Strange Tales from the Bedroom

Octavia may have been skeptical as to how much ‘music’ the two mares could teach him, but that certainly didn’t stop the pair from trying. By the time the end of the week rolled around, Big Mac had a whole new appreciation for musicians and the work they did. He had never imagined how much work and effort was put into making the various songs or playing instruments, and he suspected that even after all the work Vinyl and Octavia had put him through, he was barely scratching the surface of it.

It made him feel guilty for never dropping a few bits into that minty-green coated mare who played the harp back in Ponyville. Lyra, he thought her name was. Every time he went to the market—about twice a week—the pony would be there somewhere, playing her harp, with a can or hat on the ground next to her for ponies passing by to toss a few coins into, to show their appreciation, or so Big Mac understood it.  Yet he never had, even though he listened to it all the same, which made him feel a bit guilty, given he now how much time and effort she had probably put into learning on how to play something like that. It wasn’t her only source of income, though, since Big Mac knew when she wasn’t playing out in public like that, she was performing at events, but still… If he ever went back to Ponyville, he promised himself to throw a few bits into her hat the next time he saw he playing. Maybe give her an apple or something too.

Of course, Lyra probably had a significant edge over Big Mac in that her special talent was in music making, and perhaps she didn’t have to work nearly as hard at learning the stuff as he did. Neither Vinyl nor Octavia seemed to have to put much effort into their playing, even when they were picking up something completely new they had never played before. Or, at least, he assumed Vinyl had never played the big wooden instrument Octavia played before, but she didn’t seem to do half bad on it. And he had trouble imagining Octavia being a regular user of the studio’s mixing equipment, although she didn’t have much trouble doing so.

Thankfully, neither of them really expected him to play an instrument, rather focusing on the one aspect that the two mares agreed was his best; his voice—although Vinyl kept insinuating it was something else. By the end of the second day, he was beginning to think she just liked to see him blush and act bashful. Not that there wasn’t plenty of that; Big Mac found singing, or trying to at least, painfully embarrassing.

He didn’t sing, as a matter of rule, and he had never really tried to either. The whole thing felt downright weird, and at first he did everything he could to avoid opening his mouth and abusing the ears of his fellow ponies. Eventually, though, one night halfway through the week, Vinyl convinced him to at least try. Truthfully, there was no avoiding it—he’d have to sing if he was going to follow through on what he had promised Vinyl—but it was a bit easier since the two of them were alone and she was promising certain... things if he did. Of course, Big Mac strongly suspected she would have done them anyway, but that wasn’t the point.

So, he sang, at least a little bit. He thought was terrible, but Vinyl loved it, so he sang a bit more.

It wasn’t much more than a few lines from an old country ditty his Papa used to sing while he working and Big Mac was a colt, but by the time he finished, he could tell from the look in Vinyl’s eyes that his fate had been sealed. Whether he wanted to or not, he was going to sing, and she was going to record it.

The biggest thing standing in the way of that, though, was the fact that Big Mac didn’t have anything to sing, which meant writing his own music. A huge challenge, and one only made bearable because Vinyl was giving him so much help. By the time they finished, he suspected most of his contributions to the lyrics were primarily suggestions and she had done all the work. Not that she seemed to mind.

At least he was able to convince her to keep the lyrics more or less clean—although he had to double check them just to be sure, since he had caught her once or twice inserting lines about… things. It wasn’t that he necessarily disagreed with what she was saying, but he didn’t really think his opinion about Vinyl’s flanks really belonged in the lyrics. Regardless of how much Vinyl insisted it was ‘okay’ and ‘everypony was doing it’. It was the principle of the thing and he wasn’t having any of it.

Besides, he’d like to be able to show his face around Ponyville when this was all over.

The recording studio wasn’t any less intimidating the second time around, although getting through the lobby was a lot easier with Vinyl by his side. It wasn’t as if they spent every hour together, of course, but truthfully he had only spent a couple of nights at his Aunt and Uncle’s place, and he was beginning to suspect if his belongings weren’t there, he wouldn’t visit them at all. Still, it had its advantages, like not having the secretaries harass him, and its perks, like getting to watch Vinyl’s behind as she stepped out in front to lead the way.

Big Mac wasn’t wholly familiar with the building, of course, but he was pretty sure they had gone to a different floor the first time around, although it stood to reason that there was more than one recording studio in the place. Unlike before, though, the halls were relatively crowded with ponies going about their business; almost all of them had some sort of music related cutie mark, either it was notation—as he had learned Vinyl’s was—or recording equipment, like microphones or… things.

Most of them ignored him, though, but they did stop Vinyl on occasion and engage her in some short discussion. It wasn’t necessarily wrong, but he was already kind of nervous and feeling a bit sick to his stomach, and the longer the wait, the worse he was starting to feel.

Finally, they arrived.

“Where’s Octavia?” Big Mac blurted out as Vinyl ushered him into the recording studio. It wasn’t that he minded the mare—although he could do without the pair of them fighting like schoolyard fillies all the time—but he wanted to get it over with before he chickened out again. The studio itself looked like the one from before, although this one had a slight scent of dried coffee, which made him think he ought to be careful where he put his behind down. Somepony probably spilled their drink and never cleaned it up, and the last thing he wanted was to get sticky.

“Calm down Big Stuff,” Vinyl said, resting her hoof against his shoulder. Big Mac flicked his ears and tried to calm himself—he hadn’t expected his discomfort to be so readily noticeable. “She’s in there,” Vinyl pointed to the room beyond the glass, and realized Octavia was on the other side, fiddling with the microphone. She caught his eye and waved, before mouthing something and tapping the headphones she wore over her ears.

Vinyl snorted and passed him one of the several sets of headphones in the room, then put a pair on herself and flicked a switch on the smaller microphone that stood out from the middle of the equipment’s control panel. “Hey there Tavi,” she said, “how’s it looking?”

Big Mac had to scramble to get his headphones on so he could hear the rest of the earth pony mare’s response.

“—ow are you feeling Mr Apple?” Octavia said, now looking through the glass at him. Vinyl must have heard it too, since she shuffled aside so he could use her microphone—although not so far that his side didn’t brush against hers.

It took him a couple of seconds to figure out how to toggle it right, which only made him more nervous—if he couldn’t flip a simple switch, how was he going to do this? “I… I’d be lying if I didn’t say I was a bit nervous, Miss Melody.” He opened his mouth to continue, then thought better of it.

“You’ll be fine, Mr. App—Big Mac,” Big Mac blinked, all the time he had known the mare, she had been very formal, which was fine by him of course. Perhaps she was trying to be friendlier. “Vinyl and I will be there to help you if you stumble, and everyone makes mistakes, even us.” Octavia’s gaze turned on Vinyl, and Big Mac got the impression she was daring the unicorn to disagree with her.

“Like I’ve said, you’ve got a great voice,” Vinyl commented, pressing a button at the base of the second microphone—he would have expected her voice to echo, since they were in the same room, but apparently the headphones cancelled noise just like the walls did. “Don’t worry.”

“I’m ready in here, if you’d be so kind as to show Big Mac over?” Octavia asked, before pulling off her headphones, apparently not interested to see if either of them weren’t ready. Big Mac took another slow breath, and followed Vinyl a bit further down the hall.

Sitting in the recording room, with the sheets of his lyrics clutched to his chest and sitting on a sort-of-comfortable seat, was a different experience, mostly because he had never stood up in front of ponies and… spoke, or performed or anything. Everything about the stark room screamed ‘you’re the center of attention’ to him, and it wasn’t a comfortable sensation.

 Octavia showed him how to work everything, or, in other words, how to turn stuff on and off, and how close to keep his muzzle to the microphone hanging from the ceiling. It wasn’t a lot of instruction, but McIntosh found himself hanging on every word, if only to delay the inevitable a bit longer. Of course it wouldn’t last forever.

Octavia left soon after, shutting the door and the outside world off, before showing up back in the other room and taking up a seat next to Vinyl. The two mares said something to one another, which he couldn’t hear of course. It was a big concerning when Octavia barked a laugh—he could tell by the way she moved—and had no idea what it was about. Big Mac hoped it wasn’t about him.

Finally the two mares settled down and there was a popping notice in his headphones as they turned their microphones on.

“Okay, Big Mac,” Octavia’s voice was crystal clear over the connection, “We’re ready when you are.”

“Uh,” Big Mac tried not to lean too close to the soft fuzzy surface of the mic, like Octavia had instructed him, “isn’t there supposed to be, I don’t know, music or something?”

“You mean like a beat?” Big Mac couldn’t quite see Vinyl’s face behind the microphone, but he could almost hear the smirk in her voice, “I’ve got just the thing, actually.”

Vinyl must have set the record up when he wasn’t looking, because her horn lit up and flicked a couple of switches, and suddenly his headphones were filled with a beat. It was heavy and slightly distorted; reminding him of the music he had heard in the club—and had listened to over the past few days with Vinyl’s advisement. In spite of everything, as the beat started thumping, Big Mac could feel the desire to sing rising in him—he had been practising, privately of course, with the lyrics, and he had a good idea how he wanted them to sound.

He took a deep breath and… nothing came out. Maybe a bit of a squeak. Then he blushed.

“It might help if you close your eyes, Big Stuff,” Vinyl said; her voice was full of compassion, rather than mockery, which he appreciated. Big Mac glanced through the window at her, and Octavia nodded in agreement. So, he sighed, shut his eyes, and tried again.

He choked a bit, and coughed, then he managed to get out the first few words Vinyl had written for him. It wasn’t very good, so he paused, and then restarted on himself. This time, the words… didn’t exactly pour out of him, but each line seemed to feed into the next, and there was a certain flow to it. he still stumbled a couple of times, and Vinyl asked him to restart when he did, but… it worked.

It was a lot different from a country ditty, of course, and in some ways it felt like he was reading poetry more than singing. He still sang though, about feeling overlooked and overshadowed by the ponies around him, how they went off and experienced new things and he didn’t. The frustration and unhappiness flowed out into his lyrics, and Big Mac thought perhaps that made them better—but he didn’t know, really.

If anything, it was more exhausting than he imagined, and by the end of the fifth take, his throat was dry and he felt completely drained. And this was only for one song—how a pony like Vinyl did it, with her dozens of songs per record, or Octavia’s hour long recordings was beyond him. Both were beyond his abilities, and his imagination.

Finally, he opened his eyes and rubbed them with one hoof as he glanced over into the other room. Vinyl was grinning ear to ear, and Octavia looked pleased as well—although somewhat less so, probably due to the genre of the music.

“Sounds great, Big Stuff!” Vinyl’s voice came over the microphone nice and clear, after the thumping background beats were shut off. “You’ll be a hit for sure.”

“You did very well for a first timer, Big Mac.” Octavia agreed, nodding her head. “What did you think? We can play it back for you, if you’d like.”

What did he think? Big Mac wasn’t sure, and he had no way of judging himself. So he shrugged, “If you ladies think it’s good, well, that’s good enough for me.”

“Cool,” Vinyl said, “then I guess it’s time for a post recording celebration! My treat!” Before Big Mac could say anything, Vinyl pulled off her headphones and dumped them on the panel in front of her, then headed for the door. Octavia rolled her eyes and Big Mac thought he heard her sigh before she copied the white unicorn’s lead.

It was huge relief to get the recording done, to Big Mac’s surprise, but he wasn’t about to say no to a big dinner and a bit of relaxing though, if that was what Vinyl had in mind. And maybe a more private celebration later, with just the two of them.

Vinyl opened the recording room’s door and Big Mac grinned at her. “Sounds good to me. Let’s go!”

**

Big Mac tried not to flinch as the hooves dug into his shoulders. He had the impression that the two mares performing the massages didn’t take kindly to that sort of reaction, especially, although neither of them had come out and said so. If he was feeling more generous, he would say they didn’t speak up out of politeness, but really they didn’t say anything because they wanted his bits. Or, rather, Vinyl’s.

Coming to the spa was Vinyl’s idea, and this was the second time in as many days that they had visited the place, and truthfully once was more than enough for him. He didn’t need his hooves filed by some stranger, or his back massaged either; he could do the former himself, and the latter—if he was going to get massaged—he’d rather it be done by Vinyl, not some mare whose name he didn’t know. The rest of the stuff; wraps and soakings, or whatever… Big Mac had no idea what to make of them. He ended up feeling cleaner than he ever had in his life, but it was kind of a weird sensation. Unpleasantly so. He certainly hadn’t gotten dirty enough to require another deep cleaning, though, and if any pony but Vinyl had asked him to come to such a place, he probably would have turned them down.

But, he couldn’t help but feel somewhat obligated to do some of the stuff Vinyl enjoyed, even if he didn’t.

The hoof twisted slightly, pushing some of his flesh around in a way Big Mac was almost certain Celestia never intended; he wasn’t so petulant that he wouldn’t admit to himself that it didn’t feel good, but it didn’t make him any less uncomfortable. The mare shifted her weight some, and the hoof lowest on his back moved a bit further back—too far, in fact, and Big Mac flinched again.

He thought her heard the masseuse huff slightly, before she replaced her hooves back in a more decent area of his back, but Big Mac had had enough. With a grunt, he waved her off and slid off the table. As it had been the day before, it was surprisingly difficult to stand on his own four hooves, and his legs felt like jelly. Probably turn to jelly soon, if I don’t do something with them, Big Mac thought to himself as he took a couple of tentative steps and ignored the grumpy look the Masseuse was giving him.

Now that he thought about it, it had been nearly three weeks since he had bucked an apple tree. Well, since he had worked on the farm at least—his injury hadn’t exactly meant he was running around bucking the trees to begin with. He wondered how they were all getting on without him. There was a sudden wave of homesickness, but Big Mac pushed it aside; he was sure the three of them were doing fine without him. It wasn’t the first time in the past week he had felt that way, ever since he had received a letter from the family.

Well, from Apple Bloom and Granny at least, Applejack apparently wasn’t interested in sending him any letters, at least not yet. Still, even without her input, the two of them had painted a picture of the farm more or less the same, and not experiencing any sort of crisis without him.

Big Mac wanted to write back, but he just wasn’t sure what to write; hay, he could barely express himself in person at times, how could he do it to a sheet of paper? But he’d have to do something soon—it wouldn’t be fair to any of them just to ignore their letter, whether he was doing so intentionally or not.

First, though, he wanted to stretch his legs.

“Going somewhere, Big Stuff?” Vinyl asked as he took a couple of steps around the room. Unlike himself, Vinyl seemed to be fully enjoying the massage, and she didn’t even open her eyes when she spoke. Occasionally her horn would fizzle a little bit—Big Mac assumed it was because she was so utterly relaxed.

Was he going anywhere? It wasn’t as if he had anywhere better to be, or anything better to do. Maybe he could just watch or something. “Nope.” Big Mac shook his head, even though Vinyl wasn’t looking.

“Just relax, Big Stuff,” Vinyl’s voice carried a hint of… what? Frustration? Big Mac wasn’t sure. “That’s why we’re here; to relax.”

“I guess I’ve just been relaxing for a while, Vinyl,” Big Mac felt his mouth move of its own accord, but as he spoke, it seemed to crystallize his thoughts. Maybe he wasn’t on a farm anymore, but he needed work, to be doing something with his hooves—or when he was learning about music, his voice and brain. He enjoyed sitting in a shade sipping cider as much as the next pony, but cider didn’t taste nearly as sweet if you hadn’t earned it. “More of a doer, I guess.”

“Yeah, I guessed,” Vinyl smirked a little, although she still kept her eyes shut. The other masseuse—as far as he could tell, the two ponies working at the place were nearly identical—who was currently kneading her back like a lump of dough just glared at him. “But there’s nothing for you to do, the track’s all mixed and everything.”

“I know that,” Big Mac grumbled and kicked the floor lightly, scuffing his hoof edges in the process. Probably better that way, they were far too shiny for his tastes. “I just…”

“I feel for you, Big Stuff, I do.” Vinyl shifted and opened her eyes, finally looking at him—if only for a moment—before lighting her horn and levitating her drink to her lips. “You do all this work and then when you’ve got nothing to do, you don’t know what to do with yourself. Been there, done that; it’s best just to take it easy.”

“I don’t know if I can.” Big Mac sighed and sat down in front of Vinyl. “Maybe y’all should show me how to play an instrument or somethin’.”

“That’d take too long,” Vinyl waved her hoof dismissively as the drink returned to its table.

“Well, maybe we could go explorin’, see some of the countryside or visit some place,” Big Mac suggested. After all, he hadn’t planned on spending his whole adventure sitting around Manehatten—however big and unusual the city was compared to Ponyville. Of course, he hadn’t expected to gain a marefriend or record a song either, but Big Mac supposed that was sort of the definition of an adventure.

“We could,” Vinyl nodded before settling back down and closing her eyes again. “But how do you know we wouldn’t get to, say, Vanhoover, and you’d be as antsy?”

Big Mac sighed, she was right of course.

“If it makes you feel any better, the song’ll be out in a couple of days, so you have that to look forward too.”

“A couple of days?” Big Mac echoed. He wasn’t an expert on the music recording business, but he would have thought it’d take longer to put all the vinyls together or however it was they made them. Unbidden, his heart started to beat a bit faster.

“Sure, I asked the people upstairs to fast track it,” Vinyl said, “It isn’t a large run, of course, but what can you do, eh?”

“I… I guess,” Vinyl and Octavia had agreed that it would be best to release it as a single, although he had left the details to the two mares, since he had no idea what he’d be doing if he tried. He still wasn’t certain about the whole thing, though. Ever since Big Mac had recorded the darn thing, he had been thinking he shouldn’t have. Too late now, of course, but had expected it’d be months before he had to deal with the consequences. “When?”

“Uh, on the nineteenth, I think.”

Big Mac’s heart skipped a beat; “Vinyl, today’s the twenty fifth.”

“Oh wow, really?” Vinyl giggled, even as Big Mac got to his hooves. And headed towards the door. “My bad, guess I lost track of ti—”

Vinyl’s voice cut off as the doors leading to the massage section of the spa swung closed as Big Mac trotted through the lobby. Part of him didn’t really want to know anymore, since it would be easier to just ignore the fact that the song was out, but a bigger part of him—a part that was almost painfully vain, and stupidly so—had to know what ponies thought about it. He was the same way with the Sweet Apple Acres’ cider; he wanted to know what the ponies thought, even if it didn’t really matter—and frankly wasn’t any different from year to year.

Of course, Big Mac wasn’t really sure where to go for that sort of information. It wasn’t as if he could just ask the ponies on the street, after all. But he suspected a good place to start would be at the Pony Music Entertainment Headquarters.

It wasn’t until he was halfway down the street that he realized he had more or less ran out on Vinyl without saying so much as goodbye; hopefully she wouldn’t be too mad at him.

**

“There you are!” Vinyl’s voice came from the direction of the door, but Big Mac didn’t bother turning around. He knew she was there, but he didn’t exactly want to face her just yet. “I’ve been looking all over for you! What the hell, pony?”

Big Mac opened his mouth to reply, but he wasn’t sure he could just yet, not with his voice so raw and uncomposed, so he shook his head instead. Part of him was hoping Vinyl would just go away and leave him in peace, at least for a little while longer—truthfully, he wasn’t sure why he had ended up in one of the recording suites rather than going back to the Oranges or back to Vinyl’s place. Well, he didn’t have a key to the latter, obviously, and he wasn’t sure he really wanted to talk to his aunt and uncle just yet either. Privacy, Big Mac supposed, is what he was really after at the moment, and the suite had just seemed like the best place to go.

Not private enough, it seemed.

“Big Stuff…” Vinyl’s voice trailed off with a note of uncertainty, and Big Mac heard her shuffle closer. Clearly his hopes that she’d be put off and leave him be for a while longer weren’t going to come to fruition. Big Mac took a shuddering breath and tried to calm himself a little bit, hopefully it wouldn’t be so obvious he had been crying.

And what a stupid thing to cry over too, he felt like an idiot, but there was little he could do about it now. Hopefully Vinyl wouldn’t notice.

“Big Mac,” Vinyl began again, and he flinched slightly as he felt her hoof come to rest on his withers. Then he relaxed slightly. “What’s wrong?”

“This.” Big Mac shifted slightly and lifted the magazine up in the air so Vinyl could see it. It was one of what he took to be local publications about music in the city; the lobby of the building had a number of similar magazines, but the ponies at the front desk had pointed it out to him. It went by the name of disHarmony—probably for the shock value—and a large section of it was dedicated to reviewing newly released music.

Like his song.

Vinyl pulled the magazine out of his hoof with her magic, although she didn’t say anything as she flipped through it. After a couple of seconds, the rustling stopped and Big Mac guessed she had found the appropriate article.

Still, it was kind of awkward to just stand there facing the wall while she read it, so he rubbed his eyes to get rid of any errant tears and turned around to face the mare. Vinyl’s lips were pursed thoughtfully as she read the article, although she did spare a glance at Big Mac as he shifted. He didn’t move very far from his spot on the floor, though, mostly because there wasn’t a whole lot of room to move to begin with.

It wasn’t a long article, though, and after a moment Vinyl frowned and put the magazine aside. “Is that all?”

“’Is that all?’” Big Mac echoed incredulously. “They hated it. And me.”

“They’re critics, Big Mac,” Vinyl snorted and shook her head, before running her hoof through her mane. “Being bitter and hating everypony is kind of in their job description.”

“That’s easy for you to say,” Big Mac grumbled. “I knew this whole thing was a bad idea.”

“Hey dude, don’t be so hard on yourself.” Vinyl reached out and rubbed her hoof against his arm. “Lookit, I know these guys trashed your thing, and you put a lot of hard work in it, but, but Big Stuff, you should have seen the shit they wrote about my tracks.” Vinyl paused and chuckled, “I think one of them said it sounded like two cats fighting in a burlap sack.”

Big Mac sighed and shrugged; maybe Vinyl was right, maybe it wasn’t as bad as the critics were saying it was… but on the other hoof, Big Mac wasn’t sure he was really cut out for this sort of thing. Making that song really felt like a one-time thing, and he really didn’t know if he’d ever write another one. He certainly didn’t feel like it after those critics had picked him apart.

Plus, even after several weeks, he still felt like a stranger to the city in many ways. Ponies were rude and inconsiderate—not to mention there were so many of them. Everyday he probably saw more ponies than he had ever seen growing up in Ponyville. If he was going to be honest with himself, he missed Ponyville and Sweet Apple Acres. He missed the simple labour of bucking trees or hauling stuff around or fixing things; maybe going out and seeing the world was a good thing, but what had it gotten him, in the end? His sister was probably mad as hay—as hell, no reason to mince words—Apple Bloom probably still thought he had gone away because of her, and now he had gone and embarrassed himself trying to be something he wasn’t. And, to top it all off, he was starting to feel more than a bit guilty leaving them all alone on the farm.

“I know you’re upset, Big Mac, but really, it’s nothing to cry over,” Vinyl was saying, although Big Mac really wasn’t paying close attention. She was the only thing good to come out of this whole adventure—or misadventure, as the case may be. They were two very different ponies, he had no illusions about that, but it was nice having a special somepony.

After a moment’s thought, Big Mac leaned forward and nuzzled Vinyl’s cheek, shutting the mare up, if only temporarily.

But Vinyl really wasn’t… enough… to stick around, at least by Big Mac’s reasoning, He cared for her, and he’d like to think she cared back, but he didn’t belong in the city, and he certainly didn’t belong in a recording studio trying to make music. He belonged on Sweet Apple Acres.

“Vinyl, I think I ought to go,” Big Mac said finally, just as Vinyl opened her mouth to say something else.

“Go where?” Vinyl asked, frowning slightly. “I mean, I guess we could all use some alone time or something but I’d like to try and cheer you up if I can.”

McIntosh shook his head, “Go home. Back to Ponyville.” Vinyl’s whole body slumped, and Big Mac instantly felt bad. He probably shouldn’t have broke it to her just like that, but then, he had only just made up his mind too. Maybe he should explain; “It’s not that I don’t appreciate everything, and…” Big Mac let his voice trail off—how exactly was he going to explain his reasoning to this mare? He had a hard enough time with his words, even when he wasn’t talking to somepony like Vinyl. “I guess you could say this here review just made me realize I don’t belong.”

“But you’ve barely been here at all!” Vinyl protested, taking a step back from him. “I mean, it’s only been what? Three weeks?”

“But do you really see me ever fittin’ in, Vinyl?” Big Mac gestured vaguely to himself, “I mean, look at mean, I don’t even speak like the rest of y'all.”

“So?” Vinyl’s ears lad back, not quite flat against her skull. “Picking up a new accent isn’t hard, and with a little work you’d fit right in and—”

“I wouldn’t be Big McIntosh then, would I?”

All the fight drained out of Vinyl’s body, and Big Mac’s heart sank a bit lower in his chest. “I guess not, I just don’t want you to leave.” She paused and she sighed gustily, “I guess it’s partly my fault—”

“I never said that,” Big Mac cut her off, the last thing he wanted was for her to think it was her fault. “You’ve been the best thing about this trip, Vinyl, and I can’t have you thinkin’ any different than the truth.” McIntosh pursed his lips slightly, thinking; “It’s just you’re Vinyl, the musician, and I’m Big McIntosh, the farmer, I guess. Just took me a while to be reminded of that fact.”

“Oh.” Vinyl looked up at him smiling weakly, but at least she was smiling, he supposed.

Big Mac hugged her and patted her back lightly. Hopefully she’d understand, she was a big enough pony that she probably wouldn’t get caught up with blaming herself, like he was worried Apple Bloom had.

“Mmm,” Vinyl said, suddenly sounding more mischievous than upset; Big Mac found himself wondering if he should be worried. Sure enough, as Vinyl pulled away, she had a smirk on her muzzle. “You know, there’s no reason I can’t come with you—you might need to be a farmer back in Ponyville, but I can record stuff pretty much anywhere.”

“Uh…” Big Mac’s brain froze. “Why?”

“Why not? We’ve got a good thing going, I think, why not keep it that way?” Vinyl half shrugged and blushed, “Normally the guys I sleep with… let’s just say they’re not really interested in much more than a fling. You make me feel special, I guess. Like you really care about me.”

“Well, I do care about you, Vinyl,” Big Mac said—although he supposed the question was whether or not he loved her; but he also wasn’t sure if the question really mattered; he enjoyed spending time with her, and he knew in his heart he’d miss her if she was gone out of his life. On the other hoof though… he couldn’t ask her to uproot her whole life on a snap decision like this. “But shouldn’t you think about this a bit? y'all got a life here, don’t ya?”

“Nothing I can’t do without,” Vinyl smiled slightly and leaned forward, “Please?” She said in a tone of voice that suggested she was begging, “don’t you want me?”

“It’s not that, Vinyl, I’m just—” before Big Mac could say anything further on the subject, Vinyl kissed him. For a second he wasn’t sure how to respond, then he just let himself return the kiss. Vinyl’s lips were as soft as ever, and he stroked her mane with his hoof. She was wearing her glasses; she seemed to wear them everywhere, so he carefully lifted them up and off her face so he could see her eyes clearly.

“I want you to be happy,” Big Mac continued as he pulled away and tried to ignore the thin line of spittle coming off his lips. He quickly wiped it away. “Movin’ away, that’s enough to make anypony unhappy.”

“But you make me happy,” Vinyl pushed her hoof against Big Mac’s chest. “You.”

“I’m sure a mare like yourself could find somepony else,” Big Mac couldn’t help but feel a bit flustered. Flustered, but some small part of himself also felt rather pleased Vinyl felt that way.

“Maybe, but I have you, and I’d like to keep it that way.” Vinyl’s eyes took on a mischievous light, and she stepped away from Big Mac, turning towards the door. “Of course, if you’d rather…” Vinyl’s tail kept twitching from side to side, flashing Big Mac, and making him blush.

“Now hold on,” Big Mac got up and stepped in front of Vinyl, blocking the door, “I never said I didn’t, I just don’t want you to be unhappy.”

“Won’t know unless you try,” Vinyl quipped, and Big Mac couldn’t help but be reminded that it was that sort of thinking that got him into this mess in the first place. On the other hoof, though, he had enjoyed spending time with Vinyl and learning about music, so it hadn’t been that bad, all things considered.

Vinyl twitched her ears as Big Mac sighed heavily, probably waiting for him to respond—and there was something else he hadn’t considered. Vinyl was a grown mare, if she wanted to try, wanted to take the risk, well he supposed on some level that was really her decision. All he could do—and should do—was respect it. “I guess,” Big Mac said finally, punctuating his words with a shrug. Hopefully it would all work out.

“Great!” Vinyl leaned in and kissed him again; although this time, he was more than ready for it. It was a soft, happy, kiss at first, but it quickly becomes something far more hungry and needy. Now that he had… put things behind him, and knew where he was going, it was like a dam had broken within him. Big Mac felt more sure of himself, more relaxed. A subtle tension had probably been building up inside of him for days, and it was gone now.

And it seemed it was making him horny.

Big Mac pressed himself against her, forcing her to step backwards until her back banged up against the far wall, but that only encouraged him. From her mouth, he drew a line of kisses down Vinyl’s cheek, punctuating them with small, but firm, nips as he went down her neck. Vinyl nibbled on his ear in turn, tugging on it gently with her teeth before he flicked it out of her grasp accidently. Vinyl decided to switch to nuzzling along his broad neck—between small gasps of pleasure.

That didn’t stop her from reaching out with her hoof and rubbing along his belly towards his cock. As she extended her hoof completely—which admittedly didn’t get her very far, given his massive frame, Vinyl’s horn lit up and suddenly his balls were wrapped in feather-soft steel. It was sudden, and just enough to make Big Mac grunt and break off his ministrations along Vinyl’s neck. Probably for the best, it was only making her more bothered, but it wasn’t exactly getting him very far.

Vinyl, on the other hoof, just continued to roll and massage his balls, although the focus of her magic drifted after a couple of seconds to run along the underside of his penis, which by now was hanging rather loosely between his legs. He couldn’t help it—there was just something about Vinyl, something that made these moments just so arousing.

He didn’t just stand there, though, he leaned in and kissed Vinyl again, although it was really just a quick peck compared to the earlier kiss. “I hope you can be happy with me, Vinyl.” Big Mac said, shuddering slightly as her grip pumped against his member. It seemed to be one of her favourite things to do with it, and he was starting to wonder if it was—what had she called it?—a fetish.

Seemed like a darn good way to make sure your stallion spent his load on the floor though, rather than somewhere more productive.

As he nipped Vinyl’s cheek, though, a though occurred to McIntosh, something he had heard about unicorns and their horns in general. Shifting, Big Mac kissed the base of the horn, before licking along its length. If felt strange under his tongue; the horn itself was semi-flexible, but it felt bone hard as he touched it with his tongue and lips—and that was ignoring the magic coming out of it. Big Mac had always assumed that the glow around a unicorn’s horn was just that, a glow, but there was clearly something going on around it. Unlike Vinyl’s magic currently stroking around the ridges of his cock head, though, this was fuzzy, like cotton, and sharp, like embers on a patch of bare skin.

It was strange, but Vinyl seemed to enjoy it, as she gasped rather sharply and her body twitched. Or she did, for a moment at least, then her magic winked out and the feeling on his cock disappeared. It left a tingly afterimage—or after-impression—on his tongue, and there was a brief whiff of ozone that reminded Big Mac of the time lightning had struck the barn. He wrinkled his nose at the smell.

“O-oh, geez,” Vinyl panted. “T-that might not be the best idea, Big Stuff, too sensitive.”

Big Mac found himself grinning. “Not sure why that’d be a problem, I’ll be gentle…”

“B-but,” Vinyl’s face was flushed and she seemed a little flustered, “I can’t use my magic if…”

“I reckon I can have a good time without your fancy magics, Vinyl.” Big Mac leaned in and kissed her again, and out of the corner of his eye, he saw Vinyl’s aura flash back into existence. Maybe it was his imagination, but it looked like it was a slightly darker shade now. That thought didn’t have much time to stay in his brain before it was swept away by as Vinyl’s telekinesis flared back into existence as well, rubbing down his length lightly. He enjoyed it for a moment, then nibbled around the base of her horn, experimenting slightly.

They went back and forth like that for a while—he would touch her horn until she lost control of her magic, and then he’d give her a few seconds to recover before she’d try to return the favour, until Big Mac pulled away and tapped her side with his hoof. He didn’t think he could take much more of Vinyl’s magic, and he’d rather not waste himself and spoil the main attraction.

Thankfully Vinyl clued in quickly, and turned around. Big Mac couldn’t resist leaning down and giving her flank a couple of bites, particularly around her cutie mark though, not matter how stiff he was feeling. If only to hear her giggle happily.

It also gave him an excuse to take in her scent as she flicked her tail aside for him. She smelled more floral than normal, probably because she had just come from the spa—part of him chuckled that all that work she had gone through in getting clean hadn’t exactly lasted—but mostly he smelled the heady scent of her musk. Even before his tongue ran along her lips, Big Mac could tell his mare was very excited and very wet.

Vinyl twitched a little and gasped, shooting him a look over her shoulder that suggested if he didn’t get down to it, she was going to kick him. He had no problem obliging her.

He nipped her cheeks a couple of times, though, just for the hell of it—for some reason the act made his heart beat even faster in his chest—then he slowly climbed up onto her back and hugged her from behind as he probed her hindquarters semi-experimentally. It felt a bit awkward still, but luckily, he had more than a bit of practice over the past few weeks at this.

Vinyl let out an adorable little squeak as he pushed his way into her warm body, even though he wasn’t moving all that fast. The sensation of her wet, hungry folds gripping his cock was wonderful, and he wanted to savour it, if only for a couple of moments. But he also didn’t want to leave her hanging. Big Mac kissed her cheek and started to slide out of her.

Normally, he would try to take it slow, mostly because he suspected Vinyl liked to be the center of attention—especially his attention—for as long as possible, but today, he was having trouble with that. He just wanted to fuck the mare, hard, and it showed as he thrust in rather violently.

Despite his expectations, Vinyl’s eyes just rolled back and she moaned—if anything, she seemed to enjoy it more! Big Mac grunted and rolled with it, pausing only to reposition his legs and body on Vinyl’s back to give himself better stability for his thrusts.

It wasn’t terribly elegant sex, and it didn’t take Big Mac very long before the stiffness he had felt earlier turned into pressure, bursting to get out. Still, he did his best to hold off as long as he could, but the more aggressive stance of sex made it hard, and before he knew what was happening, his thoughts became hazy.

His balls felt tight, and then… Big Mac buried his muzzle against Vinyl’s shoulder as he buried his cock as deep as he could within her and released. He throbbed and spurted within her for what felt like an hour but probably wasn’t much more than a minute, if that. It helped that halfway through it, Vinyl came as well, and the way her body clamped down on his cock—in his mind—helped extend his orgasm a bit longer.

Finally, though, it came to a sticky end, and Big Mac just panted and tried to recover before he kissed Vinyl on her cheek. She seemed a bit dazed too, but his kiss seemed to break her out of it, and she tilted her head to return it.

They probably kissed lightly for another minute, but by then Big Mac was starting to feel an ache in his back from the somewhat awkward position he was in, as well as his cock starting to soften. Part of him wanted to sigh, but he supposed nothing lasted forever. So, with a snort, he pulled back, off and out of his mare, and plopped down onto his own four hooves. He could tell by the way Vinyl’s body flexed in response to the sudden lack of weight that she  was probably grateful he was off her too. It was a bit different, of course, being in bed…

Big Mac frowned, suddenly remembering where the two of them were. It only took his frown a second to turn into a full on blush that he knew full well everypony could see through his coat, red or not. Hopefully no other pony would ever have… to… know….

As Big Mac turned around, Big Mac found himself staring into the stunned expression on Octavia’s face. The earth pony’s jaw hung open, and Big Mac wasn’t completely sure she was fully aware that they had finished—clearly she had seen at least some of it. Big Mac’s blush got even harder, and he couldn’t be more thankful that his cock was retreating into his sheath.

“Octavia?” Vinyl had turned around too, and she seemed to be just as embarrassed—at least she was blushing as badly as Big Mac was sure he was, even if it didn’t show up in her voice.

“Uh,” Octavia unfroze, and suddenly she was blushing too—and trying to avoid their gazes. “uh, I just, was, you know. I heard the bad news and somepony said that you were down here and…”

“Eeyup.”