Strange Tales from the Bedroom

When McIntosh had first met Twilight Sparkle several weeks before, his first impression of the mare had been that there was a pony who desperately needed to get laid. Or at the very least, she needed to let her hair down. It wasn’t that Big Mac was any sort of stranger to hard work or something, but he also knew the value of relaxation and taking it easy. Twilight, on the other hand, was walking around with her nose buried in a book and her little dragon friend carrying around a checklist. Lists seemed to be her favourite thing, beside magic.

But he was starting to see the attraction.

Ever since he had made his decision to leave the farm, it seemed that it had been one new thing after another. Big Mac was starting to think he ought to make a list of all the new things he had done, experienced, or seen, if only to keep the whole kit and caboodle straight in his own head.

Besides meeting new ponies and riding the train for the very first time, not to mention stepping into two new cities—Canterlot and Manehatten—in the span of two days, he now apparently had a date. Yikes.

It wasn’t as if Big McIntosh had never been on a date before, although if he was going to be honest with himself, he suspected taking Applejack to several of the school’s dances probably didn’t count as dates, regardless of what Granny had said. There had been one or two other mares too, but nothing really special and he hadn’t really ever gotten a handle on it. Now he was about to go on a date with some strange filly he had practically just met—not counting the train ride, of course—in a strange city. It was enough to make his poor head spin, although he suspected few ponies would realize how much of a panic he was actually experiencing.

The Oranges certainly didn’t know. Mr and Mrs Orange hadn’t exactly been thrilled when he had shown up on their doorstep, although they tried their best to hide it well. Of course, McIntosh couldn’t really complain; it hadn’t been until he was stepping off the train and saying goodbye to the two bickering mares that he realized he hadn’t bothered writing ahead or asking the two of them if he might be able to stay with them. When Applejack had visited, she had made sure they knew well in advance that she’d be coming, but that courtesy had completely slipped his mind. Probably because he didn’t travel too often.

But they were still Apples no matter what name they went by now, and while they might have been less than happy to see him when they answered the door, they hadn’t turned him away. If anything, they had welcomed him with open arms—and they warmed up a bit more once he made it clear he was only going to be in Manehatten temporarily.

Whether they welcomed him as family or not, though, they didn’t exactly know him, and both Oranges had been more interested in ribbing him gently over getting a date so quickly—and apparently with someone so famous—than giving him advice on what to do or how to act. So in the end, and after a great deal of thought, Big Mac had decided the best thing to do was to ‘be himself’.

Big Mac had seen Manehatten before, both from a distance and a few pictures Applejack had taken, saved, and returned from the Big Apple with, but they really didn’t do the place justice. He was used to the fact that he was only of the largest stallions in Ponyville—heck, one of the largest ponies even—but Manehatten made him feel small.

Every building seemed to be huge, made up of concrete and glass, and they all towered over him; even the smallest buildings were bigger than the tallest buildings in Ponyville, and the idea that ponies could live and work in such monstrosities boggled the mind. And of course, it also made finding places a bit more difficult.

Vinyl Scratch had left him an address to meet her at, but in the big city, that had proven to be less than helpful. Eventually though, he had found a friendly enough pony to ask for directions. Although he suspected she was laughing at his accent behind his back, she had pointed him in the right direction, which eventually led him to the right building. It was a lot larger than he had thought it would be, but in truth, he probably should have expected that.

Upon crossing the threshold of the place, though, McIntosh immediately began to regret his decision to ‘be himself’. He stuck out like a worm in an apple.

The first floor, it seemed, was mostly empty, which struck McIntosh as a rather poor use of space, except for the elevators at the back and a kiosk in the middle of the room beyond the doors. Several ponies were sitting and working within the kiosk, apparently directing individuals to where they needed to go. The whole space, however poorly used, was very expensive looking, and every surface gleamed. Not in a harsh way, of course, but in the sort of way that suggested most of the marble walls and columns barely saw any use. He, on the other hoof, was like a lump of coal, despite his attempt to at least make himself look presentable.

Nevertheless, this was the place, and as nervous as he might feel, it just wasn’t right to stand a mare up; it just wasn’t how he was raised. Since Vinyl had only given him the address of the place, it seemed like a good idea to just approach the ponies and ask if they might direct him up to the appropriate floor, although he had a sinking feeling he was going to get lost in the building before too long without a guide.

“Excuse me,” McIntosh said as he approached the desk; thankfully, it wasn’t all that busy—heck, one of them was even doing a crossword rather than her work!

The pony—a secretary, he supposed—glanced at up him with a withering expression, “Yes?”

“I was hopin’ you might be able to direct me to a Miss Vinyl Scratch?” McIntosh rumbled, and smiled nervously. “She’s expectin’ me, ya see and—”

“Nice try fancolt,” The pony snorted dismissively and turned back to her crossword. “I’m so sure she’s expecting you.”

“Eeyup,” It took him a moment to realize that the secretary was being sarcastic rather than serious. “I’m afraid you misunderstand, Miss, she really is expecting me and—”

“Look, I know you think you’re clever stuff, Smart Guy,” the Secretary interrupted him, “but fans try to pull that scam every way from here to Summer Sun. I ain’t—” the mare mimicked his accent “—buyin’ it. So get the hay out before I call security. Understand?”

Big Mac wasn’t sure he did, but after a second of staring at the hard nosed mare, he decided she was probably right. Last thing he wanted to do was get in trouble with the authorities after only being in the city for two days. So with a sigh, he turned around and headed for the door.

Only to stop when somepony tugged on his tail.

It was an unusual sensation, really, mostly because nopony grabbed his tail. More often than not, McIntosh would end up pulling the plough around, or the cart, or any other sort of heavy lifting, so out of habit had typically trimmed it short, even when he wasn’t out ploughing. So there wasn’t really much to grab on to—plus, most ponies knew to respect another pony’s private area, and grabbing such a small tail was kind of cutting it a bit close.

When he glanced over his shoulder to see who was pulling him to a stop, however, all he could see was a light blue aura wrapped around the stub. After a second his eyes shifted further back into the room, looking for the unicorn he knew the aura must belong to.

Vinyl looked much the same as she did on the train, although perhaps a bit perkier, if that was at all possible than before. He suspected it had to do with her getting a couple of good night’s rests after traveling for so long and so far—she had been all over Equestria, apparently, before they had met on the train. The only thing different about her was her glasses, which covered her red eyes. She had shown them to Big Mac before he had left the train, but this was the first time he had seen her wearing them, and he couldn’t help but wonder why she would wear such impractical eyewear; surely, they made everything purple?

“Hey there Big Stuff, where you off to?” Vinyl said playfully as she trotted towards him. After a second her telekinetic grip released his tail, although the aura seemed to brush outwards towards certain…places… before dissipating, making him jump slightly. And making his heart thump. McIntosh took a deep breath before putting on a friendly smile.

“I couldn’t get in, she thought I was a fancolt or somethin’ like that,” Big Mac explained, gesturing towards the stubborn secretary with his hoof. The mare in question had the good sense to look mortified, especially since it turned out he was telling the truth.

“Yeah, Cherry can get a bit testy sometimes,” Vinyl chuckled, “And I thought you were a fancolt?”

Big Mac suspected she meant something else than its intended meaning, but wisely kept his mouth shut. At least on that topic. “Uh, well. Right… so…”

“So! Yes!” Vinyl wrapped her arm around Big Mac and directed him towards the elevators, partly leaning against him for support. “Come on, I want to show you where the magic happens, maybe you’ll give it a go, who knows?”

The recording studio that Vinyl led him to was at least fifteen floors up, and by the time he stepped off the elevator, he found himself probably the highest off the ground that he had ever been, or would ever be again. Not that there were any windows in this part of the building that he could see out of. A small comfort Big Mac was more than happy for.

Given the size of the building, Big Mac would have thought the place would be far more busy than it appeared to be as Vinyl led the way down the hallways towards the studio. On some level it was nice, because it meant he didn’t have to endure the stares of every pony who came across them and marked him as an outsider. On the other hoof, though, it meant the only thing he could focus his eyes on was Vinyl’s behind, since she was walking in front of him, and he suspected she was doing it on purpose.

Halfway to the recording studio, something changed as the tilted floor gave way to carpet. It took him a moment to realize what had changed, but then he realized the sounds—whether it was from his hooves or what not—were gone. He also noticed the walls changed in material too, although he couldn’t place it even after he ran his hoof against a panel.

“Huh?”

“Noticing the sound proofing, eh?” Vinyl asked, and Big Mac turned to see her looking over her shoulder at him. “Neat, ain’t it?”

“Eeyup.” What else could he say?

“Come on, it’s not far.”

Sweet Apple Acres was a pretty low magic place, as was a lot of Ponyville, although ever since the Elements of Harmony saved the town, there was some talk about getting more magical technologies put in place to modernize the town, especially since Celestia’s student was living there now. Big Mac didn’t really have much of an opinion either way, since he doubted they’d make a machine capable of sorting apples for cider or pulling them off the trees, and he hadn’t really bothered to look into it. However, stepping into the recording studio was like stepping into a whole other world.

There were devices everywhere, with knobs and dials and slider-things and all kinds of stuff. It also had a couple of chairs. All the equipment, most of which had small blinking lights everywhere, all seemed to face another room, which Big Mac could see through the big bay window between them. If the first room could be summed up in one word, it would be ‘crowded’. The other room was its complete opposite; besides a microphone and several dangling wires, the room was completely empty.

“This stuff is for recording and remixin’ and whatever,” Vinyl explained, gesturing to consoles and devices scattered around the room. “The music’s made in the other room, though, this is just for editing and adjusting and makin’ it all sound cool.”

Big Mac nodded slowly.

“So anyway, I’ll show you to the other room and we’ll get to work!” Vinyl said cheerfully, smiling as Big Mac’s heart stopped.

He supposed up until now, he hadn’t really believed he was going to do it, or that Vinyl was being serious about her offer. But apparently she was a mare of her word—and he could respect that. Big Mac just wasn’t sure he was a stallion of his word. He had never sung before, not really, and he doubted he was going to find he had a secret talent for singing or whatever now. It certainly wasn’t his cutie mark or anything. Vinyl just smiled warmly at him while he stared rather blankly at her, trying to come up with some sort of excuse for why he’d have to break his word.

“Uh, well, I dunno, Miss. Scratch.” Big Mac forced himself to say after a moment. “I… aren’t really in much of a singin’ mood, see, and…”

Vinyl held up her hoof, and her smile changed slightly. It was hard to explain exactly what had changed about it, but it was if it had become softer, friendlier, or gentle. Or something else. “Big Mac, I know a skittish stallion when I see one. I know you’re nervous, but there’s nothing to it, really. Besides, it’s just me and you and I promise I won’t make fun of you or mock you if it turns out you can’t sing or whatever else.”

“I just don’t know how, or even what to sing if I did,” Big Mac said,

 “You’ll never know if you try,” Vinyl pointed out. Big Mac found a small part of himself agreeing with the mare—well, maybe not a small part—after all, didn’t he come all this way for adventure? For new things? And yet… “Besides,” Vinyl continued, her aura flaring into existence around her horn and a sheet of paper nearby. “I thought you might need some lyrics or whatever, so I took the liberty of writing some stuff out.”

Big Mac blinked and took the paper out of Vinyl’s telekinetic grip with his hoof, pushing aside his doubts as he looked over the sheet. Occasionally he found himself muttering some of them aloud under his breath. “…Apple farmin’… big city pony… uh… mares like to suck my—I can’t say that!” McIntosh stared at Vinyl in disbelief, “If Granny got an earful of my sayin’ any of this, she’d beat my hide blue!”

“Pff,” Vinyl rolled her eyes, “yeah yeah, I get it, family values. They’re only suggestions, you know.” Big Mac thought she sounded a bit hurt—perhaps he had been a little bit too quick to reject these lyrics. Who knew how long it had taken her to write them up?

“I do appreciate it, Miss Scratch,” Big Mac said after a moment’s thought, as he placed the sheet of music back on the pile. “But it’s just not me. I hope I haven’t offended you any…”

“Over lyrics I threw together? Nah!” Vinyl shook her head vigorously. “So I guess that means you’re not going to even try, am I right?”

“Well… to be honest with ya, I’m just not sure I’m ready for it, you know? I’ve only really heard the one song—“ not strictly true, of course, he had listened to a few others on the radio once he figure out how to use the guest room’s alarm clock “—maybe you could show me some more, or somethin’?”

Vinyl’s frown turned into a smirk, “I think I know just the thing.”

**

It was loud, and it was crowded, and it was unlike anything Big Mac had ever experienced before. He liked it.

When Vinyl said she was going to take him to a club, McIntosh had imagined something vastly different. The only club around Ponyville that Big Mac knew about was the country club that Filthy Rich had once or twice invited Applejack and himself to visit, ‘in the spirit of friendship’. Which for Filthy was just a fancy way of saying he wanted to talk business. So the two of them had gone, but in the end he suspected neither of them had enjoyed the experience too much. He certainly hadn’t, and Applejack had a scowl that could take the paint off the barn. It was far too snooty and uptight—moreso than normal. It was a odd place, and Big Mac had never gone back.

This place, however, was nothing like the country club. It was nestled in the heart of Manehatten, in the shadows of some of the largest buildings in what Vinyl kept calling the ‘downtown’. At first Big Mac had thought the place looked rather seedy, or at least the ponies waiting outside of the place in a line up certainly did. But standing in lines didn’t appear to be a problem for Vinyl, who just stepped up to the guard, or bouncer, as she referred to him, and whispered a few words.

Internally, the building was somewhat contrasting; it was huge, with a cleared area in the middle for dancing, and seats and small tables scattered around the edges, but for all its size it felt incredibly small. There seemed to be ponies everywhere, of every colour, height and tribe—Big Mac could even swear he saw what he thought was an pink alicorn dancing with a white stallion at one point, but he was sure it was just a trick of the light.

The lighting was the other contrasting thing about the club; internally, the place seemed to be almost unnaturally dark, far darker than Big Mac thought it ought to be, and darker than he was used to. Even on moonless nights, there was some light. But everywhere he looked, there were lights that cut through it like knives. Many of the ponies were swinging colourful lights around, which he later learned were called glow sticks, or in rings around parts of their bodies. They didn’t give off much light, but the light they did give off made the dance floor almost twilightish. Somehow, he eventually acquired a couple too, although how that happened he wasn’t sure. They just appeared.

The music though, that was what Big Mac was really interested in. He had said he wanted to hear more so he could get a feel for the music. And he did, but he hadn’t really expected it to get so into it.

It wasn’t long before he managed to pick up the basics of what the musicians sang about, and he had a fair idea of the why too. Yet, even with the crush of ponies and the lighting that was starting to give him a headache, McIntosh didn’t really want to leave yet.

“This is excitin’,” he had to lean close to Vinyl’s ear in order for her to hear him over the thumping music. It was so loud and so powerful, sometimes the beats seemed to vibrate inside his chest. “Thank ya kindly for takin’ me out here Miss Scratch.”

“This?” Vinyl shouted back, flicking her ears dismissively. “This is crap! I mean it’s okay, but it’s not a proper party. We haven’t had a real slammin’ party in the city for months. And don’t call me that! I ain’t my mother, you know.”

“Well, I like it anyway.” Big Mac flicked his ears, and wondered if he was going to have to take up cursing if he wanted to see the big wide world. “And yer a mare, ya deserve my respect!

Vinyl flashed him a cocky grin, which McIntosh took to mean she didn’t really agree with that. “Well I’m glad!” She said, choosing to ignore it. “Let’s get a drink, then we’ll hit the dance floor!”

“Drink of what?” Vinyl didn’t answer him, just grabbed his hoof and dragged him—well, tugged really, he doubted the filly could pull him if she tried—through the crowd to what Big Mac thought was probably the densest area of the building. It was absolutely stuffed with ponies. As they drew nearer, he realized it was a bar, of sorts.

It wasn’t the sort of bar he was used to—not that he spent much time in bars to begin with, of course—but this seemed more utilitarian than anything else, with taps and some neon lighting behind the bartenders. The poor ponies seemed overworked, but they all seemed to enjoy their work.

“Yo, bro,” Vinyl shouted as she pushed her way through the bar. “Can I get a couple of drinks over here?”

“Oh hey, DJ Pon3!” The bartender seemed to recognize her, although Mac could tell by the way his eyes slid past him, he didn’t notice him. “Not playin’ tonight?”

“Nah, on a date!” Big Mac blinked. He had thought he was going on a date, but then Vinyl had seemed to be all business, and he had realized—or thought he had—that it was just a turn of phrase. City folk sure were confusing.

“No shit? Well what can I get you?”

“Um,” Vinyl glanced over her shoulder at Big Mac, who put on a big smile. She smiled back, of course… but it was somewhat predatory. “A Grasshopper for me, and a Quick Fuck for my friend.”

“A what?” Big Mac said involuntarily. Unfortunately, his protest was lost over the roaring crowd.

The Bartender nodded and did some work behind the bar, his aura glowing a bright red in the darkness as he mixed the drinks. A couple of seconds later, Vinyl had the drinks and turned back to Big Mac with a grin on her face—he suddenly suspected she had heard him—and passed him the drink.

He decided not to press her on the drink’s names.

The drink itself looked creamy, and maybe it did—it certainly didn’t look or smell like cider. Oddly, the liquids in the drink were distinct layers, rather than actually mixed. Cautiously, he took a sip.

“No no, you drink it all in one go!” Vinyl said, before demonstrating by throwing her head back and gulping it in one go. She swallowed and then slammed the glass back on the bar’s counter. Big Mac eyed the drink skeptically before shrugging and tossing it back in the same fashion.

Vinyl laughed as he gagged and sputtered. It wasn’t just unusually flavoured, it was also a heck of a lot stronger than he was used to, and the mixed flavours slid down his throat in an unusual way. When he finished half choking to death though, he had to admit it tasted alright, even if it was a bit strong for his tastes. After a few moments, he started to feel a bit buzzed.

“Great! Let’s hit the floor!” Vinyl didn’t wait for him to respond before dragging him into the crush of ponies in the middle of the club.

While Big Mac had found himself doing many new things on his ‘adventure’ so far, dancing actually wasn’t one of them. While he didn’t necessarily dance often, he knew how, if only because his parents had insisted he learn—an Apple family tradition, both for social reasons, and for work reasons. Made bucking trees a lot more graceful and all. Of course, the dancing being done in the club was a far cry from square dancing or jigs or whatever, but he caught on quick enough.

It was far more primal, and raw, and really, the only word that came to mind was ‘sexual’. At first it made him blush, moving his body like that but it didn’t take long before his blush to disappear and the music and beats to take control.

After a few songs, Vinyl decided they needed a couple more drinks—and by the third one he was managing to swallow it without gagging at all. That amused Vinyl to no end, although he couldn’t figure out why. Then it was back on the dance floor. Then back for drinks.

The pattern repeated itself most of the night, to the point where Big Mac was starting to wonder when the club closed. At no point did the crowd seemed to lessen, although it always seemed to be changing. Still, it was amazing fun and he was glad he came.

Then Vinyl kissed him.

He had thought she was just leaning in to ask himself, but at the last second her lips changed direction from his ear to his lips, and the next thing he knew he was kissing her.

Her lips were soft and warm, and she seemed to be almost as surprised as he was… and she was even more surprised when he pulled her close, and took the kiss a step further. He could taste the shots she had taken over the course of the night, which made the kiss interesting, in a good way.

Big Mac wasn’t completely sure how long they kissed, but when they parted both of them were panting, although none of the other club goes seemed to notice them making out in the middle of the dance floor. They had their own dates and friends, he supposed.

“Huh,” Vinyl said breathily, “that was… huh.”

“Eeyup.” What else was he going to say? Then he was struck with a sudden worry. “Was it good?” He hadn’t expected that sort of reaction from the mare. Although truthfully, he wasn’t sure he had ever thought about it.

“Y-yeah. Yeah of course.” Vinyl paused and looked at something over her shoulder, for some reason. “Look, do. Do… do you want to go back to my place?” Vinyl’s face was a bit flushed, which showed through her white fur easily, and Big Mac felt rather hot too—in the back of his mind, he noted that both of them were rather drunk.

“It wouldn’t be polite,” Big Mac said with a grin, “to tease a lady such as you.”

**

Big Mac had no idea where he was. Well, that wasn’t completely true; he was in somepony’s bedroom, of course, since he was in a bed, and glancing out the window he could tell he was still in Manehatten, apparently a far ways up in one of the taller buildings in the city. The bedroom itself was, he supposed, nicely decorated, although he really wasn’t one to judge such things since he really had no talent for it. However it was decorated though, it wasn’t the sort of mundane decorations that one might find in a hotel; rather, they seemed much more personal and homely. This was somepony’s home, and it wasn’t his.

Although in truth he had a bit of trouble taking in the decorations, given he was squinting against the light. It wasn’t the first time he had gotten himself a hangover, but it was never a pleasant experience when it happened. Still, he got the impression that this was somepony’s bedroom.

It was probably Vinyl’s though, since she was next to him on the bed, curled up and sleeping soundly, at least by Big Mac’s estimation. She was clearly not the type of mare who woke up before the crack of dawn. Probably wasn’t necessary in the big city.

Of course, the fact that he had spent the night in bed with her was probably a bigger problem than trying to figure out where he was—or if the Oranges had missed him.

Problem… wasn’t the right word, though. Big Mac laid his ears back against his skull, and tried to think—it wasn’t so easy with the pounding headache distracting him.

Last night was sort of hazy to him; he hadn’t blacked out, at least not in the traditional sense, he knew more or less what had happened; it was the fact that it had happened that bothered him… and the fact that it didn’t bother him as much as he felt it should. Growing up, Pa had always made sure to instil a certain sort of attitude in Big Mac when it came to mares, and ponies in general. Part of that was being in an actual relationship with a pony before you bedded her—although granted his father had passed away before McIntosh had been old enough for that particular lesson. He knew some—well, if he was going to be honest with himself, most—of the other stallions his age around Ponyville didn’t share the same sorts of views.

Carmel was always going on about whom he had lain with most recently, and Timeturner seemed to be a real mare’s stallion. Big Mac listened, of course, he was always listening, even when he didn’t want to. It was just plain polite to do so, regardless of what he might think of such careless attitudes. He did his best not to judge, because that wasn’t very respectful either or right of him, but the idea of meeting a pony and then getting into bed with them—especially so soon after meeting them—always felt kind of wrong to him.

Yet here he was, in bed with a unicorn he had met on a train a few days ago. What in the world was he thinking? But more importantly, why did he feel content? Big Mac thought he would have felt ashamed, or bad, or something like that… but he didn’t.

Maybe it was because for what felt like the first time in his life, he was… letting himself hang loose. To do things he normally would never do. They probably wouldn’t call it adventure if it was commonplace, after all, and while most of his male friends wouldn’t call it such, it felt like it to him.

If only he could have an adventure without feeling rotten afterward!

Big Mac’s stomach heaved like a wave, and for a brief moment it felt like he was going to vomit all over the bed—which was unlikely to be considered good manners even in this crazy city. Once his nausea had retreated back to a more tolerable sensation, McIntosh carefully slid out of bed, doing his best to keep the number of moments necessary as minimal as possible, as he headed to the washroom.

Even though he didn’t really know the place’s layout, the bedroom had its own small washroom connected right to it, so it wasn’t particularly hard to find. On the other hoof, he didn’t want to wake Vinyl up either, so he did his best to be quiet. As quiet as a big stallion with a splitting headache could be, anyway.

He felt better, although not by a great deal, once he had splashed some water on his face. Of course, then his bladder demanded his attention, and so on. He didn’t think he had taken that long, but when he opened the washroom’s door, to his surprise Vinyl was awake—and apparently writing in her diary. Or else she was defacing a book for no particular reason.

“Well good mornin’.” Big Mac tried to smile, but the sound of his own voice grated in his ears, so it came out more as a grimace—hopefully she wouldn’t take it the wrong way. He hated hangovers.

Vinyl opened her mouth to say something as her magic set aside her book and quill, but then she seemed to think better of it—which he was grateful for. Then she rolled out of bed with a grace Big Mac admired despite the pain behind his eyes, and trotted over to him. She paused in front of him, before she bent forward and poked him in the forehead with her glowing horn.

It didn’t really hurt, to be honest, but it seemed rather strange to tap him with her horn—but as he took a step backwards, Big Mac felt what he could only describe as a snapping sensation, like a rope being pulled taunt. His headache vanished, along with his upset stomach. After a second the room’s light seemed to lose its painful intensity and suddenly he felt completely refreshed.

Although he did have an unusually strong hankering for coffee.

“There.” Vinyl nodded, then leaned in to kiss him softly on his lips; it wasn’t the same passionate, hungry sort of kissing he had experienced last night—it was far more intimate and personal. “Feeling better?”

“Eeyup,” Big Mac nodded—clearly it was some sort of spell, and a darn useful one too. He hadn’t much experience with unicorn magic, to be honest, since Ponyville was mostly an earth pony town where unicorns were a minority. The ones they did have didn’t seem to do much in the way of magic, although that was starting to change now that Twilight was living there.

“Good! And good morning to you too, Big Stuff,” her emphasis on the last word brought a blush to his cheeks, although it probably wasn’t visible under his coat. “Have fun last night?”

“Eeyup,” Big Mac repeated himself, which probably wasn’t the best idea. “I can’t say I’ve ever…”

“What? You weren’t a virgin, were you?” Vinyl snorted as she returned to her bed, flicking her tail in a rather pleasant way.

“N-no,” Big Mac’s eyes went a bit wide with surprise, then shook his head resolutely. Well, not a complete virgin anyway. “I was sayin’, I ain’t done a lot of that before—by which I mean, you know…” He gestured helplessly in the air with his hoof, “I’m not one to jump into bed with somepony I just met.”

“Oho? Calling me easy, are you?” Vinyl grinned playfully as she rolled into bed, her tail flicked aside. Big Mac gulped nervously.

“Nope,” he said finally, after a brief struggle with his emotions and his body. “I’m just… glad, I guess. It was freein’.”

“I’m not sure what you mean, but okay,” Vinyl’s grin slipped a bit, not into a frown, but into something more thoughtful.

“I just…” Big Mac tried to put his thoughts in order, to figure out how to describe the last few days in a coherent way. “Back in Ponyville, I wouldn’t have gone on a date with a mare I just met, and I wouldn’t have gone to a club and danced and drank like that. It was different. And good.”

“Don’t forget the fucking!” Vinyl added with a laugh. “But I’m glad you liked it. So, what’s the plan for today, Big Stuff?”

“That too,” Big Mac felt himself smirk as his eyes roamed over Vinyl’s body. She noticed, of course, and smirked back. “Well, I can think of somethin’ I’d like to do… or someone...” Even as he said it though, a certain thought from earlier popped up in his mind, demanding his attention. “But I suppose I really ought to check in with my aunt and uncle; they’re probably worried about me, since I’ve been gone so long.”

“Pff,” Vinyl blew a raspberry and shifted in the bed so she was on her back. “You sure, Mr. Responsible?” She wiggled her hips.

“I… well, I guess…uh,” Big Mac felt his thoughts growing a bit sluggish, and a certain pressure growing between his legs. “I suppose another hour or two won’t matter too much…”

Big Mac hadn’t always been big, but ever since he was a young colt, he had been bigger than most of his fellow ponies of the same age. By the time he grew into a stallion, he was almost always was the biggest pony in the room. Only a few ponies, like the Princess—Princesses he supposed now—were taller, and few were as heavily muscled. To say he was strong was a bit of an understatement. But being strong didn’t always mean he moved with the greatest grace, and McIntosh took a great deal of took great pains to move carefully, lest he hurt somepony or break something. He did his best not to move aggressively.

This was not one of those times.

Big Mac crossed the intervening space between the two of them, and bent down to Vinyl’s cutie mark, nipping at it a couple of times and eliciting a groan of pleasure from the unicorn. Not surprisingly, her cutie mark was a musical note of some sort, and in short order, he bit both lobes of the notes and smirked. Most ponies’ cutie marks weren’t particularly sensitive… but Vinyl’s was, as he had discovered last night. No point in letting such useful information go to waste, after all.

He nipped a couple of more times before nuzzling the cheek and then slowly kissing and nuzzling his way along the mare’s sides, occasionally pausing to give her another nip. Every time he did, her tail would flicker, which made him chuckle. And turned him on.

It wasn’t long before his member was swaying against his legs as he half-stood, half-sat beside the bed. It didn’t escape Vinyl’s notice, and as he was kissing along her neck, her hoof reached out and rubbed along his length gently, stroking it. He had been expecting that—what he hadn’t been expecting was for her horn to flare into existence and feel his balls suddenly caressed.

It was hard to describe the sensation; he rarely been touched by a unicorn’s aura, and one had certainly never fondled him, but it felt like equal parts softness and steel. It was feather-soft as she held his balls, but it was too smooth, and there was a certain unyielding quality to it he couldn’t describe properly. It felt incredibly exotic, though, and his whole body twitched as he let out a groan.

Vinyl grinned and took her hoof away from his cock, wrapping her forelegs around his neck and pulling him into a kiss, all while her magic teased him mercilessly. Her mouth was so soft and warm, and their tongues ran up against each and slid around, embracing in their own fashion.

As they kissed, Big Mac felt Vinyl’s focus slide off his balls, rubbing and pressing lightly against the skin above them. And then—

Big Mac let out a strangled gasp and broke the kiss as Vinyl stroked against his anus. His reaction must have startled her too because the feather-soft steel vanished immediately. He had never been touched there, not like that, and certainly not by someone he was with… of course most ponies couldn’t reach that spot of him either. He couldn’t help but frown a bit.

“Err, sorry,” Vinyl half-smiled and shrugged between his hooves. “Some ponies like it… I guess others don’t.”

“Eeyup,” Big Mac grunted out; shocked or not, the sudden touch had hardened him the rest of the way up, with his cock throbbing with an almost painful intensity. “It, uh, mostly surprised me, I guess.”

“O-oh?” Vinyl’s smile grew a bit brighter, and her horn’s corona erupted again. “Maybe you’d like some more, then?”

McIntosh hesitated for a moment; his first instinct was to say no, but then… He looked down at her smiling, keen face, and sighed. “Give me a second.” Vinyl flashed him a grin and met his kiss eagerly. Big Mac savoured the sensation for a moment, licking his and her lips, before waddling back behind Vinyl. “Just be gentle.”

“Like a breeze on a summer’s day. No worries, bud...” Vinyl smiled, and suddenly the sensation returned. Not all at once, and not… there. It started on his dock, and rubbed that sensitive area for a couple of seconds, before drifting slowly downward.

He couldn’t help but shiver a bit, but he didn’t want to leave his mare out of the loop either, so gathering his focus, he steeled himself against her strokes, and bent down towards Vinyl’s own behind.

Clearly, she had anticipated what he was going to do, since her tail was flicked all the way off to the side, leaving herself uncovered and totally exposed to his gaze. And tongue. Big Mac grinned a little and admired her body for a moment—before Vinyl wiggled her ass impatiently

“Well?” Her voice carried the certain frustrated tones only a mare in need could make.

She certainly looked needy, the way her pussy glistened. No point in being rude, he supposed. Big Mac exhaled on the delicate and damp flesh, before pressing his nose against it and nuzzling, drinking her scent in. Oh yes, McIntosh thought as his member twitched with pleasure. Then he tilted his head slightly to get a better angle and thrust his tongue into her body.

Vinyl half-flinched, half-squirmed and Big Mac’s ears twitched as he heard her groan with wordless pleasure. As she writhed, he felt a certain pride and happiness fill up his chest. It felt good making her feel good. He almost forgot about her magic.

He had to give the mare credit; even as his tongue wormed in and around her pussy, teasing her here and there, she managed to keep her concentration, and Big Mac could feel her touch sliding down his ass, moving towards his pucker. As she reached it, he took a deep breath and waited.

Even though he knew to expect it, it still made him jump a little, making Vinyl pause again, watching him from down her flank. He caught her eye and nodded, and she continued. Her aura wormed against his hole, squirming and rubbing and stroking… it felt surprisingly good, if almost too intense. Big Mac enjoyed it for a moment, before flicking his ears and returning—or tried to—return his focus to pleasuring Vinyl.

It took him a moment to find her clitoris. It was soft, but firm, and as he swiped his tongue over it Vinyl let out an almost pained moan and her leg muscles tensed up and twitched for a brief moment before relaxing. Obviously he’d have to be gentle, but he could do gentle. Pursing his lips, he wrapped them around the nub and gently suckled on it.

Of course, he had forgotten that Vinyl’s telekinesis wasn’t limited to a single point, and as Vinyl half kicked uselessly—thankfully nowhere near his face—he felt another feather-soft touch, this time wrapping around the base of his cock. It held still, but only for a moment, and then began sliding up along his member towards the head. All while her other aura wormed against his tight pucker, and slowly forced its way into him.

He was getting close, there was really no question about it; he could feel the pleasure growing, and his balls started to draw up closer to his body. Involuntarily, he let out a groan and tried to hold back. It didn’t work.

With a defeated moan, McIntosh felt himself go over the edge, his cock throbbing in Vinyl’s magical grip and his hole clenching down on her other focal point as he came. After the last night, it wasn’t a whole lot he supposed, but he still splattered a couple of thick lines of jizz onto the floor in at the foot of the bed. He hoped Vinyl had a way of cleaning the carpet; otherwise, he had rather ruined it.

Big Mac leaned against her flank, resting his head on her cutie mark as he panted and smiled at her. Vinyl wiggled her eyebrows suggestively, and smirked back. Well, spent or not, that wasn’t going to stop his tongue. He might not always be the best at speaking, but he could pull this off.

Gripping her clit with his lips carefully, he flicked his tongue over its tip and suckled gently, and after a moment’s thought raised his hoof and started rubbing between her thighs and teats. Big Mac wasn’t sure if most mares liked that, but Vinyl certainly did—so much so that a couple of moments later she finally released as well.

It wasn’t as nearly as exciting or dramatic as his orgasm, of course, but it was beautiful and erotic to watch in its own right. Her body tensed and quivered as she closed her eyes and let out something between a whinny and a low cooing sound. She shuddered and went limp after a few moments with a half-satisfied look on her face.

“I almost want to wrap my hooves around you and make you eat me out all mornin’ Big Stuff. I didn’t realize you were so skilled with your tongue.” Vinyl murmured with a smirk. Before Big Mac could comment, she rolled onto her back so her legs were up in the air and draped them over his shoulders, putting his nose more or less at the base of her teats with her legs on either side.

Shyly, Big Mac drew his tongue up between them, making Vinyl quiver slightly.

“But… I can’t,” Vinyl sighed heavily and spread her legs wide, letting him go. She was right of course, even if he didn’t need to check in with his aunt and uncle, neither of them had eaten recently, and breakfast awaited them. Still, he kissed her thighs before standing up, only slightly wobbly.

“Uh, sorry about…” Big Mac’s voice trailed off as Vinyl waved her hoof dismissively, and got out of bed herself. “I’d better shower, I guess. Uh,” Big Mac smiled sheepishly, “which way?”

**

Vinyl had asked him to meet her at a restaurant once he had checked in with his Aunt and Uncle, and privately Big Mac was glad. Not simply because he was going to get to spend more time with the unicorn, but because they’d be eating lunch at a restaurant.

Because frankly, the mare couldn’t cook to save her life. McIntosh would never tell her so, but the fact that the eggs she had insisted on making for breakfast had came out looking like the burnt-out ruins of a barn had scared him a little bit. In the future, he was going to have to insist on doing the cooking, he reckoned, or else he was going to starve to death.

Even though he had been gone a fairly lengthily amount of time, neither of the Oranges appeared to be overly surprised or worried that he hadn’t spent the night at their place. In fact, Uncle Orange had given him a wink that suggested he knew exactly what had happened. At least he hadn’t done something embarrassing like congratulating him or some foolery. Thankfully neither of them pressed him beyond that—nor were they particularly unhappy that he was probably going to spend the rest of the day with her, either.

On some level, Big Mac suspected that the two Oranges were glad he wasn’t hanging around the place, cramping their style. He knew full well he didn’t exactly fit into the high society that they liked to frequent, and unlike Applejack,he had no intent or interest in trying to do so.

Regardless, the Oranges had been more than helpful in directing him towards where he needed to be for his meeting with Vinyl. She had asked him to meet her at a restaurant in the Lower East Side of Manehatten, and Big Mac hadn’t been sure where that was supposed to be—and he had felt embarrassed to ask Vinyl.

If he hadn’t followed their instructions to the word, and had any reason to doubt their knowledge of the city, he would have assumed he was in the wrong place. The Lower East Side didn’t appear to be any lower than any other part of the city, and he couldn’t, for the life of him, figure out how it had come by the name. Still, once he started passing the upscale restaurants and shops, he suspected he was in the right place.

His suspicions were confirmed when he found Vinyl sitting at one of the outdoor tables outside of a place called Foin Coûteux. Big Mac caught her eye and hurried over to sit down at the table with her.

“I was wondering when you’d get here,” Vinyl said, then snorted as his face fell. “I’m only joking, you’re early, Big Stuff.”

“Oh.” He wasn’t sure what to say to that, so he moved on the obvious; “should we order, Ms Scratch?”

“Really?” Vinyl said flatly, but Big Mac could tell from the twinkle in her eye that she was playacting. He hoped. “After last night, you’re still going to call me that? Or this morning? Just call me Vinyl, Big Stuff.”

“I suppose, but…” McIntosh shrugged, “Shall we order M—Vinyl?” Briefly he flirted with the idea of coming up with some sort of nickname for the mare, but nothing came to mind. Plus, he suspected he’d lose any sort of verbal sparring, so it was probably wiser just to stay away.

“Actually I’m waiting for someone else,” Vinyl said, glancing over her shoulder—then over Big Mac’s, looking up and down the street. He couldn’t help but feel a small twinge of disappointment, but then immediately felt guilty; he couldn’t expect Vinyl to spend all her time with him, after all. “Oh there she is!” She exclaimed, cutting into his thoughts as she stood up and waved her forelegs in the air. Following her eyes, Big Mac saw the pony in question—Octavia.

“Oh here you are,” Octavia commented as she approached the table; the one they were sitting at only had two seats, so Big Mac got up and offered his to the earth pony before borrowing one from one of the unoccupied tables. He caught Vinyl rolling her eyes—he was glad she hadn’t worn those goggles today—but he didn’t care, it was only polite. And he got to sit a bit closer to her.

“Thank you, Mr. Apple,” Octavia flashed him a smile before sitting down opposite, before turning her focus onto Vinyl. “When you said ‘meet me at that fancy Pranch restaurant in the Lower East, I thought you meant an actual restaurant, not—” Octavia gestured to the storefront with her hoof “—this place.”

“What, it’s fancy!” Vinyl protested.

He was inclined to agree with her, since it certainly seemed fancy, but then Big Mac could hardly judge.

“Whatever,” Octavia said, then her stomach rumbled loudly, causing the mare to blush and Vinyl to smirk. “Let’s just get something to eat.”

Octavia wasn’t the only pony who was ravenously hungry, so they exchanged only meaningless small talk while they waited for the food to arrive and while they ate it. Since he hadn’t had much in the way of breakfast, Big Mac couldn’t help but be disappointed with how small the portions were, especially given the price of the hay; but it wasn’t like he could order a second—or third—helping without straining his budget.

“Alright, Vinyl, why did you want to meet me,” Octavia said as she dabbed her lips with a napkin. “You’ve wined and dined me—sort of—so I assume you wanted me here?”

“Tavi, Tavi, Tavi,” Vinyl said softly, shaking her hoof at her, “So suspicious!”

Octavia just stared at the unicorn with a neutral expression. Or mostly neutral—Big Mac thought he detected a hint of irritation in the way her ears twitched. Of course, now that Octavia had brought it up, he found himself rather curious too—Vinyl hadn’t mentioned she’d be inviting somepony else.

“Okay okay, I just wanted to say… Big Mac really lives up to his name, if you know what I mean.” Vinyl’s grinned at Octavia—and by extension McIntosh—in a lecherous fashion. “As I found out last night and again this morning!”

Despite his red coat, he was sure everypony who glanced at him just then would have seen his blush—and everypony within earshot had overheard her comments. Granted, it probably shouldn’t surprise him that mares gossiped about that sort of stuff like stallions did. But right in front of him? Big Mac wanted to sink right into the ground. Later, he decided, I’m going to have to ask her to be a bit more discreet. Hopefully she wouldn’t just laugh him off.

If Octavia was shocked or perturbed by Vinyl’s comment, she certainly didn’t show it. In fact, she looked almost bored. After a second though, she did glance over at him and gave McIntosh something between a sympathetic look and a smirk. Perhaps Vinyl’s uptight friend wasn’t as uptight as she seemed.

“Well, if that’s all…” the earth pony mare turned her attention back to Vinyl as she moved to get up. “As much as I’m sure I’d enjoy your recounting of your night, I have things to do, Vinyl. I can’t sleep all day like you do.”

“Calm down, girl,” Vinyl leapt to her hooves and made as if to push Octavia back into her seat, but Octavia beat her to it. Big Mac was starting to wonder how much of the two mares’ sniping friendship—or whatever it was—was based on mutual playacting. It gave him something to think about, at least.

“Look, I was checking the timetable, and I saw you’ve got a bunch of slots booked for the next couple of weeks,” Vinyl continued, “I was hoping you might be willing to swap one or two of them with me.”

“Didn’t you have a session yesterday?” Octavia’s eyes narrowed as she looked at Vinyl. “I need time to record too, you know.”

“Yeah I know,” Vinyl sighed and reached over, pulling McIntosh off balance and into a hug of sorts, “I wanted to record a song with Big Stuff here, but he got cold hooves so it didn’t go anywhere… then… you know how things go. So I figure, maybe we’d give it another try?”

Truthfully, Big Mac had almost completely forgotten about that whole thing. He still wasn’t sure he wanted to even try, although after listening to the music in the club last night, he thought he had a much better understanding of the genre. But still… he wasn’t a musician—his cutie mark certainly didn’t lie in that direction and his skill with instruments was rudimentary at best. He wish he knew why Vinyl was so keen on getting him to try.

“Yes, imagine that,” Octavia said sarcastically, “you take a pony with no musical experience or talent—” Octavia’s cheeks coloured slightly as she glanced at Big Mac, “—err, no offense, Mr. Apple, um.”

Big Mac just waved her concern for his feelings waved off her concern and let her continue.

“—and expect him to record a song.” Octavia rolled her eyes. “Sometimes I think that horn of yours sucks up all the blood from your brain.”

“Whoa, hey now—”

“Maybe Octavia’s right, Vinyl,” Big Mac interrupted. Normally he wouldn’t, but he did feel like he should speak up, rude or not. “I mean, I appreciate it and all, but I wouldn’t know a saxophone from a tuba. Not my special talent, after all.”

“So?” Vinyl poked her hoof at his barrel. “How do you know you’d be no good? You never even gave it a try.” Big Mac flicked his ears; that was certainly true. “And didn’t you say this morning you found yourself enjoying new things?” he flicked his ears again and tried to resist looking down at his bare plate. That was also true. “I’m not saying you have to… I mean, if you don’t want to, that’s fine too, but…” Vinyl bit her lip and looked at him with a pleading expression. Darn it. He didn’t stand a snowball’s chance in Celestia’s bright sun with her face like that.

“I… suppose that’s all right, Vinyl, but you…you heard Octavia, she needs that time, too,” Big Mac’s voice grew more confident as he saw the loophole. It wouldn’t save him forever, of course, but, maybe if he delayed it, Vinyl might drop the subject… “That ain’t fair to her, and I don’t want to stop her from recordin’ her own music.”

Vinyl looked crestfallen, which only made Big Mac feel guilty—before Octavia spoke up.

“I suppose I could trade one of my later bookings, if it means that much to you,” She said.

McIntosh bit off an oath before it could escape his lips.

“What? Really?” Vinyl’s whole face lit up and she clapped her hooves like a filly. “Oh thank you Tavi—I mean Octavia!”

“On one condition,” Octavia interrupted, turning to face him. “Big Mac, do you really want to do this? It’s a lot of work, and it’s not always easy.”

His first instinct was to say no, because deep down, all Big Mac could feel was doubt and uncertainty. Regardless of Vinyl’s wishes, and however cute or pouty her lip might be as she begged him to give it a try, all he could think about was how he was getting tongue-tied and tripping over himself to say the simplest of things. Somehow, he doubted he could get away with saying ‘eeyup’ or ‘nnope’ a few hundred times on a track.

And yet he liked the music, he liked the sound of it, the feel of it… part of him was curious—how would it feel like to not merely be the listener of the music, but its creator, its source? Would it be like watching an apple tree grow from the tiniest seed? Or something else completely? Thinking back to last night, before he started drinking and losing himself in the music and Vinyl, he remembered feeling a certain connection to the it, if he listened to the lyrics and thought about what they meant.

There was a lot of anger, a lot of unhappiness and… frustration, it seemed, at the base of the music, and if he was being honest with himself, a lot of that was why he was there inManehatten at all. Of course, a lot of it just seemed to be fairly meaningless dance music too but, but he wasn’t judging those artists.

“Uh, Big Stuff?” Vinyl poked him in his shoulder, bringing him out of his thoughts. “You okay there, bro?”

“Eeyup,” Without thinking he bent forward and nuzzled Vinyl’s cheek—and when his brain caught up with the rest of him, he blushed slightly. She was blushing too, and for some reason looked slightly embarrassed. Glancing over at Octavia, he gave his answer, “I guess so, Ms Octavia, but I’d be lyin’ if I didn’t honestly tell you I don’t know much about music. Of any sort.”

“It’s easier than it looks,” Octavia said with a smirk.

“Plus I’m more than willing to help you out there, Big Stuff,” Vinyl added, “lyrics, sheets, you name it.”

“Since I’m giving up my slot, I might as well try and help you too,” Octavia offered, “granted, there’s not a whole lot I—we—can teach you in a week or so, but, well…”

“That’s what the mixing equipment is for!” Vinyl said with a laugh, although Big Mac wasn’t sure what she meant by that.

He had the sudden feeling he was going to regret this.