"Quite the turnout." Bulwark hums, stood beside Arnon. It was indeed.

Canterlot Park's usually vibrant green grass is hard to see past the growing crowd, the festivities, the decorations and the pointed tents. Currently, the park is jammed full of Ponies that mill about to watch, move to the various tables under the direction of volunteer officials, or try to actually enjoy the park despite its burst in population.

The stone fence that surrounds its borders are used as checkpoints by the guard. The only spot that doesn't have Ponies standing on it, is the pond.

To spur some local competitive spirit and give the Ponies some fun, Princess Celestia had organized a Hoof-Wrestling tournament. Numerous tables had been set out, and a tournament list was slowly being drawn out to accommodate every name. The daunting part was kicking the whole thing off; once they got past the first round, they'd already be down by half their participants, and it would become more manageable.

Now, Arnon had assumed that he would be presiding as a judge, or helping run the event, or... something.

Instead, color him surprised to find a number taped to his chest. Celestia had signed him up as a participant, claiming it'd be a good way to help the public get used to interacting with their odd Royal Advisor. That, and apparently Twilight wanted the 'data' of his performance.

"Didn't expect nearly this many to show up. Then again; simple contest, no entry fee. Good way to spend the day." Arnon shrugs.

"How far do you think you'll get, Sir?" Bulwark asks. He has a number in his chest, too. No, he didn't sign himself up either. Also Celestia.

Both now stand in the packed line, the murmur of excitement all around them, waiting to be escorted to tables for their first round.

Arnon, arms crossed, ruminates. He'd been keeping up on his workouts...
"Dunno. Might be the first time I'll actually directly, physically compete with a pony. I think I'll get decently far, though -- you all eat too many sweets." Arnon surmises, a smidge cocky. It was arm wrestling in pony form, and he was the only one who had an actual arm, so Arnon was at least a little confident.

An egregiously buff stallion with tiny wings walks past, being directed to a table. He looks like he's the reason Equestria doesn't have steroids -- because he used them all. Good lord. Fittingly so, his table-partner's jaw nearly hits the floor when they see their competition.

"...Not sure if I could take that one." Bulwark chuffs. He was confident, but a fair bit more humble than Arnon.

"...Yeah, maybe not that one." Arnon agrees.

One of the referees nudges Bulwark's shoulders, pointing a hoof at an open table.
"Well, here's me. Good luck, Sir." Bulwark nods, before trailing after them, leaving Arnon to his thoughts.

Or it would have, if Arnon didn't just notice something.

Celestia is at one of the tables. She's got a number on her chest, signifying that she's competing too. Little meet and greets with the Ponies that get squared up against her, and a little fun for herself with partaking. That's nice.

Oh, some of the Elements are here, too. There's Twilight; she's standing beside Applejack and Rainbowdash. Oh, and Ponk. Twilight is the only one without a number. Wonder how far those three will get.

One of the referees nudges Arnon, pointing him to an empty table. Well, time to get started. Wonder if he should've done some stretches.

Alright, so being able to do two and a half pull-ups makes you a monster on the Pony strength scale. Good to know.

The first guy, some poor chestnut stallion, didn't stand a chance. Arnon surprised him with how quickly his hoof hit the table.

Maybe it was their anatomy? They didn't exactly have arms, and he knew ponies weren't weak. He was trying not to fuel his own ego.

It wasn't working.

A few minutes go by, and and the queue is already halved. Another round or two, and there wouldn't even be a line for the tables.

Arnon and his next opponent are shuffled to their next table; ah, shit. Its the giant beefcake of a Pegasus. Well, Arnon had a good run.

Their tables ref throws up a hoof, and --

Buff Pegagus's going full force, all power, muscles straining and veins bulging.

He barely budges Arnon's hand, sweaty hoof digging into his palm. All right, this is getting kind of ridiculous. There's no way the strength differential was this bad, right?

Arnon taps him to the table. The Pegasus is shook, glancing between his muscles and Arnon. He starts tearing up. Now Arnon just felt bad.

Sorry dude, not your fault you weren't the powerscaled human dropped into a pastel candy world.

With his second victory, Arnon no longer has to shuffle into lines; the crowd is thinned enough that the real grind is kicking in.

Glancing around, he sees Applejack and Dash squaring up for the third round. Whoever loses here isn't getting to live it down, that's for sure.

Tia hasn't budged from her table, obviously. By the time Arnon wraps up with his opponent, hers is already on the meet and greet portion of getting selected against her. Honestly, they seem a lot less bummed to lose to her, considering it's expected. Princess of the Sun, one of four Alicorns, all that jazz; the real honor is the face to face. She still manages to look regal, sitting at a table meant for Ponies half her size; somehow, through the crowds and even the Pony anxiously chatting with her, Tia notices Arnon looking, throwing him a wink.

Honestly, Arnon kind of zones out for a while. A maple mare -- folded. A pink-yellow stallion, folded. They just keep coming, and Arnon just keeps folding them. Honestly, it's kind of mean. He's not even being extra about it, they're just... well, they can't even grab his palm.

Dash somehow beats Applejack, in a surprise turn; and Applejack looks DEVASTATED. Rainbow Dash won't stop doing loops and hoof-pumping, while Applejack buries herself under her hat, Twilight rampant in her note taking. Arnon surmises that Applejacks strength must all be in her back-hooves, then; the Dash win really wasn't expected, but throttling through the air front-hooves first probably builds up some frontal muscle mass. Or something.

Ponky Poop is also, unsurprisingly, mowing through the competition as well. It might not even be her whole shtick kicking in; she's just a fucking sturdy-chubby earth pony that drags party supplies and a cannon around all the time.

She squints over at Arnon when he thinks the word chubby, pointing at her eyes, then at him. Omniscient ponies, or just competitive and he's simply thinking the incriminating thoughts as they notice him?

Oh, another competitor gets sat in front of Arnon. Folded like a steel chair, hoof to table on go. At this point, he's just trying to make sure he's not hurting anyone; though the Earth Ponies seem to fare a little better against him than the others. Makes Applejack's loss all the more devastating.

The disparity between some of the competitors is becoming very clear. Arnon, Pinky, Celestia, Rainbow Dash; not a single challenger manages to move them from their tables.

It's not much longer until those pillars are forced to clash. Since he never really planned to win, Arnon doesn't really care; but Ponk keeps mogging him. She might have a trick up her sleeve.

Ref calls out the new changes...

Arnon is up from his table...

Rainbow Dash. Phew. Despite her track record so far, Arnon was confident he could take her, if his previous bouts were anything to go by. Though... she was an Element, and Equus' habit of making the standout few leagues better than the rest proved itself time and time again.

"There he is; the Royal Dork!" She sneers, wriggling on her seat as Arnon sits down across from her. Oh, she is BRIMMING with confidence, riding that Applejack-High all the way to the sky.

"Hey Dainbow Bash; enjoying the competition, since Applejack let you win?" Arnon goads. He'd spent some time in Ponyville before moving to Canterlot; he knew how to poke Rainbow's buttons.

Her cheeky grin falls from her face, replaced by a confident sneer.
"Oh, think she went easy on me, huh?! I'll show you when I send your hoof right through this table!"

She slams her elbow down, holding her hoof out, waiting. Still funny to see Ponies just outright ignore their biological anatomy to accomplish this, but whatever.

Arnon firmly grasps her hoof, getting an odd look from Dash. Yeah, soak it in, Rainbow -- FINGERS. He wriggled them, further distracting her, as she watches each of his little appendages wriggle and writhe across her hoof. That's gotta be a phobia he's tapping into right now, with the disgusted look stretching across her face.

She doesn't even hear the countdown -- only the sound of her hoof slamming on the table. Ough, Arnon eats that shocked look on her face for breakfast, lunch, and saves leftovers for dinner. He can hear Applejack cheering from the sidelines, avenged.

"W-what?! No! I WASNT READY! YOU CHEATED!" Rainbow shouts, slamming her hooves on the table.

"You missed the race start, Dash; that's a lapse in your focus. It's more than just a competition of strength." Arnon teases, dramatically inspecting his nails.

Rainbow Dash looks like she's about to start tweaking, robbed of her victory by a cheap trick -- until the Ref Pony urges her to head to the sidelines, and thanks her for participating. She, predictably, blasts off into the sky instead, likely to go seethe and mald on a cloud somewhere.

Arnon is instructed to remain seated, so he catches a glance at the competition. Pinkie got matched up with Tia, thankfully; so no chance he has to face the pink menace.

... They're chatting, smiling.

... Chubby Ponky.

Her head snaps around, glaring right at Arnon.

Oop.

She leans over to Celestia, whispering something to her.

Oh boy.

Further worry about the omniscient terror that is Pinkie of Pies is torn away, as his newest competitor sits across from him. And it's a familiar one at that; Brass Bulwark.

"Hey, Brass. Still hanging on?" Arnon grins, offering his hand in the ready position.

"There's a reason I got assigned to be your personal Day-Guard, Sir." Brass firmly retorts, offering his hoof. A few of the other guards are cheering for him from the sidelines, grunting various guard-culture phrases that Arnon had no idea the meaning behind.

"I've gotta warn you, Bulwark." Arnon whispers, as the ref starts the countdown.

"Oh?" Bulwark shuffles closer, looking focused.

"This is a human game, where we play so hard we snap our own arms to win." Arnon grins. "Think you can guard me with a broken leg?"

That seems to stutter Brass out of his focus, for just a single moment, in a lured train of thought.

And one moment is all it takes.

Hoof, meet table.

Brass seems to take it a lot better than Dash did, huffing to himself and staring at Arnon's hand.
"...Hm. Wouldn't say it's a new feeling, guarding something that doesn't particularly need it."

"You mean the Princesses?" Arnon asks.

Brass and Arnon both look to the Princess, who sits idly, smiling at the gathered public. Right. Alicorn powerhouse, the strength of all three tribes.

"Well, I guess my job is more to keep an eye on you, than actually protect you. You better sweep this competition, so my pride survives." Bulwark retorts; is he smiling? That's a rare expression for him. "Clever, phasing me out. Didn't expect that from you. Good luck, Sir."

Arnon was always a cheeky little bugger. Honestly, Brass really should have seen something like that coming. For Arnon, it was mostly because it was more entertaining than just shaming every Pony set up against him.

He was kind of wishing he didn't do that now, to see if Brass could've given him a run for his bits.

The Ref Pony asks him to rise; man, the tables are looking pretty sparse now...

The crowd thinned out a little bit from the bummed Ponies that lost, but most of their number stuck around to see how it was all playing out, anxious and interested whispers as the numbers continued to dwindle.

Another bout, another fold. Arnon was starting to zone out again.

The weather was nice. A light, crisp breeze to aid in this beautiful, warm day.

Another Pony, another hoof to a table.

Part of Arnon was wondering what he should get for lunch.

"Hello, our Advisor." A very familiar voice sweetly greets him, as he sits at the table.

He was just blindly following the Ref; well, time to face the music. He had a good run.

"Hello, Princess. Enjoying the Meet and Greet?" Arnon asks playfully, glancing around. He wonders where he ended up placing...

There's no other matches currently ongoing.

It's the finals.

She's the last one.

Hey, finals. Not a bad placement, considering. And he still had plenty of juice to spare; his previous matches hadn't been exactly... tiring.

Princess Celestia stifles a small giggle.
"I'll have you know I'm treating my competition quite seriously, Arnon. But yes -- a few moments to chat with each of them has been enjoyable."

"Like Day Court, but outside." Arnon snickers.

That gets a pause, and a genuine snort out of Celestia -- who quickly recovers.
"I... suppose it is. Hrm. Perhaps on a balmy, sunny summer day, we can host Day Court outside in the Garden. Delightful inspiration, Arnon."

"Glad to assist, Princess." Arnon makes little bow, as the Ref Pony raises their hoof.

"You know... I'm surprised you swept your way through the competition so swiftly. I had expected you to at least make it partway... but consider me impressed. You might even beat me. Imagine that?" Celestia says, placing her hoof forward.

A shiver runs down Arnon's back, despite her playful smile.

Right. He was about to arm-wrestle a Sun-Moving God. Should... probably give it his all. Yeah.

Arnon's hand tentively meets the Princesses Hoof, grasping firmly. A fake-out wasn't going to work against her, not the way she held that coy smile, staring him down. Like she's about to avenge all of her little ponies that he just spent the last half an hour besting.

"...Do you paint your hooves?" Arnon asks suddenly, looking at the hoof in her hand. The both of them are slowly realizing that this is the first time they've held hand to hoof. Sure, not exactly the most intimate setting; but their weeks of casual flirting put a little more kick into that realization, the coy smirk falling from Celestia's face.

"I do not, actually; only for the most special of occasions. I'm a big believer of Natural Beauty -- not to besmirch my dear Twilight's friend, Rarity." Celestia imparts, letting a little playfulness creep back in.

"I can tell." Arnon nods simply, sweating.

"...Hoh. Flatterer." She chuffs. The Ref begins their count down...

Three...

Two...

"Say, did you happen to give Twilight's friend, Pinkie Pie, a new nickname?" She asks sweetly.

It's a brutal double assault. The perfectly timed distraction... and the torrential, monumental force that bears down on him. Arnon's hand can barely hold its place, his entire arm, his entire body, trembling.

It's like trying to hold back a train with nothing but one arm, as it bears down on him. He grips the table hard enough his knuckles are white, teeth grit together with enough force that he's worried they'll crack.

She's a fucking bio-reactor, a nuclear power plant shoved into a pony body, a brick-shitting powerhouse. Her horn isn't even glowing -- this is all her. There's muscle under all that cake-loving fur.

Arnon is fighting for his fucking life. It's a hundred and ten percent not to just get folded instantly -- and every second, he's slowly losing ground.

He finally spares a glance at her -- oh, shit, she's not even fucking trying.

Celestia is just staring at him, resting her head on her other hoof, smiling in a mixture of amusement and soft surprise.
"...You're quite strong, aren't you Arnon?"

The initial, shocked silence of the crowd erupts as somepony -- or someone -- actually lasts a few seconds against the Princess.

But Arnon doesn't hear it; every single fiber, every cell of his being is hyper-focused on holding back the equivalent of a tsunami. Like trying to bench a cement truck. She's a fucking monster.

Slowly, Arnon keeps losing ground as Celestia applies more and more pressure; she watches with muted, playful interest.

Arnon's cheeks are puffed, huffing and puffing, face red as his veins threaten to shoot out of his skin. Time is a foreign concept -- all he knows is hold fast. And he is slowly fading.

His hand is now inches from the table -- where it remains.

Celestia leans forward, a coy smile placed on her half-lidded, playful face. Arnon is only still in because she's letting him; she could end this at any moment. Fucking Sunbutt.
"Tell you what, Arnon... how about a little wager, to make this last stretch interesting?" She teases.

Arnon is, obviously, entirely incapable of doing anything that isn't strain against the sheer force pinning his arm, or straining an ear to listen. So he listens, and he strains.

"If you can hold out for... hm. Let us say... ten more seconds, I will grant you any singular request of yours. Any. Including, if you so desire... a personal one." She practically purrs. She's hazing the absolute shit out of Arnon right now.

He can barely hear her wager over the ringing in his ears. He's not even capable of higher thought at this moment -- but his caveman brain just barely slams the idea down his brain-funnel to process what she just said.

Then, Celestia gives her final push.

But it refused.

Arnon's hand, shaking and trembling, does not budge against her hoof.

She raises an eyebrow.

She pushes again, harder.

It's like resisting an entire ocean of pressure. Like trying to stop the tectonic shifting of the continents by-hand.

But Arnon doesn't budge.

"...Hoh." Celestia hums softly.

She shifts in her seat, lifting her head from her hoof. For the first moment since coming here; she visibly looks like she's trying to apply pressure.

It takes everything not to black out.

Non-vital organs are dormant.

Arnon's veins look like they belong on the outside of his skin, now.

He's several different shades of red, each getting so bright he could classify as a tomato.

The crowd is roaring, cheering, hooves flailing.

Celestia looks to Arnon, and gives him a smile.

That's a new smile. She's never given him that one before.

A haughty, sultry smile, even.

snap

Somepony in the crowd screams. Another faints. The Ref is frozen completely still.

Celestia's face, somehow, goes pale. Arnon's hand is touching the table, though the rest of his arm isn't.

When did he get three joints in his arm?

Instead of providing an answer, Arnon's head thunks on the table as he passes out.

Arnon flits in and out of consciousness. Vision is hazy, voices are fuzzy. He's not moving his own legs; whoever is carrying him is fluffy.

...Fluffy? Really fluffy. Familiarly fluffy. Massages every week, smells like vanilla, white fur fluffy.

And fast. Never seen the Canterlot streets go by in a blur... hard to see them past all these flapping feathers.

Unconsciousness claims him again.

Canterlot's Hospital. Quite well stocked, and well staffed by some of the best in the nation. Big, fancy building. No red cross on it, though; did you know that's copyrighted? Crazy, right? Instead they've got a big white cross with hearts in each corner, on a sign out front and up on the wall, on several banners.

Thankfully, it was a clean break that just needed realigning and time to set. Downside to being magically muted; no healing magic to speed the process up. So, Arnon was in for a nice, long recovery period, arm firmly bound in a cast.

Considering his size to the typical Pony, they'd pushed two of the medical beds together to give him a comfortable enough sprawl. It was working, for the most part. Cute, quaint room, a few medical devices of varying technological levels. His cast-bound forearm dangled outward, suspended, as an IV tube sticking out just above it.

The Nurses were polite -- obviously. When Princess Celestia comes barging into the hospital demanding aid, she gets it, and when royal matters are involved, every one of these ponies is on their A-Game.

Now, though, Arnon sits on the kind-of comfortable beds, laid on his back. Quiet morning sun filters in, now the morrow from the event. From what he'd heard, other than exposing a good chunk of the locals to a bent arm, the competition went quite well. Prizes were given to the top 3, not including Celestia -- she participated, but wasn't a contestant. Arnon's arm snapping unfortunately rendered him disqualified, so no bit-prizes for him.

That was alright though. Apparently, he had lasted 11 seconds once the wager took place.

Which meant he won the wager. Which means he got one request, one wish, no limits, from the Princess Of The Sun.

And he was thoroughly enjoying what he'd chosen. Given some time alone from the nurses, at the Princesses word, it was only Arnon in the room.

And a large, fluffy, white-furred Princess who laid on his stomach, carefully balancing herself with her hooves and wings around his sides so as not to lean on him too much. Her barrel was pressed up against his face, burying him in her chest-fluff as she softly looked at him from above. Somehow, she made shoving her fur-tits in his face still look regal. He had no idea how she did it, but she did.

Originally, she'd been very apologetic. That was the last thing she expected to happen, and she felt terrible for letting her sense of self-control slip. Celestia had been visiting constantly, only leaving the room to perform the bare minimum of her duties, like lowering the sun. She'd even spent the entire night in the same room, keeping an eye on him. She'd left a few moments ago, to raise the sun; and when she returned, Arnon offered what he wanted, since he did win after all.

"Put your chest fluff in my face." Arnon requested simply.

Not the thing she expected to hear out of him... considering the original wager had been made flirtatiously and with overconfidence that there was no way she could lose. To say she had the consequences on her mind the entire time was an understatement... but she relented, relieved at the odd but relatively tame choice. An Alicorns word was a powerful thing, after all.

Took them a minute to find a good pose... but here they were. Arnon's muffled, content sighs as he's buried under what is arguably some of the softest fur in the entire kingdom. She wasn't quite sure what this even did for him.. but she enjoyed the physical contact, and that he wasn't upset with her.

He'd explained that 'honestly that kind of stuff happens surprisingly often to humans'. She still felt bad, of course, for her slip in demeanor and overexcitement, but Arnon continued to assure her; amusing, considering he was the one now bedbound, his good hand softly raking the fur of her side, tracing her foreleg.

"...You humans are such physically orientated creatures." Celestia muses softly, glancing down her snout at him. "...And oddly forgiving."

"Mphmmh." Arnon replies, muffled and buried in regal fluff.

"Oh, I'm not complaining. I... enjoy our more direct interactions. I am just glad you're alright... and that you do not think lesser of me for my misstep." She sighs, leaning down to chuff air into his hair.

"Hgrmmgph." Arnon mumbles.

"I know... as you keep telling me. Still, I will not budge on this. You are taking paid vacation until you are healed. I want you relaxed, and I want you taken care of." Celestia retorts.

"Hrnmg?" Arnon... you get it. Man is buried.

"Me? I am hardly a trained nurse, Arnon; nor does my magic hold any latent affect on you, thanks to your physiology. Though, rest assured, that will hardly stop me from checking on you." She chuffs again, pressing her nose to his forehead. "Expect me often. I shan't have my Advisor feeling ignored, after such a brutal assault on his self by his Princess."

"Hough knf... thedhf somgth ethf yff cbdh bmhrph." Arnon coyly mumbles underneath his fluff-bound prison of choice.

A bright streak of blush takes the Princesses face, as she quickly glances at the door, assuring they're alone.

She looks back down to him, and the hand slowly tracing her up her neck, the fingers gently following the hidden lines of her musculature, tucked beneath her soft fur.

"...Goodness, you Humans are voracious. You'll forgive the arm if I break your hips next? I'm not ignorant of the implication, Royal Advisor." She scolds softly, through a haughty huff and half-lidded eyes. "Such a thing to say to your Princess..."

"...No, I think I'll need to be far more gentle with you going forward." She whispers, craning her neck to look at him coyly, leaning closer.

The door knocks, a nurse-pony entering, Bulwark close behind them -- Celestia quickly slips off the side of the bed, standing beside it as if they were up to nothing, nothing at all. She's gotten quite good at hiding their more playful advances.

And thankfully, Ponies are not very good at picking up on minor details. Like the white furs stuck to Arnon's face, or the face-shaped matted fur of Celestia's chest.

"...So you weren't kidding about the arm-snapping, huh?" Bulwark chuckles after bowing to the Princess.

Tia gives Arnon a curious look. He just shrugs.

Author's Note