Rumble was having the dream again.
The icy air stung his muzzle as he flew above a landscape of clouds. His muscles and his magic kept him warm. The sun was dazzling up here, its rays reflected from the cloud deck.
A crescent moon waxed in the deep blue sky.
It was a moment he was always dreaming of. He was a strong flyer for his age, but the icy reaches of the deep sky were still off limits to him. He wanted to see the thunderheads rise and cool, see the lightning arcing between them, feel the shocking warmth of the updrafts from down below.
A tiny fleck of blue perched on a cloud caught his eye.
This wasn't part of the dream. He flew down to see this new wrinkle in his fantasy of flying.
“Princess?”
Luna opened her eyes and carefully folded her great blue wings. She greeted Rumble on the cloud deck with a broad and inviting smile.
“Ahh, Rumble. You are quite the athletic young stallion!”
Something about the way she said that made Rumble blush. Had she just called him a “stallion”?
“I am sure you will soon have the chance to explore the heavens.”
She turned away from him and took a few steps as she talked. Her ethereal tail swished in counterbalance to her swaying haunches.
“Few pegasi dare these dizzying heights.”
Rumble followed her by reflex. He caught himself staring, and tried to find something else to look at.
The Princess turned again to face him. There was something about her smile that made him feel funny, an excited kind of funny.
“I hear you were the youngest participant in last year's waterspout!” Princess Luna's smile was warm. He thought about how he longed for the dark blue of the deepest sky.
“Well, I'd been asking Thunderlane about it for years! He always told me stories when he tucked me in at night!”
An expression Rumble couldn't quite fathom flickered over the Moon Princesses' face before her smile returned, broader and warmer than ever.
“Yes, my dear Rumble. You just can't wait to be all grown up, can you?”
Her horn flared. Rumble felt himself encased in a warm glow that touched him everywhere. It felt wonderful...
...and then it was gone. He landed with a “pomf” on his back.
The Princess was coming closer now, and he could feel the warmth of her breath.
“Princess Luna? What are we going to do on the cloud?”
“Dearest Rumble... call me Luna...”
Deep blue, like that of the vault of the heavens, embraced him, but unlike his dream of flying, this was warm and inviting.
In the kitchen downstairs, Thunderlane and Blossomforth tried to unwind.
Thunderlane knew taking Rumble out for a late afternoon flight would wear him out. The warm air of late spring had positively called out for flight practice, and showing his inquisitive little brother how to handle up-drafts was the most fun they'd had together in weeks.
Blossomforth picked them up to take them back to Thunderlane's house. They tucked Rumble in together. Now the evening was theirs to share.
They sat at Thunderlane's kitchen table. She nuzzled him, and he felt the warmth of her cheek against his. He smiled and thought about trying to count her freckles again.
A rhythmic thumping noise came from upstairs.
“What's that?” Thunderlane was alarmed. He was very protective of his little brother, and his first, reflexive reaction was to rush up and check on the little colt.
“Oh, let me check on him,” cooed Blossomforth. She trotted upstairs, and Thunderlane tried to relax. It was nice seeing her with his little brother, and having a mare in the house would help in all kinds of ways.
He heard her melodious voice echo down the stairwell. “Hey, kiddo, you'll overheat with those blankets pulled over your head! Let me- “
Blossomforth suddenly shrieked, and Thunderlane rushed to see what was wrong.
She galloped down the stairs, and he stopped her.
A single look at her face told Thunderlane what was wrong.
“Uh... let me help you clean up...”
Blossomforth's lower lip trembled. “He... he squirted on me...”
The next morning, Twilight Sparkle awoke with the sun. The nice thing about the days getting longer was that she had more time to plan fun, useful activities. She scheduled her morning gallop around Ponyville in the early morning hours, while there was still a bit of the night's chill in the air.
The air was filled with the scents of wild flowers and dirt disturbed by swiftly growing grass. Her hooves clopped on the cobblestones as she gradually cantered up to speed.
It appeared she wasn't the only one who was up early this fine, sunny morning. Thunderlane and Blossomforth were hanging up some wash, the broad bedsheets billowing in the quickly warming air. She smiled and waved as she cantered down the lane.
Right next door, an earth pony mare in curlers hung up another set of bedsheets. She'd seen her at the Library once, when Cheerilee arranged for all her students to meet with their parents to sign up for library cards. If she remembered right, that was Truffle Shuffle's mother.
She smiled. The pudgy young colt was a voracious reader, and she'd seen a lot of him since he started borrowing books. Cheerilee's plan had worked perfectly!
On past Snips' house – she reminded herself to send his mother a firmly worded letter about overdue library books – she saw his mother carry a basket out, filled with freshly washed bedsheets.
Twilight's nose itched. She wondered if it might be pollen.
Down the road a bit, she passed by another house where bedsheets flapped in the morning air. She didn't know this family too well, but she remembered seeing a young brown colt playing video games on the porch, who went by the name of High Score.
No, it wasn't pollen.
She took a turn and clopped past Snails' house. It was hardly a surprise to see his dad hanging up laundry to dry – pajamas, sheets, a bedspread.
She turned back to the Library, taking another path back.
Every few houses, freshly washed bedding flapped in the wind.
Every colt in Ponyville? All having to wash their bedding at once?
“That's odd,” Twilight thought.
When she arrived, she already had a patron browsing in the child care. It appeared she wouldn't have time to shower.
She greeted Thunderlane with a broad smile. “Hello! Can I help you find anything?”
Thunderlane seemed a little uncomfortable. “These books are all about foal care. Do you have anything about older colts?”
“Oh, certainly!” Twilight beamed. “What seems to be the problem?”
“Well...” Was Thunderlane blushing?
“Do you have anything about wet dreams?”
Twilight Sparkle smiled. “Just a moment, I think I have some sex ed books over here – could you excuse me for a minute?”
Something about this morning clicked, and a terrible thought crossed her mind. She rushed upstairs to her sleeping room.
“Spike! SPIIKE!”
His voice came from the laundry room. Twilight rushed downstairs, to see him hurriedly stuff his bedding into the washing machine.
“What – what do you need, Twilight?”
“Well, we can start with Succubi and Similar Salacious Spirits, for one... but first, take a letter!”
Spike retrieved a quill and scroll.
“Dear Princess Celestia – ”
Later that afternoon, a middle-aged stallion peered irritably underneath his desk. His short dark brown mane was gray around the ears, and looked particularly unkempt. A long, lean muzzle and bleary blue eyes hunted for something on the floor. Stubble grew through his light brown coat.
“...despite conduct utterly unbecoming a medical professional.”
“Dammit,” he thought. “Where did that pill go?” He needed his damned fix, and he needed it now. His hind-leg was going to start up any minute now, and Celestia help anypony who got between him and his freakishly large pill.
“How in Tartarus can you lose on of these things?” he snapped. “Just shut up. I need my pill.”
Ah, there it was. He looked up from behind the desk at the annoyed mare tapping her hoof.
It was only his boss. He wondered what she was on about this time.
He popped the pill and scowled at her.
“Are you quite finished? I have a letter here, direct from the Princess. She needs you in Ponyville, before her protégée starts a witch hunt. Evidently she thinks there's an epidemic of spermatorrhea going on.”
“Spermatorrhea?” He snorted. “Silly mare, they haven't called it that in hundreds of years. I call it a really cheap date.”
“Read it for yourself, and get out of my hospital.” She tossed the rolled up scroll onto the pile of papers on Dr. Horse's desk, and stalked out of his office.
She regarded the blue unicorn admiring herself in the mirror. The image was very much a colt's imagination of a pretty mare, perhaps a little full of herself, adoring her own beauty as much the fevered imagination of the dreamer did.
Still, the dear young thing had been kind enough to get started for her. The dream-scape rippled as she projected herself into the place of pale blue unicorn mare. The heated fantasy the young colt had hatched was warm and welcoming, its only flaw his fragmentary knowledge of mares.
He certainly was eager. He would learn, and the Princess was glad to teach him.
She basked in his lust, and flirtatiously probed the young stallion's fantasies.
In a darkened room, illuminated dimly by candles, the dreamer of the dream lay on a massive bed, decorated by the countenance of the mare he lusted after. All four of his legs were tied to the bedposts, and he was wearing a blindfold.
She stifled a giggle. “Oh dear. So young, yet so adventurous!”
“Trixie? What's taking so long? What are you doing?” His voice, somewhat dull yet heated by desire, came from the room next door.
Luna looked over, and saw the answer.
“I put on my robe and wizard hat,” she answered lustily. Not only bondage, but role-playing! She donned her costume.
A satisfied moan told her this was the right answer.
As she entered the bedroom, she saw that the awkward young colt with the unappealing yellow coat and green mane had an enormous... enthusiasm.
“My!” she cooed. “You're certainly happy to see me!”
Princess Luna licked her lips, anticipating the taste of the colt's... excitement.
* * *
Riding in on the Friendship Express was boring the best of times. Knowing it was just the start of his tedium drove Dr. Horse into the comforting arms of an extra portion of codeine. As the train bumped and clacked over the tracks, he amused himself by flipping through the draft of the new Diagnostic and Statistical Manual, the struggles of those silly witch doctors to enumerate and elucidate the failings of the pony mind a stimulating counterpoint to the dreamy floaty buzz of the pills, a welcome distraction from the noise and the other passengers. Anything to keep from nodding out and missing his station.
He was fairly certain his opiate euphoria had died down when he arrived in Ponyville, but the symptoms of intoxication persisted. A bouncing pink hallucination greeted him at the station, yammered something into his ear about a “welcome to Ponyville party,” and refused to go away until he threatened physical violence, drawing shocked stares from passers-by. Rightly so – someone snapping at figments of their imagination was an indication of any of a number of serious neurological and psychological issues. Fortunately, the product of his drugged imagination skittered away, and he made his way to the Library in peace and quiet.
* * *
“...and wasn't even like that one time with Cranky, 'cause at least Cranky told me to get lost, but he just treated me like I wasn't even there! How can I make friends with a pony who pretends I don't exist?”
Twilight tried to comfort Pinkie. At least she was angry, and not despondent.
“I know, Pinkie. He's horrible. But I know some-pony who could use some cheering up!”
* * *
The slow trot to the hollowed-out tree he was told served as the town's Library played holy hell with his half-lame right rear leg. He weighed his options. The deep, dull ache would surely distract him worse than the intoxicating effects of the pills. What did the literature say? Well, there was a general consensus that the long-term risks of abuse contraindicated long-term use of opiates for analgesia –
He looked bitterly at the image of three red and yellow capsules on his aching flank. No, it was best to wait. Maybe he'd miss something interesting if he were too out of it.
An angry yelp distracted him from his bitter review of the literature, which, as usual, omitted the practical issue that his hind leg fucking hurt and he wanted a fucking fix.
He looked down. He'd stepped in some rabbit.
Worse yet, the stupid thing was copping an attitude with him. He'd show that little...
He was about to buck the little piece of street rubbish into the gutter when he saw Mommy.
Oh, he was familiar with the Angry Mommy, and the butter-yellow pink-maned pegasus doing her best to bear down on him like the front of an oncoming thunderstorm was a very angry Angry Mommy indeed.
Luckily for Dr. Horse, it was mostly bluster – a few sharp words about the pathology of living out maternal fantasies with semi-intelligent lesser beings and a probing question why she didn't have a foal of her own made her burst into tears.
Served her right. It reminded him of that one time he had to explain to some hysterical mare why her recently deceased colt was missing his heart and liver. Didn't she know how long the waiting lists for organ transplants were?
No matter. Here came Momma's Little Helper, some frou-frou white unicorn...
* * *
“He's terrible. He's terrible and scary and mean.”
“Aw, c'mon, Fluttershy! Angel's gonna be fine! Look, he's playing with Gummy right now!”
Pinkie pointed to the living room table in Fluttershy's cottage, where Angel Bunny and Gummy were playing a game of chess. Angel scowled at the chess clock, waiting for Gummy's move. Gummy blinked.
“Me an' Rainbow are fixin' to give him a whuppin' he'll never forget and put him on the next train outta here! No pony talks to Rarity like that!”
“And he hurt Angel Bunny and said mean stuff to Fluttershy!”
Twilight had never seen AJ and Dash so mad, but at least they were still talking.
“But you remember when I first came to town, don't you? None of you knew why I was here, and I wasn't sure I even wanted to make friends!”
“Twilight Sparkle, y'all are nothin' like that no-good, foul-mouthed so-and-so!”
“Yeah, Twi, you aren't mean and nasty! If this Doctor Smarty doesn't shape up...”
Twilight was torn. On the one hoof, Doctor Horse had managed to alienate or anger all of her closest friends. He was arrogant, unpleasant, a drug addict, and somepony she would never, ever be friends with. On the other hoof...
“Girls, you have no idea what a pain in the flank Horse is. I've had to deal with him all day, and believe me, it's worse than you think.”
She paused for a moment. She could hardly believe she was about to say this.
“But there's one thing I do know – he's smart and he's here to help. I'm going to give him a chance.”
Rarity narrowed her eyes. “Twilight, we trust you. But if he knows what's good for him, he'd better stay far, far away from us.”
* * *
Twilight paced nervously around the Library. Why did the Princess think she needed help? Was her patroness losing confidence in her?
A knock at the door announced the arrival of her guest. “Spi-”
She wasn't even able to finish calling for her baby dragon assistant when a bedraggled light brown earth pony barged into the Library. He didn't even say “Hello”, but took a long hard look around and scowled. His muzzle was long and straight and somewhat donkey-like, and his eyes were half-open and bleary, marked with deep bags. His dark brown, graying mane was just long enough to show signs of neglect.
Three yellow and red pills marked his flank.
This was supposed to be one of the most brilliant medical minds in Equestria? He looked like bad news. She was giving him her brightest, most welcoming smile, and he barely even seemed to notice she was there. Perhaps she should introduce herself?
“Water.” He croaked the single word out, and turned to close the door behind him.
One of his rear legs dragged a little on the Library floor. “He has a lame leg,” thought Twilight.
“Spike!” she said, “get our guest a glass of water.” She carefully approached the wincing earth pony. “Doctor Horse?”
“You're Twilight Sparkle, then.” It wasn't a question, just a dry statement of fact.
Spike came out of the kitchen with a glass of water, and Doctor Horse sat down awkwardly to drink. The purple and green baby dragon stood for a moment, perhaps expecting a “Thank you,” but none came. Spike shrugged his shoulders and walked off while Horse pulled out a large pill from his saddlebag and swallowed it with gusto before draining his glass. His right rear leg wasn't folded beneath him, but jutted forwards stiffly.
“Is that for your leg?”
Horse scowled at her. “Very good, you notice and can clearly state the obvious. I can see why you're the local busybody.”
Twilight Sparkle cleared her throat. “The Princess sent you.”
“Yes.” Horse's flat affect became one of resentment. “Evidently you have a problem she doesn't think you can solve by yourself without causing a riot. I'm here to keep you from making an idiot of yourself.”
“Well, then,” said Twilight, “Let's get down to business.” She made a conscious effort to ignore Horse's provocation. “In the last two days, I have seen clear evidence that the colts of Ponyville have been suffering from nocturnal emissions-”
“What evidence.” Horse didn't even look at her.
“I've seen parents and guardians washing bedding. Several ponies have come asking for books offering advice on reproductive health for colts. I've talked to the town pediatrician and she's referred half a dozen families to the urology unit at Ponyville General.”
Horse listened, and only a small twitch of his ears registered any interest, around the time she mentioned the hospital. “Go on.”
“My theory is that some supernatural agent-”
“Stop. Right. There.” Horse gave her a look. It wasn't a particularly nice look, but it was the first time he appeared to acknowledge her presence. “I used the word 'idiot' deliberately – somepony who has an idea and likes it because it's theirs.”
Twilight opened her mouth to object, but Dr. Horse suddenly became more animated.
“I work in one of Canterlot's largest teaching hospitals. Even when the patients deign to tell us enough of the truth about their problems to let us help, I invariably run into the next problem with doing medicine in a world of colorful magical ponies. Everypony knows some shifty unicorn or fresh off the boat zebra, and the moment something goes wrong, they rush to blame their symptoms on the local obnoxious weirdo. Before we proceed with the assumption that this is some kind of magical malady, we need to eliminate mundane causes.”
This was just the beginning. Doctor Horse reeled off a long list of potential toxins and pathogens that could potentially cause the observed symptoms. His description of one particular water-borne parasite was so vivid that Twilight could visualize the fuzzy, whip-tailed protozoan, colored a mean, evil shade of purple, navigating the cavernous insides of a colt's urethra, improbably lit from within with dappled pink light. There it would take a sharp turn, and bury itself next to its teeming fellows colonizing the victim's urinary tract...
“But nopony asked about bed-wetting or anything like that. They were very specific.” Twilight's horn glowed, and a large binder floated a corner in the library. “Also, we had a water assay done on the town well earlier this year – I don't remember there being any problems.”
Horse's ear twitched as he looked over the results. “Well, this wouldn't be something they'd look for routinely, and water-borne pathogens are notorious for seasonal variations. At best, we can consider this a rare instance where we have a control data set in a clinical setting. We need to collect water samples anyway. How are the microbiology facilities at Ponyville General?”
“I don't know, to be honest,” Twilight admitted. “I do have a laboratory downstairs, though.”
Another ear twitch. Twilight was gradually noticing that this was a good sign. Horse may have lacked social graces, but presenting him with data and well-founded theories was enough to engage his interest and encourage him to share some of his vast store of knowledge. She called over Spike and asked him to help her compile a list of things to do.
“Also, we'll need to collect data from the colts of Ponyville. In the unlikely event you are right, we'll need details. I don't suppose you've interviewed any of our patients?”
“Well, no. I suspect they might be a little embarrassed to tell me about something like that.” Twilight smiled brightly. “That's why I'm glad you're here.”
Horse scowled and muttered, “Trotted right into that. Dammit.”
He scowled again, this time at Twilight. “We have enough to do, get to it.”
“All right,” said Twilight cheerfully. “Also, when's Pinkie's 'Welcome to Ponyville' party? She always throws one to welcome new friends.”
“What?” Horse seemed completely baffled. “What's a 'Pinkie' supposed to be?”
“Uh-oh,” thought Twilight, and she mentally added “check on my friends” to her to-do list.
* * *
It was late once Twilight Sparkle had finished her rounds. Horse slept, seemingly dead to the world, in the guest room. Whatever was in those pills he took really knocked him for a loop.
The laboratory was ready, glassware was sterilized. She had a collection of water samples, an array of ingredients for culture media, reagents and indicators – and the knowledge that her friends would be there to help her deal with this unpleasant guest.
Only one colt had responded to the fliers and come to the Library to talk to Horse.
The bad news was that Horse's poor social skills had very nearly sabotaged the patient interview. The good news was that he had recorded the whole thing.
Twilight looked at the tape with trepidation. She was not in any particular hurry to listen to it again, and she had taken thorough notes. If anything, the experience made her seriously consider having a nightcap of some of Applejack's distilled hard cider before she went to bed.
Snails claimed to have had an extended lucid dream the night before. He seemed eager to tell Horse all about it. Disinterest dripped from Horse's voice as he asked, “What was it like?”
She reviewed her notes of Snails' enthusiastic account.
He was tied up and blindfolded.
He had received oral sex from his dream partner, and evidently had reached climax.
These two sentences summarized Snails' rambling, overheated fifteen minutes of mind-searing details. Twilight reflected on his account. While Snails' parents were relatively strict, it wasn't inconceivable that he could have recalled some account of fellatio from a pornographic movie.
One detail did stand out, though. He mentioned his partner spitting and rinsing her mouth out afterwards.
That was not unheard of, but uncommon in porn. Could he be remembering some experiences with fillies? Or even another colt? It seemed unlikely.
Snails rambled on for another twenty minutes. Twilight had had to rewind one section several times to try and make sense of his garbled story. It was one of the few sections where Snails hesitated a little, or showed any sign of shame.
His dream partner wasn't finished with him yet. He described her lowering her haunches over his face – and yes, this confirmed that the partner was a mare – and then doing something with him that the young colt had considerable difficulty describing.
Prostate stimulation was a fun way to get a stallion hot again, and as far as Twilight could tell, his partner had been extraordinarily gentle, carefully lubricating him beforehand before gradually penetrating him anally. He reported no pain or discomfort.
Twilight almost wished this part of his account had been less garbled. It was a neat trick, and whichever unicorn did this to him was very experienced. She wondered if Rarity could fill her in on some of the details, it could come in handy sometime.
Considering that he had barely understood what had been done to him, and that accounts of receiving anal stimulation were very uncommon outside gay porn, Twilight was certain she had found evidence of some external psychic stimulus. What bothered her – aside from the fact that the victim was Snails – was that it didn't fit with what she knew about magical sex monsters. Succubi always tried to give their victim what he lusted after, and Changelings tried to emotionally engage their prey. Neither would confront their victims with something novel like that.
Once Snails was aroused again, his dream partner straddled the blindfolded young colt and initiated coitus. A number of rather vivid details distracted him in the retelling of his experiences.
Twilight very much doubted that he had any experience with older mares, yet what he was describing certainly didn't sound like a filly.
“Yes,” she thought. “I think I will have a nightcap.”
Down at the bottom of her notes, Twilight wrote the name that had run through Snails' account, the name he had given his ghostly lover.
“The Great and Powerful Trixie.”
Twilight Sparkle reflected. “Yeah, right...”
