//------------------------------//
// Chapter 1 Part 1 
// Story: Magical Medicine 
// by yellowbastion 
//------------------------------//

Your name is Anonymous, which isn’t your original, Earthkin birth name.  Thankfully, you’re the only human that exists in Equestria. You’re a cool, suave, debonair man-about-town. Latin lover, and by the grace of God, Latino lover. It's getting to be late Summer, nearly time to wake up Billie Joe Armstrong. The sky is blue and the grass is green, or plaid when Discord becomes bored. You can hear birds doing bird things outside your window and you wish they would shut the hell up. You are currently resting in a cot with too many pillows, in Ponyville General Hospital, and there is a haystack coloured pony wearing a Stetson talking, not to you, but at you. You’re doing a lot of listening right now, which it unusually uncharacteristic of you. 

Nurse glitter-something, you didn't get his name, had just picked up your diagnosis clipboard and clip-clopped his way out of your room leaving you alone with your favourite farm pony.

"Just stay calm, Anon. Y'all just lie back, now. Sometimes these things just happen," Applejack said while she gently pushed you back down. "Twilight is working on a spell to fix everything."

Well, second favourite farm pony, as Applebloom was obviously your first favourite because she is the most adorable. Granny Smith was easily your third favourite because she makes some of the best apple pie you’ve ever had in your life. And Rainbow Dash didn't farm, let alone do any actual work. If there was an award for being the most lazy, that skittle-pone wouldn't even bother to participate but still somehow win by default. Her napping schedule, the one she has posted on the bulletin board outside Barnyard Bargains, makes you only a little bit jealous. You’re positive that is everyone you remember seeing at the Apple family’s farm. Eeyup, pretty sure. 

You lay in bed watching Applejack's deliciously kissable mouth move, forming words, tongue lashing about, doing soundy-speak thing. You hear the sounds coming from her mouth but you have no idea what she is talking about. You weren't sure in what way Twilight was supposed to fix everything. Given her track record, the flippant violet librarian was usually the chosen one who caused the problems in the first place. You were convinced that the infestation of green slug monsters that appeared last week, which ate both the stone bridge leading to Fluttershy’s cottage over Babble’s Brook and the roof off of Sugarcube Corner, was somehow her fault. You didn't have the heart to tell any of the helpful hospital horses that everything about you was fine and supremely sexy, as it should be. They were just trying to do their little horsey best in the horseiest way they knew how. You knew your own body like the back of your hand. Except for that one scar near the base of your thumb. You still don't know how you got that one. You were pretty sure that Zecora had something to do with it. Maybe you were drunk and you tried running your hand over her bristley mane and she wanted none of that. It seemed like a plausible scenario. Her hair really was amazing and taking a bite on your hand would be totally worth it, you think. 

You are a human, not some hairless, damn dirty ape. Your body is supposed to be proportioned like it was. There was nothing that the Princess of sparkles and glitter, or whatever she did when she was not stalking you, needed to fix. But, like the rising of the sun, an idea set upon you. You unraveled the Rubix cube of conversation. You had figured out what they were talking about and quickly shut your goddamn mouth. While you weren’t exactly smiling, your face had settled into a comfortable, smug grin.

You lay in your cot and remember back to yesterday morning. Worst princess, Celestia, had commissioned Twilight Sparkle, the mediocre princess, to gather census data from the border towns. Thinking back on it, you couldn't remember why she had picked you to help her and not Spike, or one of her friends, or just some random homeless pony off the street. Or how she even got you to agree to help her in the first place. You distinctly remember telling the purple bookworm 'no', repeatedly, often before she even opened her flapping noise hole. As it turns out, in Equestria, 'no' sometimes means 'yes' in the same way it does back home. 

That morning you decided to get an extra hour of beauty sleep, not that you needed it but because you knew that people who woke up early were crazy, and ended up being late for your early morning meeting with the Princess of Friendship. In your infinite wisdom you strategically planned to forgo breakfast and met Twipone at the crystal eyesore on the outskirts of Ponyville. The two of you then spent the day hauling papers, writing data, filing things into folders, applying labels, sorting the folders into boxes, then adding even more labels. Box it, ship it, pull it, pass it, bop it, on repeat for hour after hour. The work was tedious and seemed to go on without end. 

Twilight had felt the need to schedule visiting every town in the same day. She probably did it on purpose in a desperate need to get back to what she loved doing the most, mentally abusing Spike. The twitchy lavender nerd didn't schedule any breaks for snacks, second breakfast, elevenses, tea, brunch, lunch, afternoon tea, supper, dinner, or tacos. Now, after teleporting the two of you around for most of the day, hardly staying in any place longer than half-an-hour, you fainted. Not from the casual blinking in and out of space-time, but from Twilight's stupidly jam packed schedule. Who in their right mind doesn’t schedule time for tacos? There’s always time for tacos. It’s literally in the name of the world famous taco restaurant: Taco Time. Think outside the bun.

Here you are, twenty-two hours later. Your Adonis-like human physique finally had enough of running on empty and collapsed from starvation and low blood sugar levels. Now you're lying in bed, hooked to an IV, recovering in the horse hospital, and not the vet like last time, staring dumbfounded into this beautiful farm mare's emerald eyes as she tried her best to explain something ... truly amazing. Someone ought to write a story about this. 

Prinnie Twinkle Spicket, in her infinite purple princess privilege, somehow got her grubby little hooves on a copy of your full body magic medical scans. She had decided that what she read in your charts should have not been what it was, though it be like it is 'cause it do. That, somehow, one or more of her multiple long-range teleports had caused a vanishing of body tissue and a not small amount of cell damage.

When your tiny horse doctor, Doctor Horse, told you what Twilight thought she had found, you definitely weren't worried. You just needed to get up and stretch your legs, at full speed, in a direction anywhere but here, which just so happened to be across town. And you sure as shit weren't yelling or crying. Running takes a lot of endurance and you were probably just breathing hard and sweating lots. And if anyone says anything different they're lying. Because ponies are world renown for two things: friendship, lying, and not knowing how to count. 

One of the larger, definitely gay, male nurses had tackled you from behind like a coward, probably in an attempt to grope your nearly naked ass, and carried you back to your room and strapped you down to the bed. Your sudden and extreme need to exercise had spooked the locals so much they felt the need to take precautions so you wouldn't try to make Billy Blanks proud by doing Tae Bo. Bondage was probably the male pony nurse’s fetish, if you had to guess. 

The hulking beefcake of a nurse had left you alone with Applejack. With her soothing country accent lulling you into a false sense of security, you finally clue in as to what Twilight thought she found and her pending magical solution to fix everything. According to what Twilight thought she had discovered, your multiple rapid teleports had caused your, ahem, ‘colt parts’, to become ‘damaged’ and that they had ‘lost significant mass’. Applejack was always so cute when she blushed.

Some careful groping under your hospital gown had revealed to you that everything was the right size, where it should be, and functioned properly. At least as far as you could test without ‘summoning the trouser snake’ in front of the freckled field filly. You were going to save that for the honeymoon, stud. 

But Twilight was dead-set on returning everything to its ‘original size’, which, when directly compared to a pony stallion's wedding tackle, your manhood was no longer to-scale with the rest of your body. Twilight Sparkle, the alicorn of magic and Princess of Friendship, was creating a spell to give you a bigger dick and all you had to do was just shut your stupid mouth for once and try not to grin like an idiot.

This will all work out for the better. Magic was totally Twilight's thing. She was literally the Element of Magic. It was even printed on her business card and you know those things never lie. What could possibly go wrong?