Are the Least of Your Worries
The next day was sweet. Her family was there, her friends, her pets. They all came in at one point or another, most of them at the same time. They all bombarded her with questions, none of them stopping to let her talk. But she wouldn't have said anything anyway. She was far too ashamed of what happened to tell anyone. But then they started arguing. The voices, they escalated, getting louder and louder until finally-
"AH GOT RAPED." Finally, dead quiet. Except for her tears. They screamed louder than the most advanced vocal spell, and clearer than the most skilled of orators. No one spoke for a few seconds. Fluttershy, as was expected, began to silently sob. Applejack shut her eyes and looked down in shame. And of course Rainbow Dash fulfilled her hothead archetype.
"W-when did this happen?! How, why did - nevermind. AJ, I swear I'm gonna-"
"Ah don' wan' ya ta do nuthin', Dash." They were all stunned. Rainbow tried to speak, but she couldn't. Everypony tried to find words, but none would come. She wished they would just leave. She wanted to be alone now, let them digest this before they started going crazy with questions.
"AJ," Twilight started, "I can understand not wanting to talk about it but you need to tell SOMEpony who r-"
"THA'S ENOUGH!" The thundering shout made them all flinch. Even Applejack was surprised at the outburst. She looked up and saw a fierce-looking Macintosh glaring at the small crowd. "Now she's told y'all she don't wanna talk about it, and she done told y'all she don't want ya ta do anythin'. Now all a y'all get OUT! NOW!" Without hesitation, they all evacuated the room. Rainbow looked like she was going to protest, but quickly complied after locking eyes with Macintosh. They all left, closing the door behind them. For a moment, neither of the two Apple farm ponies said anything.
"Ah can't know what y've been through. Ah can't understand, Ah can't undo it, Ah can't do anythin' ta help ya. Ah only understand one thang right now: y've been through somethin' awful, and ya don' wanna answer questions." She sat, staring at her blankets, listening intently. "Ah'm gonna ask ya one question, AJ. Only one. And Ah don't expect ya ta answer. Y'all are either gonna answer me or be silent. If y'all wanna be alone, Ah'll leave. If ya don' wanna say anythin', I'll respect that, too." She sniffed in anticipation.
"Applejack, who did this to ya?" The silence fell quickly, and hung in the air for awhile. Neither of them could have estimated how long it was. Macintosh never took his eyes off of his sisters, which were pointed down into the sheets that covered her hind legs. Macintosh knew that it had been long enough.
He closed his eyes, nodding understandingly, and turned to leave. He paced over to the door, and placed his hoof on the handle. Applejack silently inhaled a sharp breath.
"Baritone." Her voice cracked on the last syllable, and she began crying aloud. Macintosh's face scrunched in anger. He walked back over to the bed and embraced Applejack in a tight embrace. He leaned in close and whispered to her.
"Don't worry. Ah'll make sure he sees justice. True justice. He won't hurt no one ever again, and when all's said and done, he'll wish he never met you." He released her, and just as he was about to turn and leave, Applejack caught his eyes. It broke his heart to look into her blackened eyes, puffy, red, and full of tears.
"Please, Macintosh. Please, don' kill'im." Macintosh gave her a sweet smile, followed by a gentle ruffling of her mane.
"Don' worry, sis. He'll get exactly what he deserves. Trust me." He leaned forward and kissed her lovingly on the forehead, as he had done so many times in the past. The situation was similar, he noted. He was getting ready to go do his own thing, while Applejack was lying in bed, and he kissed her on the forehead. The difference was that Applejack was now in a hospital bed, she was no longer a filly, and Macintosh did not tuck her in.
Macintosh reflected on the past no more, mentally shaking the images from his mind. He turned to the door and silently walked out, closing the door behind him. He had work to do.
Back at the farm house, Macintosh had to explain what had happened to AJ. He didn't tell Applebloom what happened, telling Granny Smith in private. Poor Applebloom was still a filly; she probably couldn't handle it. Macintosh just told her Applejack had an accident, and that she'd be fine after awhile, but that nopony should ever bring it up to her. It was almost 8 PM by the time Macintosh had his plan together. He had gathered his equipment, and went down his list, checking it twice:
-Burlap sack
-Brick
-25 one-foot pieces of cardboard
-Permanent marker
-Roll of duct tape
-Roll of masking tape
-20 feet of rope
-7 inch knife
-Washcloth
He placed his tools in the sack, which he placed in a pack he put on his back. It weighed virtually nothing to him thanks to his powerful frame. He was about to talk out the door, when he heard a voice from behind him.
"Big Mac? Where are ya goin'?" He stopped, cursing himself for not checking to make sure she was in bed. He turned and gave her a smile.
"Ah'm goin' out. Ah got some special chores Ah need ta do." Despite his reassuring smile, Applebloom wore a worried look. She slowly approached her older brother, barely reaching his kneecaps. She put a leg around one of his forelegs, hugging him tightly.
"Ah'm worried about Applejack." He smiled a fake smile that he learned while taking care of Applejack as a filly. He scooped her up with one swift motion into his leg and pulled her into a hug. He pulled her away slightly, looking her in the eyes.
"Applejack is gonna be fahn. Jus' don' mention it to 'er'n everythin' will be just fahn. Now y'all go on ta bed now, ya hear?" He let her down, and she smiled up at him before trotting to her room. With his sister gone, Macintosh lowered his smile, and exited the farmhouse. He quietly shut the door, and looked up at the moon, sighing deeply.
"Me, too, Applebloom. Me too..."
It had been a hard day. The performance went well, but when three stallions hurt themselves dropping three boxes of instruments, Baritone had to stay late helping pick up the slack. He wasn't exhausted, but the extra effort was unexpected and he should have been asleep already. He finally reached his door, unlocking it with his key. He walked in three feet before an incredible weight slammed into his side. He was dazed, and did nothing as he felt a cloth being forcefully shoved into his face. He struggled for a moment before everything went black.
Freezing cold enveloped his body, starting with his face and quickly washing down his entire body. Baritones eyes shot open as he woke from being unconscious. He looked around frantically, but the low light yielded no information as to where he was. He was gagged, too. He tried to move, but found his legs tied up - hogtied. All at once, he remembered what he had done almost 24 hours before. No. There's no bucking way.
He froze when he heard a slow, deliberate pace coming toward him. His eyes widened, fear overtaking him. He was bound and gagged and hog tied. Applejack most have-
"MPH!" He felt a powerful force concentrate on his back, winding him. He struggled to regain his breath as his assailant walked around in front of him. He recovered from the blow after a few moments, opening his eyes to look at the bastard who had kidnapped him. His body went rigid, and the blood drained from his face when he made eye contact with the red stallion standing above him. It was Big Macintosh.
They stared at each other for a heartbeat before Baritone's body twisted and squirmed, as though he was possessed. Macintosh responded with a swift kick, basically punting the helpless stallion two and a half feet across the ground. He whimpered slightly, but stopped resisting. Baritone was frozen when Macintosh's southern drawl pierced the air.
"Y'all did somethin' mahghty bad. Ah saw the marks around 'er hooves, an' Ah saw the marks around 'er head'n mouth. Now Ah'm gonna pull that there gag offa yer mouth, and y'all are gonna tell me how ya managed ta get a strong mare like AJ down. If ya make s'much as a peep, Ah'll jus' skip the questions an' go straight to the punishment. Y'all understand?" Baritone nodded his head slowly. "Good." Macintosh slipped the gag to the side of Baritones mouth with his hoof. To his delight, Baritone didn't scream.
"I don't know what you- HCK!" He was silenced by a sharp blow to the gut. Now Macintosh was angry.
"DON' FEED ME THAT PILE'A HAY! AH KNOW YA DID IT T AJ SO FESS UP!" Baritone coughed for a few seconds before squeezing out a response.
"It was -hck- consensual! Did that bitch cry rape?" He made the mistake of looking into Macintosh's eyes and saw the fury and hatred that awaited him. Macintosh put all his weight in his hind legs, lifting his forelegs into the air, positioned directly over top of Baritone. "WAIT! OK, I DID IT, I DID IT! I raped her twice! Just don't kill me! Please, have mercy!" Macintosh lowered his forelegs slowly, his expression going from livid to annoyance. Of course, he was still vengeful, but he just didn't show it.
"Tha's all AH needed ta hear." He moved the gag back into place. Baritone looked around at his feet, and noticed that the rope he was tied with was not just enough to hogtie him, but there was at least fifteen feet of extra rope, maybe even more. His thought was cut short by the pain of being dragged across the uneven ground. All Baritone could tell was that he was outside, but he had no idea where. He tried to get his bearings, but could manage that before the entire world went upside down.
He was being lifted now. The pain was excruciating, as all of his weight was being supported by the rope tied firmly around the base of his legs. He could feel the joints being strained from the gravitational forces pulling him down, and the rope was practically piercing his skin from the pressure. He let a few moans of pain escape him before he could feel that we was no longer rising. For a few minutes nothing happened, and then an upside down Macintosh came into his field of vision.
"Y'all better keep yer head up, or this is gonna be no fun for either of us." That was all the warning Macintosh gave before backing up on his hind legs, and struck Baritone in the face with a powerful hoof. Then another, and another, straight in the face. Baritone took the hint and pulled his head forward into his chest as far as it would go, letting the back of his neck take the brunt of the beating.
The constant force caused his bound form to start rotating counter-clockwise, all the while Macintosh was firing away with his front hooves. The blows came into Baritones side, catching his ribs painfully, digging into his kidneys. They all stopped for the length of one half rotation before another blow, easily ten times harder than any of the others, cracked half the ribs on his right side. He could feel one of the points of the broken bone making tiny cuts in his left lung as he moved. It was nothing fatal, probably wouldn't even draw blood internally; but it still hurt.
Macintosh put out a hoof to stop his victim from spinning around, catching him on the nape of his neck. Baritone opened his eyes, when he felt this, and risked lowering his head to look at Macintosh. He quickly regretted that decision when he received a blow to the cheek. It was more like a mild slap, but it still hurt. He took the hint and curled his neck upward once more, despite the tiny, yet growing, burning sensation in his neck muscles.
"Ah'm pretty sure Ah broke yer ribs. Le's count'em." He steadied Baritone with one hoof while exploring the stallions right side, forcefully pushing one every single rib. Every time he hit a broken one, he counted aloud, usually drowned out by a strangled yelp of pain from Baritone. "One." More rubbing. "Two." More pushing. "Three." More stifled cries of pain. "Four. Five. Six. Seven. Seven. Ya got seven broken ribs. And Ah believe that THIS one -" he prodded a lump on the side of Baritone's chest, causing him to scream- "is broken and the sharp, splintery edge is rubbin' against yer lung. Am Ah raght?"
Baritone breathed heavily, regaining his composure. He did not answer Macintosh, but instead focused on getting as far away from the pain as possible. Baritone's silence annoyed Macintosh, so he moved on to his next bit. He pulled back his forehoof a few inches, and punched the broken rib. At first it didn't seem like anything happened, since the bulge was still there and Baritone didn't make any sounds.
But, after a few heartbeats, Baritone came back to the present, and began screaming through his gag, violently writhing in agony as wave after wave of horrible pain emanated from the fresh hole in his lung. It didn't pierce the lung cavities, which was unfortunate. Baritone could feel the wound, and knew that it wouldn't kill him, as he did not feel any fluid coming into his lungs, which meant that the rib had pierced at an angle that allowed it to break the tissue, but not penetrate all the way through. Macintosh noticed the lack of coughing.
"Well, ya don't have no blood in yer lungs, which means the rib didn' pierce yer lung. Welp, guess y'all gonna get ta live after all." He reached into his bag and pulled out a familiar green washcloth and presented it to his hostage. "Ah'm gonna knock ya out. And come mornin', yer gon' be found and taken inta custody. An' when that happens, y'all are gonna admit ta everythin' ya did, or else Ah'm gonna find ya and we're gonna have a lot more fun, ya hear?" Macintosh smiled at his hostage's furious head nodding, and promptly smothered Baritones muzzle with the chloroform-laced washcloth. After a few seconds of mild resistance, Baritone went limp.
It was almost three in the morning. Macintosh had taken Baritone down, dragged him across town to the Mayors Office, and strung him up in the adjacent tree like a piñata. He cut off the excess five feet of rope with his knife, and tied it to the brick. He took the other end, and, with careful precision, tied the other end around the tip of the unconscious stallions member. He supported the brick, slowly lowering it until the slack in the rope was gone.
He removed the 25 tiles of cardboard and taped them together with the duct tape. It looks like a gigantic square of grey rubber. Or it did, until he painstakingly covered the whole thing in masking tape. With the surface now conductive to ink, Macintosh too the marker in his mouth and wrote large, clear words on the newly constructed sign. When he was finished, he stepped back to admire his work.
ASK ME ABOUT MY SEXUAL HISTORY!
Perfect, he thought as he put away all of his materials. He packed up, slinging the backpack onto his back, ready to leave. He placed the rigid sign against the trunk of the tree, knowing that he would spill the beans once he was taken to the police. He was about to leave when he heard a pleasing sound: whimpering.
He turned to the source, glad to see that timing was perfect that morning. He walked over to Baritone, whose eyes were now black, puffy and crying like Applejacks were, looking him in the face, eye-to-eye. Smiling smugly, Macintosh gave his parting words.
"Y'all are gonna keep yer promise, an' we won' have no more problems, alraght? Good." He didn't even wait for a response before turning around and walking back to Sweet Apple Acres. Meanwhile, Baritone still hung there from the tree, body aching, lung wound getting worse with every breath, the horrid strain on his stallionhood getting increasingly unbearable. His eyes explored this upside down world for a few minutes before settling upon the sign. He knew he'd been caught. He knew he'd been found out. And he knew he'd have to confess to the police.
Baritone had been keeping his head up the whole time to keep the blood from rushing to his head, but lowered it, hoping the blood rush would eventually knock him out. He still had about an hour before anyone would discover him, and he didn't want to be conscious when it happened. He slowly let his head fall, not wanting to add to the downward force being exerted on his body. His vision slowly turned red as the blood flooded his eyes capillaries until, all at once, he fainted.
And so Baritone hung for forty two and a half minutes before being found by a now-traumatized young mare. She quickly reported it to the police, but not before a small crowd had formed around the tree near the center of Ponyville to watch in horror. They dared not approach him, for all they knew he was dead. Eventually someone found the courage to cut him loose and let him be on the ground. He was left there until the medical personnel took him away. All the while, Big Macintosh watched on in satisfaction as his sisters tormentor was forever gone from their lives.
He turned around, ready to head to the marketplace to run Granny Smith's errands for the day. As he walked, he remembered that everything that he did had accomplished nothing but get a low life rapist off the streets. Yeah, he could have just bound and gagged Baritone and left him at town hall and it would have been just as good.
But instead, he took his time torturing the stallion, venting his anger and going to extreme lengths to humiliate Baritone. However, Macintosh knew straight from the beginning what he'd do, and also that it wouldn't make one damn bit of difference. Applejack was still abused and raped, and that could never be undone. Macintosh knew this. He knew. And yet, he did it anyway. It wasn't revenge, as that truly would have been pointless. No, Macintosh was simply venting his frustration. And boy, did it work.
