A Brown Solution
Spike casually sauntered up to the bathroom door on the upper floor of Twilight’s castle. He paused for a moment as some moans echoed from inside, then knocked lightly. “Twilight, you’ve been in there a while...are you okay?”
A painful moan echoed from inside. “Yeah…” came the pitiful reply.
“You sure?” Spike prodded. “Do you need some water, or...need me to take you to the hospital, or something?”
A further moan, followed by a ghastly, unspeakable noise, came through the door.
Spike cringed.
“We...already went to the doctor, Spike,” Twilight’s labored voice answered. “She...She said my tests would be back tomorrow.”
“Alright...I’m just saying, it seems like you’re in pain-”
Not a moan, but a mild scream came next.
“-And I’d like to help. They can give you some stuff at the emergency room.”
“No! We’ll see the doctor tomorrow! Just go! I don’t want you to hear me like this!” her strained command came.
“Too late,” Spike mumbled to himself. Resigned, he began waddling away from the bathroom as the next room of unworldly, haunting noises came from inside.
Twilight lay motionless on a paper-covered table, her hooves clasped over her midsection in a futile exercise in controlling her agony.
Spike sat nearby in a chair, casually flipping through the day’s newspaper. “You doing alright, Twilight?”
“HuughhhUGHHhhhhh…”
“Good,” he mused, licking his claw and flipping to the next page. His attention was drawn away for a moment by what appeared to be a flash of rainbow out of the window to his right, but after a moment he shrugged and returned his attention to the columns.
A knock at the door came a few seconds later, and was quickly followed by a disheveled-looking purple stallion in a white coat waltzing into the room. “Heeeey, Princess Twilight!” he greeted. “I hear you’ve been having some problems! How are you feeling?”
Twilight turned her head to the side and groaned weakly. “Oh no… You again? Isn’t there another doctor I can see?”
The doctor, Wave Function, blinked in subdued shock. “Well, I’m the only ID fellow on service today, so...no, not really.”
Twilight let out a whine.
Dr. Function turned himself to Spike. “And the mighty Spike is here too! How you holding up, Dragon-man?”
Spike raised a single fist in a greeting of solidarity, not removing his attention from the newspaper.
“Alriiiiight, that’s what I like to see!” the doctor responded in a somewhat less-than-professional manner. “So, Ms. Sparkle, the good news is that we have your test results back: we know exactly what’s wrong, and your life isn’t in any danger at this time.”
Twilight, her mane disorganized and her visage wrinkled in strain, narrowed her eyes at him skeptically as he sat down on a nearby stool. “What’s the bad news, then?”
“Pretty much everything else.” Dr. Function flipped to the next page in his clipboard and briefly scanned it. “You have an infection with a nasty little type of bacteria called Clostridium difficile, or ‘C-diff’ for short, if that’s too much to remember.”
“That which is a difficult barrier,” Twilight fluidly translated the Old Ponish scientific name.
“Oh, right. I forgot that you’re crazy smart. Anyway,” he swiftly moved on, “This infection typically strikes after treatment with antibiotics, which you were given for a cough two weeks back. It also fits very well with your clinical picture; it certainly explains the copious mucus and blood present in your bowel mov-”
Spike folded his newspaper quickly and dry-heaved several times as he frantically looked for a trashcan.
“Okay, okay,” the doctor ingratiated, holding his hooves up defensively. “No need for any more details.”
“So what do we do?” Twilight asked, wincing at her cramps.
“The good news is that we have an easy fix. The infection happens because those antibiotics killed all the ‘good bacteria’ in your gut, so if we get those good bacteria back you’ll be all cured!”
Twilight allowed herself a semi-satisfied grin. “That’s great. I just have to take some bacteria pills then?”
Dr. Function’s visage took on a grave air. “Uh...something like that, yes. We give you the good bacteria back through a...fecal transplant.”
A thick silence descended over the room. Suddenly interested, Spike lowered his newspaper, although his face still had an air of nausea about it.
“...You’re going to give me a poop transplant?”
“Pretty much. It’ll fix the problem in a prompt manner. We just need some...waste matter from one of your household contacts- you know, someone that eats the same food and has all the same bugs inside, and such- and we’ll get you back on your hooves in no time!”
Twilight slowly brought a hoof up to her eyes and covered them. “...I’m not going to ask my friend Starlight for her poop.”
“I can ask, if you want,” the doctor offered.
“No!” Twilight chided. “What is wrong with you?”
His hooves came up to his chest defensively once more. “Hey, some patients are more comfortable if the doctor is the one doing the talking.”
Twilight’s eyes blazed with determination as she stared into the doctor’s, even as her face remained contorted in discomfort. “It doesn’t matter anyway, because she’s out of town the next week! There’s nopony at home in the castle besides me!”
The doctor’s gaze kept Twilight’s for a few moments, before his eyes flickered briefly in the direction of Spike twice.
“Oh no. Ohhhhhh no!” Twilight winced, sitting up. I am not getting a fecal transplant from Spike!”
“I’m involved in this, now?” Spike asked curiously.
“I’m just saying, if we want you to get better promptly, he’s the best option,” chided the doctor. “Is waiting for your friend Starlight really worth it?”
“I don’t want to have anypony’s poop put inside me!” she declared, before a gurgling noise echoed from her midsection and she doubled over in pain.
“Think of it as some of her trademark hot chocolate, but with curative properties,” he motivated.
Spike furrowed his brow. “Oh yeah. You told us you were going on a date with her. How’d it go?”
“She’s crazy. Wouldn’t touch her with a ten-foot pole,” the doctor remarked.
Another set of Twilight’s cramps pushed her back to a supine position, moaning.
“Unless I really needed her feces,” the doctor tacked on after a moment’s thought.
“Okayyyyy,” Twilight moaned. “I’ll ask Starlight when she get’s back! Just give me some pills or something to make the pain go away…”
Spike burped out a letter. Unraveling it, he read it quickly. “Umm...Twilight?”
“She’s extending her stay, isn’t she?” Twilight asked, defeated.
“Yeahhhhh…”
Twilight sighed in defeat and turned her head to face the doctor.
Wave Function bent his head sideways, gesturing toward Spike.
“Is Spike’s...stuff even going to work?” She asked. “He’s a dragon.”
Dr. Function shrugged incredulously. “Iunno. Usually we infectious diseases specialists are in the business of keeping dragon droppings on the outside of ponies. But, he’s really our best shot at getting you better quickly.”
Twilight covered her eyes again, half-mumbling and half-sobbing something incomprehensible.
The doctor casually spun his stool in Spike’s direction. “What do you say, Mr. Dragon? Are you interested in having your poop pumped through a tube into a Princess’ stomach?”
Spike frowned in mild disgust, before staring at the cripplingly infirm Twilight for a few moments. Then, he brought a claw up to stroke his muzzle thoughtfully. “For Twilight,” he began, “I am willing to make the sacrifice.”
“Excellent.” Dr. Function stood up. “I’ll get one of the nurses to get you a stool hat. Come back tomorrow for the procedure!”
“Do you have any cards where we can give feedback on the doctors?” Twilight asked with as much bite as her dehydrated, slightly anemic body could muster.
“We do not,” the doctor answered casually, before closing the door behind him.
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Talk about a shit-post.
It was both funny and horrifying in its implications.
Well done.
Yup, it's a real thing! You can even get paid to donate it, in some places!
9944487
Brah, I think you were taken advantage of by fetishists.
Ok... I just have to say...
Spike’s corundum, topaz, and emerald diet probably involves bacteria that can dissolve ROCK. So I don’t see this going anywhere good. Maybe aftermath of Taco Tuesday Hot Sauce Spectacular bad... if we’re lucky.
THE MORE YOU KNOW
My word, I thought this was all some sort of joke, and then I read the author's note. O.O