Big Mails (Ed)

Big Mails

   Big Mac strolled down the dirt drive-way entrance of his beloved Sweet Apple Acres in the cool air of a late summer morning.  He turned onto the road and headed down to the big flat patch on the shoulder where the would-be workers showed up.

   The farm was a busy place, especially around harvest season like it was now.  The Farm sometimes need to hire extra hooves.  Sometimes ponies needed a little extra money.  They would stand out there in the mornings, hoping that Big Mac, or sometimes AJ, would come along and hire them for the day.  Most of them were migrant ponies just passing through town.  Some were local townfolk down on their luck.  Sometimes they would be colts from the Ponyville school who needed a few bits for some toy or geegaw while they were out for summer vacation.  Sometimes there wasn’t anybody at all.

   That was who was waiting for him at that patch this morning: a colt from the school.  He may as well have been nobody at all, he was so scrawny.  Big Mac wondered if maybe the colt had been sick or something.  He just wasn’t right.  Big Mac had seen him around town before.

   “Yer Slugs, right?” Big Mac asked.

   “Uh,” he said, “it’s Snails, sir.”

   Eyup.  There was definitely something wrong with this one.  “You’re looking for work, are ya?”

   “Yes, sir.”

   “I’m gonna work you hard, you understand.  Farm work ain’t easy, and we’ll both be working til sundown.  You understand that?”

   “Yes, sir!” Snails said emphatically.

   “You’re a pretty scrawny little fella.  I wonder if you should be learning at books like other unicorns instead of doing hard work.  What do you need the money for anyhow?”

   “Uh, well, I was gonna buy my girlfriend a present.”

   Big Mac snorted.  “There’s a filly that would go out with you?  I bet she’s a real looker too.  Well, alright.” Big Mac turned around and headed back to the gate of the farm.  “Come along then.  We ain’t got all day.  Sunlight’s burning.”

   Snails trotted after him.  “Hey, um.  Uh, I wanted to ask.  How much does this job, uh, pay?”

   “Well, now,” Big Mac said.  “That depends on how many workers there are.  How many apples we sell.  How many bits we’ve got to pay them with.  On a day like today?  I’m guessing a colt like you might make twenty bits, assuming you last all day, of course.”

   “Oh,” Snails said.  “I thought it would be more.  I heard you guys paid more.”

   “Usually we do, we do,” Big Mac said.  “But that just ain’t happening today.  Sometimes it’s just twenty bits.  An a shot for the prize, of course.”

   “Prize?  What prize?”

   “Oh, well, that’s just a little contest the workers have, when we can’t afford to pay them much.  You see, this job is a series of chores.  Each pony who does the best job at each chore?  Well, they get points.  Whoever’s got the most points at the end of the day gets the prize.”

   “But ... but what’s the prize?” Snails asked.

   “Well, I’m not too sure you want to worry about that.  It really ain’t no big thing.  Just think about your twenty bits.  You’re probably too young anyhow.  ‘Sides, you just said you had a girlfriend.”

   “Whaaat?  C’mon, mister, won’t you tell me what it is?  Please?”

   Big Mac sighed.  “Well if you really got to know, whoever wins the contest gets laid.”

   Snails stopped in his tracks.  Then he ran after Big Mac.  “Did ... did you just say the winner gets laid?  Really?  But who?”

   Big Mac paused and looked down at him.  He made a show of looking in different directions, pretending to make sure they were alone, before speaking.

   “Well, I’m not going to name names, of course.  Least while the contest ain’t over yet.  But as it happens, we’ve got a nice little piece of ass here on Sweet Apple Acres, ‘n whoever wins the contest gets to fuck it.  Simple as that.”  Big Mac continued his way up to the farm.

   “Whoa,” Snails said.  Then he hurried after the bigger pony.  “But there weren’t any other workers today.  Does that mean I win the contest?”

   “Nope,” Big Mac said.  “Ah’m in the contest too, ya know.”

   “Oh,” said Snails.  His spirits only flagged a little.  “Hey, but I could still win, right?  Like if I work really hard?  Like really really really super hard?  Then I could win the contest?”

   Big Mac laughed.  “Sure.  That’s the thing about the contest.  Anything can happen.  You never know.”  He looked down at the grin on Snails’ dopey-looking face.  He laughed to himself again.  “Nope, you never know.”

- - -

   “Alright,” Big Mac said, once they were in the apple orchard.  “The first chore is apple-bucking.  You ever buck apples before, kid?”  Snails shook his head.  “Well, it ain’t too hard to figure out.  You got your apple tree,” he nodded up at the closest tree.  “You got your buckets,” he nodded down at a series of buckets he had placed strategically around the tree. “Then all ya gotta do is buck.”

    Big Mac reared up both his hind legs and kicked the tree square in the trunk.  The whole tree shook and dozens of apples fell out, landing precisely in the buckets, filling them perhaps a third of the way.  “Now you give it a shot.”

   Snails went over underneath another tree, placed a few buckets around it, and kicked it.  Three apples fell out, none of them into a bucket.

   “Welp,” said Big Mac.  “I guess you’ll get the hang of it eventually.  When a bucket gets full, go ahead and bring them over to the apple cellar.  Over by the big barn.  We’ll do this the better part of the morning, and whoever ends up with the most buckets gets one point.  Got it, Slugs?’

   “Got it.”

   “Alright then, I’ll leave you to it.  I’ll come and stop you in a couple of hours.”  Big Mac started walking away.  He left his buckets behind him.

   “Hey, wait,” Snails called after him.  “You’re going to buck apples too, right?”

   “Err, yeah.  Sure kid.  I’m just going to go work on the other side of the orchard.”

   “OK, Mr. Mac!”  Snails waved to him.  “See you later!”

   “Sure, sure,” Big Mac mumbled.  “One point!” he called back to Snails.

- - -

   “Wow,” Snails said, a few hours later.  He was pretty tired, but he was still very excited.

   “Uh huh,” Big Mac said.

   “Wow,” Snails repeated.  “I filled two dozen buckets.  Is that a new record?”

   “Not even close.”

   “But I still had the most for the day though, right?  You only did two.  That means I get a point, right?”

   “Yeah, yeah.  You get a point.”

   “Yes!” Snails stuck a hoof in the air and spun around in a little circle.

   “Don’t get cocky, kid.  There’s still work to be done.  See all these bales of hay?”

   “Yes, sir.”

   “Well, we gotta put all these bales of hay in the barn.  You start stacking them against this wall over here,” Big Mac waved his hoof.  “And I’ll start stacking them up against the other wall.  Whoever has the biggest pile when we stop wins.”

   “Uh, how many points is this one worth?” Snails asked.

   “One point, same as the other.”

   “Sweet!  I’m going to try to get that point too.”

   “You go ahead and try, kiddo.  Maybe you might just get it.  I still got a few things over on the far side of the farm to take care of.  Feel free to stop for lunch if you want.  But you better believe me, when I get back I can stack bales pretty fast.  So don’t dawdle.  You got it?”

   “Got it, Mr. Mac!”  Snails eagerly trotted to the nearest bale, struggled to lift it up by the wire, and almost fell over.

   Big Mac chuckled to himself as he walked away.  “One point, Slugs!” he reminded Snails.  “Don’t forget about it.”

- - -

   “There we go,” Big Mac cinched the last strap up tight.  “That comfortable?  That horse collar ain’t to big for you is it?”

   “It’s fine, sir,” Snails said, struggling under the weight.

   “Right,” Big Mac said.  “Plowing.  This here little patch of soil is the one we call the Old Nag.  It’s always grown more rocks and gopher holes than it has vegetables.  But this year we plan to change that, and that means plowing.  Plow straight from this end, over to where you see the grass on the other side.  See it?”

   “I see it.”

   “Good.  Plow there, and back.  As many rows as you can.  Straight rows, mind you.  If you mess them up, you’ll have to do them over again.  Now I’ll come and take over for you after a couple of hours, and I’ll plow for the same amount of time while you take a breather.  Whoever plows the most rows gets a point.  OK?”

   “OK.”

   “Now you’re already beating me two points to nothing, Slugs.  I don’t know what I was thinking dozing off while you were stacking all those bales by yourself.  But I mean to make up for it when I get my turn on the plow.  Alright.  Off you go.”

   Big Mac slapped his hoof on the colt’s little rump.  Snails strained at the harness, grunting and sweating.  His hooves were slipping on the dusty soil.  Finally, the dull, rusty blade of the plow was pulled forward an inch.  Two.  Three.

   Big Mac rolled his eyes as he walked away.  It would take Snails forever just to get one row.  Oh well, at least somebody was plowing this worthless plot of land.  “Only one contest after this!” he called back to Snails.  “And it’s a big one.  So you better put your back into it if you really want to win!”

- - -

   Hours later, and Big McIntosh led a slow-moving Snails up into the shade of the big red barn.  The sun was about to kiss the horizon and was turning red itself.  The shade was deep, and starting to turn cool in the evening air.

   Snails slumped down into the grass, totally exhausted from his plowing.  Big Mac looked at that field he called Old Nag.  There were plenty of new furrows, all straight as an arrow.  He had to admit it looked as good as it ever had.

   He looked back down at Snails.  Big Mac liked what he saw.  Snails’ body was heaving.  His brow was covered with sweat.  His mouth was hanging open.  He just looked so young and innocent.  Defenseless.  Snails had long, supple legs.  It gave his flank that oddly feminine look that colts his age sometimes got.  Yes, Big Mac thought, Snails would do nicely.  He could feel himself getting aroused, watching the helpless colt on the ground.

   “Just one more contest,” Big Mac drawled in his slow, deep voice.

   “But the day’s almost over, Mr. Big Mac, sir,” Snails panted.

   “This one is just a short one.  But it’s the most important contest yet.  How many points did you say you had?”

   “Uh, three, sir.  Three to zero.”

   “Well this contest is worth four points.  So whoever wins this one wins the whole thing.  Winner gets laid.”

   “Wow,” Snails said, not suspecting a thing.  “What kind of contest is it?”

   “It’s a dick contest,” Big Mac said.  “Biggest dick wins.”

   Snails turned to look at Big Mac, then shot up onto his hooves at what he saw.  Big Mac had a massive, full erection and it was pointed right at Snails.  The thing was huge.  The Pride of Ponyvillle, the mares in town had nick-named it.  They knew it very well.  The mares all dreamed of it; the fillies had nightmares.  It was so long that if it had hung down vertically, instead of sticking out nearly horizontally, it would have almost grazed the grass.  There was a long thin cord of pre-cum hanging down from the tip of it.  Big Mac was ready to go.

   “Oh, would you look at that?” Big Mac said.  “I guess I win.  I get laid.  You know that piece of ass I was talking about this morning?  That was yours.  Now turn that sweet little colt ass around so I can fuck it.  Sure, it’ll hurt.  But I’ll make it quick.”

   “No way!” Snails screamed.

   “You gonna put up a fight, boy?  You entered a contest.  You lost it fair and square.  This ain’t the first time I’ve won this game.  Nobody, but nobody, has ever backed out of losing.  Do you really want to do that?  We keep things secret here on the farm.  But you don’t want to hear the ponies in town talking about how you backed out on your obligations and your honor, do you?”

   “Wait a minute.  Are you telling me that if I had a bigger dick than you, then you’d let me fuck you in the ass?”

   “Ha! Well, I guess I’d be pretty much obliged to.  There’s one thing I ain’t, it’s a liar.  Thank god that ain’t gonna happen.  Now turn that sweet little thing around.”

   Snails started to laugh.  His giggling turned into chuckling.

   “Whatchu laughing at?” Big Mac asked.

   “I win!” Snails cheered.  “You call that little thing a dick?”  He laughed harder.

   “The fuck you talking about?”

   “Hang on a second.” Snails closed his eyes and started to grunt.  Big Mac wasn’t sure what the little snot was doing at first.  It looked like he was trying to think about something really hard.  Big Mac couldn’t imagine what was going through his pea brain, and he didn’t really want to know.  “Twist Twist Twist Twist Twist,” Snails muttered.

   Big Mac’s eyes bulged when he saw Snails’ dick head pop out from it’s sheath.  He wasn’t sure what he was seeing at first.  It seemed too big to have come out of his little sheath.  It was like some kind of giant mushroom.  “Twist Twist Twist Twist,”  Snails kept repeating.  The thing just kept coming out.  Big Mac couldn’t believe his eyes.  “Twist Twist Twist.  Miss Cheerilee.”  His cock flopped down onto the ground, still semi-erect, still growing.  “Oh god, Twist and Miss Cheerilee.”  Snails had to take a step backwards, rather than have his rear end lifting off the ground.  “Twist, Miss Cheerilee, Sunny Daze and Peachy Pie.”  His cock started to lift up off the ground.

   If Big Mac didn’t know it was impossible, he would have sworn that Snails’ cock was so long it was sticking out through his front legs.  Big Mac didn’t even notice his own dick drooping down, flaccid, then retracting back into his own sheath like a tape measure with a sense of inadequacy.  “And Applebloom,” Snails said.  His dick jerked upwards a bit, almost fully erect.  “And her sister.  Oh god,” he moaned.  “I’m gonna fuck her big brother.”  With that, Snails’ penis became rock hard.  It put Big Mac to shame.

   “What the fuuuck,” Big Mac groaned before he fainted.

- - -

   “Ow, fuck!” Big Mac was cursing fifteen minutes later, as Snails slammed his cock into his anus over and over.  “Ow.  Ow!  Fuck!”

   Big Mac heard Snails snickering from behind.  The colt had lubed up with some axle grease they had found in the barn.  Big Mac didn’t know if that was safe for internal use, but dammit there was no way it could have squeezed in dry.  He felt like he was being split apart as it was.

   “Can’t you hurry up and finish?” he begged.

   Snails didn’t answer right away.  He was enjoying the sensation of domination too much.  He slid his dick all the way out of Big Mac’s ass to the head, then slowly stuffed it in again, just to tease him.

   “You know, if you keep distracting me with your complaints, it’s just going to take longer,” he said.  With his cock deep inside, he humped with a series of shallow jerks.  “Maybe if you were a better fuck I’d finish faster.”

   “Dammit,” Big Mac mumbled under his breath.

   “What was that?” Snails asked.

   “Nothing,” Big Mac said.

   “Nothing who?”

   “Snails” Big Mac mumbled.

   “Louder,” Snails commanded.

   “Snails!” Big Mac shouted, his eyes full of tears.

   “Tell me you want it.”  Snails started slamming his cock into him, extra hard and extra fast now.

   “Oh, fuck me, Snails!”  Big Mac screamed.  “Fuck me hard!  Oh God, I want it so bad!  Fuck me, fuck me!”

   Snails grinned and didn’t slow down.  Plowing  a field was one thing, but he could keep this sort of plowing up for a long, long time.

- - -

   Half an hour later, Big Mac was on his back.  Snails was between his spread hind legs, still fucking him.  Both of their bodies were covered in sweat now.

   “How are you still fucking me?” Big Mac squealed.  “You’re just a colt.  You should have a hair trigger.”

   “I’ve been around the block a few times,” Snails bragged.  “What’s the point of having a big cock like mine if you don’t know how to use it right?”

   Much to Big Mac’s regret, Snails was using it a little too right.  His erection had returned.  It was laying across his belly, occasionally bouncing up and down as Snails’ cock hammered into him.  His belly was bulging with the size of it.

   It was all too much for Big Mac.  He placed one hoof down on his swaying balls.  With the other he started to stroke his shaft.

   “Oh god,” Big Mac whispered.  Snails hadn’t even made him say it.  “Fuck me.”  Snails watched, amused, as Big Mac shot his load all over his own chest.  He rubbed it into his coat with both his hooves.

   “Ha ha,” Snails laughed.  “Gross.”

- - -

   Half an hour later, and now Snails was on his back.  His work, for the day, was finally done.  Big Mac, however, was straddling him and working his shaft.  Snails just laid his head back, smiled, and watched Big Mac take care of business.  His hips were rocking around just like any mare’s might.  He was biting his lower lip and breathing through the corners of his mouth.

   “Oh, baby,” Big Mac sighed.

   “Mmmm,” Snails moaned.

   “Oh, baby,” Big Mac said.  “You like that?  You like it like that?  You like to fill me up with your big, rock-hard cock?  Oh, baby, because I like it.”

   “Ohhhh,” Snails groaned.

   “Yeah, you like it when I take care of you, don’t you.  Oh god, you’re so big.  Come on, baby, come on.”

   “Awww, yeah,” Snails said.  “Oh, yeah, I’m coming. Get off, get off.”

   Big Mac stood up straight and had to waddle forward up Snails’ body before Snails’ cock finally fell out of his ass.  He instinctively laid back down on the ground.

   Snails quickly stood up.  “Open up,” he said.

   Big Mac opened his mouth as wide as he could.  Straight from ass to mouth, Snails stuffed his cock between Big Mac’s lips as far as it could go, which wasn’t much past the head.  Snails came.  It was a huge load after his hard day’s work.

   Big Mac choked on it.  Snails’s hot, white cum came shooting out Big Mac’s nostrils.  Snails laughed and backed up off of him.

   Big Mac stood up again, and started furiously spitting and choking and sneezing Snails’ semen onto the ground.  “What,” Big Mac choked.  “What the fuck?  What just happened?  What the fuck did I just do?”

   “You just sucked my cock,” Snails said as he started to stroll away.  “And that wasn’t even a prize in the contest.  Oh, and you still owe me twenty bits.  I’ll be back tomorrow to collect.  You better have my money, bitch.”

The End