Twilight Learns about Courtship
Twilight Learns about Courtship
Admiral Biscuit
Twilight looked down at the book on her table with a small frown of disapproval. Although she didn't approve of the romance section of the library, it was popular with ponies. Even if the plots and characters in the book were a little unbelievable.
Rarity had assured her it was a good book—one of the best there was—and she'd finally caved under pressure and read the damn thing.
“Did you read it, darling?” Rarity's blue eyes were eagerly locked on her as Twilight gave a small, barely-perceptible nod.
“Oh! What did you think?”
Twilight let out a breath she hadn't realized she was holding. “I think . . . I had a hard time believing the protagonist's struggles to get the stallion, or the elaborate, convoluted ways in which she tried to get him to go on a date with her! All she had to do was ask—would that have been so hard?
“And then, when she finally worked up the courage to ask him and so obviously wanted to have sex with him . . . she hinted at it with the most oblique metaphors and phrases I've ever seen.”
“Oh, Twilight. A proper mare can't just ask a stallion if he wants to go back to her home and . . . um. . . .”
“Rut her silly?” Twilight suggested.
Rarity's cheeks turned red, but she nodded.
“I have a hard time believing that everymare goes to those extremes to get a stallion is all I'm saying. If I wanted to, ah, do that with a stallion, I'd just ask.”
“You're hardly experienced,” Rarity pointed out. At the look on Twilight's face, she put a hoof in front of her muzzle. “Not that I mean to—“
“I've done it before with a stallion.”
“Of course, dear, I didn't mean—“
“But there aren't many in Ponyville who I find attractive. Intellectually, that is. And I'm of an age where I ought to be looking for a suitable mate to give me a foal, rather than just an uncommitted one-night-stand.”
“Of course,” Rarity said, still blushing furiously.
“I never had to go to these extremes, though.” Twilight set a hoof on the book. “Of course, it was a while ago, and he approached me . . . and kind of did most of the work . . . Rarity?”
“Yes, Twilight?”
“This isn't really how ponies get into fulfilling relationships, is it?”
“Well, I'm sure the author took some liberties.”
“But this . . . is this how you see relationships progressing? The other girls at Celestia's School for Gifted Unicorns never resorted to schemes like these. I don't think. I never really talked about it.”
“Those are adolescents,” Rarity reminded her. “As we all were, once,” she charitably added. “Now that we're grown gentlemares, though, we do these things with a little more decorum.”
Twilight nodded absently. “Uh huh. I think maybe I'll ask some of the other girls.”
• • •
Early the next morning, Twilight set out for Sweet Apple Acres. She didn't know anypony who was more down-to-earth than Applejack, and the farmer's simple honesty would no doubt lend itself to a straight answer. She's the heir apparent to one of the most successful apple orchards in all of Equestria, and she's a national hero, too, so she's got a lot going for her. Plus, she's practical, so surely she's already planning on passing down her family's legacy. Gosh, this is the kind of thing we never really talk about. I don't think she's got a special somepony, but I don't really know.
She found Applejack in the midst of an apple grove, weeding around her trees. Twilight gave a friendly wave and trotted over to her friend.
“Hey, Twi, what's going on?”
“I've got a bit of a personal question,” she said, shifting on her hooves. “If you don't mind.”
“Shoot, go right ahead. I'd be happy to have something to occupy my mind 'stead of these weeds.” AJ tugged a weed loose and tossed at into a basket.
“So I was talking about courtship with Rarity yesterday. Kind of inspired by a romance novel that she thought I should read. And the main character spent an awful lot of time agonizing about this stallion, and dancing around the subject with him, when it was pretty obvious she wanted to have sex with him, but she never came out and said it, so it took most of the book before they finally did.”
Applejack tugged another mouthful of weeds loose. “Uh huh.”
“And Rarity thinks that's the most practical way to go about it, but that would take forever, and what if you spend all that time on somepony and it turns out you're not much of a match? You've wasted a lot of time . . . so how do you do it? I mean, you have gone on dates and . . . stuff, right?”
“Well, shoot. Ah don't really have time for all that fancy Canterlot and Manehattan type of foolishness. Look—when Ah got an urge, Ah usually go over to Caramel—“
“Caramel?” Twilight’s eyes widened.
“Why do ya think Ah keep him as a farmhoof? He might not be the sharpest tool in the shed, but he knows how to git the job done right.”
“But . . . Big Mac—“
Applejack's eyes narrowed. “Are y'all serious? He's my brother. Ain't no way Ah'd ever even consider—“
“No, no, no! Not that! I meant to ask, if you aren't dating—“ Applejack shook her head— “then how does he feel about it? You being his younger sister and all? Shiny was very protective of me.”
“Oh. Well, Ah reckon he don't know.”
“How does—“
“Well, it ain't like Ah go back to the house and say, 'Hey, McIntosh, Ah'm going up to my room to canoodle with Caramel for a while.' It jest don't come up.”
“So how did this arrangement come about? Did you kinda get a crush on him when he was working the fields, and then treat him to a romantic dinner? Get to know him a little bit better before you—“
“Nope.” Applejack tipped her hat back. “Ah'd just been working in the orchard all day and knew what Ah really needed was a good swivving, so Ah went over to the grove where he was working, and . . . are ya sure ya want to know this? Have ya got a stallion you're interested in?”
“No, like I said, I got to talking with Rarity, and she has her ideas, and they just seem unrealistic.”
“Yeah, that mare's got her head farther in the clouds than Rainbow sometimes.” AJ adjusted her hat again. “Well, okay. So Ah went over to the grove where he was working, and Ah made sure Ah was upwind of him, so he'd get a good scent. We was weeding, like Ah'm doing today, and Ah waited until his head was down. Then Ah pissed right next ta one of the trees, an called out ta him. Told him there was weeds he's missed around the tree. He came trotting over, and as soon as the scent hit his nose, he kinda stopped and stuck it up in the air and wrinkled his lip back like ya do when ya get a scent ya wanna mull over.
“So, Ah kinda lifted my tail and started winking at him. I figured that'd get his attention, and it did. He was pretty hard before he even got over to where Ah was standing, and Ah told him to mount me right there.” She smiled faintly. “It was a beautiful spring day. Ah don't know why everypony seems to want to do it in a bed at night.”
“You . . . winked at him? Like this?” Twilight gave her most seductive wink, which came off as more of somepony with something in her eye leering at a stranger. “And then he just, with no preamble?”
“Not . . . no, Ah didn't wink with my eyelid.” Applejack nodded her head at her rump. “I winked back there.”
“Back there?”
“Oh, for Pete's sake, Twi. Haven't you ever seen a mare winking her lady bits?”
“That's what that means? I just thought it meant she really had to go to the bathroom or something! So that one time I saw my Mom and Dad come home after a romantic dinner and Mom was . . . and they ran right upstairs. . . .” Twilight suddenly galloped off, leaving Applejack staring at her retreating form in bewilderment. Finally, she turned her attention back to the orchard.
• • •
After a nice calming gallop twice around the perimeter of Ponyville, Twilight finally slowed down to a brisk walk to cool down. They're both healthy unicorns, she reminded herself. You're acting like a silly filly. You know they've done it—and probably still do—they've got you and Shiny.
“Hey Twilight!” Pinkie pronked merrily alongside the lathered unicorn. “I saw you galloping around town and I thought maybe you were running from a monster but I didn't have any weird twitches or pinches, so then I thought you must be running 'cause it's fun, so I ran, too, and then I hopped 'cause it's funner, and here I am!”
“Pinkie, have you ever—“ Twilight stuck her tongue out. “Nope. If you wanted to—“ She looked at the energetic pink pony cheerfully hopping next to her and suddenly decided that research or not, there were some things she didn't want to know, chief among them any details whatsoever about Pinkie's love life. “If I wanted to find Rainbow Dash,where would I? Find her?”
“She was out at the lake! You missed her, because you were so focused on galloping and making sure that your hooves and legs kept up the perfect cadence bah-dah-BUM bah-dah-BUM. You should go back to the lake to see her, and maybe jump in the lake 'cause you're all sweaty, and I know Rarity says the spa is nice—and it is—but some days nothing beats a good dip in a cool lake! Ooh!” Pinkie's ears both flopped and her tail stuck out straight for a second. “Gotta go—party emergency!”
Pinkie shot off towards Ponyville in a pink blur. Twilight turned and headed towards the lake.
• • •
Rainbow Dash was sunning herself in a lounge chair, fast asleep. Twilight took Pinkie's advice and jumped in the lake—even though she hadn't brought any of her swimming supplies or her Beginner's Guide to Having fun at a Beach: Inland Lake Edition.
The cool water cleared her head, and she shook herself off in the shallows, wishing she had a towel to dry her coat the rest of the way. For some reason, she'd never bothered to learn a drying spell, even though they were fairly simple and common.
Rainbow pushed her shades up her forehead. “Twilight? What are you doing out here?”
“Research?”
“Is it on how awesome I am?
“No . . . I was wondering about, uh, courtship behavior among different ponies. I read a book Rarity recommended, and it was so complicated a way to get a stallion. But Rarity said that was how she’d do it. So I asked Applejack, and she had a more direct approach, and—“
“Wait, wait, wait.” Rainbow leaned forward on her chaise. “Are you asking about getting laid? No—researching getting laid? Are you writing an article for Playmare or Pegasluts?”
“What? No!” Twilight looked at Rainbow curiously. “Do they publish scholarly articles?”
“Uh, duh! There's, like, dozens of pages of words.”
“But are they scholarly? I thought they only accepted thinly-disguised erotic fiction that purports to be a real experience.”
“How the hay would I know? It's not like I read the articles. Anyway, you came to the right pony. I can get laid quicker than any other pony in Equestria. Why—I can get the deed done in ten seconds flat.”
“You can attract a mate in ten seconds?”
“Pfft. Attract and finish,” she proudly declared.
“I . . . sex isn't a race. It's not about how fast you can do it. It's supposed to be physical and emotional and satisfying for both partners. I can't imagine a stallion who'd be happy with only ten seconds of pleasure.”
“Well . . . .” Rainbow looked down.
“Or a mare, if that's your preference. It takes me at least ten minutes, assuming I'm already in the mood, of course. I suppose it might be quicker with a partner, but—“
“Woah, Twi! TMI! I so did not need or want to know any of that." Rainbow flopped back in her chair. “Urgh. I'm better than Applejack, and don't let her tell you different. But I'm an athlete at the top of my game, so what I do won't work for just anypony.” She glanced around the beach, before beckoning Twilight closer. “Listen,” she whispered. “If you wanna get the real dirt for your article, you should ask Fluttershy.”
"Fluttershy?” Twilight exclaimed.
“Ssh! Yeah, she's got a . . . thing, for big, quiet stallions. If you know what I mean.”
“Fluttershy?”
“Big Mac and Bulk Biceps.”
“No.”
“Why else would she be in the Ponytones?”
“She likes to sing!”
“And she goes to Sweet Apple Acres all the time.”
“To help out with the poultry!”
“Oh, it's not the rooster she's interested in. And what about on the train and stuff with Bulk Biceps? She couldn't keep her hooves off him!”
“They were training for the relay!” But there was a nugget of doubt in Twilight's rationalization.
“Right, 'training.' She likes 'em big and strong.”
“Really.”
“And quiet. Probably why nopony knows. But, listen—I'm doing you a favor, for your 'research.' Don't tell her I told you, okay? She doesn't like to talk about it.”
“I won't.” Twilight licked her lips. “I just . . . it's hard to picture.”
“Yeah.” Rainbow watched as Twilight left the beach, headed in the direction of Fluttershy's cottage. As soon as she disappeared over the rise, Rainbow fell out of her lounge chair, rolling around on the sand and braying out laughter. “Oh, Pinkie, I wish you'd heard that! It was just the best prank ever! I can only imagine the look on Fluttershy's face when Twilight asks her. . . .
“Oh, I've gotta see this.” She looked up on the sky, scanning for a loose cloud that would be out of Twilight’s sight if she looked back. Spotting one, Rainbow streaked up to the cloud. As soon as she was on top, she wrapped her hooves around the edges and began the journey to Fluttershy's cottage.
She waited on her cloud until Twilight had entered the humble cottage, then slowly descended to rooftop level, stopping right above an open living room window. Rainbow and her cloud almost instantly turned into a bird perch, but she didn't care. It was worth it to witness firsthoof the end result of the Greatest Prank Ever.
• • •
“So what brings you over today? It isn't Owlwolicious, is it?”
“No, he's fine.” Twilight took a polite sip of her tea.
“It's just that, um, we hardly ever see him.”
“He is nocturnal,” Twilight unnecessarily reminded her. “It's more of a friendship question.”
“Friendship?”
“Yes. For the Princess.” Twilight picked up the cup again and took another sip, her mind racing. “Er, in Canterlot, things aren't always done the same way as in a smaller town.”
“There are so many ponies,” Fluttershy said.
“Yes. And there are certain rituals that just aren't the same. Like Winter Wrap-Up!”
“They don't wrap up winter in Canterlot?”
“No. I mean, yes, but not the same way as in Ponyville. It's all handled by unicorns. Lots of spells.”
“That would be interesting to see,” Fluttershy said dubiously.
“Other things, too. Like, there's a harvest festival in Ponyville where farmers show off their crops. They don't have that in Canterlot, either.” She cringed inwardly—she could already sense that this conversation was getting as convoluted as any romantic plot in any romance novel ever. But how else to broach the subject? Fluttershy would just shut down if she asked directly.
“Um—“
“When I got to Ponyville, there was even a different way of making friends for me. And I was tasked with learning more about friendship, remember?"
Fluttershy nodded. “Are you wondering how Rarity and I became friends?”
“Not exactly.” Twilight drained her teacup. “I—well, I was on a date last night. With a stallion. It didn't go very well.”
“Oh, I'm so sorry.”
“I don't think he would have been the right pony for me,” Twilight admitted. “But it would have been nice to, you know.”
Fluttershy nodded.
“So I thought maybe my approach had been wrong.” Twilight looked down at the table as Fluttershy reached over and touched her pastern reassuringly. “Maybe things are done differently here in Ponyville.”
“I'm not sure that I—“
“I've noticed that the ratio here of mares to stallions is pretty skewed, so they're probably pretty picky.”
Fluttershy nodded.
“So it must be difficult to find a stallion to date.” Twilight looked into Fluttershy's eyes. “Let alone two.”
As Fluttershy jerked her hoof back in shock, Twilight thought she heard faint laughter from outside the cottage, although with all the animals running around the place, it was hard to be sure.
Flutttershy squeaked out something inaudible, bleated once, and then fell on her side.
• • •
It was fortunate that Twilight knew where Fluttershy kept her smelling salts, and after breaking a few capsules under the pegasus’ nostrils, Fluttershy finally came to again. Twilight offered her a cup of linden tea, and she sipped on it gratefully. When she’d finished her cup she looked over at Twilight, slightly disappointed that the unicorn was still there.
“I suppose you still want to know about my, um, lovers.”
Twilight nodded.
“Well, the thing with Big Mac started after cider season, two years ago.”
“So before I even got to Ponyville?”
“Yes.”
“You've been fucking Big Mac for two years and I only just now found out?”
“It, um, sounds so crude when you put it that way.”
Twilight glared at her.
“We'd been drinking. But it was fun, and we both wanted to try again when we were sober. So we did.”
“What about when Big Mac was seeing Cheerilee?”
“Oh. Well, I couldn't be mad at him, since it wasn't his fault.”
“That's a good point. What about Bulk Biceps?”
“Um, I've known him for years—ever since flight camp. We got separated when I moved to Ponyville, but then he moved here, too, and he started coming over, and eventually one thing led to another.”
“So that was before you met Big Mac?”
“No, I'd known him almost as long as I lived in Ponyville.”
“I meant 'met,' as in 'did the deed.'"
“In that case, yes.”
“He wasn't jealous?”
“He has other mares.”
“And Big Mac?”
She nodded. “Him, too. Plus, there was the thing with Cheerilee.”
“Yes.”
“And it was a good opportunity for me.”
“How so?”
“Well . . . I had to punish him.”
“I thought you weren't mad at him.”
“I wasn't, so I didn't want it to be a mean punishment.”
“So.”
“I . . . um . . . went on a date with him and Bulk Biceps.”
“Like, a double date?”
“Well, sort of.” Fluttershy's ears dropped, but then perked right back up. “I was the only mare.”
“So.”
Fluttershy nodded.
“And then?”
She nodded again.
“Both of them?”
Another nod.
“And you let Bulk go first as punishment?”
“No, that would have been mean.”
“But if Big Mac went first—“
“They both went first.”
Twilight's jaw dropped. From outside, she heard a very distinctive thud that sounded very much like an eavesdropping pegasus collapsing in shock.
“How did they—actually, don't tell me.” Twilight gave Fluttershy a calculating look. “And, this has been going on ever since the love poison incident?”
Fluttershy's silence was all the answer Twilight needed.
“Why?”
“Um, why not?”
• • •
“I have a letter for the Princess,” Twilight said.
“I'm on it!" Spike grabbed a quill and a blank piece of parchment. Dear Princess Celestia—
“I already wrote it,” she said. “I'm sorry, Spike. It's something . . . personal.”
“But. . . .” Spike dropped the quill. “You tell me everything. I—you aren't asking her for a replacement, are you? First Owlowlicious, and now. . . .”
“Oh, Spike.” Twilight swept him up in a hug. “No, I'm not asking her for a new assistant. You're my baby brother . . . but this letter isn't something you should read. Listen—you remember when I explained the birds and the bees to you?”
“I can't get those pictures out of my head. Did you have to put that much detail into something that's supposed to be fun to play with?”
“Be glad I haven't gotten to venereal diseases yet,” Twilight muttered.
“What?”
“Nothing. This is on a . . . similar subject.”
Spike scratched a claw on his head. “So, does that mean that you're . . . with a colt? Like, with with?”
“No, it's—“
“A mare?”
“No! It has nothing to do with my sex life! Which is currently limited to my own hoo—just send the damn letter and then we'll both have ice cream and forget that we ever had this conversation.”
Author's Note
Story notes!
Shining Armor Has an Erection Lasting More than Four Hours
Shining Armor Has an Erection Lasting More than Four Hours
Admiral Biscuit
“Are you sure?” Shining Armor looked at the little bottle floating in his aura dubiously.
“Red Fortera is the best natural male enhancement pill,” the salespony glanced down at his sample case briefly and then locked his eyes back on Shining. “Try it, you'll see. Now if you'll excuse me, I have a number of other appointments yet today. Some stallions wish to be the very best for their marefriends on Hearts and Hooves Day.”
“Very well.” Shining gave the salespony a few bits and then picked the bottle back up to examine it. There was a lot of very small printing on the back of the label, and he squinted at it curiously. By the time he looked back up, the salespony was gone
THE NEXT MORNING
The morning sex had been unparalleled. Princess Cadance was, after all, the princess of love, and she knew a thing or two about bedroom Olympics; sadly, despite intensive training leading up to the marriage and continuing afterwards, his wife continued to outshine him in the bedroom . . . until today. The little red pill had worked exactly as advertised, and he was thicker, longer, and harder than ever before. He was still hard, in fact, despite a morning routine which had totally destroyed yet another bed.
“Still eager, I see,” Cadance breathed in his ear. “I'm afraid that you're on your own this time—I'm already late. I'll have to eat breakfast on the throne again.”
“Mmh,” Shining said. He was barely capable of words any more.
Cadance nuzzled his cheek, kissed her way down his belly and gave his turgid member one parting lick, then got out of bed and sauntered to the bathroom, her tail held high. Shining watched her retreating rump, and then slid his hoof down his belly to finish himself off.
FOUR HOURS LATER
Shining Armor's day had taken a turn for the worst, beginning just after he had gotten out of bed. His red pill enhanced cock was still rock-hard, and just long enough that he had to waddle when he walked, to avoid banging it against the castle floor. And while the occasional glimpse of a stallion dropping in public wasn't worth mention, the Prince of the Crystal Empire walking around with a raging hard-on would surely cause a minor scandal, so he'd had breakfast in his room and thanked his lucky stars that the chambermaid who delivered their breakfast had often been a third party to their lovemaking, so she wasn't bothered by the sight, or the smells in the room. And he thought about asking her for a quickie—Cadance wouldn't mind—but he was feeling mostly sexed-out. His dick just hadn't gotten the memo.
He had to stand to eat his breakfast, because sitting was just weird, and then he tried some exercises which all became infinitely more difficult with five pounds of horsemeat swinging around in counterpoint to everything that he did, and he finally gave up after nearly hitting himself in the eye with himself.
One thing that the royal chambers didn't lack was boring reading material, and he thought that might be the thing to tell his boner that it had overstayed its welcome, so he read halfway through Labor-Saving Machinery: the effect of mechanical appliances in the displacement of manual labor, volume 1, and when that had no measurable effects, did what he should have done in the first place and got the pill bottle and read it. If it could give him an erection on demand, surely it could also remove an erection on demand.
Sadly, it could not. It did, however, suggest that if he had an erection lasting more than four hours he should see his doctor. And while looking at a clock had been the last thing on his mind when he and Cadance started the horizontal pony mash, it had been four hours since she'd left for work.
So he put on his traveling cloak which would at least help disguise his shame, and then gingerly walked out of their bedroom and into the streets, wishing fervently all the way that they didn't share the highest room in the tallest tower.
He made it to the streets without incident and stopped at the first medical establishment, which had a shingle outside proclaiming that Dr. Feelgood would make you feel good.
Shining hadn't been in a civilian infirmary since joining the Royal Guard, so while the cozy couches and intimate feel of the room did cause a raised eyebrow he didn't think much of it. And the receptionist was dressed in a rather gaudy and gauzy saddle but she was very friendly and after he said that he wanted to be examined as quickly as possible directed him down the hallway to an examination room.
It was posher than he'd expected, and the examining table wasn't as utilitarian as he was used to—it was an actual feather bed, in fact—but he only spared it a moment's thought, figuring that maybe ponies who paid to see a doctor preferred more comfortable settings.
He only had to wait a minute before Doctor Feelgood herself came into the room. She was a lithe little crystal mare and listened intently as he explained his symptoms, then asked him to open his cloak and examined every inch of his throbbing member.
“What do you recommend?” he asked nervously.
“A blowjob,” she said. “Only thirty bits.”
Shining was in no condition to refuse.
She licked her lips then ran her tongue up his shaft and slipped her mouth over his head without any preamble, taking him all in in one smooth, practiced motion.
They'd never had a threesome with their maid with the lights on which was an oversight that Shining was going to correct as soon as he took care of his current problem: he knew that you could see through crystal ponies—everypony knew that—but he hadn't know that he'd be able to see his own dick in her throat, and it was the second-hottest thing he'd seen all day. Then he tried to change his focus to something else; it didn't feel right to have those kinds of thoughts during a medical procedure.
It only took a few minutes for him to give what little he had left, and she kept her head down against his balls as he weakly spasmed down her throat, and after she'd swallowed his load she pulled her head back off and let his dick slap down against his chest.
“It's still hard,” he observed, rather unnecessary. “Isn't there some kind of pill that might make it soft again?”
“How the hay should I know?” She ran a hoof along his erection lovingly. “Maybe you should go to a doctor and not a whorehouse.”
FIVE MINUTES LATER
Shining was back out on the street, swearing to himself that he was going to ask to see an actual medical certificate before he consented to another examination. 'Doctor' Feelgood ought to be sued for false advertising. It didn't take him too long to find an actual medical establishment, complete with a Staff of Asclepius on their shingle as well as a cross with hearts.
The waiting room was much more sterile, and the receptionist had a chronically bored look on her face, and rather than speak to him simply slid him a clipboard which had several pages surveying his past health, his current predicament, and his financial situation.
He wrote 'PRINCE Shining Armor' in sarcastically large letters at the top of the form in the hope that that might grant him quicker access to a medical professional, but when the receptionist pony didn't even glance at it before setting it in a pigeonhole with reams of similar-looking forms, and then she went back to filing her forehooves.
Shining sat in the uncomfortable bench for what felt like an eternity, tapping his hoof impatiently. Boredom hadn't worked before, and alas it didn't work this time, either. When the nurse finally summoned him back, his little stallion was as proud as ever.
This examination room was more what he was expecting, with cold, easy-to-clean furniture and a poster on the wall showing how his ear worked. And the nurse was cold and businesslike, taking his vital measurements with clinical detachment, although she did raise an eyebrow at the sight of his tumescence and he vowed that if she offered a blowjob as well he was going to gallop out of the doctor's office and go see the palace surgeon, which he probably just should have done in the first place.
She didn't, though. “How long has your priapism been occurring, Mister Armor?”
“Priapism?”
She had the courtesy to blush slightly. “Your persistent erection.”
“Since this morning.” He gave her a short description of the events leading up to his current state, and she nodded wisely.
“The good news, Mister Armor, is that you came to us quickly enough that we should be able to reverse your priapism with a very simple procedure. Some ponies wait far too long before seeing a doctor and lose function or require amputation. Some ponies even die.”
Shining didn't hear the last part; his brain had seized on the word 'amputation' and refused to move on. With a goat-like bleat, he fell to his side and had to be revived with smelling salts.
“As the nurse was explaining,” Doctor Steed said, “there is a simple procedure to reverse this malady, and it only requires a minor local anesthetic to numb the penis, and then we simply use a large needle to remove the blood which has pooled in your penis with—oh dear.”
Shining, upon seeing the size of the syringe that the nurse was carrying on her tray, had fainted again.
He was revived long enough to ask for horse tranquilizers in lieu of a local anesthetic, and then passed into a blissful limbo where he knew nothing as the nurse and doctor patiently removed blood from his corpus cavernosum and then injected phenylephrine into his still-swollen penis to further relax it.
By the time he came around again, woozy from the anesthetic and the procedure, he had retreated back into his sheath where he belonged and he swore to never again buy a sex pill from a mountebank on a street corner.
His final bill was somewhat larger than Dr. Feelgood's, although he paid it without protest, as the treatment had been effective. And he promised that first thing tomorrow morning, he was going to get Cadance to fast-track legislation which would allow self-inflicted sexual maladies to be covered by medical insurance.
He paid close attention to the aftercare instructions, as well. The specter of 'amputation' still loomed large in his mind and he wasn't going to do anything that might risk that possibility. Full stop.
AN HOUR LATER
Shining stopped by a food-wagon and bought a crystalberry torte for a late lunch, and then ate it on his way back to the castle. In a couple of days, he'd be fine, and until then he'd just have to live with the 'no sex' rule that the doctor had imposed. Such a small thing, really, and then after that he could have all the sex that he wanted. It wouldn't be that hard to make an excuse, he thought, right up until he opened the door to their love nest and saw his wife splayed out on the bed, wearing a lacy saddle and four socks, her marehood fully on display and a come-hither look in her eyes and all the fears and worries he'd had vanished in a moment, to be replaced with a deep desire for the phenylephrine to stop working at least for the next half hour or so, lasting damage be damned.
Author's Note
Happy Hearts and Hooves Day!
A little late, but that's how I roll.
