Author: Dangerous Amoeba Pastebin URL: rzZKaag5.html Date: Oct 20th, 2014 ------ >”Celestia damn it! That stallion is gonna go mess with somepony again.” >”Tough splint? The one that beat up that poor Big Mac? >”Yea that’s the one. Guy’s no good, but no stallion can even scratch him. One of these days, we girls gotta do something.” >”What? Tell him to stop, that isn’t gonna do apples, about this.” >”We all told him a bunch of times. Nah, I rather teach him a lesson, put a hoof in those pretty teeth of his.” >”And some mare lookin to score helps him, and then you get a year, at best, for hitting a stallion.” >”I know, I won’t do anything, girl can dream, right?” >”It begins!” -------------------------------------------------------- >You stand by the large wooden cart, loaded to the brim, apples filling every basket and shelf, some spots reserved for other products made of the fruit. >In front of you is Big Mac, next to the cart, checking his cart supplies. >”Thanks fer yer help, Ah’non. Ah coulda never been done harvestin that field with Apple Jack gone.” “Nonsense, Mac. Anytime you need help, just ask, not like I do anything anyway.” >”Ya’re a fine stallion Anon. should ah pay ya now, or later?” “Woah, I never said anything about a pay. Don’t worry about it Mac, just helping a friend.” >”Are ya sure? Ahm countin this as an apple family favour anyway. If ya sure ya don’t want no-“ >The Red stallion stops mid word, and his eyes widen to a location behind you, fear in his eyes and facial expression. >A moment later, he turns his head and stares at his hooves, while nervously fidgeting. >You turn around and move slightly out of the way. Your new field of vision holds a big stallion, standing just below your pecks. >His coat is a light leather brown, his hair dirty blond, eyes a dark crimson. >”Hey Mac! Ya doin good?” >His voice is mischievously playful, somewhat deep. >”E-ee-eeyup.” >You now notice 2 other average stallions standing about 7 meters from the stall. Both with shit eating grins seemingly directed at you. >Wanting to wipe that grin off their face, you perform a light snarl, especially showing off your left canines. >They see this, and somewhat recoil back. >Directing your attention back to the “boss” stallion. He is slowly eating an apple, talking to Big Mac, who is clearly scared for some reason. >”So yea Mac, I gotta say, ya put up the best fight.” >The stallion turns to you wearing the same shit-eating grin his friends had not a few seconds ago. >”What about yer friend here Mac? Who’s he?” >Mac is scared shitless, shaking even. He nervously looks everywhere, trying to avoid eye contact, and stutters like he has a speech impediment. >”He-he just visitin, don’t worry about him. H-he ain’t ever h-hurt a fly.” >Suddenly, the stallion grabs Big Mac by the neck using his fore hooves. >”Ya think this I’m playing, Mac? Ya think this is a mother bucking game?” >”N-n-n-no!” >”No, what?!” >”N-No, sir!” >Quickly scanning around, you see all eyes looking at the scene with pity. >Turning back to the stallion screaming about how he was going to ‘take care of the both of us’, right before a hoof sweeps macs face. >Causing the red stallion to hit the floor and curl up into a ball, his hooves protecting his head. >Facing you again, the stallion seems to be having fun and hardly looks mad more than just somewhat huffing. Like he just did some warm ups. >”You! Ya know who the buck I am?!” “You can swear you know, just say fucking. But no I don’t know.” >”Wise guy, eh? When I’m done, ya won’t be makin any jokes, for a while.” >The stallion huffs and pumps his cheeks out, and snorts with a mist, through his nose. >Without further warning, the stallion charges at you with a war cry like scream. >He stands mainly on his hind legs, using his fore hooves to attack you, somewhat stretching to reach your taller figure. You block his attacks easily, with your left arm. >He repeatedly hits you aiming for the chest region, with the force of an above average 10 year old. >Eyes of sympathy fall on you, and some mares comfort stallions looking away in pity and fear. “Can you stop that?” >You ask the question in mild annoyance, and a hint of anger crawls into the words. >The stallion starts panting and between huffs manages to say a few words. >”What *huff* you *huff*huff* gonna *huff* do *huff*?” >Getting annoyed, you answer his question. >Pushing the stallion away as he gets on hind legs to strike, causing him to fall on his back, and quickly get up. >He charges at you again. You lift your right arm into the air, all 5 fingers making a fist. Simultaneously aiming at the stallions head. >Bringing your arm down as the stallion begins a leap. Your fist collides above his right orbital ridge, at a force of no less than 3000 newtons. >The stallion rag dolls lefts before hitting the dirt ground and dragging a little, generating a proportional dust cloud, ending up a few meters from you. >All the onlookers watch in awe and disbelief. >You’re somewhat unimpressed. “That’s it?” >One by one the entire market place floods with the sound of stomping hooves and cheers of your name. >Looking over to the stall, Big Mac is lying on the ground peeking through his hooves. >You walk over calmly, and kneel down next to your terrified friend. >”How did ya-?” >Mac begins to ask, but then just leaps wrapping his for hooves around your neck and gently sobs. >”Ah! Ahms, sorry, ah didn’t help you! Did he hurt ya?” >You scratch him behind the ear, confused to all hell. “No Mac I’m fine. Don’t worry, everything is alright.” >After a few minutes of sobbing, You help Big Mac pack up his stall and take him to sweet apple acres. >He had a black eye from the attack, as well redness in both ocular organs from crying. >On your way home, stallions and mares cheer you on; some give you little trinkets and treats, a mare even gives you a basket to help carry all the treats. Word travels fast. >Getting to sweet apple acres, Mac leaves the cart in the shaded cool area of the barn. He then leads you to the farmhouse. >No one’s here, Mac walks to the kitchen and gets you a bottle of special apple family cider. >You sit on their couch with the cider mug in your hand, Mac looking at you as if you’re his crush, which you might be. >Staring into nothing, you look at the basket of things given to you. Some pricey desserts as well as little pieces of art and such overfill it. >You look down at the special apple family private cider, according to Mac it takes 9 months to make and made from a secret recipe. Only apple family has access to it. >Finally, your gaze wanders back to Big Mac, who is still giddy with joy, and awe, like Scootaloo is with Rainbow Dash. >Your beyond confused state asks a simple question. “Oi, what just happened?”