Macromantic Gestures

Once Mac had put a few blocks between himself and the Flim Flam Brothers, he began to rumble happily, chewing lightly on his somewhat damaged straw. A few old friends about town looked up, recognizing Mac's version of a happy hum, and as a result, Mac found his return to Sweet Apple Acres delayed until the twilight hours.

He was always amused these days that an inordinate number of “intelligent” folk had begun to hold that positive relations should be begun and celebrated at twilight. Twi herself had commented once that it was foolish; the reigning Princesses were highly busy with the change-off around then, and she had nothing to do with it. Noon or midnight, that was the key, and if many a ritual was still done at noon, Now, he knew from personal and in-depth experience that Luna gloried in the revels that modern Equestria had at midnight. He snorted, the thought tickling his fancy. Which means that teenagers and young adults like Apple Bloom have recently been tending to claim that "a party that lasts past midnight is a sacred ritual, right?"

Eenope.

No offense to her highness anyway, Mac thought, but in that strange dance between sunset and twilight, I tend to think of twilight as the gloomier, the shadow hour. I love this farm, but when the shadows grow long and purple rules the sky, there's something gloomy about it, especially with Winona up Applejack's way these days. He inhaled, and shook his head. And the scent of the farm was odd, somehow irritating, making his shoulders tense-- nothing he could describe either. If there is an intruder on the farm day 'fore our anniversary, I ain't gonna leave much for th'magistrate.

Nothing felt out of place, though-- just… lonely. He sighed. If there was one thing that saddened him about the farm these days, it was the emptiness. Granny had passed a few years back, pleased as apple punch to see her granddaughter raised on high. Winona and Applejack came by as much as they could, but for land's sake, Applejack was the High General of Earthbound forces within Equestria. Even Mac thought it a waste of bits and time for her to be bucking apples when there were worse things than timber wolves howling at the borders, and told her so. Honesty wasn't just Applejack's, after all.

A figure stepped between rippled shadows. Nearly as large as its tall, red target, it moved with frightening speed and stealth. The land would not tell its owner of the figure's presence. Not until too late.

Mac wandered on; he knew he should get back to the house and his wife, but as wonderful as married life was, sometimes, he just needed space to think, and the emptiness of the farm seemed to pull him into it as it pulled the thoughts from his head. Apple Bloom, of course, comes by now'n'again, and during Applebucking Season, or Zap Apple Harvest, she'll be around, you betcha.

She was Zecora's apprentice now, as often as she could, and if that wasn’t taking up her focus, she was having to split time with the Crusaders. He had, as soon as it was possible, gently been encouraging her to make sure that Scootaloo and Sweetie Belle didn't feel like she was laying the Crusade on their shoulders. Her cutie mark was her destiny, and as sure as there was an apple at the heart of it, He wouldn't dream of getting between Apple Bloom and her sacred talent. A few more good harvests, and they wouldn't even have to wait for Celestia and Cadance to bless them with a young'un, let alone the growing time to get a foal into a proper Apple.

Darkness was beginning to take hold of Sweet Apple Acres. Silence was the figure's companion, and darkness, its ally. It grew closer to the target. Foolish pony. Smart ponies didn't wander in the dark, even where the land loved them. The land loved more than just one kind of family, after all.

Mac looked over at the new "barn"-- a geomantic charging station and housing platform for the advanced farming equipment that made the emptiness a sign of prosperity, not failure. With the crystalline exochannel plows, the hoverbarrels, and other advances of Princess Twilight's energetic embrace of the magic of all the races of ponykind, he had been able to expand his acreage and hire more workers to make up for the added load and loss of AJ's labor. Heck, Princess Fluttershy had even convinced the vampire fruitbats to take up Winona's guard duties, so he felt completely safe…

He heard the whistling in the air moments before a solid weight slammed into his back, making him drop his bag. Dang glad I made them pad it! Thick, sturdy arms hooked around his from the outside and then back in towards the body as long, strong legs did the same to his massive thighs. The heavy squish of a hyper mare's well-padded rack told him the gender of the attacker who'd ambushed him with a back mount, but he had wrassled with his sister from an early age and as he staggered, he leveraged his elbows against hers, using the extra breadth of his shoulders to turn the pressure back against his attacker.

The attacker squeezed hard, as hard or maybe even harder than AJ might have before her ascension, burly muscles tight and tough. He was used to those kind of odds, though, and his own strength had surprised more than a few enemies, troublesome cousins of various kinds, and one very, very foolish aunt. He didn't like to bring up that one buffalo, either, that was just bragging. He didn't like to get distracted, either, and when her attempts to force him into pain submission on his larger limbs failed, he was ready when his attacker tried to reverse her broad arms and go for a choke.

Shoulda started that way. He snarled, "Eenope!" and shifted around, half listening to the trees, half trying to break the arm lock during the crease of her hold shift. The muscular mare didn't fall for it, giving up on the attempt as a bad deal after a few probes that Mac could never quite exploit enough. He felt her overgrown tits and hips shift slightly, and swung his massive body awkwardly, tilting his head a bit to better take the headbutt-- headbutts, why thank you, ma'am, I needed those extra-- that was his attacker's next ploy.

This was worrisome. He couldn't move enough with her huge legs pulling so against his to really wreck her swing, and with her being behind him, there was only so much he could do if she was willing to try to smack him silly on her own noggin. But the trees knew him, and his connection to them was deep. Sorry, Woody, he apologized through their link as he abruptly backed hard into the tree behind him, timing it right to stun the crazy mare. Her. It has to be her, he knew; not many other mares would, for example, try to ambush a stallion on his own lands while being stark naked.

And this'un's darn near as crazy as they come. Mac spun again, throwing all his weight and nigh incomparable strength against the tightening mega-quads and rocky calves trying to pull him off his feet, because he knew this mare would be in a mad-on now and the only way to stop her would be-- there!

Sorry, Allen, he apologized again as he slammed his attacker into the next tree sideways. It might not have been enough, but Allen was apparently feeling stroppy, because a branch fell on the loco mare's head. Thanks, he added, along with a promise to look at the break in the morning. The branch didn't really stun her, but did daze her enough that Mac's superior strength let him break free with his oversized arms and slam his elbows back into her ripped stomach from both sides.

The crazy female held on with her long legs and a few fingers, but that was all Big Macintosh Apple needed. Most mares thought stallions overestimated their strength, and he reckoned most mares were right about most stallions. But I wasn't the go-to personal trainer for the princesses' best prospects for years for nothing, and the "something" wasn't just an amicable if exhausting set of rides with Princess Luna.

Supple as well as terrifyingly strong, he managed to get enough of a grip on his attacker's prodigious upper body to pull her up over his broad shoulders, her weakened lock on his muscular legs insufficient to halt his perhaps a bit showy move. He knew AJ would have yelled at him, but his dander was up, much like the arc his attacker was now in, and he hurled her fully over his body and down onto her back on the hard earth.

The world's a mite more wild and woolly than it was when I was a colt, but even today, most varmints short of a plucked-tail griffon would have-- and had-- given up after treatment like that, but not this mare, no. She had a point to make, and Mac knew it, so he swung a heavy booted foot at her side to slam her off the ground with a "Warned ya!" Unfortunately, crazy was mixed with insane strength and rattlesnake speed in this mare and she flipped herself over and onto all fours with the heft of his kick.

He had been expecting that, but he'd been figuring she'd have gotten up to go for a few probing low kicks like last time... Eenope, she's chargin' me like a minotaur lawyer. A minotaur prosecutor in election year, come to that. It was his turn to violently expel the air from his lungs as she flung the iron bar of her upper arm into his stony stomach and kept on going like they had somewhere else to be. Her buff, bulky arms wrapped tight around him and squeezing as they ran.

Finding that his legs couldn't quite get the bracing he needed, he was right grateful to Guthrie when the tree told him of a nearby root. He took a chance and deliberately knocked one heel into the root while he swung the other knee up hard. The change in momentum took the crazy mare by surprise, and Mac, who'd been waiting for it, was able to grab her head in between his treetrunk thighs and wrap his titanic arms around her giant legs and hold on for a kind of Discordian suplex as he tried not to get a face full of muscular thigh or taut rear..

They spun around for a bit, but this time, Mac had more control. Wanting neither to commit a murder at this juncture though it was getting a bit trying to his patience nor wanting to leave the crazy that close to his most precious apples, he rocked around to get mostly on top, made a swift squeeze with the crushing cross of his thighs and headbutted the-- fine, adorable, iffin she weren't tryin' ta put me down in th'dirt-- small of her broad, ripped back and scrambled to one side, aiming a knee strike carefully into the side of her head. Damn thick skull's near as hard as rock anyway, almost broke my kneecap.

It didn't, though. I know better'n to leave it at that, eeyup. Not with this kinda crazy in a mare. Know better, and don't want to anyway because she has just popped my fucking yoke!

When Mac had been a little sapling, before he'd gotten his cutie mark, let alone finished his subadulthood, it had been clear he was going to be big. Now, he was an Apple, and that meant big anyway; hay, he was a direct line Apple, and that meant hyper more often than not-- all three of his momma's children had ended up hyper, with AJ even being the smallest after her princessing. Not that even he wanted to cross AJ in a temper. And that was the other inheritance of the Apple line Mac had picked up.

Colt with a temper, especially a big colt with a temper, really has only two ways to go, his daddy had told him long ago. You can ride it, like a ripple in the earth lines, learn to surf it, maybe even learn how to smooth it out, or you can let it throw you around. And while the latter might seem fun at first, it ain't the way to get any more than a bruised head and a berth wider'n you'd like.

It hadn't been hard for Mac. He might be an Apple, but he had roots deep in the earth, deep in stone, and even before his daddy's advice he'd been more inclined to let be than let loose. After, he'd worked on ways of being his anger's boss, not its servant. But this mare-- this sideways thinking, no separation between thought and deed, and yes, crazy enough to jump the one stallion big enough to maybe fight her off in the dark, on his property, while she's naked mare, she just about always somehow gets me to pop the ol'yoke off and bring down the hammer.

So if it was the hammer she wanted, who'm I to deny a lady? He brought his hands together and swung them down hard on his attacker's back, sending her crashing to the ground. She'd been rolling away from him, but he'd managed to catch her in time to send her pounding down against the rich Sweet Apple Acres soil. That said, he wasn't ready to let her turf out just yet.

Even with his self-control bucked loose, Mac didn't want to cause lasting harm, so he didn't aim another kick at the crazy mare's head. Just his knee up into her side, once, twice, three times and finally made a quick punch at her hard right calf, eliciting a yelp, the first noise other than breathing out of her since she'd jumped him. She crawled a bit away from him, on her hands and knees.

Damn… crazy mare… He hadn't seen red like this in a long time. "Warned ya," he huffed yet again, reached out to drag her back through the dust. and slapped her rock-hard ass with his massive hand. When she tried to scurry away again, he planted both of his knees onto her hawser-taut calves and yanked her up with his gigantic, steel-strong right forearm across her six-pack belly. Her reactions still slow, she flailed a bit, trying to grab for him but he had her now and squeezed her arms together behind her back with his left.

Crazy, but strong, more than even hyper pony strong; Mac couldn't have managed this, not both arms held in one of his, if she hadn't already been down a peg or two and he wasn't stronger still even at a standing start. Nobody else who ain't an alicorn could, anyway; this'n once threw ol' Bulk for a loop when he started with a hold on 'er. Improvising, struggling with her squirms and thrusts the whole way, and one time having to retaliate against a backwards headbutt, he unbuckled his belt, slipped it off his waist, and manage to strap the mare's mighty, straining forearms together. The belt was silksteel, a birthday gift from Princess Rarity. AJ could have broken it, but neither Mac nor the insane mare in his arms could have unless tapping a landswell.

Damn trees are laughin' at us both, but they won't let her grab a landswell even if we get one.

He growled as his jeans started to slip over his sturdy hips. Well, fuck modesty at this point. No one on the damn farm right now anyway. "Warned ya," he repeated a third time and shoved her face down in the dirt, grinding her distractingly fat tits over the soil. "An' now yer gonna git what I dun tol' ya ya'd git iffin y'did this again!" he snarled.

Mac's position was awkward, but off went his boots and off went his jeans. still wrestling, grappling; even bound, the silent, naked giantess refused to stop trying-- not even to get away, but to still get at him. Every time he let her even partways turn towards him, she nipped and bit at the huge swells of his arms and shoulders-- and she was one of the few that could leave a mark. Part of him, his daddy's voice, screamed that there were other ways to do this, but he wasn't really listening any more.

He wasn't rightly sure, but his momma's voice might have been cheering. Momma always was a shit-stirrer.

"Were mah dang words not, 'Ah will stuff you so full a'mah seed 'til you are so bloated Ah gotta drag y'all back?' Were they not?" They had been, and if he hadn't been so mad, he might not have bothered to repeat himself once, let alone again.

He didn't bother worrying about his boxers, nor the sleeve. He was getting harder by the moment. Despite his own bruises and the adrenaline rushing through his system-- or perhaps because of that extra charge-- Mac's enormous erection did the majority of the work, tearing out of his sleeves and his underwear now that his poor jeans weren't keeping it pulsing down by his knee. His huge dick swatted into the mare's hard body and she tried to ram her hips against the already pre-drooling length, but she was slowing, finally, panting even before he spun around to drop an elbow onto her back.

"Fuckin'... crazy mare…" he said, and inhaled again. That strange scent from before, redoubled. Eyup, her tail was flagged harder than a Chimera's heart, and she was wriggling her huge, hard hips to tell him…

To tell me to keep a damn watch on her! Flagged tail or no, femmejuice gushing from her slit or not, the crazy mare snaked out her amazonian leg and almost managed to sweep him onto the orchard floor. But he had seen it in time and turned to take the blow solidly with his powerful arm, then, when she struggled back to her feet, yanked her back down with his solid fist on her bulging bicep, trapping it and forcing the rock-crushing power back with just his fingers.

Damn. Crazy. Fool. Mac half-considered yelling at her, but how would it do any good? And me more the fool, getting harder, stiffer in the moment. Stiffer from the fight. Stiffer, given that he knew that while this mare here could just flex and use her peak to force a minotaur's hand off her arm, she wouldn't be able to break his grip even if she had the leverage to try. His pulsing prick still determined to fatten another inch in diameter and push out along the lengthwise equivalent, he used the motion to whirl her back down onto the earth, the shattered remnants of his civility forcing him to pull her up short before her head could strike Guthrie's roots.

She was big and buff. He was bigger and buffer. She was tough and a fighter. He was tougher, and knew how to lay down a whuppin'. She may have been faster than he was, may have had all those weird tricks, but she'd volunteered to get close, now hadn't she? And now I'm gonna shove a dick bigger than your arm right up your… drooling, winking pussy, come to think of it.

Mac didn't want to think. He was done with that, paid it a not so gentle farewell. He was a nine foot tall behemoth of a hyper stallion, and part of him always knew it. Still on his knees, his nuts bouncing off his thighs and the ground alike, he grabbed her by the straps on her arms and hauled her around in front of him. And the crazy thing, of course, was that she hadn't stopped fighting, hadn't stopped kicking her feet and legs back to try and and smash his thighs… and not only still flagged like a heat-crazy cumdiver, but spread her legs out to give him access while still trying to kick him!

His primal side wasn't taking none of that. At least, not the kickin', we're right fine with the spreadin' and flaggin'. With a snarled "Eenope!" he slapped and spanked the taut, muscular expanse of her beautiful thighs, swatting them aside as soft, even-toned pants escaped her lips. He dipped his hips and thrust his marebreaking, pussy-stretching cock in between the her killer quads; instead of a squishing and fairly off-putting scissorlock, she finally submitted, a gush of her arousal drenching the conquering girth of his tool.

"I 'member how ya like it," Mac growled, and reached down, grabbing the crazy mare's spread mega-thighs and shoving his broad arms between them. Pulling them further apart. Pushing them forward. He didn't entirely like to admit it, but the way she wildly threw her body around to try to stop him while she was chanting yes repeatedly was more than a little turn on. "Jes' keep squirmin', crazy," he growled at her. His potent prick drooled lube into the orchard earth, his fertility one with the land's. "You keep that up an' Ah'll split ya in two when I fill ya."

For all of about fifteen seconds, the giant, amazonian mare stopped her squirming, flat tongue hanging from her lips-- and all the while, her fat pussy gushed over the cock in question, not climaxing, just lubing up and it was almost a squirt. The whole half-calm time, her chant continued, "Yes. Yes. Yes." And then, as he'd more or less expected, she tried to buck loose again.

And didn't. Couldn't. He had her lovely-bulky legs pinned up against her burly shoulders and her mouth-wateringly bountiful tits in the front. He waited a moment, met her flat eyes, eyes that often seemed dead to ponies who didn't know her better, and slammed her back down to the earth again. Her chant never faltered, and Mac brought his huge, arm-sized cock back from beneath her, leaving a trail of his lube for her to feel beneath her.

He pressed the immensely broad tip up against crazy's cunt, feeling the nigh-burning heat of her honey drench over the fat, engorged flare and the lewd "kiss" of her drooling sex's desperate wink over it. "Now. Ya may feel a slight pokin'," he warned her, slapped her rock-hard rump again, and thrust down hard into the well-caught mare.

"Oh. Yes. Oh. Yes. Yes. Oh," came the steady, soft chant as Mac plowed forward, hard, but as his oversized thickness popped its flare into the mare's suddenly-stretched sex. She squealed out loud, a long, passionate cry, a climax all but shoved from (and into) her as he fucked her. He snorted wildly, nostrils flaring, the fat girth of his throbbing tool pushing deeper into her tight tunnel.. Her pussy spoke more eloquently than either of them, squeezing and fluttering hungrily around the monster dick forcing said slick and greedy cunt to fill full over and distend.

As he fucked his attacker good and wide, he aggressively squeezed and fondled all over her gorgeously amazonian body with his strong hands. He might be owning her pussy like a unicorn at a bookstore closing sale, he may have just had to physically beat her down to stop her from doing the same or worse to him, but that didn't mean he had to be rude.

Sweat pouring down his brow forced Mac to brush his messy mane out of his eyes. A clench from her aggressive sex was followed by an ungentle series of deep squeezes from her kegels, making him grunt deeply, and ultimately made him admit that his overstuffed balls were swelling all the further, his precum wildly spraying all the harder into the captured mare because he could feel her building-shattering strength give way to his. He knew this mare. Had seen her do what most would swear impossible in non-royal hands. As much as he did not appreciate being jumped, he appreciated the power in her bulging, intensely mighty and body-builder shapely body; the primal stallion in him gloried in being able to knead her stone-strong muscles with his hands, massaging, yes, but demonstrating his power over her.

His pulsating prick neared the wide medial ring, but suddenly it was slow going. He felt the mare squeeze down hard again with her kegels, caressing and clamping greedily at his dick. She did it more and more often, too, and then he figured out why. I guess I'm a mite slow too, havin' to learn that all over again. "Ya like that too, don'tcha?" he asked with laconic smugness. He swatted the mare's lusciously curvy but completely hard hip, earning another squeal of delight and deep press of her sex, repeated grasping caresses of the mare's climaxing snatch. He held back on his own pleasure a bit, patiently pushing his supersized shaft in deeper, finally forcing the medial ring in past her "guard" and distending her belly out at the same time. Somehow, he managed not to cum in her yet.

Guess momma did raise a gentlecolt after all.

After that, though, he didn't let up none at all. Slamming his huge feet back behind him, Mac thrust forward full-strength, claiming more of her already outrageously overloaded cunt in a rough slam of his hips, thereby "forcing" her bit by bit to clench and flutter herself around him. His calloused thumbs and fingers did the prepwork, dominating her thick muscles with sweeping caresses. He began to alternate between nipping her neck and tugging on her ears with his teeth. This time, there were no return bites, no nips-- indeed, she bent her muzzle and nuzzled beneath his neck. Now, finally, she obeyed, her distended pussy drenching his distending dick, but, for all the lube both of them were putting out, he had her stretched tighter and tighter as he dug deeper into her. Nothing got out to wash the heavy balls bouncing off her back-stretched muscle pillar thighs.

With the plump, sensitive ring at last through and in, he invaded all of her deepest wetness, took her, claimed her, laid himself along the top of her, and pushed her forward with his driving dick, downward with his weight. Strength and mass combining, he captured her body against the ground in the shadow of his pressing thrusts.

"Yes. More. More. Yes," said the mare, and he reached up under her muzzle to stroke that possessively too.

"Ya shouldna done this. I'm gonna have ta fill ya up good…." he told her, and then tugged on the tip of her ear again, growling, "An' that's gonna be right now, damn fool mare!" Mac drove himself home in her tight cunt one more time, his pre-spewing cock hilting and his watermelon-sized balls bouncing heavy with his sperm as he ramped up the thrusts.

The muscular mare let out a shuddering gasp, her blunt tongue hanging out of her muzzle again, almost more diamond doglike than the one hundred percent mare she'd shown him again and again. "Yes," she said again, and then wailed, almost screaming, "Mac!" was her cry as another orgasm ripped through her well-ruled body.

As he emptied his orgasmic fluids into her waiting womb, he pumped his muscular hips back and forth to better pound his oversized stallionhood in. Mac sighed and shook his head, laughing softly as he kissed his wife on the neck. "Fool crazy mare," he said fondly. He rubbed strong, calloused fingers down over her once-rock-hard belly, fondling the soft, squishy stretch left by the gallons of cum he'd put in her. "Ah love you too, Maud Pie."