Twilight Sparkle and the Stupid Original Pony

Grey sky, what little we could see of it. A fresh autumn breeze blew down the streets, but here we were mostly sheltered. The cooling final days of autumn found me at the shrine. Priestess Isha had not been able to teach me any of the High Sorcery I most desired – it really wasn’t her thing. But as her student I was nevertheless learning.

Gloam was at school and I was using my skills to assist with free clinic held at the shrine of Aphrodite. The goddess’s magic put holy power in our hands and one day a week we did what we could to cure and counsel any who sought care for their bodies or their hearts.

Capable now of minor healing spells, I handled some of the simpler cases on my own.

While Isha consulted in the grassy sanctuary, I used the curtained off nook along the tunnel-like alley which led to the shrine. Not all patients were members of our congregation, comfortable with the ritual nudity we practiced in the heart of the shrine. It was one thing to ask a patient to undress – it was another for them to find their raiment disintegrating entire because they violated a prohibition that all congregants would know.

—

Before me sat a fair woman, patiently naked in my improvised exam room – as I drew the curtain behind me I couldn't keep my eyes off her breasts.

“Uh, hi,” I said, trying not to stare, “I’m Tanna Sparkle, an Initiate in the cult of Aphrodite. By the grace of the goddess, I bring healing.”

“Diane Moster. It’s obvious what I’m here about.”

She had not failed to note my unwavering gaze.

“That looks so painful.” My own body was responding with sympathetic pain. “What happened?”

“Two hungry babies. They’re with my mother.”

Her nipples were red and angry, almost raw.

“You should have gotten help before it got so bad.”

“I tried at the state hospital. All they did was give me a prescription for a not-nursing-safe painkiller ointment and baby formula, and I don’t want to feed the boys that unless I have no choice.”

“Breast milk is best,” I agreed, “I’ll get you fixed right up. I have a safe herbal salve that will be soothing, and then I’m going to need to hold your breasts for the healing spell.”

“Go ahead.”

My carved gourd of Clop Salve was getting low, but this patient definitely needed it. Carefully I rubbed the zebra medicine into the hot, inflamed, skin.

Glancing at her face I saw tears on her cheek.

“Sorry, am I hurting you?”

“No, I’m crying with relief, you’re so gentle. The public health doctor just grabbed my nipple with no warning and squeezed to see if any puss came out.”

“What a bastard.”

“Bitch,” she corrected me as I wrapped my hands carefully around.

“I hope her gynecologist has hangnails. Any pain now?”

“None.”

“Good. The salve would get you on the road to healing, but while you’re actively nursing, we need to push things forward faster.”

Her breasts were soft in my careful grasp as I allowed magic to flow through me: my hands were the goddess’s touch, bringing comfort to those who asked in her name. Warmth suffused the aggravated tissues as healing took place. With a gentle squeeze I probed for any further injury but felt only firm, perfect flesh, ready to nourish her babies. As a natural side effect of the magic I used, and the proximity to the shrine, a certain amount of sexual energy was liberated, focused on our points of contact.

My eyes still closed, I recalled Twilight’s breasts when she was human. But if she came to me now, would she be a man? Maybe she was permanently male now, just as my change seemed to be permanent. I had no idea. I’d be fine with that reversal, I thought, happily imagining squeezing something entirely different than what my hands now encompassed. Twilight, in her stallion form, had been incredibly sexy. If only we could have finished before we separated…

“Thinking about an old girlfriend?” my patient asked.

“Oh! Sorry!”

I pulled my hands back; the sensual flow of magic had lasted longer than needed.

“The inflammation is gone now. And yes, thinking of a girl, and of my husband.”

She stood and stepped close to me.

“I could help you remember her. My husband doesn’t mind if I fool around with other women.”

“Th-Thank you, no, I can’t, thank you.”

Twilight’s touch, whatever form it came in, was what I yearned for.

“If you’d like to go ahead and get dressed, you are good to go.”

She made no movement to cover her nakedness.

“Thank you, I feel much better. Is this going to happen again?”

“It depends on how cooperative your sons are. If they keep biting, you’ll have to wean. After my daughter bit me the third time, her next meal was a broccoli and breast milk smoothie.”

“Ugh, that sounds awful.”

“Probably was. But she’s strong and healthy today.”

“Do I owe you anything?”

“Nothing. It is our duty and our pleasure to serve any who ask.”

“Not even a donation?”

“At this time no. Open your heart to Aphrodite and if she directs you, obey accordingly.”

“Thank you. The boys will be hungry soon, and I think my husband may find me unexpectedly enthusiastic tonight.”

“That, too, is the goddess’ work.” I could scent the effect that Aphrodite’s power had on my patient’s body. “Go in peace.”

Finally she turned to gather her clothes; I stepped beyond the curtain…

—

…hoping to vanish into the restroom and work through some of the lingering energy that was upon me, but instead I met Isha. She was just finishing up her weekly session with one of our regulars. There was nothing wrong old beldame that a good dicking couldn't fix; in the mean time, she showed up for prayer and counseling with the priestess.

“…or you could whip me up a love potion, yer holiness!” she cackled as she drew on her clothes beyond the edge of the holy ground.

“Ain’t happening, you’d do something terrible if I turned you loose with that.”

The slightly crazy woman laughed in agreement.

“Hypothetically, elder,” I asked respectfully, “what if she were to bring her intended with her, and they drank such a philtre together under supervision?”

“I tried that, dearie,” the ruddy woman chuckled, “but th’ holy woman wou’n’t have nothing to do with it.”

“Consent, Rosa,” Isha admonished gently before explaining, “she dragged in some poor drunk. Wanted me to fix them up.”

“Could you?”

“I could, if I didn’t have any morals.”

“I’d make sure he consented after the fact, I would!” Roza asserted.

Isha loomed even taller than usual, her gentle expression of rebuke replaced with harder disapproval.

“I’m joking, joking,” Roza deflected before Isha said a word.

“Rape is never a joke, Roza, not even when it’s woman on man. Now be good, stay safe, and we’ll see you next time.”

As the sound of footsteps retreated, I was ready to excuse myself before I got too desperate. Fate, or the goddess, declared otherwise.

“Close off the shrine, please, Tanna.”

“Aye.”

I strung the rope across the entry –it wasn’t a real barrier, just a request for courtesy– and returned to see Isha wanted.

“You can come out now,” Isha raised her voice. “All our other patients are gone for the day.”

A young man stepped out from behind a shrubbery. He was naked, covering his genitals with hands.

“I’m so embarrassed,” he said miserably.

“Waste of energy,” Isha said wryly. “We’re here to help you, not humiliate you. Pecker out.”