>Two days later, you've eaten the cheese wheel, drank the wine, and spent a lot of time laying around on the couch listening to records.
>You've also masturbated a lot.
>Porn was an interesting difficulty. Obviously, there was no internet, and additionally, film was still on reels, so you assumed that magazines, pictures books, and the like would be available. Likely discreetly. So you poked around in some of the seedier portions of town to no avail. Eventually, after your marriage, you asked Applejack. She didn't even know what pornography was. Masturbating, sure, but not porn. So you dug deeper. What about stallions? Nope, nothing. Well, lots of masturbating, but all unaided.
>Finally, it was a terrible Hearth's Warming Eve present from a relative, in the form of a camera, that solved your problem. You had grown so accustomed to having a smartphone that when it died after arriving in Ponyville, you sort of forgot about taking pictures any other way. Then, while trying to operate the clunky thing, you snapped a picture of Applejack walking away from you. After getting the film developed, the pony had asked if you even wanted it.
>"I see you got a dud here, want me to toss it?" he had asked. You glanced over at it and pretty much sprang an erection right there.
"Uh...well, it's no good, but it's the first one I took so, you know, I'll keep it, for the memory."
>Hilariously, the end result was that all of the porn you had, you had to take yourself. So it was all pictures of Applejack. It was, really, the most chaste and pure pornography you could think of. And considering how completely incapable of drawing you were, that was it.
>So when a knock came at the door, you realized the living room was a horrible mess of wine bottles, trash, and black and white pictures of you and your wife fucking.
"Uh, just a second!"
>You start trying to clean things up.
>"Okay... it's been a second! Should I knock again?"
>You realize it's not someone come to visit, just the mail pony.
"No, don't knock again, I'm coming."
>You open the door. Derpy was standing there, staring at you or the door. Whichever.
"Hey Derpy, mail?"
>"Yeah! Actually, I am here to deliver something. One second." She rummages around in her bag. Eventually, she produces a fancy envelope that's bent in half.
"Thanks Derpy."
>"No problem. Oh, Anon? You've got food on your shirt."
>You look down. Nope, it's semen.
"Yeah, thanks Derpy, I'll go change."
>"Into what? OH MY GOSH! Can you turn into a pony?"
"What? No."
>"Oh..."
>You slowly shut the door.
>"I bet he totally can." Derpy insists and she trots off.
>You open the letter. You recognize Twilight's fluid, telekinetic font, perfect grammar, perfect spelling, perfect punctuation, and elaborate signature that took up a third of the paper, and included her name, title, and a stylized version of her cutie mark.
>You scan the letter. They defeated the Changelings, saved a regiment of the Royal Guard and the explorers. Canterlot was throwing them a parade AND banquet. You groan in frustration. Then you spot a line of crude, mouth written text.
>So get on a train and join us! We're at the castle, the usual suites. -AJ
>Should you just leave now? You wanted to just leave now. However, you were in a semen stained t-shirt, underwear, and the living room was still covered in porn and trash.
"Alright, I should clean this up."
>Several hours later you're clean, clutching two suitcases, and finding a cabin on the train to Canterlot.
>One had your clothes, the other had a new stash of 'supplies.' The train couldn't get you there fast enough.