Chapters Enjoying a Pleasant Wee in the Enchantress' Tree
The house falls quiet. The awkward silence between you two is almost enough to make you forget about your aching bladder. Almost.
“I don’t understand,” you finally break the silence. “Our wee what?”
Zecora’s sheepish smile drops to an unamused frown. “Our wee .”
“Our…” Your eyes open wide. “Oh. That wee.”
Seeing the realization in your eyes, Zecora smiles again and trots off to a cabinet, leaving you standing with your eyes wide and mouth agape. It’s not until you hear the cabinet doors open that you remember how to speak again.
“You know, Zecora, I never took you as a pony who was good at telling jokes. You almost had me there for a minute.” You chuckle slightly as you turn around to face her. Your bladder’s contents swish during your about-face, making you wince and squeeze your legs again.
“I do not speak with my tongue in my cheek. Ponyville depends on how we spring a leak. Our urine will bring the ingredients together, and save everypony feeling under the weather.” Though her head is buried in the cabinet, Zecora’s rhymes come in clearly. Her backside remains turned to you as she rummages through the cabinet. It would have been a normal, not entirely unpleasant sight if not for one small detail.
Instead of being spread apart to give her balance, her hindlegs are twisted together and lightly rubbing each other, with her tail tightly tucked between them. If you didn’t know any better, she looked just like she needed to…
Your eyes open wide for the second time today. Well, she did say the antidote needed “Our wee.”
And just like one uncontrollable spurt leading to another, the realizations keep hitting you. If this potion truly required both your and her urine, then it can’t be coincidence that you would both need to go right when it came time to add that ingredient. Your mind instantly conjures the memory of you and her enjoying that drink. Given how adamant she was on only letting you have one cup, there was no way that drink’s only purpose was to wash down a horrible taste.
“Zecora…” you try to speak. There are so many questions running through your head, it is hard to decide which one to start with.
Perhaps it should be about what Zecora is doing now. While you were thinking, she had emerged from the cabinet with what appeared to be a wide box of sorts. She pushes it along the ground with her head until it is right next to the cauldron. With that sorted out, she lifts her head towards yours.
“There are many things on this potion I could explain.” Zecora tilts her head and looks at your legs. “But I think you would rather be relieved of your pain.”
You bite your lower lip as you consider her words. She has a point; you’ve been holding this long enough that it’s starting to hurt, both from the chafing of your legs rubbing together and the pressure that rests between them.
The finer details can wait. Your bladder can’t.
“Okay, so how do we this? Do we just whizz in a jar and pour that in?” You give another sheepish grin. “I hope you have a big enough jar for that.”
Your hope disappears upon seeing Zecora shake her head and nod towards the box on the ground. “The urine must come straight from the bladder, or else all our work will not have mattered. While one of us stands and gives nature her answer, the other must take the opposite side and stir.”
“Wait, we’re going into the potion itself while the other one stirs? But then that means…” You feel your pupils shrink and your cheeks go red. Now there’s a sight you didn’t plan on seeing or showing anytime soon.
“I understand your wish not to show me that sight. You are not the only one feeling stage fright.” Despite the determination in her eyes, Zecora’s voice is more tender than normal, and her cheeks grow a deeper shade of pink. “But we cannot be shy to cure this disease. We must stand our ground, swallow our pride, and pee.”
You gulp. As embarrassing as it sounds, Zecora is right. It would require someone far more heartless than you to leave an entire town bedridden and covered in spots because you were bladder-shy.
You muster a weak smile and say, “I’ll do it, for Ponyville’s sake.”
Returning the smile, Zecora shuffles around to the other side of the cauldron. “Then prop yourself up, and do not delay. We must let it go soon to save the day.”
“Wait, don’t you want to go first?” you ask.
“I can hold mine in for a little bit longer,” she says, the cauldron’s ladle already in her hoof. “Now go. Our bladders will not get any stronger.”
The sudden harsh tone of her words makes you jump back a little. This has the unfortunate side-effect of forcing another wave of pressure to hit your bladder, the toughest one thus far. Your legs lock together instinctively. Every fiber of your being goes into keeping yourself from having an accident.
It works, but just barely. Another wave like that, and you would certainly lose it at a force strong enough to rocket you into the air. Awkwardness be damned, you need to pee now .
As quickly and carefully as you can manage, you climb onto the box and prop yourself up on your rear hooves. Your forehooves rest on the cauldron’s lip, helping you keep your balance.
Also resting on the cauldron is a certain external organ of yours. An organ that has two primary functions, and Zecora is about to bear witness to one of those functions in action.
You keep your head pointed down at the cauldron, its reflection disturbed by the ladle’s entry. Zecora’s reflection gives you a light nod. It’s now or never.
For a moment, everything comes to a stop. The air hangs thick. Your breath is firmly lodged in your throat. Not a noise is uttered anywhere. The entire world fades out of your view, leaving only Zecora, the cauldron, and you.
And then you pee.
It’s a tiny dribble at first. The liquid, more yellow than clear, peters out as if gravity was doing the work rather than your bladder muscles. The drops disperse upon hitting the water, adding a small discoloration to the murky surface where they landed. The faint noise of tinkle hits your ears and Zecora’s, for better or for worse.
Your cheeks grow pink. It’s happening, whether you were okay with it or not. You are urinating freely in front of your crush. Your penis is in full view, a very noticeable pink poking out of the edge of the sheath, with pee freely being expelled from the opening at the tip. You can only hope she’s giving you some shred of privacy by not looking while she stirs the pot.
Before you can contemplate your position any further, you feel the flow picking up. It was inevitable; your overfilled bladder had a taste of release, and it only wanted more. The dribbling grows into a full stream and the arc picks up, hitting the water farther away. The yellow discoloration swirls about as Zecora stirs the brew. The noise your tinkle makes is now not so different from peeing into a toilet. An oversized toilet in the middle of a house with no way to flush, but a toilet nonetheless.
A light whimper escapes your throat. This whimper stems from two separate but connected reasons. The first is that you are slowly but surely getting the relief you have needed for so long. You can already feel your body growing less tense with each passing second. Your mind, however, remains as tense as ever because of the second reason.
You are running out of peeing room in the cauldron.
Already, your stream is nearing the opposite edge, and Zecora is adjusting her stirring. Unfortunately, you still have a ways to go before you are going at full blast. Holding yourself back is not an option; the relief hitting you has a nasty side-effect of making your bladder muscles mostly uncooperative. Your member is already resting on the lip as well, which means lowering your aim is also not a viable option.
At this rate, you’re about to do the one thing worse than wetting yourself in Zecora’s house: Getting Zecora wet in her own house, and not the good kind of wet. Pissing away the cure to a nasty plague would rank a distant second.
“Control yourself!” Again, Zecora doesn’t bother with a rhyme. Even she’s aware of your and her current predicament. Her sudden command is enough to scare your stream back, reducing it to a smaller trickle that lands at the center of the brew.
An idea to save your hide and Zecora’s coat suddenly hits you. If you can’t aim any lower…
Taking advantage of your weaker stream, you grab your member with a forehoof and point it almost straight up. For just a second, you can see the stream hitting only half as far as it was after Zecora’s command. It doesn’t take long for your bladder to shake it off, and soon the stream is picking up again. This time, however, it gains in distance at a much shorter rate. It would take a gargantuan amount of pressure to get any on Zecora now, or at least way more than you can muster.
With your aim secured, you feel the last control you have over your muscles give out. Giving one final sigh, you let go the last of your inhibitions and fully relax your bladder.
The effect is instant. Your stream rockets up into the air. It arcs high above the cauldron before coming down close to the center, already broken into several drops. The room fills with the sound of your tinkling and the swishing from the ladle stirring the pot. The acrid stench of your waste wafts into your nostrils, making your snout twitch.
Somewhere inside you is a part of you that feels embarrassed at the situation. Who wouldn’t feel awkward about having to give their significant other an up-close and personal view of their business as they handle it, let alone letting it fly high in the air and into a potion?
The answer is you. Your embarrassment stems not from the circumstances of this pee, but how much you’re enjoying it. Not even your most pleasant morning pees gave you this much reward.
A low moan reverberates in your throat, your tail happily swishes from side to side, your eyes close in bliss, and the ends of your lips curl into a goofy grin, all in response to the pressure between your loins finally able to release, leaving behind a tingling sensation that is subtly different and not entirely unpleasant.
There’s no denying it: you have made the transition from merely peeing to relieving yourself.
As you let the pleasure go through your body, you feel an irresistible urge to sneak a peek at your stream. You blame it on your inner stallion, always wanting to enjoy his accomplishments no matter how gross. Letting one eye open halfway, you take a glance down.
You almost shut your eye right away upon what you see.
Zecora is staring at you. Her eyes are wide as saucers, yet she seems to have a tunnel vision directed right at your groin. They flicker up every once in a while to eye the stream, but she still maintains a hawk’s level of scrutiny on your package. A hint of pink graces her cheeks while she stares, and her head is leaned far enough in for you to worry about giving her a noseful of pee. Thankfully, she still has to stir and keep her balance, so you doubt your accidental shower of piss will come to pass.
Your first instinct of seeing her watching you was to yell or ask her to look away. No matter how hard you tried, however, you couldn’t force yourself to follow it. Maybe you were just enjoying your wee too much to do anything else. Maybe you couldn’t really stop Zecora from looking if she really wanted to.
Maybe you wanted her to watch.
Instead of telling her not to look, you grin a little to yourself and let the scene go undisturbed. After all, Zecora may need to look anyway, if only to make sure the potion’s coming along. Besides, if she is genuinely enjoying the show, who are you to stop her?
Even at full blast, your pee goes on forever. At least, that’s how it feels to you. Whatever Zecora put in that drink certainly did its job. You shudder to think what would’ve happened had you downed another cup.
Finally, you reach the downhill portion of your potty time. Your stream takes its sweet time while it gradually drops in height and pressure. You let go of your member and let gravity handle the remaining urine inside you. One last squirt and a couple shakes later, and you’re fully relieved.
“That feels better,” you say following a deep sigh. Opening your eyes, you glance down to Zecora. As if a spell had broken, Zecora snaps out of her tunnel vision. Her eyes grow a little wider, and her hindlegs lightly bounce in place. Maybe she just remembered how badly she needed a wee herself?
“A-heh-heh, your turn.” You quickly lower yourself onto the ground, putting your naughty bits out of view.
“Then let us hurry before we face the worst. Your performance has made me about to burst.” Zecora whimpers and bits her lower lip as she finishes her rhyme. If not for the urgency of the situation, you would have found that look to be a little cute.
Instead, you quickly walk over to the other side of the cauldron and take the ladle off her hooves. While you get yourself into position, Zecora shuffles over to the box, her hind-legs firmly squeezed together.
Just as you get yourself settled in, Zecora climbs onto the box and turns around. Her hindlegs spread apart, her backside backs into the cauldron’s lip, and her tail lifts up to the ceiling.
And that’s when you see it. Well, not for the first time; you had caught glimpses of it whenever she walked in front of you at the market. Still, it was always at an angle, and quickly covered by her swaying tail. She never exactly gave you a full frontal view with nothing obstructing it, in any case.
Zecora was a full-grown mare, and it certainly showed in her naughty place. The lips were fully bloomed, leaving her openings and clitoris for the whole world to see if she wished. She looked after this part of her quite well, as shown by how clean both her slit and anus appeared. If she has had any ex-coltfriends in the past, they are surely missing out.
The friend part of you wants to look away, shut your eyes, or otherwise do something to grant Zecora some form of privacy. However, the part of you that’s a stallion can’t help but admire what she has to show. You could scarcely imagine a more alluring sight than this.
And then she pees.
Unlike you, there is no slow buildup to Zecora’s release. It sputters out of her opening at first, but then skips the gradual build and shoots out at a high pressure. Her pee lands as a solid stream into the potion, filling the room with the lewd noise of piddle. The potion bubbles at the center of the pee, its color turning a deeper shade of yellow.
The tinkling was not the only audible sound in the room, either. You consider folding your ears down out of respect upon hearing a certain hissing sound emanating from a very specific region of Zecora’s. This hiss only grows louder as she adjusts her stance and increases her flow to full force. It’s not always easy to be a mare, you suppose.
It’s a sight that isn’t easy on the eyes. Zecora’s nether region flexes with every little motion she makes. Pee shoots out of the small opening near the bottom of her bottom like a faucet was turned on at full blast. Her peehole hisses more than a train engine letting out steam. The scent of urine has gone from wafting into your nostrils to forcing its way up them.
If you had walked in on Zecora doing this on any other day, you would immediately look the other way and try in vain to not have the image burned into your brain. Now, she could not be any more in your face with this sight without getting you wet.
So why can’t you look away now?
As weird, gross, icky, and a bunch of other negative words this image should be (it’s piss, for crying out loud), you can’t help but find the whole picture mesmerizing. What was that phrase again? “Beauty is in the eye of the beholder”? Well, maybe not the be -holder in this case, but still.
“Oh, mungu wa kike… ”
Zecora’s mumbling is enough to pull your attention away from her backside. Her head is turned to the side, and her eyes are shut. A bright pink spot adorns her cheeks while she mumbles in what you assume is her native language. It didn’t take an expert in body language to see that, against her sense of modesty, she was enjoying her pee as much as you had enjoyed yours.
You couldn’t blame her; she was on the verge of having an accident mere seconds ago. You of all ponies knew that a sense of relief too big to ignore hitting her entire body was sure to follow.
Still, her display of relief allows you to see the big picture of her show. Before, it was just a mare peeing. Now, it was Zecora, mystical enchantress of the Everfree Forest, relieving herself in front of you and showing a rare display of her in a vulnerable and, dare you say it, intimate state. It’s enough to cause a certain intimate portion of your own to stir up…
Speaking of which, shouldn’t something else be stirring as well?
It’s only now do you realize you had been shirking your important duty of stirring the potion while Zecora adds the important ingredient. You get right to it, mimicking the circular motion she had made as best as you can.
Despite your appointed task of stirring, your eyes remain firmly focused on the mare before you. You suppose you’ll get what’s coming to you soon enough, but at least it will be worth it… probably.
Some time passes, and Zecora’s tinkling eventually begins its decline. The hissing and tinkling noises fade away, followed by a gradual drop in the pressure and angle of her pee. The stream dies away to nothing, squirts out a few last drips, and then is finished.
“Bora zadi, ” you hear Zecora speak in a hushed voice upon finishing her pee. Out of the corner of your vision, you see Zecora’s eyes open, giving you a split second to avert your own to a random part of the house.
“Well, uh…” you feel compelled to say something, but find yourself at a loss of words. The only thing you can think of is, “Do you, uh, need anything to wipe with?”
Against your better judgment, you return your glance to Zecora, only to immediately divert it upon seeing that her tail is still raised high skyward. You aren’t sure what compels you, but you quickly add, “Um, do you need me to grab something for you to wipe with?”
Zecora giggles lightly, a heavenly sound. “I appreciate your concern to prevent a drip, but I have my own way to give them the slip.”
“You do?” Just like before, your curiosity overpowers your judgment, and your eyes drift back to Zecora’s intimately-positioned backside.
Zecora doesn’t explain her technique. She shows it to you.
While she looks straight at the wall in front of her, she rocks her rump back and forth. Drops of wee flick out of her nethers and into the brew below. Like a cheap magician dangling a medallion, you can’t look away from her hypnotic swaying. And just when you thought the show was over…
Another dozen shakes or so later, and Zecora’s tail falls down to cover herself. All good things come to an end, you suppose.
“So…” you rub the back of your head while she steps down from the box. “Do we finally have a cure for the pox?”
“There is nothing more to add, if that’s what you inquire,” says Zecora as she trots back to a cabinet. Her steps are much more relaxed than before. “All it needs now is to be put under fire.”
Sure enough, as Zecora finishes up in the cabinet, she walks back to you with some flint and a knife on her back.
“A little fire? I can handle that.” It was the truth; you’ve had to light a few fires of your own while mixing up some potions at your place.
Zecora nods and turns to her side, letting you grab the pieces off her back.
A few sparks off the flint, and soon the wood under the cauldron is burning. You are very much aware of the fact that heating the potion will make the smell of urine even more overpowering, but you can tough it out. You’ve just seen your crush take a wee in front of you and vice versa. You can handle anything.
“So how long do we keep the potion under fire?” You ask just as Zecora returns from opening the windows to her tree. That smoke’s gotta go somewhere, after all.
“The time it takes to brew a cure is a couple hours, to be sure.” Zecora and you stare into the potion’s surface. It had lost its reflective nature after you had both finished answering nature’s call.
“Guess that gives us some time to chill.”
“Indeed.” Zecora looks away from the brew. “I know of just the thing to do while we wait to make our brew.”
You turn towards her. “You do? And what would tha-”
A pair of warm lips presses against yours. You stand in shock as Zecora gingerly kisses you, her eyes closed in bliss. Despite your shock, you feel your body melting into the kiss. You let your eyes fall shut and soon find yourself returning the kiss.
The kiss is over just as quickly as it began. Zecora is the one to pull away first, leaving you kissing air for a split second. You open your eyes to find her smiling at you, and her eyelids lowered in just the way to make your heart rate climb a few extra beats.
"Z-Zecora..."
"There are many things I could explain, but I would rather relieve your pain," she says with a hint of whisper in her voice. She leans her head to the side and looks in the general direction of underneath your flanks.
It's at this point you realize that you were still feeling the stiffening effects from her show. You aren't quite at full mast, but you know it wouldn't take much to change that.
"Heh-heh," you try to speak. "Guess we're not done relieving ourselves just yet."
Enjoying a Pleasant Wee in the Enchantress' Tree
You can’t quite remember what happens next. All that comes to mind is that Zecora asked to consummate your relationship after you had put the brew under fire, then the next few seconds are a big blank entirely. Your most recent memory is of you lying on Zecora’s bed, locked in a tender kiss with its owner on top of you.
You don’t really care too much to remember those lost seconds.
Zecora’s weight presses you into the bed, trapping you and giving you no choice but to keep going into the kiss. Her body heat warms you up more than the fire you just lit, while her coat brushes against you like a homemade blanket. It’s enough to make you not the mind the possibility that you could very well melt into this kiss literally and metaphorically. Well, you just found out that your pee helps make an antidote for a pox. Anything’s possible.
If you didn’t have a special part of yours slowly growing and rubbing against Zecora near her own special place, you could keep this up all day. In fact, just as Zecora breaks the kiss for a little air, you still find your lips trying to join with hers. Good thing you only need to wait a few seconds for her to continue your makeout...
Yep, any second now.
It’s not until around the seventh second that you decide to open your eyes and see what’s going on. Her weight hadn’t shifted off you, so she couldn’t have gone anywhere.
Your eyes open to find Zecora with an expression you rarely see on her. The confident and wise grin she normally wears around you is absent. Instead, she has a sheepish smile not unlike a kid who doesn’t know how to keep a good poker face. You haven’t seen her look this cute since... well, her wee face.
“Something wrong?” you ask.
Zecora takes a moment to speak. “I am afraid I was not always true when I gave you the big talk of our brew.”
“You weren’t? Don’t tell me we missed an important step,” you asked with a concerned look.
“We have followed the instructions with great heed.” Zecora gains a small blush. “But there was one component we did not need.”
“One component? But what could we...” your eyes open as the answer hits you. “Wait, did we not have to, you know, let it go in the brew?”
Zecora shakes her head and says, “It may sound strange, but the real truth is, to make this brew, it did need our whiz. And when I said it must come from the tap, I give you my word that I gave you no... manure.” Zecora’s grin grows slightly cheekier with the last word uttered.
“I’m glad we had to give none of our manure for the antidote, too.” Both you and Zecora give a couple obligatory chuckles to your lame joke. “But what did we not need? My spit in that mixture?”
Zecora’s next words are slow and quieter than normal. “I pray this does not ruffle your fur, but there was no need for us to stir.”
It took only a moment for the weight of her latest rhyme to hit you. “No need to stir?” you ask. “So we didn’t have to, er, put on a show for each other?”
Zecora shies her head and eyesight away. For a zebra, she certainly knows how to look like a possum. She doesn’t need to make up a rhyme for you to understand what she’s trying to tell you.
“Zecora...” You can’t fight back the grin forming on your face. “I didn’t know you had a bit of a naughty streak in you. I have to admit, I never would have guessed that to be your special kink.”
“Kukojoa kati ya wapenzi.”
Your grin drops to a confused frown. “Er, come again?” You make a mental note to learn more about Zecora’s native tongue when you’re done learning more about her physical tongue.
“You must understand my reasons for staging this,” says Zecora, looking you straight in the eye. “Only one of them was so I could watch you...” she falters here for a moment and finishes with “have a wee.”
You opt not to respond, instead letting Zecora continue to speak. The questions could wait until after her explanation, and maybe some more making out.
“Many things are not the same in the land where I hail. This includes the things we do with what’s beneath our tails.”
Guess it’s true what they say about exotic ponies having exotic tastes, you think to yourself. You grow a goofy grin while you imagine the possibilities.
“Not like that,” says a suddenly-frowning Zecora.
“Eep!” Your face goes blank.
Thankfully, Zecora’s glare fades away after a couple seconds. “Like your world, the body is not taboo, so our naughty bits are always in view. But even if we are exposed in the light, we always keep our peeing out of sight.”
“But that’s what we do in Equestria, too. No clothes, but no going potty in public,” you chime in. “What’s the real difference?”
“Ponies have never looked at their wee in good taste, but zebras make sure it does not go to waste. Urine has many uses, as you can see.” Zecora glances to the cauldron in the other room for a moment. “But it also helps fuel our intimacy.”
“Intimacy? Do you mean...”
Zecora’s cheeks gain that familiar pink again. “For zebras, there are no higher honors that be than to watch your lover enjoy their pee.”
Though they have room, your ears grow warmer at the tips. “Zecora,” you mutter breathlessly.
“Forgive me,” she immediately cuts you off. She hangs her head low and closes her eyes.
“Forgive you? For what?”
“I should have told you the truth before, of the antidote and zebra lore. I took advantage and saw what should have been private, for fear you would reject what I think is intimate. I was consumed in my lust’s fire, and thought of only my own desire.”
Zecora falls silent here. As much as you want to say something to fill in the silence, you can’t find any words. She always was better at the whole talking thing than you, and you were always better at speaking through actions.
For instance, all it takes is a sudden, passionate kiss for you to say “I forgive you.”
You quickly reach up and press your mouth to hers, enjoying the savory taste of wildberry on her lips. Zecora’s eyes shoot wide open while her face and mouth remain frozen in place. Whether her continued motionless stare is a conscious decision or not, you can’t say for sure. It’s not exactly the best face to help set the mood, but it does remind you of your first kiss together. Talk about the shoe being on the other hoof now.
After a few more seconds of her staring in shock, you decide that backing off and giving her time to process what just happened would be a good idea.
It’s only a couple moments after you lean your head back that she speaks the only word she can: your name. It comes out breathlessly, betraying just how lost in the moment she has become.
“Just remember to ask me next time, alright?” You say with a wink. “I might not end up enjoying it as much as seeing you relieve yourself.”
“Can it truly be? You enjoyed my wee?” Zecora asks in a hushed yet hopeful tone.
“More than I expected. You make for a cute whizzer, Zecora,” you say.
Zecora graces your ears with another giggle and says, “I’d accept your compliment if I could, but you’re better at making peeing look good.”
“Heh heh, I try to put on a good show every now and then,” you reply while making yourself look as coy as you can. Your coyness gets you a bemused look from Zecora, but luckily nothing more than that.
“So,” you speak up as you glance down at the space between your bodies, “I believe we were in the middle of something?”
“ Tu kama pundamilia kiume, ” you hear Zecora mutter to the side.
“I hope that meant you’re happy to pick up where we left off.” You grin like a stallion normally would in the minutes before they’re about to have some fun.
“I’m as ready as you to have more fun, but I would like to decide how it is done,” says Zecora.
“You want the reigns? I’m fine with that,” you reply. “What do you have in mind? I’m cool with more wee, but we might have to wait a while for-mmm?”
It was Zecora’s turn to surprise you with a kiss. Lips meet lips once more, with yours now the ones frozen in surprise. However, if Zecora hadn’t pulled away as quickly as she kissed, you probably would have overcome your shock and joined in on the fun.
“There won’t be any need for us to go, but I prefer if we took things slow,” is what Zecora says with her mouth. Her half-lidded eyes, on the other hoof, are telling you “come hither.”
“How slow?” you reply while trying and probably not succeeding at replicating the stare.
At this point, Zecora slowly pushes herself off you. She settles down on her haunches at the opposite side of the bed, and waves her striped hooves at you to do the same.
You’re all too happy to oblige. Zecora never takes her eyes off you as you pull yourself onto your haunches. It’s not until after you’re done sitting up that you realize that Zecora has kept her focus on a very specific part of you. Even on your backside, that part manages to proudly sit upwards, outside of its sheathe and in all of its pink glory, while the testes rest comfortably on the blanket.
Your member is certainly enjoying the attention, if the occasional twitches of desire shooting through you are anything to go by. Zecora’s eyes continue to focus upon it as if it was made of gold, even while she scoots towards you.
It’s almost unfair that your equipment is in such easy view. Meanwhile, all you can see of Zecora’s femininity is a small line and the occasional hint of lip when her rump lifts up to move across the bed. Then again, you suppose you can’t complain too much. You got a full-on view of it just a few minutes ago.
Reaching you at last, Zecora wraps her forehooves around your shoulders. The rings on her right foreleg almost tickle you with how cool they feel on your body. Once she has a solid grip, she leans in. You don’t need to take a class in reading body language to know what’s coming next.
Indeed, she does exactly what you expect: the unexpected.
You feel her hooves pushing down on your shoulders as she transfers her wait onto them. She lifts herself up on her hindlegs until she towers over you. She pulls herself close enough towards you that you could almost kiss her chest. You can detect a slight scent of an exotic perfume of some kind, a very wild scent that could send you up the walls if you ever got a strong enough whiff.
You also detect a subtle warmth just above the tip of your shaft. It twitches and flexes on its own cue, desperately trying to extend the few millimeters it needs to get the treasure it desires. It’s such a shame for it that Zecora has made her desires clear to take this slowly. It may be in for quite the wait.
And then she descends.
To say you were unprepared would be an understatement. Warm flesh surrounds the tip, making it feel harder than ever before. You gasp as the pleasure that your lower half has been aching for for so long runs up your spine and into your brain.
Even in your shock, you can still hear Zecora’s breathing suddenly become labored. Her hooves push down on you harder out of response to your nethers finally having made contact. She stalls in mid-descent. Her position is unstable, as her opening feathers around your tip.
It does not take long for her to regain her resolve, however. You soon feel her going lower and allowing herself to be penetrated deeper. More and more, the warm and moist walls of her inner flesh surround you. It puts you in the aggravating position of getting exactly what you want, yet only desiring more.
Finally, she bottoms out. You both let out one last gasp as the realization that you are truly having sex hits you. Her front hooves stop pushing down on your shoulders and wrap around your neck. Her baby blue eyes stare into yours now that you are level with each other again. You both gaze with labored breathing and a big grin on your faces.
“I think I could grow to like taking things slow,” you speak between breaths.
“This is not all of what I have in mind,” replies Zecora in a half-whisper. “We just first needed to become entwined.”
“And what exactly is it that you have planned?”
“Our relationship has come very far, but I want us to enjoy where we are.” You both look down at the position you find yourselves in together.
“How long do you want to enjoy this moment.”
Zecora’s eyelids lowered. “Our potion will need some more time. We’ll make every moment sublime.”
Your mouths join together once again in harmony, allowing both of you to become that much more familiar with each other. Her hooves pull you deeper into the kiss, and like instinct, you find your own forelimbs wrapping around her neck. The cool metal of Zecora’s neck rings on your hooves contrasts nicely with the heating embrace of the rest of her body.
A solid minute goes by with you locked in this position, tenderly rubbing lips together without getting too personal. That did not last forever, however. You soon felt a prodding on your lips from a warm and rough surface. It was only natural for you to accept her request and part your mouth, letting her enter and allow your tongues to meet together.
This wasn’t an entirely new sensation to you. You and Zecora had gotten this far before on a few separate occasions. Still, every deep kiss felt as engaging and lovely as the first, and this kiss was no exception.
Minutes pass by while your tongues flicked and twirled and twisted about in a dance that both of you have mastered, despite the limited experience. Zecora’s mouth is easily the warmest part of her body that you’ve felt. Unlike your recent wee, the shockwaves of soothing warmth come in waves, starting at the mouth and working its way throughout your body. No matter what, every wave ends at the same spot on your lower half, where coincidentally they are also at their strongest.
You can’t ignore it no matter how hard you try to focus on the kiss. The warm walls surrounding your shaft gently flex, stroke, and squeeze all over. Every millimeter is packed with nerves, amplifying even the tiniest of motions. It tickles and taunts you in the back of your mind, constantly reminding you that as much as you’re enjoying the moment, you could be enjoying it even more if you wished.
But you promised Zecora you would take this slowly, and if it’s slow she wants, it’s slow she’ll get. You just hope you can keep yourself under wraps until its time for the big finish that she wants.
You focus on all the other sensations coursing through your body as much as you can. The wet, carnal warmth of her mouth and tongue sliding against yours. The soothing coat on her forelegs as she hugs you. The comforting feel of her bed on your rump. The smooth, cooling touch of her neck rings on your forelegs...
Her neck rings...
Now there’s an interesting idea. For as long as you’ve known her, you’ve never seen Zecora without those golden rings on her neck and forelimb. You had always assumed it was a part of her culture, something she wore to remind herself of who she was and where she came from. For a mare so far from home, little things like that must be all the more important.
But maybe that’s not the only reason. What if there was a practical reason to it as well? You could also see it as a means of protection. The rings conceal almost her entire neck. Any of the creatures in this forest would have a hard time piercing or harming such an important part of her.
If your reasons were correct, that would mean Zecora probably hasn’t had many foreign hooves touching her there. How would she feel if those hooves were your own?
You aren’t going anywhere for a while. What better time to find out?
While she remains fixated on the kiss, your hooves fumble about looking for a catch of some kind. The rings were too small for her to put on over her head. You feel a slight uniform crack on all the rings graze your hoof. There they are.
As smoothly as you can, you go about opening every ring. You discover that the rings are all connected to each other by a single bar. You slowly pull the rings off her neck, the open ends going across her coat like a comb. At least they’ll stay in one piece when they fall off.
Soon enough, the rings are off and discarded somewhere on the bed. A small twitch of her neck is the only indication that she has noticed anything.
It’s a shame that going for her neck means you must part company with her mouth. For the first time in a long time, you are the one to break the kiss. As you pull away and open your eyes, you find Zecora has also leaned back and craned her neck, leaving its striped coat exposed for you. Did she know what you were planning this whole time? Either way, she’s giving you the green light.
You lean in and let your breath touch her neck first. Already, you see Zecora quiver at the warm air. Your hunch may have been right after all. That, or she’s as hyper-sensitive to everything as you are right now.
Your first kiss makes her neck twitch away from you, sending a tremor through her body that squeezes your package just a little harder. It’s enough to make you grit your teeth for a moment, but the shock quickly passes, and you get back to your ministrations.
For the next several minutes, you pepper Zecora’s neck with a variety of kisses, some light and quick, others slow and tender. Her muscles are firm, but the coat tickles your lips, giving you a sensation unlike any other. You can also taste the smallest hint of wildberry mixed with sweat with each kiss, no doubt preserved from the rings.
Zecora is certainly receptive to your attention, if the noises and movements she makes are anything to go by. A sharp intake of air here, a coo there, twitching and quivering everywhere, and most noticeably, more subtle shaking and pressure down below.
It all leads to a sensual cycle of feedback: your kissing makes Zecora grow tenser, which puts more pleasurable pressure on your member, making you kiss and nuzzle more. If this were to keep up, your intimate time together may be over well before the brew is ready to deliver. One of you would have to come up with something to mix things up at some point.
Something like her nibbling at your ear.
Your gasp comes as suddenly as the gentle pressure on your right ear. Zecora pins the ear between her teeth and softly rolls it back and forth. It’s a firm bite, but not firm enough to hurt. Still, her nibbles make you feel as if the source of all your strength was located in your ears, such are their draining powers.
They also have the power to temporarily make you forget about the sensations down below. It makes you wonder if your tender neck ministrations are helping her to do the same.
Despite the melting sensation coursing through your body, you keep up with your part of the love-making by giving special attention to her neck. If anything, the nibbling is granting you the strength to continue by giving you something else to focus on other than your aching stallionhood. Not that you aren’t enjoying this closeness with Zecora regardless.
More time passes with the two of you locked in this passionate embrace. Coos, moans, groans, sighs, and every other noise between them passes through yours and her lips at regular intervals.
Slowly but surely, things are heating up. You can feel the tremors inside her growing in both frequency and strength. It doesn’t take long for the pressure in your loins to start building up again. You don’t have a hair-trigger, but you might be finished with her much sooner than she is with you at this rate.
Especially now that Zecora has added a subtle rocking motion to her rump. Now you can feel your penis swaying back and forth between the irresistible heat and squeezing. You even catch the occasional rubbing of a certain nub against your crotch.
The effects are instant among you both. The pressure between your legs grows tighter with each grind, and you find your kisses having that much more force. Likewise, Zecora’s moans continue to grow, the vibrations traveling from her throat to her teeth and onto your ear. She even lets go of your ear once in a while to moan something in her native language. And she’s supposed to be the one who wants to take things slow...
Come to think of it, just how long have you been going at it now? It somehow feels like you’ve simultaneously been here forever and for just a moment. Somewhere in the back of your mind, you can smell the urine from the brew and hear the cauldron bubbling in the other room. A potion that size would have taken a while to start boiling that fiercely.
Even if you could give an estimate as to how much time has passed, that part of your brain is occupied with several thoughts, all of them more pleasurable. You can feel sweat damping yours and Zecora’s coats. Fatigue sets into your muscles despite the little movement. Personal fluids from you and her leak out onto your crotch and testes. The inevitable is coming closer and closer.
The anticipation is almost maddening. It won’t be long now before this pressure releases in a very satisfying burst.
Into a very unprotected womb.
Your eyes shot open and all your movements come to a sudden halt. Talk about a major oversight.
“Um, Z-Zecora,” you say as you pull away from her neck.
“Hmm?” She looks at you with those blue eyes.
“Shouldn’t we, uh, take some precautions?”
Zecora looks at you for a second, then smiles. “There is no need for you to dread. I have already thought ahead.”
“You have?”
“The drink that gave us desire to relieve.” Zecora looks down at her abdomen. “It will also make it harder to conceive. Not even a cauldron full of your seed will fill my body’s need.”
“A diuretic and a contraceptive.” You feel a grin coming on. “What will you make next?”
Yet another heartwarming giggle of Zecora’s reaches your ears. “My next project is something you must be part of.” Her line is punctuated by a kiss on your lips.
“Let me guess: You want us to make love?”
It was all that was needed to be said. Zecora gives you one last kiss, then wraps her forelegs around you even tighter.
You feel her hooves pushing down on you as she lifts herself up. Her smooth walls pull against you on the way up, further pushing your mind towards the deep end. Soon enough, she is completely parted from your member.
Now free, Zecora scoots off you and lies down on her back. Her legs remain parted, giving you another chance to appreciate what she has. Liquids leak from it, but otherwise it remains as enticing a view as ever.
As much as you want to pounce and rut her senseless, you take your time with your approach. You crawl on top of her, trying (and probably failing) to look sexy while you do it. You look into her eyes while you get positioned at her entrance just right.
You feel the opening at your tip. Zecora gives you a nod. It’s time.
Slowly, you guide yourself back into those warm, welcoming walls. You feel Zecora subconsciously aiding you by squeezing the shaft with each centimeter of progress. Her body doesn’t lie; she wants this as much as you do.
The two of you let out a sigh once you have finally pushed in to the hilt. It was the final resting point before the real show started.
Anticipation grips you as you pull out for the first time. Zecora’s body doesn’t want you to part so soon, but you know she’ll be glad you did in just a few seconds.
You prove yourself right as you push back in and hear her give a sharp intake of breath.
Thus begins the finale of your session with Zecora. You start at an unhurried but steady pace, giving you both time to soak in every touch down below. Given how long you had spent in the embrace prior, however, it’s not long before things start picking up steam.
If Zecora wanted to go slowly before, she doesn’t seem to now. With your plunging getting faster, she closes her eyes and leans her head back. Moans, gasps, shouts in both Equestrian and Zebrican escape her lips loud enough to hear over your grunting and groaning.
The sensations are both sublime and surreal. Zecora’s azure eyes pierce into yours while you go to work. Warmth of all kinds goes through your body, from the soothing comfort of her body against yours to the maddening heat of her marehood. Her strong legs and tender folds pull you in tighter with each thrust. And of course, you can feel your loins gradually getting tighter, eager to burst and fulfill their duty.
You already feel exhaustion creeping into your entire body, but something deeper than you can comprehend keeps pushing you on. It’s as if you’re not really where you are anymore. Zecora’s hut, the polka-dot pox, peeing into a cauldron; they are all distant memories lost in a sea of bliss. All that concerns you now is the drive to bring her to the heights of pleasure that a mare like her deserves.
In almost no time at all, you’re plunging into Zecora at full strength. Skin slapping skin and other obscene noises (and words) fill the room. The stench of sweat and sex permeates the entire hut, easily overpowering the smell of boiling pee from the cauldron. Vaginal fluids and pre mix together, getting almost everything between your legs wet. Your muscles ache, but you press on.
As the pressure in your crotch builds, so too grows the moaning and pulling from her. All four of her limbs hold onto you as tight as they can. Her body rocks with ever-growing spasms. The wise, exotic Zecora you knew has given way to a new side of her: a passionate, vulnerable, animalistic Zecora who holds the same physical desires as you.
You have never found her more arousing than you do now.
Feeling your vigor renewed, you go at it harder than ever. Even with your tiring muscles and testes aching for release, you power on all to make sure she gets the same enjoyment that she has brought you for so long.
But try as you might, you can’t fight back your body’s desire to finally unload everything it had in one string of bursts. Even the endless pleasure rocking you is slowly being drowned out by the pain of your lower half crying out as if to say, “Just blow your load already! You know you want to!”
“Please…”
“Hmm?” You half-speak half-grunt. Turns out language is not one of your strong suits during sex.
“I… a little…” yells Zecora between her many other noises. Her eyes are firmly shut, and her whole body is tenser than ever before.
“Zecora…”
“I, ah, AHHHHH!”
The most prominent thing you can remember about these next few moments are how magical they were.
In an instant, the spasms in Zecora reach their apex. She writhes and squirms and screams in what you believe must be the most fun she’s had in who knows how long. Her muscles squeeze your shaft for all its worth. A large mess of fluids squirts out around her folds.
It’s too much for you. At long last, your body caves into the pressure. Sheer bliss overwhelms as you let loose spurt after spurt inside her. Almost every last drop you had stored up is shot into her womb.
Even though it took so long, your penis is still eager to thank you by pumping nothing but pure euphoria into every last nerve you have. It overpowers your mind, rendering you unable to process anything but the sheer joy of orgasm. Your vision fills with stars, and you feel as if you are floating among the heavens far above your actual body. It is the only possible explanation for you to be feeling so amazing right now.
The last bit of your seed dribbles out, taking all your remaining energy with it. You fall onto Zecora, your member still inside. Your entire coat is drenched with sweat, and you can’t even muster the energy to look up at your mate. You feel liquids of all kinds leaking out of her now. This bed is gonna need a few washes in a nearby river later.
Meanwhile, Zecora doesn’t seem to notice the extra weight on her. Her breathing is deep and labored. She must still be riding out her climax, though it certainly doesn’t seem to be as powerful now.
You let her finish her descent for a couple more minutes. With the orgasm finally subsided, her breathing is calm and her grip on you is fully relaxed. She idly rubs the back of your neck.
Somewhere in the back of your mind, you can faintly remember why you are even here in the first place. You can only hope the brew needs plenty more time to boil first. You certainly need to take advantage of this downtime to regain your energy.
In the meantime, you lie there with Zecora, basking in the afterglow. You feel her heart beating in her chest, and assume that she can feel yours. What little strength you have goes into lifting your lips into a smile. This is joy.
No words are shared between you. The silence is more than enough to convey everything that needed to be said. Everything except one phrase. A phrase that you actually know both in your home language and hers. It is the perfect thing for you to say, and as you lean to her and whisper it, you can feel your hearts growing closer than ever.
“Nakupenda , Zecora.”
Author's Note
Do not be alarmed when you see you have a thing for Zecora's wee. :P
Also, if you would like more, check out this extra commentary on what went into the making of this fic. Enjoy!
Enjoying a Pleasant Wee in the Enchantress' Tree
Come on… just gotta hold out a little longer…
Your destination grows closer with each step, but still feels like it is miles away from you. It’s all you can do to keep yourself going and not lose it right on the spot.
Your whole body grows tenser with each passing second as you rush along the dirt trail. The pressure you are exerting to maintain control is almost unbearable, but you couldn’t stop now, not when your goal was only a few yards away. But oh dear goddesses, how in the world have you been holding it in this long?
After what feels like forever, you finally reach the door. You bang loudly on the door with your forehoof while you bounce around on your other limbs. Please hurry, you think, please, please, please hurry.
It couldn’t have been more than a few seconds after you’d started knocking that the door knob finally turns , though once more it felt like hours. The door opens a crack, and the blue eyes of the house’s inhabitant look at you.
Due to the pressure you’re exerting to maintain control, you find yourself unable to speak. You can only hope the desperate look on your face will be enough convince her of your plight.
She doesn’t speak either, instead letting out a gasp. She knows.
Not wasting another second, she stands to the side and quickly opens the door. You rocket past her, pausing only to stand in the center of the room and quickly look about for…
There!
Everything goes into slow motion for these next few seconds. You half-run, half-leap towards the blessed bowl, doing everything you can to keep yourself from failing so close to your goal. You reach out with a hoof and flip up the lid just before the last ounce of strength in you fails…
And promptly spit out the contents of your mouth into the bowl.
Your puffed cheeks feel odd as they return to their normal contour. The green liquid being sprayed from your mouth mixes with the blue in the bowl, turning it into an off-lavender color. With your mouth mostly emptied, you proceed to cough and spit into the bowl to get the remaining liquid out. It’s probably one of the most disgusting spit-takes in the history of spit-takes, but at least you can say you came through in the end.
The offending concoction finally removed, you gasp for breath. Your body aches from the running you did, but there’s only one thing on your mind now, and you feel the other pony in the house deserves to know what it is:
“That… is the worst thing… I’ve ever tasted… in my life!”
While you gasp to both breathe and air out your taste buds, you can hear a giggle resonating from the throat of the mare approaching you. Somehow, that giggle always makes you feel calmer and content with the world, but not nearly as much as her actual voice.
“I do not know many ponies who would make haste to enjoy dragon juice and black shroom’s taste.”
You would have argued that it tasted more like dirty dragon feet mixed with parasprite barf, but what she said would have been a close second.
You chuckle slightly as you turn to face her. You are soon met with a pair of bright blue eyes, windows to a mind that is wise well beyond her years, and a striped face that only adds to her mysterious allure. She is certainly a one-in-a-million phenomenon, and her name only made her more exotic.
Zecora. You could say that name all day and it would never get old. Context, however, has a nasty way of keeping you from doing that, so you instead opt for a more appropriate response.
“Yeah, thanks for leaving the door open,” you reply once you finally catch your breath. “You have no idea how many times I almost spat out that mix on the way here.” You cringe as you finish, but you aren’t sure if it was deliberate or just an uncontrollable reaction from your body.
“It was a good thing for us you did not spit.” Zecora looked over to the bowl and the lavender liquid inside. “Now the mixture and our brew are a perfect fit.”
“That’s great.” You look towards the new concoction as well. “I’ll never understand exactly why jogging around with Celestia-knows-what in my mouth helps make an antidote, but at least I sacrificed my taste buds for a good cause.”
You chuckle a couple times to make sure Zecora knows you’re joking like always, but it doesn’t stop her from dropping her smile and giving you a serious look. She never was one to mess around when it came to brewing important potions, and this one was more important than most. No matter what, that look always makes you feel like a mischievous toddler in the presence of a stern grownup.
“What? Our brew is coming along great, isn’t it? Now nopony in town will have to worry about looking silly for the rest of their life, right?” Your smile subtly turns from a jovial one to a strained one as you keep talking.
“The Polka-Dot Pox should not be treated so silly. It poses a danger for every colt and filly,” says Zecora in a stern tone.
Both your ears and gaze drop to the ground. “I-I know. Maybe now’s not the best time for wise-cracking.”
Out of the corner of your eyes, you can just see Zecora’s face relaxing. You risk a look up and find her smiling again. It’s as if she pulled an invisible weight off you just by curling her lips upwards.
“You need not feel you have committed a crime,” she says, “for we have made this mixture in great time.” Before you can respond, she turns around and walks towards another cabinet. She rummages through them and grabs a jar filled with yet another liquid and two cups, perfectly balancing them on her back as she walks back to you.
“More to add to the bowl?” You ask.
Zecora is practical with her rhymes. Instead of coming up with a lengthy way of saying “no,” she shakes her head, sets the jar and cups down and says, “I believe you like your mouth’s insides to not stink, so would you like to wash that taste down with a drink?”
“Do I ever!” Your face lights up in an instant. You could scarcely wait until Zecora had finished pouring the clear liquid into a cup before you wrapped your hoof around it and held it up to your face. You give the brew a couple quick sniffs just to be safe; you only make the mistake of drinking the wrong thing at Zecora’s hut once. With no detectable odor coming from the drink, you take the plunge and take a drink.
Much like its smell, the drink has little discernible taste. There might be a hint of lemon to it, but you can’t tell for sure. Nonetheless, the drink is doing its job of getting that awful taste out of your mouth quite well. Traces of the mixture still linger like a skunk’s spray in a room several days after the fact, but it’s nothing a little potion-making can’t help you forget about.
As you finish off your drink and set it back down, you notice that Zecora had helped herself to a cup, proving beyond the shadow of a doubt that what you just had probably won’t come back to bite you. In fact, it probably wouldn’t hurt if you had another drink.
Unfortunately, just as you’re about to grab the jar and pour yourself some more, Zecora grabs your hoof with a tad more force than you expected. “Having another drink would be ill-advised,” she states while giving you a serious look. “It is best to keep your consumption pint-sized.”
“Pint-sized? But I’ve only had a cups-worth,” you say innocently. Zecora’s expression and pressure on your hoof do not change a bit, so you quickly relent and lower your hoof to the ground. “Then again, I’m not that thirsty,” you add.
Looking satisfied, Zecora places the jar and drinks on her back, and returns it to the cabinet. Instead of walking back to you, she goes to the large cauldron in the middle of the room. You had not noticed it in your initial desperation, but the cauldron was already filled halfway with a concoction of its own.
“If your mouth no longer tastes like a dirty shoe, then maybe we can get back to making our brew,” says Zecora. She lifts a hoof and points at the bowl next to you.
Looking at the bowl, you quickly figure out what she’s asking of you. You place the bowl on your back and walk up to her with a grin. “Sure thing. One pox-curing potion coming right up!”
***
You have to admit, the last couple days have been working out quite well for you. Of course, you would never say that to anyone who fell ill, but you can’t shake the feeling that this whole chain of events has been a nice opportunity for you. After all, who else in Equestria can say that the pony who helped them treat a pox is the same pony they happen to be dating?
It was only yesterday morning when the first pony in Ponyville began showing symptoms of the Polka-Dot Pox: Fever, nausea, lack of energy, and yes, polka-dots. A quick read of the disease in one of the library’s books revealed that it had spread to epidemic-like proportions at one time in old Equestrian history. It also showed that the disease itself is thankfully not fatal, but it could leave ponies bedridden for weeks, and the spots could even become permanent if left untreated.
Unfortunately for Ponyville, this strain of the pox was proving to be just as nasty. By the next morning, more than half the town was sick, and most of the other half were refusing to leave their homes. Knowing that nopony wants to live the rest of their life looking like a clown, the town mayor was quick to spring into action in getting a cure whipped up.
However, the pony who would normally be in charge of fixing one up was too busy with her new job as one of the Princesses of Equestria. Thus the job fell on two other ponies: Zecora, whose old texts contained a surefire home remedy for the pox, and you, a simple earth pony whose special talent just so happened to be alchemy.
That special talent also happens to be the reason why you know Zecora so well to begin with. It was by pure chance that you had bumped into her on your first trip into the Ponyville market. You were both trying to grab the last batch of tree sap at a stand for the same reason: using it as an ingredient for a potion or transfiguring. This led to a debate as to who needed the sap more, a debate that could have lasted for hours if the pony running the stand hadn’t quietly sold the sap to someone else. It turned out both of you could appreciate the irony of the situation, and your relationship had kicked off from there.
Before you knew it, chats at the market turned into assisting each other with potions and alchemy, which turned into hanging out around her place and Ponyville, which turned into confessions of liking each other more than the usual friend, which finally led to kissing and officially declaring yourselves a couple. Looking back, it seemed only natural that two ponies with common interests would eventually hook up together.
Of course, there’s still one part of a relationship that you would like to explore. A very intimate, physical part that quite a few ponies save for their honeymoon. You wouldn’t dare push Zecora into it before she was ready to, but it still doesn’t stop a certain pressure from building up between your flanks on occasional visits with her.
And speaking of pressure…
“Okay, that’s the last bowl of fine beach sand added,” you say as you step away from the cauldron.
“Then our potion is moving along in a flash, though I had gathered as much when I heard the splash,” says Zecora from the other side of the hut.
Don’t remind me of the splash, you think to yourself while one of your hindlegs bounces uncontrollably. It didn’t help that Zecora also happens to pouring a liquid, a previously-added ingredient, back into another jar. There may as well have also been a heavy downpour outside, with fat rain drops splattering against the windows.
It had been creeping up on you while you were working on the potion. At first, you could easily ignore it just by focusing on making the antidote. As time went on, you had found your hindleg bouncing on its own when you were standing still. Later, you would squeeze your legs together at irregular intervals. Later still, and you started whimpering occasionally and maybe not so quietly.
You had hoped that the antidote would have been finished before you needed to excuse yourself to the little colt’s room. That hope, however, is rapidly diminishing while the pressure in your bladder is rapidly growing.
Enough is enough. Asking your marefriend to let you use her bathroom like a schoolcolt asking his teacher is only awkward. Leaving a puddle of piddle on her floor like a new pet is worse.
“Hey, Zecora?” You ask.
“What is it?” In a rare non-rhyme moment, Zecora looks away from her bowl and towards you.
Putting on the best poker face you can, you respond. “Uh, since the potion is coming along so well, maybe we’ve, uh, earned a little break?”
Zecora gives you a frown, her eyes lowered and piercing through you. “Why would you bring our brew to a still while so many ponies in town are ill?”
“It’s not like that!” You blurt out. “It’s just… I’d just need a couple minutes to recuperate, and…”
Even if you could come up with an excuse underneath Zecora’s piercing gaze, you don’t think you could find it in you to lie to her. Besides, ducking behind a bush sounds a lot better to you than beating around it.
You can’t help but feel your face turn pink as you ask, “Do you have a bathroom I could use?”
And it’s out there: the first instance of one of you admitting to needing the restroom in your relationship. It was inevitable, though it doesn’t make it seem any less awkward. At least Zecora is an understanding mare when it comes to pressing matters such as this.
“I do not.”
Or so you had thought.
Your eyes open wide in shock. “No? But–”
“My home is built in a wild Everfree tree,” says Zecora as she walks toward you. “There’s no room for a bathroom, as you can see.”
To your dismay, a quick glance around the house proves her right. Only two rooms comprise Zecora’s home: the room you’re in now and her bedroom, separated only by a curtain. There's not a toilet to be found anywhere.
“Okay, then do you have a chamber pot I can borrow for a sec?” You turn back to Zecora, who is now right in front of you, and offer her a smile. Unfortunately, she maintains the same frown from before.
“Sorry, that one was too gross,” you quickly continue. “Would you mind if I ran outside and behind a tree real quick? Not this tree, but, you know, some other tree where I can go-eep!”
A hoof on your lips is all it takes to silence you. Zecora’s eyes lock with yours, pitting stern wisdom against shy desperation.
“We must be strong to finish this brew,” she says calmly. “Which is why we can’t use a pot, tree, or loo.”
You can’t stop yourself from letting out a whimper. Though you can’t recall having this problem before, you definitely sympathize with every schoolpony who had to hold it because their teacher wouldn’t let them leave their seat.
Maybe it was your puppy-dog eyes or your whimper, but Zecora lowers her hoof to the ground and smiles once more. “I see you worry, but you need not fear. The release you desire draws very near.”
“So we’re almost done with the potion?” You ask with the same tone as a kid who wants to go play with his toys.
Zecora does not answer you at first. Instead, she turns sharply and walks towards the cauldron. She stares into her refection in its murky, colorless surface. Against your better judgment, you find yourself staring into the cauldron as well.
“This potion requires a part of us, for you see…” You see Zecora’s reflection speak these words before she turns to you. Doing the same, you notice a certain pink discoloration breaking through her black-and-gray face.
“The ingredient it needs most of all is our wee.”
