Pear Harvest

by MadMaxtheBlack

Rating: mature
Tags: Pear Butter, Romance, Original Character, Big Macintosh, Sex, Applejack, Slice of Life, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Second Person
Length: 14080

One juvenile delinquent, one down-to-earth mare, and a whole lot of issues. What's the worst that can happen?

This is your last chance. That's what the Guards told you as they carted you off. Your delinquencies were getting out of control. This is your last chance to improve before they'd resort to more drastic measures. Scared and at her wit's end, your mom has arranged for the Guards to take you to a mare that might be able to help: an old friend of hers from way back when. Looks like you're now stuck here with this Pear Butter, the mare who's supposed to help correct your behavior...

...but you'll be damned if you're gonna let some filthy mudpony break you.

Here we go. Number three. Let's do this.

Set in the same universe as Velvet Touch and Windy Skies.

Published 2019-05-02 02:00:02 UTC
Last updated 2019-06-09 03:24:26 UTC

Rotten Bark

Author's Note

I don't know why I keep putting myself through this each year, man, I really don't.

...

Oh right. The milfs.

[downs a shot of whiskey]

Welp, here we go again then. Third times a charm, right? Buckle up, and let's get on with the mature-mare-on-immature-colt action.

...

Cadance help us all...

Rotten Bark

You are jostled from your sleep as the wooden cart rattles beneath you, its wheels rolling over several large stones lying in the middle of the old dirt road. Blinking blearily, you lift your head and look around.

At some point during your slumber, the scenery has changed completely. The hard, rocky mountain paths have given way to gentle, rolling hills of the grassy countryside. A variety of colorful flowers are scattered across the fields, adding blues and yellows and pinks to the unending sea of greens. Several large trees dot the landscape as well, providing shady oases beneath their spreading foliage.

Fighting back a yawn, you survey your surroundings from behind the iron bars. As you turn your head though, the muscles in your neck twinge and you wince. It’s stiff, meaning you must have slept with it bent at an odd angle. Great. Just great.

Lifting your hooves, you go to massage it, only to pause as the chains around your hooves clank together noisily.

Oh… right.

The shackles.

You forgot about those.

At the sound of the irons clattering together, the cart slows for a moment before resuming at its normal pace.

“Hey, you,” a gruff voice calls out.

Looking up from the chains that bind your forehooves together, you glance towards the front of the cart. Two unicorns decked out in golden armor are hooked up to the reins. One of them is peering over his shoulder, his blue eyes glaring out from beneath his helmet. “You’re finally awake, huh?”

“Yeah, what’s it to ya?” you grumble tiredly. “Writing a book about it?” Lifting your forehooves again, you shake the chains about, trying to untangle them and give yourself more reach. After a few seconds, you give up.

“You needed to get up soon anyway,” the Guard replies. “We’re almost there.”

“And I couldn’t have slept until we got there?”

The Guard doesn’t respond. He just snorts before returning his attention back to the front. Beside him, his companion just shakes her head and sighs softly.

Settling back on the hard bench, you try to make yourself as comfortable as possible. This is a challenge, what with the shackles around your ankles and the cold, iron bars currently digging into your back. Still, given that this is a prison cart, it probably isn’t exactly built with comfort in mind.

Not that you really care; you’ve grown quite accustom to such comforts over the last couple of years. In fact, you and the Royal Guards stationed in Canterlot have all gotten to know each other very well. You’re even able to identify several of them by sight now, regardless of their armors’ uniform enchantment. That one guard—Scarlet Moon—definitely has it out for you at this point, but that’s to be expected.

After all, you did set her tail on fire the last time she apprehended you.

A smirk touched your lips as you recall the way she yelped and dove into the nearby fountain, and her waterlogged look when she emerged again. You would have gotten away while she was distracted but her partner had been quicker.

And fatter.

She almost broke your back.

Still, Harlet Moon’s reaction had totally been worth the two weeks you spent in the detention center afterward. She’s just lucky that fire spells aren’t your forte, or she probably would have had a nice, charred flank and a bald cutie mark.

Absentmindedly, you reach up and rub at the nullstone ring that’s positioned around the base of your horn. It’s a huge annoyance, but one that you’ll have to live with for the coming days. You can’t remove it yourself, and you are fairly sure that the guards aren’t going to take it off either.

With an irritated huff, you drop your hoof and settle back in for the rest of the ride.

The cart trundles along slowly, much to your aggravation. You want to get where you’re going quickly, but neither of the guards seems to be in any particular hurry. They move at a slow, steady pace, the grasslands rolling by as they move down the old dirt path.

Probably getting paid by the hour…

You can’t see where you’re headed at the moment, but a glance over your shoulder lets you see where you’ve come from. Canterlot City looms high overhead, sticking off of the mountainside like a giant pimple. Even from this distance, you can see the golden roofs and the flowing waterfalls. You can even sorta make out the mountain path the guards used to take you down to the countryside below.

With narrowed eyes, you watch silently as the city grows smaller and smaller with each passing minute, you nostrils flaring.

About half an hour later and you’re ready to chew your own hoof off. You’re bored out of your skull, and yet you can’t go back to sleep. You could do so easily, seeing as it’s still early in the morning and they woke you up before the sun had even risen. Something about beating the morning traffic and getting you to your destination on time.

Which is a load of horseapples, seeing as you haven’t seen anypony else on the road all day. Everypony is taking the train, like what a smart pony would do.

Every time you start to doze off though, the guards jostle the cart, waking you back up. You’re contemplating bashing your head against the bars in order to knock yourself out when the cart finally crests a particularly large hill, and what is on the other side comes into view.

Sitting up from your previous prone position, you strain your neck in order to get a good look at the town that has just appeared. As your gaze drifts over the small, crooked wooden buildings and the thin, patchy thatched roofs, you can’t help but scoff. It grows into a snicker when you see—not unicorns—but mainly Earth ponies walking through the streets.

This is where you’re going to be staying? Some hick town with a bunch of yokel mudponies? Great. Just bucking great. You can feel your IQ dropping already.

Well, on the bright side, at least you now know that the next couple of weeks are going to be entirely uneventful. This will probably feel more like a vacation for you than the punishment the guards think it’s going to be. You aren’t quite sure where you’ll be staying; all you know is that the mare you’re staying with is supposedly a friend of your mom’s from way back when. If that’s the case, this will probably be a walk in the park.

As you draw nearer to town, you start to get some curious looks from the locals. A few pegasi drift by, watching you curiously from their place in the sky. Ah, so it’s not just mudponies, but featherbrains as well. This place just keeps getting better and better.

Next you’re going to find out there’s zebras here as well or something.

Good thing you didn’t bring any bits with you, just in case.

Ignoring the stares, you try and get a look at the buildings in order to see what stores you are working with. Before you can, however, your entourage suddenly takes a hard right just as they reach the edge of town, heading off a side street instead.

You blink before pressing yourself against the bars to glare down at the guards. “Hey, I thought we were here. Where are you going?”

“Our destination is just outside of town,” the mare replies, not looking back at you. “It’ll be another few minutes or so.”

“For buck sake,” you huff, falling back against the bench again. “I gotta bucking pee.”

“You can take care of that when we get there,” the stallion says.

You grumble beneath your breath for a moment before a wicked idea crosses your mind.

“Or I could take care of it right now,” you say slowly as you begin to get to your hooves. The next thing out of the mare’s mouth, however, stops your plan in its tracks.

“Any mess you make back there, you’ll have to clean up when we arrive.”

You flop back down with an angry grunt.

The guards follow the path around the town until it suddenly branches off and heads back out into the country. There are a few ponies on the path, and they stare with wide eyes as you roll past them. They whisper to one another behind their hooves, and you are well aware that they are talking about you. You spit at one of them—a mulberry mare with a darker purple mane—as you pass, and this earns a gasp.

“Behave, or we’ll gag you,” the guard mare calls back.

“Are you going to bite and spank me too?” you snark, only to backpedal when she lifts an iron muzzle in her magic. “A’ight! A’ight! I get it! Just get that thing away from me!” You relax as she slips the muzzle back into her pack.

The threat of being muzzled curbs your behavior, and you are forced to once again sit on the bench and watch the world roll by. It’s a surprisingly short time until the countryside begins to change again. The grasslands give way to a few patches of trees, and it isn’t long until the cart is making its way down a tree-lined lane. Long branches join together above the path, interlocking with each other and forming a living ceiling of pink blossoms and green leaves. At first, it all seems natural but then you notice that the trees are all spaced out at even intervals.

Five minutes later and there’s nothing but trees as far as the eye can see. Several clusters of them have wicker baskets resting at the foot of their trunks. Each tree looks like its been well cared for; the branches low to the ground have been trimmed and ground around the roots have been cleared of debris and roots.

There are several stumps dotted throughout the virtual forest you have suddenly found yourself in, and even those appear to be taken care of. Rings of flowers rest about them, and the tops have been sanded down to a smooth finish.

Where the buck are they taking you?

…

They aren’t going to ‘Fillies of the Corn’ you, are they?

Just when you are starting to get nervous, the treeline suddenly stops and the path opens wide, revealing a farm. A rickety old farmhouse sits beside a large, rundown barn, whose roof looked about ready to collapse in on itself. In fact, it looks like at some point both structures were built together but began to fall apart from each other due to age.

Behind the barn, just barely out of site, you can make out smaller barns where you can see cows milling about inside, chewing on hay that has been scattered about. A chicken coop is there as well, with a dozen or so chickens out clucking about.

A white fence runs around the circumference of the farmyard, separating the forest of trees from the open land around the farm. Various crops are neatly spread across the open land; corn, cabbages, lettuce, grapes, and carrots to name a few. In the back of the fields—back where the majority of the carrots are—an orange structure is in the process of being built.

And there, above a gate in the white fence, is a large sign that proclaims proudly: Sweet Apple Acres.

You stare up at it in abject horror.

You’re going to be staying at a motherbucking farm?! You were never told that your destination was going to be a stinking, mud-ridden farm! By Discord’s soggy balls, this is unacceptable!

Before you have proper time to be outraged, the cart suddenly grounds to a halt. In a fluid motion, the guards unhook themselves from the front and move around to the side. A jingle of keys later, and the door to the cage swings open.

“Here we go, colt,” the stallion says. “End of the line. Let’s go. Shouldn’t keep your hosts waiting for you.” His horn lights up and a set of stairs folds out from the side of the cart. You aren’t given much of a choice, as a moment later the mare’s horn begins to glow as well, and she gives a gentle—yet firm tug—on your shackles, pulling you out.

You stumble, nearly faceplanting in the dirt, but you manage to catch yourself at the last moment, despite neither guard moving to help you. Glaring at both of them, you straighten up, only to suddenly realize you three are not alone.

There are ponies watching from the porch of the house.

There’s four ponies in total—all of them Earth ponies. A young filly with an orange coat sits on the steps of the porch. Her green eyes are framed with a plethora of freckles, and her blonde mane is done up in a loose ponytail. A slightly-too-big cowboy hat sits on her head.

A lanky colt, slightly bigger than the filly, stands in the yard, a wooden yoke about his neck. His red coat is covered in sweat and dirt, and his orange mane is disheveled.

The third pony is about as old as the first two are young. She appears to be passed out in a rocking chair—although, given her age, you wouldn’t be surprised if she croaked and nopony noticed yet. Her green coat is practically the color of bile, and her white hair is so frizzy it almost looks fake.

And there, standing at the top of the steps, glaring down at you with brilliant turquoise eyes and a frown on her face, is her.

Churning Butter

You despise this mare already.

She hasn’t even said a word to you yet, and you already dislike her. Right now she’s talking to the mare guard, both of them speaking too softly for you to hear anything being said. Every few seconds, the guard would glance over at you, as if checking to see that you hadn’t run off yet. The mare, however, seemed content to ignore you for the time being.

That’s fine with you.

Her spawn are still watching you, both of them now standing on the porch. The filly has a curious expression on her face, but her brother is almost expressionless. She appears to be doing most of the whispering, with him replying in short, one-word answered.

And of course, the old mare is still passed out, despite all the noise your arrival is making.

Like, seriously… is she dead or not?

A tug on your ankle draws your attention downwards to where the stallion guard is in the process of removing your shackles. With a ‘click’, the iron clamps fall away and blood begins to flow back into your hooves again.

“About bucking time,” you grunt as you sit down and massage your fetlocks.

The guard just snorts before tossing the shackles into the back of the cart.

With the feeling slowly coming back to your hooves, you stand up and start to take stock of your surroundings. The farmhouse looks crappier up front, with many of the shingles missing and many of the wooden boards cracked or crooked. It even looks like moss is starting to grow on the stone foundation.

God, this place is a dump.

The two mares appear to be wrapping up their conversation, and the guard gives the mare pitying look. “If you run into any trouble with him, just let one of the guards in town know, alright?”

“Thank you,” the mare says, “but I’m sure it won’t come to that.”

“If you say so,” the guard mumbles. She titles her helmet to the mare. “Ma’am… good luck.” With that, she turns and joins her companion as he hooked himself back up to the front of the cart, but not before shooting a stern look at you as she passes. “Behave.”

You respond by sticking your tongue out.

“Come on,” the stallion guard sighs. “There’s no point in trying to talk to him. Let’s get this back to Canterlot.” With a groan, the cart begins to roll forward, the wheels sinking slightly into the dirt for a moment before the guards manage to muscle through it. They have to go in a wide circle to turn around, but soon enough, they are head down the path and away from you.

You watch them go with a smirk before somepony behind you clears their throat. Turning, you find yourself under the mare’s glare once again. With her this close, you’re able to get a better look at her.

So, this was Pear Butter. Your mom certainly was overly flattering with her description of her. There’s a noticeable layer of pudge beneath her pale orange coat, and her orange mane is all poofy and messed up. There are a few flowers stuck in her tail. She has a jar of something as a cutie mark, which probably means she loves stuffing her face. Typical mudpony.

As you are studying her, she’s studying you, her turquoise eyes glaring down at you. However, you have some difficulty identifying the look on her face—it’s almost like she’s annoyed, but there’s another emotion you can’t place.

“So, here’s the devil in the flesh,” she finally says, and you grit your teeth at the southern drawl that spews from her mouth. Welp, there goes a few more IQ points. “You’re late. You were supposed to be here at dawn.”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” you say, laying on the sarcasm extra thick so her slow mind can pick it up. “Had I known you were waiting, I would have told my carriage drivers to pull a little faster. My bad. I’ll remember that for next time.”

“Hey!” The filly on the porch jumps up onto the railing. “Don’t y’all talk to mah ma like that!”

“Applejack,” the mare calls out in a surprisingly soft voice. “Go back inside and finish up with breakfast.”

A look of uncertainty crosses the filly face. “B-but…”

“Go on. I can handle this.”

The filly shoots you a dirty look before turning and slinking back into the house. Her brother says nothing but follows after her, leaving you and Pear Butter alone. Well, as alone as you can be with a snoring corpse still in the rocking chair.

At the mention of food, your stomach growls loudly. You didn’t get any breakfast this morning, and your dinner yesterday was lackluster, thanks to the Guards.

Pear Butter’s ears perk at the sound.

“Hungry, huh?” she asks. When you nod, she shakes her head. “Well, no food for you until you’ve done some work. There’s plenty of chores around here just waiting for you.”

Work?! What in the name of Discord’s hairy scrotum is she talking about?! She’s out of her dimwitted mind if she thinks you’re doing any work on her farm, and you have no problem telling her so.

“Work?” you scoff. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m not here for work. I’m here too—”

“You are here,” Pear Butter interrupts, her eyes narrowing, “because your mother, Stormy Cloak, is desperate and doesn’t know what else to do. You haven’t given her much of a choice, and she doesn’t want you to get locked up in a correctional facility, so she’s turned to me. The fact that you are her son is the only reason I’m doing this. I owe Stormy a favor. That’s it. If it were up to me, we wouldn’t even be talking, given the way you’ve treated her. So, if you don’t want to be here, that’s no skin off my nose and I’ll be more than happy to go get the local guards and they can haul your sorry flank back off to Canterlot. Do you want me to do that?”

As she finishes, you stare up at her with wide eyes. You weren’t expecting that sort of fire to come from the mare before you, her accent and appearance making you think she was going to be a country bumpkin.

She cocks an eyebrow at you, the glare still on her face. “Well? What’s it going to be, colt?”

Closing your mouth, you look to the side and grumbled under your breath.

“What was that?” she asks.

“What do you want me to do?” you growl out from behind clenched teeth.

“That’s more like it,” Pear says as she smiles smugly. “Follow me and we’ll get started.” Turning, she heads off towards the barn’s door. You stand there for a moment before grudgingly following behind her.

The large wooden door groans loudly as it's forced open, and you both slip in through the gap. The inside is surprisingly dim, the only light coming from the dirty windows that line the walls. The floor is covered in soft hay, which adds a strong, earthy scent to the musty air. More hay is stored up in an upper loft, and every so often a few strands float down from up above. Various farm equipment is scattered around.

“We’ll start you off with something easy,” Pear says as she moves further into the barn. After a moment, she returns with a large, wooden… thing that looks like an elongated barrel that’s been flipped upside down and now has a long pole coming out the bottom. There’s also a bite handle on the side.

“What is that?” you ask as she sits it down in front of you.

“It’s called a ‘butter churn’,” she says. “It’s used to turn cream into butter.” Grabbing the pole, she pulls it up and down several times in demonstration before letting go. “Applejack was originally responsible for this, but seeing as you’re here, you can take care of it while she eats breakfast.”

You deadpan. “What?”

“Oh, I’m sorry. Is that to complicated for you?” she asks in faux concern. “I suppose I can find something else that you will be able to understand.”

“I can do it,” you growl. Glaring at her, you start to push magic down your horn, only to wince when it suddenly fizzles out. Oh right. You completely forgot about the nullstone ring. Rubbing at it, you huff in annoyance. “Can you take this stupid thing off me so I can get started?”

“Nope, sorry,” Pear says in a chipper tone. “We do things the old fashion way here, which means no magic. Everything is done by hoof.”

“What?!”

“Eeyup, so you better get started if you want to finish in time,” she says, beginning to make her way out of the barn. “You’ll be helping Applejack and McIntosh with the stall later. If you don’t hurry, you’ll miss your chance for breakfast before it’s time to leave.”

Cursing and grumbling under your breath, you grab the pole and give it an experimental push. It meets some resistance but still sinks through whatever’s in the barrel until it reaches the bottom. Pulling it out again is practically the same, just you fighting a little against the substance clinging to the pole.

That’s all there is to it?

You give the pole another push before pausing.

“Hey!” you call after Pear Butter just as she’s exiting the barn. “When do I know I’m done?”

“When the sound changes,” she calls back.

“And how long does that take?”

“About thirty minutes, give or take. If you’re good at it. Oh, and a little word of advice,” she says, stopping in the doorway. “I know it might be tempting, but don’t try and wander off, ya hear? It won’t end well for you if you do. Other than that, have fun!”

And with that, she disappears around the corner.

You stand there for a moment, glaring at where she had been seconds before until your stomach suddenly growls loudly again. Much to your displeasure, it looks like you’ll have to do this if you want to eat. With more grumbling, you sit down beside the barrel and begin to churn.

Huh… this isn’t too difficult.

…

Ten minutes later and you need to change that statement. Despite the fact that there’s barely any resistance, your legs are already starting to feel sore. The pole itself, while not overly heavy, is wearing down your muscles slowly as the minutes pass.

And this is boring as Tartarus. Seriously, you’re going crazy here. It’s nothing but pushing a pole up and down and up and down and up and down and up and down and bucking up again! There are so many other things you’d rather be doing right now. Like find something to eat or something.

Buck, jerking off into the corner would be more exciting than this, and you can’t even use your magic right now.

…

You freeze, staring blankly ahead for a moment before a dark grin slowly begins to spread across your muzzle. Praise be to Discord, you just thought of a wonderful idea.

Standing up, you tiptoe to the doorway and peak outside, making sure nopony is coming. Once you’ve confirmed that the coast is clear, you return to the churn and remove the pole, placing it off to the side. With that taken care of, you move on to the next step.

You grab your junk with a hoof.

It takes a few strokes for things to begin to happen, but soon enough, your member drops from its sheath, its dapple flesh now on display. Keeping an ear pointed at the door, you get to work.

Breathing heavily through clenched teeth, you work your hoof over your shaft. It’s clumsy going, seeing as you’re used to using your magic for such things, but you manage. Running your frog around the tip of your member, you huff softly as precum spreads across your flare. You take a moment to reach down and give your balls a quick squeeze before returning your attention to your head. Pleasure comes readily now that you’ve got some lubrication, and you groan as your member kicks, smacking weakly against your stomach, leaving behind a strand of sparkling pre.

Your hips begin to move with each stroke, your balls swaying back and forth with each hump. You can feel them beginning to churn as pressure begins to well up in your groin. One of your back legs kicks as you draw nearer to your peak.

Feeling the end approaching quickly, you sit down and grab the barrel with your free hoof. Still stroking, you tip it slightly and position the tip of your member at the hole in the top. A quick jerk later, and your fleshy head slips inside the churn just as you begin to flare. The sudden tightness is enough to push you over the head, and with a vicious snarl, you fire your load. Your balls tighten against your barrel as your shaft pulses and throbs, depositing your own special cream into the mix.

Breathing heavily, you let out a weak laugh as you come down from your high. You give yourself a tug, pulling your softening member free of the churn before setting it back upright. With that, you sit down and give yourself a few minutes to catch your breath.

When you’ve sufficiently recovered, you stand again. Picking up the pole, you grin as you return to churning the butter, this time with an added, special ingredient. The very idea of what you’ve just done is enough to make the remaining time go by faster, and with renewed vigor, you go to work.

“You want butter?” you snicker under your breath. “I’ll give you butter. All the butter you can bucking eat.”

The minutes seem to fly by now, and it isn’t long before the sound of your churning changes, and moving the pole becomes harder. Giving it a few more pumps, you pull the stirrer out and toss it aside before grabbing the bite handle in your mouth.

The going is awkward, seeing as you aren’t used to carrying anything in your mouth, let alone something as big and heavy as the churn. Still, you manage to make it out the barn door with little trouble. With a grin still on your face, you make your way towards the farmhouse.

Let’s see how much Pear Butter likes this batch you just whipped up.

Author's Note

What is it with me and food in these stories?

Stomping Grounds

This town is so droll.

Around you, the marketplace is a bustling hub of activity. Earth ponies go about their day—shopkeepers calling out their wares while customers browse from stall to stall. The smell of baked goods fills the air as does the sound of laughter and conversation. A few pegasi fly by overhead, carrying saddlebags laden with supplies.

As happy as the whole place looks, you are here against your will. if it were up to you, you’d be back on the farm, trying to avoid as much work as possible. Instead, Pear Butter decided that after you got something to eat, she was going to send you into town, accompanied by her spawn. Upon arriving, they had proceeded to set up some kind of small stand of apples and apple-based accessories right next to a large fountain located in the middle of town.

You don’t know why the sign says ‘Bright Mac’s Apples’ though. Wasn’t the name of the farm Sweet Apple Acres?

Did they steal the stand from some poor schmuck, or are you minding it for somepony that couldn’t even be assed enough to come out here?

…

Whatever.

Still, this location benefits you, and you stretch out happily across the cool stone that forms the lip of the fountain’s pool. Hooves behind your head, you watch the clouds float by as you absentmindedly chew on a stick of cinnamon that is left over from your meager breakfast.

And a meager breakfast it was. Pear must be trying to starve you.

Applesauce, toast, and water? By Discord’s cosmic nards, what kind of breakfast is that? You’ve had better breakfast options from the guards.

Teeth digging into the stick, you hum tunelessly to yourself. The spray from the fountain feels oddly good against your coat, despite the fact that the day isn’t overly warm. In fact, you can easily see yourself managing to take a nap right here with very little difficulty.

Not that you’ll be able to, even if you really wanted to.

You have an observer.

Out of the corner of your eye, you can see the orange filly shooting you annoyed glances in between her attempts to catch the attention of ponies hurry past. She tries calling out them, tries flagging them down, even tries moving out in front of them, but nothing seems to work. The more and more ponies seem to ignore her, the more and more frustrated she seems to become.

It’s when her latest attempt results in the ponies moving across the road that she finally snaps. Stalking back to the stand, she glares up at you, her chin barely coming up to the top of the stone lip.

“Are ya just gonna lie there all day or are ya actually goin’ help out?” she asks, and it takes you a moment to figure out what she just asked. Like, seriously, what’s with that accent?

Rolling the cinnamon stick around to the other side of your mouth, you close your eyes. “I am helping. I’m staying out of the way.”

“That ain’t helpin’!” the filly snorts, stomping her hoof angrily. Her brother just silently watches from his place behind the stand.

“Of course it is,” you reply. “I don’t know the first thing about selling apples, so I’d just get in the way and scare customers away. You don’t want that, do you?”

“Ma said ya were supposed tah help us,” the filly whines, “yet ya haven’t done a single thang since we got here!” You open your mouth again to give her another bullshit excuse, but she grabs you by the balls with the next one. “Ah’m gonna tell ma when we get back that all ya did was slack off!”

Buck. That… might actually be an issue. If the little snitch actually goes to mommy, there’s no way that Pear Butter is going to believe you over her own terror. That means you actually have to do something or face the consequences.

…

Or do you?

Slowly, a grin spreads across your muzzle as you formulate a plan in your head. This… this could actually work. Well, if she’s actually as naive as you think she is. Otherwise, she’ll see right through this, but come on. She’s a foal.

Pulling the cinnamon stick from your mouth, you sit up. “You’re right.”

The filly is in the process of opening her mouth to argue when her mind finally process what you’ve said. She pauses, before giving you a suspicious look. “Ah am?”

“Yes, you are,” you say as you swing about and climb down from the lip. “Your mom sent me out here to help you out, and that’s what I should be doing. So, tell you what, here’s what’s going to happen.” You point the cinnamon stick at her while you outline your scheme. “You and you’re brother are gonna stay here and mind the stand, okay?”

Her eyes narrow while adjusting her cowboy hat. “And what are ya going tah be doin’?”

You point the stick off into the distance. “I’m going to be going over there, to the other side of town.”

“That’s not helpin’!” she shouts quickly.

“Of course it is,” you huff. “Let me explain. I’m going over there to do the most important part of the job. Getting the customers.”

“What do ya mean?” she asks, cocking her head to the side. This causes her hat to flop to the side, and she quickly readjusts it. The entire time this is going on, her brother has just been observing from the side.

“The reason you can’t get any of these ponies to stop and buy something is that they already know what they want,” you lie through your teeth. “I’m going to go across town to find some ponies that aren’t shopping. Catch ‘em when they’re off guard. The key to getting customers is making them want to stuff in the first place, see?”

“No,” the filly says as she gives you a flat look.

“Trust me, this will work,” you say, waving a hoof about. “They do this all the time in Canterlot. Advertising and such. Get the customers to want your product before they get to the marketplace, and you’ll have an easier time selling your stuff. Make sense?”

The filly blinks up at you, her eyes almost going cross-eyed as she tries to wrap her head around what you just said. After a moment, she falls back onto her flank. “Ah… guess?”

“Just watch. You’ll see that I’m right in a little bit.” You start to leave, only to pause to glance back over your shoulder at her. “That is… if it’s alright with the little taskmaster.”

This causes her to bite her lips and look off to the side, an uncertain look on her face. “Ah… ah guess if it’ll help the stand…”

“That’s the spirit!” you chirp before turning and heading off down the street. You try to make your movements look as purposeful as possible until you reach the end of the road, at which point you duck behind a building.

With the brats out of sight, you snicker to yourself. “And we just blew the popsicle stand.” Spitting the thoroughly chewed cinnamon stick into a nearby bush, you swagger off, ready to enjoy your free day.

But what to do first?

…

Eh, you’ll figure it out as you go along.

With no real destination in mind, you wander down the street, peering in the shop windows as you pass by. You make note of interesting places, even if they are far and few between. A quill and sofa store, shoeing and blacksmith building, and even a joke shop. You make sure to pay extra attention to a winery you come across, making a mental note to possible pay it a visit later.

A sticky-hoof discount might be in order.

You’re so wrapped up in your planning that you aren’t paying attention what’s in front you. Without warning, you something slams into your shoulder hard, causing you to almost fall. As you stagger sideways, a snide voice calls out. “Watch where ya goin’, airhead!”

Spinning around, you glare at three unicorn foals. One of them, an overweight colt with a dark green coat, grins at you, clearly the one that ran into your shoulder as he walked passed. The other two—a small brown colt and a thin, tannish filly—snicker at their friend’s action.

“You should apologize to my friend here,” the brown colt says. “It’s rather rude of you to walk into him like that.”

Grinding your teeth, you shoot back. “Well, pardon me, your royal highness. Do you want me to shine his plot while I’m at it?”

This causes the trio to pause. The chunky colt looks angry, as does the filly, but the dirt-brown colt’s eyes narrow before they dart up to your forehead. A moment later, they wide in surprise.

“Wait a moment,” he mutters. “You’re a unicorn.”

You deadpan at him. “What gave it away?”

“You aren’t from around here, are ya?” he asks, ignoring your sarcasm. “I haven’t seen your face around town before, and we know everypony. You just move ‘ere?”

“What it to you? You in charge of the census or something?” you ask, raising an eyebrow.

The colt chuckles, but there’s no humor in his eyes. “Nah, not like that. It’s just… it’s not every day we see a new pony show up in the backwater town. Especially not a noble unicorn such as yourself. Tell me, friend, where ya from?”

You eye him for a moment before replying simply. “Canterlot.”

This causes the filly’s eyes to light up.

Dirt colt whistles. “Canterlot, eh? Now that’s something.” He clears his throat before strutting forward and offering you his hoof. “Sorry about the rude introduction. Let’s start over. My name is Money Taker.”

You stare at the hoof for a moment before slowly reaching out and giving it a shake, giving your name in return. He has no strength behind the grip, and you quickly break off contact with him.

“This lovely thing is Tree Shaker,” Money Taker continues, motioning with his head to the filly, who giggles and bats her eyelashes at you. “And that is Ground Breaker.” The pudgy colt grins and nods his head stupidly. “And, well… ya could say we’re part of the upper echelon of this town. Ya can call us ‘Takes, Shakes, ‘n Breaks’, if ya’d like.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” you say cooly.

“Aw, don’t be that way, friend,” Taker says. “Like I said before, this was just a huge misunderstanding. How about we make up for it by showing ya around, seeing as you’re new here and all.”

You start to decline the offer, only to pause. It wouldn’t be half bad to have someone who knew the place show you around, instead of you just wandering about aimlessly. They might be able to point out something that you missed or simply overlooked. Besides, you don’t think you have to worry about them too much; all of them appear to be a least a few years younger than you. Even with the nullstone ring, you could probably take even the tubby one in a fight.

“Alright,” you say, returning Takers grin with a matching one of your own. “Lead the way, friend.”

~ ~ ~ ~ > > < < ~ ~ ~ ~

After a few hours, you are definitely happy with your decision. Not only do the trio show you around town, but they show you the best places to hang out. Like just outside the candy store where they can use their magic to steal candy off the window display whenever the door opens.

Or a corner just outside the marketplace that allows you to snag things from the bags of passing ponies without them noticing, and completely out of sight of the stands and stalls.

Or how to sneak into the theater through a side door so you can watch movies without having to pay for a ticket. And then how to acquire other ponies popcorn buckets and drinks so you can go get the free refills.

And—by far your favorite—how to snag a few bottles of booze out of the liquor store while Money Taker distracts the weird, tipsy-looking mare behind the counter.

“I can’t believe that worked,” you say, gasping for breath as the four of you hid behind a dumpster in a nearby alleyway.

“Yeah, well, that’s Luscious Grape for you,” Money Taker chuckles. “Easy to distract, easy to take advantage of, and if you’re quick enough and she doesn’t see you, she’ll never know they’re missing.”

You roll your eyes. “Oh, come one. She’s got to notice that the bottles are missing.”

“Nope, she never does,” Taker says with a grin.

“But, doesn’t she do inventory or something?”

“Nope,” Tree Shaker chirps as she pops the cork out of one of the bottles. “Old Lush doesn’t do inventory, and seeing as she likes to sample her own wares, she just chalks it up to her drinking them.”

“We haven’t gotten caught yet!” Taker adds.

Ground Breaker nods quickly and lets out a weird, bark-like laugh.

“So, how many did we manage to get this time,” Taker asks, picking up a bottle of his own with his magic. He pops the cork as well before taking a swing of the deep violet liquid within.

“Four,” Shaker says as she passes one to Breaker. She gives you an annoyed look. “We could have gotten more, but this one didn’t help.”

“Well, sorry,” you huff. “Can’t exactly grab a bottle and run with only three hooves, and—” reaching up, you tap the nullstone ring with a hooftip “—magic is out of the question. Completely blocked.”

“So take it off then,” Shaker huffs. “What’s the point of having a fancy-looking ring if it blocks your magic?”

You sigh. “I can’t take it off myself. It’s enchanted.” Reaching up, you give them a demonstration. You grab the ring and give it a tug, only for a soft glow to surround it and your hoof slips off. A second attempt meets with similar results. “Somepony else has to take it off.”

“Well, fine. Here!” Standing up, Taker reaches for the ring, but you quickly lean your head back out of his reach.

“No way,” you say, covering it with your hoof. “You take that off and it sets off an alarm enchantment. One which will have the Guards on us faster than you can say ‘oops’.”

This causes Taker to freeze. “G-guards?”

“Yup,” you grunt as you grab your own bottle. “The guards in Canterlot put it on, and it’s not coming off for a while.” Grabbing the cork with your teeth, you yank it out with a satisfying ‘pop’. You spit it out before taking a good mouth of the liquid, only to wince. At first it tasted like really strong grape juice, but the aftertaste was something else.

By Discord, this is some of the cheapest-tasting alcohol you’ve ever pilfered.

“What did you do that got the Guard on you?” Shaker asked, staring at you with almost a look of reverence on her face.

“I don’t want to talk about it,” you mumble before taking another swing.

Silence falls over the alleyway, all of you sitting there and enjoy your plunder. Taker and Shaker both sip at the bottles neatly, but Breaker guzzles from it, sending rivulets of purple dribbling down his chin and into his chest fluff.

“Well,” Taker says eventually, “magic or no, you’re still a unicorn. That makes ya one of us.” He thumps his chest with a hoof before hiccuping. “You’re one of us, and we stick together no matter what!”

“Through thick or thin!” Shaker says as she holds up her bottle.

Breaker follows suit and in the process splashing more liquid on himself.

“And that’s… that’s why I’m going to tell ya something,” Taker says. “We’ve got a plan tonight.”

“A plan? A plan for what?”

“Well, ya see… there’s this weird old cottage out in the Everfree which may or may not have some valuables inside that are just waiting for somepony to retrieve them.”

You give him a skeptical look. “A cottage? Out in the Everfree? With valuables?” When he nods, you scoff and roll your eyes. “Yeah, and I’m a pegasus.”

“No, really,” Shaker says, backing up her friend. “Some ponies say an old zebra hag used to live out there, but she croaked some years back. Messed up her own potion or something.”

“And she left behind all her possessions,” Taker continues.

“And nopony else has decided to go out and get them yet?” you ask.

Taker shakes his head. “Nope. See, ponies believe the place is haunted… cursed… whatever. So nopony has gone out there to clean it up. So that means everything is exactly as she left them, just waiting for somepony to go and claim them.”

You raise an eyebrow. “And that’s what you plan on doing tonight?”

“Exactly!” Taker says, pointing a hoof at you. “There’s bound to be a lot of good stuff in there. So, how about it? You in?”

You pause with your bottle partways to your lips. After a moment of consideration, you shrug. “Okay, sure. I’ll tag along.”

“Great!” Taker cheers, slapping you on the back. “That’s great! Alright, so, we’re meeting up at the old windmill just south of town. The one right on the edge of Sweet Apple Acres. Just get there around midnight, okay?”

“Yeah,” you say with a grin. “That won’t be a problem at all.”

~ ~ ~ ~ > > < < ~ ~ ~ ~

The orange filly and her brother are packing up their stand when you finally wander back into the marketplace. They don’t notice you at first, but then the filly spies you out of the corner of her eye. She looks up as you approach, and she doesn’t appear too happy.

“There ya are!” she huffs, jumping up onto the empty stand so that she can be eye-to-eye with you. “It didn’t work!”

You blink. “What didn’t work?”

“Ya said ya were goin’ off to get us more customers!” she squeaks. “It didn’t work! We didn’t get any extra customers after ya left!”

Oh, right. She’s talking about your excuse to get out of there. You totally forgot about that.

Shrugging your shoulders, you try to give her your best apologetic look. “I’m sorry, I tried. There was nothing more I could do about it. Apparently nopony wanted apples today.”

She continues to glare at you for a moment before sagging. Hopping down off the stand, she sighs heavily. “Ah guess…”

“There’s always tomorrow,” you say.

“Yeah… tomorrow,” the filly says, still dejected. She begins to walk back towards the farm, her head hung low and her hat hiding her face.

You watch her go with some confusion. Why was she so upset about not selling her apples? They’re apples. There aren’t many ponies that would buy a lot of apples to begin with. It’s not a high demand item, right? At least in Canterlot it wasn’t.

Besides, this is a small town too, so really, not selling a lot of something like apples would be expected.

You watch her go for a moment longer before shrugging and pushing the issue from your mind. It wasn’t your concern, and you aren’t going to waste time on it. Instead, you turn and look at the brother. He’s just watching you silently.

…

Come to think of it, have you heard him speak yet?

Is… is he mute?

After a few seconds, you snort. “What?”

He just shakes his head slowly—almost disappointedly—before following after his sister.

“That’s what I thought,” you mutter under your breath. You’re still for a moment before sighing. “Better get going before they get home and mommy notices I’m missing.” Sniffing, you glance around the empty marketplace one last time before you too start following after the pair.

Not before you check around the stalls for any lockboxes that had been left behind.

Pack of Lies

Well, this is certainly better than some of the holding cells you’ve been in, but that’s not saying much.

The room is surprisingly empty, considering it’s an attic. Aren’t these places supposed to be filled with boxes and junk? There’s really nothing here save for a layer of dust, a few spiderwebs in the corner, and a small circular window set into the angled ceiling. Oh, and an old cot and some blankets that are apparently where you are sleeping for the coming days.

The climb up the fold-down ladder isn’t too difficult, if somewhat tedious. However, once you are up, you have to watch your step. Your horn is just a few centimeters from touching the ceiling; any sudden movement and you’re gonna make swiss cheese out of the wood. Not to mention you have to duck under the occasional wooden beams in order to walk around.

You ascended up here about half an hour ago, Pear Butter letting you up before telling you to get a good night’s sleep. “After all,” she said, “we’ll be getting up early tomorrow morning!”

Sleep? At this hour? Is she serious? The sun has barely even set.

Bitch be outta her damn mind.

Instead, you’ve taken time to explore your new ‘room’. Which didn’t take too long. It’s about fifteen steps across and eight steps wide. At least, the parts you could reach.

That took you a grand total of five minutes, if that.

You spent the rest of your time up to this point doing something extremely important. Namely, taking all the blankets at your disposal and draping them over the beams and nails in the ceiling, before dragging the cot underneath the curtain of fabric that makes up the new Blanket Fort of Awesomeness.

Stepping back, you eye your creation with some pride. There are enough blankets that you’ve managed to make several ‘rooms’ within the tent. By Discord’s chaotic emeralds, it feels like forever since you last made something like this! You’ve totally forgotten how entertaining it could be. Now all you need is for mom to bring you a plate of… of…

…

A dark look crosses your face, and what little enjoyment you got from the initial construction of the fort is gone. Instead, a feeling of apathetic washes over you. You slink beneath the wall of blankets and collapse upon the cot with a bitter huff. And there you stayed as the minutes ticked into hours. You watch with disinterest as the moonlight streaming through the window slowly creeps across the floor, a circle of pale blue light illuminating the dusty wood. Idly, you doodle in the dust with your hoof… waiting… listening.

Eventually, the signal you’ve been waiting for comes from downstairs―the old grandfather clock chimes once. A little while ago, you had counted out eleven bongs. It’s about time to get moving.

Slipping out from beneath the blankets, you move to the ladder and creep down it as quietly as you can. Despite no other ponies being up, the house is surprisingly noisy. The pipes groan in the walls, and you can hear the walls creaking and shifting as the foundation settles. To make matters worse, each step you take causes the floorboard beneath you to squeak loudly.

Luckily, due to past experience, you know what you need to do.

Sticking close to the wall, you slink down the hallway, trying your hardest not to wake anypony up. As you pass her room, you press an ear to the door to make sure Pear Butter is truly asleep. Upon hearing a soft snore come from the other side of the wood, you grin to yourself before moving along.

You’ve just about reached the stairs at the end of the hallway when a loud ‘click’ comes from the door on the other side of the hall from you. Eyes wide, you freeze in place. A moment later, the door swings open.

Rubbing at her eyes, a sleepy orange filly steps through the door. Eyes closed, she shambles along slowly, making her way past you. Thankfully, you are hidden in the shadows between two windows, so the moonlight can’t snitch you out. Holding your breath, your heart hammers in your chest as she shuffles by,

Unaware of your presence, she makes her way to the bathroom… which is the door only a few feet in front of you. In her sleepy daze, she doesn’t close the door all the way, and after a moment of shuffling, you hear the sound of her relieving herself. The tinkling sound continues… and continues… and continues…

…

Dear Discord, how big is this filly’s bladder?!

After what felt like an eternity, the toilet flushes and the filly reemerges. Eyes still closed, she makes her way back to her room. Just before the door closes again, you catch sight of the bed and the red blob that is located within the sheets as well.

…

She shares a bed with her brother?

Of course she does.

Bucking redneck family.

Shaking your head, you wait a moment for her to fall back to sleep before making your way down the stairs. By the moonlight streaming through the front windows, you are able to see and maneuver yourself around the furniture. Luckily, the floor is not as creaky down on this level.

Pushing open the front door, you step out onto the porch. A cool breeze tugs at your coat, and an owl hoots in the distance. The sky is filled with stars, with only a few clouds floating by. It’s a full moon too; more than enough light your way. Now, all you need to do is—

Swwwis—CRACK

You about jump out of your fur at the sudden, loud noise. Shit, you forgot about the screen door! As it jostles about after slapping shut, you stand there, a statue. Listening intently for any movement from inside.

Upon hearing none, you breathe a sigh of relief before climbing carefully down from the porch… and booking it for the edge of the farm before something else could get you caught.

~ ~ ~ ~ > > < < ~ ~ ~ ~

It doesn’t take you long to find the old windmill—once you’re clear of the trees, it sticks out quite obviously against the hills and bushes. It also probably helps that Taker, Shaker, and Breaker are all sitting around outside of it, their horns glowing softly as they hold up lanterns.

They must not sneak out all that often. A light source might make it easier for you to see, but it also makes it easier to see you.

You approach the gang from behind, slinking up through the long grass until you are practically upon them. They’re all looking down the old path, obviously expecting you to come from that direction. None of them notice your arrival until you suddenly speak up. “What are you looking at?”

All three of them jump in the air: Taker nearly dropping his lantern, Shaker letting out a shrill shriek, and Breaker tumbling backward into a bush. They all turn on you with wide eyes, and Taker holds up his lantern in order to see you better.

“Where the buck did ya come from?!” he says hoarsely.

“I walked around the edge of the treeline,” you answer as Breaker emerges from the bush again and picks up his lantern.

“Why didn’t ya use the bloody path?” Taker huffs.

You shrug. “Didn’t know about it.”

Taker gives you a dirty look before shaking his head. “Whatever,” he mutters under his breath. “Bucking scaring ponies half to death and shit. Gotta put a bell on you.”

As he’s recovering, Shaker gives you a smile, her face illuminated by her green magic and the faint light from her closed lantern. “You came!”

“Yes, I did,” you reply.

“I was beginning to think you weren’t going to make it or that you had backed out at the last minute.”

You blink. “Why would I back out? Easy job and free loot and decent-looking company.”

She giggles at this. her cheeks flushing darkly.

Taker clears his throat. “We should get going. It’s a bit of a walk to get there, and we should get this finished before somepony notices we’re missing. I’m not sure about you guys, but my parents are a pair of light sleepers.”

“I’m not worried,” Shaker says, rolling her eyes. “Once my dad’s passed out from drinking, there’s no waking him. I could scream in his face and nothing happens. Trust me, I’ve tried.”

“I sleep in the attic,” you add, “so I highly doubt anypony is going to check up on me any time soon.”

“All the same, we should be quick about this,” Taker says. Breaker nods his head even though he really isn’t paying attention. Instead, he seems more fascinated with a group of Luna moths that are fluttering by overhead, attracted to the lanterns. Taker slaps him on the back of his head, snapping him out of his daze, before the smaller colt looks at you. “You ready for this, new colt?”

You give him a deadpan look. “I was doing stuff like this when you were still at your mother’s tit.”

“We’ll see,” Taker says before turning and heading off towards the forest in the distance. Shaker gives you a look over her shoulder as she follows Taker, her eyelids lowered slightly. Baker just trundles along after the pair, his lantern swinging wildly in front of him, the cover not even open.

Sighing to yourself, you cast one last glance back towards Sweet Apple Acres before joining the procession.

~ ~ ~ ~ > > < < ~ ~ ~ ~

You are starting to regret your decision.

From a distance, the forest hadn’t looked so intimidating, especially seeing as you had to walk through an apple orchard to get here. But now that you are beneath the canopy of twisting branches and crooked trees, you can’t help the shiver that runs down your spine.

Long willow-like branches dangle from branches and blend in with the gloom around, so you don’t know they are there until their brushing against your coat. The trees loom overhead, blocking out the sky and crowding around, their roots covering the path and making it hard to walk without twisting an ankle. A thin layer of mist choked the ground, adding to the eerie feeling.

And then there was the feeling of being watched.

Apparently you aren’t the only one with the prickling sensation the back of your neck, as Shaker is constantly turning around, her head on a swivel and her tail clamped between her legs.

“Takes, I don’t like this anymore,” she whimpers.

“Q-quit ya whining,” Taker says, although there’s a stutter in his voice. Even Baker, the largest of your group, is looking a little shaken up. He clutches his lantern close to his chest, the light muffled against his chest fur.

“But Takes,” Shaker whines, “I think there’s something out there!” As if to confirm her words, something swoops by overhead, hidden by the shadows. Shaker let out a shrill scream and crowds against you. “Help! Help me!”

“Quiet!” Taker hisses. “It was probably just a… just a bat or something.”

“It was too big for a bat,” you reply. The filly next to you shivers in fear.

“An owl, then,” Taker says, almost as if he was trying to convince himself. “This is a forest, after all. Creatures live in the forest.”

“I wanna go home,” Shaker moans.

You try and keep a cool face, but inside, you definitely agree with Shaker. This is no longer feeling like it’s going to be as easy as it first sounded.

“Come on, Shakes,” Taker says, trying to act more confident than he appears. “There’s four of us. We can handle anything in this forest. Remember, we stick together no matter what!” That seems like enough of a motivator for Shaker, but you aren’t that convinced. Still, you all move on, keeping close together even as the path grew slightly wider.

After about five minutes of walk down the winding path, you come to a fork in the road. Taker pauses, a hoof in the air as he glances down both paths, an uncertain look on his face. “Er, I think… I think it was… this way?”

“I thought you knew the way,” you say, cocking an eyebrow.

Taker looks uncertain. “I… I do. It’s just... give me a moment.

“We’re lost, aren’t we?” you huff.

“No!” Taker growls. “I know where I am. I just need a… a moment to think.”

You open your mouth to argue, but the sound of a nearby bush rustling kills the words in your throat.

“What was that?!” Shaker squeaks.

“It was n-nothing,” Taker says.

Just then, ‘nothing’ steps out of the undergrowth.

“Oh buck me…” you breathe, your eyes wide.

Three wolves—made completely out of wood and green glowing sap—stalk forward, their eyes locked on the four of you. The one in the middle growls softly, the other two slinking off to the side in a pincer maneuver.

Trying to keep them all in your sight, you whisper out of the corner of your mouth. “What the buck are those?!”

“T-t-timberwolves,” Shaker whimpers.

You take a step back. “So, what should we do?”

The others are silent for a moment before one of the wolves suddenly leaps forward, it’s teeth gnashing together.

“GAH!!!”

As one, all three turn and race back down the path, dropping their lanterns along the way… and leaving you all alone. Before you have time to curse, the three wolves descend upon you. With a scream, you turn tail and run too, racing back down the path.

Branches and leaves whip at your face as you run, leaving behind long scratches on your cheeks and muzzle. Behind you, you can hear the wolves barreling along the path as well, snapping twigs and breaking branches. They’re baying loudly, their barks reverberating eerily through the forest. You aren’t sure how close they are, but you’d swear you can feel their panting breath on your flank.

You don’t look around.

You just run faster.

Turning a bend in the path, you expect to see the other three off in the distance. Instead, much to your dismay, you just see darkness. Where the buck did they get to?!

“So much for sticking together no matter what,” you grunt. Running along, you jump over a fallen log, only to scream in pain as one of your back hooves gets snagged on a root. Unable to recover in time, you tumble to the ground in a cloud of dust.

Groaning, you sit up and rub your head. Before you can fully recover though, the wolves bound over the log as well. They land and immediately turn to face you, teeth glinting in the gloom. Slowly, they stalk forward, well aware that their pray is trapped.

“Oh buck, oh buck, oh buck buck buck,” you mutter, scooting back until you are pressed up against the rotten log. Is… is this really how it ends? With your heart pounding in your chest and fear coursing through your veins, you can only watch with wide eyes as the wolves draw ever closer, their fangs dripping with a thick, amber liquid.

This is it…

This is how you die…

Well, at least the Canterlot Guards will be pleased, as will… dad

…

The foremost wolf is practically upon you now, and you can smell the musty, odor wafting off of it. It smells like rotten wood and death. It crouches down, preparing to pounce. In a few seconds, its teeth will find your flesh, and that will be all she wrote. The wolf’s tail flicks once and then…

“Get away from him!”

A blur of orange comes thundering down the path, slamming into the wolves from behind and sending them clattering across the path. Before they can stand back up, Pear Butter whips around and deals a devasting kick to one of the wolves’ head. It explodes in a shower of splinters and sap, the glowing goop clinging to Pear’s hindleg as she wheels about on another one.

Having had time to recover, the second wolf is in the process of trying to dodge. It takes the kick to the chest, and with a loud ‘crack’, its ribs cave in and it goes tumbling off into the underbrush with a howling whine.

By Discord’s infinite stones, how strong are this mare’s legs?!

Both hind legs now thoroughly soaked with wolf blood, Pear Butter turns to the last wolf. It takes a step back, a soft whimper escaping it as its ears splay back. It shoots you a quick glance, but balks when Pear takes a step towards it.

“Don’t even think about it,” she growls, her eyes narrowing.

The wolf holds its ground for a moment before, it turns and bolts into the darkness, its tail firmly between its legs.

As silence falls over the forest again, you sit there against the rotten log, staring at Pear Butter with large eyes. She’s breathing heavily and both her hind legs were covered in glowing green blood from the thigh down. Her ears are perked, swiveling about as she listens for any sign of the wolves returning.

Your heart rate slowly returns to normal, and you stagger to your hooves. You can’t believe. She actually saved you. Somehow, she found you in the dark woods and saved your sorry flank from getting eaten. Looks like some higher being is looking out for you. Thank you, Discord, you glorious bastard. By the Blessed Chaos, you don’t care what’s in store for you, you’ll definitely take any punishment Pear Butter will have for you over dealing with those wolves.

A smile touches your lips… only for it to vanish the moment Pear Butter turns to face you. One glance at the look on her face, and you quickly come to a realization.

You should have picked the wolves.

Sweet Reward

The trip back to the farmstead is a tense affair. Pear Butter hasn’t said a word; she just makes you walk out in front of her, just like the Guards make you do when they’re escorting you to and from the holding cells. You can feel her eyes on you the entire journey, her gaze burning into the back of your head with such intensity that you actually breathe a sigh of relief when the rundown farmhouse comes into view.

Your relief doesn’t last long.

Grabbing your ear in her teeth, Pear begins to march you forcibly towards the house. “Come on,” she growls through her gritted teeth. “Get moving now! Back to the house!”

“Ow, okay, okay, okay! Geez!” you cry, trying to keep up with her in order to reduce the tension on your ear. Your hooves stumble over roots and rocks that are hidden in the dark. “I’m going! I’m bucking goin—ow!” She grinds her teeth together as you curse, causing a new spike of pain to flash through your sensitive ear. “Lay off the ear, lady! You’re gonna tear it off! Ow ow ow!”

Despite your whining, she doesn’t let go until both of you are standing on the porch. Throwing open the door, she points inside with a hoof before saying two words. “March. Now.”

You give her a grudging look before doing as you are told. As you slink by her though, she swats your flank hard with a hoof, leaving behind a stinging welt. At the unexpected ‘thwack’, you jerk forward with a yelp, your tail tucking protectively between your legs. Rubbing at your stinging rump, you glare back at Pear, only for her to point at the stairs with the same hoof that smacked you.

“Up the stairs, now!” she commands.

For a moment, you consider arguing with her, but the look in her eyes stops you cold. You might have a jaded past, as well as several severe confrontations with the Guards, but even you know when to pick and choose your battles.

And this… this is one fight you can not—will not—win.

Turning, you make your way into the darkened house. No lights are on, and you are forced to find your way around by the light of the moon shining through the windows. You trip and stumble a few times on some rugs and an end table, but eventually, you manage to find the stairs.

You begin to climb them slowly, Pear Butter right behind you, giving you a piece of her mind the entire time. “I can’t believe you’d do something this… stupid! I was willing to give you the benefit of the doubt when you first showed up… I mean, I was sure your mother had to be exaggerating when she told me how troubled you were, but this… this is just… ugh! I can’t believe you! You’re lucky I showed up when I did or else I’d be sending you back home to your mother in a wooden box. Is that what you want?!”

“It was just a late night stroll. I got lost,” you grumble under your breath, only to yelp as she swats your rump again, on the exact same spot as before.

“And earlier today?” Pear asks sharply. “When you abandoned Applejack and Big Mac at the stand? When you stole alcohol from Luscious Grape’s store? When you looted the stalls after hours? What were those?”

Your eyes shoot open wide and you whip around to gape at her. “W-wha… how did you…?!”

“I told you. When you first arrived,” Pear Butter huffs. “Don’t try and wander off, or it wouldn’t end well for you. Did you really think the Guards were just going to drop you off here, alone with my family, without some protection for us?”

“Y-you… there are guards tailing me?!”

“Of course there are,” Pear Butter snaps, “and it’s only because of me that you aren’t on your way back to Canterlot, shackled in the back of a cart. When they came to me this afternoon, I asked them to give me a few more days to try and fix your behavior. And then you go and pull this stunt!” She snorts again, her nostrils flaring as she glares at you.

You stare at her, trying to process what she was saying. The guards wanted to take you back, but she told them no? It just… it didn’t make sense. After a moment of trying to figure it out, you can only voice your confusion with one word. “W-why?”

Pear’s eyes narrowed. “Because Stormy asked me to fix you, and I’ll be damned if I let my friend down without trying. Now… march!” She swats your flank for a third time, and you leap forward up the stairs.

“Hey, cut it out!” you yelp, your left rump practically numb now. “Stop hitting it or you’re gonna bruise it!”

“You’ll be lucky if all I do is bruise it,” Pear says before motioning towards the attic stairs at the far end of the hall. “Now, get up there.”

Giving her one last glare, you turn and climb awkwardly up into the musty attic. Dust tickles your nose as you make your way over to your blanket-tent and flop down on the mattress. A noise behind you makes you turn around, and much to your surprise, you see that Pear Butter has followed you up and is in the process of pulling up the ladder. It’s hard to see her well in the darkness, as the moonlight has become muted due to a group of clouds that have rolled in.

“What… what are you doing?” you ask, giving her a confused look as she walks over.

“Well, it’s clear you’re going to be more of a hassle than I first thought,” she says, her southern twang getting thicker as she talks. “I was hoping to try a few more tactics before getting to this one, but after tonight, it seems I’m going to have to step up my methods. You’ve forced my hoof, so it’s time to try something extreme.”

“Extreme?” you begin to ask, only to yelp when Pear Butter suddenly shoves you hard. Tumbling backward onto the mattress, you quickly find yourself tangled in the excess sheets. Before you have a chance to free yourself, Pear ducks down into the makeshift tent and places her forehooves on your chest, pinning you down. Despite the fact that she’s slightly smaller than you, she apparently makes up for that in pure strength.

You try and shake her off, but are unable to do so thanks to the blankets currently wrapped around your forelegs acting like rope. A tiny amount of fear starts to well up inside your chest and you wiggle beneath her. Is this it? Is she going to off you and bury you in the cornfield out back? By Discord’s squamous sack, you're going to be murdered here and your spirit is going to be stuck haunting this place forever, isn’t it?

The cloud cover breaks momentarily, allowing the moonlight to illuminate Pear’s face for a brief moment. She glares down at you, a cold look in her eyes, almost as if she’s disgusted at what she sees. Then, the moment passes, and clouds cover the moon again, plunging the attic back into darkness.

With that, she begins to move, her weight shifting forwards as her hooves move from your chest up towards your shoulders, sliding forcefully over your coat. Your eyes widen in alarm as the pressure moves higher. “What are you doing?!”

“I already told you,” Pear Butter says emotionlessly. “I’m done playing around and I’m resorting to extreme measures.”

Yup, she’s going to kill you.

You brace yourself, waiting for the inevitable feeling of her hooves squeezing around your throat or crushing your skull like a melon. However, it never comes, and instead, her hooves pressed down upon your shoulders. She shifts her weight back, using your shoulders as support as her rump slips down into your lap.

Your breath escapes you with a huff as you feel something soft and warm brush over your sheath.

Is… is that her…?

By now your eyes have adjusted enough to the darkness that you can make out the form above you. Pear Butter continues to stare down at you, a cold, dispassionate look on her face despite the current, awkward situation. She shows no reaction, even as she marehood pressed down against your groin.

Confusing overtaking fear, you ask for a third time. “What are you doing?”

Instead of answering, Pear huffs before grinding her rump against you. Her folds brush over your sheath, and you twitch as your member starts to stir from its slumber. She… she can’t be… there’s no way!

Unable to believe what is happening, you watch with wide eyes as Pear Butter continues to grind herself against you, your sheath slowly becoming coated in her own arousal. Under her ministrations, your member emerges, and you gasp in shock as your head is consumed by her folds.

It’s like nothing you’ve ever felt before. Sure, it isn’t the first time that somepony else has played with your junk; one of your gang members gave you a rather sloppy blowjob behind the school one day because she was curious. However, that experience was pitiful compared to what was happening now. The way Pear’s folds hugged and squeezed at your flare, the wet heat slowly enveloping you, enticing your member to stiffen either further.

It felt amazing.

Pear suddenly gives a particularly hard grind, and you grit your teeth as your head finally pops inside her slit fully. The sensation from before intensifies, her inner walls squeezing and grabbing at your member from all directions.

“B-buck,” you grunt, clenching your eyes shut as the almost overwhelming sensation threatens to claim you. Your stallionhood throbs before erupting from your sheath all at once, plunging into Pear Butter up to the base.

Stars explode in front of your eyes.

As you lie there, gasping and squirming in pleasure, Pear Butter glances down to the point where both of you are joined. “Is that all you’ve got?” she tsks. “A little disappointing, but I guess it’ll have to do.” Snorting, she begins to work herself against your hips.

Your member shifts about inside her, and your hindlegs twitch as your flare drags against her inner folds. Despite having had two foals already, she’s surprisingly snug, her velvety flesh holding onto you tight as she moves. The feeling sends a spike of pleasure rushing through your body, and even though you’ve taken care of such things already this week, you can feel your climax fast approaching.

Unable to help yourself, you buck your hips upwards, trying to get as much of your cock inside this mudpony as possible.

Pear Butter shows no reaction to your stallionhood jerking and shifting insider of her. Her gaze remains cold as she continues to glare down at you. If you hadn’t been balls deep inside of her right now, you would have assumed from her expression that she was about to give you a lecture. All she does though is roll her hips before suddenly lifting up.

Several inches of your shaft slide out of her before she sits back down again, her rump slapping wetly against your hips. Your balls bounce at the impact, and your member kicks inside her as it drools precum.

She pauses a moment before repeating the action, this time lifting herself up higher off your cock before dropping down. The third time was a little higher still, as was the fourth. On the fifth stroke, she raises up until you almost slip free from her folds. Only your flare remains inside her, and for a moment, she stays there. Her clit winks out, as her tunnel squeezes down upon your flare. Then, without ceremony, she sits down hard and your member disappears inside her with a wet ‘schlunk’.

You groan as you go cross-eyed. “Holy bucking shit.”

With that, Pear Butter rides you hard, lifting herself up until you’re almost pulled free, only to drop back down. The mattress shifts beneath your combined weight, and the old floorboards creak loudly with each meaty smack. Before long, the heavy scent of sex stifles the air, along with the wet sound of flesh slapping together. A mixture of both your arousals drip down your balls to roll over your pucker and down into your tail.

You grunt and groan, your legs twitching and jerking as pleasure crashes into you with each slap. Her muscle control is unbelievable, her marehood squeezing at you with unreal tightness as she pulls up, tugging at your flare and practically lifting your hips off the mattress by grip alone. On the down stroke, her inner walls pulse and spasm around your returning shaft, milking you in ways that not even your magic could replicate.

A familiar pressure wells up inside you, and you begin to flare inside of Pear. If she feels it, she doesn’t slow down. If anything, her pace quickens. Your balls twitch, jerking up against your body as their contents churn. As your climax barrels towards you, you horn sparks and sputters with magic, even with the nullstone ring.

Clenching your eyes, you grit your teeth as your head flares wide, the ridges dragging against Pear’s spasming inner flesh. This is it… the moment has come! Your balls jump and you can feel the first burst of cum forcing itself down your shaft. The pressure is too much, and with a kick, your member unloads…

...all across your chest.

You let out a pained whinny as Pear unexpectedly pulls herself off you completely at the last second. Your member slips free and slaps against your stomach as the first rope of cum splashes across your chest. With no more stimulus, the pleasure you had been enjoying disappears in an instant, replaced instead with an empty, unfulfilled feeling. Your haunches quiver and you try to thrust yourself upwards, back into the heated depths from which you had escaped, but you couldn’t get an angle.

Instead, your cock bounces about, twitching and jerking as it paints your chest white. It wetly slaps against your stomach, strands of cum and mare juice matting your fur in thin strands of goo. You buck your hips helplessly, trying to find some stimulation to help you tip over the edge completely, but nothing comes. Instead, you fall just short of your climax.

You got your release, but not the euphoria that was supposed to come with it.

Breathing heavily, you lie there in a daze. Your cock twitches, plastered to your chest with a mixture of your own fluids and Pear’s arousal. It’s not softening though, and there’s an uncomfortable pressure in your balls. You’re confused—she made your cum, but it didn’t feel like you came. What happened?

Wait…

Was this her punishment?

…

Trying to regain your composure, you sneer up at her. “Really? Y-you call this a punishment? To rut me? Gee, thanks. Great punishment. Certainly seen the errors of my way. Had I know that you’d do this, I would have acted up sooner!”

She stares down at you, strands of her arousal slowly dripping from her marehood to land on your thighs. The corners of her mouth twitch downward and her eyes narrow. “This isn’t the punishment… this is the method. It’s clear that you’re too hormonal, too much testosterone building up in your system. You have so much energy to burn that you’re acting out. So, I’m going to work you to the bone. Get you so exhausted that you won’t have any energy left to cause mischief.”

“By giving me sex?” you scoff.

“By draining you,” she says. “I’m going to get rid of your excess energy without giving you the satisfaction.” She plants a hoof on your slick member. “You’ll get all the release, and none of the pleasure.”

As her hoof rubs your shaft, you wince, tremors of pleasure beginning to trickle through your body again. You might have jizzed all over yourself, but your cock was still raring to go.

Attempting to hide your need—even with your stallionhood twitching and drooling precum all over your chest again—you roll your eyes. “Whatever. This changes nothing. You think this is a big deal? When you leave, I’ll just crank one out before I got to sleep.”

From above you, Pear Butter pauses her stroking of your cock. She gives you a look and slowly shaking her head. “Sleep? Oh no, suga’,” she says before grasping your member with her hoof. She positions your head at the entrance of her marehood again before slowly sinking back down on it.

You groan as your stallionhood is once again consumed in blessed heat.

Placing her hooves on your shoulder, Pear gives you a dark look before whispering. “You ain’t getting any sleep tonight.”

Author's Note

Sorry for the extremely late update. I've been busier than sin, what with graduation, moving out of my apartment, and my own mother ending up in the hospital. Hopefully, now that things are starting to calm down again, I start releasing updates more frequently.

Also, I apologize if this chapter is sloppier than the others. It's hard to edit when you're exhausted. :ajsleepy: