Doug claps Big Mac on the withers, next to his harness. “Congratulations!”

Big Mac barely feels the hit. He gulps, staring at the flier. Herding announcement? When did he-

“So,” Doug says to Marble Pie, quickly changing tacks and now giving a supportive pat, “somepony needs to get ready.” He tussles Big Mac’s short cropped mane, gently leading the stupefied stallion away. “See if we can’t get this big lug presentable. Stallions, you know?”

“Mm,” Marble Pie says, readily accepting this explanation. It is getting close to party time. She walks away with Fluttershy and the fillies, though her focus stays on Big Mac.

“You doing okay?” Doug asks as they leave earshot, though Big Mac suspects the human again underestimates pony hearing.

“Ee-” Big Mac starts. Part of him wants to end that with a clear ‘Nope’. A large part. One could even say a big part. How is he possibly supposed to herd up with a pony he hardly knows? At the same time, a ‘Yup’ would be a lie with how his thoughts are all jumbled up. Wouldn’t it?

He chances a glance back. Marble Pie’s smile grows a little larger before she looks away, flipping her mane. He likes seeing her smile.

“...Yup.” Big Mac snorts as they head toward the shower stall, his muzzle hard. He flaps the ‘invitation’. “This ain’t real. Rainbow Dash put you up to it. Or Pinkie Pie.”

“‘Fraid not,” Doug says, kicking off his dust-covered jackboots. He strips out of his traveling garb, Big Mac understanding him wanting to get out of the constrictive and concealing garments, even as he finds his own yoke a comfortable weight. “There’s a mare out there who fully expects to bind you to her and vice versa. Maybe not tonight, but within a fortnight or so.”

“Oh?” It’s just like the human to play peacekeeper. Big Mac demands, “Then Pinkie Pie put ya up to this? Ya knew what that bottle meant?”

Doug looks away, mouth tightening, left hand squeezing the apples on his right hand. “I did,” he answers as he continues stripping down. “I didn’t know she planned on doing anything so soon. Nopony put me up to it, but they made their intentions plenty clear.” Big Mac stops outside the outdoor shower. Doug holds the door open, expecting him to follow. He cracks a smirk. “I know I like the smell of apples and sweat, but I can’t say the same for everypony in Ponyville.”

Big Mac grumbles as they head into the shower stall. Of course he won’t be able to skip out on the party, not if it’s for him. And why does Doug think he needs help getting ready? He’s not some little colt, needing dam to scrub behind his ears!

Doug has to stoop over to fit under the nozzle, the one in the Carrot House built to accommodate his taller stature, though there’s plenty of space for them to fit. He sets out the shampoo and sponges before grabbing a brush and scrubbing away at the dirt caked into the red coat. He shrugs as Big Mac just stares at a wall, the sun tattooed on his muscled chest rippling. “I don’t mind if you talk, even if Applejack doesn’t always appreciate it.”

He wants him to talk? Fine. “So ya just went along with it?” Big Mac asks, resisting when Doug pushes him this way and that, though he struggles to stay mad at the one willing to clean his back and other hard to reach spots. “Ya didn’t think Ah’d object to some mare Ah don’t know nothin’ about up’n decidin’ Ah was gonna be her stallion?”

“Yeah,” Doug says with a bitter edge Big Mac didn’t expect, his brush strokes getting harsher. “I did.”

Oh. Big Mac gulps, no longer fighting. Ah guess he does know what that’s like.

“You could back out,” Doug continues, making quick work of Big Mac’s sides before filling a bucket with warm water and rinsing his coat. “Nothing is set.”

Could he do that to Pinkie Pie’s sister? It’s expected of a stallion to say yes, barring some extenuating circumstances, and this certainly would qualify. He would tell Marble Pie no, he’s interested in somepony else. And she would burst into tears and run off. And Pinkie Pie would forever haunt his nights, endlessly sharpening her bread knives and zucchini skewers and castration shears, madness in her straight-mane shrouded eyes.

No, no, that’s ridiculous. Pinkie Pie doesn’t grill with zucchini skewers, that’s more Doug’s specialty. Maybe she’d borrow them from him? Regardless, he doesn't want to draw the partymare’s ire.

“...Eeyup.” Big Mac sighs. He wonders if the rock farm can support apple trees. It should; after all, cousin Braeburn makes it work in the deserts of Appleloosa. “Why’d she want to herd up with me, anyway?”

“This is probably something you should ask her,” Doug says with a chuckle. “You know, get to know her better and all.” He starts on Big Mac’s undercarriage, working in the shampoo and rinsing as he goes, talking to distract them. “She thinks she should be able to make it work with anypony who shares her values. Not that she doesn’t think you’re fine stud material or anything; we may have talked up some of your hunkier attributes.”

Big Mac stands straighter. “Eeyup?”

Doug barks out a laugh as he slaps Big Mac’s muscular flank. “She’s quiet. You’ll like her.” He takes two towels to dry him off, then runs a second brush while rubbing in a little oil to leave the coat nice and glossy.

Big Mac takes a moment to admire himself. He looks good. Doug’s washed him off before, of course, but he didn’t expect this skill at pampering from the human, who takes but a second to wash his hair and then towel off. “Ya practiced with Rarity?”

“Eeyup,” Doug returns with a wink. “And Rainbow Dash, but don’t tell anypony.”

Big Mac rolls his eyes, as if anypony didn’t know the pegasus’ love for anything physical.

The other ponies have already left, and if they don’t dawdle they’ll get to Ponyville when the party starts. Big Mac can see decorations sprouting up all over, gulping at the thought of being the center of attention. He’s glad for Doug walking next to him, though he doubts the human is any more thrilled.

“So,” Doug says with a conspiratorial note in his voice, “tell me more about this Misty Fly.”

“Err, what’s there to tell?” Big Mac lets out a nervous chuckle. Now that he thinks about it, he knows as much about her as he does about Marble Pie. “She’s new to Ponyville, and-”

“A new pony in Ponyville?!” Pinkie Pie exclaims, eyes bulging as she skids to a stop. “Skewer me! How come nopony told me there was a new pony in Ponyville!” She grabs the flier out of Big Mac’s hooves and scribbles in the margins that, in addition to being a cute-ceañera and herding announcement it would also be Misty Fly’s Welcome to Ponyville party.

“Hey, Pinkie?” Doug says a split second before she takes off. She pauses in midair. “Isn’t Marble Pie also new?”

Pinkie Pie’s eyes bulge out a second time, now threatening to spill out of her face. “Well, yeah, silly, but if ponies thought I brought ponies to Ponyville just to throw them a Welcome to Ponyville party then my pony party propensity might be probed!”

“Problematic,” Doug agrees. “But since you’re already throwing a Welcome to Ponyville Party then that potential pickle doesn’t apply.”

Pinkie Pie gasps. “Perfect! Appreciated, partner!” She gives Doug a great big hug before zooming off. Furious sounds soon echo from Ponyville, saws and hammers and drills, the construction version of Pinkie Pie’s tubanjaccordidrum.

Big Mac looks at the flier in his hoof, which now states the party is also for Marble Pie, crammed into the one remaining empty spot. He doesn’t remember her changing it. Or giving it back to him, for that matter. Best to ignore it.

He continues from where he left off, “Rainbow Dash pointed out how nice it is havin’ a weather pony with a stake in the farm.”

“Rainbow Dash does take pride in proving she’s the best,” Doug agrees. He elbows Big Mac in the side. “Plus, it helps that Misty’s a looker.”

Big Mac snorts. “You say that about everypony.”

“I can’t help it if it’s true.” Doug whistles, a catcall, his attention suddenly on the pink mare standing brashly in front of them. “Speaking of.”

“Miss Cheerilee?” Big Mac says, momentarily confused. No, it’s just a mare that looks exactly like her except more muscular, with a cutie mark of a brown branch with three white blossoms, her two-tone pink mane spiky and hugging her neck.

“Close,” the mystery mare says with a confident smirk. Behind her, in Ponyville proper, a number of ponies from Ponyville are gathering to watch, including Rainbow Dash and Misty Fly. “Name’s Cherry Blossom. My sister wrote about here, and about you, but it wasn’t until Gladmane recommended I come on down that I decided to see what all the fuss is about.”

Another sister of a Ponyvillian? And she knows Gladmane? Big Mac isn’t sure where this is going, but he is certain he doesn’t like it.

“Honestly?” Cherry Blossom’s smirk intensifies. “I don’t know that I care for what I see.”

“Ee-what?” Big Mac says, his hackles rising. The crowd boos, yet she seems immune to it, even going so far as to relish the jeers.

“Either everypony here must be blind,” Cherry Blossom continues with a dismissive flick at the coarse crowd. They mutter among themselves, dams plugging foals’ ears and glaring not at the ponies uttering the invectives but at the mare deserving of them. “Fine stallion like you, and you’re only now getting snatched up?” She waves one of the fliers, which Pinkie Pie takes the opportunity to modify mid-wave. “Either that or you’re the kind of stallion who gets caught up in his own harness.”

“It ain’t worth it, Mac,” Doug cautions, lightly pulling on his yoke, but Big Mac can see the twinkle in his eye, like he’s playing a part rather than saying what he actually believes. “You’re better than this!”

“So which is it, hoss?” Cherry Blossom demands, puffing her chest out. “Are you a nopony from Notown?” She pauses, Rainbow Dash nudging Misty Fly and muttering some nonsense about ‘dramatic effect’. “Or just too chicken to prove it?”

That does it. “Eenope,” Big Mac says, shrugging off the human. Doug stumbles back, exaggerating the push. He takes two steps forward, which Cherry Blossom mirrors, the mare downright eager to take on somepony with a hundred kilos on her. That makes him wary, especially how she smoothly slips into a wrestling stance, low to the ground with one foreleg raised, warding him away while threatening to quickly close the gap.

So that’s how she wants to play it? Big Mac raises the opposite leg, charging forward, batting her aside so he can grab at her supporting foreleg.

She must have read him like a book because she uses his momentum against him, rolling with his charge while grabbing onto his reaching foreleg with both of hers. She pulls, hard, throwing him off balance and on top of her. He does little to cushion his fall, landing with his entire weight on her, but the hit that knocks her breath out barely fazes her. She tries to sweep her body around his head, to wrap her back legs around his foreleg and completely neutralize any danger he might pose while threatening to dislocate one or both forelegs by straightening her body out.

Big Mac has none of that. He pushes forward, his grip on her withers like a vice, completing the roll and bringing him to his hooves. She still has a death grip on his foreleg, her body suspended in midair, her whole weight hanging from the one appendage. He doesn’t want to hurt her, not badly, but she’s not looking like she’s going to let go any time soon. He lifts her up, ignoring the discomfort, and drops down on her, using about a tenth of his weight.

She grunts at the hoof compressing her chest, redoubling her attempt to subdue him with the legbar. If she could get her back legs around his neck he’d be done, but his yoke is doing a marvelous job of keeping her from completing the hold.

Big Mac grunts in pain, not yet out of the fight. He roars as he lifts again and slams down with everything he has.

Cherry Blossom lets go, rolling out of the way in the nick of time as he pulverizes the street, a cloud of dust billowing upward.

‘Ah put too much into that,’ Big Mac thinks, off balance from how much power he used, as she seizes the opportunity to leap onto his back and slip one foreleg between his yoke and his neck. He clamps down, instinctually, trying to keep her out, but there’s no dislodging the mare now. The dust makes it impossible to hold down a breath without coughing, and he can’t reach her. He drops down on his side, trying to relieve the pressure, but it’s too late, and all he can offer is a pair of light taps to her foreleg.

“Whew-wee, partner!” Cherry Blossom offers as she immediately lets go, hopping off and offering to haul him to his hooves. “Yer a fighter!” He accepts, if grudgingly, though there’s no glee or gloating coming from her. Likewise, the crowd doesn’t seem put out at all, even Rainbow Dash stomping along. “Didn’t expect to go all out like that!” She winks as she pulls him close, whispering in his ear, “I like that.”

“Ee…” Big Mac says as he pulls away, only for her to plant a kiss solidly on his muzzle. “...What?”

“What?” Cherry Blossom echoes, smirking as she raises an eyebrow. “Did ya think I’d put ya down for puttin’ up a good fight? ‘Course not, partner! How many stallions are willing to take a stand like you did? There’s no shame in losin’, as long as you gave it your best shot! And your best?” She winks again, slower this time, making absolutely sure he gets the full implication. “I think I could stand to receive a little more of your best.” She flicks her head at one of the fliers dotting the crowd. “That herding announcement? I want in.”

Big Mac blinks twice, kicking himself for ever being jealous of Pomarbo. Three of them? How much worse can this day get?

Next Chapter: Ch. 182 - Omen on the Winds, Part Four Estimated time remaining: 3 Hours, 23 Minutes