April 2017:  See you, Space Cumboys.  It was fun while it lasted.


>"But you simply must stop reading those dusty old books!"
>You are Twilight Sparkle; Princess Celestia's dearest and most faithful student.
>[spoiler]You've got that on a plaque somewhere.[/spoiler]
>And today is your first day in some backwater farming village, called Ponyville.
>Hoo-bucking-ray.
>Princess Celestia has sent you to stay here for the duration of the festival in order to supervise preparations.
>Reasonable
>Quite reasonable
>You ARE known back in the castle for being one of the most meticulous and organized mares, after all.
>Overseeing such an important celebration is certainly within your abilities.
>A small part of you thinks it's a bit unusual for the Princess to be assigning exactly one pony to organize such an important event, let alone all the way across the country where Princess Celestia cannot physically be, but you ruthlessly squash it.
>Perhaps this is some kind of test of your abilities; Faust knows that this wouldn't be the first time that Princess Celestia tested you in secret.
>Like the time she sent you to the library to find out if the word "gullible" had been omitted from the dictionary.
>As the centre of town gets closer and closer, the chariot begins its descent.
>You can see ponies looking up from their business and poking their heads out of windows to watch the Princess's own Royal Guards coming down for a landing in the middle of town square.
>You wince as the cart comes in for a bumpy touchdown and resist the urge to rub your bruised rump.
>Had these guards hailed from the ranks of Princess Celestia's own personal chariot pullers (which, coincidentally, was an all-mare operation), then you would have barely even noticed the transition from flying to landing.

>Your left rump-cheek aches as you depart your seat on the chariot, decidedly NOT jiggling as you hopped off because you have a PERFECTLY HEALTHY body weight and a NORMALLY SIZED rump.
>DAD.
>You glance disdainfully at the pair of pegasi, now idly preening their wings.
>You guess a rough landing and a minor injury is just the price you pay when you send out the royal eye-candy to pull your carts.
>Still, you want to make a good impression on the residents of Ponyville, and the stallions make for an impressive (if sloppy) entrance.
>A lesser mare would have acknowledged that there was a cunt joke in there somewhere.
>You shake yourself dry, ignoring Spike's indignant "Hey!" as you spray him with water and the smell of wet pony.
>You are, unfortunately, soaked to the bone from cloud water.
>The pegasi pulling your cart made no effort to avoid any clouds that they crossed paths with.
>You plunged through at least three of them on your way here.
>Then again, their orders were to go "straight to Ponyville", and you guess that your escorts took that order right down to the letter.
>Pfft.
>Stallion drivers, am I right?
>While you were focusing on grumbling about the ride and your smarting rump, you failed to notice that a crowd of locals had formed around you upon your arrival.
>Aw, jeez.
>You barely resist the urge to paw at the ground uncomfortably from all the attention.
>You were never one for very much social contact, and crowds tended to make you uncomfortable.
>You do your best to push your discomfort away, however, and raise your head to meet the crowd head-on.
>You're the supervisor of this year's Summer Sun Celebration, after all, and your presence here means that you more-or-less represent Canterlot.
>And by extension, the Princess!
>You square your withers, thrust out your chest, and lift your head to meet the crowd head-on!
>...only to realize that nopony is actually looking at you.

>The crowd - which you can see now consists mostly of mares - are openly leering and ogling the pair of stallions who were pulling your chariot.
>Buck's sake.
>The stallions, predictably unable to resist the temptation for a little bit of extra attention, rear up and neigh proudly.
>Honestly. You wouldn't even be surprised at this point if one of them "accidentally" flashed his sheath.
>Your eyes narrow as you give your drivers a once-over.
>Pulling a chariot all the way over from Canterlot should have been darn good exercise; doubly so for stallions.
>Their chest tufts are poofy and clean instead of matted down by sweat, and their golden armour looks sparkly clean.
>It looks like they just took a bath or a sho-
>You barely resist the urge to face-hoof.
>That's why they went through all those wet clouds, isn't it; to look clean and pretty for when they arrived in Ponyville.
>Unbelievable.
>In any case, the stallions' preening and posing pays off, and the air is soon filled with a din of hushed whispers and suggestive shoulder-nudges.
>"My, oh my. Lookie who wandered into town, Tavi. I think those poor creatures need our help finding their way around Ponyville."
>>"Oh mare, I wonder if they'd let me sailboat those tufts..."
>>>"Vinyl, I swear to Celestia. If these are those two hookers you used to call up all the time in Canterlot..."
>You walk up to the pair of pegasi and give them a polite nod and smile.
"Thank you, sirs."
>Bam.
>Gentlemare.
>Just like Jane Wayne would have done.
>Predictably, the stallions practically glow from the praise.
>You take a moment to watch as the Royal Guards return to Canterlot, growing smaller and smaller against the horizon.
>Now that the objects of their affection have left, the crowd's attention turns to you.
>Some of them mill around, chatting amongst themselves and shooting you curious (and sometimes disinterested) looks, but it doesn't take long before the crowd fully disperses.

>They all have business to attend to, after all, and your arrival doesn't change that.
>A pang of homesickness hits you, and so you take off your saddlebags and take inventory to take your mind off the pain in your heart.
>Your horn glows as you unbuckle the strap under your belly and sigh in relief when you remove the strap that was digging into your skin.
>You ignore that this is the same belt you've been using for over a year, and how it's been getting tighter and tighter as time goes by.
>Setting the bag onto the ground, you pop the clasp (custom-made in the image of your cutie mark) and lift away the flap.
>You already know the contents of your luggage by heart, but you need the distraction.
"Let's see... Quills?"
>A purple glow envelopes the baker's dozen of the writing utencils, and you lift them out of your bag and pile them - neatly - onto the ground.
"Ink?"
>Five or six bottles rise out of your saddlebag, cradled in your magic, and make a gentle landing on the ground.
>They're joined by your three bottles of back-up ink; just in case you run out.
"Parchment?"
>A huge stack - more than enough for regular contact with the Princess - land on the ground next to the quills and the ink.
>The ground shakes faintly under your hooves, and you wonder if you've brought too much with you.
>Then again, is such a thing even possible?
>You stick your muzzle into your saddlebag and take a look-see at the last couple of items stuffed away in the dark cloth corners.
>What else is there...
>Day planner; night planner...
>You pull your face back out and, feeling satisfied that everything is in order, begin to re-pack everything.
>Your little plan worked; you're already missing home a little bit les-
>Spike waves a claw in front of your face, and you belatedly realize that he had been speaking to you this entire time.
>"Twi?" he asks, sounding faintly annoyed, "Did you hear what I said?"
>Your awkward grin says it all.

>Spike sighs like the long-suffering mare-servant he is.
>"I said," repeats Spike, sounding annoyed in that special way that only stallions can do," Maybe the ponies in Ponyville have interesting things to talk about."
>And just as luck would have it, a pink earth pony approaches right as Spike finishes speaking.
>Almost immediately, you can tell there's something... off about her.
>To begin with, she's awfully small by rough-and-tumble earth pony standards.
>The three pony breeds have pretty distinct body shapes; earth ponies are big and strong, pegasi are small and light, and unicorns are tall and slender and beautiful and...
>A-anyway.
>Earth ponies are typically gifted with a larger frame and a correspondingly stronger muscular system, but this pink mare is a good few inches shorter than you are.
>In fact, if it weren't for the long fetlock hair covering her hooves (again, a trait typical of earth ponies), you would have mistaken her for a unicorn or a pegasus at first glance.
>She doesn't look small and weak; she looks like somepony shrunk her down, and she's just tiny.
--------------------------
Note from me:  I'm a big dumb retard who can't into English. 
https://derpibooru.org/734707?q=mane+6%2C+safe%2C+size+difference
This is how big I picture Pinkie to be.  But since in this story, earth poners are stronk and have muscles, just picture her only more buff.
--------------------------
>Spike gestures wildly in front of your face, bringing you out of your observations.
>"Come on, Twilight!" he pleads, "Just try!"
>You glance over at the pink pony again and feel your ears flop back against your skull awkwardly.
>You never know what to say around new ponies.
"Uh... H-Hello?"
>Without warning, the mare screams in your face and runs off.
>You and Spike stand there in stunned silence.
>What the actual buck.
"Well," you say, throwing Spike's words right back at him, "That was interesting, alright."
>Your next stop is the local farm - Sweet Apple Acres.
>The mares who own the place will be catering for the Summer Sun Celebration.
>By the look of the endless stretch of apple trees that grow on the farm's property, you're probably going to be looking at a lot of appley baked goods.

>You lick your lips.
>The big city never had any fruit trees, and the only time you've ever eaten an apple was when it came out of a box.
>Fresh fruit still on the branch is a novelty to you.
"Maybe the owner is selling," you mumble as you pull yourself away from the mouth-watering grove of apples and head back down the road.
>It doesn't take long for you to reach a break in the fence - the proper entrance to Sweet Apple Acres.
>An orange pony catches your eye on her way out of the gate and starts trotting in your direction with a bit smile on her face.
>The closer she gets, the bigger and bigger she becomes.
>It's only when she comes to a stop in front of you that you realize just how MASSIVE this orange earth pony is.
>Her broad shoulders look as though Celestia herself designed them specifically for pegasi to roost on them.
>Her chest has thick knots of muscle that support an equally thick neck
>On top of that, she's on top of you; easily a head taller than you are, she absolutely towers over you.
>The way you have to look up at the mare to see her face uncomfortably reminds you of the fact that unicorns are naturally the tallest of all three pony races.
"What in Equestria do they feed you ponies?"
>The words are already out of your mouth before you realize that you've said anything.
"Oh! Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't mean-"
>The orange mare interrupts you, laughing as though you just told her the funniest joke she's ever heard.
>Chuckling good-naturedly, she slaps you on the back with a hoof.
>Hard.
>You do your best to not appear as though you just got the wind knocked out of you.
>"Don't worry none 'bout it, stranger! Ah wonder that sometimes myself, y'see?"
>You're quite pleased that she isn't offended - you can't imagine what it would be like if Princess Celestia found out that you had INSULTED one of the mares in charge of providing food to the celebrations.

>You also can't imagine what it would be like if Princess Celestia found your flattened corpse, courtesy of this freakishly-large DRAGON of a pony.
>Pleased that your dealings with her didn't go too far south, you decide to start over from the beginning - right from the introduction.
"G-Good afternoon," you greet, automatically holding out a hoof to shake, "My name is Twilight Sparkle."
>The orange mare grabs your hoof with both of her own and begins shaking your foreleg up and down.
>Maybe she was a LITTLE bit angry about what you said to her, because it feels like she's doing her best to rip your foreleg right out of its socket.
>"Well howdy-do, miss Twilight!" chirps the mare boisterously, "A pleasure making your acquaintance."
>You can't hear her over the sound of your brain rattling around in your skull.
>"I'm Applejack. We here at Sweet Apple Acres sure do like making new friends!"
>The mare - Applejack - keeps on shaking your hoof, well past the point of awkwardness.
>Well past the point of losing the feeling in your hoof too, for that matter.
>Wait, did she say friends?
>No, no, no.
>You're here to make sure nobody here in this crummy little town doesn't buck anything up for the Summer Sun celebrations.
>You don't have TIME for friends.
>.....and maybe you're also a little bit terrified on Applejack and you really want to leave her property.
"Friends?" you ask, trying to gently tug your hoof out of this muscle-beast's iron grip as politely as possible, "Actually, I-"
>"So!" Applejack cries, finally letting go, "What can I do you for?"
>She throws you a wink, and you look away uncomfortably.
>Contrary to popular belief in the Twilight household, you're not a pussy-licker.
>MOM.

"Well, I am in fact here to su... t-to super... supervise?"
>You just happen to glance down at Applejack's smile, and you feel your heart skip several beats.
>Your mouth dries up, and you can't remember what you had been intending to say.
>Poking out of the corners of Applejack's toothy grin are at least 4 sharp, wolf-like teeth.

-----------------------

>Time slows down.
>You can see your reflection on Applejack's pointy, pearly whites.
>Moments from your past flash before your eyes:
>Hatching Spike's egg
>Getting your cutie mark
>Graduating from Celestia's school
>Getting into a chariot
>Going to Ponyville
>Meeting Applejack
>.....
>You really haven't done very much with your life, have you?
>Your reflection's horrified expression slips into a disappointed frown.
>"Twilight?"
>Something boops your snootle, breaking you out of your daze.
>You blink and shuffle backwards, pawing at your muzzle with both forehooves, trying to rub the feeling of scrunch away.
>"Twilight? Y'all alright?"
>You pry one eye open, fighting through the face-wrinkling powers of the post-boop scrunch.
>Applejack's hoof is still raised and hovering at prime snootle-booping height, and she doesn't look like she has any qualms with booping a mare twice.
>The monster.
>One boop was enough.
>You still haven't forgotten your duties to Princess Celestia, so you shake your head and focus back on the matter at hand: catering for the Summer Sun celebrations.
>You'll get an answer out of Applejack later.
"So you're in charge of the food, Applejack?"
>Applejack puffs out her chest and grins at you again.
>"We sure as sugar are!"
>Applejack lowers her head and leans forward, shooting you a sultry, half-lidded gaze.
>"Would you care to sample some?" she practically purrs.
>You tuck your tail in between your legs as your face heats up in embarrassment.
>You don't know why, but you feel like your plothole is in danger.

>The walk through the farm is calming, and you and Applejack even manage to make some small talk.
>"You were sayin' something before you started lookin' like y'all saw a ghost, miss Twilight."
>You silently thank Celestia for an opportunity to move the conversation along.
"Oh, yes. I was just trying to tell you that Princess Celestia sent me to Ponyville to supervise the Summer Sun celebration."
>Applejack looks way more pleased than she should be.
>"No kiddin'! Then Ah guess it was a good thing you decided to check out the food mah family made fer the celebrations."
>Applejack gives you an hip-check that nearly sends you off balance sprawled on the dirty path.
>"You need a place to stay, Twi?"
"Oh, not rea-"
>Applejack sidles a bit closer to you and tosses her mane around, giving you a faceful of sweet-smelling hair.
>N-No homo.
>"Don't be shy, now. Lots o' family visitin' right now, but..."
>With a shake of her bum (for speed), Applejack curls up and then darts forward, galloping ahead and overtaking you by several paces.
>When she's about ten feet ahead of you, she turns around and begins to walk backwards, keeping her eyes locked on your own.
>You're not too comfortable with how... familiar Applejack is being.
>You barely even know the mare, and she's just all over you.
>You've never had another pony - colt or filly - warm up to you this quickly, and it's making you rather uncomfortable.
>Applejack continues her advances, getting closer and closer to you as she starts taking smaller and smaller steps forwards; or is it backwards?
>"I reckon I can rustle up a place fer you to sleep."
>You take a page out of Applejack's book and begin to take shorter, slower steps forward, hoping that your pace will compensate for Applejack closing the distance between the two of you.
>"That is, if y'all don't mind sharin' a bed, or nuthin' "

>Applejack's face is just inches away from your's - close enough that you can smell something coppery and tangy on her breath.
>Her eyes start to drift closed and her lips pucker-
>Okay, yeah, no.
>You silently side-step her and jog ahead a bit.
>Applejack's eyes snap open when she doesn't meet the resistance she had expected, and her mouth forms a perfect, tiny 'o'.
>She just barely avoids pitching forward onto the ground.
>You officially have decided never to spend any amount of time alone with Applejack under any circumstances.
"That's... that's very generous of you to offer, Applejack, but I have arrangements to stay in the library overnight."
>Applejack scoffs and trots back over to you, falling into step beside you.
>"That old place? Where yah gonna sleep; on a desk?"
>She chuckles at the totally unfunny not-joke she just made.
>This bitch best not be making fun of your library.
"Actually," you growl, grinding your teeth, "there are living quarters on the top floor. It was made for somepony to slee-"
>"It's prolly covered in dust in there."
>Applejack doesn't even try to hide her disdain for higher learning this time.
"I've got cleaning spells I can use."
>Applejack looks disappointed for a moment, but plasters a smile on her face.
>"Well, Ah see y'all can't be persuaded."
>She sends you a sideways look and bumps you - gently this time - with her rump.
>"Ah like a mare with gumption."

>Several hours later, sweating and panting, you find an out-of-the-way porch and collapse onto it.
>It's been a long day of taking inventory and your writing horn is getting sore.
>You should take a break and start writing by hoof; you don't want to get carpal tunnel syndrome in your horn.
>One of your old friends - Moondancer - had to wear a brace on her horn for a few weeks because she masturbated too much with a conjured-up phallus.
>You never let her live it down.
>This entire afternoon wouldn't have been so bad if you were just making lists and taking inventory - heck, you ENJOY that sort of thing.
>What made things take a turn for the worst was that you had to blunder your way through a bunch of introductions with members of the enormous (both in terms of body size and of family tree size) Apple clan.
>After about half an hour of showing you around the farm and giving you a run-down of the catering situation, Applejack handed the reigns to her little sister Apple Bloom and left for parts unknown.
>Apple Bloom - bless her little heart - kept interrupting your work to introduce you to all the nice colts in her family.
>And a couple of mares, too.
>After a round of talking to the Apple clan, you think you're beginning to understand where Applejack's behaviour is coming from.
>If there's one thing you've learned from this afternoon, it's that there isn't a single Apple who has qualms with sexing up something strange and different.

>Hours later, you crawl away from the hustle and bustle of the food preparations and find a nice deserted porch to nap on.
>You only get a couple of seconds of shut-eye, though, before somepony approaches.
>The old, dry wood of the porch creaks, and you slowly crack open one of your bleary eyes to see who dared disturb you.
>Do they not know what retribution their hooves have wrought?

>To your relief (you didn't want to get up anyway), it's just some wrinkled, old crone with a faded green coat, so you close your eye again and decide to doze for a few hours.
>"Ehh? Who's that!?"
>You cringe at the creaky shriek, and then groan in protest when something hard pokes you in the flank.
>"Wh-what's this... purple coat... y'got a star fer a cutie mark... and yer plot is just as big and round as my granddaughter described it..."
>Everypony's a critic.
>Unfortunately, the mare doesn't go away after poking you with a stick and calling you fat.
>"Y'all must be that mare my Applejack was tellin' me about. Twilight Sparkle, is it?"
>You head bobs as you give the old mare a grunt in response.
>"The name's Granny Smith," says the mare, groaning in discomfort as she settles down on the porch right next to you.
>"So," she croaks, removing a corncob pipe from her saddlebag and lighting it with a match, "What're you doin' all the way out here?"
>Granny Smith's pipe belches out a foul, blue smoke that burns your nostrils with its smell.
>She eyes you with a sharp, attentive gaze despite her advanced age, and she reminds you a lot of your grandmother; what a crotchety old bitch she was.
>Granny takes one look at you; tired, sweaty, and nursing some bruised ribs before she bursts out into wheezy laughing.
>"All exhausted after a hard day's work of writin' things down, miss?"
>You grunt in return in a way that you're SURE means "buck off".
>Granny just shakes her head and stares off into the sunset, giving you a chance to recover.
>"What's the matter?" she asks, "Couldn't keep up with an earth pony with all that fancy magic y'all got?"
"It's not fair," you whine pathetically, panting as you slowly push yourself into an upright sitting position, "You gals are way bigger than you're supposed to be."
>"Oh, quit bein' such a colt."
>Granny shoots you a contemplative look that stretches on for several long, silent seconds.

>"Ahh... is this yer first time outta the city, Twilight?"
>You send her a sideways glance, slightly surprised that she knew.
"It is. Did Applejack tell you?"
>"Applejack?"
>Granny ga-faws (the orange light of the sunset flashes off of her one remaining pointed canine tooth) and slaps your knee with a hoof.
>Even though she's probably around 800 billion years old, your knee still smarts from the smacking.
>"Applejack wouldn't know a city mare from a hole in the ground," she chortles, "She was to busy talkin' about how yer delicate, coltish good looks make her heart all a-flutter to be sayin' much else. Ah had to play 20 ding-dang-darn questions with that mare to even figure out yer name."
>Delicate?!
"My-my coltish good looks?"
>You don't have delicate, coltish good looks, darn it!
>You're a big strong mare, just like your mother!
>You do the mareliest thing you can think of and put on a pouty face.
"B-But I'm a mare, Granny Smith!"
>Granny just pats your back sympathetically.
>"Nopony's perfect."
>.....
>Well, buck you too, you turgid grave-dodger.
>She removes her arm (before you could remove it for her) (preferably from the socket) and pulls the pipe out of her mouth.
>She taps it on her chin a few times (emptying the bowl of ashes), looking deep in thought.
>"Why are all the Ponyville earth ponies to got-dang big, huh?"
>You nod and hum in the affirmative.
>Granny Smith shifts and shuffles her wrinkled, old backside into the floorboards and settles into a more comfortable position.
>You sigh internally, recognizing that pose for what it is.
>Your grandmother used to shuffle and wriggle around right before she'd start telling stories about her time in the military, talking for hours at a time if you'd let her.
>You find a solid-looking wooden post to lean back against and prepare for a long story.

>"It all started back when I was just a mare - little more than a filly. We was hurtin' fer food a'cuz apple trees take a good few years before they start sproutin' anything, y'hear? I went deep, deep into the Everfree."
>She nudges you and points the mouthpiece of her pipe towards a distant stretch of trees.
>"I was mindin' my own business, looking fer something that we could eat, when I found the most disgustin' looking apples I ever did see. They were striped with every colour of the rainbow, including blue. And I hate eatin' blue things! Tain't natural!"
>You nearly bang your head against your wooden post when the old mare pokes you in the gut with her cane, glaring at you as though angry with you for bringing up bad memories.
>"Last time I ate something blue, ah was poopin' liquid fire for a week!"
>That was another thing your old grandmother used to talk about.
>Granny grumpily shoves her pipe back into her mouth and takes a deep puff from it, snorting blue smoke out of her nostrils like a minotauress.
>"So there I was, walking out of the forest with a sack fulla these striped apples, and it turns out that they was delicious. We called'em 'Zap Apples' on paper, on account of there being a law at the time on fruit taxes. There was a loophole we exploited that had to do with fruits whose names started with 'P', 'Q', 'X', and 'Z'. 'Forever Free Apples' we'd call'em, in private."
>Granny smiles happily at you.
>"And that's the story of how the Everfree Forest got it's name!"
>.....
>You sit there, feeling slightly stunned.
>This isn't what you wanted at all.
"Th-Thanks, Granny Smith. But, uh... why are earth ponies so-"
>"-So got-dang big, right? Well, it all started back when I was just a mare - little more than a fi-"
>Buck's sake.
"Granny?"
>"Hmm?"
>Granny whips out a matchbook and relights her pipe, which she had been neglecting for several minutes.

>"Ahh. Well, turns out that the Everfree Forest had a guardian spirit."
>She waves around her forehooves when she says this, trying to sound mystic and spooky.
>"Now, y'all have to understand that that there pile of firewood is home to some of the nastiest critters that ever did desire to gobble you up. Manticores, hydras, and these awful creatures called 'Timberwolves'."
>"Turns out that those zap apples are nature's worst enemy to a timberwolf, and the guardian spirit used'em to make a big circle and keep all the timberwolves trapped in one place, so that we'd all be protected from them. The guardian spirit didn't like that we was benefiting from its labour without offering nothin' in return."
>"It called itself 'The Great Apple', or some such nonsense."
>Granny snorts and smirks, leaning towards you conspiratorially.
>"I called it the greatest pile of garbage Ah ever did see."
>Snizzity-snap, shots fired.
>The wrinkled old mare (who now reminds you a LOT of your grandmother) barks out a laugh and leans into you.
>"Now, he didn't take too kindly to somepony tellin' it the truth fer once, so he done laid a curse on us."
>Granny wraps a hoof around your shoulders and pulls you in close, squeezing the breath out of you.
>She smells like prunes and death.
>" 'From now until forever', it said, 'Your bloodline will be cursed with the aspect of the timberwolf!' "
>Granny lets go of you, and you collapse into a gasping, boneless heap.
>That old daughter-of-a-bastard squeezes harder than she has any right to be able to.
>"And ever since then, every pony born from an Apple as been big as a wolf, as strong as a wolf, and as bloodthirsty as a wolf."
"Just the earth ponies?" you ask, slowly pulling yourself up into a sitting position.

>Granny Smith nearly drops her pipe as her entire body seems to jerk in surprise at what you said.
>"What?!"
>Granny Smith swings her cane at you and, shouting indignantly, you only barely raise your hooves in time to protect yourself from her assault.
>"Ain't you been listening?!" she shouts, clubbing you with her cane and looking for an opening in your defence to hit you further, "Ah said every pony of the Apple bloodline, you idjit!"
>The old mare, breathing hard, finally relents in her assault...
>...but not before bopping you smartly on the head when you lower your forearms to give her a peek.
>You just grumble at her and rub your sore horn.
>"Don't matter none of they're earth pony-"
>The Apple matriarch slaps one of her forehooves onto the other with every entry on her list.
>"-unicorn-"
>She nods at you.
>"-sky-zigger..."
>Woah, hey.
>"...any pony who done be born from an Apple's seed or out of an Apple's cooter has carried on the curse."
>...that doesn't sound right.
"Then why haven't I seen any big unicorns or pegasi?"
>Granny shoots you a withering, disappointed glare like only a grandmother can.
>"That's a'cuz we got about 10 unicorns in this here town, and yer one of them. The pegasi are too busy havin' fun not doin' any honest work up in their magic sky castles to come down to town and start families with us-"
>Granny plants her hooves on her hips and wriggles around, starts talking in a high-pitched mocking voice
>"Got-dang normies who can't walk on no clouds so's that we can be with the bird-foals that would be born from such a coupling!"
>Granny huffs and stuffs more apple skins into her pipe.
>"Sides, y'all prolly already seen an Apple-born pegasus."
>Horseapples, you did.
>You'd bucking know if you saw tartarus-on-wheels flying through the sky.
>"Whut's his name... Snowflake?"

>Granny's forehead crinkles in concentration.
>"Ah think he goes by 'Bulk-something' nowadays, though. Pretty young thang, he is. Coat white as snow, and eyes red as blood."
>Granny Smith closes her eyes and waves her pipe around dismissively, nearly burning you as she sprays ashes everywhere.
>"Not all cursed earth ponies have Apple names, though, and a lotta us Apples tried changin' our names to escape the curse. Ah gots a great-great-great-grand-aunt named Apple Tart, and she done had foals with a handsome young feller named Holder Cobblestone. Her foals, and her foal's foals, ain't named like no Apple."
>Granny taps a hoof to her chin.
>"Something.... Something Pie? Somethin' Quartz?"
>She shakes her head.
>"Aw, heck, Ah don't know. Point bein', just about every earth pony round these here parts has got at least a couple drops of Apple in'em."
>That's horseapples, but you believe it.
>...at least until you can finish up your duties here at Sweet Apple Acres and get to your new library to do some research.
>.....
>Where did Spike wander off to?

----------------------------------

>150 years in the past
>You are Anonymous.
>You've been wandering around Equestria ever since you were first spat out here a couple of years ago, eager to see what this new world had to offer you.
>As soon as you had enough money to buy a small carriage (complete with a bit of magic to make pulling it around a lot easier), you had taken to travelling.
>Your goal was to see every city in the land and then move on to some other country - so far you've only been to five or six cities and have recently decided to move onto smaller towns.
>You've been all over Equestria; from the arid wastes of Appleloosa to the highrises and harbors of Manehattan.
>You enjoyed your time a lot in Manehattan - entertainment and novelties were never in short supply there.
>Street-corner attractions, busy restaurants, fairgrounds on the piers with music and light bulb-studded ferris wheels that lit up at night...
>God, how you had loved the city's night life.
>Liquor that flowed like water; whispered under-the-table deals kept the bits changing hooves; stallions on stage in layered skirts who linked arms and kicked their legs for the entertainment of the roaring crowd...
>...maybe you didn't enjoy the dancing stallions as much as the mares did, but they were all part of the atmosphere that you enjoyed.
>It seemed like this on-the-rise megalopolitan was built up on squeezing every last dollar - er, bit - out of each naive, bright-eyed tourist visiting Manehattan for their first time.

>God knows it nearly squeezed YOU dry; you were swept away by the never-ending excitement and before you knew it, you were handing out your last non-essential bit away in exchange for a corndog.
>Not that that was very much of a problem. When you ran out of spending money, the smell of the sea made night-time walks a fine replacement for all the expensive treats that Manehattan had to offer.
>Even with antique (from your perspective) gas lamps dotting the sidewalks and old-fashioned carriages criss-crossing the cobblestone streets, Manehattan really put up a fight against your memories of an Earth city with a similar name.
>At the end of your stay in Manehattan, the only money you had saved was just enough to buy supplies - food, water, and replacement parts for your carriage - to make it to Canterlot.
>It was a long road, but the flat ground made it easy to pull your little home-on-wheels along.
>To properly compare travel times, walking through the bumpy hill-lands of Filly Delphia to your previous destination of Manehattan had taken almost the same amount of time as gliding over the flat planes between Manehattan and Canterlot.
>A few odd jobs down in Canterlot (telling stories; selling some novelties from Manehattan and Filly Delphia) got you enough cash to buy some more supplies to make it to Ponyville.
>You've heard good things about that place; endless fields thanks to its farming community, and a population that's friendly and tight-knit.
>You heard this from exactly one pony, so you'll take it with a grain of salt.
>In the end, it doesn't matter which small town you choose to go to first - you'll reach them all eventually and Ponyville is as good a place to start as any other.
>After a few weeks on the road, you pull your little carriage along a bumpy, beaten dirt path into town.
>You can see smoke rising in the distance, coming from a gathering of thatched-roof cottages and stone towers.

-------------

>A long stretch of road lays before you and Ponyville, guarded on both sides with wooden fence.
>The sun beats down on you from above, and a light breeze carries the scent of apples.
>It's a very rustic experience, and you can't help but smile.
>You can already tell that life here in Ponyville is going to be much different from life in the big cities.
>Large countrysides stretch out like a green wave as far as the eye can see, bordered by a large forest in the distance.
>The grass is green and the dirt path is uneven, unlike the smooth cobblestone roads of Manehattan.
>The air is fresh and free of the ever-present stench of oil that plagued you way back in he other cities and stuck to your clothes like a film.
>You thought the smell would never come off, but a couple weeks of wandering through nature did the job for you.
>The wind; the endless fields; the wild forest in the distance; the uneven dirt path...
>It all gives the impression that whoever built their town here is just borrowing from the earth instead of trying to conquer it.
>Up along the path, you spot the other other soul you've come across since Canterlot: a light brown mare with a dark, wavy mane perched up on one of these fences.
>She's relaxing with her head in her forehooves, propping herself up against one of the rails that stretch between big, round posts.
>The way she looks at you as you approach along the bumpy trail is that of a mare at complete leisure. She doesn't even bother to open her eyes up all the way as she examines you with a sleepy, half-lidded gaze. 
>When the mare decides that you've gotten close enough, she raises her head and gives it a quick twist, sighing in relief as the resulting -crack- fills the air.
>"Oh me, oh my, but you're a biggin'," she drawls, "Just what in Equestria do they feed you?"
>What fortunate timing for you - you're barely even inside of Ponyville's borders and you've already found someone who can give you some directions.

>You dig your heels into the ground and press your back into the walls of your carriage, easing it to a stop; it would be impolite to just ignore this pony and keep on going along your way.
>You might only spend a few weeks at a time around ponies, but that doesn't mean you've forgotten how not to be rude.
>The mare's eyes look between you and the fence she's resting on, and she adjusts her rear hooves a bit.
>"Now hold up jus' a second, hun," she tells you, sticking her tongue out the corner of her mouth in concentration
>The brown mare braces her legs and wiggles her bum (for an extra boost) before leaping over the fence with a graceful hop.
>Now that she's no longer obscured by a fence post, you're finally able to see her cutie mark.
>It looks like some kind of brown slice of pie with a dollop of whipped cream on top.
>"I don't think I've seen y'all 'round these here parts," she says with a curious tilt of her head, "Just who might you be?"
"You wouldn't have seen me; I'm not from around here. This is my first time in Ponyville."
>The mare nods to herself, seemingly satisfied with your answer.
>With a proud smile, she holds a hoof out to you to shake.
>"The name's Apple Brown Betty."
>She jabs her head off to the side, gesturing in the general direction of the fenced-off fields behind her.
>"My family owns the farmlands you see here. We grow the finest apples y'all ever did taste."
>You kneel down carefully to get down on your new friend's level.
>You reach out and wrap your fingers around her proffered hoof, making sure not to squeeze too tightly; ponies seem to find your grip unsettling at times.
"It's nice to meet you, Apple Brown Betty," you say, "I'm Anonymous, but you can call me Anon. I-"
>Apple Brown Betty squeaks in surprise when you grip her hoof.
>She pulls her hoof closer to her face (taking your hand along for the ride) and examines it, poking at your fingers with her free hoof.
>"Celestia above, what the hecky-heck are these thangs?"
>The moment her hoof touches one of your fingers, she pulls it sharply back and squeaks in alarm.
>"Wh-what are-"
>This is by far your favourite reaction in ponies.
>Places this far out probably don't see too many minotaurs, so fingers are a foreign concept to them.
>Most ponies in general aren't all that keen on things that can grab and hold them.
>You give her hoof a gentle squeeze and try not to make noises of delight when Apple Brown Betty squeals and tries to tug her hoof out of your hand.
>"H-Hey!"
>Yeah, okay, this has gone on for long enough.
>There's having fun with a pony, and then there's screwing around with a perfect stranger.
>You release your grip and let the brown mare pull her hoof away from you.
>Apple Brown Betty does a little horsey dance in-place, dragging her forehooves through the dirt every couple of clip-clops as if trying to rub the sensation of your fingers off of her hooves.
>Her face is the perfect picture of someone whose foot just touched seaweed while swimming in the ocean.
>"Th-That was w-weird!" gasps Apple Brown Betty as she finally comes to a stop.
>She's left a panting, sweating mess.
>After a few moments of recovering, she grins and holds her hoof back out.
>"Do it again."

-----------

>"So, where's yer mare?" she asks, looking over her shoulder and down the path where you came from, "I didn't see no pony cross my path before you showed up; is she back at the town border doin' something?"
"I don't have a mare, miss. I've been all on my own since I left Canterlot last week."
>The brown mare laughs jovially.
>"No, but seriously," she says, giggling a bit as she tries to get her laughter under control, "Is yer mare gonna make an appearance soon? Y'all can't keep blocking the road like this for very long."
"No, really," you insist, "I'm all on my own."
>The mare peers at you suspiciously as her muzzle slowly curls up into a mighty scrunch.

>LATER

>"And here we are!"
>Apple Brown Betty pants as she tugs your cart the last couple of yards, sweating bullets and pulling the carriage forward in irregular bursts of strength.
>The farm pony had insisted on pulling your cart for you all the way from the entrance road to Ponyville to her farm, where she promised there would be an unused plot of field that you could part your vehicle on - a whole two kilometres of uneven, sloping ground.
>Apple Brown Betty collapses on the ground, unmoving except for the powerful heaves of her chest as she does her best to take in as much oxygen as possible.
>Earth pony or not, that was a human-sized carriage (mobility cart-magic notwithstanding) and Betty here was just a waist-high tiny horse with fuzzy marshmallows for legs.
>The mare tries to stand up, but her legs won't hold her weight; they wiggle comically before she collapses, legs splayed out in all directions.
>You'd feel bad for her if she hadn't chased you away from your cart each time you tried to help shoulder the load like some kind of four-legged, territorial goose.
>Fucking geese.
>"Th-there!" she pants, weakly pawing at the impromptu pony-straps that she tied to your cart, "N-now we can w-wait for your friend t-to show up."
>You just roll your eyes and walk over to undo the hitch for her; Apple Brown Betty mumbles her thanks but makes no move to, well... move.
"Well," you drawl, "So far, we've succeeded in shooting the shit for about an hour on the side of a dirt road without seeing any other mares walking by."
>You take a seat on the hard ground next to her head and start to stroke her mane.
>Sapient or not, these creatures were a joy to pet.
"Are you happy now? And I'm not blocking the road into town anymore, just like you wanted."
>"Th'road touches my land," she says in between breaths, "It's my responsibility."
>You scratch behind her ears and watch one of her hind legs twitch.
>It would be kicking if Apple Brown Betty could actually feel her legs.
"I think you just wanted to get a stallion onto your property," you say teasingly, "All alone and without a single friend in town. Why..."
>You lie down on your side next to your new friend, making sure to get yourself at eye-level with her.
"...if you decided to do something to him, he couldn't do anything to stop you."
>Apple Brown Betty blinks once in confusion, and then her face turns bright red.
>"N-no! I would never take advantage!"
>You quirk an eyebrow at her and try to make yourself sound a little bit disappointed.
"Never?"
>You slowly bring your hand over to play with her mane, but your antics have apparently given Apple Brown Betty some strength.
>She manages to push herself upright and hobble away from you on shaky legs.
>"H-Heck, Anon!" she exclaims, glaring at you, "Quit temptin' an honest, hard-workin' mare like that!"
>The glare lacks heat, though, to your relief.
>The brown mare grumbles angrily and blushes harder, grumbling beneath her breath.
>"I swear, Anon," she grumbles, "I'm gonna have a long talk with your mare whenever she finally decides to show up."

>You push yourself to your feet and brush the dirt from your pants.
>Apple Brown Betty DID pull your carriage for you... even though you didn't ask her to.
>You guess you can cut her some slack.
>After a short jog to catch up with the retreating mare, you get her attention and gesture at the land around you at large.
"So this is it, huh?"
>Apple Brown Betty takes a deep breath and puffs her chest out, glowing with pride and her exhaustion forgotten.
>"You bet it is, mister Anon. From the eastern borders of Ponyville all the way up to the Everfree Forest."
>She turns her head left and right, looking content as she takes in a sight she probably sees every single day.
>"It's all ours, an' we use it to grow the finest apples fer everypony in town to enjoy."
>That sounds so sweet and idyllic that you could just shit yourself.
>Apple Brown Betty trots over to a tree just a few feet away from you (it's impossible to be very far away from an apple tree on this property) and gives it a light kick.
>You can feel the impact through the ground almost as much as you hear in through the air.
>The outermost branches shake, and one of them drops an apple, which you manage to catch.
>It's shiny, red, and glossy.
>You can smell the sweet, tart aroma from here, and you can't help but wish that the apples you bought from the supermarket back on Earth were anywhere near as good as these looked to me.
>"Give it a try, mister," your friend says with confidence, "These here be the best apples in town."
>>"They're the ONLY apples in town, Betty," drawls an approaching voice.
>Do ALL Apples drawl? 
>You've yet to meet one that doesn't.
>A young mare - too small to be an adult, but too large to be a filly - trots up to the two of you, looking curiously between you and Apple Brown Betty.
>Apple Brown Betty nods sagely at the newcomer, ignoring her questioning gaze.
>"And that makes them the best!"
>The new mare just laughs.

>Her shiny coat is light gray, and her mane is an absolute mess of brown curls.
>Her cutie mark is something brown, crumbly, and drizzled with syrup.
>Apple Brown Betty marches up to the filly and pats her on her withers.
>"This is my little sister, Apple Streusel."
>Apple Brown Betty nudges her sister with her muzzle, trying to encourage her to move closer to you.
>"Say hello, Streusel."
>After sending her sister one more uncertain look, Apple Streusel slowly trots forward and hold out a hoof for you to shake.
>Another Apple pony holding her hoof out for you to shake is too much of a temptation for you.
>You never would have been this... familiar with a stranger back on Earth, but being a male in Equestria means that you get quite a bit more leeway in terms of your behaviour.
>[spoiler]You're no longer the creepy weirdo; now you're "eccentric".[/spoiler]
>Before Apple Streusel can react, you smartly dodge your hand around her outstretched hoof and boop her right on her muzzle.
>Apple Streusel's eyes cross as they follow your finger, and then slam shut.
>The reaction is immediate.
>The gray mare back away like a cat with something stuck on its nose, lowering her front end and raising her rump high in the air.
>She blows a raspberry into the open air and scrunches her snootle up something fierce.
>You give her a few minutes to recover, all while doing your best not to giggle like the socially-retarded turd you are.
>You haven't booped mares like this since way back in Filly Delphia, and you'd forgotten how fun the reactions are.
>When Streusel finally recovers, Apple Brown Betty pats her on the withers to get her attention.
>You might be imagining things, but that wither-pat seemed especially sympathetic in nature.
>"Think you can talk Ma into letting Anon stay the night? He don't have nowhere else to go."
>Apple Streusel scrubs the tip of her muzzle with a hoof and looks between you and her sister.
>>"Ah reckon I can try. Shouldn't be too hard; it wouldn't be the first time she done took pity on a colt with nowhere to stay."
>Apple Streusel raises a hoof to cup her mouth conspiratorially and stage-whispers to you.
>>"That's how she met Pa."
>Apple Streusel giggles and walks off towards the house without another word while Apple Brown Betty watches on, smiling and shaking her head fondly.
>"Always the romantic, that one," she says fondly, "They say that every colt dreams of meetin' his knight in shining armour, but sometimes I think that Streusel dreams of the same exact thing."

---------------------

>Ma looks down at Apple Streusel with stern, maternal disapproval.
>"Apple Brown Betty," the older mare groans after a long-suffering sigh, "What am I going to do with you?"
>Judging by the sigh and the lack of yelling, you get the feeling that their mother has dealt with this "a colt followed me home, can we keep him?" business with her daughters for a long time now.
>"I don't know, Betty. You can't just go inviting strangers to live on the farm, you know."
>>"I know, Ma, but what else could I have done?"
>Apple Streusel walks over and pokes you in the thigh, which is about as high as she can reach.
>>"Anon don't got a single friend in the world out here in the sticks to turn to."
>The two parents exchange a look, but the older stallion doesn't look convinced.
>Streusel apparently picks up on this, because she does an excited horse dance and turns around to address you with a big, excited smile on her face.
>>"Oh! Anon, show Ma the thing you do with your hands! It's feels so weird!"
>Oh, god.
>Apple Streusel, why would you SAY that?
"Uh...."
>You look over to Ma and Pa and wince at their combined disapproving glare.
"Shhiiii-oooot."
>This is starting to look like Filly Delphia all over again.

>"Brushed Galena?" asks your new friends' mother, not taking her eyes off of you, "Why don't you go get a start on dinner?"
>"Yes, Autumn Gold."
>Their father stands up and walks into the kitchen without a backwards glance.
>Autumn Gold fixes you with a disapproving glare that rivals your grandmother's.
>Miss you, grandma 'Nata.
>"What, exactly," she growls, "Is this 'hands thing' my daughter is talking about?"
>The hair on the back of your neck stands up straight as a chill runs down your spine.
>No false movements here.
>You've got your only chance for room and board glowering at you.
"Easy there," you say, holding out your hands in mock-surrender, "Let's not jump to conclusions just yet. All I did was poke Apple Streusel on the nose."
>Autumn Gold doesn't look convinced.
"With my finger."
>You hold up your hand and wriggle your digits around.
>Autumn Gold's eyes follow your eyes for a second or two before she turns her attention to Apple Brown Betty.
>"Is this true?"
>Autumn Gold's voice is stern, but now lacks the sharp accusatory tones it did just a few moments ago.
>Betty nods, looking relieved.
>You could have guessed that if a perfect stranger can read Autumn Gold's mood, then it should be obvious to the old mare's daughter.
>"It is, Ma," says Betty quickly, hoping to capitalize on her mother's doubt, "Ah reckon Apple Streusel said it felt weird a'cuz we sure as sugar don't get no minotaurs 'round these parts, and she ain't never got booped by'em."
>Her expression doesn't change, save for the raising of her eyebrows.
>"Boopin'?" she asks slowly.
"Uh, you know..." you say, poking the empty air in front of you with a forefinger, "Booping."
>Autumn Gold is silent, and her face is frozen in deep contemplation.
>You can't tell if she's honestly trying to pass judgement on you, or if she's trying to come up with what she should say to such an innocent, silly excuse for poor wording.
>After a long few moments, Autumn Gold's lips form a thin line and her eyes dart to over to meet yours.
>If you're up on your horse body language, you'd say that she's feeling pretty sheepish.
>"Oh."
>Autumn Gold walks over to you, turning her back to her daughter; she doesn't see Apple Brown Betty sag in relief (nor her eldest Apple daughter smacking her little sister upside the head for her choice in wording).
>The older mare sits on her haunches and adjusts her glasses, looking rather bothered.
>"I'd like to apologize for that, mister. I've made an error in judgement."
>Autumn Gold stumbles over the words, as though the apology felt foreign in her mouth.
>"If it suits you, you are welcome to a warm meal and an even warmer bed tonight."
>The idea of refusing her offer and sleeping in your carriage flashes across your mind for a brief moment, but you discard it immediately.
>It's not every day that someone implies that you're a whore and then offers you a free dinner.
>...Well, no, that's not true; in fact, that was actually how you got a fair deal of your spending money back in Filly Delphia.
>[spoiler]That was before the unfortunate incident with the mayor of Filly Delphia, a food stand that you set up to sell salted doughnut balls, and a misunderstanding that lead to the poor mare asking you for something unintentionally lewd.[/spoiler]
>You kneel down and amicably hold out your hand to shake.
"Think nothing of it, ma'am. Dinner and a place to sleep for the night are more than I can ask for."
>Autumn Gold's features soften a bit and her stern disapproval evaporates into something a little less hostile.
>The older mare reaches out and places her hoof into your hand.

----------------------

>Be Brushed Galena
>Be known to your foals as "Pa"
>You've put that 'Anonymous' out of your mind for the present being; if anything is the matter, then Autumn Gold will sort it out.
>It's not your place to worry about potentially-unwelcome guests.
>For now, all you're concerned about is getting your family fed.
>You-
>"Ow!"
>>"Ma!"
>"She BIT me!"
>...
>Mares...

-----------------

>Brushed Galena seems to be pretty friendly now that he no longer thinks that you're a whore.
>Apple Streusel was awful curious about you, and she spent as much time asking you questions as she spent on actually eating her dinner, ending up finishing her meal long past the point where it went cold.
>You have family back home, of course, and so you're used to dealing with kids.
>You were patient, shushed her when she got too loud, and offered to answer her questions in exchange for her taking bites of her dinner to make sure that she finished.
>Brushed Galena in particular had been observing you silently throughout the meal, mostly likely watching to make sure that the stranger isn't doing or saying anything appropriate with his kid.
>In the quiet lull in conversation (granted to you by Apple Streusel drinking all her milk if you agreed to tell her why you skipped going to Detrot), the older stallion spoke up.
>"You must be good with foals," observed Brushed Galena, chewing contemplatively on his stew.
"Heh, maybe. I had-er, I have a younger sister back home and I used to look after her pretty often."
>Brushed Galena just smiled and nodded slowly.
>"Good, good. It's a skill every stallion above a certain age should have; in fact, I was a little bit worried that you didn't know how to take care of young ones..."
>Not long after that, he started asking about your time on the road.
"It's tough and there have been a few close calls, but it's very rewarding. I get to see all kinds of places and enjoy what the ponies there have to offer."
>Brushed Galena narrowed his eyes and gave you the same look from back when he thought you'd done something weird to his kids with your hands.
>"...have you offered anything for the ponies there to enjoy?"
>Autumn Gold looked scandalized.
>>"Brushed Galena!"
>The Apple patriarch winced and shot an apologetic look at his wife; he clearly crossed some sort of line with a question like that.
>"Please excuse me, Anonymous," he said, ears flopping, "That was very inappropriate of me to ask."
>You learned after the first few cities that what you would call "casual sex" back home is actually called "prostitution" here in Equestria
>You don't need a repeat of Filly Delphia, and you figure that lying and saying you're a virgin will win you more points that telling the truth and admitting that you're a man-whore.
"Not that it's any of your business, but no, I haven't."
>Dinner was a quiet affair after that, with even Apple Streusel picking up on the shift in mood and halting her line of questioning.

>After dinner, Autumn Gold walks into the living room with an old, beaten bag clenched in her teeth.
>She stops in the middle of the room and puts the bag down, and then shoves her face inside of it.
>When she pulls back, she has a neat stack of parchment in between her jaws, which she sets down onto the floor in front of her.
>This repeats a couple more times until she's unloaded the entire thing, which contained some more parchment, a ledger, a quill, and two cracked bottles of ink.
>Without so much as a nod in your direction, Autumn Gold paws at the papers and books in front of her and spreads them out all around her so that she can see everything at once.
>Finally, she grabs the quill in her mouth, dips it into the closest ink bottle (notably the one with the fewest number of cracks) and starts scribbling simple equations down on a blank piece of parchment.
>Not wanting to get in her way for fear of being bitten again, you put Autumn Gold's business out of mind and focus on the not-quite-filly, not-quite-mare in front of you.
>Apple Streusel was shuffling around and looked pretty fussy and restless, so you've taken it upon yourself to entertain her if only to keep her quiet.
>You carry a few knick-knacks with you at all times out of habit (you only get robbed once before you stop putting all your eggs into one basket), and it was no trouble at all to find that old snow globe you bought on a whim in Trottingham.
>It has been cheaply made, but a lack of mass-production here in Equestria meant that the product was still high quality; it just didn't have all the magical bells and whistles that other, more expensive products might have.
>For example, this globe didn't have any ambient lighting that others may have.
>Apple Streusel's eyes widen when you hold the snow globe upside down and give it a firm shake, causing the false snowflakes to fall from their resting place at the bottom of the globe and zip around as though being kicked up by high winds. The Trottingham cityscape within looks like it's been overcome by a miniature snow storm. 
>Apple Streusel grabs the toy with both hooves and eagerly pulls it close to her face, investigating it closely.
>She makes a small noise of disappointment when the white flakes stop falling, but screws up her face into a scrunch of concentration and gives it a firm shake.
>While Apple Streusel keeps her muzzle glued to the snowglobe, you turn your attention back over to Autumn Gold.
>The older mare is growling, muttering words underneath her breath that you can't make out, and looking back and forth between her ledger and her number-covered parchment.
>"Got-dangit!" she hisses and spits the quill out of her mouth, which skitters across her scrap parchment and leaves a messy black streak.
>The numbers on her parchment are all neatly organized into columns, and it doesn't take long for you to realize that these are the Apple's finances.
>...and it's not looking good for them.
>You consider keeping your nose out of Autumn Gold's business, but then you glance at her papers and see a crude sketch of yourself on one of the parchments, and a number with a bit sign underneath it.
>You feel a flash of guilt when you realize that your staying here is costing the Apples money - money that they don't have.
>You look back at Apple Streusel and find her utterly distracted by the toy you gave her, and judge that it's safe to speak to her mother.
"Autumn Gold?" you murmur, crouching down and speaking lowly so that you don't attract the attention of the youngest Apple; she doesn't need to know about this.
>The older mare glances in your direction and then looks back at her papers, grunting in acknowledgement.
"Is there somethi-"
>"No."
>Autumn Gold's response sounds final, and she's clearly used to whomever she's speaking to obeying her orders; being the matriarch of the family, you aren't surprised.
>[spoiler]Her family finances are also very clearly not any of your business.[/spoiler]
>Fortunately, you are not family and she has no authority over you; you can be as rude and intrusive as you want to be.
"I'm costing you money," you state bluntly, "Let me do something to help make up for it."
>She turns her head to look at you out of the corner of her eye, but she doesn't say anything.
>Her mouth is formed into a thin grimace, much like when she thought you were doing something to her daughters that she didn't approve of.
>Finally, she speaks up.
>"I won't take your money, Anonymous. You're a guest here."
>No surprise there; Autumn Gold struck you as a typical prideful country mare.
>Your response is given without a single beat missed.
"Then let me work. I honestly have no idea what goes on in an apple orchard, but I can learn."
>Autumn Gold chuckles sadly.
>"We need a little bit more than a stallion's touch, mister."
>She points with an ink-stained hoof to one of the scraps of parchment, where images of trees are drawn.
>Some of them have big check marks scrawled over them, but about a quarter of them are messily scribbled out.
>"We just don't have the hooves to work with an orchard this size. Normally we'd hire mares from Ponyville, but last year's harvest was smaller than usual and we just can't afford any help this year."
>She touches one of the scrawled-out trees sadly.
>"Our stock is rotting before we can preserve'em or take'em to market. We're losing a tonne of bits."
>The poor mare looks so damn depressed, and having to say those words out loud makes her sag.
>Autumn Gold sighs miserably and pats your knee.
>"Maybe you can help Brushed Galena around the house instead," she says, sounding resigned.
>You glance behind you once more, and Apple Streusel is still amused (and distracted) by your snowglobe.
>...
>Dammit.
>You and your fucking conscience.
>You and your disproportional sense of repayment.
>A few weeks pass by uneventfully on Sweet Apple Acres.
>You managed to prove to Autumn Gold that you were capable of, at the very least, not injuring yourself while helping out.
>All it took was scaring the townsfolk of Ponyville by hefting around an axe that you used for chopping wood, as well as a very uncomfortable milking session with a cow who refused to stop telling you how good your hands felt on her udders.
>[spoiler]You later found out that Sweet Apple Acres does not, in fact, own any cows.[/spoiler]
>Autumn Gold decided to give you a chance at helping out (with Apple Streusel supervising you), and she was equally surprised and pleased that you managed to actually carry your own weight; and then some.
>If her pleasant mood (pleasant for Autumn Gold, anyway) is anything to go by, then the orchard is back in the black thanks to your help.
>The Apple matriarch's been treating you much better since then, giving you a taste of that famous southern hospitality... or whatever Equestria calls it.
>Good things never last, tho.
>The Apples have warned you that they've been hearing more frequent howling at night coming from the Everfree forest, which is something they say happens every year around harvest time.
>You finally have some free time, so you've decided to grab your cart from the forest-side edge of the Apple's property and drag it over closer to the house.
>The last thing you want are for those fucking timberwolves to go through your stuff and ruin all of your worldly possessions
>You fucking hate timberwolves.
>You jog outside and over to where you left your cart, eager to get your worldly belongings into the barn before it rains.
>The sounds of tinkling, bashing, and ruffling grow louder the closer and closer you get to your carriage.
>Lo and behold, little Apple Streusel has climbed up into your cart and has buried her head into your thing, nudging knick-knacks around with her muzzle like a curious little puppy.
"Having fun in there, Streusel?"
>The not-quite-mare freezes at the sound of your voice and slowly pulls her head out of your cart.
>She tries to put on a sheepish expression, but she just ends up looking like a nervous little kid who thinks she's about to get scolded.
>"Oh, uh... Hey, mister Anonymous! I was just..."
>Apple Streusel flattens her ears and paws at the wooden floor, occasionally looking at you and then quickly looking away again.
>The scene is just too adorable and you can't resist the urge to tease the young mare.
>You cross your arms and put on your best disapproving glare.
"You just... what?"
>Apple Streusel lowers her head and lets out a very doggy whine; you barely resist the urge to march on over and hug that little darling.
>"I-I just... I wanted to know more about where you went. You went all over the place, and you didn't even have a mare around to make sure you were okay!"
>She peers back into your open carriage with barely-restrained eager curiosity.
>"After you gave me that snow globe of Trottingham, I started thinking about the world out there. You've probably got all kinds of stories, right?"
>She finally tears her eyes away from your trinkets and looks at you excitedly.
>"Right?"
>You really don't think you can resist that face.
>You can't see the harm in telling Apple Streusel a few stories about your travels as long as you stay away from the matter of why the mayor of Filly Delphia kicked you out of the city.
>You give her a smile and approach your carriage, already going through your head the things you'll tell her.
>There are so many stories and so many experiences you've had; so many that you've probably forgotten some of them. It'll probably work to jog your memory if Apple Streusel picks something from your carriage that interests her, and then you can tell her the history behind it.
"Well, Apple Streusel," you say with a groan, leg twitching irritably as you find a place on your carriage to sit down on, "Grab whatever you like and I'll tell you all about it, okay?"
>Apple Streusel doesn't waste any time shoving her head into your personal belongings.
>Adorable.
>"What about... Oh!"
>Apple Streusel pulls her head out, and you're surprised at how eager you are to share your stories to someone who's interested in hearing them.
>You wonder what item she picked first.
>Oh, maybe she's found that crystal you-
>"Wha's dis 'fing, mis'srr Mamonn-mus?"
"What's what, Streu-"
>SHIT
>Clamped in her jaws is that rubbery dick-sleeve you bought while you were drunk a couple of towns back.
>The one that you've totally never EVER used; no sir.
>Your face explodes in a blush and you reach over to grab it from her, but Streusel pulls away.
"Gimme that!" you stutter, "That's-that's-I'll tell you what it is if you give it to me!"
>Streusel wriggles and dances out of your attempts to grab her, looking like she's having a lot of fun avoiding your grabs.
>"Bu' wha' is'sit?"
"Dammit, come back here!"
>Apple Streusel laughs in response and and starts hopping around your cart, tail swishing from side to side, stepping on old trash and useless trinkets as she plays, what is from her perspective, a very fun game.
"I need that!"

>After a few panic-filled minutes of horseplay (hue), you finally manage to grab Apple Streusel and scoop her up in your arms.
>Even as you yank the unfortunate object out of her mouth, Streusel giggles madly and playfully bats her hooves at your encroaching hand.
>Now that the mad rush to get the sex toy out of this most-likely-underaged pony's mouth is done, you promptly lose your adrenaline high and become studiously aware of just how much this mare weighs.
>What do they feed these earth ponies; concrete?
>With the young mare still wrapped up in your arms, you and Apple Streusel slide down the side of your carriage and collapse into a sweaty heap together.
>Apple Streusel looks up at you from her position on your lap; laying on her back with her widdle hoofsies curled up against her chest as though poised to fend off another playful attack on her tummy-tum-tums.
>She's got a bright smile on her face and laughter-born tears threatening to trail down her cheeks if she lets loose so much as a giggle.
>You know what?
>For all the difficulty she gave you back there, that was actually pretty fun.
>You give Apple Streusel an affectionate mane-tussle, doing your best to turn her brushed hair into a crow's nest; Streusel grabs your arm with her forehooves and pulls it tight against her furry chest.
>The smile she gives you is so happy that it feels like a punch to the gut.
>God, you miss home; if this creature sitting on your lap had the body of a human instead of a pony, she'd be a dead-ringer for your little sister.
>This isn't the first parallel between Equestria and Earth that's left you with a sharp pang of longing in your heart, and you guess it won't be the last, either.
>You-
>The sensation of a hoof gently caressing your cheek breaks you out of your sad little reflection.
>"Mister Anonymous?"
"Hmm?"
>Apple Streusel's got her head tilted to the side, and concern for you is written as plain as day on her face.
>You feel a faint pang of guilt when you realize that the giddy, playful energy in the air is gone now.
>"You look sad. Are you alright?"
>Apple Streusel shrinks in on herself and looks away from you, frowning faintly.
>"Did I do something wrong? Ma says you should never do something to make a colt sad."
>...
>If Apple Streusel minded you giving her a big hug, she sure didn't say anything.
>Not long after, the two of you get up and go home.
>You don't realize it, but the thought of moving your carriage away from the Everfree forest and closer to the Apple's house has completely slipped your mind in all the excitement.
"Hey, Streusel?"
>"Yeah, mister Anonymous?"
"You can just call me 'Anon', okay?"

-------------

>It's later this evening, and you've found yourself alone with Brushed Galena for probably the first time since you began helping out a week or two ago.
>The two of you look out the dirty window, and you do your best to pretend that the silence between the two of you is awkward.
>You wonder if he's doing the same.
>Without any preamble, Brushed Galena speaks; not even bothering to look away from the view outside.
>"You handled yourself pretty well with Apple Streusel today."
>[spoiler]Does he know about the dick-sleeve?
>Play it cool, Anon.[/spoiler]
"Yeah, I used to take care of my younger siblings back home. Remember?"
>Out of the corner of your eye, you watch Brushed Galena nod slowly.
>"You're pretty good with foals," he observes with an air of casualty.
>You nod cautiously.
"I guess I am."
>"You want some?"
>You do a double-take and stare at Galena, who looks calm as you please.
"Wh-what?"
>Like, to buy?
>Brushed Galena chuckles and finally turns to face you, managing to still look imposing despite having to tilt his head upwards to look you in the eye.
>"My daughters are young and healthy, you know. The right age for foals."
>Oh God, is he trying to do what you think he's trying to do?
>You have never felt more uncomfortable in your entire life.
>Who talks about this?!
"Wow. L-Listen, sir, I'm gonna be walking right out of town after apple harvest season is over."
>You try and take a nervous step backwards, but you end up backing into the armrest of the couch.
"I'm a traveller, and I don't re-"
>"A nice colt like you ought to settle down. Start a family."
"I still have plenty of places to go and-"
>"Listenin' to the clippity-clop of tiny hooves on a wood floor..."
"I hear that Los Pegasus is re-"
>"Fallin' asleep at night all cuddled up with your mares and your little foals."
>You-woah.
>Uhh...
"Th-that actually sounds pretty ni-"
>"I can teach you all sorts of recipes that your little ones will love."
>"Pa? Anon?"
>Apple Brown Betty trots into the room, looking curiously between you and her father and oblivious to the fresh hell she just walked into.
"Apple Brown Betty!"
>"Apple Brown Betty!"
>You and the old stallion both look thrilled to see the young mare.
>For you, it's because her entrance means that you can leave the room without being rude to the man who is providing you with food and a bed to sleep in.
>For him, it's because the very object of his one-sided conversation has just come into the room; hopefully to provide backup or to prove some kind of point for him.
>Apple Brown Betty sees your dual looks of utter delight and takes a nervous step backwards.
>"I just came in to tell you that soup's on."
>She looks between you and her father.
>"Are y'all oka-"
>"Betty," interrupts Brushed Galena, "Have you ever noticed that Anonymous has foal-siren' hips?"
>You've got WHAT?
>ABB's face explodes in a blush and her eyes dart to your crotch.
>You follow her gaze down to your groin, wondering what "foal-sirin' hips" could possibly be.
>Without waiting for either of you to say a word, Apple Brown Betty turns around and beats a hasty retreat.
>You can hear her muttering as she leaves the room.
>"So l-lewd..."

--------------------------

>About three days later, you are reminded quite harshly why you wanted to move your carriage closer to the house and away from the forest.
>You sit down on your ass and put your head in your hands.
>"I hate timberwolves, Betty," you groan, kicking away a piece of scrap wood, "I hate them so fucking much."
>Apple Brown Betty moves closer to the wreckage of your carriage and pokes around with one of her hooves, investigating the destruction.
>Apple Streusel sits down next to you, shuffling around so that she can lean against your side.
>She's soft and warm, and the gesture comforts you a lot more than you expected that it would.
>You and her watch Apple Brown Betty poke one of the cracked - but standing - wheels, and jumps back when the axle snaps and sends the wheel spinning off dangerously close to Betty's face.
>The last remaining standing portion of your carriage collapses onto the ground with an echoing -CRACK- and a cloud of dust.
>You hear the sound of something made of glass inside the carriage break upon impact, making Apple Brown Betty flinch and look at you apologetically.
>"O-Oops..."
>Apple Streusel nuzzles your chest gently, and you instinctively start to rub her back like a dog.
>"Anon?" she asks delicately, "I'm real sorry your carriage is ruined..."
>Everything was in there.
>You NEEDED that.
>Apart from a few crappy trinkets in your pockets, your entire life in Equestria was in that carriage.
>You give Apple Streusel a one-armed hug and savor her warmth.
"So am I, Streusel."
>Apple Brown Betty approaches you from the front, trying to put herself between you and the carriage.
>"Why don't we get you back inside, Anonymous?" asks Apple Brown Betty, nudging your shoulder with her muzzle.
>Apple Streusel (after a brief pause) jumps to her hooves and mirrors her sister; nudging your other shoulder, too.
>"Yeah, Anon," Streusel agrees, "We'll get you some water, okay?"
>A grinding and shifting noise coming from the cart catches all three of your attention.
>You watch as two cracked bottles of 16-year-old scotch roll out of the wreckage and shatter on the ground.
>"Oooh..." groans Apple Brown Betty her voice (and subsequent shoulder-pat) full of sympathy, "Maybe something a little bit stronger than water."
>You'll be back after you've had a stiff drink or four.
"You know what?"
>You plant your hands on your knees and rise to your feet.
"I'm going to go through this wreckage later."
>As you walk back to the house, your two pony friends stick by your side, watching you closely as though worried that the shock of losing your carriage will be enough to make you faint.
>"Don't you worry one bit, Anon," chirps Apple Streusel, nudging your hand with her head so that you'll pet her head, "I'm sure we can convince Ma and Pa to let you stay 'til you can buy a new carriage."
>You ruffle her mane and struggle to put a smile on your face.
"I guess I'll have to stay at the orchard for a little while longer, eh?"
>Apple Brown Betty smiles encouragingly at your attempt to make light of the situation.
>"I guess you will."
>You look over your shoulder one more time at what was once your home.
"Fucking timberwolves..."