Shining Armor Has an Erection Lasting More than Four Hours
Admiral Biscuit

“Are you sure?” Shining Armor looked at the little bottle floating in his aura dubiously.

“Red Fortera is the best natural male enhancement pill,” the salespony glanced down at his sample case briefly and then locked his eyes back on Shining. “Try it, you'll see. Now if you'll excuse me, I have a number of other appointments yet today. Some stallions wish to be the very best for their marefriends on Hearts and Hooves Day.”

“Very well.” Shining gave the salespony a few bits and then picked the bottle back up to examine it. There was a lot of very small printing on the back of the label, and he squinted at it curiously. By the time he looked back up, the salespony was gone

The morning sex had been unparalleled. Princess Cadance was, after all, the princess of love, and she knew a thing or two about bedroom Olympics; sadly, despite intensive training leading up to the marriage and continuing afterwards, his wife continued to outshine him in the bedroom . . . until today. The little red pill had worked exactly as advertised, and he was thicker, longer, and harder than ever before. He was still hard, in fact, despite a morning routine which had totally destroyed yet another bed.

“Still eager, I see,” Cadance breathed in his ear. “I'm afraid that you're on your own this time—I'm already late. I'll have to eat breakfast on the throne again.”

“Mmh,” Shining said. He was barely capable of words any more.

Cadance nuzzled his cheek, kissed her way down his belly and gave his turgid member one parting lick, then got out of bed and sauntered to the bathroom, her tail held high. Shining watched her retreating rump, and then slid his hoof down his belly to finish himself off.

Shining Armor's day had taken a turn for the worst, beginning just after he had gotten out of bed. His red pill enhanced cock was still rock-hard, and just long enough that he had to waddle when he walked, to avoid banging it against the castle floor. And while the occasional glimpse of a stallion dropping in public wasn't worth mention, the Prince of the Crystal Empire walking around with a raging hard-on would surely cause a minor scandal, so he'd had breakfast in his room and thanked his lucky stars that the chambermaid who delivered their breakfast had often been a third party to their lovemaking, so she wasn't bothered by the sight, or the smells in the room. And he thought about asking her for a quickie—Cadance wouldn't mind—but he was feeling mostly sexed-out. His dick just hadn't gotten the memo.

He had to stand to eat his breakfast, because sitting was just weird, and then he tried some exercises which all became infinitely more difficult with five pounds of horsemeat swinging around in counterpoint to everything that he did, and he finally gave up after nearly hitting himself in the eye with himself.

One thing that the royal chambers didn't lack was boring reading material, and he thought that might be the thing to tell his boner that it had overstayed its welcome, so he read halfway through Labor-Saving Machinery: the effect of mechanical appliances in the displacement of manual labor, volume 1, and when that had no measurable effects, did what he should have done in the first place and got the pill bottle and read it. If it could give him an erection on demand, surely it could also remove an erection on demand.

Sadly, it could not. It did, however, suggest that if he had an erection lasting more than four hours he should see his doctor. And while looking at a clock had been the last thing on his mind when he and Cadance started the horizontal pony mash, it had been four hours since she'd left for work.

So he put on his traveling cloak which would at least help disguise his shame, and then gingerly walked out of their bedroom and into the streets, wishing fervently all the way that they didn't share the highest room in the tallest tower.

He made it to the streets without incident and stopped at the first medical establishment, which had a shingle outside proclaiming that Dr. Feelgood would make you feel good.

Shining hadn't been in a civilian infirmary since joining the Royal Guard, so while the cozy couches and intimate feel of the room did cause a raised eyebrow he didn't think much of it. And the receptionist was dressed in a rather gaudy and gauzy saddle but she was very friendly and after he said that he wanted to be examined as quickly as possible directed him down the hallway to an examination room.

It was posher than he'd expected, and the examining table wasn't as utilitarian as he was used to—it was an actual feather bed, in fact—but he only spared it a moment's thought, figuring that maybe ponies who paid to see a doctor preferred more comfortable settings.

He only had to wait a minute before Doctor Feelgood herself came into the room. She was a lithe little crystal mare and listened intently as he explained his symptoms, then asked him to open his cloak and examined every inch of his throbbing member.

“What do you recommend?” he asked nervously.

“A blowjob,” she said. “Only thirty bits.”

Shining was in no condition to refuse.

She licked her lips then ran her tongue up his shaft and slipped her mouth over his head without any preamble, taking him all in in one smooth, practiced motion.

They'd never had a threesome with their maid with the lights on which was an oversight that Shining was going to correct as soon as he took care of his current problem: he knew that you could see through crystal ponies—everypony knew that—but he hadn't know that he'd be able to see his own dick in her throat, and it was the second-hottest thing he'd seen all day. Then he tried to change his focus to something else; it didn't feel right to have those kinds of thoughts during a medical procedure.

It only took a few minutes for him to give what little he had left, and she kept her head down against his balls as he weakly spasmed down her throat, and after she'd swallowed his load she pulled her head back off and let his dick slap down against his chest.

“It's still hard,” he observed, rather unnecessary. “Isn't there some kind of pill that might make it soft again?”

“How the hay should I know?” She ran a hoof along his erection lovingly. “Maybe you should go to a doctor and not a whorehouse.”

Shining was back out on the street, swearing to himself that he was going to ask to see an actual medical certificate before he consented to another examination. 'Doctor' Feelgood ought to be sued for false advertising. It didn't take him too long to find an actual medical establishment, complete with a Staff of Asclepius on their shingle as well as a cross with hearts.

The waiting room was much more sterile, and the receptionist had a chronically bored look on her face, and rather than speak to him simply slid him a clipboard which had several pages surveying his past health, his current predicament, and his financial situation.

He wrote 'PRINCE Shining Armor' in sarcastically large letters at the top of the form in the hope that that might grant him quicker access to a medical professional, but when the receptionist pony didn't even glance at it before setting it in a pigeonhole with reams of similar-looking forms, and then she went back to filing her forehooves.

Shining sat in the uncomfortable bench for what felt like an eternity, tapping his hoof impatiently. Boredom hadn't worked before, and alas it didn't work this time, either. When the nurse finally summoned him back, his little stallion was as proud as ever.

This examination room was more what he was expecting, with cold, easy-to-clean furniture and a poster on the wall showing how his ear worked. And the nurse was cold and businesslike, taking his vital measurements with clinical detachment, although she did raise an eyebrow at the sight of his tumescence and he vowed that if she offered a blowjob as well he was going to gallop out of the doctor's office and go see the palace surgeon, which he probably just should have done in the first place.

She didn't, though. “How long has your priapism been occurring, Mister Armor?”

“Priapism?”

She had the courtesy to blush slightly. “Your persistent erection.”

“Since this morning.” He gave her a short description of the events leading up to his current state, and she nodded wisely.

“The good news, Mister Armor, is that you came to us quickly enough that we should be able to reverse your priapism with a very simple procedure. Some ponies wait far too long before seeing a doctor and lose function or require amputation. Some ponies even die.”

Shining didn't hear the last part; his brain had seized on the word 'amputation' and refused to move on. With a goat-like bleat, he fell to his side and had to be revived with smelling salts.

“As the nurse was explaining,” Doctor Steed said, “there is a simple procedure to reverse this malady, and it only requires a minor local anesthetic to numb the penis, and then we simply use a large needle to remove the blood which has pooled in your penis with—oh dear.”

Shining, upon seeing the size of the syringe that the nurse was carrying on her tray, had fainted again.

He was revived long enough to ask for horse tranquilizers in lieu of a local anesthetic, and then passed into a blissful limbo where he knew nothing as the nurse and doctor patiently removed blood from his corpus cavernosum and then injected phenylephrine into his still-swollen penis to further relax it.

By the time he came around again, woozy from the anesthetic and the procedure, he had retreated back into his sheath where he belonged and he swore to never again buy a sex pill from a mountebank on a street corner.

His final bill was somewhat larger than Dr. Feelgood's, although he paid it without protest, as the treatment had been effective. And he promised that first thing tomorrow morning, he was going to get Cadance to fast-track legislation which would allow self-inflicted sexual maladies to be covered by medical insurance.

He paid close attention to the aftercare instructions, as well. The specter of 'amputation' still loomed large in his mind and he wasn't going to do anything that might risk that possibility. Full stop.

Shining stopped by a food-wagon and bought a crystalberry torte for a late lunch, and then ate it on his way back to the castle. In a couple of days, he'd be fine, and until then he'd just have to live with the 'no sex' rule that the doctor had imposed. Such a small thing, really, and then after that he could have all the sex that he wanted. It wouldn't be that hard to make an excuse, he thought, right up until he opened the door to their love nest and saw his wife splayed out on the bed, wearing a lacy saddle and four socks, her marehood fully on display and a come-hither look in her eyes and all the fears and worries he'd had vanished in a moment, to be replaced with a deep desire for the phenylephrine to stop working at least for the next half hour or so, lasting damage be damned.

Author's Notes:

Happy Hearts and Hooves Day!

A little late, but that's how I roll.