>Big Macintosh is spending his day ploughing the field.
>His stomach growls and he has to pause, the serious exertion clearly doing numbers to his bowels.
>He looks up from his work, beads of sweat falling down his luxurious golden corn mane to see a figure approaching in the distance.
>Oh fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck
>It's Cheerilee.
>She waves in delight and trots over, a basket slung across her side packed with freshly picked daisies. 
>Ever since his sister and those meddling shitcake friends of hers tried to get them together the bitch hasn't given him a moment alone.
>He doesn't want a very special somepony.
>He just wants his older sister.
>"Oh hi Big Mac! I was just passing through the area and I saw these wonderful little flowers and I thought Granny Smith might like them but I can't find her so I thought you could take them off my hooves-"
>Her babble of words is ruptured by a low pitched groaning fart.
>His tail flutters in the breeze.
>The plough is nearly blown away.
>Cheerilee stares in horror.
>Big Macintosh's face doesn't even twitch.
>Smells like apples.
>Finally done he strains a little and tenses his flanks.
>His asshole begins to stretch and beyond, in the unfathomable abyss a silvery disk begins to appear.
>Hnnnnng....
>The UFO (Unidentified Forced Object) protrudes from his sweat-drenched donut. 
>The disk is roughly two inches deep.
>Really smells like apples.
>Finally it falls to the ground with a plop.
>Big Macintosh's hole reseals itself to its once-tight proportions.
>Cheerilee's jaw has almost dislocated itself.
>She peeks her head around, disbelieving what she's seeing.
>A freshly baked pie lies steaming in between his legs.
>It looks perfect.
>It smells wonderful.
>Big Macintosh just shat it out.
>"Ya hungry?" he asks.
>Cheerilee shakes her head and backs away.
>"Ah've got some cider to go with it?"
>He cocks his leg and her eyes bulge.
>Now she knows why they call him Big Macintosh.
>It contrasts with his tiny knob.