Like Catnip

by Tartarusbound

Rating: mature
Tags: Main 6, Drama, Original Character, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Dark, Other, Sex, Random
Length: 8202

My name is Catnap. The past few years, mares can't seem to resist cuddling me... and neither can stallions. I'm not trying to brag, by the way. Please send help!

My name is Catnap.

I was just an average citizen of Canterlot until a foul curse ruined my life. While I'd love to tell you all about my woes... could you please take a couple steps back? This affliction of mine is triggered by proximity and... uh... I don't think I could cuddle all of you at once.

In spite of the sex tag (put in place for suggestiveness), this is a straightforward cuddle-fic.
The dark tag is hard to qualify, though there are light mind-altering vibes.

Published 2016-03-01 22:00:02 UTC
Last updated 2016-03-01 22:00:02 UTC

Prologue: En Route

Author's Note

Welp, time to write something entirely different. Time to throw it out there and hope that it isn't awful.

Prologue: En Route

There’s nothing quite like those first waking moments after resting. When you’re waking up, it takes a moment or two to separate any number of fantasies from the truth of the waking world. In those moments, I can bask in the warmth of my covers and feel honest hope for a thousand futile dreams.

Will I be a prince today? A wonderbolt, perhaps? A simple baker with a wife and family?

The hope only lasts for a moment or two, of course, until something shakes you back into reality. In my case, it’s the clitter-clatter of the train car sailing down the tracks. The sound probably woke me up… even though the hypnotic rhythm had lulled me to sleep in the first place.

What do you really expect, coming from a pony named Catnap?

With that thought, everything slips back into place. My hopes for a better day are banished and forgotten under the crushing weight of THE FACTS.

Here, in short, are THE FACTS:

* I am a unicorn stallion named Catnap.

* I am a sleep hygienist by trade.

* I am currently unemployed.

* I am, by most accounts, a criminal.

* I am, by most accounts, a threat to society.

* I am currently cursed.

* My “covers” are breathing.

Risking a peek at my surroundings, I see that I’m still in the same first-class train car. My briefcase and book have fallen to the floor while I slept, though neither seems too damaged. Finally, I am relieved to see that the kind old mare draped over me is the only other pony in the car. It seems that first class really does get some privacy.

The next step is a little bit tricky. If you told me a few years back that I’d be scared of waking up mares as I left them… well, I wouldn’t have been too surprised. I was a sleep hygienist, after all. Many ponies that I help haven’t had a good night’s sleep in months or years.

If you told me that I’d be escaping from cuddles, however, then I would call you crazy.

It’s a necessary precaution, unfortunately. The curse breaks whenever ponies fell asleep. While some ponies don’t mind waking up next to me after a while, the first couple of encounters risk a good deal of… hostility.

Biting…bucking… headbutts… trampling… I’ve experienced just about every form of violence that can be inflicted in sixty seconds or fewer. The worst, of course, are the screams for help. Those can make everything SO. MUCH. WORSE.

Today, though? Today is already going my way. The mare sleeps soundly as I lower her onto the cushions. I silently click my case open and magically lift my book inside, storing it with the rest of my meager possessions. Once the case snaps shut, I make my way out of the cabin with my case floating by my side. While I feel exposed, I should be safe as long as I keep moving.

Thankfully, my destination isn’t far away. I just need to reach the restroom and groom myself before I finally arrive in town. Even if I’m technically on the run, I can feel the judging glare of my parents back in Canterlot every time I consider skipping my morning routine.

I make my way through the hall at a brisk trot, running across one or two ponies but thankfully leaving them behind in moments. Continuing my rare string of good luck, the bathroom is vacant.

After locking the door behind me, I settle my briefcase on the ground and lift my forelegs to either size of the makeshift sink. Looking into the small mirror, I can see a familiar face.

Same old green coat. Same old black mane. Same old blue eyes. After the past few years, even the glowing blue freckles are starting to seem “same old”. I look fairly rested, though that’s nothing new. Even if I break my own rules at times, I’ve slept like a foal ever since that sleeping cat popped onto my flanks. What really impresses me is how well my mane-style lasted through the night. Just a brush or two and I would be good for the day.

Looking down, past my feline cutie mark, I can see that my tail is another story altogether. Giving a faint sigh, I click my case open once more and look for my brush.

Let’s see… My book… My finest suit, only lightly worn after all of this time… my reading glasses… A couple of quills and a half-full inkwell… a sad and empty bit pouch… my golden pocket watch, still in need of winding… a ledger filled with every pony that I need to pay back… aaaaaand my brush!

Taking out the brush, I start counting the brushes down my tail as I allow a bit of stress to leak out of me. Not all of the stress, of course. Some part of me, a part that I don’t very much like, is waiting for things to go wrong. Intellectually, I know that I’m just being paranoid. Even so…

*knock* *knock* *knock*

I let out a sigh of relief as I transition into crisis mode. After all of this time, the anticipation I feel in calm moments is almost worse than the actual crisis. At least I have a general plan for when ponies get too close… more than I’ve ever had for quiet moments, really.

Resting my brush by the sink, I click open my pocket watch and magically wind it. Far as I can tell, I have close to fifty seconds to get rid of the pony outside… if he doesn’t leave on his own.

“Come oooooon,” begs a distinctly female voice from outside, “Can’t you hurry up in there? I really need to gooooo.”

“This is the Stalion’s Room,” I called out, keeping my eyes on the clock. Forty seconds.

“I know. There’s a line outside of the Mare’s Room.”

“I’m not just brushing my tail in here,” I lied, “I’m going to be in here for a bit.”

“Okay, fine. I’ll just wait out here. Just… hurry.”

Thirty seconds left until things get incredibly awkward. Think, Catnap, think.

*grauuughllee*

Twenty seconds left and still nothing. I should have grabbed something to eat when I had the chance last evening. It’s hard to think on an empty… stomach…

“Listen,” I call out, “Dining car shouldn’t be in service at the moment but the restrooms should still be available. That’s you’re fastest option.”

“Really?” Ten seconds left.

“I’m positive!” I half-shout.

I can’t hear anypony walking away from the door. Then again, I didn’t hear anypony approaching it, either. All I can do is hold my breath and count down the seconds.

Three… two… one… zero

…

Silence.

…

Sweet, beautiful silence.

I can’t help but chuckle at my own apprehension. Another potential disaster defused before it could get out of hoof. I must be getting good at this.

I put away my pocket watch and resume brushing the last of the tangles out of my tail. With the brush stored away, I splash a bit of water into my face and…

…and what?

Honestly, I haven’t thought this far ahead. It’s been weeks since I was able to take care of things without getting pulled into something so… now what?

No point in reading my book here. I’m the one who wrote it, after all. I can always go back into the train cars, of course, but that would just be inviting disaster. Besides, what reason would I have to leave the security of the locked restroom?

*grauuughllee*

Oh… right. I guess that I could grab a quick bite to… No! I already snuck on board this train. I won’t rob them on top of that. Speaking of which… Removing my quill, inkwell, and ledger, I add a new line of text to the fifty-third page.

Friendship Express: 1x First Class Ticket

With a smile, I return my supplies back to the case and clicked it shut.

Good. That is one task completed. Just another couple of hours to fill and I can move on.

I take a deep yawn, exhausted and bored in equal measure. If nothing was going to happen for the next few hours, why not take a quick rest? Moving carefully, I lower my barrel to the ground, resting my head against the restroom door as my body fills the space between the sink and toilet. Not the most comfortable position, perhaps, but I can make do for a while.

Until I reach Ponyville, in any case.

Chapter 1: Intimate Scents

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.

Chapter 2: Assertive Petting

As many ponies have heard, the Everfree Forest is one of the most dangerous places in all of Equestria. Putting aside the poisonous plants and complete disregard for the natural order, it is filled with a multitude of beasts that would jump at the chance to eat defenseless ponies.

Armed with the knowledge that Poison Joke grows in the forest (because of course it does), the next step is to search for somepony who knows about the forest. Nopony would be dumb enough to live within the actual forest, of course, but there might be a ~~shack~~ home or two at the edge of the forest.

The trip to the edge of the forest takes a good chunk of the afternoon. While cutting through the town would have saved time, I prefer the security that the scenic route provides. Fewer encounters with others this way.

To my relief, there is a home at the edge of the forest. It isn’t much to look at, a quaint little cottage built into a tree on top of a small hill. It would almost make for a quaint vacation home, save for its location and… apparent infestation.

Dozens of animals of every size and shape loiter around the home. Even from a distance, I can make out a small bestiary of simple beasts roaming the hill. It seems that the home’s indiscriminant owner collects everything from noble eagles and bloodhounds to lowly vermin.

Already picturing a crazy old mare, I cross a bridge over a narrow creek and approach the front door, thankful that my curse excludes most animals. I give the front door three firm knocks and retreat fifteen paces back down the hill.

This time, I’m not taking any unnecessary risks.

After a moment, the door swings open and out walks… the cutest pegasus I have ever seen. Her golden coat catches the sunlight just right and her luxurious pink mane covers a single eye as she… looks around for something… wait…

I wave one foreleg through the air, quickly grabbing her attention.

After a moment of pause, the pegasus cocks her head to one side and squeaks out… something. While her voice is too soft for me to make it out, I have a pretty good idea what she’s asking.

“Yes! I’m the one who knocked on your door. Could you speak a bit louder?”

“Why are you all of the way over there?” she asked, one eyebrow raised.

“Don’t mind that. I’m just a bit shy. I was wondering if I could ask some questions.”

The pegasus seems to process this for a moment or two. Something must have gone wrong, however, because she processed the wrong part of that statement, “Oh dear. Is there anything I could do to make you feel more comfortable? I know a thing or two about being shy.”

“Did I say shy? I meant… uh… scared. No need to do anything special, though I’d appreciate it if you could speak up. So, about those questions?”

“Scared?” asks the oblivious pegasus, obeying my request but still focusing on the wrong part. She looks down at her hooves and then back along her ~~curvaceous~~ body “I don’t think I’m that scary… am I?”

“It’s not you. Don’t worry about it.”

Looking around, the pegasus looks between the various animals, “Oh… is it one of the animals? I could come to you, if that’s all right.”

With that, the mare takes a step out of her home.

“It’s not the animals,” I say, taking a step back down the hill, “As I said, don’t worry about it…”

“Are you sure?” the mare asks, taking another step forward, “I used to have a lot of fears until I started talking about them with friends.”

Sure, that’s going to happen. I’ll just open up and tell her that I’m scared of causing accidents with my presence… that I fear breaking up happy couples by standing in the wrong place at the wrong time… that I’m scared of going anywhere near doctors and that I have no idea what to do if I ever get injured or sick. Why not share my biggest fear while I’m at it? I’m sure that this stranger would love to hear all about it.

Wait… did she just take another step toward me?

“I’m sure that works for ponies like you who have friends,” I respond, taking a couple steps back, “but I’m taking steps toward fixing my problem. In fact, that’s what brings me here.”

The pegasus freezes for a moment or two, eyes widening as she stares in my direction with those blue, misty… wait, is she crying?

“You… don’t have friends?” she asks, drooping her ears as she takes another step… and another. What? Does she think that she’s going in for a hug? Is this… is she serious?

“C-come on,” I stammer, retreating as Fluttershy moves forward, “I already told you not to worry about it. Everything is… is…“ Everything is what? Okay? Fine? “…a work in progress?”

My rear hooves are suddenly wet. Looking back, it seems that I missed the small bridge in my retreat. My rear legs are soaked to the pastern in the creek.

The pegasus takes two final steps toward me before finally stopping her approach, “Um… if you aren’t scared of me, would it be all right if I got a bit closer? Talking to somepony so far away is a little bit… um, difficult.”

I take two more steps of my own, carrying me through and beyond the creek and up the start of a new hill on the opposite bank, “While I’m not afraid of you, I really need to keep my distance. I promise that it is nothing against you personally, Miss…”

“Fluttershy.”

“Miss Fluttershy,” I amend “I can explain my reasons if you are really curious but I really don’t like talking about it. Either way, I hope you can respect my personal space.”

At the very least, Fluttershy has the good sense to blush, “Sorry for pushing like that. It’s just.. it’s been a really long time since I’ve met somepony like… me. After all that I’ve been learned, I think that I might be able to help you… if that’s what you want. If you want to do things your own way, though, I have no right to stop you.”

“Thanks for the offer, Miss… Fluttershy…”

Wait a moment. Fluttershy… Fluttershy… I know that I’ve heard that name somewhere! That name must’ve been everywhere a couple years ago… but why? Fads and celebrities come and go but… wait… that face. I know that I’ve seen it somewhere…

…but it can probably wait. I’m not going to make the same errors two conversations in a row. From now on, I’m keeping my distance and staying on topic. If I want to learn more about Fluttershy, it can wait until I am cured and capable of ~~dating~~ holding normal conversations.

“oh… okay.”

“First of all, are you familiar with a plant called poison joke?”

“Unfortunately,” Fluttershy mutters, blushing at the thought, “there’s a small patch of it not too far away from here. My friends and I… uh… accidentally walked through it one time.”

Well, THAT certainly catches my attention. While the blue freckles on my face were relatively minor, there is no trace of blue on her body… not counting her radiant blue eyes. “If you don’t mind me saying so, you don’t look any worse for the wear…” a random thought occurred to me, “…unless you used to be a young colt or something.”

“All of us were cured the next day…” Fluttershy says, her cheeks a deep shade of red, “…though my problem wasn’t really something you could see.”

Normally, I’d be a little bit curious about what sort of curse Fluttershy had faced. At the moment, however, I’m a bit fixated on a single word she used.

“Cured? There’s really a cure?”

“Oh yes… A special herbal bath was able to wash everything away. I couldn’t even imagine what life would be like if all of us were stuck like…” Her words ground to a halt as her eyes widened, staring right at me.

…Horseapples.

Giving a cough of discomfort, I spoke up, “Again, I’d rather not talk about my situation in too much detail. With that said, I’m kind of hoping that you know how to prepare that bath.”

Fluttershy frowns, “I’m really sorry. I know that I live next to forest but I’m much better with animals than with plants… see?” With that final word, Fluttershy turns to the side and presents her… huh, I guess that I missed a bit of blue on her… yup, right there… in her cutie mark.

I suddenly come to the realization that I’m openly staring at a mare’s flank. While it barely ranks on my list of awkward situations, I still feel a pang of shame for my breach of civility. Thankfully, Fluttershy does not seem aware of my transgression.

“So I see,” I dryly reply, “I don’t suppose you know where I could find some?”

“I do, actually!” Fluttershy happily responds, “I can already think of five equines who might have some… or at least know how to… how to make… make… ” Fluttershy’s head slumps forward, making her look down at the floor. As she takes her first step toward me, however… I am ready to break down.

“No… No… You can’t… you were out of range…” Looking over the surrounding area, I can see my error. I retreated down a hill… across a creek where the slope bottomed out… up a slope on the opposite side. While we were still ten paces apart along the ground, the distance between us as the crow flies was…

Foiled by basic geometry. This… this can’t really be happening.

“Please,” I plead to the advancing pegasus, “You have to fight, it Ms. Fluttershy! Tell me who I need to see. I just need a single name. Just. One. Word!”

When she finally reaches me, Fluttershy actually succeeds at speaking. In fact, she gets out two coherent words. As with much of our brief conversation, however, the two of us don’t seem to be on the same page.

“Poor doggy,” Fluttershy whimpers, lifting up one forehoof and… starts petting me. Given our difference in size, I imagine that it looks quite ridiculous.

For me, however… I don’t have much to laugh about. There’s nothing left for me to do but put this little pegasus to bed… though she seems to be taking the lead on that front.

To my surprise, Ms. Fluttershy stops her petting and takes a step or two toward her cottage, waving for me to follow. While I’m not used to my “victims” taking an active role, I don’t object to the unexpected assistance.

“Dun worry, puppy…” Fluttershy slurs, slowly walking backwards as I follow, “mama’s gonna make it aaallllll better.”

If I’m being fair, this conversation wasn’t a total loss. I know that there’s a cure. I know that there are ponies in town who know how to make the cure. I even learned that not all victims of poison joke turn blue like me or that scam artist.

The thought that I might’ve met dozens of victims without ever knowing it… It’s actually a pretty calming thought. Makes me feel a bit less alone.

“I’m sho shorry, Angel,” Fluttershy coos, having stepped on something white and furry while walking backwards into her home. A bunny, I think.

Speaking of which, the interior of the cottage is… pretty nice, actually. Dozens of small animals (mostly small rodents and birds) fill the room but the furnishings aren’t half- *thunk*

Wait, what was… right. My briefcase apparently slammed right into the doorframe. After carrying it for so long, I forget that it exists at times. If I’m somehow not cured in the next couple of days, I’ll look into obtaining some sturdy saddlebags.

Turning back, I can see that every single face in the room is focused squarely on me. Fluttershy is waving me toward the couch, however, so I slowly follow her inside.

I feel… surrounded.

“Hey there, everyone,” I say out loud, feeling silly for talking to simple animals, “No need to be alarmed. I’m just here to help Ms. Fluttershy sleep.”

Fluttershy lowers herself to the ground on a carpet in front of the couch, motioning with one hoof for me to join her. As I move to join her, I suddenly feel a stabbing pain in the side of my barrel. Looking over, I can see a white rabbit holding a fork like a spear.

…Well, you don’t see that every day.

“Angellll,” Fluttershy moans from the carpet, “Dondodat, Angel. Be nice fer Momma”

‘Angel’ looks between the two of us, his paws still clutching his weapon as his expression is torn by indecision. If it makes things go any faster, I’m willing to go along with this madness.

“Hey there, Angel,” I say, addressing the rodent with my softest tone, “I can see that you want to protect you… ‘moma’…. but I promise that I’m only here to help her fall asleep. If she thinks I’m a dog, she could probably use the rest.”

“Heeeeerre puppy puppy puppy!” Fluttershy beckons.

With one last look between the two of us, Angel drops his fork to the ground. With one paw, he motions toward his eyes and then at me.

“No funny business,” I agree, “I read you loud and clear.”

While I don’t blame the rabbit for caring about his caregiver, he doesn’t have much to worry about… for multiple reasons, really. Even if every pony I met was made to insist that I mate with them, doing so would by horribly wrong. With that said, affected ponies don’t go after that. Some ponies are more aggressive cuddlers, sure, but even they stick to wrestling, back-breaking hugs, and forceful nuzzles. After all of this time, I haven’t even been kissed… willfully.

…I’ll admit that it took me a bit of time to figure out what was going on with my curse. I have kissed a couple of ponies when faced with sudden affection and came dangerously close to mating when faced with an ex-marefriend in Canterlot. The scary part wasn’t what almost happened, though. It was the way they responded.

They didn’t resist in the slightest.

None of them ‘got into it’, mind. I realized something was wrong when my ex-marefriend made no move to kiss me back or more herself into a suitable position. If I wanted to force something onto them, though, if I hadn’t suspected that something was amiss… No. Even if I disregarded my moral compasss, there would be no point.

When I drive ponies giddy, there is almost nothing of them left. There’s no conversation… no spark of affection or warmth… very little of their personality. Even their emotions are heavily sedated. While they are different enough to tell them apart, they aren’t… real. It’s an empty mockery of who they really are, a single equine-shaped mass of flesh that wears a hundred flimsy disguises.

No matter how deep I sleep into loneliness, I can’t imagine anything happening. I can’t imagine what sort of pony would want something to happen. While the cuddles could be nice… and the ponies might be attractive… Angel has nothing to fear.

“Puppy!” Fluttershy coos in delight as I lay down beside her. Unfolding one of her wings, Fluttershy gives me a solid nudge to the side… followed by another. Given my weight, I don’t think that she’s going to move me. Not quite sure what she’s after, though.

I try scooting away from Fluttershy, only for her to scoot back next to me and continue nudging me with her wings. Does… does she want me to preen her? I’ve helped with that once or twice so…

Fluttershy is petting me again. Rubbing me, if you want to be technical. She is rubbing the lowest part of my barrel, right where it meets with the floor. As she continues rubbing, I receive another nudge. It takes a second for me to piece things together.

“…Belly rub?” I ask, watching as Fluttershy gives me a serene smile.

I have to give Fluttershy credit. So far, she has been the most ‘put-together’ mare that I have ever dealt with. I can’t help but wonder if cuddling somehow fits into her special talent… unless she’s special for some other reason.

Rolling onto my back, I allow the attractive mare to start rubbing my belly as if I was an oversized mastiff. I reach out with a single hoof to return the favor, only to find my hoof blocked by one wing. The wing gently pushes back on my hoof as its owner gives me a stern gaze. The moment I give up, however, the mare is all smiles and bell rubs.

Taking a hint, I close my eyes and try to ‘enjoy’ being treated as an animal.

I can hear the other animals milling all around us, apparently deciding that belly rubs were no big deal. I can hear the squeak of mice running right next to my head… can hear a couple of actual puppies chasing each other in play… can hear the songs of birds lurking in the rafters.

…Wait… I didn’t know birds could hum. Is that… could that be Fluttershy?

I hear humming almost every single day. After all, it’s one of the few ways ponies can “verbalize” pleasure without using real words. Fluttershy, however… she’s humming an actual song with that lovely voice of hers… a lullaby, I think.

Is this… is this what it’s like for the ponies I affect?

This is… This is… this is over far too soon.

Apparently, Fluttershy’s lullaby was too much for her to take. She falls asleep on the carpet, one hoof still hanging over my barrel in mid-rub.

As I remove Fluttershy’s hoof and lift myself back up, I notice that I feel a bit… lighter, I guess.

The animals are still milling around, though Angel is standing next to the door and motioning for me to leave. I walk over towards the door, seeing no reason to linger in the cottage any longer…

Until I see the picture hanging on the wall.

In the picture, I can see a group of six ponies gathered together in some unfamiliar library… Fluttershy is one of them and… I actually recognize that purple one.

I recognize her coloration and cutie mark, at least. She was the princess’ personal student, not to mention a near-constant presence in the royal library before she was shipped off to some backwater town. While I’m hardly her friend, she has helped me find books on one or two occasions. In any case, the picture was most certainly not taken in the royal library.

Wait… didn’t Roseluck say something about a library in Ponyville?

As I stare at the picture, the beginnings of a notion begin to form in my head. If that library was the Ponyville library, maybe Ms. Sparkle was sent out here to Ponyville. No, I’m almost certain of it. The newspaper reported that the whole Nightmare Moon debacle went down in the Everfree Forest. That was… what, a couple months before my luck turned?

So… If Twilight Sparkle was sent out to Ponyville… and Ponyville had a library… there was a decent chance that she had read whatever book talked about poison joke. From what I remember of her, I can imagine Ms. Sparkle being the first pony to figure out that cure. In fact, I’m almost sure of it. If I can find Twilight Sparkle in town, I can get rid of this stupid curse.

Until I find a better solution, I have to believe that.

As I turn to leave, however, I do catch sight of one more unusual thing in the photograph. All six of the ponies seem to be wearing some form of gaudy jewelry. Five of them, including Fluttershy, are wearing golden necklaces. Ms. Sparkle, meanwhile, is wearing a tiara. Something about that tacky jewelry looks vaguely… familiar.

Oh… Oh.

Well, I have a pretty good idea of where I heard the name ‘Fluttershy’ before. I can’t believe that I didn’t recognize her sooner.

I just… I was just cuddled by an Element of Harmony!

...Oh buck me.

Author's Note

And... yeah.

I realize that Fluttershy's approach may, at first blush, seem out of character. With that in mind, I don't think that we've ever really seen Fluttershy interact with a similarly withdrawn or shy pony. Given her close friendship with Rainbow Dash, a pony who is constantly encouraging and coaching others, I'd imagine a certain level of excitement if Fluttershy thought that her lessons could help another pony (especially if the pony appears to be more shy or scared than herself).

Just my thinking, though