Author's Note
This chapter was masterfully guest-written by the amazingly talented Grimm
A Pear in Cider
Granny Smith stood in the beautiful sunshine, listening to the birds call happily to one another under the deep blue sky, and she had never been so furious. On a day as promising as this one it would normally take a great deal to sour her mood, but if anyone could do it, it would be him. It was always him.
Be it stealing her customers at the apple stand, or trying to one-up her tree care techniques, Grand Pear seemed to have dedicated his entire life to getting under her skin. This time, though, he had gone too far.
“And just what in tarnation do ya call this!?” she spat, pointing her hoof accusingly at the offending object.
The young stallion leaned against the wood, running a hoof through his curly mane with a smirk. “Well, I don’t know about you, but I’d call it a fence.”
“I can see that,” Granny Smith replied, through gritted teeth, “but I sure as heck don’t know what you think you’re doing putting it there. You’re way over into our orchard.”
Grand Pear gave her a look of clearly feigned innocence, glancing up and down the length of his new construction. “You think? Looks about right to me.”
“You dang well know it’s on our land! Why else would you have snuck around overnight to build it?”
“Snuck around? I did nothing of the sort. In fact, I only rebuilt it to make sure you Apples know where the line is, since you’re the kind of ponies I’m trying to keep out.”
“The kind of ponies?”
The stallion grinned widely. “Riffraff.”
Granny Smith’s hoof slammed into the dirt, kicking up a cloud of dust as she ground it in deeper. “You take that back!” she snarled. “Us Apples are twice the ponies you Pears will ever be, ya hear? Three times, even!”
“But those sour things you call fruit can’t even hold a candle to our pears. It’s a wonder you’re still in business.”
“Oh yeah? Seemed like you had mighty slim pickings at the market the other day.”
Grand Pear’s confident smirk finally slipped, replaced by his own snarl of rage. “That was your fault, you cheat! Just because you started giving free samples.”
“You’re just mad you didn’t think of it first.”
“Like I’d ever be jealous of an Apple’s idea.”
As the argument continued, the quarreling ponies got closer and closer, leaning in towards each other until their heads butted together, staring daggers into each other’s eyes. Their confrontation quickly devolved into little more than insults and obscenities, no longer even trying to hold onto the pretense of a genuine disagreement as their long-held grudge boiled over once again.
By the time they finally ran out of steam, Granny Smith had no idea how much time had actually passed, only that the sun was a lot further across the sky than it had been earlier. She pulled herself away with a dismissive ‘hmph’.
“You just wait,” she assured him. “I’m gonna bring up my deeds and prove y’all are extending out into our property.”
“Good, I want to see them, so I can show you how wrong you are,” snapped Grand Pear. “If anything, I coulda put this fence out even further!”
“That’s horse apples and you know it!”
“Then prove it!”
“I will!” she exclaimed, and with a last, indignant stomp, Granny Smith swiveled and stormed off towards the house, already looking forward to wiping that smug smile off his face.
Another uncomfortable wave of heat rolled through her body as Granny Smith rooted through yet another drawer. She couldn’t stop her hindquarters from shifting, and it was taking all her conscious effort to keep her tail pinned down where it belonged. Of all the days…
She’d known her heat was coming, of course, but at the very least she’d figured she’d have a couple more days before it got this bad. Her argument with Grand Pear had kept her distracted enough she hadn’t noticed how much warmer her body was starting to feel, how that all-too-familiar itch was beginning to settle itself deep inside her, begging to be scratched. It was probably a good thing she’d been too focused to notice, in retrospect. On the way back to her house, though, her estrus had started to kick like an ill-tempered mule, and it was quickly becoming unbearable.
She had a half a mind to find one of the farmhands already – they were always more than willing to help with this particular problem – but Granny Smith had work to do first. She couldn’t leave that insufferable Pear be, or he’d think he’d won. There was far too much at stake here to let that smug bastard alone. No, she’d confront him with the deed, and then she could celebrate a job well done with the hottest stallion she could find. Yup, that sounded just about perfect.
How would he take her, she wondered? Perhaps they’d make their way over to the barn, and then he’d bend her over a hay bale and mount her, she always liked it when they did that. Or perhaps they’d stay out in the orchard, and fuck against one of the apple trees, or maybe they’d-
Focus. Don’t get distracted just yet.
Where was that dang deed? She could have sworn she left it in this drawer, but then again she’d thought the same for the last three drawers she’d searched, and she’d been wrong every time. It was just so hard to concentrate, to think about anything other than finding the nearest stallion and pinning him down beneath her, grinding herself against him, feeling his rock hard meat between her legs as she would start to sink down and-
FOCUS.
Horse apples, it was difficult. She was just so hot, her body burning with need and lust and want. She couldn’t remember the last time it had been this bad; normally she was so much better at dealing with it, at least being able to keep herself under control until she could find a stallion to fuck her silly. Now, though? Now she was having difficulty just thinking straight, filled with the urge to bury her hoof between her legs.
Of course, she knew from experience that never helped. A moment of brief respite, perhaps, but the fire would always come back so much fiercer afterwards. No, there was only one thing that could sate the heat, and it would have to wait.
Her hoof brushed against a roll of parchment buried at the back of the drawer, and Granny Smith grinned as she pulled out the land deed she’d been looking for. Grand Pear would never know what hit him.
Despite everything, she couldn’t stop herself from beaming as she gathered up the documents and made her way downstairs. This was going to be fun.
This was not fun.
She’d started the walk out into the orchard filled with visions of rubbing Grand Pear’s face in it, fantasizing about gloating and ordering him to take all his fences down, knowing how much time and effort it would take him to do so. By the time she reached the fence where she knew he’d be finishing the day, though, the only thing left in her head was lust and regret, and a terrible, gnawing emptiness. A void, so empty it hurt, with only one possible thing that could fill her up again and make her whole, that could give her the relief she so desperately needed. She had never needed a stallion so badly, to have him fill her again and again and again, not stopping until they both collapsed in a puddle of sweat and fuck, until that burning fire inside her had cooled. Her legs trembled with every step, a bead of sweat rolling down her forehead.
This was a mistake. She should have waited after all; until her mind was in a clearer place and her thoughts weren’t muddy with lust. But she couldn’t back down now, it was too late. She could see Grand Pear now, and he’d noticed her too. If she turned and left she’d look like a coward, too scared to face him.
Granny Smith was a lot of things, but she sure as shootin’ wasn’t a coward.
And so she straightened up, puffed out her chest, and tried her absolute damnedest to ignore the pressing need that had soaked into every inch of her being, her skin tingling, tail doing everything it could to flag and show how ready she was to mate to the world. But she couldn’t let it, not yet. Soon, but not yet.
“Well well,” said Grand Pear with a smirk as she approached the fence. “Look who decided to show up. I thought you’d chickened out.”
“I ain’t no chicken!” Granny Smith shouted back.
“Of course not,” said Grand Pear. “Chickens are actually good for something.”
“More than you Pears are, that’s for sure.”
Grand Pear blinked, then sniffed. He turned around to scan the orchard behind him, where his own farmhands would have been, but they’d long since learned to leave whenever an Apple showed up, else risk his ire once all was said and done. No, the two of them were alone, he’d find no back-up there.
“You alright there, Grand Pear?” asked Granny Smith, intentionally leaving in as much of the disdain as she felt dripping from her voice. “You’re looking a little nervous.”
“What?” Grand Pear snapped back around. If Granny Smith didn’t know any better, she’d swear he’d forgotten she was there for a moment. “No, I’m fine, it’s… Shut up. What have you got there, anyway?”
“The deeds I was telling you about,” she said, proudly presenting the parchment. “They show you’re trespassing on our land, clear as day.”
“Give me that,” he snapped, holding out a hoof.
“Gladly.” She took a step closer, her tail lifting slightly before her conscious mind was able to kick back in. Applesauce, she could feel a drip running down the inside of her leg. Fuck she was wet. And when she handed over the parchment and his hoof brushed against hers her entire body tensed at once, a coiled spring ready to explode, her marehood winking at any stallion who might have happened to be behind her.
Grand Pear’s nostrils flared, his pupils narrowing as he took a long draught of the air. Could he tell? Oh fuck, of course he could tell. Why wouldn’t he be able to? Of course he could smell it, smell her, she must be drowning the air around her in her scent right now. Fuck, fuck, fuck, he’d have so much ammunition to mock her now, and she’d have nothing to respond with except her growing desperation, and that would be no response at all.
But he didn’t say anything, grabbing the deed instead, shaking his head dismissively, and unfurling the parchment. Were his hooves shaking, or was that just the evening breeze? She had been thankful of the wind on her way here, its touch the only cooling part of that evening as the sun burnt dark gold into the sky. But now it was traitorously spreading her scent, letting every stallion know exactly how needy she was right now, exactly what her body was begging for.
If Grand Pear had noticed (and he must have), at least he didn’t mention it, looking over the deed and muttering obscenities under his breath, his frown deepening. “Well, there’s only one explanation for this,” he said, eventually.
“That you’re a dirty, land-stealing cheat?”
“That you…” Grand Pear trailed off and blinked again, shaking his head as if to remove some deeply lodged thought. He took a deep breath before continuing, although he wasn’t even looking her in the eyes any more. “That you faked this.”
“How dare y’all accuse me of that!?” she spluttered. “That there document is as legitimate as they come and you know it.”
“I know nothing of the sort. It’s exactly the sort of underhoofed move an Apple would pull.”
“Underhoofed? You take that back, you yellow-bellied liar, or I’ll-”
Grand Pear leaned in over the fence as close as he could without touching, his scowling features less than an inch from her face, furious eyes staring straight into her own. “Or you’ll what?”
Something snapped. With a final shriek of indignant rage, Granny Smith vaulted over the fence towards him in a single leap, relishing that moment where Grand Pear’s face transformed in shock and even fear as the wild mare lunged at him. She wished she could savor that expression of his forever, but all too soon physics took over and her body collided into his with a solid thud, sending the two ponies sprawling into the dust, kicking and bucking viciously at one another.
Grand Pear was strong, but so was she, and after a brief struggle Granny Smith managed to roll him onto his back and pin his hooves down beneath her. It was surprisingly easy, given how big a stallion he was, but she wasn’t going to take her victory for granted.
“That all you got? Huh?” she taunted, breathing heavily. He was, too, and in fact Grand Pear seemed far more out of breath than herself, practically panting as he stared up at her. Through her, almost – his eyes had taken on a strange, glassy quality, as though he wasn’t really taking in what he was looking at.
And then she felt it. A hard, hot length pressing into her thigh. It all clicked. She’d seen that look before, on the faces of the farmhands she’d wandered up to and coaxed into a tryst behind the barn with little more than a pheromone-laced flick of her tail. They would all look at her with that same, not-quite-there expression moments before-
Horseapples.
That momentary lapse in concentration was all Grand Pear needed, and before Granny Smith even knew what was happening he’d rolled her over, reversing their position as she found herself pinned beneath him, Grand Pear glaring down at her.
She didn’t know how she hadn’t noticed sooner. His cock stood proudly to attention, so thick and hard for her. His musk filled the air almost as much as her own, and she drank it in as he stood above her, a shudder of anticipation running through her as the scent of his maleness filled her lungs.
What the hay do you think you’re doing? He’s a Celestia-damned PEAR. This is fraternizing with the enemy.
“See what you’ve done, you horny bitch?” spat Grand Pear, his cock throbbing as he did so. “You fucking tease, parading around, smelling like you do, flicking that tail about like I wouldn’t know what you were up to. This is what you wanted all along, isn’t it?”
Another jolt of excitement, her marehood winking desperately, urging him to stop talking and just fuck her already. But of course, she couldn’t let him have her. Not him. Not a Pear.
“From you?” she asked, with as much disdain as she could possibly muster. “Don’t make me laugh. Like I’d ever-”
He interrupted her with a kiss. She didn’t normally let the stallions kiss her, and even when they did it was usually gentle, kind, passionate. In the afterglow when they forgot the rules and her mind was too fogged with satisfaction to remind them.
This was not like those kisses.
This was demanding, forceful, his tongue invading her mouth as he tried to steal her breath away. Any remaining resistance crumbled as he took from her in a way she didn’t even know was possible, preventing any thought or feeling other than reveling in this moment, right here, right now.
When he broke the kiss and pulled back she could feel the dampness between her thighs. She couldn’t remember ever being this wet, this ready, before. She didn’t care that he was a Pear – that he was Grand Pear, no less – all that mattered was that he was a stallion and she was a mare and right now she needed him to plunge that glorious cock of his as deeply into her as he could.
But she couldn’t let him know that.
“I hope you fuck better than you kiss,” she sneered.
Grand Pear didn’t answer with words. With a deep, primal growl he leaned in and thrust himself into her, not stopping until he was fully hilted inside. She couldn’t even try to keep the gratified moan from escaping as her body finally received what it had been begging for, as his hot length filled every inch of her, as she clenched tightly around him, desperate to hold him as deep inside her as she could.
It still wasn’t nearly enough to quell the fire that blazed through her, a mere drop against the inferno, but it still made her shudder and gasp as Grand Pear paused for a moment, his wide eyes filled with both lust and the faintest hint of surprise, as if he himself couldn’t believe he had just hilted himself inside his mortal rival. She couldn’t have that; this was no time to hesitate, his sudden stillness only driving her lust to even greater heights. She didn’t need him to freeze like a rabbit in torchlight – she needed him to rut her, to fuck her into the dirt beneath them until they were both exhausted and satisfied.
Grinding her hips against him out of pure desperation, the only thing she could manage with his weight pinning her lower body down, Granny Smith leaned up and nipped at his ear, slightly too hard. As he gritted his teeth, she murmured just loud enough for him to hear. “Is that all you got?”
Grand Pear twitched inside her at her words and then snarled in anger. “You ain’t seen nothing yet, slut,” he growled, in that primal voice that stallions could only find when they were fucking. The one that made all the fur on the back of her neck stand on end from the feral forcefulness of it.
You are mine, that voice said, and it left no room for her to argue otherwise.
Not that she had any inclination to argue, every inch of her craving his touch, melting against him as her body urged him to claim her. And claim her he did, drawing his hips back before plunging into her once again, holding her waist tightly, and Granny Smith couldn’t even try to hold back the deeply satisfied moan that burst from her lips as his length filled her again.
“A real bitch in heat, aren’t you?” Grand Pear sneered. “I barely started, and you’re already moaning like the whore you are.”
Granny Smith snorted in derision, trying to ignore his hot length twitching inside her and failing miserably. “This the only time you made a mare moan?” she asked. “Betcha always need them to be in heat before they enjoy it.”
He leaned in close again, muzzle to muzzle, glaring at her with his confused mix of anger and desire. “And what about you, huh?” He shifted a little and grinned when Granny Smith’s breath caught. “Do the other stallions normally get you this wet? This sensitive?”
Rather than wait for her answer, Grand Pear took the opportunity to dip his head low and nip at her neck.
“You don’t have to answer that,” he muttered, as she moaned and clenched even tighter around his shaft. “You already did.”
Granny Smith growled in frustration. She’d already given up everything so she could have some Celestia-damned relief, and he couldn’t shut his stupid mouth for five seconds to just give her what she needed.
“Will you shut the hell up and rut me already?” she groaned.
He smiled, in a way that was almost predatory. “Beg for it.”
“Oh for…” She’d waited long enough.
With a sudden burst of strength, Granny Smith rolled over once more, flipping Grand Pear onto his back with a painful sounding thump. She grinned down at the wide eyes beneath her, that smug surety from before replaced with surprise and a deep flash of anger. And yet, as she ground her hips against him she felt his hot length twitch inside her, so hard, so deep, and it only made her smile wider.
She leaned in close, letting her breath play across his ear. And then, in little more than a murmur: “Apples don’t beg.”
Another twitch, another grunt of frustration from the stallion pinned beneath her. Granny Smith was careful to keep him held down as she raised her hips, her marehood clenching tighter and tighter as she did so, unconsciously trying to hold him buried as deep inside her as she could. Even just that small amount of lift left her so empty, so needy, so fucking desperate as another wave of heat crashed over her. But she knew it would all be worth it, and as she sank back down onto him, letting him fill her so deliciously again, listening to him grunt as she enveloped his straining cock, she couldn’t hold back the deeply satisfied moan that shuddered out of her. Loud, wanton, the kind of moan that only a mare in heat could make, and hearing herself so desperate only made her want it even more.
Yes, this was much better – Grand Pear grunting and shuddering beneath her as she rode him, his wonderful cock hilting so deeply inside her, scratching the itch that no hoof ever could. He clutched at her hips, but there was no chance of him setting the pace like before, like he so desperately wanted to. Instead, he was simply holding on as she took him, as he accepted his new role beneath her – little more than a toy for her to sate herself on.
“That’s a better look for you,” Granny Smith smirked. “So, now are you gonna beg?”
Grand Pear simply growled in answer, his grip on her hips tightening almost painfully. The sting did nothing to damper her newfound power, if anything only exciting her more.
“That’s okay,” she said. “You can just lie there, it’s all you’re good for.”
The snarling anger on Grand Pear’s features was almost more satisfying than the white-hot lightning bolts of pleasure that crashed through her with every movement, as she continued riding him in earnest. Almost, but not quite, and even Grand Pear was struggling to keep his anger above his lust, his gritted teeth failing to hold back the appreciative grunts and gasps with every rise and fall of her hips.
He hated this, she could tell. Being dominated by his arch-rival. He couldn’t even bring himself to look at her now, face turned to one side, eyes screwed tightly shut. And more than anything she knew he hated how much he was enjoying it, every other part of him practically pleading with her to continue with every grunt, every shiver, his cock straining inside her.
She reached a hoof behind her, feeling the weighty swell of his balls pressed against her rump.
“Someone’s a little pent up,” she murmured. “Ain’t getting much attention from the mares, huh?”
“Shut up,” he groaned.
“Makes sense,” she continued, slowing herself until she was back to merely grinding against him, enjoying the flush of heat that blossomed now she was no longer roughly riding him. “Guess that’s why you’re desperate enough to lie there and let me do whatever I want to you.”
“I said shut up!”
Granny Smith leaned in close, letting her smile drip into her words. “You gonna make me?”
Too late she realized her mistake in underestimating him. Too late she realized he’d just been biding his time, his grip on her waist not just for show as with a bestial roar he lifted her, keeping her impaled on his length as he dragged them both upwards. Celestia, he was strong, his muscles pronounced even through his sweat-slicked fur as he rose up onto his back hooves. Her back landed against hard wood – not painfully, but not gently either – Grand Pear laying onto the fence that had started all this mess in the first place.
Well, that wasn’t entirely true. The demanding, fiery ache between her legs had started all this, and that need surged up again at the sight of Grand Pear atop her once more, the very picture of a virile, domineering stallion.
“That’s better, Apple slut,” he grunted. “Back where you belong.”
She squirmed in his grasp, but there was no turning the tables back now; his hold was too strong. And, although she hated to admit it, she didn’t want to. His musk and sweat filled the air, and as fun as it had been to toy with him like that, it wasn’t half as good as the proper rutting she needed.
“Now, where were we?” he asked in a low growl, his eyes drinking in her figure beneath him. “Oh, that’s right. You were gonna beg for me.”
Granny Smith stayed silent, scowling up at him. Like hay she was going to beg. She’d never give him the satisfaction. She could wait all day if she had to, she was a wall, she could-
“Well, if you don’t want it,” he said, and began to draw his length out of her, leaving her so cold and empty.
“No!” she cried, any resistance immediately replaced with pure fear that he would remove that glorious cock of his and leave her in a lust-soaked puddle, desperate and horny and alone.
“Then what do you say, bitch?”
“I need it,” she whispered.
“I can’t hear you.”
“I need it.” Louder, more desperate, a red hot flush of embarrassment rising in her cheeks.
“What do you need?” His smirk grew wider still, his hips rocking back and forth just the slightest amount, tantalizing and teasing and so, so frustrating.
“I need you to fuck me!” Granny Smith practically screamed it, her need so powerful it was getting hard to think, hard to do anything but whatever would get him to sink back into her and fuck her as hard as he could.
Even his grin at her desperate words barely registered as she wriggled and writhed, trying to eke out any satisfaction she could from his half-sheathed stallionhood. It wasn’t enough, though, not even close to enough.
He leaned in close, so close, his wicked smile as wide as it had ever been. “Say please.”
“Please!” Not even a moment of hesitation, her voice so desperate it was almost a whine.
“Good slut,” he muttered. “All you had to do was ask.”
With one motion he was buried inside her again, and Granny Smith’s vision was stars and bursts of white as shuddering, impossible pleasure filled her once again. Finally, finally, she was getting what she needed. His weight above her, pressing against her with each rough thrust. His grunts, every one filled with such ferocious lust. A stallion, taking his mare.
“Guess you found your backbone,” she managed to sputter between his powerful thrusts, slamming into her hard enough to make the fence shake.
“This is just. What you. Deserve.” Each phrase punctuated with another driving thrust, another loud smack as their hips came together. And every time sent another rolling wave of shameful satisfaction through her, being demeaned like this only bringing her to greater and greater heights.
She could feel it coming, feel that rising, irrepressible tide begin to flood through her, that warmth that soaked into every inch of her body as her legs tightened around his bucking hips. As if that would do anything to hold him; he was far too wild, and she could do little more than cling to him as he brought her closer and closer to the edge.
He could tell too, his thrusts growing uneven and almost as desperate as she was at the sight. “Are you going to come, slut?” he growled.
Granny Smith couldn’t answer, too wrapped up in her pleasure to even try and formulate a response.
“Then do it,” he said, voice riddled with contempt. He knew he had one, and just this once she was going to let him.
She let go.
Her climax tore through her, so long awaited. Shuddering, moaning, breathless cursing. Grand Pear didn’t stop or even slow with her orgasm, and every single time he sunk back into her that wave crashed over her again, pulling another blissful cry from her lips, her marehood desperately tightening around him and demanding him to stay and give her everything, only to be left so wanting as he drew back before plunging into her once more.
It was too much. It could never have been enough. She could hear herself speaking but whatever she was saying had bypassed her mind entirely, no room for anything but the surges of pleasure that filled it, filled her, filled everything.
Whatever she said had some effect on Grand Pear, and with a couple of final, erratic thrusts he buried himself into her with a roar of satisfaction. One last twitch and he was cumming, so thick, so full, his warmth and lust pouring into her, claiming her, filling her entirely. She shuddered and held him close and without thinking she was kissing and nuzzling his chest, pressing herself as tightly to him as she could as his seed flooded into her.
And then, as suddenly as it had started, it was over.
The warmth faded, the pleasant cloud muddying her thoughts began to clear as he pulled himself out of her and the pair collapsed to the ground, neither capable of anything more than lying in the dust, panting. She felt the light brush of Grand Pear’s hoof on her hip, the only bit of tenderness she’d ever seen from him, and then it was gone as he thought better of it.
Good riddance.
As her strength returned and she pulled herself up, she glanced over at the supine Pear, his cock already starting to pull back into his sheath as he stared glassily up at the red sky above them.
Granny Smith took a deep breath, steadying herself, trying to ignore the wet drip of his seed rolling down the inside of her thigh. “You better move that fence now,” she said, after a moment.
“Fuck you,” he replied, not missing a beat.
Despite herself, despite everything, she couldn’t help but laugh. “You already did.”
Oh no. Oh fuck. Oh fuck fuck fuck fuck FUCK.
Granny Smith paced up and down the length of her bedroom, trying as hard as she could to keep calm. It probably would have helped if her bedroom was big enough to let her get more than three paces before turning around.
No, it wouldn’t. This was way beyond pacing.
Her next cycle was late.
Really late.
Late enough that there was only one explanation left.
She should have known, of course. Her heat had died down so quickly, far too quickly, and instead she’d just taken it for granted. In fact, when all the other mares had been suffering and she’d been right as rain she couldn’t help but count her lucky stars.
There were no stars left to count now.
How could she have been so stupid? She had never fucked in heat without taking her herbs before. She was smarter than that, always had been. And yet the mare that stared back at her in the mirror now looked anything but smart. She looked dumb, and she looked scared. And if Granny Smith looked for too long she swore she could see a small but perceptible round swell in her belly. Her imagination, of course – she wouldn’t show for months yet – but she saw it anyway.
She stopped looking.
It wasn’t even the worst part. She could have handled any other unplanned pregnancy, she was pretty sure. Yes, it would have been difficult, and yes, she’d be sitting here trying not to panic regardless.
But at least it wouldn’t be his.
She groaned and flopped back on her bed, hating even thinking about him. And even that wasn’t the worst part. The worst part was that she was going to have to tell him.
They hadn’t spoken since… it had happened. Not that they were exactly on speaking terms before, but a week seldom passed without at least one or two altercations. Now, though, she hadn’t seen hide nor hair of him, and she was certain he was avoiding her. It made sense; she was absolutely avoiding him too.
Until now. Until she had this to tell him.
She’d spent hours trying to work out an alternative, any other story she could spin to hide it from him and everyone else. It was a stallion from out of town, only here for a few days before heading back to wherever he came from. It was a farmhand, you wouldn’t know him. She’d been drunk, and couldn't remember who the father was.
But no, and not just because Granny Smith was a bad liar. The life now growing inside her wasn’t just hers, it was his too. No matter how much simply looking at him made her want to scream, no matter how much she despised him, she was not terrible enough of a pony to deny him being a father.
He’d probably work it out anyway. Once she started showing, once the rumors started flying, he’d work it out. Better he found out now than later, and straight from the horse’s mouth, so to speak.
With a heavy sigh, she pulled herself upright. It could wait a while, at least. A few days, weeks maybe? Enough time for her to get used to the idea of being a mother, at least.
Enough time that when she told him she might even enjoy the shocked look on his face.
She didn’t enjoy it as much as she’d hoped.
“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”
“I wouldn’t kid about something like this,” she snapped. “What kinda pony do you take me for?”
Her voice echoed around the empty barn, the lantern between them sending ghostly silhouettes dancing up against the walls.
It hadn’t been easy to persuade Grand Pear to meet. Hay, even just finding him had been hard enough. Eventually, she’d managed to convince one of his workers that she genuinely wanted to talk to him, it wasn’t just some scheme, and here they were. An old barn that bridged their properties, left alone because if either of them tried to mess with it the other would inevitably kick up a storm. Neutral ground.
“I take you for a lot of things,” Grand Pear replied, “but even I didn’t think you’d be that dumb.”
“You watch your mouth,” she growled. “You’re the one who finished inside me, you shoulda' known the consequences.”
“You told me to! Don’t try and shift the blame here, it won’t work.”
“I… What?”
“When we were-” He caught himself, rolling his eyes in exasperation. “You practically demanded it, don’t pretend otherwise. We were both there.”
Granny Smith sighed deeply. Of course she did. She always had done, it helped stave off the heat for longer. When she was taking her herbs it didn’t matter, and she’d been in no state to think when she’d…
“I just thought you’d be safe,” he said, quietly. “What kinda mare fucks in heat without protection if they ain’t trying to get pregnant?” His eyes widened. “Wait, is that it? Is all this just to get back at me? You’re a sick pony, Apple.”
“It’s not like that.”
“Oh, I get it. This is a trick. Look, I’m struggling to get past it too, but it happened. Let’s just let it go and-”
“I ain’t joking,” she said, firmly. “I’m pregnant, and you’re the only one it could be.” Granny Smith hesitated a moment as his shoulders slumped in defeated resignation. He’d been so desperate for any way out, and now he seemed to shrink in on himself as the reality sunk in for the first time. She bit her lip. “And there’s more.”
“How in the hay can there be more?”
“I went to the hospital, just to get checked up, make sure everything was okay and healthy.”
“And?”
Granny Smith closed her eyes. Just say it. Get it over with. “It’s twins.”
There was a long silence.
This was followed by a string of obscenities so long and varied that Granny Smith could do nothing but wait for him to finish. She was actually a little impressed. Eventually he finished his tirade, slamming his hoof against a supporting beam hard enough that she heard a crack.
“Look, it’s not what I wanted either,” she said, as he nursed his sore appendage, “but I’m not gonna ask anything of you. It was my mistake. I’ll raise them, you don’t have to send bits or anything. I just needed to tell you about them.”
He was silent a moment longer, but when he turned to face her his eyes were hard and determined. “No,” he said.
“Huh?”
“I said no.”
“No what?”
He shook his head. “No way in Tartarus I’m letting an Apple raise my foals. Especially not you.”
Granny Smith stared at him, dumbfounded. “Are you saying what I think you’re saying?”
“I’m saying that you’re the worst choice of parent I could think of, and I’m not gonna let you ruin my foals.”
“That ain’t your choice to make,” she snarled. “You wouldn’t even know good parenting if it ran up and bit you in the ass.”
“I’d sooner trust a manticore as a mother than you, and they eat their young!”
“And if I did that they’d still be better off than having a Pear as their parent!”
“You shoulda' thought about that before you got knocked up, then.”
Granny Smith bit back her immediate retort, snorting in frustration. “Forget this, I didn’t come here to fight.”
“Then why are you here?”
“I’m here to tell you the truth,” she said. “You don’t deserve much, but even you deserve to know you’re a Dad. I should have known you’d just turn it into another argument.”
“You don’t want to argue? Fine,” he said. “You said it was twins? Then the answer is easy. I’ll take one, and you take one. That way at least only one of my foals will have to put up with you.”
Her eyes widened in disbelief. “Split up my kids?” She shook her head vehemently. “No, you can’t ask me to do that.”
“I can, and I did. They’re my kids too, and we both know how hard it’ll be to raise two of them. This is the best thing we can do. You raise one of them the Apple way, and I’ll raise one the right way.”
“No,” she repeated, barely even hearing the insult this time. “They stay with me. You’re not taking them away from their mother.”
Grand Pear stomped the ground, hard. “But you’ve got no problem taking them from their father? You think you’re the only one who cares what happens to them? Who needs to make sure they’re okay?”
“You can… You can come visit,” she said, the first flickers of uncertainty beginning to seep into her words. “Any time you want.”
“You want that?” he said, knowing she didn’t. “You think something like that would ever work?”
“We’ll make it work.”
“No, we won’t. You don’t want me coming round any more than I do. You don’t want everypony to know exactly what we did. Gossiping, muttering. And you really don’t want our foals to see their parents hating each other’s guts the whole time.” He nodded to himself. “This is the fairest way to handle this. For everyone, including them. Especially them.”
“I…”
“We’ll raise them each as our own, and no one ever has to know what we did. Least of all the foals. They’ll be happier, and we’ll be happier.”
“But-”
“No buts. For once in your life, Apple, do what’s right.”
“Nothing about this is right,” she said.
“It’s not,” he agreed. “But this is the closest we’re gonna get.”
Granny Smith was silent for a long time. “Let’s say I agree –- and I ain’t agreeing to anything yet – but let’s say I did. How do we decide?”
“Decide what?”
“You know.”
“No,” he said. “I don’t.”
He was really going to make her spell it out for him. “How do we decide who keeps which foal?” Granny Smith asked, with a deep grimace. She hated talking like that, like her children were just things, to be traded and bartered away. She hated everything about this, and most of all she hated Grand Pear for getting her to even consider it.
“I guess we’ll cross that bridge when we come to it.” He sighed at the clear distress on her face. “Look, this really is for the best. Neither of us has the time or energy for two foals. Heck, it’ll be enough of a struggle with just one. And I don’t want to have to explain to my kid why their mother and I fight all the time.”
A sharp sting at the corners of her eyes told Granny Smith what she already knew, tears starting to well up as she struggled. He was wrong. She could handle two foals. She’d be a great mother. She didn’t need him.
But.
She hated that there was a but.
But he was their father. Before this, she’d never even thought about having foals, except how to avoid it, but the idea of having them taken from her now was already so painful, more painful than she could ever have imagined. And yet, that’s exactly what she was trying to do to Grand Pear. Making him watch his own children grow up over the top of a fence, brought up by his arch-rival to hate him, never even knowing the truth about him. And what were the alternatives?
They both knew that even this couldn’t mend their fierce rivalry. That wound was far too deep, their feud too vicious. There was no chance for a traditional parental situation here, it could never work.
But could this?
“What would you say?” she asked, eventually.
“To who?”
“Everypony. You suddenly show up with a foal to take care of at the same time as me? No mare around? I think that would be a hard one to lie about.”
He shrugged. “I’ll make something up. Say it was some wild fling, and then eleven months later I get a basket on my doorstep and a letter saying I’m the Dad.” Grand Pear gave her a withering look. “Ain’t even that far from the truth. And it’s not like anyone’s gonna notice you getting one at the same time, there’s plenty of mares pregnant right about now.” He smiled humorlessly at the thought before his attention turned back to her. “And what about you? What are you gonna say? There’s no stallion around for you either.”
“I’ll tell them to mind their own dang business.”
His smile returned, genuine this time. “I like that,” he said. "Maybe I’ll say the same.” With an air of finality, Grand Pear straightened up. The lantern was burning low, and even the ever-present crickets outside were beginning to quieten. “So, we’re agreed then?” he asked, proffering his hoof.
“I…”
Grand Pear didn’t say anything more, but he did scowl meaningfully, jutting his hoof further forward.
She closed her eyes, and then reached forward to take his hoof in her own, although not before spitting heartily into it. She took great pleasure in the disgusted expression he gave her when she opened her eyes again.
His hoof was warm, and there was a momentary flash of memory, of heat and fiery lust, of the scent of apple blossoms and musk and dust. And then it was gone, and they back in this decrepit barn, and she yanked her hoof out of his grip as if stung.
Carefully wiping his spittle-covered hoof clean on the ground, Grand Pear nodded. “Alright,” he said, his voice sounding more nervous than angry for the first time that night. “Then it’s settled.”
“It is,” she said, wishing it wasn’t.
He hesitated a moment, on the verge of saying something more, but then he thought better of it. Without another word, he left her alone in the flickering, dying light.
In the growing dark, Granny Smith at last stopped holding back the tears and let them roll slowly down her cheeks.
They were beautiful.
Everything over the last few days – the stress, the pain, the fear, the dread – it had all been worth it now that the two of them were in front of her. Hay, everything over the last year had been worth it. They were perfect.
A colt and a filly. The colt was yellow furred, bright green eyes staring up at her under a fiery red mane. The filly was orange, and had taken more after her father, her mane already starting to curl at the ends. Over the last few days since they’d been born she’d spent every moment with them, treasuring every memory she could. And now, as she began to bundle them up tightly in blankets whilst they looked up at her with wide, inquisitive eyes, it was hard to look back at them.
Once they were bundled up in their blankets, Granny Smith gave them one last, sad smile, and then placed them both gently into their basket. Gripping the handle firmly between her teeth, she pushed open the door and stepped out into the cool night air.
With every step, the doubt and worry in her heart grew more sheer, great stabbing pangs of regret with every swing of the basket against her chest. She just gripped it harder, almost enough to start biting through, and did everything she could to avoid thinking about where she was taking them, and why. She’d spent the better part of a year not thinking about it, a few more minutes was all it would take. Never think about it, because if you do – lying alone in bed, seeing foals playing with their parents, or even just looking too long at her bump in the mirror – you’ll never stop. You’ll spiral, like you’ve done all those times before, and you can’t spiral now. It’s too late for that.
And so instead she just concentrated on her breathing, keeping it slow and measured. On her hoof steps, and each and every crunch in the dirt. But not the weight of the basket she was carrying. And not her destination.
The walk to the old barn was a long one, and yet it was over all too soon as Granny Smith found herself outside, yellow light once again flickering through the cracks in the warped wooden sidings. He was already here.
It almost looked welcoming, if she hadn’t known better. It took a long while for her to build up her courage, standing still long enough that she began to shiver. It wasn’t until one of the foals started to voice their discontent that she was able to get her legs to move again.
The door opened at the sound of their approach, revealing the silhouette of Grand Pear in the frame, waiting for her. He didn’t say anything as she stepped past him across the threshold, but she could see the way his hoof scratched anxiously against the wooden floor, how he hesitated before shutting the door behind her.
Eventually, he managed to speak. “Hi,” he said, lamely.
“I’m not gonna choose,” she said, gently setting the basket down between them. “I can’t.”
Grant Pear shifted uncomfortably, and then nodded. “It’s okay, you don’t have to.” A pause, and then: “Can I see them?”
She stepped to one side to let him crouch down by the basket. As he leaned in, the filly reached out and gently pressed his muzzle with a giggle. Granny Smith had never seen such pure happiness on her rival’s face as she did in that moment.
“They’re amazing,” he whispered, the first thing that Granny Smith could unequivocally agree with him on.
He straightened up and held out his hoof to her. In it was a shiny, golden bit.
“Heads, the colt. Tails, the filly,” he said.
Her eyes widened. “That’s how you’re going to choose?” she sputtered. “A fucking coin flip?”
“Do you have a better idea?”
“I… A coin flip!?”
Hearing the distress from her mother, the foals began to cry, and she quickly reined herself in and stooped down to soothe them, trying to keep the seething anger from bubbling up again.
“I’m not going to choose either,” said Grand Pear over her shoulder. “Let’s just leave it up to chance.”
She bit back her retort, muttering nothings to the foals until they quieted again. As horrifically cold as it seemed, it did make some kind of terrible sense. If neither of them could choose, this was the fairest way. She stood and turned back to him.
“Heads the colt, tails the filly,” he repeated.
“Okay,” she said, the word landing like a ton of bricks between them. “Flip it.”
And he did. The coin spun through the air, twisting, turning, catching all the lantern’s light and sending golden patterns skittering along the walls before landing Grand Pear’s waiting hoof. With a final flick, he spun it ground and stomped against the floor, trapping the coin, hidden, beneath his hoof.
He waited a moment before unveiling it, staring fully at Granny Smith, searching for something. She didn’t know what he was looking for, or whether or not he found it, but his attention snapped downwards and he raised his hoof.
“Tails,” he said, and her heart broke.
Not because of any preference, but because now it was real.
Grand Pear stepped over to the basket, gently lifting the filly. She cooed softly in his hold, reaching up to try and grab the curl of his mane.
“She’s called-”
“Pear Butter,” he said, sharply cutting her off and shattering her heart once again. “That’s her name.”
“Okay,” said Granny Smith, all her fight and anger gone now, her voice thick with despair.
Grand Pear sighed, and held out his daughter. “You can say goodbye if you want.”
With trembling steps, Granny Smith stepped back over to him and gave her foal a gentle kiss on her forehead. “Be good,” she murmured. The filly laughed in answer, smiling up at her with that same, beautifully naive expression she’d already come to love. Was this the last time she would ever look at her mother that way? Once Grand Pear had raised her as his own, Pear Butter would surely stare at the Apples with nothing but hatred, and here, now, would be nothing but a memory she’d never know. But for now there was nothing but love there, and despite her tears, Granny Smith smiled back.
Grand Pear said nothing as he drew Pear Butter close again and made to leave. There wasn’t really anything he could say. At the doorway, though, he paused, casting a glance back to the basket where his son still lay. “Take care of him,” he said.
And then the door was closing behind him, and both he and her daughter were gone. Granny Smith sank to the ground with a sob, and, as the warmth beside him began to cool now that his sister was no longer there, Bright Mac began to cry too.
Time passed, as it always does. The events of that fateful summer became a distant, repressed memory for both Grand Pear and Granny Smith. Even if the results still pattered about on the floors in their respective homes. Grand Pear made good on his plan. When asked, he said that it was some wild fling, and then eleven months later he got a basket on his doorstep and a letter saying he's the father. That was what he told ponies. That was what he told himself.
Granny Smith did the same. Telling herself it was some wild fling. Which was true. It was with some stallion she'd rather not remember. Which was also true. "Definitely not Grand Pear," she told herself, "He was the last pony she would do that with." She focused on the truth woven into that. She wasn't a pony that lied, after all. So it had to be true. That was what she told herself. And she kept on telling herself until she believed it. And the memory became more smudged and blurred with time. Granny Smith told other inquisitive ponies to "mind their own dang business". And when Granny told somepony to do something, they dang well did it.
With Granny and Pear still avoiding each other, the fence never did get moved. A surveyor did confirm the correct boundaries of the Apple's property, which now included a brand new fence of the finest timber, courtesy of the Pears. Grand Pear made sure to maintain his property, but not one centimeter more. As a result, the thin section of Apple property on the Pear side of the fence became something of a 'no pony's land', overgrown with weeds and wild flowers.
For a time, things were good. Granny Smith and Grand Pear actively avoided each other even more so than after their fling. The two families kept to themselves, ignoring the other and avoiding confrontation. Each of them were extra busy, not only running their orchards, but also raising their foals. Foals that they each kept hidden from the other family. Both sides were oblivious of the new addition to the other.
That was until each of the foals were out of diapers and free to roam about their orchard with the adults. As long as they obeyed the one rule: No talking to the ponies on the other side of that pony-forsaken fence!
Harvest season had both families out in the orchards in force. With so many, in such close proximity, a confrontation was unavoidable. It mattered little who said, or did, what first. But just like that, the cold war was hot once more with Grand Pear and Granny Smith at the head of the packs. It was comforting, in a way, to each of them. The old routine helped to further bury that which they each sought to forget.
And so it went. Granny Smith and Grand Pear were always at each other. Who was the best farmer? Who took better care of their trees? If Granny read to her trees at night, then Grand Pear had special blankets made for his trees so they wouldn't get cold. In fact, all the Apples and the Pears were rivals to the core.
The only Apple and Pear who ever got along were Bright Macintosh and Pear Butter. As rebellious foals told not to do something, their immediate thought was to do it. One day the three-year-old foal, Pear Butter, erred a bit too close to the fence dividing the properties of the abutting farms, fascinated with a patch of wild buttercups. On the other side of the fence, Bright Mac, also three years old himself, snuck closer to the 'dangerous' pear pony. But she didn't seem so bad from where he stood. He whispered to get her attention without alerting any of the other ponies.
"I'm not supposed to talk to you," he said.
"I'm not supposed to talk to you either," she replied. He plucked one of the small flowers that she was looking at.
"My mom says that if you hold a buttercup under your chin, it'll make your chin glow. But it doesn't work on me. See?" He held the buttercup under his chin without effect. Pear Butter plucked one and did the same for herself, making her chin glow.
"Does it work on me?" she asked. Bright Mac was smitten.
"It sure does, Buttercup," he said.
"Buttercup. I like that name," she said.
What had started as an act of rebellious defiance, turned into a compelling curiosity regarding the other. All their young lives, each family had told them how awful the other was. But it didn't seem to be the case with them. As they got better at being sneaky, and meeting more often, they became good friends. Whenever they would secretly meet, Buttercup was his pet name for her.
As the years passed, and the two foals grew up into a young mare and stallion, their friendship began to blossom into love. They had that magical, star-kissed, other side of a rainbow kind of love. You couldn't be around them too long and not feel a little bit lighter than air, yourself. Some days they couldn't sneak away from their homes without rousing too much suspicion. On those days they would send each other messages or little sketches by a carrier bird.
One day, Buttercup got a note from her carrier bird. It was a message from Bright Mac telling her get a jar of the delicious pear butter that she was known for making, and to come meet him at the 'special rock'. It was code for their secret meeting place, on the boundary of the two properties. It was a small clearing in the far reaches of the orchards. The entire section had fallen out of tending, and much of it was overtaken by the wild underbrush. But there was one patch of clear grass between the apple and pear trees, surrounding a lone boulder.
Buttercup made her way through the orchard and arrived at the clearing to find that Bright Mac had set up a picnic for the two of them. It was complete with bread, and a set for tea that had long gone cold. But Buttercup didn't mind. They both smiled and embraced each other, exchanging their greetings quietly. Even as far as they were from their houses, there was never any knowing who might be out in the orchard who might hear them.
"Listen, Buttercup," Bright Mac started, "I asked you out here today because my mom was saying that she wanted the family to try to reclaim this section of the orchard, so we might not be able to meet here for much longer."
"Well then... we had best make the best of the time that we have," she said as she settled down on the blanket beside him and opened the jar. He took a butter knife from the basket and to put some of the pear spread on the slices of bread. "Hmm," Buttercup cooed. "I bet that's not the only pear you'd like to spread," she said, looking at him with her best bedroom eyes.
"That's true. I like all kinds of pear foods!" Bright Mac said, not nearly as bright as his name. "I never understood what my Ma always had against them. Pears taste good!"
"Mmm, you better believe it," she said in a sultry tone. Bright did not at all pick up what she way laying down. He just chuckled at... nothing at all really. It was one of the little quirks about him that she just adored. If he didn't understand something, he just laughed at it. And that's not so bad. Pear giggled along with him. He might have been naive, but he would figure it out soon enough. She was heading into her season.
He turned around and picked up something he was hiding behind himself. He turned back and revealed a bouquet of wild flowers that he had picked for her. Buttercups, to be precise. He held the bouquet in his mouth. But he underestimated the pollen of the buttercups in full bloom. He twitched and then sneezed, sending the flowers flying, most of which landed in her mane. It only made both of them laugh louder before they leaned in to kiss each other. Until they heard a twig snap nearby.
They both gasped in surprise and went silent. On the border of the wilds there could be any number of beasts. Timberwolves, manticores, cockatrices, ursa minors, or worse yet, one of their parents. Bright Mac stood up and put himself between Buttercup and the direction of the noise. Chiffon Swirl poked her head up from behind the bushes and gave a friendly wave.
"Oh, it's just you," Buttercup said, breaking the tension.
"Sorry," Chiffon apologized. "It's just that you've done so much for me lately that I wanted to surprise you with a cake. So I just brought you a little something to say thank you, but I see you're busy," she said with a sly grin. Buttercup smiled back as she and Bright Mac both blushed and giggled.
"Promise you won't say anything," Buttercup said with pleading eyes. Chiffon made a zipper motion across her lips, indicating that her lips were sealed. But it was too late. The three of them turned and looked at the noise of another pony approaching.
Granny Smith had taken an early start of working on the overgrown area, collecting some of the fallen apples as she went. She wandered into the clearing and her eyes locked onto the cutie mark of the Pear pony. She snorted in disgust and glared as she marched straight over to her son.
"What in tarnation are you doing, Bright Mac!? We do not fraternize with Pears!" she said, literally spitting the word along with her saliva at the other pony's hooves. She didn't wait for an answer before biting her son's ear. Hard. And dragging him back home. As much as it pained him to turn his head, he looked back at Buttercup and gave her a smiling wink to let her know that this wouldn't be enough to stop him from seeing her. She just smiled and waved back.
"You and Bright Mac?" Chiffon asked Buttercup in surprise. "Oh, I wouldn't believe it if I hadn't seen it with my own eyes. Your families hate each other!"
"I can't help it," Buttercup said wincing in the face of the hard truth. "We just sorta... happened." As hard as the truth was, it couldn't overshadow the love she felt in her heart as she just stared dreamily in the general direction of Bight Mac.
~
"I should'a known," Granny Smith growled through her teeth on his ear as she dragged Mac along. "I should'a know this'd be the year. Yew ain't a colt no more." When they reached the farmhouse she ushered him inside. "Now go on up to your room and pack your things!"
"Wha- Ma!? Are you kicking me out!?"
"Don't be foalish! Of course I ain't! But we need to get these urges outta yer system! Honestly, Mac. A Pear!? This is worse than when I caught your uncle with a dang cow!" She followed him upstairs and thew a bag open onto his bed. "I'mma gett'n you a whorse! But ever since that lil' whippersnapper in town hall started legislatin' morality, whorse'n around is illegal in Ponyville now, thank you very much Mayor Mare!" she growled. "I'm taking you to Dodge Junction!"
Neither Bright Mac nor Granny Smith said much to each other on the over-night train ride to Dodge Junction. Bright Mac didn't want any part of this plan of hers. But he knew he was already on thin ice as it was. She had his return ticket and all the bits. If he tried to disobey her now, he might not even have a home to go back to. The Pears sure as Tartarus wouldn't take him in. He'd be stuck in Dodge Junction, and he would end up being the one turning tricks for money.
Granny Smith, for her part seemed pleasant once they disembarked at the station. After a few discreet inquiries, she led him to the local brothel. She walked inside, with Mac in tow, and spoke with the matron. After a bit of discussion about some of the services and haggling they arrived at an agreement.
"Look, ya don't need to wow 'em," Granny said to the matron with a dismissive wave of her hoof at the stallion. "I ain't looking for yer best. I don't even care if it's a dang zigger!"
"MA! What the hay!?" Bright Mac balked, absolutely mortified. "You can't just say the Z word like that!"
The matron nor any of the other ponies there didn't appear to be phased by the casual racism. Granny ignored him and continued.
"He just needs something to get the ol' baby batter off his brain so he kin' git back t'work without bein' distracted." She pushed the modest pouch of bits across the counter. The matron turned to her assistant.
"Get that new filly," she said. "Have her meet him in..." she looked over her roster on the clipboard. "...In room four." She motioned to Mac to head down the hallway while Granny left to go wait in the saloon across the street. Bright Mac walked down the hallway to the door with the number four on it and knocked.
"It's open," a mare's voice said from the other side. He turned the knob and opened the door. The young mare was laying on the large bed inside. She had pale-tan fur. Her mane was a two-tone of red and burgundy. And her cutie mark was a pair of cherries adorning her flank. "Hello there," she said in a sultry voice.
"Good afternoon, ma'am. I'm Bright Mac," he greeted, taking off his hat. She giggled at his formality.
"I'm Cherry Jubilee," she replied.
"It's nice to meet you Ms. Jubilee," he said.
"You can just call me Cherry," she said.
"Alright... uh, Cherry. May I come inside?" he asked nervously, still standing outside the doorway.
"Yes... or wherever you like," she purred. He stepped inside the room and closed the door behind him. He stood there at the foot of the bed. She remained on the bed. They both just stared at each other for a long minute. Cherry began to feel uncomfortable. She was unaccustomed to a stallion that didn't just wordlessly walk in, rut her, and leave without so much as a 'thank you'.
"So... what would you like to do?" she asked.
"Well ma'am, If I'm being honest, I'd like to just go home," he said. Cherry was now exceptionally confused at this stallion in a brothel.
"Home? Why?" she asked.
"Well..." he noticed the simple chair opposite the foot of the bed for some of the clients who liked to watch. "Do you mind if I sit?" he asked. She smiled.
"Sweetie, you don't have to ask," Cherry said. "This is your time. You have me for an hour."
"Thank you." He sat down in the chair and took a deep breath.
"So you want to watch?" she asked. "Do you want me to bend over, or on my back like this? Do you want me to use a dildo or my hoof? I can almost get my whole hoof in there!" She said, laying back and spreading her legs.
"What? No! Don't do any of that!" he stammered, covering his eyes.
"Ah. I got it," she said. "It's all about you." She got off the bed and knelt in front of him. She opened her mouth and reached out with her hoof to tease his sheath. He pushed her hoof away with his.
"No I- I really just want to go home," he said. "There's a mare there that I really like... But I'm not supposed to," he lamented.
"Oh, I get it. Is it your mom? Or your sister?" she asked, slipping into her role-playing. "It's okay big brother, nopony has to know!" she said in a cute voice as she tried to touch him again.
"Please don't remind me of my Ma, she's the one that dragged me here," he said.
"Oh," Cherry said, stopping. "OH! Oh my gosh! Is this your first time!?" she asked. He nodded. She laughed with both relief and embarrassment. "I am so sorry. I didn't realize!" she trotted back over to the bed. "We can do this at your pace. Don't be nervous. Just tell me what you want to do."
"I really do just want to go back home," he said. "There's a mare there that I really like, but I'm an Apple and she's a Pear. And our two families have been feuding since before I was even born..."
Bright Mac went on to tell her the whole history of the feud as best as he knew about it. Cherry just laid there and listened. She was being paid either way. If it meant not having her throat stuffed, or anus stretched by stallion cock (often not in that order) she was only too happy for the break. She listened intently to his story, enraptured by his description of his star-crossed love with his Buttercup.
Many of Cherry's co-workers were veterans of the brothel. They were bitter and cynical mares that had long since abandoned the notion of 'love'. Cherry didn't want to end up like that. She was saving up her bits to eventually have a cherry plantation of her own. That was what her cutie mark was telling her. That was her destiny. Not taking the 'cherries' of young stallions.
"She sounds wonderful," Cherry said.
"She sure is," Bright Mac said.
"I'm sorry to hear about the problems with your families," Cherry commiserated. "And for you mom dragging you all the way out here to..." they both blushed. "You're a good stallion," she said. "Buttercup is a lucky mare."
"Thank you," he said.
"I just wish there was something I could do to help you," she said. She tried to think of something. But her only marketable skills were lying on her back and- "Actually, I just thought of something! You're planning on seeing this girl again, right?" He nodded enthusiastically. "Well I'm sure you want your first time with her to be really special!"
"Well of course!" he replied. She scooted over to the edge of the bed and spread her legs. He averted his eyes.
"It's alright, sugar, you can look. There's no harm in it," Cherry assured him. "But you should at least get familiar with the territory." Bright Mac turned to look at her exposed nethers on full display for him. Normally it was covered by a mare's tail and young colts were taught to not go peeping under there.
Cherry proceeded to give him a full tour and complete a lesson in female anatomy, talking about each of the parts and what to do with them. Between the subject matter of her lesson, and the close proximity of the sight and scent, Mac's body reacted predictably. She found that he wasn't the only one staring now.
"She'll be a lucky mare, indeed," Cherry said, pointing at his fortuitous endowment. Bright blushed and covered himself. "Trust me. I'm sure you're going to want to get right to using that there just as soon as you can with her. But if you can hold off, and use your mouth and tongue like I was talking about before..." She reached down with her hooves and spread her pussy. "And make sure you give this little nub lots of love," she said pointing at her swollen clitoris. "If you can get her off first, then I can promise you that she will love you forever!"
"Thank you, Cherry," he said. Cherry glanced out the window at the clock tower.
"We still have fifteen minutes. Are you sure you don't want to unload that before your big date?" she asked, eyeing the girth of his stallionhood with hunger.
"No. It's not right," he said, frowning. "It's not fair to Buttercup." Cherry was a little disappointed, but smiled just the same. Cherry leaned forward and gave him a chaste kiss on the cheek.
"You're a good stallion, Mac," she said. "Don't ever let anypony tell you otherwise. Especially your mother." She reached over the edge of the bed and grabbed the champagne ice bucket, dousing him with it. He gasped and shrieked. But it did the job of stowing his erection.
"Now go on," she said, shooing him out of the the room. "You go get that mare, and you love her! Ya hear? You love her and don't you ever let her go!"
Bright Mac walked back out to the lobby, looking for his mom. The matron directed him to the saloon across the street. Bright Mac walked inside and scanned the room, failing to spot his mom. He was about to turn back around and leave when Granny Smith staggered out of the stallion's restroom, walking in a crooked line in his general direction.
"Ma? What were you doing in the colt's room?"
"Nun-a-yer gall-dang business!" she snapped. "You don't hear me asking on about you getting yer jollies off now do ya!? Now move yer ass and git back to the train station!" She stormed out of the saloon. Bright Mac followed after her, looking back over his shoulder to see three smug-looking zebras exiting the restroom.
~
After the train ride home, Granny Smith was confident that between getting Bright Mac's needs seen to, and the thinly-veiled threats to his stallion anatomy, that he would steer clear of any Pears for the rest of his days.
But Bright Mac was undeterred. He hadn't even finished unpacking his day bag that evening when he was already working on a plan in his mind. A tapping at his bedroom window drew his attention. It was the courier bird, perched on the sill outside, tapping at the glass. He opened the window and looked at the frantically written note. He quickly wrote a reply, outlining his plan and sent the bird back. The blinking light in her bedroom indicated that she had received his note.
That night he snuck out of the house and into the orchard. There was something he needed to do for tomorrow to be perfect.
The next day, they met at the new spot that he had found for them. It was at the top of a hill beyond the edge of the orchards. It was too steep for either farm to use or bother with. He was confident that they wouldn't be disturbed. He set up another picnic for them but she didn't care if he had brought nothing at all. She was just so happy to see him.
"Oh Bright!" she cried as she hugged him. "After your mom dragged you off I tried to get a message to you. But I didn't see or hear hide or hair of you for the last two days!"
"It's alright," Mac told her. "My mom just dragged me along on a... trip out of town. I didn't have time to tell you about it. But I'm back now. And I'm not going anywhere." She just hugged him again and they looked out over the expanse of Ponyville below them. "Happy 131,456-hour anniversary, Darlin," he said, placing a buttercup flower in her mane over her ear. Taking care to make it look good intentionally.
"What? That's way longer than we've been together," she said.
"I know. But it's the anniversary of the first time I called you Buttercup," he said. She blushed. "It's okay if you didn't get me anything," he teased. She rolled her eyes and gave him a smug grin.
"Actually, I did," she said, opening her bag and taking out the instrument that she had brought.
"A guitar? For me!? But I don't know how to play," he joked.
"Quiet you," she said as she started to strum the chords of the song that she had written for them.
We're far apart in every way
But you're the best part of my day
And sure as I breathe the air
I know we are the perfect pair
On a prickly path that goes on for miles
But it's worth it just to see you smile
And I cannot be pulled apart
From the hold you have on my heart
And even if the world tells us it's wrong
You're in my head like a catchy song
The seasons change and leaves may fall
But I'll be with you through them all
And rain or shine, you'll always be mine
On a prickly path that goes on for miles
You're the only one who makes it all worthwhile
And you should not blame me, too
If I can't help fallin' in love with you...
Buttercup stopped as she realized that she had said that last line out loud. Bright Mac spoke before she could.
"Hey, no fair. I was gonna tell you the same thing!"
"You're just mad I beat you to it," she teased back, grateful for the levity.
"I'm telling ya. I was going to pull you up, cover your eyes..." he said, picking her up off the picnic blanket and put his hat over her forehead. He lead her down the hill to their old clearing "... lead you over here and say surprise!" He pulled his hat off her face and revealed the old boulder where they would meet before. He had spent the night carefully carving thier cutie marks into it with a heart etched around them. "And then you'd say, 'oh Bright Mac I love it!' And then I'd say 'I love you.' Too bad it didn't work out, though," he teased.
"Yup. Too bad," she teased back. She closed her eyes and pursed her lips. He did the same they leaned into each other and their lips met. They had finally said it. They had finally said what they were both thinking, what they were both feeling. It wasn't just rebelliousness against their parents, or young lust. It was true love through and through. She wrapped her hooves around him and pulled him down onto the grass with her as they continued to kiss. Which isn't to say that lust wasn't also a part of it.
Bright Mac was careful not to land on top of her. He rolled to the side and she rolled with him on the soft grass, laying on top of him as they kept kissing. Everything about it felt so amazing. The way her curly mane draped over his face above him, the feeling her lips on his, her fur against his own, her warmth of her body against him. The rest of the world melted away around them until it was just her and himself.
Her lips tasted so sweet on his. Each of them had a diet of sweet fruits. But he grown so used to apples that the fresh pear flavor of her jams, and on her lips, was heaven to him. And her scent! All those hugs and times with her leaning on his shoulder, he would bury his face into her mane. And now he was surrounded by her wavy locks draped around them as the kept on kissing. But there was something else to her scent.
Buttercup was the first to part her lips. He felt her tongue brush against his lip, bidding him to join her. He was happy to oblige her as his tongue met hers, the two dancing over one another as he listened to her excited panting through her nose. He realized just how hard and deeply he was breathing himself. He felt himself getting almost dizzy from her aroma. Was it a new perfume? He would have to ask her to wear it more often. He absolutely loved it.
He felt himself loving it just a bit too much.
He realized that his growing excitement was making itself physically know under her. He tried to lift her midsection up with his hooves, hoping that she wouldn't notice. It worked. At least for a while. She suddenly grabbed his hooves with hers and pinned him down playfully. Her torso lowered back down to press against his. He knew there was no way she couldn't feel it pinned between them.
"Mmm!" she moaned, only rubbing her belly against him harder. It thrilled her to know how excited she was making him, to finally feel just how big she hoped he would be. She wouldn't wait another moment to feast her eyes on it. She broke the kiss and pulled away to sit up. Straddling his lap she looked down and could see his long, thick shaft sticking out from under her. Unlike his fur, it was closer in a shade of peach to her own. As though it was meant for her. "Wow," she breathed.
In her new position, Bright Mac could feel her marehood pressed against the side of his shaft. It was hotter than he ever imagined. Not just visually, looking at the lips of her pussy parting against his length. But also thermally hot. It felt like a literal fire burning in her loins. And it was spreading. As she ground her hips against him, her pussy slid up and down along the side of his dick, soaking it with her hot, profuse wetness, dripping down the veiny sides and into the fur of his belly. After grinding on him for a long minute, she lifted her hips up, reaching down with her hoof to angle his dick up to her marehood. She wanted to do it. He wanted to let her do it.
But then he remembered the sage words of a rookie prostitute.
Before her hoof reached his dick, he grabbed her by the hips and rolled her over onto her back. Buttercup was a bit surprised, but not displeased, with the development. She looked up at the stallion hovering over her and braced herself for him to take her flower. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. She knew there would be a pain at first. But it never came.
Bright Mac waited for her to open her eyes again. He wanted to surprise her, yes, but he wanted her to see this. He laid down in the grass between her legs and waited. But while he did, he took the time to enjoy the view. Just beneath the orange tuft of fur that matched her mane, the petals of her virgin flower parted just slightly before him, glistening with wetness in the sunlight. The heavy scent of her musk was intoxicating. The way her clitoris would occasionally wink out from her lips, beckoning him, it was all he could do to not just dive right in. She opened her eyes again, and looked down to see that Mac was between her legs.
The instant he saw that her eyes were open, he wrapped his hooves around her thighs and pulled himself into her loins. Buttercup's back arched and her mouth was agape in so sharp an inhale that it was like an inward scream. Bright applied everything that he had learned in Dodge Junction. He changed up his direction and speed and placement. He ran his tongue up and down along her marehood. He pushed it firm, darting in and out of her wet entrance. He teased her clit with his nose, but only just slightly.
Bright Mac focused on his task. He had a very specific goal that he was working towards. He tried to ignore that it felt like his dick was hard enough to drill for oil under him. Her scent and flavor flooded his every sense of being. He could say with no doubt that it was the very best thing he had ever tasted. Grand Pear himself could stumble upon them and run him through with a pitchfork, and Bright Mac would have died smiling, to have had this as his last meal.
Buttercup's hips bucked under him. She'd heard murmurs from other mares about stallion doing this, and how bad they were at it, and how good they could be at it. But there were no words for what she was feeling. And even if there were, she could think of them. She couldn't think of anything but the raw feeling itself. It was euphoric bliss incarnate. It was the joy of every birthday and Hearth's Warming morning combined, distilled into pure ecstasy, and concentrated entirely between her legs.
Bright Mac focused on her body language, reading her signs. He wanted so much to give her what she herself didn't even know she wanted. What she surely needed. But he held fast, doing as he was taught. If this would have her loving him forever, he would see it through. His tongue began to go numb, but he didn't slow down. The whole time he deliberately avoided the one spot that would send her over the top.
Buttercup felt a tension rising, like the energy of a storm just before it starts down-pouring. It was like standing at the edge of a cliff above a deep water. That edge of... something beyond words. The deep breath before the plunge. Her hoof moved on its own, grabbing his mane hard enough to hurt. It was time. On the next wink, Bright Mac kissed and licked her clit, giving it a suck.
~
"How will I know when she cums?" Bight Mac asked.
"Trust me... you'll know." Cherry Jubilee said.
~
Buttercup let out a high-pitch scream in a frequency usually reserved for batponies. Her hips arched up off the ground to the point that she was practically levitating, pulling Mac up along with her as he held onto her thighs. Even though Cherry had warned him, nothing could have really prepared the stallion for her pussy gushing marecum into his mouth and up his nose. Buttercup's muscles released enough to let her flop back onto the ground as she continued to squirt and her entire body shook and trembled. Her pelvis bucked up and down hard enough to nearly give him a black eye.
Cherry has told Mac that she would be sensitive immediately after, but he couldn't help but keep his mouth firmly on her, drinking deeply of the nectar she was spurting with each spasm. But even the tiny movements of his mouth as he swallowed felt seismic to the mare in mid-orgasm. It was all she could do to bring her leg back and plant her hoof against his shoulder to kick him off of her.
He fell backwards and his cock sprang up into the air. Buttercup eyed it like a feral beast and as such pounced on her prey. Her hips straddled his, and she grabbed him by the face. The hunger in her glazed eyes was very real.
"I need you..." she half-purred, half-growled while she ground against him, "... to fuuuck me!" She jumped off of him and leaned against the boulder carved with their cutie marks. She looked back at him as she flagged her tail. "Come on," she said. "Cummon!cummon!cummon!" she demanded desperately.
Bright Mac moved quickly at her behest. Everything he had learned and remembered flooded out of his mind. His legs moved on their own under him. His body moved on base instinct and his consciousness just sat in the back seat, along for the ride. He reared up and mounted her. His cock twitched and bobbed under her as he tried to hump fruitlessly. She reached under them and guided him with her hoof. Between her copious wetness and his dripping precum, he slipped right up along her marehood into place, poised at her entrance. For a brief moment, he just held himself there. A final shred of the gentlecolt holding onto the reigns of his savagery, waiting for her word. Buttercup let out the saddest, most desperate, tiniest whimper of a plea.
"Please."
The reigns holding him back snapped free. His hips shifted forward and just like that, neither of them were virgins any longer. Buttercup felt herself being penetrated for the first time. Bright felt himself being enveloped by a soft warmth beyond compare. Both of their minds screamed 'more!' He sunk in deeper. She saw stars. There was pain, yes. She had expected that. But it was suffused with the cascades of pleasure still rolling over her in waves. But drowning both of those sensations was the tidal wave of fullness she was feeling as he pushed in the rest of the way.
Bright felt himself bottom out inside her just before he could hilt her. She felt butterflies doing flips in her stomach when he hit her deepest barrier. Everything inside her shifted an inch upwards knocking the wind out of her. It was replaced with a sudden suction as he pulled back. For a brief, shining moment she had known completion. As though she had found a part of herself that she didn't even know she was missing. It had filled her with a sort of genuine happiness that she had simple been incapable of ever knowing before. And just like that, it was gone.
Before she could even mourn the loss, it was back again, even better than before. He thrusted into her, filling her completely. When he withdrew next, she wasn't bereft. She knew it would return. And it surely did, surely better than before. And so the feeling of happiness remained, it grew. This was it, she realized. This was as close as a pony could get to heaven while her heart was still beating. This was what sex was.
For Bright Mac, it wasn't like he had never masturbated before. He surely had. But it was nothing compared to this. It wasn't even close. Oh sure, the parts involved were the same. But the difference between masturbating and sex was the difference between firing a cannonball and throwing it. On a scale of one to ten, it was so far off the scale, the number hadn't yet been discovered. This feeling was simply the best thing ever and he never wanted it to end.
Each time he thrusted, his balls slapped against her clit. The contact sent little jolts of electricity up her spine. Her legs might have given out if his were not firmly braced against the back of them. His oral ministrations had taken her to a pinnacle of pleasure the likes of which she had never before known. She had come down from that peak somewhat since she had cum, but what he was doing to her now held her at a sensational plateau of bliss. Each thrust made that knot in her stomach re-tighten, building her up once again.
"Oh Mac! Oh yes! Keep going!" she moaned. He needed no encouragement. Nothing could deter him from seeing this task to completion. Part him tried to remember to pace himself, to prolong this experience as long as he could. They would only have one 'first time'. And there was no knowing when or if the the next time would be.
Bright felt something inside him snap. He was in love with her. They were in love with each other. They had been for a long time. It was pure and true love. She had chosen him. It was her choice. Who was her father to stand between them? Who did his mother think she was telling him who he couldn't love!? He wouldn't let anypony come between them. He would never let her go.
Buttercup felt his hooves wrap around her tighter and his humping became more aggressive. It was as though he had read her thoughts of begging him to go harder. The steady approach of her own orgasm became much more rapid. She couldn't even form the words in her mind, let alone speak through her heavy panting. It was all she could to to just lean on the carved boulder with him on top of her. He was all that occupied her mind. He was her every thought. He was her whole world. The knot in her tummy snapped free.
"Bright!" she cried out in ecstasy as she came again. He could feel her cumming. Her pussy trebled and quaked around him even as he continued to fuck right through her climax. Her muscles rippled and milked at his shaft, beckoning him to surrender his release. It was the final straw for the stallion. He felt his balls tighten and the tip of his penis flared wide inside her, stretching her like never before. With one last mighty heave, he hilted into her all the way. Buttercup saw stars as he pressed his tip firmly against her cervix, his flare stretching her depths, just slightly parting the tiny entrance to her womb.
Buttercup felt him begin to twitch and throb inside her, pulsing in time with his strong heartbeat. The first load of his semen rocketed up his shaft, delivering a powerful spurt deep inside her. She could feel the heat of his cum splashing inside her, filling the tiny space in her vagina. It was followed by another, and another.
Bright hadn't the time or opportunity to see to his own needs since he had last seen her. And his encounter with Cherry had only left him more desperate. It was doubtlessly the largest load of his entire life. His wide flare made a tight seal, and the sheer volume threatened to push him out. Bright Mac was having none of it. He gripped her hips harder and pushed back into her. His cum had nowhere else to go but deeper inside, forced through her small cervix. He seed flooded her womb, dousing the flames of her heat.
Each pony stopped moving. There was no sound in the orchard besides their labored breathing as they struggled to catch their breath. She became acutely aware of his weight on top of her, pressing her against the rock. A nudge with her elbow and she managed to coax him to lift himself off of her. He hesitated to pull out of her. She was hesitant to let him. It was the clear demarcation of the end of their first time. The finality of it. Neither wanted it to end. This moment, they wanted it to last forever. There were no words.
The cool air of the evening made the decision for them, wilting his erection until it pulled free with an audible 'plop'. He lowered himself down off of her and she turned to kiss him. They both had to get back to their homes before they got into any more trouble. But it was not a kiss goodbye.
The only words left were whispered words.
"I love you."
Pear Butter's aunts and female cousins laid about the homestead in agony. Some took cold showered until they were forced to vacate. Others sat on the block of ice in the cellar. Most sought refuge in the cool stream that ran abreast to the orchard.
Pear Butter herself felt fine. In fact she felt better than she ever had in her life. She walked about the orchard in complete ease, much to the ire of her figurative 'sisters' in unease. So much so that it became apparent even to herself. If it was that season, and every mare everywhere was going through this, why was she not? The list of explanations was short. Buttercup made a trip to the Ponyville apothecary.
Pacing back and forth in the restroom that evening, she waited for the two minutes it took for the test to give a result. It was the longest two minutes of of any mare's life in her position. She watched the test, and waited. Red was negative, blue was positive. After two minutes, she got her result. It was not red.
"Oh shit."
After a trip to the clinic to confirm it, Pear Butter headed home with a pamphlet outlining her choices as a mare. She needed time to think about it. When she got home she snuck a copy of 'What to Expect When You're Expecting' from one of her aunts. She carefully put it inside the jacket of a different book and tucked the pamphlet inside. She knew that she didn't have much time. The longer she waited, the more it would limit her options. She opened it and started to read. But before she could even get to the table of contents, her father opened her door.
"The Pears are moving to Van Hoover," he announced.
"We're moving to Van Hoover? But that's so far!" she replied.
"It's what's best. There's acres of untouched land. And a warehouse to make our jams. We'll get to expand our business and get away from those gosh darn Apples," he growled.
Pear Butter was devastated. But seeing no way out of it, she decided that she would need to do what she had to. But she needed to tell Bright Mac first. He deserved to know that he was... almost a father. She sent him a message by bird and rushed out to meet him in their clearing.
"Buttercup!?" Bright called out, sprinting through the brush to meet her. She had only told him it was urgent. But that was enough. There would have been no mountain high enough to stop him. She sat and waited for him at their rock. He rush over to her and held her close. "Buttercup, what happened? What's wrong?" Buttercup was crying. But when she looked up at him, she smiled, even as she continued to cry. She didn't know what to feel. It was at once the most wonderful and terrible thing to have happened to her.
"I'm pregnant," she said.
The words hit Bright Mac like a speeding train. He was frozen, utterly stunned in the moment, as though every light in his brain has just blown. She could have told him than an entire army of dragons was bearing down on them and he would have been ready for that. But those two simple words sent his world spiraling. He felt like he had just fallen off a cliff. Weightless, but also acutely aware of his fate... and his complete inability to avoid it.
"Wha- w- what!? Could you repeat that please? I think I had something crazy in my ear," he said.
"I'm pregnant," she repeated. She said it exactly the same way. Very simply. Very truly. Without irritation in the repetition. Bright Mac heard her plainly well, just as he had the first time. But he hoped, he hoped against all hope that he had misheard her, or perhaps he was becoming deaf, or crazy. Either fate would have been preferable to the truth.
"You're pregnant?" he asked, forcing her to repeat it yet a third time.
"I went to the doctor's this morning. Three weeks," she said, showing him the slip she had gotten from the clinic. He just stared at it. He couldn't even read it. His eyes went out of focus. The normally-gregarious stallion was utterly dumbfounded as a million-billion possibilities unfolded before him. All of the things that would come from this. A paltry hoof-full of them were good.
"There's more," she said. Bright Mac felt those few, pale, good outcomes evaporating. "We're moving."
Oh no.
Oh no.
Not only was he free falling from a cliff to certain doom. But somepony has struck him in the heart with and a bow and arrow. An arrow wrapped with a venomous cobra covered in razor blades and fire.
"Moving?"
"To Vanhoover," she said.
"Vanhoover!? But that's so far!" he said, echoing her words. "Wh- what about us!? What about..." he didn't say it out loud. Instead he just put his hoof to her belly.
"I- I can't keep it!" she said through her tears. She fell into his hooves. Upset as he was, he hugged her just the same.
"So that's it?" he asked incredulously.
"What do you want me to do, Bright Mac? We're moving. I love you, but I have to stay with my family," She got up and left before he could say another word to dissuade her from her decision. Bright Mac fumed. Not with her, mind you, but with himself, with the situation, with his own futility in the face of inevitability. I wish I could tell you that Bright Mac fought the good fight and Granny Smith and Grand Pear let them be. But unplanned, premarital pregnancy is no fairy tale world. And this is no fairy tale.
Even so, Bright Mac did the most romantic thing anypony had ever done. The night before the Pear family moved, he asked Mayor Mare and Chiffon Swirl to meet him at the edge of Sweet Apple Acres. They needed only to be there. All the other preparations he saw to himself. He made sure that everything was perfect. He left nothing to chance. If this should be the last time he ever saw her, he didn't want it to be because he didn't give his every effort.
Buttercup got his message on her window sill asking her to come to the clearing that night. He told her it was urgent. He underlined the word 'urgent' three times. Buttercup was certain that he wanted to talk to her to somehow convince her to keep the foal. But her mind was made up. She had already made the appointment at the clinic for the following morning. Even so, she respected his summons. She would, at the very least, let him speak his piece. He deserved that much at least.
She made her way there. He met up with her just before she got there. He seemed... happy? Confident that he would be able to convince her? It pained her that she would have to break his heart all over again. He didn't say anything and just led her to their rock. Buttercup gasped. Her friend, Chiffon Swirl was there, along with Mayor Mare and Burnt Oak.
The entire clearing had been done up as a wedding ceremony. There were ribbons, flowers, pears and apples. Candles, and a wedding arch where the mayor waited as the officiator. A wedding cake, courtesy of Chiffon, with a topper of a pear and apple. And even lanterns full of fireflies that he had spent the evening collecting for her arrival.
"I don't want to be apart from you, ever," Bright Mac said. "I'm not sure what we'll do, but I'm sure of us. So sure that I'd marry you today."
Buttercup was smitten. He was so good at doing that to her. Less than a minute earlier, Buttercup had no idea what she was going to do after tomorrow. She'd go to her appointment in the morning, and then move later that day. But she didn't know how she would do after that. If she could ever love again. Herself least of all. But with that one sentence from Bright, it was all so crystal clear. She was sure of him, and herself, and them. The rest of the world be damned!
"I would too!" she said with absolute certainty.
"I think that's my cue," Mayor Mare said from the wedding arch. Mayor Mare had the honor of officiating their secret wedding. And it was perfect. Bright Mac knew Buttercup wouldn't want a big splash, so they had a special way to seal their vows. As Mayor Mare read out the ceremony, each of them took a seed of their families' fruit and buried them in the soil together at their special rock. "I now pronounce you-"
"What is goin on!?" Granny Smith yelled, her voice growing closer. "What's with all these here candles!?"
"Pear Butter, where are you!?" Grand Pear yelled from the opposite side, searching for his daughter. "You're supposed to be packing!" The sound of Grand Pear's voice drew Granny Smith in their direction. The two bitter rivals emerged into the clearing at the same time. All of Ragnarok could have been raining down around them, but nothing could have stopped the two of them from locking eyes in a death stare. Bright Mac and Pear Butter were caught directly in the crossfire. He took one look at his wayward daughter, standing there, beside an accursed apple. "What are you two doing?" he asked in utter disbelief.
Bright Mac was fed up. He'd had it with this bitter feud. He was tired of being afraid of Grand Pear, of his on mom, for who he loved. He put his hoof down and stood closer beside Buttercup, holding her in his hooves. The combined might of both of their families couldn't drag them apart. He dared them. He defied them to try!
"Ma, Grand Pear, Buttercup and I are in love!" Bright Mac decreed.
"What!?" Grand Pear and Granny Smith said in shocked stereo. Buttercup spoke up next.
"And we'll be married as soon as Mayor Mare says-"
"Oh! I now pronounce you husband and wife," Mayor Mare said quickly.
"Doesn't that feel nice?" Buttercup said, kissing Bright Mac. Bright Mac kissed her back.
Granny Smith was in absolute shock. She wasn't sure if she had heard it, or if she had only imagined it. Earlier, when she thought she heard Grand Pear calling out that name. Pear Butter. But it couldn't be. But the more she stared at the other mare, the more she couldn't deny it. That pale, peach-toned fur. That yellow-orange mane. Those azure green-blue eyes. It was her.
It was her daughter.
It was her daughter, Pear Butter, standing there at the wedding alter beside her own twin brother. Granny Smith rushed in between them and broke their kiss, physically separating them with her hooves.
"What are you talking about? Married!? You two can't be married!" she yelled.
"Finally, something we can agree on!" Grand Pear said, though for his own, uninformed reasons. "Pear Butter, enough of this nonsense. We're moving, and you gotta stick with your family!" He turned to leave, fully expecting her to follow him. Granny Smith turned to let Pear Butter leave, focusing on blocking Bright Mac.
But Pear Butter just stood there. The word 'family' echoed around in her head. The meaning of the word. And what it meant to her. Her father. Her aunts and uncles and cousins. Her husband. Her foal. She thought about what was important to her, and what she would have to give up if she had to choose one over the other.
"But... the Apples are my family now, too," Pear Butter said. Granny turned and looked at the other mare, in even more shock than she was before.
Bright Mac seized the opportunity to dart around her and rejoin his bride's side. He stared down at Grand Pear, while remaining alert of his own mother behind them. "Gimme a reason," he thought to himself. "Just you try to come between us again..."
"You can't be serious. Are you choosing to be an Apple over being a Pear?" Grand Pear asked, thrusting his hoof aggressively at him before glaring at her.
"If you lay one hoof on my wife... So help me..." he thought, gritting his teeth hard enough to crack a filling, "you'll spend the rest of yer life eating yer pears through a damn straw!"
"Are you making me choose?" Pear Butter asked, on the verge of tears. Grand Pear balked. She had called him on his bluff. The nerve! He looked at Granny Smith behind her, and then back at his traitorous, so-called 'daughter'. He stood firm, drawing the line in the sand..
"Yes. I am!" he said resolutely, confident that she would fold.
"Then yeah. I guess I am," Pear Butter said, choosing the Apples over the Pears.
The words slapped Grand Pear across the face like an icy whip. His own daughter, whom he had loved and raised as one of his own, betrayed him. A thousand nagging doubts flooded his mind in an instant. Was there something he could have done to have prevented this? Some other thing he could have said to have persuaded her? Some concession he could have made to bargain with her?
His eyes darted, for the tiniest fraction of a second, at Granny Smith behind them.
No. He would show no weakness in front of her. She wanted to keep both of the foals years ago, and he should have just let her. Let her feed her, and raise her, and be her problem. He doubled down and fell back on the one emotion in which he gained the most comfort. It burned away his sadness and doubt.
Anger.
"FINE!" he yelled. His final words to her before he stormed away. He didn't look back. He couldn't look back. He wouldn't give his whorse of a daughter the satisfaction of seeing him crying.
Granny Smith watched Grand Pear storm off. She had thought so many things of the stallion. None of them were good. But even she, Granny Smith, head of the Apple clan, would never have dreamed that he would stoop so low to disown his own daughter like that. At her wedding of all things. Granny thought that she would feel happy, in a schadenfreude kind of way, at the Pear family's pain.
But in her heart of hearts, there was only sorrow. Sorrow for poor Pear Butter, held in the hooves of Bright Mac. Her wayward daughter, left crying at the alter of her wedding by her bastard of a father. Pear Butter's words were more true than she knew. She was also an apple. Just as much as Bright Mac was. And she made her choice. Granny couldn't fault her for simply growing up on the wrong side of the fence. She stepped closer and dried the poor mare's tears. She was just happy to have her daughter back.
Pear Butter had been through enough for one day. Granny Smith decided that she could tell them the truth about them in the morning, and then they could annul the marriage. It wouldn't be easy on either of them, but at least that could be undone.
Granny Smith charged upstairs in the farmhouse, stomping down the hallway to Bright Mac's bedroom and kicked the door open.
"What in tarnation is all that noise-" Granny froze in mid sentence. Bright Mac was on top of Pear Butter in his bed. The sheet covered their lower halves, but it was plainly obvious by the position of their bodies to what they were doing. Even so, she asked, "What in the hay do you two think yer doing!?" Pear Butter looked at Bright before looking back at Granny.
"Consummating?" Buttercup said. Bright Mac blushed, still balls-deep in his unbeknownst sister. Granny Smith fumed.
"Not under my roof! I told you to sleep down on the couch!" she yelled. "What if you get pregnant!?" Pear Butter rolled her eyes.
"I'm already pregnant!" Pear snapped. He wasn't ready to break the news to his Ma yet. Certainly not like this.
"Wha-!?" Granny was dumbfounded.
"Why do you think he married me in the first place!?" she snapped back.
"Because I love you," Bright said.
"Well yeah, that too," she said with a giggle.
"You two can't be married!" Granny snapped. "And you CAN'T be having his foal! Tomorrow we're going to have it annulled, and then I'm taking you to the clinic!"
"Like HELL you are!" Bright Mac's voice boomed as he stood up and climbed off the bed. Buttercup grabbed the sheet to cover her freshly-serviced modesty. Bright stood between them, his stallionhood bare to the cool air of the night. Granny's dominant personality as the matron of the family had always maintained a healthy fear of her in the rest of the clan. But in the dim bedroom she realized, perhaps for the first time, just how tall and burly he had become after a lifetime of manual labor.
"Just you try it!" he growled through his grit teeth. The joints in his hoof cracked as his every muscle fiber pulled taut like a coiled viper ready to strike. "If you even think it... Just you give me a reason." He stomped his hoof to punctuate his sentence, cracking the floorboard. It was abundantly clear that she would not be taking Buttercup anywhere. She had only one card left to play.
"She's your sister!" Granny said in desperation.
"What?" Buttercup scoffed. "That's impossible. Grand Pear is my dad! He had me do a blood test and everything! Not to mention..." Pear lifted the sheet away and pointed at her cutie mark, stained with fresh... consummation. "I've seen my birth certificate. I'm a Pear!" Granny Smith had given home-birth to them in secret. And now she suddenly regretted not having a birth certificate done for her before the night of the exchange. "Maybe I never knew my mom, but I know that you would be the last pony in Equestria my father would ever do that with."
"But it's true!" Granny said.
Bright Mac didn't flinch. If anything, it only strengthened his resolve. "After all those times to taught me about honesty..." He said as he walked over to take his day bag from his closet and put it on his bed next to Buttercup.
"What are you doing?" Granny asked.
"Isn't it obvious? I'm packing," he said. "If you're going to just start lying and making stuff up to drive us apart, then I can't trust you! And if you won't accept us, then we're leaving. We'll make our own way, with or without your help! I'll suck dicks in Dodge Junction if I have to!"
"I think I'd have to be the one sucking dicks, Bright," Buttercup said, just as seriously. "The only way you'd be able to make a living sucking dicks would be is we went to Appleloosa." Both were just as prepared to do whatever they had to to get by for each other. Granny Smith realized that they were really about to leave. She had only just gotten back one of her foals, and now she was about to lose both of them.
"No, wait!" Granny begged. "Please don't leave- I'll- I'm sorry!" It pained her that they didn't believe her. But the thought of losing them both forever hurt so much more. "I promise if you stay I- I won't get in your way," she said, turning to leave and go back to her own bedroom.
Granny Smith didn't sleep well that night. At first it was because she was afraid that they might still leave. But then it was because she was certain that they hadn't.
The steady, rhythmic noise of the headboard against the wall was an ever-present indication of their presence. Granny buried her head under the pillow, trying to block out the noise of her son and daughter commingling together. She tried to block out the image of him repeatedly fucking and cumming inside his already-pregnant sister. Needless to say, she was less-than-cordial at the breakfast table.
"I would ask if you at least managed to sleep well..." Granny said to Buttercup before glaring at Bright Mac's stupid grin. "But that expression tells me that somepony had too much fun on their wedding night."
Granny Smith did the only thing she could. She lied to herself. She had convinced herself for so long that the one wild time with Grand Pear had never happened. That he wasn't Bright's father. And now she was doing it again. She would tell herself over and over that Buttercup was Bright Mac's wife, and that was all. She compartmentalized the two mares. This wasn't Pear Butter at all, she would say. This is Buttercup, as he was fond of calling her. Totally different mare. And that was okay. Everything would be okay.
As an increasingly pregnant mare, Buttercup was not the asset in the orchard that Granny was hoping to gain. But the filly sure could cook. After such a tumultuous beginning, Granny found herself warming up to the new(ish) member of the Apple clan. Each day made it easier and easier to block out the truth about them.
Until that day.
Bright Mac followed Buttercup to the bathroom for their early-morning shared-shower. At first they said it was to save water. And then it was so he could 'keep an eye on her' and make sure she didn't slip in her condition. But Granny never bought any of that. Especially on the mornings when they 'got going' before the water even did. By the sounds of Buttercup's moans, this was one of those mornings.
Until Buttercup's moans turned into a shriek, causing Granny to jump from her bed. Granny heard the clatter of hooves running through the hallway and she ran out to investigate. Her hooves hit a patch of water on the hardwood and she slipped, ending up on her back.
"I told you to towel off before you leave the shower!" Granny yelled from the puddle. "I almost broke my dern neck!" Bright Mac paid no attention as he ran past her. "What's the dern rush!?" Buttercup ran back out of the bedroom, followed by Bright Mac with her bag toward the front door.
"Hospital!" Bright Mac explained curtly. "Foal's coming!"
Granny Smith became acutely aware that it was not shower water she way laying in.
~
Exciting though it always is for the mother and family, Buttercup's delivery was perfectly normal and went as smoothly as it could have. In the recovery room, the new mother laid in bed with her foal in her hooves. "Macintosh," Buttercup said. "After his father."
"He looks so small," Bright Mac said.
"The nurse said he's on the big side," Granny Smith said, surprised and relieved that Buttercup had given birth to a normal, healthy little colt.
"Sure felt like it," Buttercup said with a tired wheeze. "I thought he was coming out with a cart and all!"
"Good thing I made sure there was plenty of room," Bright said with a smug grin. "He probably could have just walked out after I was done." Buttercup's elbow gave him a sharp jab to the ribs.
"Betcha it makes ya want to never have foals again!" Granny said, half-joking, half-hopeful.
"Well, we were hoping for a filly," Buttercup said.
"Well shoot," Bright Mac said facetiously as he gave her a kiss, "I guess we'll just have to keep trying."
