Big Macintosh just stared in utter silence and confusion. The Apples hadn’t tended this old southern orchard in years, not since the infestation that had left the crop not worth tending. Big Macintosh had decided to check it out, expecting at most to find that a wild animal or two had taken up residence, but never in a million years would he have expected a creature like this. It was a mass of shimmering soft slime holding the shape of a mare, and it was staring right back at him. Her entire body and mane was the same vibrant pink and not quite opaque, as Mac could vaguely see the terrain that lie behind her. Even though she wasn’t moving her entire form gently pulsed and rippled as parts of her mass flowed around to replace the parts that were consistently dripping into the large puddle that made up a good half of her body. It cocked its head to the side, seemingly studying him as if it was trying to decide if it wanted to approach or flee, before it slowly began to advance. It slid gracefully over the grass, making almost no sound at all, and came close enough for Mac to have reached out and touched her.

Big Macintosh made no attempt to back away. He had never seen one of these creatures nor had he ever expected to encounter one, but he remembered an article he had read in a farmer’s almanac a handful of years ago that described such slime-based creatures that had evolved to adopt an equine shape and characteristics. Allegedly they were attracted to soft sweet foods; no doubt she had been helping herself to the abundance of untouched rotten apples all around the southern orchard. He also remembered that the book had described them as ‘a simple-minded species that is often curious and sometimes a nuisance, but unaggressive and gentle.’

She blinked twice, and her mouth curved into a friendly smile. “Hello,” said the creature in a feminine voice so clear it caught Big Macintosh off-guard.

“Uh… howdy,” Mac said, giving a friendly tip of his head to hide his surprise. He would have been impressed that a creature made entirely of living slime could even make a sound at all, but for her to speak so clearly and well was nothing short of amazing.

“Hard at work?” she said, looking him up and down as if he was the first pony she had ever seen, “All by yourself?”

“Eeyup,” said Mac.

“Must be lonely.”

“Sometimes,” he said. With a farm that size and only two ponies regularly tending the crops, he often found himself working long shifts by his lonesome.

“Me too,” she said as she moved a bit closer. She hesitated for a moment but, seeing that he hadn’t flinched, she leaned against him and nuzzled her cheek into his neck. “Wanna take a little break and keep me company for a little bit?”

Mac chuckled nervously. Was she flirting with him? Whatever the case he could feel his heart beating faster from the warmth of her soft body pressed against his. Her soft form yielding to the shape of his was such a strange though rather pleasant feeling. Her liquid body must be in constant flux to hold it’s shape, making his body tingle a bit wherever she touched.

“You don’t have to be shy around little old me,” she said, her now sultry and musical making it clear she was well aware he was enjoying her touch. She pressed her hoof against his yoke, letting it flow underneath it to rub his chest. “Such a big strong cute stallion…”

“Aw shucks…” said Big Macintosh, chuckling shyly as he felt his face flush bright red. She was definitely flirting with him. He sat down and looked away from her, trying to act like he was gazing up at the sky to hide his embarrassment.

“There’s a smile,” she said, laying her ‘tail’ around his back and letting it melt and cling to his body. “You must work so hard and I bet nopony ever properly thanks you for it.”

Big Macintosh could barely hold still from the feeling of her against his body. He was close to the end of his work day and his muscles were tight and tired: her body pressing against his, constantly pulsing and throbbing and spreading that tingling sensation wherever it touched felt very good against his worn out body. “Folks appreciate it,” he said, “Don’t need any more thanks than that.”

She stretched up to put her muzzle right next to his ear. “Would you like some more thanks than that?” she whispered, “Maybe there’s something I can do for you? Or maybe you’d rather do something to me? We have the orchard all to ourselves and I would really like to thank you… any way you’d like.” She blew gently onto his ear, “and I mean… any way.”