Well, well, well...just look at you, pal. Aren't you the sorriest-looking motherfucker in the world right about now?

Oh, sure, you LOOK big and strong, but please. You didn't even get five steps past the door before they pasted your big red ass.

What? You don't remember how you got here? Well, sure, we could spend time blabbering about what just happened, but you're kinda fucking dying right now, so...

Oh, alright. Fine. It's your sister. Remember? It all started when the two of you were asked to check out that old abandoned barn deep in the west orchard. You know, the place that's infested by fruit bats? Yeah. So the two of you go out to that old barn, and some REAL FUCKIN' UGLY CRITTER comes flying out, wraps its scaly, slimy tentacles around Applejack, and drags her into the old barn.

You went in after her, of course. And you're pretty strong...anypony else would've died by now. Not that you're doing much better, pal.

Oh, wait, we've gotta stop. Your heart's about to stop beating. You've pretty much bled out, you know.

Right, so here's the thing. I can make you better. I can make you stronger. I can help you save your sister. You do want to save her, right? I mean, she's your sister. And a fine piece of ass, too, if you were into the whole incest thing. Don't look at me like that. You know she's hot.

So, all you've gotta do is...put me on. Can you do that, big fella? Can you put me on?

"Eeee......yup."

Fuckin' A! Glad to hear it. So, stop lying there dying, stick your face in me, and let's go kick some demon ass.

AW HELL YEAH! Now we're talking! Can ya FEEL it, Big Mac? Can ya FEEL me inside you? Heh. Yeah, I went there. Guess what? I'm you now, and you're me. Congratulations. You're alive. That big ol' heart of yours is gonna keep right on pumpin'. Can you stand up?

Actually, you'd better stand the fuck up, because there's a demon right behind...

Oh, NICE! That was one sweet kick! Wow, you just glued that little bastard's guts right to the wall! I think we're gonna get along just fine.

Now let's go save your sister.

This is the strangest situation I've ever been in.

I'm a simple farmer. My life is usually pretty routine, and that's the way I like it. I do my farm chores, I spend time with my family, I sleep, I wake up, I do the whole thing all over again. Some may find that to be a dreary existence, but it suits me just fine, because I don't really care much for complicated things. I'm just a simple farmer.

So how in Celestia's feathery armpit did I wind up in this mess?

There's something plain not right about this old barn in the part of Sweet Apple Acres we more or less avoid. My pa, Fuji Apple, built this barn back around the time I was born. One of my earliest memories is of Granny Smith asking Pa why he wanted to build a barn so far out from the farmhouse. He never really did answer her.

Well, after Pa died, the fruit bats took over the west orchard, and nopony's set foot in Pa's old barn ever since...until today, when me and Applejack came out here to have a look around. Then Applejack got dragged into the heart of Tartarus by whatever the HECK that thing was that grabbed her. I ran in after her. Something just inside the door tore me wide open. I fell to the floor, bleeding. My race was lost.

But then something started talking to me. And it weren't using nice words, neither. But it told me it could help me save Applejack...keep me from dying...

Turns out, it was this really evil-looking old mask, looks like some kind of demon skull or something. I don't know what made me put it on...I guess I was just that desperate.

Immediately, I stopped dying. I got up and I felt stronger than I've ever felt in my life. Like I could buck fifty trees with one kick.

But now I'm surrounded by these downright bizarre monsters that are just plain disgusting, this barn is ridiculously huge—it's a BARN, it isn't even this big on the outside, where'd all these extra rooms come from?—and I've got this creepy mask on my face.

The mask is alive, and it won't shut up. It likes it when I kill the demons. It likes it best if the kill is really messy. Which it always seems to be—whatever this mask did to me, every time I kick a demon, I spray its slimy, smelly guts all over the place.

And it likes to use the F-word. A lot.

Hey. I hate to break the fourth wall here, but are you done with your monologue? Because you'd be better off spending your time going after your sister. Oh, and by the way? Fuck fuckity fuck fucker fucking fuck.

* * * * *

Big Macintosh stretched each of his limbs and rolled his neck as he made his way through the third rough, uneven doorway he'd encountered since entering the barn. He paused for a moment to spare a glance toward the room he'd left behind. He felt his stomach turn. The corpses of strange, unnatural creatures littered the room, much as they had the room before, and the room before that. Blood was splattered everywhere. Not all of it was red. Almost none of it was his.

Shaking his head and snorting, he proceeded into the next room, wary and alert. There didn't seem to be any monsters in this room. Rather, it was dusty, overgrown with cobwebs, and sported a single round wooden table, a short bench, a dusty whiskey bottle, and a large, dirty, cracked mirror. He walked up to the mirror and began cleaning it off as best he could with his fetlock. In the dim light, he could just barely see himself. He gasped and took a step back.

He had always been a large, powerfully-built stallion, but now he had muscles to rival that pegasus bodybuilder he'd met at the town festival. His hooves were enormous, and while they had always had a brassy sheen to them, now they looked like hardened bronze. They were also covered in dried blood. His yoke had changed into a sinister-looking piece of segmented armor with two massive, curved spikes jutting out of it.

And upon his face was the most demonic, evil thing he had ever seen. It looked like the skull of some terrible evil beast.

A massive, scaly claw shot forth from the old mirror, shattering it. Three spindly green fingers tipped in needle-sharp black talons clamped around his neck and began to squeeze. Panicking, he reached up and seized the claw with his hooves. It didn't even occur to him to try to pry the thing's talons away from his throat. The only thing Big Macintosh could think to do was plant his hind legs firm on the floor and yank backwards with all his might.

Something behind the mirror gave a bloodcurdling scream of pain as the claw tore loose from the arm it belonged to. A fountain of inky green-black blood spewed from the stump, washing over Big Mac as he stumbled across the room, crashing into the table and overturning the whiskey bottle, which rolled around on the floor with a dull clink. The pressure on his throat eased, and he tore the severed limb away, hurling it at the empty frame of the mirror.

Whatever had been on the other side had moved away, revealing another doorway behind the mirror. With a grimace, Big Mac pressed forward.

In the next room, he peered around warily for any new threats. Minus the corpses, it looked much like the rooms he'd already passed through. He saw a door on the other side of the room. He began to head for it, keeping a wary eye out...

A dozen gibbering green creatures fell from the ceiling, landing on his back and tearing into his flesh with their sharp claws.

With a bellow of pain and rage, Big Mac began bucking and thrashing wildly. His hooves caught some of them, tearing through their scaly bodies and spreading their slimy innards across the room. The curved spikes on his yoke sliced through two more, raining their ichor down around his ears as his thrashing tossed their split remains to the floor. Four, however, were staying well clear of his flailing hooves and deadly spikes, and had begun to feast on his flesh.

Snorting, Big Mac pawed the ground and charged the wall at full gallop. He turned his flank to the wall as he approached, skidding on his hooves. The feasting creatures couldn't escape their fate in time—they were crushed against the wall by Big Mac's body. As soon as they had released his flesh from their claws and fangs, he turned his back to them and bucked them into a thin, greasy paste.

Heh, you're really getting into this now.

Charging for the door, Big Macintosh entered the next room, looking in all directions for threats. What he saw made him skid to a halt. "What the..."

While the next room still more or less looked like part of a barn—though no barn he'd ever seen was anything like this—it was also, in a way, very much not part of a barn, or any other building he'd ever been inside.

Enormous ropes of slippery intestine snaked along the walls—no, Big Mac realized with sick fascination, the intestines were part of the walls. They snaked and slithered in and out of the wood, interspersed with large, spidery patches of veins, throbbing with blood.

Huh. There's somethin' you don't see every day.

"What...the heck...is goin' on here?"

This room was very large, which made the bizarre decor all the more nauseating. There were no monsters that Big Mac could see, but he remained wary, for he had been fooled twice already.

He explored the room and found three large doors on one side. Bracing himself, he opened the first door.

Inside was a normal tool closet—normal if you counted the blobs of stomach acid dripping from the ceiling and burning through the floor, that is. In the center was a plow blade which had been refitted with some sort of hoof harness.

You might wanna take that, Macky. You never know.

Big Mac spent a moment figuring out how to strap the razor-sharp plow onto his right front leg, and a moment longer arranging it so he could still walk with it attached. Then, he stepped forward with purpose and determination and opened the middle door.

He was immediately trampled by a massive zombie cow.

Pushing himself onto his hooves, he turned just in time to dodge as the enraged cow let out a terrifying moo and charged again, crashing into the wall. She was twice the size of any cow he'd ever seen. Her coat, what little was left of it, was a dingy green-grey. Her eyes were jaundiced and milky. In many places, her skin and even the flesh underneath had been torn or rotted away, revealing bones and innards. Her bulging udder was a slimy black mass of tumors which nearly touched the floor.

"N-now, just hold on there, ma'am..."

The cow faced him and charged again, bellowing. He began running in circles, dodging her furious onslaught.

Son of a...are you some kinda fuckin' pussy, Macky? That ain't good ol' Daisy Jo over there! That's a giant mutated zombie cow of DEATH, dumbass, and if you don't fight back, she's gonna stomp your goofy farmer guts into glue! Sound off like ya got a pair and hack up that heifer!

Skidding to a halt in the center of the room, Big Macintosh made his stand. As the undead cow charged again, he feinted left...then just as she passed, he spun around and used the plow blade to chop off her head.

The severed zombie cow head rolled across the floor, bumping into the wall, where it stared blankly back at Big Mac.

The body skidded to a stop, stumbled, then turned and faced Big Mac again. It reared, then charged even faster than before.

Well, fuck.

Big Mac whinnied as he dodged the headless zombie cow to the best of his abilities. It clipped him a few times, and it stung worse than anything he could remember, but he stayed on his hooves, watching and waiting. *Cutting off the head didn't do the trick...* Beneath the mask, he smiled grimly. "Time to milk this heifer."

What the fuck?! That's just SICK, man!

"No, it's the only thing that makes sense." As the cow came around again, Big Macintosh sidestepped, plow at the ready. Her front legs had just passed his head when he made a lightning-fast movement, sticking the plow blade up underneath her.

Her momentum slowed as the plow bit into her tumor-encrusted udder. Inky black fluid spurted from the engorged gland, exuding a foul stench that permeated the air. The cow came to a complete stop, thrashing and writhing. With a mighty heave, Big Mac tore the plow through the udder, ripping it completely from the zombie cow's torso. It splattered heavily to the ground, spraying him with foul-smelling ichor.

Inside the udder was a diseased, pulsating cow brain, swarming with fat black maggots.

Big Macintosh raised one mighty hoof and smashed the undead brain.

Huh. Typical girl. Good thinking there.

"Shut up." Big Macintosh wiped his hoof on the floor as best he could, then trotted over to the remaining door, opening it. Behind it there was a rough wooden staircase which led up to the second story of the barn. Veins and intestines snaked their way through the supports of the stairs. With a grunt, Big Mac began to climb.

Hey, you know what I just realized? Whatever this barn really is, I think we were just in its ass. That means you came in through its asshole!

"I said shut up."

* * * * *

Applejack awoke to find herself tightly bound by strong, slimy, warm, pulsing ropes.

She opened her eyes and struggled against her bindings, to no avail.

She looked down at her hooves and discovered that what held her in place could not remotely be described as ropes. Rather, they were...

No, vines didn't quite fit either. Tentacles, perhaps?

That was the best she could come up with, but even that didn't quite fit.

She chanced a glance around the room she was being held in, and was immediately hit with a wave of nausea.

The room around her could barely be called a room. She was only vaguely able to recognize the wooden planks and supports that told of an Apple-built barn, and then only because the nightmarish things surrounding her had overgrown and encrusted the original structure.

She was surrounded by what could only be described as massive, pulsating organs.

Blood vessels crisscrossed massive plaques of pink, bumpy flesh. Thick bundles of nerves snaked in and out of the den of organic tissues, their roots branching and anchoring haphazardly. A large, bulging white sac hung above her head, quivering in time with the low, steady thrum which now registered on her senses. Two large, transulecent green tubes ran up the length of one wall; giant mutant sperm floated slowly up and down the tubes, moving like jellyfish.

A terrible stench wafted through the already foul-smelling room, and Applejack finally lost her lunch.

A slimy purple tentacle suddenly shot up in her face, staring at her through a milky grey eye. It blinked; its eye sank into its flesh, and was replaced by a needle-sharp barb with a hollow point. Before she could even register this abrupt occurance, the barb buried itself in her neck.

She felt an icy warmth spread through her body. Everything seemed to slow down.

Her last thought before chemically-induced sleep took her was:

What the heck is something like this doin' on the family farm?

* * * * *

The theme of various random organs and blood vessels being part of the barn had long since worn out its welcome as Big Macintosh crept through the second story. Dozens of hideous creatures were literally coming out of the woodwork; the violent deaths he bestowed upon them were also getting tiresome. While Big Mac was not a violent stallion by nature, and the first spate of gruesome demon murders had been disgusting and troublesome, it had now become a simple matter of routine to snap necks, splatter bodies, rip off heads, disembowel...

Through a door up ahead, he could hear a whirring, grinding sound. Approaching cautiously, he discovered a room with a long, thin wooden plank that crossed a pit full of spinning, grinding blades.

Whoa! Better watch your step there, chief.

"Eeyup," Big Macintosh agreed. He warily trotted out onto the plank, minding his hooves as he crossed...

Zombified ponies dropped onto the plank, shaking it. Their low moans rattled their bones, and dusty patches of flesh fell from their decaying frames.

With a growl, Big Macintosh turned and bucked the zombies off the edge of the plank. They fell into the shredding pit, spraying rotten flesh, bone, and tissues into the air. With a snort of disgust, Big Macintosh finished crossing.

In the next room, he found himself ascending a winding staircase that led up to the next story—but it wound around the edges of the room, which had another pit full of spinning woodchippers where its floor should have been. A cloud of batlike demons descended upon him from high above. "Now this is just gettin' ridiculous," Big Macintosh grumbled. He pulled out a weapon he'd found in an earlier room—a belt-fed shotgun with a long bandolier of ammo—and started shooting the flying demons out of the air. As the buckshot ripped apart wings, torsos, and heads with abandon, the screaming bat-demons fell into the hungry chippers below, exploding into sprays of gore.

See, that's the kind of shit that got this fic a Mature rating.

Big Mac had nearly run out of ammo when he finally arrived at the top of the stairs. He found himself in a large room with a rope-operated haylift at the opposite end. Watching out for monsters, he crossed the room...

The floor exploded in a shower of splinters. A creature that looked like a cross between a minotaur and a pig leapt into the room. Its porcine face was twisted in rage. Rather than trotters, its arms ended in chainsaws. It let out a decidedly psychotic squeal, its chainsaw-hands whirring to life with a deafening roar.

Big Mac's ears drooped. "You have GOT to be KIDDING me."

Hey, I think I know this guy!

The pig-creature approached, chainsaw-hands roaring out their promise of brutal murder. Big Macintosh took aim with his shotgun and fired.

The buckshot ricocheted off one of the chainsaws, a few of the pellets digging deep into Big Mac's flesh. With a grimace, he took aim again, backing away slowly.

The pig-creature raised one of its arms, making a menacing slashing motion with its chainsaw. Big Mac fired again; this time, he succeeded in tearing off the pig's left arm, sending its chainsaw spinning away from its body.

Nice shot! Too bad it was your last.

Throwing the shotgun at the pig-thing to distract it, Big Macintosh charged past, seizing the severed chainsaw-hand. Pulling the cord to bring the saw roaring to life once more, he spun to face his piggy adversary. The two chainsaws met in a violent, roaring clash, sending showers of sparks spraying across both combatants' skin. But Big Mac was stronger than the pig-demon, and after forcing it back, he brought his saw around and began ripping through the demon's flesh, hacking it to pieces. Blood sprayed from each cut, coating the floor, the mask, Big Mac's fur and hooves...by the time he was done slicing his foe to ribbons, everything in the room was bathed in pig blood. Tossing the now-spent chainsaw aside, Big Mac turned and headed for the hay lift. He pulled the rope, sending the lift plummeting into the bowels of the beast. "Any idea why this thing's goin' down instead'a up?"

Nnnnope.

* * * * *

"Good, you're awake."

Applejack's eyes fluttered open. Everything was blurry and dim. She felt strange. "Huh? Where...?"

"Shh. Rest, child. You've got a terrible fever. Don't you fret none, Ah'm gonna look after you right proper-like."

Applejack's vision began to come into focus, and a face swam into her field of view. Her eyes widened. "What...?!"

"Hush now, my sweet child. Rest. Get yer strength back. Yer brother's out doin' his chores, an' Ah reckon he's achin' to see us somethin' fierce. So you gotta get better. Okay?"

Applejack's eyes felt so heavy, she couldn't muster the strength to argue. "Alright...Pa..."

* * * * *

Big Mac was now prowling a cellar lit by evil-looking oil lanterns that burned with greenish-black flames. Piles of derelict cider kegs lay strewn about the cavernous cellar, along with open wooden crates full of foul, rotten apples. As he navigated the maze, a slimy, segmented greyish-white thing dropped from the ceiling. It looked vaguely like a manticore, except that its body was segmented and slimy, and its head was more like that of an ant than a lion. Its scorpion tail, however, looked exceptionally deadly.

"What d'you reckon that is?" he asked conversationally.

Hell if I know. An anticore, maybe?

As the "anticore" lunged at Big Mac, he dove to the side and kicked a keg at it. It batted the keg away with a forelimb, and it impacted one of the lanterns...

The keg exploded, blowing the front half of the anticore into an apple crate. Its tail and hind legs dropped to the ground, twitching.

Big Mac's eyes widened behind the mask. "Right, time to be real careful."

No shit, genius.

A dozen more anticores crept quickly into view, blocking off the passage ahead. Slime dripped from their crushing jaws, and their tails coiled into striking position.

Praying he wouldn't accidentally kill himself, Big Mac began bucking the deadly kegs at the anticores. They failed to explode, but some of them burst, spilling a sludgy black substance onto the cellar floor. With a grunt, he leapt up, pulling down one of the oil lanterns, which he threw at the spreading sludge.

The kegs and their spilled payload exploded spectacularly. The anticores screeched as they were torn apart by the blast. The lucky few that survived the explosion writhed in agony as their bodies burned.

The clearing smoke and dust revealed a hole in the wall that had not previously existed. Curiously, Big Mac crept toward it and peered inside.

"Oh...mah...gosh."

Resting reverently on an ornate stand was the biggest machete Big Mac had ever seen. The blade was covered in the same sludgy black substance the kegs had been full of, and the hilt appeared to be insulated.

"Ah wonder," Big Mac mused, tapping a hoof against his masked muzzle. With a shrug, he picked up the machete. Then, with a prayer to whoever might be listening, he extended the blade out to the nearest twitching, burning anticore corpse.

The blade ignited beautifully, wreathing itself in a corona of bright blue-white flames. The fire refused to travel up the hilt.

Grinning savagely beneath the mask, Big Mac strode boldly through the cellar maze, carefully cradling his fiery find in his hooves.

For the next twenty minutes, every slimy, rotting, foul, disgusting, nightmarish thing that dared invade Big Mac's personal space met a swift burning death as the stallion ascended the gently sloping incline of the cellar path. After almost half an hour, the flickering blue flames wreathing the machete finally began to die. The path opened to a broad, circular chamber with a stout hemp rope hanging from a hole in the ceiling.

Waiting for him in this chamber was a creature that had the head and talons of a griffon, the torso and hind legs of a bull, and chitinous wings made of what appeared to be Changeling carapaces, if the random holes were any indication. The creature gave the distinct impression of having been crudely sewn together, and its individual opponents greatly resembled cadavers.

What the fuck is this, Flankenstein's monster?

The chimera unleashed a shrill avian cry and charged, raking its talons across Big Mac's chest. He grunted, surprised by its speed. He turned around and parried its next charge with his machete.

Now that it was no longer burning, the blade was weak, and snapped in the grasp of the monster's talons. The beast's head darted in before Big Mac could react; its beak tore into his shoulder, digging a deep, bloody gash. Bellowing in pain, Big Mac reared. His left front hoof caught the beast in the side of the head, spinning it around. Seeing this, Big Mac pounced, tackling it to the ground. Its insect-like wings buzzed as he planted his full weight on the chimera's muscular torso. He began thrashing and stomping, his hooves leaving deeper and deeper impressions in the patchwork beast's hide; by the time it was able to throw him off, great strips of ragged flesh had been ripped free from its body and tossed to the ground. It lifted itself ponderously into the air and dove for Big Mac. Its flying tackle might have been deadly...if it had been able to fly properly. Fortunately for the masked stallion, the chimera's mass and unfamiliarity with its own body worked against it. It hung in the air, lurching sluggishly toward him. Pawing the floor and snorting, Big Mac charged, leaping into the air and spinning to deliver a powerful double-hoof buck to the chimera's beak. It screeched as its head was torn free of its body. His momentum carried through, slamming the headless monster to the ground; he coiled his powerful legs and delivered the hardest kick he'd ever delivered in his life. His hooves tore through the bovine torso, spraying chunks of undead bull in every direction.

Pausing long enough to flick his tail at a Changeling wing that had gotten stuck to his flank, Big Mac snorted and grabbed the rope, ponderously hauling himself up into the chamber above.

* * * * *

When next Applejack awoke, she heard a voice growling strange, unfamiliar phrases in a guttural language that sounded like nothing she had ever heard.

The voice was familiar. It had been a very long time since she'd heard it, but she knew it all the same.

She struggled to rise, but she was still tightly bound. "Con...sarnit..." She thrashed her head about wildly. Her vision was less blurry, her mind clearer, but she still had no idea where she was or what was happening, and that left her nervous and on edge.

The strange chanting ceased abruptly. "Awake again, Ah see. So strong...heh. That's good." A stallion trotted slowly into Applejack's field of vision. His coat was almost pure white; his hooves were a parched applewood color, and his fetlocks were ragged and uneven. His somber green eyes were almost, but not quite, almond-shaped, and had the barest hint of a tilt to them. His short, coarse mane and tail were a dark, leafy green shot through with black streaks. He wore a flat, broad-brimmed black hat that was aged and torn. The Cutie Mark upon his flank depicted a single apple, bright orange-red and almost perfectly round.

Applejack's eyes widened, and she let out a gasp. "Pa..."

Fuji Apple regarded his daughter calmly for a long moment. "Ah've waited a long time fer this day, Applejack."

"Pa..." Applejack said roughly. "Ah...Ah can't believe...yer alive...how...?"

Fuji snorted. "Faked mah death. Had ter. Seein' as how I had ter kill yer ma, an' all."

Applejack gasped, straining against her bonds. "You....killed...?"

The old stallion sighed. "Yeah. Had ter kill 'er. She seen things. Things she shouldn't ought ter've seen. She had ter die." He looked back at Applejack. "Ah'm right sorry 'bout leavin' y'all without a momma. This all didn't hafter be this way."

Applejack was no longer certain she was awake. What she was seeing, what she was hearing...it was all impossible. It couldn't be real! "Pa? What's goin' on?"

Fuji turned away from her, striding calmly over to the large green tubes which conveyed the bizarre giant mutant sperm. As he watched the huge misshapen white blobs float up and down, he said, "Ah always hated apples."

Applejack blinked. "Huh?"

"Apples. Hate 'em." He turned around. "Ma sent me ter live in Neighpon fer nigh unto ten years when Ah was a bit younger'n you."

"Yeah, Ah reckon Ah've heard about that. You got yer Cutie Mark over there, right?"

Fuji chuckled. "Yeah. Reckon Ah did." He sighed. "But mah Cutie Mark's a fake."

"...beg pardon?"

"Mah special talent ain't got shit ter do with apples. Never did." He was quiet for a moment. "Ever hear of kindan ringo, Applejack?"

"Uhh...nope, can't say as Ah have."

Fuji nodded. "Didn't figger. It's a Neighponese sayin'. Th' forbidden apple. Know what th' forbidden apple is?" He waited for a moment, then continued, "It's sin, Applejack. The original sin. Th' very first bad thing anypony ever did, way back before Equestria, even before th' three tribes. One dumber'n dog shit little pony et an apple he were told not ter eat, an' that was when ever' last blessed evil thing that ever bedeviled th' days of pony an' beast come alive." He shook his head. "World was a diff'rent place back then, AJ. Total chaos. Hell of a thing, hell of a thing. Then th' pony tribes took up arms, tamed th' land. Made peace. Built Equestria. Then th' princesses came along, with their fancy alicorn power an' their Elements Of Oh So Holy Harmony. Made the world a mighty quiet place! Mighty quiet, yes."

As Fuji spoke, his voice was taking on a disturbing tone that chilled Applejack to her core. She wasn't sure if she was dreaming or awake, but she definitely knew one thing: she was scared out of her skin.

"Kindan ringo, Applejack. All that fuss started with an apple." Fuji shook his head, then turned.

Applejack stifled a scream. Fuji's eyes, the warm green eyes that she remembered from her foalhood, were now a dark, inky black. Completely black—even the whites of his eyes had turned that horrible, disgusting, foul black.

"Ah'm th' forbidden apple, AJ," he said. His voice was rougher now. "Them years Ah spent in Neighpon, Ah learned all Ah could about th' demons, th' monsters...all th' things ponies put ter pasture t' make th' world what it is today. But most of all, Ah learned how ter bring it all back.

"World's gonna change, Applejack!" Fuji bellowed. "Original sin. That's what it's all about, yes. Mighty powerful thing, that kindan ringo. It's why Ah came back ter Ponyville. Ah knew Ah had ter be here, right on this here farm, ter make it all come back."

"What...what are you talking about?" Applejack asked, voice hoarse. Her mouth was as dry as cotton. "Pa...what is all this?"

"Ah am th' apple," Fuji said. Whether he was answering Applejack's question, or simply ignoring her and continuing to rant, she was uncertain. "All that time Ah spent in Neighpon, Ah was learnin' how ter make myself th' apple. But bein' th' apple weren't enough, no. You see, somepony's got ter eat th' apple, or there ain't no sin.

"But it's got ter be a sin ter eat th' apple, AJ. Ah married yer Ma, right an' proper, just like Pappy wanted. It weren't a sin then. So I had ter wait.

"Ah sowed mah seed, an' Florida bore me a fine, strong son. But Ah didn't want no goddamned son, AJ. Ah wanted a daughter. Ah wanted you." He favored her with an evil smile.

"Y'see, only a pure, innocent daughter can eat th' forbidden apple..."

* * * * *

Big Macintosh snarled at the chupacabra that had just leapt up to attack him, and beat it to death with the bloody corpse of the chupacabra he had just trampled. Presently, he was climbing a seemingly endless haystack; thin, grimy windows in the massive hayloft cast narrow, dim, flickering shafts of sunlight upon the moldy old straw. Chupacabras, vampiric jackalopes, and other horrors kept popping out of the hay, as well as what seemed like hundreds of enormous, rusty metal spikes that tried to impale him. "This place don't make no sense," he muttered.

No, really? I hadn't noticed.

The hole through which he had entered the cavernous hayloft had disappeared almost immediately beneath a curtain of old hay, and he had searched for what felt like hours for another exit. So far, he had found only hay, more hay, and a seemingly infinite number of things that wanted to kill him.

The light of the sun had almost completely faded when Big Macintosh decided he'd had enough. With a disgruntled whicker, he barreled down the haystack, charging toward the old wood walls.

You know, I'm pretty sure busting a hole to the outside isn't gonna help your sister.

"Not what Ah have in mind," Big Mac said gruffly. As he neared the wall, he turned his body, allowing his momentum to carry him as he slammed his hooves into the wood. The surprisingly solid structure withstood the forceful kick, but a few decent-sized splinters broke free of the rough planks. "There, that's what Ah need," he said. Scooping up the shards of wood, he trotted over to the base of the haypile. "Ah hope this works, 'cuz Ah ain't got any other ideas."

Uhh...what are you up to?

Ignoring the mask, Big Mac crouched down on the floor next to the haypile, studying the rough bits of wood he held. It had been a very long time since he'd been on the trail, and he'd only ever managed to get this to work once or twice, but...

Using the collected wood shrapnel, a decently long piece of straw, and the floor of the hayloft, Big Macintosh quickly assembled a rudimentary bow-and-drill setup, and set to work. It was slow going, but by the time the sun had fully set outside, leaving the hayloft in almost total darkness, he'd made noticeable progress.

Wait, what the f...oh, you cannot be serious...!

"Eeyup." A few more minutes' tedious, clumsy work, and Big Macintosh had succeeded in setting the edge of the haypile on fire. As the small flame began to spread, he quickly scooted toward the wall.

ARE YOU FUCKING INSANE?!

"Nnnope. Ah'm just mad as heck."

Dozens of flaming bodies erupted from the burning haypile as the assorted creatures lying in wait ran for their lives. From deep within the blaze, Big Mac was almost certain he heard something screaming. Miraculously, the barn itself did not catch fire, nor did the flames spread beyond the haypile.

Several minutes later, only burning embers and smoldering ash remained, littered with the burnt corpses of demons and dull red iron spikes whose mechanisms had been melted by the fire. At what had previously been the center of the haypile, Big Mac found a large, narrow, shining silver lance which lay a few feet away from a leathery black bump in the floor. He frowned thoughtfully at the odd protrusion, then crept carefully through the smoldering debris, cautiously picking up the silver lance. He approached the bump in the floor and prodded it with the end of the lance. Almost immediately, the "bump" split open, its halves falling away to reveal a massive, bloodshot eye, which rolled madly.

Grimly, Big Mac raised the silver lance and plunged it straight into the giant eye's pupil.

The entire barn screamed, and the eye burst, spewing a fountain of viscous goo into the air. With the eye gone, a hole had been revealed, just big enough for Big Mac to jump into. The room below was dimly lit and full of a green haze.

Faintly, he heard a voice cry out in pain. The voice was unmistakeable. "APPLEJACK!" Without hesitation, he plunged into the room below and broke into a gallop.

The room led to a series of corridors whose walls were covered in more organic material than he had seen yet, and all of it very disturbing. However, he paid his surroundings no mind, and no immediate threats emerged to impede his progress. After far too long for his liking, he skidded to a halt in a large room where Applejack was strapped to a rough stone table, held in place by living tendrils. She was bleeding from several small cuts, bruises and welts showed through her coat, and her eyes were bleary and swollen. She looked up at him. "Big...Mac?" she croaked out hoarsely.

If the sight of his sister in such a state robbed him of the power of speech, seeing the pony who stood behind that table was enough to make Big Macintosh's heart stop all over again.

"Pa...?" Big Mac breathed quietly.

"DAMN!" Fuji spat. "How did YOU find yer way down here, whelp?" Fuji's hard, cold black eyes fixed upon Big Macintosh. As he beheld the demonic mask welded to his son's face, he flinched, eyes widening and jaw dropping. "No...NO! It...it ain't possible!"

Well, lookie what we have here! You're the fucktard that's been fuckin' around with black magic. Is this weird-ass fucked-up barn your doing?

Fuji's jaw tightened with fury, his inky black eyes narrowing. "It don't matter," he said coldly. "Yer too late, boy. Ain't nuthin' gonna stop what's been done."

Masses of thick tentacles erupted from the floor, engulfing Fuji and Applejack. When they receded, both ponies were gone.

"LIKE HELL!" Big Mac roared, bellowing with rage as he dove into the floor, hooves tearing away at the slimy organic mass that covered the surface. "GIVE ME BACK MAH SISTER, YOU IMPOSTOR!"

Red. Cut it out. That isn't helping. You need to find a way to follow them.

"An' just how do you suggest Ah do that?"

I think I'm starting to get what's going on here. See those big green tubes over there?

Forcing himself to calm down and look around, Big Macintosh spotted the large green tubes, which were still conveying huge mutant sperm that swam like jellyfish.

I'm pretty sure we're in this thing's nutsack. In which case, you need to fuck up those tubes. If I'm right, Farmer Dickwad'll get real pissed off, and he'll open up a path that'll take you right to him so he can kill you.

"One vasectomy comin' right up," Big Macintosh said grimly. Planting his hooves, he bucked the stone table across the room, where it smashed into the sperm tubes. The tubes split open, gushing fluid over the damaged table and onto the floor. A lone sperm flopped around on the floor like a stranded fish.

The room lurched violently, and the tentacles rose up to engulf Big Macintosh, swallowing him as they had his sister and the pony that looked like his dead father.

* * * * *

When Big Macintosh could see again, he surveyed his surroundings. He appeared to be in an oversized tool shed full of rusty, sharp farming implements. A few feet in front of him, Applejack lay on the floor. The white pony who dared to look like his dear departed pa observed him solemnly with those empty black eyes. "You want 'er back so bad? There she is," the white stallion said. "You're too late anyway. It's already started. Sayonara, boy." The pulsating flesh that comprised the back wall of the tool shed parted with a wet slurping sound, and the old stallion passed silently through, the wall sealing up tight behind him.

"Applejack," Big Mac said softly, hurrying over to crouch by her side. He nudged her gently. "Wake up, AJ. We gotta get outta this crazy place."

Applejack's eyes fluttered open. She looked blearly up at her brother, then smiled a small, sad smile. "It's...too late," she said.

"Like hell it is!" Big Mac thundered. "You're comin' with me right now, missy, an' we're gonna get outta here, an' get you to th' hospital, an'..."

"Okay, okay," Applejack said, rolling her eyes tiredly. With difficulty, she pushed herself up onto her hooves. "Let's...let's get goin'...'fore Pa changes his mind..."

"That weren't Pa," Big Mac said firmly, leaning into Applejack's side to support her. "Now where's th' door..."

Applejack began to convulse. Big Macintosh paused, looking at her with concern. "You okay, sis?"

"Yeah...just..." Applejack's voice was rough; she lapsed into a terrible coughing fit, pitching forward onto the floor.

"Applejack! Hold on!" Big Macintosh cried, squatting low to pick his sister up and carry her on his back.

Applejack vomited a pulsating mess of thick green-black slime that steamed and hissed as it hit the floor. Her entire body shook.

Oh, FUCK. This is bad.

Big Macintosh froze on the spot, watching in horror as his sister died right in front of him. Only...what was happening to her couldn't really be called death. Death was far too kind a term to describe the nightmare unfolding before his eyes.

Applejack's belly bulged as though something were fighting to escape. Agonizing moments passed before it split open entirely, expelling her guts in a heap on the floor. A writhing mass of ropy black tendrils shot forth from the gaping hole in the mare's abdomen, spreading out to engulf her body with frightening speed. They wriggled and squirmed over and under and around each other, like carrion worms fighting over a corpse. As the squirming tendrils completely enveloped her body, Applejack's eyes, frozen in a wide, glassy, horrified expression, exploded out of their sockets, nerve endings and muscle fibers snapping as the ejected eyeballs shot forth like miniature cannonballs, landing wetly at Big Macintosh's hooves. The empty sockets burned with unholy crimson fire.

The ghastly transformation was far from complete. Sickening black worm-tendrils fell away and squirmed on the ground as the thing that was once Applejack began to swell, tripling and quadrupling in size. Her skin split in dozens of places, huge pieces falling to the floor to reveal mottled black muscle beneath. More tendrils writhed over the exposed gristle, weaving together and congealing into a repulsive, glistening black hide. Spurs of bone protruded from her joints, sharp and jagged and deadly. Her skull stretched into something abominable, herbivorous teeth transforming into enormous, terrifying rows of dagger-like fangs.

The demon threw back her head and roared, shaking the earth with enough force to buckle Big Mac's knees.

Okay, fuck this. This thing's gotta be stopped before it finishes growing, or the whole world is fucked.

"It ain't done yet?" Big Macintosh asked dazedly, even as what used to be his sister glowered down at him with blazing hellfire eyes. A thick, slimy purple tongue lolled out of her maw, dripping acid saliva.

Big Mac, it's been a pleasure. But I gotta take the training wheels off if I'm gonna kill this thing, and...well...you're probably gonna die. Sorry, sucks to be you.

"Wait, what?"

And then Big Macintosh knew nothing but searing, white-hot agony.

Dozens of serrated bone plates exploded out of the hulking stallion's body, even as his already preposterous muscle mass doubled. His back hooves split, becoming sharp and cloven. His front hooves transformed into five-fingered razor-sharp brass talons. Two long, twisted black horns snaked their way out of his skull, and a tremendous pair of black leather wings burst forth from his back, unfurling to their full span.

With a deafening roar, the transformed stallion leapt at the massive demon, a twelve-foot-tall double-bladed battleaxe appearing in his claws. Fire trailed from the eyes of the demon mask as Big Mac flew right into the gaping maw of the behemoth. Blades sharp enough to cleave steel tore through muscle and sinew and bone, cleaving apart the demon's esophagus from inside, ripping apart her trachea, shredding her vocal cords. With a mighty spin of the axe, Applejack's neck was completely severed; the giant head smashed into the wall of the tool shed, demolishing it. Paying no heed, the blood-red warrior dove deeper into the carcass, axe hewing ribs, dicing lungs, and pureeing the heart.

The demon formerly known as Applejack fell to the floor with a thundering crash, fountains of blood spraying forth from her remains as black tendril-worms oozed away from her body and seeped into the foundation. Big Macintosh landed on cloven hooves on the floor, steam billowing from the nostrils of the mask, hellfire blazing in his eyes.

Then, he screamed.

As rapidly as the transformation had occurred, Big Macintosh shrank. Claws and cloven hooves became the more familiar, if still larger and harder, hooves of the farm stallion. Serrated bone plates withdrew, wings shrivelled and fell off. In mere seconds, Big Macintosh stood beside the corpse of his former sister, wheezing for breath, body covered with gashes that oozed blood. He retched, and bright, foamy red blood dribbled down his chin and dripped from the inside of the mask.

Several minutes passed in complete silence, save for the heavy rasping breaths of Big Macintosh.

"What...the hell...did you just...do to me?"

Whoa. You're still alive. I'm impressed. To answer your question, THAT, my burly red friend, was my true power. And I gotta tell you...that was a rush. I've never been able to unleash my true power before without killing my host. We have got to do that again sometime.

"Nnnnnnnnnope," Big Macintosh wheezed. He looked over at the remains of his sister, and his heart sank. "Applejack..." Tears spilled from his eyes, collecting inside the mask and trickling in a stream to the floor. "Ah...Ah couldn't save her...what kinda brother am Ah...?"

There's only one thing left to do, big guy. You know what that is.

"Eeyup."

Grimly, Big Macintosh stalked over to the wall of flesh at the back of the tool shed.

* * * * *

No further creatures or obstacles impeded Big Macintosh's progress as he galloped through corridors of flesh and bone. Within minutes, he had arrived in a cavernous space, a veritable cathedral which had been constructed around an enormous rib cage.

Beneath a stained glass window that depicted a bloody knife stabbing into a large green apple, a heart the size of a small house beat steadily, pumping blood that coursed through the arteries and veins snaking through the walls of the cathedral. The thunderous beats of the heart pulsed through the floor, reminding Big Macintosh of the parties where that one unicorn played obnoxiously loud music.

Beneath the beating heart stood Fuji Apple.

Big Macintosh strode toward the stallion, who watched him calmly with those inky black eyes. "Who are you?" Big Macintosh snarled. "An' don't you dare say you're mah Pa, 'cuz that's a load of horseapples. What'd you do to Applejack, an' why? What IS this messed-up place? Ah wanna know just what th' hell's goin' on here before Ah tear you apart piece by piece."

"Ah'm sorry, Big Mac, but yer wrong. Well, partly wrong. Ah know you don't wanna believe it, but...Ah am yer Pa."

"LIES!"

The stallion sighed. "Well...it's more accurate ter say Ah'm part of yer Pa." He looked up at the beating heart. "THAT, boy, is yer Pa."

"...what?"

Fuji looked at Big Macintosh again with those creepy eyes. "Boy, Ah've spent mah entire life workin' toward today. Six years ago, th' day yer Ma died...Ah killed 'er 'cuz she found out whut Ah was up ter."

"No..."

"But then, y'see, that messed things up but good. Ah had ter fake mah death. Ah had ter cover up what was goin' on out here in th' west orchard. Ah couldn't let nopony get near this here barn." He paused. "On account of this barn bein' mah real body."

"...WHAT?!"

"Oh yes. See, th' whole time Ah lived in Neighpon, Ah was studyin' how ter become an ever-livin', all-powerful demon. But more than that, Ah wanted ter bring back all th' evil that were ever sealed away. Ah wanted ter cover th' world in evil fer all time. But ter do that, Ah had ter prepare. Th' first thing Ah needed was a demon body. Th' second thing Ah needed was a virgin sacrifice, ter revive Original Sin." He gestured around with a hoof. "Ah built this barn, an' started growin' mah demon body inside it. It took a few years, but by th' time Apple Bloom was born, th' stallion walkin' around on th' farm doin' farm chores an' raisin' three foals weren't th' real Fuji Apple no more. This body, th' one yer lookin' at right now? Is a puppet. Just a copy of mah ol' bones, held together by mah will, ter do mah biddin'." He pointed up at the pulsating heart. "THAT'S yer Pa, boy. Say howdy."

Big Macintosh stared at the white stallion. "You're insane."

"No, Ah'm evil." Fuji sighed. "Whether you believe it or not don't make me no nevermind, Ah'm shootin' straight. Th' whole barn is mah demon flesh an' blood an' bone...an' you've been beatin' th' crap outta me all day, an' don't think Ah ain't right ticked about that. But what Ah'm really put out about, is you done gone an' shot all mah plans ter hell. So Ah've gotta put you outta mah misery, boy."

"Just tell me one thing," Big Macintosh said. "If all this is true...what'd you do to Applejack? And why?"

"You don't get it, boy?" Fuji asked. "Shame. Ah thought you had more brains than that."

"JUST ANSWER ME!"

"Okay, suit yerself," Fuji said, shaking his head. "Ah'll make it nice an' plain an' simple, just like you. Ah only married Florida for one reason. Ah needed a daughter. Applejack was ter be mah brood queen. Ah was gonna use 'er ter breed a whole new race of demons ter take th' whole world back from touchy-feely ponies an' zebras an' princesses an' what-not. Give it back ter th' demons, like it should ought ter've always been."

Big Macintosh stared at Fuji, aghast. "That's...you're sick."

"Ah reckon Ah am," Fuji agreed. "Now, boy, Ah'm right sorry about this, but...well...Ah never did like you, an' now Ah'm gonna do what I ought ter've done th' day you was foaled."

Yeah, well...there's just one problem with that, old man.

Big Macintosh screamed in agony as the mask tore itself from his face, taking clumps of skin and fur with it. His enhanced muscle mass and strength fled him in a violent rush, leaving him weakened and shaking.

The mask spun across the room. Fuji watched it coldly.

See, I want a body that can take my FULL power. And while Red here ain't no slouch—hell, he's the only joker that's ever SURVIVED—I'm all for letting him die like a bitch so I can have a body with some REAL staying power. And let me tell you, Farmer Dick...with this crazy-ass demon body you made for yourself, well...I can REALLY cut loose!

"NO!!" Big Macintosh and Fuji screamed in unison.

YES!!

The mask sailed through the air, glistening with slick blood accumulated throughout the course of the day's violent rampage. Time seemed to stand still as the mask impacted against the giant, beating heart of Fuji Apple's demon body. Crimson sparks arced along the edges of the mask, spreading out over the surface of the heart. A tremendous boom shook the entire barn. Fuji shuddered, knees buckling. Big Macintosh tensed up as the white stallion collapsed bonelessly to the floor, lifeless and still.

I AM POWER MADE FLESH. THIS WORLD BELONGS TO ME!!

"Nnnnope," Big Macintosh said.

FOOL! WHAT CAN YOU POSSIBLY DO TO STOP ME?! YOU ARE NOTHING WITHOUT MY POWER!!

"Welp...you might be right about that. But...you're forgettin' one little thing."

OH? SUCH AS?!

With every last ounce of his flagging strength, Big Macintosh rushed the rib cage, aiming for the smallest, sharpest rib he could see. As he collided with the mighty bone, it gave way under his strength with a resounding crack. Catching the cracked rib and breaking it loose, he hefted it into his hooves like a hoofball and charged the sparking, beating heart, sharp end of the rib aimed like a jouster's lance.

"Ah'm inside your fancy demon body."

OH, FUCK—

The sharp rib pierced the demon heart. Big Macintosh left it lodged in the ventricle for a moment before savagely ripping it free. Blood gushed from the puncture like a broken water main. The mask screamed in pain, rage, and terror as the immense demonic body convulsed.

Had it been daytime, the residents of Ponyville would have been terrified by the hundred-foot-tall geyser of high-pressure blood that erupted from the west orchard of Sweet Apple Acres. Lights came on in the farmhouse as the death screams of the demon woke every living thing on the farm.

* * * * *

Granny Smith, Apple Bloom, and Big Macintosh, all dressed in somber black, stood before the newest addition to the family plot, staring at Applejack's tombstone long after all of her friends had departed to console one another in their shared grief. Apple Bloom's choking sobs were the only sound in the entire cemetery. Granny Smith stared at the memorial, silent tears streaming from her eyes. Big Macintosh stood, solemn and stoic, determined to be the rock for his now-smaller family.

"Gone before her time," Granny Smith said quietly, voice shaking. "Ah never wanted ta outlive mah yung'uns...an' Ah durn sure didn't want ta outlive mah grand-yung'uns."

It was sunset before the Apple family returned to Sweet Apple Acres.

* * * * *

In the west orchard of Sweet Apple Acres, the fruit bats paused in their nightly hunting to observe, with confusion and curiosity, the strange thing moving among the trees below.

A shapeless mass of slippery muscle tissue, its various pulpy bits connected tenuously by ragged tendons and stringy webs of nerve fibers, dragged its way across the ground. Occasionally, bubbles of blood would seep up out of the ground, flowing over the meaty pulp. The disgusting mess dragged itself over jagged stumps of bone, which were absorbed into its mass.

Throughout the night it slithered, adding to itself a bit of intestine here, half of a lung there, a few mostly-intact bones.

As dawn approached, the growing lump of miscellaneous body parts had arrived at the ruins of the old abandoned barn. The first rays of the sun glistened down on a filthy, demonic-looking mask as a ropy tendril of flesh stretched ponderously out to caress its cheek.

Author's Notes

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Since 10/31/13