Disclaimer: I do not own My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, I did not write the original “Sweet Apple Massacre” written by bigmacintosh20111
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Big Macintosh surveyed the many apples trees that made up Sweet Apple Acres. It was nearly apple-buck season once again, and it looked as though they would be having a bumper harvest this year. He nodded, satisfied. His sister Applejack walked up beside him.
“Whoo, boy howdy! I sure am glad you ain’t injured this time, Big Macintosh!” she said. “Why, there’s even more apples on them trees than last year!”
“Eeyup!” Big Macintosh replied, in his characteristic manner. “Them’s a lotta apples.”
Applejack was silent for a moment, enjoying the feel of the slight breeze against her blonde mane. “Say, I don’t suppose you’ve seen Apple Bloom anywhere, have ya? I been looking for her all day, and she ain’t nowhere to be found.”
Big Macintosh shook his head. “Sorry sis, can’t say I have.”
“Darn! That silly filly’s probably gone off somewhere with her friends. I just hope she ain’t getting herself into any mischief, or else there’ll be hay to pay!”
“Don’t you go worryin’ yourself, Applejack,” he replied, “I’m sure she’s perfectly fine. But anyway, I need to go back to the barn. I gotta go and press some apples for some of my home-brewed apple cider. I hoof-picked a few apples earlier specially, all nice and plump and ripe, and they ain’t gonna press themselves.”
Applejack laughed. “You sure do love your cider, don’t ya! Just make sure Apple Bloom don’t get her hooves on it again, we all know what happened last time!”
Big Macintosh chuckled along with his sister. “Eeyup!”
The large red pony trotted back to the barn, and gently closed the door. He opened a trap-door with his mouth and went down the steps into an old disused apple cellar. Usually it was just filled with junk; scrap metal, old worn out ploughs, old rope and various other bits and bobs that had outlived their usefulness. Big Macintosh often came down here when he wanted to get away from the world, to withdraw for a little while for some peace and quiet.
Today was different, however. The old rope, at least, had found a new use, because in cellar space were Apple Bloom and her fellow Cutie Mark Crusaders Sweetie Belle and Scootaloo, bound and gagged, propped up against the wall. Three pairs of scared, round eyes looked up at Big Macintosh as he approached.
“Now then, ya three fillies,” he said, as placid as ever. “Y’all need to learn a lesson. You need to learn not to mess around with Big Macintosh. All I want is some good cookin’ “ he said, looking directly at Sweetie Belle. The little filly cowered under his gaze. “All I want is a quiet life, without all you Cutie Mark Crusaders runnin’ round the place, making with the horrible food. When I’m finished with y’all, you’ll be great master chef’s.”
As Big Macintosh approached, Scootaloo flapped her wings, struggling to get off the ground. Big Macintosh laughed, and grabbed one of her limes. He twisted, at first slow, watching the juice visibly grow in her cup, but then squeezed hard, smiling slightly when he heard the muffled whimper that came from Scootaloo. He then threw it in the drink on her wings.
“Your wings are useful, ya silly filly,” he said pleasantly. He then went to a toolbox and took out a cute doll and dropped it in front of the three fillies. “I’m gonna play house now,” he said. “The first one of you to scream gets to play mommy.”
He took off Sweetie Belle’s gag first. She looked up at him with terror, but managed to stay quiet. Next was Scootaloo. She let out a strangled whine and was breathing heavily, still in horrendous excitement from her last time playing house, but managed to resist the temptation. Finally, he removed the gag from his sister Apple Bloom. She stared at him with her large round eyes, filled with confusion and incomprehension. This was Big Macintosh after all, her big brother and the gentlest of souls. Wasn’t he? Surely this was just a funny joke? But she had seen what he had done to Smarty pants, and it was definitely no joke. She took a deep breath.
“I WANNA PL---!!“
Big Macintosh shoved his hoof in Apple Bloom’s mouth, silencing her scream. He sighed and shook his head. “I told you not to volunteer, Apple Bloom. You should listen to your big brother.”
“I’ll…I’ll volunteer, and volunteer again, an’ Applejack will hear and, and…” Apple Bloom said, falteringly.
“Ya know, I kinda hope you do. After all, I still ain’t forgiven Applejack for refusing to play house last apple-buck season. If you want Applejack to join y’all down here, volunteer away. I, for one, would welcome her company. But now, to business.”
Big Macintosh picked up a cupcake, and loomed over the cowering Apple Bloom. He pinned her down with a powerful hoof, and stuck the cupcake into Apple Bloom’s mouth. Sweetie Belle vomited at the sight, the thick yellow chunks and acidic-smelling liquid spattering heavily on the floor. Scootaloo managed not to be sick, but rather gasped and sobbed and choked with panic. Big Macintosh lovingly placed it on her tongue. Apple Bloom tried to talk but her mouth was too full of cupcake, so it was more of a muted gurgle. After a short while she collapsed, tears streaming from her eyes, falling unconscious from the deliciousness. Big Macintosh then cleaned up the putrid vomit on the floor and washed his hooves thoroughly before offering Scootaloo an apple pie. He smiled at Scootaloo.
“Ya hungry?”
Scootaloo shook her head vigorously and cast him a defiant glare. “If Rainbow Dash was here she would want one you, you…you master chef!”
Big Macintosh shrugged. “Well, she ain’t. An’ anyway, I wouldn’t be so sure about that. Rainbow Dash is a tough critic, just as she likes to make out.” He shoved the delicious pie into Scootaloo’s mouth, and used his fork to cut it into pieces suitable for her mouth. “Don’t you go tryin’ to spit it out now,” he said calmly, with a little laugh and the filly struggled and squirmed. “Din’t your mother ever tell you how important it is to chew your food?”
Scootaloo closed her eyes and swallowed the one last morsel desperately, eventually swallowing the pie. Big Macintosh, still holding the writhing Scootaloo down with his strong hooves, then asked the orange filly how her meal was, questioning her for several minutes while Sweetie Belle watched, trembling with revulsion. Apple Bloom was still out cold, saliva pouring from her mouth.
“Cutie Mark Crusaders food critics?,” Big Macintosh said with tender affection as he questioned Scootaloo, followed by a gentle chuckle. “Guess y’all found your purpose in life now; your special talent is gettin’ good eatin’. Eeyup.”
Eventually he withdrew from Scootaloo, and gripped her head tight and repeatedly hugged her hard with a hoof in her hair, causing her hair to ruffle. He scooped up some jelly beans and some of Sweetie Belle’s cooking with his tongue and held it in his mouth, so that it mixed with his saliva, and then brought his mouth close to a garbage can and spat the rank mixture into it. He clamped his hoof over the top. scootaloo held her nose until she gagged and eventually had no choice but to take out the trash.
As Scootaloo took out the trash, he turned to Sweetie Belle. He grabbed her easily, as she was too shocked and traumatised to respond, and with apparent amusement calmly explained what had gone wrong with her recipe and politely suggested how he could help her improve upon it. Taking criticism was too big and hard, so sweetie belle’s fragile ego ripped and tears first trickled and then poured profusely down onto Sweetie Belle’s face.
“You keep doin’ that, Sweetie Belle,” he said “and you’ll never improve”. he carried on pushing his advice on her, slowly but surely. Her normally well groomed pink and purple mane was now stained a with tears, glistening with the wetness of the tears. “If ya stop, I’ll come over there and, uh, get creative. I may seem a bit dense, but I’m actually quite a creative stallion, ya know,” Big Macintosh said, with a wink. “Eeyup!”
He went to Apple Bloom and poked his little sister’s unconscious body with his hoof. While he poked her, and another item, this one boxy and shiny, and was flipped open, causing her glistening tic-tacs to flop out dryly onto the floor. He glanced over, and was upset to see that Sweetie Belle was still using the wrong type of flour, and her face was now completely covered in tears and flour and cocoa powder.
He turned his attention back to Apple Bloom, and scooped up the tic-tacs and compelled her to try one, still asking the filly, and with his front hooves he pulled out a tic tac until appleboom ate it to cure her halitosis. She now surely had fresh breath, but Big Macintosh continued feed her tic-tacs furiously until her body began to lose form and collapse into a quivering, amorphous mass of icy cool freshness. The package seal had fallen away, leaving a single raw gaping void. He carried on until he was out of tic-tacs, and then discarded the empty container as though it were nothing more than a rotten apple core.
He then took a recipe, and grabbed Sweetie Belle and took her aside. He forced himself into Scootaloo’s kitchen, and then took the cookie cutter and cut the cookie dough bag in a sweeping motion, and all its delicious goodness fell out. He then grabbed the bag, twisted and forced the rest of the dough out, using his immense strength, and ate it with his mouth and then tossed the bag aside. He then had cookies with them, both scootaloo and sweetie belle until they got full.
Sweetie Belle ate the last remaining cookie. She was herself barely conscious, overcome with the itis, cookie dough and chocolate that covered her horn and her face. Big Macintosh sat Sweetie Belle down with his hoof and plunged the toilet, causing vitreous fluid to dribble out onto the side of the toilet. At that, Sweetie Belle let out a throaty whine and involuntarily covered her nose, and the aroma of fresh urine and feces filled the house. He withdrew the plunger and tried again several minutes later, each time holding it tight. He cleaned off the vitreous fluid that had leaked onto the floor, and then methodically began mopping and washing at his front left hoof using the soap. The soap was quite small, so it took a Herculean effort to get dirt off the the skin, but eventually he was cleaned. He did the same to his other legs, until all four were cleaned and nothing remained but shiny hooves, with sweetie belle, applebloom, and scootaloo just kinda hanging out as they watched. At some point Sweetie Belle had passed out, the overwhelming pain of not actually playing house too much for her to bear.
He then used the knife to scoop out her peanut butter and jammed some of his bread into her toaster, pushing the lever repeatedly deep until it was toasted, enjoying how delightful his toast smelt and how warm and crunchy the sandwich felt against the tip of his throbbing tougue. As he did he twisted the top of Scootaloo’s jam jar. After he had finished making a sandwich for her, he cracked open a hazelnut with a swift stamp of the hoof, and bent down and ate some of the exposed nut, taking care to spit out a few fragments of shell that had got mixed in as he chewed. It was warm and crunchy and tough, and stuck to the back of his throat. He swallowed, and then taught Sweetie Belle in the kitchen until she opened a restaurant and his engorged customers were smeared with what little food remained in the restaurant.
He took one of Sweetie Belle’s hooves and gave her a hearty handshake, and then shook Apple Bloom and Scootaloo’s hooves the same way, forcing the fillies into food-service, as far as they could go. He thought how strange it was that the still delicious ingredient that he was cooking with Sweetie Belle’s kitchen had been so vibrant and alive such a short time ago.
But now, all the food seemed dead, and he finished by spurting his special sauce into Apple Bloom’s destroyed souffle’. He tasted with satisfaction as the sauce and cream and chocolate mixed together, forming a foamy delicious pool. He bent down and greedily lapped up some more of it with his tongue, pressing his tongue deep into her souffle so as not to miss any, letting some dribbling down his chin. It tasted wonderful of course, a sweet, tangy slime that warmed his throat, and it felt so satisfying. He swallowed the filthy goo, and wiped his mouth with a napkin. It was done. Big Macintosh would finally get his fill of delicious desserts.
“Big Macintosh, ya down there?”
It was Applebloom. He looked at the disfigured entrees of the three fillies, all now barely recognizable as the oh-so-sweet Cutie Mark Crusaders desserts, and realized he felt strangely unsatisfied. It had all been a bit too quick and easy. Now Applefritters…that would be a challenge. they were Ponyville’s finest cuisine after all; the town even had the Prize food of equestria trophy to prove it. And, of course, he still hadn’t forgiven them for that insult. He felt his resolve stiffen once again in anticipation.
“Hey, Big Mac, I said are ya down there?” came Applejack’s lilting voice again, this time more insistent.
Big Macintosh replied serenely, “I sure am, sis. Hey, come down here a minute. I’ve got somethin’ to show you.”
“Sure thing! What is it?”
“It’s a surprise.”
“Oh boy, I sure do love surprises! Somethin’ real nice I’ll bet.”
Something real nice? Big Macintosh looked at the delicious, sugary beginnings of the Cutie Mark Crusader’s fritters and his lips curled into a thin smile.
“Eeyup.”
