Inspired by "Just Talk to Her" by Maonyman.

https://ponepaste.org//398

***

>You head straight to Twilight’s castle and barge right into the throne room, interrupting a conversation that Twilight, Starlight, and Spike were having.
>They all turn towards you with shocked expressions that slowly fade into looks of familiarity when they see the anger on your face.
>You’re wearing only your brown moccasins and your tattered dark blue robe, which is damp in certain spots.
>Your hair is wet and matted down, but not with water, as there’s a heavy dirty odor permeating on you.
>You point at Twilight.
I need to have a word with you.
>Starlight rolls her eyes and smiles to herself.
>“I wonder what Fluttershy did this time.”
>You purse your lips and chance a glare Starlight’s way.
>She loves hearing about Fluttershy’s creepy antics.
Stick around and that little yellow stalker might just show up and show you herself.
>“Spike, leave the room,” Twilight says.
>“But listening to these gives me a good idea of what not to do around Rarity,” Spike says.
>“So will common sense,” Twilight says.
>He huffs in annoyance but does not protest any further as he leaves.
>Twilight turns towards you, a tired frown on her face, and asks you about what Fluttershy did.
>Starlight summons a bag of popcorn into her lap and snacks away as you tell your story.
>With each crunchy mouthful of popcorn Starlight eats, Twilight’s face twists further into looks of shock and disgust.
>When you finish there is silence.
>Twilight sniffs loudly your way, then blasts you with a spell that tickles your skin and fizzles all around in your ears.
>“Well, that’ll take care of the . . . smell,” Twilight says.
>“But the memories will last forever,” Starlight says.
>You nod but say nothing.
>You feel your morning wood throbbing in the waistband of your underwear.
>Usually you’re able to take care of it before Fluttershy shows up, but since you didn’t this morning you know now that it’s going to keep coming back to bother you throughout the day.
>Starlight swallows her mouthful, then takes another bite of popcorn and says:
>“So Fluttershy’s butt almost killed you, huh?”
Exactly!
>“Neat story,” Starlight says. “But I’m curious, what exactly is anal vore?”
You don’t want to know, and you definitely don’t want to die from it.
>“It’s strange,” Twilight says. “But you know that Fluttershy wasn’t trying to kill you, at least not on purpose.”
She did most of it on purpose.
>“But she wasn’t trying to kill you.”
Then what was she trying to do?
>Twilight scrunches her muzzle for a moment before slowly, as though she were trying to arrange the right words in her head, saying:
>“Well, she was trying to . . .”
Rape me?
>“Maybe.”
Isn’t that just as bad!
>Starlight nods.
>“It really is.”
>Twilight purses her lips at Starlight, who shrugs in response before eating some more popcorn.
>Twilight sighs and turns towards you.
>“I know it’s bad, but we’ve been over this before. I can’t do anything to forcibly stop her. The two of you need to work this out with each other.”
But she doesn’t listen to me. Talking to her is like talking to a brick wall that’s blushing and has an erection.
>Twilight opens her mouth to speak but is interrupted by Starlight.
>“You know,” Starlight says, “you could always just suck it up and mate with her willingly.”
You know you could always just steal her cutie mark and turn her into a zombie that won’t bother me anymore.
>Starlight narrows her eyes at you as she crunches down on her popcorn.
>“Rude.”
My problems are legitimate. Stop treating them like they aren’t.
>“Well, it’s unfair of you to bring up my past when you know I’m good now. I didn’t change my mane from that bowl cut for nothing.”
>Starlight grabs her front bang and waves it at you.
>“You see this little hair-loopy I got? It means I’m good now.”
Asking me to surrender to Fluttershy doesn’t seem like something one of the good guys would tell me to do.
>“Well, it’s not like I’m telling you to be her special some pony. Just give her fifteen minutes every day to let her ride you for a while. You’re acting like she’s going to get you pregnant or something.”
She might!
>“That’s not how rutting works, though.”
Did you forget that her butt almost killed me?
>“Oh, did her butt also try to shoot its sperm into your womb, too, or did you forget to tell that part of the story? Because that’s how ponies get pregnant.”
You mental-ass commie—
>“Enough!” Twilight says. “Sex is not the answer here, but finding common ground between you and Fluttershy is.”
>“They do share some common ground, though.”
No, we don’t.
>“Oh, yes, you do,” Starlight says. “You probably don’t even know what it is, do you?”
Fine, what is it?
>Starlight smirks, and with a shrug of her shoulders says:
>“You and her ain’t nothing but mammals.”
>You glare at her while she keeps a straight face.
>Twilight pushes her back against her throne to keep her wings from popping up.
Twilight, do you think you could get rid of this extremely lewd horse so you and I can have a serious conversation.
>After a moment where she avoids your eyes, Twilight says:
>“Maybe she has a point. Have you ever given any serious thought to why you don’t want to be with Fluttershy?”
Goddamn, don’t you start acting like a pervert, too.
>“I am not acting like a pervert.”
>“You should try it sometime,” Starlight says while turning to smile at you. “It’s fun.”
>Twilight starts blushing and ruffling her wings.
I’m not having sex with Fluttershy. She’s a pony and I’m a human. It’s just too weird.
>“I don’t see what’s so weird about it,” Starlight says.
Yeah, I know you wouldn’t.
>“Fluttershy, too,” Twilight says.
Interspecies love may be a thing here in Equestria, but it’s not for me.
>“What about just being Fluttershy’s friend then?” Twilight says.
Twilight, I know she’s your friend and all, but I hate that pony.
>“Don’t say that,” Twilight says. “Hate’s a strong word, and you barely know her.”
I do hate her, though.
>“I know you haven’t seen much of her good side, but she does have one.”
>Starlight nods.
>“Yeah, there’s a lot more to Fluttershy than just the sex-crazed sweetheart you’ve seen.”
I suppose you’re going to tell me that she’s really nice.
>“She is, though,” Starlight says. “She’s also sweet, kind, understanding, patient . . .”
>“She makes great pancakes.”
>“Oh my gosh, yes,” Starlight says. “Her pancakes are so good.”
>Your empty stomach growls.
>Fluttershy interrupted you just when you were going to eat breakfast.
That’s nice for all of you, but you know what she does to me. She shows up to my house every day to harass me, she invades my privacy, she shows blatant disregard for my feelings, and she’s kind of annoying, too.
>“But if she didn’t do any of those things,” Twilight says, “then do you think the two of you could be friends?”
I knew you were going to ask me that eventually.
>Starlight stares at you blankly.
>“You’re in the throne room of the friendship castle, talking to the princess of friendship. This wasn’t going anywhere else.”
Look, I like how you ponies are all about friendship and harmony and all that. It’d bum me out if you colorful little horses, with your big eyes and huge heads, were all as pessimistic as I am.
>“Our heads aren’t that big,” Twilight says.
>“Are they?” Starlight says.
They really are.
>The two ponies curiously look each other over for a moment.
>Then they suddenly stop, their eyes open even bigger for a second, and they both scrunch their muzzles before turning back towards you.
>“Please continue,” Twilight says.
>“Yeah, I want to see where this is going.”
I don’t think Fluttershy and I can be friends. I never showed any interest in her before she started coming on to me, and any interest I show her now would just be leading her on.
>There’s silence on both sides.
>Starlight leans over to Twilight and says:
>“I hate to say this, but I think he might have a point.”
>“No,” Twilight says, “I cannot agree.”
Great diplomacy skills there, princess.
>“I can’t agree because you’ve never had a chance to experience the real Fluttershy for yourself, and until you have we cannot be sure of anything.”
This is ridiculous. You’re actually advocating that I spend time with Fluttershy.
>“Yes, and the sooner the better,” Twilight says. “How about we get her to agree not to harass you so the two of you can spend the day together?”
>Before you can deny her offer she raises her hoof and calmly asks you to think it over.
>After a moment, you say:
Okay, I’ll admit that I am curious enough to want to see Fluttershy’s good side, but she’ll never agree to your stipulations.
>“Well, why don’t we ask her then?”
>You stare at Twilight suspiciously as she grins, looks to the doors of her throne room, and says:
>“You can come out now.”
>With her head bowed and her steps heavy, Fluttershy sulks out from the corner and enters the throne room.
>She stands next to you and, while staring at the floor, says:
>“I’m sorry for eavesdropping, every pony.”
>You wrinkle your brow at Twilight, who’s still grinning.
How did you know she was there?
>“Aren’t you the one who’s always saying that she stalks you?”
>After a look of realization paints your face, you glance down harshly at Fluttershy.
You can apologize to me for that anytime you’re ready now.
>Without looking at you, she flattens her ears and mumbles some nervous phrase.
>You sigh, decide to take what you can get, and say:
Thanks.
>After Twilight asks Fluttershy for her thoughts on what you were discussing earlier, Fluttershy perks up so much that she brushes up against your leg.
>“I think it’s a great idea, and I’m, um, glad that you’re interested in seeing the good side of me.”
Get off before I kick you.
>“Okay . . . oh, right, I’m not supposed to . . .”
>She sighs and regretfully separates contact with you.
>“Well, I hope you’ll spend some time with me today. I have a lot of errands to run, and I’d like it if you came with me, if it’s no trouble.”
>You avoid the pitiful sight of Fluttershy’s begging only to meet Twilight and Starlight’s encouraging hoof waves your way.
>No matter what she might say in front of Twilight, you know that Fluttershy isn’t going to stop harassing you for anything.
>But at least when this is all over you can say to Twilight that you did try to befriend Fluttershy.
>She won’t ever be able to bring that up again.
Fine, Fluttershy, I’ll give us one chance to be friends.
>Fluttershy stares wide-eyed at you for a moment before she jumps up and starts flying in exciting circles all around you.
>With stiff limbs, you watch her while she babbles on.
>“Oh, thank you so much . . . I’ll be the best friend you’ve ever had . . . I’m so happy I could just hug you, but I know you wouldn’t like it, but I want to, but . . .”
>Seeing that Twilight and Starlight are so enjoying the scene before them, you grimace and say:
Just what do you hope that all this will accomplish anyway?
>“I know what I’m hoping for,” Starlight says while raising her eyebrows suggestively.
Equestria might be different from where I come from, but we’re still far from living in the fantasy land that Rarity’s romance novels take place in.
>“We’ll see,” Starlight says.
And what about you, Twilight? You can say that you’re impartial, but that grin of yours will betray you.
>Her bright mood staying, she sighs and shakes her head.
What?
>“Just talk to her.”
I feel like it took us all day just for you to say that.
>You turn and head towards the door with Fluttershy following closely behind you.
>She comes forward and lands by your side.
>She pats your butt with her wing while doing it.
>Before you can turn fully towards her she’s apologizing, followed by more of her nervous mumbling.
>You catch the tail end of her hidden words.
>“. . . You knew I was going to . . .”
>She stares moodily at the ground for a moment.
>As you both come to the front door she becomes aware of your gaze.
>She lifts her chin up, pushes the doors open, and then smiles at you.
>Looking out at the street, feeling her by your side, a vague terror seizes you, like you are conscious of having made a huge mistake.
>But the streets are open.
>You can still run away.
>Fluttershy pats your thigh and looks up at you.
>“Are you ready for our special outing?”
>If you leave now you can still make it.
Sure, I guess so.
>You blew it.
>Now you’re following her into town, listening to her babble on about everything she wants you and her to do together.
>“We just need to pick up some supplies, and then I’ll take you home and make sure everyone eats. I’ll make you my special pancakes.”
>Your stomach growls again, but Fluttershy seems unaware that she’s talking to a hollow shell and continues.
>“. . . And then we’ll eventually fall in love and get married, and we’ll spend every Saturday doing exactly what we’re doing now, and on our way we can tell our foals the story of how we fell in love.”
>Fluttershy stops, her ear twitching and a look of surprise on her face.
>“Oh, I forgot to say, I want two foals, a girl and a little boy.”
>Ponies passing the two of you by on the busy streets are starting to notice that Fluttershy is not just following you again, that this time the two of you are together.
>Your face heats up at their pointing hooves and busy lips, eager to gossip.
>Fluttershy brushes your thigh with her wing.
>“Um, I asked you what do you think their names should be.”
Fluttershy, stop it. We’re just spending the day together to see if we can even get along.
>“I know, but don’t you think it’s nice that we can relax and finally take some time to talk about some of these things?”
What things, two foals that exist only in your warped fantasies?
>“They’re your foals, too.”
They’re not real.
>“Well, not yet, but it would help it if we named them.”
Absolutely not. If you want to talk, then that’s fine. But please talk about normal things.
>Fluttershy sighs.
>“Okay, fine. Is there anything you want to talk about?”
Not particularly.
>The two of you walk in silence.
>Fluttershy hums to herself, then does it again, and keeps doing it until it starts to get on your nerves.
>Finally you’re forced to ask her what she’s thinking about.
>“I was just thinking that I don’t want our foals’ names to be too complicated. Some nice, simple, sensible names will do.”
Hey, I just told you to start talking about normal things.
>“Oh, but if you had let me finish, you’d have seen that I was leading up to asking you something.”
Just ask it then. But if it’s a fetish guess, then keep your voice down.
>Fluttershy scrunches her muzzle.
>“I think that’s the first time I’ve ever been told to keep my voice down.”
You speak softly, but it travels.
>“Well, this isn’t me trying to guess your fetish. Right now I want to know something about you.”
You’re serious?
>She nods and you stare at her for a moment.
>Fluttershy hasn’t been interested in who you are as a person since the two of you first met.
Alright, then ask me. I’m an open book.
>“What are your favorite baby names?”
>A little light that was in your eyes is snuffed out as Fluttershy smiles sheepishly at you.
>“It’s for our foals.”
>You think you hear some far away pony in the street laughing at you.
>“Do you have a name for our babies?”
Sure I do.
>“What is it?”
Faggot.
>“Faggot?”
>Fluttershy pauses on the word and makes a face as though she were tasting it.
>“I see. But what about our little boy?”
Faggot Jr.
>“Faggot and Faggot Jr. Fluttershy,” she says musingly.
>It takes her a moment, but eventually her eyes shrink in her head and she gasps.
>“But that’s the name you call ponies whenever you’re angry with them.”
Fluttershy, I’m hungry. I didn’t get to eat breakfast this morning because some faggot came by and interrupted me. So can we just stop all this bullcrap and get to Barnyard Bargains already so I can eat?
>Fluttershy looks at you oddly.
>You both stop at the end of the street you’re on.
>“Oh, I’m sorry. Did you want to go to Barnyard Bargains?”
You said you had to get supplies.
>“I was headed to the market.”
The Market Street market? But that’s on the other side of town.
>“I know, but I don’t like going to Barnyard Bargains.”
Well, I don’t like the market. Everything there is more expensive, you have to go to a different stand for every little thing, and there are a million different lines because they’re always busy as hell.
>“But I have friends that sell at the market, and I like to support them.”
The market isn’t even on the way back to your cottage like Barnyard Bargains is.
>“It’ll only take a few seconds more.”
No, because a five minute trip to Barnyard Bargains takes twenty-five minutes at the market.
>You turn and start down the street but only take a few steps before noticing that Fluttershy is not following you.
>You glare impatiently at her.
>She regards you calmly, then while wholly meeting your eyes she sits down in the street.
Get up, Fluttershy. We’re not going.
>“No, it’s my shopping and I should get to do it wherever I want. But I would like it very much if you would please come with me.”
>Ponies are watching as she makes you look like a jerk.
>You could continue the fight.
>You could probably just turn around and keep going, since it’s not like she hasn’t already followed you once already today.
>And thanks to her many home invasions, you have had plenty of practice picking her up and carrying her to doors.
>But this girl has just made a really dumb decision based on emotion, and as a guy you already know that you can’t win against something like that.
>Besides, what if you took her to Barnyard Bargains and she ended up changing her opinion?
>You don’t need to chance running into her whenever you go shopping, which would probably be all the time, knowing her.
>Even if you do manage to befriend Fluttershy, it’s not like you’re going to be great friends or anything.
>She would be that one casual acquaintance that you always dread running into whenever you go out because you know them just enough to feel that forced small talk is necessary.
>You don’t want to live in a world where you have to force small talk with a pony that’s just going to keep following you after you find an excuse to break away from her.
>When it comes to that, you’re better off letting the baby have her bottle and getting your ass to the market.
>You trudge back up to Fluttershy, look down at the pouting mare, and say:
Fine, I’m sorry. We can go to the market.
>You remember how Twilight had told you to ‘Just talk to her’.
>But you’re starting to realize that that’s impossible.
>There is no talking to this mare, and you’ve never wanted to go back in time and slap Twilight’s face more than you did right now.
>You’ll have to settle for punishing Fluttershy instead.
>You kick her shoulder when she gets up and tries to hug you.
No hugs.
>“Sorry.”
>The two of you walk down the opposite street in silence until she says:
>“Thank you for agreeing to go to the market with me.”
>Seeing as how you never did agree, you don’t answer her.
>But her happy mood has returned stronger than ever.
>You can see she’s searching her mind for something the two of you can talk about.
>But you’re too ticked with her right now to even think about speaking.
>Nothing she says is going to change that.
>“So besides faggot, what other names—”
Okay, wait, can I ask you something?
>“Oh, um, sure you can. What did you want to ask me?”
>Nothing, really—but you better think of something.
So why don’t you like Barnyard Bargains?
>“Oh, well, it’s just for a few reasons. See, I don’t really know any pony there, although there was this one pony in the garden section of the store, and . . .”
>You tune her out.
>Right away your stomach growls.
>It’s at least a fifteen minute walk to the market, and it’s going to feel like fifty to your tender feet, failing body and weary, sunken eyes.
>And there’s no relief as you get closer to the market, as you join the stoic flock of ponies pushing past one another in the crowded streets, meeting at their hall.
>A brightly-colored crowd moves up and down the length of Market Street in an unending stream, and stands sit on the banks of each side where customers briefly eddy before circling back out into the street.
>You enter where the air is thickest with the crowd’s unceasing murmur, where the gold bits being slammed down pound in your ears.
>You try to focus on anything else—even on Fluttershy.
>“. . . And since both of them got fired for having their affair, none of the flowers smell as sweet anymore, and the bathrooms are never clean anymore.”
What?
>“I was just saying how Barnyard Bargains—”
>You gesture to the congested, convoluted market and say:
Fluttershy, how on earth can you possibly like this mess better than a clean, organized place like Barnyard Bargains?
>Fluttershy, looking at the crowd before you both, folds her ears.
>“Well, it does seem a teeny bit on the busy side this morning. I guess I just like the sense of community that it all has, though.”
>Fluttershy goes to get one of the neck baskets made out of wicker that are stacked in large piles on each corner of the street.
>She walks ten feet and ten different ponies bump into her—with about two of them noticing it at all when Fluttershy says:
>“Oh, um, please excuse me.”
>Either way, each one of them goes on to bump into another pony.
>And so do the two of you as you both make your way into the market.
>Further into the crowd, Fluttershy taps your thigh.
>“Maybe we should link arms so we don’t get separated from each other.”
>You cringe at the idea, something that makes her frown and turn away from you.
>Pony coats may look soft, but after too many inappropriate feels from Fluttershy you’ve found out that they’re actually bristly and slick with oil.
>It feels so weird whenever she touches you that you shudder and break out in goosebumps.
>So you kind of freak out when Fluttershy hovers up and slips her arm around yours.
>You jump away so fast that you nearly trip over some poor mare who had a basket so full that stalks of celery were stuck up into her eyes.
>Fluttershy apologizes to her for you, then tries to hug you for forgiveness.
>From then on you make her march before you so you can keep an eye on her.
>At one point she stops to help a ladybug on the ground and you accidentally bump her raised rump with your crotch.
>Blushing, and with the ladybug on her nose, she looks over her shoulder at you.
>The ladybug detaches from her nose, hovers before her long enough for her to giggle, and then flies over her head and away.
>Fluttershy smiles at you.
What? It was an accident.
>“It’s nothing, except Mrs. Ladybug told me congratulations.”
>Just then the ladybug lands on the tip of your nose, facing you briefly before flying away.
>As you brush your nose flat with your palm, you swear that the lady had winked at you.
>“Oh, did she tell you what she told me?”
I can’t believe it. Even the bugs here are lewd.
>Fluttershy stops to bend over ten more times before you finally reach the flour stand line.
>You’re behind six ponies, and the line is not moving nearly as fast as a line for only one product should be.
>Finally you move up one spot.
>Dressed in orange wool, an old silver mare with white mane and foggy eyes comes up behind you.
>Her sloping basket is full of round, full fruits and vegetables, and the wicker handle presses into the back of her neck, pulling her bony shoulders down.
>Fluttershy steps to the side and says to her:
>“You can go ahead of me, ma’am. It looks like you have a lot.”
>The old mare leans towards Fluttershy, squinting.
>“What’s that?”
>“Um, I said that you can go ahead of me.”
>Like heated oatmeal, her pale face smooths and brightens.
>“Oh, well, bless your heart.”
>The old mare limps her way in front of you.
>You can’t even really be mad at Fluttershy, though.
>That was the oldest old pony ever.
>Even her cutie mark could only belong to someone old: a ball of yarn with two knitting needles stuck in it.
>You’re glad Fluttershy did that.
>But then your stomach growls again and the little pleasure that comes from witnessing Fluttershy’s good deed gets twisted up in your stomach into a little knot of hollow pain.
>You clutch at your stomach.
>That’s when you hear Mrs. Cake’s voice coming from behind you.
>“You need to settle down, Pound Cake. Your leash got wrapped around mommy’s neck, and whenever you try to fly away you end up choking her. Pumpkin, sweetie, we don’t chew on the baskets.”
>Mrs. Cake has a basket full of eggs and sugar, a tired face that looks like smooshed cake, and two unruly kids attached to a blue harness on her torso.
>Fluttershy looks at you.
Absolutely not.
>She looks away.
>“Mrs. Cake, would you like to go ahead of me?”
Goddammit, why even seek my approval if you’re just going to—
>Mrs. Cake runs up and profusely thanks Fluttershy.
>“You have no idea of the rush we’re having at the store this morning, dearies. Why we—Ack!”
>Mrs. Cake’s eyes bulge out as Pound pulls the leash tighter around her neck.
>You step out of line as Fluttershy flies up and begins chasing the toddler around in the air.
>You sit on a nearby bench and wait for Fluttershy to come find you when she’s finished.
>Your morning wood returns but you’re able to sneak it up in your waistband again without anyone seeing.
>Really got to get away from Fluttershy and take care of that sometime soon.
>Eventually Pound, holding a sack of flour in his hooves, flies past you, his mother not far behind and trotting after him.
>“Pound Cake, mommy loves you very much, but if she doesn’t get that flour right now then she’s going to send you away to live with Auntie Fruitcake!”
>Fluttershy must be getting her flour now.
>You look for her place in line and see that she’s waiting behind six ponies.
>No, wait, seven, she just let some stallion with crutches under both his front arms go ahead of her.
>He’s a real wobbly son of a bitch.
>You’re not even sure how he’s going to take the flour home without use of his arms.
>Fluttershy sees you looking and waves at you.
>Then your stomach growls again, more out of vitriol than hunger pangs.
>You march over, the closer you get the more she begins to cower, her ears folding down.
>You loom over her.
No more cutting.
>“Okay.”
>She nervously swallows and you purse your lips.
You know, I can’t trust you to keep our place in line. Move it.
>You step in front of her in line just as the pony at the counter finishes their business, allowing you to move up one space.
>Fluttershy moves up too, shoving her snout securely inside the shriveled cave of your bottom crevice.
>She digs deep, pushing and probing just like a snuffley pig does to holes in the dirt during truffle hunts.
>You arch your back and start swatting at the back of her head.
Get out of there.
>She says something but it’s muffled, though her voice’s vibrations in your cheeks gives you goosebumps.
>You quickly move up with the line and unplug Fluttershy from your backside.
>She has a dopey smile on her face and is inhaling the scent left in her nose so hard that she tilts her head back with every breath.
>You stop short of smacking her when you see that you’ve been joined in line by a few more disgusted-looking ponies.
>At least the line keeps moving, despite the dozens of ponies that are with you.
I wonder why so many ponies need to buy flour this morning anyway.
>Fluttershy’s voice is muffled again and your goosebumps return.
>The little Dutch boy with his finger plugged in the dam has got nothing on Fluttershy’s snout.
>After some time you approach the front of the flour stand.
>The dry-faced old mare at the stand tilts her head up to see you with her milky white eyes and says:
>“Best flour, two bits.”
It’s not for me.
>You try to smile but the mare’s wrinkled eyes are serious.
>Before you can blush you look over your shoulder and yell:
Would you get out of there already.
>No one says anything as Fluttershy appears from behind your legs, not meeting the eyes of anyone.
>But the old mare smiles regardless.
>“Oh Fluttershy, I didn’t see you there. Come on up and let me help you while this guy decides what he wants.”
>“Thank you, but, um, we’re together.”
>“Is this that boyfriend you always talk about whenever I see you?”
>You squint your eyes at Fluttershy, who is trying to sink into the ground and disappear.
>“Oh dear.”
>“I got to admit that I had my doubts, but you certainly are all as tall as she said you were.”
>She gestures for you to come closer, the lines around her eyes crinkling further as she whispers:
>“Some of the most unbelievable things I’ve heard make me wish I was the naughty classroom filly I used to be.”
>You lean away from her and shudder as she wheezes into shrewd, whinnying laughter.
>Fluttershy is hiding her face behind her wings but you can see between the feathers that she’s heated from top to bottom.
>Her obvious suffering is the only reason you decide not to leave her right then.
>But you do wish to set the record straight.
Ma’am—
>“Call me Dusty,” the old mare says.
Ma’am, Fluttershy and I aren’t together.
>“Um, he’s right,” Fluttershy says while pulling back her wings. “We’re just good friends . . .”
>She mumbles again, which you hear as:
>“. . . For now anyway. . . .”
>When you ask her to repeat that last part she whimpers, lays two bits on the counter and says:
>“I said that I wanted one sack of flour, please.”
>The old mare looks at you both and presses her lips together hard.
>“Just friends, eh?”
>She keeps talking while taking Fluttershy’s bits and getting your flour.
>“I don’t see why you young people these days like to keep things so casual. In my day I had three boyfriends that would all fight with each other for the first date when I reached my estrus cycle.”
>Listening to this old slut has officially become more embarrassing than having Fluttershy’s nose in your butt.
>Unfortunately she stops short of giving Fluttershy the flour and says:
>“So are you making your pancakes this morning then?”
>Fluttershy nods and says it’s for you and her.
>The old mare smiles.
>“Just thinking of them is making me thirsty. Celestia only knows why your cutie mark wasn’t one of them soft golden cakes rather than those pink moths.”
>The faint presence of Fluttershy’s pancakes sets your stomach into an empty roaring frenzy.
>When both mares look at you strangely you step out of line.
>From behind you can still hear the old mare talking to Fluttershy.
>“Little tip, dear, make sure you feed him something before you let his tongue loose on your soft golden cakes.”
>Soon Fluttershy silently shuffles up next to your legs.
>She weakly kicks at the dirt with her front hoof.
>She sighs, and without looking at her you say:
That was worse than any of your fetish guesses.
>“I know.”
I will never forgive you for what just happened back there.
>“Me too.”
And we shall never speak of it again?
>“Yes, please.”
>You accompany Fluttershy as she buys the rest of her supplies uneventfully, save for one incident at the cucumber stand in which she needed the Heimlich maneuver.
>At the end her basket is full of vegetables like cucumbers, turnips, cabbages, cherry tomatoes, smooth carrots, and green grapes still on the vine.
>She leaves the diary stand last and walks away with four eggs, a stick of butter and a glass bottle of milk.
>“Now I have everything we need for our pancakes later.”
What about sugar?
>“That’s back at the cottage. I even have powdered sugar that we can put on them while we eat.”
What about syrup?
>Fluttershy raises one eyebrow your way.
>“What kind of syrup?”
You’re kidding, right? Maple syrup.
>Fluttershy recoils.
>“You put maple syrup on pancakes?”
Of course I do. Everyone does.
>“No, don’t think so. At least I haven’t heard of that until now.”
>There’s silence.
You’re messing with me, right?
>“Why would you put maple syrup on pancakes?”
Everyone does. It makes them taste better.
>“But wouldn’t the cakes get soggy? And besides that, I don’t like it when you eat syrup and it sticks around your muzzle.”
You need syrup, though. Pancakes don’t taste good without something on them.
>“Well, why syrup? What about fruit, whipped cream, jelly, chocolate chips or powdered sugar?”
Only people with diabetes would eat pancakes that way.
>“That’s how most ponies eat their pancakes, though.”
You don’t know anyone who puts syrup on their pancakes.
>“Well, Pinkie Pie does sometimes.”
That’s it? The girl who once tried to make chili cheese chipotle cupcakes a thing is the only pony you know who puts syrup on pancakes?
>Fluttershy shrugs and smiles awkwardly.
>You go to the syrup stand and find a tan stallion with blond wavy mane and a red leaf cutie mark.
>He has no customers and is shouting to the crowd:
>“Come and get your rich and sweet syrup and molasses here! Tastes great on golden hay crisps, oats, pastries, dried wheat grass, fruit slices, rose petals, toasted cinnamon bread, fried dough balls, crispy rice squares, salty peanuts, chocolate wafer sticks, and all your favorite kinds of snacks!”
>As you lay you two bits before the stallion and take your jar of syrup, you ask him if he likes pancakes.
>“Never actually tried them.”
>Later you go buy a red apple from Granny Smith’s stand.
>“Howdy. You here to buy an apple? Want me to let you in on a little secret? Take your apple and dip in that jar of syrup you got there before you eat it. Heavens to Betsey, there ain’t nothing better.”
>On the way to Fluttershy’s cottage you stop short of biting into your apple when you see a squishy brown spot near the bottom.
>You must not have noticed it in your hungry haste.
>You decide to wipe the spot with your shirt.
Fluttershy, hold my syrup for a second.
>“I’m sorry, but I’d rather not.”
What? Just put it in your basket for a second.
>“Oh, but what if the syrup taste gets on my supplies?”
Forget it. I just wanted to wipe this spot on my apple.
>“I can wipe your apple for you.”
I said to forget it.
>“I’m sorry. . . .”
>As usual you hear her mumble:
>“. . . But I’d like to try some of your syrup . . .”
What was that?
>“Oh, um, I was just wondering how you liked the market.”
It was even more of an ordeal than I imagined.
>“You mean nothing changed your mind?”
Everything we did at that market took an exceedingly long time. Like, every little thing has to be dragged out as long as it possibly can be. Buying groceries should not be as big a deal as all that was.
>“I thought it was nice.”
>You ignore her and rub the apple on your shirt.
>Then you bite into the crisp sweet fruit, savoring its juices, filling your being with relief.
>Fluttershy sidles up closer to you.
>“I especially liked that we got to spend some time together. I didn’t know you liked syrup so much until today.”
Yeah, we can really build the lives that the nasty flour mare already thinks we have together on that.
>“You’re just grumpy because you’re hungry, mister. But we can eat after you’ve met all my critter friends back at the cottage.”
You’re just lucky none of the animals you keep are the tasty ones.
>“I know you’ll be kind. I’ve told them so much about you since we first met that they’ve all just been dying to meet you ever since.”
Don’t say meat. You’re tempting me.
>“After some of the things I’ve said, they’ll probably make sure that you’re in a good mood before any of them get too close.”
In that case, they sound a lot smarter than you.
>“And after we feed them, then I can make you my special pancakes.”
No need for special, rapey anythings from you. I don’t trust that word whenever it comes from you anymore. Just regular pancakes will be fine.”
>“Of course.”
With syrup.
>Fluttershy emits a horse-like grunt of displeasure.
>“If you say so.”
>You go to take another bite of your apple, but then you feel something soft and fleshy poke your lip.
>Inside the bitten-off part of the apple is a fat squirming earthworm, its exposed half a bloody nub aimed at your gnashing teeth.
>You stop and stare at the blind slimy creature’s string body groping and coiling around itself.
>Your tongue turns green and that back of your throat splashes with bitter acid.
>Fluttershy shrieks.
>“You decapitated that poor little earthworm!”
>She flies up, pulls the apple out from your hand, then turns her back to you.
>“Are you okay, little guy? Hello?”
>She sticks her snout in the apple and speaks softly:
>“It’s okay. You can come out now, but you should know better than to rest in strange apples like that.”
>You feel awkward just being silent, so you say:
Fluttershy, I didn’t mean to kill the earthworm. . . .
>She turns on you fiercely.
>“You didn’t kill him, thank Celestia. But you killed a part of him.”
>She flies up to you and holds the bitten side of the apple to your face.
>“Now I want the both of you to apologize to each other right now. I want to hear it, and I want you to mean it.”
Uh, Fluttershy, the worm is gone.
>“What do you mean he—Oh my goodness! He fell out!”
>Fluttershy drops your apple, descends to the ground, presses her face into the dirt and pushes herself along with her hind legs, raising dust and brown clay that settles on her face and chest and mane.
>“Don’t just stand there. Help me find him.”
>You pick up your apple, its skin settled with dirt and chipped with flecks of ground, and you feel your stomach growl.
>Fluttershy eventually finds and buries the earthworm with your apple.
>From then on the walk is silent, save for a flat comment she makes on the murky grey clouds covering the sky.
>She lets you alone to feed the animals outside her cottage but you see her watching you from the window and whenever you catch her staring she does not try to hide herself or even flinch, even when you give her a hard look.
>This is why you were wary when she said that the bear was going to be helping you feed her outside animals, including himself.
>Harry the bear comes up to your neck when he’s on all fours, and he can slap your head off of your neck if he’s standing and in a playful mood.
>On the way to her feed shed you try to stay more than a few steps away from him but the hungry bastard heels you every time.
>All you’re holding for protection is a tiny serrated kitchen knife Fluttershy gave you for opening the feed bags.
>You figure the knife could be useful as a toothpick for Harry after he’s finished disemboweling and eating you.
>It’s only when he starts filling the carts with twelve-pound bags of dog food-smelling feed that you ease up around him, mostly because the dry dusty feed smell is bad enough to make you forget that Harry would love to have you as an appetizer.
>After smelling the musty brown pellets and green kibbles he eats every day you no longer blame him for any secret murderous intentions he may have had against you.
>You would rather eat you than this awful stuff, which might have been why the larger animals all would crowd around you when you went inside their corrals to fill their stomachs.
>For over an hour your face is constantly being pressed and rubbed against fur, feathers, dander, dust, and slobber.
>Soon all the skin on your face and arms turns red and itchy, your eyes start watering and burning, your throat feels scratchy and your nose is stuffy.
>Through red squinty eyes you trudge back to the kitchen to meet Fluttershy.
>She’s humming a happy tune and wearing a frilly pink apron.
>She pours creamy batter onto a griddle and then, with her mouth, turns over two golden cakes.
>With an itchy voice, you call her.
>She turns around and smiles at you.
>“Well, you sure look like you worked up an appetite.”
>You croak out that a glass of water would be nice before you go into a coughing fit.
>“Goodness! I must’ve worked you harder than I thought. I’ve never seen you so exerted before. Sit down.”
>After drinking some water you feel your throat clearing a bit.
>Fluttershy starts stacking nearly a dozen pancakes on a plate next to the griddle.
>“After I saw how well you were working with my animals, I thought I would hurry and make my special pancakes so that you could have them right away after you were finished.”
>Your hands start itching, especially your beat-red palms.
>Have you ever had to scratch your palms to a red raw tender mess before?
>It’s the worst.
>“I just liked so much to see how they all gathered around you while you fed them. You really had their attention. They must really like you.”
>You sniffle.
I’m not so sure I should feed the animals anymore.
>Fluttershy flies over and pats your shoulder.
>“There, there. I know today must have seemed hard, it being your first time, but I’m sure that you’ll get the hang of it if you keep trying.”
>You turn and stare at her smiling face for a moment before sniffling very loudly.
>Fluttershy’s eyes go wide for a moment.
>“Oh, goodness, the last cakes must be ready by now. I hope they aren’t burned.”
>You can’t smell if they are or not.
>As Fluttershy flips the last cakes onto the stack, Angel bunny hops into the kitchen and jumps up on the table.
>He frowns and folds his arm when he sees his plastic bowl is empty.
>Then when he sees you staring at him, he sticks out his tongue at you.
>You would drown him in a pot of boiling water right now if you weren’t sure that touching him would make your throat close again.
>He picks up his bowl and throws it at Fluttershy’s head.
>The surface of the bowl hits her below the ear, thudding against the side of her skull, before it flips over onto the top of her head, covering her eyes like an oversized helmet.
>Fluttershy sighs, takes the bowl off and, rubbing the sore spot on her head, turns towards Angel.
>“Is it time already for your second breakfast, Angel?”
>He nods firmly and hops over to her as she picks up the basket full of vegetables she got at the market.
>You watch as she cuts the vegetables up and layers them in meticulous order into the bowl.
>She uses every vegetable that you both waited forever for at the market all for this one jerk’s salad.
>Soon Angel has a salad almost as big as himself, all for himself.
>He sits at the table and Fluttershy serves him while holding an ice cube against the red spot where his bowl hit her.
>She even ties a little yellow bib around his neck.
>He then waves her away and smiles smugly at you before he starts eating.
>It doesn’t make sense to you how Fluttershy has tons of animals that love her unconditionally but she chooses the one that treats her like dirt to be her pet.
>She must secretly enjoy the abuse a bit.
>It would explain a lot about her.
>Watching Angel eat makes your stomach growl again.
>Fluttershy hears this and giggles.
>“Oh, I think someone is ready for my special pancakes.”
>Special or not, you don’t care anymore.
>Your stomach is starting to cramp up from hunger, and you feel weak and emptyheaded.
>Fluttershy brings the pancakes to the table and serves you a plate of three.
>You can’t smell them but the steam that rises up from their golden buttery surface warms the tip of your nose.
>Fluttershy covers the table with a spread of condiments, including powdered sugar, strawberry jam, butter, whipped cream and an assortment of brightly-colored fruits.
Where’s the syrup?
>Fluttershy stops peppering her own pancakes with blueberries and scrunches her muzzle.
>“Right . . . I’ll get it.”
>She opens the cabinet under her sink and pulls out your jar of syrup.
Under the sink? Really, Fluttershy?
>“I didn’t want it to touch anything in the pantry.”
>She holds it out at arm’s length as though it’s toxic as she flies it over to you.
>You snatch it out of her hooves and she goes and sits back down.
>You then cut out a hole in the center of your pancakes and fill it with syrup.
>Fluttershy cringes.
>“What are you doing?”
Oh my God! What is your problem now?
>“It’s nothing—just, I’ve never seen any pony eat their pancakes that way.”
There’s nothing wrong with this. It ensures that the cakes soak in the syrup.
>“Oh, okay . . .”
>While she reaches for a strawberry, she mumbles:
>“. . . But why in Equestria would you want that . . . ?”
You got a problem with what I’m doing?
>“Eep! Um, no. It’s just not all that normal, is all.”
>She rolls her strawberry along a stick of butter until its completely coated yellow, then eats it in one bite with a satisfied smile on her face.
>You stare blankly.
You like that?
>“Oh, yes. It’s very creamy.”
>Then she folds her ears.
>“Now I wish that I had bought some cream cheese to put on our pancakes.”
Yeah, or cheese whiz.
>“No, cheese whiz is too fattening for me.”
I was kidding.
>“I know,” she says with a smile.
>You smile back and the two of you share a brief laugh.
>Then you finally cut out a syrup-soaked morsel of her golden buttery warm pancakes, lift it eagerly to your mouth and savor the sweet taste.
>You chew: stop, your eyes wandering.
>She is watching.
>You chew slower, your mouth open slightly.
>Your tongue rights itself by running up along the roof of your mouth now and then.
>You swallow with puckered lips.
>She leans forward in her chair.
>“How are they?”
They’re good.
>You don’t immediately go for another bite.
>You fold one of your arms before your plate.
>She notices.
>“Is something wrong?”
No, nothing.
>Your stomach growls as you sit motionless.
>She folds her ears.
You think I could have some of that fruit?
>“You don’t like them, do you?”
I said they were good.
>“Then have some more.”
I will. I just want some fruit first.
>“No pony has ever wanted anything else after tasting my pancakes for the first time.”
They’re just really sweet and I’m having trouble eating them on an empty stomach. Give me some fruit.
>Fluttershy sits still.
>Angel takes one look at her before grabbing his bowl and hopping out of the room.
>You stare at Fluttershy.
Fluttershy, give me some fruit.
>“I want to know what you really think of my pancakes first.”
I already told you.
>“You were holding back. I could see it in your face. No pony has ever looked like that when they tasted my pancakes.”
>You rise from your chair and reach for the fruit.
>Fluttershy grabs the bowl and tosses it out the window.
>You look with shock from the open window to her firm face.
What the hell did you do that for?
>“Tell me what you really think of my pancakes.”
I just wanted some fruit to fill my stomach.
>“Why can’t you fill your stomach with my pancakes?”
>She folds her arms and looks at you expectantly.
>Your teeth clench together as your entire body trembles with red rage.
Because your pancakes suck! They’re so bad that I can’t even eat them on an empty stomach. Are you happy now?
>“And just what’s so wrong with my pancakes?”
They taste like sand that’s been sitting in a congealed pit of cold grease that hasn’t been cleaned in years.
>“How do you know it’s my pancakes? How do you know it’s not your syrup?”
They’d still taste like sand even without syrup.
>Fluttershy pouts and turns her head away from yours.
>“Well, most ponies like my pancakes.”
I don’t care. That doesn’t make me wrong and you right.
>She mumbles something again, but this time you scream at her:
Just say it to my face!
>“I said that maybe we should go around town and ask them then.”
I am not the problem here. It’s you. You’ve always been the problem, not me. I don’t care how many ponies would say otherwise.
>“Well, at least I try.”
I’ve always known that there’s no reason to try. We tried to be friends today and all it did was blow up in my face.
>“No, not everything we did together was bad. Why do you always have to focus on the negatives?”
Because that’s all that’s really between us. Our whole relationship is built on us hating each other.
>“And you don’t want to change that?”
No, I don’t. But you do.
>“That’s not a bad thing.”
But it is. The only reason we’re still in this mess after so long is because you keep trying.
>“And I’m proud that I do. Even though you never want to recognize my kindness, accept my apologies, or even give me a chance I’m still proud that I keep my flame alive for you during our hard times.”
That’s ridiculous. You’re saying that you feel a sense of pride in harassing me.
>“Because there’s something between us, even if you don’t want to admit it. I mean, you keep rejecting me, and it always hurts, but something in me compels me to keep on trying anyway, just the same as something in you compels you to keep hating me. We’re being pulled together in a chain that cannot be broken, and that can only be made by something stronger than love and hate. It’s almost like there’s something in that hate that’s also love just as there’s something in love that must be hate. And who can say what that’s called when both of those somethings exist in and out of each other like they do with us.”
>You look in her determined eyes, a small flame fluttering on her cheek.
>You push your chair out.
This is insane. You’re an insane person who makes shitty pancakes, and I’m not going to listen to you anymore.
>You walk to the front door.
>The immense rumbling of the heavens and earth rattle the boards inside the walls.
>Heavy charged rain falls on dripping leaves and splatters down onto wet sodden earth.
>Out the window you follow the descent of grey silvery streaks until they splash upward and out into little beads that settle on the green grass of the valleys surrounding Fluttershy’s cottage, on Ponyville’s matted-down thatched roofs, on the rushing streams that are flowing out from your metal gutters at home and collecting in bubbly pools on your soaked lawn.
>As you look out at this rain, Fluttershy brings you her rainbow umbrella hat—and you cringe.
Goddammit. Is this a cocktail umbrella? It’s too small.
>Despite enormous pony heads, the umbrella hat barely covers your shoulder.
>You toss it on the ground before Fluttershy, which elicits a hard stare from her.
>“Well, I’m sorry, but I don’t have anything else.”
Of course you don’t. Heck, you probably planned for this storm with Rainbow Dash or something.
>She frowns as you go sit down on her living room couch.
>“I didn’t plan this storm.”
Whatever. I’d need a tarp to get through that downpour anyway.
>“Why is nothing I do ever good enough for you?”
Can we not start this while I’m stuck here with you?
>She stomps over to the chair across from yours and, making sure that you see her displeased face, sits down.
>“Fine then. What should we do to pass the time?”
>The question hangs up in the air during the moments of silence that follow.
>From outside you can hear the rain and thunder still pouring and rumbling.
>You both avoid eye contact, and when you do both catch a glimpse of each other an urge to apologize is felt but stifled.
>Your stomach has stopped growling and you feel unnaturally full, as though your body has finished feasting on itself.
>It’s an uneasy relief, just like the silence: you know that neither will last.
>Then she perks up with a wobbly smile and says:
>“Well, um, since you’re here, maybe I could do some more fetish guesses for you.”
>You get out of it by asking to use the bathroom.
>Despite your objections, she directs you to the one upstairs in her room.
>You only go because it seems like she’ll break out in costume any minute.
>There isn’t a hair out of place in her bathroom and even her toilet, with its wood seat and soft pink cotton slipcover on the lid, is spotless.
>Escape is on your mind ever since Fluttershy became her old always-horny self again.
>You don’t think you can stand being trapped in the same room with her, put under pressure by those naïve lustful eyes.
>But the damn window above her shower is too small for you to fit through.
>You could just damn the rain and walk out the front door, return home in soupy shoes and matted-down hair.
>She might follow you in that silly umbrella hat of hers.
>You wouldn’t be surprised if she got that thing from Pinkie.
>Fluttershy could be outside the door and listening to you right now.
>You sit on the floor with your back against her tub and think of how to get away.
>But your mind is blank, and there’s a tingling in the pit of your stomach and a stirring in your loins.
>Your hard bulge sticks up underneath your underwear.
>Your morning wood has returned too tingly and driven and full of proud blood to be turned down.
>It throbs with every tender heartbeat in a faint call driving you to revel in the rough joys of manhood.
>You have to go home and take care of this, rain be damned.
>You rise up, tuck your boner in your waistband, tighten your robe and exit the bathroom.
>You halt just outside the door.
>Fluttershy’s room is now warm and lighted by tiny glowing candles.
>Fluttershy lies on her side on the bed, watching you.
>A light pink corset wraps itself tightly around her chest and, above her stockinged legs, her plump thighs are squeezed by pink chaps.
>She hops off the bed and approaches you.
>“Is femdom your fetish, slave?”
>You would like to lay into her proper but your boner demands that time.
No, and pink isn’t a very dominant color.
>She stomps her hoof but fails to meet your eye when she says:
>“Who said you could talk, slave? Don’t make your mistress go and get her whip.”
Yes, please go. Move it.
>You step past her but she wraps her arms around your waist.
>“Where do you think you’re going, slave? You haven’t pleased your mistress yet.”
>She starts rubbing your stomach, and her hooves miss feeling your boner by a hair.
>If she were to feel that thick throbbing monster then it would be all over for you.
>You pry her arms off but feel something tug at your robe, bringing it down past your shoulders.
>Fluttershy has a leash with one end attached to the front of her corset and the other hooked around your robe’s belt loop.
>You press down on the latch but it doesn’t budge and you can see there’s a small keyhole next to it.
>Fluttershy eyes you shrewdly.
>“You should listen next time when your mistress tells you there’s a special connection between you—”
>You throw the robe over Fluttershy’s head and then bound towards the door.
>There are three different padlocks on it.
>There’s no way out.
>Fluttershy’s arms wrap around your groin this time and she gasps at the surprise that fills up her hooves.
>She runs her hooves up and down the length of your shaft.
>“Oh, what’s this?”
>You pry her off and turn fiercely on her.
>But she just smiles.
>“You’re turned on right now, aren’t you?”
Fluttershy, give me the keys.
>“Did you get hard for your mistress?”
Give me the keys.
>“It must’ve been for me. After all, it’s just been you and me together this whole time.”
>Fluttershy runs a hoof through her mane and watches you with sly eyes.
>You ignore her and start searching her room for the key.
>Fluttershy sits and watches as you upend her room, pull out drawers, flip over chairs and dressers, empty her closet, strip her bed.
>You find all sorts of horrible things, like toys, dildos, stained costumes from past fetish guesses, and even lewd drawings featuring you and her.
>But even after turning her room into a disheveled mess, you have no key.
>With a red panting face you turn to Fluttershy, who is still sitting and watching you with a calm smile.
>The keys must be hidden on her, behind the corset and pressed against the skin inside her chaps.
>Her eyes widen as you stride over towards her.
>Your raging boner sticks halfway out your waistband but you don’t care anymore.
>You pick her up by her sides and glare into her eyes, which are confident and unblinking for the first time.
>This is what she wants, the attention she’s always wanted from you.
>You can tell easily as she tickles your sore boner with the soft hairs of her swishing tail.
You have the keys.
>“I might.”
Give them to me.
>She exhales out her nose slowly, her hot breath tickling your firm lips as her eyes drink you down then back up.
What do you want?
>“I only want you to do what I say, slave.”
>She bites her lips and starts grinding her hips against you, her tail flicking and brushing against the underside of your exposed shaft.
>You start to tremble all over from her touch.
>Despite how she feels, your body craves to expose both yourself and her to every bare inch of pleasure you can find.
>You bow your head as she moans so that she cannot read the shame in your eyes.
>“Take us to bed, slave.”
>As you take her to her bare, torn up bed you hold her close, and she starts kissing the pit of your chest.
>The heat of the room and of her body causes you to sweat down along the sides of your face and below your neck.
>She starts giving your neck slow licks and playfully teasing the skin with the tip of her teeth.
>You stop at the side of her bed. Fluttershy wraps her arms around your neck and starts licking and sucking on your face.
>Her eyes are closed and her loose mouth hangs open in a state of ecstasy.
>The heavy rise and fall of her beating chest against yours drives her into frenzy.
>She barely takes time to breathe as she goes in again and again to rub her cheeks against yours, lick up along the side of your face, and press her quivering lips all over your hot wet skin.
>When she finally does face you she’s panting and her lewd drooling tongue is hanging out shamelessly down along her chin.
>You watch curiously as she sucks her spit and, her upturned eyes meeting yours, blushes.
>“You just do whatever I say, slave. We’ll both feel good, okay?”
>Before you can answer she bows your head and presses her eager wanting lips against yours.
>She opens your lips with her moans and you feel her tongue gently tap against yours.
>You chance a look at her closed eyes and note the lines of anxiety tightening around her brow.
>Her tongue keeps tapping, asking for your acceptance as the spittle collects between your lips.
>Seems that even though all this master talk is clearly Fluttershy’s fetish, she’s not actually all that controlling when it comes down to what’s real.
>You grab the back of her head, press harder against her, and slide your sloppy tongue into her mouth.
>Her eyes open and she tenses up, but as your tingly wet tongues push and play against each other her eyes go half-lidded and she swoons into your arms.
>When you both part, gasping for breath, it’s her that is quick to push her open lips against yours again, to feel your tongues at play.
>Your cock is completely above your waistband now and you have been grinding against her plush flanks.
>You’re going to fuck Fluttershy.
>It doesn’t matter that you’re going to fuck her selfishly, or that she might technically be winning still even if you do.
>What matters is that if you don’t fuck Fluttershy right now you’re going to lose your mind.
>She squeals in both surprise and delight when you throw her onto the bed.
>You slide your underwear off and, while beating yourself off, go to take your first look at that sweet sex of hers.
>Except she’s wearing a chastity belt.
>It’s a pink pair of thin underwear that has formed over her privates like a second skin.
>You can still rub her reddening lips and see her wet winking clit, but you can’t get at them.
>Fluttershy wears a sorry expression and says:
>“They only come off when I make them.”
So take them off.
>“Well, um, I was hoping you could do some things for me first. After all, you are trapped in here with me . . . slave.”
>With a stern expression you look up at her apologetic face from between her legs.
>It’s so typical of her to make what should be something simple so difficult to do.
>Thunder rumbles outside as the numerous soaking raindrops sink into the softening earth.
>You force a smile as an idea comes to you, and you start running your hands along her shaking thighs.
Sure, I’ll take care of you. What is it you want?
>Her eyes light up.
>“Really, you’ll bend to my every whim, just like a good little slave?”
>God, she’s bad at this.
>You nod anyway.
>She blushes and looks off to the side.
>“Do you think we could, um, kiss some more?”
If you want to kiss, then I can do that.
>You lie down in bed next to her, with her head coming to your waist and your feet dangling off the edge.
>Then, as she’s turning over to crawl up to you, you lift one leg over her so that she comes face to face with your hard cock.
>Her muzzle bumps into the base and her eyes cross and follow the length up to the tip, which stands proudly over her forehead.
>She shuts her eyes as you rub your shaft across her face.
Kiss it.
>“But . . .”
>She backs up and you press the tip down until it presses against her lips.
Give it a little kiss. Don’t you want to?
>Despite herself, she puckers her lips and presses them against the underside of your tip.
>You press harder.
>Her lips part and she swirls her lips around your head.
>You grab her front legs and bring them up onto your waist, but you grab her forehead with your palm when she tries to come up further.
>With your other hand you press down on the back of her head until her cheek distends and bulges with the length of your cock.
>Her cheeks stuffed and drooling down the length of your shaft, she looks up at you for a moment.
>But there’s no way you’re going to give her what she wants.
>That’s how you got into this mess in the first place.
>You push her down further.
>She yields to your hand and slowly takes your cock down to the base, filling her throat.
>You throw your head back and hold her there.
>Once her face turns completely red you let her come up, gasping for breath and coughing up spit.
>After she wipes her mouth you cup her cheeks and ease her back down to your twitching length.
>Once her lips meet your head she takes the initiative and goes down your cock.
>She gives terrible head.
>All she does is run her lips up and down your cock with barely any suction or tongue play at all.
>She also keeps coming up, detaching her lips before you can feel anything.
>You grimace at her best effort as she takes you down to the base and nuzzles your waist.
>But this time when she tries to come up you grab the mane on the back of her neck.
>She looks up at you with surprised eyes.
>You can’t hold back anymore.
You suck at giving head.
>With one strong push her head bobs down into your crotch as she’s forced to take your entire cock deep in her sore mouth.
>Her throat bulges and wraps itself tightly around the tip of your length.
>You shudder in delight.
>Fluttershy pushes against your hand but soon realizes that you won’t let her up, that she’s stuck at your base.
>She relaxes her head as best she can, burying her heavy flaring nostrils against your waist.
>It’s only when her moans stop, her face blazes red and her eyes start turning up that you realize she can’t breathe.
>You ease her up a few inches off your base, just enough to free her throat.
>She closes her eyes and takes one deep breath through her nose.
>Her eyes shoot wide open when you force her back down and hear her stifled gags.
After all this time of having you pester me, I finally decide to have sex with you—and you aren’t even any good at it.
>You start easing her up and down with your hand until she learns.
>Her head gently bobs on your cock and she stays down low enough so that your tip pushes itself down her tight little throat each time.
I’m not even really into throat fucking. But it turns out that you’re so incompetent at everything that I’ve got to throat fuck you just to keep my cock hard.
>She keeps one arm pressed down on your leg for support while she slips the other down between her legs.
>She starts mashing her twat hard with her hoof.
>You can feel her hips buck and twist between your legs and hear her blocked cries of pleasure every time the frog of her hoof circles around her winking clit.
>Hearing her cries only drives you to throat fuck you harder.
>During one extra-long suck, her lips wrapped tightly around your base and pulling up on you, she looks up at you through teary eyes.
>Breathing heavily and pulling her up off of your length until her lips pop off your head, her gasping for breath, you say:
But that’s just how it always is with you. Your bad behavior forces us both into a world of extremes.
>Spittle and pre-cum stick to her lips but she licks them clean with her fat tongue, savoring the taste.
>Your eyes meet, both of your chests heaving, and she reads the intent in your gaze and in the throbbing sexual energy that you’re sharing in it.
>She jumps off the bed, trots over to your robe and starts searching one of your pockets until she pulls a yellow key out from them.
>You wrinkle your brow as you remember wrecking her room looking for those moments ago.
>She must have slipped the keys in your pocket when she grabbed you.
>You’ll make her pay for that cleverness.
>After all, you’re just getting started.
>The key glows and her wet panties slide down around her bottom hooves.
>She flies over and lands on top of you, pressing her chest against yours and nuzzling your neck with her spit-wet muzzle.
>You pull her up by her mane, which makes her yelp.
>She looks confused until your other hand cups her naughty bare bum.
>You can feel the heat from her damp sex radiating between your fingers.
>You start rubbing your tip along the bottom of her dock.
>Fluttershy shivers, then pouts.
>“Can’t we cuddle a little bit?”
No, I don’t think you can afford to, drippy.
>You run your fingers along her wet lips as you say this, which stops whatever she was to say next and instead makes her breath hitch.
>She blushes and hides behind her mane, embarrassed.
>You shake your head.
You know, I’m not usually so mean to others as I am to you.
>You ease her off of you and onto her back.
>You get up, go to the foot of the bed, and then pull her by her back hooves down along towards your waist.
>You start running the blushing head of your cock against her splayed nethers.
>Her thighs twitching and sweaty, Fluttershy looks down the length of her body and eagerly watches for your plunge.
>You watch her stomach tighten as you push the tip in, then let it sit for a moment before taking it out.
>Fluttershy frowns at your teasing, which you acknowledge.
I am mean to you, I know. But I guess it’s just your influence that brings it out in me.
>In one fluid motion you slide your cock into her aching wet pussy up to the hilt.
>You and Fluttershy both cry out and arch your backs.
>You pull back and forth, getting your rhythm going as you slide in and out of her contracting walls.
>Hearing your grunts, Fluttershy moans and whinnies and lets herself loose louder than you ever heard her do before.
>With her body being pushed along the bed, she cries out in a shaky voice:
>“Oh . . . my . . . gosh! . . . Yes! . . . Rut . . . me . . . good . . . and dirty . . . slave!”
>Her eyes are closed but her mouth is open and smiling.
>Something about her enthusiasm both drives you to fuck harder and annoys you enough to say:
And you’re not supposed to be this sex-crazed pervert I’ve come to know, but I guess that’s what I bring to you.
>You slide your glistening wet cock out of her slimy empty hole, making Fluttershy whine with need.
>You flip her onto her side and lay alongside her, her trembling wings against your stomach and your chin dipping into her tickling mane.
>You lift her leg and fuck her sideways, feeling not only the rub of her insides but also the rub of her soft warm body against your own.
>You share in each other’s rhythmic vibrations, both of you breathing and falling together, entangling into one another the way the soft straight hairs of her tail entangle with your short curly pubes.
>It seems only natural to both of you when you feel the urge to continue speaking.
Because if it wasn’t for this weird attraction we have, I wouldn’t have anything to do with you.
>Her shameless tongue slips out from her gasping mouth as you fuck her.
The truth is that you drive me absolutely fucking crazy regardless of whether you’re trying to bother me or not.
>You can hear the slap of your skin as your thighs beat against her giggling flanks.
I hate how you act nice around me even though I intentionally treat you like dirt.
>Her walls start softly squeezing themselves around your driving cock.
I hate how you’ve got everyone on your side just because you make it seem like you want more than just a good dirty fucking.
>She moans and arches her neck, pushing the back of her head into the pit of your chest.
I hate how clingy you are despite the fact that I keep telling you not to touch me.
>You can feel the pressure of your orgasm building at the base of your cock.
I hate how you always make every conversation I even attempt to have with you end up being creepy.
>With each thrust you can feel your cock pushing further inside her with the need to fill her lovely drooling pussy with your cum.
I hate how you only show your assertive side for stupid things, like picking where we go to buy supplies.
>As though through her sensitive walls can feel the changes coming over your twitching cock, she raises her tail as high as it can go. 
I hate how content you seem to be in wasting my time. Don’t you have a life of your own you feel you’re neglecting through all this shit?
>Fluttershy screams in ecstasy and bites her lip.
>“Ponyfeathers! I can’t take it anymore! Cum inside me!”
>The last of your pre-cum was dribbling out into her needy pussy.
>You wanted to spurt everything inside her right then. But you can’t speed up, slow down, or even stop your momentum.
>She’s just going to have to take it as it comes, as you keep dishing it out.
I hate how you can’t see the hypocrisy in you thinking that something as common as putting syrup on pancakes is weird.
>But you were really close now.
I fucking hate how you threw my apple in the dirt. I was eating that apple, you fucking bitch!
>You could feel all her muscles tightening as her slick warm walls caressed your trembling length one final time.
I hate your stupid feed bags, your filthy animals, and your shitty fucking pancakes that everyone seems to cum in their pants for.
>On your final thrust, Fluttershy pushes her pussy down onto your length just to make extra sure you’re hilted as you release everything into her.
I hate how attracted we are to each other even though we’re a terrible match.
>With a gasp you grab her hoof and squeeze it as you feel your cum shooting up through your cock.
And most of all, I fucking hate how much I love doing this with you right now, even though you’re the fucking worst pony I have ever had the displeasure of—Oh Fuck!
>Your hot sticky load spurts itself up inside her. Her tender squeezing walls shudder in delight with the creamy touch of your seed.
>It coats her insides as the last fluid seed dribbles down the narrow crevices between your still-hilted cock and her sweet leaky pussy, now tightening back up and hugging your eased length.
>You can hear the thunder and rain outside.
>You hold Fluttershy close to your chest, both of you panting and exerted.
>She looks over her shoulder at you.
>“You know, to tell the truth, I’m not really so, um, fond of you myself.”
>You laugh breathlessly.
I hate how timid you are.
>“So do I sometimes.”
>You both smile and ease up against each other.

>You squeeze Fluttershy closer to your chest.
>She giggles and settles further into your lap.
>Twilight stares at you both.
>With her long expression and bulging eyes, her face has never looked as horsey as it has now.
>“You what?”
We spent the day getting to know each other like you said.
>Fluttershy nods.
>“And we’ve finally realized how it is we truly feel.”
Fluttershy and I have discovered that we hate each other.
>“Oh, well, you keep saying that, but I don’t know if I hate you,” Fluttershy says. “I just, um, don’t really care for you much.”
That’s pretty much the same thing as hating someone.
>“I don’t think so.”
Well, that’s stupid.
>“No, you’re just mean.”
I’d rather be mean than stupid.
>“Well .  . .”
What’s that?
>“I said that maybe you’re both.”
>You and Fluttershy share happy glances before turning back towards Twilight, whose frown is currently long enough to stretch across the Grand Canyon.
You okay, Twilight?
>“You what?”
>“Um, I don’t think she is,” Fluttershy says. “That’s the fifth time she’s said that.”
>You look to Starlight, who is enjoying her popcorn with a smug expression.
>“I think you might’ve broken her,” Starlight says.
>“Oh dear,” Fluttershy says. “I really thought that she would be happy to know that we discovered how it is we truly feel about each other.”
>Starlight smirks at Fluttershy.
>“So just how many times did the two of you go at it?”
>Fluttershy blushes and you rub her arm affectionately.
Well, we did it until the storm stopped. Then I went home.
>Fluttershy nods.
>“Yeah, then we did it there too.”
>“Geeze, no wonder you were limping when you came in.”
>Twilight groans and covers her face with her hooves.
>While you all watch her with concern, Spike is scratching his head and looks confused.
>“So does this mean that Fluttershy’s crazy love stuff actually worked or—”
>Twilight screams and frantically turns on Spike.
>“Spike, what are you doing here?”
>“I’ve been here.”
>“Why? You’re not supposed to be listening to this. You know to leave whenever they show up together.”
>Spike is about to say something when Twilight starts shooting lasers at his feet.
>“Get out! Get out!”
>She chases him out of the throne room.
>When she returns to her throne she begins glaring at you and Fluttershy.
>“So not only are the two of you not friends, but you’re also having sex with each other?”
>“Oh, um, yes,” Fluttershy says. “We have hate sex. It’s really good.”
>“But you shouldn’t be having sex if you don’t like each other.”
Actually, it’s working out well for us.
>“Our sex helps me satisfy the insatiable horniness I have for him.”
And I get to take out all the aggression I have for Fluttershy out on her pussy.
>“Which makes it extra satisfying.”
The only way we can really get along at all is in bed.
>Starlight takes a satisfied bite of popcorn.
>“So it looks like I was right all along. You two just needed to do it.”
>You and Fluttershy frown.
Actually, things never would have worked out this way if we hadn’t hung out and realized that we hated each other.
>“This way we’re finally on equal terms emotionally,” Fluttershy says.
It brings balance to the relationship.
>“And I’ll bet it makes the sex better,” Starlight says.
That’s true.
>“Oh, yes,” Fluttershy says. “It’s better than I ever imagined it to be.”
>“Well, I guess Twilight’s idea worked out for you both then.”
>Twilight sits hunched over in her throne like a gloomy gargoyle.
>You and Fluttershy thank her.
>She barely responds with a flick of her eyes.
>“Yeah, sure,” Twilight says. “So you’re definitely not friends, though?”
Oh, no way.
>“I would say no,” Fluttershy says.
Really couldn’t stand her when we were hanging out.
>“Things didn’t really improve between us at all.”
Not until the sex happened.
>“Oh, yes, the sex was wonderful.”
>You both look in each other’s eyes.
You ready to get out of here?
>“My place or yours?”
Mine’s closer.
>“Mine’s closest,” Starlight says with a lewd smile. “We used to share rooms all the time in my old village.”
Wow, no wonder you act like such a slut.
>Twilight gets up from her throne.
>“I can’t stand this. I’m going to bed, and I don’t ever want to hear about this or have any of you mention it to me ever again.”
>Thunder rumbles in from below the ground and briefly shakes the castle walls.
>Rain pitter patters on the roof.
>Starlight looks up at the ceiling and says:
>“I think the storm’s back.”
>You and Fluttershy share one brief glance before you turn to Starlight.
Is the room still up for grabs?

>You and Fluttershy both lie next to each other and bask in the sweaty, musky afterglow of your sexual romp.
>She cuddles up to your side.
>You wrap your arm around her and draw her close.
>“Oh my, that was wonderful.”
Yeah.
>“Do you think Starlight is going to be mad that we messed up her room a little?”
>You look around at her busted, overturned furniture, her personal belongings and trinkets scattered around on the floor, her turned-out closet and ripped up bed.
We might have to apologize.
>“I think that would be good.”
It was hot when I threw that dresser at you, though.
>“I liked it better when you shoved her baby pictures in my mouth to keep me gagged.”
>You look in each other’s eyes.
I hate you, Fluttershy.
>“I hate you, too.”
>There’s nothing else to say.
>Outside the heavy storm clouds have parted and the glaring afternoon sun lights up their silver weightless bodies.
>You kiss.