Shining Armor was bored.
There were no meetings scheduled for today, no issues that required his immediate attention, and what work there was, the royal advisers were taking care of in their usual way. Shining had been glad to let them take the reins for a while, even if he returned to find half the national budget diverted to bulk purchases of makeup... Again... He was glad to finally have some meaningful time to himself, to do whatever HE wanted... Now, he wasn't so sure.
After months of hard work getting the Crystal Empire up and running again, he found himself with a day off, and had no idea what to do with it. He couldn't hang out with his friends - Most of those were in Canterlot, hundreds of miles away. Many crystal ponies were still skittish around their rulers, so a walk around the city was out. And visiting Cadence, upstairs in their royal chambers? Not a chance. An alicorn's mood swings were known to end civilizations, and he wasn't willing to take that chance, at least until bedtime. All he could do was wander the palace, wishing he was somewhere else.
His mind drifted as he walked, past guards that didn't salute him, aids and advisers who spent more time enjoying modern comforts than actually doing their jobs... Nopony respected him here. His whole career meant nothing to these ponies; Sure, the Canterlot Guard was little more than a glorified police force, but he was the youngest captain in the history of the force! How many 25 year olds could claim something like that?
Shining sighed, turning down a disused corridor. He didn't hate his position, it was his duty after all, but he couldn't help but feel like a fish out of water. How could a modern pony ever truly understand the ways of the past? An academic question, at least until an entire nation was hurtled through time over a thousand years to the present.
The culture shock was enormous, for both sides. Crystal laws were... Antiquated, to say the least. They still preferred the old ways, where criminals were forced to pay a fine, or fight a duel to the death to decide their guilt. Despite him and Cadence's attempts at imposing modern laws, with a court, judge, and jury, bodies still turned up with telltale sword wounds. Sometimes he wished he could just take away all their damn swords, and spears, and battleaxes, but after the tyranny of King Sombra, Cadence feared any attempt at disarming them would lead to open rebellion.
On the plus side, their time in the crystal mines had inspired them to outlaw slavery, much like Equestria had around the time of the empire's disappearance. Some of them were even rejoining society!
Shining's footsteps slowed down as he approached a set of carved crystal doors, twice as tall as he was and engraved with one of the geometric designs so common in the ancient empire. Unfortunately, the doors had also not been oiled since those days, and he had to give them a solid shove to get them open.
The doors swung open with a creak, revealing the vastness of the Crystal Library. Sombra had attempted to collect one copy of every book in existence, and it showed. The room was vast, taking up a good quarter of the palace's main complex, lined with dusty bookshelves so tall a ladder was required to reach the top. Each one was packed with ancient texts; Manuals, essays, fiction and non. Scholars from Canterlot were usually hard at work here, making copies of the oldest and rarest among them, but they too were enjoying a day off. Shining couldn't help but wonder where they'd went, in a city with no theaters, clubs, or bars.
Wandering the quiet shelves, he glanced across books as he walked by. Some didn't even have markings on the spine, making their identity a complete mystery until pulled down. Shining grabbed one at random, blowing dust off the cover to see the title.
'The Ideal Commander'
He raised his eyebrows. An old treatise? He'd studied more than a few of these, but he'd never heard of this particular one. There was no author listed, either on the cover or inside flap, not even a date or dedication! Most treatises, Shining knew, were dedicated to a wealthy patron, or a general who earned glory in battle, yet this one was blank. Perhaps it was a hidden gem of ancient military thinking? Either that, or it was so terrible that nopony wanted to be associated with it.
Taking a seat on one of the library's hardwood chairs, Shining flipped open to the first page and began to read.
'The ideal commander has the wisdom of age, and the fire of youth.'
Shining smiled at that; He liked to think of himself as young in spirit, if not in body. Even if he was... How old? 2... 35? No, no, he was 45 years old, he remembered. What kind of ruler can't remember his own age? Shining chuckled at his absentmindedness, not noticing a tingle in his scalp as a streak of grey cut through his still-vivid blue mane. Some of his new recruits were young enough that he could be their father; Good practice, he figured, since he would be a father for real in a few months.
'The ideal commander's body must exude power and respect. Never is he seen in fanciful garments.'
Shining felt a swelling in his center, both physical and metaphysical. Ponies respected him a lot more nowadays. Just a glance, and everypony knew who had commanded the Canterlot Guard for over a decade. He looked down at his body, so different from the lean, athletic physique of his earlier years. His belly had grown rounded and soft, bulging against his largest shirts, not that he bothered with them when he could avoid it. Most fabric just chafed against his fur, irritating the hairiest spots of his chest and back. The only shirt that felt 'right' was the padding beneath his royal hauberk, and even that felt constricting at times.
That was mostly due to his muscles, which had grown steadily over his decades of command. His biceps had swollen to a tremendous size, each as wide around as a pony's head, and powerful enough to smash an apple between them and his forearm. His pecs were just as massive, protruding inches from his chest, yet despite their soft, jiggling appearance, there was hard muscle contained within. No normal shirt could contain those bad boys.
Of course, in private, Shining was free to wear as little as he pleased. Shining was dimly aware that he wasn't wearing pants anymore, and he couldn't remember taking them off. There they were on the floor, though, right next to his sneakers... Shoes? Boots? A pair of leather jackboots lay haphazardly beside them, his feet clad only in socks. It was his royal right to be comfortable, after all.
His boxers were stretched thin over his wide ass, drooping over the edges of his chair. He kept meaning to buy new ones, but no store in the empire stocked his size, and he wasn't willing to pay to have them shipped from the one store in Canterlot that actually stocked his size. The edges were frayed, elastic threads poking out this way and that, signifying where the structure had given way to make room for his growing waist. The grey fabric color was faded from months of use, contrasting against his pearly white coat.
'His facial hair is kept tidy, to symbolize his confidence and self-control.'
Short blue hairs sprouted on Shining's chin, then spreading down his neck and across his cheeks, until his lower face was covered in a layer of stubble. Shining's hand drifted up, rubbing the bristly hairs. "Gotta remember to shave sometime," He muttered, stroking his fuzzy chin. He didn't notice how deep his voice was getting, the youthful scratchiness turning deep and gravelly. As he stroked, the hairs grew as if he were pulling them out of his chin. He used to diligently keep his face smooth, but as the years passed, he fell out of his old routine. Sure, it was scratchy at first, but after a few months, he felt it commanded a degree of authority. Especially in the Crystal Empire, where stallions were still judged by the length of their beard.
As his beard lengthened, so did his mane. His military crew cut sprouted into thick, shaggy locks, running down the back of his neck. Giving his head a shake, he smiled. Cutting hair was so last decade. He intended to let it grow until it spilled out of his helmet, and maybe a little longer. Maybe he could get a longer helmet, to keep it safe and tidy during combat. The royal blacksmith would love that one.
'His body bears the marks of war, a scar for every foe defeated.'
Shining hissed, a stinging pain shooting across his chest. He ran a finger across his fuzzy chest in a neat line, the flesh beneath turning pink and puffy as he passed. The old scar still hurt from time to time, a reminder of that old griffon warlord who thought he could grab a couple border towns without anypony noticing. A dozen or so other scars popped up across his body, none as impressive as that one, but each with its own story to tell. The arrow wound on his shoulder, for example, from the Camel Arabian crisis, or the jagged tear on his inner thigh from when a spear almost got a little too close.
The dagger tattooed on his left bicep had grown along with the muscle, stretching, fading, until it looked more like a broadsword than the puny blade his friends had drunkenly convinced him to get. Complimenting it were a pair of scars where some bastard tried to peel the decorated skin from his arm. Bad mistake for him, but a good look, at least Shining thought.
'The commander's virility is beyond question. He is energetic at war and at peace.'
Shining felt a stirring he couldn't easily ignore. Setting the book down on the floor, he dug his thumbs into the waistband of his underwear and pulled them to his knees, meaty thighs jiggling as they went. Shining's cock, never fully flaccid, was beginning to really perk up. Wrapping a hand around his hardening shaft, Shining gave it a gentle stroke, a smile spreading across his face as it began to rise.
Erect, his cock was a sight to behold, standing at ten throbbing, meaty inches, bouncing up and down with every stroke of his hand. It felt hard, harder than he could imagine, and burning with arousal. He began to stroke faster, to keep up with the fire inside him and let it out.
His mind swam with images of mares and stallions he'd known, their bodies sexier than he'd originally remembered. He tried to focus on his wife's pink pussy, but it was increasingly difficult with all the perfect bodies drifting past his mind's eye. Good thing they had an open marriage - Didn't they? Of course, those were her exact words. He could fuck any stallion that caught his eye, as long as he produced an heir. That was a night he wasn't eager to repeat.
There was one cock he remembered better than all others - A huge one, belonging to the statue outside the barracks. You could see it bulging past the statue's loincloth! Now that was a monster! If only it belonged to a living, breathing pony, rather than a lump of cold marble... If he had any presence of mind, he'd have noticed how big his own cock had gotten, standing at twelve inches, and wide enough to keep his fingers from touching.
Shining grit his teeth, groaning, trying to savor the feeling for just a moment longer. His balls tightened in preparation for the orgasm to come. He was so close, so close - his mind was clouded with thoughts of every partner he'd ever had - and yet, in the middle of it all was an image. Before him, he could see a young unicorn stallion walking into the library.
For just a moment, Shining was aware of what he had become. His old self seemed so far away, faded like a half-remembered dream, and he could scarcely believe they were one in the same pony. The new Shining Armor was a mighty warrior, a commander in the ancient tradition, rather than the desk officer he once was. He grunted, imagining the smaller stallion's lips wrapped around his cock. Then, the pressure growing too intense, he let go, blasting away what was left of his old self in the first of many orgasms that day.
A shot of cum arced through the air, splashing on the open last page of the forgotten book. The tattered pages, ragged and thin from centuries of neglect, practically dissolved beneath the wet, warm fluid, ancient knowledge and magic breaking into dust. Within moments, the delicate pages were reduced to unreadability. Nopony else would ever know the secrets Shining had learned, and perhaps, it was for the best.
'These are the qualities of the ideal commander. He who is shaped this way will never suffer defeat.'
An hour later, King Shining Armor slid his chainmail shirt over his head, shivering as the cold metal rings touched flesh. It was a familiar sensation, yet it felt almost new as he adjusted the hem to sit comfortably over his belly. The polished steel jingled as he pulled up his pants. They felt a little tight; Time to have them let out again.
Shining reached over to slide his boots on, letting out a sputtering fart as he bent over. Next to them, he noticed a book - Splattered with dry cum, the ink runny and wet. The nerds would be furious... Including Twily... She was one foe he could never face, especially if she told Cadence... Their marriage may have been political only, but she still had the authority to put him on the couch for the next six months.
Grabbing the book, walked off, leaving the messy seat behind. He had work to do - Ruling a kingdom wasn't easy, especially one that had spent the past thousand years frozen in ice, but in a strange way, it felt like coming home. At least he wasn't the only one who thought indoor plumbing was witchcraft!
"Time to get medieval," he muttered, slamming the door shut behind him.
Author's Note
Proofread by R, with suggestions from ShadowOfDreams.
King Shining Armor shifted in his throne. Only an hour into the meeting with the Equestrian ambassador, and his ass was already getting numb. Economics was always Cadence's job, but she had gone into labor a few hours ago, leaving him as sole sovereign until further notice. Shining rubbed his belly, trying to scratch an itch through his chainmail shirt. The links jingled in the quiet throne room, but if anypony heard it, they didn't acknowledge it, and the ambassador just droned on, and on, and on.
Shining rested his head in his hand, studying him up and down. The stallion standing before him was by no means fat, but his black suit jacket bulged noticeably around the midsection. The blue mane was like a heavily styled version of his own, he noted, and his bushy mustache put most Equestrian stallions to shame. Still, Shining knew who had the better facial hair.
"Furthermore," Ambassador Fancy Pants said, "The current captain of the Canterlot Guard sends his concerns over the fitness regimen you've instated for his transfers. He reminds you that the maximum weight for an Equestrian guard is precisely fifteen stone, and requests that every guard be, quote, 'returned how you got them', end quote."
Shining smiled. More than a few of his guards, both natives and transfers from Canterlot, were having their armor refitting to contain swelling muscles and bulging guts. Nopony was entirely sure why they were growing, but judging from the noises in the barracks each night, none of them were complaining. Maybe someday he'd invite that old stick-in-the-mud up north, and see how he got along in the new Crystal Guard.
Fancy Pants coughed, getting Shining's attention as he continued, "And finally, Princess Celestia has some concerns about your actions during the recent diplomatic visit from Yakyakistan."
Shining groaned. He knew this would come up. As if he hadn't heard enough about it from reporters, and advisers, and his wife...
"According to reports, your welcome banquet was poorly received."
"They started throwing dishes and gave two of my guards concussions. A glass bottle narrowly missed hitting my wife, who is pregnant."
"And then you beat Prince Rutherford unconscious."
Shining grunted, Rutherford's fist barely missing him. The momentum sent him reeling against the nearby feast table, and Shining took the opportunity to grab the yak's long mane and yank it back. "I'll crack your fucking skull!" He roared, before smashing his face against the crystal surface.
"And then you... 'Took him' in the cell, in front of the other delegates?"
Rutherford groaned, slowly regaining conscious. As feeling returned to him, he couldn't help but notice how stiff his limbs were. His arms were locked in iron shackles on the ceiling, and legs attached to the floor. His nose was pressed against a wall of solid black crystal.
"Finally awake, huh?"
Rutherford thrashed his legs, trying to escape, but the shackles kept him restrained. The guards had removed his robes after the incident, giving Shining a perfect view of the prince's ass. It was easily as wide as Shining's, but whereas Shining's jiggled with a layer of fat, Rutherford was all muscle. Shining slid a hand along one cheek, admiring the rippling contours beneath his soft fur. A tent was already forming in his pants.
"I hope you're a squealer," Shining smirked, reaching for his zipper.
"Which brings us to this note," Fancy said, pulling a scroll from his pocket, "This was sent to you, care of our embassy."
"Lemme guess, they've declared war?" Shining said, slumping back in his seat. Normally, he'd be giddy for any chance at battle, but he didn't relish the thought of killing poor Rutherford. He always had a soft spot for squealers.
"Actually, his father, the king, wishes to thank you for punishing his son. He promises to keep Rutherford under supervision, and hopes that this won't come between the two of you in creating a lasting friendship between your nations. He also hopes you'll allow his son to visit again someday."
Shining smiled. Someday couldn't come too soon.
Author's Note
Sorry for this. I don't know what I was thinking.