A Roll in the Hay

Chapters

Satisfaction Guaranteed
Cloudkicker
Bon Bon and Lyra
Roseluck
Mayor Mare
Mrs. Cake
Aloe and Lotus
The Cutie Mark Crusaders
Cheerilee
Epilogue: Applejack

Satisfaction Guaranteed

Big Mac sighed as he sat at the workbench in the cool shade of the barn, and glanced at the mail for the third time. He dipped the brush into the red paint can and tried to focus on the “canvas” in front of him. He had buried the offensive notice at the bottom of the stack, because he didn't want to see it, but it was still there. In big, bright, red letters, the note’s words burned in his mind.

FINAL NOTICE!

It has come to the attention of The First Ponyville Bank that your mortgage is overdue. This is to serve as your final notice. Please remit payment to bring your account balance into good standing by the end of the month or The First Ponyville Bank will proceed to claim the collateral on this loan…

There was more, but it was just legalese. Fancy words on fancy paper, with fancy stallions in fancy suits to back it up. It was also a threat: pay up, or we’re taking your house, and putting you on the street. Applejack will be selling apples in the day and sleeping under her stall at night. Granny Smith is going to be put out to pasture. Apple Bloom is going to be taken by the state and put in a “nice” facility. We’re taking your home, family, and life. And we’re going to do it with a stylish letterhead.

Buck them.

Nope he thought, that’s not right. Ya owe tha bank tha bits after ya took out a loan ta pay for th’ new orchard. It was a good idea at the time, and the west field had been a boon to the farm, at least until this year. Now, with that dust storm that came out of the Everfree two months ago, and the rising price of water, the crop yield had been frightfully low.

In addition to selling apples, Big Mac tried getting a part-time job at the newspaper, and even selling off some of his old collectibles (but not Smartypants!). He still didn't have enough. Big Mac sighed and continued to paint his sign. He felt a bit crude, but everything about this was crude, even the paint he used on the sign. He didn't plan to use red, but it felt appropriate. Maybe the whole idea came to him because of those three flower mares he overheard in the market last week while selling apples…

~~~~~

One week ago...

Big Mac gently bucked the cart into place and it opened to reveal his meager wares. The apples were getting a bit overripe, and the usual spot he tried to sell them in wasn't drawing in customers. Probably because the harsh light of the midday sun let everypony know his apples were a dark, ugly red rather than a bright, healthy crimson. He settled behind the cart in the shade of the flower shop. Maybe the change in venue would help sales. It couldn't hurt.

“Tee-hee-hee! Daisy! What would make you say that about Big Mac?” Lily’s voice came from the other side of the carnations. She sounded like she had just stumbled upon a lost bit.

Big Mac’s ears swiveled forward. While the sun had inched its way over the horizon, few customers were in the market as of yet. Vendors often chatted with each other while setting up, but hearing his name caught Big Mac’s attention.

“Well, you know what they say about a stallion with big hooves, right?” He heard Daisy’s voice this time. “Makes me wonder about the rest of him...” Big Mac’s eyes went wide, and he blushed an even brighter red; his legs felt like they had grown roots.

Sigh “I wouldn't mind a nice stallion like Big Mac. If he offered to give me a roll in the hay, I don’t know what I’d do.” Big Mac heard Roseluck this time, and his mouth fell open.

“You know what I heard? The grapevine says he’s a great way to relieve stress. Lots of mares think so.” Daisy’s voice again, but this time Big Mac almost shouted a reply. He’d never done anything of the sort!

“Lots of mares? Like who?” Lily’s voice asked from beyond the daffodils. Yeah, who? thought Big Mac.

“A lady never kisses and tells, you know…”

“What are you three talking about?” Cheerilee? Big Mac’s heart did a backflip. Ever since Heart’s and Hooves day, he’d wondered about Cheerilee. They had gone on a couple of dates, but it would be a bit presumptuous to say she was his special somepony. He leaned in closer and put his ear to a line of tulip bouquets.

“Oh you know, just mare talk. Say, Cheerilee, you know Big Mac, don’t you?” Roseluck asked. Her voice held a certain eagerness to it, like a foal asking if she could have another cookie. “What’s he like?”

Cheerilee sighed. “Honestly, I can’t tell you much. I can hardly get more than two words out of him, and those words are ‘eeyup’ and ‘nope.’ I do think he’s got a big… heart.” Big Mac leaned in a bit closer; all he could hear was the rustling of leaves as one of them shifted a flower or two. Cheerilee’s voice was right in his ear. “But I’m sure I’ll be able to tell you more soon, I’m planning to see him next week. I’m sure he’ll agree to a date, don’t you think?”

Startled, Big Mac turned his head and found himself nose to nose with Cheerilee. She had removed the bouquet from the shelf, revealing his face (or at least his ear). She smiled at him with a toothless grin, hiding him from the others with her head. He blushed furiously, nodded, then ducked away. Roseluck tittered, “You have to tell me all about him!”

~~~~~

Hopefully, nopony would talk about what would go on inside the barn today. Big Mac felt sweat dripping down his mane as he put the final nail into the sign and stood back to check his work. The sign only came up to his chin, but anypony along the road would be able to see it easily. In bright, red paint, it read:

A ROLL IN THE HAY WITH BIG MCINTOSH: 50 BITS. SATISFACTION GUARANTEED.

It also had a big, red arrow pointing at the barn door behind the sign. Big Mac gulped, entered the barn, sat down on the soft pile of hay he had set up next to an empty jar, and waited. By his count, he needed at least seven customers to make the mortgage payment tomorrow morning. He sat, sweating, in the cool shade of the barn, waiting for a customer. There probably won't be anypony to come a callin’. Not a lot o’ ponies come out by the farm anyway. I can jus’ set here and think o’ somethin’ ta say ta the banker tomorrow. Ah gotta convince him not ta foreclose on th’ farm. Maybe if Ah pay him half and explain—

His thoughts were interrupted by the barn door creaking open.

“Big Mac?” A pale-blue pegasus floated into the barn and landed with a soft cloud of dust around her hooves. Folding her wings back, Cloudkicker glanced around the barn for a second before her eyes adjusted. She found him seated on a pile of hay, hidden in shade. “There you are,” she said as she bucked the door closed. “I’m feeling a little tense. Think you could help me out?” She sashayed across the barn with bedroom eyes firmly locked on Big Mac.

Without thinking, he responded, “N-nnnope!”

She gave him an adorable pout while one wing reached into her saddle bag. Fifty bits clinked into his jar while she nuzzled into his chest, smiling. “How about now?”

“Uhhh,” Big Mac’s brain locked up. What was he doing? It felt unreal. As Cloudkicker nuzzled into him, sniffing his musk, he instinctively wrapped his forelegs around her. Not tight, just like he would if you shoved a random object into his chest. She writhed against him, rubbing him like an itchy cat would rub against a soft couch, moaning quietly. Big Mac gulped and closed his eyes.

She sniffed and whispered, “Oh, how I need this. What are you waiting for?” Her tail gently whipped him in the face, sending all sorts of pleasant sensations through his body. Big Mac opened his eyes and looked down. She was there, open, ready for him, and the way she touched him felt so good. She glanced down after a moment and tittered. “Oh my, Big Mac, you have such a big… hoof.”

Big Mac gulped and said, “E-eeeyup.”

Cloudkicker

“Please be gentle,” she whispered. “I just want something nice for once. Not some jerk who leaves after he finds out you’ve slept with his best friend years ago. O-or some flankhole who leaves the n-next morning without even saying g-good-bye. O-or a s-stallion th-that leaves th-that ni-hi-ght the s-second after he f-finishes with you!” she suddenly sobbed. Big Mac couldn’t do anything but stare at her. “Y-you won’t leave m-me w-will you?” she stammered out between sobs, with big, sloppy tears running down her face. She hugged him tight and buried her face in his chest.

“Nnnope.”

“I-I’m pretty aren’t I? I’ve got nice legs, and soft wings?” She quivered in his hooves.

“Eeeyup,” Big Mac said, loud and clear. Honesty ran in his family.

“My eyes aren’t too red and scary?” She had regained some small measure of composure. Big Mac looked into her eyes— beautiful red irises, and they weren’t bloodshot.

He shook his head and drawled, “Nnnope.”

“My mane and tail— you like them, right?” She sniffed as the tears kept running down her face, but she looked at him and spoke without further hiccups.

“Eyup!” Big Mac responded with a nod and a smile. Right now, she looked like a hot mess, but Big Mac thought she was really pretty, even while crying.

“I’m nice, aren’t I? I can cook really well, and I always put fresh clouds on the bed. I’ll do it for you, too. You’d like that, right? I’ll bet you’ve never slept in a cloud bed— it’s so soft. I don’t expect a reward; that’s kindness, isn’t it?”

“Eeeyup.” Big Mac didn’t consider himself an expert on kindness, but he could imagine Fluttershy doing just that without any trouble.

“So, you’ll be my special somepony?”

Big Mac felt as if ice water had been dumped into his stomach. “Uhhh...”

Her face scrunched up and the waterworks started up again, even faster this time. She hugged him tighter and nuzzled into his chest. “B-but, don’t stallions like it when you lift your tail for them? I’d do that for you all the time. You’d like that wouldn’t you? Nice girls do that, don’t they?”

“Eeeyu— hmmm… nnnope.” Big Mac shook his head. Stallions did like it when mares lifted their tails without fuss, but he wouldn’t call such mares “nice girls.” He tried to imagine his sister lifting her tail for some random stallion she had just met. It made his blood boil.

Cloudkicker nuzzled into him and whispered, “Oh, you’re so strong, and warm.” She sniffed and said, “I’m sorry, I don’t know what came over me. My special somepony broke up with me three days ago. I didn’t cry at the time; I just decided I’d find another one. Plenty of fish in the sea, right?”

“Eyup.”

“So I found a nice stallion yesterday, tall and tan, just the way I like ‘em. I could tell he was the type to commit, not some one-night stand. I put on my moves and what happens?” She started to sob, but caught herself. It took a moment before she could breathe evenly and continue. “He shot me down. ME! Told me he already had a special somepony and didn’t want to sleep with a mare like me.” She latched onto Big Mac like she was drowning and he was a life preserver. “Why…? C-can stallions tell when you’re… not innocent?”

“Nnnope.”

She looked up at him with tears in her eyes and gulped. “Am I a bad pony?”

Big Mac paused before he replied, “Nnnope.”

She smiled and said, “When my friends found out I was single we went out dancing and drinking that night. There’s nothing wrong with that, right?”

“Nnnope,” Big Mac said as he shook his head.

“I woke up the next morning in this stallion’s bed. I didn’t even know his name! I… I don’t think anything happened; he smelled like he had way too much hard apple cider. So, no harm, no foul. You agree, don’t you?”

Big Mac put a hoof to his chin before he replied, “Uh… nnnope.” He shook his head.

Cloudkicker swallowed and her eyes squinted a bit. Tears welled up in them and her voice started to crack. She almost shouted her defense. “I’m not hurting anypony, so how can it be wrong?! I’m not hurting him, am I?”

Big Mac’s eyes went wide at the verbal assault. “Nope!” he said, his voice clipped.

“You’re getting fifty bits! You’re not getting hurt, are you?!”

“Nope!”

“So what’s the problem?” Hot tears streamed down her face as she shouted at him. “Who am I hurting? Nopony is crying or shouting or—”

Big Mac said nothing— he only held her and looked at her with both brows raised.

“...Oh.” With that tiny sound, Cloudkicker deflated in his chest. Her entire body shook with her sobbing. Big Mac held onto her; he simply didn’t know what else to do. She became dead weight in his forelegs, but compared to the farm labor he had spent his life doing, she wasn’t terribly heavy.

Time ticked by in silence, her sobs fading into him with each passing minute. The sun had tracked several degrees across the sky before she spoke again. “Um… will you hold me, just like this, for a little while longer?”

“Eeeyup,” he said with a smile. He gently rocked her back and forth, like he would with a foal. She closed her eyes after a moment. She breathed into his fur, and were it not for the occasional twitch of her wings, Big Mac might have thought she had fallen asleep.

It took some time before Cloudkicker sighed and stood up. Even seated, his height matched hers. She put a forehoof around his neck and pressed her head beside his. She whispered into his ear, “Thanks, Big Mac. That was the best fifty bits I’ve ever spent.”

Straightening up, she turned away from him quickly. He could see a flicker of sunlight glint off of a tear as it fell and disappeared into the pile of hay. She spread her wings and flew out the door in the gabling above his head. It closed just as her blond tail passed through the portal.

Big Mac sighed and glanced at his jar. Fifty bits! He actually got fifty bits! It wasn’t enough yet, but he didn’t think he’d get any bits at all from this foolhardy venture.

The barn door opened with a creak. Big Mac’s smile vanished and he froze like a deer caught by a predator.

Bon Bon trotted into the barn, looking around like she owned the place. Her brows furrowed as she looked him up and down. “Get in here, Lyra,” she said at the barn door.

Not one predator, Big Mac was caught by two predators.

Lyra walked into the barn with shaky hooves, a sheepish smile, and her head bowed. Her eyes looked everywhere but at Big Mac. Bon Bon had no such trouble as she trotted right up to him. She put her nose in the air and said, “Your equipment works?”

“Uhh… eyup?” Big Mac had never been asked such a question before.

“Good.” Without further ceremony, she deposited fifty bits into his jar. “And now you’ll do as I ask, right?” she inquired, as she shook the jar to illustrate the many additional bits.

“Uhh… eeeyup…?” Big Mac’s eyes darted around, looking for an escape hatch. What had he gotten himself into? He had only a general idea what to do in order to satisfy one mare, let alone two. Why did Ah have to write satisfaction guaranteed on that stupid sign? Well, Ah guess Ah’ll just do ma best. So long as Ah git the bits, an’ what goes on here stays here, Ah should be okay, he thought to himself.

“Excellent, I want you...” Bon Bon pointed at him, then at Lyra. “...to put a foal in her. RIGHT NOW!”

Bon Bon and Lyra

Big Mac sat frozen; his guts felt like they had turned into ice and his brain into bricks. “Uhhh...” he mumbled.

Bon Bon sighed and said, “Don’t worry about it, there are no strings attached. This is going to be our foal, not yours. That’s what a ‘roll in the hay’ means, right? Just something… fun and uncomplicated.”

“Uhh… eyup?” Big Mac’s pupils dilated as he watched Bon Bon clap her hooves at Lyra, who nodded.

Lyra slowly approached him and gulped. She straightened up and walked around him, rubbing up against him as she circled. She ended up wrapped around him like a parasitic ivy. Her tail was long enough that it wrapped all the way around his left side, while she mumbled into his right ear, “Um, hello. Nice to meet you. Well, we’ve already met. You know, I buy apples from your cart sometimes.” Big Mac was still frozen stiff, but his eyes tracked her around and locked towards the right side of his skull, watching her.

“Tuesdays,” Bon Bon said, her brow flat. “Grocery shopping is on Tuesday, Stringbean. And you don’t need to talk to him. Just get it over with.”

Lyra gasped and replied, “Well excuse me! Some of us like to make an emotional connection before—”

“You don’t need a connection with him!” Bon Bon’s voice rose, then she sighed. “Look, I don’t want to watch this, but I have to, so can we just get this over with? Just pretend he’s me.” She changed her focus to Big Mac. “Try to act like a stallion,” she chuckled with a wry grin. “Shouldn’t be too hard for you.”

“What? Since when are you the husband?” Lyra glared at Bon Bon. “Bonny, switch with me. You’ll be better at this.”

Bon Bon glared back at Lyra. “We discussed this, Stringbean,” she said with clenched teeth. “We decided—”

“On a coin flip!” Lyra exclaimed.

Bon Bon ignored her comment and continued, “—that you would be the one to carry the foal. Besides, the coin flip was your idea.” She took a step closer to the two ponies; she stood almost muzzle-to-muzzle with Lyra when she opened her mouth to speak. Bon Bon abruptly tilted her head towards Big Mac, who was just now getting used to the feeling of Lyra wrapped around him.

“Uhhhmm...” he mumbled again.

Bon Bon sniffed twice, like a bloodhound who had found a hare. “You smell like cyanide. Maybe if…” she turned and dug into her saddlebag.

Lyra’s eyes went wide. “He’s poison? You said this would be safe!”

Bon Bon rolled her eyes and sighed. “No, Stringbean, he smells like apples. And apples have a bit of cyanide in them. You’d need a chef’s nose to even notice it. He doesn’t smell like me, so maybe if you rubbed a bit of this—” she slapped a brownish stick against Big Mac’s chest and rubbed it into him. It crinkled and crumbled into powder almost instantly before he could react.

ah-ah-ACHOO!

Big Mac sneezed into Bon Bon’s face after his nose got an overdose of cinnamon. Bon Bon’s eyes closed and she looked peaceful, but the throbbing vein on her forehead said otherwise. Lyra tittered, “That’s what you get for being pushy!” Her nose flared as she continued, “But you’re right, Bonny! He does kinda smell like you now.” She closed her eyes and said, “Okay, I think I can do this.”

Big Mac’s eyes went wide as he thought, Uh oh, showtime. What do Ah do? Bon Bon interrupted his train of thought when she shouted, “Not yet! I need to get my face cleaned off so I can watch!”

“I don’t want you watching! That would be sooo weird,” Lyra whined.

Bon Bon trotted over to the spigot on the wall near the barn door. She flipped on the faucet and splashed some water on her face. “Stringbean, we’ve been over this; I have to watch to make sure everything is safe.”

Lyra blew out a raspberry and said, “What’s going to go wrong? What could make this any worse?” Big Mac nodded with a small smile, then thought, Hey, wait a minute! What’s wrong with ME?

“What if he doesn’t do the job? Or what if he’s violent? Or what if—” Bon Bon gestured wildly in the air, painting grisly scenarios.

“I’m fine, Bonny. You… you don’t have to watch this. I’ll be fine, and then we can have our little foal…” Her voice cracked. Big Mac turned his head just enough so he could see Lyra’s face. Her lower lip quivered.

Lyra snuggled up to Big Mac, while Bon Bon simply stared at her. A single tear rolled down Bon Bon’s cheek. Her voice was like a dying echo, barely audible, and much too small to fill the expansive barn. “What if you like him?”

Lyra scoffed and replied, “Bonny, I’m supposed to be the insane one. You think I’m going to like him? HIM, as in, a stallion?” She turned to him as her ears drooped. “No offense, right?”

“Nnnope,” Big Mac said as he shook his head.

“Bonny, listen to me. I’m your special somepony. Yours, and yours alone. I’m not going to fall for somepony else, especially not a stallion.” She glanced down and snickered. “Even one who smells like you and has a nice big… hoof.” Big Mac’s face flushed as he shifted his hooves over his midsection.

B-but… what if…” Bon Bon trotted to Lyra, around Big Mac’s right side. She nuzzled into Lyra’s neck and whispered, “I’m sorry, I just can’t help it. I feel jealous.”

Lyra sighed and nuzzled her back. “I don’t wanna do this either, but what else can we do?”

Bon Bon gave a dry little laugh. “What would our parents say if they saw us now?”

Gack! At the word “parents,” Lyra’s soft body became tense. Big Mac thought of himself as a fairly strong pony, but Lyra possessed an insane strength! Lyra’s voice sounded like gravel with a side order of hot cinders when she shot back at Bon Bon, “Buck my parents, we’re going to be a pair of flank-kicking moms compared to them.”

Bon Bon backed up a step and replied, “I’m sorry, Stringbean. I didn’t mean… I just thought about being parents and it all just… hit me.”

Big Mac turned blue while he reached towards the work bench against the far wall. The stack of mail sat on it, relatively hidden from the rest of the Apple family in the barn. A flyer sat on top of the stack, hiding the offensive notice at the bottom. It could prove to be Big Mac’s salvation, if only he could cross the distance with Lyra on his back before passing out. He reached out with a hoof, pointing at the stack of mail.

He didn’t make it one step before he collapsed, blue as a blueberry.

“Huh? Oh, sorry,” Lyra said as she relaxed and unwound herself from Big Mac. He instantly gasped for air and ruddy color returned to his face.

Bon Bon trotted over to the workbench he had been pointing at. She glanced at Big Mac with a raised brow. “The tool box?”

Big Mac coughed before he weakly said, “Nnnope.”

“The mail?” she asked, pointing at the stack of bills and advertisements.

Big Mac nodded and said, “Eeeyup.”

“What’s this?” Bon Bon said, picking the flyer off the top of the mail stack. “Hooves Holding Hearts Adoption Agency? And they don’t exclude same-sex couples!” Her eyes scanned the page rapidly.

Lyra brightened up and chirped, “Really?!”

Bon Bon didn’t move, transfixed by the flyer. It took several moments before she whipped her head around and said, “Do you think this will work?”

“Eeeyup!” Big Mac tried to nod. Instead he opted to watch those black spots that were still swimming across his vision.

“Yeah, and we won’t have to answer any questions about where the foal came from. That’s a headache I really don’t need,” Lyra said as she trotted over to the workbench and sat upright on it, her hind legs dangling just over the floor. “Well, what does it say?” she asked, looking at Bon Bon and the flyer.

Bon Bon looked up at Lyra. “It says they’re looking for good sets of parents, nothing about excluding couples like us. This might actually work.”

Lyra smiled and nodded. “Lets go!”

“Now?” Bon Bon looked at Lyra aghast.

“Yeah, now,” Lyra replied with one raised brow. “What are we waiting for?”

Bon Bon pointed at Big Mac with the flyer and said, “What about him? I just paid fifty bits!”

Lyra shrugged and said, “I’m happy with the result.” She leaned down and kissed Bon Bon right on the forehead. “Aren’t you… satisfied?”

Big Mac grinned; he tried to look jovial, but he looked more like a foal with his hoof caught in the cookie jar. Bon Bon looked between Lyra and Big Mac before she finally smiled. “Yeah, thanks, Big Mac.”

“C’mon, lets go already!” Lyra said, dragging Bon Bon out the barn door. It swung closed while Big Mac sat on the pile of hay, alone. Oh goddess, I’ve got one hundred bits. In jus’ two hours! No wonder them mares sometimes do this kinda thing. Of course, Ah haven’t done anything yet…

Big Mac sat up and smiled as he looked at the jar of bits. He shook it gently, just to hear them clink together. One hundred bits wasn’t a fortune, but to him, it could be hearth and home. He thought about what Granny Smith would say if she saw him now, and the smile dropped from his face. He turned to face the sign on the other side of the barn wall, and stood. He wanted to tear down that sign, but the door creaked open once again.

“Hello? Big Mac? Are you in here?” The voice sounded high and sweet, but carried a note of desperation. Big Mac looked at the mare who trotted in. She closed the barn door behind her and strode up to him. With each step, her smile grew wider.

“Eeeyup.”

Roseluck took in a deep breath and sighed deeply. “And now you’re mine, all mine…”

Roseluck

Big Mac couldn’t believe it; everything had come full circle. Roseluck trotted up to him and pushed him over like a domino. She stood over him and knelt down, her muzzle touching his. Her voice floated back to him out of his memory. “If he offered to give me a roll in the hay, I don’t know what I’d do.” It was Roseluck this time, just like before, and Big Mac’s mouth fell open once again. She didn’t miss a beat; she kissed him, right on the mouth.

Big Mac’s world detonated. She tasted sweet, and wet, like fresh-cut flowers. She gasped and pulled away from him, her eyes lidded and heavy. “Oh, Big Mac, I love you. You smell like cinnamon. I want to smell just like you. You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

Big Mac’s eyes went wide, and he quivered. Her gaze was like looking into the setting sun. They were just thin slits below her lids, but the intensity behind them… He turned his head just to look away, to give himself a moment’s reprieve from such fire. “Nnnope.”

“LOOK AT ME!” She screamed and clapped each side of his face with a hoof, bringing his face and eyes back to hers. She glanced desperately at what he had been looking at— the jar of bits. He hadn’t meant to do so, but that’s where he was looking. “Oh, oh, of course...” Her voice fell to just above a whisper. Big Mac quivered as she dumped fifty bits into the jar. At least, he thought it was fifty bits. She didn’t count them when she upturned her saddlebag. At least fifty bits ended up in the jar, and a few more on the floor. She tossed the saddlebag away, and pounced on him. “Better?” she cooed to him.

“E-e-eeyup!” Big Mac couldn’t keep his voice even, because he was shaking in his horseshoes.

She lowered herself, covering him like a blanket, nuzzling into his neck. “Do you know how long I’ve watched you?”

“Nnnope,” he said, trying to keep the totally-creeped-out vibe out of his voice.

“I watch everypony that comes into my flower shop. I’ve seen you in there, browsing, smelling each flower, searching for just the right one.”

“Eeeyup,” Big Mac breathed out a sigh of relief as she nuzzled into his neck. Anything so he didn’t have to look into her eyes, those tiny suns with their damaging fire.

“Just like every other stallion in my shop. You know, flowers are kind of a mare’s thing, but there aren’t many mares that go into my shop,” she giggled. “Especially around Hearts and Hooves day,” she sighed wistfully.

Big Mac didn’t know where she was going with this, but he didn’t want to interrupt, so he just said, “Eeeyup.”

“And you’d think that stallions wouldn’t care about flowers, but on Hearts and Hooves day, in my shop… it’s different.” It seemed to him that she didn’t really want or need a response. He nodded as she continued, “On Hearts and Hooves day, the stallions all choose their flowers so carefully. I’ve seen stallions stare for hours, trying to pick a bouquet.” She giggled, “It’s so cute, they don’t know the difference between a tulip, a rose, and a daffodil, but still, they try so hard.”

Big Mac smiled as he remembered trying to get a ring for Cheerilee. The memory was fuzzy, but he remembered how it made him feel. He had to get just the right one. “Eeeyup…” he said dreamily.

Apparently he had said the wrong thing.

Her eyes bore into him, but lost in his thoughts, he didn’t notice until now. “PAY ATTENTION TO ME!” she screamed again. His eyes went wide as he stared at her. She started to grind against him, making him gulp. He could feel sweat trickle down his back as she whispered, “Please, just… don’t ignore me. Not like every other stallion. You know roses are the flower of love, right?”

Big Mac’s entire body went rigid, trying to push her away without moving. “Eeeyup.”

“And after hours of thinking about it, most stallions buy roses,” she sniffed. It happened fast: her eyes closed, and the tears rained onto Big Mac’s face. “But they don’t give them to me! M-my n-name is Roseluck! B-but I d-ho-on’t g-get any r-roses! Or any other f-flowers,” she sobbed. “Why…?”

Big Mac continued to stare at her as he shrugged.

“WHY?!” she screamed at him. “Why won’t you love me? Don’t I deserve love? Just a little? Just a little kiss…” She sank lower, her lips searching for his as she rubbed against him like an itchy cat, moving in a way that sent wonderful shivers up and down his spine. “Please, love me…”

Big Mac’s heart felt like a bird trying to escape as he watched her close in for the kill. So this is what it’s come ta. Big Mac Apple, yer just a dumb stallion, putting up a sign like that. Satisfaction guaranteed ma flank, what am Ah gonna do now? She’s not one ta leave ‘cause of nope an’ eyup. Perhaps it was his racing heart and mind, or perhaps it was plain desperation, but Big Mac had an idea. Ah hope this works.

He sat up, bringing her with him. She still straddled him, but his size only allowed her to kiss his chin. He kept his eyes on her, just in case she made any sudden movements. “Uh, excuse me, I just paid fifty bits. The sign says ‘Satisfaction Guaranteed.’” She pouted and glared at him. “I am not satisfied yet.” He stood and brought her up with him.

He ducked his head under her, and in one motion, lifted her onto his back. “Oh!” she exclaimed, then giggled. “What’s this all about? Are you going to carry me?”

“Eeeyup.” He trotted smoothly out of the back door of the barn, furtively glancing in every direction, searching for witnesses. He got lucky— the barn hid them from the road. Out here, there was nothing but apple trees.

He cantered into the west field. It was only fitting that the trees that got him into trouble would get him out of trouble. On the way, she giggled, “Where are we going?” He just glanced back and smiled at her.

He slowed to a walk in the west field, where the youngest of the apple trees grew, and he stopped to choose. She gasped and hugged him around his neck almost immediately when she figured it out. He could feel wetness on his coat where she nuzzled into him, but he dared not stop.

He took a long time. He had to find just the right one, after all. Almost all of them looked white, but on occasion he could find a special, unique one. They weren’t exactly red— more like pink. It took some doing, but he knew of a tree that tended to have pink ones. He found a winner just above his head. Darker than its cousins, it had turned just the right shade of red.

As he set her down at the base of the apple tree, he could feel her shaking. He made sure to look at her, watch her, check her, think about her. Her eyes glistened in the sunlight, but she did not weep. Big Mac faced her and put a forehoof to the apple tree. Bucking it would have made them all fall. Only an expert can get a single target to fall from an apple tree with a forehoof.

Big Mac qualified as an expert.

The apple blossom fell into his waiting forehoof. On the cusp of turning into an apple, it looked like it would wilt at any moment, but it carried a heady scent. Honeysuckle wafted into her nose as he knelt and proffered it to her.

“F-for me?” Now she did start to cry, but she still smiled. “Y-you p-picked this one just for me?”

“Eeeyup.”

She couldn’t look at him; she only looked at the apple blossom in her hoof, with tears streaming down her face. “It’s a rose…” Big Mac blinked and tilted his head. He had only found the next best thing to a rose, right? “Apple blossoms are in the same family as roses. Every florist knows that. Did you?” She looked up at him, her eyes clear. He dared not look away, that intensity still lurked behind them.

“Nnnope!” Big Mac shook his head.

She smiled; it was like a sunrise. It filled her entire face. Big Mac just stood there, waiting, while the bees and apple blossom flowers floated around him like snow. She wiped her eyes once, sighed, and said, “Time to get back to work, for both of us.” Big Mac shook his head once, like he’d been struck. She acted like a new mare. Swiftly, she hugged him and whispered into his ear, “This flower is worth more than fifty bits to me. Will you come by and… choose a flower again sometime?”

“Eeeyup.”

“Thank you, Big Mac.” And then she darted away, weaving in between the apple trees and out of sight. He shrugged and rubbed his mane with his forehoof; it came back damp with tears.

Big Mac blinked and realized he needed to be in the barn— what if he had another customer? He cantered back into the barn through the back door. Shutting it quietly, he trotted back to the bed of hay. He gathered up the spare bits scattered around the floor and put them into the jar with a few clinks. He sat down on the pile of hay and let out the breath he felt he had been holding for the last hour.

Ponyfeathers, Ah still need more bits. What am Ah doin’? he thought as he realized he had just plopped his flank right back into the same situation he was in only a few hours ago. This is serious business, he thought. Ah’m all stressed out. Ah need to relax. Ah should just take the sign down an’ have lunch. He stood and took a deep breath. Things were going well so far; surely he deserved a break.

The barn door swung open and a pony darted inside. It closed with a soft squeak, cloaking the barn in shade. “Psst, Big Mac, are you in here?”

Big Mac froze. What new trouble had he gotten himself into? The voiced sounded like a mare’s, an oddly familiar one. It sounded so official, yet when she spoke next, the edge in it changed. The voice became soft, sultry, weak, pleading. “Oh, Big Mac, I’m in need of some relief. You’ll take care of me, won’t you?”

“E-eyup.” Big Mac tried to relax. He might have a chance to take charge this time. Maybe he could figure out a way to—

The mare stepped into the light. She took leathers out of her saddlebags, along with a crop. Along with a pair of fuzzy hoofcuffs, a feather, and… ANOTHER crop? This one had a little metal tip on it. Big Mac shuddered to think what it would feel like for his flesh to be struck repeatedly with such an instrument. “You’ll stay quiet about this, right? I need you to keep quiet.” She chuckled and added softly, “but it’s alright if we scream in here, right? It’s nice and secluded?”

“Eyup.” Big Mac’s words were clipped as he stared at the equipment arrayed before him. Ah have no idea how ta use this stuff! Big Mac had only heard about ponies who used these things, while he still had little experience with vanilla relationships. He felt like as if he were falling without a pair of wings. He could do nothing as he watched her deposit fifty bits into his jar.

It’s unwise to disappoint a customer. Especially when your sign says “Satisfaction Guaranteed.” Especially when your customer just might use her political influence to destroy you.

Mayor Mare stepped close to Big Mac and smiled. “Oh please, I beg you, let’s get started!”

Mayor Mare

“Uhhh,” Big Mac intoned. He couldn’t even blink as he watched Mayor Mare don leather. She took off her glasses and tousled her hair, giving her a rather fetching appearance. She put on buttless leather chaps and a leather headpiece that looked uncomfortably tight. It had a zipper that could prevent the pony who wore it from speaking, but she left it open... for now. She took the crop— the one without the metal tip— and stuffed it into his mouth. Then she pulled out a policestallion’s hat (probably a real one!) and set it on his head. She slapped the fuzzy cuffs on one of her own hooves, circled around him, and stopped on top of the bed of hay. She pulled him close and whispered into his ear, “The safe word is: gerrymandering.”

She pulled the headpiece all the way down, blinding herself. She knelt on the hay and spoke as if she were addressing Celestia. “Big Mcintosh, please forgive me. I’ve been a bad girl, and you’re a big, strong policestallion. Punish me as you see fit.” Big Mac blinked and glanced at the crop in his mouth. She held out her other hoof next to the one with the cuff already on it. “Arrest me if you must.” Her voice fell flat.

Big Mac reached out and clicked the cuff onto her other hoof, but not too tight; he didn’t want to hurt her. “Oh thank you, officer. I don’t like it when I get cuffed too tight— it’s uncomfortable.” Big Mac smiled and nodded, then his eyes went wide. He didn’t know much about this kind of kink, but… that was an invitation to tighten them, wasn’t it? He felt unsure, but he reached out and gingerly clicked each cuff a bit tighter anyway. “Oh no, officer, please don’t put them on so tight. I implore you.”

Big Mac suddenly felt awful. What was the matter with him? He just put those cuffs on so tight, it hurt her. He knew it, because she flopped onto her back, her cuffed forehooves over her head, moaning in pain…

That sounded like a moan of pain, right?

She writhed on the hay. “Oh, please don’t whip me officer. I’m begging you.” Her voice sounded so sincere, like she was giving a speech about the importance of opening a new orphanage. “Please, don’t crop me on the stomach,” she said as she stretched her hind legs out, exposing her belly.

Big Mac paused, closed his eyes, grit his teeth, and swung. He didn’t put much force into it, because he didn’t want to hurt her. As the crop connected with her stomach, she bucked her belly upwards. She moaned, “Ahhh, please, no, oh no, please don’t!” He swung again, and her breathing went ragged. “Oh please, please stop! I’ll do anything to make it stop! Will that please you?”

“Eeeyup,” Big Mac spat the crop out and sighed with relief. Red welts appeared on her soft belly. He felt just terrible, but her breathing changed. He could tell she felt the adrenaline. He wasn’t sure exactly how he knew; it must have been the way she squirmed on the hay, bucking her hips upward, her chest rising and falling with deep, not quick, breaths.

“Oh, please, don’t hurt me anymore, mister police stallion. You don’t smoke, do you?”

Big Mac blinked for a second before he realized the question wasn’t rhetorical. “Nnnope.”

She breathed a sigh of relief. “Oh that’s good, I would hate to have you snuff a cigarette on my flank.” Big Mac’s mouth fell open. Ponies didn’t do that, did they? That would be extremely painful. “Please don’t pinch me, or put any clamps on my skin. That would be just… awful.” She said the last word with barely contained excitement.

Big Mac glanced at the pile of equipment. Sure enough, he found a set of clamps that looked like the sort a clerk would use to remove staples from unruly paperwork. Picking up a clamp, he pinched it with his mouth. It closed with a dangerous-sounding snick. Big Mac relaxed the clamp with a shudder. What kind of pony would want that on their skin?

“Oh no, not the clamps, anything but that!” she begged. Big Mac gulped and touched her with the metal clamp. She shuddered as her midsection bucked up to meet him. Wherever he touched her with it, she responded. When he pulled it away, teasing her, she moaned. Maybe he could pull this off?

He touched her belly, right in the most sensitive spot, where foals got their meals. She bucked unexpectedly into him, and he accidentally bit down on reflex. Not all the way, but enough to pinch her with the clamp.

She opened her mouth and let out a fantastic scream. “AHHHH!” Her breath became shallow, and her entire belly quivered. Shocked, he let go entirely, the clamp bouncing off of her stomach and into the pile of hay. He watched as blood beaded on the wound, making his ears fall and his face turn white. He’d hurt her for sure, and now she was going to use her political power to—

“I’m such a bad girl; I just won’t hold still. You’ll need to correct me, officer. ” She rolled over, covering her belly but exposing her back and flank. Wiggling her flank at him, she moaned quietly and breathed, “Oh officer, you wouldn’t take advantage of me, would you?” Her tail whipped him softly around his chest, sending a shock of cool pleasure from his spine to his hind hooves. He gulped, but the cotton in his mouth just didn’t seem to go away. He could see her, quivering and vulnerable. He suddenly found himself vibrating! Adrenaline, either from fear, excitement, or pleasure, boiled in his blood. Perhaps it was a heady mixture of all three.

Ah can’t do this! This is… degrading. Why would anypony want something like this? Big Mac thought to himself. NO, I won’t do it. Ah’ll hold her ‘til she calms down and then we can talk, maybe work something out. Not to mention Ah gotta calm myself down... He clapped a forehoof on each of her flanks and pushed down, hard, pinning her in place.

“AHHhhh.” She sighed with pleasure at his sudden, forceful action. It sent shivers all along her back; he could feel her beneath his hooves, the muscles tensing and flexing. “Yes, yes! That’s it, you can do whatever you want…”

What Ah want, is fer you ta calm down and relax! he thought. She tried to back up into him with her hind legs spread. While Big Mac had some measure of control over her, he had also inadvertently put himself in a rather… compromising position. Stay down! he thought to himself. With their combined might, there came a sound right out of her spine.

CRACK!

“AHHHH MY BACK! GERRYMANDERING!” Big Mac’s blood felt like it had turned to ice. He hopped away from her while she struggled to stand. Her bones creaked, and with great effort, she rose to her hooves. Hobbling over to her discarded saddlebag, she pulled out a pill bottle and struggled to pull off the cap with tears her eyes.

Big Mac walked to her and took the pill bottle. She looked at him, a grimace etched deep into her face. Big Mac cracked open the pill bottle and shook two out. He hoofed them over, watching her wince as she reached for them with both of her still-cuffed hooves. He read the label— antacids? Big Mac blinked; these weren’t painkillers.

Mayor Mare bit down on the tablets and swallowed them dry. She sighed after only a moment, her face no longer contorting. She looked at him and noticed his puzzled expression. She giggled and said, “Oh, don’t worry about my back. I admit, it surprised me, but it felt great! I was so… uh… excited, and I have a little ulcer that acts up sometimes.” Big Mac nodded and put the cap back on the bottle. As he replaced it in her saddlebag, he noticed more pill bottles in there. Aspirin and Oxycodone he recognized, but what was Fluoxetine and Amitriptyline? He dropped the pills back into her bag, shook his head, and shrugged. He looked up and found her back on the pile of hay, her flank once again exposed.

His eyes went wide as they followed her swishing tail. “Oh officerrr!” she sing-songed, “I’m ready...” Big Mac tried once again to swallow the cotton in his mouth and moved into position. Welp, here goes nothin’, he thought.

~~~~~

“Mmmmm… oh… yes… YES… right there… oh yes… oh, that feels so good… don’t stop… a little harder… harder… OH yes… that’s it… just like that… mmmm… yeah…”

CRACK!

“AHHhh— no no no, don’t stop!” Mayor Mare sucked in a breath. “Keep it up, I’ve got quite a tolerance for pain.” She giggled, then groaned with pleasure as he continued.

Big Mac rubbed her back with his full, considerable strength. That was the fourth time her spine had cracked like a gunshot, and it still scared him. Big Mac didn’t feel like an expert masseur, but he didn’t think a pony’s back should be a complete mass of knots. Once he started massaging her back, she not only calmed down, she almost started crying. It quickly became apparent how she received all of those knots.

“So like I said, there I am in the meeting, and this flankhole is STILL talking about the tax rate and how ponies deserve to keep the fruits of their labor, and blah blah BLAH. I finally broke down and asked him point-blank, ‘So which program should I cut: the endowment for the orphanage, the elementary school’s budget, or the budget for road maintenance?’ Because I’m not cutting the budget for the Ponyville library. Could you imagine a faster way to get tarred and feathered? Cut the budget for Celestia’s prized student and our new princess? Not to mention there’s a matching contribution bit for bit from the royal treasury. I could issue another municipal bond, but I swear, if I hear one more speech from a No-Tea party candidate that gets taken seriously, I’ll have to drink something stronger than your family’s cider... like my hair dye.” She suddenly flushed and looked over her shoulder while Big Mac continued to rub a knot the size of a golf ball lodged between her shoulders. “You didn’t hear that, did you?”

Big Mac smiled and shook his head. “Nnnope.”

She sighed with relief and continued, “Good— one less thing I have to worry about. Anyway, so I told him, ‘No, we’re going to have to have a tax hike on the municipal water supply, and that’s final!’ We had a little budget oversight and found that the taxes on water haven’t increased since Ponyville was founded. Did you know inflation has compounded over two-hundred-thirty-eight percent since then? I mean, a one-hundred percent increase in the water tax is quite generous in light of what I should be doing, but does he listen?” Big Mac’s ears had suddenly perked up. “Why are you stopping? Satisfaction guaranteed, right?”

“Eeeyup!” Big Mac quickly resumed his work on her back.

She groaned again as the golf ball turned into a pea, and then disappeared entirely. “I normally have a session at the spa, but those damn papmareazzi are always waiting in the bushes, trying to catch me in the act. There’s nothing wrong with it—I’m spending my own money, not the city’s—but that just doesn’t matter. They splash a picture of you at the spa and a nasty caption on it and you just can’t stop ponies from drawing their own conclusions. I’m telling you, Mr. Apple, don’t get into the business of making laws or sausages. You don’t want to know how either gets made. OH!” Big Mac had found another large lump, this one on the side of her neck. “Oh, that’s the one caused by Mr. Flankhole himself— a real pain in the neck. Get rid of him for me, will you?”

“Eeeyup!” Big Mac smiled and bore down.

“Oh… oh yes… right there…”

It took another twenty minutes before she left. Mayor Mare was practically glowing when she packed her things away and whispered into his ear, “Best fifty bits I’ve ever spent.” She snuck out the back door, and with a lithe movement befitting a pony ten years her junior, she darted off.

Big Mac sighed as his stomach growled. Mayor Mare had required a certain amount of sweat on his part. Ah never thought that kinda thing would be a workout, he thought. He sighed as he looked at the jar of bits. He had already made more bits today than selling apples in a week. Yet, he still didn’t have enough. He sighed; there were plenty of hay bales stacked against the wall. He tore off a chunk and stuffed it into his mouth. It wasn’t anywhere near as tasty as Granny Smith’s home cooking, or even Applejack’s culinary skills, but hunger is a rather potent spice. The noon-day sun baked the world outside while he lay back, chewed his lunch, and let his mind go blank. He left the last stalk uneaten, sticking out the side of his mouth— a habit picked up from long ago.

The barn door creaked open, causing Big Mac to sit up. His eyes and ears focused on the barn door as he gulped. He glanced at the jar of bits and thought, Too late to stop now. Ah hope I get a nice mare this time— no crazy nipple clamp thingies or trouble with foals. A mare that understands what it means to love. He saw the mare standing in the barn’s doorway, illuminated for just a moment by the sunlight before the barn door closed behind her. His heart skipped a beat. Nope-Nope-Nope-Nope! Ah ain’t gonna ruin a marriage!

Mrs. Cake stepped into the barn and marched up to him. “My marriage is over. I hate my husband, and YOU are going to help me get revenge!” She dumped fifty bits into his jar, while Big Mac just stared at her, mouth agape. “I brought a camera; I want to be ready in one minute.” She began to set up the tripod and camera she had dug out of her saddlebag. “Get ready, because I want you to do every dirty thing to me that you can think of!”

Mrs. Cake

Big Mac sat on the pile of hay, watching her set up the camera. He thought any “clients” that might come by would want discretion as much as he did. He never expected a client to do this! “Uhhh,” he started, but didn’t know what to say.

She stopped for the moment and turned to him. The tripod pieces lay scattered over the floor and the camera sat alone on the workbench. “What? You don’t want to be on film? Well, too bad!” she growled, unrestrained fury making her movements sharp and violent. “I’m not in the mood to take pity on a stallion— not right now. Are you going to help me or not?” she almost shouted at him.

“E-eyup,” Big Mac stammered. His drew in a breath to steel himself for the task. He slowly walked to the workbench and held up one of the poles. She held another pole, trying without success to get them to stand upright by leaning them against each other. Big Mac raised an eyebrow while she furiously slammed the offending object onto the workbench.

She jabbed a hoof at him and shouted, “AHHH BUCK THIS! YOU DO IT!” She swiped the camera off the workbench and stalked several strides away. She sat and fiddled with it. “Dammit, how do you work this thing? Carrot always does this... It’s nothing like an oven,” she mumbled.

Big Mac searched her saddlebag and found the missing bolts. He slipped them into the proper flanges and locked them in place. The tripod stood proudly, waiting for the crowning device. He walked up behind her and watched as she tried, and failed, to get the camera to work. She managed to get the film into it, but she couldn’t get the lens attached. Instead, she managed to get the little pictures that were still in the slot on the back of the camera to pop out. Big Mac watched over her shoulder as they spilled onto the ground.

Scattered all around her were the results of the last roll of film. The first picture was of Pound, flying around her as she held a freshly baked cookie away from him. There was another picture of Pumpkin and Pinkie Pie playing with wooden blocks with letters on them; Pumpkin had better spelling than Pinkie. Another picture showed her pushing her children in a stroller. The next picture had a laughing Carrot running around, holding Pumpkin aloft, chasing after Pound. Another picture of Carrot trying to feed pound— there was plenty of food in this one, but it was all over Carrot’s face. The last picture in the set showed the four of them, Carrot and Cup hugging each other and smiling, with the sleeping foals held in their forelegs.

“Huh-huh-huh,” Cup sobbed, not forming any real words. Her entire body heaved with the force of her tears. “Why?” she groaned, her voice creaky and wet. “W-why d-did you d-hoo it, C-carrot-t?” Big Mac didn’t know exactly what to do, so he put a hoof on her shoulder to comfort her.

It would have been less violent if she had detonated.

She whirled on him, screaming, “WHY DO YOU STALLIONS JUST THROW THIS AWAY! WHY? AREN’T THEY WORTH SOMETHING?”

Big Mac leaned away from the mare who was little more than half his height and double his body mass index. How he longed for whips and chains now. “Uhhh… eeeyup?”

“THEN WHY? WHY WOULD YOU CHEAT ON YOUR SPECIAL SOMEPONY?” She screamed at him, as if he, personally, were responsible for the entire stallion race. He swallowed the lump in his throat and tried to speak, but she cut him off. “DO YOU JUST CHASE ANY PIECE OF FLANK THAT COMES YOUR WAY, OR DO YOU ONLY LIKE THE PRETTY ONES?”

“Uhhhh...” Big Mac felt like any real response would be dangerous.

“Just tell me,” she breathed, her voice falling to a raspy tone barely above a whisper, “am I a fool? Have I wasted my life, trying to raise a family?”

“Nnnope!” Big Mac answered with more force than he intended. It came out with a growl.

“Then why did he cheat on me? Why would he throw it all away?”

Big Mac raised an eyebrow at her, then looked at the pictures. He couldn’t imagine the stallion in those pictures cheating on his special somepony.

“Oh, you don’t believe me?” she asked, glaring at him.

“Nnnope,” Big Mac said as he collected the pictures and put them in her saddlebag.

She stalked after him, ranting, “Well, I watched that blond hussy, with her pretty pale blue coat and fluttery wings, follow him into the kitchen. Carrot has a thing for mares with a blue coat, so I was worried that something fishy was going on, but Pumpkin had spilled frosting on the floor, Pound was flying around trying to catch a fly, and Pinkie was nowhere to be found. The store was packed with customers, and it was at least an hour before I had a chance to find Carrot. I tried to get into the kitchen, but he comes out right in front of me holding a tray with hay fries, carrot juice, and a cupcake with strawberry frosting. STRAWBERRY! Don’t you get it?”

Big Mac blinked, raised one eyebrow, and said, “Uhhh… nnnope?”

She scoffed, “Strawberry cupcakes are my favorite. Carrot only makes them for our anniversary, or when he’s done something wrong and doesn’t want to go into the dog house! Well, he says, ‘Honeybun, you’ve been working so hard today, I decided to make your favorite!’ Now, I know that... pegasus, that… flying jezebel, is still in there. Carrot is just smiling, looking sooo pleased with himself. Well, I marched right into the kitchen and do you know what I found?”

“Nnnope.”

“A mess, a complete and utter mess. Like two ponies had been wrestling around in there. And the window was open. Just like a winged lolita to fly out the window, probably out of habit. So you tell me, why would a married stallion be giving his wife, his special somepony, a special gift, if it isn’t their anniversary?! HUH? WHY?”

Big Mac stopped to think. He glanced at the door set high above in the barn, the hay loft door that Cloudkicker had flown out of hours ago. He put it together, and smiled. Hmmm… but how do Ah convince her everything is okay? Big Mac took a deep breath, and spoke from the heart:

“You know, there’s a million fine-looking stallions in the world, girl. But they don’t all bring you lunch at work. Most of ‘em just cheat on you.” He spat out the stalk of hay and ground it into the dirt with a hoof.

Her lower lip quivered, and she sobbed, “H-how c-can you be s-sure?” He just smiled, and she smiled back, wiping a tear from her eye. “You… you could be right. I want to believe it, but I just don’t know. When I look into his eyes, I…” Big Mac quirked a brow. She continued, “I… I haven’t looked him in the eye since yesterday. What should I do?”

Big Mac had her sit down on the pile of hay. He retrieved the pictures and curled up with her. He flipped through the pictures with her, not letting her turn away until she really looked at each one in turn. When he reached the final picture, she snatched it from him and sprang up. She just stared at it for several moments, before she sniffed and closed her eyes. “You’re right, oh goddess, what was I thinking? I... I have to get back to Sugarcube Corner, right now!” She repacked her saddlebag in record time. Before he could catch his breath, she had already left, galloping down the road with a smile on her face.

Whew. Big Mac wiped the sweat from his brow and collapsed into the pile of hay. It was getting a bit lumpy after so many ponies had lain on it. He tore off another half of a bale and added it to his pile, trying to rearrange it and make it more comfortable. He flopped onto it again. Ahh, that’s better.

The barn door creaked. Oh c’mon, how many ponies coulda seen that sign? My hoof size ain’t THAT famous… is it? Two mares trotted inside. Not again! Ah almost had a Li’l Mac running around ‘cause of the last pair!

Big Mac blinked and rubbed his eyes. Was he seeing double? The mares were blue and pink. Or was it pink and blue? “Hello,” the one on the left said, “I’m Aloe.”

“And I’m Lotus,” said the other.

“We’ve got fifty bits for the two of us.”

“We’re confident we can come to an equitable arrangement.”

They drew closer, circling him like he was the center of a merry-go-round. “We’d like to procure your services.”

Big Mac’s eyes would have spun in circles around in his skull if they were able to do so. “And we’d like it if you would provide the complete range of services available.”

“Yes, everything you are willing and able to do.”

“We’d like to experience everything.”

“It’s just business.”

“Nothing personal.”

“That is what a roll in the hay means, right?”

“No strings attached?”

“And satisfaction is guaranteed.”

“Shall we begin?”

Big Mac’s eyes spun, trying to follow them. He became dizzy, and felt sure he would throw up.

Aloe and Lotus

“What do you usually start with?”

“Do you put on some music first?”

“Uhhh, nnnope,” Big Mac replied. His eyes spun in their sockets, trying to follow the two mares as they walked around him.

“Of course not— I don’t see a record player in here.”

“How soft should the hay be?”

“I would assume soft, but firm. Ponies need support, but I guess there’s some rather… vigorous physical activity that goes on here, correct?”

“Eeeyup,” Big Mac drawled as his mind went to Mayor Mare. Wait a minute, she’s talking about—

“And you collect payment upfront, yes?”

Big Mac hardly had time to respond, much less get his thoughts in order. “Eeeyu—”

“Of course he does. Does anything unusual go on? Can you refuse a client?”

Big Mac answered the first question, but she nodded as if he had answered the second. “Eeeyup—”

“Oh, that’s good.”

“Then how can satisfaction be guaranteed if you don’t do everything the client wants?”

“Uhhhh...” Big Mac mumbled, while his brain struggled to keep up. He almost jumped out of his horseshoes when he felt a pair of hooves on his back. Physically, he relaxed almost instantly at their touch. Caressing him softly, they moved the tension in his muscles around like oil sliding across glass. Or was it more like bubbles under wallpaper? The tension didn’t melt away, though— it all crept into his head.

“You’re quite tense,” said the one behind him.

His eyes went wide as the one in front of him approached. “I really want to get started, and I’d like to see you use that big… hoof of yours,” she said as she glanced down and giggled. “Lucky for you! I sure hope you know how to use a big… hoof like that one!” Big Mac blushed furiously; he could feel his entire body growing warmer.

“What’s wrong? Are you embarrassed?” said the one behind him. She continued grinding her hooves expertly into his back. Big Mac grunted as a knot released at her touch, sending a wave of pleasure down his spine.

“You must have many clients, Mr. Apple. Look at how many bits he has, Lotus!” It was the one in front of him, with the pink fur and the blue mane, who spoke.

“I know! Tell us, Mr. Apple, how do you do it?” said the one behind him, Lotus. That meant Aloe was the one in front of him, rubbing his chest. It felt so good, but her question felt like a hornet had crawled into his head.

“...” Big Mac just didn’t know what to say. How did he do it? He didn’t really know, exactly. The bits just sort of fell into his jar. And then…

Aloe nuzzled into his neck and whispered into his ear, “Nervous? Me too. You don’t have to say anything, you can just show us.” She pushed into his chest, while the hooves behind him slid up to his shoulders and pulled him down. He ended up on his back. Big Mac gulped as he looked up at the ceiling. The two mares’ faces looked down at him, one each at the bottom and top of his vision. “Ready, Lotus?”

“I think so,” Lotus replied. Taking a deep breath, she nodded to herself. “Yes, I think I can do this. It helps that Mr. Apple is such a handsome stallion.”

Slowly, they both descended on him. Big Mac’s heart made its best attempt to explode straight out of his rib cage. Aloe and Lotus closed their eyes and prepared their lips, puckered, soft, close!

“W-wait!”

Both mares stopped as their eyes popped open, staring at him. He shook, ever so slightly. Big Mac licked his lips and cleared his throat. He spoke like he was walking on eggshells. His drawl became even thicker, but he did speak. And much more than one word.

“Ah… uh… Ah don’t really know how Ah got inta this here business. Jus’ a fluke— Ah’m desperate.” A tear welled up in his eye.

Aloe and Lotus glanced at each other, then back at Big Mac. They each laid down on either side of him, close enough that they only needed to whisper to be heard. Each laid a hoof over his chest, and gently traced circles on his fur.

“Please, tell us about your business.”

“Or demonstrate, if you prefer.”

The thought of a demonstration spurred Big Mac to say more, much more. “Well… Ah… uh… ya see, the farm is in a bit of a pickle. Ah… uh… took a loan to expand the west field, and Ah used the deed ta the farm as collateral. Ah know what yer thinkin’, but it were a good idea at th’ time.” Despite the way Big Mac mumbled his confession, each mare absorbed every word. “So Ah needed ta make bits, an’ fast. This was th’ only thing Ah could think of. Guess Ah’m pretty stupid.”

Lotus scoffed as Aloe exclaimed, “That’s not true, Mr. Apple! Look how many bits you’ve made! You must have satisfied every client!”

Big Mac shook his head and sighed. “Ah suppose, but Ah haven’t slept with any of ‘em. Every mare that comes in here jus’ needs… somethin’. Why’re y’all so interested?”

Aloe blushed and looked away. “Well, Mr. Apple, you see—”

“Our spa business is in a bit of trouble as well,” Lotus finished.

“The spa business is rather limited when it comes to scheduling. The only pony we had during the day was Mayor Mare, so we decided to branch out,” Aloe explained.

“All of our clients want their spa treatments during the evening. This leaves our nights and days free. Now, I like to go to bed and get my beauty sleep just like the next mare—”

“But what are we going to do the rest of the day? We decided that perhaps we could provide…” Aloe searched for the right words.

Lotus found them. “Special services, in addition to our spa treatments.”

Aloe giggled and said, “You wouldn’t believe the number of stallions that drop in and ask about ‘happy endings.’ I just look innocent and play dumb, but I know what they want.”

Lotus sighed and her brows drooped. “It isn’t something we really want to do, but what choice do we have? Like you, we’re desperate. We have plenty of clients, but we can barely make ends meet.”

“If it wasn’t for that mountain spring, and the tax write-off, we might be out of business already.” Aloe’s voice carried a sad note mixed into it.

Big Mac blinked. “Ah’m sorry… what’s that ‘bout a mountain spring an’ a tax break?” Big Mac now had one ear pointed at each of them. The Apple family farm used water, A LOT of water.

“Oh, we were trying to find a way to save money.”

“So, we usually get our own water from this underground mountain spring every week.”

“Since we’re not buying water from the city, it saves us a lot of money. It’s kept us afloat now that water is getting more expensive.”

“Plus, we found a little-known rule in the Ponyville tax code: if you have extra water, you can sell it to the city, and they have to pay you for it at a rate equal to the tax on the water.”

“It’s really not much, but the city is required to buy as much as you can provide.”

“I guess when Ponyville was founded, they needed lots of water for the farmers—”

“And they couldn’t get enough, so they turned to paying the citizens for it.”

“The law never got repealed— thank Celestia for slow bureaucracies. It’s too bad the tax rate on water here is pretty low.”

Big Mac’s eyes went wide. “Let me tell y’all a story. Ya see, this morning…” Big Mac told them about Mayor Mare and the new water tax. He also told them about the other mares he met. Their problems, their fears, their hopes and dreams. He told them about Cloudkicker and Mrs. Cake, and how close each came to making some serious mistakes. When he finished mumbling his story, he looked at them. They drew close to him, unblinking, focused on him like predators watching a weak member of a pack.

“Mr. Apple…” Aloe blinked away tears.

“You’ve saved us from making a huge mistake,” Lotus finished.

“We certainly don’t want to break up any marriages…” Aloe looked away.

“I didn’t even think about how it might affect other ponies.” Lotus covered her mouth with her hooves

“But now we know, and we don’t have to take such a terrible risk.” Aloe smiled.

“As long as you agree to help us,” Lotus said as she batted her eyelashes at him.

“You see, we need help collecting more water.”

“Would you be willing to help us?”

“It’s quite heavy, and it’s a long way.”

“But the profits should be worth it.”

“You won’t have to buy water from the city anymore.”

“The city will have to pay YOU instead.”

“Not to mention the price is about to DOUBLE!”

The three of them stood up, smiling at each other. Each mare put a hoof out, ready to bump his. “What do you say, Mr. Apple? Do we have a deal?” they asked in stereo.

“Eeeyup,” he said, smiling as he hoof-bumped, sealing the deal.

~~~~~

With a hastily written and signed contract, Big Mac formed a three-way partnership with Aloe and Lotus to bring water to Ponyville. They would split the profits after supplying themselves with as much water as they needed. It would be hard work, but the spa ponies had the carts, tanks, and the deed to the underground spring, so he could only bring muscle to the table. It would save the farm next month, and into the foreseeable future.

If only Big Mac could make the payment to the bank tomorrow.

As the barn door closed, he could hear Lotus say, “Best fifty bits we’ve ever spent!”

Aloe responded, “Indeed, the return on this investment should be quite handsome.”

“Like the stallion!” Lotus giggled.

Aloe replied, but at this point they were too far away for Big Mac to hear what else they said.

Big Mac sighed and checked his jar; he almost had enough. Almost, but not there quite yet. The barn door creaked open again. Big Mac looked up— perhaps Lotus forgot to sign one of the documents? No, that couldn’t be Aloe and Lotus standing in the doorway. These two mares were much too short.

Wait… one… two… three? Three mares?

“Heya, big brother! Whatcha doin’?” Apple Bloom trotted into the barn.

“Yeah, what’s going on?” Scootaloo said, right behind Apple Bloom.

Sweetie Belle peeked out from Apple Bloom’s other side and asked, “Are you selling something?”

Big Mac’s eyes went wide at the three fillies standing in his barn. Not good! Ah gotta git ‘em outta here! He cleared his throat and said, “Nothin’ special, ‘Bloom. Ah’m just tryin’ ta make a few extra bits. Go on home and do yer homework, and don’t ferget ta get cleaned up ‘fore supper.”

“WOW, big brother, you must have done good! Look at all them bits!” Apple Bloom exclaimed, pointing at the jar.

“Do you need some bits, Mister Apple?” Sweetie Belle asked.

“Uhhh,” Big Mac mumbled. He didn’t want to reveal anything, but what could he say to explain all the bits he had?

“I don’t have much, but here ya go.” Scootaloo slapped two bits into the jar.

“Yeah, me too,” Sweetie Belle said as she dropped three bits into the jar. “My big sister says this is really important. It’s all the bits I have, but you’re welcome to them, Mister Apple. I think you really need them.”

“Here ya go, big bro. Ah hope it helps,” Apple Bloom said, dropping a lone bit into the jar.

Big Mac’s lower lip quivered. He scooped up all three fillies in a massive hug.

“Awww, you’re welcome, Mister Apple,” Sweetie Belle chirped.

“Cool, does this mean we get services?” Scootaloo asked.

Big Mac froze, his eyes the size of dinner plates. His pupils shrank to mere pinpricks, locked onto the three fillies in his forelegs.

Apple Bloom looked up at her brother, nodding. “Yeah, we paid. Ah know it ain’t full price, but it’s enough, right?”

“Yeah, I demand service!” Scootaloo said, puffing herself up. “The sign says stratisfaction… satisfriction…”

“Satisfaction guaranteed!” Sweetie Belle corrected.

“I swear… walking dictionary,” Scootaloo mumbled under her breath. She cleared her throat. “Yeah, let’s do it! You in, Apple Bloom?” she asked as she turned to her friend and Big Mac’s younger sister.

“Of course Ah am!”

The Cutie Mark Crusaders

No.

Sweetie Bell circled around him and chirped, “Mmm-mmm, this looks good!”

No.

Scootaloo gamboled around to Big Mac’s other side. “Yeah, you’re right, it looks so tasty! Hey, are you gonna move, Mr. Apple?”

No.

Apple Bloom pointed right at the spot where Big Mac sat, directly where his flank met the hay. “I want me some o’ that!”

No no no no.

“Me first!” Sweetie Belle cried.

NO!

“What? Just cause you put in three bits? Your sister gives you lots of bits! That’s not fair— I wanna try first!” Scootaloo grumbled as she glared at Sweetie Belle.

NO!

“Uh, ‘scuse me, this here is mah farm, an’ mah big brother. AH git ta go first,” Apple Bloom said proudly.

NO NO NO NO—

“Are you okay?” Sweetie Belle put a hoof on Big Mac’s flank. It was all she could reach from her stature.

Apple Bloom tilted her head. “Big bro, yer white as a sheet. What’s wrong?” she asked.

Big Mac’s eyes rolled up into his head, and everything went black.

~~~~~

“WEEEE hee-hee-hee!” Big Mac woke to a little filly screaming. His head pounded— no wait, something was pounding on him. Something small and furry bounced on his chest.

Big Mac slowly opened his eyes with a grimace on his face and looked around, determined to face this new hell.

Instead, he found a mess. At least four bales of hay had been broken open and spilled onto the ground, along with the pile of hay he had been using all day. It covered an appreciable area of the barn. Sweetie Belle popped up out of a particularly large lump of hay, bits of straw sticking out of her mane, and smudges of dirt all over her face. “This is so much fun!”

Scootaloo appeared out of another lump of hay, this one behind Big Mac. Bits of straw stuck out of her mane and right wing. “Yeah, who knew it was so cool to roll in the hay? Why don’t you do this all the time, Apple Bloom?”

“Ah dunno, Ah never tried it before. Why don’t we do this all th’ time?” Apple Bloom stood right on top of Big Mac, staring him in the eye, hugging a wad of hay in her hooves. She tossed it into the air. As it rained down on Big Mac and Apple Bloom, she giggled, “WEEEE hee-hee-hee!”

Big Mac’s right eye twitched. He could feel his blood pressure slowly dropping. He breathed in and out in a slow, steady rhythm, trying to take it all in. When a bit of straw lodged itself in his mouth, he instinctively bit down. Apple Bloom tumbled off of his chest and disappeared into the straw when he sat up. “Uhhh,” he intoned. He sighed, but smiled anyway. Cleaning the barn was worth six bits.

Straws of hay had worked their way into everything— their manes, tails, Scootaloo’s wings, stuck to walls, on top of the work bench, and even on the stack of mail. Big Mac forgot about his day, the notice, the sign, everything, while he rolled in the hay with his little sister and her friends. She laughed like he wanted her to laugh, carefree and innocent. There would be plenty of time for her to learn all about a more mature “roll in the hay” later in her life. Right here, right now, she needed to be exactly who she was.

Big Mac rolled onto his back and sighed. This is why Ah put up that sign. This is why Ah need those bits… Bits! Crud! Where are they?

Big Mac frantically searched through the piles of hay. Apple Bloom stopped throwing hay at her friends for a moment, dry straw raining down all around them, and asked, “What’s wrong, big brother?”

“Ah can’t find th’ jar with th’ bits! Ah need it!” he called, still frantically flattening lumps of hay to find his missing cash.

“We’ll help ya!”

It took several dirty, sweaty minutes of searching, but eventually Scootaloo found it. It had rolled into the corner, and several bits had spilled out onto the floor. Big Mac shot across the room and snatched the jar. He hugged it to his chest and sighed. “Uh, yer welcome, Mister Apple,” Scootaloo said as she rolled her eyes.

Big Mac blinked and smiled sheepishly. “Thank ya, Scootaloo. It’s gettin’ a mite late. Shouldn’t y’all be gittin’ home?”

Sweetie Belle rolled over and sat up from the pile of hay. Her eyes lit up like she had won the lottery. “You mean we don’t have to clean this up?”

“Really, big brother? You’ll take care of it?”

“Eeeyup!”

“BEST BITS WE’VE EVER SPENT!” They all said in unison, with massive grins on their faces.

Looking thoroughly disheveled, the three of them trotted to the front barn door. “Uhhh,” Big Mac mumbled as he looked at the three of them. They had rolled around in hay for quite some time, making them sweaty, breathless, messy, and dirty. The cherry on top: the hay stuck to them in various places. “Maybe y’all should use the back door.”

“Why?” Apple Bloom asked, with one brow raised at her brother. “The farm is just up the road, this way,” she said, pointing at the front barn door.

“Jus’ do this fer me, please?” Big Mac pleaded with the Cutie Mark Crusaders. He felt silly begging foals, but if the wrong pony saw them…

“Okay, whatever,” Scootaloo said as she shrugged and plowed through the hay one last time. Sweetie Belle and Apple Bloom galloped after her. They filed out of the back barn door with satisfied grins on their flush faces.

Whew

Big Mac gathered up his bits and poured them into the jar. He smiled when he found that one of the “bits,” probably one given to him by the Cutie Mark Crusaders, turned out to be just a yellow button. It didn’t matter though. He had… three hundred and sixteen bits. He couldn’t believe it— he’d never made so much money in a single day. Or even a single week! Well, maybe during cider season, but that took months to prepare for. He placed the heavily laden jar on the work bench and started to clean the barn. He began to roll all the extra hay up in a pile so he could create new bales later.

Halfway through the first roll, the barn door creaked open behind him.

Big Mac froze. Buck me! Ah fergot the sign is still up! A set of hooves clopped into the barn, striking the ground with sharp notes. Big Mac swallowed, put a smile on his face and turned around.

His smile melted off of his face, and his ears fell to the sides of his head when he saw who stood in the entryway. He leaned back, as if the pony only a few strides away was on fire. His hind hooves quivered, and the disgusting, oily feeling in them slid up his spine. “Uhh… h-hello.”

The mare’s lower lip quivered. “How could you? HOW COULD YOU?!” she shouted. Tears welled up in her eyes, but still she glared at him with the fury of a thousand suns. “THOSE ARE MY STUDENTS, YOU DISGUSTING PIG! AND APPLE BLOOM IS YOUR SISTER!”

Cheerilee closed her eyes, tears squeezing out of them, as she turned away from him. “I can’t even look at you. I’m going to the police, so just… say goodbye to your family. I owe you that much.” She turned away from him and lifted a hoof to walk out the door.

Cheerilee

“N-n-n-nope!” Big Mac stuttered.

Cheerilee turned to him, her brow a flat line. “Nope? That’s all you can say?”

“E-e-e-eyup!” he stammered again.

“That’s all you ever say. Yep and nope. Well, guess what, buster— that ain't gonna cut it with me. Ever since we started dating I've been trying to get to know the real Big Mac, because you never seem to say much. Well, I know plenty about you now, you disgusting, filthy pig! I never want to see you again!” She squeezed her eyes shut and galloped out the door, tears trailing out of the corners of her eyes.

“W-wait!” Big Mac shot forward after her. His heart beat wildly, and he felt that if it got any higher in his throat he would cough it right out.

The two ponies galloped down the road under the setting sun, leaving a trail of dust behind them. Cheerilee was fast, but Big Mac was a powerful stallion, and his strides were longer. He caught her just past the Apple Farm’s fence. He meant to simply stop her, but when he drew near, he hit a pothole and stumbled forward. He crashed into her, tumbling into the dirt. “My leg!” she cried, as they lay in a heap.

Big Mac groaned. He had a fresh scrape on his shoulder where the fur had been sheared off; the skin underneath red and raw. Wincing, he struggled to his hooves. He looked down to find Cheerilee with her front left leg curled into her barrel. He gulped and asked, “A-are you alright, Miss Cheerilee?”

She only glared at him from the ground. Big Mac looked at her foreleg and felt a stab of pain in his own. Wincing, he ducked under her and stood. “Don’tcha worry, Cheerilee. Ah’ll take care of ya.”

He trotted back to the barn with Cheerilee on his back, making sure he didn't jostle her or go too fast. When he opened the door to the barn, the sun winked out behind the horizon, cloaking everything in blotchy, purplish shadows. The inside of the barn grew even darker, especially when the door closed behind Big Mac with a creak. “Heh, Ah really should oil that hinge,” he said, sweat trickling down his forehead. He gulped again, trying to wet his throat, which felt like it was stuffed with sawdust.

With a grunt, he gently set Cheerilee down on the bed of hay, the softest spot in the barn. He trotted to the workbench and dug through the shelves. He found a cylinder-shaped object covered in a dusty burlap. Pinching the corner of the cloth in his mouth, Big Mac tore it off to reveal a lantern with a few fireflies inside. It cast a pale glow over his features as he held it in his mouth and approached Cheerilee. “Ah’ll need ta look at that leg.”

She lay on her back, still glaring at him, her mouth set in a hard line. He held a small smile as he approached her to take her foreleg in his own. He stood over her and took a good look. She looked so pretty in the pale light. He reached out…

POW!

Big Mac gasped, dropping the lantern. Shadows splashed and wavered around the room as the fireflies protested their rough treatment. Curled into a fetal position, Big Mac covered his sensitive underbelly. Cheerilee scrambled to her hooves and hobbled to the exit, panting hard. “C-Cheerilee… p-please,” Big Mac managed to gasp out. He sounded like he had inhaled a dozen of Pinkie’s party balloons.

Cheerilee snapped her head around. Something in her eyes gave Big Mac a glimpse into her fury. She limped to the workbench and snagged a large, rusty wrench in her mouth. She managed to make her way across the barn to stand over him, growling, “You want another one? HUH? I’ll hit you in the same spot with this wrench if I have to!”

The Apple Family jewels had received Cheerilee’s buck without warning. The pain had caused Big Mac to collapse, and now she was telling him she’d do it again, but this time using a wrench. Still, he would rather be hit with the wrench than see her glare at him. That cut him deeper than any buck to his sensitive parts.

Although, the buck did hurt. A LOT.

“Cheerilee… Ah kin ‘splain.” He gasped for air, although his voice had returned to normal— mostly. “Please… give me… a chance,” he managed to breathe out.

“After you did… THAT to my students? And after you tried to do it to ME? I don’t want you to even touch me, you... YOU!” She couldn't find an insult grievous enough for his apparent crimes. The wrench shook, hovering over him like a sword held back by only a string.

Big Mac tried to focus on her through a haze of pain. “Ah’m... sorry, Cheerilee. Ah didn't mean ta hurt ya. Ah didn't do nothin’ wrong, ‘cept put up a fool sign an’ try ta save mah farm.”

“Nothing wrong? NOTHING WRONG?!” she shouted at him. Her eyes blazed with righteous fury as she said, “You've got one chance to explain yourself before I bash your head in! You… CRIMINAL!”

He could say many things. He could say that he needed the bits so he had to put up the sign. He could say that he never hurt her students. He could try and explain that he had no ill intentions towards her, that he actually really liked her, and she had totally misinterpreted what was going on. He could say that none of the mares he saw today wanted a roll in the hay. Well, okay, they did want a roll in the hay, but that wasn't what they needed.

He opened his mouth to speak, but a thought struck him.

What them mares wanted and what they needed weren't the same thing. They needed somepony to pay attention to ‘em, to listen to ‘em, and to figure out what they all really needed. If’n Ah try to explain anything to Cheerilee, she’s gonna bash mah head in before Ah get mah second sentence out. Ah gotta stop her, and Ah can’t use a lot o’ fancy words to do it! So, what does Cheerilee want? What does she feel? What’s makin’ her so mad she might kill me? He smiled; it looked more like a grimace with all of the pain he felt, but he knew his answer.

He spoke carefully, clearly, even through the pain shooting up his midsection. “Cheerilee, what ya thought about me last week was right. And… Ah love you.”

It was like he had hit her with an arrow through the heart. Shocked, she dropped the wrench, which clattered to the ground with a dull thud. He made no move, aside from breathing hard, giving the pain a chance to subside. Cheerilee blinked, quivering, then snatched up the wrench again. She backed away from him, her barrel expanding and contracting rapidly. He could hear her breathing, he briefly feared she would hyperventilate. “W-what did you say? S-stay back, you…”

“Ah know ya think ya made a big mistake, but ya didn't. The only mistake ya made was thinkin’ Ah done something terrible. Jus’ let me explain— then, if’n ya still want to, you kin bash mah head in.” Big Mac sighed as the pain slowly faded. Instead of feeling like a sword in the gut, it just felt like a knife. Still, he dared not stand, or even sit up. Ah jus’ hope she’s as nice as Ah think she is.

She didn't respond right away. She just stared at him for several moments before she said, “You’d better have a darn good excuse. And remember, I’m a teacher— I've heard every lame excuse there is for poor behavior.”

Big Mac chuckled, making pain shoot up his chest. Coughing, he replied, “Trust me, ya never heard a story like this…”

He narrated his day to her. He spoke more in five minutes than he had the rest of the previous week. He frequently stumbled over his words— those simple, clumsy, dull tools he didn't exercise. But he spoke from the heart, telling her all about his thoughts and feelings. How he felt pity, sadness, and pain for each of his clients, and how much they just needed somepony to listen to them. They just needed a chance. He hadn't solved anypony’s problems; how could he? All he did was listen to them, but he helped each one find a ray of sunshine when it looked bleakest for them. He even told Cheerilee how scared and ashamed he was, and why it was all worthwhile.

“And that’s when Ah realized why Ah was doin’ all this. Apple Bloom needs ta grow up normal-like. She can’t be a poor, homeless pony, she jus’ can’t. She deserves ta grow up and go ta school. She deserves… well… she deserves ta see you every day.” Big Mac finished his story and smiled.

Cheerilee stood, hovering at the threshold of the barn door, with the wrench still ready. He couldn't read her expression; her brow had gone flat, her eyes focused on him, her mouth clamped onto the wrench handle… and her ear twitched. Big Mac didn't think too much about it before, but he really paid attention to her now. It meant she was thinking, considering, weighing her options. “Let’s say I believe you,” she suddenly said, causing Big Mac’s ears to perk up. “What would you do? Can you prove it?”

“Uhhmm,” Big Mac mumbled. He scratched his chin with a hoof as he thought hard. He still lay on the floor, but the pain had gone away. He pointed to the work bench and said, “The bank notice is on the bottom of the stack of mail.”

She hobbled to the workbench and set the wrench down. Glaring at him, she growled, “Don’t get up. Don’t even think about moving. If you try to get up…” Big Mac nodded and lay down flat on the bed of hay. She shifted through the stack of mail and found the offensive notice at the bottom. She scanned it, then turned to him. “Well, this proves you’re in trouble, but it doesn't prove that you didn't try to do… them, in order to get bits. And I know you've got plenty of bits,” she said as she tapped the jar, nearly filled to the brim. “Anything else?”

“Uhhh, Ah have an idea, but we gotta leave the farm,” Big Mac suggested, trying to sound innocent.

Cheerilee’s eyes darted around the room, searching for something. Answers, perhaps, or maybe another weapon with which to kill him, he couldn't tell. “How do I know I can trust you?”

“Ah don’t rightly know. Ah guess you kin take the lantern and the wrench. Ah plan ta go inta town, so we’re goin’ to see other ponies. That’s safer, right? Even still, it’s a leap of faith.” He pushed the lantern in her direction, causing it to roll across the floor. It stopped when it clinked against her one healthy forehoof still on the ground. “Yer smart, an’ th’ most beautiful mare Ah’ve ever seen, Cheerilee. What do ya think of me?”

Cheerilee looked at the lantern. She hooked the handle with her injured forehoof and allowed it to hang there. She picked up the wrench in her mouth and said around the handle, “I think you’re going first.”

~~~~

tinkle-tinkle

The bell sounded cheerful as he entered the shop. The aroma nearly knocked him over with its sweetness. Daffodils, tulips, roses, and many more flowers were artfully displayed in neat rows or behind glass cases. Some in bunches, others in vases, still more in bouquets, but they all smelled sweet. Big Mac gulped and walked into the shop, trying not to sweat as he started the process of choosing a flower. Cheerilee hobbled in behind him, a lantern hooked around her curled foreleg and a wrench in her mouth.

“I’m sorry, we’re closed. I was just about to—” Roseluck stopped herself when she saw Big Mac in her shop. He looked at her wares, taking his time.

“Okay, we’re here, now what?” Cheerilee mumbled as she hobbled into the shop.

Roseluck sniffed and said quietly, “Well, I suppose I can stay open a little later. Take your time, I’ll just… be over here. Don’t mind me, I’m not important…” She shuffled around the shop with a broom, forlornly kicking a dustpan. Big Mac focused on the flowers, while Cheerilee focused on him... mostly.

She couldn't help but glance at Roseluck. Cheerilee hadn't ever really noticed Roseluck before; she was pretty, but bland. Cheerilee saw her as a normal background pony that nopony cared about. She sold flowers, and as far as Cheerilee knew, was perfectly happy without a special somepony. Big Mac’s story flooded her mind as she did a double-take on Roseluck. She blinked, shaking her head, and planted her eyes on Big Mac. Cheerilee still couldn't help but glance at Roseluck whenever her back turned. How could such a nice, quiet pony be so… aggressive?

It took some time, but eventually Big Mac made a selection. He gently bit down on a bouquet of a dozen roses. He marched up to the counter, set them down, and smiled. Roseluck trotted back around behind the cash register and droned, “One dozen roses. Six bits, please.” Big Mac slapped six bits on the counter, while Roseluck wrapped the flowers and slid them back across the counter— a perfectly ordinary transaction.

Big Mac fumbled with the bouquet for a moment before he turned around. He trotted up to Cheerilee, his hooves making sharp clip-clops on the hardwood floor. He presented the roses to her with a bow. Cheerilee scoffed, “You think one dozen roses is going to make everything better?”

“Nnnope!” Big Mac replied. “Only eleven roses.”

Cheerilee raised a brow and said, “Whatever, how is that going to prove... anything…?” She watched Big Mac, whose eyes shifted to the right. She followed his gaze over his shoulder. There wasn't anything there except the register and the counter. A single rose lay on the counter, and behind the counter she could see Roseluck…

...Who trembled. A moment ago she seemed fine, but now she shook like a leaf. Her eyes held water that threatened to fall at any moment. With a burst of motion, she swiped the rose off the counter and held it like a foal. She smelled it, burying her nose into the petals.

Cheerilee could hardly believe her eyes. Unless she had seen it herself, she would never have believed that a florist would do such a thing. On the surface it appeared… unusual, but nothing completely out of the ordinary. And yet… with Big Mac’s story…

Cheerilee gasped in surprise when Big Mac took the lantern and slipped under her foreleg. She whispered to him, “It… it’s just one rose…”

“Eeeyup.”

“I… I believe you,” she said. She felt the horrible knot in her stomach unwind. She wasn't wrong about him. No, she was most definitely right about him; everything about him was right.

Except maybe his foolish plan to get bits.

“Trade ya,” Big Mac said, offering her the flowers. She nodded, and they returned to Sweet Apple Acres, she with roses, he with a wrench.

~~~~~

“Soooo, is it enough?” Cheerilee asked, peering into the nearly full jar of bits.

Big Mac looked at the ground and sucked in a pained breath. “Nnnope…”

Cheerilee sighed and flexed her forehoof. It still felt tender, but she could limp on it now. Luckily, she hadn’t sprained it. “Take that sign down. I know it’s past sundown, but you never know what pony will see it. Goddess knows what’s happened to your reputation in this little town.”

Big Mac’s head snapped up and his eyes went wide. He galloped out of the barn and searched for the sign, stumbling around in the dark. His nose found it by smashing into it while he trotted about blindly in the dark. Why didn't Ah bring the lantern? he thought glumly. With a growl, he tore the sign out of the ground with one buck. Big Mac picked it up and trotted back into the barn with a satisfied grin on his face, and a fresh welt on his nose. He didn't see Cheerilee, so he glanced left and right, searching for her. Somepony ripped the sign out of his teeth, leaving his mouth agape, his eyes wide, and his face slack.

Cheerilee stepped out of her hiding spot behind the door, which she now idly bucked closed. She slid the sign post into the door handles, barring the door shut from the inside. The garish sign looked into the barn, so only Big Mac and Cheerilee could see it. She looked at him with heavily lidded eyes and whispered, “Sit down.” She pointed to the bed of hay.

Big Mac suddenly felt rather warm, but he did as commanded. He found the jar of bits in its usual spot on the ground, and not on the workbench where they had accounted for his “earnings.” Cheerilee limped to it, not putting too much weight on her forehoof. “Hmmm, now then— the sign says fifty bits, but I’m just a poor teacher.” She summoned an adorable pout. “I can only afford about forty bits; is that enough?”

Big Mac just stared at her, while his brain failed to put anything together. “Uhhhh,” he mumbled, as he had done many times today.

“That sounds good to me. Now what?” she asked, sashaying closer to him. The effect was somewhat broken by her limping, but Big Mac couldn't care less. “I’m feeling rather tense. Do you think you could help with that?”

Big Mac blinked several times, while his brain caught up. He grinned and replied, “Ah git it. Okay, Miss Cheerilee.” He inclined his head. “Ah’m yours.”

“Good.” Cheerilee snuggled up against him, making him swallow the lump in his throat.

Big Mac wrapped a foreleg around her and sighed. He waited for a full minute. She just kept nuzzling his chest, so he asked, “Errr… what do ya wanna talk about?”

Cheerilee arched her head away from him and looked him in the eye. Smiling, she simply replied, “Nothing.”

“Uhhh,” Big Mac mumbled. He put his free hoof to his chin. This wasn’t part of the script he had been taught. “Do ya’ wanna ask a question? A eeeyup er nnnope question?” He asked hopefully.

Cheerilee gave him a devilish grin and chirped, “Nnnope!”

Big Mac chuckled at having his own word thrown back at him. “Well, what do ya’ want?”

Cheerilee moved her muzzle from his chest to his ear, tracing his form. Big Mac shuddered as he felt a wet tongue trace a line up to his ear before she whispered, “You, all to myself.”

Big Mac’s eyes went wide. Wha… how do Ah git outta this? he thought. She kissed him on the cheek before moving lower. He gulped and thought, Hang on a second. Do Ah WANT to git outta this?

Her lips met his, sending a lightning bolt through his body. He had the answer to his question.

NNNOPE!

Epilogue: Applejack

Big Mac stumbled into the Apple Family farmhouse. His mane and tail were thoroughly disheveled, and he walked a bit funny. He couldn’t feel his hind legs, and the rest of his muscles felt like they were full of hot coals. He had worked... hard today. He carried a glass jar filled to the brim with bits, a lantern, and several pieces of mail. He set everything down on the coffee table and flopped onto the couch. His eyelids felt heavy, his limbs like lead. He looked at the stairs, which would lead to his room and his bed. The short flight looked like a mountain climb; he could just sleep here.

“Where in tarnation have you been?”

Big Mac nearly fell onto the floor. Scrambling to sit upright, he looked across the table to see Applejack flick on a lamp. She sat in Granny Smith’s rocking chair with a flat brow and mouth. “And why do ya smell like sweat and cinnamon?” Applejack questioned him, while one brow rose. “Apple Bloom told me what she did after school. Care to explain yerself ‘afore Ah go tell Granny Smith? ‘Afore Ah KICK YER FLANK OUTTA THIS HOUSE?!” Her anger was like lightning from a dark sky.

“E-e-eyup,” Big Mac looked like a foal with his hoof in the cookie jar.

“You think Ah can’t git the bits ta pay the bank mahself?” she growled.

Big Mac swallowed and was about to say ‘Eeeyup,’ but he thought back to his day. Now, what is it that AJ wants? He looked at his sister’s face and saw the storm brewing another lightning bolt, so he answered after only a short pause. “Yer not lazy, AJ.”

“That’s right! Ah’m not lazy! And don’t you ferget it! So why do you think it’s okay ta SELL YERSELF! YOU THINK YOU CAN JUST HAVE A ROLL IN THE HAY AND BE DONE WITH IT?” Her voice grew loud, and Big Mac wondered how it didn’t wake Applebloom and Granny Smith.

“Nnnope,” he said as he shook his head. He gave Applejack a crooked smile.

“HOW’D YA LIKE IT IF’N AH TRIED MA HOOF AT THE NEW FAMILY BUSINESS, HUH?”

Big Mac’s eyes went wide, and the color drained from his face. “N-nnope!” he blurted out while shaking his head. Big Mac took a deep breath and sighed, “Ain’t no such thing as a roll in the hay.”

“That’s RIGHT!” Applejack looked like she had lost her balance, even seated. “W-wait… what?”

Big Mac looked at his sister right in the eye. “Ya can’t just have a roll in the hay and think everything is okay. Ya can’t just do… that… without getting yer heart all tangled up.”

Applejack sank in the chair before her storm continued to rage. “Do you know what Ah’ve done ta git the bits in time?” she asked with a set of folded forelegs.

“Nnnope.”

“Ah’ve tried selling apples every day, sunup ‘till sundown for the past week. Ah’ve sold pies at prices that’d make Granny Smith weep. Ah’ve worked and worked and worked ‘til mah flank was sore an’ mah hooves were numb from applebuckin’. Ah fixed the old wagon wheel without buyin’ wood; Ah went out with a hatchet and got it mahself. DO YA HEAR ME?!” The storm was losing power, but he could see wetness in her eyes.

“Eeeyup.”

“Ah’ve done ma very best. An’ you just go an’... an’...” She closed her eyes, and tears squeezed out.

“S’okay, AJ. Ah ain’t done nothin’ Ah wouldn’t tell Granny Smith about.” He still held that crooked smile. An itch in his mane caused him to rub the spot. He found a fresh wheat stalk lodged there. He put it in his mouth out of habit.

Applejack just looked at him with her mouth agape. “Y-ya didn’t? Ya didn’t have a dozen mares goin’ in the barn?”

Big Mac tilted his head at her. “Eeeyup, an’ nnnope.” Applejack blinked at him and one brow rose again. Big Mac chuckled. “Lots o’ mares stopped by the barn. They didn’t need a roll in the hay; they needed somethin’ else.”

“Like what?” Applejack asked.

“Jus’ an ear ta listen to ‘em,” Big Mac said with a shrug.

“What? That’s…” She paused, then a lightbulb went off. “R-really? Nothin’ happened?”

Big Mac applied the lessons he learned this day. “Don’tcha worry none, AJ. Ah ain’t got mah heart in a knot. Ah didn’t do nothin’ ta make ya be ashamed of yer brother. And…” He was going out on a limb here, but he felt right. “Ah’m okay. Ah ain’t done nothin’ wrong. Ah’m sorry ta worry ya. An’ Ah won’t ever do it again, Ah promise.”

He nearly toppled over with the couch when Applejack tackled him. “Don’t… don’t ever scare me like that again! Ah thought… well, you know what Ah thought,” she said as she hugged him tight, much tighter than he would have prefered; he could hardly breathe. Applejack drew in a ragged breath and let it out. He could feel the storm pass. “You always were a good listener, Big Mac.”

“Eeeyup.”

Applejack looked at him askance. “So… listenin’ got us the bits?”

Big Mac thought for a moment, then nodded. “Eeeyup.”

She relaxed and let go of him. “O-okay, it’s late. Let’s jus’ git some shut-eye.”

She stood and took one stride to the stairs before she looked over her shoulder to see her brother hadn’t moved. He coughed quietly and said, “Uh, I can’t feel mah hind legs. Can ya give me a hoof?”

She snuck under his shoulder and helped him hobble upstairs. Halfway up, she stopped. “Wait a minute— why are yer legs numb?” The brow had popped up again.

Big Mac felt his cheeks flush. “Say AJ, what… uh… What do ya think o’ Cheerilee?”

There was a long, pregnant pause before she shouted, “WHAT?!” After a moment of stunned silence, her grin spread across her face like she had just found an extra zap apple.

Big Mac’s eyes found the floor, while his cheeks and ears burned. “Eeeyup.”