Mares Complaining about Penises
Mares Complain about Penises
Admiral Biscuit
The three mares often met up at Sugarcube Corner after their morning’s farm work. It was a chance to get a mid-morning snack and to gossip.
Sugarcube Corner didn’t have assigned seats or reserved tables, but the mid-morning influx of farmponies had long since sorted itself out, and groups always picked the same spots, even when they arrived singly.
Most days, more than a few of them were still wearing their harnesses, and the street outside was sometimes clustered with wagons. Farm implements were usually left at the farm, but on occasion brought if the bakery was on the way to their next destination.
“I heard that Caramel got a new harness,” Peachy Sweet said as she settled into a chair.
“Yup.” Lavender Fritter bit into her cinnamon roll. “Arrived at the train station yesterday, and he picked it up after work. Then I got to spend this morning adjusting the straps for him.” She sighed.
“Always a lot of fitting to do with a new harness.” Apple Leaves said. “Or adjusting the pass-me-downs for my foals.”
“Wouldn’t have been so bad, except he dropped when I was adjusting his britchen and I didn’t notice until I got under his belly to shorten his quarter strap.” Lavender Fritter stuck her tongue out and blew a raspberry.
Peachy Sweet nodded. “Red did that all the time, until I started tapping his balls with the back of my hoof. I got nothing against a stallion letting it hang out, but he ought to be able to keep it under control when he’s getting harnessed up.”
“Yeah.”
“Never bothered me,” Apple Leaves said. “My hubby does that all the time, too, and I just push it aside and work around it. Or sometimes if I’m feeling frisky. . . .”
“That’s why you’ve got eight foals.”
“I don’t mind having a little fun, but if Red starts to get the idea that he’s gonna get lucky every time I hitch him up, we’d never get anything done in the fields. The rocks in the south field aren’t gonna uproot themselves.”
“Stallions ought to wear Nordland harnesses, those don’t have quarter straps. They can have their penises out all they want while they’re getting harnessed and it won’t slow things down,” Lavender Fritter said, then turned to Apple Leaves. “Any of your foals conceived when you were harnessing up?”
“Two.”
Peachy snorted. “I’d worry about getting snagged on his tack. Like, what would you do then? I’ve gotten tangled in plow traces before, and Red’s had to help get me out.”
A blush was forming on Apple Leaves’ cheeks, and Lavender Fritter rolled her eyes. “You did get stuck once, didn’t you?”
“We got ourselves untangled eventually. And I got pregnant, so I’d say it was worth it. He was gonna try and pull out, but since we were already stuck. . .”
“You think it’s because they’ve got to pee?” Lavender Fritter asked. “Whenever somepony lifts my tail to get the crupper dock on, I feel like I’ve got to pee, even if I just went. Even though I know I don’t want to if I can help it when I’m wearing a harness, ‘cause sometimes it hits the breeching strap and splashes back on my legs.”
“Just aim higher,” Peachy suggested. “Or set your strap lower and tighter.”
Apple Leaves nodded. “That’s what I do, I keep it low on my rump and tucked in against my hind legs.”
“I don’t still pee on myself; I figured out how not to by the time I got my cutie mark. But that’s the kind of memory that lasts. Even when I’m not wearing a breeching strap.”
“I suppose that’s one thing that’s easier for stallions, they haven’t got a strap in the way.”
“Or what if—I’ve never had a mare do this, but I had a stallion set my breeching strap too high, and when the wagon surged just right, it’d slide right up and rub against me. At first it was the most fun I’ve ever had pulling a wagon, but then I started to get sore and had to adjust the strap myself.” Lavender Fritter shook her head. “You think that stallions sit around complaining about hitching us up?”
“Red wouldn’t dare,” Peachy said.
“I don’t see why they would.”
“When I started working for Applejack, Caramel was nervous sometimes when he got under my tail.” Lavender polished off the last of her cinnamon roll and licked some stray bits of frosting off her lips. “Like he thought I was going to bite him.”
“Red sometimes likes to brush his muzzle against my vulva when he’s working on the back part of my harness. He always pretends it was an accident, but I know better.”
“Sometime when you’re not in a hurry, tell him to finish what he started,” Apple Leaves suggested. “Back him up against the barn if you’ve got to.”
“I was thinking of replacing my harness with a Y-back so he wouldn’t have the opportunity to get under my tail.”
Lavender Fritter shook her head. “I used to wear one of those, and it’s not worth it. Not unless you’ve got to put it on yourself. The hip assembly slides around too much.” She shifted around in her chair and pointed to a pair of bald patches just below her cutie mark. “That’s all from sideways movement—maybe it’s okay to wear if you’re pulling a wagon with rigid shafts and won’t get excessive movement, but unless you pull the quarter strap tight against your teats, you’re gonna lose fur.”
“So what does Caramel’s penis look like anyway? I’ve never seen it up close.”
Lavender shrugged. “Like any stallion’s, I guess.”
“Oh, come on, it was right in your face.”
“You had to have checked it out,” Peachy said. “I would have.”
“You’re a married mare—what would Red think?”
“That any mare would.” She stuck her tongue out. “Especially if it’s right there in your face. If they didn’t want you to look, they’d keep it tucked up in their sheath.”
“Well, he’s definitely shorter than Big Mac. And not as girthy, either. If I had to choose between them, I’d want to be mounted by Big Mac.”
“Who wouldn’t?”
Apple Leaves rolled her eyes. “Bigger isn’t better. My hubby’s kind of short and fat, but it works just fine. And I’d rather have a lighter stallion mount me than try and brace myself for a heavy one.”
“It’d be worth it, I think.” Lavender Fritter licked her lips. “Even if I was sore in the morning. Stars, I wish that Big Mac needed help getting hitched up. I wouldn’t mind getting a closer look at him.”
“So he’s smaller than Big Mac—”
“Who isn’t?”
“—what color is he?”
“Pink,” both Apple Leaves and Lavender Fritter said simultaneously.
“Mostly,” Lavender Fritter added. “He’s got some dark patches . . . I never understood why stallions are like that. Don’t know any mares that’ve got mottled vulvas.”
“When I was a filly, I asked my mom why our delivery pony had dirt on his penis,” Apple Leaves admitted. “Since he kept it inside most of the time, how would it ever get muddy?”
“You only had sisters, right?”
Apple Leaves nodded. “Couple of colts as cousins, but we didn’t spend all that much time together. I wouldn’t have remembered it, but my mom mentioned it to my coltfriend once I’d been dating him for a while.”
“Sometimes parents are mean,” Peachy said. “They probably think it’s funny.”
“I’ve got a whole list.” Apple Leaves tapped her head. “Won’t be long until some of my foals start dating, and I’m ready for it.”
“You gonna tell them about the dangers of having sex in harness?”
“Already told my oldest daughter—she’s working on the weekends pulling a taxi. Lotta stallions. She’s complained about stallions dropping, too.”
“As she should.” Lavender Fritter crossed her forelegs. “Even when I’m in heat, my vulva doesn’t get in the way of harnessing up.”
“And let’s not forget about getting a breeching strap too close to balls . . .”
“Another thing Caramel complained about with his new harness. Ought to mare up; my quarter strap’s dragged across my teats a time or two and I don’t grumble about it. You brush against balls, though—”
“I’ve heard that some of the Royal Guard get themselves gelded, so they don’t have problems with their armor.”
“That’s just a rumor; my cousin’s in the Guard and I asked him about that and he said it was a lie. All the stallions in his barracks were intact, and he hadn’t seen anypony who was cut.”
“Can you imagine being in the barracks and helping each other into armor and you’ve got to put a crupper on all those stallions?”
Peachy Sweet rolled her eyes. “If anypony could get pregnant just from having lustful thoughts, it’d be you.”
Apple Leaves huffed. “What, you were thinking it, too.”
“Give me a proper farmpony every day,” Lavender Fritter said. “Maybe not Caramel, he’s too mottled and he’s got a weird curve and his head is too pointy.”
“I told you that you noticed.”
“Yeah, whatever.” She looked at the other two mares. “Okay, so besides your husbands, who do you think has the best penis in Ponyville?”
“Big Mac.”
“Magnum.”
“Really?” Lavender Fritter frowned. “Magnum? He’s a unicorn.”
“Yeah, but that doesn’t change the quality of his cock. It’s solid pink all the way up to his sheath, it’s got just the right girth, and a good head.”
“Newsflash, Peachy Sweet wants to get rutted by a unicorn.”
“Hey, you asked an honest question and I gave an honest answer. Didn’t hear you offering an opinion.”
“Already told you that I’d let Big Mac mount me.”
“You said that he had a better penis than Caramel, but that’s not a high bar. Most stallions in Ponyville do. Is Big Mac the best?”
“Are we talking penises in general, or including the stallion they’re attached to?”
“I guess in general, or else me and Apple Leaves would have picked our husbands.”
“Whichever,” Apple Leaves said. “I’d still pick Big Mac.”
“You’re not gonna laugh?”
“Of course not.”
“Thunderlane.”
“Really?”
Lavender Fritter nodded. “It’s got a nice shape and proportion, and it matches his fur. I know that’s silly, but when I think about all the stallions I’ve seen around town, that’s what sticks in my mind.”
“I don’t look up as often as I should,” Peachy said. “I don’t really pay that much attention to pegasi. Some farmers swear by getting pegasus genes in the family, say it helps with the weather even if they don’t have wings.”
“Maybe, but they can’t pull much,” Apple Leaves offered. “I guess if you were growing a crop that was super sensitive to the weather, that might be a consideration. Apple trees are pretty hardy.”
“And so are pasture grasses.” Peachy Sweet sighed. “And all the rocks in the south field.”
“If we weren’t considering anything else, I’d pick Thunderlane as having the best-looking penis in Ponyville,” Lavender Fritter declared. “If he wasn’t—I wouldn’t mind having him give me a foal.”
“If Red wasn’t in consideration, I’d still prefer an Earth Pony. Weather skills aside, I’d rather have a foal at home in the fields, not up in the clouds.”
“Yeah.” Apple Leaves nodded. “I suppose overall aesthetics are a consideration, especially if we’re just thinking about a roll in the hay for fun. Thunderlane does have a nice penis, probably the best of all the pegasus stallions. Flitter and Cloudchaser are lucky to have him.”
“Agreed.” Peachy Sweet leaned in. “So who’s the worst?”
“Well, Bulk Biceps is all muscle and there’s not a lot going on between his legs.”
“I heard it’s bigger when it’s hard,” Lavender Fritter objected. “So maybe that’s unfair.”
“And he is a pegasus. What about Felix?”
“Too spotty.”
Peachy Sweet glanced around Sugarcube Corner, then leaned in. “What about Carrot Cake?”
“Thin and lanky, just like the rest of him.”
“Lucky Clover’s too curvey—it doesn’t hang down straight.”
Apple Leaves nodded. “It’s even curvier when it’s erect, that’s what Cherry Jumble says. At least he’s not as veiny as Quarter Hearts.”
“Or Pronto.”
“Sunny Song’s got a cute penis, maybe a little on the small side but I wouldn’t mind bumping muzzles with it.”
Peachy nodded. “It’s certainly bigger than Vellum’s . . . you know what they say about stallions with big beards.”
“Maybe I’m biased,” Lavender Fritter said, “But I’ve spent more than enough time with Caramel’s penis at the end of my muzzle that I’d rate him the worst. It just doesn’t get better the more I see it. Maybe if he kept it tucked up so all I could see was his sheath as I was fastening his straps, but when the only thing left to imagine is how much bigger it gets when it’s hard and I can’t help but think the answer is ‘not enough.’”
“Once you find the perfect stallion, you won’t be thinking about that any more,” Apple Leaves said. “Even if at first glance he’s kind of disappointing when he gets erect.”
“Does Caramel have any foals?”
“Not that I know of.”
“Me, either.”
Lavender Fritter snorted. “Maybe it’s not just the appearance that works against him, then.”
“Eh, I heard he prefers stallions anyway.”
“Really?”
Apple Leaves nodded.
“Ought to let Big Mac harness him next time, then. I’d rather have my muzzle up under Applejack’s tail anyway; her hindquarters are a lot easier on the eyes, and don’t get in the way of a harness.”
