/flutterrape/&/rgre/ Theraponies


                                            >You're the only human in Equestria

                                            >No more human companionship

                                            >Your friends will never know what happened to you

                                            >Your family will never have closure regarding your fate

                                            >"Hey stud, you would look so much cuter if you smiled!"

                                            >"Looking good, pretty colt. Wanna come to my party?"

                                            >"I'll pay you ten bits if I can see your hangy bits, handsome."

                                            >And you're surrounded by mares that only seem interested in you sexually

                                            >You coomed yourself into an early grave when you first popped up after getting piles of compliments

                                            >But now they just feel so... shallow

                                            >It didn't help that your good Catholic upbringing made you refuse the call of the manwhore

                                            >Make no mistake, you would drown a full third of these technicolor talking ponies if given the chance

                                            >But

                                            >And it's a big, hairy "but"

                                            >If you succumb to such lusts, will you still be worthy of having a wife?

                                            >The dilemma has left you exhausted and lethargic

                                            >"Hey, Anon!"

                                            >It's Fluttershy

                                            >Out of all of the mares in Ponyville, she is the one most sexually starved

                                            >Every day, she asks you about what it takes to get your wood polished

                                            >Every day, without fail, she tries to brush up against you or outright pet you

                                            >And every day, she gets more curious about why you've been no-selling her latest tactics

                                            "Hey."

                                            >You don't have much to do but you have taken to scribbling in a blank book an older mare gave you at a discount

                                            >Contrary to most days, she seems cautious

                                            >"Some of the girls and I have noticed that you're starting to look really sad lately... are you ok?"

                                            "I guess so."

                                            >You just don't feel like having it out with her today

                                            >You turn away from her, scribbling some sort of clouds and hills from the Mario games

                                            >You miss video games something fierce

                                            >"Please let me help."

                                            >Her tone makes you pause

                                            >She has never sounded that serious

                                            >You're doubtful, personally

                                            >Despite your gut instinct, you take the bait

                                            >You put your pencil between your pages and close the book

                                            >Booklet, rather, on account of the size

                                            >You face her, looking down at the pony

                                            >Something that small can't possibly hold so much horny energy

                                            "Why do you want to help?"

                                            >"Because every pony in Ponyville is worried! But none of them know how to handle exotic creatures."

                                            "And so you'd like to handle me, yourself."

                                            >Your flat wit doesn't cause the reaction you thought it would

                                            >"No, I want to help you feel safe! Being this sad isn't healthy!"

                                            >She stamps her hoof down, doing her best to convince you that she's assertive

                                            >"You need help and I know enough about all kinds of animals to know that if I don't save you, you... you might die of heartbreak!"

                                            >She thinks you're heart broken?

                                            >House broken, sure

                                            >But you don't think you're heart broken

                                            >...

                                            >Are you?

                                            "...you mean that? Can that happen?"

                                            >"Oh my, yes! I once knew snake that couldn't find a mate. Last winter he went left to hibernate... and I haven't seen him since! And it's almost Summer!"

                                            >That does sound concerning


                                            >You haven't been here for even a winter, nevermind a full year

                                            >Could you really survive this place alone?

                                            >She wouldn't lie about something this dire

                                            "Well... alright. In that case, will you please help?"

                                            >"Of course! Every pony chipped in and we even made a special room for you to stay in! It has a shallow pool, a nice, big sofa for you and even has a desk!"

                                            >It sounds like it's just some sort of enclosure

                                            "What makes that so different from where I'm staying?"

                                            >"It's all made with love!"

                                            >Fluttershy pushes out her front hooves, rearing back for a hug on the word "love"

                                            >...

                                            >...

                                            >...

                                            >You simply stand and stare at her

                                            "If I hug you, you're going to say something weird in my ear again."

                                            >Fluttershy returns to all fours, blushing

                                            >"You didn't seem to dislike it the first time..."

                                            >True

                                            >You didn't

                                            >But you aren't going to tell her that

                                            "Well..."

                                            >You could use a distraction from your perpetual pity party of one

                                            "Alright. Let's go check it out."

                                            >"Yay! Thank you, Anon! You'll feel like a thousand bits after staying there, I just know it!"

                                            >You follow Fluttershy to what seems like a repurposed greenhouse

                                            >It definitely looks like an enclosure, even if the furniture inside actually looks good

                                            >The blankets on the bed are even your favorite color

                                            >The sofa is a tastefully complimentary color

                                            >The desk has more books and a variety of colors of pens

                                            >The pool itself looks like a repurposed pond, so freshly repurposed to the point there's still a frog chilling on a lily pad near the center

                                            >"Ta-da! It can even be heated in case you want to stay warm!"

                                            >She rushes forward and stands near the door

                                            >She nudges a hoof forward, pushing a potted plant until it is between you and the only entrance

                                            >"This is for you, too! It smells beautiful, and it might help you relax! Like how tea can make you feel relaxed!"

                                            "So is it a tea plant?"

                                            >You reach down to pick it up

                                            >It's smaller than a rose, and just as vibrant

                                            "You know, if a lot of ponies chipped in to get this set up... where are they?"

                                            >You hadn't seen any other four-legged creature since you agreed to take up Fluttershy's offer

                                            >You bring the flower closer to your nose to smell it

                                            >The flower itself shudders from the proximity, releasing a small cloud of what could only be spores

                                            >You recoil, but too late

                                            >In five seconds, you feel fatigue

                                            >True fatigue, to the point you stumble to your knees

                                            >"Oh my... please don't hurt yourself, Anon! It won't be so bad, I promise!"

                                            >Hurt yourself?

                                            >Why can't you...

                                            >She set this up, didn't she?!

                                            >You frown and try to focus on Fluttershy's shimmering twin

                                            "You... trick..."

                                            >You fall back, laid out completely from the flower

                                            >The last thing you can hear is another pony

                                            >"That did it! Good job, you really do know how to talk to animals!"

                                            >Who are...

                                            >They calling an animal?


                                            >The sunlight causes you to wake up

                                            >You must have fallen asleep with the window open again

                                            >You don't know why...

                                            >You...

                                            >You rub your eyes with your hand

                                            "...crap."

                                            >This isn't your normal bed

                                            >It's too comfy

                                            >You sit up

                                            >If you somehow don't open your eyes, you'll find yourself in your normal bed

                                            >Right?

                                            >Your eyes kill your hopes

                                            "Crap."

                                            >You're inside of the greenhouse

                                            >Worse, the door has a comically large lock on it

                                            >You watch the door for an uncomfortable amount of time

                                            >You're not busting out of here

                                            >You slip out of bed, standing tall with your arms up

                                            >...

                                            >Part of you hoped you'd reach the roof

                                            >No dice

                                            "...ah... crap."

                                            >"Whoa, greenhouses can grow trees! Check out that branch..."

                                            "What?"

                                            >Dead ahead of you is a white unicorn with a pair of admittedly swanky glasses over her eyes

                                            >You look down

                                            >...

                                            >...

                                            >Well you are a healthy man that rises with the sun

                                            >You quickly sit down and put a lump of blanket over your lap

                                            "Hey, this ain't a peep show, lady."

                                            >"You got that right, buddy. I haven't paid a bit."

                                            "Yeah well I'm gonna bit you in a minute."

                                            >Her only retort to your quasi-threat is a wide grin

                                            "What's going on here? You wanna use that pony magic and get me out of here?"

                                            >"Nah."

                                            "Nah?"

                                            >"Nah."

                                            >She shakes her head once

                                            "What the hell. Why not?"

                                            >"Because she's here to help, Anon."

                                            >You hear a voice behind you the same time you feel a hoof on your back

                                            "JESUS!"

                                            >You jump out of your skin, stumbling from the bed and very nearly close to the pond

                                            >It's Fluttershy

                                            "You! You got a lot of gall, you know that? Did you think it was ok to have some sort of plant fart in my face? What if it kills me?!"

                                            >"Watch out, he's ornery!"

                                            >You point at the unicorn while... you're pointing at Fluttershy

                                            "And you! Shut it, Shades, or you're next."

                                            >"Come and get me, big boy, I have the throat muscles of a mongoose. I can take that snake."

                                            "Gah!"

                                            >There's no talking to these mares

                                            >You switch your deathly stare to the orchestrator of your imprisonment

                                            >Her face is scrunched

                                            >Her eyes

                                            >Are not aimed at your face

                                            "Eyes up here or I'll poke 'em out."

                                            >She shifts to your face

                                            >"...sorry. I promise, it's for a good reason! I asked Vinyl Scratch to help us. You're far too sad, we have to find a way to help!"

                                            "And you think that's going to help, sticking me in a glass house like a zoo exhibit?!"

                                            >"I'll let you give me a big tip if you let this turn into a petting zoo."

                                            >Jesus Christ there are two of them now

                                            >"It'll be ok, Anon, I promise! She has something called "music therapy"! It involves a blindfold, the super softest earmuffs in Equestria, and really nice music! It'll be like a spa!"

                                            >Since when did spas use music?

                                            >You're expecting her to bring up something about if blindfolds are your fetish

                                            >She looks... almost serious

                                            "What's the catch?"

                                            >"I swear there's no catch, Anon. It's no fun to see you be so sad all the time, and you wouldn't listen to me otherwise."

                                            >So her answer is to lock you up?

                                            >Whether you like it or not, her logic holds up


                                            >You scratch the back of your head

                                            >There's no escaping this, is there

                                            "Alright. Whatever. Let's get it done then. But you're gonna need to unlock that door."

                                            >Unless she unlocks the door

                                            >Devilishly clever, Anonymous

                                            >"Oh, that's ok. There's a panel on the roof that I can fly things in and out through!"

                                            >Dammit

                                            >You sit on the bed, concerningly close to the yellow pony

                                            "Alright, let's make it happen."

                                            >"Yay!"

                                            >Her ASMR-quality voice is contrasted with a strong pull on your shoulders

                                            >You end up flopping on the bed

                                            >In an instant, your head is wrapped tight to the point your entire world is blacked out

                                            >A fluffy but tight pair of earphones are quite literally slapped onto your noggin

                                            >Your hands clench, fighting the reflex to rip them off

                                            "Alright, are we sure this isn't going to make me have a seizure or something?"

                                            >You don't know how loud or quiet you are but you make an effort to speak up

                                            >"Nah, it's totally safe bro. But it will blow your mind!"

                                            "What d-"

                                            >"And if it's so good you blow a load, feel free to do that too. For our first session I'm gonna have to remain behind the glass. I don't want my hardware glazed."

                                            "There's no getting rid of your voice, is there."

                                            >"No way, hombre. Relax for a bit."

                                            >As if that's on cue, you feel something go over one of your arms

                                            >Then the other

                                            >You struggle to mov--yeah, no you're stuck

                                            "...this ain't gonna end well."

                                            >"Don't worry, it's for your safety more than anything else. Joking aside, my soundscapes? They're legit. I specialize in harmonizing with a stallion's very soul. It's great stuff, usually leaves them questioning reality."

                                            >You're screwed, aren't you?

                                            >You could try kicking around but what will that honestly accomplish?

                                            >"Gimme a few more minutes and we can get started. And, to help, Fluttershy is gonna stay in there. Not only is she restraining you but she's gonna act as my hooves for this. Which means, in practical terms, she's going to synchronize the sound with the touch. She's also the one in charge of making sure you're gonna get the full experience. Among other things, that means your blindfold should be tight. It is, right?"

                                            >She zooms from topic to topic

                                            >All you can do is shrug and try to keep up

                                            "Ah... uh, I guess so. Yeah. I can't see anything and I can't hear everything except for you."

                                            >"Ooh... in that case, it's just you and me, big guy. I'm gonna have Fluttershy do and say a few things. Tell me if you notice anything."

                                            >...

                                            >...

                                            >...

                                            >You don't notice anything

                                            >"You still awake, hot stuff?"

                                            "Yeah. Did she do anything yet?"

                                            >"Yup. Nice nuts, by the way. Mind if I motorboat them later? I promise I'll give you a special song."

                                            "W-what?!"

                                            >You decide now is the appropriate time to kick and lash out

                                            >You attempt to but your leg snags

                                            >You're stuck with your pants around your ankles

                                            >How the hell did she manage to do that?

                                            "Oh come on, don't do this!"

                                            >"Too late! You know, for having a funny looking thing I kinda like it. It's like a pillar."


                                            >This is humiliating

                                            >Well and truly

                                            >"Alright, Fluttershy gave me the hoof's up! Let's get started!"

                                            >What the hell is a hoof's up?

                                            >Your frown is met with a low droning noise

                                            >It quickly ramps up into a quick pace of beats with an infuriated guitar

                                            >A second comes in after the first riff; a slow bass that plays off of the guitar

                                            "This is a little too loud, I can't possibly focus wit-"

                                            >Oh shit

                                            >Oh shit you're feeling it

                                            >The guitars cut off to a keyboard ramping up some form of tension

                                            >The abyss you've been restricted to warps to some form of tower

                                            >You're at the very bottom

                                            >The keyboard fades out, leaving only the low grumbling of the guitar

                                            >And something else

                                            >You didn't even notice that the tempo matches your mind

                                            >Or is your mind matching the song?

                                            >Regardless, you enter the tower

                                            >It isn't a slow, confident stride but a hellish, frantic scramble

                                            >Countless monsters in your way glare at you

                                            >Things you've never imagined, poised to strike

                                            >Everything goes red

                                            >The keyboard returns with the furious guitar

                                            >You feel something white hot on your belly and right below

                                            >The heat and pressure drives the tempo up to the point it feels like it's all incompressible noise of battle

                                            >Driven by anger and panic, you lash out at the beasts to the point it feels like you're the winner of the biggest Tekken tournament

                                            >Fists crush bone, claws shatter against your knuckles

                                            >You ascend the tower at a rate you can't describe

                                            >The heat and pressure on your body builds up, leading to an ascending riff from both the guitar and the bass

                                            >You're getting closer

                                            >You're going to rescue her, and destroy this damnable den of monsters

                                            >You reach the end

                                            >Blood drips from your chin and fists

                                            >Something else is dripping on you

                                            >Your chest?

                                            >It feels like it's dripping all over

                                            >The twin guitars regroup into a new tune entirely

                                            >It isn't your theme

                                            >It's the theme of the tower mistress

                                            >It's that unicorn!

                                            >Bouncing and warping with the beat, she flies at you in a blaze of bright blue magic

                                            >You grab her by the horn and, like a dart, fling her against the nearest wall

                                            >You pounce on her like a beast

                                            "YOU'RE GOING TO GET IT NOW!"

                                            >You have no clue if you've been speaking but you scream so loud you can hear yourself

                                            >The heat on your crotch and belly spreads to the rest of you

                                            >Your theme starts to overtake the fight as you trade blows, fist for hoof

                                            >The repeated punches lead to entire chunks of the tower falling apart until you're fighting in the sky

                                            >The sky itself rends until there is only the infinite cosmos

                                            >Ready to finish it, you hold your arms up for a spirit bomb

                                            >It's coming

                                            >The energy is building

                                            >Your theme is blaring, bringing the power to the sun up from your feet to your core

                                            >IT'S COMING

                                            "I'M COMING!"

                                            >At the absolute height of your ecstasy, your entire body clenches as hard as human possible

                                            >Every ounce of your energy is shot out at once toward the tower mistress

                                            >You roar at the final riff of the guitar, victorious

                                            >She's finished


                                            >When you come to, you're still blindfolded

                                            >Low, slow ambient beach sounds are playing

                                            >You feel drained

                                            >Better than drained

                                            >You feel like your stress has been blasted into the cosmos

                                            >"Hey there, big shooters. Thought we lost you. You awake now?"

                                            >You don't mind the darkness of the blindfold

                                            >It feels nice

                                            >You don't have anything to worry about

                                            "...yup."

                                            >"Heheh... so how was it?"

                                            "...not bad."

                                            >"Not bad, huh?"

                                            >She sounds beyond amused

                                            >"So how you feeling now?"

                                            "Good... I feel warm."

                                            >"Yeah, I bet. I gotta say, I'm pretty jealous of what you got going on. I wish I could nap like that after taking such a wild ride. I bet even my wings wouldn't work."

                                            "I don't have wings."

                                            >That was a stupid thing to say

                                            >She should know that humans don't have wings

                                            >"That may be but boy do you give them. You, uh... you get some more rest, ok? Fluttershy's giving me the go ahead. I don't think she can go another round to be perfectly honest with you but she's the one payin' so... ready for another adventure?"

                                            >You feel the warmth on your torso shift

                                            >Tight, hot pressure pushes against your lower belly again

                                            "Let's beat pony."

                                            >"Ha! You got it, big boy!"

                                            >You're going to tear that tower apart this time even faster


                                            >"Anon, are you feeling better?"

                                            >Your first answer is a groan

                                            >Your second answer comes more slowly

                                            "My head... is killing me."

                                            >You've kept the blindfold on since you came to from Vinyl's...

                                            >What even was that?

                                            >You don't remember any of it

                                            >The only thing you do remember is that you never felt joyous

                                            >Of course, that led to such a severe crash in the form of a skull-splitting migraine, an intense sensitivity to light, and an incredibly sore penis

                                            >You...

                                            >Refuse

                                            >To ask what happened

                                            >The less you know, the better

                                            >But you know Fluttershy had planned it

                                            >"I'm sorry to hear that. I didn't think her music would be so powerful!"

                                            "Well, you know, you did basically blast my brain with dubstep and metal for long enough for me to start frothing at the mouth."

                                            >The bitterness in your tone is palpable

                                            >"...but it helped, didn't it? It's like a big party! With the... after party..."

                                            >She tries to sound hopeful but even she realizes the recoil you had to deal with

                                            >As rough as you want to be to her, you can't deny that you have never genuinely felt anything like it

                                            >You reach out, hoping to randomly touch the top of her head

                                            >You find it quickly

                                            >You must be good at finding thins while blind

                                            "As much as I don't want to admit it... yeah. It was alright. But until this migraine ends and I can handle anything more than absolute darkness, don't do that again."

                                            >"Yay!"

                                            >Fluttershy ducks out from under your hand

                                            >You can hear her stomp around on purpose

                                            >It gives you an idea of where she's going at least

                                            >With her helping you out with everything, it's almost enough to forgive her for tricking you into a glass box

                                            >Almost

                                            >You sit in quiet contemplation while trying to listen to what you can

                                            >The water of the pond

                                            >The wind from the emergency exit on the roof

                                            >The pony's hooves hitting the grass

                                            >None of this has solved any of your existential woes

                                            >But you can at least keep breathing

                                            >And listen

                                            >And breathe

                                            >And listen...

                                            >And breathe...

                                            >And...

                                            >"Wow... he looks so tranquil."

                                            >"He is, but that's only because of Vinyl Scratch and-"

                                            >"And that magical trick she does for colts?"

                                            >"Yes, that's the one!"

                                            >"And he still isn't better?"

                                            >"I'm afraid not, Berry..."

                                            >When did they start talking?

                                            >"Trust me, whenever I get to feeling blue? I go to this."

                                            >"But Berry Punch, you always go to that."

                                            >Silence

                                            >A sigh

                                            >"That's why I know it works."

                                            >"Oh..."

                                            >"So what else you got for the stud?"

                                            >"I don't know. I was hoping he might like a nice dinner."

                                            >"Classical approach, eh? Is he the type?"

                                            >"Oh my, yes! I've tried to get Pinkie Pie to bake some types of breads that he used to talk about missing."

                                            >"Why not just give him a taste of your buns?"

                                            >You hear mutual giggling

                                            >Is this coming from inside the greenhouse?

                                            >"You know, he's sleeping... why not give him a few good dreams?"


                                            >She wouldn't dare

                                            >"I couldn't!"

                                            >Whew

                                            >"Why not?"

                                            >"Because he's still sore there."

                                            >"Oh... did a number on him, did you?"

                                            >"Oh, I wish... but I did use my hooves. I... think I got too into it. I didn't mean to hurt him."

                                            >So that's what happened

                                            >At least it wasn't the worst thing you imagined

                                            >You want to pitch in but you would rather listen to more of her plans

                                            >"...but I gotta say, I've never seen him spray that much out. It covered my coat, my mane, and even my wings!"

                                            >More open giggling

                                            >"You're kidding, your wings?!"

                                            >You gulp

                                            >You don't want to hear this

                                            >But if you "wake up", neither of them will spill the beans

                                            >"Well, I thought they would help. Vinyl told me that all sorts of stallions love wings, even if they don't know it."

                                            >"Is that really true?"

                                            >Silence...

                                            >...

                                            >More giggling

                                            >"You animal!"

                                            >Ok, this is going on long enough

                                            "Do you really need to share that information when I'm right here?"

                                            >Your flat comment leads to both mares screaming

                                            >Berry Punch immediately starts going into a cackling fit

                                            >"A-anon! You're awake!"

                                            >"Well that's my cue to leave, isn't it? Enjoy your drinks, big guy. And cheer up, Fluttershy loves ya enough to have sticky wings."

                                            >"B-berry!"

                                            >You sit up, rubbing your temple

                                            >Maybe it just took an extended sleep to get rid of that migraine

                                            >By the time you take the blindfold off to test your vision, you hear the massive padlock go back into place

                                            >So it was unlocked for a while

                                            >It's evening

                                            >Your eyes, unfocused as they are, go to a trio of lit candles on a table tall enough for a pony to sit at

                                            >"H-hey! How is your head? Are you ok?"

                                            >Fluttershy trots into your view

                                            >Her face is bright red and her smile is wide

                                            >You shake your head and sigh

                                            "Better, I-I guess."

                                            >"That's good. And... um... hey! You're awake almost in time for dinner! I... can't cook much. My brother was the kitchen prince. But I do have the very best mares in Ponyville working on stuff! They should be here any minute now."

                                            >You don't want to complain, but you are starving

                                            >So far the table has only a set of bottles

                                            "Guessing the drinks are part of it?"

                                            >Taking the cue as an excuse to shift topics, she nods

                                            >"Absolutely, they are! Berry Punch said that they're the best drinks that she's ever had! So they'll help you for sure!"

                                            >Her first answer was a mind-blasting rave and hoofjobs that have left you feeling tingly and sore

                                            >Now her second answer is to just get drunk?

                                            >How are these distractions supposed to make everything better?

                                            >Your urge to be mean is outweighed by your instinct to...

                                            >You sigh and shrug

                                            "You really are putting effort into this, aren't you."

                                            >Fluttershy nods

                                            "Do I want to know how many bits it took for you to get all of this to happen?"

                                            >Without missing a beat, she answers while staring into your eyes

                                            >"A year and a half of savings, and delaying Angel's new habitat by another season."

                                            >At the mention of that hellish rabbit, you can't help but feel a shiver go down your spine

                                            "Why?"

                                            >"Because I love you."


                                            >Her answer is...

                                            >It isn't surprising

                                            >Trying to peek on you doing things

                                            >Asking about your fetishes

                                            >Human mating habits

                                            >She never leaves you alone

                                            >But the weight of those words, spoken so plainly and without embellishment...

                                            "...hand me a bottle, Fluttershy. Please."

                                            >"Of course!"

                                            >Fluttershy retrieves a bottle

                                            >She seems to be expecting you to share it or take only a sip

                                            >You guzzle down a full quarter of it before stopping with a staggered gasp for air

                                            >It...

                                            >Doesn't taste alcoholic

                                            >It tastes fruity, but not like it would get you sloshed

                                            "Fluttershy, whaswihhf-"

                                            >The fuck?

                                            >Why is your tongue numb?

                                            >"Oh my..."

                                            >Fluttershy gawks at you with a scrunched muzzle

                                            >"I... I don't think you're supposed to drink that much at once. It's really strong stuff that is mixed with rainclouds and magically delicious. It... it says so on the label."

                                            >You hold up the label

                                            >Damn, you wish you could read ponese

                                            >Both of you stare at the bottle

                                            >Then each other

                                            >And back at the bottle

                                            "...wassum?"

                                            >Half a bottle later, you're both howling with laughter

                                            >"A-and remember when I asked if ponies were your fetish? And you said...!"

                                            "Neigh!"

                                            >The raucous enjoyment continues until your ribs hurt

                                            "Ahh... man. I didn't even know I meant it that way. I mean, I'm a human. I would never fit in."

                                            >"But that's the fun thing, you do! You're as strong as a dragon, as tall as a tree!"

                                            "As screwed as a freshly installed motherboard!"

                                            >"Yeah!"

                                            >While she laughs at your joke, you laugh because it's true

                                            >The energy dies down enough for you to take another swig

                                            >It really is mixed with rainclouds

                                            >It has this sort of... cloudy feel, that remains at the roof of your mouth and the back of your throat

                                            "You're sexually and romantically aggressive, you've imprisoned me without remorse... tell me something. Am I really that special, or do a lot of stallions have to deal with the same thing with other mares?"

                                            >Fluttershy acts like she wants to answer

                                            >Instead, she hooks her foreleg up over your forearm

                                            >You let her drag it down so she can steal a nip from the bottle

                                            >"One? You are very special to me. And two? Most mares just take their stallions out on dates and spoil them."

                                            >You scoff at the absurdity of both answers

                                            "But... like, why? My world never worked like that."

                                            >"That's because of Princess Celestia! Yay Celestia!"

                                            >Fluttershy cheers at full volume

                                            >Which is maybe a sober pony's three-quarters max

                                            >"You see, only mares can be alicorns. There are... princes...? But Princesses are on another level. They're--"

                                            >She hiccups

                                            >Her entire body pops up when she does that

                                            >"They're, uh... where was I."

                                            "The head honchos?"

                                            >"Righ! And like nachos, everyone loves them!"

                                            >You cackle at the complete lack of an answer

                                            >That requires another sippy

                                            >"And because only mares can be alicorns, and be the head nachos... they need sweet, strong, adorable stallions."

                                            >Fluttershy nuzzles you with the affection of a cat that has gone a full five hours without attention


                                            >"And that's you! And... before annnnnnnnny single mare gets her hooves on you, I gotta make sure you're only for me!"

                                            >Fluttershy's wings flap out at their full span

                                            >"And I'll flap on any mare who says otherwise!"

                                            >Her attempt to sounds tough is hilarious

                                            >But not as hilarious as having another sip

                                            >As soon as you bring up the bottle to your lips, you hear a shriek

                                            >"NONNY! NAAAAAAAAAAW-KNEEEEEEEEE!"

                                            "Eh?"

                                            >Your head rolls until it finds the source

                                            >Pinkie Pie's at the locked door

                                            "Eeeeeeey!"

                                            >You cheer at the new arrival

                                            >Fluttershy flaps herself silly until she falls over

                                            "What's up, Pink-inna-stink?"

                                            >"I GOT YOU YOUR FAVORITE BREAAAAAAAAAAAAD!"

                                            "You got my favorite bed?"

                                            >Your head lolls to the bed you've been sleeping on

                                            >And back to the pink poner

                                            "Nah, you can take it back home!"

                                            >Ponko inhales and screams even louder

                                            >"I SAID, I GOT YOUR FAVORITE BREAAAAAAAAD!"

                                            >You squint at the pony

                                            >As loud as she's screaming, the greenhouse makes it sound muffled

                                            >Between that and the scent of alcohol in the air, you can safely blame greenhouse gases for once

                                            "WHAT?"

                                            >You blindly reach for Fluttershy until you grab her by the mane

                                            >You bring her up until your faces are side-by-side

                                            "NO, SHE WASN'T GIVING ME HEAD!"

                                            >Punko Pop slaps the glass wall with a polka--dotted bag

                                            >"I GOT!"

                                            >Bang

                                            >"YOUR FAVORITE!"

                                            >Boink

                                            >"BREAD!"

                                            >Splat

                                            >You look at Fluttershy

                                            >She looks so completely out of it

                                            >Alas, poor Flutter

                                            >You knew her

                                            >You shake her head and hold the opening to the bottle under her nose

                                            >Maybe it'll work like smelling salts

                                            "Hey. Flubber."

                                            >Her sleepy eyes drag themselves over to you

                                            "Pinochle says she wants to be bred."

                                            >The growing realization on her face changes her from an admittedly pretty, but slathered mare

                                            >To a shocked pony

                                            >To an equine of adequately alcoholic enragement

                                            >She zooms out of your hand and splats against the glass like a fly

                                            >"HE IS NOT! YOUR! FRIEND!"

                                            >"FLUTTERSHY! I GOT! THAT! BREAD!"

                                            "MY NAME IS NOT FRED!"

                                            >"WE ARE GOING TO BE WED!"

                                            >"BREAD! BREAAAAAAAAAAAAAD!"

                                            >The screaming continues until you take another drink from the bottle

                                            >The second the last drop of sweetness hits your tongue is the second you fall over

                                            >"OH! ANON! SHE GOT US YOUR BREADS!"

                                            >"FLUTTERSHY, YOU'RE OFF YOUR MEDS?!"

                                            >Bread?

                                            >Bitchin'