"And he did what?"

A crash.

"He went right up to her—the boss's wife—and—and—"

Another crash, followed by a chorus of boos and cheers.

"—and asked her if she wanted to see a real stallion!"

"What'd she do then?"

There was a pregnant pause.

"She slapped his face and beat his ass so hard that his dick was coming out of his ears!"

A loud whoop, and the sound of splintering wood. A wave of laughter went up around the room, and the bartender immediately started handing out refills.

Horizon grinned lopsidedly as he held out his mug for a refill of cider. The warm, sweet liquid trickling down into his cup was music to his ears. A crowd of stallions had gathered around his friend Blaze, who'd since collapsed on the wreckage of the table he'd broken, and were doing their best to help him to his hooves. He watched with some amusement as the crimson-red pegasus shoved their hooves away, snoring loudly with his wings jutting out straight away from his body.

He lifted his mug in a toast—to what, he wasn't quite sure—and cheered with the rest of them as the froth spilled over the sides. He took a big gulp, the grin on his face growing even wider.

It was the height of the apple-picking season, and thanks to his magic and the new horde of farmhooves, they'd gotten a bigger crop this year than ever before. As if reading his mind, a field worker—he could almost remember her name, but not quite—raised her glass, with cider froth around her lips. "To Horizon's "Grow Me Up" spell," she cheered, her voice slurring, "And the stir-strongest crop of cider we've ever had!"

"Hear, hear!" the rest of the room cheered. Horizon grinned stupidly as a few nearby ponies punched him on the shoulder—some leaving halfhearted bruises, and others accidentally spilling cider on his coat—and took another sip of his cider.

His ears perked up at a growing murmur going around the room. From the few words he could make out in his drunken haze, the others had found something new to gossip about. He found out exactly what, though, when the head farm assistant—Plowshare, a bulky earth pony—put one hoof up on his barstool and thrust his pelvis out to the rest of the room, a crazed look in his eyes.

"I bet I've got a bigger dick than the rest of you little pussies put together!"

A chorus of boos, hisses, and outright laughter came in reply, and soon enough, Plow had been mobbed by at least a half-dozen other stallions insisting that there was no way he was bigger than them.

Horizon watched the growing mob with a stupid grin on his face, his mug of cider hanging lopsidedly from his hoof. The alcohol in his system gave him a pleasant sort of buzz, filling his head with a cloud of haze that seemed both soft and comfortable. It looked that this year's crop of apple cider had been more potent than anypony'd expected; sure enough, dicks were being rolled out from their sheathes and laid out on stools for all to see. One farmpony whooped as he thrust his erect, eight-inch cock into the air; another batted him aside to proudly display his own nine-inch dick. A few others were quickly pushed aside, their five or six-inchers clearly not enough for this battle of testosterone.

Finally, Plow let out a low, deep bellow and shoved the others out of the way. "What'd I tell you?" he rumbled, a smug look on his face. "You little fillies have nothing on me. Take a look at this!"

The room went silent as he stood back and let his own stallionhood flop out into view. Twelve-and-a-half inches of long, thick cock stood straight up into the air, bobbing up and down ever so slightly. A sneer spread across Plow's face, and he pounded a hoof against the closest table. "Who here can top that?"

"I can!"

All eyes sped toward Horizon as he stood up from his table and set down his mug. It landed on its edge and spilled over the side, precious cider falling onto the muddy bar floor. But he didn't care—he had eyes for one pony, and one pony only.

Plow's sneer deepened as he watch Horizon walk, doing his best to swagger across the room (and bumping into only the occasional chair or table). "Horizon," he said, in a deep voice. "So nice of you to join the big boys. What've you got for Show and Tell?"

Horizon took a moment to look out over the crowd before answering. He raised his eyebrows and gave a little shrug. "I don't know. Just a little something I like to call—my dick!" With a flourish of his hooves, he flung himself off the ground, intending to balance on his hindlegs—and overbalanced, falling back instead and hitting the ground with a thump.

The room went quiet again, but not out of fear of injury. No: Horizon's dick had managed to pop free of its sheath and was currently laying across his stomach. All twelve inches of its glory were on full display, its head stretching up to his chest—and still flaccid.

Plow took a step back, looking somewhat confused. "Yeah—well," he grunted, looking around. "So you're a shower. Still don't come close to this stallion's girth!" He let out a loud, wordless jeer, gesturing down toward his own, throbbing cock.

"Oh?" Horizon raised an eyebrow and hiccuped. "You think this is small?" He blinked a few times, the alcohol buzz helping to get rid of the pain from falling over. He smiled. "Maybe it is. Let's see how big I really am."

Plow and a few others let out disbelieving snorts as Horizon leaned forward and shuffled himself back until his back was against the bar. Slowly, deliberately, he started to stroke the side of his stallionhood, the wide veins like textured ridges beneath the touch of his hoof.

The onlookers let out a series of gasps as Horizon's cock hardened, rising up past the thirteen—and soon fourteen, and even fifteen—inch marks. Up and down his hooves went, curling around its sides and teasing the tip until it passed seventeen inches. Nineteen. Twenty.

It felt like all of his blood was rushing through his cock. Horizon felt momentarily lightheaded before realizing that it was just the alcohol talking. He kept stroking and even gave it a little lick along the side—making sure to keep eye contact with Plow and the others while he did so. His flanks gave a little wiggle as the illusion spell he'd placed over his soccerball-sized testicles faded away automatically with the onset of an erection, at least a gallon of cum filling their huge, swollen depths.

Finally, as his dick stopped growing, he planted a little kiss on its tip, pulled his hooves back, and looked Plow right in the eye.

"Beat that," he said.

The entire bar watched with voyeuristic glee—one stallion even fainted—as Plowshare watched Horizon's dick bob and sway in the air: all twenty-four inches of it.

Two feet of stallionhood, and with balls to match.

"I—uh—er," Plow stammered, his eyes wide and almost fearful. His smirk contorted into a vacant, empty stare.

"Damn, son," somepony said from the crowd. A hum of agreement went up around him; a few even let out high-pitched whistles. "That's gonna split somepony in half."

"Well?" Horizon asked, cocking his head. He flashed his teeth. "Do I win?"

"Hey!"

The whole crowd did a double take as Blaze jerked up from his place on the ground, his flanks still resting on the ruins of the table he'd been standing on. His cheeks were red—even redder than usual—and flushed with the dozen or so mugs of alcohol he'd had tonight.

"You think you're better than us, buddy?" he snarled. "Huh, Mr. Long Dick?"

"Maybe." Horizon did his best to look smug, though the end result, with his nerves not responding quite the way he wanted to, looked more like a grimace.

"Well, then!" Blaze scrunched up his snout and jabbed a hoof toward him. "If you're so good, I'll bet you get more action than all of us combined. Or maybe not?"

"Yeah!" Horizon blurted. Conveniently, the fact that he'd only ever had sex three times prior, seemed to disappear from his mind. "You've got no idea how much!"

"Then prove it!" Blaze held up his hoof. "I challenge you to hit up half the eligible ponies on the farm—in three weeks."

There came a collection of gasps. Horizon merely narrowed his eyes, the pleasant buzz enhanced into a euphoric roar in his ears. His dick throbbed mightily, his testicles resting halfway on his legs, and for a moment he felt like there was nothing he couldn't do. "Oh, yeah? I'll do it in two!"

"It's on?"

"It's on!"

Glaring at each other, Horizon and Blaze each spit into their hooves, held them out, and shook. A ragged chorus of cheers went up from the crowd.

"Another round!" Horizon called out, his hoof waggling his two-foot dick in front of Blaze's face. "On me!"

This time, the cheer was even louder. Blaze grunted at him, and Horizon snorted right back.

By the time he'd had his second mug of cider—his ninth that night—Horizon was out like a light. Half the rest of the farmhands were, too; the bar was filled with passed-out, three-times drunk stallions and mares alike.

By the time he woke up the next morning, Horizon's gigantic boner was gone, and with it the pleasant buzz of alcohol that had filled his mind.

What hadn't disappeared, though, was the hangover, as well as the uneasy feeling that something was wrong; something was off.

He sat up off the floor, his head feeling like somepony had taken a mallet to it, and blinked three times.

Two weeks.

"Aw, shit."