Mac had an enjoyable moment with Dash on the park bench. The two had finally said goodbye to meet up later at Sweet Apple Acres. Big Mac had some work to do. He seemed to be the more capable of the two when it came to expressing his feelings. He chuckled, recalling he could barely talk to mares before Dash forced his hoof.
Mac decided to seek out a little advice on how to woo the fairer sex. He wanted nothing more than to really get to know Dash, to be something more than just a special somepony. The only problem was, he’d never taken a relationship that far. How would he know how to get there? How would he figure out what to do next?
Perhaps the best pony to ask is Braeburn. His relationship with Pinkie isn’t much older, I bet he’ll remember what to do next.
Mac made his way over to Sugarcube Corner, finding Braeburn sitting on a chair outside. His hooves were resting up on the rail of a porch, a porch he must have recently installed outside the back door. His cowpony hat rested over his face, shielding his eyes from the sun as he slowly rocked in the rocking chair.
“Evenin’, Braeburn.”
“Howdy, Mac,” he replied.
“Can ya give me advice again?” Mac asked.
Braeburn lifted his hat up, placing it back on top of his head. “Depends on what you need advice on. Never was any good math or cookin’.”
Mac chuckled. “Ah want to be. . . more with Dash. Ah want what you and Pinkie have got.”
“Well, I think you’re in luck,” he replied with a smile. “Dash is a fine mare to go steady with, even marry if y’all play your cards right. Lucky for you, your pal Braeburn has never lost a game of poker in his life.” His smile became a wicked grin.
A faint blush was fading from Mac’s face after the last comment. “So, how do I woo her?”
“Woo? I thought you were going to ask for new positions to use so you don’t blow down half the town.”
Mac’s blush was neither faint nor escapable. He looked to the side and traced a circle in the dirt with his hoof.
Braeburn chuckled slightly. “I kid, I kid. Y’all don’t expect us to forget being ejected from our home in the middle of the night so easy, do ya?” He elbowed Mac in the side.
“ ‘Spose not.”
“So, you want to woo her I think first things first. Y’all keep doing what you're doing. Be yourself. Make sure she knows whan y’all spend time together, that she’s the only mare, the most special mare, ya know.”
“Doesn’t sound so hard, ah think I can do that.”
Braeburn stood up and draped a foreleg over Mac’s shoulders. “Trust me, there’s a roguish devil under those thick muscles that Dash’ll fall hoofs over wings for. Just remember to make her feel as special as she makes you feel, and y’all will be gettin’ married in no time. Havin’ Little Mac’s and Little Dashie’s left and right.
“And don’t you fret, Mac, I’ll throw y’all one hell of a bachelors party. If you thought your reign of terror was funny on Hearts and Hooves days, want until you see my. . . old friend. . .Candy Apple. She’ll make ya wish you were still a bachelor!” Breaburn chuckled.
“Thanks but uh. . . ah don’t think we should count our showmares and be pickin’ our hard ciders for a bachelor’s party quite yet. Ah still got to figure out how ta ask her.”
“Then I think you want Mr. Cake, probably the nicest. . .well, the only married stallion that comes to mind.”
Mac arrived at the kitchen where Mr. Cake was busily scrubbing some dishes.
“Evenin’, Cake.”
“Hi Big Mac! What brings you by?” he asked.
“Just uh. . . in case things go well, how’d ya woo Ms. Cake?”
He put down the dishes and wiped his hooves off on his apron. “Oh, is somepony ready to gallop into the sunset and raise a cute little family of genetically engineered super-atheletes?”
“What?” Mac stuttered. “Ah just, ya know, need to know. So, if, well. . . so ah know what to do when the time is right.”
“I see. Well, the customs vary by race, of course. When I proposed, it was with a hoof bracelet. All I had to do was be gentle to her by day, then tie her up and whip her at night. Mares love a commanding stallion, one who can tighten the bit in their mouth with one hoof while pleasing them with the other. . .”
Mac watched in mute horror as Mr. Cake proceeded to describe several acts ranging from bondage, to domination, to pleasing a Mare using a rolling pin. Years later, that image in particular, would still haunt him.
“Thanks. . . ah think that’s plenty o’ advice. Ah uh. . . left the barn open, ah need to go close the doors!”
Mac trotted out of the house, not waiting for a reply. Images of a flour covered Ms. Cake were dancing, unwelcomed, in his head. He nearly ran over Doctor Whooves due to his distraction.
“Mac?” Mr. Whooves waved something shiny in his face, snapping him out of it. He put the tool away.
“Huh? Oh, hi Doc.”
“You seemed distracted, everything okay? I trust if you saw anything unusual, like, talking snowmen, you’d tell me?”
“Uh, ah reckon tellin’ Celestia would be a mite more ‘propriate. Snowmen aren’t s’posed ta talk.”
“Good, mental faculties present. No signs of damaage of possession. . . So, what can I do for you today? It looks like you’ve got something on your mind.”
Mac cringed as the ‘something on his mind’ danced back into view, now covered in sprinkles and wearing socks made of wax paper. “Ah don’t think a psychogist could get that image outta my mind.”
There was a quick whirring sound and a green flash, though Mac turned to slow to see what Whooves had pointed at him. “Oh. . .I see, quite the uh. . .love life they have going, isn’t it?”
“Ya don’t know the half of it. All ah wanted was to know how to woo a pegasus, ‘spose even a tip or two on how ta propose, ask ‘em to be more than just special someponies.”
“Brilliant!” Mr. Whooves smiled widely, throwing his hooves around Big Mac in a hug. “Oh, so many years, and yet each and every time I see two ponies in love start a family, it brings me such joy! I know exactly how to win her heart!”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah, you just take her to the Cat’s Eye Nebul—I mean, a Cat’s Eye Ruby necklace. . . Moving on, proposing to a pegasus is easy.”
“Alright then, tell me how. And if y’all feel the need to tell me about it in some roundabout way that involved robot space chickens, feel free. Ah ain’t had a good laugh in weeks.”
“Hmm? Well, if you insist. . .”
In a galaxy not so far away. . .
It was a time of galactic unrest. The year was
2267. The Solar Empire had been overthrown by a race
of cyborgs from the future. Nightmare Trixie, the half-mare half-cyborg
queen of the Lunar armies of the damned, had created Skynet.
Using the timey-wimey super computer Skynet, she created a massive army,
taking over Equestria in ten seconds flat. Luna, goddess of the night and expert in the
ways of war, was banished to the moon by Nightmare Trixie for 1,000 years.
Celestia sent word out to her only hope. A man, killed and raised from the dead using
Zebraharan rituals, ancient as time itself.
A stallion known only as, Ronan Hex.
* * * * *
To save time, our hero decided to summarize his ass-kickery in one phrase: For the past two years he had been kicking ass and chewing bubble gum. Yesterday, he ran out of gum.
He rode in a cyborg-powered carriage, occassionally poking a cyborg stallion in the rear with his caddle prod. “Shits ‘bout to get real, honey,” he said.
Ronan’s mare of the night, a sweet young thing he had led away from a brothel and into his heart, was known as Teyla. A right prettier pegasus that humble, ass-kicking, earth stallion had never seen.
“I wouldn’t have it any other way.” Teyla planted a kiss on his good cheek, making him smile.
Most mares were repelled by Ronan. He lost half his face the first time he died. He’s been talkin’ to the dead, oh yeah, and kicking ass, ever since. Most mares weren’t Teyla. She saw the cute little love-muffin inside of him, and was hoping he’d plant her very own little muffin in her womb.
“Ah reckon we’re close to victory over Skynet. Now that we plucked Gilda and deep fried her, that family of Ogres won’t starve. In exchange, they’ll sneak us into the sewers under Canterlot.”
Teyla smiled, rubbing herself with a hoof. “You know I like it when you talk sneaky.”
“Not now, darlin’, we’ll have time for that later.” Ronan turned, showing her his bad side. The skin missing from his cheek say just below his cyborg eye. He had ripped the face-plate and bionic eye of the first cyborg he ever killed.
With his bare fucking hooves. He’s bad-ass like that.
Now, the glowing red occipital device focused in on his one true love, analyzing her body temperature, pheremones, and dampness. She was definitely ready for him to pop the question.
“Whether or not we make it out of this mess, I’ve got to say somethin’ I’ve been wantin’ to for awhile.”
Teyla smiled, hugging him gently. “I know, you don’t have to keep telling me, honey.”
“Ah think ah do. Teyla, you’re the one good thing to cross through this life of bloodshed and cyborg smashing. Ah’d. . . like to start a family with you, start our own herd. Will, ya be mine when this is over?”
Ronan pulled out his hoof bracelet, the same one his father had given his mother lifetimes ago. Lifetimes ago, when Ronan was just an ordinary farm pony, and not the Destroyer of Dimensions, Merc with a Mouth, or his personal favorite: Bad-assest Pony Alive.
Teyla nearly melted into his fur, she was so joyful, happy, and . . . melty. Come on, don’t look at me like that Mac. You know what I mean when I say melted into him!
Teyla reached in her saddlebag and pulled out a small box. “I thought you’d never ask.” She opened the box, presenting him with one of her mint green pegasi feathers. It was the last tiny pre-flight feather she had shed as a filly. Pegasi women saved that special feather as their engagement gift their whole lives, only giving it to the stallion they wanted to spend the rest of their lives with.
Ronan stuck the feather in his hat, next to the fang of a wyvern, the tuft of a cockatrice, and the claw of a gryphon.
Teyla took the hoof bracelet and slid it onto her ankle. The two shared a passionate kiss, nearly consummating the union on the floor of the carriage then and there.
Before they could get to the best part, Nightmare Trixie swooped down on their one-carriage cyborg-caravan.
Firing up her horn, she charged her cyborcon amulet. With a piercing scream, the orbital cyborg cannon zeroed in on Teyla. She evaporated into a bloody mist, which then evaporated into carbon, sulfur, calcium, and several other base elements.
Ronan, a mere stallion made immortal by Zebraharan magic, was not killed by the orbital cyborg cannon. He, like the cannon, was a creature born of hate, and was immune.
The stallion super-hero, now reduced to a bare-bones skeleton with one hell of a vandetta, screamed in rage.
He whipped out his pistol, emptying the clip into Nightmare Trixie’s face. She was so surprised, that she swallowed all six rounds. Bits of her spine landed twenty feet away from her crumpled corpse.
Ronan took her C2 vertebrae as a souvenir. He restored Celestia to power to rule for the remaining 995 years until Luna was released from the moon.
He vanished into the sunset, never to be seen again. His only love, his heart, all that he was, had melted away. He lived now only to punish evil, and drink lots of milk so he didn’t get osteoporosis
Now, blamed of crimes he didn’t commit and feared because he is a walking, talking, skeleton mercenary, he avoids the Equestria government. He earns his living as a soldier of fortune.
If you’re in trouble, if nopony else can help, and if you can find him. . . maybe you can hire. . .
Ronan, The immortal
Cyborg-Skeleton Super-Warrior
Big Mac store there at the border of the farm, oblivious to the mud-wrestling mares in front of them. “Ronan, The immortal Cyborg-Skeleton Super-Warrior? Y’all gotta be pullin’ my leg.”
“Nope,” Dr. Whooves answered. “It’s customary for each race to present their racial ‘engagement gift.’ You should know that.”
“Ah did, ah was hoping for advice on wo—”
“Fillyfooler!”
“No good lyin’ . . . pegasus!”
“What on Equestria?” the Doctor inquired.
“Sis and Dash wrestlin’? Ah think ah got Deja Vu,” Mac said.
The Doctor checked his pocket book. “Nope, this is the first time we see them mud-wrestling. You get Deja Vu next Thursday at 1pm.”
“Should we stop ‘em?”
“Nah, we don’t intervene until 6:15 tonight.”
“Is. . . it wrong that it’s so arousin’? I mean, one of ‘em is my Sis.”
Doctor Whooves wave to the crowd that was slowly gathering. They heard Derpy playing the role of town crier, directing everypony to spectate. “Whole town is already enjoying the show. Besides, Stallion Freud theorized that the Brother-Sister relationship becomes a key desire of the id when a special somepo—”
“Oh yeah? I’ll drag you all the way to Rarity’s, covered in mud, and force you to admit you love her!”
“And ah’m gonna leave you hogtied upside down in the nearest tree, y’all plot dangling out in the breeze until Big Mac finds ya!”
“OH YEAH?! I THINK I’D ENJOY THAT!”
“YEAH?!”
“What the hay? Did Applejack just bite out a tuft of Rainbow’s mane?” Mac asked.
“She sure did, it’s time for us to break this up,” Doctor Whooves said. “And, I just want to apologize in advance.”
“For what?” Mac said as they sprinted over to break up the fight.
“When Twilight shows up, she’s going to get just a wee bit jealous over me. You, AJ, and Dash are all going to end up hogtied and dangling from trees. I promise to come back for you after I lecture Twilight into another state of bliss.”
Mac chuckled. “Eeyup. No such thing as a normal day in Ponyville.”
He dove forward, tackling his love Dash to the mud. The Doctor tackled Applejack, recieving a wicked right hoof to the face.
Where Dash and Mac had sensualized the sudden romp in the mud and began kissing, AJ and The Doctor where kicking and biting each other like madponies.
“What the buck is going on!” Twilight yelled.
Mac began to chuckle as he felt a rope around his legs lift him off of Dash. “See ya in the trees, fly girl.”