Unaware of anything odd going on elsewhere in his community, Big Mac lashed out his hind legs. His hooves struck the tree with a satisfying thump and apples began to rain down around him, landing perfectly in the buckets he had set up to do just that. He nodded with satisfaction as he picked up the rope of the first in his mouth and lifted it into a wagon he had brought with him.

He turned for the second basket and stopped. Laying there on top of the pile of apples was a strange cube with stranger patterns that swirled and flowed along its surface. He wondered a moment where it had come from in silence before he shrugged. There was work to do, and he planned to do it. He picked up the second basket and slid it beside the first, continuing his work.

He labored through the day, building a sheen of sweat as he worked through the orchard, the refreshing cool breezes that wafted through easing the heat of the bright sun overhead. Being a farmer was no easy task, but it was one Big Mac was home to. It was a fine day. Warm, but not too warm. It was just breezy enough to take the edge off and not turn his sweat into a sudden dip into chills.

Content, he hauled his wagon full of buckets of apples towards the barn. He nudged the door open with his snout. "Hello, McIntosh," came the friendly voice of Daisy Jo, a brown and white cow that the farm housed. "Hard day in the fields?"

Big Mac walked past her, bringing the wagon attached to himself into the barn. "Ayup." He pulled himself free of the wagon's harness and circled around it. "Everythin' alright?"

"I can hardly complain." She was smiling at him warmly, her thin tail swaying. "You Apples provide so much for us."

"It's a trade." Big Mac gave a light nod. "Still, good to see ya."

"Trade nothing!" She waved it away with a frantic hoof over the side of her stall. "I know what you get from our milk, and it isn't that much. You feed us, shelter us, keep us safe from horrible things. Why... What's that?" She was looking past Big Mac towards the strange cube that was parked on the rim of the wagon in clear view.

Big Mac turned to see what she saw and the straw in his mouth drooped a little. Hadn't it been in one of the buckets of apples? "Musta fallen off." He trotted towards it. "Ya know who's it is?"

"It isn't yours? What is it?" Big Mac only shrugged at her question, so she moved on to another topic, "All done with your chores?"

"Ayup." Big Mac nudged the strange cube. "Yer lucky, gettin' ta just stand around like that."

Daisy perked an ear. "Don't you go thinking that. It's boring! Why, I wouldn't mind trying out your job, but I don't have the strength for it. The trees wouldn't even feel me."

Tossing the cube onto his back, Big Mac turned to Daisy. "Well, maybe not a cow specific none..."

"You look like you're thinking about something, hon." She fluttered her big lashes at him. "Go on, I won't share... Besides, not like ponies usually listen to us cows much anyway."

Big Mac considered as he approached Daisy. "Yer right... Ah'm just lashin' out, and ah'm sorry." He adjusted the harness around his neck lightly. "Ah get jealous of Applejack. That mare gets to save the world practically every week, ya know?"

"Oh, yes, she does do that." Daisy nodded. "But while she's gone, who's here to take care of us? You! You're our hero." She leaned over the fence of her stall and gave the stallion a nip on the closest ear. "Don't you forget it."

Big Mac chuckled softly. "Ayup." He trotted past her and closed the door behind. Daisy's words were kind enough, but he found his thoughts going to his dreams. What if he was a hero? What if he was a 'destined' one? "Nope." It wasn't likely. He would never be a princess. He let out a soft sigh as he slipped into the house.

Granny Smith was cooking something on the stove busily. "'Lo Big Mac. Good day?"

"Ayup." He walked past her, stepping across the familiar wood of his family home. He made his way to his room and crashed down onto his bed. He was startled when he heard something clatter to the floor. It was the cube. It had fallen off of him when he had flopped onto his bed. It wasn't doing anything, and there on the floor was about as good as anywhere else. He left it be and drifted into a bit of a nap.

He awoke when something brushed against his nose and made him sneeze. He curled with the force of the sudden gust and blinked his eyes, focusing on a strange petal hovering just in front of his face. It was a bright blue flower and was glittering with a pollen. His sneeze had shaken some of it free, descending down on him in a dusting. Big Mac stiffened. Was that Poison Joke? How did that get in his room?

His eyes swept in a panic to see blue wherever he looked. His room was an infestation, a comedy routine of Poison Joke!

He felt something brush up just under his chin. Another blue flower had somehow snuck up on him. "Git... away--" His voice faltered as it changed. With every syllable, it was becoming lighter and softer. "Wha?" he asked with the timbre of a mare. He had to get out of there! He scrambled to his hooves even as more pollen was kicked up.

It got into his nose and he had a horrible urge to sneeze, but he held it in despite the flaring of pain in his irritated nostrils. Sneezing would only make it worse, or so he figured. He barely got out a feminine whimper as the pain began to fade thankfully, but it didn't go away. It seemed to press deeper into his snout and change as it went. It became a warmth, then a tingle, and finally a pulsing sensation that wasn't entirely bad. Big Mac looked down at his snout with crossed eyes as it began to shrink and round out. He was getting a mare's chin and face. He squeaked with dismay and jumped from his bed for the door.

He landed barrel-deep in a bed of thick-grown blue plants. They ensnared him, wrapping tightly and hugging him like a firmly attached lasso. "No, lemme go!" He cried with his female voice. "Stop!" But they didn't let go, or stop. A new bud tickled at him just where his hanging balls ended and before his puffy horse anus began. He squealed and thrashed, trying to escape what couldn't be good. "Nope, nope, nope!" He lashed out a hoof at it, but another vine caught the leg, then a new one snagged his other hind leg and pulled them apart, immobilizing him, exposed.

The tickling bud seemed insistent on grinding its yellow pollen across the red fur of his taint as strange sensations rumbled in his lower belly. He couldn't see it, but he was rapidly developing everything a mare might need to become a mother. The strange sliding sensations being his own organs being pushed aside to make room for a womb as it grew and matured rapidly. When it reached the surface, an alien pleasure exploded across Big Mac's vision and he let out a girlish shriek as the thick lips of an equine female ripened, winking wildly as the vulva stretched out, taking up more and more space between his balls and anus.

A thick bud curled up and tickled at the end of his sheath. Big Mac wasn't the cleverest pony around, but even he could guess what was happening. "Please, no..." He didn't want to stop being a stallion. "Don't take it away, please... No..." The bud paused a moment as if reconsidering and Big Mac dared to let hope surge. "Please?" His voice was alien to himself, as was more of his form. Was he still a he? "Ah don't wanna lose it..."

The bud hung there, doing nothing. He was still a stallion, at least for the moment. Big Mac sagged with relief, trying to see behind herself with very little success with the plants holding him straight, arg, his gender was very confused in his mind. "What're ya doin'?" He couldn't escape, but maybe he could... reason with the plants?

The bud lowered and began to rub firmly along either side of his sheath, sending strange new pleasures radiating upwards into him. He mewled and groaned like a well-stuffed mare, his free forelimbs pawing at the ground. "What're... ya doin'?" What was going on became clear soon enough. He grew a mare's udder. It was small, like a normal mare that wasn't with a foal, but it was there. His breathing picked up with alarm, but the wave of anxiety started to melt away. Was having an udder so bad? All mares had udders...

"Ah ain't a mare!" he protested loudly with his female voice. He twisted left and right, trying to break free when a new tendril dove for his head. With a quick twist, he avoided it. "Stop!" It came at him again and he half-curled back on himself, narrowly avoiding it. "No!" He had nowhere else to run. It plunged down and stuck fast to his forehead. Those increasingly familiar waves of change began to radiate from its point of contact.

He felt himself relaxing. Something was growing, pushing. He almost felt... His cheeks warmed at the thought of it. It was like he was becoming erect, from his forehead. What was happening? The idea of an actual penis thrusting free of his head was not a good one. He could see the vine leading away from his head if he focused on it, but he couldn't see what it was doing. Would it be so bad?

If he had a penis on his head, yes. Yes it would be. He was quite sure of that. As if to prove him wrong, the tentacle drew wetly free, leaving a glistening length of polished red alicorn behind. He had a horn. It was long, tapered, and... his? Yes, it was his. Big Mac grinned a little goofily. He had fantasized about having a horn, but it had just been idle fantasy. There it was... "Wow..."

The vines that had wrapped so snugly around his midsection began to draw away, allowing him to take a step without resistance. He felt something new brush against them as he tried to stretch. His stretch had activated two new limbs. He had wings, red, large, glorious wings. He gaped back at them. He spread one, then the other, then together and back again. They were his. They obeyed him. He started to giggle in his new girlish voice. Those vines weren't just trying to make him a mare. "Ah'm a princess..." He stood up taller. "Ah'm a princess!" He danced from hoof to hoof, excitement growing in his addled mind. He looked himself over, crossing his eyes to see his big horn and looking back at his wings and peeking under a leg to see he still had his stallion bits and a mare's udder.

"Ah'm both?" When he fully coiled, he could see that he had the lips of a mare, jostling for space with everything else he had back there. His back end was nothing but a huge erogenous zone. He wondered what it would feel like if he let a stall... He blinked. Was that a normal thing for him to think about? Well... if he had... that... why wouldn't he be mounted at some point?

He licked over his lips. Of course, he was also a stallion. He could and would do the mounting too. He tried to shake free of the lewd whimsies. "Ah'm a princess!" He said to remind himself and focus his thoughts. He wanted to show everyone! With a girlish giggle, he opened his door. The poison joke was receding, pulling back into the box it had spilled from. Big Mac was paying it no mind as he emerged from his room, a changed pony. He had so many things he wanted to do.

Author's Note

All hail Princess Big Mac! What sorts of troubles will he get into? Will he run into the new matriarch of ponyville, or should he get into his own trouble first? I'm inclined to think he should get his own chance, but what sort of trouble might he get into? Leave your opinions below!