Every tick of the clock was tocking directly into Applejack’s brain, until she was gritting her teeth with the effort of keeping still and quiet. She checked it again, like she had done every few seconds. Seven to be exact, going from what she’d last seen of it. It was nearly twenty minutes past the hour, and she’d shown up even before that just to be sure of the appointment.

There’d been a mixed assortment of magazines for her to pass the time with, mostly worn and outdated things that had to do with who’s who and what’s what. Though she never had cared for social drama and the celebrity game the minutes had pressed down on her until even the years-old Hot New Styles !! was tolerable, if only as something to hide her eyes in.

Applejack had already looked over every inch of the room from her uncomfortably tight-backed seat, and if she had to do it again she felt the doctors might just have to send her down to the other wing of the building, the one where the residents tended to be lead about by quiet, insistent nurses who never, ever made any sudden movements.

The overweight mare with the pudgy cheeks playing receptionist had not moved an inch, save to turn the pages of, Applejack suspected, what was Hotter, Newer Styles !!! with perfect mechanical indifference.

“The nurse will see you now,” she announced in a reedy tone that would not have sounded all that different had she said it with her mouth closed. There was no prompt, no little bell ringing or knock on the old oak door that separated out herefrom in there. Just the announcement, just like that.

“Uh, you mean me?” Applejack asked, looking about the place only to receive a mildly caustic over-rim look. “Oh, right, of course. I’m the only pony here, aren’t I? Excepting yourself, but, um, yeah. Right.”

“The nurse will see you now,” came the nasal whine again, this time a little reproachful. Repetition took effort.

Applejack stood up. Shifting from hoof to hoof she glanced at the clock, and the walls, again. “I’m going in to see the nurse now,” she announced, her voice barely cracking at all. “Because that’s what I’m here to do. Me. See the nurse. Because that’s what ponies do. When they’re here, which is the clinic.”

The receptionist’s magazine shut with a glossy slap. The mare herself wasn’t much better.

Applejack went still. She took a deep breath that made the air seem a little less heavy on her. She gingerly pushed her way through the swinging door.

The nurse’s office. Things, and stuff, with a whole eclectic mix up of strange-looking implements. Something bumped her flank and she jumped. The swinging door! Cursing herself in embarrassment, Applejack stepped aside and let the door do its thing. It closed with a soft, reassuring waft of air.

Sitting at a desk in the center of the room was nurse Redheart, flicking through a sheaf of papers. She looked...tired, frowning a little bit with concentration, but with a softness around her eyes that made Applejack feel like the nurse was, all things considered, confident and in control of her work.

Having caught herself staring, she blinked and once more sent her eyes to the tour of off-white walls and ceiling.

“You can take a seat on the bed,” said the nurse. A starchy white paper-sheet covered a clinical-looking mattress.

The white mare clicked her sheets’ edge on the desktop, making a smooth stack that she set down. Standing, she stretched with a deep rump-lifting bow. Sighing pleasurably as she came back up, she regarded Applejack with a wry smile. “Sorry about that. So, you made the appointment for a check-up, was it?”

“Uh, yeah. And you mean sit here?”

“That’s right. I’m a little curious, though. Since when does Applejack the Stubborn make doctor’s appointments?”

Applejack tried to settle in on the gauzey paper. She blinked. “Ain’t you a nurse?”

“Same difference,” said definitely-nurse Redheart with a pout that was quick to fade. “Are you feeling alright? Head, stomach, hooves maybe?”

“What? No, that’s all fine. All fine and dandy, yes-siree.”

“That’s good to hear. Just lay back for me, if you would, and I’ll just take a quick look over you.”

“Alright.”

Applejack tried to be polite and proper, but every little motion crinkled the paper sheeting under her. Something about that made her feel awful self-conscious. She wasn’t tracking dirt in through this proper-clean office now, was she? It was too much to check, and it was a physical effort to bring her head down onto the thin, hollow-seeming pad of fluff they called a ‘pillow’.

Nurse Redheart was humming a few notes of melody. She poked a bit here and there at Applejack with a gentle, yet authoritative hoof. “So you said you’re all fine. Anything bothered you recently? Sick or injured, anything like that?”

Applejack shook her head. It was fine a chance as any for the nurse to examine her neck and chin. “Nothing like that, no.”

“Right. What am I looking for here exactly?”

Applejack’s ears perked. “Look? Who said anything about look? I only came in to talk, is all.”

Redheart sagged. “Well, then...talk. Talk to me, Applejack. You have to help me help you here.”

Applejack chewed her lips. She brushed at her hair, and with a soft clatter her hat fell to the floor. Applejack winced. “It’s personal.”

Redheart’s tone went very soft. Their eyes met and held. “Tell me what the matter is,” she said.

For a moment, Applejack wasn’t sure she could talk. But then she did, if only barely. “It’s... How does... How do I...” Taking a breath she growled her frustration and tried again. “What do I have to do to enjoy myself?!”

Nurse Redheart frowned. Applejack stared with pleading. Nurse Redheart’s eyes widened. Applejack nodded meekly. Nurse Redheart blinked. “Ah. I see. Personal.” Then she smiled. “Right, so how can I help?”

Applejack felt oddly free. Now that the secret - or at least the strongly conveyed euphemism - was out, she didn’t need that pressure on her chest to keep it in. “I don’t know!” she laughed, blushing and shaking. “That’s why I came to you.”

“Ok, ok. Tell me about it first.” Then she pouted. “We are talking about your sexual health and masturbation habits here, just to be clear?”

Applejack cringed. Did she have to be so, so professional about this? She coughed on her attempts to speak. “Yeah,” she managed to choke out, “what you said.”

“It’s okay. Embarrassment is natural for a lot of ponies.” Nurse Redheart went back to her chair, Applejack sat up on the bedside. “Let’s just talk about it first, how’s that?”

“Yeah, okay.”

“Okay Applejack, when did you notice this problem?”

She had her hooves crossed over herself when she spoke, and kicked her legs at the air. “I dunno. I think I just sort of didn’t think about it before. I keep trying, when I can, but it doesn't work. What’m I doing wrong? Is something wrong with me?”

Redheart went and got the fallen hat. Catching the edge delicately in her teeth (both from respect, and the quite strong taste of it) she put it at Applejack’s side. “This is where we’ll find out, Applejack. I’ll help you.”

She pulled a page from the stack and bit onto a pen. “Naow, ell may abow wah hahens.”

“Well, you know, I-I try. With my hoof.” She held up the culprit. “When I’m alone in bed, or...or sometimes out in the trees-”

Nurse Redheart had held up her hoof. With a bit of complicated, earth-pony only lip dexterity, Nurse Redheart shifted the pen around to the side of her mouth. “We don’t need to go into those kinds of details, Applejack,” she said, the pen bobbing up and down.

“Er, ah, right. Well, I have all the, you know, urges. No problem there,” she said. “But, but, with my hoof, it... it barely feels like anything. It’s supposed to feel good, isn’t it? Works fine for you, don’t it?”

Nurse Redheart took a second to answer. Applejack had the sudden feeling she’d crossed a line. “A mare can normally stimulate herself to orgasm, yes,” said Nurse Redheart as if it were a prepared statement. Another pause. “Are you comfortable with me having a look?”

Applejack blanched “You mean, at my...”

“Your genitalia, yes.”

“Well, alright...”

“Would you prefer to be standing or laying down?”

“...which works better?”

“Either’s fine for me,” Nurse Redheart said patiently. “It’s just a matter of preference.”

“Um, standing.”

“Alright.”

The nurse rummaged in a drawer of her desk. There was the snap of rubber as a hoof-glove went on. “Turn about for me please.”

Applejack gulped. She became intimately familiar with the various advisories and information panels posted on the wall a few inches in front of her nose.

“Try to relax. It won’t hurt, and I really do mean that.”

“I trust ya,” Applejack said nervously.

“...I need you to spread your legs for me, Applejack. More. A little more... There you go.”

Applejack looked way up, she looked way down. As she felt her tail being brushed aside she laughed under her breath, but tried to stifle it. She forced her breathing under control. There was no reason to be worried, or be anything but casual and professional, so she told herself.

“Well, everything looks alright from here. Tell me if you can feel this.”

“Um, maybe. I’m not sure.”

“And this?”

“Yeah. A little bit.”

“And now?”

Applejack had to focus on the trickle of sensations that reached her. “You’re on the left side. Now right. Whoops, felt that one! What’d you do?”

Nurse Redheart didn’t answer. The mare hummed to herself. “Applejack, are you aroused right now?”

She whinnied. “I’m embarrassed, is what I am. Not much, no. Why you ask?”

“Just bear with me a moment.” Again the thoughtful humming. There was the slap of rubber and the crinkle as it fell into the waste basket. “I think I know what’s going on here. You can turn around now, I’m done for now.”

But Applejack had put a lot of nervous effort into standing there like that. She glanced over her shoulder. “That’s it? That’s everything?”

“Yes?” asked Nurse Redheart, letting the slight inflection dangle over a not-at-all slight cliff.

“Oh, um, right. Just thought there’d be, uh, more. You know, tests and things.”

“No.”

At that, Applejack took a seat and put her hat back on. “So?”

Nurse Redheart took her own chair. She cleared her throat daintily. “Well, Applejack, there doesn’t seem to be anything inherently wrong, so that’s a good start. It seems you’re a little less sensitive than most mares. Now that could just be the way you are, though I’d wonder if your applekicking-”

“Applebucking-”

“Er, yes, applebucking might have had a part to play.”

Applejack was tapping her hooves together. “Um, now that you mention it, I do remember that applebucking used to give me, um, feelings. When I was smaller.”

Nurseheart nodded professionally. “It’s a lot of force going through your hindquarters. And that means a lot of stimulation. I’d guess that your body has had to acclimatize to that, and that means less sensitivity. It happens sometimes.”

“What does that mean? Am I going to be alright?”

“Applejack, you’re already alright. You’re perfectly healthy and fit enough to even make me a little jealous. You’re just going to have to work at this one thing,” Redheart held up a hoof, “and I don’t mean the brute force approach.” There was a wry, knowing smile snuck into the corner of that clinical expression that made Applejack blush.

The nurse glanced over her papers. “I did note that you’ve very little secretion. It’ll help if you if you can, as they say, ‘get wet’. You may have to retrain your body to let itself be sensitive, so to speak. A lot of people enjoy artificial lubrication and find it heightens the experience. In fact, let me write you a prescription...”

“What?!”

“Lubrication, or, as they say, ‘lube.’ It’s a simple-”

“No, I get that, but...oh nevermind...”

“Oh, and you might do well to get yourself a phallus as well.”

“A what’sit?”

“A dildo. I can’t write a prescription for one of those, however.”*

Applejack regarded the nurse with a hard, thoughtful glare. Without breaking it, though sweating a bit on her brow, she said, “What’s scary right now is I can’t tell if you’re being totally serious or yanking my chain.”

“Both, probably. But I really can’t write a prescription for one of those. Or any other sex toys at that.”

Nurse Redheart clopped her hooves on the desk. “I think this about wraps up the consultation. Did you have any questions?”

“Uh, no. No, I’m good, I think.”

“Very well. If the problem persists, you know where to find me.” Applejack was halfway to the door. “Oh, one last thing. Start with one of the smaller, more modest looking ones.”

Applejack nodded. “Right...”

As the door swung smoothly shut, Nurse Redheart glanced over her notes. Taking a moment to get her office ready again, she stopped at the bed, noticing the spot where Applejack had sat. Then she changed the paper bedding. “She’ll be fine,” the nurse mused.

Author's Note

* and somewhere completely different, Pinkie managed an impressive spittake, shouting about taxes and wages, none of it for any reason she would ever come to know.

Maybe a bit different as these things go, but I kind of like that. What did you get out of this chapter? Let me know.