Slob'n Stuff

Shadows cast across the land as the sun looms just over the horizon, descending, eagerly, into the autumnal abyss. The day had been long, and work had been hard, but it was through. Big Macintosh, or Big Mac for short, as many like to call him, allows the harness affixed to his neck to glide off of his body and slam into the ground. His belly, though, gets a bit in the way of that. The heavy piece of equipment sinks into his rotund flab, leaving an impression for a moment, before it unceremoniously 'boings' into the air like a spring, and comes crashing down.
The hefty red stallion can't help but crack open his jaws and unleash a roaring belch as a result of the gasses shifting from his belly's disturbance. BRUARRRRRUUUURP! He hadn't expected such force to leave him slack-jawed, but such is the nature of a two-kiloton burp. On the topic of his stomach, another noise doth he emit-- stomach growls. "Dinnertime." He plainly says, and begins his lazy gait back to the farmhouse.

By the time he returns, an off-blue darkness has set over everything, with the flickering fires of candles illuminating the warm windows of his dwelling. Applejack must have turned on the lights, for Granny Smith and Apple Bloom are off on some adventure in Canterlot to sell a bushel of apples. Hopefully, dinner is rea- That thought is cut off as the supple scent of a freshly baked apple pie fills his nostrils. "Ey-uup!" The big beastie trudges through the front door, nearly taking off the hinges in the process. The paint on the door frame had already been taken off by his bulk passing through it, and there's also considerable damage to the sides.

"Might need'ta get another door soon, big guy!" Applejack quips from the other end of the kitchen, which just so happens to be the entryway into the house. "Take a seat, I already mae dinner 'n such." "EyuUARUUUUUUUURP." The raunchy blimphorse staggers over to the nearest chair as a cloud of applestank stinks up his immediate viscinity. Applejack, of course, being the good sister that she is, pretends not to notice. However, that task becomes far more difficult as the big lug takes a seat on his chair, of which his ass swallows whole, as his man-stank reaches across the table and into her nose. Her left eye twitches. Big Mac casually leans in onto the table to pull the pristine pie towards him, smothering the table under his sweaty hide in the process. Rather than use the pie-cutter to slice off a piece, he opts to just dunk his head forwards and pig out. Chunks of apple crumb and apple-slices fly across his cheeks, the ravenous stallion only pausing to take the odd breath or belch here and there. That's not to say that gas doesn't spew out his other end--oh no. A cascade of sweat and grime pumps out of his pony pucker for seconds on end, with the mannerless brute simply shrugging it off as he continues his feast.

Applejack, meanwhile, breaks out into a frown. "Y'know, that pie was to share for the both of us..." She rumbles, to which Mac's ears perk up like 'dishes. In his slow, matter-of-fact way of speaking, he says "That's alright. I made something for you too, 'sis." This gets AJ's attention, as her eyes sparkle and shine. Macintosh takes a minute more to finish off the rest of the pie, his tongue swirling around the bottom of the tin to collect the crumbs, before he lifts himself up. The chair has a new paintjob to it, a bullseye of sorts--albeit, it's lost its legs in the process. The brutish slob saunters over to the other side of the table, the house shaking with each step he takes, until he's standing a foot away from his sister. "It's a surprise." He rumbles, and motions for her to close her eyes.
What happens next occurs with dexterity befitting to a gymnist, as Big Mac spins 'round and presses AJ's head deep into his grime and slime-filled ass-crack until her muzzle is pressing up against his fat pucker. He hikes his tail up and grunts. BPLRRPRRTTSHHH! Foul smog billows out of his behind, a great deal of which ends up in AJ's quivering maw. The mare wretches and groans, but it helps not. Big Mac's stomach grumbles once more, signalling another onslaught of gas approaches. BBbbBBRURARRPRRTT! Applejack's hind hooves kick out, and with it, she knocks the chair out from under her and goes crashing onto the floor. Fortunately for the blubberstud, he's got a comfy mare to cushion his fall.

As the heat of the room increases as a result of Mac's various expulsions, the sweat pouring off of Big Mac rears its foul head, particularly in his pits, which smell like death in a gym locker! Much of these excretions work their way downwards, tarnishing his vibrant red coat in a grey slurry, but also feeding into his sis's body as well. His stomach slowly begins to feel better--nothing like a big sis to help you out! "Eyuuup!"