Author's Note

No sex again this time aside from some light fantasies. Talk about sex; jokes about Macintosh's dick.

9. Macintosh, Sweet Apple Acres North Fields, Hotgust 18th, 1054 GCE

As the first rays of dawn trickled through his bedroom window, an itching along Macintosh’s withers told him that it might be a good day to head out before Applejack woke up.5 (This one is definitely earth pony magic.) He decided he could find plenty of things to do out in the orchard until it was time to go meet the waitress.

There were a lot of early varieties of apple in the North Field and they needed bucking—Ginger Golds, Paula Reds, Sansas, for example. So he fed Winona, packed a lunch, left a note on the fridge that he was ‘out bucking’, and hitched himself to the wagon. Winona trotted along behind him, head high and tail wagging.

He got a good look at the orchard on a hilltop on the way over. He ran some fancy mathematics in his head, which told him that if he allowed about ten minutes a tree, with an hour for a leisurely lunch, he could get through about half the field by mid-afternoon. This would leave him plenty of time to get cleaned up for his date. He would run out of bushels several times during all that but the family had a shed half a mile to the west where he could swap full loads for empties. Trips there would make him harder to find if Applejack came looking.

Not that he knew exactly what Applejack would be after him about, but she had some choices.

In any event, it turned out his original time estimate had been excessively pessimistic, and so he was able to start lunch early. Eating didn’t take long. Afterward he stretched out on his back under an apple tree and closed his eyes. Winona, worn out from her job of terrifying potential pests and warning them away with scent markers (or chasing rodents and peeing on things, if you wanted to be more simplistic about it) curled up by his side and began to snore.

He let his thoughts wander.

They went horny places.

For a while they lingered on all the things the waitress might let him do to her, which was pretty satisfying. Then they wandered along to his final encounter of last night. Those soft lips pressed against his flare, open, the tongue pushed right up against his flare, so gentle yet so eager to taste him. They reminded him of a certain mare’s brief, cum-soaked kiss.

It couldn’t be, could it? Was it her in the box?

“Well damn,” said a raspy female voice from the branches over head. “The legends are true! I thought ponies were exaggerating, but you’re even bigger than they say!”

“Go away, Rainbow Dash,” said Macintosh, not opening his eyes. He felt groggy and disoriented, and the leaf-mottled sunlight shining through his eyelids was coming from a different angle, telling him it was early afternoon already. He’d fallen asleep mid-fantasy.

“I just got out of a friendship meeting,” said Dash. “Really interesting conversation. Do you know what we talked about?”

“Nope.” Nor did he care.

“We talked about you.”

“Did you.” He opened his eyes a hair. Rainbow squatted on her branch with the probably deliberate intent of giving him a look at the goods. What she didn’t know was that she was backlit, so he couldn’t see a thing. Didn’t matter to him either way. She was quite a bit slimmer than he usually liked his mares. And not worth the trouble anyway. He closed his eyes.

“Yeah. Heard you had some fun the other day,” she said.

“None of your damn business.”

“I’m afraid Shy is my business, kind sir. And if you do anything to hurt her, I’ll tear off your neck and poop in the hole.”

He scowled, and decided not to ask her about the squad of royal guards she’d need to help her accomplish that task. “That so.”

“Yep,” said Applejack’s approaching voice. “And I’ll help her.”

That, he had to admit, would probably be sufficient force. “I’d never,” he said. Figure when it comes to breaking Fluttershy’s heart, Rainbow’s got that all tied up.” That had been a guess based on small town scuttlebutt, but the branches overhead rustled as if bestirred by the body of a tiny pegasus vibrating with rage, so he figured it’d hit home.

“Why you little…” said Rainbow.

“Who you callin’ little?” he said, grinning.

There was a snapping noise, as of wings unfurling in an attempt to be threatening. His smile grew until it showed teeth. A horse of few words, Macintosh knew how to speak with his actions. Actions that in this case were saying ‘why don’t you go ahead and come at me?’

Branches cracked, and wings wooshed upwards, quickly gaining altitude. Winona began to growl.

“Dash!” said Applejack. “You will not dive bomb my brother!”

“Why not?” she said from high above. “He’s begging for it!”

“He’s trying to get under your skin. Go do some laps until you calm down.”

“Ugh, fine!” Apple tree branches rustled and groaned in the wake of her passage.

Applejack’s hoofsteps approached. “So. You gonna put that thing away?”

“It’ll go down on its own. If you want it to go down faster, just keep talking.”

“I don’t believe you. You molest Fluttershy in the morning, and in the night, you’re all over the new waitress at Berry’s!”

“I didn’t molest her. She knows what she wants. And we didn’t touch. Just like you told me.”

“Peeing on each other counts as touching!”

“Does not.”

“Does too!”

“Does not.”

“Aw, for crispy’s sake!” said Applejack. “You can’t argue with me like that! We’re not foals any more!”

“You sure ain’t. You were a lot more fun when we were foals.”

“You know the difference between the letter and the spirit of the law. Shy’s an innocent. An innocent with a problem. And you took advantage of her!”

“An innocent, huh?” He slipped one eye open enough to get a read on his sister’s facial expression. Was she actually serious?

“Pure as the driven snow,” said Applejack, struggling to keep a straight face.

He closed his eye again. “Hey, you know the sex box in the alley behind Berry’s?”

“I don’t see how that’s relevant, but I bet I don’t know it anywhere near as well as you do.”

He chuckled. “I don’t typically need it. Still. You ever wonder who’s in that?”

He heard the sound of her hoof scraping at the orchard earth with restrained fury. “Don’t try to change the topic!” she said.

“I ain’t.”

Applejack’s hooves danced with frustration. “You… you… You know what? I’m not here for this. I’m here to tell you that you have a date tonight.”

“Sure do.”

“Not with the slut from the bar. With Shy. At the Café Fancy at nine o’clock.”

He chuckled. “The Café Fancy, huh? I’m sure that was Fluttershy’s idea.”

“You don’t argue. Be there, or there’ll be heck to pay. Wear something nice.”

He shrugged, rolled to his hooves, and shook himself to get dry grass and twigs out of his coat. “Eyup. C’mon, Winnona. Those apples ain’t gonna buck themselves.”