A Buck to Remember


                                            >You fan yourself with your Stetson, taking solace in the shade your stall offers from the midday summer sun.

                                            >You've been tending to your fruit stand since sunrise, and what should have been a profitable morning has been reduced to only a few sales on account of no one wanting to brave the day's sweltering heat.

                                            >Wiping the sweat from your fur-matted brow, you give another glance around the near-deserted marketplace.

                                            >There are a few stragglers out doing their shopping, darting from awning to awning, keeping their conversations curtailed, all seemingly determined to return to their homes as soon as possible.

                                            >You can't blame them, another sale-less hour and you'll be doing the same.

                                            >As if in agreement, a strand of your flaxen locks, jostled from your fanning, droops into your vision for what is not the first time today.

                                            >While you attempt to reseat the rogue strand with unenthusiastic puffs of air, an odd pair of individuals in the distance enter your line of sight, ceasing your futile exercise.

                                            >The leader of the two-figure procession is easy enough to place, what with there only being one human in Ponyville.

                                            >Anonymous, with his distinct stature, shirt-and-shoe-lessly strides the cobbles in the distance, a pair of swimming trunks affixed to his waist and a beach towel thrown over his shoulder.

                                            >Even from how far away you are, you're able to make out the contours of his bare torso, and you greedily drink in the titillating sight.

                                            >That boy drives you wild, not that you'd ever admit it to the girls.

                                            >There's just something about his furless, green skin and gangly, scrawny limbs that gets you all hot and bothered.

                                            >You'd have already made a move if it wasn't for the pony with him.

                                            >In the same way a puppy follows its owner, your friend Fluttershy trots behind Anon, her head aimed up at his with a cheerful grin on it.

                                            >You frown at her proximity to Anon. That should be you!

                                            >It seems like whenever Anon is out and about, Fluttershy is right next to him, following him like a shadow.

                                            >Your glower darkens as you think about how Fluttershy has probably already beat you to a relationship with Anon.

                                            >Maybe they're just friends? Really good friends that spend every moment together? If they -were- already making out and stuff, would Anon dump Fluttershy if you asked nicely? Maybe if you-

                                            >You turn your attention to the incessant tapping on your stall that has grown louder than can be ignored.

                                            "Oh. Howdy Spike. Didn't notice ya there."

                                            >Twilight's draconic helper, who can barely see over your stall's counter, lowers his arm back down from its tapping stance.

                                            >"No problem AJ, I can be easy to miss. I would like two red apples and a carton of chocolate milk please. U-unless you have something that's actually called "choccy milk." Twilight wasn't too clear about that."

                                            >Without responding, you absentmindedly assemble the dragonling's order, placing it on the counter without breaking eye contact with the human in the distance.

                                            >Spike takes notice of your staring, craning his head to see what it is that's distracting you.

                                            >"Oh, Anon and Fluttershy! Looks like he's off to do some swimming, not a bad idea in this heat."

                                            "Ah didn't think Fluttershy liked swimming," you grumble quietly.

                                            >"She's probably just finishing up her fetish guess for the day. I can't imagine she'll hang around him all day with this weather."

                                            "Her what?"

                                            >Spike removes the satchel slung around his back and opens a pouch on its side, placing a handful of bits from its contents on your stall's counter.

                                            >"You know, her fetish guess. That thing she keeps trying to get Anon to marry her."

                                            "She's tryin ta MARRY him!?"

                                            >You jolt upright in a panic, your Stetson fluttering to the ground.

                                            >"Heh heh yeah, cute isn't it? It's some kind of human tradition that if anypony can guess Anon's fetish, they get to marry him. He says it's a little more complicated than that but I'm pretty sure that's the basics of it."

                                            >Your adrenaline doesn't fade, but the panic begins to give way to exhilaration.

                                            "A-any pony...?"

                                            >Your gaze hardens, and you pick up your fallen Stetson, firmly affixing it atop your head. Looks like you'll be closing early today.

                                            "Game on Fluttershy. And one last thing Spike,"

                                            >The scaly assistant looks up from the chocolate milk carton he is desperately trying to fit into his satchel.

                                            "What's a fetish?"

                                            >He pauses his futile task, scratching his head.

                                            >"I've never actually got a clear answer before. I think it's something you like a lot, more than anything else. Twilight drank too much chocolate milk once and she told me her fetish was "ess ess" but never told me what it meant. You may have to ask Anon more about it."

                                            >Having decided that the carton won't fit, Spike zips up his bag and hoists the milk with both hands, teetering slightly.

                                            >"I'd say my fetish is playing board games with my friends, but right now it's getting out of this heat. Thanks for the stuff AJ, seeya!"

                                            >You distractedly wave the dragon off, your mind already hard at work with schemes.

                                            >It's only once you've packed up the shop that you mentally finalize your plan.

                                            >You can't help but grin, thinking of all the time you'll get to spend with Anon once you're married.


                                            >You wake up the next morning just before sunrise, near-launching yourself out of bed and galloping downstairs to finish your chores.

                                            >Sprinting to and fro across the farm, your daily duties are concluded in a short manner.

                                            >You nip back to the farmhouse, carefully removing the tinfoil-wrapped package you had been keeping warm in the oven.

                                            >You place it neatly in your backpack and speed off for Anon's house wearing a big smile. Today was the day.

                                            >It doesn't take long to race to your destination, your hooves impacting the street and the chirps of the early birds the only sounds echoing through the sleepy Ponyville.

                                            >Skidding to a halt in front of Anon's cozy little house, you take a moment to calm yourself and ensure your backpack's contents hadn't been too jostled.

                                            >Having confirmed the integrity of your package, you steel yourself and trot up to the front door, squatting in front of it.

                                            >Lifting up your hat, you run a hoof through your mane and make sure your ponytail is properly positioned, that not a hair is out of place.

                                            >You replace your hat and with a deep breath, knock soundly on the door.

                                            >

                                            >

                                            >The passing minutes register as hours in your nervous brain, but despite all your fidgeting, your knock remains unanswered.

                                            >You knock again, louder this time. Maybe he hadn't heard you?

                                            >

                                            >

                                            >Still nothing.

                                            >You pout at the unmoving door, standing up from your squat.

                                            >He should be home... right?

                                            >You peek through the window adjacent to the front door, hoping to see Anon racing to answer it.

                                            >Nope. Just a plainly furnished foyer.

                                            >You decide to trot the full perimeter of Anon's house, anticipating to see him working on some project in the back yard.

                                            >Rounding the house's corner dashes your hopes again, revealing only an overgrown lawn badly in need of maintenance.

                                            >You note the presence of a back porch however, and you climb up the stoop steps quickly, heading for the door.

                                            >The force of your hooves rattle the frame, each knock sending echoes throughout the yard.

                                            >Similar to the front porch, Anon's back porch has a window through which he can enjoy the view of his weedy lawn.

                                            >Unlike the front porch however, this window is noticeably ajar, most likely from ventilating yesterday's heat.

                                            >Shakily, you verify that you are without witnesses, and raise the window up just enough to poke your head through.

                                            >A quick inventory of the room beyond reveals another significant lack of Anon, though quite a surplus of empty soda cans.

                                            >You'll be darned if your marriage expedition ends here.

                                            >Double checking that no neighbors are watching you, you hoist the window all the way up.

                                            >Carefully clambering over the sill so as to not smoosh the package on your back, you slowly lower yourself into Anon's abode.

                                            >The early morning sunrise illuminates the sparse furniture in what you guess is his living room.

                                            >You call it a living room because it has a well-worn couch and an abundance of crushed cans littering the carpet. It feels safe to assume that Anon does most of his "living" in here.

                                            >Quietly maneuvering through the rest of Anon's bottom floor finds only more empty rooms, and further illustrates his lack of interior design.

                                            >Having exhausted your other routes, you begin climbing the stairs to what you hope is a bedroom.

                                            >A closed door meets you, and with as much stealth as you can manage, you push it open slowly.

                                            >The curtains drawn over the window cast darkness across the room, and a second passes while your eyes adjust.

                                            >There are considerably more "things" occupying the room than the others you've visited, knickknacks and furniture alike.

                                            >You're drawn to the bed in the center of the room however, as atop it, slumbering, lies Anon.

                                            >Your joy at finally finding him overrides common sense, and you rush to his bedside.

                                            "Ahnon! Wake up, Ah've got ah fetish guess that Ah just know is gonna work!"

                                            >You prod him gently with your front hooves for good measure.

                                            >Initially response-less, the sleeping human begins shifting in his sheets, letting out a low moan.

                                            "C'mon Ahnon, Ah'm gonna guess it an' we're gonna get married!"

                                            >"N-not... happening Fluttershy... too early..."

                                            "HEY!"

                                            >You give Anon a hard shove, flipping him over onto his stomach.

                                            "Ah ain't Fluttershy," your beaming smile instantly replaced with a scowl, "Geddit straight."

                                            >Shaking his head free of fatigue, Anon picks himself up, pivoting to face you.

                                            >"A-Applejack? What...?"

                                            "Ah said Ah ain't Fluttershy. And you'd do well ta remember that."

                                            >"I-I see that. What are you doing in my house at-"

                                            >Anon turns to check a clock sat on his nightstand.

                                            >"Five in the morning? Cripes," Anon rubs the sleep from his eyes with both hands, "Was there another friendship emergency? You guys can't keep pulling that crap this early."

                                            >Your soured mood slowly begins to brighten as you begin your speech.

                                            "Ah'm here ta guess your fetish Ahnon! Ah heard whoever guesses right gets ta marry ya!"

                                            >Any sense of urgency drains from Anon's face, replaced entirely with apathy.

                                            >"Uh huh."

                                            >Seeing that sleep is no longer an option, Anon throws back the covers and stands up, revealing his half-nude form.

                                            >Anon walks over to his closet, your now-blushing face swiveling to track his movements.

                                            "An- an Ah've got a really... good guess."

                                            >"Bet so."

                                            >Anon grabs a shirt from a pile of laundry on the floor of his closet, putting it on leisurely.

                                            "Y-yeah! Better than anythin' Fluttershy could guess."

                                            >"Cool."

                                            >Making his way to the stairs, Anon descends without giving you another look.

                                            "Hey! Ah'm talkin' ta you!"

                                            >You trot down after him, following him into the kitchen.

                                            >Anon retrieves his milk from the fridge, setting it on the counter while you trail him.

                                            "Don't you want ta hear mah guess?"

                                            >"No."

                                            "Well Ah never- lookie here Ahnon, Ah'm gonna-"

                                            >"You know I'm not going to marry you just because of your guess, right?"

                                            "Huh?"

                                            >"There's no rule that I have to marry you. Fluttershy made it all up."

                                            >Your heart sinks to the pits of your stomach. Desperately, you scan Anon's face for any hint of a joke.

                                            "B-but-"

                                            >"I'm making cereal. Do you want a bowl?"

                                            >Dejectedly, you sidle up to Anon's kitchen table, sullenly sitting in one of his chairs.

                                            >You hang your head, acutely aware that you had skipped breakfast in your earlier haste.

                                            "...yes please."

                                            >Anon makes his way from cabinet to cabinet, procuring two sets of bowls and spoons.

                                            >Setting them respectively in front of his and your seat, he makes note of your morose demeanor as he heads for the pantry.

                                            >"You really wanted to marry me?"

                                            "Uhm. Y-yeah, was kinda hopin' this guess thing would turn out so Ah could have another hand on the farm. A-and those arms a yours look like they're pretty good at cuddlin' too."

                                            >Anon returns with a cereal box, frowning slightly.

                                            >"It's just that this kind of came out of nowhere. Has this been going on for a while?"

                                            "Ah may have gott'n jealous seein' you with Fluttershy."

                                            >He nods sagely, pouring a healthy helping of Wheat Chaff into both of your bowls.

                                            >"I'm not trying to raise your hopes for marriage or anything but you've definitely got a better chance than her. She stinks."

                                            >You jerk upright to again search Anon's face for any chance it could be a joke.

                                            "You really mean that?"

                                            >He remains completely neutral as he adds milk to both bowls, setting down the carton and picking up his spoon.

                                            >"Course I do, she's easily the worst smelling pony I know," Anon takes a big bite of his cereal, chewing noisily, "It's like a mix of dog sweat and- oh what the FUCK."

                                            >Not even two seconds after having put the spoon in his mouth, a series of timid knocks echo throughout his foyer.

                                            >A man enraged, Anon screams through his house, both in speed and sound.

                                            >Curious, you trot gingerly behind him, tactfully leaving your cereal untouched.

                                            >Anon flings his door open swearing, revealing none other than Fluttershy.

                                            >"I'M EATING BREAKFAST THREE HOURS EARLY HOW DID- WHAT ARE Y-"

                                            >Fluttershy cowers under the verbal barrage, waiting for Anon to give her a chance to speak.

                                            >"I uh... just felt something weird about today... Am I interrupting?"

                                            >Anon puts his head in his hands briefly, appearing to mentally count to ten.

                                            >He exits his hands a lot calmer than he came in.

                                            >"Yes. Yes Fluttershy, you're interrupting my cereal. Again. What do you want?"

                                            >"I just wanted to know if you wanted to go swimming again. I didn't get to finish... what I was doing... yesterday. While watching you."

                                            >"You didn't finish masturbating because I caught you doing it Fluttershy, that's why I stopped swimming. Anything else?"

                                            >"Well I thought of a better hiding spot today and- Oh!"

                                            >Fluttershy lets out a squeak, finally having noticed you standing behind Anon.

                                            >"A-Applejack! W-what... what are you doing here?"

                                            "Ah guess Ah could ask you the same thing sugarcube. Ahnon told me that whole fetish guessin' game was a fake."

                                            >"F-fake?"

                                            "Ah made a right fool out of mahself, comin' all this way just... just for nothin'! Ah even baked a pie for ya Ahnon..."

                                            >Taking off your backpack, you undo the strap and remove the tinfoil package from within, handing it to Anon.

                                            "Mah guess was gonna be if apples were your fetish... was hopin' they were..."

                                            >Anon's cross expression crumbles into a small smile, and he takes the pie tin from you.

                                            >"Applejack that's... that's really sweet of you. Thanks."

                                            >Fluttershy balks at the compliment you receive, trotting up to tug on Anon's pant leg.

                                            >"A-Anon I make you stuff all t-the time... what about mee..."

                                            >"The last thing you made me was panty-strained coffee you freak. Now listen, here's what's going to happen. I'm going to go set this thoughtful gift down in my kitchen, and then I'm going to come back to an -empty- porch. Okay? Applejack, you can stay."

                                            >Anon's final statement brings a grin to your visage and a sob to Fluttershy's.

                                            >Shaking his leg free of its yellow grip, Anon strides off into the depths of his house.

                                            "Well Ah guess that's that then."

                                            >"Applejack... about the guesses..."

                                            "Hm?"

                                            >Fluttershy looks up at you miserably from the floor of Anon's porch.

                                            >"He... he called off the guesses because I guessed right but... couldn't deliver."

                                            >You cock an eyebrow at the downcast pony.

                                            >"His fetish is being bucked in the chest really hard and... I can't buck at all... I mean, just look at my flanks."

                                            >Sure enough, Fluttershy's flanks are more fat than muscle, not good for much more than locomotion.

                                            "His fetish is being bucked? Ah guess I still don't understand this fetish thing all too well..."

                                            >"He wanted more than anything to have a strong pony buck him in the chest, and I... failed..."

                                            "Ah... Ah just don't get it. You guessed right but ya ain't married? But he said ya just made it all up ta begin with!"

                                            >"He's just scared I'll give away his secret... But you're the best bucker I know Applejack and... it looks like he likes you."

                                            "Y-you think so?"

                                            >"Applejack, I love Anon, a-and I want what's best for him. If that means he ends up with you then... that's what it means."

                                            >Fluttershy wipes a tear from her eye, a resolved air overcoming her as she stands back up.

                                            >"I'll... I'll leave, but Applejack, please... buck him for me?"

                                            "Well Ah... Sure Fluttershy. I'll give him a buck he'll never forget. Thanks fer tellin' me about that and all, Ah... Ah know how tough it can be to watch the man you like end up with somepony else."

                                            >Anon rounds the corner, standing full in the door frame.

                                            >Fluttershy gives him a longing glance, then turns and nods solemnly to you.

                                            >"Hey, Flutterbutt, I told you to scram. In the words of a man better than me, "get goin' 'for I drop you with my elbo-""

                                            >Anon's threat is interrupted by your hind legs coming into contact with his ribcage at breakneck speed, the sickening sound of bone splintering ringing through the yard.

                                            >Anon tumbles unnaturally towards the ground, spinning from the force of the impact before connecting with his hardwood floor, skidding several feet until coming to a stop.

                                            >Lying sprawled in a heap in his foyer, Anon coughs weakly, the act spasming his whole body.

                                            >You gleefully step up to where Anon lies prone, beaming with pride.

                                            "Ah bet you ain't never seen a buck like that one, huh Ahnon? Pretty strong right?"

                                            >Anon's only response is to hack up red spittle onto his rug.

                                            "Oh, uhh. Ahnon? Y-you alright? Startin' to feel frisky at all?"

                                            >Darting in from the doorway, Fluttershy slips past you and begins nuzzling Anon's torso, lifting up his shirt.

                                            >"Wooow! What a buck Applejack! It looks like he really liked it!"

                                            "R-really? It looks to me like he's hurtin'... Ah thought humans could take hits like that standin' up..."

                                            >Fluttershy continues to feel around Anon's bare torso before giving a diagnosis.

                                            >"Yep! Only two broken ribs, anything more than that and he'd have a hard time getting... ready... But we're good to make love now!"

                                            "We?"

                                            >Fluttershy gives an "mhm!" of agreement while tugging down Anon's pajama pants, revealing his naked crotch.

                                            >"I told you Anon's secret fetish, and you bucked him. I-I was thinking that we could share him fifty-fifty..."

                                            "An just what happened to wantin' what's best for him."

                                            >Fluttershy has already begun stroking Anon's slowly hardening junk.

                                            >"I, uh... T-this is what's best for him?" Fluttershy offers a hopeful smile, "I-I mean... do you have experience with making love to barely conscious humans?"

                                            "...Ah guess not..."

                                            >Your attention to Anon's wounds has been shifted entirely to his exposed nethers.

                                            >"Then I can teach you all about it... if you want, that is..."

                                            >You're already reaching for Anon's member, all other factors be darned.

                                            "Fine. Ah'm goin' first though."