Chapters On Hearts and Hooves Day, Big Mac and Cheerilee celebrate their anniversary. The year before current, they traveled to Canterlot to take a scenic tour and later had a fine dinner at a local bakery. The year before last, they re-enacted their wonderful picnic in the park, like the year before that, at their first meeting.
Big Mac met Cheerilee in the town square, to discuss the days festivities. Big Mac didn’t know how he felt about that. He wasn’t meeting the Cheerilee in his drawings, but the real Cheerilee. The real purple-pink pony who loved him dearly, but would never approve of his strange thinking.
His goal, however, was always to please her; because deep down, Big Mac loved Cheerilee for all she was, right down to her pony soul. And there she was, waiting for him.
“Hey there, Big Mac!” she said.
“Punkin’,” said the red pony, vaguely.
“What took you so long? I was waiting for you for a while! I couldn’t wait to see you!”
Big Mac felt slightly embarrassed, and reeled back a little. “‘Spose Ah took longer than Ah thought Ah would.”
“Oh, honey. Say, what are we doing for Hearts and Hooves Day?”
Big Mac reeled at the question. He had been waiting in fear and excitement for this moment all morning. He was going to ask Cheerilee to simply stay with him for a night in.
He had no idea as to how his special somepony would respond; wether she would be excited for some alone time, or if she would be disappointed with the simplicity of the idea.
“Ah was thinkin’,” Big Mac paused and shuddered for but a second, but pulled himself out of his shock with sheer will, “we might spend the night at mah’ place. We could spend a fine night in, juss’ enjoyin’ each other’s company n’ such.”
It took Cheerilee what seemed like history’s longest second to respond.
“Oh, Big Mac, you’re such a romantic stallion! That sounds like a wonderful idea!”
“Eyyup.” Big Mac said, shining on the inside.
“When will you be expecting me?”
“‘Round six.”
Cheerilee came in close to Big Mac and almost whispered.
“I’m sure gonna love your company, later.”
Cheerilee swept herself into the crowd, and left Big Macintosh to revel.
It was no secret that Big Mac was a strong and handsome stallion, and Cheerilee wasn’t particularly bad looking either. As far as the red pony’s knowledge ascertained, Cheerilee was fairly satisfied with their relationship in private quarters.
Big Mac tried his best to spend these private sessions focusing on her needs and wants, but often found himself longing to fulfill his own fantasies. Most notably on Hearts and Hooves Day. On this particular Hearts and Hooves Day, Big Mac was going to make a suggestion, and try to make his fantasy a reality.
Almost giddy with nervous energy, the strong bucking pony leapt back to his home, to prepare the parlor for his special somepony’s accompaniment.
I LOVE YOU, I LOVE YOU, I LOVE YOU
“Oh honey! I love you! I love you!” His Cheerilee screamed in ecstasy “Nff! Ahh!”
Bnk. Bnnk. Bnnk.
Cheerilee’s knocking awoke Big Mac from his dull daydream. He speeded his way through his common emotional bouts and trotted to the door, in an almost-drunken yet ecstatic funk.
The big red pony opened the door to his beloved, his very special somepony, in a beautiful dress. The dress was a lovely sky blue, which beautifully complimented her natural pinkish purple; and to top it off, it was strewn with deep red diamonds. Big Mac felt like he took an eternity to take in her beauty.
“Good evening, dear!” she said, “Happy Hearts and Hooves Day!”
“Eyyup,” he said.
“Do you like my dress? It’s a gift from Rarity. She said you would, ‘find it absolutely darling’. Do you like it?”
Big Mac wanted to write sonnets and endless songs to express how absolutely captivating her dress was.
“Eyyup.” He turned before she could respond, to literally bite his tongue.
Behind him was a quaint, small dinner Big Mac had prepared, consisting mainly of Apple Pie and Cider.
“Oh, Big Mac! But it isn’t even cider season!”
“I reckon’d we’d cheat.”
Cheerilee trotted to the small table and began gulping down her glass of cider. Big Mac settled too, and started to eat his apple pie. As he pulled the spoon into his mouth, Cheerilee chimed in, “I love you, shmoopsy-poo.”
The red pony shied back, and found the nerve to shoot Cheerilee a pie-crust-covered smile. Cheerilee giggled and began to eat herself, leaving behind the oxymoron that was small talk with Big Macintosh.
* *
Pie gone, Big Mac and Cheerilee leaned over the table for a nice, apple-flavored kiss. This went on for a few minutes, and Big Mac began to invade Cheerilee’s mouth with his tongue. The beautifully dressed mare broke away.
“Oh, Big Mac. We should take this somewhere more private,” she said, in a hushed, seductive whisper.
Cheerilee climbed over the table and started to press her lips against Big Macintosh again, both of them walking out the door, leaving their messy plates.
The couple trotted, playfully, merrily, across the fields of Sweet Apple Acres to the deeper recesses of the trees. They fell together and began to kiss again, passionately, at the basin of a tall and shady apple tree.
Big Mac found moments like these wonderful, yet dreadful. As far as looks go, Big Mac couldn’t ask for a more perfect other. Cheerilee was one of the most beautiful ponies in ponyville, bar a few others. Big Mac’s inner conflict came from the self restraint he had to exhibit in these sexual encounters. All the things he wanted with all his heart and mind to do, but couldn’t. The things he wanted were bad. Big Macintosh wanted things that would feel good at the moment, but they would hurt him. Even worse, he wanted things that would hurt his Cheerilee.
The red stallion took his role and tore off Cheerilee’s dress, then tossed it up into the branches like so many lost kites.
“Ah! Big Mac, so... to the point!” Cheerilee was excited by Big Mac’s forcefulness, and it showed.
The beautiful, naked pink pony turned herself and and presented herself to her special somepony, widening her legs and showcasing all that was between them. Big Mac stared at her marehood, drawing himself closer to it, and mounted her with all the force of the strong pony that he was.
He paused for a moment, drawing anticipation. This was almost the best part for him. The torture of waiting for it.
“Oh, honey... do it...” she said, with a shudder.
Big Mac lightly pressed the tip of his head into Cheerilee’s moist opening, just applying a small bit of pressure.
“Ahh!” Cheerilee gasped in heat, “Oh... I’m ready for it...”
Big Mac ended her waiting, slowly plunging himself deep into her.
“Ahhh!” shouted Cheerilee. She shuddered under him with every slow stroke.
Big Macintosh thrusted and thrusted, rubbing her at every angle, hind legs quivering. She was so tight; tighter than any mare he had ever been with. Her body was perfect at every turn.
Cheerilee turned her head to face Big Mac, and their tongues met yet again. He twisted and slipped his lips around his counterpart’s with skill.
If Big Macintosh never asked, he would never get his answer. Tonight was the night to go for it, if there ever was a night.
“Mmh... Big Mac... keep going...” Cheerilee said.
Big Mac pulled out. He made a short promise to himself that he would stop if anyone got hurt; but he knew inside himself that that was a promise he wouldn’t keep. He nudged himself against her a little, then began to press up; searching for a new, interesting vessel.
“Ahh! Oh my! Wow! I never thought you to be that kind of person, honey!” Big Mac let out a small breath and pressed a bit harder; speaking with his actions. “Mmhh... I’ve always wanted to... experiment like that...”
Big Mac’s primal, pleasure-driven mind didn’t delay a second. he immediately began to plunge into her in that strangest of ways. He could feel her clenching around him as he barely inched his way in.
“Ahhh! Mnn!”
Cheerilee only enticed Big Mac with her moans. The red pony plunged all the way into her. Then out. Then in. Celestia, it was good. Big Macintosh felt so in tune with Cheerilees body and he became completely one with her. He became enraptured in thought of further “experimentation” and he began to love her faster and faster.
“Ah! Big Mac! Stop! It hurts! It’s too fast! Too big! Ahhhhh!” Cheerilee shouted.
But Big Macintosh was long gone. He had gone too far to ever stop until he finished, which, incidentally, he was about to do.
Big Mac picked up even more speed, rubbing raw against her inside. He fought the friction and pressed harder.
Cheerilee found herself pinned down by Big Mac’s hard figure. He wasn’t stopping. Her heart burned with hate and fear; but especially hate. Friends didn’t do this, and very special someponies certainly didn’t do this. Most certainly not on Hearts and Hooves Day.
Big Mac wasn’t planning on pulling out. He was in this for the long haul; he would explain later. In a way, he had been waiting for years through strange thoughts and missed opportunities, all to have Cheerilee in worse ways than this.
The big red pony rested his front hooves on Cheerilees back
Lifted his hind legs.
“I love you! I love you! I love you!” The stallion grunted in shock, anger, joy, remorse.
Buck.
“Ahh! Oh, ahh! Oh, no, ahhh! Stop! Ahh!” Big Mac held his pose over Cheerilee, leaning forward, pressing down on her back, emptying himself. The pink mare rubbed her forehead raw on the tree bark in her pain and embarrassment. Her back cracked and splintered under Big Macintosh’s weight.
The big red stallion fell from his pose and backed out of his beloved Cheerilee, still in a half-daze. The mare was still sobbing and gasping after being violated. She fell over, and huddled into herself, reveling in a quiet hopelessness.
“Nnhh... punkin’.. pie?” said Big Macintosh, gasping.
Cheerilee slowly rose, both physically and in vocality. “You... I hate you! I’m going home! I can’t be around you anymore! I... I’m not going to call the police, but I never want to see you again!”
No, this was all wrong. Cheerilee just couldn’t say these things. This would ruin Big Mac’s life; he just couldn’t lose his Cheerilee.
The strong red pony ignored the further chastisement of Cheerilee and thought fast. He rose his front right hoof. Sweeping it to the left, he hit Cheerilee in the temple and gave her a black eye. Cheerilee fell to the ground, out cold. Big Mac felt slightly sorry, but it had to be done.
Big Macintosh looked down on Cheerilee’s brilliant pink body. It was lifeless now. Still breathing, heart still beating, but not doing anything unexpected. Totally controllable. Big Mac liked this new Cheerilee best of all.
The big red pony began to formulate a few new fantasies.
Big Macintosh sat outside Applejack’s apple cellar, lost in thought. He had brought Cheerilee’s body in after checking first to make sure Apple Bloom and her friends weren’t down there, playing and making noise. Looking down at Cheerilee, he began contemplating the past few hours, attempting to piece together a timeline.
First they were in the fields. Cheerilee was unconscious. Big Macintosh brought her to the basement of the barn, and there he prepared them a couple spare glasses of cider, because they stored barrels in the cellar for Cider Season. Of course, Cheerilee couldn’t willingly drink, so Big Macintosh opened her mouth and poured the cider down her throat for her; because he knew Cheerilee would have thought it rude to turn down a glass.
After they were done with their cider, Big Mac began to passionately kiss Cheerilee’s sleeping body and dragged her to the back wall of the room. And just as he was about to begin to make love to her again, she seemed to awaken.
“Nhh... Uhh... Ahh! Big Macintosh! Ahhh!” she screamed and writhed. Big Macintosh missed being able to make Cheerilee do only what he wanted her to do. But, seeing as he couldn’t keep her under forever, and there was no going back to the way things were before, Big Mac’s drunken, skewed mind decided that now was the time to begin teaching Cheerilee that Big Macintosh’s word was law. She does what Big Mac wants her to do. That’s it.
Cheerilee still screaming, he grabbed some nearby rope, hit her in the head once again, and began tying her struggling hooves together. Cheerilee went into a half-sleep for a while, but then quickly awoke to find herself bound and gagged, and hanging from the light, upside-down. She began to whine, then saw her very special somepony appear from the edge of the darkness. he began to speak, in a much louder version of his usual monotone voice.
“Quit yer squealin’!” he started. Cheerilee grew quiet. Big Mac paused for a little, gathered his thoughts, and then spoke. “Now, this here’s yer own fault, punkin’. You an’ alla them other close-minded ponies! Alla yall’! Alla yall talk about the most borin’ things... ya’ never make sense to me! Ya always make sense to each other, but never to me!” Cheerilee began to quietly cry. “‘An I’m always tryin’ ta’ dumb things down for yall’... I can’t say what I’m fixin’ ta’ say because I know yall’ wouldn’t appreciate it, wouldja?! Naw, yall would laugh or cry or scream at me! Then everypony’s jokin’ on Big Macintosh, huh?! Everypony’s jokin’ on Big Mac! Everypony hates me if I speak up, huh?!”
Cheerilee started wriggling, rocking back and forth in her harness. This angered Big Mac. The red stallion screamed, “Quit yer squirmin’!” and grabbed her into stillness. Even so, Cheerilee still rocked back and forth in defiance.
Big Mac became infuriated. He breathed deeply for a moment. Turned around. Thought. Reared his hind legs, and bucked them right into Cheerilee’s flank, which was facing him at the moment.
The force of his buck splintered her leg bone, and left a bloody hoof-shaped cut through her cutie mark; a ring through the three flowers.
Cheerilee continued to scream for a few moments, but then quieted down and calmed herself out of fear.
“There... yall ready ta’ listen?” Cheerilee’s face was away from Big Mac, but he could tall she was nodding.
“Now.. yer’ gonna do what I wantcha ta’ do. That’s it. I’ve been puttin’ up with everypony fer too long, an’ I need you now. If I’m gonna keep livin’ a normal life, I’m fixin’ on you bein’ my Cheerilee, got it? Yer gonna me my new notebook. Got it?”
Cheerilee was now facing Big Macintosh again, but was paralyzed in fear and shock.
Big Mac inched closer. “Got it?”
Cheerilee reluctantly nodded, because it seemed like her only option.
Big Mac cut his Cheerilee down from the rafters and looked at her laying on the ground. Even now, sobbing and crying down there, she was more beautiful to him than ever; she had given herself to him entirely. She was his now. She would do anything and everything he wanted.
The red stallion picked the pink pony up and dragged her against the wall. Using the knife he used to cut her down, he began to trace the cut in her cutie mark. Around and around his own hoof-print.
“Mmh. I do like that sound, myself. You enjoyin’ it, punkin’?”
“Nmmmh!” she said, in an angry and raped scream.
Big Mac brought up his knife and ungagged her mouth. “What was that, honey?”
Cheerilee paused hotly. “Nnhh! I... It hurts!”
Big Mac stuck his knife into Cheerilee’s mouth and rose the blade to the roof. The point just jamming the back of her top gums, the red pony asked, “How’s about now, sweetums?”
“Nnope,” said the red pony. He began to drag the blade across the roof of his beloved’s mouth, scraping off just a thin crust of flesh.
Cheerilee screamed intensely and writhed uncontrollably. Her pain and embarrassment were so intense that she entered a state of mental numbness, in which she involuntarily emptied her bowels of whatever was in them, including some other remnants of their earlier sexual encounter.
Big Mac took the knife out of her mouth, the strip still clinging to it, and set his special somepony down on the ground. He brought the knife back down to her cutie mark and began tracing the scar again. As it ran through the crevice full of newly filled blood the knife made a quiet gurgling sound that revolted Cheerilee.
“Whaddya think’a that now, punkin’?”
Cheerilee swallowed her pride and gave up. She had no other choice but to play by the rules. “Y-.. yes... it sounds... good... like a tuning fork...”
“Good. Glad ya like it. Because I reckon I’m gonna come back down here again, errey week, n’ I’m gonna do this again n’ again, so this here cutie mark never heals up. You like that?”
Cheerilee burst into tears at the sentence, and all that it implied, but she had to be obedient for now. “Oh... I..,” the pink pony sobbed, “...I think that’s wonderful...”
Big Mac smiled at the thought. He knew his Cheerilee didn’t really like any of this, but he could pretend she did for now. And over time, she’d grow to be exactly like his Cheerilee should be.
“Well, that’s just fine,” said the red pony.
He took a few moments to stare at Cheerilee’s new cutie mark. He leaned in as time went by, day dreaming back to that moment, shutting out her incessant crying. His eyes grew heavy and he, at one moment, leaned in and kissed it. He made a point to absorb the smell of the fresh blood and decided that he liked it. Cheerilee’s blood smelled like dandelions after being stomped on, like grapes for wine.
Big Mac recalled himself and looked up at Cheerilee’s face, which was staring back at him.
“...Don’t yall gimmie that look..,” he said in an ice cold stance.
Cheerilee looked away quickly, possessed by genuine fear.
Big Macintosh walked away, grabbed a bucket, and kicked it over to cheerilee. “That’s for whatever you want. I’ll be back with breakfast.”
The red pony left Cheerilee there, bound on the floor, with nothing but a lone, dim light for accompaniment. Out the door he went, feeling slightly alienated.
He finally had somepony who would love him for who he was. Well, eventually. He would still have to shy away and be lonely during the day, but every night, he would see his very special somepony, and he could finally do whatever he wanted to her and with her and no matter what, she would always love him. And she would tell him how much she loved him.
Big Macintosh would make Cheerilee into his Cheerilee.
DAY TWO, IN WHICH CHEERILEE GAINS MOBILITY
“Well why the hay not?” Applejack said.
“Mmh. Bad cider leak. Yer’ hooves’ll get sticky, sis,” Big Macintosh lied.
“Cider leak? Aw, shoot! How much do ya think we lost?”
“Reckon a barrel’s worth.”
“Well ain’t that just a darn shame. Well, I guess there’s no use in cryin’ over some spilled cider, right Big Macintosh?”
“Eyyup.”
Applejack paused, awkwardly. She contemplated asking when the barrel started leaking, but didn’t want to get herself into more “yup”s and “nope”s.
“Now, yer absolutely sure ya don’t need any help down there?”
“Eyyup.”
“Hmph. Well, okay then. Ya’ll just call if ya need anything, ya hear?”
“Eyyup,” he repeated.
Big Macintosh looked onward as his younger sibling trotted away, gazing numbly at her flank. In a moment of wild curiosity, of course.
He sunk back into the Apple cellar, which, in fact, was not filled with apple cider, but did contain a small puddle of spilled blood and other revolting substances near the center-back of the room; and inside of it, a sleeping, violated Cheerilee. Her eyes were encrusted in tears, and in her inhalations one could make out the very slightest shudders across her body.
The apple red pony hovered over her for but a moment and appreciated her mane and fine coat, now partially tarnished by his actions. He grew tired of standing and left to fix her breakfast.
* *
Big Macintosh scared the now-awake Cheerilee in coming into the apple cellar. She slightly twitched and gasped a little, but recuperated and faced Big Mac to the best of her ability. Her lover took a moment to stand over her and look upon her for a while, then became aware once again.
“Ah whipped ya’ up some breakfast,” he said, lightly setting the fresh apple pie onto the floor. “Ah’ve been thinkin’. Ah reckon after last night, yall won’t up n’ try ta’ leave me again, will ya, sweetie-pie?”
Cheerilee was only barely awake, but she made out the idea of Big Mac un-doing her binds. She nodded a few times, head heavy with blood from sleeping in that awkward position.
“Thought that might be yer’ answer. But if Ah catch wind you’re two-timin’ me, so help me... there’ll be hay to pay.”
Big Macintosh took some rope and tied it tight around Cheerilee’s neck, and tied the other end to a one of the beams holding the cellar up. He then took his knife, and untied her hooves. Cheerilee held her rest for one moment more and shakily began to rise, with the help of Big Macintosh’s guiding hoof. The pink mare stood over her bad flank, back aching, feeling destroyed.
The red figure waited a minute. “Got anythin’ ta say?”
Cheerilee stood and pouted her face, but didn’t look up.
“Look... I...” Big Mac had to say something. “...Now yall’ listen here! Yall ‘re my very special somepony, and if Ah know anything worth the bottom of a horseshoe, one thing very special someponies don’t do is ignore each other. Ah just...” An anxious tear lead Cheerilee’s eyes down the face of her lover, “...I love you... so much... Ah just want you... all of it... Yer juss’ the one I’ve always wanted the most... I’ve lived ma’ whole life quiet like... I’m damn tired of it! I reckon my feelin’s matter juss’ as much as anypony’s...”
Cheerilee had been thinking all night. She knew these things:
She wanted to live.
She wanted Big Mac to live.
These were all she knew after her first night in the cellar. Oh Celestia, she was tired. She felt as though she had been locked up down there for nights.
“Big Mac... You’re right... I... I love you so much...” Cheerilee shocked and awed her very special somepony with a kiss, and a nose-rub. “Your feelings w-will always matter t-to me... honey-pie..”
Big Mac looked down on his Cheerilee with love and tenderness. He puzzled a while and began to kiss her again. “Punkin’, we’re gonna be alright. Everythin’s gonna be juss’ fine, yall’ just wait. I’m gonna make everythin’ fine. Yall’ know what? I think yall’ve earned yerself a present. Now what’s that one thing yall’re cravin’ now? Big Mac’ll get it fer ya right quick.”
Cheerilee, still feeling pressured, hotly made a decision. “I’d just love to go home..” This wasn’t what Big Macintosh wanted to hear.
Big mac closed his eyes for a moment, and turned around from his Cheerilee.
“Ah’ll see what Ah can do.”
Cheerilee couldn’t go home, but she could get out of this dank, old cellar. Big mac would have loved to be with her in the fields again. He’d come back later, to take his Cheerilee out for a night. Until then, he’d just have to find a way to keep his siblings and other third parties out of the apple cellar.
She fought through the pain on her mouth’s ceiling and said, “I really do still love you...” Cheerilee’s feelings were complicated, but no matter what, she would never abandon Big Macintosh. That’s not at all what friends did. Whatever had happened to him, whatever had set him off, she simply had to see to it that he found himself again. Somewhere, inside this monster, the Big Mac that Cheerilee fell in love with still remained.
Big Mac paused and turned back to Cheerilee, and began to stare distinctly into her deep gray eyes. He reached up a hoof and planted it in her mouth, pulling it open and admiring its contents. He observed the scar at its roof from the night before. Cheerilee tried to keep eye contact with him.
“Ah reckon’d you always would.”
He turned and left the purple pony, to stretch out her hooves and trot around her beam, fighting resolutely through her flank and back pain.
Big Mac stared sternly at the piece of paper, crumpled and folded and torn and taped.
“Where’d yall find this?”
Well, about the day before, Derpy Hooves was sitting in the back of the Mail carriage, flying over the west end of Ponyville.
“I’m so glad wh-, when I can come to work with you, mummy!” Dinky hugged her mother sitting next to her on the seat, and Derpy managed to reach a hoof around and show her appreciation even though she was pre-occupied with rooftops.
“I’m happy too, muffin, but mummy’s trying to deliver everypony’s mail... Ughh, get down from there, sweetie!”
Dinky looked up at her mother curiously. “Down from where?”
Derpy turned slightly and sighed. “Uhmm... nevermind, muffin.”
“Who are we deliv-, deliving to now, mummy?”
The gray pegasus grinned at the opportunity to profess in her occupation. “Well, sweetie, this box here is going from... Auntie Carrot Top... to... somepony else!” Derpy tossed the box backwards, out of the flying carriage.
“Mommy! You didn’t, you-, you weren’t even looking! What if, what if the box doesn’t-, doesn’t go in the right house?”
“Oh, it went in the right house, muffin. I see a lot more than some other ponies think. Plus your mom’s just a pro at being a mailpony; guess it’s all the experience I’ve got under my belt!” A faint crunch was audible behind Derpys pride, as Auntie Carrot Top’s present landed on a roof.
“Wooowwww!” The young filly sighed. She was absolutely astonished with her mother’s work, and how she worked. Derpy was a mailpony; that was one of the best jobs a grown mare could have! She got to fly around all day, the wind in her hair, delivering important messages to everypony, come rain, sleet, or snow. If Ms. Hooves ever took a day off, the whole town would go to pieces!
Unknown to Dinky, though, today Derpy Hooves would deliver a letter she would later regret; truly, on this day, it would have been better if she had taken the day off.
The small window in the front of the carriage was cracked only slightly, to prevent Derpy and her filly from getting stuffy. Through the crack, speeding almost as fast as Rainbow Dash on a bad day, came a small paper airplane. It rode an air current to the left, made a small loop-de-loop, crashed into the wall with a small “chh”, glided back in a reverse-motion, and landed, pleasantly, in Dinky Hooves’ lap. She almost made a sound of alarm, but held it back for fear of distracting her mother. The purple-gray filly picked up the paper device and began to inspect it. At a first glance, from far away, it appeared to be a simple paper airplane, but Dinky Hooves quickly discovered writing on its wings.
“FLP APPLL”
Dinky took a few moments to read over the letters a few times. What in Equestria could they possibly mean? “Flp Appll,” she whispered to herself. None of it made sense to the small pony’s mind. “Maybe it’s one of those things where each letter means something, and that’s why they were written in all capitals..,” she thought.
“You’re getting awfully quiet back there, muffin. You okay?”
Dinky hotly moved the airplane behind her. “Nuh-, no, mummy. I’m just a little-, a little tired...”
“D’aww... Don’t worry, sweetie, all the mail’s almost gone, then we can go home and you can take a nice nap,” the gray pegasus said, tossing another package out blindly.
“Okay mummy..,” Dinky forced a yawn.
* *
“Find Lost Pet... All Ponies... Personally... Loved... hmm...”
Dinky had set herself to deliver this letter to whomever was supposed to get it. Then she could show her mother how good a mailpony she’d be when she was grown-up.
“Free Link Pink... Well, that can’t be it. I saw Link Pink just yesterday when one of mommy’s boxes landed on her...”
The unicorn foal heard a noise downstairs. She turned around, looking at her closed door with the kind of fear a deer gets when about to be run over, then quickly looked around for a place to hide the note. But her efforts were futile. Derpy Hooves flew right up the stairs to Dinky’s room and burst through her door.
“Muffin! Muffin! I’m home!” she said, opening the room, “Dinky, what do you want for dinner?
Dinky had to think a moment. “...Cake.”
Cake? That’s an unusual choice for dinner. Dinky didn’t even like most types of cake, except for carrot cake.
Derpy Hooves grew suspicious, and her daughter only seemed more conspicuous. She glanced around the room and noticed the smallest point of some kind of folded paper behind her hoof.
“Muffin... what’s that?”
Busted. “Uhh... I made it...” Dinky hooves grasped at straws. Her mother had trouble focusing on one place, but even so, she could feel her staring. She wasn’t good under pressure.
“I fa-, found it while I was at work with y-, you yesterday,” Dinky admitted, “I was gonna sa-, save it and delivit myself, like a ra-, real mailpony...”
Derpy grinned almost noticeably. The filly handed her the aircraft reluctantly. She inspected if for a while, and got an eye on it.
“... Dinky, I don’t even think this is a letter, it’s just a paper airplane somepony made.”
“It says ‘FLP APPLL” on it, though!”
Derpy took a second look. There was writing on it. However, Derpy managed to think of unfolding the airplane, a thing her daughter had not yet tried, and
Riiippp.
“Oh, darn!”
* *
“Really, it’s pure luck that I found it. Dinky would have probably hid it and tried to deliver it herself, that silly filly!”
“Now how did it git’ ripped, again?”
“Ahh, I had to fight her a little for it, and it ended up ripping. At least the tape makes it legible. You sure you don’t need any help anymore, Big Macintosh?”
Big Mac put the note in his mouth. “Nhh thnnk Nggm Ghhd.”
Derpy Hooves took a few moments to construct Big Mac’s speech, but then responded. “Well, okay. I certainly hope my muffin didn’t mess anything up... fer’... yall’s?”
Her red counterpart chuckled, and spat out the note. “Oh, she didn’t. Juss’ try to keep remindin’ her that we already HAVE a fine mailpony, kay’?”
“For sure, Big Mac.”
Derpy hooves began to fly away. Big Mac walked back to the barn and hid the note under a barrel out front.
“SEND HELP
ASAP!”
He took a journey deep into the apple fields, where he was going to buck.
Hard.
Cheerilee lay down against the back wall of the cellar. The looked straight out, deathly, towards the staircase that ascended to the surface.
She envisioned ponies bursting down the stairs to help her, but no matter how many times she would imagine it; she simply couldn’t will herself out of this. She had to accept that she could be here for two, three, maybe even five more nights. She would have to take any opportunity she could to attract help, even at a moment’s notice. For now, though, she had nothing to do but try to keep off her bad hoof.
Big Mac stood outside the apple cellar, another Apple Pie in hand. He had done all his bucking for the day early, so he could make time in the evening for his Cheerilee. He took a sweep of the area, reached down with his neck and opened the door, making a loud creaking noise that he always hated.
“Cheerilee? Punkin’ pie?”
“I’m right here... dear..”
Big Mac moseyed down the steps and across to Cheerilee, and handed her their lunch. He dipped a hoof into the pie and dug out a decently-sized piece for himself, and laid back against a support beam opposite his very special somepony.
“I think we need ta’ talk fer’ a bit. I’ve been thinkin’, an’ maybe yall’ didn’t quite understand mah, ‘personality’, until juss’ yesterday,” Big Mac had thought about how Cheerilee saw him. “I’m a... soft-spoken pony... I have about 12 good barrels full’a good ideas... I juss’... I don’t think like other pony-folk... an’ I keep mah thoughts bottled up, ‘jussin’ case ain’t no pony like me anymore...”
Cheerilee took the deepest breath she could whilst remaining silent. “Big Mac... you don’t have to hide anything from anypony! That’s a lesson I’ve had to teach my class many a time before! You shouldn’t keep all your emotions bottled up inside, because that can hurt you, but,” The purple pony tried to be honest with her lover, “you can’t force what you want on others, either. That’s how ponies get hurt, physically and emotionally.”
Big Mac considered Cheerilee’s rebuttal. “..I want things... things no pony probably oughtta’ want... I don’t think even a heart as kind ‘s yer’s could accept things I want.”
“Show me,” Cheerilee said, chomping a bit of pie.
“...I can show you where I put it all. Where it all goes when I can’t stand it anymore.”
Big Mac took another hoof-full of pie and so did Cheerilee.
“I’ve been wantin’ ta’ take ya’ out.. Ya’ know... fer’ a walk? I reckon you’d like it, gettin’ outta’ this here cellar fer’ a change..”
Cheerilee nodded.
Getting up and trotting just around Cheerilee, the apple red pony undid the rope around the support beam and tied it, cautiously, around his own neck.
* *
“It’s right here,” said Big Macintosh. He nudged a medium-sized, inconspicuous rock from it’s placing to reveal three notebooks and a few markers underneath, a towel keeping them from the dirt. “Mah whole life, Ah’ve always felt like... well, like Ah was hankerin’ to do some things some ponies might not... take kindly to. Ah usually don’t act on mah own wishes, but iffin’ the stress gets too much, I juss’ siddown after Ah buck ‘n doodle up whatever Ah’ve been thinkin’.”
“Does that help?” asked Cheerilee?
Big Mac thought about that for a second. “It’s held up well. Y’know... up ‘till... recent events.”
Cheerilee turned her gaze to the notebooks.
“Go on, have yerself a gander. Juss’ don’t take too long.”
Cheerilee saw Big Mac’s shadow move along, to wait for her, and lowered her head to the notebook furthest to the right. Opening it up and flipping through the pages, she saw the kinds of fantasies Big Mac craved, and why he couldn’t be public about them with anypony.
Rarity, hanging from an apple tree by her neck, almost fully skinned alive.
Apple Bloom, tied at all hooves to a big rack or wall, Big Mac steadily bucking her stomach and groin with all his force.
Cheerilee, in the apple cellar, with Big Macintosh’s big, bloody hoof print through her flank.
Cheerilee was shocked. In no way did she suspect Big Mac of having murderous fantasies. It was almost unthinkable! Here was a fine, strong, handsome stallion, with many friends and a whole family who loved him. The purple pony gagged at a few more drawings, but never gave up hope that one day, she could get Big Macintosh to help, and he would never commit any of these atrocities.
But this was it. This is a notebook. Paper. A marker.
Turning her head slightly, she made out Big Macintosh standing parallel and opposite to her, looking up into an apple tree for some reason. On one hoof, he wasn;t immediately monitoring her actions. On the other, he could easily dash forward if he wanted, thus dragging Cheerilee backwards by her neck, strangling her.
Have to be quiet.
She opened the book to a much later page, a blank one. She rested a hoof on the page, and began to slide it outwards, breaking through the paper-perforations, one by one. The rip seemed to last a decade. Big Mac’s ears raised themselves at one point,but then slowly eased back into a calm state. She grabbed a marker and began to write:
“SEND HELP TO SWEET APPLE ACRES, ASAP!”
She pink teacher pony thought quick, and folded the paper, as noiselessly as she could, into a paper airplane.
Big Macintosh, oblivious entirely, looked up into an apple tree a ways away. Cheerilee’s dress from the night before was still caught in its branches. Big Mac stared and decided against attempting to retrieve it; at least, not until later. For now, it could remain there, as a remnant of a lost relationship between Big Mac and Cheerilee.
Now, Cheerilee was not particularly good at folding paper airplanes. She understood how to make one, but even as a foal, she could never seem to angle the folds right. Other ponies’ airplanes soared, but hers only glided for a few feet and plummeted to the ground, or into a wall.
The mare finished the structure, as meticulously as she could, and rose her hoof to send it flying. She held her hoof back, in a cocked position, and counted.
One.
Two.
Three.
Please.
She threw her hoof forward, almost sure she had thrown her airplane too far downward, and that it surely must have rested on the grass before her. Opening her eyes, the airplane was nowhere in sight. It must have went up , beyond the tree tops.
Now all the purple pony could do is wait and hope.
“Ya’ll okay?” Big Mac asked.
Cheerilee only thought for a moment, then spoke. “Do you ever really want to... do these things to me?”
Big Mac grew silent a beat.
“Often.”
No pony spoke, both for very different reasons. Cheerilee turned her head to look at Big Mac.
“Will you?”
The red bucking pony turned to meet her. “Juss’ don’t give me a reason Ah ought to,” he threatened, almost menacingly.
Cheerilee and Big Macintosh went back to the cellar, where she laid down and finished up the last of the apple pie. Big mac stood over her as she ate, making the mare nervous. He was lingering for longer than was appropriate, even for a situation.
Big Mac put a hoof down on her midsection and began to fight her struggling. He grabbed a knife from out of his saddle and putting it into his mouth. He began, once again, to trace out his hoof print in her cutie mark.
The purple mare screamed intensely, one again betrayed of what trust she had left in Big Macintosh. Crying, and thinking back to just yesterday, when Big Macintosh was her special somepony. That time seemed so far away now.
She held better to the pain now then the initial bucking, but it still hurt.
I’ll be out of here soon, she thought, Big Mac, too. We’ll both get out of here and be better. It’ll all be fine soon.
Her mane and eyes were both blonde, and her coat was purple-ish gray. That’s all Big Mac knew. Not enough to fully justify what he was doing, but it had to be done. He had to be firm and clear. And it didn’t get more firm than this.
Breaking into the post office was easy: as it turns out, the backdoor didn’t have a lock on it. The stallion wore sack-cloth bags on his hooves to minimize noise. He had practiced a lot on the grass at Sweet Apple Acres, but he was nervous as to how well it would hold up to the wood at the post office.
The door didn’t creak. The red bucking pony crept out through the hallway, and past the doors to Derpy’s room and the mail room, which was vacant because it was after hours. He began to almost trot up the stairs, making sure to be light on his hooves and keep his breathing down. One of the steps creaked, and he stood still for a while, listening intently. Thankfully, Derpy didn’t realize and Big Macintosh continued up the stairs to Dinky’s room.
He was lucky: Her door didn’t creak either. He reached into one of his sack cloth horse shoes and pulled out a small pill. It was some tranquilizer he got off of Pinkie Pie.
Taking a quick scan across the room, he quickly placed the sleeping filly, who lay face-up in her bed. He tip-hoofed across the floor, steps being muffled by the room’s carpet. He gazed upon the foal for a minute, waiting for her small mouth to open. Once it did, he dropped the pill, no smaller than a child’s candy, straight down her gullet.
Not a few moments later, the red stallion exited the backdoor of the Post Office, Dinky Hooves straddling his back. He snuck off into the woods, skulking back across town, confident in the darkness’ cloak.
* *
Dinky awoke, but was not awake. Yes, her body couldn’t sleep anymore, but she wasn’t quite aware of reality. Her vision played tricks on her, filling her view with static until a head rush subsided. Afterwards, her eyes slowly emptied, and focused back into a binocular position; a luxury she regularly tresured.
Everything was still black, though. Why was her room black. What’s that red streak.
“Took ya’ long enough.”
The filly turned her head. There was a grown, red stallion with a green apple cutie mark. “...Who... are yuh.. you?” Dinky wanted to ask twelve questions, but only this one left her now thick, spongy mind.
Big Mac took a moment to collect himself for his explanation. A deep breath was taken. “Look, kid. Ya’ probably don’t know me, but ya’ aughtta know a pony named Cheerilee, don’cha?”
Dinky registered Ms. Cheerilee’s image immediately, but couldn’t verbally or physically confirm it. Suddenly she remembered her limbs, and they were tied.
“...Eyyup. Figured. Thought ya’ll might be a bit slow, yer’ mother consider’d.”
The insult flew right over her head. “... muh...mmee..”
“‘Yup. Ya’ll juss’ keep on doin’ that there. Juss’ know that Big Mac ain’t doin’ this onna ‘count ‘a somethin’ ya’ did. This’s Ms. Cheerilee’s fault.”
“...But... what... uhhmmm... my hooves...” Everything grew just a little clearer.
“Cheerilee reckon’d she could play me. Well, ya’ can’t pull a fast one on ol’ Big Maintosh, can ya’? It always comes back ta’ me. Ah’m a versatile ol’ steed. ‘N you juss’ remember that in a few seconds, okay?”
The filly couldn’t move. “Oh... ka... uh-, umm...” Trees. She was in a forrest. Apple trees. Sweet Apple Acres.
Send help to Sweet Apple Acres.
Big Macintosh streaked across to Dinky’s other side, leaving behind astral projections that confused the filly’s vision. He grabbed a knife, then backed to a spot directly in front of his captive.
Dinky saw the gleaming metal in the mysterious stallion’s mouth. Staring for a few minutes, she eventually recognized the danger of it. She began to let out gasps and squeals, pulling against the ropes and scratching her back and flanks against the apple tree which suspended her.
Big Mac spat the knife out into his hoof. “Now calm down, ah ain’t even done nothin’ to ya yet. This won’t take long, Ah just need a few things.” He inched closer. “Now, Ah’d ‘a just killed ya in yer’ sleep, but... well, Ah don’t see no harm in pretendin’ yer’ Apple Bloom, if yer’ goin’ out anyways.”
“Buh.. I.. d-, don’t do any-..! I don’t wanna...!”
Big Mac held the knife up to Dinky Hoove’s stomach, and brought the edge down at her bottom rib. “Ah’ll need this,” he uttered.
The knife pressured into her coat until skin was broken and blood spewed forth.
Dinky Hooves immediately screamed, with all the force her lungs could bring forth in her child-like terror, “Ahhh! Wuh, wha! Wait! I don-, ahh ha haa!!!” She began to sob immensely.
With the sound of a chalkboard scratch., Big Mac’s blade glided across her midsection, then hovered back over to where the incision was first made to slide along again. It was like the world’s longest paper cut, repeating and repeating. This went on through Dinky’s sobs and cries, unending, for almost ten minutes.
A big rip was heard on the final stroke. The knife tore through the surface of Dinky’d skin, thus ending the shave and creating a long strip of purple-gray-coated flesh.
Dinky’s cries remained, but were eased by the thought of the pain finally ceasing. “Ahh, ughh...! Ughhh!” She quieted down to muffled moans, shivers, and deep breathing.
“Hmm. Now that’s a fine pity. Ah was expectin’ somethin’ a might longer an’ that,” puzzled Big Macintosh, inspecting the strip. He looked to Dinky and, without warning, laid the rough shape over her face; bloody side-down.
Dinky began to cry harder again. Where was this strange red pony now? Was he going to let her get down from this tree? Where is mommy?
As the unicorn pondered her fate, the weight of two hooves smashed into her midsection from the undefined space in front of her. The flesh covering her face shook from it, showing it to be blood-stained. Her lungs emptied of air, and she began to gag on her own blood.
Choking and trying to fall back into normal breathing rhythm, her eyes focused again on the red figure’s hind legs, already reared for another kick.
“Nyaah! No!” she managed to half-scream, amongst other sobs.
Buck.
Drops of blood and speckles of vomit shot forth from the little pony’s mouth. “*Gagck*! Ah haahhh!” The crying continued, but in the deep apple woods, it wasn’t heard by anypony. Dinky hooves emptied her bladder in a short, forced spit; then a steady, fear-driven pace.
Another buck came. This one more upwards-driven, the back of Big Mack’s hoof just scraping the bottom of Dinky’s jaw bone. Cracking ribs echoed throughout the mare’s body.
Big Mac bucked a few more times and turned to observe his shriveling, sobbing, choking handiwork.
Gagging a few times, Dinky Hooves breathed deeply to regain lost oxygen. “Ah ha haahh! *Gagck*! Please, n-, nuh-.. Ahh..! I duh-, don’t wannaahh...!” Dinky tried desperately to calm down while Big Mac took a lull in his carnage.
Big Macintosh’s bucking had left his Apple Bloom’s stomach covered in scrapes and dark, horseshoe-shaped bruises. At a glance, he estimated that he’d broken around five ribs. Her back legs were stained with embarrassing things that her fear brought forth, and her jaw was hanging a little more to the right than was normal. He looked on for a few moments until the filly fell into a nerve-racked quietness.
Dinky woke up her courage and rose above her confusion and pain. With heartbreak and hopelessness in her voice, she spoke, “Puh... Ahhh hah..! *Gagck*... P-, please, I juh-, j-just wah... *Gag, sputter*.. c-, can I... see my muhh-... mumm-, mee?”
Big Mac looked on her with sorry thrills in his eyes. “Sorry, sis. Ah need one more thing.”
He picked the knife up off the ground and rose it to Dinky Hooves’ face. Immediately, screams begin. The red pony tensed his face as he turned the knife down in her and began to point it toward the edge of her right eye.
Through her screams, Dinky manages to make out the words, “Mommy” and “Die”.
The sharp, cold metal pierced her flesh as it dug between her eye and the walls of her eye socket. Big Macintosh wiggled the knife a bit to help it cut through the mucus-lining. Dinky felt the knife pushing into her inner nostrils, and she felt a “crack” from the bridge of her nose. Once the knife was in far enough, Big Mac turned it leftward, digging her eye slightly out of its socket. Dinky Hooves tried desperately to close her eyelids with all the force she could, but the knife cut into them as she pulled them down. Closing her eyes would only draw this out.
Through her screams, Dinky manages to say, “Why?” and “Mommy”.
Big Mac pulled the knife back, drawing the eye out from his Apple Bloom’s skull. It was beautiful; Deep golden yellow, like her mo- no. Apple Bloom’s eyes aren’t yellow.
The red pony ended his notion of savoring the moment and pulled the knife back, ripping the eyeball out of Dinky. A quick swivel motion cut the ocular nerve that was still connected and stretching from her head to the eye. Big Mac tossed the eye away and looked down at the still squirming, sobbing, and screaming filly.
“Nyaaahhh! Muh-, Muhh!”
With a singular motion and a heart of ice, Big Macintosh drove the knife into Dinky’s empty eye socket and silenced her screaming. She immediately grew still, free of her misery. The red pony stood there for the next few moments, paying respects to Dinky’s lifeless form and silently thanking it.
Of course, he had always meant to kill Dinky, as he had no other choice, but in his final blow, he felt something inside himself. A driving passion; a frustration. This was something to be wary about.
Late in the night, the faint figure of Big Macintosh could be made out, dragging the lifeless Dinky Hooves to a shed behind the Apple family home, taking care with her dead stomach skin and eye.
It was early on Monday. In the classroom, the fillies were getting away with murder.
Diamond Tiara was one again poking fun at a helpless Apple Bloom for her traditional ways, until Scootaloo zoomed in and began to defend her. Elsewhere, Sweetie Belle joined Twist and others in a game of, “Lets Throw Pencils At Each Other” until one hit Pip in the eye, at which point everypony else began to laugh at him.
Utter chaos.
The door opened. “Just what in Equestria is going on in here?” asked the unicorn.
Those who weren’t crying or laughing were speechless. A second passes and everyone settles back into their seats.
“That’s better, my little ponies,” uttered the substitute.
“Who are you?” asked a student.
The unicorn had an answer prepared, “My name is Ms. Sparkle. I’m going to be your substitute teacher this morning.”
Those who didn’t know Twilight shrugged it off, and the ones who did know her were slightly pleased with this change of pace. Apple Bloom, though, was confused.
“Where’s Ms. Cheerilee?
Twilight sighed and prepared to give the class a sad response. “Unfortunately, Cheerilee is... missing,” a slight gasp came from the room, “She was last seen on Hearts and Hooves day, but hasn’t been anywhere since.”
The class didn’t let the moment go on too long before somepony tried to be a detective.
“Well is anypony lookin’ for her? We should get a search party together!” Sweetie Belle almost suggested that they could be the Cutie Mark Crusader Detective Agency, but then regained the gravity of the situation.
“Police ponies have been searching since yesterday, and around five ponies have been interviewed, but there are no leads yet.” The purple unicorn spoke in a shallow tone. Twilight had been wanting to avoid this topic at length for many reasons.
The Cutie Mark Crusader Detective agency pondered, then Apple Bloom spoke, “Did they interview Big Macintosh?”
“Yes, Apple Bloom, he was interviewed yesterday afternoon. He told the police ponies that she was at Sweet Apple Acres on Hearts and Hooves Day and then she went home. As far as I’ve heard, his story checks out.”
“You live at Sweet Apple Acres, do you know anything else?” asked Scootaloo.
“Ah was at Sweetie Belle’s on Hearts and Hooves Day, Ah wouldn’t know. Ah don’t know why my brother would lie like that, though... he has been actin’ a bit strange the last few days...”
“He’s probably just REALLY upset about losing his very special somepony,” Sweetie Belle reassured, “he must be worried sick.”
Twilight chimed in, the voice of academic morality. “Now now, my little ponies, don’t get carried away. The reason I’m here is because wherever Cheerilee is, I’m sure she wouldn’t want any of you slacking off or missing any of your studies, so lets get to work, okay?”
The class groaned audibly, longing for chaos.
“Now, who can tell me...”
It was 9 o’clock at night, and Big Macintosh would not come out of the apple cellar.
Knock. Knock knock. “Now, Ah’m gettin’ right frustrated, bro. What in tarnation’re yall’ doin’ down there?”
Applejack was answered by the same old muffled “bonk”ing noise that had been steadily emitting from the door for about an hour. No one answered beyond strange moaning noises and the occasional grunt. The door had been sealed shut from the inside with a horseshoe. The orange pony had been knocking for easily 15 minutes now.
“Big Macintosh? Git’ up outta there this instant! No cider leak is that important, Ah’m worried about ya’!”
Apple Bloom exited the Apple family house and inquired about the noise. “Big sis, what’s all that racket?”
“Yer’ big brother’s holed’ ‘imself up in the apple cellar like a dang scared parasprite!”
“Well what’s he doin’ down there?”
“Ah dunno! He won’t answer me!” Applejack began to nock on the door again, “Big Mac, are you alright? If yall’ don’t answer me, Ah’m gonna hafta’ uppan’ buck this door open!”
From the mysterious cellar came a female scream that ceased the Apple sisters’ calling.
Apple Bloom ran over to the cellar and became invested in the quest to open it. “Who in blazes was that?”
“Well, I’ll be darned... Uhh, Big Macintosh! Who’s down there!?”
Applejack’s train of thought was once again derailed by the appearance of Derpy Hooves. The gray mailmare ran directly into Appleck and started to present her panicked acquisition.
“Applejack! Applejack! Big Mac! Notebooks!” screamed the pony.
“Woah now, hold yer’ horses, Derpy, where’s yer’ fire?” answered Applejack.
“Applejack!” Derpy tried to collect herself, “Where is, *pant*, Big Mac?”
The orange pony looked at her with suspense, and a sinister curiosity built within her. “..Uh, he’s holed up in the apple cellar... me an’ Apple Bloom ‘ave been tryin’ to coax ‘in outta’ there for at least fifteen minutes!”
Derpy stalled her terror for but a second, then turned to the door to observe Big Mac’s voice uttering a loud and agonizing shout from its sanctum.
“DAMN IT, WHY?!!”, followed by a loud crash.
The mailmare fell to the door and began to consistently bang on it, crying in her fear.
“Now, what’re you so nervous about! darn it, explain yer’ self!”
“He’s got my muffin!” Derpy retaliated with a mother’s force, “HE’S GONNA KILL HER! HE’S GONNA KILL MY MUFFIN!”
The sentence ended with three more crashes, and the cellar collapsed.
It started slow. The fourth crash gave way to a small dent being made in the ground, and soon the whole area under the front of the building gave way to the fall. When all the earth settled, the doorway to the Apple family home rested on thin air, barely supported by its surrounding architecture, pipes exposed. The three looked on in awe at the death of Big Mac, and his very special somepony.
Cheerilee was hungry, lonely, angry, hopeless, robbed and confused on the fourth morning.
The day before, lunch and dinner had been denied her, and there was no breakfast that morning either. The mare had began to contemplate the possibility that her captor had forgotten her, and that now she was truly dead. If not for her one note out, she’d be hopeless entirely.
From the stairs came a thud. Thud. Thud.
Down came a big bucket which appeared to be heavy. However, Cheerilee wasn’t occupying her mind with the contents of it. She was hoping Big Mac had brought down some food.
Big Mac came down the steps with more thuds. At the bottom, he took the bucket’s handle in his mouth once again and carried it over to Cheerilee’s domain at the back of the cellar. They met eyes for a moment as the stallion reached the light beam that engulfed Cheerilee.
She waited a moment, “What’s... in the bucket?” Her stomach began to murmur.
Big Mac, without a word, craned his head down and opened the bucket with his mouth, returning his gaze up past Cheerilee. The purple-pink pony gently brought her gaze down to inspect the contents, but couldn’t attach them to a word. The bucket held what looked like an amorphous mass of red goo, coated in a thick, red, viscous fluid.
Splunk.
Cheerilee hadn’t had time to gasp for air before Big Macintosh’s hoof came down on her and plunged her head into the bucket. She was now fully aware of the contents’ identity; she was licking up blood right now.
“Get a big whiff, ya’ right tart.” said Big Mac, almost in a whisper. He pressed his hoof harder to counteract his very special somepony’s writhing and wriggling. he brought her head up out of the container by pulling her mane, and Cheerilee’s face appeared again, coughing and sputtering and gasping for air.
“*Gagck*! Ahh...! What is that?! Why?!”
“That’s the young mare who helped make sure yall’ didn’t forget juss’ how smart Ah am. Ya’ can’t two-time me, an’ now Ah gotta teach ya’ a lesson!” The stallion exclaimed, with a lover’s hate.
Cheerilee began to inwardly know exactly what had happened, but naturally played dumb. “Wah-, what do you mean?! Dear?! I have no idea-”
She was cut off by Big Mac’s hoof smacking her away and into the support beam she was roped to.
“Enough’a yer’ manure!”, he almost pleaded, “Yer’ little paper airplane trick! Ya’ didn’t think ol’ Big Mac would catch on, didja?! You sorry mare!”
Another blow came, and cheerilee’s vision filled with a familiar nothingness. her head rush only momentarily distracted her from this horror, and she was soon returned to it. Big Macintosh turned from her and reached a hoof into the bucket to fish around. he grabbed and dragged out what looked like an equestrian figure. A filly. But red.
As he pulled the body out of the bucket, he knocked it sideways, and out slid a small river of blood and a small, golden yellow eye. Golden yellow.
Cheerilee didn’t have time to frantically mourn her student’s death before another hoof came to her face. Screams were let out, but no audible words.
“Ya’ see what happens to people when ya’ break the rules?!” shouted her captor.
With a long swipe, the red pony swung his hoof around and beat Cheeilee, again, into the balance beam with it. Older and newer blood stained the floor of the apple cellar, and Cheerilee fell victim once again to a head rush.
Big Macintosh hurried around and pulled a bloody knife out of the bucket. He brought it around to his special somepony without delay, and brought it down to her squirming face.
Shhk shhk shkk.
The knife ran along Cheerilee’s cheek three times. She awoke from her daze with a ferocious scream.
Bnk bnk bnk. “Hey, who’s down there?”
Big Mac ignored his sister’s voice. He would clear it up later. Now, he rose up his hoof, turned the knife inward, and began to repeatedly strike the mare with its handle.
Bonk.
Cheerilee’s vision grew fuzzy again.
Bonk.
Would Big Mac ever stop?
Bonk.
How could he murder Dinky Hooves? What had she done?
Another bonk. She was out cold.
* *
Cheerilee barely came back up. Big Mac’s strikes had slowed and dulled to poorly forced thuds. There was more knocking from the stairs.
“Now, Ah’m gettin’ right frustrated, bro...” she faintly made out.
She turned her ears to Big mac’s tear-soaked whispers. “I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you...”
Cheerilee quickly rolled out from under Big Macintosh and began to cry desperately.
“Now, hold on, there, punkin’!” Big Mac exclaimed, getting up.
“No!” Cheerilee talked under the hushed voices outside, “You’re a monster! I never want to see you again! You’re sick! Sick! You murdered a filly!”
“YOU murdered a filly! YOU shoulda’ been smart enough ta’ know what happens when ya’ try to outsmart me!”
Cheerilee blew back with all of her anger, “NORMAL PONIES DON’T DO THESE THINGS!”
The silence grew and grew by seconds. Big Mac was most certainly not expecting his Cheerilee to say that.
The knife sparkled as it was brought forth by Big Mac. Cheerilee turned fast, galloping over the rope that tied her to this horrible place, and running onward, rightward. Together, they began a murderous romp around the support beam. Cheerilee ran expertly, attempting in vain to actually escape the galloping murderer. Big Mac waved the knife around aimlessly at her flank.
He sped up, rose the blade, and brought it down on her marehood.
The mare bucked at nothing. She sped up in her unimaginable pain and mutilation. She sped up to a speed matching Big Macs, and he could not catch up.
The red bucking pony had had enough. He was going to end this.
Big Macintosh stopped in his tracks. Reared his hind legs.
The purple-pink pony ran around.
Buck.
A thud came from behind him and nothing else. He rested his hind hooves. A few moments went by. Derpy Hooves’ voice was added to the choir outside.
He found the strength to turn to his new masterpiece. Cheerilee lay, twitching.
“...Pun’... ‘kin...?”
He came to her face. She was in no way alive, but she was certainly in pain. What was left of her nose chortled and bubbled bloody mucus. Her jaw stood agape, tearing apart the edges of her lips. The skin on the right of the bridge of her nose was scraped into the ever-oozing, gelatin mess that was formerly her eye socket. A crack rose up her forehead, crossing her brow.
A mess. Big Macintosh had managed, over just a few days, to transform what was so beautiful into a fine mess.
The tears began to drip. “Che-,.. Cheeril-, lee? *gulp* Can ya’...” the murderer hiccuped on his sorrow, “...can ya’ hear... me...?
Cheerilee’s mind was a mess. The buck had reverted her to a strange stillborn state.
Her shaking and twitching changed pace, but not noticeably. Unable to process Big Mac’s speech, she dwelled on one thought, in her pain. Why.
Why. Why. Why.
Big Mac cradled her twitching head and jaw to his bosom. A cold sweat shook him, and her body served as a bed for his tears.
For the first time, he had a pony who would understand and take all of his hate and needs, and he killed her. This wasn’t okay. It wasn’t okay to be a murderer. If normal ponies didn’t do this, why did he need to do this so much? Why did he need it?
Cheerilee’s head turned in Big Mac’s hooves’ embrace. He turned it and turned it, until she left him with a crack.
Cheerilee no longer twitched. She no longer hated. She no longer asked why. She lay there, in Big Mac’s arms, soaked in salty resin. Big Mac set her down and walked over to the back wall, knocking his head against the cement.
“Wh.. why?” he muttered to himself. A beat went by. He wanted to end this passage of time with his anger.
“... DAMN IT, WHY?!” he shouted, death his newest fantasy.
He rose his hind legs.
Together, they chopped though the support beam like butter. Screams from outside and screams form himself engulfed him. No matter how long he lived, he’d never stop thinking about how he killed his Cheerilee.
He killed his Cheerilee. Normal ponies don’t do that. Normal ponies don’t kill.
In sorrow and personal hell, he began to see himself more and more terribly: a freak, a psychopath. A murderer.
The red bucking pony turned to the next support beam. He observed it through tears and mined its usefulness.
Turn. Legs. Buck.
Pieces of the ceiling started falling, and the shouting outside stopped.
Turn. Legs. Buck.
Turn. Legs. Buck.
It felt like an eternity of standing there, crying; looking back at his Cheerilee. Her mangled face was even more painful put out of view. Her memory haunted him.
Big Mac decided. It was time to stop. It was time for this to end. He could do no good in this world, and it was time to move on to the next. And maybe, just maybe, to his beloved Cheerilee.
The thought warmed him as the earth engulfed him.
THE END
Every morning, it was the same thing.
Wake up. Go out. Find a tree. Lay down the bushels. Turn around. Rear his hind legs. Buck.
Turn. Legs. Buck. They save the simple jobs for the simple ponies. Of course, Big Mac found it repetitive, even when compared to conversations and socializations which also bored Big Mac. But on odd days, when the red bucking pony came to a peak of awkwardness, he indulged in another activity.
He finished his bucking, but before taking back the last load of apples, he nudged a rock next to a particularly tall and particularly shady apple tree. Under it were three notebooks, separated from the ground by a towel.
He grabbed the only one which wasn’t entirely filled and grabbed a marker he had hidden with the books.
Plopped down, resting under the tree, he drew. Each stroke removed some of the pain. With each line, his thoughts were transferred from his tortured mind to the page, like an electric current through the marker. All the things he thought, other ponies could never know. Big Mac’s urges and fantasies were different from other ponies’, and he knew he could never share them with anyone but his notebooks.
Today’s masterpiece: Cheerilee, in the apple cellar, with Big Macintosh’s big, bloody hoof print through her flank.
Why this image pleased Big Macintosh, he didn’t question. He just liked it, for the aesthetic of it. At least, that was why the reason he guessed.
A few moments went by as he appreciated the art. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, envisioning the scene in his mind much more vividly. Of course, the real Cheerilee would not approve of this kind of conduct. Big Mac thought of simply forcing her, but that wasn’t the kind of pony he was. He’d always have HIS Cheerilee, in his small masterpieces; waiting for him and accepting him for who he was.
He continued to take the notebook and replace it under the rock, until another day.
The stallion rose, moved the rock back over, and left to finish his chore; his bottled emotions remaining in their stone prison.
Derpy Hooves had never been particularly good friends with Cheerilee. She was a fine acquaintance, and the news of her dissapearance saddened Derpy, but only mildly.
Derpy had awoken to find her daughter missing. Gone. Absolutely no trace. It did more than sadden her.
Without even calling in for a sick day, she took to the skies.
Zooming from place to place, tearing up at different intervals. “Have you seen Dinky?” “Sorry, have you seen my daughter?” “I just don’t know where she is!”
Derpy Hoove’s most precious muffin of all had gone missing.
She spent the whole day going up and down all of ponyville, checking places twice and three times. Suddenly, something stood forth.
Derpy stopped flying for the first time that day over the fields of Sweet Apple Acres. She looked down, mouth slightly agape, trying to piece together what it meant.
High in the branches of a tall apple tree was a beautiful blue dress, studded with deep red rubies. Wrinkled and cast away like so many lost kites, it screamed that it was the answer.
“SEND HELP TO SWEET APPLE ACRES ASAP”
Derpy lowered herself down to ground level and retrieved the dress form the tree’s grasp. She took a moment to inspect it, and turned it inside-out to find it lightly lined with purple-pink hairs.
Cheerilee.
As the puzzle pieces started to come together in her mind, she looked around, yearning for clues. After a while of perimeter-searching, she came across a rock which had what looked like a towel under it.
She drew a cold sweat as she began to nudge it.
