Fluttershy awoke several hours later to a tingly sensation starting to make its way throughout her body. The process of fully regaining consciousness was a quick one, for she knew that the painful process of returning to her normal self was about to take place.

She had remained in the same position she had fallen asleep in, her head on Big Mac’s shoulder, one arm draped over his chest, and her body snuggled up against him. His arm was curled around her, with his hand coming to a rest below where her wings joined her shoulders. The wings, still bat-like with just the slightest prickling starting throughout them, were folded loosely against her, with one draping slightly over herself and her lover.

A deep snore directed her attention to said lover. He looked almost just as he had when she first looked through his window, splayed across the bed, snoring up a storm, only this time much more disheveled, and pant-less of course.

Fluttershy smiled tiredly at him as she got up, carefully of course, so that she wouldn’t wake him. Behind their lids, the giant mans eyes moved about, flicking from side to side. She took this as a sign he was deep asleep then got up to put her clothing back on.

Luckily one of the first things she regained during her transformation back was her internal body warmth, so she didn’t feel all that cold as she searched for her discarded articles of clothing. What she did feel, however, was an ache that pervaded the general area below her navel. With each step and crouch down to retrieve something she winced, and something told her that she wouldn’t be tending to her garden for a while.

A quick look out the window told her that it was still an hour or so before sunrise. The sky was only just beginning to glow on the horizon. Despite that, she quickened her pace, despite her growing soreness, remembering her cowgirl friend’s gripe every now and then on how very early they started chores.

To Fluttershy’s utter dismay, she found her panties ripped beyond use in one corner of the room. Her face flooded with heat when she recalled the part last night when he ripped them off and then he… he…

Suddenly all of what she did last night came rushing back to her, the cloud, the cellar, slipping into his room, and then-

Oh my Gods, then I made him have sex with me! And then I. Drank. His. Blood.
She stood there for a minute looking down at the torn remains of her underwear, thoughts spinning inside her head at a thousand miles an hour.

Sex. Rape. Blood. Sex. Apples. Blood. Rape. Rape! Rape!
She froze, petrified as she heard him stir in his bed.

It took her less than a minute to gather the rest of her clothing, pull it on, and launch herself out the window as quietly as she could.

As the cold morning air whipped at her eyes, and her hair trailing behind her, the tingling sensation that had woken her up started to grow.

It started getting the worst in her wings, where she could feel the start of new feathers slowly grow, stabbing out of the membrane, which would soon dissolve into ash, leaving only her beautiful, soft, feathery, wings.

She skirted the border of the Everfree forest, in the case that she had to land before she got home. By the time her small cottage was in sight, the piercing pain in her wings had started to make flying very, very difficult.

The landing was a rough one, starting a few feet from her door and ending with a painful thud against it. A shaky hand unlocked the door and she stumbled inside, kicking the door closed behind her with a loud slam.

She dropped to the floor on her hands and knees, the sudden spike of pain too much for her to make it up to her room. With a pained whimper, she felt the final stages of the transformation take hold of her.

She arched her back, wings flared, and silently screamed as the pain stole her breath away.

Animals silently looked out from various nooks, crannies, and places of sleep as their caretaker’s body writhed in agony. Out of those who saw, only a few continued to watch, as the rest hid on fear.

It was not every morning that one woke up feeling both satisfied and sore, but the sunrise came with just such a contradiction.

Big Mac sat up in bed with a head full of fuzz. If he didn’t know any better, he would have thought that he had gone out drinking with some of the other guys last night and had a few too many drinks.

Unlike a hangover, however, he simply felt dizzy, and lightheaded. No tell tale headache. He remembered working extra hard in the fields, having dinner with his family, then falling right into bed with barely any pause, but to throw off his sweat soaked shirt.

He had done just the same thing many times before, and it had never warranted this, particular feeling of soreness. There was a little itch in the back of his mind, he was missing something, something big that happened. Squinting at the morning light filtering through the room, a vauge recollection of a woman straddling him, looking into his green eyes with deep, cold red ones floated in his head.

His blanket slipped off of him as went to get out of bed, landing on the floor. With a start, he realized that not only was he pants less, but also in the middle of his bed was a big, sticky stain.

With trepidation, he stared at it wide-eyed, fearing the worst.

Alm gonna to have to clean all a this maself without any of the othur girls finding out because of sum fuckin dream.

For a second, he calmly sat there, trying to get the fuzz out of his head and figure out how to do just that. With a large yawn, he stretched his arms over his head, arching his back for good measure.

A deep ache accompanied the gesture, along with another bout of dizziness. He put one hand on his right shoulder, and rolled it. The ache was worst than he first realized. He must have unknowingly pulled it while working.

Despite his bodies protest, he lumbered to his feet and walked over to the bathroom that was connected to his room.

Looking back at his bed, he realized that it was even more of a mess than he originally thought. Along with the one stain in the middle, several smaller, and much more faded blots of sweat, or something else, stained his sheets.

Must have been one heck ova dream.

As the only male in the house, now that his pap was gone, applejack and granny smith had insisted he took the only bedroom which had its own bathroom. Every time he passed the girls, he silently thanked his wonderful family, as the counter was filled with Applejack’s few makeup items, a large array of granny smiths old lady… stuff… lotions and creams he guessed, and a whole lot of other stuff he didn’t even know people needed.

His was simple. A toilet, a shower, a sink with the bare minimum items, and a mirror hanging right above that, which opened to a medicine cabinet.

He looked into the mirror at himself as he reached for his pain tablets (full days work ahead that he couldn’t miss), but did a double take. Now, it was normal to wake up with messy bed hair, but he had rarely seen it this chaotic. It was knotted, tangled, and sticking straight up in places. A whole life of working and living in the sun had given him a deep tan, but that morning he looked slightly paler than usual.

Nothings makin much sense this morning, unless I caught sick.

With a deep sigh, he reached up to the cabinet, where he kept his brush, and immediately winced. He clutched his right shoulder once again, feeling up closer to his neck, and more near his back, where he pain intensified.

He turned to look over his shoulder at his back in the mirror, and gaped in shock at what he found.

Four small spots on his back, all lined up nice and neat like, looked like he had gotten into some animals claws sometimes during the night.

Wide eyes trailed up his shoulder, where several drops of smeared blood were right at the base of his neck.

What the fuck-

Author's Note

Hey guys! Thanks for all the support on my first fic, questions, comments, concerns, ideas, and grammar nazi’s welcomed in the comments!