Macromantic Gestures

by Troublesome Beast

Rating: mature
Tags: Gore, Apple Bloom, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Alternate Universe, Other, Romance, Flim and Flam, Porn, Sex, Fetish, Big Macintosh, Adventure, Violence, Anthro
Length: 13514

It's hard out there for a Mac; pursued by crazy mares and crazier griffons, with one aim in mind: giving his wife a happy anniversary

"Big" Macintosh Apple is the strongest mortal in the land of Equestria.  Usually in charge of his hyper hormones, the nine feet tall stallion can always count on his giant wife to drive him up the wall.  He'd do anything for her, including her repeated demands to be wrestled down and ravished.  Now, her lusts are growing stronger, and, as a special anniversary gift, his hulking beauty has declared it's time to expand the herd and fulfill their mutual exotic tastes.  Who will fall to the mixture of gentle romantic and out-of-control sex wrestler?

Gore refers to occasional fight scenes that may include mild blood; it's not going to linger on them. Sex starts in Chapter 2.

Chapter 2: Wrestling, rough sex, het

Other tag includes two characters who are spoilers (please spoiler mark in comments once they show up), griffons, thestrals, and shenanigans.

Published 2016-05-31 06:20:01 UTC
Last updated 2016-06-06 01:55:16 UTC

Chapter 1 - Ambushes and Anniversaries, Part I

Mac leaned against a tree, and felt the world rise up to meet him. He wasn't drunk; neither his Ma nor his Granny would have tolerated that before sundown, and what his Pa would have thought of the idea would be unprintable. It was somewhere listing towards three in the afternoon, and Mac felt the world the way he always did-- through the roots.

This was Ponyville, after all; a Ponyville a mite over ten years gone since the restoration of the Diarchy, and the strange events that had followed, but Ponyville, after all. The core of the Apple Clan had set those roots down here a century past, and for all the fussing of the some of the aunts, he had no intention of letting those roots move anywhere else. Of course, what with the current Apple Maretriarch being an alicorn princess, the Princess of Honesty, to get to the heart of it, and not taking kindly to such carrying on, he'd had noticed a distinct lack of fussing at reunions of late.

Sweet Apple Acres was Mac's, Mac's and his wife's. She hadn't had to take the Apple name; they'd had a right kind contract drawn up for the foals, even if they hadn't had one yet, near a year past their vows. Not f'r lack a'tryin', he thought with a fairly self-satisfied smirk. The red giant, tall even among hyper stallions, grinned around his customary chewing straw, and stroked a thumb over the intricate carving of his bronze wedding torc. Sure, what with AJ bein' a princess an' all, we mighta had gold but that weren't f'r either of us. Gold's nice and it will shine, but the right turning of the years and bronze will stay, he knew. And it doesn't have to brag.

One year past, Mac thought again, shaking his head as he strolled into Ponyville, his light vest and cotton shirt still itchy. He'd never been one for more than modesty required, but, he was a married stallion now, and there were some proprieties to observe. He waved and nodded to neighbors old and new as he passed, keeping carefully to the new sidewalks. Mac had to admit, he missed just strolling down the streets on his own two feet, but speaking as a farmer, he rather liked being able to get more crop to a larger market before it spoiled.

He'd given up his old harness even before he'd replaced it with the torc, come to that. When his sister and Twilight had examined some of the strange contraptions coming out of the odder minds of ponykind (and beyond), they'd realized that one reason why Equestria hadn't adopted them was pretty simple: even those contraptions built by earth ponies rarely tapped into the slow, unique magic of earthbound. It might not be as flashy as unicorn spells or pegasus thunder, but it had an inevitable strength, like the rumble of mountains before an avalanche.

Mac, with his old harness, handed down through generations, could tow more and till more than even an Assinian steam tractor four or five times his size anywhere from here to Appleloosa, and he wouldn't be that far off in the Badlands. Back home, on the land that had been worked by four generations of Apples, with seeds, saplings, and graftings from lands that had known them still longer? Shoot. The land all but furrowed itself for him.

It wasn't just the family and connections, of course; that just made it easier. It was a part of what being an earth pony was, at the root of it all. Drop a young mare or stallion in a new town, have a blacksmith bang out a harness for the local Elders to call into the land, and bang, that young'un would be able to turn soil and plant for themselves, stamping health into the land and singing diseases away-- and that was just on their own. As a part of a team in harness, or a song-as-you-march, well ma'am, you could grow a town right easily enough anywhere.

AJ and "Little" Twi, now only a foot shorter than Mac himself, when they could feel all that magic working together, figured out that if you made things work together, like the unicorn magic that helped pegasi carry substantially more in them little chariots than both could flying together, why, you got a whole greater than the sum of its parts. Mechanical advantage became a model for magical advantage, and Mac had set his beloved harness to become a well-polished family knick-knack, or store against bad times.

The odd, spider-like combinations of brass and crystal that made his new harness and associated tools and whatnot took some getting used to, but nowadays, even with AJ tending her own fields not far from Friendship Castle, Mac didn't need to take away from his wife's work or Apple Bloom's schooling with Ms. Zecora. He could really do what AJ had tried to near a decade gone-- and with more land, to boot.

Still, Mac was grateful he'd never been an impatient stallion, seeing as he was waiting for the lights to turn across the street… again… and he watched a frustrated little filly poke at the little button that Twi swore up and down actually would, "under certain conditions," if he recalled the phrasing right, speed up the trot signal. Now that I come to think of it, AJ never is the one to answer those sorts of questions, is she?

For all the farm kept him busy, though, Mac had gotten a handle on the pulse of life in the modern Ponyville. He shouldn't call it new; he knew better than most that fields changed, and apples changed, and even the turning of the years might change-- especially with actual dedicated seasonal planners-- but the farm didn't change. Neither had Ponyville. It was still a town for all three of the kindred.

A unicorn might teleport across the street, but she wouldn't do so into a knot of earth ponies or less flashy unicorns waiting at the corner. Pegasi might make the best couriers, but bless her heart, even Princess Rainbow Dash didn't swoop in close above traffic, pedestrian or augmented. Ponyville's soul had survived Discord, it had survived Tirek, it had survived Discord becoming a long term resident… it had grown, and thrived. Mac loved it here.

Mac meandered down the sidewalks, from street to street. He knew why he was going, if not where he was going, not yet. Quiet and soft-footed as he was soft-spoken, Mac sometimes boggled out of town friends and relations with how easily he swept through the fields of ponies blowing hither and yon, like a particularly slow moving wind over golden grain. It wasn't hard for him to look at a variety of stores without wasting more time than a glance or a walk in and a friendly nod, nor more effort than a proper mosey.

One year, that was the thing, wasn't it. Three hundred and sixty five exchanges of the sun and moon. almost… more or less, not counting alicorn-level shenanigans, or the occasional attempts by Discord and Princess Pinkamena Diane Pie to stuff a week's worth of celebration into the usual twenty-four hours-- or the other way around, stretched thin. Mac heard tell from Twi that on other worlds with less responsive but slightly less vulnerable celestial mechanics, they only had to adjust the calendar every four years or so, but he imagined that had its own disadvantages. Mac didn't chase much after greener grass.

So here he was, ahead on the farm chores, ahead on the maintenance chores, but some few hours left, to find a gift that really symbolized his thanks for a year's worth of love to, in his humble but perhaps forceful opinion, the best mare an apple farming orphan colt could ever wish. Which was the trick. Oh, he had a fancy timepiece stashed away amidst the stills, one that would feel all the geomantic and biomantic flow of the farm, all the little tricks and changes from life along the Everfree, or blown along from Cloudsdale way… or blown up from the Canterlot Universities, at that.

Mac had found a good swap for it, keeping it well within their budget. He knew it was useful and practical, and tied into his wife's calling. She'd appreciate it. But that wasn't right, was it? Appreciate. Not for this. Not now. And he could just make it a gift to show he cared a few months down the line, if he could find something better. Something brighter. Something her.

On that "practical" note,, Mac's thoughts trailed off with a sigh, leaving another lovely little store and blessing that the proprietor had noticed his torc before she made comments about his flank in, yes, those jeans, same jeans as any farm stallion, just sized up a mite. On the actual practical side, he knew that it was foolish, and probably irksome to his particular mare, for him to think such things. There must be thousands of pair-bonds, not to mention the more complicated relationships of herds, where "appreciate" rather than "threw a dart at a list" would be fine and happy, and it was disrespectful to think that his mare would be otherwise.

Mac, though, vaguely remembered what AJ didn't. A loving romance, eternal and new as the orchard through the seasons, between a tall, varmint-busting mare and her tall, serious stallion. Had seen gifts exchanged that to young eyes at least had seemed to be so strange and wonderful, but somehow obvious for each partner in turn. He didn't know if that was real, or memory changing hands with nostalgia, but he wanted to give it a try, and he wasn't going to give up on his first dang year.

The clock remained, though. Wrapped up nice and pretty already, come to that. He wasn't taking chances with the day, neither, and had flowers waiting in some nice pots, enough for both of them. They'd be fresh for a nice breakfast together, and he could re-use the pots. "Apple Clan Apples" might be doing well enough to support and network with other Clansfolk as a part of their bustling world, but Mac remembered hard times, and only threw away what couldn't or wouldn't be used.

His lackadaisical mission was abruptly interrupted by a sign that made him nearly chew right through his straw. Now, he knew that any hyper had a temper, and if his didn't pop up as much as most, it was because it was like fire in the forest -- slow to start, but a rage when it got there. And Mac might be willing to let most bygones be bygones, but there were some things that he held onto like the family land.

Exactly like the family land, in fact.

Mac opened the too-small door with perhaps a trifle unneighborly force. The loud bell and having to duck his head lower than to which he was accustomed didn't help his attitude, and neither did the irksome pair of voices that greeted him.

"Welcome, friend!" said the one. No mustache.

"To the Ponyville Memoranda Emporium!" said the other. Mustache.

Together, they said, "An Extravaganza of Elemental Souvenirs and Mem…" trailing off as they finally noticed who was glaring down at them, squeezed between low-set shelves. "Oh, Tartarus," continued the synchronized voices of the Flim Flam Brothers.

Mac saw red. And purple, orange, pink, green, and blue. Strewn throughout the store were various remnants of the adventures upon which his sister and her friends had raised their lives and saved Equestria, ranging from the dubious-- slight, shallow bowl-shapes, shards of geodes that purported to be from the rock the Rainboom split-- to the possible-- one of the mugs from the Super Speedy Cider Squeezy Six Thousand incident that had been the first spark for Mac-- to the macabre, a burnt book with a card claiming that it was from the Golden Oaks Library and costing about ten times what it had probably cost the town to buy for the library in the first place.

"Now, fr-, er, Mr. Apple," said Flim, holding up his hands, "I can guarantee, with both proper contracts--"

"-- and notarized certificates of au-then-ticity--" interjected Flam, who was edging slightly for the back door.

"Yes, indeed, notarized and spell checked," agreed Flim, before glaring at his more cowardly (or more sensible) brother. Turning back to Mac, Flim went on, "With all proper papers, parchments, and governmental forms, that we are the legitimate and, aheh, Apple honest owners of all of these items…"

Trapped by his brother's glare-- and a faint glow in the lock-- Flam piped up, "These items of tremendous historical and cultural value!"

"True, true, these extremely culturally significant and expensive, I mean valuable, items, which are also Apple-honest what they claim to be," Flim finished.

Time was Mac would have found the Flim Flam Brothers claiming "Apple" honesty something rather more like oil than water for the anger boiling up in his broad chest. But, thanks to AJ, Princess Cadence, and Prince-Consort Shining Armor, those words meant something. Floating above the cash register were two crystals, one an orange apple, the other a purple diamond.

Grown in the Crystal Empire and Harmonized by AJ and Princess Rarity's abjurers and diviners, respectively, they ensured that the store did business without seeking to gouge or deceive the customer. A business that didn't show at least the apple-- well. Wasn't a legitimate business. One that didn't have the diamond signaled that hard bargains, hard to find goods, or hardened hearts were involved; they still found custom, but not as easily. Mac was shocked out of his anger by the diamond more than , truth to tell, and he simply nodded at it.

The brothers shrugged in unison. Flam said, "Again, quite honestly, Mr. Apple, we've got a bit of a reputation here in Ponyville…"

"And everywhere else," Flim said wryly. "But," he added, "We also have come across quite the relics of, ah, Elemental value, in our wanderings."

The brothers tapped each other's horns lightly. "And since we do, indeed, know the resonance of the Princesses," said Flam.

"Harmony to them all," said both.

"We are actually quite able to make sure we've got the goods. Which is fine for tourists, but since we intend to sell to both the common mare and the antiquarian crowd," Flim explained.

"We must have a means to cancel out our, uh, previous mala fides, if you'll forgive our Diamond Dog Ancient Equestrian…" Flam concluded, with a shrug. Both brothers moved in, well, harmony, Mac supposed, and bowed floridly to the diamond. They then waited, nervously.

They had something to worry about. Mac was one of the tallest citizens of Equestria. If his middle sister was stronger now, a princess and all-- even Rainbow, at a "mere" seven foot, or that nice Princess Fluttershy would be these days, after all-- not even Twi had his height, even if she was near as broad. At nine feet tall and darn near half that at the shoulder, he had been once described as a well-mannered mobile wall of red brick. He took pride that it wasn't a odd, angly height; not a beanpole, he. No, he knew that the could take more than some satisfaction in the fact that the warrior-loving Princess Luna had taken him for more than a few rides around the haybarn prior to when he'd started dating seriously, and if she'd put him away wet, he'd been able to walk the next day without wincing.

He didn't have the heart in him to threaten them, especially not for at least being honest with the tourists and pilgrims who flocked to Ponyville and Friendship Castle. Many street vendors, especially midway between Ponyville's more regularized center, and Friendship Castle's organized patrols, didn't even have the orange crystal chip that at least would show a constable they weren't dealing in stolen or forged goods, not that even these days most tourists would know to ask. He simply nodded to the gems again and said, "Eyup."

The Flim Flam Brothers relaxed, if slowly. When Mac didn't leave, an idea percolating in his head, Flim nervously asked, "And, ah, how might we help you, Mr. Apple?"

Mac considered, then frowned. "First year anniversary," he admitted, and then silenced Flam with a glare. "Don't need singin', thank ya kindly."

Flam, who had been about to press a hand to his diaphragm, coughed, and tapped his chest, as though to indicate he might have something stuck. Flim patted his brother's back and rolled his eyes.

Mac looked around for a while, careful of the high-priced (if perhaps not quite so high in value) items, before a thought struck. He walked over to a table, looked around, and… "Eyup," he said again, and picked it up. The perfect gift. Mac brought it over to the register.

"... Flim-Flam Brothers' Ponyville Memoranda Emporium, while absolutely guaranteeing authenticity, cannot warranty efficacy of this item for the purposes of marital bliss in the event of or pertaining to anniversarial celebratory uses," cautioned Flam, who started to suggest, "Perhaps we might interest you in a…"

"Eenope."

Flim glared at his brother and tried his own stab at conciliation. "Well, of course, you'll know the lady better than we, aheh. Comes to fifty bits, but seeing as you are a part of the history yourself, perhaps we could knock an apology off to…"

"Eenope!" said Mac, and the flare in his eyes was enough to get the brothers to ring up, box up, and wrap up the gift. He wanted no part of whatever that "discount" would lead to; if the gift hadn't been perfect… He grunted an affirmative to the padding they suggested, pulled out his coin pouch, and counted out six ten bit pieces, guestimating on the wrapping, and wordlessly dared either brother to contradict him. They didn't, and, to Mac's relief, kept the unctuous chorus to a minimum as he left.

Chapter 2 - Ambushes and Anniversaries Part II

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."

Chapter 3 - Ambushes and Anniversaries Part III

"Ah love you too, Maud Pie." Mac shook his head, chuckling faintly. He brought a thumb up to his forehead and wiped the sweat away from his brow, looking at his crazy, gorgeous wife. He sighed as he caressed her shoulder-length light purple hair, quietly considering her hard, titanically body.

She was a mere six inches shorter than he, built with the same vastly muscular frame on only slightly lighter proportions, with what most people would call dull, almost dead-looking green eyes. But her eyes were one of the first things he'd noticed about her. They were hardly dead; she just looked at the world different from most ponies. He’d seen the glimmers at the edges, and realized that she was seeing the structure of the world entire, and how everyone and everything fit into it. They seemed unfocused because she saw a forest and recognized trees, where most would see trees and recognize a forest. A mite trite, but deeper than most is my Maud, he thought fondly. Deep as the earth’s own core, and just as rocklike.

Maud leaned up and kissed him softly on the lips. Then she clenched down hard with her overstuffed pussy, "kissing" his prick until his final gel plug ejaculation hit. Her belly was already as overstuffed as one of her giant V-cup tits, but still Maud was remarkably possessive of his seed. "I love you as much as I love rocks. Almost as much as I love Pinkie Pie." Her voice was like her eyes; most people missed the subtle nuances, and he thought them fools. To a stallion who had grown up knowing and loving the land, knowing earth and rocks almost as well as he did his beloved trees, who could feel the earth breathe-- he could hear the differences in her tonality, and to him such words were nearly as passionate as her own orgasmic squeals.

"Shucks, darlin'." He kissed her back lightly. "Ya know ya kin jes' ask iffin' ya wanna wrassle. Ya want me t'give ya sp--" Mac had made the mistake of trying to get up and let her at least unwind her big, buff legs from where he'd jammed them into her mountain-like melons; he'd already let her muscle-covered arms free. All he'd been trying to do was to let her get out of the awkward, straining pose he'd forced her into

She clamped her thick hands hard around as much of his biceps as she could manage-- which was more than most-- and he saw her lips curl lightly at the edges, nostrils dilating ever so slightly. Shit. She's snarling. "No, Macintosh. I am exactly where and how I want to be. Fill me." And out come the teeth on my forearm again, damn crazy mare!

"Eeyup." Discretion is definitely the better part of valor here. His own nostrils flared widely as he let her pull him back down atop her outstretched rockpillar thighs, sinking him into the softness of her vast breasts and overstuffed belly. Nose knows. That was what I was smelling earlier. She's gone into heat!

He set about working up some fancy Equestrian, mainly to see if he could reassure her that, yes, she would have all the sex she required while she was in heat. Unlike her prior colt and marefriends, whom Marble had told him Maud usually wore out after the first day or two of heat, back when he'd first started dating Marble on and off, Mac could give her all she wanted and more. And he wanted to tell her that, too, but paused before he could manage even a joking preamble.

Maud's eyes were closed, her perpetually purple-shaded lids squeezed tight. A faint tremor and-- Eeyup. A little tear in the corner of my honeycrisp's eye. If she would have let him for even a moment, he'd have apologized for going hard on her when he'd gotten her to the ground.

Don't want her summoning up Boulder at his biggest size. aimed right at my balls again, no ma'am.

"You were out very late, Macintosh." Oh. When he'd gone walking out on occasion with Marble, he'd thought her the least socially adjusted, most introverted Pie sister. He still cared deeply for the cutie, even after they'd eventually mutually decided that it just wasn't going to work out. Marble was never going to be in a marriage that didn't include Limestone, and the highest Mac had ever been on Limestone's list, "Decent lay, annoying accent." She'd warmed up, or her incandescent hate for most of the world had cooled for him, after he'd won Maud's approval.

But that was it, wasn't it? There wasn't a single Pie sister who wasn't in some way socially maladjusted, and, except for Pinkie, they were all introverts; they just showed it in different ways. Limestone hated outsiders who impinged on her space; Marble was… Marble, and Maud generally ignored the outside world, unless you dared to cross her family, or could interest her.

Mac still wasn't entirely sure how he'd managed the latter. Possibly it had something to do with their mutual feelings of being both very protective of and seemingly eclipsed by younger siblings, but Mac suspected it had more to do with the fact that he had realized Boulder wasn't just an ordinary rock before even Twilight had… and had been able to talk to her in earthspeech. There were full-fledged arch druids who couldn't say the same, but Mac was just Mac.

He reached down, hand pressed into her cleavage, then underbreast. Not to cop a feel, and she knew it too; her hand came up to just under his right pec, her eyes still closed. Maud ignored other ponies most of the time because she saw them almost completely with her earthsense. Ponies that weren't her family or couldn't speak the deep rhythms of the earth were little more than blips in the grand herd; to be cared for and protected, but not really all there. Apparently, no matter where the rest of her bloodkin were, Maud could feel them and their well-being, so she never felt apart from them, not really.

But our tanglin', blessed in person by Cadance herself or not, is still a growing thing, and she missed you, you damn wood-headed fool! You told her you'd be back not long after noon!

Stop berating yourself, my Macintosh. Oops. Right. Hand to liver, liver to hand; the earthspeech could flow through them easier this way than just tapping rhythms on the floor.

Sorry, my Maud. I was wrong; I wronged you. I wronged our us.

Yes. But our we is not served by such. All of us; both that are, four that will be, will need you, my-our Macintosh.

He blinked. She shook her head and smiled-- a real, full-lipped smile and, leaving her right hand to hold over his liver and the earth-strength of his body, she lightly pressed her left hand past the bulk of his torso. He obligingly moved aside, and she stroked a hand over her belly, almost as tenderly as the eleven-months-plus pregnant mother she looked to be.

The slight press of Maud's lower lip beneath her teeth, and the lustful stare she gave him did not seem at all out of place with that image. Shocked still, but hopeful, he asked, My Maud, do you mean-- a rush of images followed. Foal-child-life-family-union would be the closest that it would translate out of earthspeech, and miss the point beside.

Yes, my Macintosh. She began to rock her hips beneath Mac, squeezing down with her kegels, tugging hard at his oversized fuckpole. Two. Sisters-twins-Marble helped stabilize Pinkie. Ours will be strong and more stable than either. Her lips made the larger curls of her "family" smile. Our foals, that which increases the herd, increases our us, will be followed by further foals-children within two years, my-our Macintosh.

She bared her teeth and lashed them at his shoulders, leaving harsh little marks there even as she flooded his earthsense with adoring, submissive love. Take me, my Macintosh. Celebrate our us. Take me like you promised. His Maud was primal. Forget his traditionalist aunties; he had a real cave mare. Not a maretriarch of the plains, her, no, a giantess of hill and mountain, who damn well demanded her stallion be big, dominant, and fuck her silly, or she'd let him know in the most visceral ways possible.

He didn't have time to wax poetic-- As if-- about their future child. He wasn't stupid enough to doubt the mare whose earthsense boggled his little sister. He loved Maud, and she was already fat and happy on the cum that would replace itself with a strong new Apple, then a crazy new Pie, and so on, even as it forced her body to fatten her hips and fatten her tits all the further.

Chuckling, Mac pulled his hand away from her chest, and swatted her breast sternly. He nodded down to her stuffed belly. "Plugged," he told her bluntly, and she whinnied, slipping her own hands down to her boulder butt.

Her strong hands held her cheeks but didn't move. A slight breathiness tinged her even voice, the faint echoes of moaning. "I want a fight, Macintosh. But I want your thick seed to stay in my pussy. I don't want to be empty."

"Eenope," he told Maud, quirking a smile and pressed his hands down behind the heavy bulge of her calves, forcing her thunderous thighs back against the squishy mountains of her breasts and belly. "If ya want to keep that cum in, crazy mare, you'd best behave while Ah beat in your behind."

"Ooh. Threats." The edges of her lips curled a teensy bit in the mad fury of her lust, and she slowly pulled her blunt tongue from one corner of her mouth to the others. She wriggled her hips, forcing her cum-thirsty cunt to wink around Mac's shaft, pulling hard and demanding further splurts, even just of slick pre, as he pulled himself out; a final, wet pop sounded as he pulled his seed-coated shaft out, splattering them both with sticky remnants. His plug held, as it always had, but she gave a distinct growl at him as he lazy laid the long, girthy pole atop the huge balloon of her belly.

He shook his head, and slapped the back of her left thigh hard. A thundercrack sounded through the otherwise empty Acres. Benefits of not having prying sisters around-- fucking outdoors. He gave her the sternest look he could, feeling her amusement at it through their bond. "None a'yer sass," he warned her, and gave the same echoing slap to her right, on the inner thigh this time. "Ah'll plug that tight tunnel a'yers when Ah'm good and ready!"

All he got out of her was, "Harder, stallion." Another spank, another groan. Her face flushed as red as the handprints he left, as red as his hide. Her tongue lolled out of the side of her short, angular muzzle, only slurping in when she saw fit to growl at him if he didn't beat her thickly muscled thighs fast enough, or, when he got his rhythm going, the muscular bottoms of her heavy-gluted tush.

The one place Mac didn't spank-- at first-- was the little bare patch, permanently shorn to show off the tattoo she'd insisted on getting after they'd become formally engaged; he wasn't at all surprised that Limestone's hobby was hide ink. He had been surprised she'd been willing to tattoo his cutie mark into her flesh with enchanted needles that guaranteed it would never become stretched or faded before the marriage.

He still wasn't exactly sure why the two sisters had both laughed-- Maud had nearly sounded like Pinkie-- when he'd asked if he should be getting the same of her rock as she had of his apple. He was, however sure of why he took care with any rough play involving that tattoo. After fending off a few of her attempts to kick out or around from his pressing hold-- not that he could have held back both of her legs with one arm, but a good smack or two the way she was looking for, and a reminder that too much fighting would dislodge the cum gel plug-- and getting a number of her favorite love bites on his forearms, he reached up and dragged the blunt nail of his middle finger in a curve following the shape of his apple.

Immediately, she started squealing in low-pitched pleasure and he could see her greedy cunt winking hard around his plug, closing and opening over it in rapid climax.

I love you, crazy mare. And no, we're not done yet. Not even close.

Mac grinned broadly, stroking the sweat away from his forehead away with a thumb. "Now, if Ah recall, Ah did say something about having t'carry ya home… an we gotta make more room." She flashed him the brilliant smile of having her lips curl up a visible arc to either corner of her lips, and was tilting her head to the side when he knocked the wind for questions out of her, but the perhaps less violent method of rolling her back further, so her shoulders supported more of the balance of her weight, toes beside her ears, and slammed his flat hips forward.

As his oversized dick rammed hard into Maud's tight little star, plowing aside her tough glutes and slicking her with her own juices, mixed with his cum and pre, she started to scream, not in pain, but in delighted pleasure. Aw, yeah. Maud was… not a noisy lover, not at first. Makes it all the better when I do get her rocks rollin'.

She was still screaming and squealing in orgasmic delight at her beloved husband forcing her anus wide to accommodate his four foot long cock, her body intensely sensitive to sensation, Maud's smile became a real, beatific smile you might see on any other mare in the throws of passion, getting what she wanted. Which was enough warning for him to get his forearms up in time, blunting the force when she snapped her gigantic legs back to kick her heels down hard on the hefty shelf of his shoulders, only resulting in a mild oof. "Fight me, Macintosh. Beat me."

Precum gushed from his fat tip at that lovely invitation, his pulsing prick not even in past his medial ring yet. If the lady's askin… "Eeyup." Mac snorted and wrapped his heavy arms around her beefy legs, pinning them back against the breadth of his muscle-padded chest, swinging his hips hard back and forth. She snarled, a brief, almost inaudible cough, reaching up to try to slap at his hawser-like arms. Failing at this, she slammed her fists hard into the stone beneath her to try and kick up at him, drawing on the power of the earth.

It didn't quite work. The orchard was his more than it was hers, and even though he tried-- when she wasn't like this-- to get the trees to love her too, it always seemed like the trees, and possibly Maud as well, refused to permit her to override his will upon the land. Against anyone else, including a particularly stupid cousin, it fed her as much as it did Apple Bloom, maybe even more. When you added that to the fact that she was trying to wiggle further on to his enormous dick, she just wasn't able to do much other than slam an impact wave beneath them-- one that he seized with the trees' help.

Her slight smile of utter delight widened, her blunt little tongue flicking out from the front, from the sides, everywhere. "Yes. Yes. Yes," the chanting began anew, even as she still tried to struggle her legs free. Snorting, Mac dug his toes into the rich soil and tapped the good, green power of his home to grant him still more strength. With fierce thrust and a meaty pop, his pre-spewing prick forced its medial ring into her clenching anus.

He had no idea still why this sort of forceful anal violation-- which he'd been told in no uncertain terms was not sexy to most mares, or, this rough and this wide, most stallions-- made his wife squeal and cream like he'd been running his thumb over her clit, but it did! As she redoubled clenching down onto his pre-spasming cock, grabbing it as though she was trying to physically drag him forward in-- Knowing my Maud, she probably is-- her femmecum covering the top of his shaft and adding her sexuality to the earth.

Mac remembered his father again. Remember, this, too, is ritual, the old stallion said. Well, we're both gettin' what we want… As she lolled her tongue out to the side, her eyes rolling back into her head and her goofy grin almost that of a normal mare smiling at kittens or some such, he was able to get her legs pressed once more into the squooshing warmth of her fantastic titflesh. He moved his hands around, digging beneath her to feel the wall of intense strength that was her back, and pulled her up against him

Leaning down to nibble softly at one of Maud's nipples, he was greeted by a slam of her meaty fists onto his back and the cry of, "Harder!" from his crazy mare. He was never entirely comfortable with-- "Harder!" came the cry, and another pair of fists slamming in.

Am I sure we should be breeding? Mac snorted. "Hit me again an' Ah'm leavin' 'em be to focus on yer wrists." She pouted, squirming more and wriggling herself closer, trying to hilt her muscular ass on his massive member.

"Please, Macintosh." She shuddered lightly. "You gave your word."

Helping his wife, as any good husband should, he thrust forward, shoving his watermelon-sized nuts before him in the earth. She moaned loudly, and stared up at him with actual distress tilting her eyes and furrowing her brow, her fingers running over his arms in pleading pawing. "Please," she repeated, still moaning with pleasure from the force of his spearing shaft past her sphincter. She desperately held up her teat towards his face, and managed, "Please bite me, Macintosh!"

Mac shook his head, but dipped it anyway. So weird, my Maud, he thought lovingly, and bit down as hard as he felt he could; this was one area where Maud didn't always get what she wanted. He would only squeeze his jaws so tight around her fist-sized milktip, only give her so much pressure there. It seemed that it was enough, though, for he definitely redoubled the pounding into her vulnerable, cum-slicked anus. With precum slicking the way, he forced his shaft in, deeper and deeper, sparing as little mercy as his tender heart could take.

It was enough. Her nigh monotone chanting slipped, and frantic, roaring squeals of pleasure hit again. No more fighting for the moment; she just squeezed and fluttered over the titanic tool while her hands squeezed her giant tits up against his hungry face. No sooner did he tire, even for a moment, with sharply stimulating her sensitive left nipple, that she relaxed back, slightly, and this time she did trick him. When Mac pulled back and started to kiss the softness of her areola, Maud immediately pulled her jiggling left breast back and shoved the needy right hefty knocker in towards his face, proffered nipple hard and ready.

He laughed softly. "Takin' a stand here, Maud," he told her with what he hoped was a stern glare, despite the intensely tight pleasure of having the majority of his four foot marebreaker deep in his unbreakable mare's submitting arse. "Gotta earn that one, sweetcheeks."

His heavy hand came down lovingly on the right side of her muscular right glutes, about where maximus gave way to medius. Mac gave out a whinnying groan, his feet tensing in the dirt and his jaw gritting tightly, when she bared down hard with those mighty rump muscles, squeezing his cock with loving fierceness. Come to that, he could see her toes curling lightly to either side of his head. "Gonna cum, Maud?" he asked with a long, slow drawl, his huge hands grabbing her captive super-thighs and using them for leverage, slowly but surely pushing his pre-spewing unbelievable girth into her asshole, her seed-stuffed womb wobbling about as the giant distension of his cock forced her amazonian body into submissive accommodation. "Gonna cum, not gettin' yer nip taken right? Bet iffin' Ah pushed, you'd jes 'bout squirt mah abs, plug or no. An' who knows, Ah might pull out. Best ya do what yer stallion wants and earn.".

Her reaction was entirely expected and yet utterly adorable. Maud actually whinnied back at him, nickering and carrying on. Her mountainous legs flailed helplessly, her strong hands pawed in loving begs at his broad shoulders. At last, forced as she wanted, she gave up the fight, and began to adoringly pet his gigantic biceps. Her voice… not quite a coo, no, but with a hint of what he fancied a teenage Maud might have sounded like, a little candy in with his love's usual rock. "Stallion. Beautiful stallion, please. Your mare. I'm your cumdump mare. Use me, please. Bite my worthless titty. Beat my cumdump ass. Please, beautiful stallion. I need it…"

He gasped, shuddering. Ain't really into the pain thing the way Maud is, but… Celestia! Ain't nothing like a mare beggin'... Mac nipped her upraised nipple, earning a full on squeal, her body thrashing around with her hands clamped to his arms-- not to fight him, but to use every muscle in her already sloshing body that she could to better pleasure his shaft. With her nipple held carefully in his teeth, he gave it a gentle lick and was rewarded all the better: her climax hit again, harder than before, rivers of her lubricant pouring around the edges of the thick gel plug.

'Cept her lovin' smile or the sound of her cumming like the light of morning. I'm just glad this isn't an everyday Maud way.

Rearing back slightly, he did as promised; thrust deep from his immense quads, the cabled muscles giving him the strength to hilt in her ass, to fill his mare. With said mare supplying the motion for the ocean, including tides in her cum-swollen sex, he was able to tend to her more… unusual… needs. His broad hands slapped down on her clenching tush, fingers digging into the muscular flesh and evoking soft pants and desperate moans from the lovely, captive megazon. She beamed up at him. "Thank you, stallion. May I have another?"

Laughing, he kissed her throbbing nipples, alternating nips and licks and kisses as he indeed, gave Maud another. And another, settling into a rhythm of fucking deep and spanking hard on already reddened hide. His balls swelled between them, the massive orbs forced forward by his vesicles even as they fed sperm into the waiting mess.

They came together, Mac's soft tones lost for a deep, rumbling, "MAUD!" mixing with her own cry of his name. Her sex actually crushed and expelled part of his plug, though not all of it, winking down across it and fluttering in the titanic orgasm of a conquered titan, her toes curling and uncurling by his shoulders. His oversized cock unleashed a white tsunami of seed into her body, her belly shoving into her already swollen womb and ballooning her belly out, and out, and out.

With a final cry, he slammed his hips forward yet again, releasing a second plug. Out of necessity, this one wouldn't last as long, not with the muscles surrounding it, but he was a loving husband, and did want to give his mare the bloated out belly she wanted. His spasming cock and bloated balls sent gallon after gallon after gallon into Maud's hungry, horny body. It blossomed out, spherical, far past her giant mammaries, forcing them back towards her face. He had to push himself up onto his knees, still rutting as he went, to give himself room to still be against her gorgeously swollen body.

"Don't… heh… oh, Maud, don't gotta hold them kickin' legs of yours no more, now do Ah?" he groaned, spending the last of his cum in her. Her response was to awkwardly maneuver her flailing legs about to hug his waist.

Breathing slowly, her body calming down, Maud simply replied, "No, my generous stallion. You have fucked me properly."

Mac kissed her bulging belly again and again, laughing with his whole heart, until calmness overcame him and his prodigious prick began to soften. Despite the soft noises that he knew well to be pouts, he forced himself slowly out of her body, gasping with renewed pleasure as the sheer tightness of her ass over his sensitive medial ring. Naturally, that stiffened him right up, and when he had to pull his flare out-- well!

He came again, wordless now, still grunting but capable of little else behind holding his massive tool up with his hands and spraying her belly, her legs, the orchard soil, even nearby trees with his hot seed, his reproductive urge joining the farm's once again. "Tartarus an' Tirek's ugly mug, Maud," he said at last, "Ya gotta wring every last drop out?"

"Yes. Every last drop is mine since you have given me no new sisters. Every last drop is mine, like every last iota of me is yours." Maud lay on her back as Mac stumbled to his feet, shaking his head to try to clear it.

"An' all a me's yers, Maud. Always." He groaned, gathering his clothes and folding them up as much as possible. He snorted at the measly bag for his gift, wincing as he picked it up and shook it-- nothing. Thank Luna, too. He looked over at Maud, who was patiently lying on her back. Strong mare like her, eyup, she could move herself, but he'd promised to carry her-- even if he'd have to rely on the orchard to tell him where to go and only Elysium knew how he was going to get her in the house without breaking one of the gel plugs and sending his seed and her mood down all over the floor.

Somehow, they managed, both naked and giggling, to squish Maud successfully past the front door. Thankfully, he'd enlarged it to accommodate his own height not too long after completely inheriting the place; there was room for it, and it was nice not to have to duck when entering his own home. Even if he'd had to install what he privately thought of as the "foal door," cut into the main door proper, for visiting normal ponies

The wall clock struck midnight as she slumped onto their hardwood floor, her bulging body so bloated that she appeared to be carrying a litter of little Apples and Pies. She held out her hands to Mac, but he shook his head, sitting down beside her and hauling her body, squooshy bits and hard frame and all, into his lap before the last ring struck.

"Happy anniversary, Macintosh."

An "Eeyup" didn't quite seem fitting, so he kissed her left ear and rumbled, "Happy anniversary, darlin', Gotcha somethin'."

"Yay." Another might have missed the eagerness in her tone, but not Mac; he knew her excitement by this point, not just what he could get her to squeal, but the real, happy delight in the slight changes in her pretty face, the shift of her giant frame under her bloated belly; the renewed hardness of her nipples where they were shoved up and aside with the rest of her hefty melons. This wasn't the first time he'd been ambushed like this, nor was it the first time they'd ended up screwing until she was this overstuffed, though it was the first time the twain had met.

He gently set some cushions up on the floor and rolled Maud over so her mega-melons could be arranged over her arms with enough room for them to maneuver, her cum-filled belly now a natural shelf for her present. He grabbed a towel from the stack by the couch and started to clean his cock off whilst he tilted his head to the left and looked down at her. Her lips curled lightly at the edges into a beaming smile and said, "It's wrapped; in my lab, under the ley-impacted rhyodacite with the slight silver imperfections."

"Eeyup." He tossed the towel into the laundry bin with the rest of his clothes; hers, he noted, were already there. Chuckling to himself, he headed out to her rock lab, a new addition that the family had come together to put up for her, with neutral stones used for building material, and grounding crystals to surround energy and light sources. Maud's continuing research into the less flashy forms of geomancy had yielded spectacular results, especially for farmers and others who worked from the land, and the land's production.

For Mac, quite aside from the benefit to the farm-- her work was everywhere in Sweet Apple Acres these days, the comforting weight of her earth power suffusing the place-- he'd been granted quite the extended education in geology. It wasn't hard for him to find the quartz-flecked volcanic rock with the extra shiny bits; underneath were a pair of envelopes. He grabbed them, and passed by the supply closet to snag the envelope he'd readied for her, and happily trotted back to the living room.

When he returned, she was slowly wobbling back and forth on her immense, distended belly, that absurdly goofy half-curled lip-edge smile of hers plastered subtly on her face. He could feel the earth energies flowing, like a babbling brook at the edge of field. "Talkin' to our incomin'?" he asked, leaning his massive forearm against another widened and heightened frame, his giant cock swinging past his knees, soft, but barely so.

Maud finished her "conversation," and looked up at him. "You are as aesthetically pleasing as shapely volcanistic formation," she informed him. "I believe that the dribble of lubricant you are wasting on our floor, and will be personally cleaning up later--"

He blushed redder, and ducked around for one of their Pinkie-stored towel emergency stashes to clean himself off.

She frowned. "Macintosh. It was also pleasing, resembling the oncoming early tendrils of lava before the eruption you will be putting in my mouth before we sleep."

Deep, eeyup, but blunt, too. Mac quirked an eyebrow; she still hadn't answered his question. She huffed a bit. "Yes. Early communication with the foals is important. They must know my stallion and I will keep them safe and nurture them. 'Fore they're even ensouled? he wondered, but shrugged and sauntered over, laying the envelope down on the forward squish of her belly while he looked at her. "Red for the note."

They shared a quiet moment of laughter and love over their sparse style of poetry on the notes, and at her wordless demand, he sat down and pulled some of her pumped plump onto his lap so that kisses could be exchanged as well. Corny the notes may have been, and of few words, but neither needed much more. Their souls were too tightly bound, their earthsenses too entangled, for them to require more than the few words to channel inchoate emotions into the concrete symbols of the mind and heart.

Finally, the presents. They unwrapped them at the same time, but his was smaller; a hoofball card in a plastic sleeve with a slight glimmer of preservative enchantment. His jaw dropped, and he found himself completely unable to say anything. "You approve, then," Maud said, a bit gurgly as she began to absorb some of his seed backways, but with a slight smugness in the lower registers of her nigh-monotone.

His hand trembling as he held the slender holder, Mac looked at the card-- slightly off-white bordered, minorly frayed corners, matching the official certificate of grading. "A NM-MT-8 '72 rookie card of Great-Great Granduncle Calville Blanc d'hiver Apple's hoofball card start with the Canterlot Colts! Maud-- how?" One of the swamp Crab Apple offshoots of the main clan, he'd come to the big city to make his mark away from the traditionalist -- He looked up, embarrassed, at Maud's patient stare. "Ah'm done." She always knew when he was lost in thought.

"I was able to obtain it via judicious applications of resources and contacts." He gave a quirky smile of his own; she still had some secrets, which he supposed were her prerogatives, after all; it's not like she was the heir to a secret kingdom or on the run from a pony offshoot of the Moofiya. Ignoring him, she opened the small box, and he heard her breath catch on something other than her cum-filled body. "Macintosh, this feels like Pinkie Pie! And.. almost like you-- like your sister?" She stared at him, eyes slightly watery, and the sight of a full smile on her face again.

"Eeyup." He carefully put Maud's gift and note for him on the coffee table. then lightly moved his note for her besides them. He leaned in and kissed her forehead. Resting against the pressed-up wobble of her cumflated belly, Maud held the cracked section of Rarity's cutie-mark genesis; the boulder-geode, primarily showing bright blue crystals with some orange veins here and there. He whickered quietly, and said, "Rarity's boulder'n'the rainboom, Ah figured, would carry somethin' of our kin, far away or not."

"Macintosh."

"Eeyup?"

"Macintosh."

"Er? Eeyup?" Mac blinked at her. She held out the geode fragment, and he took it, placing it on the table.

She growled and slugged his chest again, soft enough that it was almost begging, hard enough he was given a better hint than the scent of her arousal, intermingled with and drowned out by his plug could convey. Maud twisted her fingers into the shaggy hide-hairs of his chest, making him wince as the follicles pulled. "Macintosh. You are immensely strong. It is no longer sufficiently fit that you fuck my face until I cannot speak for the next day, stallion. I need you to take me to the downstairs bathroom, unplug me, and fuck me with your magnificently monstrous member until I am full again in cunt, full for the first time tonight in my mouth, and full up my anus again. You are the most wonderful stallion I could conceive of, Macintosh!"

Mac gathered her in his arms and hefted her up. Instead of fighting, this time, she squealed softly, wriggling and snuggling her squooshified body against him. What could he say, save-- "Eeyup."