• Published 3rd Sep 2022
  • 814 Views, 26 Comments

Aphroditus - PresentPerfect



Big Macintosh has long been an appreciator of women's beauty.

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...That's what makes you beautiful

Aphroditus
by Present Perfect

Do women know how beautiful they are?

Big Macintosh does.

He knows in great detail just how beautiful every woman in his life is. Applejack's strength, the tip of the iceberg that makes up her beauty. Each of her friends, beautiful in her own way, from fashion to competition to the meek shyness of the pink-haired one whose name he's never learned.

His youngest sister, too, is beautiful. Her childish enthusiasm, the vivacious zest with which she approaches life. Her drive to learn, her ability to get back up when she's fallen out of a tree. All of that is real beauty. And her own friends are quite the same.

Even his grandmother, her outer beauty from years long past locked up and obscured behind wrinkles and love handles, still radiates beauty whenever she dispenses her fathomless wisdom and sayings. Or a scoop of mashed potatoes at the high school cafeteria. Providing for a family, that is beauty.

And that is only counting his family.

The women in the town nearby the orchard walk and talk and shop and work and run to catch the bus, and in every single instance, they are beautiful. Anywhere he goes, there are women, together or separate, alone or with friends, all of them beautiful in every way imaginable. He doesn't spend much time watching, nor does he keep tabs on them. He does not want to be caught staring.

But since he met Sugar Belle, the woman so beautiful he couldn't not ask her to marry him, he's been feeling more satisfied with life. He could write a book of sonnets about her, had he the gumption to try capturing her in words. But in thoughts, or feelings? Her hair, a cloud of purple beauty. Her laughter, melodic, beautiful, especially when punctuated by a cute, reflexive snort. Her skin, pink and beautiful and so radiant, it makes his own skin better when she presses against him.

Then there was how, as he had heard from his sister once upon a time, Sugar Belle and a few of her friends led his sister's friends in destroying a cult from the inside. Strength is beauty, and mounting a revolution like that was an action of ultimate beauty. There are so many different ways to be strong.

Unfortunately, Big Macintosh excels at but one type of strength. It is the type of strength that makes him tall, broad-shouldered, and always sought after for help lifting heavy things. It is the type of strength that leads women -- all those beautiful, gorgeous women of the world -- to keep their distance from him when they pass on the street.

His strength is far more curse than boon. He has learned that silence is its only panacea. Sometimes, even that isn't enough.

Once upon a time, when he would see a woman -- a beautiful, marvelous woman -- trip and fall or drop something she'd been carrying, his first instinct would be to rush to her side and help her back on her feet. And he did exactly that, once or twice, before he realized that the looks these women gave him were all the same.

Fear.

The moment they saw him, noticed his huge, hulking frame, his broad shoulders and muscular forearms, and his all-too-male face, those women reacted with sudden fear. It was even sometimes true of the women he knew well, at least just for that first moment. In that moment, they would see him as a threat, a monster sprung from the shadows. Some would shake the fear off after a long, tense moment, and accept his offer of assistance. Others would claim to be all right, in the hope that he would just go away and leave them alone.

Sometimes that fear was beautiful, but it only ever made him feel ugly.

So leave them alone he does. He helps the women in his family when they need it and leaves the rest to their own devices. When the streets are nearly deserted and he spots a woman walking down the sidewalk toward him, he crosses the street so she needn't feel threatened by his strength. He keeps his head down, paying attention only to his large feet, never others. And when women get together to talk or have fun -- sometimes his sisters' friends, sometimes his grandmother's, sometimes perfect strangers -- he stays well out of sight and tries to forget about those rare, magical childhood times when boys and girls were allowed to play together.

Girls always had some of the best toys.

Which isn't to say he makes no overture to masculinity. For instance, he does truly love football. He played it in high school, where his frame made him a natural linebacker and his natural clumsiness, born as though unaccustomed to living in his own body, made him a horrible quarterback. He was a studious apprentice of his father's and learned how to fix tractors, gutters, squeaky hinges, leaky roofs and anything else around the farm that could, and often would, break down given time. He can drink his sister under the table. Most of the time. Less frequently as time goes on. But he does like a good beer and has never had difficulty holding his liquor.

Nor has he any dislike for other men. One of his sister's friends has a brother whom he's befriended, and said friend has gotten him interested in roleplaying games at the table top. He has a good time once a week with a handful of other guys, playing make believe and slaying mythical monsters. His characters are always beautiful women.

Now, he stands alone in his bedroom. The hour is so late that it is early. The women of his family are all asleep in their own rooms, his fiancee at her own house a town over. No one else is nearby.

This is good, as he stands before a long oval mirror, completely naked.

He has been saving money recently. Money that he has spent surreptitiously at an online retailer known to use discreet packaging.

He reaches a numb hand to the dresser on his left and takes up the first item of clothing laying there in a heap. It is a pair of frilly pink panties. Women's panties.

He pulls the underwear up his legs. He must do so slowly, as the lace tickles the hairs covering his legs and the elastic strains against his muscles. Either he has not measured himself correctly, or the website's size chart was misleading.

Next comes the brassiere. He owns a few; this one, with its satin finish, he finds he likes the most. He has learned tricks to make fastening the hooks and eyes easier. He twists the fabric around his chest until the whole thing is aligned properly. He hikes up the straps over his shoulders. They strain. The cups sag over his strong chest, empty.

Following that is the dress, white with blue apples, the one he wore in the guise of "Orchard Blossom." It helped get his younger sister into the social, yes, but at what cost? He felt horrible afterward. She yelled at him, and though they'd made up later and even bonded over the experience, her words had cut him to his core. The moment he'd heard his sister needed help, he'd donned the disguise without a second thought. Perhaps he had even relished the opportunity.

No one believed he was a woman. No one saw him as beautiful.

He does not attempt to make his face up. Back when his youngest sister was little and learning how to be beautiful, he often let her put makeup on him, painting her face and his in her simple, childish way. Tonight, there is not enough light to ensure foundation, blush or eyeshadow will accentuate his features properly. But that's okay. He wasn't planning to tonight.

The ensemble is topped with a wig of long hair, orange like his own, and far less ostentatious than Orchard Blossom's. He takes a few moments to sweep the long locks from his face, then adjusts them this way and that, making sure to hide his natural hair.

Big Macintosh stands before himself, naked beneath his woman's outfit, fully exposed in the mirror's reflection. Try as he might, he cannot see what he has so desperately wished to.

He is not beautiful.

He is just a man.

He is ugly.

Ugly.

Ugly.

Ugly.

Just a man.

An errant tug, and the wig pools in his hand.

He sinks to his knees, unstruck by the irony that men are not supposed to cry.

The End

Comments ( 26 )

Ah yes, the universally relatable kind of story :D And look, I get to post first comment! No-one could possibly get any mistaken ideas from this :D

For real, Alicorn Princess Big Mac is the gift that keeps on giving.

This story hits so close to home for me. The way you describe how Mac appreciates the woman in his life shows he notices much more than most men. It also shows how much he wishes he were like them. He has has their fortitude and courage, most certainly. But I understand why he wants more. Women are truly beautiful as they change, adapt and grow in their lives, in ways that men cannot. I can empathize with him in wishing to be female and have those personal experiences.

You really wrote Mac’s thoughts and feelings quite well. Much like him, you said a great deal in just a few words. Nicely done!

Beautiful and heartrending.

Beautifully written and emotionalised. But I can’t help but notice there’s a few typos throwing off the immersion, like this one:

But since he met Sugar Belle, … He skin, pink and beautiful and so radiant, it makes his own skin better when she presses against him.

Surely that’s “her”.

Other than that, lovely piece. :twilightsmile:

Keep up the wonderful work.

B_Munro #6 · Sep 4th, 2022 · · 11 ·

Well written, but I was a bit bothered by this bit:

"Once upon a time, when he would see a woman -- a beautiful, marvelous woman -- trip and fall or drop something she'd been carrying, his first instinct would be to rush to her side and help her back on her feet. And he did exactly that, once or twice, before he realized that the looks these women gave him were all the same.

Fear.

The moment they saw him, noticed his huge, hulking frame, his broad shoulders and muscular forearms, and his all-too-male face, those women reacted with sudden fear. It was even sometimes true of the women he knew well, at least just for that first moment. In that moment, they would see him as a threat, a monster sprung from the shadows. Some would shake the fear off after a long, tense moment, and accept his offer of assistance. Others would claim to be all right, in the hope that he would just go away and leave them alone."

Not your intention, I'm sure, but this sounds a bit like Incel propaganda - "modern women, brainwashed by feminism, react to helpful actions from traditionally masculine men with nothing but fear and disgust." Perhaps I assume too much, but I suspect quite a few women don't live in perpetual fear of physically large and strong men, and some even may appreciate helpful gestures from them.

(Of course, this may just be Big Mac's perception rather than the reality. Or maybe he's just really bad at trying to be friendly. )

11351584
I think you're reading a bit too much into it, to be honest. This is written as a past experience, and in no way offers judgment for how "all women" will always respond, nor does it have any hallmarks of the "incel propaganda" you mentioned, where Big Mac would condemn their reactions as a result of feminism.

*excited shouting!*

Plz write one where he transitions to Orchard Blossom, tho! This is very sad. :fluttercry:

11351635
Big Mac doesn't have to be an incel or resent women for the scenario described to match incels' version of reality.

Voltaje #10 · Sep 4th, 2022 · · 17 ·

Do women know how biutiful they are? The answer to that question is simply "Yes, they do", society in general tells them that all the time, and they themselves tell each other that all the time, so Big Mac, You are just a simp, women beauty is decided by men, so it is obvious that you would look at yourself and think you are ugly, you are masculine, not feminine, so You should seek to be handsome, not biutiful, women must judge that, not you.

11351584

Perhaps I assume too much, but I suspect quite a few women don't live in perpetual fear of physically large and strong men, and some even may appreciate helpful gestures from them.

You do, in fact, assume too much. That precise reaction is all too common if not universal, in my experience and observation, and sadly is quite real. Women generally are on the wrong end of the power imbalance in society—certainly in the US if not elsewhere. Most have to live and act every moment with an alert awareness of that imbalance and its potential consequences for their well-being and perhaps very lives. Far worse if they are trans or women of color!

If that makes it sound like most women have to live balanced on a razor’s edge, I am not being dramatic; I am being factual. One need look no farther than the striking down of Roe v. Wade to see just how dire the situation is.

The reactions described in the quoted passage (spoiler text would not be out of place there, by the way) are to me an unfortunately familiar lament from female friends, acquaintances, and even strangers. The fundamental flaw behind the whole incel nonsense is their utter lack of awareness of all this, and their sense of unwarranted entitlement that affairs remain exactly as they are—or more so.

Ah.

Hurts like the first time.

But only until you do something about it.

Captured scarily well. Excellent work.

Such beauty, Kudos to the author!

A well-crafted gut punch of a story, the kind of deeply personal narrative that leaves me feeling uncomfortably voyeuristic after seeing such private thoughts. Brilliant work. Thank you for it.

I’ve never spoken to a woman in my life.

Posh #16 · Sep 7th, 2022 · · 1 ·

Girls always had some of the best toys.

…oh hey, smartypants reference. I think.

I’ve always liked the idea that Mac has a cauldron of eloquent language bubbling away beneath his placid surface, so giving the narration such a florid quality really works on me.

Anyway, a very sympathetic dysphoric Mac. Give it a solid sixteen zap apples out of a possible nineteen dead parents.


11352405 hello, have you ever touched a boob

Not sure how Big Mac and Sugar Belle are still a thing in this universe.

Very well written story, but... I dunno.

The "charachter has a problem and it's sad and we are going nowhere" kind of story leaves a lot to be desired in the end. Maybe it's just 'the sads'.

:ajsleepy:

of the pink-haired one whose name he's never learned

:fluttercry::rainbowderp:

I read this story a while back and it has a new deeper meaning to me given your recent announcement.

PresentPerfect
Author Interviewer

11491738
haha, yeah, there might be some of that :D

for the record, I never felt this low myself, but it's very easy to see why someone might

The abrupt end is what makes this the worst. Orchard Blossom has two sisters and a grandma that surely would love her, and yet this still eats her up inside. Of all the trans stories on the site, this one somehow hurts the most in how incomplete and unrealized her world is. I have to agree that it desperately calls for a sequel. Maybe something about Orchard Blossom getting something better fitting to call her own. That certainly would go with the silent style quite well. How dare you make me feel things.

11351584 I'd agree with Silent Whisper's comment in that it isn't a universal judgment nor does it carry the reactions from Orchard Blossom suggesting she's buying into some EqG incel-type stuff. Uncommon reactions tend to stick out. I don't blame you for noting it though. I did too, and the part about some women going out of the way to avoid men isn't wrong, even though most people are friendly and well-meaning, regardless of their gender. I've had women give me dirty (or sometimes just annoyed) looks for holding the door open for them, for not being receptive to advances, and for lending a hand. But I also hold the door open for everyone and lend a land to everyone, if I can. I've only ever had women cross the street in fear because they assumed I was following them... because I was walking many paces behind them in broad daylight, on public sidewalks anyone can use. But because I was the only other man, they reacted that way. Men have reacted to me that way too, but only at night, and because I don't make much noise when I walk. It sucks. I'm not Mr. Ubermensch, all tall, strong, and imposing. I wouldn't hurt anyone, People just make assumptions that can be cruel out of attempts to keep themselves safe. I only cross streets if I notice someone behaving in a way I can only describe as suspicious, not just because we're walking the same way.

PresentPerfect
Author Interviewer

11533209
you are quite welcome :)

11533241
Srsly if you make an Orchard Blossom sequel I will be 100% all over that.

PresentPerfect
Author Interviewer

11533244
I can't say I won't (in fact, I'd like to) only that I don't have an idea! Or the drive to write. :B

11533661
:fluttershysad: drink your idea-giving juice

I do hope that this Big Mac will be able to see the beauty within himself.

Really well written!!! I feel very bad for her though :fluttercry: please write a sequel where shes happy!!

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