You just know that an interesting day lies ahead when it starts out with something tickling the tip of your snout. Of course, when you’re half-asleep, it can take a second or two to sort out what’s actually going on.

“Not now, Humdrum.” I mutter, “put away that feather duster.”

“Whatever you say, dear,” mutters back a deep voice.

“Mmmmmmmmmmm,” purrs another deep voice, coming from the warm blanket draped over my lower half. Unless I am very much mistaken, the blanket seems to be hugging me in its… hooves?

…it happened again, didn’t it?

Opening my eyes, I find myself inches away from the mustachioed face of the conductor that I had dodged earlier. Looking behind me, I am being hugged a rough looking fellow with a large hat and a red bandanna… the engineer, perhaps?

Come to think of it, we don’t seem to be moving anymore. Good thing, too. Distracting an engineer and causing a train crash would be an awful way to end a rotten week.

Okay, Catnap… you’ve woken in weirder situations than this. You can put the dots together. Where am I? How did the cuddling start? Why haven’t other ponies entered the cuddle pile?

Think, think, think.

Let’s see… if the train has stopped, I’m probably in Ponyville… I remember locking myself in the restroom… the conductor probably noticed the locked door and used a spare key or something. That explains how the conductor got there. Also explains why passengers didn’t remove the conductor from the hallway. They must have already left. As for the engineer… maybe he came to see what was wrong… I could imagine him ending up like that if he tried to carry me out… maybe reverse the order?

Huh… If I’m right about that, I should really get moving. You know, before somepony else decides to check on the situation.

I grab the handle of my case with my magic, floating it into the hallway as I prepare my escape. Then, without lifting myself up, I make sure that all four hooves are planted firmly on the ground. I am quiet. I am calm. I am careful.

I am running like a bat out of Tartarus.

I grab the handle of my case in my teeth as I leap out of the engineer’s grasp, landing on the poor conductor’s spine (I make a mental note to pay for his chiropractor later) as both ponies awaken. Before they can stand, however, I am already long gone.

Down one train car… out through the door… down from the platform and… Huh… This town isn’t as run-down as I had expected. While I didn’t expect them to live in clay huts, I’m a bit surprised by how nice this area is. Even the local ponies… all of the ponies… so many ponies…

Wait… how long have I been standing here? Where’s my pocket watch? Why are they standing and watching me like that? Is it because I’m hyperventilating? I’m pretty sure that I’m hyperventilating. Everywhere I look, I can see more and more… Nope! Far too many ponies in this backwater town. Nope nope nope. Time to beat a strategic retreat.

Even as I run around the train and retreat a safe distance from the town, only one though runs through my head, repeating over and over again.

‘I am not a coward. I am not a coward. I am not a coward.’

Running away from large crowds is not a matter of fear. It is a matter of common sense, a matter of self-preservation. I know all of that as surely as I know that Princess Celestia will raise the sun each morning. Knowing that isn’t enough, though. Every time I see a large group…

*grauuughllee*

Right… self-doubt can wait. It has been a while since I’ve had anything to eat. Let’s remedy that.

…

I’m… I know that I’m not a good pony.

If I was a good pony, I would settle for a humble meal of grass and daffodils. There are plenty of those in the fields at the edge of town and I doubt that anypony would mind. Whenever I look at the field, however, I can’t put this greenery into the same basic category as “food”. Food is what comes from a restaurant or pantry… a street vender if you’re feeling adventurous. These leafy greens, devoid of flavor and tethered to their filthy roots… they are scenery… at best.

So… yeah… instead of eating a humble offering of earthy greens, I’m busy eying the stalls at the edge of town as I search for a likely victim.

“Fresh roses for sale,” I can hear the mare call out, “Three bits for a beautiful bouquet.”

As luck would have it, I catch sight of a florist selling roses by the edge of town. While roses are far from my favorite flower, I really should get in touch with a florist. If she’s familiar with the area, I might be able to get some information from her in the process...

After smoothing out my mane with my hooves, I remove my bit pouch from my case. With luck, I’ll look like a potential customer… after I fill my pouch with a few flat stones from the field, that is. I don’t bother with the pocket watch this time around.

…This time, I’m willing to run out the clock…

I approach the alley between two nearby buildings at the edge of town, waiting for a few ponies to pass before I slip onto the sleep like some casual tourist... which I guess that I technically am.

Walking down the road, I allow the flowers to “grab my attention”. Turning from the road, I walk over and start inspecting the flowers with what I hope passes for curiosity. Thankfully, I can’t see any ponies other than the florist within range.

“Can I interest you in a fresh bouquet, Sir?” the young florist offers. She’s a lovely young mare, I might add. A smooth, creamy coat with a two-toned reddish mane, “I’m sure your special somepony would love one.”

“Don’t have one, I’m afraid,” I answer with a frown, “never quite enough time to fall in love. The name’s Catnap, incidentally.”

The florist rolls her eyes, though she still gave me her name, “Roseluck. A pleasure, I’m sure.”

“To meet such a talented florist, I’d say that the pleasure is all mine.” I go back to examining the flowers, noting that there is actually quite the variety. While Roseluck was raving about roses, she has daisies, lilies, and five dozen other sorts in some supply. As an afterthought, I add

“Have you been in the flower business long?”

“Seven years,” she proudly responds, “Long enough to know when somepony doesn’t plan on buying a thing.”

“…Guilty as charged,” I admit, “though I do need a bit of help from somepony familiar with local plants. Mind lending a stranger a hoof?”

“You’re lucky that it’s a slow day,” she starts with a smirk, “What do you need?”

“Just some information. I heard that there’s an unusual blue flower in the area… a plant with magical properties and an odd sense of humor.” I hold my breath as the mare thinks things over.

“You mean… poison joke?”

“YES!” I shout, spinning around and grabbing the mare by the withers, “Quick! Tell me what you know about that stupid plant! ”

Roseluck doesn’t respond right away. She just stares up at me with a shocked and frightened… oh. I remove my hooves from the florist and take a step back.

“Sorry… I don’t usually… I’m kind of desperate, here.”

“It’s… fine?” Roseluck responds, taking a step back as she regards me, “I don’t know much about the plant anyway. I know that it grows in the Everfree Forest and that the local library used to have a book that talked about it...”

I can feel hope. I can feel purpose. I can feel a smile spreading across my face.

“…until Tyrek destroyed the place.”

My life is over. Everything will be horrible forever. Just put my out of my misery.

“Hey, no need to get down in the dumps,” Roseluck assures me, “I know a couple of ponies who know all about that stuff. First-hoof experience, from what I hear.”

I slowly pull myself together. It seems that I’m in the right town, after all. Somepony knows about that stupid plant. Multiple ponies, in fact. If one of them know how to cure this mess, I could be rid of this horrid condition. Tartarus, I could be back home by evening.

“I don’t suppose you could give me some names?”

“What? Oh… sure… you just… mmm.. you want.. hmmmmmmm.” As she keeps talking, I watch Roseluck’s gaze slip out of focus. Her words become disjointed, giving way to a euphoric hum of joy.

She takes a step toward me as a dopey smile fills her face. Any misgivings she had about the way I marehandled her earlier are clearly gone. I take a deep sigh as Roseluck closes the distance between us and smooshes her cheek against my own in an eager nuzzle.

…Time’s up, I guess.

I look up and down the street, lifting my head out of the florist’s reach as I look for observers. Thankfully, nopony is there to see the young mare lean into my barrel and burrow her face into my withers. Her girlish squeals and hums of delight would probably attract some attention soon enough…

I crane my neck around to look at the cuddly mare, doing my best to keep my face serious and my voice firm, “Roseluck…. Listen up, Roseluck. Roseluck!”

That one gets her attention, making her lift her head away from me with a small frown.

“I need to get you home, Roseluck.”

Her face screwed in confusion, an expression that I have seen more times than I’d care to count. “Huh? Hooommmme? HOME! Heheh… home… home home home home…. hehehehehe”

Lots of good this does… Let’s see… I’ve heard once or twice that lowborn ponies typically work out of their homes. I doubt that anypony would live in this stand, though, so… maybe one of the nearby homes? Looking from building to building, I spy a mailbox with a few flowers printed on it.

“Is that your home?” I ask, pointing toward the building.

I can feel her give a vigorous nod... unless that’s just her nuzzling back into my withers…

Thankfully, Roseluck walks beside me as I slowly make my way toward the building. While each pony seems to have a slightly different response to my curse, I’ve yet to meet a pony who can retain his or her full faculties. Once they go all giddy like this, coordination, self-control, and speech are shot. While they do a little bit better where their cutie mark is involved, it isn’t by much.

If she was so inclined, Roseluck could probably pick or water some flowers. That’s about it.

Opening the unlocked door, I am relieved to see a large couch inside. One of the florist’s forehooves is raising high with every pace and scratching at my side, her failed attempts at hugging and walking at the same time. I lead Roseluck to the couch and start searching for proof that I picked the proper house.

Some pictures with her and two other mares on the mantle calm my concerns a bit. If nothing else, the ponies of this home probably knows where Roseluck belongs. With that out of the way…

“Mmmmmmph!” Roseluck strains, extending her forehooves towards me from her spot on the couch as she gives a pitiful frown, “Hmmmmph!”

I walk over and join Roseluck on the couch, allowing myself to fall between her extended hooves and into her embrace as I set down my possessions. I mean, why wouldn’t I? The giddiness makes ponies seek close proximity with myself. If I try leaving, she’ll just follow and put herself in danger… not to mention make a fool of herself.

Instead, I have to do my actual job… helping ponies fall asleep.

I’m using different means, of course. For obvious reasons, my job never included cuddles with clients. Thankfully, the curse does most of the job for me. However this affliction works, it leaves its victims exhausted and easily winded. All that I really have to do is… woah.

Roseluck’s head is tucked into the crook of my neck, letting her… uh… sniff my chest. Well… huh… okay, then. Arching my snout around, I gently press Roseluck’s head towards the couch cushions. Of course, she takes that as an excused to scoot closer and start nuzzling my face again.

Lifting up one of my forehooves, I start running it down her mane and down her spine to the edge of my reach. Simple, repetitive contact is the name of the game, here. I keep a stoic expression and lift my head as the florist’s nuzzles and sniffs at my neck.

Still don’t know what to make of that.

No matter. This ordeal will be over soon enough. I can already feel Roseluck relaxing around me, sinking the side of her head into the cushions as she continues her half-hearted smelling. I actually lose myself a bit in the process, not noticing the approaching hoof-clops until somepony speaks up.

“Way to go, Roseluck!”

Internally, I nearly jump out of my skin. On the outside, though, I manage to maintain a façade of calm as I turn to the front door. Two earth ponies stand in the doorway, ponies that I recognize from the photographs I saw earlier.

“Ewww…” comments the second mare, “We eat on that couch!”

I’m not sure who they are, of course. Roommates? Relatives? Lovers? Best friends? However you look at it, they probably have more right to be here than me. With that said, I will be most appreciate it if they leave within… oh, say the next fifty seconds?

For her part, Roseluck is apparently having the time of her life. She just giggles from her place on the couch and waves weakly at the new mares with that goofy grin still plastered on her face.

Turning around, I give the two new mares an apologetic expression, “While it’s a pleasure to meet you mares… I hope you understand that, uh, things might get loud in a minute or two.”

Even after all of this time, saying something like that out loud is physically painful for me. It’s incredibly crude, not to mention a violation of common courtship etiquette. If I want to maximum discomfort, however, a crass comment or two can go a long way. It was a plan that had worked before.

The fact that I now have a go-to plan for this exact situation fills me with shame.

One of the mares, the one with a daisy on her flank, blinked owlishly before turning around and leaving the way she came. “We’re eating out today, Lilly.”

The other mare, the one with a scowl of disgust, looks between us and her retreating friend/sister/lover/roommate, “but… but… the couch!”

“Relax,” called ‘Daisy’ from outside, “I assure you that the couch has seen far worse.”

“Heh heh heh… Good one, Daisy. I know when you’re joking… right? Daisy? Get back here!” The second mare runs off after the first, closing the front door and leaving me alone with Roseluck again.

Speaking of Roseluck, I apparently stopped stroking her at some point in that exchange. The young florist is nudging at my hoof with short ‘huffs’ of frustration.

I go back to helping her relax, though my head isn’t really in it. Even as I work, I can feel my wounded reputation cry out in pain as bystanders spread tawdry rumors about me.

‘Stupid. Stupid. Stupid’

I was stupid for not seeking out a more private space to put the mare to sleep. If she has a couch, there’s a good chance that there’s a bedroom in here that I could have used.

I was stupid for striking up conversation with Roseluck and wasting precious moments. Am I so starved for proper conversation that I would sabotage myself in finding an antidote?

I was stupid for buying the “life-changing poultice” that turned my life upside down. The cart was still filled with the stuff when I arrived. I must have been the only sucker to fall for it…

The only “silver lining” in this whole situation, bad as it may sound, is the warmth of mare pressed against me. No matter how many ponies I calm down, the physical presence and warmth that they provide always manages to calm me down. At the moment, it’s the only form of warmth that I can get from others…

…until they fall asleep and I am forced to leave.

Thankfully for me, Roseluck is neither a strong hugger nor a light sleeper. When I’m sure that she’s fully asleep, I free myself from her hug with little difficulty. Picking up my possessions, I walk out through the front door. Once I’m sure that the coast is clear, I help myself to a meal.

While I am not a good pony, I can at least assure myself that I am not a monster.

One of the “perks” to my condition, if I choose to see it as such, is that I can get away with nearly anything. If I really want, I could loot the house for goods and valuables. A few ponies would know that it was me, of course, but calling the guard on me won’t do a thing. As long as guards don’t attack me on sight, they’ll be incapacitated long before they could drag me to prison.

The meal I grab for myself consists of a few random flowers from the stand. While I know that it’s not much of a meal, I’d rather not gorge myself on Roseluck’s livelihood after robbing her of a few hours of business. Besides… even though I can do what I please…

It’s not worth it.

As long as I’m like this, I can’t do the important things in life. I can’t lodge formal complaints… can’t claim authority over others… can’t petition the Princess… I can’t play polo or visit the theatre with friends… can’t hold a meaningful conversation or debate… can’t date or fall in love… Even if I didn’t care about love, I can’t get through a proper marriage ceremony!

All that I can really do is seek out an antidote… pray that this is not a fool’s errand… and keep track of the debts I am bound to repay.

Roseluck. Ponyville. 2x Lilly. 1x Daisy. 1x Rose.

Author's Note

I have seen a couple of different "cuddle-fics" with some level of non-consensual cuddling. Sometimes, a main character chases down ponies to cuddle them. Other times, everypony seems drawn (whether through charisma or magic) to cuddle a single main character. This story is a combination of the two... and is neither of them at the same time. This story is meant to represent an uncomfortable intersection where one cuddler has no choice and the other feels like there is no choice.

It will have a happy ending, though... for some given value of happy.

Well, time to see if there is a reason why this isn't normally done.