Fluttershy's "Special" Delivery

by KingCornRobot

Rating: mature
Tags: Slice of Life, Alternate Universe, Human, Dark, Comedy, Romance
Length: 2847

You find a box holding a certain Pegasus at your doorstep; but she isn't the package. You are.

There is a certain female pony that is very shy around ponies. Curiously, she is not so shy around non-ponies. You happen to fall in the non-pony category. This certain somepony also happens to be comfortable with those she is familiar with, and you're about to find out how disturbingly familiar she is with you. One fateful afternoon for Equestria, you find a box containing a certain Fluttershy at your doorstep; but she isn't the package. You are.

Set in a universe with a much larger Equestria, in the time just prior to Nightmare Moon's defeat/Twilight Sparkle's arrival at Ponyville. The story will follow a divergent set of events.

- 2nd-Person Point of View
- This will be a HiE Clopfic. Expect the plot to involve lots of "plot"

Published 1970-01-01 00:00:00 UTC
Last updated 2014-04-15 18:00:03 UTC

The Postage Has Arrived

You drop down upon your couch, exhausted. With a sigh, you switch on your laptop. You need to wind down after your long, tiring day. Times have been tough on you lately, and the only way to cope is to have some free time before you go off to sleep. You sink back comfortably in your couch, and shift your laptop to keep the screen in view. You begin to browse the internet, and lazily click through various funny pictures you find on the web. You are promptly interrupted by an intruding knock on your door. As with all such times in life, someone just had to bother you during your escape from reality. As you stretch and groan at the thought of having to leave your couch, the patter of fleeing footsteps befalls your ears. You roll your eyes in annoyance, and pry yourself from your seat. You shamble sleepily to the door and peer out of the peep-hole. Whoever knocked is long gone. You exude an exasperated sigh, and groggily turn back to flop onto your couch. However, before you manage a single step back towards your seat, you hear a babyish whimper come from the other side of your door. You turn back around and grab the knob. Irritation and frustration grind through your mind as you dread the trip to the foster home or pound you will have to take to ensure the well-being of whatever child or animal has been carelessly left at your doorstep: yet another chore fate has found fit to be dropped unceremoniously on your shoulders. As you open the door, disbelief at what you see shatters your lethargic state.

You see before you a winged, horse-like creature lying in a cardboard box on the floor in front of you. It has a feminine body pleasantly graced by a milky yellow coloring. Its mane has a vibrant pink hue of a rose in full bloom. Sweet green eyes of crystallized sugar sweep and dart about with uncanny understanding, giving off the impression of being more intelligent than the average household pet. You turn your attention to the box, and notice that “Fluttershy” has been scribbled hastily in bright-yellow sharpie on the front.

‘Fluttershy,’ you think to yourself, ‘what a cute name.’

You take another look at the female creature, now known as Fluttershy. She is currently curled up fearfully in the box before you in a helpless and desperate state, shivering from the cold. Her skin is taut against her bones from mal-nutrition, and she is covered in a thick layer of filth and grime. As your eyes move up her body, Fluttershy’s eyes lock with yours. Her puffy eyes and dilated pupils scream out uncertainty and confusion at being abandoned at a stranger’s doorstep. You notice beads of tears rolling down her flushed cheeks, and with that she pierces through to your heart like the thorns of a beautiful flower. You immediately react, and drag the cardboard box into your apartment before shutting the door. Seeing this adorable creature in such a condition has filled you with the overwhelming desire to care for her. You lean over to pick Fluttershy up, but you realize at the last minute doing so would be a mistake. A creature in a new and unknown environment will not take kindly to being picked up by a complete stranger. You quickly back away from Fluttershy, giving her space. Fluttershy’s confusion begins to settle down, and just as you expected, panic takes its place. Like a scared cat having its first encounter with a new home, Fluttershy skitters out of the box and under your bed. You however, have an idea of what you can do to coax her back out. You briskly walk over to the fridge, and pull out a head of lettuce. You suspect Fluttershy is an herbivore, and you believe she will have no problem coming out for food considering how hungry she must be. You walk over to the side of your bed, and sit on the ground with your legs crossed. You wave the lettuce around where it can be seen from Fluttershy’s hiding place.

“Come on out, Fluttershy. We both know how hungry you are,” You coo at her. Suddenly, a pair of eyes glare out from under the bed; eyes that could only belong on the face of a demon from the deepest pits of hell. Your muscles become stiff and numb; cold sweat begins to course through every pore on your body, and an overwhelming sense of fear and doom begins to slowly creep into your mind. As Fluttershy crawls back out from under the bed, you see it is her eyes that are the source of these sensations. As she approaches you, the walls seem to close in. All light in the room goes dark, and overpowering dread washes over you in a torrent. It is as though the whisperings of Satan himself have taken form to fill your sight. Your mind is bombarded with a crazed circus of agonizing fear, suffering, and torment. Your muscles begin to painfully spasm and cramp up, making you drop the lettuce. Fluttershy quickly nabs up the lettuce with her mouth, and darts back to her haven under your bed. Crunch-crunch-crunch, and the lettuce is gone. Meanwhile, you lay flat against the floor upon your stomach; shivering from the malignant gaze that seemed to have assaulted your very soul moments before.

You rub your eyes, and to try to push yourself off the ground to make your escape. But as you begin to get your footing, the exhaustion from your day come crashing down on you once again. You immediately drop back down in a daze. Fearing the traumatizing glare of Fluttershy, you make your way to the safety of your apartment’s bathroom in what amounts to a lethargic crawl. You reach up to shut and lock the door behind you. Panting in deep breaths, you realize how desperately you need to calm your nerves. You look around, and decide the best way to do this is to get cleaned up in your tiny bathtub, and try to forget what just happened.

While you enjoy a warm bath and a quick rub-and-rinse with your soap, you accomplish your goal of completely forgetting about the winged horse-creature that dashed under your bed. Yawning loudly, you go back out into your apartment wondering why you locked the bathroom door behind you. You wander about the main room to prepare for some much-needed shut-eye. You power down your laptop, lock your door, brush your teeth, and turn off the lights before finally crawling into bed. As you begin to shift around in an attempt to find a suitable sleeping posture, you hear a lullaby coming from under your bed. The unnaturally soothing sound washes over you, and makes you pause in your efforts to find a good position. You soon find it impossible to do anything but listen intently, letting the pacifying melody caress your ears.

For a moment, you snap out of it and realize exactly what is humming to you. You also realize why you were in your bathroom with the door locked: that “Fluttershy” creature with the unhallowed gaze is in your house. Afraid of what the creature is planning to do once it puts you to sleep, you desperately try to move your limbs and escape your bed. But alas, it is far too late for that: Fluttershy has trapped you in her sleep-inducing siren call, and there is nothing you can do now except give in to the heavenly voice and let it numb your mind. Readily obedient to the blissful tone, your eyes slip closed, and you quickly drift off into the land of dreams: helpless to the musical hymn washing over you . . .

You awake the next morning feeling it’s just another normal Sunday: the one day of the week you have off. The events of the prior night do not rest in your immediate memory, and you rise from your bed to begin your day. You put on a bathrobe over your undergarments and slap some bread in your toaster. The light blazing through your window curtains tell you how long you slept in, and you moan groggily with frustration at how much of your only free-day of the week has been taken up by sleep. You sulk into your small bathroom to acquire your comb and hair-brush, so you can slay the menace known as your bed-head. You make your way over to your sink to find your brush resting in it, completely loaded with grimy strands of light-yellow and pink hair. Things start to click into place, and you realize something from last night decided to freshen up while you were asleep. Memories of the prior day explode back into your mind: the intelligence you saw when you first looked into Fluttershy’s eyes, the indescribable gaze she afflicted you with, the lullaby she used on you; it all comes rushing back, and you feel the onset of panic.

You take a deep breath, and try to think for a moment. Flipping out because some demon-eyed siren-horse might still be in your home wouldn’t solve anything. In fact, it would probably be in your best interest not to do anything that might startle the creature, such as running around screaming in terror. If Fluttershy’s simple gaze can cause as much harm to you as it did last night, who knows what else she is capable of? Trying to stay optimistic, you consider the possibility Fluttershy might have simply left after cleaning herself up. Taking this hope to mind, you decide to try and go about your day as usual. Prompted by the ca-chunk of your toaster, you return to your kitchen to grab your toast and prepare breakfast.

With toast in hand, you open up your cabinet and take out a jar of Nutella. You open it, and begin spreading the buttery chocolate onto your toast. You are suddenly interrupted by the clacking of hooves on the wooden kitchen floor. You turn slowly to meet the piercing gaze of a hungry Fluttershy. “Oh God!” you gasp out, as you instinctively throw the Nutella at Fluttershy. You cover your face against her gaze with your hands, shivering with fear. You hear the smacking of lips and the lapping of a tongue, and dare to uncover your face out of curiosity. You find that Fluttershy is gorging herself upon the chocolate delight you tossed her way. She promptly pulls away from her feast to reveal a mouth completely coated in your chocolate spread. You blink for a moment, and then realize she has now turned her attention to you.

You stand stock-still; a deer in headlights. You are afraid to even budge, lest the demonic eyes afflict you once more. Fluttershy takes a quick glance around the room before wandering off into your bathroom. You hear the sink faucet come on. You give a sigh of relief at a close call, and slink over to your sofa with toast in hand. You considered simply running out of your apartment now that you know Fluttershy is still here, but you don’t want to risk leaving that creature completely alone in your apartment with your belongings. You begin to nervously eat your breakfast, and then lay back into your sofa once you have finished. You pull out a book in hopes of escaping reality, and begin to read it, hoping it will help take your mind off things. However, as with all such times of escape in life, you are promptly interrupted. A voice that mimics the buzz of a hummingbird's wings breezes into your ear, and you turn to face the speaker on reflex.

“Um, excuse me.” Fluttershy paws at the ground with one of her forehooves, and promptly goes silent.

Suspenseful fear rushes into your bones, and your head snaps back to its centered position, while your eyes quickly avert themselves to look at anything but her. Having heard Fluttershy hum a tune, you are not surprised she is also able to talk; however, you are still nervous about that unholy glare she gave you the prior night. You slowly put down the book, and quietly take a few deep breaths to keep yourself calm. “Yes?” you call out as gently as possible. A whimper tickles your ear, and you cautiously turn your vision back to Fluttershy, who quickly snaps her wings against her sides. She bites her lower lip, now clean of Nutella. You infer she went into the bathroom earlier to wash the chocolate off of her face.

Seeing your attention back on her, Fluttershy’s silence comes to an end, and with a deep breath, she clenches her eyes shut before speaking up once more. “I um, just wanted to say, I’m-sorry-I-frightened-you-I-was-really-hungry-and-afraid-you-were-one-of-those-bad-people-and--I'm-so-sorry…”

“Don’t worry about it,” you reassure her. You take a mental sigh of relief. If she is apologizing, then she probably isn’t going to give you that stare again, and didn’t intend to give it to you in the first place. That, or she’s trying to lower your guard so she can stab you in the back later. You however, are going to give her the benefit of the doubt and go with the former for now. As you begin to pick up your book once more, you give Fluttershy a reassuring smile. Once you have raised the book to eye-level, you promptly begin reading once again. You hope to drown out the stress you have built up from this rollercoaster of an encounter with Fluttershy. But as you get yourself immersed in the text, you get the odd feeling something has changed. A blissful, soft sensation befalls you. It feels almost like cloth, having a smooth texture that resembles the feeling of satin. It is warmly spread across your chest, and pressing itself into you. It starts to get stronger, and warmer. It’s getting tighter and tighter with each passing moment. The sensation is burying itself into your body. Looking down, you see Fluttershy with her hind legs adorably nestled upon your hips, and her upper hooves lodged gently under your arms. Her wings wrap about your sides and give a feeling that could rival even the softest blanket. As she squeezes a hug into you, her eyes gaze into yours. They twinkle like a romantic lake on a moonlit night, and give off a beady luminosity that would put kittens and puppies to shame. Her tail gives you a taste of heaven as it wraps lusciously around your leg. Her beautiful pink mane flows like a field of dandelions across your arm with ticklish, airy delight. She graces you with a smile that takes the form of a gentle crescent. You take in a deep breath of relaxation, and get a good whiff of her scent. It reminds you of sipping a mug of pumpkin-spice hot chocolate next to a cozy fire at the dawn of a cold new autumn day.

Onset suddenly like this, rapture crashes into you like a meteorite. Your heart melts like an ice-cube tossed into a crackling bonfire. You drop your now-meaningless book and give in to the hug. You let your arms collapse around Fluttershy, returning her embrace. You press her heavenly coat deeper into your skin. She nuzzles her head against your neck, and up under your chin. You feel Fluttershy’s breath intimately caress your shoulder, and you smile warmly. You take notice that with each breath Fluttershy takes, her chest rises and falls, rubbing gently against you in the hug: a massage no mere mortal could withstand from the likes of Fluttershy. You close your eyes and give out a sigh of sparkling delight, and let your body wrap about Fluttershy in a fluffy, cuddly ecstasy you hope will last for a very long time.

Unfortunately for you, Fluttershy has other plans than to snuggle all day. This becomes apparent to you, as the sensation of something cold and metallic wraps about your neck. By the sound of clicking that soon follows, you realize a collar has been locked around your neck. You snap open your eyes, and try to meet with Fluttershy’s averted gaze. You see that her eyes are filled to the brim with shameful guilt. Just as you were about to open your mouth to speak, Fluttershy backs off, and purple lightning arcs out from the collar across your entire body. You writhe in agony as jolts of lightning tear across your form. The colors and textures of your surroundings seem to swirl about before your eyes, twisting into something new. In a matter of seconds you find yourself lying on the ground in a new room, completely disoriented and losing consciousness rapidly. In your final moments of thought, you roll your head to the side, and catch a glimpse of Fluttershy staring down at you with great enthusiasm.

And then you were consumed by darkness . . .