An anon in the FR thread wanted to see a story where Cozy Glow comes up with a perfect plan for Fluttershy to seduce Anon, only to have Fluttershy ruin it through sheer incompetence.

Another Anon delivered with the following one shot.


...and that Fluttershy, is how you can finally get into the hooman's pants.
>The older mare's face is a bright shade of red as she looks up from her desk
>"A-are you sure this will w-work, Cozy Glow?"
You have my absolute guarantee, Miss Shy.
>She swallows the lump in her throat, and fans herself with your pamphlet
>"H-how can I thank-"
>You wave your hoof
Just let me watch when it happens. Seeing a plan come together gets me SO hot, you wouldn't believe it.
-
>You peer through binoculars from the bushes as Fluttershy makes her way up to Anon's door with the picnic supplies you put together for her.
>Miss Rarity did her makeup EXACTLY how you wanted.
>It makes you wet just thinking about how well this is going.
All she has to do now is just follow the script...
>She knocks, each barely audible tap sending a shiver down your spine.
Mmmm...
>Your hoof traces its way down to your nethers.
>The hooman opens up the door, and instantly does a double take
>"H-hey Shy. You look nice today."
>Fluttershy freezes at the compliment
>"H-h-hi A-A-a-aaa-a",she stutters
C'mon....
>"ARE PICNICS YOUR FETISH?"
>She rips the sub sandwich out of the picnic basket and tries ramming it down her throat, crying as she gags.
>The hooman looks extremely uncomfortable.
>"Uh.."
You bitch! I was almost there!
>You burst out of the bushes and hurl the binoculars at her head.
FUCK YOU, FLUTTERSHY!
>Fluttershy goes sprawling across the porch, half a sandwich dangling from her throat
>The hooman grabs the rest of the picnic basket and quickly closes his door.
I BETTER STILL GET EXTRA CREDIT FOR THIS!


Here's what some Anons in the thread had to say.

Anon: GODDAMMIT FLUTTERSHY YOU MUMBLING AUTISTIC DUMBASS

Anon: We need more Cozy and Fluttershy team ups

Anon: And Anon's porch is covered in Flutterspaghetti yet again.

Anon: As time progresses her plans just keep getting better almost to the point that all Shy would need to do is show up, but somehow she still fucks the plan up every time.

This is where I come in.

***

>“I’m sorry I ruined your perfect plan, Cozy Glow.”
That’s fine. I should’ve included your natural aptitude for error in my plans from the start anyway, especially your damnable timidity.
>Fluttershy just frowns sadly as you ponder the last steps in your next plan.
I obviously gave you too much responsibility in expecting you to have memorized three lines of dialogue from a script. But I can guarantee you that this next idea will work as long as you stick to my plan.
>Fluttershy smiles and nods.
>“I promise I won’t let you down this time.”
>Wow. That seems genuine.
>Better not let your disbelief show.
I’m sure you won’t, pal.
>“Thank you for believing in me.”
>Wow. She bought that?
>The two of you head over to the secluded road where your plan will soon be commencing.
>You watch from your hidden spot in the bushes nearby as Fluttershy puts on her Mare-Do-Well costume.
>You talk into your walkie talkie.
Come in, Yellow Blunderance. This is Enabled Providence.
>Fluttershy flinches for a moment before grabbing at her talkie with her hooves.
>You sneer when you see her fumble with it a bit in her hooves.
>Finally she holds it still and talks into it.
>“Um, is that you, Cozy?”
>You facehoof.
Yellow Blunderance, please refrain from using any name other than the ones picked for this plan, and do try to remember that our talkies are only set to one channel.
>“Okay. Sorry.”
>You note with a frown that Yellow Blunderance’s legs are shaking.
Do we need to go over my plan once more?
>“Well, maybe a refresher wouldn’t hurt.”
>You look down the road with your binoculars and see that the subject is approaching.
>You’ll have to make this refresher quick.
Your mission, Yellow Blunderance, is to hide in the bushes nearby the tree that stands by the path. When the subject approaches, you will pull on the rope that is inconspicuously hidden from the subject.
>“Um, the subject is Anon, right?”
Yes, the subject is the hooman.
>“Okay, got it, Cozy.”
It’s Enabled Providence.
>“What is?”
That’s my codename for this plan.
>“Oh, right, I thought you were commenting on your plan.”
No, I’m trying to explain the plan to you.
>For, like, the hundredth time, too.
>“Right, I’m sorry. Please continue.”
When you pull the rope, a banana will fall from the tree and land at the feet of the subject. You will wait until the subject is in position to pull the rope.
>“Um, Enabled Providence?”
What’s that supposed to mean? You think it can’t be done?
>“Oh, no, I wasn’t commenting on the plan.”
Oh . . .
>“I was just wondering, what if the banana falls on his head?”
That’s why you wait until the subject is in position before you pull the rope.
>“But what if I wait too long?”
Don’t wait that long.
>“Okay then.”
Now the sudden appearance of the banana will so frighten the subject that it’ll send him into a frozen state of shock.
>“Oh, that sounds mean.”
It is, until you come in and save him dressed up as the Mare-Do-Well.
>“Right, I save him by taking the banana.”
Once you do that he’ll be so grateful and enamored with you for saving his life that he won’t even care once he finds out you’re Fluttershy.
>“Um, I thought I was Yellow Blunderance.”
Yes, but hopefully not for long.
>“Are you sure he’s going to be afraid of the banana?”
Oh, definitely. He’s deathly afraid of the color yellow.
>“Really? Why do you think that is?”
Because he’s had so many bad experiences in his life where that color has been present that he’s been conditioned to associate it with fear and anxiety.
>“Gosh! I wonder how that could’ve happened.”
>You roll your eyes.
Yeah, it’s a real mystery.
>The human approaches.
He’s coming. Get ready.
>Fluttershy scrambles with the talkie for a moment before holding it still and saying:
>“Okay.”
>She puts the costume on and hides in the bushes by the tree.
>She grabs the inconspicuously hidden rope and holds it in her arms.
>Then she watches the road as the human approaches.
>You watch carefully for just the right moment.
>Finally, he’s in place.
>You pick up your talkie.
Now, Yellow Blunderance, pull the rope.
>She pulls down on the rope.
>A banana falls out from the tree and lands before the hooman’s feet.
>He stops in place when he sees it.
>Then he stumbles backwards and starts screaming and cowering away from the fruit.
>“Ah! A banana! Oh my God! No! Get it away!”
>He starts crying.
>Your face falls slack.
>This part of your plan might have worked too well.
>But as long as Fluttershy saves him . . .
>You keep watching the human scream and shiver and cry until it makes you uncomfortable enough to turn away.
>Where is Fluttershy?
>You look and see that she got the rope tangled around her arms and wings.
>She’s struggling on the ground almost as much as the hooman is.
>And she took her mask off, for some reason.
>Your mouth opens slightly in shock before you shake your head and reach for your talkie.
>It’s a good thing you have an idiot-proof plan set in for just this kind of yellow blunderance.
>You speak into the talkie.
Yellow Blunderance, why are you wasting time?
>She tries to reach for her talkie but she’s too stuck.
>She starts yelling.
>“I’m sorry, Cozy!”
No, shut up! That’s not the name you’re supposed to use!
>The hooman is looking around wildly.
>“Fluttershy, is that you?”
>“Anon, don’t worry, I’m coming.”
>“No, stay away from me. This is all your fault. I knew bananas didn’t grow on trees!”
>“But I’m trying to save you.”
>“Please, God, no!”
Dammit, Yellow Blunderance, look at what you did! He knows now!
>“I’m sorry, Cozy!”
It’s Enabled Providence! Ugh! Forget this! Yellow Blunderance, use the contingency plan!
>She stares blankly at you.
>“The what?”
>You groan.
>Probably should have gone over that one again in the refresher, considering who you’re dealing with.
The shuriken, Yellow Blunderance. Use the shuriken.
>She looks at you seriously for a moment before she nods.
>The hooman tenses up.
>“Shuriken?”
>She reaches for the shuriken that she’s got hidden on her suit.
>She takes it in her mouth.
Use it to cut the rope from the top.
>She narrows her eyes at the rope up in the tree.
>Then she twists her head back before turning and throwing the shuriken up into the air.
>It swishes right through the tree’s foliage, missing the rope by a good foot, before it comes back down and sinks itself into the hooman’s thigh.
>This is when you realize that you had no idiot-proof plan set in place for the possibility that she would somehow mess up your original idiot-proof plan.
>All three of you stare in shock at the shuriken standing up in his thigh.
>Then he clutches his leg and starts screaming in pain.
>Fluttershy begins crying and crawling towards him, her body still entangled in the rope.
>He starts scooting backwards once Fluttershy emerges from the bushes like some heartbroken netted manatee.
>“Oh, please don’t be worried. Watch this.”
>She crawls up to the banana, takes it in her mouth and, tilting her head back, lets the fruit slide all the way down her throat.
>She turns to him and, despite her throat being blocked, tries to say something to comfort him.
>His eyes go wide with fear as he watches the stretched skin move over the bulge in her neck.
>Once finished, she smiles and drools all over herself.
>You throw your binoculars over your shoulder and start thinking up what the next plan is going to be.

>“Do we have to go in the bushes again? I still have cuts from the last time.”
Get in here!
>Fluttershy lowers her ears and meekly crawls into the bush with you.
>You both look out at the hooman’s house.
>“I just don’t know if this is a good idea. It hasn’t been that long since he hurt his leg. He’s going to be really mad.”
>You turn on her severely.
Look, do you want him to like you?
>“Um, yes, but I—”
Then you need to do what I say, okay? Because you’re really in a pickle now after what you did last time.
>Fluttershy swallows nervously, which probably hurt considering how far down she had that banana earlier.
>“You’re right. I’m sorry. I should just listen to you. You know what you’re doing.”
Alright, don’t worry. This next plan is so easy that a filly could do it.
>“Can you do it then? I don’t think I’m ready.”
>You agree.
What? That’s crazy. Of course you’re ready.
>“You really still believe in me?”
>Heck no.
Sure I do. Each plan I come up with is better than the last anyway, so it’s almost a good thing that you keep screwing them up.
>“Oh . . .”
But let’s try to do this one right, okay?
>“Okay.”
Good. Here’s the picnic basket.
>You shove the full basket into her chest.
>Good thing you brought extras.
>“What do I do with this?”
You offer it to him. Because of your earlier blunder, the subject is currently in a very tender, traumatized state.
>“So we’re going to comfort him?”
Not only that, but he’s in a prime state to be easily manipulated.
>“So we’re doing both?”
That’s the plan, which is why we have this embarrassing picture of him that was taken last year at the Christmas party.
>Fluttershy folds her ears as she looks at the picture.
>“It’s so sad. He’s all alone because no pony wanted to come celebrate his weird holiday with him.”
But I got that picture from you.
>“I took it from outside.”
It doesn’t matter. The state he’s in, once you show him that picture, he’ll not only feel weak and ashamed, but he’ll also feel humiliated by his past failures. We want him to feel absolutely miserable. We have to wreck any sense of self-esteem he may have so that we can convince him that he is worthless without you, that no pony will ever love something as lowly and wretched as he except for you.
>Fluttershy blinks at you.
>“Is that a good thing to do?”
Well, considering that you stabbed him in the leg last time you saw each other, I’d say it’s at least an improvement.
>You smirk as she runs this over in her head.
>What she doesn’t know is that you’ve already manipulated her.
>You have convinced her that she is so hopeless that she has no other choice but to follow your plans if she ever hopes to win the hooman’s heart.
>You feel a sense of superiority as she nods and says to you:
>“I’ll show him the picture.”
Good girl.
>Fluttershy smiles at you before she starts backing out of the bush, muttering in pain whenever the sharp branches and sticky thorns poke into her.
>She takes the basket with her up to his front door.
>She knocks on the door.
>It opens a crack before he sees who it is and tries to slam it shut.
>Without hesitation, Fluttershy rams her hoof in the crack and lets the door slam on her hoof.
>Through teary eyes she pulls the door open.
>The hooman stumbles forward before he can set his medical cane down.
>You see that he has a red bandage on his right leg.
>With a grey, weary face he says to her:
>“What do you want?”
>“I just wanted to give you this as a peace offering.”
>She gives him the basket.
>He takes one look at it and smiles.
>“You mean you’re sorry?”
>“Of course I am. What did you think I would do?”
>“To be honest, I figured you were going to avoid me for a while.”
>“Oh, no, I would never think of doing that.”
>He looks touched.
>It’s working this time.
>You lick your lips and ease your hoof down past your waist.
>“Wow, Fluttershy, I never thought that . . .”
>He pauses and, just then, his face pinches in horror at the basket.
>You stop short of petting yourself.
>Fluttershy seems to notice something.
>Her legs start shaking.
>You feel your eye twitching involuntarily.
>He starts to scream.
>You sigh and pull your hoof back up.
>He hits the basket with his cane, sending fruit flying everywhere.
>That’s when you see a banana land right at the edge of your bush.
>It’s the same banana that she deep-throated earlier.
>When did she even put that in the basket?
>You fight the urge to scream.
>But Fluttershy starts doing that for you once he begins hitting her on the head with his cane.
>You feel your heart boiling over with rage as she just stands there, bowing down slightly and taking it.
>You resist the urge to throw your binoculars at her yourself, instead opting to shatter them on the ground.
>You rise up out of the bushes, inflicting multiple cuts on your face as you do.
Fluttershy! Show him the damn picture!
>She turns to you, wincing, covering her head with one arm as she’s being beaten.
Show him the picture!
>She nods your way.
>She starts looking for the picture on the porch, wincing with every strike to her body.
>When she finds it she holds it out for him to see.
>She flinches and turns away as he raises his cane.
>But then he stops, his cane raised up over his head.
>He regards what’s held out before him.
>You bite your lip as his expression changes.
>Then he brings his cane down on Fluttershy’s head one more time.
>“Ow.”
>You stare in shock as he steps back and, before shutting the door, says:
>“Idiot, that’s a blank picture.”
What?
>“What?”
>Fluttershy looks at the picture in her hooves for a moment.
>“Oh . . .”
>She says this in a tone of resignation that makes your heart sink.
>She limps over to you, an apologetic look on her pinched, bruised face.
>Then she holds the picture out to you.
>Only you can’t see the picture the way she’s holding it.
>She’s holding the damn thing backwards!
>You give her an incredulous look.
You didn’t . . .
>“I, um, think I may have accidentally showed it to him backwards.”
>She flinches when she notices you’re trembling all over.
>“I’m sorry.”
No. No, it’s fine.
>You take a deep breath.
I’ve already got my next plan set in mind.
>Fluttershy perks up.
>“Really?”
Yeah, and I think this one might be perfect for you.
>“Oh, that’s wonderful. What is it?”

>You direct Fluttershy into the mouth of the cave.
Okay, just stay right there and do nothing.
>You start to back away when she takes a step forward.
>“But I—”
No need to. You don’t have to do anything this time. In fact, you can’t do anything, or else the plan will fall apart—again.
>You spit some vitriol into that last word so that Fluttershy folds her ears.
>“So just stay right here?”
Yes.
>“And do nothing?”
That’s right.
>She smiles and nods determinedly.
>“I can do that.”
>Yeah, we’ll see.
I’m counting on you.
>“I won’t let you down.”
Okay then . . .
>You start to back away, only turning around and trotting away when you’re sure she’s not going to follow you.
>You sneak over into the bushes of the forest surrounding you once Fluttershy is out of sight.
>Then you walk amongst the bushes until you have a good hiding spot where you can see Fluttershy.
>You talk into your talkie.
Come in, Yellow Blunderance.
>She jumps at your voice and nearly drops her talkie when she goes to respond.
>“Um, this is Yellow Blunderance. I’m still here.”
Okay, make sure you stay there.
>Fluttershy presses the talkie to her ear, then pulls it away and says:
>“What was that?”
>Why is everything with this pony such an ordeal?
I said to make sure you stay there.
>She raises her eyebrow and shakes her talkie a bit.
>“Hello? I think something’s wrong with my radio, Cozy.”
It’s a walkie talkie, and it’s Enabled Providence. And I said that you should stay there.
>She gives no indication that she heard you.
>You start grinding your teeth.
>Fluttershy stares at her talkie for a moment.
>“Um . . . over?”
>You rise up from the bushes and yell at her:
Stay there!
>She yelps and, seeing you glaring at her, nods shyly.
>She picks her talkie up off the ground and says into it:
>“Okay.”
>You make a gesture indicating that you’re watching her before you sink down into the bushes.
>The hooman should be coming along at any minute but you’re going to have to go meet him up the trail.
>But it’s all over if she leaves that cave before he shows up: everything in there is wired to motion sensors.
>That’s when you decide to slide the vibrating plug into your cunt.
>You don’t care what happens this time, whether she ruins things again or not: but this time, you’re getting off.
>And to make sure of that, you set the vibration into maximum overdrive, then leave the little remote over by the bushes.
>Panting and red-faced from your arousal, you crawl up the trail until you find a clearing.
>You try to compose yourself as you hear the hooman coming up the trail, screaming bloody murder.
>He frantically limps past you and towards the cave.
>You click on your talkie.
Yellow Blunderance, the subject is approaching you. Do not move. I repeat: Do not move.
>There’s no response.
>You can picture her fumbling with her talkie right now and it makes you heat up from anger.
>The anger mixes up with your arousal and you start to sweat and pant.
Yellow Blunderance? Hello?
>She still doesn’t answer.
>You groan in annoyance and pleasure.
>“Hello?”
>It’s not Fluttershy’s voice but a stallion’s voice coming up the trail.
>“Sir, you have to sign for your fruit gram.”
>You come out and meet a stallion on the trail.
>He’s carrying a fruit basket full of bananas.
>You exchange with him the payment password you set up with the order and then sign for the delivery.
>“I’ve been chasing that guy all over town. He’s fast for a cripple. You look a bit tired yourself.”
You have no idea.
>It’s silent for a moment.
>He’s staring at you oddly.
>You hope he can’t hear the buzzing coming from between your legs.
>Then he clears his throat and holds out his hoof expectantly.
>Damn.
>You weren’t exactly prepared to give a tip.
>You reach into the bushes and pull out the bloody shuriken.
You want this? It’s only been used once.
>He turns green and makes a disgusted face before turning and trotting away.
>Huh, you’d think that the No Questions Asked Fruit Delivery Service would employ only those with a higher constitution than normal.
>Whatever. You have to go watch Fluttershy and—
>Your happy cunt starts contracting and you fall over in pleasure.
>Your legs are twitching and your mouth is slightly open.
>Forget it.
>You wanted to watch your plan go into action but there’s no way you’re getting back up.
>Everything was going according to your plan anyway.
>He was headed straight for the cave.
>You should be able to hear the explosion when it—
>There’s a deafening sound and the ground rumbles and shakes as you feel a wave of pleasure wrack you from the bottom of your hooves up to the tip of your nose.
>You see rubble and dirt fly up into the air, followed by an enormous dust cloud that drifts up into the sky.
>Did it work?
>You pick up your talkie and, through grunts and moans, say:
Yellow Blunderance?
>There’s no answer.
>You arch your back as you feel your orgasm coming on.
>All you need know is confirmation that your plan worked.
Yellow Blunderance, come in.
>You’re so close . . .
>But then the vibration stops.
>The plug sits cold in your slimy cunt.
>You slowly come down.
>With your legs still tense and your groin still burning in need, all the pleasure you were feeling fades away.
>Tears of grief gather in your eyes.
>Before you can wonder what happened you hear the talkie click on.
>“Um, Cozy, I think I need your help. The cave is blocked in. I need your help digging out.”
>Your eyes shoot open.
>Your plan worked.
>You rise up to your hooves and trot towards the cave.
>The plug slides out of your hole but you hardly care anymore.
>You can finish at the site of your triumph: Fluttershy and the hooman trapped together in a cave, with you masturbating on the other side of it.
>It’s the perfect plan.
>And indeed, you find the cave blocked with rubble just like you had planned.
>But Fluttershy is standing outside of it.
>You stare at her for a moment with your jaw on the ground.
>Then you rub your eyes to make sure you aren’t seeing things.
>She’s still there afterwards.
>You clutch your stomach.
I think I’m going to be sick.
>The remote to your plug is on the ground next to her hooves.
>The back cover is open and the batteries are gone.
>She speaks into her talkie.
>“Um, hello, can you hear me? I think I may still be having battery problems with my radio.”
>She hears the echo from your talkie and turns around to see you standing there, staring at her with disbelief.
>“Oh, thank goodness you’re here.”
>She flies up and hugs you.
>You feel nothing.
>She parts from you.
>“Something’s happened to the cave. There was some kind of explosion.”
You moved.
>“What?”
You left the cave.
>She frowns.
>“Well, I was having problems with my radio. I thought it might be my batteries, so I—”
How did you move without setting off the motion sensors?
>“You mean those round thingies on the walls in the cave? I tried taking the batteries out of those, but they weren’t the kind I needed.”
>She disabled the motion sensors!
But there was still an explosion.
>“Well, after I put the batteries back in the round thingies, they started beeping. So I went to find you, but all I found was that remote. I took the batteries out so I could talk to you about something.”
>She started the manual countdown!
>You can’t say anything.
>How can you say anything?
>How does one pony fuck everything up this badly every time?!
>“Well, what I wanted to say was, I think Anon is trapped in the cave.”
>You look again at the massive pile of rubble separating you from the hooman.
You’ve got to be kidding me!
>“Well, I saw him run into the cave just before it exploded. I’m worried.”
Worried? You should be worried, you imprudent buffoon! You probably got him killed!
>“Oh, no, he’s not dead.”
How can you be sure?
>Fluttershy turns to the cave and raises her voice.
>“Anon, I’m back with help. I’ve got Cozy Glow with me.”
>You hear his muffled yelling from behind the rubble.
>“Goddammit, Fluttershy, I told you to go get Twilight. I got to get out of here.”
>“Don’t worry. We’re thinking up of a plan right now to get you out.”
>“I don’t want you thinking up of any more stupid plans.”
>You grimace.
Um, excuse me, but those plans were perfect and not at all stupid.
>“The fact that you believe that frightens me.”
Oh, what do you know? You’re scared of bananas!
>“Don’t worry, Anon,” Fluttershy says. “Cozy and I are here for you, and we’re going to find a way to get you out of there.”
>“Oh God, I’m going to die in here, aren’t I?”
>“Be strong for me. You won’t die. We’ll come and get you.”
>“So I’ve got a choice between dying and waiting for you?”
>Fluttershy pauses.
>“Um . . .”
>Suddenly you both hear the echoes of his footsteps hitting the stone as he runs further into the cave.
>“Anon, wait!”
>“Nope! I’m taking my chances with the cave!”
>Fluttershy eyes the rubble before her.
>“Oh, this isn’t good. We better start digging.”
Right, have fun with that.
>“Aren’t you going to help, or come up with a plan or something?”
Why, so you can ruin it again?
>She folds her ears.
>“I’m sorry.”
Oh, you’re sorry.
>She looks surprised at this response.
>“Um, well, yes, I—”
Because that’s three perfectly perfect plans you just ruined, so I was starting to figure that maybe you were getting some kind of enjoyment out of this. Because you want to know who isn’t enjoying this at all?
>Fluttershy looks away for a moment before you cut her off.
ME!! I haven’t been enjoying this! And I’m pent up as hell right now!
>You turn around and flick your tail dismissively her way.
You’re an idiot. I’m done with you.
>She starts following you as you walk away.
>“But where are you going?”
Home. I need to release some of these emotions before I end up doing something to you that could land me in jail.
>“But you can’t go. I need you.”
You need a handler. And it’s not going to be me.
>“But it has to be you.”
>She grabs your legs.
>“You can’t leave me.”
Get off of me!
>“No, not until you’ve come up with a plan that’s won me Anon’s heart.”
I can’t come up with any more plans for you. You’ll just ruin them.
>“Then you’ll just have to think of one that’ll work for me while we’re digging Anon out.”
>She picks you up and starts dragging you back towards the cave.
>You try to wriggle out from her grasp but her arms are surprisingly strong.
Let go of me!
>“No, I’ll never let go. Not until I get what I want. And if you won’t think of a plan, then I will, and I’ll make you help me.”
>When you exhaust yourself and finally see the determined stare she has trained on you, you feel a sense of dread overtaking you.
>She’s stronger than you, faster than you, and much more determined than you are to get what she wants.
>But she can never get what she wants; she’s simply too incompetent and awkward to ever achieve her desires.
>And this is where you’ve realized that you made a huge miscalculation in your plan to help Fluttershy.
>All you wanted was to get off, but in the process, you fear you’ve just created a monster that you will be bound to forever.
>It’s silent for a moment as you contemplate your grim fate.
>“I’ve been thinking of something.”
What?
>“Well, I was just thinking, we keep using fruit baskets in your plans. But maybe if we use a gift basket next time, then it’ll work out better.”
>You roll your eyes.
Yeah, and maybe we can fill them with rock hammers and spare batteries.
>“Oh, that’s actually a good idea. But no shurikens this time, okay?”
>Fucking Fluttershy.

>Often enough, your parents just give you to Fluttershy for the day whenever she shows up at your house.
>She uses your old failed friendship tests to convince them that you need a private tutor.
>But you manage to sneak out your bedroom window before she shows up this afternoon.
>You go to the Crusader clubhouse and hide out there with the Crusaders.
>You plop your rump down in the middle of the clubhouse and sigh in relief.
Thanks for hiding me, Crusaders. You would not believe the kind of things I’ve had to go through lately.
>“We’re happy to help,” Sweetie Belle says.
>“Yeah,” says Scootaloo, “the Cutie Mark Crusaders never turn their backs on a pony in need.”
>Your face cannot reflect their joy or enthusiasm.
It’s just, every day I have to deal with this mare now. She shows up and is like, ‘Goodness, Cozy, what are we going to do today?’ And I say, ‘The same thing we do every day, Fluttershy: Try to get in Anon’s pants!’
>“Why does she want to wear his pants so badly?” Apple Bloom asks.
>“Yeah, can’t she get Rarity to make her a pair for herself?” Sweetie Belle says.
>“This sounds like something the Cutie Mark Crusaders might have to investigate,” Scootaloo says.
>You watch them all nod solemnly to each other.
>Their charming innocence relieves your soul.
Well, can we do all that later?
>“Sure,” Apple Bloom says. “But what do you want to do now?”
You have anything to draw with?
>Sweetie Belle nods, then trots over to a wood trunk in the corner of the clubhouse and opens it.
>She returns to you and drops a set of twelve different-colored chalk pieces at your hooves.
>“The best thing is we don’t even have to leave the clubhouse if we want to draw.”
>“Yeah,” Apple Bloom says, “you can just draw right on the walls and floor if you want.”
>You watch as they all point out different drawings they’ve made.
>Their drawings are mostly scenes of them with their sisters, all of them doing something together, and the ponies are all drawn with potato bodies, stick legs and dots for eyes.
>There’s even a drawing of Scootaloo flying next to Rainbow Dash.
>You single that one out.
I like this one.
>“Really?” Scootaloo says.
>You sit down with the chalk.
Yeah, it’s good catharsis. I want to draw a house.
>“What kind of house?” Apple Bloom says.
I want to draw a secret house, the kind of place where any pony can go and hide from whatever is bothering them. It’s a house where no pony can find you unless you want them to. It’s a place where you’re always safe.
>You glare at the space where your imagined drawing is.
There should be a big yellow bird there that keeps you safe. It takes away any pony who doesn’t belong and destroys all your enemies. Then it enfolds you in its soft wings and brings you to a place where it’ll protect you always, where you can love without self-consciousness.
>The Crusaders stare silently at the dreamy, far away look on your face.
>“I don’t think we have any more yellow,” Apple Bloom says.
>“Yeah, I think I used the last of it when I drew my ‘Scenes from the Cutie Pox Incident’ portrait,” Sweetie Belle says.
>You look to where they’re pointing and see an area on the wall where a vast number of distressed Apple Blooms are shown in different, erratic states of action.
>Sweetie Belle and Scootaloo both stifle their smiles while Apple Bloom rolls her eyes at the drawing.
>You frown.
Well, can you get me some more yellow then? I’m trying to express my hidden trauma over here.
>“There might be some at the bottom of the toy box,” Sweetie Belle says.
>Just then a new, familiar voice comes from behind you.
>“Oh, so this is where you were hiding.”
>The pit of your stomach drops and you turn around to see Fluttershy standing in the window.
>Despite the fear in your eyes, she looks at you calmly.
>“I’m sorry, girls,” Fluttershy says, “but Cozy Glow can’t play with you anymore. She has to come with me now.”
Oh no, she found me! Quick, lock me up in the toy box so she can’t take me away.
>“What?” Apple Bloom says. “We can’t do that!”
>“Yeah, we don’t have a lock,” Scootaloo says.
>“And it’s also dangerous,” Sweetie Belle says.
>“I was going to say that too,” Scootaloo says, slightly offended. “I just thought of the lock thing first.”
>“Uh, girls,” Apple Bloom says, “she’s got Cozy.”
>While the Crusaders had talked amongst themselves, Fluttershy had pounced, taking you in both arms.
>Struggle as you might, you cannot escape her grasp, and when you try to scream she shoves a ball gag in your mouth and tightens it around your head.
>You really hope she washed it before she decided to do that.
>Then she opens her wings and lifts you both up into the air.
>But the Crusaders block her at the window.
>“Girls, I’m just going to be taking Cozy away from here for a little while,” Fluttershy says.
>“But she doesn’t want to go,” Apple Bloom says.
>“Yeah, it’s not fair,” Sweetie Belle says.
>“You need to stop taking her with you on your pants adventures,” Scootaloo says.
>Everyone looks at Scootaloo oddly upon hearing the phrase pants adventures.
>Scootaloo blushes and knits her brow defensively.
>“Or pants quests, or whatever the hay you want to call them. It doesn’t matter.”
>The Crusaders all nod at this and face down Fluttershy.
>But just when it seems like you’re going to get out of this, the look in Fluttershy’s eyes changes.
>She starts drilling into them the most intense stare you have ever witnessed.
>Though it’s not focused on you, just being near it sends shivers down your spine.
>The eyes of the Crusaders shrink in their heads, and when Fluttershy slowly advances towards them they fold their ears and back away from her, their hooves all moving simultaneously.
>Soon Fluttershy flies right by them and you leave the Crusaders with only their backs watching you.
>The two of you fly in the air, you struggling to loosen the straps of the ball gag while Fluttershy babbles on about ideas she wants to try out on the hooman.
>You finally loosen the straps just as she comes to the end of her long anecdote.
>“So I was watching the birds, and then, suddenly, it hit me: chicken fetish. I was going to have Rarity make me a costume until I learned that Pinkie Pie already had one.”
>You take the ball gag off and toss it down into the orchards below you.
>As you’re spitting and scrubbing your tongue, Fluttershy looks over her shoulder at where it fell and sighs.
>“Oh dear. I spent twenty bits on that gag.”
>You’re not surprised.
>She spends nearly a hundred bits every week on fetish stuff for the hooman.
>You don’t know where she gets the money, but in all the time you’ve spent with her you’ve never actually seen her eat.
>Maybe that’s why she’s so crazy.
>“So, um, chicken fetish, what do you think of that?”
I’m only thinking terrible things.
>She looks surprised.
>“Really? Why’s that?”
Oh, I don’t know, maybe because it’s a chicken fetish. Maybe because it wouldn’t be attractive at all if he had such a fetish. Maybe because, even if he did have such a sickening fetish, you would still find a way to ruin it for him anyway.
>“So that’s a no on the chicken fetish?”
Look, why am I even still here? I haven’t come up with a plan for you since you made me try to dig out a cave, which almost got us both eaten by timberwolves.
>“At least we saved him.”
The rescue team saved him, and he had pneumonia by the time he was found anyway.
>“But he got better.”
He got a restraining order against you.
>“And despite that, love still keeps bringing us together.”
I don’t think that love or the hooman would be pleased to hear you say that.
>“Which is why I have you. Even if you won’t come up with any more of your plans, I can always use your input when playing out my own.”
Well, I’m sick of telling you that everything you’re doing is wrong, and the novelty of seeing you fall on your face each time when you go through with your dumb ideas anyway is getting stale to me.
>“If you’re tired of seeing me struggle, then maybe you should try to help more.”
I can’t help you. No pony can help you. I keep telling you that but you can’t seem to take either a hint or a bludgeoning of dissuasion.
>“You were eager to help me when we started.”
And that was a mistake. Even after hearing you tell your story, I didn’t truly know what I was getting into. Besides, it’s likely I couldn’t’ve turned you away after you had already sought me out anyway, as the word no seems mean yes to you.
>“Well, maybe it does, at least until I find a way for us to live together.”
No wonder you never took his initial rejection seriously.
>“I know you must think I’m hard, but I have to be. The first time I ever approached him I knew that he wasn’t going to give me a fair chance—and he never has.”
>Your eyes widen and you look up at Fluttershy’s firm, sad face.
Wait a minute, you never told me that you first approached him with such a mindset as that.
>“Oh, well, before I ever first offered to let him mate with me, I already knew that he didn’t like ponies. That’s why I keep trying to make myself more appealing to him.”
Make yourself more appealing like the way you’re still doing today?
>“Yes.”
You mean you were propositioning him and exhibiting strange fetishes before him from the very start?
>“Well, I had to. I knew he wasn’t going to want me the way I already was.”
Did you even try?
>“I’ve been trying all this time.”
No, I mean try to ask him out or be normal in any conceivable way at all.
>“You mean ask him to be my special somepony?”
Anything like that at all?
>“Well, no, I didn’t, because I already knew he wouldn’t like me.”
>You purse your lips at her.
>Fluttershy scrunches her muzzle.
>“Was that a mistake?”
Your entire life up to this moment was a mistake.
>“Oh, I’m sorry.”
>You ignore her as your mind is starting to work, though most of your thinking is about what a dunderhead Fluttershy is.
All this time I thought that you acted overconfident and outrageously in order to compensate for your shyness. But if what you’re saying is right—and I hope for once that it is—then what you were actually trying to compensate for was your species.
>“Well, I had to. He doesn’t like ponies.”
Oh really? And just how did someone as sheltered as he come to that conclusion? Not through experience, I can assure you. Though, after his continued involvement with you, that may not be the case anymore.
>Fluttershy folds her ears.
>You keep thinking.
Well, I had assumed that you had approached him first off as one respectable being asking another for their company. But I’m starting to learn that I should never assume that you have or can exhibit any speck of competency in any way shape or form. And I blame myself for this oversight.
>Fluttershy looks down at you hopefully.
>“Are you thinking of something, Cozy?”
I am happy to say that I’ve got a new plan for you, though the chances of its success are considerably low.
>“Why’s that?”
Because aside from the beginning, my involvement will be minimal. The plan is entirely dependent on you, as I’ll mostly be observing.
>Ah, observing.
>The precious word sends a pleasant tingling from your warm heart down to your trembling loins.
>“What do I have to do?”
You will deliver a letter to the hooman that I have written. . . .
>Just then your mind is bombarded with visions of Fluttershy screwing up this small part of the plan.
>She could lose the letter, accidentally leave it somewhere other than where you tell her to, or change her mind just as she’s about to give it to him and instead eat it in front of him out of anxiety.
Actually, I will make sure the hooman gets the letter, though I will write it in such a way so that he will think it is from you.
>“What will the letter say?”
You let me worry about that.
>For the first time in forever, you and Fluttershy share a smile with each other.
But if all goes according to my plan, then you’ll need to brush up on your dating skills.
>Fluttershy whimpers.
>It is then that you remember who you’re talking to.
Scratch that. We’ll have to teach you the necessary dating skills.

>You’re sitting in a bush outside Fluttershy’s cottage, watching her and the hooman have dinner together in her kitchen.
>You hate to admit it, but Fluttershy does have some nice qualities about her.
>And they have all showed themselves fabulously during her date with the hooman.
>Neither one of them is guarded like they usually are.
>In fact they seem to be clicking.
>You’re not sure what they’re talking about, but they’re talking a lot.
>They’re inhaling their spaghetti and taking rapid-fire sips of water just so they can keep talking.
>What’s even better is that you can tell they’re flirting.
>It’s obvious by the way they’re licking the red sauce off their lips, leaning forward in their chairs, glancing at each other from the corners of their eyes.
>Fluttershy is even doing that slight head tilt that exposes her neck to him.
>Damn girl is tilting so hard you’re surprised she hasn’t fallen out of her chair or screwed this up in some other equally awkward way.
>But no, it’s like she’s a different pony.
>Just as you had planned it, the dating atmosphere seems to have positively influenced her.
>They can’t keep their eyes off of each other.
>And you can’t keep your hoof dry for a second.
>Watching all of this planning finally coming together has gotten you hotter than you’ve ever been before.
>Suddenly you can feel the atmosphere in the kitchen has changed.
>They’re no longer speaking, but they’re still smiling at each other, and their faces look feverish.
>You can feel yourself getting close as she locks eyes with him and gets up from her chair.
>Maybe they’re going to kiss and seal the deal.
>You would finally be free if that happened.
>You start rubbing yourself faster.
>You then watch as Fluttershy leaves the kitchen.
>For the first time since the date began she is out of your sight.
>Any sense of pleasure you felt building up in your body instantly leaves you.
>Anxious thoughts press down on your mind as you stare at her empty seat.
>What the hay could Fluttershy be doing?
>Okay, try to get a grip on yourself.
>Fluttershy has done well so far.
>She couldn’t possibly screw everything up somehow at the last minute, right?
>You jump out from the bush and trot over to the cottage.
>You fly up to the hall window, land on the bush below it, and look inside.
>Fluttershy is looking in her hallway closet.
>She pulls out a large white costume with long yellow legs and some kind of red comb on—oh no, it’s the chicken suit
>It’s the chicken suit!
>Fluttershy starts practicing her cluck and strut right there in the hall, all with a big smile on her face like it was the greatest thing she’s ever done.
>You shove your hooves in your mouth to stifle your screams.
>You have to stop her.
>You jump off the bush and trot to her front door.
>Once you’re inside her cottage you find her in the same spot where she was, only this time she’s flapping her wings and pecking on the floor.
>You’re kind of pissed that she can act so convincingly as a chicken, yet she couldn’t say three lines from a script without falling apart during your first plan.
>Stupid animal-loving horse.
>She looks surprised, then relieved to see you.
>“Oh, Cozy, what are you doing here?”
>You really thought the glare on your face would have made it obvious, but she seems oblivious to the fact that she’s holding a chicken suit right now.
>Nothing is obvious with this pony.
>“I don’t mean to brag, but I think our date has been going great.”
>She excitedly leans in to whisper something to you.
>“I even told him that I was going to give him a sexy surprise, and he didn’t run away or call me names like he usually does.”
>Your heart catches at this development.
>It seems you were correct in recognizing that they were ready to seal the deal.
>Everything has been perfectly set for your plan to finish as a success.
>Except for one thing.
The chicken suit? Really, Fluttershy?
>Fluttershy frowns.
>“You don’t think it’s a good idea?”
>You roll your eyes.
No, I think it’s fantastic. That’s definitely why I came in here and interrupted you while you were busy . . . practicing.
>“Oh, thank you.”
>She smiles, not picking up on your sarcasm at all, and looks down fondly at her chicken suit.
>“See, I actually have some acting experience when it comes to this. In flight school, we were doing a play on birds, and I was the pony they chose to play all the flightless bird parts.”
>You clench your teeth and feel your face heating up with anger.
>“While my chicken was good, every pony said my part as the ostrich stole the show—though every pony tried their best and had fun, which is all that matters. But I do wish that ostrich didn’t become my new nickname for years afterwards.”
>She gives herself a moment to relive the memory, a content smile on her face.
>Then she looks up, finally notices your red twitching face, and folds her ears.
Your nickname for all those years should have been dummy, because only a dummy like you would think it’s sexy to try and seduce someone while dressed up like a chicken.
>“But Cozy—”
No!
>Fluttershy flinches, then says:
>“But Cozy, everything else I’ve done so far has worked out just fine.”
That’s only because I helped you, and because everything you’ve done so far has pertained to courtship, not sex. And experience has shown us that when it comes to sex, you always fail.
>“Oh dear. I think you might be right.”
Of course I am. It’s obvious to me now that you have warped sexual tastes, so really the chicken the suit should not have come as such a surprise to me as it did.
>“This is always the part where I drive him away from me. Oh Cozy, what should I do?”
Follow me outside real quick. I procured some provisions from Carousel Boutique and brought them along just in case something like this would happen.
>Moments later, you’re trying to pull the black stockings on Fluttershy’s legs up past her fat thighs.
Come on, Fluttershy, suck in those thunder thighs.
>“I’m trying, but the choker makes it hard to breathe.”
>She was referring to the black choker around her neck.
>Pull up as you might, her jiggly flesh was just too thick to get past.
>Still, they match her plump, stockinged arms in images of constricted flesh.
>You take a step backwards and look her over.
Not bad. The leg stockings are kind of rumpled, but that’s fine. Of course it’d look better if they fit right.
>“I’m sorry.”
>You reassure her that it’s fine, even though you’re still secretly pissed at how fat she is.
>Rarity said that she had taken Fluttershy’s measurements and adjusted them just a few months ago.
>But you had no idea Fluttershy would be such a pig.
>Still, she has to be confident, so you tell her that she looks great and prepare her to seduce the hooman.
>You point her towards the kitchen door and start massaging her shoulders.
Remember, be bold, be ready, be a seductress.
>“Should I do my peacock strut to entice him? That one was always such a crowd pleaser in the play.”
Let’s forget about anything animal related for a little while, okay?
>“Oh, right, I’m sorry. It’s just that I’m nervous.”
>So are you—nervous that she’ll screw this up just like everything else.
What? You shouldn’t be nervous. You’ll do fine.
>“It’s just that he and I might actually have sex soon.”
And that’s a problem?
>“Well, I’ve always dreamed of this moment. I dream that he tells me that he loves me, and then we make love after he says those lovely words. That’s how it’s always been in my mind, and now that moment finally seems closer than ever. I don’t think my heart could take it if it didn’t work out that way.”
>Sheesh, this mare is a sap.
>She seems serious, though.
>Better reassure her.
Look, it might not go exactly that way, but I’m sure whatever actually happens between you both will be even better than what it is you imagined you wanted to happen.
>“You’re probably right.”
And besides, even if you do mess up, you can just try again. It’s not like you haven’t done that before already.
>She perks up and gets a determined look in her eye.
>“You are right. I need to let my thoughts go and let my emotions guide me from here on out.”
>Well, you wouldn’t exactly say that.
>Then again, it is you who more and more seems to be taking the place of her rational side—of which she probably has none of her own.
Just listen to whatever side of you didn’t tell you to put on the chicken suit, okay, pal?
>“Got it.”
>You pat her on the back and let her loose.
>Then you follow her to the kitchen and peer around the door so you can watch her without being seen.
>She saunters into the kitchen, swaying her full hips, already controlling his bright eyes.
>“You look different,” he says slowly.
>Fluttershy dips her head down slightly and looks up at him.
>“I wanted you to see how I was feeling inside,” she says.
>His face flushes.
>He tries to say something but his speech fails him.
>Fluttershy spreads her wings, then gently lifts herself up and hovers towards him.
>You bite your lip and, feeling yourself getting going again, quickly start rubbing yourself.
>He laughs nervously as she slips her arm around his neck and plops her rump down onto his lap.
>She runs her hoof along the back of his head.
>“I’m through with being shy.”
>He almost tries to stop her but instead moans as she grinds her rump deeper into his lap.
>You can’t believe how good she is at this.
>Your eyes roll into the back of your head as you mash your clit.
>You’re so close to coming.
>He gulps nervously.
>“Fluttershy—”
>But she makes him bow his head down to hers.
>“Take me now, Anon!”
>She presses her lips against his and he closes his eyes and swoons into her embrace.
>You swoon as well as you await the waves of your coming orgasm.
>They’re coming forward, rushing from their dark origins to bathe you waiting on the shores of ecstasy.
>Here they come, with nothing to stop them from soaking—
>“Fluttershy, get off of me.”
>You open your eyes and see him push her onto the floor.
>She looks hurt as he wipes his mouth with his sleeve.
>And the waves crash into each other, fall down into their dark recesses and push forward enough only to merely tickle the tips of your hooves then go receding back from the shore.
>You stand still, feeling stunned and hollowhearted, until you hear him stomping over to where you are.
>You head for the closet.
>There are two yellow lines in the shape of an x on the floor, but you don’t have time to wonder where they came from before you’re hiding in the closet.
>Fluttershy must have made a mess looking for that chicken suit because it feels like you’re sitting on a pile of clothes.
>You open the door a crack and peek out as Fluttershy pleads with him.
>“I just don’t understand what it is you find wrong.”
>“It just didn’t feel right.”
>“But why?”
>“Look, I don’t know, okay? It’s just, the way you were acting in there, it didn’t feel right is all.”
>Oh great.
>You wonder what it was she did while you weren’t looking.
>“Anon, I don’t understand.”
>“Please just stop. If I knew what was wrong, I would tell you. You don’t think I feel bad about it? I was having a great time before this.”
>Wait, did she do something wrong or not?
>Oh great.
>Is he going to be a problem now too?
>It’s silent.
>You feel something get pulled out from the pile under you.
>“What’s this?” he says.
>“Oh, um, that’s just . . .”
>You look out and see that he’s holding the chicken suit, staring at it curiously.
>You could just scream right now and it probably wouldn’t make things any worse.
>He turns to face her slowly.
>“Fluttershy, why do you have a chicken suit?”
>Do not tell him the truth.
>“After dinner I was, um, going to ask you if chickens were your fetish.”
>No!
>Why would she even say that right now?
>She lives on an animal shelter, for Celestia’s sake!
>There are, like, fifty different believable lies she could have told him—and she went and told him the truth instead!
>“But I didn’t do it because I wanted to be sexy for you instead.”
>He sighs.
>“Oh my God, that’s it.”
>What’s it?
>“What’s it?” Fluttershy says.
>“Fluttershy, you look good when you’re dressed all sexy like you are now, but it just doesn’t work for me because I know you don’t feel sexy in it.”
>What! But you rubbed her shoulders and everything to get her in the right mood.
>And of course Fluttershy’s answer doesn’t help you at all.
>“You do?” she says.
>“You’ve been trying to be sexy for me for a long time now, and in all that time I’ve never seen you act like you did just a minute ago.”
>“I guess you’re right.”
>He laughs a little.
>“When it comes to you, sexy is weird.”
>“Sexy is weird?”
>“Yeah, and I like that.”
>“You do?”
>He does?
>“Of course I do. Well, I do now, anyway. To be honest, before tonight, I found it a little annoying.”
>He scoops her up in his arms and, holding her close to his chest, looks in her eyes.
>“But after tonight, I can safely say that nothing gets me hotter than seeing you deep-throat food, or having you try to shame me into bed with an embarrassing picture, or when you try to trick me into a cave so we can both end up trapped there together.”
>They both share a laugh.
>Sweet Celestia, it’s not just her: They’re both fucking nuts.
>You probably should have caught on to that sooner.
>He did have a full blown panic attack at the mere presence of a banana.
>“So what you’re saying is that you want me to act like a chicken?” she says.
>“After getting to know the real you, I just want you to do whatever it is that you think is sexy.”
>“You really mean that?”
>“Of course I do. I want you to be you because, well, I think I love you, Fluttershy.”
>Her eyes go wide.
>“What did you say?”
>“I said that I love you.”
>“Do you think you could repeat that one more time?”
>“I love you, you silly.”
>Fluttershy is speechless.
>Her face shines with such pure joy that it seems to light up both of their beings.
>Happy tears form in her eyes.
>“I can’t tell you how much I’ve wanted to hear you say that after all this time.”
>He nods.
>“I think it’s something that’s been coming up on us for a long time now. I’m just glad we finally did something about it.”
>“Well, um, there’s no reason we can’t go further then, is there?”
>“I don’t know,” he says coyly. “What are you suggesting?”
>Fluttershy starts giving him bedroom eyes.
>“Well, how about I go slip on the chicken suit and show you what I mean?”
>“Nah.”
>He drops her onto the floor.
>She lands on her rump with a dull thud.
>He heads for the door, chicken suit still in hand.
>“I’m just going to take care of this one myself. Next time though, okay?”
>Fluttershy lifts her hoof in feeble protest as he shuts the door.
>She sits perfectly still on the floor, her head hung down and her eyes distant.
>This is awkward.
>Maybe you can sneak past her.
>You give the closet door a slight push and it creaks louder than a door hinge in the old castle of the two princesses.
>Fluttershy turns her head and looks at you with demon’s eyes.
>“You did this!”
>Yeah, you’re dead.
>She opens her wings, jumps up and throws the closet door open so that it slams against the wall.
>She stands over you, her jaw clenched and her nostrils flaring.
>“This is all your fault. You ruined my perfect moment. He could have been mine tonight if I hadn’t listened to you.”
>Technically, if you hadn’t helped, she wouldn’t have gotten a date with him at all.
>But now isn’t a good time for arguing semantics.
>So instead, you jump between her legs and crawl out from under her.
>You emerge out in the hall, but before you can get away she turns around and steps on your tail.
>You look over your shoulder and into the fury of her eyes.
>“I never want your help ever again. And if I ever see you near him I’ll . . .”
>She pauses and looks down at the yellow lines on the floor.
>“Is that an x?”
>Silence for a moment.
>Then, from up above, from out the hall window, and from inside the closet, three fillies burst in and charge at Fluttershy.
>Sweetie Belle throws a pair of blue jeans on Fluttershy’s head and pull on them with her magic until Fluttershy’s head is trapped inside.
>Holding a bundle of rope in her mouth, Apple Bloom trots around Fluttershy’s legs, binding them together with the rope.
>Scootaloo falls on top of Fluttershy, knocking her onto the ground, then pulls on the belt looped around the pants until the waist is wrapped tightly around her neck.
>When the Crusaders are finished Fluttershy is laid out on the floor, her limbs tied and a pair of pants wrapped around her head.
>She’s panicking, struggling to break free, and shouting:
>“Fucking Cozy Glow!”
>The Crusaders then push you along the floor on your hooves until you’re outside.
>Once you’re all out in the evening air, and the door is shut behind them, the Crusaders all turn to each other and shout:
>“Cutie Mark Crusaders: Filly Rescue Team! Yay!”
>They all smile at you.
>You manage a word.
What?
>The Crusaders are not put off by your stunned reaction.
>“It’s like we said earlier,” Apple Bloom says proudly, “the Crusaders never turn their backs on a pony in need.”
>Another silent moment.
>Then you turn to Sweetie Belle.
Was I sitting on you in the closet?
>“That’s fine,” she says, smiling. “I’m just glad we could help.”
Oh, okay. . . . What?
>After a bit of walking, and hearing the Crusaders speak of their plan to free you from Fluttershy, your shock at being saved wears off.
>Apple Bloom comes to the end of her long monologue.
>“And so we figured that if Fluttershy had her own pants to wear, then she wouldn’t need to try so hard to keep getting into his.”
>“Yeah, and then she would leave you alone,” Sweetie Belle says.
>“But we still thought it would be a good idea to get you away from her first,” Scootaloo says, “just in case that didn’t work.”
>“You really fought for that part of the plan, didn’t you?” Apple Bloom says.
>“Hey, it was awesome, wasn’t it?” Scootaloo says. “How can it not be awesome with a name like Operation Ninja?”
Thanks again for the save, Crusaders. I don’t think Fluttershy will be bothering me again anytime soon.
>“No problem,” Scootaloo says. “It’s kind of what we do.”
Where did you get the pants from anyway?
>“My sister,” Sweetie Belle says.
>You wonder if Rarity is going to find it odd that Fluttershy keeps getting clothes bought for her.
>“We told her we were giving them to Fluttershy as a gift,” Apple Bloom says. “Of course that was before Scootaloo insisted on going through with Operation Ninja.”
>“Either way, she still got a pair of pants out of it,” Scootaloo says.
And you drew the yellow x?
>Apple Bloom nods, pulls a yellow piece of chalk out from the knot of her bow, and gives it to you.
>“We found one last stick after you were gone.”
>“Yeah, it was in the glitter bucket, for some reason,” Scootaloo says, slightly annoyed.
>Sweetie Belle shrugs.
>“I’ve got lots of different projects going on at once. I can’t keep track of everything that gets used when I’m working on them.”
>“Speaking of losing things,” Apple Bloom says. “Do you think we should have just left Fluttershy all tied up like that?”
>She probably can’t breathe with both that choker and the belt wrapped around her neck.
She’ll be fine.
>“I’m sure one of her animals friends will help free her,” Sweetie Belle says.
>“When they eventually find her, you mean,” Scootaloo says.
>The three of them share nervous looks that your devious smile just cannot reflect at the moment.
>Quiet as a whisper, you say to yourself:
I hope she rots.
>As you say this, the four of you turn a corner and run into the hooman.
>You all freeze.
>He stares firmly at you all, his eyes coming to a squint when they meet yours.
>But even though he’s glaring at you, he seems oblivious to the fact that he’s holding a chicken suit right now.
>“Did I just hear you say that you tied up Fluttershy?”
>The Crusaders hesitate to answer, but you say:
Maybe, maybe not. What are you going to do about it, chicken man?
>He takes a step forward.
>You throw the yellow chalk at him.
>“Ah! Yellow! Oh my God!”
>He turns around and sprints away, kicking up dust with his heels.
>Apple Bloom speaks slowly:
>“Was he holding a chicken costume?”
>“I think that was Pinkie’s old one?” Sweetie Belle says. “Fluttershy had it for some reason.”
>“Whatever,” Scootaloo says. “Let’s just forget about it and finish taking Cozy home.”
I’m with you.
>“Ah, don’t listen to her, Cozy,” Apple Bloom says. “Scootaloo just gets antsy whenever some pony talks about chicken because that’s her nickname we gave her.”
>“Oh, yeah, I remember that,” Sweetie Belle says. “We used to call you chicken all the time.”
>“No, only Apple Bloom did,” Scootaloo says. “And I hated it, too.”
>Apple Bloom and Sweetie Belle share conspiring looks with each other before breaking out in big grins.
>Scootaloo, seething with anger, hisses at them:
>“Don’t you dare start.”
>But the two of them fold their arms, stick them by their sides, flap them together and start clucking and walking on their hind legs, shouting out:
>“Cluck, Cluck, Scootaloo!”
>Scootaloo shouts in rage and starts chasing them in circles around you, all while they keep giggling and clucking.
>Out of all of them, your eyes focus on Apple Bloom.
>And you wonder one thing.
>Did you stand on top of her when you were on that bush by the hall window?