Another Day...

by Lack of Tact

Rating: teen
Tags: Anon, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Second Person, Comedy, Fluttershy, Random, Human
Length: 1293

Normally, a fetish is supposed to induce some kind of sexual pleasure. Today's guess definitely does not give that outcome.

Rated T for Teletubbies

My First Second Person (Anon) Fic

Just a typical day for you, the three familiar knocks at your door proves it.

Fluttershy's back for today's unique fetish guess, and that by itself is a problem. Honestly, you just want a normal day by yourself; no pony to bother you, too bad life really hates your existence for some reason.

If Flutterpriest would ever like me to take this down, I will without complaint. This is just a fanfic to his, well, fanfic saga :twilightsmile:

Even though its status is 'Completed', I may update from time to time with other random ideas such as this. Head's up.

Please note, Comedy is not in my blood!

Original Story "Fluttershy Wants in Your Pants"
By Flutterpriest

Published 2016-12-16 09:20:01 UTC
Last updated 2016-12-16 09:20:01 UTC

... Another Way

You let out a groan as you pull yourself up from under the covers; the bed creaking beneath you as you move. Another day in Equestria, another day somehow managing to stay sane enough to call this place home. You release a sigh, the bags under your eyes clear signs of a rather short and disturbed slumber. "Fuuuuck." And of course, like every other morning, you have what most males call "the morning wood".

Welp, time to wank one off you guess, trudging your way to the bathroom. Your Triple S could wait a little as you've felt more pent up than you were last week. All you need now is an imaginary woman, and you sucked at imagining things, which was kind of surprising really. Being stuck in a land full of color, talking horses and such, you'd expect to be at least a little more creative in life.

Sadly, that wasn't the case and you were forced to rub a dry one. That alone wasn't the problem, no, you also didn't have any lotion seeing as how equines didn't have any fucking hands to apply it with. Fucking ponies and their lack of opposable thumbs... and fingers.

After your, ehem, human business, you slowly make your way to your kitchen. It was apt, at least for your situation. Most ponies' kitchens were half the size of yours, you'd likely have been stuck and forced to starve to death if your culinary room was any smaller. That thought was certainly unwelcome, but you shrug it off as you flip on your stove top's element, a mug of black gold already in hand.

Today you were thinking eggs.

You grab the full white shells from their case in your fridge, placing a skillet on the heating stove, and swiftly make to crack them open. Maybe today will be a normal day, maybe you can just laze around your home without the worry of-

Three gentle knocks sound in your living room and you force yourself not to gouge your eyes out. Fucking Christ, this mare doesn't quit. Groaning to yourself, you lower the temperature for your stove as to not burn your eggs, place the cup of coffee on the counter and begin to walk to the door.

Three more knocks, as gently as before, sound again.

It hadn't been 10 seconds and she was already at it again, she must have felt impatient today or something. "One second, God." You grab the door's handle and begin to turn it, but stop as you think to yourself.

Why do you submit to this, has this really become such a routine part of your life you've just accepted it? You've just accepted the fact that there's a mare crazy enough to break down your door if you don't open it? Why? Was it because no one would believe you if you've told them?

Probably.

You pull the door open, and to your not-so-honest surprise, you see the butter-colored pegasus from yesterday. And the day before yesterday. And the day before that day before yesterday. Fuck it, you see the same mare from pretty much every day you've been stuck here. With a sigh, you lean your arm up against the door's frame. "Here for today's guess, right Flutterbutter?" This was really getting old.

The shy mare meekly lowered her head to the ground and your heart swelled a little. Maybe you were better off not telling her that. "U-um, yes An-Anon." She stops speaking, her pink mane hovering over one eye as she looked shyly up at you.

"And?" You refrain from satisfying the urge to scratch your nuts as you stare back down to her, waiting for her to continue.

"O-oh. Um, m-may I come in?" Surprisingly blunt compared to her last attempts, but you nodded nonetheless. After you moved to the side, Fluttershy gently hovered past you and into your living room. Her cyan eyes glanced around it for all its worth. Which wasn't much, the last attempt burning most of your belongings.

She must have an inner pyro or something.

Closing the door behind you as you turned back inside, you made your way back into the kitchen, calling over your shoulder. "I'm making some breakfast, care for some?" Well you were personally hoping she'd say no, you were almost out of eggs anyway, but you didn't always have to be an asshole to her. Maybe some normalcy and politeness would be what turns her off from you and you could go back to your daily life of being a hermit.

Her eyebrows shot up and a smile breaks out on her face. "Oh I'd love some! Your eggs are always the tastiest, Anon."

You blink, maybe not.

The familiar sizzle of said eggs makes its way into your ears and you turn your attention back to the stove top. Ahh, there we go. The yolk looked almost about to pop, the perfect-

Your stomach grumbles. Oh shit...

No, literally. Oh shit!

You bring a hand to your stomach and feel the sudden urge to go number 2. Oh you knew you shouldn't have eaten that chili last night! Rushing by Fluttershy, the mare not even bothering to cast a worried glance in your direction, you slam the bathroom's door shut. Oh God, why did you skip today's Triple S? You wouldn't have to deal with this, you'd still be in your kitchen, cooking eggs and having a normal chat with Fluttershy.

Well, as normal as one of those conversations could go at least... "I'm birthing Baby Jesus, gahhh!"

And like that, you're done.

"Phew." Cleaned your butt, washed your hands, you were just about ready to resume your breakfast meal, but the sound of hooves on the other side of the bathroom door said no. "Fluttershy?" No response. You can clearly see her shadow underneath the door, so why bother with silence? "Fluttershy, I'm coming out. If you don't move I'm gonna-" you'd just pulled the door open.

THWAK/THUNK!

And then you were on the floor, a burning pain in the side of your face where the object of assault had collided. Egg dripped down your chin, the yolk runny and falling all over your clothes. "What the FUCK Fluttershy?!" Of course you screamed at her, she just hit you with a scalding frying pan... and your breakfast!

The mare dropped the skillet to the floor, ignoring the sudden hissing sound it created (likely causing a scorch mark), and looked at you with an expectant grin. "Is seared flesh your fetish?"

Your face still burning, you muster a one eyed glare and point to the house's exit. "Fuck outta here before I shove that frying pan up your ass!" Probably should have told her 'no', but you realized she must have realized that you meant no anyway. Also, thankfully you'd gotten the morning 'problem' out of the way, otherwise you were sure you would have the strangest erection right about now. What with the possible concussion the frying pan maybe gave you and all.

The mare turns tail and leaves quickly, her form gone in a matter of seconds as the door closes behind her. God that mare was insane.

Later, you were treated for severe facial burns and were left without anything to eat that day. You would only grumble as you cleaned up the yolky mess, tried to remove the black scorch mark in the bathroom (surpisingly, when you left it alone to go to the hospital, it didn't burn your house down), and had to sleep on the one side you were always uncomfortable on.

Fucking Fluttershy, if it hadn't been for her, you were sure this day would have been over easy.