Gregor McAwesome

“I should stop by Rarity’s shop and get a new shirt before I meet Twilight,” Gregor said, manfully stroking his new facial hair as he pondered. That decision made, he hurried across town, looking for Carousel Boutique.

A lesser man might have asked for directions since he was in a new town without any knowledge of where his destination was located. But of course, scientists had documented and been puzzled by Gregor innate sense of direction. He had first discovered the ability after falling out of a plane flying over the Amazon rainforest. After a mere two weeks, he had found his way home just in time to celebrate his eighth birthday.

Manfully brushing aside the fond memories he had of the lost civilization of the Olmecs and his adventures among them, he turned a corner and found Carousel Boutique exactly where he had expected.

A hand strong enough to bend steel, yet gentle enough to paint a perfect replica of the Mona Lisa using only a wet noodle and marinara sauce knocked politely but manfully on the door. The door shattered inwards, and Gregor reflected that perhaps he had knocked a bit too manfully.

“AHHHHHH!” a high pitched voice from within the shop screamed. “How could you?” Rarity rushed out, tears filling her eyes. Gregor stayed manfully silent, his face radiating empathy even though – like any man faced with a crying women – he had no idea how to fix it.

“You… you brute! You monster!” she continued, batting a hoof at him in reproach. She trailed her hoof down one of the tattered pieces of shirt that was manfully half-tucked into his pants. “Even at a distance I could see the quality of the silk and the craftsponyship of this shirt.” Her eyes met his own and she glared like the NFL linebackers that always tried for a blitz when Gregor practiced with them.

“I know,” Gregor said. “I magicked the shirt into existence as part of my transformation from alicorn to human.” He then paused, realizing that the statement no doubt sounded manfully insane to the average pony.

“Oh, you’re one of those,” Rarity said, rolling her eyes. “I should have guessed from how manfully you do things. Come in then. I’ll get some measurements, start on a new shirt, and we can have a quiet ceremony for the old one in the backyard.”

“One of those?” Gregor questioned, manfully wincing as he stepped over the splintered remains of her front door. “Sorry about the door.”

“Oh tosh, think nothing of it,” Rarity replied, slipping on a pair of fancy red eyeglasses and grabbing a tape measure with her magic. “But yes, you are hardly the first human we’ve ever seen. The vast majority of them being young males like yourself. The town mob usually scares away the idiots, although given how often those same humans come back with some dark source of power to ‘exact vengeance’ for their ‘cruel mistreatment’, I do have to wonder at the wisdom of that.” She continued to speak as she carefully took all of his measurements; all of them equally manful. The circumference of his biceps and the surface area of his pecs were especially impressive. “At any rate, I expect one way or the other you’ll have some sort of large impact for at least a few weeks until ponies get bored and forget about you.”

Gregor manfully considered her words and how meta they might be as her tape measure dutifully measured the density of his facial hair. Rarity cleared her throat interrupting his train of thought and preventing the story from becoming too self-referential. “Now, not to be rude, but let us discuss the matter of payment.”

Never before in his sixteen years, three months, one week, four days, nineteen hours, five minutes and sixteen seconds of life had Gregor ever been so manfully shocked. “But you’re the Element of Generosity,” he stated, resorting to ventriloquism as his jaw refused to stop hanging open.

“Yes, dear,” Rarity said, patting him on the arm like a slow student that had made an a particularly foolish statement. “But I am also a businessmare. If I worked pro bono for everypony – or human – that walked in here I’d be out of business within the fortnight.” The measuring tape was still active, unnoticed by the two of them as it measured the Teslas of his personal magnetism. “Still,” she said, “if you don’t have means of payment on you, I suppose we could find...” she trailed a hoof along his manfully perfect abdominal muscles, “another way of working off your debt.”

Gregor politely (and bit less manfully) removed her hoof from his body. “I’m not just some object for your pleasure,” he said, true and deep hurt in his eyes. How many times had he encountered this? Women who only wanted him for his body without caring about the person he was on the inside. He had written a Tony-winning musical about the struggles and personal tragedies he had faced. It had sold out every show, last he had heard.

Rarity tittered at that. “Oh, that’s not what I meant at all, though I see how you could have mistook my intentions. I meant that you could model my wares, perhaps do a suitable promotion, assuming that you become famous rather than infamous.” Gregor manfully chuckled, realizing with relief that he had jumped to the wrong conclusion, until her next words stopped him cold. “But there are some ponies that will want exactly that. We’re terribly xenophilic as a species. I mean, considering that we started out with only Earth ponies.”

“Then,” he said slowly, manfully trying to wrap his mind around what she had just said, “where do pegasi come from?”

“Well, all pony hybrids are fertile, so mostly other pegasi, but even today there are some ponies with an attraction for birds,” Rarity replied, not even paying attention as her measuring tape measured the depth of his manful personality.

Gregor was silent for a moment. Then manfully he asked, “What about Crystal ponies?”

Rarity gave a snort that ruder individual might have described as ‘manful’. “Surely you don’t think King Sombra and Maud are the only geosexuals in Equestria?”

“But what about unicorns?” Gregor asked, so confused that he forgot to do so manfully.

“Narwhals,” Rarity replied, a hot blush suddenly spreading across her face. “There’s just something about that long elegant spiraled horn that not even the strongest of ponies can resist. Some of the greatest romances ever written are about stallions manfully straining to reel in the perfect catch.” She giggled, the blush only growing. “That is where the phrase ‘plenty more fish in the sea’ comes from, you know.”

Gregor rocked back on his feet, his entire headcanon crumbling around him. The tape measure continued on, calculating his kidney function and electrolyte balance. Then a thought occurred to him that required manful consideration.