Gregor McAwesome

"I should introduce myself to Twilight. I'm probably only here because she messed up a spell,” Gregor stated. Not being the type to waste time once he’d made a decision, Gregor strode manfully forward on the most direct route towards Twilight’s gleaming crystal castle.

There were some gasps and screams and a few shouts of ‘monster!’ but Gregor ignored those. Surely they couldn’t be referring to a man such as he. This delusion lasted all the way into town, where he was met by a wall of ponies, most of them carrying torches or pitchforks. Gregor was manfully puzzled by the display until he looked closer and it all became clear. “Oh! All of you wrapped your hooves in cellophane tape. That’s how ponies hold things.”

“Your manfully perfect grasp of the greater mysteries of life won’t save you here, monster,” Mayor Mare called out from the head of the crowd. Gregor paused for a moment of thought as the crowd milled amongst itself. Clearly herd instinct had brought them together to stand united in the face of the greatest predator ever seen on either Earth or Equestria. Yet, when it came to confronting that master hunter their individual nerves failed them.

“I just don’t understand why all of you think I’m a monster, much less act so incredibly hostile to someone, and something, you’ve never met,” he said, doing his best to prevent any kind of bloodshed, but mostly pony bloodshed. His years of manfully studying martial arts had taught him that the best fight was the one avoided. Although they did recognize that the second best fight was when you kicked your opponent’s ass.

There was some murmuring in the crowd, and one voice manfully rose above the rest. “Because you’re different!” There was a moment of silence after that, but then the crowd gave general nods and words of agreement.

“C’mon,” Gregor manfully complained. “I’m not really that different from Iron Will and even if some ponies called him a monster he wasn’t treated like this.”

“Yeah, but you aren’t as big, and your face is weird and your legs are weird and you’re wearing that weird clothing,” another, not so manful voice declared. Again came the murmurs of agreement. “Also, you aren’t super cut like he is.”

If there were a measurement smaller than a micrometer (and Gregor knew there wasn’t because of his doctoral-level understanding of the metric system) a scientist might have been able to measure the twitch that manfully shot through Gregor’s left eye. Certainly no pony detected the tiny, instantaneous loss of control. “Are you implying,” Gregor said in a low dangerous tone – a tone that Liam Neeson had studied for hours before acting in ‘Taken’  – “that I am not the most straight out ripped creature you’ve ever meet?”

“Implying nothing!” Bulk Biceps declared, manfully forcing his way to the front of the crowd. “Hay, I’m more jacked than you!”

 Gregor gave the only response of any true man. He manfully stepped forward and threw off his suit coat without another word, muscles bulging and rippling beneath the thin material of his shirt like angry crocodiles beneath the ocean waves.

“Flex off!” one pony screamed and soon the torches and pitchforks were forgotten. Bulk Biceps began with a complex move that made the muscles in all four legs manfully bunch into impressive groups, standing taut on his white coat. There was scattered applause from the crowd, and few spectators cheered.

Gregor went for a relatively simple flex; normally it would have been nothing impressive but with his shirt still on it was nothing short of amazing. The sudden movement of manfully straining muscles and the massive increase of air pressure caused by the speed of their movement ripped his shirt to shreds. Pieces of silk literally exploded from him and rained down upon the crowd. When at last the smoke cleared they were able to see a more perfect example of mammalian musculature than could be found in even the most detailed of anatomy textbooks.

“Oh my,” Mayor Mare said, putting a hoof to her face. Her next words (after she realized her hoof was still covered in tape and was now stuck to her face) weren’t fit to print. Thus it went for minutes on end. Each pose Bulk Biceps took was more and more impressive and yet Gregor manfully outperformed him every time. At last they stood perfectly still, each one covered in sweat. But where Bulk’s sweat only matted his fur, Gregor’s perspiration made his muscles look as though they had been oiled by a skilled masseuse and smelled faintly of spice and fresh pine wood.

“And now,” Gregor declared, his voice dropping another octave into a mode known to onlookers only as Perfect Bass, “my Final Flex, a technique handed down through the McAwesome line for generations!” Both arms spread wide before sweeping inward, both pecs thrust forward like a tumbling avalanche, abs bunched rating an eleven on the Mohs hardness scale, latissimus dorsi rippling like flags in the wind and as the piece of resistance a full, perfectly trimmed beard manfully exploded from his formerly clean shaven face. Jaws dropped to the ground, wings stood towards the sky, eyes widened to the size of dinner plates, pupils shrunk to pinpricks and one filly got her cutie mark just from watching.

“I…” Bulk Biceps began, staring at manful perfection, “I… concede. B-but you have to tell me how you did it.”

“The average person uses only 10% of their follicles,” Gregor lectured manfully. “In decades past my ancestors learned the secret to unlock the potential of the entire body’s hair. I have trained in these techniques since birth and now have full control over 73% of my follicles.”

“What happens if you reach 100%?” queried a voice from the crowd. Gregor stared manfully into the distance for long minutes. Nopony dared to speak, as they waited with bated breath.

Finally he manfully spoke. “Even I don’t know. The greatest masters in my family only ever reached 78% of their true follicular potential. One day I hope to surpass them, but no man can know what awaits for me when I do.”

“I’m sorry we ever doubted you,” Mayor Mare said, wiping away an unfallen tear. “From now on you and your manful ways are welcome here in Ponyville.”

“Okay, cool. See you guys later,” Gregor said, picking up his suit and dusting it off. He manfully strode off, considering what his next step should be.