//------------------------------// // Hit Me With That Gay Shit // Story: Buckin' Apples (and maybe Stallions too) // by JakTheYak //------------------------------// “Whewie that’s some damn good buckin’ there Brae!” Empire Seed hollered from a few rows of trees down. “Why thank ya kindly there, Empire.” Brae shot back after whipping his honey gold locks out of his emerald eyes. The stout stallion was like all the Earth Ponies of Appleoosa, rustic and ripped. Seriously, he’d seen what unicorn body builders looked like, and they could hold a candle to bona fide Appaloosan colt. Just about everypony had the same disparity in strength compared to normal ponies as an Appaloosan had with Big Mac. Braeburn Apple had been in the first wave of settlers to make a homestead of this southern wilderness, and he’d loved every second of it. The dry heat of the days and cold arid nights were bliss to him, and he was sincerely thankful to the ever-dependable Cousin Applejack for helping the town fix up with the Buffalo. He honestly felt just awful for the way he’d acted back in those days, all blinded by anger and fear as he was, but Braeburn knew that dwelling on past mistakes would never get him anywhere new. Sometime after the whole of the Buffalo debacle, Brae had been chosen by Sheriff Silverstar to be the liaison between the Buffalo tribes and the ponies of Appaloosa; he worked closely with Little Strongheart, the lil’ bison darling that had been striving to bridge the gaps between the two groups. As to be expected, his having spent a “good deal of time awfully close that that sweetheart Strongheart” made the spokes on the rumor-wagon start a ‘turning something fierce. Braeburn was snapped out of his reminiscing by the ringing of the workman’s bell, signaling the end of the work day. Brae collected is first few baskets and started walking back to the drop off, where all the apples bucked during a work day were deposited, weighed, and stored. The drop off was a large red and white barn, not dissimilar to the one he had, along with the rest of the apple family, helped rebuild at a family reunion a while back. If memory served it had been cousin Applejack’s first reunion she’d planned, and there was a vague recollection of the family singing a song… Regardless, the main difference was that this barn was Appleoosa born and raised, and it had the sand-worn beams and chipped paint the ponies of the southern kin held as a symbol of themselves and their beloved home. Recently the town’s new Mayor, Cherry Jubilee, had been mulling over experimenting with having pay be decided by the weight of the haul a pony brings in. Braeburn was skeptical, not one for change was he, yet he was willing to give the idea a chance. He took in the glorious sights of the Appleoosan afternoon. The sun shined brightly overhead, and there was not a cloud in the sky to obscure the warmth bleeding into his coat. It did however mean that he had to dip his hat just a little bit lower to protect his sensitive eyes. The dust that suffused the ground would occasionally kick up into small swirls that reminded the mind of the swirling majesty of a tornado. The trees of the orchard’s leaves were locked in an everlasting limbo of color. The orchard never got to the heights of verdant greens and browns as those of kin in fairer pastures, but similarly weren’t susceptible to the mandatory winters. This is the balance Appleoosa lived in, and the trees showed it. Every leaf was shade of color evoking the skin of ripe golden delicious apples. The trees and craggy rock outcrops blended their colors with the canary sky to make the place feel all the more warm and homey to Braeburn. It was like marveling at a painting evoking the rusting warmth of a quiet homestead shared with loving family. The vast stretches of dessert, with only the merest patches of grass no bigger or denser than an adolescent’s chin hairs, made the community feel even closer knit. “Sweet sweltering Celestia, Braeburn, you done and broke the Sheriff’s applebucking record!” one of the other work ponies exclaimed raucously. Braeburn felt his chest swell up with pride. I’m a lean mean bucking machine! He couldn’t help but giggle to himself, then stepped before all the other ponies gathered around the drop off. His eyes lit up, Braeburn had always loved to entertain. Not as much as that supersonic pink mare cousin Applejack keeps company with, but he certainly was among the small number of Appleoosan party animals. He ripped his hat off his head, squinting in the suddenly harsh light, and reared up on his hind legs loosing a trademark “Aaaappleoosa!!” “Well now ev’rypony I do believe that we ought to celebrate this most momentous of occasions. It’s now every day you see a record smashed, though I’m fixing to see that there record ain’t the only thing smashed by the time I’m done… DRINKS ARE ON ME BOYS!!! YEEHAWWW!!!!!” “Ughhh my damn head feels like it’s about to fall off…” Braeburn was awoken from his drunken stupor by an all-to-early sunrise buffeting the stallion’s poor eyes. He stumbled out of bed, dragging half the covers with him, and it was then he saw to look down and noticed that he had at some point put on long stockings that were horizontally stripped with alternating whites and oranges. He owned a few pairs, and they were meant for mares, not like that stopped him. He liked the way they complimented his legs and made all eyes, male and female, follow him when he walked into a room. Brae’s folks hadn’t initially taken too kindly to his indulging in such “raunchy dress”, but they were supportive of his lifestyle choices; one of which was sprawling on his bed passed out and wearing now sloppy mascara. Braeburn liked stallions, and he wasn’t ashamed of it. The townsponies of Appleoosa didn’t really care either. Yes, earth ponies are a bit more on the conservative side, but they also held deep respect for hard work and valued that before anything as silly as sexuality. Besides, it’s not like they had some outdated religious reason to hate anypony, Celestia was known to get as much action as a one bit till you quit whore while “drumming up business” from both teams. Seriously, it’s like pegasi and unicorns still thought of Earth ponies like they were in the pre-unification times, at least in regard to sexuality. This particular stallion was a familiar face, Rise n’ Shine was his name if memory served. Brae had met him at the saloon the night before while out celebrating the record he’d broken and burning through some of the bits he’d netted. Were he entirely honest, the party was an absolute blast, but he’d been through more raucous parties in his time. As he dragged himself into the shower, Braeburn was wondering why he felt so odd. It was like someone had wrapped up his insides in a tight, wet towel. Every beat of his heart felt as though it was chaffing against this binding. He’d felt this way before, it usually popped up when he watched other ponies happily settled in a relationship. Apple Fritter and Happy Trails were both two great friends of his, some of the first outside the family he’d made upon settling Appleoosa. He cared for both of them, and may have had a bit of a crush on Happy, what could Brae say the stallion had a nice ass. But deep down he knew they were a good fit for each other and he’d be better off keeping a minimum safe distance so they could enjoy each other without them having to deal with his feelings. Maybe I’m just meant to be a bachelor forever. The thoughts dripped through his mind like the water on his body. Some clung for far longer than they logically should. Seriously, it was like he could control the water! He sat in shower tossing his thoughts about like a chef tossing a salad. Just the mention of the lewd phrase got Brae out of his funk as he giggled gleefully to himself. Things were back to normal, he’d go out there and get his nose on the grindstone and show just what he could do. Despite himself, as he got out of the shower he could help but feel a deep, undeniable want. As to what for, he couldn’t tell. Rise n’ Shine had finally gotten around to his namesake as Braeburn sauntered in from the hall leading to the bathroom to his room proper. Brae liked his room, small, dominated by his bed, and yet still endowed with enough storage for his several vests and hats. It was cozy and featured predominately the aesthetics its wooden construction that Braeburn was all so enamored with. “Oh hiya there Brae. When did I get in your house?” Shine had the most adorable look of confusion on his big dumb, brown muzzle. His shaggy dirty blonde locks still in a rough bout of bedhead accented his peach eyes, and it made Braeburn get warm all over. Sweet Celestia he’s so damn cute it’s a weapon of mass destruction. “Well ya see, me and you’d been having a bit of fun down at the saloon last night. Sooner or later you’d told me you were asexual. I had replied, and I quote, ‘well ya look more like a gaysexual to me.’ At which point you slugged me across the muzzle then went on and planted a kiss in the same spot soon after.” Braeburn had a look of smug satisfaction as a look of abject horror crept up Shine’s face, and the satisfaction only got more intense when he saw Sine start blushing unable to meet Brae’s eye. “Ugh, fine. I like Stallions, you happy Brae?” Shine’s words were betrayed by the wider than a mile grin plastered on his muzzle. Braeburn watched as the other stallion hopped off the bed and squeezed past him on their way out of his house. As he happily cantered off the porch steps, Rise n’ Shine looked back to Brae. “Maybe we’ll have to do this again…” “You know where I live now, don’t ya?” Braeburn retorted, tipping the hat freshly placed upon his head. “Why, how do you do there Braeburn Apple?” Cherry Jubilee sauntered into view as Braeburn was walking past the drop-off barn on his way to the fields. “You’ve done me quite the service all these years, you buck like none other, pardon my innuendo. However, I did not come all the way out here to the fields just to flirt, for I really must be asking you to undertake a little ‘chore’ on the part of Appleoosa as a community.” Braeburn tilted his head quizzically to the side, “Beg pardon ma’am, but what kinda chore might you be needing me in specific for?” “Well now, aren’t you just an ever-inquisitive mind? I do oh so love a pony that’s not afraid to ask the hard questions.” The emphasis she put on the word “hard” was disturbing, but still Brae persisted. “Simply put, you’re going to go to Cloudsdale on a trip to represent both me and Appleoosa at large in delivering this-” she pulled a letter out from one of the folds of her elegant dress “-to the head of the Wonderbolts, Spitfire. We’re trying to get the Wonderbolts to hold a show out here in little ol’ Appleoosa to get our tourism off on the right foot. You’ll do it right?” She battered her lashes at him. “If not for me, than for Appleoosa?” Braeburn ran a hoof through his hair while he thought. After a minute or two of thinking he looked back to Cherry, “Ah hay, why not?”