Prick Up Your Ears

“Princess” Twilight sat upon her Canterlot throne. Really, she was not even some mere queen. De facto, Twilight was the Empress of the Equines. Despite all that (and the Crystal Empire’s pretensions at imperial ambition defying all reality at being a city-state protectorate of Equestria), she and Cadence continued to style themselves as “Princess” in Equestrian tradition.

Twilight shifted uncomfortably in her awkwardly enlarged body, missing the days when she could hide under a tree or deep between the shelves and read historic treatises. Treatises on subjects such as how the title of Princess used to stem from the boss mare of Canterlot before becoming subsumed in Celestia’s eternal reign over Equestria—now transferred over to her, Cadence, and Flurry.

Oh. Flurry. She thought. Why couldn’t Celestia have delayed her all-too-public retirement by a decade or three to allow Flurry to grow into a passable body double and then retire quietly? That way, Twilight could have taken over for Luna. Keep public fewer but better friendships.

The door to the court opened and the next supplicants did the usual entrance and bow.

One of them being a pegasus stallion reminded Twilight that she was probably ruminating to distract from the agitation of heat. For being the Boss Mare for all Equestria, stallions that stroked her fancy were a rare commodity. This year, any who did all seemed to have wings.

She was snapped out of her contemplative mood by a chart of electrical diagrams for radio astronomy. Finally, ponies who had something interesting to say. At least it wasn’t another rant on jurisprudence—how she missed being a filly silly enough to care about legal theories.

The skewbald pegasus flipped pages on the poster board while his unicorn colleagues explained that another strong signal was found with the same signature as the others.

“Do you need the office of non-ungulate languages to translate this one, too?” Twilight asked.

“That would be appreciated,” the unicorn mare answered.

Her horned stallion colleague continued, “There is still debate whether this is from a deeply ancient pre-equine civilization that bounced off a radio wall or waste radio from an incomprehensibly distant planet. We doubt that this signal will do much to resolve the dispute.”

Finally, the poster-flipping pegasus chimed in with his blatant appeal for increased funding, “We know how much your majesty enjoys intellectual puzzles, so we have already given your translation team a hooves-up that you will pay them a workshop visit the next time you have open calendar time.”

D~~n, she thought. No wonder Luna was so willing to abdicate after such little time restored to the throne.

A brown earth stallion Twilight recognized from her Ponyville days greeted her when she entered the translation office. How Time Turner gained such inexplicable knowledge of alien languages remained a mystery to all. The pair sat down on the immaculately dust-free sofa while Time Turner fiddled with some sort of control board.

Around them, the pneumatic hiss of brass cylinders and magnetic wheels sprang to life as the room dimmed to romantic mood lighting.

Time Turner continued to adjust the levers and dials that controlled the magic field in front of Canterlot’s highest light density candelabra. Gradually, the waves and fuzz coalesced into a moving picture. He shifted and fiddled with other knobs, and the faint static gradually grew louder and more coherent into some kind of yammering.

The aggressive ugliness of the video was the most immediate observation. Whatever species it represented, this was clearly cartoon propaganda by some rival creature on that planet. Nonetheless, as Time Turned pointed out, it remained consistent as a distortion of the overall anatomy of the species from this mystery planet: some kind of tailless biped, presumably a proto-dragon. Cases of clearer transmissions indicated that their earth tones were most likely from radio distortion, not their scale coloration.

Simple inlays and motion graphics adorned the transmission. However, the pair decided that the gonk was too distracting from parsing meaning from their speech, so they shaded the candelabra and turned up the lights.

Listening intently on repeat, the pair slowly began to piece together the meaning of the transmission. Perhaps it was wishful thinking plus Twilight’s heat, but they soon found themselves in a randy mood. Twilight initiated by licking Time Turner’s velvet muzzle. After exchanging breaths, Time Turner returned the favor, and they listened to the recording again to verify their initial impressions.

By the time they had listened to it enough to obtain an unambiguous translation of the transmission, Twilight had a front right hoof covered in sticky mare arousal, a head full of ideas, a muzzle covered in Time Turner’s drying saliva, and a belly full of cum.

That final point informed Twilight’s plan for further research. Not only would she seek out the smallest stallion in easy reach (probably a pegasus), but she would also be sure to relieve him at least once before the main experiment.

Two days later, she found the ideal specimen.

As she strolled through the high halls of Canterlot Castle after a diplomatic dinner with the kirin queen, she saw the dawn & dusk guard—the shift assigned to ponies unfortunate enough to have medium-gray coats—mustering in one of the broad spots.

Two rows deep by 15 ponies wide paused in their formation to give the obligatory bow. True to her speculation, the smallest stallion was obviously a pegasus.

She bowed to their commander pair to thank them for putting up with her interruption, then trotted to the short stallion.

“I have a personal mission for you,” she whispered. “Follow me to my quarters.”

Before departing to her bedchamber, she paused in front of the commanders. “Sirs, please warn Dawn Command that if—” she glanced at the pegasus beside her.

“Rumble, your majesty.”

“—if Rumble is absent from roll call, he is on a mission from the Princess.”

“Yes, Princess.” The pair saluted and returned to their usual duties as Twilight got the brilliant idea to jump off the balcony and fly to her private corridor, rather than draw attention with an excited gallop down the halls.

Rumble kept up the best he could in his heavy golden armor. Luckily for him, the Princess had a body built for stamina, not speed. Much like the fully-grown hippogriff, if she did not use magic to assist in takeoff, jumping off high places was her preferred launch.

Twilight must have been feeling extra frisky—perhaps even randy or excited—because she made a full circle around Canterlot’s mountain before alighting upon her open balcony.

In contrast to Twilight’s elegant soaring, Rumble had to flap to maintain altitude through the warm early evening air. When he landed behind his Princess, his nostrils were flared to grab as much oxygen as possible. Thankfully for his continued enlistment in the Guard, a single loop around Canterlot did not have him fully panting—such exercises reminded him that his natural build was to be an unarmored interceptor.

“So, Rumble,” Twilight bent down to nibble at his withers, “Where are you from?”

“Ponyville. Cheerilee kept insisting we visit your library when researching our reports before you became a princess. Do you remember a filly named Apple Bloom?”

Twilight delighted Rumble with the goofy sight of a draft mare pronking. Her “Of course, Applejack talks of her all the time!” was wholly unnecessary to convey her excitement.

Once all four royal hooves had settled to stillness on the ground, her ears drooped. “I’ve offered her a stipend to study advanced alchemy at the Manehattan Polytechnic to cross train her.” She returned her muzzle to the base of his mane and noted the freshly salted flavor. “Unfortunately, she specifically wants me as her supervisor, and I lack time for academic students.”

Moments passed as Twilight continued to nibble at his mane.

“You seem a bit nervous,” she finally said.

He nickered and shifted his weight between his rear legs. Twilight let him have a moment to collect himself.

“Princess, what mission do you have to assign?”

“Princess pleasuring duty.”

“I’ve never been assigned to this before. Please be gentle on my evaluation.”

Twilight craned her neck further down to envelop his poll in her mane while she licked his face all the way from the bridge of his nose, where the helmet stopped, down to his muzzle.

Nose-to-nose, she asked a question she hoped would reassure him to a proper stallion’s confidence. “First, have you pleasured a mare before? Or pleasured a filly back when you were still a colt?”
“Yes, your majesty.”

“Then you know how it works. I’m just bigger than most, so you may need to stand atop a chest of drawers. Actually, what I want you for is a sexual experiment. It may not work—in fact, please tell me if it’s not working. You’re the small stallion I need. But first,” she exhaled softly into his nostrils, “Let’s get you out of this armor.”

Well-practiced magic popped the clasps holding his armor together, before he suddenly became naked when she levitated all his armor away into a neat pile.

Beautiful. If I just needed to be mounted and bred, a stallion this sweaty is perfectly warmed up—note the use of the subjunctive tense, thought Twilight.

Rumble felt his whole body tugged slightly off the ground, just enough to relieve his pasterns of tension.

“May I?”

“I can fly, if you don’t want hoofsteps clacking on your floor.”

Twilight set him down before tugging him partially up again. “It’s not often I get to levitate a pony to be gentle.”

She lifted Rumble the rest of the way and held him beside her so they were eye-to-eye.

Rumble slowly retracted and unfurled his wings in indecision.

“Which is more comfortable?” Asked Twilight as she carried him toward a dim open doorway.

Taking the hint—an unusual feat for a stallion—, Rumble let his wings mostly fold so that they drooped slightly, then turned his head away from Twilight to get a better view of his destination. He did not see much beyond immaculately clean tiles and the side of an archway that approached far too close for comfort.

Twilight lifted him higher and set him so his legs straddled the base of her royal neck. The archway may have been too narrow for a Princess to pass with a companion at her side, but it was plenty tall enough to accommodate her horn, even if she held her head high. Once inside, she lifted him once again to set his hooves gently on the ground.

Rumble’s natural sensitivity to altitude and inclination informed him the tiles were imperceptibly sloped toward the center of the room. Glancing around Twilight’s leg as she removed her regalia into a neat pile, he saw the expected drain. The walls and ceiling had many hoses, spigots, and showerheads. He lost the ability to remain observant the moment the warm rain dumped from the ceiling, soaking his outer fur.

He shuddered as a pair of combs were levitated from his cutie marks to his shoulders, dipping under his spread wings. As they made that journey again and again, his inner fur began to match the sogginess of his outer fur. Soon, the combs were substituted for a trio of scrub brushes, as Twilight soaped his sides and back.

“I don’t get to do this very often,” nickered Twilight.

After letting the soaking rain rinse Rumble, Twilight grabbed one of the hoses and adjusted the nozzle to mist. Twilight snorted at the observation that it would not be that much of a stretch to describe his color in relation to Big Mac from how deeply he blushed. Nopony told her pegasi have conflicted feelings about their barrel resting on a warm cloud. His slow and uneven breathing made his embarrassment clear enough to her.

Taking care not to tickle his sensitive barrel with a comb or brush, Twilight left the misty spray running and grabbed a soapy sponge. Rumble’s happy nickers soon filled her ears when she began to scrub his chest and made her way back. Between his elbows, across his girth and belly: his blush dissipated and nickers continued. Twilight knew had achieved some success when she felt his flare and an inch or two of shaft poking out from his sheath. A relaxed, happy, and small stallion was the foundational ingredient for her experiment.

She scrubbed his shaft and sheath, then returned to the next inch of shaft that drew itself out of hiding. Soon enough, she moved to clean his balls, then up his crack. The sight of his ponut contracting rewarded Twilight before she circled the sponge around it and along his dock.

Soon, she flipped a switch to change the hose from mist to rain and rinsed Rumble’s undercarriage, taking care to toggle his dangling member with her magic.

“I won’t mind if you get me wetter than I already am,” Twilight said once she turned off the water.

Rumble took his cue to shake himself dry.

“After you exit, turn right, then stand atop the drawers at the base of my bed facing the headboard. I will join you momentarily,” she instructed him.

Now alone in the shower, Twilight shook herself dry and noted just how hard that made her wink. She took her piled regalia with her out the entrance and set it in an alcove to the left before making that right turn to see Rumble’s legs and tail.

Once she was close, she told him to glance back so he wouldn’t be surprised and pushed his tail aside with her lips grasping his dock.

It was now time to deploy a trick far better at coaxing a nervous stallion to slap himself in the belly with his fifth leg than merely fondling his balls with magic, like trashy mares’ magazines suggest.

Releasing his dock from her grasp, she paused momentarily to check that his tail was still held aside. Satisfied her work could continue unobstructed, she lowered her attention and began to poke at his ponut with her tongue. One o’clock, eight o’clock, three o’clock, ten o’clock: she warmed him up with muscle-on-muscle jabs. He soon leaned into the pleasure, and Twilight switched strategies to circle his doughnut in continuous motion, her muzzle pushing against his dock.

Twilight shamelessly let herself leak on the floor as she enjoyed the neutral taste of clean bare skin. Her rear right leg twitched as a drop of arousal tickled her inner thigh.

A soft thwack cued Twilight that it was time to redirect her magic from an ambient cloud on his balls to a concentrated ring along his shaft.

Each time her magic passed his medial ring, his anus puckered with increasing insistence. As it threatened to grab her pointed tongue inside, Twilight switched strategy and flattened her tongue, letting his sphincter rest and flex against the middle.

Four more magical pumps was all it took before Rumble shifted his weight entirely to his rear legs and Twilight’s tongue, then began to shoot semen onto her bedsheets and his font legs.

When he relaxed enough to shift back to normal weight distribution, Twilight pulled back. Rumble looked back to his Princess expectantly.

Twilight lit her horn and tugged him upward. “May I?”

Rumble smiled even wider. “Yes.”

He was lifted, carried over the bed, then flipped upside down. His wings unfurled in instinctual alarm, and she placed him with his hooves in the air.

Twilight then towered over him, standing on the bed. She bent down to lick the semen off the backs of his forelegs before licking his muzzle to coax a kiss.

Their robust lips played with each other as they grew in mutual pleasure. Twilight pressed her tongue against his incisors, prompting him to stick his tongue out and taste the final remnants of his seed.

Confusion quickly returned to a smile as Rumble’s conscious brain reminded him that this challenger upon his mare’s tongue was, in fact, his own effort.

Twilight broke the kiss to step a tiny step forward. Rumble now had the opportunity to lick, nibble, and kiss the Royal Throatlatch. Not long after, Twilight partially knelt down, and he now parted her chest fur with his tongue to lick at the hide underneath. She continued to scoot forward and he now tasted her barrel, then her belly.

Rumble’s confused neigh was cut off by Twilight’s inhalation pressing her barrel into his face with renewed vigor. His lower barrel was bathed in warm liquid, as if he peed himself. However, the rest of his body knew that was not the case.

Twilight drew herself off him, and he made a Flehmen face to smell just what was dumped in front of his sheath. His hypothesis was correct: it was not urine. It was, in fact, a mare announcing that she was lubed and ready as soon as he recovered his erection. Any further thoughts were extinguished by Twilight draping her wing over him, gently rolling him to his side.

Rumble did not awake with morning wood. Rather, he awoke to just-after-dusk wood. Candlelight danced around Twilight’s chamber and his throbbing erection. He sniffed the air, consciously this time. There was a horny mare in his area.

As he pushed himself up, he sniffed at the bedsheets. That mare’s area, apparently, was under where his barrel rested during his nap.

The mare was soon found circling the bed, arranging brewing equipment and spellbooks.

“You’re eager to get started,” announced a Twilight alerted by the rustling of sheets.

“Back up to the bed and face the window, your majesty. I will do my duty.”

“My Rumble, it’s time to experiment. Your order is to stick your dick in that lube barrel as if to fuck it, pump twice, then pull out and hear my next instruction.”

Rumble did as told. He noted her courtesy in pre-warming the lube. The barrel had the warm slick of a mare without the orgasmic tightness.

Twilight lowered her head as if to graze off the stone floor. “I know this is bizarre. Can you try—slowly!—to slide your dick into my ear?”

“My penis,” Rumble hesitated to confirm, “in your ear?”

“Yes. I need to confirm whether that was the sex position described in a descrambled transmission.”

Rumble took a halting step toward Twilight’s head.

“Go slow. I do not wish for either of us to get injured.”

Rumble pressed his penis against Twilight’s left ear. It did not fit. He retreated.

“Did you note how close you were to fitting?” Asked Twilight.

“No,” answered Rumble.

“This time, try to feel how much you are able to fit.”

Rumble’s still slick dick twitched against his belly. As he approached, he found that shaking his legs helped vibrate his flare to pop into her tall ear. However, it clearly would not go any further. The ear canal, it felt, was both much bigger than his urethra and at least that much smaller than his full flare. He wiggled his hips for better measurement. Perhaps the Princess, for being such a large horse, and even larger ear canals.

“About half across?” he reported after pulling out.

He was then squeezed and released by a series of magic bands as Twilight wrote measurements of him.

She levitated him so his erect member faced her muzzle. “Tell me when my tongue feels the same area as my ear hole.”

Twilight started in the center of his flare, just above its hole.

“Stop!” squealed Rumble.

Twilight set him down. She then wrote one last number in her notebook before beakers and flasks danced in a show of alchemy.

A minute or so later, Rumble was presented with a beaker filled with glowing gray liquid.

“This is a shrinkage potion, if you choose to drink it,” explained Twilight. “If you do not, I’ll mark that ear sex is too much hassle. I’ll still let you enjoy relief—perhaps you may like to mount my donut?”

Rumble stayed silent, observing the unnatural liquid and the Princess.

The Princess continued, “If you drink it, you will shrink for about five minutes. After that, you will gradually return to normal size over the next four to eight hours as you break down and excrete the potion. I briefly considered an enlargement potion for myself, but I barely fit most rooms as it is.”

“Sip or chug?” Rumble asked with a final look at his Princess.

“Chug.”

Rumble grabbed the beaker with his wings, then chugged the chemically sweet concoction.

Twilight stepped onto her bed and laid on her left side. “Join me.”

Rumble reared to measure the jump to the bed. It was already taller than he expected. He chose to fly.

Flight proved increasingly harder, but just barely possible as he dropped onto the bed. “How will I know when I’m done shrinking?” he asked with a shockingly unchanged voice, as he made the now-long way to his Princess.

“I set a timer.” Twilight lit her horn and played with his balls to pass time.

Even before the ding, Twilight had already gathered a glob of lube to levitate over to Rumble. She pushed it along his shrunken horsecock, giving it a refreshed sheen.

Rumble, now the size of a small colt with the proportions and heavy muscles of a grown stallion, stepped forward to his princess’ face. His entire body was barely larger than her royal head.

“Slow and gentle,” Twilight nickered. “At least at first.”

Her external ear had no trouble accommodating his shaft. The lube dampened her ear guard hairs so they did not jump Rumble into a premature conclusion. She gasped when he first tried to find her hole. His instincts took over while he vibrated his hind legs to probe for the entrance. Rumble’s front right pastern caressed the base of Twilight’s horn while his left forehoof stretched forward to rest on the side of Twilight’s neck.

Twilight whinnied in delight and lost complex thinking the moment Rumble’s flare entered her canal. As he probed forth, Twilight nickered in pleasure, hind legs twitching. Even when he retracted somewhat, she sometimes squealed.

Rumble continued to push forth slowly, then retreat slightly, before continuing to press forth. Even after he hilted, he still took his time pulling out. Finally, after his pullout remained smooth to the point of his medial ring popped out, his stallion drive took over and the pace rapidly increased.

Twilight dropped the squeals and nickers in favor of visceral grunts and moans. She was too lost to care that his balls whacked and slapped her face with the force of rocks. Despite their now-diminutive size, they retained their original mass.

For his part, Rumble’s grunts synchronized so that they immediately preceded each slap of his balls, going in and out of phase with Twilight’s vocalizations. His body increasingly warmed, as if he were baking on a hot summer day. The first drop of sweat beading on his barrel signaled his hard work and set him on the final push to his inevitable goal. Rumble’s mind grew as empty as Twilight’s as the rising constricting heat filled his core with each additional droplet on his barrel pushing him closer to the edge. When there was enough to dampen his fur against Twilight’s face and tickle his barrel, his grunts sublimated into a low nicker and moan as he hilted one final time and flared.

The sudden pressure from Rumble’s flare inside her ear made Twilight’s formidable vaginal muscles tense in preparation for spasm. The sound of each spurt rushing through the remaining space of her canal and bouncing off her eardrum sent shivers throughout her body. Each pump from Rumble’s balls became magnified into a full squirt of pleasure, Twilight’s lower half sending her own jets all over the bed in time to Rumble’s unloading. Even after Rumble finished and began to pull out, Twilight’s marehood continued to twitch and occasionally send out another spurt.

Eventually, even Twilight’s orgasm subsided. When she was finally able to think again, the sogginess of her left cutie mark told her all one needed to know about the strength of her maregasm. It was a strength that would be matched in her letter of commendation she would file to his permanent record.

Several weeks later, Twilight rolled uncomfortably on the straw-lined floor of the Royal Physician’s examination room. Her ear had been giving her no end of trouble since her date with Rumble. In fact, she had him reassigned to Cloudsdale so she wouldn’t have to be reminded of her foalish experimentation.

A massive alicorn mare acting like a filly afraid of her heat. Afraid of a stallion dicking her down and making another filly.

“Your Majesty,” the opening door and stallion’s voice broke her rumination. “You have otitis externa.”

He levitated a large vial. “Can you lay upright or stand? The drops need a proper downward channel to kill off the infection.”

Twilight rolled to lay on her belly, head drooping onto the straw bedding.

The physician approached Twilight’s right side. “This will tickle more than it stings.”

True to his word, the alicorn’s ear flicked at the glass dropper tickling her guard hairs. Her physician paused for a moment to decide the best allocation of lips, hooves, and levitation. He kept his hooves on the ground, magic on the vial and dropper, gently grasped the tip of Twilight’s overprotective ear with his nimble lips. Twilight trembled as the fizzy liquid slid down her ear canal (EAM, as they’d say in physician’s college).

The doctor raised his voice so her left ear could clearly hear it. “Blink twice if you need me to keep you still; three times if you trust yourself to hold your head upright for four more minutes.”

Twilight blinked thrice in rapid succession, and her doctor released her ear from his mouth before running his muzzle under the mouthwash shower.

Twilight’s non-existent ear mites—while she was no Rarity, she was typically meticulous with personal hygiene, especially when her head was involved—excised from his lips, her physician grabbed two fresh vials and trotted over to her left side.

Setting it gently on the ground, he instructed her to use a cleansing rinse in the morning, followed by draining the ear after five minutes. The drying rinse was to be used at night and on mornings where the draining did not wish to complete. After five days, he should be

Twilight thanked him and then made her way to the door with the vials in her telekinetic grip. Before she left, her physician tapped her flank.

“Princess! Before you leave, I have a suggestion for you.”

Twilight turned to face him, and he nodded to signal she ought to close the door.

“One of my suppliers says she worked with you back when you lived in Ponyville. She says you liked to book time with her and a striped friend for alchemy parties.”

Royal ears pinned in needless alarm. Her Ponyville past was no secret, yet it still felt like a violation for the streams to cross this close.

“Apple Bloom? My friend’s sister? That little filly?” She finally asked.

“Yes, your highness. Only…” he paused. “She’s not a filly anymore. I’d reckon she’s one of the tallest non-princess mares in Equestria. She loves to brag that she has to work half the days as others when she makes deliveries thanks to filling her cart twice as heavy.”

Twilight nodded.

“Anyway, since your majesty has an alchemical background, I wish to offer you a personal gift.”

He grabbed his notepad and a pen, then jotted some diagrams in unexpectedly neat earth pony scribbles. While still incomprehensible to the average pegasus, other physicians would suspect him of being a quack who should have been expelled for excessive penmanship. Fortunately for all, the verifiable successes of his patients spoke for themselves.

Finally, he handed the borderline-legible page to Twilight. “The next time you make a diplomatic visit to the seaponies during spawning season, a large thimble of this concoction in each ear once you return to land will prevent you from needing to see me to clear semen from your ear.”

Twilight’s cheeks were the color of Cadence as she bowed at the opportunity to learn something new, then swiftly leaped out the large hallway window to fly back to her bedchamber.