apples to fall. For a mare your size, it should be easy!”

Seeing Applejack buck the tree, Nord rolled her eyes. Without saying a word, she looked around, found an apple-filled tree and sauntered over it. Ponderously turning in place, keeping her eyes glued to her target, she got into position. With a deafening crack, using only one hind leg, she dislodged every apple in a single blow.

Mac stood mute and broke into a cold sweat, though it was unclear whether he was scared, aroused, or possibly both. Applejack was simply too awestruck to immediately reply, taking a second to shake her head and clear her thoughts. All told, both the Apple siblings appeared to be impressed with the display.

“Well, I can say this for sure, you’re hired!” the stetson adorned mare remarked, cantering over and offering her employee a hoof shake. “Just keep workin’ this here grove with Mac and I. Between the three of us, we should have it finished up before supper!”

“Eeeeeyup!” Mac cheerfully whooped.

Anon breathed a deep sigh of relief, having finally found the ancient titan a fitting job. Kicking the everliving hell out of trees was the perfect gig for her - not only because she would she be able to make use of her insane strength, but she’d also wear herself out by the end of the day! Though he was happy with the development, he wasn’t about to jump ship and leave - not until he was good and sure that some catastrophe wasn’t about to happen, at any rate.

Sinking his teeth into the apple he’d picked earlier, he eased himself against a tree and let the scene unfold. Having put up with the two calamitous and wholly unpredictable situations from earlier, not to mention his utter lack of breakfast, he saw no harm in watching Nord work for a while. Moving from tree to tree, freeing every apple time and again, she moved at nearly twice the pace of her sibling employers.

It was oddly satisfying, seeing the three rugged earth ponies work in concert, and it filled him with hope. If everything played out well, and he had no reason to think it wouldn’t, Nord might just be able to land a full time career with the Apples! She was easily mighty enough for the task and, judging from how quickly she was moving, she may well be more suited for the labor than either of the siblings!

Everything finally seemed to be going his way. The sun was shining, the birds were singing, and a stiff breeze cut through the grove and set the trees gently swaying - until one crashed to the ground. Jumping, startled by the inexplicable turn of events, the first timber was quickly joined by a second, then a third, until nearly a dozen of the trees had fallen. It was as jarring as it was confusing - not only because the wind hadn’t been nearly strong enough to cause the bedlam, but because each of the hardwoods seemed to have snapped at the trunk!

Looking across the grove, doing his level best to wrap his head around what had happened, the truth hit him out of the blue. Each and every tree which had been felled had been one which Nord had bucked. Somehow, despite all logic, she’d done her job too well - she’d gotten the apples free, sure, but she’d also managed to destroy the hardwoods in the process.

“What in tarnation?” Applejack hollered, glancing around in shock. Scratching her head, her confusion was staggeringly short lived. “Huh...Must’a been bad trees. Y’all be careful! Ain’t no telling if one of ‘em could fall on ya!”

Anon could scarcely believe his ears. The farm mare had somehow come to the conclusion that the devastation was due to some unknown malady or sickly timber, instead of the lumbering behemoth in their midst. Doing his level best to act natural, he walked over, tapped Nord’s shoulder, and brought his mouth to her ear.

“We really need to leave,” he whispered, keeping his voice low.

“How come? Ah juist git stairted!” she protested, spinning around to face him.

Though he hadn’t caught the latter half of her statement, her first two words were clear enough. “Because, at this rate, half the orchard will get mowed down…”

“Aye, 'n' then thay kin become carpenters,” she shot back, clearly displeased with his assessment.

“That doesn’t matter. We can’t just - OH FUCK!” he squawked, as the tree she’d just kicked collapsed towards him. Diving to the side, he noticed all too late that his company hadn’t budged an inch. His blood ran cold and time seemed to slow, as he watched the gargantuan timber tumble towards her.

Blithely noticing the rapidly approaching hardwood, Nord jumped between the man and timber, lowered her head, and braced her legs. The tree, weighing untold thousands of pounds, struck her back and splintered in half, falling in twain to either side of her. Of all the weird shit Anon had seen or heard of, this one easily took the cake. As the fractured log settled on the ground, she dusted herself off and trotted over to help him up.

“Be canny, A'd hate fur ye tae git squashed,” she giggled, effortlessly hauling him to his feet.

“You two alright?” Applejack yelled, charging in their direction.

“Yeah...I...I think we’re fine,” Anon stammered.

In truth, he was anything but fine. His heart was racing, his knees felt wobbly, and he wouldn’t be surprised if Nord was actually some sort of mystical creature. He’d seen ponies do some wild stuff before, but being hit by a fully grown tree and walking away like it was nothing was a new one in his book. He couldn’t say if she had some sort of divine protection or was just remarkably robust - either way, there was no way a regular mare should have survived that.

“I think we should call it quits for the day. Until we can figure out what in the hay is happening in this grove, it’s probably best that we stop here,” Applejack grumbled, glancing from felled tree to felled tree.

The man nodded approvingly, more than happy for the excuse to leave. “Yeah, that’s not a bad idea. Just give us a holler if we can help.”

Having exhausted their options for the day, Anon stroked Nord’s hair. She’d just saved his life, so he was in her debt - sure, the whole fiasco may have been her fault, but it’s not like she’d intended on causing the mayhem! Having spent the last few hours with her, he honestly didn’t think there was a mean bone in her body. She was huge, maybe a bit klutzy, and packed the power of an Ursa Major, but she really did seem like a good mare at heart.

“Let’s get you home. We can try again tomorrow,” he murmured, smiling over at her.

With a resigned nod, looking around at the devastation she’d wrought, she dourly followed along beside him. Seeing her crestfallen was damn near heartbreaking, spurring him to act. Running his hand down her neck, he caught her attention.

“Tell you what, tonight, how about we share a drink - after all, it’s not every day that a guy gets to meet an ancient mare like yourself,” he mused.

The corners of her lips turned up, if only slightly, as she looked over at him. “If ye'r wanting a guid story, ah hae a few.”

For the umpteenth time that day, he blissfully nodded back at her. Even if she was more akin to a wrecking ball than a mare, was barely comprehensible, and built like a brick shit house, any company was better than no company at all. Making their way back towards the town, with Anon wondering what sort of twaddle he’d be subjected to, their morning came to a surprisingly serene conclusion...

A Blootert Barbarian

The remainder of the day, for all intents and purposes, went without incident. Anon brought Nord home, made her promise she wouldn’t leave or get into any trouble while he was at work, and got himself ready for his shift. He would have been more concerned about her, had not insisted she nod and stamp her hoof three times to affirm she’d do as she said. After changing and wolfing down a sandwich, he headed to the post office.

The hours he spent sorting incoming or outgoing mail were as tedious as ever, though he was able to keep himself occupied. Keeping a slip of scrap paper handy, he’d jot down questions for his guest and potential ideas for her employment. Even if they couldn’t find her a job, he felt sure that she could somehow make herself useful around the house. To be sure, she had to have some life skills - after all, she had survived long enough to find herself pickled and a cask of ancient hooch.

Before he knew it, he was headed back to his abode from yet another evening of mindless toil. As he grew steadily closer to his apartment, under the moon’s cool glow, his apprehension gradually got the better of him. If he was lucky, and he had no reason to suspect he would be, his guest wouldn’t have caused yet another debacle in his absence. Reaching his door, taking a breath to steady himself, he let himself inside.

By some merciful grace, everything was right where it should be. Nord snoozed loudly on the couch, with her head draped over one foreleg, and there wasn’t the slightest trace of ruination to be seen. It was a pleasant surprise, one which he honestly hadn’t expected, and it filled him with hope - that was, until he noticed a number of empty bottles strewn across the floor.

It didn’t take him long to figure out why the mammoth mare was passed out. For one reason or another, possibly out of boredom, she’d rooted around, found his liquor stash, and helped herself to his reserves of booze. It wasn’t like he drank much anyways, only having the odd drink here or there, but it looked like she’d wiped out every drop of alcohol in his home.

His contentment quickly transitioned into concern, when he realized just how much she’d had. No fewer than a half dozen bottles had been drained, easily enough to put someone into a coma. Even though she was significantly larger than the other ponies he’d met, he couldn’t help but worry for her. Crossing the room, he moved to her side and gently shook her shoulder.

“Nord? Hey, are you ok?” he asked, jostling her awake. She grouched something and rolled over, spurring him to shake her a bit harder. “I’m not mad, I promise, I just don’t want you to get sick.”

“Sic a braw jimmy,” she grumbled, peeking up at him. “Worrying aboot auld Òrd she's yer guidwife.”

Despite being as unintelligible as ever, the mare had a slight slur to her voice. As happy as he was to see that she wasn’t suffering the effects of alcohol poisoning, she was clearly pretty tanked. She smelled like hooch, her eyes were unfocussed, and she had a silly grin plastered on her snout. Just when he started to assume she was a tranquil drunk, her foreleg shot forward and wrapped around his neck.

“Howfur aboot ye gie yer wee guidwife a winch,” she giggled, hauling his face to her muzzle.

Dumbfounded, trapped in her iron grip, Anon was hauled into a sloppy kiss. Caught woefully off guard by the amorous advance, there was little he could do. Her large, muscular tongue pressed into his mouth, as she brazenly made out with him. As unexpected as it was, he couldn’t help but feel a shiver of excitement shoot up his spine.

It wasn’t until he felt one of her hind legs creeping up his outer thigh did he regain his composure and resist. Had the circumstances been more ideal, he may not have been opposed to such a sudden and passionate development; as things were, with Nord hammered off of at least six bottles of booze, he couldn’t bring himself to cave to sinful urges. Placing his hands on her shoulders, he attempted to free himself.

“Waant a bawherr o' a rammy, eh? Weel then, that suits me braw,” she purred, pulling away and licking her lips.

As the man went to ask her what she’d meant, if only to serve as a momentary distraction, she shifted beneath him. Ramming her head into his gut, she drove the wind from his lungs and sent him reeling. He wheezed, stumbling back, as she unsteadily rolled from the sofa and got to her hooves. Before he could get his bearings, she stepped over and flipped him onto her shoulder.

Coughing and hauling air into his lungs, as he was carried deeper into his apartment, Anon fitfully struggled. Although he wasn’t entirely sure where she was carrying him or what her intentions were, a cold pit formed in his stomach. Judging from her bold kiss and the lecherous tone in her voice, she seemed to only have one thing in mind.

Kicking out with a foreleg, splintering the door of his bedroom, Nord heaved him onto his mattress. Landing with a resounding POMF, he fearfully looked down at his chest at her. Backlit by the hallway lights, staggering as she entered, her arctic eyes never left his vulnerable frame.

“Ah hawp ye'r duin, fur - Hic - a'm gonnae mak' a jimmy oot o' ye,” she muttered. Steadily advancing on him, she stepped onto the bed and straddled him.

It was much, MUCH worse than he could have feared. There he was, supine on his bed, about to be despoiled by the largest mare he’d ever met. His pupils shrank to pinpricks, his heart thundered in his chest, and his slacks tented in a combination of abject fear and arousal. Had he had any way of knowing he’d face such a beast that night, he would have gleefully crashed at Twilight’s castle.

“Dinna fash yirsel, 'ol Òrd is aff tae tak' guid care o' ye,” she purred, leaning in and drawing her tongue up his neck.

“P...please...Be gentle,” he stuttered.

The mare simply chuckled for a second and locked eyes with him. “Na…”

And with that one word, Anon knew he was figuratively and literally fucked. His long-held interspecies v-card was about to get punched by a prehistoric pony he’d only just met. Steeling himself, as his excitement mingling with dread, it was all he could do to pray that his pelvis would survive the impending encounter.

Lowering herself on him, gently grinding her sublimely warm nethers over his groin, she slowed to a halt. Her ears swivelled towards the window, as did her head, when the blare of a train whistle in the distance drifted through the window. It wasn’t uncommon for locomotives to pass through town, delivering freight at night, yet she seemed utterly perplexed by the noise.

“Bloody monsters, aye trying tae ruin mah guid time,” she growled. Heaving herself up and crashing off the side of the bed, she falteringly got to her hooves.

Normally, Anon would have been thanking his lucky stars for being spared from such an ignoble fate, but there was a problem - Nord, as drunk as she was, had rearmed herself with her trusty and quite possibly mystical battle axe. He wasn’t sure where she kept the massive weapon stashed, or how she was able to produce it at the drop of a hat, yet those were petty concerns - no, his disquiet was due to her expression.

Though she’d been happy and carefree not but a minute prior, now she looked absolutely livid. Stomping away, content to leave him on the bed, she moved out of the room and towards the front of the apartment. For whatever reason, she almost looked like she was getting ready to storm into battle.

“Wait!” he pleaded, clamoring from the mattress.

There was a damn good chance that she was about to tear something or someone to pieces, especially since she’d mentioned ‘monsters’, which prompted him to intervene. Scrambling after her, seeing her charge through his front door, he did what he could to give chase. Her hulking build belied just how damn fast she was and, unfortunately, he was soon left in the dust.

Were it not for the shouts of distress and the sound of crashing hooves, he would have lost track of her. Though he suspected she was headed towards the train station, he wasn’t sure what she was intending. Trailing in her wake, only getting fleeting glimpses of her behind, he gradually lost more and more ground on her. As he careened around a corner and got his first good look at the train station, a piercing war-cry cut through the air.

Bellowing to the heavens, wielding her trusty axe, Nord rushed the locomotive’s side. Covering the distance between herself and the mechanical behemoth with startling speed, she tensed and leapt at the vehicle. The maneuver would have been difficult for a slender pony to pull off, let alone a massive mare like her, yet she managed it all the same. Heaving her weapon at the train, she spun and effectively drop-kicked the engine.

The hardened blade sank into one of the boilers, causing the leading car of the train to list heavily, but that wasn’t the final blow - no, a split second later, Nord herself impacted the locomotive like a meteor. Between her body-weight and the steam explosion, the vehicle groaned and toppled to its side. The entire situation was like something out of an action movie, with ponies running around screaming and small fires breaking out on and around the tracks.

Prying her weapon free, uneasily standing on the felled machine, Nord lifted her axe and let loose a triumphant roar - that was, before she lost her footing and went ass over teakettle. Anon simply stood and stared, watching the chaos unfold around him. An odd, almost preternatural peace settled over him, as he dug into his pocket, retrieved his list of ideas from earlier, and rummaged around for his pen. Holding the paper in one hand, he hastily scrawled one final line at the bottom of the little note.

Do NOT give her alcohol…