Floored

by Kind of Brony

Rating: mature
Tags: Sex, Slice of Life, Human, Drama, Anon, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Second Person, Romance, Original Character
Length: 95764

A young human finds himself in Equestria, lost, not in body, but in purpose as he attempts to belong in the alien world. A mare, devoid of a destiny, seeks to end it all. Can these two stray souls find meanining in each other? Can they find more?

A young human finds himself in Equestria, lost, not in body, but in purpose as he attempts to belong in the alien world.
A mare, devoid of a destiny and seeing herself unnecessary in the world, seeks to end it all.
Can these two stray souls find meaning together?

A story that was born as a 4chan greetext featuring the OC, Floor Bored.
Also know as the NEET(Not in Education, Employment, or Training)pone, Floor is often portrayed as anti-social, be it meek or vulgar, and a bit of a nympho. She's also often featured in watersports clop, but readers need not worry.
The story will not be a clopfic despite having sexual themes, and any inclusion of urine is merely a homage to the character's origins.

Cover art by Smoldix.
Art featured at the end of chapters will be credited if possible.

Published 2017-08-22 00:40:06 UTC
Last updated 2019-05-06 12:19:31 UTC

Chapter 1

Was it a subtle jab by the princesses? Giving you this job?

You've been in Equestria for nearly a year, and after numerous failures to be placed into proper employement, you are now a NEET Inspector.

It wasn't your fault these damned ponies were literally destined for their careers. How do you compete with another editor when it's their divine providence to find every single conjunction error? Your English degree is worth even less in Equestria than it was back home.

It couldn't even land you a job sweeping floors because some mare had a broom and dustpan inked on her ass. So, here you are, going door to door, checking in on other useless members of society, making sure they haven't died in their filth. Leaving a corpse to sit too long can really hurt the resale value of a place, after all. Not like these ponies weren't already doing that with their "living" habits.

Most of the fuckers already smelled like death, held up in their apartments. Snacking on cheese puffs, pissing in bottles, and generally being internet menaces instead of bathing regularly. Smelly bastards were always just ever so happy to have you knocking at their doors. Just beaming when they called you a normie and yell for you to stop bothering them. Yeah, sorry for being the only person curious if you've finally fallen off and died like the tick that you are, but It's my job.

Fucking ponies.

And why can't they just stick all the NEETs into one building, for crying out loud! Trekking up the last flight of stair in the fifth apartment complex of the day, you make your way to the end of the hall and begin to knock on the last door.

"Ma'am, this is Inspector Anon from the NIA, are you in?" Of course she was in. NEETs only left their dens under the cover of night, and even then only to buy cup noodles and snacks. You just have to wait for this mare- Floor Bored, the clipboard listed- to drag her flank across the apartment.

With a foot tapping impatiently, you knock some more and call out, "Ma'am, if you don't open this door in the next thirty seconds, I'll have no choice but to let myself in." Still nothing. What? Was she still sleeping? It's five in the afternoon, for Christ's sake, but you wouldn't put it past a NEETpone.

"Times up, I'm coming in Ma'am, so you better be decent." Not waiting for a response, you jiggle the handle, and it moves. At least this pony had the lack of commonsense to lock the door when she was indisposed just like the rest of her species.

The smell hits you first when you enter. Yep, just like a barn back home, musky and dank. Dim too, as to be expected. Heavy curtains cover all the windows, but the little light that finds its way inside only serves to illuminate the refuse layered atop the carpet.

Yep, we've got a level 4 NEET here. Let the hunt begin.

Pulling out your standard issue flashlight, you trudge into the room, sweeping your light source around in search of tracks. Looks like the pony hasn't set foot in the living room in quite some time, meaning they must have retreated into the depths of their lair sometime ago for whatever reason. Probably just got a new animoo or something.

Checking the first door you come across reveals a bathroom, relatively clean and most probably underused. That means this next door is the shitty jackpot. "Ma'am, are you in there? This is your last chance to keep me from seeing your bedroom, and we both know you don't want a stranger looking around in there..." After several seconds, you sigh and turn the handle, prepared to see just about anything

... Except for a pony hanging from their neck swinging lazily back and forth, hindhooves twitching minutely just above a swivel chair.

"... Jesus Christ," you wheeze, eyes wide before you shake yourself into action. Part of training to be a NEET Inspector was how to handle medical emergencies, but most of that training flies out the window at mach5 as you run up, fumbling for the old pocket knife at your belt. Wrapping a forearm around the mare's barrel, you start working your dinky blade through the cord strangling her.

"C-come on, almost... there!" The line snaps, and you take the full brunt of the mare's weight, discouragingly little as that may be, but you'll worry about that later. Right now, you have to find out if she's even alive.

"Ma'am, er, Floor Bored? Come on, speak to me," you plead as you lower her, trying to keep her steady in one arm while the other works to clear a patch of the floor of chip bags and soda cans. Her eyes are closed and you don't see her chest moving.

Shit. But she is still warm to the touch, so that's good right? Maybe you weren't too late. "Come on, stay with me Floor! Whatever this is about I'll help you through it, but you've got to open your eyes first!" You whisper this harshly as you begin chest compression like you were taught. "I'm not going to let you die, not today, not on my watch, so breathe, dammit!"

Lips sealed over hers, you breathe for her, trying to make her remember. It's like riding a bike; you never truly forget. So do it, you dumb horse! "Come on, come on, COME ON!" Switching several times between compressions and breathing, you feel your hope begin to slip away just as you place your mouth on hers one last time.

Then she starts coughing, raspy and weak, but oh so alive. You fall back on your ass, watching gobsmacked as the little mare rolls onto her side, coughing with a hoof to her sweater-covered chest. She looks up and sees you, and her expression morphs to match yours.

"Ah, hey there, Floor Bored, um, my name's Anon... Nice to meet you." Her expression twists further into a combination of mortification and sheer terror before her dark eyes roll back and she collapses. Well, it'll make getting her to the hospital easier, at least.

You'll have to get another inspector to check in on the rest of the names on your list for you. It's way too important a job to leave unfinished.

You understand that now.

Author's Note

Art by Scraggleman.
Well, here's a little something I've been working on, comment or PM any errors you find if you wish, this story doesn't yet have an editor.
I hope some of you find enjoyment from it.

Chapter 2

You sit, twiddling your thumbs on the little bench while trying to ignore the smell of antiseptic that fills the air. Hospitals were some of your least favorite places to be. And you weren't even here for yourself this time.

"Anonymous? Are you okay?" a mare asks, your boss.

"Ms. Index, what are you doing here?"

"It's protocol for me to be informed of... events, such as these, but when I heard it was my newest inspector who found Ms. Floor Bored, I thought I should come myself and see how he was doing."

You smile slightly. "Thanks."

She returns the small smile, before sobering. "How is she?"

Your own smile falls. "They're checking her over right now, but she's awake."

"Good, that's good." She sighs and plops down besides you. "... I'm sorry this had to happen to you on your first week. It's always a possibility with these ponies, but there's never any real way of preparing to see it."

"... Why'd she do it?"

"You'd have to ask her that, but there are... common threads they tend to follow. It's hard, I can only imagine how much so, to not have a cutie mark. To feel you have no purpose in a world where everypony else does." You swallow hard at that, eyes boring into the linoleum while she continues. "Most try to find their distractions to get them through the day, but sometimes, well..."

"Yeah, well..."

"... Are you alright, Anon?"

"Yeah, yes, of course, I'm not the one who, you know..." You gesture out in front of you, hoping to get your point across without having to say it. You're relieved when a doctor ambles into view.

"You're Anonymous, correct? The one who brought Ms. Floor Bored in?"

"Yes. Is she okay?"

"She'll live," he answers slowly.

"But she'll need to be supervised over the coming months," Ms. Index finished. "Where there is one attempt, there is sure to be another."

You straighten. "Who? Who will do it? Does she have any family?"

The doctor looks down to his clipboard. "The only name listed in emergency contacts is the grandmother's and she's living in a nursing home, so I doubt she'll be able to do it. Perhaps if somepony else from the family-"

"No, I know from her records, she doesn't have anypony else like that available," Ms. Index cuts in. "It'll have to be somepony outside of her family. A friend, perhaps..."

You can hear the doubt in the middle-aged mare's voice, and you understand why. Most NEETs didn't exactly have booming social lives, and Floor Bored's probably wasn't an exception. After all, had she been, maybe somepony could have helped her before things came to this.

"Is she awake?" you ask the doctor. "Can she have visitors?"

"Well, yes, I suppose, though she seemed quite impatient to be alone when I was with her."

"Even more reason to go see her then. Which room is she in?"

Be Floor Bored, the living embodiment of failure. The fact that you were still living was testament to that. You couldn't even end it right. And that colt...

Just thinking about him has you sinking under the covers, sorely missing your sweater to hide within. He was probably traumatized... Or more likely angry.

He probably wouldn't have done anything if it wasn't his job, because he'd have gotten in trouble otherwise. Why else would anypony save you? Like all those internet ponies always say, you should go kill yourself. If only you weren't a loser who couldn't do anything right.

You're startled out of your downward spiral by the door creaking open, and a head poking in, smallish eyes sweeping the room before landing on you. Oh Celestia, it was the hoo-man. Probably here to yell at you. Why oh why were you such a failure?

"Uh, hi, don't know if you remember me from earlier today... at your apartment, but I just wanted to check in on you. You know, see how you were doing," he says. You hear the words, but your brain is having trouble processing it all. Maybe you're brain damaged now too?

"Yeeeah... so, you're doing well?" Ah geez, he's talking again. How long have you been staring? Long enough to look creepy, judging by that expression.

Come on, Floor! Say something, you idiot! "Uh-huh."

Nailed it. Your hoof, that is. Took a swing, missed, and mashed your hoof.

"Good, good. That's... good," he trails off, stepping the rest of the way into the room and looking around. Probably trying to look anywhere but your ugly face. "Nice room. Very... white."

"Uh-huh"

"You like white? Your furs kinda white. Like, an eggshell white, maybe."

"Uh-huh."

"Yep." He has slowly moved to the side of your bed during the painful conversation, and you've turned your neck to follow him. Your neck is super sore, but you can't really manage a grimace while your face is stuck in perma-stun. You see the things on the edge of his forelegs, his... wigglers, flex and unlfex a few times before slowly moving towards your withers. You can only follow it with yours eyes until it connects, giving a light squeeze and making your skin twitch from the contact.

It doesn't hurt like you thought it would. It doesn't feel like he's trying to hurt you at all. It actually feels kinda warm.

"I'm glad to hear you're doing better, Floor. You had me really worried."

Worried? For you?

This colt really must be from another planet, to feel anything other than contempt for such a loser mare. But maybe, if you don't mess up anymore around him, he won't find out, and you can have a... something other than pony who hates you. It could be kind of like having a second GramGram.

"Uh-huh" Dang it. Oh Sun, he's laughing. Game over, mare. Game over!

"Okay then, I'll leave you to your rest," he says after a brief chuckle. "It was good seeing you again, Floor, and conscious this time, Maybe next time we can get to know each other a little better."

Next time? He still wants to see you again? As he leaves, you hold a hoof up.

"Bye... Anonymous."

You are Anonymous, and more determined then you've ever been.

When you saw Floor Bored awake and alive, you felt something. Something akin to pride, perhaps. She is alive because of you. You saved her. But it is a job half finished. You saved her this time, but she is still in danger, and it is your responsibility watch over her. You accepted that responsibility when you pulled that noose from around her neck.

"How was she, Anonymous?" Ms. Index steps away from the doctor to face you when you approach.

"Still pretty shaken up," You answer, running a hand through your hair. "I think she's shocked to still be here."

"I imagine so," commented the doctor. "Had you arrived even a few minutes later, we wouldn't be having this conversation right now."

Ms. Index adds, "Yes, we're still discussing how best to keep watch over her when she leaves the hospital. Without family or friends, we'll have to hire a nurse-"

"No, she's nervous enough around strangers, and she's probably been forced to meet more today then she's comfortable with," you interrupt. "If somebody is going to take her home, it should at least be a face she's familiar with, even if it's one she's only seen today."

Ms. Index tilts her head curiously. "Are you trying to suggest yourself, Anonymous?"

You smile. "Yes, I am. I've already involved myself, so I should at least see things through to the end." Hopefully a happy one, you don't say.

Mouth tightening into a thin line, Ms. Index gives you a long look. "You understand what you're volunteering for, yes? The responsibility?"

You return her look with one just as focused. "Yes."

"You'll have to be with her twenty-four seven; meaning she'll have to move in with you or vice versa."

"I kind of figured that. She'll probably be more comfortable at her place since it's familiar."

"This won't be easy. It's more than just watching her to prevent another attempt, you have to try and help her so that she doesn't want to try again. You aren't trying to fix her either. She may never be what ponies consider 'normal'. Maybe she will be one day, but it's not something you are to force."

"Hey we are what we are. All we can hope for is to be better, but nobodies perfect." You say in way of answer. "No one is expected to be, right?"

Finally, her lips turn the slightest bit upwards. "Well then, I'll see about the paperwork. No promises, these situations are always delicate ones, but I'll have an answer for you before Ms. Floor Bored is discharged."

You smile back. "I'll have my toothbrush ready."

Author's Note

Artist is Neet Guy.

Chapter 3

You are Anonymous, and you were approved the next day, and had several more to wait before being allowed to pick up your new roomie. The doctors wanted to keep her for observation for a few more days to make sure there wouldn't be any complications. Mostly for the cracked sternum from the CPR you administered, which you felt marginally guilty for, but like Peepaw always said, if you weren't breaking ribs, you weren't pressing hard enough.

In the meantime, you settled some things in preparation for the move, like vacating your tiny apartment, which was luckily a simple matter. It was the end of the month, so rent was already up, and you had pitifully few belongings to pack. The cosmic mishap that landed you in Equestria didn't have the courtesy to grab most of your stuff, and you hadn't really scored any high paying jobs to earn a disposable income with.

Which left you with a little tied-up tablecloth to be carried over your shoulder via stick like the proverbial hobo. At least you'd still be getting your inspector's pay while staying with Floor Bored. Ms. Index was able to swing the whole thing as a business expense, which was fortunate. Didn't really like to think of helping a pony in need as a job, but you weren't about to ask Floor to support the both of you on her meager NEET budget alone, so you'd have to accept it.

And Floor Bored was shaping up to be a real sweet pony. Well, you thought so at least, even if you didn't exactly have a whole lot to go off of. You've been visiting her as much as you can, both to inform her of the new living conditions, and in the hopes of warming her up to the idea.

When you first told her, her eyes slowly widened until they were the size of dinner plates, then she dropped under her covers and refused to come out no matter how much you prompted her to do so. She had recovered some by the next visit, though you still couldn't get more then a few sounds out of her before having to leave. Eventually though, she was talking in full, if not short and sparse, sentences. You even managed to get a few giggles from the mare, which you considered a win.

And she hasn't exactly fought you on the living arrangements. She hasn't exactly agreed yet either, but considering the circumstances, this'll be the one time you take lack of verbal consent as permission to proceed.

You are a very nervous mare, currently making good use of the hospital's complimentary bedpan so that you won't pee yourself when Anon arrives to pick you up. Could you bring this with you when you left? It was much easier to use than a bottle...

No! Bad pony! Normal ponies use the potty! You will be living with Anonymous from now on! You are not going to gross him out! You are not going to make him hate you! Do it for GramGram!

"Hey Floor Bored, you ready for the-"

"Eep!"

*Splash*

"Oh shi-!"

*Crash!*

No. Please no. How could you mess up already? It wasn't even the first day yet.

As Anon rushes to your side, sidestepping to slowly spreading puddle and upturned bedpan, you can only stare down at yourself as images replay in your head. Anon coming in, seeing you mid-stream, then seeing you fall backwards into your own pee. Jolting up and getting tangled in the bed sheets, causing you to fall sideways.

Hitting the floor a split second before the pan, the sound like thunder followed by pattering rain, and lastly, Anon's expression of utter shock. You don't look back up; don't want to see that the shock has turned to revulsion.

"Fuck, I'm sorry, Floor, I should have knocked or something. No, no, no, don't cry, we can clean this up. It's no big deal, just an accident is all."

Distantly, you hear the door creak open.

"Is everything alright in here? I thought I heard something."

"Uh, yeah, it's fine, just knocked something over, but I got it handled."

"Oh? I can help-"

"No! I mean, it's fine, I've got it, so you can just, uh, go."

"Really, it's no problem, it's my job-"

"I said get the fuck out!"

Both you and the mare squeak at the harsh demand, and you hear the door slam shut. "Hey, hey, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to startled you, It's just, I'm sure you wouldn't have wanted the nurse to see this. Not that you should be ashamed, but accidents happen and, ah, you know, we really should clean this up."

Frozen, you can only shiver as he reaches under your front legs and picks you up. Eyes still downcast, you see him kick the sheets away from your mess before he pulls you closer. What... what is he doing? You're still covered in your own pee, and it's getting all over his nice clothes. And clothes aren't cheap.

Awe overcoming dread, you risk a glance upwards to see... Not hate, or disgust, but determination, and maybe... Care?

Be a slightly damp Anonymous. After Floor Bored's little accident, you had a lot of work to do very quickly. Being in the brittle state that she was, and seeing how she was already distressed just from you witnessing it all, you knew you couldn't let anyone else know what had happened. That's why you had taken the little mare to the bathroom first and proceeded to wipe her down the best you could with a quarter of the paper towels that the dispenser had to offer.

Then you used some foamed hand- er, hoof soap to lather up the worst of her coat and tail, a process that had her face scrunched up and blushing brighter than a tomato. But she didn't protest, giving only a squeak as you lifted her behind up to the sink to rinse her off. Another quarter of your towel supply later left you standing in the main room, surveying the mess and formulating a plan of attack.

Luckily, the blankets had avoided the worse of the golden shower, so you pushed those aside while using the last of the towels to soak up the urine. Memories of your first pet came to mind, but you pushed them away to focus on the task at hand. With the evidence flushed away, that just left an alibi, which was made with a dumped pitcher of water and some more poured down the front of your shirt. Telling the staff of your clumsy mishap, you left them to clean the cover up while you and Floor Bored made your escape with nobody the wiser.

After a taxi carriage drive spent mostly in silence left you standing before Floor's apartment complex and your new home, you finally spoke. "Sooo, crazy day, huh? And not even five-o'clock." Floor Bored simply scuffed a hoof against the pavement, not looking at you. With a sigh, you step forward, hearing the mare shuffle after you as you open the door and make your way up the pain-in-the-ass stairs. You missed your ground floor shoe box already.

Without fanfare, you enter Floor Bored's home, looking around to see it left exactly as you remembered. Dim, musky, and utterly trashed. "Hey, I'm sure it's not the first thing you want to do after finally getting home, but you think we could start to clean-" A loud slam reverberates off the walls.

Jolting, you stare at the door to your charge's bedroom to see a few chip bags gently floating back to the floor, the refuse having been sent flying by her hasty retreat. "Yeah, never mind, you're probably tired, we'll talk later." Looking at the horrible state of the room, you sigh. "I guess I'll start this myself."

Be Floor Bored. and currently under the bed. It's not like you're hiding or anything! You're just looking for your backup set of clothes. The sweater and panties you were wearing the day of the... incident were cleaned at the hospital, and smell completely off. Lavender, blegh. So you're going to let them ripen in the corner for a bit while you dress in the spares.

It sure is lucky you even have them. Being a NEET doesn't really support a multi-outfit lifestyle, but GramGram got you the sweater for Hearth's Warming a few years back, and you found the underwear outside of a business called Sexy Saddle Dancers. You had to tear the lace off of them, but that still left you a nice pair of black, only slightly frayed knickers.

You're sure Anon will appreciate not having to look at your bare body anymore. Especially after the look he definitely got of your marebits when he was cleaning you off...

You bury your face into the panties and hope it muffles your scream. You know, you forgot how comfy it was under here. So dark and secluded. All the odors and smells you've become so familiar with in your years of being a shut-in are so concentrated down here.

Mister Quiver here to keep you company. You hit the switch a few times, with no result. Darn, battery's dead... You should probably hide this better. Wouldn't want Anon finding it. Not like you ever expect him to come into your room. Or especially not under your bed. L-lewd.

Feeling your face warm, you push Mister Quiver aside and take a slow breath. Right, you aren't hiding under your bed, remember? No matter how nice it is. You are a big mare, you don't hide from nice colts. Society? Of course. But Anon isn't nearly as scary as that.

Belly-crawling back into the open with your clothes in tow, you stand and begin to suit up.

Panties: Check.

Snug? Double-check.

Sweater: Check.

Sufficiently baggy to hide grotesque body?

Hmm, could be baggier, but check.

... Now what? Looking around your room, you spot your computer, Ol' Reliable. She may not have been top of the line even when you bought her with a year's worth of savings, but she got you through the turbulent forums of PoneChan all the same. You could even watch cartoons on her with only a couple hours of buffering. Now that was a tempting idea.

Making to sit in front of your computer screen and zone out for a few hours, you realize your swivel chair isn't in it's normal spot. It's still tipped over in the middle of the room. Your mouth feels like a desert as your eyes subconsciously travel upwards. The cord to your computer mouse hangs innocently from the ceiling fan. The plaster of the ceiling is cracked and you see a gap at the base of the fan where you must have loosened it.

It looks like it just barely held that day, but it did, and if Anonymous hadn't come...You run a hoof along your throat, a phantom pain blooming with the memories. A silver glint draws your attention to the cut end of the cord where the rubber was split to reveal the cable beneath. Huh, guess using the computer was out for now. You didn't have a backup mouse, after all. Sigh...

Looks like another two months of saving. You hear a rustling sound from the living room. Great, were the mice back? Wait, no, Anonymous was still here. Right.

With a gulp, you make your way slowly to the door and place an ear to it. What is he doing out there? Listening alone isn't giving you the answer. You'll have to take a peek. Your heart's pounding before your hoof even reached the handle. What if he sees you and wants to talk? You can barely look at him after what happened earlier today. Or what if he sees you spying on him and thinks you're a creeper? He'd be gone before you could blink.

That thought has a cold pit icing over in your stomach. With a shake of the head, you steel your nerves. It's just a peek, nothing bad will happen. You could do this, Floor. Just a quick look.

Do it.

Be Anonymous, fully aware of the eyes on your back. You were getting worried that Floor Bored might try something while all alone in her room, but ten minutes later, you finally heard the door pop open. She wasn't doing anything, just staring at you through the crack, but that was better than hurting herself, so you just continued to work.

Behind you sat a large black garbage back you shoveled full of trash from the floor. You found a few under the sink, but you'll have to go out and buy more before you can gather up the rest of the garbage. One bag only fit a fifth of the room's refuse, and you only have three bags left. That'll get you to the start of the kitchenette if you really stuffed them, which you are totally doing. The first is fit to burst when you finally tied it off.

You would appreciate if Floor Bored helped, but she seems content to stare at your behind, though you can't blame her. You did have some nice glutes. All joking aside, you figure it'll be for the best to let the mare go at her own pace. It was probably strange having another person in her home, and she'll have to get comfortable with the idea before you can expect her to actually interact with you.

Tying off another bag, you stand up with a grunt and wipe the sweat from your brow. Maybe you could convince the higher-ups that an AC unit is a business expense too, since this place is as warm as it is stuffy.

Moving to the kitchen area on the other side of the room, you decide it's time for a water break... Just as soon as you find some cups. Opening all the cupboards only reveals a box of stale cornflakes, a butter knife, and a plastic funnel.

"Why a funnel? Where's the cups?" As you move your search to the drawers, you are surprised by a meek voice behind you.

"I-I only have two cups, but you can have one." Floor is standing halfway out of her room, a tall, hard-plastic cup in her shaky hoof as she holds it out to you.

"Oh, uh, thanks " you say as you walk over to her, being sure not to make any sudden moves. The little pony looks ready to bolt as it is. "You have any other dishes in there? Your cupboards are kinda bare." She opens her mouth, hoof hovering after you take the cup from it, before she simply rushes back into her room.

At first, you think she had returned to hiding, but after some clattering, she comes out and holds her full hooves up as if giving tribute. "Oh, thanks." you say, taking the proffered stack, counting two bowls and spoons, a plate, and a plain mug on top. All of which exudes the smell of spoiled milk and rotting food. "Phew, I'll just... wash these later."

The mare blushes and hunches her shoulders, making you quickly backpedal. "You know, I did the same thing when I lived alone. Why have a whole stack of plates if you were the only one who would be using them, right? Yep, just better to have a full set or two and rinse 'em as you go. That's the smart way to do it."

With an exaggerated nod, you internally breathe a sigh of relief at the sight of a tentative smile pulling at Floor's lips. Returning to the sink, you place the dishes in and grab a cup off the top. The remains of some sugary drink is solidified on the bottom, but dissolving it away with some hot water should work until you can find or buy some dish soap.

When the handle is turned, a gurgling can be heard throughout the pipes and the faucet jitters a bit before spraying a few bursts of water. A couple seconds later, the stream stabilizes and begins to warm. Okay, that didn't seem good, but you're no plumber, so you'll ignore it until it becomes a problem. You do it with your health, and you're still kicking, so you're sure it's fine.

"S-sorry I don't have anything besides water for you to drink," Floor says, rubbing her hooves together. "I, um, I didn't think I was going to need to need anymore food stuff after... you know."

"It's fine, I actually like water. Pretty much all I drink besides coffee," you respond, trying to keep the mood light. It seems to work as the little mare brightens.

"Oh? I-I like coffee too. I always buy a cup whenever I go to the convenience store for food. There's a r-really nice cappuccino machine with all sorts of flavors. I always get mocha."

"Is that so? I usually stick to just the plain kind because it's cheap and I can make it in my kitchen, but I like the fancier stuff too."

She twiddles her hooves, looking down and to the side. "M-maybe we can go get some together when we go get food l-later. You know, since there's nothing to eat here and we'd be there anyway."

Well, you were planning to go to an actual grocery store for food since you certainly weren't going to live off of junk food for your entire stay here, but you couldn't say no to a face like that. "Sounds like a plan," you answer, getting the mare to snap her eyes up to meet yours. "But it'll have to wait until after we're done cleaning up first."

Floor Bored tilts her head in confusion. "Clean? But why? It'll just get messy again later, r-right?"

You have to blink a few times at that, trying to rectify the sincerity of the question with its absurdity. "...Well, if we clean it now, and don't drop stuff on the floor later, it won't get messy again, and any mess we do make will be easier to clean up... Get it?" You can tell by her expression that she doesn't, but she nods nonetheless. With a small sigh, you fill your cup and gulp it down, wishing at the moment that it was alcohol.

You had a lot of work ahead of you.

You are a very exhausted Floor Bored. Why did you have to clean? It was sooo hard, and didn't make any sense. It was so much easier to just drop your chip bags and empty noodle cups on the floor and then pack it all down when you walked over them. Plus the carpet underneath is all slimy and Anon says he'll have to tear it out, so cleaning just made more work!

Guh, colts are as difficult as the internet said they are.

You rest your head comfortably on the garbage bag you filled, watching Anon tie off the last of his and place it with the other two. At least he sees some of the wisdom in your trash-covered floor method, taking what he can't cram into the bags and spreading it evenly throughout the room to cover the gooey carpet.

Unbidden, you smile while you watch Anon work. He is so serious as he tosses trash around, stopping every once in awhile to adjust it for optimal coverage. His wiggly hooves reaching down to push things into place.

"What are those?" you find yourself asking suddenly.

"Huh? What are what?"

On the spot and kicking yourself for distracting him, you point. "Um, th-those, your.. hooves. What are they called?"

"These? They're just hands." He gives you a sly smile and holds them up, wiggling them. "Why? You jelly?"

"N-no, I was just wondering," you answer, turning away, beginning to blush when your mind starts suggesting all the things those wiggly hands could do. No! Don't be a perv, Floor! Anon wouldn't ever touch you that way, anyway, so there's no point in thinking about it.

"Heh, well I definitely don't envy you ponies and your hooves. I can't imagine life without fingers." He surveys the room as he says this, hands on his hips. "Looks like we've done all there is to do for now. We'll need more garbage bags and some cleaning supplies before we can tackle the rest of it."

This has you looking at him again. "D-does that mean we're done? We can go get the coffee now?" In truth, you didn't like leaving the apartment before the sun was down, and that was a couple hours away, but the thought of getting coffee with Anon was strangely exciting. It was almost like a d-date...

You shiver, remembering a dating sim you played back before your computer wasn't on life support. It was really hard, but one time, you did manage to get the cute colt in it to get coffee with you. Sadly he died when you inexplicably caused the coffee shop to catch fire.

"Sure, we can go," Anon says, making his way to the door. As he passes, he pats your head, and your heart nearly skips a beat. "Hey, you coming? I actually want to walk around the neighborhood some before the sun goes down. You know, get familiar with the area and all."

"Mhmm!" Tongue-tied, you settle for running to his side as an answer, trying your best to hide your glowing face behind your shaggy mane. He simply smiles and opens the door, stepping out and starting down the hall. You lift a hoof, but it hovers over the threshold, noticing how much brighter it looked then what you were used to.

Ponies would still be out in droves at this time. You might even bump shoulders with somepony, and they'd give you a mean look. They might even yell; say you smell and that you're ugly and stupid. They'll tell you to stop making everything worse for everypony else and to just k-kill yourself. A-and, you really should. Anon wouldn't have to waste his time on you anymore, or-or-

"Hey? You coming, Floor? Daylight's burning." He waves you towards him expectantly, and you're mind begins to settle. With a smile, you step out and follow after him.

Author's Note

Artist is Megamartex.

Chapter 4

Be sympathetic, but proud Anon. It didn't take long to notice how nerve-racking the daytime outing was for your roommate, but she was sticking with it anyway. It's only her first day of being out of the hospital after a traumatizing event, and she's already out here facing a fear head-on. Well, more like head titled down and covered by a sweater hood, but it's still inspiring.

You didn't leave the room the princesses provided you with for five days after you were first sucked into Equestria. You aren't a wimp or anything, it was all just very jarring, landing in a strange land and being surrounded by strange creatures. Seriously, you think they're cute now, but those giant pony eyes were just plain eerie the first time you saw them.

Like shiny white baseballs. Ew, now you're imagining what it would be like to palm one of those. What do they use during Halloween for the blindfold feeling game? Meatloaves in spaghetti?

"Um, Anon, w-we're at the store."

"Huh? Oh! We are. Sorry, just zoned out for a bit." Giving your companion an apologetic smile, you look up to see the generic, 7-Eleven like building in front of you. Even the inside reminded you of Earth. A bored, acne-faced teen behind the register. Buzzing, occasionally flickering lights over head. The humming of the slushy machines and squeaking of rollers keeping overpriced corn dogs and taquitos from burning under heating lamps. Ah, the memories.

Floor takes it upon herself to give you the guided tour, showing you all the racks where her favorite snacks reside. She has decidedly economic tastes for a NEET, preferring the off-brand products in lieu of things like Hill Mist soda and HorseRitos. Unfortunately, she still liked energy drinks, a fact made clear when she pulls seven from the refrigerator in the back.

"Uh, I don't think so," you say, intercepting her hoof as she reached for another.

"W-what? Do you not like Smooze? We can get a different kind."

"No, I don't like energy drinks, period. Stuff's just overpriced poison, and there's no way I'm letting you drink eight cans of it on my watch. You'd be back in the hospital by morning from a heart attack." She shrinks into herself and mumbles meekly about how you were going to split them, getting you to heave a sigh and go down on one knee.

"Hey, I'm not mad, I'm just trying to look out for you, is all," you say gently, placing a hand under her chin to guide her eyes to yours, letting her see for herself you weren't angry. "And besides, they really are expensive. I mean, look, nearly three bits for one. We could get two large cappuccinos for that. And for the price of all eight, we can come back everyday of the week and get coffee together. Wouldn't that be nice?"

She begin to nod, picking up speed until she's practically headbanging, smiling wide. Shit, It's good thing she didn't use that cuteness to get the energy drinks from you. You doubt you could resist.

"Okay, okay, Let's get some coffee then." you say, moving to the machine in the back and pulling loose two of the largest-sized styrofoam cups from the dispenser and handed one down to Floor. Damn horsie land. Everything was lower to account for short, little equines, so you have to bend your knees some to fill your cup. A couple years living here and you're either going to have buns of steel or blown out kneecaps.

Cups filled, you go to the register and wait uninterested for the cashier to finish scanning everything in until he tells you the total.

"That'll be 36.50, sir," the teen droned.

"Seriously?" Looking at the counter, you soon realize that, yes, there was quite a lot there. Did you really need five family-size bags of potato chip? "You have any bits on you, Floor?"

The little mare taps the front pocket of her hoodie, the empty fabric falling around her hoof while she gives you an apologetic look. "S-sorry, I forgot to grab my bit bag."

No splitting the bill, then. With a sigh, you turn back to the counter. "I'm sorry, but I'm going have to remove a few items."

With an apathetic "Whatever," the colt begins voiding items, waiting impatiently while you try to get Floor to choose what to keep. Ten minutes later, you're walking our the front door, the handles of a plastic bag wrapped around the fingers of one hand, a coffee cup grasped in the other, and a moping pony a step behind you.

"Sorry we couldn't get all your snacks, Floor, but I still want to get some other stuff for the fridge."

"It's okay, I'm sorry you had to pay for it all by yourself." she responds, regret clear in her voice.

You smile a little and slow down, letting the mare reach your side so you could reach down and pet her between the ears. "Hey, it's not a big deal, and you know, it's probably a good thing, anyway so much junk food isn't good for you, and I plan on getting us something healthy. You'll see, I'm not a chef or anything, but I bet I can make something way tastier then prepackaged junk."

Floor Bored is now looking up at you with sparkles in her eyes, like she's seeing snow for the first time or something. It's... kinda weird.

You are Floor Bored, a completely undeserving pony. How did a NEET like you end up with a colt- a nice colt- living with you? Especially one who just offered to cook for you. A pony hasn't done that since you still lived with GramGram. That was something s-special someponies did.

As you scream internally, you do your best to keep your expression neutral... and fail miserably as the dopey grin refuses to leave your face. Luckily with your hood up and head down, nopony can see it. Deep down, you know he's only with you because it's his job. That he's just making sure you don't try to end it again. But it's nice to pretend otherwise and that he truly cares.

The fact that he was trying at all must mean he at least cares a little, right? And maybe if you don't be the massive loser you are, he'll begin to care for real. And so, you're on your best behavior while Anon does his shopping, having taken the two of you to a proper grocery store.

The novelty of it almost helps you ignore all the ponies milling about. You haven't seen many of these fruits and vegetables out of crisp, fried form in forever. Are those shiny red things really what your favorite apple chips are made of? Wild.

Oh shoot, Anon's talking. Listen, mare! "-You can get fresh produce way cheaper then the prepackaged stuff, too. I mean, seriously, look at this, a pound of potatoes for two bits. How much did that bag we got cost? 3.50? And there's probably only two spuds tops in it. Maybe we can buy some oil while we're here and fry up our own. Fresh chips hot out of the kettle will blow your mind. How's that sound? Good?"

"Uh-huh." No, not this again! Speak like an adult! "I-I mean, yeah, sounds good."

"You have any requests? I'm sure I can figure out how to make it if you have anything specific you want to eat."

Your mind races at the offer, trying to think of something that you'd like and that wouldn't seem like asking too much. "Maybe... mac'n'cheese? My GramGram used to make it for me whenever I had a bad day at school..." So most days until you graduated after a repeat of your senior year. GramGram always said it was your mom's favorite growing up, so it was kind of like a special connection between you and the mare you could hardly remember.

"Mac'n'cheese...? Yeah, I can do that. Just cheese, milk, butter, salt, pepper, and macaroni. Let's pick the stuff up and make some tonight. Thinking about it is actually making me hungry."

Satisfied you made the right choice, you nod and trot happily behind him. you can't wait to have mac'n'cheese again, and you especially can't wait to try Anon's. It was hard to believe after how the day began, that you could feel this happy. That Anon could make you feel this happy.

Maybe you can help him make dinner tonight so he doesn't think you're useless. The two of you side by side in the kitchen, working so closely that you rub against each other. You giggle like a filly just thinking about, and practically skip all the way back home when you're finally done shopping.

You are Anonymous, currently filled with the warm fuzzies. You watch Floor Bored happily chew a mouthful of tonight's dinner as you take your own bite of cheesy goodness. Admittedly, it isn't great, the ratios of cheese and milk being a bit off for your liking, but seeing the little mare before you so full of life after the dark days prior, you can't help but smile.

The two of you sit on a couple of cleared patches of kitchen linoleum since Floor lacked much furniture. Your back against the now partially stocked refrigerator and her sitting across from you. With her forehooves holding her food and back legs spread apart, you get a glance of her underwear, and a question lingers on your tongue. "Say, Floor, I've been wondering, what's with the clothes?"

they really are strange, especially the lower garment. You weren't an expert on Equestrian society, but you were pretty sure panties were erotic somehow. At least, that's what you've gathered from the covermares on the adult magazine racks at the convenience store earlier.

Floor must have missed them though, since she tilts her head, spoon hanging from her mouth. "You know, the sweater, and, uh, underwear." At the clarification, she blushes and breaks eye contact.
"It's... I just... I like them... because I feel cold."

The answer was lacking certainty, but you could tell she was uncomfortable, so you accept it for now. "Huh, well if it makes you happy, wear whatever you want. It's just that, you know, I don't exactly see a lot of ponies with clothes on, mostly they're naked or just have some little accessories like ties or hats. You look good, though."

Floor jolts at this, staring wide-eyed. "Yeah, it's... unique," you continue, giving a chuckle. "The two of us together, we're like the clothed duo. Maybe we should become models, yeah It'd probably bring in more bits, at least."

You're joke isn't a hit, it seems, seeing as Floor's expression falls slightly while she stares into her empty bowl. "Th-thanks for the food, Anon, it was really good," she says, standing up.

"Thanks, you want more? I made enough for each of us to have two bowls."

She opens her mouth, but doesn't speak right away. "... No, I'm... I'm full."

You watch, puzzled, as the little mare drops her bowl into the sink before ambling towards her bedroom. Stopping, she peeks over her shoulder. "I'm... just gonna sleep a little."

With that, she steps inside and gently closes the door, leaving you confused on what you said. It wasn't comedy gold, but you thought it would at least get a giggle from her. With a sigh, you move to the sink and place your own bowl in besides Floor's, turning the water on.

Be Floor Bored, staring at a blanket on the wall. You aren't afraid of the red fabric, no. You're afraid of what's behind it.

With a long sigh, you begin to strip down, dropping the hoodie before hesitantly reaching for your panties. Sliding them off after a moment, you look at the blanket once again and reach a hoof forward. With a gulp, you whip it down, eyes slammed shut at the first reflective glint revealed, until you force yourself to look.

Your reflection looks back. Dull eyes, so dark that the color is indistinguishable in the low light of your room, both carrying heavy bags even after the extra sleep you got at the hospital. Your plain cream coat is cleaner than you remember. Again thanks to the hospital. Unblemished by the sweat stains and grime usually there. Unblemished even by a cutie mark.

The panties didn't cover your flanks entirely, but with them on, you could at least pretend you perhaps had cutie marks riding high on the unappealing bottom, just beneath the fabric. Hip bones just starting to show, same as your ribs. Maybe that's what he was talking about? Models are supposed to be thin, after all. You'd rather believe that than him making fun of you.

You're sure he wasn't, he's been so nice after all, but you couldn't fathom any other reason for him to compliment your looks. Head falling forward, you are reminded of yet another of your many flaws. Your greasy mane blocking your sight. At least you aren't looking at your reflection.

Without a sound, you go about slipping your clothes back on, ears perking backwards. A few clinks and running water can be heard. Anon must be doing the dishes, something you should've done. It's the least you could do after he made you such good mac'n'cheese.

And it was good. Really good, in fact. You hadn't eaten so much in one sitting in... forever. Usually, you just had a few hooffuls of chips and a couple cans of Smooze a day since sitting in front of a computer didn't burn a lot of energy.

Feeling exhausted, you climb into bed and stare at the wall. Normally, this would be where you'd laid awake for an hour while waiting for sleep to come, but you instead take the time to reminisce on the strange day. Even the most embarrassing part of it brought a small smile to your lips. You thought Anon was going to comment on how stupid and clumsy you were right there.

But he didn't. He helped you instead. Not even later, when a small voice whispered that he simply didn't want to make a scene and was waiting for you two to be alone together, did he show anger. Then you cleaned together, drank coffee together, and ate together. And he never got mad at you.

It's on these thoughts that you quickly drift asleep on, the sound of Anon's presence in the other room providing a rare comfort for your tired mind.
...
...
... *Rrrrip!*

"Whos'a'whats'it!" Frantically flinging your gaze around the room in search of danger, another tearing sound saws through the door. Rolling out of bed slowly, you belly crawl across the floor to spy through the crack along the bottom. A shadow passes by and your heart begins to thunder in your chest... Until you hear Anon grumbling.

Oh, yeah, he's living here now. How long were you asleep? Time was never of much concern to you, so the clock display at the bottom of your computer monitor was usually enough, but that wasn't much of an option right now. Well, you've slept enough for the coffee to finally reach your bladder. Are there any bottles around?

Wait! No! You're using the potty from now on, remember?

Standing, you take a deep breath and open the door. Quickly noticing a difference. For one, there is no more trash anywhere in the room save for the pile of garbage bags in the corner. Also, half of your carpet is torn up.

"Sorry if I woke you, Floor, but I don't usually hit the sack until after ten, so I figured I'd get some housework done tonight." Anon is is kneeling, box cutter in hand, and sans a shirt. "Uh... you okay?"

You realize you stopped blinking when your eyes begin to water, and snap your jaw shut, pointing to the right. "B-bathroom..."

"Yes... it is over." He raises a brow. "Do you... need to use it?"

"Y-yes! Yes I do!" Trying to get out of sight as fast as possible, you dash to the bathroom and slam the door, falling against it and breathing heavily.

What. Was that.

You see naked ponies all the time. It hasn't been a big deal since you found your GramGram's old PlayMare collection in the back of her closet. That was when you were thirteen! And you've seen way more since then. You do have the internet, after all. So why was Anon's bare chest so... tantalizing?

And were those nipples? Why does the colt have nipples? Why did you like that the colt had nipples? Your search history is proof of how straight you are. Feeling moisture beneath your bottom, you're afraid you just peed yourself until you wink against the tiles.

"Ah! Cold!" You jump and turn around, blushing at the sight of your arousal. Wow, you haven't managed to get yourself in this kind of state with imagination alone since you were a filly at the peak of puberty. What was Anon doing to you?

With a shaky breath, you grab some tissue paper and clean up the mess, which was luckily small. Tossing the wad in the toilet, you set about doing what you came here for. Standing so that the trough-like toilet was directly beneath you, you close your eyes and relax, the sound of trickling water soon filling the room

Huh, you don't know why didn't do this more often, It's a lot easier than trying to aim into a bottle, and the walk from your bedroom to the bathroom was far from a long one. Guess you've always been an idiot, but at least Anon was here now. He gave you a reason to better yourself. You wanted to be better for him...

Another splash of liquid into the toilet, this time not urine, has you blushing furiously. Batteries or not, Mister Quiver was earning his keep tonight.

Taking a few minutes to calm yourself and let your nethers cool, you step out of the bathroom. Remember the plan, Floor, just maintain eye contact. Say a quick hello, then calmly return to your bedroom until Anon dresses himself. Easy.

Turning, you meet Anon's gaze when he looks up from his work. That's it, just keep looking into his eyes. His, tiny, strangely cute eyes... You never noticed what a striking shade of green they were.

"Do I have something on my face? Oh crap, it's not carpet slime, is it?" You blink rapidly, Anon unintentionally breaking the spell when he brakes eye contact to wipe at his face.

"Ah-Ah, Bye!" Playing it cool, and with only a minor adjustment to the plan, you dash along the wall and skid into your room, door slamming behind you. Smooth as silk.

"Oh, who am I fooling? I'm such an idiot." Burying your face into your hooves, you remain propped against the door for awhile before slowing slinking over to your bed and reaching under it. Pulling Mister Quiver out, you flip his switch a few times even knowing he won't turn on, before crawling beneath your bed and getting to work.

This is who you are. A gross mare masturbating with an uncharged vibrator amongst the rest of the garbage in the dark. It's who you'll always be.

You're Anon, sweaty and rolling the last column of moldering carpet up to place it against the wall with the rest. You move to rub the sweat from your brow when you remember your hands and forearms are covered in slime. You wish you could have picked up rubber gloves for the job, but alas, you are a sole handy man in a country of hooves.

Minotaurs are a thing in this world, right? Maybe you can import some hand-compatible stuff from wherever they are. A thought for another time. For right now, Anon wants to get clean.

Getting to your feet, your knees crack from their stiffness and you hiss slightly, before moving towards the bathroom. You hesitate by Floor's door, tempted to knock. She's had a stressful day, but you think she enjoyed it overall, so you doubt she'd have done anything bad to herself.

Putting an ear up to the door, you listen for a few seconds, breath held until you hear some sound. You can't tell what she's up to, but if she's moving, she's alive.

Satisfied for now, you go to the bathroom, and use an elbow to jostle the faucet on before, kneeling down to run your forearms under the stream. While you do this, you look over to notice tissue in the thing that passes as toilet in ponyland and the yellow tinge to the water.

At least she used the toilet unlike half the NEETs you've met. Stepping down on the button to flush for the forgetful pony, you step around it to stand next to the bathtub. It's at least long enough for you to maybe lay in with your legs pulled up, and about up to your knees deep.

It's also coated in scum and bits of mold. Can't say you're surprised, though you luckily found a half-empty bottle of cleaner and some old, mildewy rags under the sink earlier.

Anon's had a long day and wants a shower, but he ain't letting his bare feet touch that gunk, so more work it is.

Sigh.

Author's Note

This one is one is by sraggleman

Chapter 5

The next day passes without incident. You feed Floor reheated macaroni in the morning and make her a beets, lettuce, and tomato sandwich for lunch, which she liked. You go out for coffee as the sun sets, and sit behind the building to drink them and talk. Well, you talked, she mostly nodded her head and hummed to show she was listening.

Upon getting home, you fried some tofu that was on discount at the grocery along with some greens and dosed it all in barbecue sauce. It was far from good, but you are beginning to think your roommate was a vacuum cleaner in a past life with how thoroughly she cleaned her plate. After that, you went to work on a loveseat a stallion from the building helped you drag up from the alleyway.

It wasn't in good shape, but it was free and didn't smell too bad since you got to it before the elements. You simply flip over one cushion to hide a massive stain on it while taking a pair of scissors to the soiled fabric of the armrests and back. Removing some yellow foam in the process left you a patchy, puke green couch that you'd be sleeping on from now on once you deloused the thing. Better than the kitchen floor at least.

With that, you called it a day, and awoke to the next hoping you'd make some progress with Floor Bored. It's noon, and she hasn't come out of her room since sneaking out for a bowl of cereal.

Yeah, no. Not today little pony.

"Floor? You want to come out and hang? You haven't tried the new couch, come on and take a seat with me."

"Um... th-thanks, but I'll just stay in here."

"Aww. come on, Floor. It's so boring out here by myself, I can't imagine what it's like in there."

"I-I'm fine, really."

You sigh, rubbing the bridge of your nose. "Listen, Floor, I don't think it's healthy sitting alone in a stuffy room all day, and I don't think one walk for coffee is going to help much, so please, please come out." You wait a full minute with no response before moving on to tough love. "Okay, I'm counting to three, then I'm coming in there and dragging you out."

"What!?"

"One."

"No, wait!"

"Two."

"Don't come in yet, I-I just gotta-"

"Three."

You hear the little mare scrambling about, and give her an extra couple seconds before opening the door. It's just as you remember, except for the pony stuffing what looked like a magazine and magic wand under the bed. Dark, computer to your left, a bed to your right, garbage on the floor.

A black cord hanging from the ceiling fan, luckily no mare attached.

"Holy shit, Floor, you left that there? I let you leave that there?"

"Th-this is nothing, j-just some silly stuff, you don't need to see- ah- huh?"

You're already moving when the mare looks up confused, untying the computer mouse from the fan. "Jeez, I can't believe you've just been looking at this for two days."

"I couldn't reach high enough," she mumbles meekly, eyes dropping. "I just sort of threw it until it caught before."

"You should have asked me to help then. Really, Floor, I'm not a shrink, but I'm pretty sure the remains of a noose isn't a decor choice good for mental health." She flinches, but doesn't answer as you pull it loose. "Is the rest still on the floor too? Listen, you maybe want to clean this place up a bit? I'll help, if you want. I won't force you, but I really think it's a good idea."

You kind of expect her to turn you down completely since it is asking a lot. Change can be scary, after all, and the room's probably been trashed for as long as she can remember. But she blushes, scooting closer to her bed. "No! I mean, I-I'll c-clean, but you don't need to help. There's nothing embarrassing or anything, just boring mare stuff. You'll be bored, heh-heh..."

Okay, so there's definitely some embarrassing stuff stashed away in here that she doesn't want you to see. the magazine and wand-which-you-suspect-you-know-what-it-is-now being amongst them. "Yeah, well, if you need any help, just ask."

You're not going to humiliate a potentially suicidal pony by forcing the issue. When your mom found the swimsuit edition beneath your mattress when you were thirteen, you could have died from embarrassment. You'd rather not see that phrase taken literally.

Be a very flustered Floor Bored. Did he smell you? Did he see your vibrator? Oh, please let the answers be no. You think they are.

He seemed pretty distracted by the cord. It was pretty distracting to you too, but after failing to get it down, you just sort of got used to it. Sweet Celestia, that's not any better! You're such a freak!

Falling onto your mattress with a groan, you just want to stay there until you fossilize. But you need to clean. Augh, why'd you have to go and say something like that? Stupid panicking brain. You haven't cleaned in... Well, the fact that you can't remember the last time you cleaned is pretty telling.

With a groan, you slide off the bed and use your back legs to push towards the door. Stopping, you close your eyes and try to remember exactly where you saw Anon place the garbage bags. Right under the sink to the left side. You remember him bending over to put them there.

Mmmph.

No! If you think of that, you'll just get stuck in a vicious cycle of masturbating, crying, sleeping, and then more masturbating. And the room won't ever get clean and Anon will be disappointed in you. Determined, you whip the door open, dash to the sink to grab bags, and then disappear back into room before Anon has a chance to distract you with his Anon-ness.

Squaring your shoulders, you stare at your ancient foe with resolve. This filth has existed since time immemorial, but would now perish to your hooves. Where all the NEETs before you have fallen on this harsh quest, you will succeed.You are Floor Bored, Cleaner of Your Room. And you. Will be. VICTORIOUS!

"Squee!"

You are Anon, and very curious right now. What the hell is that pony up to? For the last fifteen minutes, you've heard what sounds like trench warfare emanating from Floor's room. You'd be worried if the mare hadn't come out and run to the bathroom to grab a spray bottle and rags. She didn't say anything before retreating to her room to continue what you assume was cleaning.

Ten minutes later, the sound stops, and the door slowly creaks open to allow a bedraggled, sweating Floor Bored to come shambling out. "Ah, how's it going, Floor? You finish cleaning?" you ask.

She looks at you with a tired smile and nods. "Uh-huh... you... you want to see?" You shrug and get up, the mare stepping aside as you reach the door to reveal a sight that honestly shocks you.

The room is near spotless, only two full trash bags set on the shining floor. "Wow, Floor, you really did an amazing job," you complement honestly, getting the little pony to beam up at you. "Really, it practically looks like a dif- huh?" As you step on the floor with your sock-clad feet, you notice it feels uneven, and your roomy starts to blush.

Kneeling down, you look more closely at the glossy floor, and notice that, under the opaque surface, carpet threads can be seen. "Is... is this some sort of epoxy? What is this, Floor?"

"Um.... W-well, you know that, uh, slime that was growing on the carpet in the living room...? I think maybe, this used to be that," she explains, beginning to shrink into herself.

You whip your hand away and stare between Floor, and the floor. Now that she mentions it, it does have the same, off-green color as the other stuff did. "Floor... when was the last time you cleaned your room?"

"Uh, maybe... four years ago? I'm, um, not really sure." she answers meekly. "It was before the last time I cleaned the living room, and that was the last time my GramGram visited before going to the old ponies' home. Other than that, I've always just sorta picked up some of the trash when it got too high. B-but I used the rest of the stuff in that bottle and wiped the whole thing down! S-so, it's kinda, sorta clean, and it doesn't smell, so maybe it's... okay?"

She is mostly right about the room not smelling, though there's an odor you imagine won't go away completely until the bedding is washed and maybe even a new mattress is bought. Tentatively, you lower your head and sniff the solidified slime, and hum. Well, it doesn't stink, at least.

"I've... never actually seen something like this, I'm pretty sure there's no molds back on Earth that can do this, but, if it's not going to make you sick, I guess it it okay... for now. Good work, Floor," you finish, patting her head without thinking.

She tenses, but relaxes a moment later and even begins to push against your touch. Quirking an eyebrow, you smile nonetheless and pet her gently, getting her to sigh. When you pull your hand back though, it's a little slick with sweat and oil, and the mare looks a bit disappointed.

"Hey, you know what I like to do after a hard job?" you ask, subtly wiping your palm against your jeans. "I like to have a nice, long bath."

She sits a little straighter. "y-your going to take a bath?"

"uh, no... I was, asking if you wanted to take one," you clarify, getting the little mare to lower a little bit, before your words fully register, and she tenses again.

"W-what? Why would I take a bath? I-I mean, I'll just get dirty again later, and besides, I already got one at the hospital, so I should be good for a couple months, right...? Unless y-you think I smell..."

Oh shit, you suspected from the beginning she could be this kind of NEET. You have to play this casual, Anon. "Nah, you don't smell, I just think baths feel good, don't you? Sitting in a tub of warm, soothing water, letting your thoughts drift away, and then when you get out, your skin- er- coat, feels smooth and soft and your mane is silky. Much better than feeling sticky with sweat, right? So, what do you say? Sound good?"

She scuffs a hoof across the glossy floor, looking down. "I... guess, but there's also the scrubbing, and the stingy soap in your eyes, and your mane gets all tangly when it dries, and... it's just a lot of work."

"Why don't I help you then," you offer, getting the mare to freeze. "Yeah, after all the hard work you did, you deserve to get all the relaxing parts of the bath, and I'll do all the hard stuff."

"W-what?" she breathes, eyes slowly turning upwards.

"Mhmm, I'm a pro at cleaning myself, do it everyday, after all, so you can be sure you'll get only the best service from this guy. I swear not a drop of shampoo will reach your eyes. Heck, I'll even comb your mane when you get out of the tub. I'll be like that gay guy friend from the movies, except for not gushing about cute boys and saying everything overly flamboyant like."

A few squeaking sounds come from the mare while you wait several seconds for a response, until eventually, she nods jerkily. You smile and clap your hands. "Great, I'll go run the bath water, you just get undressed and come in when you're ready."

As you leave, you hear her wheeze, "U-un-undressed?"

You are Floor Bored, a shaking, sweaty mess, barely standing after the three minutes it took you to get your sweater and panties off. And you're now staring at the door, trying to muster up the courage to go get bathed by Anon.

You shudder and moan, the mere thought of his big, strong hands gliding over your body turning your legs to jelly. As you fall to your rump, you quickly try to think unsexy thoughts. Uh, salads. GramGram in a bathing suit.

Anon rubbing your hideous body and being disgusted.

With a groan, you smack your head against the door. Why did you agree to this, again? Sure it'd be good during, great even, but Anon was never going to be able to look at you again after this. "Maybe... maybe he won't mind?" you whisper desperately to yourself.

It's possible, you try to convince yourself, that he won't even care one way or the other. You know he won't find you beautiful, after all, but that doesn't mean he has to think you're ugly instead. He's been so kind and understanding so far. He even cleaned you after you wet yourself, and still took you out for coffee that same night.

Anon is- or the closest you've ever had to- a friend, and friends don't care what the other looks like. At least, you think that's how it works. Letting a slow breath flow from your nostrils, you stand and square your shoulders. If Anon can not care about your looks while doing this super nice, platonic thing for you, you can do the same for him.

He's just helping you bathe, right? A perfectly normal, almost-friend thing to do... probably. Anon's definitely more knowledgeable on the subject then you, so it must be normal.

With your hoofful of scraped together courage, you leave to the bathroom, stopping at the threshold to see Anon, sleeve rolled up, testing the water. You gulp when he turns and smiles at you.

"There you are, you're just in time. Tubs full and the perfect temp," he says, taking his arm from the tub to give it a quick shake.

"Um, th-thank you, for doing this, Anon," you begin, shakily stepping towards him and the steaming tub. "It's really nice." And more than you deserve, but you've always been a selfish mare.

"It's no problem. I used to babysit for my neighbor's kids, and I had to give them baths a few times. At least you didn't get yourself covered in mud and fight me every step of the way to the bathroom." You actually huff a little laugh, mind trying to picture what hoo-man foals look like, and coming up with mini-Anon's instead.

"Well, come on, don't want the water getting cold, do we?" he says, gesturing you forward. You nod, and cross the bathroom to begin climbing over the lip of the tub, and eep when Anon gently helps to push you over.

He quickly pulls his hand back and says sheepishly, "Sorry, you just looked like you were having a little trouble."

"I was just surprised is all, I don't mind you... touching me," you answer, gulping at the end.

"That's good, or this whole thing would be a really awkward."

"Yeah, awkward. hehe..."

"So, how's the water? Good for you? If it's too hot, we can add some cold water."

"It's fine," you breathe, sitting down. It really is nice; you tend to forget since you go so long between showers, waiting until you notice cashiers start to grimace when you walk into their stores at night. Plus, as relaxing as the warm water was, all the work of actually cleaning yourself tended to suck the enjoyment out of it. Why waste time in the bath when you could be browsing PoneChan and getting yourself off to all the clopfics and art posted there everyday?

"Should we start with the mane first, then?" Anon asks, interrupting your thoughts. "That way you can stay sitting for a while longer."

"S-sounds good," you answer, forcing yourself not to sink further beneath the surface. Anon warns you before he starts, afraid to startle you again, then squirts some shampoo into your mane. Soon after, those strange fingers begin to work it in, and you can't help but hum at the feeling. There's no annoying, flowery smell since you've always opted for the cheapest, fragrant-free stuff, so you are able to enjoy the tiny digits massaging your scalp without distraction.

Even as he works his way down your long, uncut strands, pulling his fingers through the knots, he's so gentle he actually makes it enjoyable. The soft tugging strangely pleasant, getting you to sigh as your head slowly droops and your eyes grow heavy. True to his words, every blob of suds that tries to slide down your forehead is quickly wiped away by his deft hands, and after an eternity, yet still too soon, he stops.

"Mane's about done I'd say, now it's time for the rinsing." He says, grabbing a cup from his side to fill it with bath water. "Ready?" You give a small nod and hum, and soon feel warm water cascade down your neck. You tilt your head back as he pours three more cups onto you and declares it done.

"I'm glad to see your enjoying this, I knew you would," comments Anon, seeing your smile. "Now, I know you're all relaxed, but do you mind standing, Floor? We've still got to shampoo your coat and tail."

Your heart rate picks up, but you try to remain calm as you do as he asks. Right now, Anon is not only seeing your body, but focusing on it. Your ugliness on full display for him to stare and judge.

A part of you waits for them, the jeers and biting comments, but the only sound coming from Anon is a quietly hummed tune as he runs a streak of soap down your back.

"I'm not one to brag, but I hope you're ready, Floor, because there was a reason I was called MagicHands Anon back on Earth." Before you can ponder his words, his fingers sink into your back, ten points of pressure followed by his palms spreading the soap. You openly moan as digs his nails in, scratching through your coat to the sensitive skin beneath. He chuckles as one of your hind legs lift involuntarily and shake as he reaches a spot around your whither.

"You like?" he asks rhetorically, your response answer enough. You still hiss out a long yes, anyway, tongue lolling from your mouth as he presses between your shoulders.

Knots formed from years hunched over a computer desk begin to loosen, and aches and pains you'd long since grown accustom to begin to be replaced by the pleasant variety. You hardly register as he moves down your sides and lifts your front legs up to clean them, moaning louder as he works over your hooves to rub the grime from your soft frogs. It's only when he starts to work down your chest that you regain some of your senses and wince, leaning back and away from his hand.

"Is something wrong, Floor?" he asks, a hint of concern in his voice.

"Um, s-sorry, it's just that, well, my chest still hurts a little from before you took me to the hospital."

He blinks a few times, then smacks his forehead with a wet hand. "Ah, crap, I completely forgot about that. I'm real, sorry, Floor."

"I-it's alright, really! It doesn't even hurt anymore unless I press on it," you assure him.

"Which I just did, because I'm a forgetful idiot."

"You are not an idiot, Anon!" you practically yell, never more sure of anything in your life. "You're the nicest po- um- hoo-man I've ever met, and I know it was just an accident. You... wouldn't hurt me on purpose." ... And you believe that. As you look on the stallion before you, the treacherous voice in the back of your head remains blissfully silent, knowing it can not refute your claim as Anon smiles lopsidedly.

"It's human, and I'm kind of the only one you know."

"You're nicer than any pony, too," you whisper back.

His smile fades a little at that. "That shouldn't be the case," he mumbles, holding his hands out. You lean into them, giving silent permission for him to continue.

"Well, my GramGram's really nice too, I just don't see her much."

"And why's that? She's in a nursing home, right? Is it far away?"

You sag a little in guilt. "Not really, it's on the other side of the city. I'm just too afraid to go that far, especially during the day when all those ponies are out. That's the only time they allow visitors though, so I can't go at night."

His hands slow a little. "Maybe... I can go with you? If that'd help, that is."

"W-would you really?" you ask hopefully.

"Yeah, why not? I think it'll be good for you, plus I'm sure your Grandma would love a visit from her granddaughter." You're about to thank him profusely, but squeak instead, your rear end jerking down under the water as Anon's hand runs over it.

"Fuck, did I hurt you again?"

"No, I-I'm fine," you say quickly, hoping the blush on your face isn't to noticeable. "I'm just... ticklish, there."

"Oh, my bad," he responds, relieved. "You want me to keep going, I'll try not to tickle you."

"S-sure, you can keep going." You bite your lip as his hands return to your flanks, subtly tucking your tail in as he works the spots where your cutie marks would be. Normally you'd be ashamed off your bare, bony bottom, but the feeling of Anon's dexterous fingers there is simply too amazing to care. Until he brushes against the base of your dock.

*DripDrip-Drip-Drip...Drip*

"Hmm, is the faucet leaking?"

Sitting with a splash, you quickly bring all four legs together. "U-um, Anon, do you think, I could finish myself? I actually want to soak for a while, if that's okay."

"Well sure, but are you positive you don't want me to shampoo your tail first. Hands make it easier, right?"

"That's fine, y-you've done enough, really."

He shrugs after a moment and stands, knees popping as he does. "Okay then, just call if you need anything," he says, waving over his shoulder before shutting the door.

Once you're sure he won't be coming back in, you heave a sigh and let your legs spread out. Reaching a hoof down, you graze against your heated folds and gasp at how sensitive they are. It usually takes a lot to get you like this, and yet Anon did it with a few absent-minded strokes of his hands.

Reaching back down, you begin to massage your petals, hissing every time you brushed against your rapidly winking clit. If this starts to happen whenever he brushes against you right, you may have a problem on your hooves, but for now, you'll take full advantage of the warm bath water. Bringing your other forehoof up to to bite down on, you stifle the moans from your first orgasm, and immediately start building towards your second, images of Anon flashing through your mind as you do.

Just what are you getting yourself into, Floor?

Author's Note

(How I imagine a puffy Floor out of the bath might look.)

Art by Lazerblues.

Chapter 6

You are Anon, waiting patiently, if a bit bored, with a brush in hand for Floor to come out from the bathroom. It had been silent for ten minutes until you heard the shower turn on, the little pony deciding to rinse off before finishing up, you presume. That was about five minutes ago, and you are now leaning your chin on your palm.

Settling in and cleaning up kept you busy enough the last couple days, but now, with the apartment reaching a livable state, hanging with Floor's about all there is for you to do.

"I wonder when those science ponies will give me my phone back," you ponder out load. Apparently, there has been a few other humans in this world besides you, the last maybe even still alive since he arrived twenty-some years ago. You of course asked about it, but he apparently left to live with the minotaurs a long time ago and didn't stay in contact with Equestria.

The humans were part of the reason there was technology so familiar to you; them spreading ideas and providing pieces of tech for the natives to build from. Ponies were a talented bunch, but prone to stagnation if outside forces didn't inspire them to innovate. From what you've gathered, the other races like the gryphons and minotaurs would often make steps in progress, like inventing the steam engine or cinema, then ponies would take the idea and improve upon it. Usually by throwing magic into the mix, but whatever worked.

And this is the case with your smartphone; nerds ponies were currently picking it apart to learn how to adapt the tech for their own use, which could potentially mean a boon in processing power for their computers in the near future. You'd like to say you handed your phone over for the sake of progress alone, but really, it's because they promised to make it adaptable with their internet when they were done. You can't wait to be able to browse from the palm of your hand again.

The shower finally turn off, and the door creaks open a minute later. "Enjoy the soak?" you ask as a damp, red-faced Floor steps out, some steam billowing out behind her.

Her face becomes redder and her eyes dart away as she answers, "Oh, um yeah, it was really... enjoyable."

"I'm glad to hear it," you reply honestly, straightening your posture and patting the empty seat next to you on the couch. "You still want me to brush your mane?"

"I-if you don't want to-"

"Oh, enough of that, of course I still want to. I wouldn't have offered otherwise. Now get your butt over here already, Floor. Let's get that mane shining." She stands there for several seconds, before finally, shakily walking to the couch and climbing up. At first, she's as far to the other side as possible, but you gently reach over and pull her closer, turning and bringing one knee up on the cushion while positioning her back towards you.

"There, that's better," you say, more to yourself than to the stiff pony. "You okay for me to start?" She nods minutely, and you smile, patting her on the whithers. "Don't worry, I'll be sure not to pull your mane... Unless you're into that sort of thing," you add jokingly.

It's meant to be harmless teasing, but it sends Floor into a coughing fit instead. "Crap, I'm sorry, I was just joking," you tell her as you pat her back, hoping to knock loose the saliva she inhaled with her gasp.

"I-I'm alright," she tells you when she gets her breathing under control, turning her teary eyes to give you a wobbly smile. "You just... surprised me, is all."

"Yeah, sorry about that. It was totally inappropriate. You still okay with me brushing you?"

She looks forward and unhunches her back. "Mhmm."

With her blessing, you grab some of the hair near the top of her head at the root, and start running the thick toothed brush through it. You are sure to tug the mane oppositely whenever the brush reaches a knot to keep from pulling the mare's scalp, but it's very slow going. Knot after knot is pulled lose as you inch your way down the long strands, until finally reaching the bottom and moving back to the top.

It's a long, tedious process, but the hums and content sighs encourage you to keep at it. Her jet black mane is a little frizzy even after running a brush through it, the cheap shampoo having leeched all the natural oils away without replacing them, and you see quite a few split ends at the bottom. It's soft though, and there's a slight scent coming from the mare that is oddly appealing.

It's strange since the smell definitely isn't the from the soap. It's faintly spicy with a hint of was almost musk. Maybe some sort of cologne?

Shrugging the thought aside, you focus on your work, smiling when Floor begins to lean back into you. Eventually, you finish, running your hand down the tidy mass of hair with a bit of pride. "Well, that's the top. Want for me to start on the tail next, or are you content to sleep for a while longer?"

"Hmm-wha?" she begins, jerking up a little and wiping drool from her chin. "S-sorry, it just felt really nice."

"It's fine," you say with a chuckle. "When I was a kid, I used to nod off in the barber's chair all the time. Anyway, I asked if you were ready for me to brush your tail."

You can't see her face as she stares straight ahead, but she eventually nods. "Thank you again, Anon, for doing this for me," she whispers, uncurling her tail from around her haunches to lay it across your lap.

"No problem," you respond, grabbing her tail near the dock and bringing the brush to it. You see her flinch as you do, and try to be gentle.

"S-so, you used to go to a barbershop when you were younger? My GramGram always cut my mane for me growing up."

"That so? My Mom was too busy for that, so she'd just give me some money and send me down the street to Bob's place. I liked it that way, though, my grandparents all lived far away, and old Bob was kind of like a surrogate grandpa for me."

"You didn't see your grandparents much? Did they not visit?"

"Just on holidays. I'd get cards every birthday though, so they at least tried for my sake. Guess it runs in my family that the kids don't get along with their parents. How about you? You grew up with your grandma, right?"

She shifts her weight back and forth on her front hooves. "W-well, um, my mom had me when she was still in high school, and my dad... well I don't know anything about him, accept that he was older and didn't stick around after Mom got pregnant. GramGram's never talks about him, except for under her breath. She... didn't like him much."

"I can imagine," You comment, frowning at the thought of such a man, or stallion in this case. You weren't naive enough to believe this guy staying would have made everything sunshine and rainbows for all involved. After all, it sounds like he was an adult who knocked up a teen, but to up and vanish completely? Not even try to help with money? That's low.

"Um, anyway, my mom was... well, I don't really remember my mom, either. GramGram said my dad broke her heart, and she never really got over it."

You stop brushing and lean forward, hugging the little mare softly. "I'm sorry," you say honestly. Floor jerks a little, but soon leans into the embrace.

"It's alright. I-it happened so long ago, I was four when she- she... I don't even remember her." Your hug tightens as the mare sniffle and brings a foreleg across her cheek. She settles down after a minute, and you resume your brushing.

The silence if deafening though, so you ask, "You have any hobbies, or anything? Truth is, I'm going a little stir crazy, not having much to do."

"Um, like what?"

"Well, for example, I like to write, even if it's usually just little short stories or blurbs."

"You write?"

"Yep, I try, anyway. I did go to college for it, after all."

"Really?"

"Yeah, I know, it was stupid of me. Looking back, I think it was more a rebellious thing. My parents were really controlling, told me it was a waste, that writing wouldn't get me a job. Turns out they were right."

"It isn't stupid, Anon, I bet you're an amazing writer."

"More like meh, but I try to get better. Enough about me, though, what about you?"

"O-oh, I'm pretty... talentless," she answers meekly, her tail tugging against your grip to try and cover her flank.

"I'm sure that's not true. Come on, you must have a hobby. What do you do to pass time?"

"I just browse this website most of the time."

"What site?"

"It's stupid. It's just a place for ponies to discuss random stuff, like favorite series or... other things."

"Is it broken up in categories? You look for certain discussions?" Your digging pays off as she squirms and mumbles something. "What's that?"

"Comics... I like the threads about comics."

"Oh? A pony with a taste for fine art. I should have pegged you as cultured mare."

"Wha-? No, I''m not at- It's not- I just like-" she fumbles.

"Floor, I was joking, I know what comics are, and I like them too."

"Y-you do?"

"Yep. I was a real big fan of this guy, Spider-Man, growing up. How about you?"

"Um, p-pretty much anything, really, I just like the medium, b-but, I suppose... Marevel's my favorite publisher. I was really into Power Ponies growing up, too."

"You have any issues? I wouldn't mind checking them out."

"Sorry, but I had to sell a lot of them before I got on NEET welfare. Now I just read them digitally."

"Too bad... Hey, you think there's any comics at the library? I know a lot of the ones back home stocked a few."

"Um, I don't know... Probably? The one at my school had some I checked out a lot."

"Maybe we can make a trip of it then. I've actually been meaning to see what kind of books ponies write, but getting sucked into a new world and trying to settle in have kept me pretty busy."

"Well, there's a library a few blocks from the old ponies' home. We could stop there when we visit GramGram."

You grin, both at the news, and at the little pony showing initiative. She's really begun opening up to you, you think, and it's a huge improvement over her locking herself in her room all day. "Great, now we just have to choose a day, and it's a date."

"D-d-d-date!?"

"Ah, Floor?" Suddenly, Floor Bored is up and running to her room, leaving you with a few strands of dark hair in your hand and a befuddled look on your face. At least you were about done brushing her tail out already. Hopefully it's dry enough though, or else she might get it all tangled again. The damp spot left on the couch cushions leaves you doubtful.

Be a very panicking Floor Bored. You were doing so good at keeping your composure. Distracting yourself with conversation so as not to sploosh all over him while he fondled your tail.

Things were going great. Apparently beyond great, even, because you're pretty sure Anon just asked you out on a date. How did you manage that? Were comics the secret key to a stallion's heart? Should you inform the masses?

*Smack!* "... Ouch."

You work your jaw after that much-needed smack you gave yourself. Okay, Floor, let's be rational here, why would he ask you out on a date? You aren't exactly beautiful, smart, or talented. You don't have bits. All you've done since meeting Anon is get cleaned by him, cooked for by him, pretty much been taken care of without offering anything in return. Told him about your parents...

Oh... Was... was this a pity date? Everything falls into place with that realization. He was just taking you out because you made him feel sorry for you. With a groan, you collapse on the bed.

Great, Floor, just great. Not only have you been taking advantage of the sweetest, gentlest stallion in the world, but now you were emotionally manipulating him. You're practically a sexual predator. You should be on a watch list. Well, with some of the things you've gotten yourself off to on the internet, you probably were already, but still, at least you weren't hurting anypony before.

Flipping over on your back, you try to think of what to do. You could go out there and apologize. Tell him he didn't have to take you out on a date just to make you feel better about something you should have gotten over years ago. That's what you should do, but you're a selfish coward, and part of you really wanted to go on a date with Anonymous. So what else could you do that would at least keep you out of the deepest pits of Tartarus?

Several minutes go by in silence, brain working furiously, until at last, it stumbles upon the fabled light bulb of yore. Just because Anon is doing this out of pity, didn't mean you couldn't make it the best darn date he's ever been on. You are going to woo the socks off that stallion.

Mmm, Anon in socks...

Marebits dampening, you quickly squash the desire. No, Floor, you did that enough in the tub! You were practically stewing in your own juices before you finally realized and drained the yellowed water. Then you had to shower off, and try to wipe the tub clean before Anon saw.

Moving to distract yourself, you go to your desk and open the top drawer to see a small bit bag. It is all of your savings, what would be a new computer mouse in a couple months if you continued to add to it. Now it would be your date money.

Glancing at Ol' Reliable with a sigh, you bring a hoof up to caress the dusty tower. "We'll be together again someday, old friend, just take the time to rest until then." Mind made up, you leave the room and quickly spot Anon sprawled out on the couch, limbs hanging off the too-small furniture. "A-anon?"

"Hmm?" he removes the arm from over his eyes to look blearily over at you and yawn. "What's up, Floor?"

So cute.

Focus! "I was just thinking... about what we were talking about, I mean. Um, about the d-date."

"Visiting your grandma and the library? Well, the checks come at the end of the week, so, probably the day after tomorrow, I guess."

"Y-yeah, that sounds good," you answer, then finding yourself with nothing to say.

"It's amazing how much difference a bath and brushing can make."

"What?"

"I was just noticing how much better you look, after the bath."

Your face immediately starts to burn. "R-really? You really think so?"

"Of course, you have a really beautiful mane. You ever think of doing anything with it?"

"M-my mane?" you bring a hoof up to the onyx locks. "I, um, put it in a low ponytail sometimes, to, you know, keep it out of face when I'm on my computer."

"Really? Well, let's see it then! You can't just tell me something like that and not expect me to want to see it."

Your mouth hangs open for a bit before slamming shut and smiling. "Sure thing! Just give me a second." Running back to your room, you pull open the bottom drawer of your desk to reveal your collection of three scrunchies.

The neon pink one is straight out. You love your GramGram, but she had horrible taste in scrunchies. The black one is also out, since it would blend in too well with your mane and that probably wouldn't look good. That leaves the purple scrunchy.

Picking it up and quickly working it into your mane, you get to the entryway of your room and stop. Taking a deep breath and straightening your shoulders as much as you can, you attempt to strut into the living room like you know runway models do. The sway of your hips is all off, and your steps are jerky, but Anon still claps.

"Look at you, no wonder you try to stay out of the public, you'd be covered in stallions, and a few mares, if you went out looking like this."

Confidence leaving your stance, you hunch over, digging a hoof into he hardwood sheepishly. "I wouldn't mind if it was you," you whisper.

"What was that?"

"N-nothing!"

With a shrug, he sits up the rest of the way and stretches his arms over his head. "What is it? A little after one? Want to help me make lunch?"

You nod, smile growing. "Sure, what are we having?"

"Well, we've got spinach leaves, cherry tomatoes, and a boatload of croutons and raspberry vinaigrette. You up for some healthy, un-healthy salads?"

"That's the only kind I like," you chirp, following him into the kitchen space.

"Same." he responds with a chuckle and pat on your head. "Now let's make these babies, and then drown 'em like priests performing a baptism."

Be Anon, spinach stems sticking out of your mouth as you shovel salad down your gullet. Floor's doing the same, albeit forgoing a fork to instead just shove her face into bowl as it sits on the armrest. "Goofd?" you ask around a mouthful of greens.

She lifts her head, muzzle stained pinkish-red from the dressing and tomato juice. "Yef, i' very goof," she answers, garlicky crumbs spraying out of her mouth and onto the cushions.

You'd wipe them onto the floor later to be swept up. Right now, you have to smile at how cute the mare is. You stare at her with affection even after she submerges her muzzle back in salad again, finding the pig-like snorts adorable. It's hard to believe you've only been living here with her for three days. Hard to believe that it already feels more like a home than the apartment you'd lived in for three months before now.

Returning to your meal with a slow thoughtfulness, you ponder on this. It was more than simply having company. You'd lived on your own just fine for years back on Earth. Perhaps it was the feeling of alienation. You were an alien here, after all. And an unneeded one at that.

It's like Ms. Index said at the hospital about ponies without cutie marks. Feeling like you were the only one without a purpose in a world where everyone just clicked into place like puzzle pieces. You were a piece to a completely different puzzle that got mixed into the wrong box, and Floor was the same. You've found a purpose in her though, and maybe the two of you could click together.

"Um, are you okay, Anon?"

looking from the concerned mare, to the salad you stopped eating to instead stare forward like a zombie, you nod. "Yeah, sorry, I was just thinking about something and got distracted."

"What was it you were thinking about?"

"... Puzzles."

"Oh? do you like puzzles? I think I have one in my room. It was here in a kitchen cupboard when I moved in for some reason."

"Really? Well, I guess it's not the weirdest thing ever left by previous occupants. Like ghosts."

"D-don't talk like that," she says with a shiver. "I never put the puzzle together, and I won't want to if it ends up freeing an evil spirit, or something."

You laugh at that. "Sounds like the plot of a B horror movie. I'm sure it'll be fine, Floor, why don't you go get it and we'll do it now. Hopefully when we're done, it'll be late enough for the coffee run."

She beams, hopping off the couch and grabbing her empty bowl in her teeth to take it to the sink, something you're secretly proud of, before she trots to her room. While she's away, you finish your own salad and dump the bowl in the sink, rinsing them both out quickly.

By the time you're done, Floor already has the box and is even spreading a blanket out for the two of you to sit. Spitting the corner out and looking over her work with a satisfied nod, the mare nudges the box open with her muzzle and tips the pieces out.

Grabbing a couple cups of water, you go over and sit cross-legged while she sits opposite of you. "Here, something to wash the meal down with," you explain as she accepts the cup gratefully and takes a sip. "So what do we have here?" Picking up the lid of the box, you see a field of flowers with fillies and colts frolicking while pegasus foals fly circles amoungst the fluffy white clouds above.

There's also a big three-hundred printed in bubbly font down at the bottom. You weren't a puzzle aficionado, but didn't sound too extreme. Maybe three hours, tops. "Well then, where should we start, partner?" you ask the mare, setting the lid where both of you can see.

"Hmm, the side pieces first, probably. They're the easiest to put together, and then we can just build our way towards the middle." She's already digging her hooves through the pile of pieces before she finishes talking, and you soon join her. One by one, you fit the pieces together, building a small pile of two and three piece sets and occasionally combining chunks you have with ones from her stack.

After a bit, the border is complete, and the real challenge begins. It's slower than the corners, but an hour sees you a little over a third of the way done, the two of you working at a leisurely pace and just enjoying each other's company in relative silence.

Until you notice something different about Floor Bored and comment, "Aren't you cold?"

"Why would I be cold?"

"It's just that you aren't wearing your sweater like you usually do. I kind of expected you to put it back on when you were dry."

Her hoof freezes midair and her she slowly begins to shrink into herself. "You... don't mind... do you?"

You actually snort at that. "No, why would I? Wear whatever you want, or whatever you don't want. I just figured you wore the sweater because you were cold a lot, but if you're comfortable, then that's that."

She remains silent for awhile, before relaxing her posture and smiling. "Yeah, I'm comfortable."

"Glad to hear it, now is that the face of this grey kid by your hoof? I've got his body all done, but I'm missing the head."

"Hm, yep! Here."

And so, the two of you return to slowly fitting the pieces together.

You are a content Floor Bored as you snap the last piece of the old puzzle into place with finality. "Aaand done."

"And only a little over three hours. Seems like a pretty good time to me," adds Anon, leaning back on his palms. You smile and mimic his pose, the two of you basking in the glow of your achievement until Anon looks at you, then quickly glances away. "Well, now what? We don't want to get coffee until five at the latest, and we need to do more grocery shopping if we want a half-decent dinner tonight."

You tilt your head, both trying to think of something to do, and because you think you see a slight blush on Anon's cheeks. You're curiosity is overridden however, as you are struck with an idea. A potentially very embarrassing idea. "We could... draw."

His eyes return to yours and he quirks an eyebrow. "Draw?"

"Y-yeah, like with pencils and paper," you answer, resisting the urge to facehoof. Anon knows what drawing is. "I have a pad and some pencils in my room if, you... want to..."

"... Sure, why not? It'll pass time."

Jerking up, you resist squeeing as you run to your room and pull out your sketchpad and colored pencils. You slow for a moment, remembering the last time you used them. It was the day before you tried to... Shaking your head, you return to the living room and leave those dark thoughts behind. Things were different now. Anon wouldn't say anything mean about your not-art. He may not like it, but he won't hate you for it like other ponies.

When you return to the living room, Anon already has the puzzle broken into four chunks and put away, saying how he didn't want to completely undo all the work you'd done together. Soon after, the two of you are facing each other on the blanket, laying on your bellies with your eyes fixed on your papers. You tear an untouched page from the back of your sketchbook for him which he places on top of the puzzle box for a solid surface while you use the pad itself.

At first, you don't know what to draw, and instead glance repeatedly at his work. "I pretty much suck at drawing people, I can never keep'em symmetrical, but landscapes are fun, and I can just play my mess-ups off as happy little accidents," he explains, planting pine trees around a lake and waterfall.

"I used to watch this guy, Bob Ross, on the telly when I couldn't sleep, and landscapes were pretty much all he did. I remember thinking how amazing it was to actually see a picture come together. Like, to see the transition from a bunch of blobs to an actual work of art. The guy's voice was real soothing too, so I'd be out like a light as soon as the episode was done."

As he rambles on, you find yourself smiling and your hoof starts to move. He tells you about the place he's drawing, the memories of camping there with a friend and their family one time. He talks about how he tried to dive into the water from the branches of a tree, only for the branch to snap when he kicked off, leaving him with a broken wrist and a trip to the hospital. He continues with a fond smile about how his mother doted on him and how his father went and bought him a tub of his favorite ice cream. It was one of the happiest memories he had with his parents.

"Well, It's no Van Gogh, but I think Bob Ross would be proud. What do you think, Floor?" he asks, lifting his sheet up for you to see.

It's not great by any stretch, looking like something a foal would draw, but one look at his hopeful smile has you beaming. "It's great, Anon, you should be proud."

"Aww, look at you, lying to spare my feelings. I know it's shit, but I am proud of it, thanks." He looks expectantly down at your book. "What about yours? I'm sure it's way better than my fridge art."

You look down and your eyes widen in surprise. As he leans closer to get a look, you blush and flip the cover shut. "It's, uh, it's nothing, just some stupid scribbles. You wouldn't want to see."

"Of course I would, come on, Floor, I'm sure it's better than mine."

"N-no, really, it's dumb, I wasn't even paying attention when I drew them."

"Please, I showed you mine, after all. I swear I won't make fun of it. I promise," he begs.

Biting your lip, you flip the cover open some to look at your work, blush intensifying at the image scribbled at the bottom right corner of the page. Looking back up into those pleading green eyes, you sigh. "Fine, just... don't laugh," you finally concede, trying to discreetly keep a hoof over the bottom image while flipping the sketchpad back open and swiveling it around.

Triumphant, the human looks over the paper and his smile begins to fade a little. Blush burning brighter, you're about to start blurting out excuses before he begins to speak. "Wow, you really just drew these?" he asks in what you're sure is disgust. "That's amazing."

"Yeah, I know, it's weird and I'm so sor- wait, what?"

"And kind of flattering," he continues, smile returning full force. "I mean, they're little cartoon versions of us. I don't think I've looked this cute since I was a baby."

Looking back down at the paper, you try to see anything but creepy drawings of you and Anon. One doodle is of the two of you sitting down and sipping coffee together, steam from the cups forming little hearts. Another is set in the kitchen, a tall chef's hat on his head and you in an apron. There's even one of you snuggled in his lap on the couch, eyes closed as he combs your mane. All of it in a style you hadn't used since middle school.

"But it's so... foalish. D-don't you think it's stupid and that I should... grow up?" you ask tentatively.

"What? This is great, who wouldn't love these?" he answers, truly confused. "I mean, they're adorable for one, and pretty well-done too. And you said you weren't even trying?"

"W-well, I usually draw in a more... mature style like what you see in comics. Ponies don't think that's as stupid."

"Floor, I can tell you with one-hundred percent certainty that anyone who calls this stuff stupid, is probably an idiot themselves," he tells you in voice that brooks no argument.

No matter how hard you try, you can see no deception in those kind eyes, only conviction, and you sniffle. Quickly breaking eye contact, you wipe away the tears before they can begin to roll down your cheeks.

"Hey, I'm sorry, don't cry," he begins, reaching towards you, but you hold a hoof up.

"It's... it's okay, Anon, I'm fine. It's just... Thank you... for saying that." You give him a watery smile, and he gives a small sigh of relief.

"So... you draw other stuff in that?" he asks, gesturing towards your sketchbook. "Mind showing me some? I mean, if this is the kind of stuff you draw when your aren't trying, the other stuff must be amazing."

Your face absolutely glows as you nod, shutting the book so you can start at the beginning. You show him the various drawing you've done of comic book heroes, explaining a little of who they are and their powers. He doesn't even make fun of the more shippy drawings surprisingly, but that doesn't stop you from peeking at each page before showing him so as not to accidentally reveal anything lewd.

That'd be embarrassing, but nowhere near as bad as him seeing the doodle of you and him smooching, him holding you around the barrel while you wrap your front legs around his shoulders. You're glad you were able to keep that hidden, because you'd have died otherwise, and then you wouldn't be able to see Anon anymore.

And that thought utterly terrifies you.

Author's Note

Artist is, WhyDoMenHaveNipples

Chapter 7

You are Anonymous, and you are looking forward to the day. The checks have come, and that means you'll finally have something to do with all your spare time. It's not that hanging out with Floor hasn't been great, but only so much time can be spent on drawing and idle chatter before it starts to grow stale. The library trip will inject some much needed variety into your daily routine.

Plus Floor is going to get to see her grandmother, something you know she is both anxious and excited about. "Hey, Floor, you ready? The bus across town leaves in ten minutes and we still need to reach the stop," you shout.

"Yeah, I'm almost dressed," she calls back through the door. Satisfied, you walk over to the exit and put your shoes on. Like any reasonable adult, you tied them just tight enough months ago and have simply been slipping your feet in ever since. Just in time for Floor to come out of her room sporting a familiar hoodie. "You changed?" you ask.

"Um, yeah, GramGram got me this sweater, so I want to wear it when I see her." It sends a small shiver up your spine, seeing her in the same sweater she almost died in, and you wonder if it makes her uncomfortable as well. She's clearly nervous, fidgeting in place with her eyes darting up periodically from the floor, but that could just be from her fear of leaving the apartment so early in the day. It's only one in the afternoon, and there will be more ponies out than she's used to.

With an internal shrug, you try to ignore the unease. If Floor Bored isn't bothered by the attire, then you can deal with it. "You sure you don't want to wait for a later bus?" you offer. "Visiting isn't over 'til six, and we'd at least have less ponies to deal with on the way back."

She bites her lower lip, before sighing a few seconds later. "No, I've kept GramGram waiting long enough as it is. I shouldn't put it off any longer." She looks to you for a moment, cheeks turning pink before breaking eye contact again. "And if we waited until later, we wouldn't have as much time to do other stuff." That's true, you suppose, with the library closing earlier that night than the other days of the week.

"Well, if that's what you want, we better hurry," you say, opening the door and gesturing her through. Once she's out, you lock up and the two of you move quickly down the stairs and to the bus stop. Luckily, though they aren't necessarily afraid, ponies are still weary of a tall, strange creature power walking down the sidewalk and so part around you, making an easy path for both you and Floor, who stays close on your heel.

Once on the bus, Floor chooses the far back corner and the two of you remain silent for the long trip across town. You'd start a conversation, but with how Floor has the hood of her faded brown sweater up and the drawstrings pulled to close it tight until only her muzzle shows, you figure she wouldn't appreciate the effort. Instead, you face forward and try not to squash the mare as the driver hits every speed bump in the city, sending you a good few inches into the air each time.

At one point, the little mare ends up in your lap, but quickly climbs off with an apology. By the time you finally reach your stop, both of you are a little wobbly getting off. After that, it's three blocks of walking before you're standing outside of the nursing home. "You ready?" you ask, looking down at your roomie who in turn is staring up at the building.

"... Do you think... GramGram will be happy to see me?" she whispers.

"Of course, why wouldn't she?"

"What if she's mad at me. I haven't visited in... a long time. Or even written. She sends me a card every Hearth's Warming and on my birthday, and I can't even take the time to send her one back."

Her voice begins to quiver as she goes on, and you quickly try to calm her. "Hey, hey, calm down. Listen, if your grandma loves you even half as much as I bet she does, none of that will matter at all to her."

"Y-you really think so?"

"I know so," you answer back confidently. "Now come on, we don't want to keep her waiting, do we?" She smiles back and nods, and the two of you enter the building.

The receptionist is drooping in her seat when you approach, eyes clearly straining to stay open, but immediately perks up when she notices you. "Oh, visitors!" she exclaims. "Here to keep the residents company?"

"Sort of," you answer. "We're here to see this ones grandmother."

Floor shrinks under the attention as the mare turns a bright smile towards her. "Oh, how nice, I'm always glad to see family visiting. It's far less common than I would like."

Regardless of whether she meant to or not, you can see how her words affect Floor, the younger mare gulping noticeably as she lowers her head.

"Do you mind letting us in?" you say a little snippy. "My friend here is really eager to see her grandma."

"Oh, of course, I just need you both to sign in here and then you can go. Most of the residents are in the gardens this time of day for fresh air."

You smile and grab the pen, quickly signing your name in cursive before handing it over to Floor, who snaps it up in her mouth and puts her front hooves on the desk to reach the paper, printing her name sloppily with a few twitches of her lips and a twist of her neck. Spitting it out and quickly dropping back down, Floor waits for the mare to look over the page.

The receptionist hums, absently wiping the spit from the pen on her cardigan before widening her eyes. "Floor Bored? You must be related to Floor Worn, right?"

"Um, t-that's right, ma'am," Floor answers.

The mare looks her up and down a bit with a small, somewhat sad smile. "She talks about you quiet often, but I was afraid you were- what with none of the mail getting responses... Well, I suppose what I thought doesn't really matter. I'm just glad you're here. Miss Worn is such a sweet mare, after all."

"Yeah... she is," Floor responds, looking away. After that, the mare gives you some quick instructions on where to go and the two of you head to the gardens.

As you wander through the halls, you can't help but look down at Floor Bored, who's dragging her hooves dejectedly. "Hey, don't let what she was saying get you down. she didn't even mean anything by it," you tell her.

"But she's right. GramGram deserves a better granddaughter than me. One who won't ignore her for years..." she answers in a whisper.

You sigh. "Listen, I'm not going to tell you that you haven't been in the wrong," you begin, getting the little mare to jerk up and stare at you. "You really should have stayed in contact with your grandma, especially when she's been in a place like this with no other family to visit her."

Floor is shaking now, and the two of stop as you turn to her. "You may not have meant any harm, but it was wrong all the same, and you know that," you continue, kneeling down and gently placing a hand on the side of her face to keep her looking at you. "But what I don't think you know, is what you have to do to make amends. Maybe you even think there's nothing you can do, but I'm telling you now, Floor Bored, that's wrong. It's never too late to do what's right, and right now, that's reconnecting with your GramGram. I stand by what I said outside, she's going to be nothing but happy to see you. And you want to make her happy, don't you?"

"Y-yes, I-I love her, so-so much," Floor says, tears running down her cheeks and over your hand. "I want to-to make her happy."

You smile softly, running a thumb over the damp fur. "I know you do, because you're a good pony, and a good granddaughter. You ready?"

She wipes her face dry on her sleeve and snorts loudly to clear her sinuses, before nodding. "Y-yeah, I'm ready," she says, smiling. With a pat on her head, you stand, and the two of you continue on to see Floor's GramGram.

Be Floor Bored, nervous, but determined to do right by the mare who raised you. It sounds great in your head. Noble even. But that isn't making it any easier to do as you stare at the mare dozing in the wheelchair across the garden.

She's near exactly the same as you remember. Her once pure-black mane now peppered white and pulled into a bun. Her coat several shades closer to brown than yours. Her hunched posture telling of age as her skinny forehooves rest in her lap.

If her eyes were open and one of those hooves were waving shakily goodbye as you left her for what would be for far too long, she'd look exactly as you last saw her.

"That her?" Anon asks, nodding towards the mare you've not taken your eyes from for a whole minute.

"Yeah... that's GramGram."

"We going to go say hi?"

"Just... give me a second," you answer, taking a deep breath and closing your eyes. Anon waits patiently until you let the air out and start moving forward. He follows behind as you make your way around old folks, his strange appearance getting some looks of wonderment that he returns with slight smiles and nods. Until finally, you're standing right in front of her, watching as she snores lightly.

You nearly return to staring creepily, but force yourself to open your mouth. "Um, GramGram," you begin, voice more quiet than you want. "GramGram, it's me, Floor." You raise a hoof, letting it hover a moment before mustering the courage to reach out to her own. With a gentle touch, you shake her lightly, and the mare snorts.

"Hmm, who's that?" she says, blinking her eyes open and smacking her her lips. "Who're you?" You don't know how to respond to that question as the old mare looks at you.

Could she really have forgotten how you look? Or maybe she just doesn't remember at all. With how long it's been, it wouldn't be a surprise if she simply forgot about you. It's what you deserve, after all.

She leans forward, eyes narrowing. "Well, come on, speak up, whoever you are, my eyes aren't what they used to be. You one of the nurses?"

"Um, actually," Anon starts only to be interrupted by a yelp.

"A talking tree! Nurse, call the guards! The ents have come to avenge their kin!" she screams.

"GramGram, no, this is Anon, he's not a tree!" you try to tell her, quickly grabbing hold of the mare before she managed to get over the back of her chair and hurt herself.

"I swear I didn't know he was liven' when I turned him into a dinin' table set, he should'a spoke up! Going around with grain that fine, he was askin' for it! It wasn't my fault, I-I... wait..." GramGram starts to slow in her struggles, eyes leaving Anon to stare at me. "Is that- Are you..."

"It's... It's me, GramGram, Floor Bored," you say guiltily. "I'm so, so sorry for not coming sooner, I just, I didn't know-"

"Eee! Floorey, I can't believe you're here!" shrieks the mare before she wraps her deceptively strong forelegs around your neck and pulls you into a suffocating hug. "Oh, Floor, I've missed you so much. Have you been gettin' my cards? I wasn't sure since you never wrote back. I wouldn't be surprised if those feather heads at the post office lost 'em all. You know how pagasus are."

"I got them," you say quickly, giving a strained smile over your shoulder at Anon. GramGram's not a tribalist, she just... phrases things bad sometimes.

"You did, hmm," the old mare says, pushing you back some to look at you with a blank expression. Then she bops you hard on the head.

"Ow!"

"You got my cards, and you didn't even write back!? Leaving your poor ol' grandma in the dark like that, I thought I raised you better!" The heat quickly began to leave the mare's voice as it quavers. "There were some nights I worried you'd gone and done something foolish to yourself. It'd keep me up 'til morning, the fear that somepony I didn't know was gonna come and tell me you left me just like your mother. What would I do then, eh, Floor? What kind of mare loses two foals to somethin' like that? I couldn't be there for either of ya like a mother should."

You don't fight her as she pulls you back into a gentle hug and quietly weeps on your shoulder. Guilt sits heavy in your gut as you remember that day two weeks ago, realizing what you nearly did to the only family you have. All you can do is return the hug and let the tears slide down your cheeks.

"I'm sorry, Floor, I shouldn't be blubberin' like I am. This is a happy occasion, after all," GramGram finally says, leaning back to smile and run a hoof through your mane.

"It's... it's okay, GramGram, it's my fault, really, I'm just glad I'm finally seeing you again."

"Same here, dear," she responds before her eyes slowly drift up towards Anon. "And who's your tall friend here... He's not an ent, right?"

"Uh, no ma'am, I'm a human," Anon answers awkwardly. "And Floor's roommate."

"Huh... So you're definitely not going to kill me, then use my skeleton to make a coffee table and my hide to fashion some macabre, but tasteful window curtains?" she questions carefully.

"No, I... didn't plan on it, ma'am," Anon responds, gesturing towards you, "I'm just tagging along with her." As an after thought, he adds, "It's nice to meet you."

GramGram heaves a sigh. "Phew, that's a relief. I thought those wooden peckers finally found me. Safe for another day." She begins to Look Anon up and down. "A human, huh? I think I've heard of your kind before. It was floatin' around with a lotta technobabble 'bout twenty-some years ago."

"Sounds about right," Anon replies.

"So you're living with my granddaughter, eh? When did that happen?"

"About a week ago, the whole things kind of... complicated."

GramGram hums. "I bet, and you've been treating my Floorey right?"

"Of course, ma'am, Floor's a precious friend."

"How 'bout in bed? You able to keep up?"

"GramGram!" you shout, absolutely mortified as Anon goes into a coughing fit.

GramGram just looks at you confused as she says, "What? Your room was right next to mine growin' up, I remember how long it took you ta be satisfied. I remember because I couldn't get any sleep until you were done. You kept me up for hours some nights."

"Stop talking!" you shriek, hooves flying up to cover the elderly mare's mouth, with one accidentally slipping in. A few muffled words escape around the hoof until you notice the glare she's leveling your way, which has you pulling the limb back with an eep.

You look down at the dentures still clasped around your hoof, then up to the droopy-lipped face of your grandma as she scowls, before you quickly pop the choppers back in her mouth. "Sorry, GramGram," you squeak, face absolutely burning.

She harrumphs and looks back to Anon, who's just catching his breath. "So, you got an answer, colt?"

"No! I mean," Anon sputters a little before regaining some composure, "We don't do... that. We're just friends living together. I even sleep on the couch."

"Really?" she begins, turning back to you. "Well, sorry for presumin', I just figured Floorey brought you along so she could introduce me to her coltfriend. I mean, it's as good a reason as any for a visit out of the blue."

You groan and sink to the grass, praying for Celestia's great magnifying glass in the sky to shine down and vaporize you. It'd be a better fate than your grandmother embarrassing you to death in front of Anon.

"It's fine," Anon says. "It's an honest mistake... I think. Anyway, now that introductions are all out of the way, you two can finally catch up. I'm sure there's a lot you want to talk about."

"There sure is," GramGram agrees, smiling warmly down at you. "I want to here all about what my sweet granddaughter has been up to." Even through the mortification, you can't help but smile back up at her.

"Well, I'll give you two some privacy," Anon says, stepping away. "Maybe I'll talk to some of the other ponies here. I'm sure they have some great stories. Just come get me when you're done, Floor."

You agree, watching as he waves over his shoulder before turning back to GramGram and seeing her sly grin. "What?" you ask, getting the mare to lean in.

"You like him," she practically sings, "I'd recognize that look anywhere."

"Wha- what are you talking about?" You stutter back. "Y-you heard Anon, he's just a friend."

"A friend that you want to bend you over a hay bale."

"GramGram!"

"He's a big one too, hopefully the goods scale with the rest of him."

"GramGram, please," you moan, sinking back down and getting the older mare to chuckle.

"Oh, you know I'm just teasing, Floorey, stop slouching like that. You're going to destroy your back with such awful posture."

You sigh, but do as your told. You'd forgotten how frustrating GramGram could be sometimes. As she starts firing off questions about Anon, and your life in general, however, showing an enthusiasm and interest in you no pony else ever did, you also remember why you love her so deeply.

You are Anonymous, currently trying not to fall asleep as an old stallion regales you with the tale of the great turnip famine of his youth. It's not nearly as riveting as he thinks it is.

"Parsnips! That's what we had to use instead. You ever have parsnip stew, sonny? No, you haven't because turnips are better in every way! That was a harsh winter, alright. We were nearly starved when it was over on account of how just plain unpalatable our food was. We were a town built on turnip farming. Turnip juice was in our veins, and all we had were stinkin' parsnips for over three months!"

"Mhmm, sounds like a real ordeal," you comment, suppressing a yawn.

"It was for sure. The memories still haunt me. I wake up with the smell of inferior tubers lingering in my nostrils and I have to sniff the turnip I keep under my pillow just to remind myself it was only a nightmare."

The stallion looks ready to go on another long spiel about root vegetables before you are thankfully saved by your roommate. "Um, Anon, am I... interrupting?"

"No, no, of course not!" you answer, quickly standing. "I'm sorry, Floor, I lost track of time."

"Oh, have I been keeping you from this lovely young miss? Terribly sorry, lad. Had I known you were here with your special somepony, I would have choice a less enthralling tale. Hope you can forgive me."

As Floor blushes, you struggle for words. "Wha-? No, this is- She's my- we're just..." You give up with a sigh, rubbing your forehead. "...It's no problem, Mr. Taproot. I'll... talk to you later."

"Another visit then? That'd be much appreciated. The orderlies around here are horrible listeners," the old stallion says, trying to hide a hopeful smile with a angry huff. You bid him a final farewell before leading the still blushing Floor Bored back to her grandmother.

"Old Taproot talking your ear off, was he?" the older mare asks as you approach. "Good on ya, Floorey for the rescue. That stallion can go on for hours about turnips if given the chance."

"It wasn't so bad," you say unconvincingly. "It made him happy at least, having someone to talk to."

"Oh no, don't let him sink his hooks in you, boy," the elder warns. "I made that mistake, and now I'm stuck having lunch with him everyday, listenin' to him talk about how the food here doesn't have enough turnips in it." She leans back, crossing her front legs. "Fool's lucky he's cute or I wouldn't put up with it."

While Floor groans slightly, her senior pats her belly. "Actually, speakin' of lunch, it should be comin' up soon. Floor, can you be a dear and ask one of the orderlies what it's gonna be today? I hope it's not steamed alfalfa again."

"Um, I... guess," she answers, looking hesitantly towards one of the orderly ponies. Her grandmother simply makes a shooing motion when she looks back, and Floor sighs.

You're about to offer to do it for the shy pony, but are interrupted by a voice clearing. "Anon, I need to talk to you," Floor Worn states, expression serious.

"Uh, sure, what's up," you respond curiously.

"What is Floor to you?"

"Well, like I said, she's a friend."

The mare raises a brow. "And that's all?"

"I... guess. We've only known each other for two weeks, but I still think of her as a pretty good friend."

Floor Worn remains silent for a few seconds before sighing. "That so? You know, I'm a bit curious about that, how you two met and why your livin' together. After only two weeks, that's a mite strange. I asked o'course, but she was real evasive. Didn't want to tell me how you met, or how you ended up moving into her place."

You bite the inside of your cheek. "It's... complicated."

"I don't doubt it, but you don't got to tell me," the older mare says, looking over at her granddaughter who is standing a few paces behind one of the orderlies, trying to gather the courage to speak to them. "As much as I want to know, it's for Floor to tell me. When she's ready, I'll be here to listen. One thing she didn't have to tell me though, was how much she cares for you. It was clear in the way she spoke; she thinks the world of ya."

You scratch the back of your neck. "That's sweet of her, but I'm nothing special. Just a guy trying to get by like the rest of them."

"That's not how she sees it. In just two weeks, you've become somepony precious to her. I've never seen the filly take to another like she has to you, shy as she is. You're her... best friend, which is why I'm tellin' you now, don't you dare hurt my foal."

"Miss Floor Worn, I promise, I'd never do that," you say earnestly, getting the mare to frown a bit.

"Maybe not on purpose, but you said it yourself, she's just a friend. You don't see her the same way that she sees you, and if you think you can just walk out of her life and she'll be just dandy with it, you're plain wrong, mister." She looks to her lap, hooves pressed together as her voice quiets. "We Floor mares don't have the best of luck with stallions, for one reason or another, you always leave us."

With another sigh and a slight shake of her head, she looks back up to you, eyes steely. "That filly's suffered enough; she doesn't need anymore pain in her life."

You meet her gaze with equal determination "I know that, believe me, I know, that's why I'll do everything I can to keep Floor Bored happy. I won't leave her if I can help it, and if I can't, well, I guess I'll just have to find a way."

Floor Worn stares, seemingly taking measure of your conviction, before finally chuckling. "So serious," she says, leaning back in her seat and relaxing. "I like that, tells me you'll take good care of my girl."

"I'll do my best, ma'am."

"Course you will," she responds with a sage nod. "'Cause if you don't, I'll take a hatchet to those saplings you call legs and shout timber."

"Wait, what?"

Author's Note

We got two images by Scraggleman this chapter.
GramGram Floor Worn:

And Rigby reference Floor Bored:

Chapter 8

Be Floor Bored, giving your GramGram a goodbye hug while Anon stands suspiciously far away. You're sure he's probably just trying to give you some privacy with your grandma, but for some reason, you can't help but feel that he's nervous whenever he glances over. It's probably just your imagination.

"And you promise you'll be back next week?" the older mare asks for the seventh time.

"Yes, GramGram, same time next week," you answer, slightly exasperated, earning a hard tap on your head.

"Don't use that tone with me, young lady. You can't blame an old mare for worryin' after you already made me wait years for this visit."

You bite your lip and hug her a little tighter. "Sorry GramGram, but I mean it this time. I won't ever do that again."

"I hope not," she responds, ending the embrace to lean back. "I'm an old pony, I might not have years left to wait for you to visit."

"Don't talk like that."

"Oh, you know I'm jokin'." she says, waving away your grave expression with a eye roll, before smiling. "This ol' mare isn't goin' anywhere for a good long while, but that still doesn't mean I want to wait 'til the wedding to see you again."

"GramGram!" you hiss, shooting a glance over your shoulder to make sure Anon didn't hear.

"Oh, I'm just teasing," the mare responds, giggling louder. "I'd forgotten how fun it can be to rile you up."

You huff and cross your hooves. "It's not funny," you grumble.

"Says, you," she shoots back, before her smile wanes a bit. "I mean it though, Floor, don't keep me waitin' this time. I love you too much to not know you're doin' alright."

"I know, I'm sorry."

The two of you fall into silence for a bit until GramGram leans sideways to look over your shoulder. "So, you two are going to the library together, huh? I think maybe I should give you a refresher on how to woo stallions. Libraries aren't exactly romantic."

"The library's fine," you counter with a blush and frown. "Plus it was his idea."

"That so? Didn't know you were into the nerdy ones."

You open your mouth to defend your friend, but give up, throwing your hooves in the air. "Fine, he's a nerd, we're both nerds, and now we're going to go be nerdy together, so bleh."

GramGram snorts a laugh when you stick your tongue out, but still nods. "Well, have fun then. I can't wait for next week to hear all about it."

You retract your tongue and try to hold your scowl, but end up giggling yourself. With a final goodbye, you move to Anon's side and look up to him.

"Ready?" he asks, and you nod.

"Yep, we can go now. GramGram wants me to visit again next week though. Is... that okay?"

He looks over his shoulder and the older mare waves happily. "...Sure..."

"Um, is something the matter? Do you... not like my grandma?" you ask hesitantly.

"Huh? Um, no, of course not, she's great. Very... lively. I was just thinking about... Taproot, yeah, I told the old guy I'd visit again, guess that means that's what I'll be doing next Sunday now."

"Are his stories really that boring?"

He shrugs. "He's enthusiastic when he's telling them, at least. That makes them better... slightly." You both chuckle, and head out.

You are Anon, and you're glad to see Floor more relaxed after seeing her grandmother then she was on the way here. Her hood is still up, and she's still clearly avoiding eye contact with other ponies, but she at least doesn't have the drawstrings pulled tight to completely hide her face, and she's walking besides you instead of behind.

"Um, take a right up here," she says as you approach the end of the street. "And then it should just be a few blocks straight ahead."

You hum your acknowledgement, before something suddenly catches your eye. "Hey, is that a hotdog stand?" you ask, pointing at the corner.

"Hotdog? Um, no, I think it's carrot dogs," Floor answers, getting your heart to sink a little bit.

Sure enough, you notice the large carrot painted onto the white surface of the cart, and sigh. You should have known better than to get your hopes up, expecting a meat vendor in a city of vegetarians, but you can't help but feel a little disappointed. You may not be a meatatarian hellbent on destroying your body with a poor diet, but that doesn't mean you don't miss having a burger or hotdog once in a while. Still, your stomach growls and you contemplate trying one of these jokes on a bun.

Floor seems to notice as her ear perks up. "H-hey, we haven't had lunch yet, do you... want to get a couple dogs?"

You look at the stall again, and the line of customers eager for their carrots, and shrug. "Sure, they seem pretty popular. Might as well see why."

"Great!" she answers, trotting a little ahead of you.

Raising an eyebrow at the little mare's sudden enthusiasm, you still follow to stand with her at the end of the line. The stallion running the stand is luckily good at his job as he quickly dishes out orders with a smile, so you don't have to wait long.

"Hello, what can I get for you two," he asks cheerily.

Floor Bored scans over the menu printed on the cart before looking up.

"Um, a double carrot dog, and a... classic, please." You're a little confused, and bit annoyed that she didn't let you place your own order, but then again, you don't know anything about carrot dogs, so much of the menu is gibberish to you anyway, so you forgive her. Really, what does extra glaze mean?

"Here you go, ma'am, that'll be five-fifty," the vendor says, drawing your attention to the orange-filled buns he sets before you.

You go to reach for your money pouch hanging from your belt, but Floor is already dropping some bits from her hoodie's front pocket onto the stand. "Here you go, Anon, I hope you like it," she says, holding the larger one up to you.

Huh, guess double was referring to the two carrots sitting tip-to-tip in the long bun. "Thanks," you say as she grabs the bun holding a single carrot, "But I could have paid for myself."

Since your inspector check was larger than her NEET one, you feel a little bad about it, but she simply blushes and stutters, "I-it's okay, I wanted to pay for you."

A glaring pony clearing his throat behind you forestalls any response as you and Floor quickly move from the growing line. "Well, if you insist," you say once you've stopped. "You want a couple bites of mine, though? Yours is a lot smaller."

She shakes her head. "Nah-ah, I got that for you. It's my treat, so just... take it," she answers, almost pleading near the end.

With a small shrug, you look at the "dog" more closely. There's a layer of what you surmise must be the glaze you saw on the menu. It's a clear, yellowish color with specks of what must be various seasonings sprinkled throughout. Taking a bite, you're surprised that it's actually pretty good.

The carrot is tender, and the glaze more than makes up for the lack of condiments. It's honey-based, but with a savory, somewhat spicy element supplied by what tastes like garlic and mustard powder, black pepper, salt, and even some paprika.

"You like it?" Floor asks, looking up hopefully, carrot dog untouched in her hoof.

"Yeah, it's not half bad," you answer, taking another bite. "Kinda makes me wonder what's different with the deluxe I saw on the menu. These things definitely don't need ketchup or mustard."

"Oh, I'll go buy one for you, if you want to try it," Floor begins, starting to turn around before you stop her.

"Uh, no thanks, this should fill me up for now. I just meant for a different day," you say, a bit perplexed by the mare's eagerness to spend her limited bits on food for you. "We're coming back next week to visit your grandma, we can make stopping at this stand a regular thing."

"L-like, eat out together every week?"

"Sure, why not? If we're already out, might as well enjoy it to the fullest, right?"

It takes a couple seconds, but she soon grins and nods her head, nearly dropping her food in the process. With a chuckle, you comment that maybe the both of you should finish eating before moving on. Walking on three hooves and eating at the same time is probably pretty tricky.

You are Floor Bored, and you're absolutely ecstatic with how the date is going so far. Anon really liked the carrot dog you bought for him, and now he's looking around in wonder as the two of you stand just inside the library.

He whistles and comments, "Wow, fancy. This actually reminds me of the New York Library a bit. Even has the ornate ceiling moral."

"Y-yeah, it's... beautiful," you agree, looking up to admire the art. When you came here last, looking at the gorgeous portrait of Celestia with her wings outspread, clouds parting around her, and the sun rising up from behind just made you feel inadequate, knowing you'd never be able to make anything nearly as good. For some reason though, you find yourself simply appreciating it this time alongside your date.

At the thought, you blush and have to suppress an excited giggle. "S-so, w-where do you want to start?" you ask, trying to distract yourself from the fluttering in your chest.

"Well, we're both interested in comics, so I'd say there. You know where they'd be?"

You shake your head, so Anon goes to find the librarian. He gives the grey mare a bit of a fright when he finds her stocking shelves, but after some stuttering, she points you in the right direction. Your eyes go slightly wide when you reach the graphic novel section.

"Wow, I didn't think they'd have so many," you comment, looking over the four whole shelves of comics and moonga with hunger. You have a comic itch that's built up over two weeks, and you are eager to get scratching.

Anon is already leaning in, scanning the collection before reaching in. "Power Ponies, this is where you started, right?"

You nod. "Yep, it was the first comic I really got into."

"Well, it's where I'll start then, too. Looks like they even have some early issues."

You look over at what he's pulled out and smile. "Oh, that's where they rebooted the series for the first time."

"First? I take it they start over a lot, then?" Anon asks with a raised brow.

"Mhmm, the Power Ponies are on, like, their fifth reboot."

Anon laughs a little and mumbles, "Somethings never change even across realities."

"I think they got it the most right on the second reboot though," you comment. "So it's a great place to start reading. It has just the right amount of campiness and seriousness. Plus the art's really good."

Anon chuckles and unbends his back. "Well, with a glowing review like that, I have to read it."

With his selection made, you return to your own search, quickly picking out a moonga you hadn't read before. Though you tend to like comics more, you have to admit that these books have their own sort of charm. Plus the sexy way the stallions are drawn is always good for a tingle.

Literature chosen, the two of you wonder until you find a little reading corner with beanbags. It's for foals, but it's currently abandoned, and the seating is much more comfortable than the chairs up front. Pushing two of the squishy blobs together, you settle in side by side and crack open your respective books.

In silence, you sit, giving a token effort at reading your moonga while spending more time watching your date's reaction to the Power Ponies. You're the one who suggested it and all, and even talked it up, so if he doesn't like it, he'll think you have bad taste in comics. You might be stupid, and ugly, and pretty much talentless, but you know comics.

... At least, you hope so.

Through Anon's level hums and occasional snorts, you begin to worry, until finally, he cracks a smile and chuckles. With a small sigh of relief, you return to your own book, and get ten pages in before Anon stands up.

"Hey, I'm going to look for the next issue of this," he tells you, holding up the finished comic. "It's pretty good so far."

You smile and agree, watching the human until he's out of sight before ogling the hunky stallion drawn on the current page of you moonga. An evil sorceress is trying to banish him to the shadow realm or something. You're too distracted by the those juicy flanks to know for sure.

Appreciating the eastern art to the last page, you look up and notice Anon still hasn't returned. Curious, and a little worried, you wiggle your way out of the bean chair and head back to the graphic novel aisle. There's no human in sight, and the worry grows.

Moving a little faster through the aisles, you soon near the center, and hear a giggle.

"Really? just a tube with wings? Now I'm sure you're messing with me. How can that be better than airships?"

"You mean those zeppelin things I saw up in Canterlot? Yeah, we had those too, until there was an accident with one called the Hindenburg. After that, flying metal tubes were a lot more appealing than balloons filled with flammable gas. Plus they're way faster, what with being more aerodynamic and whatnot."

"Anon," you start hesitantly, spotting him leaning on the front desk.

"Hmm, oh, hey Floor," he begins, turning to smile to you. "What's up?"

Trying to peek around him, you answer, "I was just... wondering where you were. You sort of disappeared."

He blinks a couple times before smacking his forehead with a palm. "Ah, crap, I lost track of time talking to Page here. Sorry."

The grey head of the librarian pokes around Anon's shoulder, white bangs hanging sideways as she smiled softly. "Hello there, you must be Floor Bored. Anon told me the two of you came to read together." Looking around, she adds with a giggle, "Suppose you came to right place then."

"Yeah, I was looking for the second issue of Power Ponies, but couldn't find it, so I came up to ask if it was checked out," Anon starts, before Page picks up the story.

"It was in the return box, and I hadn't gotten a chance to reshelve it yet. But while he was up here, I just had to ask..."

"Turns out she's interested in humans-"

"Well, more accurately, my brother living in Ponyville is. He really admires their technology, and I suppose it's rubbed off on me with how much he brings it up in every letter. Needless to say, I couldn't pass up an opportunity to actually talk to a human, Time's going to be so envious."

When she finishes, Anon smirks. "Hey, I might be an only child, but even I understand the sacred tradition of rubbing stuff in each other's faces with you siblings. I'm happy I could help you out with that."

The mare giggles behind her hoof. "Oh, such a gentlestallion."

You do your best to suppress the quivering of your body and try to keep it out of your voice. "That's... nice, um, but do you want to, you know, get back to reading... together?"

"Yeah, sounds good. I really am sorry for blowing you off there but I got issue two now, so I'm good to go." He holds the comic up and stands straight. "Oh, but while we've got Page Turner here, you want to get a couple library cards? We're going to want to take some books home when we leave, right?"

You'd rather get him away from the mare as soon as possible, but you smile tightly and nod. It's luckily a simple process as Anon and you fill out a few forms. Having your picture taken by Page is a little annoying, but you feel better about it when she says she'll need to run to the back to make the cards, and that she'll have them ready when we leave.

Resisting the urge to grab Anon's sleeve and drag him away, you pass through the comic section and swap your book out for another at random.

"Hey, you okay, Floor? You seem a little, I don't know, tense," Anon asks as you reach the beanbags.

Releasing a breath slowly through your nose, you smile up and nod. "I'm fine, I just really want to get back to reading."

"Oh, well, I'm sorry I kept you from it so long," he answers.

"It's fine," you tell him, plopping down. "We can get back to reading now."

Nodding his agreement, he sits as well, and the two of you return to silence. You have trouble reading again, but this time for a different reason. When he finishes the second issue, you immediately ask him how he liked it. The following discussion has you relaxing some and you begin to enjoy your date again.

You enjoy it as you and Anon read and talk in whispers for the next two hours until it's time to leave. Then your mood begins to sour as you return to the front counter.

"Oh, just in time, we close in fifteen minutes," Page Turner says, "I've got your new library cards right here, you two."

"Thanks," Anon says as he takes them from her hoof and hands yours down to you.

You put it in your front pocket as Page waves Anon's gratitude off. "I'm just doing my job. Don't lose those, though, the first may be free, but replacements cost a bit fifty if you end up needing one before the expiration date. What you can thank me for, however, is getting these ready for you," she says, pushing forward a stack of three thick books.

"What are these?" he asks, spinning the pile around and looking at the covers.

"Well, I remember you saying how you planned on taking some books home so you could get a feel for Equestrian literature, and so I decided to gather up some classics," she explains.

"Really?" Anon begins, before smiling. "Wow, that's really thoughtful of you, Page. I was just going to grab a few books randomly, if I'm being honest, but it's good to know my first introduction to pony writing will be curated by an expert."

The mare puffs up a little and responds, "It's no problem, it didn't take me long, and we're friends... right?"

Anon smiles at the questioning lilt, and chuckles. "Yeah, we're friends."

She beams, before perking up. "Oh, I'll check them out for you now," she says, suddenly getting serious. "But you better make sure you return them on time. Don't think that just because we're friends, I won't slap you with a late fee."

"Won't be a problem," Anon answers confidently. "We're probably be making this trip every week, so I'll have them back then."

"Promise?" she asks, with narrowed eyes.

"Swear on my honor as a bookworm."

Breaking back into a smile, she says, "Great! I'll see you same time next week, then."

"Yep, It's a date."

And like that, your heart cracks down the middle.

You are Anon, and you are growing increasingly worried for your friend. While you were in the middle of talking to Page Turner, Floor Bored blurted out something about using the bathroom and took off.

After ten minutes of waiting outside the door, she eventually came out after you reminded her that the library was closing. She didn't look at you when she did though, and ever since, she's had her head down and her hood up. She hasn't answered any of your questions with more than unintelligible mumbles, and she's bumped into three ponies on the street since leaving the library without seeming to notice.

As you walk towards the bus station, you try to think of something to cheer her up from this sudden, strange funk she's fallen into. Then something catches your eye, and you do a double take. A building with an eerily familiar sign sits across the street. A large, lowercase 'g' meant to resemble the corner of a smiley face...

"No way..." you breathe, reading the name. Good Deeds instead of Goodwill, but the letters beneath, 'Store and Donation Center' leaves no room for argument.

It's Floor Bored bumping into the back of your leg that snaps you out of your amazement. "Oomph, why'd you stop?"

"Floor, we aren't going home yet."

"What do mean? the da- er- the Library's closed now," Floor begins, frown coming to her face. "You won't be able to see Page Turner again until next week."

"Because we're going treasure hunting."

"Treasure hunting?"

"For thrift store riches."

Before she can ask anymore questions, you jaywalk across the road, avoiding carts and ignoring yells as Floor scrambles to follow behind you. She catches up as you make it the entrance, and demands, "Anon, what are we doing here!?"

You look down and smile. "I told you, we're looking for treasure."

"You mean shopping at a thrift store."

You smile wider. "Same thing." Going in, you hear Floor give an exasperated sigh, but she still trots after you. "We had places just like this back home. And I do mean just like," you begin to explain, looking over the foreign, but familiar aisles with glee. "A lot of people thought they were just garbage dumps made to be stores, but anyone with a keen shopping sense knew the truth. You can find all sorts of great stuff at these places for a fraction of their retail costs."

Floor blinks, and scans over the store and milling ponies, trying to see it the way you do with a tilted head. "Really?"

"Mhmm."

"Well... what are we looking for then?"

"Anything that catches your eye, my friend. We have pockets full of bits and a whole store to explore," you answer, moving forward. The first big difference you notice is that there isn't nearly as many rows of clothes as back on Earth. Once you get closer and began to look at the price tag, you also notice that, even at this Goodwill clone, clothing is quiet expensive. Must be a lack of supply, since demand probably isn't that high in ponyland.

After a few minutes, you hear a faint 'oh' come from the mare behind you, and you turn. "Find something?" you ask.

Floor blushes a little and lets the fabric in her hoof fall. "It's nothing," she tries, but you won't have any of that. Moving over to her, you take what she was looking at off of the rack.

It's a brown hoodie, unsurprisingly, but you know it's high-quality as soon as it's in your hands. It's cotton, very soft and smooth, as well as dense. There's no pilling, despite the sweater being supposedly used, and the seams are neat and sturdy looking.

"Looks comfy," you comment, rubbing the warm material between your fingers, "You want to get it?"

"It's too expensive," she answers, getting you to look at the price tag. Oof, forty bits isn't cheap to be sure, but you know a quality cotton sweater like this would probably cost about fifty bucks back home, so you can tell it's a good deal.

"You should get it, if you want," you tell her, handing it down. "We may not be loaded, but we still have some bits to spare. And with how often you wear hoodies, we know you'll get use out of it."

She's looking at it, rubbing the frog of her hoof over the fabric slowly. "I don't know..."

"Floor, we have a saying back home for just this sort of occasion," you tell her, getting her to raise a brow.

"You do?"

"Yep, and it's this: Treat yo self."

"Treat myself?"

"That's right."

"I just, I already have two sweaters, and it's not like I go out a lot, so-"

"Floor," you interrupt, kneeling down to look her in the eye as you press her hoof and hoodie to her chest. "Treat. Yo. Self."

She hold your serious gaze for a while, before finally snort-giggling. "Okay, fine, I'll buy the hoodie," she says, looking up again to match your new smile with one of her own. She only holds it for a few seconds though before letting it slowly fall along with her eyes.

You frown, but try to hide it. "Well, I'm going to keep looking around," you say, standing. "Can't be shown up by a first timer, after all, so I'll have to find a real treasure to top yours."

Returning to your search, you leave the clothing aisle and move to kid toys. You're not buying any of course, but it is kind of interesting to see what kinds of things pony children play with. There's a lot of wooden toys, dolls, and pretty much all the staples of Hollywood childhood. Battery toys are far and few between, and miniature vehicles are replaced with carriages.

You actually start to lose hope of finding anything to buy until you reach the back corner of the store. Looking over the sparsely stocked shelf, you whisper, "Jackpot."

Eyes falling on your treasure, you grab the piece of hardware, still in it's original packaging, and turn around. Floor is milling about near the front, looking anxious as she hides by a clothes rack from the other patrons. approaching the little mare, you pat her head and get a surprised squeak in return.

"Sorry it took so long, but I've got my find, so we can go through checkout now," you explain, gesturing towards the register and aging mare behind it.

She breathes a sigh, clearly eager to leave, and nods. She hasn't even noticed what's in your hand yet as she places her new hoodie up on the counter.

"Hello there, miss, I hope you and your... friend, found everything alright," the mare says, looking up to you curiously.

Floor mumbles unintelligibly in response, so you speak up instead. "Yeah, we found everything alright," you answer, setting your own item down next to Floor's, getting the smaller mare to look confused. "Looks like I was pretty lucky to find this. Not a whole lot of computer stuff back there."

"I imagine," she replies, grabbing up each item and running their tags over the scanner. "They're pretty new, those computing gizmos. Not even around when I was a filly, and now they're everywhere, and expensive to boot, so the stuff isn't donated often." She sighs wistfully. "The world's changing so fast these days, it makes my head spin sometimes. I remember when I was a little filly and we used to have to read by candlelight, just like all the ponies before us, and now there's electric lights in every home and you've got an entire generation glued to those glowing screens..."

Shaking her head, she smiles up at you. "Sorry for blabbering like that, the totals gonna be eighty-five bits, sir."

"I didn't mind," you say, reaching for your bit pouch as Floor does the same a moment later, breaking her inquisitive gaze from you. "Here's forty-five."

You slide the bits on the counter as Floor works to do the same, carefully pouring the contents of her bit bag out and then shoveling the excess back into it after counting out forty pieces. With a well-wishes to have a nice day, you and Floor leave the store, shopping bags in tow.

Adjusting your library books under your arm, you arch your back in a stretch. "Phew, after all this walking, I'm feeling like a nap. How 'bout you? Want to go home, or look around a bit more?"

Floor looks at the sidewalk for awhile, before speaking. "... Anon, why'd you buy that?"

"This?" you ask, holding the plastic bag up. "Well, for you, obviously. Can't get much use out of that computer of yours without a mouse, right?"

She looks up, shocked. "Me? But I thought you were going to buy something for yourself! I didn't know we were getting gifts! I-I'll go get you something too!"

"Wow, take it easy, I didn't buy it expecting you to get me something," you tell her, stepping in her path as she turns around. "I got it for you because you needed it."

"You should have let me buy it then," she counters with surprising heat as she stomps a hoof. "I didn't need this stupid hoodie."

"Hey, why are you getting mad? I thought you'd be happy."

"This is- I was supposed to- and then Page- and now," Floor flounders, her face an angry red as she attempts to explain, only to give up with a groaned sigh and slump forward. "... Let's just go home, it's over..."

Still confused, you decide it's better to let it lie for now instead of causing a larger scene in public. Some ponies are already staring as it is. The walk to the bus station is quiet, as is the ride across town.

Floor leans her head against the glass, and you hear it thunk painfully whenever a speed bump is hit, but she doesn't even acknowledge it. When you're dropped off, you notice a small goose egg forming on the side of her forehead but she doesn't seem to mind as she moves listlessly. To say you're concerned is an understatement, but you have no idea what's caused this, let alone how to fix it.

"... Long day, huh?" you attempt, shutting the door behind you once you're both back in the apartment.

"Sure," she answers, trudging towards her bedroom.

"Uh, taking a nap? Good idea, I'll probably do that too."

"Sure."

Biting the inside of your cheek, you remember what's in your hand and perk up. "Hey, don't forget this," you say, holding out the plastic bag with the computer mouse in it. "You can finally get back online now, just try not to... break this one." Suppressing a wince at the horrible attempt at a joke, you're both relieved and disheartened to see the same uncaring expression when she turns around.

She doesn't move, just staring at the bag before slowly looking up to meet your gaze. "Yeah... I guess I can. No more reason for us to hangout anymore, huh? I've got my computer, and you've got your books..."

You frown at that. "Well, yeah, we've got more to do, but that doesn't mean we can't still draw together and talk," you respond, jostling the books under your arm to draw her attention to them. "We can read together too, if that's something you'd like. I don't mind reading out loud if you want to listen."

She looks skeptical, but a hint of hope comes through as she says, "Really?"

"Sure, why not?" you confirm with a shrug. "And hey, now that you can use your computer, maybe we can watch funny videos and stuff together, if you don't mind me in your room and hunched over your shoulder."

Her face starts to glow red as she takes a short, sharp breath, but she quickly clears her throat. "Y-yeah, that sounds... nice," she says with false casualness. "Do you... really mean it though? You don't mind spending time with me even though you have Pa- um, other stuff you can be doing?"

"Like I said, why do stuff apart when we can have more fun together. I mean, as long as you don't expect me to watch a hundred cat videos or something."

She smiles slightly at that and giggles, getting you to do the same. You still aren't sure why she apparently thought you would want to avoid her after today, but you're glad you could put the fear to rest. Besides, your drawing has improved greatly since your sessions with Floor, and you didn't want to stop now. The little mare makes a pretty good teacher as she casually critiques your work and gives you pointers.

Still intent on that nap, you give Floor her new mouse, and then lay on the couch, hands behind your head as the apartment grows quiet. The silence isn't stifling this time, and you quickly drift off.

You're Floor bored, currently sitting at your desk, staring at a black screen. You just finished removing the plastic from the new mouse, something that took a good fifteen minutes and left you with a sore jaw to accomplish. Now though, with it plugged in and ready to use, your mind is free to ruminate on the day's events.

It started out well enough, seeing GramGram was great, even if she embarrassed you some in front of Anon. And Anon liked the carrot dog you bought him. The library was alright too, for a while. Until that normie caught Anon's eye.

The hussy, just thinking of her has you grinding your teeth. With a hiss, you rub your sore jaw and look down at your desk. In truth, you aren't surprised Anon did what he did, not really.

The grey mare is more beautiful then you to be sure, and more interesting. Not only does she have a job, something you could never manage, it's in a library, and Anon's a writer. Of course he'd want to ask her for a date.

Why even wait for yours to be over when he already knew it wouldn't be going anywhere? You knew from the start that it was only from pity, after all. You chuckle sardonically at the thought, knowing now how stupid you were.

The ache in your heart has at least dulled since then. You'd barely managed to regain your composure in the library's bathroom before heading out, having to hide your eyes so Anon wouldn't notice you had been crying. You were frankly a little annoyed when he detoured the two of you away from going straight home to instead go thrift store shopping.

Why continue the farce? You just couldn't understand how he could be so nice to you for no reason, something you thought hard on until you got back to the apartment. And even then, he tore the only theory you managed to come up with down after you were so sure it was true. For whatever reason, even with his books, Page Turner, and every excuse to keep you away, he still wants to spend time with you.

You smile sadly as you run a hoof over the shining surface of the new mouse Anon had bought you. There's only one answer that makes any sort of sense. Anon really is just that nice. With a sigh, you shake your head and reach out for the power button. You don't now what you did to deserve such a kind stallion in your life, and you doubt you'll figure it out while sitting in the dark.

No, for now, you'll just focus on putting Anon's gift to use. You wonder what you've missed out on, being away from the internet for so long. You begin to smile wider, a blush coming to your cheeks as you imagine all of the new, lewd things you'd soon find.

Author's Note

What Floor imagines as she reads her moongas.

Artist is Tostitos on derpibooru.

P.S.
Bonus omake chapter soon for fun.

Chapter 10

You are Anon, and you are once again confused on what went wrong. Things had been going great since two days ago after giving Floor Bored her second bath. It had been kind of awkward, what with the one-sided sexual tension provided by Anon Jr., but you managed, if just barely. The pleased moans and shivers from Floor as you ran your hands over her body definitely didn't make it easy.

Still, you got the little NEET clean, and after a nice, home-cooked meal of spaghetti and canned sauce, the two of you chatted for a bit before she went to her room for the night. The next day went just as smooth, as did yesterday. You drew together, talked, and went out for coffee as had become a comfortable routine.

Today was shaping up to be similar, until you shook things up by mentioning your books again. Since the trip to visit GramGram and the library was coming up, you wanted to tackle your last book, and invited Floor to read it with you. She seemed a little down at the mention of having to return them oddly enough, but she still reluctantly agree. So you happily laid back, scooted as deep into the back of the couch as you could manage, and pat the space by your side.

A few adjustments and minutes later, and Floor was laying on her back, pressed against your ribs with her tail folded over her stomach and held between her front hooves. She quickly began to sweat, probably because she was fully clothed while sharing your body-heat, but you ignored it in favor of cracking open the Friendship Journal.

No need to embarrass her away when you finally got her to agree, after all. It was nothing a quick rinse off couldn't fix and you were pretty comfy yourself.

The journal itself was a little... juvenile with some of its lessons when considering the supposed age of the writers, but they were still good. Maybe the lack of cartoon shows made specifically to teach children this stuff early on is why adult ponies apparently have trouble with it. Really, there were little summaries before each lesson explaining how they came about, and some of the scenarios were just outlandish.

Like the showmare who used her magic to humiliate her hecklers when they challenged her, and Twilight being afraid to use her own magic in the defense of her friends. friends who were literally trying to show up the show off with their own talents, so why think they'd ostracize her for joining in and doing the same?

You said as much to Floor, and for a lot of the lessons, you two shared chuckles, but as you read through them, Floor laughed less and less. For some, she didn't laugh at all.

A lot of those were from the Flutter mare, and you could see why. Floor could probably relate to the shy pony pouring her heart out on the pages along with her friends. Then you reached a lesson about not letting fear stop you from doing what you love, and Floor got up with an excuse of being tired, going to her room with nothing more than a mumbled apology. It was too abrupt and sullen an action to be anything other than sadness. You didn't have much desire to read after that, so you began busying yourself with dinner preparations instead.

It's still a bit early, but the work has kept you from knocking on your friend's door, giving her time to recuperate from her sudden depression, and the extra time has also allowed you to go all out. Reheating some leftover, bland sauce from two nights ago, you've spiced it up with freshly crushed garlic, half an onion, a diced tomato, and whichever of the new spices you bought for the kitchen that smelled appropriate for pasta. Having let it simmer while you slowly stirred it for what felt like forever, you pull out a box of noodles and fill a pot with water. It'd come to a boil soon enough, and then it would be ten minutes before everything was ready.

"Floor, food's almost done!" you call, "It's the spaghetti sauce, but I kicked it up a notch!" You wait several seconds before finally hearing her door begin to creek open. "Hope you don't mind the leftovers, but it really will be good," you continue when there isn't any response. Glancing over your shoulder, you see the mare, eyes downcast, and bottom lip caught between her teeth.

Finally, she speaks, "A-anon, what do you think of that journal?"

"The Friendship Journal? It's okay, I guess. It's a good guideline for dealing with friends at least."

"And the stuff in it, like being honest all the time, what about that?"

"Well, yeah, mostly. I mean, it's not all black and white, but when in doubt, it's probably just best to tell the truth."

The pony falls silent once again, and you return your attention to cooking. With the water just starting to boil, you pour in a box of noodles, adding some salt and a spat of butter.

"Do you... like Page Turner?"

You blink a few times, wondering where that came from before answering. "Yes, I like her. We've only had one conversation, sure, but I think we're friends."

"... Do you like her more than me?"

"What? Of course not." You look back over your shoulder to see the littler pony's cheeks flushed in embarrassment, eyes wide.

"R-really? But she's so nice, and-and pretty, and has a job, and it's at the library too, and she likes reading and books like you, and she's probably really smart-"

"Floor, that doesn't matter," you interrupt, turning to the rambling mare. "I mean, seriously, you're like my best friend in Equestria. That's not something that can be replaced at the drop of a hat."

"B-best friend?"

"Obviously," you respond, smirking. "You think I go around bathing just anyone? What am I, a bath slut? Is that what you think?"

"I-I would never think that, Anon!"

You can't help but chuckle as your roomie's face burns. "I was just kidding, Floor." Your expression sobers as she breathes a sigh of relief. "I'm being honest though, you really are my best friend. Nothings going to change that, so don't worry." The small smile she gives helps assure you that she understands, but you can't help but think you see some sadness in those green eyes.

Before you can comment on it though, those same eyes widen, and she points a hoof. "Anon, the food!"

Whipping around, you see water boiling up over the edge of the pot just before hearing it sizzle as it's licked away by the stove top flames. With maybe a few too many cusses, you fumble with knob before turning the heat off completely. "Well... the noodles look cooked at least," you say, looking back. "Ready to eat?"

Be Floor Bored, tactical stealth NEET. You're hoodie is pulled up as you sit before your door. You turned the lights off fifteen minutes ago, and your eyes have adjusted to the dark.

It wasn't on purpose as you've simply been too nervous to make a move, but it'll help nonetheless. The day has passed, and you can hear Anon snoring cutely through the door, sounding like a two-ton dragon. It's very endearing. And useful for covering any sounds you end up making when you sneak out there and snatch the journal from beside the couch.

When you weren't internally freaking out over how close you were laying to Anon while he was reading, you were trying to imagine how the friendship lessons applied to your own life. The six mares seemed so close and so happy with each other. Could you have that with Anon?

He had called you his best friend, which was both heart-warming and wrenching at the same time, but you found it hard to believe. You'd never gone on a world saving adventure with him, or gotten into wacky situations culminating in a moral lesson, so how could you be best friends? This and many other questions swirled in your mind, and you hope finishing the journal will answer at least some of them.

Steeling your resolve, you complete your stealth suit by slipping a pair of black panties over your face, eyes looking out through the leg holes. They would not only hide more of your light coat in the darkness, but also help stifle the sound of your breathing for when you were closest to the couch and it's dozing occupant.

Luckily the lavender smell from the hospital detergent has almost completely faded. They'll be ready to wear properly soon enough, which, even for a stinky NEET like you, will be a welcome change. The ones you've been wearing since Anon moved in are in desperate need of washing. Mostly because of Anon moving in. Stupid sexy Anon ruining your panties...

Shaking your head, you slowly work the door open a millimeter at a time to avoid the hinges squeaking. After an eternity, there's an opening big enough for you to squeeze through, and you embark on your mission. Measured step after step, you inch your way across the dark room, pitch black save for a sliver of moonlight shining in through the curtains of the window above the kitchen sink. It's enough to illuminate the the rhythmic rising and falling of Anon's chest.

The sight is strangely hypnotic, and you snap out of a trance to realize you've reached your destination. You're standing directly beside the human now, staring down. You can make out his features in silhouette, memory filling in what's hidden in darkness.

So different from ponies, but still distinctly male. The sharp angles of his chin and slight slope of his forward are reminiscent of the stallion models from the fashion magazines you ogled in your youth, but with soft lips and hair that lightened his features from being purely handsome to cute, as well.

He grumbles and brings a hand up to scratch at his cheek, nearly smacking yours in the process. Without noticing it, you've brought your face mere inches away from his, and are forced to jerk your head backwards. Holding your breath, you watch as Anon flops his hand back down and smacks is lips a few times, remaining blissfully asleep.

Heart pounding in your chest, you remind yourself of your reconnaissance mission, and search for the info. It's easy to find, the journal sitting atop the other two books, and you quickly deposit it onto your back. Cargo secured, you retreat, resisting the urge to run so as not to drop the book and undoubtedly wake Anon.

This makes the trip painfully slow, but you eventually make it inside your headquarters and gently guide the door to its frame. You wince at the soft click of the latch snapping into place, and wait with bated breath. After a dozen seconds of silence, you heave a sigh and step back, feeling confident in declaring this mission a success as you flip the light on.

Slipping the panties from your head, you drop them besides the bed and kick them under before falling down onto the mattress, the book sliding from your back to lie next to you. Side-eying the innocuous tomb for a moment, you pull it to your chest and settle in under the covers.

Head flopping back onto the pillow, you stare at the book between your hooves, before cracking it open. "Okay, girls, help a sis out," you mumble, hoping these six wise mares could guide you to the correct path. The path that leads to Anon's heart...

And maybe inside his pants.

Be Anon, currently enjoying that wonderful time of morning where you wake up, but have nothing to do other than to lay there like a loaf for an hour, enjoying the peace, quiet, and comfort. Right until you here a scuffing sound right next to you and instantly become alert, anyway. "Wha's that!"

"Eep!"

Something tumbles loudly to the floor and your bleary vision catch a dark mass besides you. Jerking up, you raise your fists in defense, before the form skitters backwards and you get a better glimpse. "Floor, what are you doing?" you ask, lowering your hands. "What time is it?"

"I was just, ah, going to wake you up, which I did because... It's morning! Yeah, and you were going to show me how to make an omelette today, remember?"

You rub the crust from your eyes, straightening your back in a stretch. "I was, wasn't I?" you say, blinking wearily at your dark surrounding. "But it's a little early, isn't it?" Glancing at the window, you notice the faintest shimmer of daybreak. You suppose it is technically morning, but much earlier than you ever bother getting up, and especially early for your roomie.

"Oh, well, I uh, you know, went to sleep pretty early last night, so, now I'm awake... and hungry. How 'bout that omelette?" Floor sounds a bit anxious you note, but frankly, that's like her about fifty percent on the time, it seems, so you shrug it off.

"Well, I guess if you're really hungry, we can start breakfast now," you answer, swinging your legs off the couch as Floor steps back. Curiously, your foot bumps something on the floor.

"I knocked that over!"

"What?"

"The book," Floor explains hastily. "When you woke up and scared me, I hit the books with my hoof. That's why that's there."

"Oh," you answer dumbly, still a little confused. Leaning down, you pick up the friendship journal and place it on the seemingly undisturbed stack to the side of the couch. Something doesn't seem quite right, but you shrug it off. "It's fine, you didn't damage it at all, so Page Turner's not gonna kill. Now let's make that omelette. I'm getting pretty hungry myself."

Floor releases a breath and smiles, following you to the kitchen. Then a pair of underwear falls out of her hoodie's front pocket, and she chuckles nervously, spouting off a rapid excuse.

What a strange mare.

Author's Note

Aaaand here we are. I've hit a bit of writers block at this point, and don't actually know exactly how I want things to play out from here.
I'm thinking this is getting to the point where Floor admits her feelings, and Anon decides whether he can, does, or should return them, but I'm not sure of what the catalyst would be.
I'm thinking something with the kissy drawings in her desk drawer.

Really, how much longer can Anon resist this:

Artist is Shpace.

Chapter 11

You are Anon, currently scraping the burnt bits of egg from around the edges of a frying pan. Breakfast had been an experience, teaching Floor the ancient French art of omelette making. It wasn't a disaster, just a little messy.

Cracking eggs with hooves is understandably difficult, and the little mare honestly picked up the technique quiet quickly in your opinion. She only lost two eggs before getting half of the third into the bowl, and the next four were near perfect, with only a few easily picked out pieces of shell. Who cares if you break the yolks if it's for an omelette? You also let her beat the eggs, which left a little mess on the counter to be wiped up, but no biggy.

The actual cooking part was a bit stressful, and the eggs came out torn and a little darker than usual, but it was perfectly edible, and Floor was absolutely beaming after every bite. All you had to do was make the toast and cleanup afterwards, leaving you plenty of time before having to go see Floor's grandma.

"So, it was good?" Floor asked for the dozenth time.

"Yes, Floor, it was good. I liked it," you respond over your shoulder before setting the now clean pan in the drying rack along side the mixing bowl, spatula, plates, and forks. Might as well do everything now rather than let the dishes pile up. Some may call it responsible, you call it tactical laziness at it's finest.

"Good, good," she mumbles to herself. "I'm glad you liked it."

"Well, since we got up so early, what are we gonna do?" you ask, turning around. Floor shrugs as you rack your brain. The edge of a garbage bag peeking out around the corner of the couch catches your eye, and you're struck with inspiration. "Hey, is there a laundromat nearby? I'm kinda running low on clothes."

Floor tilts her head. "Um... Maybe? I've always just, you know, cleaned my clothes in the sink."

Understandable since she only has a few articles of clothing, but that didn't help you any. By pony standards, you probably have a massive wardrobe. A solution to the problem comes to mind after a few seconds. "You think we can look it up your computer?" you ask, getting Floor to look over at her closed-off room.

"Um, I guess," she answers slowly, moving to the door. You step up behind her as she opens it, but are forced to wait as she peeks her head inside and scans the room for something. Apparently being satisfied by what she sees, she opens the door the rest of the way and waves you in. The room is about how remember after Floor cleaned up. She's been doing a good job of keeping it neat; actually tossing her garbage away in the kitchen trash can, and you're proud.

She sits in the swivel chair and brings her computer out of sleep mode as you stand behind her. There's a web page open, but with an eep, she closes it before you can get a good look. "That- uh- that was nothing, just research," she says unconvincingly.

"Really? What were you researching? Anything interesting?" you ask, keeping your face straight as you tease the mare, who becomes flustered.

"Um... Anatomy, you know, in case I... ever need to know where an organ is... Yeah."

Smooth, now she sounds like an organ harvester for the black market instead of someone who was probably just looking at porn. Honestly, remembering some of the more experimental stuff you searched for back in the day, you can see wanting people to think the black market thing instead, so you end the joke there with a hum.

"It's always good to be prepared. Good thinking, Floor," you praise, before continuing, "But about the laundromat...?"

Stunned that you accepted her fib so readily, it takes her moment to register the latter have of the statement and snap her eyes back to the screen. "Right, right, just a second." Reopening the browser, Floor types laundromats into the search bar and goes to maps. "Hmm, it looks like the closest one is... here!"

Leaning in, you look to where her cursor is pointed, and run the directions through your head. "Great, that's just a few blocks from here, that means if I go now, I should be able to get my stuff washed and still be back by noon." Straitening your back, you continue, "Thanks for looking that up for me, Floor. Man, I nearly forgot how convenient the internet is. Wish I had my phone back so I could actually use it."

Floor looks back at you for a while before mumbling, "Maybe, until then, I could, um, let you use my computer, w-when you need it."

You blink. "Really? You'd let me do that?"

Fiddling with her hooves now, she looks down and nods. "Yeah, I mean, it's nothing after all you've done for me. It's the least I can do, right?"

Smiling, you plant a hand on her mane and give a little rub, which she leans into. "That's really nice of you, and I'll take you up on that later. For now, though, it's time for me to do this laundry."

Be an anxious, but happy Floor Bored. Anon asked if you wanted to go with him to do laundry, which was tempting just to spend more time with him, but the thought of sitting in public with nothing to watch except the spin cycle was just too much to overcome.

Instead, he left with a garbage bag of soiled clothing slung over his shoulder and a promise to be back in an hour or two, leaving you plenty of time to ruminate on your potentially disastrous offer. Even now, you are staring at the settings, preparing yourself mentally to add a guest account.

You trust Anon, you really do. You doubt he'll do anything stupid to load your computer up with viruses. And it's not like he'll be able to mess with your files or see your search history. But still, this is a big step. Perhaps too big a step for just friends. Even best friends.

...But don't you want things to change, a voice whispers in the back of your head. He's done so much for you already, so can't you do this one thing for him? How can you ever expect him to feel anything for you if all you ever are is a burden? That's why you've asked him to start teaching you to cook, isn't it? Dreaming of the day Anon would awake to breakfast laid out before him. How he would be so thankful that he'd pull you into a hug, ruffling your frilly apron as he smooches you on the cheek, just like in the Moonga you read.

You steel your resolve, and create the account. If you want Anon's kisses, you have to work for them, and sacrifices must be made. Sharing your lifeline to the internet will be the first. You'll let him use the computer whenever he wants, even if you really want to clop to porn at the time. Biting your lip, you really hope he won't want to use it too much.

It doesn't take long to get the guest account set up, and you push away from your desk with a sigh. Looking to the clock in the corner of the screen, you note you'll be alone for some time still. An odd concept since Anon moving in. Leaning back and placing a hoof to your belly, you feel a bump in your hoodie pocket, and your face goes red.

That's right, you stuffed the panties in there earlier before Anon could see. That was too close for comfort. Maybe if you ever meet the Elements, you can share notes about sneaking. Pinkie, Twilight, and Dash all had stealth-capades of their own according to the journal.

Why couldn't any of them have had love problems to solve instead? You can see some of the lessons being useful, but it's a shame none of them had a more direct answer for your current predicament. With a groan, you pull the panties free and toss them under your bed before crawling under the covers.

What with staying up late reading and then getting up early, you're pretty tired, and you don't want to be nodding off in front of GramGram. She'll probably share her own theories on what you stayed up all night doing in front of Anon, so it's best you just take a nap instead.

Be a fresh, clean Anon, ready to take on the world. You got home with forty-five minutes to spare, so you took a shower and put on a still-warm outfit.

The laundromat hadn't been what you expected, being a small building with only four washer and drier pairs, which were also small, but you made do. Though, it did kind of suck that you had to use two machines at once to clean the clothes, meaning twice the cost. It made sense, however, that a laundromat here wouldn't get a lot of business, nor need huge washers, so you couldn't be too angry. And you also learned that the laundromat did dry cleaning and clothing repairs, as well, which is good to know.

"Hey, Floor, you awake in there?" you call gently as you give the NEET's door a few knocks. "It's about time we get going."

The ruffling sound of fur on bed sheets reaches your ears, followed by a mumbled, "Just a minute." True to her word, the door opens a minute later.

"Took a nap, eh? Good idea, we've got a long day ahead of us."

"Yeah," she manages through a yawn. "It's noon already?"

"Just about, but I figured we could go early."

She seems to think a bit, yawning again, before nodding. "Sure, just let me use the bathroom real quick."

You agree, and move to the door to slip your shoes on, frowning as you notice the sole of the right one just starting to peel away from the rest of the shoe. You sigh, realizing you'll have to buy new sneakers sometime, and not having a clue on where to do so. Maybe you'll be able to call in a favor with the Princesses since you handed your phone over so freely. They owe you for jettisoning Equestrian electronics forward a few decades, right?

"ready to go?" Floor asks from behind you, head tilted quizzically.

"Mhmm," you answer, standing up. "Hey, you wouldn't happen to know someplace I can buy duct tape, would you?"

The bus ride is much more enjoyable than before, with you asking questions about locations you pass, and Floor trying to answer them. Despite spending most of her life in the city, the little mare doesn't know much at all about it, but you assuage her embarrassment by commenting that it simply meant you'll have more places to explore together. An arcade stands out as a prime location to visit later.

Getting off the bus, you walk the three blocks to the nursing home and make your way inside. The same receptionist as last time is behind the desk, and she perks up upon spotting you. "Anon! Floor! It's nice to see you again!" she exclaims, smiling brightly.

"You remember us?" you can't help but ask.

"Of course," she says as if it were obvious. "Even if we did get more visitors, a big, tall fella like you is hard to forget."

Ah, that made sense. You almost feel embarrassed for not thinking of that, but even after all this time, it's easy to forget you're an oddity in this world after spending a lifetime of just being one human out of billions.

"You've got a point," you concede, rubbing the back of your neck sheepishly. "So, we just sign in like last time?"

"Yes, yes, just sign here, and you can be on your way. Don't want to keep Floor Worn waiting. Oh, and Taproot too. He's been asking after you, Anon."

You're smile becomes slightly strained. "He remembers? That's... great."

"Yep, he even talked some staff into letting him into the kitchen so he could make cookies. An old family recipe, he said, for when you visited again."

Family recipe, as in, turnip cookies. You're stomach is already quivering in fear. The receptionist waves the two of you off, Floor on the way to have a happy visit with her GramGram, and you to your own intestinal execution.

Be a mostly excited, itsy bit nervous Floor Bored. You aren't afraid GramGram will not want to see you or anything like that, but you are afraid she might try to embarrass you in front of Anon. Last time, she was too preoccupied with catching up to give the human her full attention, but now she'll be less distracted. Here's hoping Mr. Taproot can play sufficient interference to keep Anon far away from GramGram as much as possible.

Entering the gardens, it doesn't take long to spot the old mare on account of how, unlike most of the other senior citizens, she's sitting out in direct sunlight, far away from the shade, and reach, of any tree. You shake your head before walking over.

"Hey, GramGram-"

"Eek!" the brown mare's head whips to the side to focus on you, eyes wild for a moment before relaxing. "Floor! Stop sneaking up on your poor ol' grandma!"

You blink a few times, startled yourself. "Um, sorry? I guess I'm just always used to you knowing when I'm around. You always did when we lived together, after all."

"My nose must finally be going," Floor Worn says dolefully. "I always used to be able to smell you coming, and yet here you are, sneaking up on me twice now."

You hear Anon snort giggle behind you, and your face begins to burn. "Actually, I've been taking baths more often, thank you very much," you grit out, getting a surprised stare from your grandmother.

"Really?" she asks, shifting her gaze over your shoulder to Anon. "Really?"

"Yes, really. I do take care of myself, you know," you lie, and immediately get called out.

"Manure," GramGram says, pointing a thin hoof at the human. "What've you done to my grandfoal, mister? Brain wash her? Is that some sort of freaky power you humans have?"

"Aw, no ma'am, I've just been giving her baths. No magic about it."

"Anon!"

"Giving her baths you say, as in, you're the one washing her?" the old mare returns her gaze to your burning face when Anon nods and deadpans. "That explains it."

"Why, hello there! Is that you Anon?" a gruff voice suddenly calls, thankfully diverting attention away from you. "What am I saying? Of course it is! Who else could be that tall? Come on over here, lad, I've got a treat for you!"

Anon groans quietly before turning with a wave. "Hey, Mr. Taproot. It's... good to see you again," he says unconvincingly.

The old stallion doesn't seem to pick up on it, however, and just keeps waving him over, a wide grin on his wrinkled face. Anon turns to you and GramGram with an apologetic smile. "Sorry, girls, I would have loved to stay and talk longer, but it seems I'll be busy eating tuber-based baked goods for the rest of the afternoon."

"He made those for you?" GramGram questions, giving a commiserate shake of her head. "He tried to feed me that poison this morning, but I hightailed it out of there before he fit one in my mouth, the crazy goober. You're a stronger pony than me if you're actually going to eat one of those crimes against baked goods."

The human sighs. "Well, wish me luck."

As he leaves, you give him a sympathetic pat on the leg and encouraging smile, before turning your eyes back to your smirking grandmother. "What?"

"So... Baths, eh? What do you young ones call that? Second base? Two and a half?"

"I-it's nothing like that," you mumble, looking away to hid your burning face. "... Believe me."

Something in your voice must have told the old mare how true that was, and how saddened you were by the fact, because her expression becomes concerned.

"Really now? The boy's lathering you up, and there ain't nothin' behind it? Oh, I'm so sorry, Floor, I didn't realize he was a coltcuddler. I'm usually so good at picking up on that sort of thing, too."

"What? No! It's- it's not that, he's just not interested in that sort of thing with me. We're just... best friends."

GramGram winces. "Ooh, friend zoned."

"It's not that bad," you say, trying to convince yourself as much as you are GramGram. "I'm... mostly okay with it-Ouch!"

"When are you gonna stop lying to your poor ol' granny's face, eh, Floor? You're horrible at it."

"But I'm not lying!"

She holds a hoof up in a halting manner. "Nope, don't want to hear it. Now tell me what you've been planning to get in those weird pants of his."

"GramGram!"

"Me? I don't know what you expect me to do for you. I ain't as young as I used to be; I can't put on the same moves without breaking a hip. Guess I could teach you a thing or two, though..."

"GramGram, please..." The mere mental image of your wrinkly GramGram shimmying around Anon's shins is enough to turn your cheeks green.

"Well, okay then, since ya said please. Now, what'cha got to do is walk out in front of him and sway your hips. You want your tail to barely cover your bits, let the swing really tantalize them. Oh, and keep your eyes out for stray bits, that's real important. That way, when you see one, you can stop suddenly and bend down in front of him to pick it up. If you're lucky, he'll walk nose first into marehood and get a real big whiff. Bonus points if you leave his muzzle with a wet spot so he's gotta smell you for the rest of the day. You do that, and I swear he'll drag you into the nearest alleyway and rut your brains out before an hour's up."

Your jaw is hanging open as your GramGram walks you through the steps of seduction. Steps, you're sure, might qualify for sexual assault nowadays. "You... you've actually done that before?" you can't help but question.

GramGram nods. "Yep, how'd you think your mom was conceived?" She sighs wistfully. "You're Grandpa was quite the mustang then. I could barely walk back to the house, where we had another go. I was bedridden in more ways then one that day."

"GramGram, please, no more..." you plead, hoof in the air. These are things you absolutely don't need to know.

"What? I'm just giving you pointers. Then again, Anon is a tall fella, so maybe the oopsy daisy maneuver won't work right on him. Probably can't get a good view from so high up, and he ain't gonna get his nose damp unless he trips and falls into your backside."

"Cooking!" you blurt, wanting to change the subject as quickly as possible. "I've been trying to learn so I can make him stuff."

This peaks the older mare's interest as she hums. "Cooking, eh? A bit tame for my tastes, but a classic nonetheless. A good place to start for a beginner such as yourself. You make him anything yet?"

"Oh, um, I... made an omelette this morning... with his help... But he liked it!"

GramGram looks at you appraisingly. "An omelette huh?"

"Mhmm," you start proudly remembering the amazing breakfast you made. The dark brown color, with only a few black spots. The piece of eggshell that crunched between your teeth. And how about half of the cheese leaked outside of the fold. You slowly sink into yourself. "Well, it was almost an omelette, at least. Like, fifty percent that, and scrambled eggs. Still tasted okay though."

"Sure it did. Come on, let's go talk to an orderly."

"Why?"

"Because if that coot, Taproot, could get into the kitchen to make his so-called cookies, then I can give my granddaughter a cooking lesson while she visits."

"GramGram, you don't need to give me a-"

"Hey you, juicy glutes, come here! Yeah, I'm talking to you, colt, my granddaughter and I need to use the kitchens!"

You cover your face and groans as an orderly cautiously makes his way over. Peeking through your hooves, you can't help but wonder if GramGram was calling the stallion by name or just making an astute observation.

Hmm, they're nice, but you think Anon's are juicier.

Be Anon, pale white cookie hanging from between your lips as you wander the halls in search of the kitchen. Much to your surprise, Taproot actually is a pretty impressive baker, as evident by the fact that he somehow made turnip cookies palatable. They're more savory than sweet, but they'd make a good snack for between meals, and are probably better for you than chocolate chip cookies even with the large amount of butter you can taste in them.

You told Taproot as much, and he was tickled pink, shoving the whole box in your hands to go share with all of your friends. That only includes two mares and maybe the pony who helped you drag your couch to your apartment at the moment, so two dozen cookies is probably too many, but you're sure you can probably scarf down most of them yourself in a few days.

After the snack, you stayed and listened to the stallion as he told you about how he met his late wife, a blacksmith who made and maintained all the farming equipment of his hometown. The way Mr. Taproot spoke of the mare, as if she were an angel that lit up his life, honestly made you feel a pang of sympathy when he mentioned her passing. Even then, he had a smile, stating how glad he was for the time they had together.

Eventually, the old stallion began to nod off, and you asked if he needed to rest. You chuckled as he tried to deny his exhaustion through yawns, not unlike a child refusing to go to bed, but your promise to return in a week had him conceding. He was out like a light not a minute later as you walked away in search of your NEET-y comrade and her grandmother. Seeing you wander for a while, one of the orderlies finally took pity and told you where you could find the pair with some vague directions.

As you stroll through the halls, you can't help but reflect on your conversation with Mr. Taproot, and feel a hollowness dig at your heart. The thought hasn't bothered you since your first days in Equestria when you were generally freaking out about everything, but hearing the old stallion talk so reverently about his love reminded you of a sad reality of your life in ponyland.

There's a very good chance you'll spent the rest of your days alone with no women to form a relationship with. Sure the idea of settling down and starting a family has never been high on your priorities, but now that the option is pretty much off the table all together, you find the thought depressing. Well, technically, you could still have that sort of intimate relationship, but that meant you'd have to find a pony willing to be romantic with an alien ape from beyond the void.

Where would you find a mare like that? A sci-fi convention?

You're brought from your thoughts by a familiar voice, and zero in on the double doors up ahead. "But why not?"

"Because it'll burn, ya idjit, now leave it be."

"But couldn't we just take them out in half the time so they won't though?"

"Floor, I love you, you know I do, but I swear, if you don't drop it, I'ma smack you upside the head. Like I said, rule number one of cookin' anything is-"

"Follow the recipe, I know, GramGram."

"Do you, because I've had ta swat your hoof away from the nob twice. I mean it, Floor, I don't want to find out you died in a kitchen fire just because you couldn't be patient. Celestia knows I'm gonna be twitchy whenever I hear the fire department pass after this."

"GramGram-"

"I'm not interrupting anything, am I?" you ask from the entrance, quirking a brow at the couple of hairnet-wearing mares. They even have them on their tails.

"Anon! W-what are you doing here? I thought you were talking to Mr. Taproot still."

You shrug. "He started to get tired, so I let him rest and came to find you."

"Oh, well, um sorry for not telling you where we were. I was kinda hoping I could come and surprise you when we were done."

"Done with what?"

"With my oughta-be world famous quiche, of course. I'm teaching my darlin' here the secret recipe so you two can make some real food at home." Floor blushes lightly at this while her elder preens.

"Really? Wow, Floor, you're taking this learning to cook thing seriously, huh?" you ask, giving her a proud smile.

She nods vigorously. "Mhmm! I even prepared all the ingredients myself! GramGram taught me this trick with cutting onions so they don't make you cry."

"You'll have to show me later," you tell her, moving to join them in front of the oven. Lowering yourself into a seated position, you stare through the glass port of the oven and ask, "When's it going to be done? I can't wait to try it."

"Fifteen minutes," the older mare informs, getting her granddaughter to cross her hooves petulantly.

"Could be seven, but nooo, we can't turn the heat up- ouch!"

Floor Worn lowers her foreleg, having not even looked away from her quiche. "Yep, just fourteen minutes and fifty-two seconds, now."

You can't help but smirk as your friend rubs the back of her head.

"I guess if we're waiting, you want to try one of Taproot's turnip cookies? They're better than they sound."

Author's Note

Sorry for the wait. Hope you still enjoy it.

Artist is Happy Harvey.

Chapter 12

Be a full, and accomplished feeling Floor Bored, just saying goodby to your GramGram. "Make sure ya eat that tonight, ya hear? It ain't half as good if you leave it in the fridge all night," the old mare warns, gesturing at the container of leftover quiche in Anon's hands.

"Looking forward to it," Anon says with a genuine smile. "Frankly, we'll be lucky if it isn't gone before we get home. That bus ride takes awhile."

"Good, ya need some more meat on the rest of your bones. Your flanks been hogging it all," GramGram says, getting your smile to drop.

"O-okay, GramGram, it's been great, thanks for teaching me how to make quiche, but we better get going," you say, pushing at a confused Anon's leg as he looks at his backside.

"Wait, flank is pony for butt, right? Did she just say my butt's big?"

"Yep," GramGram confirms with a nod. "Don't worry though, it looks firm. Has some nice muscle."

"By! See you next week!" you continue, actually getting Anon to skid across the ground with the force of your push.

His heels leave trenches in the grass before he finally starts walking. "Okay, okay, we're going. It was nice seeing you, Miss Worn. And, ah, thanks for the compliment, I guess."

"Just stating a fact," the old mare says with a smile. "And it's always nice talkin' to ya, Anon. See you next week."

You couldn't have gotten Anon out of there fast enough as your face burns. Why, oh why does your GramGram have to be so embarrassing.

"Your grandmother's kind of odd," Anon comments once you're out of the building and on the sidewalk, making your face burn even hotter.

"Yeah, I know, and I'm so sorry about that thing she said. She's from a different time, you know?"

Anon chuckles. "It's fine. She may be odd, but she's cool," he says, getting you to breath a slight sigh of relief.

Some colts can get pretty sensitive about stuff like that, you've heard, and you'd rather not have Anon mad at your GramGram. Things are awkward enough as it is whenever the two start talking.

"Is my butt really big though?"

You nearly choke on your own spit. "W-what?!"

"I mean, it's not that big, right?" he continues, looking down over his shoulder.

Your eyes follow his and you blush. The way he's twisting his back just so, one leg bent to lift a heel an inch off the ground. It really makes his flank stretch the fabric of his jeans. Unf, why must he wear so much clothing, the tease. "No- I mean, it's not huge, but, um nice, but not in a pervy way!" you attempt, feeling yourself spiral out of control.

Before you can crash and burn, Anon shrugs. "Guess not having an elevator in the building and living so high up helps. Really, elevators in general are pretty scarce around here. Wonder why?" He looks to you. "Anyway, you ready to go to the library?"

"Yes! The library! The boring, not juicy library!"

"Did you say juicy?"

"To the books!" You quickly move past the confused human and trot down the street. He catches up a moment later and the walk becomes far smoother as pedestrians naturally part around the big alien amoungst them.

"Guess we're skipping the carrot dogs this time," Anon states conversationally. "Shame, but I guess this quiche makes up for it. You really knocked it out of the park, Floor."

Even though it's not the first time he's complimented the meal, you still feel the butterflies in your stomach take off. "It was mostly GramGram who made it. I just cut the vegetables and put it together how she told me."

"Well, you did a good job cutting those vegetables, and you put it together perfectly."

You regret not putting your hood up as soon as you were out of the building, because now all Anon has to do is lean down to see the wide smile you can't force off of your face. You drop your head to hide it, but brush into a passing pony a moment later and remember you need to pay attention to where you're going. "So, you really liked it, huh? M-maybe we can make it together sometime. I could teach you the recipe."

"Sounds good to me," Anon agrees. "And it's pretty healthy, right? That's always good. I mean, it's just vegetables, mashed potatoes, and cheese."

"And the secret blend of spices," you say, quoting GramGram. "The spices are very important."

"If it's a secret, will your grandma be okay with you telling me?"

"GramGram likes you though, so I'm sure it's okay," you reason.

"Aww, makes me feel like I'm part of the family," kids Anon, causing you to nearly trip.

At his words, you can't help but imagine Anon really being part of your family, and you have to suppress the giddy feeling that bubbles up. Reminding yourself that Anon only thinks of you as a friend helps squash those feelings, and your mood sobers for the rest of the walk to the library. Upon seeing the old, but dignified library, your mood starts to sour from there.

"Phew, about time. These books were starting to get heavy," Anon comments. "I think I'll ask Page Turner to suggest some lighter ones this time. Love and Tolerance is pretty thick."

And now your mood is dipping into the red. Maybe if you're lucky, that mare will have called in sick today. Entering through the double doors, you quickly recognize the grey mare sitting behind the counter even at this distance, and a frown pulls at your lips.

As Anon smiles, shifting the books and food to one arm so he can wave with the other, you resist the urge to pull off our sweater and puff out your chest tuft. You have no right to act like Anon is yours, you try to convince yourself, and the human himself said the grey earth pony is just a friend, so there's no reason to get upset.

Despite knowing these things, the wide smile Anon directs the other mare's way sends a stabbing pain through your heart. You do your best to ignore it.

Be Anonymous, currently walking with a pep in your step as you move to the library desk. Though you've only had one meeting with her, and it's only been a week since, you're still looking forward to talking to Page Turner. Besides Floor, the librarian is really the only friend you've made in Equestria.

You aren't arrogant enough to count the princesses as friends, even if they've shown you great kindness and you've had plenty of pleasant conversations with them back when you first arrived. And the few other amiable interactions you've had were all with coworkers while you were still being shuffled around for a job. Yeah, you got along with some of those ponies, but there was never any effort made to stay in contact after you were inevitably replaced by a pony with a special talent.

Page Turner, however, isn't a princess being cordial, nor a coworker making pleasantries, but instead a pony who is generally interested in being friends with you, and it feels nice.

"Yo, Page Turner, how's it been?" you ask. "Anything big happen since last week?"

The mare giggles and shakes her head. "Nope, same old same old. Books are checked out and more need to be re-shelved."

"Sounds exciting," you joke, placing the three books down on the desk. "Got another action-packed job for you."

She smiles brightly. "You read them all, then?"

"For the most part," you explain. "The journal I only actually read through about half, but I did skim the rest."

"Oh," she begins, tilting her head. "Was it not interesting?"

You shrug. "Nah, the stories were interesting, but I kind of already knew most of the morals."

"Really? Why, if I didn't know any better, I'd think you were claiming to be a master of friendship," Page jokes. "Maybe we should write a letter to the Princess of Friendship and tell her we've found her perfect champion."

"Hey, I only said I knew the lessons," you explain. "I'm sure there's a big difference between actually being a good friend and just knowing all the rules like facts from a book. I'm not claiming to be some friendship savant."

"So following through," the grey mare clarifies thoughtfully. "Yes, I suppose it's easier to say thing like be generous towards your friends and actually making the sacrifices to do so."

"Exactly," you agree. "Being a good friend can take a lot of effort, and not everyone is always willing to put that in all the time. What do you think, Floor?"

The mare besides you jolts at being addressed and stutters, "W-what do I think?"

"Yeah. We read most of the book together. You have any thoughts?"

"Oh, um, it was... good. I guess, yeah, it can be hard to do what the journal says, like how you should always be honest with your friends..." She looks up at you for a few seconds, trailing off before looking away and continuing, "It's easier said than done. Um, still, I think it at least helps having the... the guidelines. It may not always be easy to follow them, but it's good to know what to do. Like having a map; you still have to read it and do all the walking, so that's the work, but it's better than trying to find your way blind or just sitting where you are forever."

You blink down at her for a while, the mare starting to squirm, before you smile brightly. "Good point, and you're totally right. It's better to at least know what you have to do and then work hard to do it rather than just taking a guess, putting in all the effort, and then finding out it was the wrong thing to do." You chuckle. "Reminds me of this time way back when I was in forth grade. We were assigned a project where we were each given a different country and told to give a presentation on the food they eat there. I was given a place called India, but I accidentally made my project about a group of people called Indians from a completely different place."

Page Turner snorts, covering her mouth. "No... you didn't."

You nod. "Yep, I did my entire project on the wrong kind of Indian food. I put hours of research into that, made a big poster, gave a presentation... and got an F."

"That's terrible," Page says, though she can't hold the chuckle of amusement. "That teacher must have been quite the mean one to fail a student for such an honest mistake."

"Oh yeah," you confirm. "Miss Brook was a total bitch. Probably why she was single."

"Language, Anon," chides the grey mare, though with very little heat. "You know foals could be here to check out books."

"Sorry," you say, looking around. "Are there any here? Place seems pretty quiet, even for a library."

Page sinks a little into her seat. "No," she says with a dejected sigh. "My grandma was actually the librarian before me, and she always tells stories about this place being packed with little fillies and colts on the weekends."

"Wonder what changed," you ponder aloud.

"The internet," Page immediately answers. "Why walk all the way to library and checkout a book when you can just stay home and browse the internet all day."

Floor seemingly chokes on air for a second, getting you to look down in concern. "You okay, Floor?"

"Y-yes," she answers, catching her breath. "Um, but do you think we can go start reading now?"

"Sure," you say. "We have done a lot of walking today. It'll be nice to sit down for a while" Turning to Page, you give a smile. "We'll talk more in a bit, but I'm gonna go take a load off and read some comics."

"Sounds good. I should probably get back to work, anyway. These books won't shelf themselves," she responds with a smile. "Just come find me if you have trouble finding anything."

With a final wave, you and Floor go to the same shelves as last time and pick out some reading material. You choose some more Power Ponies, hoping to get through the library's entire collection by the end of the day, and Floor grabs some manga.

Once seated, it doesn't take long for you to realize Floor Bored seems distracted. "Hey, Floor, is something on your mind?" you question, getting the beige mare's eyes to leave the page they'd been stuck on for the last three minutes.

"No," she answers a little to quickly. "Just... reading."

"Well, you haven't turned the page, so..."

"Oh, I was just... admiring the art. Look, it's a two page spread." Sure enough, across the centerfold is an image of a stallion dressed in a tux and top hat crossing weapons, a cane for him, with a sword wielding demon.

Huh... cool, and familiar," you note. "Still, you know if anything is on your mind, you can tell me, right?"

"It's nothing, really."

You raise a brow. "So their is something, then," you press.

"I didn't say that. I literally said it's nothing."

"But there has to be something for it to be nothing," you counter, getting the mare to puff up her cheeks in frustration.

"That's... Okay, fine, there's something but it doesn't matter. It's stupid."

"If it's bothering you, it's not stupid," you affirm, shutting your comic around your thumb to not lose your place. "Seriously, you can tell me; I won't laugh."

She groans and throws her head back. "Ugh, why do you always have to be in, like, great friend mode?"

"Because your worth it," you answer glibly. "Now what's up?"

Floor blushes and stammers before regaining enough composure to speak. "It's just... Page Turner-"

"Wait, you don't still think I like her more than you, do you?"

"No! I mean... you said you didn't at least, and I'm sure you wouldn't lie to me, even if the two of you seemed to really like talking to each other."

"That's just because I haven't seen her in a while," you explain. "It doesn't mean I like her or talking to her more than you."

"It's like I said, it was stupid," she mumbles, looking away.

You suppress a sigh and say, "It's fine. I'm glad we could clear this up. Feel better?"

She nods and you smile before reopening your comic. She does the same, but you again notice that she's not reading. You don't hold in the sigh this time, putting the book down. "What is it?"

"What?"

"Something's still bugging you. What is it?"

She opens her mouth to argue, but you interrupt, "Floor, I can tell you're still upset, don't say that you aren't, so what's up?"

She remains quiet for a few seconds before mumbling, "It's that thing Page Turner said, about sitting inside on the computer all day, like it's a bad thing."

"Oooh," you breath. "I guess I can see that bugging you, but you know she wasn't trying to be mean, right? She doesn't even really know you."

"I know she doesn't, but it felt like she was saying it to me... Is it really bad? Being on the computer all the time?"

You scratch the back of your head.

"Well, it's not good..." you start, seeing the mare slump. "But it doesn't make you a bad pony, or anything. It's just not a good habit, is all."

"Well, what's the difference between that and reading books all day," she asks, frowning.

It's quickly wiped away by your answer. "It's not."

"Wha- Bu- I thought reading was good!"

"It is, in moderation," you begin. "Remember the beginning of the Friendship Journal, that bit about Princess Twilight's life before meeting her friends? She wrote that all she did was study before that and how, looking back she realizes how miserable her life was. Doing just one thing all the time isn't good for you, whether that's reading, browsing the internet, heck, even exercising."

"I... guess that makes sense," she admits.

"Sure it does," you continue. "Changing things up, doing new things once in a while, it can really make life happier than just doing the same thing day in and day out."

"Yeah," she agrees, starting to smile slightly. "Since you moved in, I haven't been just on my computer like before, and I guess I am feeling better."

"I'm glad to hear it," you say, smiling. "And I hope you're really feeling better this time now that we talked about what was bugging you."

"Mhmm," she hums cheerily. "Thanks for not laughing, even if it was stupid."

"No problem," you answer with a chuckle. "Now, if there isn't anything else, I want to get back to this comic. The Power Ponies just fell into Doctor Ruin's trap and I want to see how they get out."

"Ooh, is that issue sixteen? It has this really cool part where Matterhorn-"

"Shh! No spoilers!"

"Oop! Sorry, just keep reading."

The two of you are silent for a few minutes before Floor Bored speaks up again. "Hey, Anon."

"Hmm?"

"You want to try something new after this?"

"Like what?"

"I don't know, something new. You know, to change things up."

"... Yeah, that sounds good," you answer, trying not to sound too proud of your friend. At this rate, she probably won't even need you watching over her anymore before the year is done and you'll be able to move out.

... For some reason, that thought makes you sad.

Author's Note

Nothing too major this chapter, but I hope it's still welcome.

Art by Happy Harvey. Floor sitting in front of the computer all day.

Chapter 13

Be an adventurous, and regretting it Floor Bored. When you had suggested doing something new, it sounded like a great idea, but as you now stand at the entrance of the arcade, staring at all the screaming and laughing foals and teens, you can't help but second guess yourself.

Anon, it seems, doesn't share your issues as he's smiling widely. "Wow, this really brings me back. I haven't been to an arcade in years. I used to love the one a few blocks from my place when I was a kid." Looking down at you, he adds, "Good choice, Floor."

"Well, you said you wanted to check it out on the bus ride, so it just seemed like a good idea," you reply bashfully. "Didn't think there would be so many ponies, though."

"Don't be nervous," Anon says, reaching down to place a comforting hand on your whithers. "They're here to have a good time, just like us. They won't bother you."

"Yeah, sure," is your meek response, taking a nervous step closer to the human's leg as a filly runs screaming passed you with a necklace of tickets wrapped around her head.

"Come on, let's go see what kinds of games they've got," Anon suggests, walking into the chaos. After a quick stop to buy tokens, the two of you head down the isles of games. You're right on his heels as he walks, eyes focused more on him than the various arcade machines around you.

It's because of this that you manage not to bump into him when he suddenly stops and points. "Hey, this looks like moonga art," he comments, pointing at a machine. The cabinet for a game called RazeRed is indeed covered in some of the most stunning and colorful moonga art you've ever seen. You're eyes go sparkly at the sight of the tough, battle-hardened mares and sexy stallions posed dramatically up and down the sides.

"Looks interesting. You want to give it a try?" Anon asks.

The idea of seeing such beautifully illustrated characters come to life on screen is enough for you to nod eagerly. Slipping some tokens into the machine, Anon and you both take up positions at the controls. After a quick rundown of the basic mechanics, you grab hold of the stick with your left hoof and place the other over the six buttons as Anon does the same at his station.

Cycling through the character roster, you take a moment to admire the idle animation of each one, drooling over a stallion named Bloodedge in particular. Mmm, that's one fine drawing.

"That who you're gonna pick?"

"Ah, yeah, he looks... tough," you answer, clicking the character.

"I'll be this one, then," he says, selecting a little lolita filly with blood-red eyes. "She's cute." You can't help but smile at his answer, feeling a little less silly for making your choice by how sexy you thought it was.

With that, the match starts, and you see first hoof the advantage fingers can give a player when Anon quickly takes the lead with a vicious combo. You put up a fight, tongue sticking out in concentration as you do what little damage you can, but you quickly lose the first match.

"Fear the loli," Anon states smugly.

"It's not over yet," you declare as the screen resets. It is, however, over in the next three minutes, "Player One, Wins!" popping up as you step back with a frown.

"Good match," Anon says with a smile.

"Yeah, well, you only won 'cause you have hands," you grumble back, getting the human to laugh.

"Can't argue there," he says, wiggling his digits. "They do come in handy for managing multiple buttons at once. Maybe I should check out the tournament scene to bring in some easy money. I could probably best the pony pros with some practice."

"Maybe," you say. "But you'd still have to beat the minotaurs and gryphons. They dominate the fighting game scene."

Anon's smile drops. "Oh, that makes sense. Darn, there goes that get-rich-quick scheme."

You huff a quick laugh and turn briefly back to RazeRed. Sigh, it's a wonderful work of art, but not one for your clumsy hooves to enjoy.

"What next?" Anon muses aloud, looking around. "Maybe something my fingers won't give me an edge in. That way when I beat you, it's purely because of my skills."

Despite yourself, you roll your eyes. "You only won one game," you say, joining the hunt for your next match as you scan the room. "I'm picking the next one."

Anon simply smiles and gestures for you to go ahead. With a gulp, you stand straight and walk into the crowd, Anon following you for once. As novel as the experience is, you try to stay on task, and soon spot the battleground for your first victory. With a smile, you point.

"That one," you declare, directing your companion's attention to the large rig.

"Boogie Woogie Insurrection...? Weird name."

"Let's see how good you can do when it's four legs against two," you say cheekily, stepping towards the twin platforms, the floor of each labeled with arrows. Sure, you might not know how to dance for real, but the base is basically one big gamepad and the advantage of limbs is on your side this time. Anon is going down.

With a chuckle and shake of his head, Anon steps forward and places the tokens in. "Kind of unfair, but I guess I do owe you for the last match. Let's do this."

With that, the two of you begin, eyes focused on the screen as lively piano music starts to play. You're a bit overwhelmed when the arrows come rushing down the screen, but after missing the first few, you start to get the hang of it. Judging by the curses under his breath, Anon isn't having as much luck.

You don't do well by any stretch of the imagination, but you still eke out a few compliments from the game while Anon only manages insults. "Jesus Christ, is that how ponies dance?" Anon huffs as the song comes to the end and you're declared the winner. "That's insane!"

Through your own labored breathing, you grin. "I... win!"

Catching his breath, he smiles. "Yeah, you did. What do you want to play next?"

You look back at the game you've just won, tempted to rack up another victory, but doubt your heart could handle it. "Hmm, how about... that one!" you suggest, pointing at a rig featuring proud gryphons on the side. If the gameplay is anything like the art, it should be pretty good.

Anon hums and steps down from the dance pad. As you follow behind, you watch as he pulls what looks like a crossbow from the machine, the toy-like weapon attached by a cord. "Huh, a hunting game. Didn't think I'd find one of these around here." You look from the crossbow to the title as Anon does. "'Flock Feeder, eh?" he reads. "Motivation must be bringing home dinner."

"That's... cool," you say unconvincingly, getting Anon to look back at you.

"What? Are you not okay with this? I mean, you ponies are vegetarians."

"No," you answer. "I mean, okay, it's a little weird, but it's just a game, right? It's not like we're actually hurting cute little animals."

"We don't have to play if you don't want to," he tries, but you shake your head.

"No, I chose it, so we should play it. Besides, this one looks like it'll be fair to both of us."

"I guess your right, there. Fingers or extra legs don't really help aim." He reaches into his pocket for tokens. "Okay, let's give it a try."

With that, you take your crossbow and he readies his. When the first rabbit hops out of a bush on screen and starts running, you line up a shot, and hesitate. The fluffy fella makes it three more steps before Anon sticks him and there's a burst of red before he flickered off screen, leaving behind two-hundred points.

"Keep up, Floor, you don't want the flock to go hungry, do you?" Anon teases, shooting a bird out of the air.

Reminding yourself it's just a game, you take aim once more and fire. Thank you, squirrel, for the hundred points. "Your sacrifice won't be in vain."

"What?"

"Keep up, Anon, we've got chicks to feed," you says, taking out several more critters.

Anon smirks. "Alright then."

Be a tired, but content Anon, carrying a sleeping pony in your arms. She'll probably be mortified and apologize later for being a burden, but until then, you are happy to help out your best friend. After the hunting game, and a few others, the two of you had gone through your tokens and spent quite a bit of time at the arcade.

The dancing one is probably what led Floor to falling asleep on the bus ride home, but you didn't want to wake her. And so now you enter your building with her cradled in your arms. You stop at the staircase, somewhat dreading the climb with the extra weight when you come up with the perfect detour to delay the inevitable. You still have mail in the box that you need to pick up.

You had stopped by on your way out to grab your and Floor's pay, but had decide to pick up the rest when you got back in. With a quick trip to the small side room, and shifting Floor to lay her head on your shoulder to free up a hand, you have a thin stack of letters as you finally turn in for the night. Surprisingly, Floor manages to sleep through all of this, even as you enter her room, slip the hoodie over her head to hang it on the chair, and tuck her in. Who knew that no caffeine, fresh air, and some physical exercise could take so much out of a pony?

With a final glance at the sleeping mare, you turn off the light and move to the couch, picking up the container of quiche you'd been carrying all day. It was a bit of an inconvenience, but you're glad you kept a hold of it as your stomach growls loudly. Forgoing reheating it, you simply peel back the plastic wrap and retrieve a fork, scarfing it down at room temperature.

With a full belly, you finally go about reading the letters. Two are junk mail for the garbage while another is the internet bill. The last, you are surprised to see, is a letter from your job signed by Ms. Index. You waste no time in tearing it open and reading what's inside.

Huh, it seems your boss wants you to meet with her and fill her in on how things have been going with your ward. While the letter lists several dates and times that you can show up, you decide on tomorrow in the afternoon. lying back, you place an arm behind you head and think of what you'll tell her.

It's odd thinking of the last two weeks as a job, and you can't deny the thought makes you somewhat uneasy. Floor's a friend more than an assignment by now, and you don't know how comfortable you are talking about her to a pony she hardly knows. Still, how you feel is largely irrelevant when you've been accepting the pay the NEET Agency has been sending you.

With a sigh, you get up to shut the light off before returning to couch. There's nothing to be done other than sleep on it and hope for the best.

The next morning comes quickly and it's Floor that wakes you up as she steps out of her room with a yawn. "Anon," she mumbles, wiping her eyes to look at you.

"Hmm," you start, lifting your head to look blearily at the mare. "What's up?"

She looks around, muzzle scrunching. "How early is it?"

Propping yourself up on your elbows, you look out the window. "Very. You're gonna start making a habit of waking up before noon at this rate."

"Blegh," she responds. "It's your fault for not waking me up last night. I don't even remember how we got home."

"Don't worry about," you tell her, standing with a stretch. "Besides, going to bed early and getting up at a decent time just means we can make a proper breakfast instead of brunch. I'm thinking sunny-side up eggs, buttered toast, and some of those tofu sausage links we have in the freezer."

The little mare perks up. "Can I help?"

You nod. "Of course, I can't run the kitchen without my sous chef, can I?"

You both share a grin and get to work. Much like yesterday, you let her crack the eggs with notable improvement. You handle the heat this time and have her observe though, since sunny-side up eggs take some practice. She does, however, do a wonderful job of buttering the toast and frying the sausages in the pan. The links are a bit crisp, but you prefer the char. In lieu of actual meat, it provides some much needed depth of flavor in the way of bitterness.

"So what're we gonna do today?" Floor asks as the two of you eat on the couch.

"Actually, I've got some business to take care of around one," you answer after swallowing a bite of tofu and eggs. "I got a letter from my job yesterday asking me to come in."

Floor stops mid-bite to stare. "You... you did?" she asks hesitantly. "What do they want?"

You shrug. "They just want to know how things have been going as far as I can tell, whether they're good or bad. If there's anything else, the letter didn't say."

"And... if you tell them they're good, what then?"

"What do you mean?"

You look from your plate to see the mare has set hers down on the armrest of the couch and is now twiddling her hooves. "Um, Y-you're just supposed to make sure I wasn't going to... you know, try it again, so if you say I'm not, you're job will be done, right?"

"Oh..." you respond dumbly. "Uh, maybe?" Her heard jerks up to stare at you fearfully, and you quickly try to calm her down. "But probably not," you add. "I'm sure you won't try to hurt yourself again, that's the truth, but they'll probably want me to be doubly sure, so I'll stick around a while yet."

The mare breathes a sigh and returns to staring at her lap. At first you think it's crisis averted, but then you here a weak chuckle. "I'm really pathetic, aren't I?"

"Excuse me?"

"You're stuck here making sure I don't hang myself because I'm so weak, and then when I find out you might actually be able to leave and get on with your life, all I can think about is how it affects me." Her shoulders hunch and begin to shake. "I'm sorry I'm such a bad friend, Anon."

"Hold up, now, you are not a bad friend," you say sternly.

"Of course I am," she whimpers. "You do so much for me and I all I can do is cry and be taken care of like a foal."

"You've been teaching me how to draw," you argue. "That's something."

She snorts derisively. "We just draw together-"

"And you give me pointers," you argue. "I've gotten way better because of you. And hey, you said you're going to start letting me use the computer, right? That sounds like something a friend would do."

"I couldn't even use it at all in the first place if you didn't buy me a mouse with your bits."

Damn, why does this mare have to be so good at tearing herself down. "You are my friend, Floor," you try again.

"You'd be better off without me."

"That's not true," you say, scooting closer to put a hand on her mane. "Floor, you do give me something important. You give me a purpose."

Wh-what do you mean?" she asks, looking up with wet eyes.

It's your turn to look away. "You think your selfish, but me being here, watching out for you, it's the only thing I can do. Before I got my job as an inspector, I had already been let go at a bunch of other places."

"But why? You're so great!" she says. "Why would anypony not want you working for them?"

"Because I don't have a special talent," you answer. "No cutie mark or destiny. I'm just... me."

"You don't have a mark?" Her voice is disbelieving, and you sigh.

"I don't go around saying it, and most ponies don't guess since I wear clothes, but I don't. No human does, and it's not a problem back on Earth. Here though? Here all I can hope to be is second best to a pony with a cutie mark, so that's why I became a inspector. Someone thought checking on ponies without cutie marks was the only thing somebody without a cutie mark of their own could do."

"But you said... said that I gave you a purpose."

"And you do. I felt worthless before, like I was just a burden on the ponies trying to help me find my place, and then I met you, and I thought maybe I could finally help someone else for the first time since I came to Equestria. It's only after being here with you that I've felt any kind of fulfillment, any joy, and that's why I consider you a better friend to me than I am to you."

When you look at her again, her lip is quivering and her eyes are brimming with tears. "Anon!" she wails suddenly, wrapping her surprisingly strong hooves around your middle and pressing her face into your side. "Y-your the most wonderful being in E-equestria! And the greatest friend! You should never feel worthless!"

"Then neither should you. You're a wonderful person, Floor," you tell her honestly, returning the hug as she looks up at you. "Not having a cutie mark doesn't change that. I think you contribute enough to the world just by being part of it."

She sniffles, letting go to place her front hooves back on the couch. "I... I don't believe you," she begins, but continues before you can argue. "But I want to, and maybe someday, I will... I hope I will."

"I... hope so, too," you respond, giving her shoulders a squeeze. "Small steps are just fine."

She huffs a small, cracked laugh and wipes at her eyes. "Heh, wow, I... I really made this morning weird, huh?"

"It's fine," you assure. "A lot of stuff's been changing in your life, hopefully for the better, so it's perfectly understandable to get a little overwhelmed from time to time. You should have seen me when I first arrived in Equestria; I was a nervous wreck."

"Really?"

"Oh yeah," you say with a nod, grabbing your nearly finished plate of food. "I mean, I was an alien on a new planet, but even after I was sure you ponies weren't going to dissect me and were actually really nice, I still had a few episodes. Heck, the first time I was served hay-bacon, I broke down in tears out of nowhere. Even I was confused after."

"But why?" Floor asks with a giggle, grabbing her own plate. "Hay bacon's great. Was it because you couldn't eat it?"

"Could've been," you speculate. "Maybe the realization that I was going to have to check all my food for hay from then on. You ponies can sneak that stuff into anything." She lets out another laugh and the two of you enjoy the rest of your meals.

Despite having cooled considerably, you think it might actually taste better now.

Author's Note

Not incredibly large, but I hope you can still enjoy this little heart to heart. Reading over the story so far, I am confident that Floor did not know Anon was a blank flank and that he's never told her this or about how he got his NEET Inspector job, so this felt like a natural place for him to bring it up.
The way I see it, Floor has thus far pretty much put Anonymous on a pedestal and has always viewed his being nice to her as some sort of divine kindness. Now, though, she's going to start to be able to see him less like some higher being, and instead more like an actual equal, and later, real friend.
Figured it was unhealthy for a relationship to be built on such a perceived unbalanced dynamic between the two.

Oh, and the RazeRed characters:

By Cennybunz.

By CheeseDork.

Chapter 14

Be a cramped Anon, waiting in an uncomfortable lobby chair. After breakfast, you and Floor sat together on the couch, her leaning into your side with your arm around her shoulders. You mostly just talked about last night. The games you played, the matches fought, and the fact that you tied at the end of it all.

After that, you decided to get a little drawing in, Floor just watching you this time to give more detailed advice. You wore down the eraser on your pencil as you utilized guidelines heavily for the first time. Floor was right though, and you found it much easier to get the proportions of your characters right once you started to build them off of simple geometric shapes.

Before you knew it, it was half past noon and you needed to get ready. Floor gave a small, nervous smile upon being reminded of your meeting, but nodded and wished you luck. Luck for what wasn't clear, but she was sincere and you gave her a head pat.

With a wave over your shoulder, you set out, traveling across town both by foot and bus before arriving at the NEET Inspection Agency HQ. Once there, you were seated and told to wait until you were called, which was ten minutes ago.

"Ms. Index will see you now," the secretary says, getting you to perk up.

"Thanks" you say with a smile, standing from the unbearably short chair and stretching your legs out. Your knees give a satisfying pop as you make your way to the door.

Once you enter, you see your boss behind a desk, sliding one of the cabinets shut before looking up and smiling. "Anon, come in! I'm sorry if you were waiting long. I was finishing up a bit of paperwork and I absolutely hate stopping such things in the middle. I've always been very task-oriented; giving my full attention to one thing at a time."

"It's okay, I wasn't waiting long," you assure, frowning at the short chair meant for you to sit in. Your couch has spoiled you for sitting as it's raised decently from the ground. Resigned, you sit, knees coming halfway to your chest.

"Still, apologies," she says. "It was rude of me."

"Really, it's fine," you assure. "But if you want to make it up to me, maybe tell me what this is about. Not trying to be rude myself, but the chairs here aren't exactly sized for humans."

She blinks, and her mouth makes an 'O'. "I'm sorry, would you like for me to send for a bigger one? I'm sure there's one somewhere in the building."

"No, really, lets just talk about whatever it is the needs talking about," you say, getting her to nod slowly.

"If you're sure," she says, opening a different cabinet to retrieve a folder. "You've been living with Ms. Floor Bored for three weeks now, right? How has that been?"

"Better than expected," you answer. "Not that I was really sure what to expect, but she's a very kind mare. A bit reclusive at first, though a stranger had just moved into her home."

"I'd imagine," Ms. Index agrees, flipping the folder open. "I assume that she's more sociable with you now?"

"Yes, we talk a lot," you begin. "She's actually been helping me shop and cook. I've been teaching her that and she's been teaching me to draw."

"Oh?" the mare starts. "She draws? That's surprising."

You raise a brow. "Why's that? Everyone has a hobby."

"Yes, well, I'd just assume since she lacks a cutie mark that any hobbies she does have would be less... skill-intensive."

You snuff the spark of anger her words ignite and nod. "Yeah, I guess you'd think that. Marks are pretty important to you ponies, after all," you say. "She's actually pretty good though. Maybe not, like, professional, but I think she has some real talent. Who knows, maybe she'll still get her mark in it."

Ms. Index smiles, though it's sad. "That would be wonderful; it's the secret hope of every inspector in this building who forms a rapport with their wards. We all want to see these ponies grow and succeed... but for it to actually happen? It's rare, to say the least."

"But not impossible," you point out. "And Floor really has been improving."

The mare nods. "Yes, you've mentioned teaching her cooking. It's always encouraging to see these ponies learn to become more self-sufficient. She's been showing genuine effort with learning?"

"I believe so. She's enthusiastic, and her grandmother even taught her a new recipe just last night that she was happy about."

Your employer perks up. "She visits her grandmother?"

"Yeah," you confirm. "We've only visited twice so far, but we're making it a habit. Figured it'd be good for Floor to reconnect with her, and it has been."

"So it's a change you've helped make," Ms. Index notes. "She wasn't doing this prior?"

"Uh, no, it had been a while from what I understand. Both mares are much happier now, though."

"That's good. Family and a sense of connection is important for anypony, and their lack is a common factor in why NEETs are more inclined towards suicidal tendencies. It's definitely a step forward in regards to Ms. Floor Bored's mental stability."

Your stomach twists from hearing how casually this mare can talk about suicide, but you remind yourself that she has been doing this job for far longer and has probably seen far too many tragedies. That she has become calloused towards the ugly truth is expected, and probably even necessary for her to be able to still do her job after so many years. Doesn't change the fact that you never want to reach the same mindset.

"So, is there anything else you want to know?" you ask, secretly hoping that she'll say no so that you can go home.

"That's for you to decide," she responds. "Have you been doing anything else?"

"Reading," you answer with a shrug. "We've gone to the library after both visits. Last night we went to the arcade."

"Sounds fun," she comments with a small smile.

You smile yourself. "It was. We spent most of the night there playing games. Floor was so tired after that she actually fell asleep before we made it home, so I ended up carrying her to bed."

"That was sweet of you."

"Eh, it wasn't a big deal," you say, remembering the adorable mare snoozing in your arms fondly. "Really, she's my best friend, so I was happy to do it."

Ms. Index tilts her head slightly. "Your best friend?"

"Um, yeah," you confirm. "Is that a problem?"

She shakes her head. "No, not in itself. She may be your ward, but that doesn't mean you can't form a friendship with her. Why, it's probably even good for her. It's just..."

"It's just..." you repeat, trying to draw out whatever is going through the mare's mind.

She blushes and taps her hooves together. "Well, don't take offense to this, but it's just, these ponies are often starved for attention, and tend to latch on quite fiercely to those who would become their friends. Jealously and envy are common, but often fade with time."

"I... guess I know what you're talking about," you say as you remember how she reacted to your friendship with Page Turner and even the emotional outpouring that very morning. "I've seen some of that with Floor, but I think it's like you said and it's fading, so it's not really a problem you have to worry about."

"That's good to hear," Ms. Index says. "But... an eagerness to please is also common, and there have been cases where inspectors have taken advantage of this fact."

You frown. "Take advantage how? Like taking money?"

"That was one of them," Ms. Index confirms, expression suddenly becoming angry. "Another was even worse... NEETs are starved for affection, both emotional... and physical."

Then it clicks in your head, and you stand, chair tipping over as you do. "Are you accusing me of rape?!" you growl, hands balling up into fists.

The mare throws her hooves up in a placating gesture. "No, no! You misunderstand! I was merely saying that, in the precarious state of mind that she's in, she may think she, or even you want things that she's not of a sound judgment to provide."

You breath in deeply through your nose and let it out through your mouth. "I... understand what you're saying," you begin, letting your hands unclench. "But I promise you, Ms. Index, Floor and I are just friends. I would never take advantage of her like that." Briefly, your mind flashes to some of the times you've given Floor baths, and what thoughts ran through your head, and you have to repress a surge of self-hate.

The mare across from you luckily doesn't see these emotions play across your features as she sighs heavily herself. "I'm sorry, Anon. I know my fears are unfounded. You have a good heart, after all. I was letting past events cloud my thoughts." She looks you in the eye and says, "Still, even if you wouldn't take advantage of her like that, I think it should still serve as a warning. Don't be surprised if Ms. Floor Bored mistakes her affection towards you as something more."

"If that happens," you begin, thinking on the possibility. "... I'll sit Floor down and talk to her. I'll make her understand."

"That's good to hear." Ms. Index waits until you've picked up the chair and have sat back down to speak again. "I'm happy to see you've been taking your new responsibilities so seriously," she says. "And I'm happy with the progress Ms. Floor Bored is making. It sounds like she's well on her way to recovery."

"Yeah," you agree. "She's been doing good."

"Still, I'd like you to stay with her longer as there's still the possibility of relapse."

"Of course," is your stiff agreement.

"I'd like you to report to me at least once a week from now on, however."

"Why?" you ask a little too quickly.

"It's nothing you've done," she assures. "I merely wish to stay up to date from here on out. I take the well-being of all ponies, both under my employ and under my watch, very seriously."

"I understand," you say. "So you want this to be every Monday, or...?"

"That will do. If you still have the letter I sent you, those times will work too, if you can't make it at this time for whatever reason."

"I'll keep that in mind." You make to get up. "So, are we good here, or is there anything else?"

She shakes her head. "No, I've heard enough. It sounds like you're doing quite well," she says, giving you a fond, almost motherly smile. "I'm proud of you, Anonymous."

"Um, thanks," is your awkward answer as you stand.

"I mean it," she presses. "You took on a very serious responsibility with very little time to prepare when you saw a pony in need. It speaks volumes of your character."

This actually has you blushing. "You make it sound more, I dunno, amazing then it actually is. I mean, anyone would have helped."

"But you've gone above and beyond, and you've done a phenomenal job while you've been at it. When this assignment is over, I think there will be a promotion waiting for you."

You're eyes go wide. "That's very flattering, and I'm honored, but seriously, I'm nothing special. You don't have to do that."

She just chuckles and shakes her head. "Modest to a fault, hmm? Well, don't worry, Anon. It's only a thought as of now, nothing is set in stone. And if I do end up offering you a higher position, it will still be up to you to accept it."

"Um, right," you mumble, rubbing the back of your neck.

She just laughs a little louder and makes a shooing motion with a hoof. "You can go now, Anon. I'm sure Floor Bored is eager for her friend to return. I'll see you next week."

"Yeah, next week," you repeat stupidly. "Maybe I'll bring you something Floor and I cooked together. She's improving pretty fast."

"I'll be looking forward to it," she says with smile and nod.

With that, you step out and make your way to the exit of the building, unsure of how to feel.

Be a bored Floor, unsure of what to do after Anon left. It's odd; you've spent the bulk of your adult life alone, content for the most part to simply idle the days away surfing the internet, and yet now, with the apartment to yourself, you just feel lonely.

Remembering just a few hours ago, you shake your head. No, Anon doesn't owe you his company, he can leave whenever he wanted. He doesn't even need to come back if he chooses. You gulp, hoping he'll come back.

Of course he will, but the earlier conversation made you face the sad truth that this arrangement is merely temporary. The most you can do is hope he'll still be your friend when his job no longer forces him to live with you. Again, your head says he will, but your heart whispers word of doubt.

With a sigh, you get up from the couch and go to your room. You look at the computer, but decide to leave it powered off, going to the drawer beneath instead. You aren't really tired, besides a little emotionally, after yet another good night's sleep, so you grab your sketch pad and flip open to a new page before settling on your bed.

Laying on your belly, you ready a pencil and let your hoof move of its own accord. Stars, shapes and lines begin to litter the page as you let your mind wander. Of course, it doesn't take long before your thoughts focus on a certain human. Leaned into his side with his arm around your whithers, just talking. You'd never felt more relaxed.

That you weren't a stuttering, blushing mess is a testament to how comfortable you have grown of Anon's presence. You hardly notice that your drawing has begun to move away from the abstract as you smile warmly. It's not until several minutes later when your hoof stops that you actually look at what you've drawn.

With a blush and feeling as if you're a filly who just wet the bed after so long without an accident, you quickly begin to tear the page out. Going over to your desk, you slide open the drawer and place the sheet inside with your other embarrassing drawings before placing your sketchbook on top. Good on drawing for now, you survey your room, eyes stopping on the computer before you shake your head, still not feeling it.

Instead, you go back to the living room, then the kitchen area to get a glass of water. While you chug it down, you glance at the dish rack of now dry dishes, and get an idea. It isn't much, but it's the least you can do to put the dishes away. It doesn't take long, but you're proud of the small chore you completed and glad you didn't drop any. Still, that leaves you with plenty of time before Anon returns.

Or, at least you suspect so. He didn't know how long it would take. With a sigh, you move over to the couch and sit down. "I'm bored," you whine to the empty room, then snort. "Floor Bored," you add in a shoddy accent. "Secret agent."

With a giggle, you remember the time you had sneaked across the room with underwear on your head, and smile. Then blush when you remember how close you had gotten to Anon's face. His head was resting right here, you realize, running your hoof over the armrest of the couch.

Your heartbeat spikes a little as you gulp, slowly bending down. Your mind helpfully points out that, if Anon were to walk in at that moment, he'd catch you sniffing the couch, but the thought is quickly washed away by the flood of Anon's scent. Humming, you press your muzzle into the ugly green fabric, then slide your cheek across it, resting your head where Anon does every night.

Instantly, your heart rate slows as you let yourself be enveloped by the traces of Anon's presence, imagining that he has his strong arms wrapped around you. It doesn't take long for your breathing to level and your mind to drift into unconsciousness, a human waiting for you in your dreams.

You're Anon, and you've been trying to get your head straight the entire trip home. Ms Index's implications were only that, yet, you can't get them out of your head.

Floor is your friend. Best friend, in fact, and that's including those few human ones you had back on Earth. Since you've been sucked to Equestria, you've only thought of them a few times, and rarely with much longing. Life has been too hectic to, really, but you doubt the same could be said for Floor.

If you were pulled back to Earth this very second, you have no doubt where you're thoughts would lie.

Floor Bored, waiting for you.

Floor Bored, all alone.

Floor Bored, abandoned.

The idea makes your heart stutter and your throat tighten, and you're sure you'd be praying to be returned if that were to happen. Knowing this only makes you less sure of what your true feelings for the mare are, though.

Is that how one is supposed to think of their best friend? Is it even normal to call someone your best friend after so short a amount of time? The answers elude you, even as you reach the entrance to your apartment.

You sigh, and open the door. Immediately, you see the mare who had been consuming your thoughts sleeping on the couch, snoring lightly with a peaceful smile on her lips. The sight calms you for a second, before putting you on a new track of contemplation.

What did Floor think of you? Her best friend, yes, but what else? Ms. Index feared there was more, but surely those fears were unfounded. The conversation from that morning replays in your head.

Floor thought she was a bad friend, and it took a lot of convincing, and some confessions of your own, to even get her to question the notion. You don't think there's love. At least not romantic. You shake your head and shut the door.

You're as quiet as possible as you take your shoes off, not wanting to wake the mare, both to let her sleep and to avoid an awkward conversation until you got your thoughts in order. With her on the couch though, you don't exactly have a place to sit. You could try to ease yourself down into the free cushion, but the jostling might disturb her.

You're thinking of just sitting on the floor and propping your back against the couch when you have a better idea. One of the things the two of you had discussed that morning was the new guest account on Floor's computer she set up for you. Now could be a good time to try it out while the mare isn't in need of her desktop.

Crossing the room as quietly as possible, you enter hers and shut the door to a crack behind you. Making your way over to the desk, you sit down and power it on, drumming your fingers atop the wooden surface as you wait. Thing's pretty outdated so the startup is painfully slow.

Three minutes later, you're able to enter the guest account, then it takes another three minutes for all the icons to load in and for you to open the browser. Floor definitely needs an upgrade, and that ends up being the the topic of your first string of searches.

A new computer is quickly deemed too far beyond your budget to happen in the near future, but some searching on Amarezon does give you some other options. Maybe some more RAM and a better graphics card. Between a birthday gift and something for Hearth's Warming, you could have her old rig practically zipping by the end of the year.

Pulling up the diagnostic tool, you start checking her setup. As you look through the information, you decide to take some written notes, maybe find a computer shop and ask for advice on how best to service the machine. This is why you end up opening the drawers of Floor's desk in search of something to write on and find her sketchbook.

Your hand hovers over the book for a moment before you decide that the mare won't miss just one page, and you pick it up. Flipping to a blank sheet somewhere in the middle, you look back into the drawer for something to write with, and freeze.

You tentatively reach in and pick up the loose sheet, looking at the picture drawn there with a slowly growing smile. It's of you and Floor Bored, together on the couch, her eyes shut as she leans into you and you with your arm around her shoulders. Absently you look back into the drawer, and see another sheet, quickly recognizing the other little chibi drawings she did of you both, like the two of you cooking together and drinking coffee.

Then your eyes drift down to the lower right corner of the paper, and your smile falters. There is an image of you holding Floor Bored around the barrel, her forelegs wrapped around your neck as the two of you kiss passionately. Ms. Index's words come flooding back, and you swallow thickly.

Slowly, you place the sketch in your hands back on top of the other, and slide the drawer closed. Spotting a pen hidden in the shadows beside the computer tower, you grab that and start making notes, expression blank.

You'll look up computer stores after this and go visit one. Maybe the walk will help you work things out in your head. Or at least serve as a distraction. Because really, what the hell are you supposed to do with what you just saw? Listen to your boss say I-told-you-so?

Author's Note

Hmm...
Not entirely sure how I'm going to handle this next bit. A confronation of feelings must occur, but how and who...

Well, anyway, here's a little comic by ScraggleMan,

Chapter 15

Be a slightly worried Floor Bored, sitting on the couch as you wait for Anon to return. It's now going on three days since the morning after the arcade, and Anon has been acting strange. It almost feels like he has grown more distant, and you're afraid the conversation when you confessed how pathetic you felt has alienated him more than he let on.

It's not like he's outright avoiding you, but he has been spending more time out of the apartment, assuring that he's just getting exercise and exploring the neighborhood. That's fine, you tell yourself, and he even asked if you wanted to join.

Said offer sounded tentative to your ears, however, and that was enough for you to decline. Physical exertion and excessive socializing outside notwithstanding, you wouldn't insert yourself into an activity he wanted to do on his own. You've already forced yourself into enough aspects of his life as it is, so it's the least you can do to let him have some alone time if that's what he wants.

The fact that he wants it shouldn't sting at all, and certainly doesn't. Other little things unfortunately do. When you draw together, he seems quieter, hardly asking any questions at all. When you get up on the couch to sit with him, he no longer opens an arm in silent invitation for you to snuggle close. And worst of all was just this morning when you woke up to an already prepared omelet for breakfast.

You know you shouldn't let it get to you, but even now, he's been gone for nearly four hours since noon. Just then, your ear flicks in the direction of the door as you hear hoofsteps. Or more precisely, footsteps.

You're stepping down to the floor before he's even through the entrance. "Welcome back," you chirp with as much cheer as you can muster. "How was the walk? Find anything cool?"

"Oh, hey, Floor," he says, looking at the mare with a little shock. "You weren't... waiting for me, were you?"

You blink, and for some reason, you feel ashamed. "What? Nah, I just got a drink of water and decided to sit down for a sec," you bluff.

"Huh, well, the walk was fine. I actually ended up going all the way to the library," he explains, moving an arm to draw attention to the two books held against his side. "Long way on foot, but I did browse a couple shops, and on the way back, I picked us up something to eat." In his other hand, you notice a plastic bag. "Hope you like subs. The place was pretty busy, so I figure they must be decent."

"Oh... thanks," you say, forcing a smile. "Now we won't have to make dinner." You leave out the together and do your best to keep the smile plastered on your face as he rummages through the bag and hands you a foot-long wrapped in paper. It's teriyaki tofu, while his is garden vegetables slavered in spicy mayo.

You're about to ask if he wants to eat together, but the question dies on your lips as he sits down and holds up one of the books, reading the back while his other hand brings the sandwich up to his mouth. Without a word, you slink into your room, intent on eating at your desk in silence.

Be blank-faced Anon, currently reading one of the books Page Turner recommended now that your sandwich is done. The apartment is almost eerily quiet with only the sound of the pages ruffling as you turn them. Even the library wasn't this still, and you absently wonder if you could have stayed later.

Page Turner was excellent company as always, and was pleasantly surprised by your early visit. The two of you shot the breeze, you describing books from Earth and her trying to think of their Equestrian equivalences. While some she could only recommend similar stories, others, like Sherlock Holmes, she was surprised by. The mystery of the parallel books across universes is a fascinating one to be sure, though you doubt you'll ever find an true explanation.

Still, you remembered Floor Bored, and noticing the time, decided it would be best to ensure she ate something. Though now, you wonder if she could have just gotten herself something to eat. She's been learning to cook, and if that was too much effort, she could have eaten cereal.

You sigh and place the book aside after sliding a piece of paper between the pages you're on. You've forced yourself to read for an hour, but you just can't get into the story. It doesn't help that the book is a cheesy romance. Page Turner recommended it when you asked for something more recent, her explanation being that it was a bestseller a few month ago, so it must be at least somewhat good. It's looking like you'll be able to make her a recommendation next time you visit when you tell her not to bother picking it up herself.

With a sigh, you think about cracking open the other book you brought home, but decide against it. Instead you stand up, ignoring your worn leg's protests, and go to the sink to get a drink of water. You fill and sip at a cup as you turn around, eyes fruitlessly roving the room, looking for something to do. You suppose you could introduce yourself to the neighbors. You're pretty sure the stallion that helped you drag the couch up here lives just down the hall, and he seemed like a pretty chill guy.

You chug the rest of your drink and leave the cup on the counter. No, the sun will be setting soon, so it would be weird to go from door to door knocking. It's a good idea for tomorrow, but that doesn't help you now. Absently, you look at Floor's door, and bite the inside of your cheek. You could ask if she wanted to draw, you suppose, or maybe if you can use her computer on the off chance she's gearing up for a nap or something.

The thought of sitting at the desk immediately reminds you of what is in its drawer, and look away. What exactly are you doing? You know, of course, you're trying to avoid the mare who, until a couple days ago, you thought of as your best friend and one pony you could always just hang out with. But now, every time you're in the same room as her, you remember those drawings, and Ms. Index's words, and every interaction has a new context.

Does she compliment your shit art because she's you're friend, or because she has a crush on you? When she sits close, is it for comfort, or something else? And while you over-analyze her every action, you're measuring each of your own. Could telling her that sketch was good be construed as flirting? Does letting her curl against your side send the wrong signals?

And worst of all, would they really be the wrong signal? Yes, you always tell yourself. She's still recovering and vulnerable, and the last thing she needs right now is an intimate relationship like that piled on top of all the other craziness of her life. Then, when this conclusion is reached, there's always that treacherous little voice in the back of your head, accusing. It may be the wrong signal, but it's the one you want to send. And you hate yourself, because you know there's truth in that.

With a frustrated groan, you push your palms against your shut eyes hard enough to see blooms of color, then let them fall away. Regardless of those feelings, you know you can't avoid Floor completely. Besides living together, she still needs you to be her friend, if nothing else, so you decide to be that and go to her door. Gently, you rap your knuckles against the wood three times and call out, "Hey, Floor, you awake?"

"Yeah," you hear called back dully. "What's up?"

"I was just wondering if you want to draw together," you offer. "Maybe I can finish that sketch I had going of Matterhorn."

There's a moment of silence, then the sound of movement before the door cracks open. "... Really?" she asks, and your chest tightens.

The disbelief in her voice makes you feel guilty, but you force a smile. "Of course. How will I ever get any better without my awesome master teaching me her ways?"

She gives a smile of her own. "My ways are a secret, young student, but I suppose I can reveal some to you."

You both share an honest chuckle at the nerdy exchange before she retreats into her room. By the time she comes back out with the paper and pencils, you have a blanket spread out for the two of you to sit on. She eagerly flips open her sketchbook, the sight of it making your mind flash back to those confusing thoughts.

You quickly push them away and focus on your own drawing now set out before you. The lines are done, and aren't looking half bad if you don't say so yourself, but now it's time for shading. You've practiced some by drawing simple shapes like spheres and boxes, but a pony will be much harder.

True to her word, Floor constantly stops her own drawing to guide your through your own. After nearly forty-five minutes of this, you start to relax and enjoy yourself like you used to before everything became complicated. Your picture is also coming along nicely, a fact Floor is eager to tell you.

"Wow, Anon, you're getting really good at this," she says, smiling with pride.

"I've been learning from the best," you respond, getting a bashful blush to come to her cheeks.

"I'm not that good. If you keep improving like you are, you'll probably be better than me soon."

"Not if you keep getting better yourself," you point out, sitting a little straighter and pointing to her picture. It's a full page of Mane-iac trying, and failing, to hold back an enraged Saddle Rager. The characters are posed very dynamically, hatred clear in their expressions, and there's even a rudimentary background of a cityscape, something you haven't seen Floor do before.

You mention some of this, and Floor's blush grows. "I guess... watching you try so hard to get better inspired me to do the same."

Your own face flushes a little at that, and you look back down at your picture to hide it, giving an awkward thanks. Returning to your work, you absently go over some of the thicker shading with the eraser. Floor does the same, drawing windows into the buildings behind the action, her face becoming blank.

This goes on for several minutes before Floor pipes up. "I'm sorry."

You glance up, hand freezing. "For what?"

She doesn't meet your eyes. "For whatever I did to make you not want to be around me."

"Floor, I'm not-"

"You haven't been around a lot the last few days," she says, then quickly adding, "and that's fine. You don't have to stay for me... But we don't cook anymore, or sit with each other... We don't talk, and just now, I'm sorry if I said something that made you uncomfortable. I was being stupid."

"You weren't," you insist. "I was just... I dunno, flustered, I guess, when you said I inspire you. That's a pretty big compliment, you know? To be told you inspire someone; I was surprised."

She glances up at you through her bangs, eyes searching. "And the other things?"

You're mind struggles for answers, the excuses you gave yourself all those times bubbling up, only to die on your lips. You bought the subs because they were convenient... and so Floor wouldn't insist on cooking something together. Same reason you made breakfast before she was awake. Stretching your legs has been nice, but you only chose to do it so you could be away from this mare and all the turmoil she brings to your thoughts.

You can't say these things though. Not to her. Apparently, you don't have to. Your silence was enough for her to drop her head.

"I'm sorry," she whispers. "I'll leave you alone like you want."

You don't find your voice until she's already at the door. "Wait!"

She stops, but doesn't turn around, and your see her shoulders tremble. "Floor... I have been avoiding you," you finally say, grimacing. "But it's not anything you did... not really."

"T-then why?" she asks, still looking away.

You take a deep breath and let it out slowly before you begin to speak. "The day I came back from meeting with Ms. Index, you were sleeping on the couch," you say. "I didn't want to wake you, so I decided to use the guest account you set up on the computer for me."

She's facing you now, and it makes it harder to continue with her emerald green eyes on you, but you continue. "I needed to write something down, and decided to use a sheet from your sketchpad, but when I picked it up, I saw the drawings... the ones of us."

The words hang in the air for a few moments, then you see the understanding slowly dawn on Floor Bored. That, and the horror. "Even... even the one at the bottom?" she half asks, half squeaks.

You avert your eyes, and nod slowly. Something between a gurgle and a keening sound escapes the mare's throat before she whips around and flees into her room. You're already on your feet as the door slams violently, bounding over and yelling, "Floor, we can talk about this! We need to!"

You don't think she hears you over the constant stream of insults she's directing at herself, so you open the door. "Get out!" she immediately yells, and it takes a moment for you to locate from where. There, behind the overturned computer chair, you see the hind end of the pony scrambling to get under the bed.

"What are you doing?" you ask, stepping around the chair to kneel beside her. "Floor, this is ridiculous, you can't hide under the bed."

"I said go away!" she yells, though it's interrupted by a sob. "D-don't look at me!"

"I'm not mad," you try to assure. "I wasn't when I saw them. I was just... confused. Please, come out here and let's talk about this."

"No," she says, now almost completely hidden under the frame. "Just leave me alone!"

You frown, and steel yourself. "Fine, if you aren't going to come out, I'm coming in."

"What?!"

You're already shimmying under to join her before she can say more. "Anon! Get out from under my bed!"

You grunt and rotate yourself onto your side, barely fitting under the small space as you face Floor Bored with a determined expression. There are tears in those wide eyes and her mouth is slightly agape. "Floor, I mean it, I'm not upset, but we do have to talk about this."

"About what?" she manages, looking away. "It's just a stupid crush. I know that there's no chance, so we should drop it."

"No, we shouldn't," you say, reaching up to grab one of her forehooves gently. She gasps as you run a thumb over her hoof.

"Please, Anon," she whispers, tucking her chin into her chest. "Don't make this harder."

"What do you mean?"

"It hurts enough knowing we won't ever be... that. Knowing you could never want that. I just want to forget these feelings so we can still be friends."

"You think I could never love you?" you find yourself asking. "Floor, I already love you."

She barks a harsh laugh. "Yeah, like a best friend. I know."

"Yes," you concede, gathering up strength for what you're going to say next. "But that doesn't mean I could never love you as more." Her head whips up. "That's... Floor, that's why I've been acting... distant," you continue. "Listen, I like you. I like you a lot, actually, and the thought of us being... more, has crossed my mind."

"You're... you're lying," she breathes, tear whelming up and falling faster. "You're just trying to make me feel better."

"If I was trying to make you feel better, how would lying to get your hopes up work?" you question, bringing your other hand up to wipe tears from her face. "You're a great friend. Heck, you're a great mare, period. You're kind, funny," you chuckle a little, "You're humble to a fault, but always eager to learn and improve yourself." Your hand drifts to her mane, and her breath hitches as you run your fingers through it. "Any guy would be lucky to have you be their girlfriend, myself included... But it's too soon."

"What do you mean?"

You sigh, hand falling away. "We've only know a each other for a few weeks."

"That doesn't matter!" she blurts, reaching for your hand and holding it between her hooves. "If- if you really like me, we should at least give it a try, right?"

"It does matter though," you insist. "It's been a few weeks since we met... and since you tried to take your own life." You bring your other hand up to wrap around her hooves. "I don't want to sound cruel, but your mind was in a bad place, Floor, the worst. You've come a long ways, it's amazing just how much you've risen above that day... but how can I be sure you're ready for this? How do I know you really feel that way about me, or if you're not just mistaking gratitude or our friendship as something more than it is? I don't want to take advantage of you like that."

She doesn't answer for a long time staring at the hands and hooves folded together between you both. "I'm not crazy," she finally says. "At least, not so crazy to not know what I'm feeling for you. I might not know a lot, but I know I... I love you."

"I'm not saying you're crazy-"

"But you're afraid I might be," she interrupts, giving a small, tired smile. "That makes sense, and I don't blame you. I'm not right in the head. I know that. I want to get better though."

"And you will," you assure squeezing her hooves and looking her straight in the eyes. "You're stronger than you know, Floor."

She gulps, eyes shining even as her smile grows. Then she clears her throat. "So... you like me."

"Very much so, yes."

She blushes, but continues, "But you think it's too soon."

"After everything's settled, and you're the mare I know you can be, strong and independent... If you still want to give it a try, dating a schmuck like me, then I would be more than happy to."

"You really mean that?" she asks, hope and doubt in her voice.

You smile wide. "I hope it."

Then her hooves are around your neck and she's hugging you tightly. You return the hug with equal strength and the two of you lay together in silence. You speak up however when a dull ache in your side has you shifting uncomfortably.

"I'd love to stay like this for a while longer, but somethings been digging into my side ever since I crawled under here," you say, reaching a hand under your ribs to grab whatever it is. In the next second, you're holding a vibrator up, and Floor's face turns crimson.

"Oh... that's what that was," you say nervously, shifting your grasp as to hold it daintily between two fingers. You offer it to the mare and add, "I think this is yours."

Floor's eye twitches and her mouth hangs open, then, in the next second, the toy is snatched from your grasp and she's pushing you out from under her bed. You try to tell her it's nothing to be embarrassed about, but that only has her screaming louder.

"Get out! Get out!"

"Okay, okay, I'm going! Sorry!"

Author's Note

Hope the resolution didn't seem too fast for you. I think ti turned out alright though.

Anyway, here is a sketch by Shpace of the sketch Floor did that Anon found first before seeing the kissy one in the last chapter.

Chapter 16

You are Floor Bored, and you are currently slurping juice boxes with your GramGram, the two of you sitting at the fringe of a tree's shade. It's been a few days since you and Anon talked about the potential future of your relationship, and frankly, you're still a little giddy about it. So much so, that you couldn't keep from telling GramGram when she jokingly asked if you and Anon had shacked up yet. You weren't even flustered by he sexual innuendo.

"Nope," you say with more cheer than the older mare expected, if the raised brow is any indication. "But we talked about it."

"You... talked about shacking up?" she asks. "Huh, never thought ya had it in you."

At that, you do blush a little. "We didn't talk about that," you clarify, nursing your juice box between your hooves. "I meant, we talked about, like, dating and stuff."

"Ah, my mistake," GramGram says, talking a loud slurp of her juice. "And? I reckon you aren't datin', or else that would have been the first thing ya said."

"Well, no," you admit. "It's kind of complicated..."

"I ain't a foal. I'm sure I'll be able to follow along just fine."

"Right," you say, taking a deep breath. "Um, we've only known each other for a little while, so Anon wants to wait."

GramGram is silent, turning the information over in her head, then nods. "Huh, guess that's the responsible way of going about. He's got a good head on his shoulders, for a colt."

"GramGram," you sigh. "Can you not say stuff like that? Especially about Anon."

The older mare chuckles. "No need ta get all protective on me. I didn't mean nothin'."

"Still, it's kind of disrespectful," you respond. "Anon's not just some colt. He's smart, nice, and... the best thing that's happened to me in a long time."

GramGram is silent for a bit, then says, "Phew, you've got it bad."

You chuckle at that. "Yeah, I guess I do."

Sighing, the older mare says, "Don't get me wrong, Floor, I'm happy for you... but don't get your hopes up too high."

"GramGram?"

"I just don't want ta see you get hurt, is all," she goes on to explain, looking you in the eye. "Love can be a dangerous thing, you know?"

Instantly, you are reminded of your mother, and your chest feels tight. "I know," you whisper.

You wish you could say more to reassure GramGram, but the truth is you've already tried to end it once, and that was before you had the hope of love in your life. You'd like to think you'll never fall that low again, even if everything with Anon falls through, but you aren't a psychic.

"I'll be careful," you say instead, smiling to try and match the older mare's slight one.

"You know, I'm starting to like beets more than I ever expected I would," Anon comments as he approaches, a mason jar full of dark red liquid in one hand. "This beet juice isn't half bad." You and GramGram turn to the man, and instantly snort at the crimson mustache smeared across his upper lip. "What?"

"You look like a vampony," GramGram says, getting Anon's brow to raise.

"Ah... What?" he repeats.

"Um, you have Beet juice on your face," you tell him with a giggle. "A lot of it."

Wiping the juice away with the back of his hand, he smiles proudly at you, revealing red-stained teeth. Amidst the proceeding laughter, Anon merely clamps his mouth shut and takes a seat on the grass next to you.

"Haha, laugh it up, funny mares," he says. "We'll see who's laughing when I live to the ripe old age of a hundred and two with perfect health."

"I don't care what that old coot says," chimes in GramGram. "Even if his beets are the secret to a long life, I ain't gonna be eating them with every meal."

"More beets for us then," Anon counters glibly.

"And you can have them!" snaps GramGram, and you can't hold back another fit of giggles. Anon joins in this time, and GramGram follows soon after. After a minute, you all settle down, merely enjoying the fresh air along with the other occupants of the garden.

"So, where's Taproot gone?" GramGram questions. "I doubt he'd let you go without takin' your ear off first."

"He had to use the bathroom, so one of the nurses took him inside," Anon explains. "Probably the two jars of beet juice he drank. I'm not even halfway done with one and he's just chugging the stuff."

"Crazy stallions," the older mare comments under her breath shaking her head in resignation. "Speakin' of crazy," she speaks up. "I heard you and Floor here are thinkin' about dating sometime soon."

You start hacking on juice while Anon sits a little straighter and looks down at you. "You told her about that?" he asks, sounding genuinely surprised.

"W-well, I just, um... yes, I did," you admit hunching your shoulders. "I... sorry."

"Ah, don't be sorry," GramGram says, smacking your shoulder. "I'm your grandmother. You should be telling me these things." Then, turning to Anon, she adds, "You don't want my darlin' Floor to keep things from her poor old grandma, right?"

"Of course not," Anon quickly assures. "Honesty is great, It's just... I'm surprised she'd bring it up. We only just talked about it ourselves a few days ago."

"It's not like I didn't expect somethin' along these lines," GramGram comments. "I mean, there ain't many places a stallion bathing a mare can lead other than the bedroom."

"GramGram!" you shout, face redder than Anon's juice as he rubs the back of his neck and looks away. "He doesn't even do that anymore! I took a bath last night all by myself!"

"Really now?" GramGram asks, then gives a little shake of her head. "Shame. That's every mare's dreams. I bet those wriggles of his felt mighty fine running over your wet body."

You groan into your hooves as Anon coughs. The truth is, Anon hadn't helped you with your bath because you could tell he had become uncomfortable with the idea after the two of you revealed your budding feelings for each other. He hadn't spoke out against it openly, probably willing to forgo his own feelings for your benefit since he's such an amazing friend, but you didn't want to make him do something he wasn't a hundred percent okay with, and so you volunteered to do it yourself.

It was a step in what you imagine is the right direction for becoming a stable pony, and Anon still sat in the room, the closed curtain between you so he could keep you company. That was definitely appreciated since you still can't help but think the whole bathing-process is boring and needlessly time consuming, especially without getting a cute stallion to do all the work.

You don't say any of this out loud, instead opting for, "Can we talk about something- anything- else, please?"

"H-hey?" Anon chimes in, seemingly sharing the sentiment. "Have you shown Floor Worn your drawings yet?"

"Hmm? Drawings?" GramGram comments, turning a curios eye towards you. "You still do that?"

"Um, yeah," you answer, partially glad for the subject change, and little nervous as you grab the old saddle bags from your high school days and pull them over. You had stuffed the apple juice boxes in for you and GramGram to share, along with your sketchbook at Anon's insistence. Now pulling the latter out, you offer it to your grandmother.

Intrigued, the old mare takes it, and flips it open. "I remember you always drawing when you were a little filly," she comments as she starts going through the pages. "Why, I even remember being called into the principle's office because you kept scribbling all over the desks at school."

"Heh, yeah," you say, moving closer so that you can see what works she's looking at. You can't help but cringe as she goes through your earlier, none-to impressive drawings Even when she gets to your newer stuff, you have to resist frowning as the brighter lighting from the sun makes you aware of every flaw. Still, you don't have to try hard to see your improvements, and you focus on that.

"You drew these?" GramGram asks, sounding surprised.

"Yep. Anon and I have actually been practicing together," you explain.

"More like she teaches me, and I try not to be complete trash at it," Anon comments.

"You've gotten way better," you tell him. "You should be proud."

"So should you," GramGram says suddenly. Shutting the sketchbook to give you a warm smile. "This is some really impressive stuff ya got here, Floorey." You blush, feeling a little of that pride as your GramGram compliments you. "I'm especially impressed by how little porn you've drawn," she goes on, instantly stamping out that pride with a heaping helping of embarrassment. "Noticed the book is missin' quite a few pages though. I take it you tore out all those drawings before showing me."

Yes, you of course did that, but that doesn't mean she has to go blurting it out for any pony to hear.

"You should have seen the stuff I caught her drawing when she was still in high school," GramGram says to Anon. "What she lacked in skill, she more than made up for in imagination."

"Why do you do this to me, GramGram?" you grumble, resigned to the older mare embarrassing you in front of Anon.

She ignores you, adding, "Her take on anatomy was especially impressive. Very surrealist."

You slump to the ground as you hear the human chuckle at that, but feel a gentle hand on your head. "Really now? I guess I shouldn't be surprised to hear it though. Floor's such a talented artist, I'm sure she's experimented with all sorts of styles."

"For sure," GramGram says with a nod. "Even as a little foal, she absolutely loved hoof painting. her mother called it abstract expressionism, if I'm remembering right. The whole front of the refrigerator was covered in her paintings."

"Now that's something I wouldn't mind seeing," Anon says. "Did you keep any of them?"

GramGram beams. "Sure did!" she exclaims. "I have 'em in my scrapbooks and photo albums. Let me just ask one of the nurses here; they're in my room, you see."

"I'll go get one," Anon says with a grin. "Be right back."

Once Anon is out of earshot, you sigh. "Really, GramGram?"

"Afraid so," she answers. "It's in the official grandmother manual. Gotta embarrass your grandfoals at least three times per visit, and show foal photos to any and all potential special someponies. It's the rules. And how I see it, Anon definitely falls under potential somepony."

You blush, but still smile at your GramGram's antics. Even when she's making you a mortified mess, she somehow makes you feel happy inside. Just how did you go so long without this pony in your life? No wonder you tried to end it all.

At the thought, your smile drops, and you look at GramGram. She still doesn't know. You still haven't told her. Swallowing thickly, you open your mouth. "Um, GramGram, there's... something I need to tell you."

"Hmm?" She's not paying full attention as she watches something, then tuts. "Poor colt, he's been caught."

Confused, you glance to where GramGram's eyes are pointed to see that Anon has been flagged down by a now-returned Mr. Taproot. The human smiles and nods, before casting an apologetic look over his shoulder at the two of you.

"That old codger won't be letting Anon go for the rest of the visit, I reckon, and the colt's too nice to tell him off. Guess we'll have to wait until next week to show him your pictures."

"Thank the Goddess for small miracles," you mumble under your breath.

"What was that?" GramGram asks. "Were you going to tell me something? Sorry for be distracted, dear."

"Oh, right, um..." You rack your meager brain for how best to tell the old mare this, but can't think of anything other than the plain truth. "It's... about how Anon and I met, I guess," you start.

"Yeah?" she says, turning to look at you. "I've been wonderin' about that."

"Right," you breathe, shuffling your front hooves. "It's... not exactly a happy story."

"I figured as much," she says quietly. "Whatever it is, I promise not to be mad."

You try to give a small smile, but it falls a moment later and you decide to just get it over with. You won't blame her for breaking that promise when you're finished. "Anon is a NEET Inspector who was sent to check up on me one day. When he came though, he found me after I tried to... to hang myself."

There's a faint gasp from GramGram, but you squeeze your eyes shut and power through. "He got there just in time to cut me down and get me to the doctors... He saved my life, and after, he volunteered to be the one to make sure I didn't try to do it again... That's why he's living with me now." GramGram is quiet, and you can't bring yourself to look at her as tears start to run down your cheeks. "I'm so, so sorry for what I tried to do, GramGram. I was so selfish and cowardly. I wasn't even thinking about how it would have affected you to find out I... I went and followed in Mom's hoofsteps." You chuckle darkly to yourselves. "Like mother like daughter, right?"

Then a pair of slender forelegs are yanking you forward by the shoulders and GramGram has your head held against her chest as she gently strokes your mane. "Don't talk like that, Floor," she says quietly. "You're mother and you both... you've been through so much, because I wasn't good enough to protect you."

"GramGram, no-" you try, but she cuts you off.

"When you were growing up, there were so many times I.. I held back. Affection. Care. I was afraid that I'd mess up like I did with your mother. That it was my rearing that lead to her death." She takes a shuttering breath. "I wanted better for you- for you to grow up without me ruinin' your life, and by the time I realized how much I was already messin' up, you were thirteen. You had pulled into yourself as much as I had been pulling away, and I didn't know how to... to fix it."

You faintly remember those first years after your mother died. Alone in your quiet room, in a quiet home. GramGram hardly talked, and the two of you would shuffle passed each other in the halls, like ghosts in a haunted house. Even during meals, before you started taking your food to your room, the two of you would eat without saying a word, eyes downcast towards your respective dinner plates.

"You were mourning," you say finally. "We both were."

"We should have mourned together then," she answers, squeezing you. "Instead, I let you be, and when I was finally ready to love you the way I should have been, you were already used to bein' alone."

"But you still loved me," you argue, snorting wetly as you continued to cry into her fur. "I was a weird little filly who didn't even know how to talk to others, and you started coming into my room and reading me stories. You took me to movies and bought me toys..."

"It wasn't enough. I should been doing more long before then."

"Maybe," you concede. "But you did what you could, and even if it was a little late, I'm thankful for it." You pull away and look her in the eyes, as tear-filled as your own, and give her the best smile you can. "We made mistakes, but you shouldn't blame yourself for mine. I don't blame you for how stupid I was trying to kill myself, so you shouldn't either."

"Floorey-"

"No, I mean it," you say firmly. "There was so much else I could have done- I felt so alone, b-but I wasn't. You were always here waiting for me, and I was the one who never came to talk to you. I was the one who choice to hold myself up in my room all day and never try to reach out to others. I thought it was because no pony would ever want to be around me..." At this, you look over to where Anon is sitting on the grass, his back to you, but head turned enough to notice the indulgent smile as he listens to the old stallion tell tuber-related stories.

A small smile tugs at the corner of your lips. "I know better now, though, GramGram. I was wrong about so much, but this? I'm not wrong about this, so please, please don't blame yourself for what I did. It's my mistake to own up to, and my mistake to fix."

The old mare stares, shocked, then smiles warmly. "When did you get all wise, eh? Growin' up behind my back."

"A little," you say. "I still have a lot to go but... I think I getting better."

"You have," GramGram confirms, running a hoof over your cheek and down your chin lovingly, expression warm and proud. "Despite everything, you've become a fine mare all on your own."

"It wasn't all me," you say bashfully. "Anon's been helping a lot."

"Somethin' I'll have ta thank him for every day," she says, looking at the human and chuckling. "Look at him. Too nice for his own good. Listening to that buffoon."

"Not to mention putting up with me," you agree, sighing wistfully. "I kinda wish I could pay him back. He says my friendship is enough, but I still don't feel like it is."

"I could think of a few ways..." GramGram muses, and your smile becomes a tad forced.

"GramGram..." you start warningly, but she just gives a confused look.

"What? I was just gonna suggest you bake him a cake. I'm sure the staff will let us use the kitchen again."

You blink a few times. "Oh, I thought you were gonna say something perv-"

"And maybe you can spit-shine is pole, too."

"GramGram!"

"Bwahaha! Ya really thought I wasn't gonna go there, Floorey? Haven't you learned anything about your dear ol' grandma yet?"

"You're the worst..."

"I am," she says with a proud nod. "Now come on, we've got a cake to bake for your coltfriend."

"Not my coltfriend..."

"Yet. But once he tries my signature floor layered cake, that'll change."

Author's Note

A Floor exclusive chapter. That's rare.
Anyway, here's a fun little comic drawn by EasyDays.

Amateur NEET move on Floor's part though. She should have switched seats with her ramen from the start so no pony could have sat directly next to her.

Chapter 17

You are Anon, and you are currently lounging on your couch after a long Sunday out of the house with a sweet little mare leaned up against you. The visit with Floor Worn ended with the mare teaching her granddaughter a new recipe and sending the two of you on your way with a container filled with cake.

After that, you and Floor stopped by the carrot dog stand where you got to try the deluxe dog this time and stuffed your face on the way to the library. Reading with Floor was as enjoyable as ever, and you got to talk with your friend, Page Turner once again.

When the library neared closing, you decided to walk home from their instead of taking the bus, looking through the windows of various businesses and just enjoying the sights on the way. Floor was a bit nervous about being out in the open for so long, but was intrigued with the computer store you stopped at. The two of you ended up talking quite extensively about the prospect of upgrading her computer, and you memorized prices and calculated out savings to determined when you'd be able to return and buy the parts she would need.

The anticipation of her computer one day not sucking really invigorated the mare, and she was more keen than ever to not waste money on junk food to help reach that goal. Nearing the end of the long trek home, Floor started to lag behind, and you didn't hesitate to sweep her off her hooves.

She squeaked and protested, saying it was embarrassing and that she was too heavy, but you simply poked her nose and told her not to worry. The crowds were thinning considerably and she was far from heavy for you. She spent the rest of the walk blushing, but with a small smile as she lay curled up in your arms, belly up and tail held between her front hooves.

After finally getting in, you broke out the cake, got a piece of paper and a hard-cover book to write against, and started on a favor for Page Turner. It seems her brother has been bugging her in every letter since she told him about you, and finally, she passed on a request. Apparently this Time Turner wants to know as much about your world as you are willing to share, and so Page has asked if you could perhaps write a letter for her to send his way.

Floor had asked why they simply didn't communicate through the internet, and the librarian explained that she didn't own a computer, and the small town her brother lived in didn't have a connection to the internet set up yet. You were a little surprised by that, but after some thought, it made sense. Internet access wasn't available everywhere back on Earth either, and for as fast as they have been integrating technological revolutions brought on by the previous humans, ponies simply haven't had these things for all that long.

And so, here you sit, writing a letter to a pony you've never met while enjoying Floor's company. "So, do ponies have DVD's yet?"

"I don't think so. what are they?" the mare asks, taking a bite and humming in satisfaction.

"Well, you have movies available on tapes, right?"

She swallows and nods. "Yeah, VHS tapes."

"Well, DVD's are movies stored on disks instead. They usually have better picture quality."

"Like CD disks? I thought that was just for sound and some computer stuff," Floor says, holding up a forkful of cake towards your lips.

You don't stop writing as you take the offered bite and chew. The first taste had been a bit of a surprise really. Floor Worn's special floor layered cake is definitely unique, but not bad. It's a very dense, dark chocolate cake with multiple, thin layers separated by cream cheese frosting. To say it's rich would be an understatement, and you certainly can't see yourself having a whole piece to yourself. It's a good thing then, that Floor is sharing one with you.

"You know, it's funny, but I've noticed Equestrian technology is all over the place," you comment.

"What do you mean?" questions Floor.

"Just that you have advanced electronics like computers, but not DVD's and smartphones." You hold the paper up in your hand for a moment. "A lot of ponies still send written letters despite internet and phones, plus there are automobiles, but I see carriages a lot too."

"Cars are just in the cities right now, same with a lot of stuff," Floor offers.

As you jot these things down, you nod. "Exactly. All the advanced stuff is condensed in the cities, but towns are still living like it's the olden days."

Floor shrugs. "Well, a lot of this stuff has only been happening for, like, sixty years. I'm pretty sure that's when the first human came."

"And introduced ponies to phones, right?" you ask absently. "I guess I shouldn't be surprised tech here is kind of inconsistent. Equestria isn't developing it on their own like humans did, they're mostly copying it. Makes sense they might skip some things when they advance."

"I don't know about any of that stuff," Floor comments, taking another bite of cake before holding some up for you. "I just know I'm really glad you humans came."

"Really like the computer that much, huh?" you say teasingly, your mouth full.

"Yeah," she admits, looking up at you with a warm smile. "But also because you're here, now."

You smile back and hug her tight against your side for a second before returning to your work. You've written four paragraphs about some of these observations, and decide to wrap it up. Time Turner will no doubt be thrilled to learn that you brought a smartphone to Equestria and that it's currently in the possession of scientist intent on copying the technology within.

Signing your name at the bottom, you lean forward and set the book and paper down, then stretch your arms over your head. It's getting late, but there's still a couple hours before you have to get to sleep. "Hey Floor."

"Hmm?"

"You want to do something on your computer, tonight?"

"Like what?"

"I don't know, maybe browse the web, or if you have anything downloaded like games, you can show me that."

She scratches her chin in thought, then nods. "I actually have a game that's pretty fun," she says, starting to smile. "It's really addictive. I remember playing it for hours the first night I got it."

"Sounds good," you agree. "Though maybe not the hours thing. I do have that meeting tomorrow to go to in the afternoon, and I can't show up exhausted." Instantly, you feel the mare tense and her smile becomes strained, and you act to comfort her. "Hey, don't get like that," you say, petting her mane. "You know there's nothing to worry about. I'm not leaving."

"I know," she answers, twiddling her hooves. "It's just... are you going to tell her about that stuff we talked about?"

Your hand stops. "You mean, about us maybe dating someday." She nods. "I... probably should," you answer. "If I lie and she finds out about it later, it'll look like I was trying to hide stuff from her. And after some things she brought up last time... that would seem pretty shady."

Floor tilts her head and looks questioningly at you. "What do you mean?"

You rub the back of your neck, not eager to explain, but knowing that you shouldn't lie to the mare about things that concern her. "Well, Ms. Index was... not worried, exactly, but she mentioned that there were some cases where NEET inspectors took advantage of the ponies they were suppose to be looking after, and in one of those, sex was involved." Floor blinks a few times as a blush steadily overtook her cheeks, and you force yourself to continue after a moment. "See, the way I'm guessing it went down is that the inspector got close to this pony who was very lonely, and, well, because they were afraid the inspector would leave them, they didn't refuse any of the inspector's advances."

"That... You'd never do something like that," Floor says eventually.

"And luckily, Ms. Index agrees," you tell her. "She trusts me, and that's exactly why I'm going to talk to her about this. I want to be up front with her so she doesn't think I'm doing anything behind her back."

Floor sighs, but nods. "I guess you're right. I mean, if she did think you were taking advantage of me or whatever, she could fire you or make you go away."

"She'd try, at least." You resume running your fingers through her mane. "Course, even if she did fire me or told me I couldn't stay with you, I wouldn't let that keep us apart. We're friends, work or not, and she can't tell me who I can hang out with. I'd just get another job if that were the case."

Floor glows, wrapping her hooves around your middle in a hug. "Thanks, Anon. It means a lot to hear you say that," she says. "Still, I don't think I like the idea of you losing your job because of me."

"Bah! I'd just go apply at the library," you assure. "I bet Page Turner would hire me on the spot just because she hates using a stepladder all the time to reshelve books. I can do that easy."

"Of course you can, you're a giant."

"Only to you ponies."

"I'm pretty sure I saw a minotaur once and he was still shorter than you."

"What about dragons? I'm not taller than them."

"Congratulations, Mister Giant. You found something bigger than you."

You huff a small laugh. "Okay, so I'm a big lug. You don't see me complaining," you say, smirking mischievously. "Especially because it lets me do this!"

"Eek!"

You quickly pull Floor into your arms and stand, the mare throwing her hooves around your neck in surprise.

"Anon! Warn a mare before you do that!"

"But it's funner to surprise you."

She slaps your shoulder gently. "You're lucky I'm not afraid of heights," she grumbles, then points. "Now come on and carry me to my room. We have video games to play."

"Yes, my liege," you answer dutifully. "I am your faithful steed."

"Darn right," she answers with a toothy grin.

You share a laugh at that as you enter her room. Once you find a comfortable way to allow you both to see the screen, the solution being you crunched up in her computer chair and her in your lap, Floor fires up the machine and boots up her game.

You mostly just watch over her shoulder and give input when asked as Floor starts a new file in what you are surprised to see is a very retro ASCII RPG. You haven't played one of those is ages, but you still find yourself enjoying the experience and being impressed by the game's depth. You can see why the mare likes it so much.

Before you know it, it's midnight and the two of you have made great progress in her game. That's where you have to call it quits though, promising the mare that you do indeed want to pick this up again later.

"Of course, Floor," you say. "You think I'm going to miss a second of wizard Roolf's daring escapades."

"That demon lord doesn't stand a chance!" Floor boasts, punching the air. Suddenly, she yawns, blinks in surprise, and then frowns at the clock. "Seriously? It's only midnight, and I'm tired." She turns the frown up at you, pointing accusingly. "You've really messed up my old sleep schedule."

"I'm not sorry," you respond, chin held high. "You aren't a vampire and sunlight's good for you."

"But moonlight is better," she counters. "Don't you know Princess Luna is best princess?"

"Well then, you better get to bed," you say as you pick her up, the mare not fighting this time. "Don't want to miss your chance to meet her in your dreams, right?"

"You think I actually could?"

"Maybe," you answer, tucking Floor into bed before booping her nose. "We won't know until you start dreaming."

Her eyes are already drooping as she yawns again. "That would be pretty cool. I heard a rumor that Luna is actually a secret gamer. I wonder what she plays?"

"Well, I'm hitting the hay, too, so if she happens to pop in, I'll make sure to ask."

"Thanks, Anon. You really are the best."

You shrug. "Eh, I'd argue that's you, but I guess we can agree to disagree for now."

Floor rolls her eyes at that, but still gives a tired smile. "You're kind of a dork, you know that?"

"We both are," you reply as you walk to the door. "But that's why we're such good friends. We click."

"Like puzzle pieces," she mumbles, eyes falling shut as she snuggles into her bed. "Night, Anon."

"Goodnight, Floor. Sweet dreams."

She doesn't answer, and you can already hear her breathing begin to slow. You turn off the light and step out, hesitating to shut the door completely for a second as she starts to snore lightly. With one last chuckle, you shut the door and walk to the couch.

Sleep does not come to you as fast as it did to your friend, thoughts of tomorrow plaguing you, but eventually, you manage to fall unconscious. You hope what you said to Floor to reassure her turns out to be the truth, but you won't know how Ms. Index will react until you tell her. Only time will tell.

The next morning goes smoothly, with you and Floor making breakfast together before you head out the front door. Even the wait to see your boss is short this time around, and when you enter her office, you are greeted with a smile and larger chair.

"I wanted to make sure you would be comfortable this time," she explains. "That chair is meant for the likes of minotaurs, so it should be perfect for you."

"Thanks," you say with a genuine smile as you take a seat across from her, sighing slightly as your knees aren't forced into your chest. "So, how was your week?"

She chuckles and waves a hoof. "Fine, fine. Spent most of my time behind one desk or another. Paperwork is never done, it seems."

"Better to have too much work than be out of a job, right?" you muse, chuckling softly.

Her smile falls a little. "If I didn't have any work, it would be because nopony needed our services any longer, which, truthfully, sounds like something I'd gladly face unemployment for."

Your own expression sobers at that. "Yeah, I guess you've got a point, there."

She shakes her head. "Sorry, that was a bit heavier than I intended. This is a simple status report, not a place to talk hypotheticals." Sighing, she looks back at the stack of papers, expression tinted with sadness. "There are so many ponies to look after..." she mumbles.

You clear your throat. "So... status report."

She looks back to you. "Yes, how has Ms. Floor Bored been? Any new improvements... or setbacks?"

"Thankfully none of the latter," you answer. "And improvement is... there. Yesterday, when we visited her grandma again, we ended up walking back across town. She did much better with the crowds."

"Good, good," the mare says, nodding. "And her hobby? Drawing, yes?"

"Still doing that," you confirm, smiling. "She actually showed her sketchpad to her grandma, which is kind of a big deal."

"Oh? How so?"

"Well, Floor's was pretty self-conscious about her art when she first told me about it," you explain. "But she's starting to think more highly of her skill."

"That's wonderful," Ms. Index says brightly, clapping her hooves together. "Certainly a fine step forward for her confidence and self-worth."

"Mhmm," you agree proudly. "Plus she's been helping me a lot too so my own drawings don't look like a bunch of potatoes anymore, which, believe me, is impressive."

Ms. Index giggles at that. "Well, you two certainly sound like you've had a fine week. So, nothing negative to report? It's all good news?"

At this, you shift in your seat. "There was one thing," you start. "Not bad, or at least, I don't think so, but it's still something you should know."

Ms. Index immediately looks concerned. "What is it?"

"Remember how you brought up how Floor might developed romantic feelings for me?"

The mare catches on quick, and sighs. "I see. If I recall, you said that you would talk to her if that were the case."

"And I did. I said it was too soon for her to be thinking about that sort of thing, that she had to focus on getting herself better, and that by then, she might not even feel the same way about me."

Ms. Index looks thoughtful. "It sounds like you handled the situation very well, Anon." That gaze falls on you for a few seconds before she speaks again. "Are you still comfortable with the assignment after this? If you aren't, I'm sure arrangements can be made to have her looked after by somepony else."

You shake your head. "No, I'm fine with it, and I don't think it would be good for Floor anyway. How would it look to her if the guy she just shared her feelings with ran out on her?"

"I see your point," the mare agrees. "Well, if you think you can continue your job, and that's everything you needed to tell me-"

"Actually," you interrupt. "There is one other thing." You take a deep breath. "When Floor and I were talking about it, I told her, when she was better, that if she still had those feelings for me, I would give dating a try."

The mare blinks several times, then frowns. "Anon, that was very reckless of you, and cruel to toy with the mare's feelings. Giving hope might be important, but false hope will only lead to tragedy."

You clench your fists, but keep calm. "That's the thing, Ms. Index, I wasn't lying to spare her feelings or to give her hope. I was being honest."

"Excuse me?"

"The truth is, I like her, too," you say. "As... maybe more than a friend."

Ms. Index just stares, and you have to fight the urge to squirm under her scrutinizing look.

She closes her eyes, hooves coming together in front of her mouth. "This should complicate things," she starts. "If anything, I should remove you from a situation you've grown too close to." You tense, but let her finish before arguing your case. "But you've proven yourself level-headed and responsible up to this point, so perhaps things can be allowed to remain as they are for now."

"Thank you-"

She holds a hoof up. "That being said, I want to speak with Ms. Floor Bored myself on the matter, so you'll be bringing her next week."

"That's... reasonable," you concede. "If you think I might be doing things I shouldn't though, why don't you want to see her now?"

"Because I don't think you are doing anything bad," she says simply. "Not on purpose, at least."

"But you're afraid I might be hurting her unintentionally," you conclude with a tired sigh. "I... get where you're coming from. I don't think I am, but then again, it was only by accident that I figured out she had feelings for me."

"I'm sure you're doing fine," she assures. "But it's better to be safe than sorry. Ms. Floor Bored's well-being must be our top priory."

"I understand," you respond, and you really do. There's no harm in Floor Bored coming here you're sure, besides maybe to her nerves. As anxious as the shy mare will be, she'll probably tell Ms. Index the same thing, and then everything will be back to normal. Well, as normal as this whole situation can be.

Standing, you offer up another smile. "So, I guess if that's everything..."

Ms. Index nods. "Oh yes, I think you've told me enough. Same time next week?"

"Probably," you answer. "It was nice seeing you, boss."

"I should be the one saying that," she returns with a chuckle. "It was a nice break from paperwork." She looks at the stack forlornly. "Alas, it was only a break."

"Sorry," you say sympathetically. "I'd help if I could."

"Oh no, it's fine," she says, waving you off. "Just go enjoy the rest of your day. I'm sure I'll be finished by at least sundown."

Despite the serious nature of the meeting, you still find yourself smiling as you leave. It's funny, but you had to go to a completely different world to find a boss you actually liked. Hopefully Floor will like her, too. You definitely aren't looking forward to telling her about the meeting next week, though.

Maybe you should pick her up some comfort food on the way back in preparation. You know she hasn't had those Dorito knock-offs. That'd be a nice treat, you're sure.

Author's Note

And an Anon exclusive chapter to go with the previous Floor one.
A lot of fluff and talking, so I hope you don't feel to cheated. Any good ideas about what should come of the meeting later on? I honestly just felt it was a reasonable thing for Index to ask, but I can't see any real conflict from it.
Maybe, just maybe, the two take a liking to each other, and this lays the foundation for something down the road. I've been thinking, if Floor escapes NEEThood, that she might want to try to help others do the same, and perhaps Ms. Index could set something up.
If anything, Floor's recovery might open Ms. Index's eyes to some things she never thought about before. Like, right now, she sees NEETs as ponies to be pitied and almost coddled, and doesn't really think it's possible for a NEET to be anything more than that.
Floor, then, will make her want to change her approach to how she and her organization goes about helping these ponies.
After all, think of the possibilities...

Nightmare art bye Scraggleman.

Omake: Little Robber Mare + ChangeNEET

Floor needed bits, and she needed them fast. No normal job could get them in time. No, only a more... illegal one.

"Put the bits in the bag!" Floor yells through the scrunched up hole in her hoodie, only her eyes peeking through. Humans would comment that she looks like Kenny from SouthPark.

The mare behind the counter fearfully keeps one hoof up while moving the other to open the register, until she sees what she's being held up with. "Wait, are those... panties?"

"Don't make me use them, either! Just give me the money!"

The mare raises a brow. "What the buck are you thinking? I'm not going to-erk!" Floor thrusts the underwear into the mare's face, and the smell hits her like a brick. "Oh Gawd! Have you ever washed those!?"

"No, I haven't, so unless you want a serious case of pink eye, I suggest you get to filling this bag with bits."

"Okay, okay, I'm doing it, just... keep those away from me!"

"That's right... fill 'er up. Easy now, no pony needs to get hurt today." As the mare clumsily fills the empty, family-sized bag of Horseritos, Floor hears a scurrying sound, and turns just in time to see a patron make a dash for the door.

As soon as he got out, he would no doubt start screaming for help, calling the guards straight to her. That couldn't happen.

With archer precision, Floor spins around and pulls the elastic of her panties, sending them flying through the air at high-speed. They land, draping themselves over the stallion's muzzle, and he instantly freezes, face turning green

As his eyes roll up in his head and he collapses, Floor turns back to the cashier while riffling through her hoodie pocket In the next second, she's holding her backup pair of underwear "I didn't tell you to stop."

Floor shuts the door to her apartment and sighs, pulling her sweater's hood back to reveal her sweaty face "Phew, I'm glad to be home," she says to the empty room, contemplating taking a nap. She'd earned it after going out and getting rent money, after all.

It's the next month. Floor's streaming channel didn't rake in nearly enough bits for rent. She wasn't like NeighJa who brought in half a mil a month by playing building-sim shooters. And so, she needs to go out once more and rob some motherbuckers.

This is how Anon finds himself being threatened with a pair of dirty underwear at 4AM. Goddammit, he just landed this job a week ago, and now he's getting robbed by some Kenny-impersonator.

"I said put all the bits in the bag, ape! Do I have to use sign language!?"

"Can you even use sign language with hooves?"

She's taken aback for a second, then narrows her eyes. "Sh-shut up! Keep flapping your gums, and I'll have to gag you with these!"

"Go ahead," Anon counters, leaning on the counter to look blankly at the would-be robber. "Maybe I'd like it."

Even through the puckered hoodie, Anon can see the mare's eyes go wide and the bit of exposed face turn red. "E-enough games, already! Just give me the bits or else!"

"Mmm, nah," Anon decides, standing straight. "This convenience store doesn't do good business as it is. If I give you all of the night's earnings, it'll probably go out of business, and then I'm back to looking for a job. Money's tight after rent gouges my ass."

"Tell me about it..." Floor mumbles before shaking her head. "That's not my problem, this is your last warning, colt."

Anon opens his arms wide. "I'm waiting."

With a growl, Floor stretches the band of her panties, and lets them fly. Before they reach the human's face, however, a hand shoots up and snatches them out of the air. Floor watches, shocked as the brave cashier turns the panties over in his hands, then brings them up to his face. Her jaw drops as he takes an experimental sniff.

"Phew, that is pungent," he comments, side-eyeing the mare and giving a little smirk. "... But not bad."

Floor has no control as her tail flags and she feels herself give a wink. "Wha-wha-what?"

"Tell you what," Anon continues. "I get off in an hour. How 'bout you wait outside for me, and we'll have a little... talk."

"Wh-what?"

"I'll hold onto these until then," he goes on, holding the underwear up again. "If you want them back, you'll have to stick around. If you don't, you can leave. I wouldn't mind keeping them." Floor feels herself drip onto the worn tiles, and Anon frowns a little. "Do you mind not doing that?" he asks, directing his eyes at the growing puddle. "I have to mop up any spills."

Absently, Floor moves towards the door and steps outside. She turns around and looks through the glass, seeing the human watching her. When she plops down, he smiles wide and gives a thumbs-up. Floor's brain is fried, overwhelmed by what has just happened.

Faintly, she hears part of her mind tell her to make a run for it, but the rest of her psyche, the horny parts, keeps her rump stuck to the sidewalk. This guy might be crazy, but so is she, apparently.

Anon cleans the mess made by the robber mare and goes back to watching the store. No one comes during the the next hour though, except for his boss, who's now starting his own shift. "Hey, Anon," he greets gruffly, gesturing his head towards the door. "You know what's with the mare sitting out there?"

"An acquaintance," Anon answers, stepping around the counter. "She's just waiting for me to get off."

"Hmm," the stallion grunts, taking Anon's place. "Well, tell her not to, from now on. It's creepy, her just sitting there, staring off into space. She'll scare away customers."

"Will do, boss," Anon acknowledges. "Well, have fun." The stallion grunts again and opens a magazine. Reading was about all one could do at this hour. Sometimes, Anon wondered why the place was even 24/7. Could make it 16/7 and cut out a shift. Preferably none of his, but it'd help labor costs if done at these dead hours.

It wasn't his business, so he left without another word, stopping to stare down at the mare. "Well," he starts, gesturing out before him while his other hand slips into his pocket. "Ready to go, little robber mare."

"Uh, S-sure."

Anon smiles lightly. For being a hardened criminal, she has a surprisingly cute voice and demeanor, all flustered like this. Anon starts walking down the sidewalk, and the mare follows quietly behind him until they reach a bus stop. As Anon slides into the seat, he looks over to see the mare nervously shuffling in place.

"Come on," he says, patting the empty spot next to him. "Take a seat. Bus always runs a at least ten minutes late around here." She gulps audibly, but does as she's told, climbing up on the bench and sitting ramrod straight. Anon looks forward for a several seconds, then pulls his hand from his pocket. "Here," he says, holding out her panties pinched between his pointer and middle finger. "You can have these back."

She snatches them quickly and stuffs them into the front pocket of her hoodie. "Thanks," she mumbles, muffled by her hoodie and barely understandable. "Panties are super expensive."

"Maybe you shouldn't use them as weaponry then," Anon muses. "And maybe you should pull that hood off. It's kinda rude when I can barely hear you." She shoots him a look full of distrust, and he holds his hands up in innocents. "Come on, now, afraid if I see your face, that I'll turn you into the authorities?" She narrows her eyes, and he rolls his. "Really? And you think I'd be going through all of this for, what? Shits and giggles?"

When her expression doesn't change, Anon sighs and gives her a serious look. "Listen, robber mare, if I wanted you arrested, you'd be already, because I would have stomped your shit in back at the store then kept you under heel until the police arrived." Her eyes widen and she begins to scoot away. "But," he continues. "I didn't do that, because I'm a very good judge of character, and know you didn't really want to hurt me. I've been held up before, little robber mare, and by far worse things and people."

Suddenly, he reaches up and pulls the collar of his shirt down, revealing a diamond-shaped patch of scar tissue in the dip of his collarbone "This, for instance, was from when I had a switch blade forced six inches into my flesh. Guy thought I gave him a funny look while he was taking my wallet." She stares, and Anon can tell her mouth is slightly agape. He smiles again. "So, would you please take the hood off? I trust you, after all, despite prior experience with would-be robbers, so I'm sure you can return the favor, yes?"

It takes several seconds, but finally, slowly, she pulls the hood down to reveal a pale face and shaggy black mane. Anon's smile widens. "That's much better!" he proclaims. "Now I won't have to strain my ears to hear you."

"Whatever," Floor mumbles, looking away despite the blush on her cheeks.

"Ah, like chiming bells," comments the human. "You have a beautiful voice, little robber mare."

"I- I do?" she asks, surprised as she looks at him.

"Very," he assures. "And a cute face to boot."

She sputters at that, face crimson. "That's not true," she manages, a small frown coming to her lips. "I haven't had a good night's sleep in, like, a week."

"Which explains why you look like an adorable little racoon." Her response is yet another surprised look as Anon nods. "Yes, that must be your spirit animal. You know some other names for the critters are bandits, which considering your profession, is fitting, and trash pandas, which, well..."

"Yeah, I get it," the mare grumbles, trying to look angry. "I smell, right?"

"Your weapon of choice was a dirty pair of underwear."

"What do you want?" she snaps. "Just to make fun of me? Is this your way of getting me back for trying to rob you?"

"What do I want?" Anon echoes, leaning back to place a hand on his chin contemplatively. "Hmm, I suppose I want your story."

She snorts. "What? Like, you want to hear about my life?"

Anon mulls her words over, then nods. "Yes, that should do."

Floor is taken aback. "Oh, ah... why?"

"Curiosity," he answers. "Like I said, I'm a very good judge of character, so I'm wondering why such a sweet little mare is out holding up convenience stores before dawn." Floor blushes at being called sweet, but is cut off from saying anything as Anon speaks up. "The bus is coming. So, where do you live? Nearby, or will we be getting on?"

"What? You want to go to my place?" she questions.

"Duh. I might trust you, little robber mare, but you are still a robber mare. I can't take you to my place just yet... Maybe the second date."

Floor sputters again, getting the human to chuckle. "Y-you're crazy," she manages once she catches her breath.

"I prefer eccentric," he responds, still smiling. "So, bus or walking?"

"Bus," she answers, despite her burning face. "It'd take half an hour on hoof."

"Perhaps a leisurely stroll would be more... romantic."

The mare clenches her jaw and actually slaps Anon in the side. "Stop that. It's not funny."

"And I'm not a comedian," Anon responds as he rubs his side. "But if you're going to be like that, than the bus it is." Just then, the old, rust-spotted transport sputters to a stop, and the two climb on and move to the back. Once they're seated, neither speaks until the bus lurches forward. "My name's Anonymous, by the way, though my friend's call me Anon," the human says nonchalantly. "Nonny to my... special friends."

"Are you some sort of perv?" the pony accuses.

"Says the mare who dripped lubricant on a convenience store floor," Anon quips.

"Sh-shut up!"

"But you're so cute when you're flustered."

"I said shut up," she growls, whipping out her panties threateningly.

"Oh, gonna let me have another sniff?"

"Guh! You're impossible!"

"I'm actually pretty easy."

The mare shoves her muzzle into the neck of her shirt to muffle her scream of frustration as Anon puts his hands behind his head and smiles. "So, you know my name now. Want to return the favor?" he asks once she's done with her mini meltdown.

She glares at him, but grumbles, "It's Floor Bored."

"Really?"

"Yeah, you have a problem with that?"

"No," Anon says. "I was just thinking it would be something more... colorful. Most pony names are, like my boss. A gruff and tough stallion named Sugar Crash."

"That's a perfectly normal name," Floor comments with a raised brow. "And so is mine."

Anon tilts his head in a short nod. "I'm sure it is. Maybe I just don't have an ear for them yet, your pony names."

Floor grunts and looks forward, and the two fall silent once more. In a few minutes, the mare tells Anon that they've reached their stop, and the two depart, walking a block.

"This it?" Anon asks, looking up at the building Floor has lead him to with a curious expression. "You really live here?"

"Yeah, it's on the second floor," she answers.

"Lucky, mine is on the eighth."

"What was that?"

"Nothing," Anon says, gesturing her forward. "Lead the way." She narrows her eyes a moment, but shrugs it off, moving up the steps. As they enter, she turns to the left and is about to mention the elevator doesn't work, but the human doesn't even glance at the things before moving towards the staircase. It niggles something at the back of her mind, but she shakes it off. It's probably nothing.

After a flight of stairs, Floor shows her odd companion to her door, and leads him inside. Anon looks over the living room/kitchen area appraisingly. "Just like mine, but more grimy," he comments.

"Hey, I clean," Floor defends.

"But do you mop and vacuum?" Anon interrogates, looking down at her. "You pick up after yourself, but I see crumbs and spills everywhere."

"No pony asked you," she grumbles. "It's fine. Besides, vacuums are expensive."

"Maybe I'll let you borrow mine, if you ask nicely," Anon offers.

"Yeah, like you're going to carry a vacuum all the way here," Floor says with a snort.

"Eh, taking it back up would be the hard part."

"What?"

"Nothing," he says with that infuriating smirk Floor is coming to despise. "Shall we sit on the couch?"

"Fine," she grumbles, moving towards the old, lumpy thing. "Better not be expecting an offer of snacks and refreshments, though."

"Something tells me it'd be instant ramen and soda."

"I have chips, too."

"Oh, of course. My bad," Anon says, not sounding sorry at all as he follows. Floor resists snapping at him and takes a seat on the side of the couch with the large spring poking through. She may not be a great host, but she can at least do this much to be cordial. Her mom would be proud.

Anon plops down with a sigh and stretches his arms across the back of the couch. "Phew, I am wiped," he says. "Usually I just go straight to bed after work."

"You still could have," Floor responds. "I didn't make you come here."

"Yes, but I wouldn't have been able to get a wink of sleep with thoughts of you bouncing around in my head," Anon explains. Despite how agitating this strange creature has shown himself to be, Floor still blushes. She's always had a bit of an attraction towards the exotic, as her search history could prove, but she never thought it'd get her into this bizarre mess of a situation. Really, how did she let her clit talk her into this?

"So, you've been a robber for long?" Anon asks, getting the mare's attention. "You seemed pretty confident back at the store."

"Just a few months," she answers, deciding it's pointless to lie when she's already told Anon her name and showed him where she lives. "Yours was the third store."

"You don't say?" Anon says. "Well, Floor, I must say, you are a natural then."

"I'm not sure if that's supposed to be a compliment," mumbles the mare.

"I'd prefer you didn't take it as one," Anon says, giving her a surprisingly serious look. "Stealing is bad, after all."

Floor felt her heart sink, but hid the feeling behind a scowl. "I didn't ask you. I don't need your approval." And dammit all, she didn't so she doesn't know why she had wanted just that for a second.

"Well, technically speaking, I could still turn you in after tonight," Anon points out. "So convincing me not to should be pretty high on your priority list."

"M-maybe I'll just tie you up here so you can't squeal," Floor counters with no confidence.

Anon smiles that stupid, sexy smile again. "I doubt you can tie a knot that I can't untie, but if you want to give it a try, I'm willing to let you... Just no whips. At least not yet."

"Why do you keep saying stuff like that!" Floor snaps, face burning. "You barely know me, and you're saying all these l-lewd things."

Anon frowns slightly. "Does it really bother you that much."

"Um, s-sorta?" she answers hesitantly. "No pony likes being made fun of."

"I wasn't trying to-" Anon starts, but sighs instead. "Sorry. I'll try to tone it down."

Floor hums in acknowledgment, and begins twiddling with the hem of her hoodie. She starts talking after ten seconds of silence. "I've been having money problems, lately."

"Excuse me?"

She looks up for a moment, but can't meet his eyes and drops them back to her lap. "You wanted to know my story, or whatever. Well, that's kind of the reason I've been robbing convenience stores."

"You don't have a job?"

"I did," she answers. "I was a letter sorter at the post office. Easy enough job, decent pay. Really, I was amazed they even hired me on account of... well, my blank flank, but I guess there's been some stuff Princess Celestia has been doing to help the handicapped get hired in." She chuckles dryly. "Co-workers made sure to remind me, saying stuff like how some retarded pegasus delivers mail, and how I'm just like her."

"They sound like assholes."

"But they were right," Floor admits, shoulder slumping. "I saved up and was finally able to get a decent computer. It took almost a year, but it was worth it... for awhile. I started streaming to bring in some extra bits... and staying up all night. Heh, turns out it's hard to read those tiny addresses on only three hours of sleep. I made one too many mistakes and got canned after a couple months."

"And you haven't been able to get another job?" hazards Anon.

"The first one was lucky enough," she says with a sigh. "I looked a little, but I guess I kinda hoped I could go full time on the streaming thing."

"Which, judging by the robberies, hasn't been the case."

Floor tries to straighten her shoulders. "I've been doing good, though. I mean, my viewership has grown pretty big in a short amount of time. I make a nice amount in donations, too. Enough to cover utility bills and some food-"

"But not rent."

Her feeble attempt at holding her head high crumbles. "No... not enough to cover that."

"Well, can't say I have much pity," Anon comments, getting the mare to look at him. "Not getting enough sleep was a pretty simple matter to see too if it was causing trouble at work. Plus not searching hard for a new job. I understand gaming and streaming may be a passion, but food and housing tend to be more important ones. Oh, and of course resorting to a life of crime-"

"Okay, I get it!" Floor snaps. "I'm an idiot! Is that what you want to hear me say?"

Anon smiles. "Admitting you have a problem is the first step of recovery."

"You know I can kick you out, right?" she grumbles, crossing her hooves petulantly. "Sorry we can't all be perfect."

"Oh, I'm not perfect," Anon says easily. "Before I came to Equestria, I was far from it. Part of the whole reason I came in fact was to start over. A clean slate, as they say."

"Really?" Floor asks, quirking a brow. "What, were you stealing cans and bottles from the return room and cashing them in yourself?"

"I was a male escort, actually," he answers without batting an eyelash.

Floor gapes. "A- a male escort?"

"Yes, though some would wrongfully say a male prostitute. It wasn't just about sex for the clients; they wanted companionship. Dinner dates, shows, long discussions about their interests... and then sex." Floor is lost for words, only managing a small gurgle in the back of her throat, so Anon continues, giving a small sigh. "It's not as if I didn't enjoy my job or anything like that- I was actually quite good at it- but it's not a profession one can call home about. My mother never knew, and I didn't tell her. The guilt of that after she passed never left. At least, not while I was still an escort. I came to Equestria to become what my mother always thought I was."

You..." the mare finally managed. "You had sex for money?"

Anon stares blankly at her. "You really zero in on the most important details, don't you?"

"I'm sorry," she says, giving her head a shake. "It's just, I wasn't expecting that... Does explain the flirting, though."

"Old habits die hard," Anon informs. Even with the revelation fresh in her mind, Floor still chuckles, and the human joins in. "So, I know your story, and you know mind-"

"I don't actually know why you're working in a crummy convenience store, yet," Floor interrupts, and Anon nods.

"I suppose you're right, though there's no riveting tale to be told there. I haven't been in Equestria long, only about four months now, and I've mostly been focused on getting settled in. Right now I'm trying to save money as a sort of start up fund while I work out what I want to do."

"That's you're plan?" Floor asks skeptically. "Like, you don't have any specifics worked out...? Don't know why you were making fun of me, then."

Anon frowns. "Point taken, but ouch. We can't all aspire to be a successful game streamer."

"That's not gonna happen now, anyway," Floor mumbles. "Rents due tomorrow and I'm still a hundred bits short."

"Only a hundred?"

"You make it sound like I can find that between the couch cushions," Floor says dryly, only for Anon to absently reach into the cushions between them.

A second later, his expression brightens, and he pulls out a single bit. "Will you look at that."

"Gimme that! It's mine!" Floor declares snatching her bit from the human's paws. Only ninety-nine to go.

"I was going to give it to you," Anon says flexing his fingers to assure they aren't broken. "It was in your couch, after all."

Floor sniffs and puts the bit in her hoodie pocket to be nestled alongside her panties. Safe. "A likely story."

"I mean it," Anon assures, looking a bit miffed. "You know, being accusatory towards the one person willing to help you is not a very sound decision."

Floor tilts her head and looks at the human. "What do you mean, help?"

"Well, more mutually beneficial, really, but you'll benefit more."

"You have a habit of talking too much," Floor notes. "What are you getting at?"

"That we become roommates," Anon answers simply, getting the mare to sputter.

"R-roommates! Are you nuts?! We just met!"

"Ah, but I'm a very good judge of character, remember," answers Anon, holding up a finger. "I think we can manage, plus it would mean we could split the bills."

"Why would you even want this?" Floor nearly yells.

"Because as of right now, I only have twenty bits at most leftover after paying the bills each month," he explains. "Not exactly flooding the savings account. If I bunk with you, however, that will mean more bits leftover to save, which can only be a good thing. Besides, I'm quite done living paycheck to paycheck."

Floor's jaw is hanging low. How could this guy be so cavalier about such a monumental decision? "But we only have one day to get things settled-"

"I just live upstairs. If we rush, we can probably have everything moved in by tonight," Anon mentions. "I simply won't pay rent when the landlord comes around and tell him I'm moving in with you."

"Wait, you live upstairs?" Floor asks, being hit with even more surprising information. Her brain was liable to shutdown at this rate.

Anon nods. "Yes, a fact I'm frankly surprised you didn't know. It was fairly big news within the building when I first moved in, what with me being human and all."

Blinking, Floor scrounges her memories, and comes across a faded one from four months ago. "That's right..." she mumbles. "That was you?"

"Mhmm." Anon nods. "It isn't hard to believe you don't listen to gossip. Probably don't even hear much of it, shut-in as you are."

Floor could have argued against being a shut-in, but then she'd be a liar, and after the robberies, her karma couldn't suffer another blow. Instead, Floor asks, "I still don't get why you'd want to move in with me. I mean, there has to be other ponies looking for roommates that aren't- aren't-"

"Lazy slobs?" Anon supplies, getting a glower. "Kidding, kidding, you're only an idle mess."

"My point being," she grits out. "Is that there are better options for you, aren't there?"

"For my benefit personally? Probably," he admits, expression becoming serious again. "But I wouldn't be stopping future robberies if I moved in with them."

"That's why?" she asks. "You want to keep an eye on me?"

"I won't really have to," he explains with a shrug. "Your criminal endeavors are fueled by your financial problems; I stop the cause and the effect can't follow."

"Oh..." is all she manages. Tonight has turned out so strange that she honestly doesn't know what to do. After a minute, she decides the first step should be to give an answer. "If you're serious about this, and really want to help, then... yes. I wouldn't mind having a roommate." Tapping her hooves together, she adds more quietly, "I don't like robbing convenience stores..."

"Which is good to hear," says Anon, smiling widely and slapping her on the shoulder. "I'll go get my things right now. You going to help? We can start with the vacuum."

Despite the crazy night and crazier outcome, Floor smiles at the strange man. Maybe things are finally looking up for the NEET?

Author's Note

The ChangeNEET

Floor is an anorexic changeling who is living off of only ambient love in the area, like the newly wed couple in the apartment next to her who have sex obnoxiously loud each night. her room is next to theirs and she can hear their bed banging against their shared wall. Floor weeps silently because she's a monster who can never deserve such love and passion to be directed at her.

Not after what she did.

She was a nymph when she found the little lost filly on death's door. The pony said she ran away because her mom grounded her for doing bad in school, but now she wanted to go home. It was winter and she was clearly sick, too delirious to even realize she was talking to a little bug pony. The changeling did not help though, they merely hovered, skimming the filly's mind of memories while waiting for her to pass.

And when she did, the changeling took her form.

She went to the filly's home and bawled into the worried mother's embrace, saying how she was sorry and would never do it again. The changeling smiled, face hidden in the crook of the mother's neck, absorbing the thick love radiating from the mare. And so the changeling lived the good life, draining the single mother day after day, causing her to become listless.

Even addled, however, she loved and cared for what she thought was her daughter, and the changeling began to feel guilt. Such a sweet mare didn't deserve to be tricked so cruelly, and the new Floor contemplated coming clean. She might have, too, had the mare not wandered into the street one day, mind foggy and unaware of the heavy traffic.

The little changeling was responsible for two innocent lives being lost, and that was when she new it was true. Changelings- she- was a monster, but still too cowardice to do right by the world and just die. She lived on the fringe of society, scraping by on scraps of love and pity, thinking this would be her life forever.

Until the invasion, and the subsequent hunt for her species

Shining is agitated, pacing the room just outside of the interrogation cell. He looks through the one way glass, and fights to keep the sneer off of his face. The changeling sits, almost looking dejected despite its disguise being torn away to reveal the hideous visage underneath.

It can't be dejected, of course. Sadness is an equine emotion beyond these monstrous puppets.

Still, he sees other things, as well. It's thinner then what he remembers of the other changelings he's seen. Emaciated, his mind supplies. He's still surprised by the circumstances they found it in.

After the invasion, they got plenty of calls from concerned citizens fearing their neighbors were secretly bugs in disguise. Most were a waste of time, but the guard responded to each call to be safe and to put the citizens' minds at ease. He thought this would be one of those calls when he checked the details of the suspect in question.

A loner. No family or friends. Spent most of her time indoors. The couple next to her insisted, however, calling her creepy. And perhaps she was, but someone such as Floor Bored was certainly not an ideal target for a love sucker to replace. They'd starve.

That'd explain the thinness, though. Thing must be an idiot. When they had come into the apartment, she did not fight when they asked if they could cast the revealing spell. She only nodded solemnly, then went quietly when they held her at spear point.

Shining had demanded where the real Floor Bored was, and the creature answered in nearly a whisper. "Fair Weather Park," it had said. "Near the middle... she should still be buried under the largest oak tree."

That had chilled the hearts of every pony present, and Shining sent out a party to check the creature's claim. He half hoped, half feared they'd find the mare buried alive. As horrible as it would be, at least she'd live. If not, then they had a murderer on their hooves.

Judging by the haunted looks on the faces of the retrieval team when they returned, that was probably the case. "Did you find her?" Shining asks, thinking he already knows the answer.

The lead guard shakes his head. "We found... some pony," he began. "We aren't sure who... certainly not the mare, Floor Bored, however."

Shining raises a brow. "Condition?"

The guard looks away. "Deceased... Captain, it was a foal."

Shining Armor goes deathly still. "What?"

"It was a shallow grave," the stallion across from him starts to explain. "Barely a few hooves deep. By the Goddess, I can't believe they weren't found sooner. You'd think an animal or something..." he trails off, looking lost for a second before shaking his head. "Judging by the decay, they've been their for a while. Not much flesh left, mostly bone. On sight examination didn't show any obvious cause of death, no breaks at least. Coroners might be able to learn more."

"Why wait," Shining grit out. "We can find out all the details right now." Then he enters the interrogation room, the slam of the door causing the changeling to flinch. "What are you playing at?" the white stallion growls. "Why did you send us to the foal you murdered, and where is Floor Bored?"

She looks up, and despite being insectoid, Shining can see guilt and sorrow clear in those green orbs. "Don't you understand, Captain? That foal is the real Floor Bored... I killed her eleven years ago."

Shining steps back as if struck. "You... you killed a little filly, and took her place for eleven years...?"

"Yes."

"You're a monster."

"I'm a changeling."

"Is there a difference?"

Floor looks away with a sad smile. "No... there isn't."

Shining had to leave the room then. If he didn't, he'd kill her. The guards heard everything, and were waiting for their leader to tell them what to do. One asks, "Does- did Floor Bored have any family? Any pony we should contact?"

"No," Shining breathes. "Her mother died ten... years ago." Shining's head whips back towards the glass, gritting his teeth. "That... that evil, despicable-"

"Captain?"

"Floor Bored's mother died one year after this... thing killed and replaced her daughter," Shining says with barely contained hatred.

It takes all of his considerable willpower not to march in their and end things now, court-martial be damned. Judging by the dawning realization, and fury on his guards' faces, they agree.

"You think it... killed the mother, too?" one asks.

"Probably," another spat. "If these beasts can feed on sympathy or pity, then what better way to eat then to be an orphaned foal?"

"Why maintain the ruse, though? Surely the disguise has lost any advantage now. Floor Bored is known as a recluse, yes?"

"Probably to spite the ponies it killed. Insult to injury to ruin the little one's image after taking her life," another muses. "Now any who knew the real Floor Bored think she grew to be a failure."

"Enough," Shining commands. "I want this thing in a cell, the coldest, dampest one in the dungeons. I'm going to go speak with the princesses." The guards salute and make to follow their orders as Shining leaves the room.

If they happen to rough up the changeling a little more than necessary while dragging it away, well, he doesn't notice at all.

Floor Bored, or maybe not since she is no longer disguised, has stopped trying to walk on her own. She was capable, and perfectly willing as not to be difficult for the guards, but they have proven that they prefer things difficult.

If she walks on her own, they can't yank hard on her limbs or "accidentally" drop her with a bit too much force onto the ground. She doesn't mind though, her chitin absorbs most of the blows, and she deserves it besides.

No, she'll just use the time to think of how she should refer to herself now that she's no longer Floor Bored. It's embarrassing, but she no longer remembers her changeling name after eleven years of living a lie.

Killer, maybe? No, too on the nose. Buggy? Too generic. She racks her head for something suitably disgusting to represent both her nature as a monster and her being a changeling.

It's not until after she reaches her cell that she comes up with something that works. Flea. They're tiny, insignificant things that, at the best of times, are hated by the world as a nuisance, yet, are still deceptively lethal. After all, was it not the fleas that spread the diseases that plagued ponies so long ago?

What better name for a changeling like her? She's almost proud of her naming skills, but doesn't exactly have anyone to tell when she's tossed roughly into a cell, skidding face first on the cold, hard stone before settling in a sprawled position.

While she tries to regain her bearings and push through the pain in her jaw, she can hear the door slam with a clang behind her and the ponies speaking.

"Listen, private, this here is a changeling, and a dangerous one at that. It's your job to make sure it stays in its cell, got it?"

"O-of course, sir."

"Good, just remember, no matter what it says, no matter what form it takes, it's a monster, so don't fall for any of its tricks."

"You can count on me, sir!"

"I trust you, Private Anonymous. By keeping her here, you'll be keeping her from hurting any more ponies."

"I'm happy to serve!"

"At ease. We'll no doubt be returning in a few hours in regards to what will be done with the prisoner. Hold out until then."

Flea struggles to her hooves and turns around, seeing the retreating form of the large guards who had dragged her here through the small, barred opening on the door. Just to the side, she can make out the light green coat and black mane of who must be the guard left to watch her.

She shivers from the cold and almost feels bad for the pony. She has no intention, or even ability to escape, so there's not much reason for the poor stallion to have to suffer down here alongside her.

"Sorry you're stuck here guarding me, Mr. Private Anonymous," she breathes in her reedy voice, getting the stallion to jolt. She doesn't blame him. Her own voice bothers her after going so long without hearing it.

"E-excuse me?" he asks, looking back through the bars, allowing the changeling to see one of his bright green eyes.

"It's cold..." she answers, looking around absently as she takes a seat. "And creepy. I'm sorry you have to deal with that because I'm down here."

"Oh..." he says, looking unsure. "It's, uh, it's fine."

He looks forward again, and the room falls silent. Flea looks to the cot in the corner of the dank, dark room, and thinks about crawling over to it, but the dull aches and pains ebbing through her body zaps any motivation she has to move. The floor is probably just as comfortable as the lumpy "bed" anyway.

On the other side of the room is a small water pump jutting out of stone floor the with a wooden bucket sitting next to it. Perhaps it's meant as a bathing station as well as a water source for the prisoners?

Licking her dry lips, she's curios to try it out, but again, lifting a leg to step towards it sends a twinge of pain up through her shoulder, and she stops. Setting it down gently, she resigns herself to suffering her thirst a bit longer before subjecting herself to the pain brought on by movement.

She coughs lightly due to the dryness of her throat, and the stallion whips his gaze back towards her. "What was that?" he asks. "You say something?"

"No," she answers truthfully. "Just coughed. My throat's dry."

"Oh, well, you can drink water from that pump."

"I figured. Just sort of... really sore right now," she explains absently. "Guess I'm hoping it'll go away if I don't move for a while."

"You're in pain?" he asks with a hint of urgency. "Should I go get a doctor?"

Flea blinks at the stallion, surprised when she feels a thread of concern directed at her from him, before shaking her head lightly. "No, it's fine. The guards were just a little rough when they brought me here, but it's nothing serious."

He narrows his eyes in confusion. "They... hurt you?"

"Nothing I didn't deserve," she says in way of assurance. It doesn't work, however, as the concern only grows stronger.

"They shouldn't have. It's not Equestria's way to harm prisoners, no matter the crime."

Flea feels her heart clench, and she can't bear to look the obviously kind stallion in the eye. "I don't think you'd be saying that if you knew what I did," she whispers.

"Yes I would," he asserts with steel in his voice. "It's not Equestria's way, and it's certainly not the place of us guards to dole out punishments how we see fit. It's the Princesses, whom I'll have a talk with later about this."

"You don't have to," Flea say suddenly, standing despite her protesting joints. "Please, I don't want those ponies to be punished because of me."

"They'll most likely only be reprimanded," he says, clearly confused, but the changeling shakes her head.

"Still, I... I've caused enough trouble... I don't want to cause anymore."

He stares at her, shocked, but eventually sighs. "Fine, if you really feel that strongly about it, I won't tell Princess Celestia."

Flea smiles with relief. "Thank you,"

"It's fine," he mumbles, and the room goes silent once more.

Already in her standing position, Flea decides to push through the pain and walk over to get a drink of water. The pump takes a while to get going, but when it does, Flea drinks eagerly from the crystal clear water.

In truth, the normally refreshing coolness of it would usually be welcome, and does sooth her parched throat, but once it settles in her stomach, she finds herself feeling even colder.

The cot, and more importantly, the threadbare blanket atop it, becomes far more welcoming, and Flea forces herself across the cell to cover her shivering form.

Sitting on the hard mattress, the changeling tries to rub warmth into her body while letting the silence reign on.

"It's just Private Anonymous, by the way," the guard says out of nowhere after a few minutes.

"Um, what?" Flea asks.

"Earlier, you called me Mr. Private Anonymous. You don't nee the mister part," he explains.

"Oh..."

"And besides, private is a rank, not part of my name, so you wouldn't include it in Mr. Anonymous."

"Sorry, I didn't realize-"

"It's fine," he cuts off, still looking forward. "It's not wrong to not know things, as long as you're willing to learn."

Flea smiles slightly at the strange stallion and nods. "Right, thank you for clearing that up, Mr. Anonymous. I've learned something new."

"That's good. We should always be striving to learn and improve ourselves," he says seriously, but she notices his head turn slightly towards her and his lip curl up a fraction.

Flea's smile grows a little larger in response, until she senses a small pulse of positive emotion directed at her from the stallion. It's not love, or even friendship, just a small spark of affection, but it's still directed at her, a foal murdering monster, so she quickly closes herself off, both in her body language and magically.

As she curls in on herself more tightly, Anonymous frowns, but shakes his head and looks determinedly straight ahead again.

The affection fades, and Flea relaxes some. She's... not glad to be rid of the positive emotion exactly, and her stomach is none to happy with her decision, but she knows that she doesn't deserve to feed.

Doesn't deserve the faintest of positivity to be directed towards her.

Not a changeling.

... Phew, it's been a while. Sorry to all you readers hoping for an update to the main story, but I already had these written out months ago and finally decided to store them here.
Hopefully you get some joy out of them, I'm personally a big fan of the second one, even though it's not in the spotlight spot.
You know, as Exxie's art here shows, I'm not the only one who writes random stories about Floor and Anon...

(There was actually a picture of Floor from the first story mid-robbery, but I couldn't find it)

Omake: Multi-Shorts NEETazaganza!

What are to follow are the many short prompts or blurbs I have written over the months for Floor Bored that never got continued. To prevent too false a word count for the story over all, many of these shorts will be found in the AuthorNote with only my personal favorites directly below.
Feel free to tell me which ones you like and which you think were bad ideas.

Short One: I Had to Die to Get a Job

Two things have happened that Floor never expected. She's died, is the first, and she's been given job offer, is the second.

In that order.

Skipping the gross details of her demise, Floor found herself standing over her own corpse, before breaking down and going into the fetal position. This went on for about an hour before a completely regular looking mare came in. By walking through the door as if it weren't there.

"Ooh, that's embarrassing. How do you even tell ponies you died doing... that?" the mare comments, turning her eyes away from the sight to land on the slowly standing Floor.

"Who- who are you?" Floor asks dumbly.

"Berry Blast, and just to speed things up, yes you're dead. Yes, I'm dead too. I'm pretty much a grim reaper. Yeah, that's right we're real, and there's more than one of us. As for what comes next, well, that's mostly up to you."

"W-what?"

"Listen, Floor, you can't be hanging around the land of the living, it's just not proper," Berry goes on to explain. "Being bound to the location of your death, you're gonna go mad if you're left to your own devices, and eventually, you're gonna become something nasty. Probably a poltergeist. Then a real-deal, bones and black robes Grim Reaper's gonna show up, and slice your soul to bits with their scythe, and they'll be nothing at all left of you."

"What!?"

"Yep, so I suggest you just mosey on over to the afterlife, and save yourself from oblivion."

"Wait, just wait, this is going so fast."

Berry sighs. "Yeah, sorry about that, but you're the eighth soul I've had to deal with in a row, and the last one took me a week to send on his way."

"You said the afterlife... What's that?"

Berry shrugs. "No clue. We rookies aren't told that sorta thing. Gotta move up quite a few ranks to be privy to that sort of knowledge."

"You don't know? And you're trying to send me there?"

"I've always just figured it's what our parents always told us. You're good, you go to Elysium, and if you're not..."

Floor gulps, thinking back on her life and determining that she would not be going to Elysium. "So... those are my choices? Stay here forever, or go... there."

Letting out a slow breath, Berry rubs at a temple with closed eyes. "You... don't have to make a decision right now. As a reaper, it's my job to help you choose the afterlife, and that entails helping you with unfinished business to make the transition easier on you. As long as I'm with you, I can escort you wherever you need to go, and I can make it so you can enter living ponies dreams if you need to pass along any final messages. Just know that you only got thirteen days, and if you still don't move on, then I gotta leave, and get in trouble, mind you, and you get put on the chopping block down the line. A lot of ponies are dying; reapers can't afford to be dallying for too long."

"But... I don't have any family or friends," Floor mumbles. "No business."

"Well, you got thirteen days, regardless."

"Yeah, thirteen days, then..." She gulps.

"...There is one other choice, but it's not a whole lot better."

Floor perks up. "What? What is it?"

"You can become a reaper like me for the rest of eternity. Constantly wondering the world, helping ponies move along. It's... a lot of hard work, but at least you get to travel, meet new ponies, and if the afterlife really terrifies you, you get to avoid it. Hey, you can even work your ways up the ranks if you do a good enough job."

"A reaper... like you?"

"That's what I said."

Floor thinks on it, and the two sit in silence for nearly an hour. "I... I guess I choose that..."

Berry grins, the first sign of joy from the mare Floor has seen. "Great! That means we just gotta go talk to the boss, and he'll send it up the chain of command. Then you'll be my eighth pony successfully dealt with, and I'll get a vacation!"

"You get vacations?"

"If we successfully prevent enough souls in a row from staying behind, yes. Guess it's incentive for us to do a good job or something. All I know is I'm going to have forty-eight hours of tangibility to do whatever I want." She rubs her hooves together, grin becoming predatory. "I'm gonna find a horny stallion, and he's gonna rut me like I haven't been in over thirty years."

Floor is speechless as her guide leads her out of her bedroom and towards a strange, unknown fate.

*At the Reaper's Respite*

Anon is scrolling through names on his crystalline tablet with a bony finger, a list of all the souls in his region, both new and old. His reapers have been doing a good job, and he's proud. There's only a few souls over the allotted thirteen days, and none were from the time covering since he took over the area.

The skeletal human gives himself a mental pat on the back for his leadership skills, predicting another promotion in his immediate future. He had arrived in this strange land sixty-five years ago. Died sixty. And broke the record for quickest rising reaper in history fifty years back.

Some of the other reapers joke that he'll be the next King of Death before the century is out with how good at his job he is. Anon isn't sure about that. He's guessing it'll take him two centuries.

His thoughts are interrupted by the loud voice of one of is most frustrating employees. "Hey, Boss, I'm back!"

"Hello, Berry," Anon begins, turning around. "I'm guessing this means you're eighth souls has been... Who is that?"

"Mr. Anon, I'd like to introduce you to our newest recruit, Floor Bored!" Berry Blast introduces cheerfully. "She's decided to become a reaper!"

Anon looks at the beige mare, still strangely wearing a hoodie even in death, meaning it must have been integral to her person in life. There's a bit of fear in her eyes, and it's times like this Anon wishes he still had lips so that he could give her a reassuring smile.

Instead, he settles for a gentle tone as he says, "Hello, Floor, it's a pleasure to meet you."

The mare stares for several more seconds, before breathing, "So tall..."

Anon can't help but chuckle as Berry not-so-subtlety elbows her new companion in the side. "Yes, I am quite tall, aren't I?" Anon agrees, kneeling down to be closer to their level. "As I'm sure you have deduced, I am not a pony. I am, or perhaps it's was, a human. I'm actually from another world."

"You're an alien, ghost, grim reaper?" Floor ask in wonder.

"Yes, I suppose I am, and you are my newest little pony reaper, if Berry Blast here is to be believed... Which might actually mean you aren't."

"Hey!"

"No, I-I am, Mister Anon, Reaper, Sir."

"Anon is fine, and let me be the first to welcome you to our ranks, Ms. Bored. I hope you find the work fulfilling," Anon welcomes, grabbing hold of the little mare's hoof with cool digits and giving it a gentle squeeze and shake.

Floor doesn't know why, but she can't help but feel that expressionless face is smiling at her, and for some reason, that makes her blush. "I-I hope I don't disappoint, A-anon..."

Short Two: Anon and the PokéNEET.

Anon, the player, looks around the path warily, trying to spot the Pokémon trainers that are sure to be waiting to bum rush him with an inescapable challenge as soon as he breaks their line of sight.

... But there's nothing, just a spooky abandoned house on the side of the road that was probably home to some pretty rare ghost types. He wants to check the place out, but his team is pretty banged up, and he really needs to get to the next center to heal his Pokémon first.

Man, he really shouldn't have wasted all his money on those custom pokéball skins and bought potions instead. Live and learn, he thinks, deciding to continue down the path. Maybe after he's stocked up, he'll come back and explore the house. Ganger would be a wicked edition to his collection.

His thoughts are interrupted when, as he steps past the front down of the dilapidated building, an exclamation mark appears over the house. While the familiar, dreaded music begins to play, Anon can hear banging and footsteps from inside, as well as a few curses, before a girl comes flying out the front door to face plant on the porch.

Undeterred, she hops up, pulls her hoodie the rest of the way on, and sprints at you, wholly out of breath as she stops in front of you. "I-I- *Huff*- Challenge you to- to a Pokémon battle. *Huff*"

"You... okay there?"

"F-fine, just, no one usually comes down this road, so I'm out of practice. Come on, let's do this."

Anon sighs, but nontheless grabs a ball from his waist. Hopefully he can win with his team in such poor condition. This is going to be a challenge.

*A surprisingly short amount of time later*

"Oh no, Muk!"

Floor runs to her final Pokémon as he collapses, quickly trying to scoop him up into her arms.

"M-Muk," it groans, looking up at her sadly.

She smiles fondly and runs a hand through its slime. "Shh, it's okay, you tried your best," she comforts, getting the goo creature to push against her palm as she pulls out a pokeball and sucks him up in a flash of red light. She sighs and looks at Anon, reluctantly fishing in her hoodie pocket. "Well, you beat me fare and square, here," she says holding out a wad of crumpled up bills.

Now normally, Anon would take the money and be on his way, but looking from the decrepit house and down to the scrawny, smelly girl, he's hesitant. Even her Pokémon seemed hungry and unwashed, probably lending to why his team, even battle worn already, was able to win.

"Ah, that's fine, you can keep it," he says, getting the girl to frown in confusion.

"But you won; you have to take my money. That's the rule."

"No, really, I don't want your money."

Her frown deepens for a moment before her eyes suddenly go wide in realization.

"O-oh, you want that sort of payment," she whispers, body beginning to shake even as she gulps and reaches for the zipper of her hoodie. "Please, at least be gentle."

Anon's eyes widen as he starts waving his hands in front of him wildly. "What? No! I'm not going to rape you!"

She stops, hoodie half open to reveal her bare collarbone and bony sternum. "If that's not it, then what do you want? I have to give you something."

"No, you really don't," Anon says with a sigh. "Listen, I'm not going to take money from a homeless girl squatting in a murder house, and I'm not going to force you to have sex with me. I didn't even want to battle for Christ's sake."

She blushes and looks away. "No one’s ever been murdered there... The last owner died of natural causes."

"Whatever, point is, I'm not taking your money."

"But it's the law-"

"Fuck the law," he snap, causing the girl to flinch. Anon sighs and rubs the bridge of his nose. "Sorry, I didn't mean to yell... You aren't going to let this drop, are you?"

She suddenly looks determined. "Nope. I may be a lot of awful things, but I am not a lawbreaker. Either take my money, or my virginity. You're not getting pass without one of them."

Anon groans, trying to work out a solution for getting by this crazy girl with his morality intact. Then, like lighting, inspiration strikes. "Your company."

"Um, what?"

"You'll be paying me with your company as my female traveling companion."

She tilts her head. "Um... What?"

Anon's getting excited now. "Yeah, this is perfect! You can be like the Misty to my Ash, or the May to my Ash, or the Dawn to my Ash...! God, Ash was a Chad, wasn't he?"

"Ah, excuse me, Mister Pokémon Trainer-"

"Anonymous. Anon for short."

"Oh, ah, I'm Floor Bored... Floor for short, I guess."

"Nice to meet you, Floor."

"Y-you too...Um, anyway, what are you talking about? Traveling companion?"

"Yeah," Anon confirms with a nod. "You'll come with me on my Pokémon journey and we'll get into all sorts of wacky adventures. It'll be great!"

"Y-you want me to leave... with you? But, I'm a nobody."

"Look like a somebody to me," Anon comments offhandedly, getting the girl to blush again. "And besides, I'm the winner, and that's what I want. Are you refusing to pay?"

"No! Of course not! It's just... I've never really been on an adventure before..."

"Well, it'll be a new experience then, won't it? Come on, Floor, it'll be fun. Plus you get free food at all the Pokemon Centers."

She perks up.

"Food?"

Anon rubs the back of his neck.

"Well, yeah. It's mostly just instant ramen and PB&J sandwiches, but it's free... Are you drooling?"

"Free Ramen?"

"Ah... yeah, all you can eat..."

"I'll pack my things!" she exclaims running back into the old house so fast she leaves a dust cloud in the shape of her.

Huh, Anon has a suspicion that his journey just got a whole lot weirder.

Short Three: Come with me if You Want to Live.

Floor Bored is not a pony. She's technically not even a living creature. Floor is a nanomachine colony created to be an ultimate weapon against an emerging threat long ago.

Magic, as it is called now, was once an extra-dimensional anomaly that had slowly begun to leech into this reality. The strange, alien energy had devastating effects on life, with more than 50% of organisms exposed dying outright. The half that survived, however, mutated rapidly into monstrous beings. Some even adapted to utilize the anomalous energy in what could be considered the first spells.

Humans only survived by building a large barrier system around their greatest city that could hold back the energy. This, however, did not hold back the beasts that began to find ways into the city to feed.

Hence the creation of androids to combat the monsters and protect humans. The being that would come to be known as Floor Bored was meant to be the first in a new line of defenders, infinitely adaptable in a bid to counter the beasts' massive and ever-evolving array of forms.

Unfortunately, the monsters did not remain mere beasts forever, and eventually began to grow in intelligence and form rudimentary societies of their own. The pitiful human forces could not stand against an organized attack, and in one day, the great city was overrun by the magic creatures who viewed the humans as anomalies in their world that needed to be removed.

Floor remained in her capsule, untouched for millennia before eventually an malfunction led to her awakening into a new world. Being a nanomachine colony, she took the form of many of this land's creatures to blend in while she searched for her purpose. But alas, she was a protector of a long-dead race, and soon found herself without meaning.

Unable to fulfill her prime directive, Floor merely existed, taking the form of a simple mare. She lived a haze of idleness, trying to find distractions, but nothing ever being enough to make her forgot what she was.

A tool without a function.

Until Anon appeared.

As soon as she came across the news of a human from another reality ending up in their own while web browsing, she was off. Forming wings that would make Celestia envious, Floor took to the skies, flying higher than any pegasus could dream, entering the upper atmosphere and rocketing across the kingdom.

When she crashed into the stonework of Canterlot castle twenty minutes later, it threw the guards into a panic. And when said guards tried to apprehend her, she threw them into the walls.

Her programing was in full effect then. There was a human in danger and magical mutants in her way. It took all of her will not to kill them.

Picking out the one non-magical entity in the entire world was easy for her scanners, and she went straight to his side, literally drilling through walls as she did. When she arrived, it was to the shock of the doctors trying to treat the alien who had fallen deathly ill only a few days after his arrival.

They didn't know what was killing him, but Floor did. Before a word could be said, she had placed a hoof on the human's chest and nanites were flooding his bloodstream. The magic ponies thought so natural was literally killing Anon, and the only way to save him would be to shield him from it.

The nanites began to converge, creating miniature versions of the same barrier technology that had once been humanity's saving grace all those years ago. Devices created from Floor's very being activated and made a magic void around the human.

Instantly, the human's breathing began to settle from the pained huffs of before and his pale skin began to regain color. Floor breathed a sigh of relief- a habit picked up from living with ponies so long- and smiled, moving her hoof from the man's chest to run it tenderly through his sweaty bangs.

She had not been there for the humans of the past, having not been activated before they were slaughtered, but she vowed never to leave this one's side. Besides, the nanite structures within Anon's body that were keeping him alive would not function if the distance between them became too great, so she didn't really have any options.

"Well, that certainly makes the list for most dramatic entrances I've seen," a regal voice says, getting Floor's eyes to snap up to meet those of Princess Celestia. "Though I have to wonder what your exit strategy is."

Floor sees the alicorn flanked by a full platoon of guards on either side, and slowly begins to move in front of her ward. "The human comes with me," she says lowly, massive wings spreading out and feathers turning razor sharp. "Any attempts to prevent this will be met with lethal force."

The princess' eyes narrow and her own wings begin to spread. "Is that so, creature? I don't know who or what you are, but I think you're drastically overestimating your abilities and underestimating mine if you think you will be able to abduct Sir Anonymous while I'm here."

"You've been warned," Floor says, lowering her head.

Just then, there's a grumble and movement behind her, and suddenly a pair of strong arms wrap around Floor's barrel. "Mmm, yes, Miss Fuzzlelumps, I do think you’re warm," Anon says, pulling the stunned AI to his chest and smiling.

Floor squeaks and barely manages to reabsorb the swords on her back in time not to impale Anon as he snuggles her.
Celestia and her guards look on confused as the creature that had just left a path of destruction through the castle was now being pet and hugged by the human.

"Perhaps... I was being hasty," the princess begins. "Would you be willing to speak with us- explain what's going on?"

Blushing, another habit picked up from her overexposure to ponies, Floor tries to sound dignified as she answers, "Yes, perhaps I was being brash."

Short Four: The Lonely Mouse Maid of Redwall Abbey.

In Redwall Abbey, every critter is expected to do their part and pull their weight. Whether it's tending crops, cooking, or cleaning, everyone has a job. Except young Floor Bored.

She's always been the lazy sort, spending all of her time wedged into a corner of the library, flipping through ancient pages and scrolls. She wasn't exactly reading for the scholarly pursuit, so much as an escape from social interactions. It's quite rude to interrupt another's reading, after all, and the Abbey dwellers were far from rude.

Still, if she thought she could shirk her responsibilities to the Abbey by hiding behind tomes, she was sorely mistaken. Sister Snowdrop had just about enough of the little mouse maid scurrying about her library and leaving messes everywhere, and so she hatched a plan to be rid of her. Bringing Girry into the library one day, the pair approached Floor Bored, who simply rose her book higher as a shield against the oncoming conversation, whatever it was.

"Floor Bored, this is the Abby Recorder, Girry." The old mouse introduced. "I think you'd get along with him well."

Floor hums, but doesn't lower the book. Girry is confused with the whole thing, but goes along with it as Snowdrop starts asking him random historical questions out of the blue. He starts to catch on, however, when, upon answering a question he was a bit fuzzy on, Floor suddenly tells him that he's wrong and provides the correct answer.

"You enjoy history, miss?" Girry asks, getting a shrug from the mouse.

"It's fine, I guess. I read a lot of stuff about it."

"You know, most of the historical records are actually kept in the gatehouse with me. Maybe you'd like to come read some, one day."

Floor looks hesitant until Snowdrop adds, "The gatehouse gets far fewer visitors, you know. Almost no one ever goes there."

Floor perks up, unaware that she was about to set herself on the path of becoming Redwall Abby's next Recorder, and more importantly to Snowdrop, Girry's problem.

*Later*

As part of her training to become Redwall Abby's next recorder, Girry the squirrel has been making Floor Bored study the historical records and testing her on what she's learned. As much as she doesn't enjoy the effort, Girry only nettles her more if she fails so for her peace of mind, she takes the extra time needed to study and memorize.

Having difficulties with the many names she is expected to know, however, Floor has gotten into the habit of creating her own little flash cards to study with. It's actually a revolutionary idea, and soon, she has a bunch of little squares cutout, labeled with the names of important Redwall dwellers from long ago and filled with factoids about them.

One day, while she hides away from a surprise dibbum invasion, one of the youngsters finds her cards and thinks them quite nifty. Floor would have chased after the little thief, but that would have required social interactions, and with a child no less, so she let him go and created a new set of cards. Which were promptly stolen again.

By the time a third dibbum entered the gatehouse, Floor's anger drove her from hiding. "Are you here to steal more cards," she asks the little mouse.

"Steal? Oh no ma'am. I's just wanted some'em cards so as I could join the others in tradin' them," the little one explains innocently, looking around. "Jipper said this' where he got 'em from, so's I came lookin."

"Trading?"

"Oh yes'm! It's a real fun game! All da dibbums want Martin the Warrior, but there's only two, you see?"

"You're trading my cards... as a game?"

"Mhmm! They your's though? Jipper didn't say nothin' 'bout you."

"Yes, those cards were mine. I made them myself," Floor informs angrily, though the heat in her voice is lost on the little one, who just smiles brightly up at her.

"Can ya make some more, miss? I'd be real thankful."

Floor is about to tell him to leave, but then her stomach rumbles, and she groans. Great, now she's mad and hungry, and that means she'll have to walk all the way to the kitchens for a snack. How she hated walking across the Abby. It's too bright out for one, and everyone she passes will smile and wave at her, expecting the same in return. It's just an all-around unpleasant ordeal she'd rather avoid as much as possible.

She looks down at the hopeful baby mouse and is struck with an idea. "You want some cards, hmm? Well, how about you do me a little favor and I'll give you some?"

*Later still*

Two very strange things have happened in Redwall Abby, and Girry is quite sure they can both be linked back to his sun-deprived ward. The first is the utter disappearance of all of the blank parchment in the gatehouse. And the second is the frequent visits to said gatehouse by dibbums, little paws often laden with snacks.

This is most certainly Floor's fault, he knows, but it's hard to be mad when he's finally seeing the mouse maid interact with others, especially the little ones. Of course, he might be a little less glad if he knew Floor Bored has effectively introduced collectable trading cards to Redwall's youth, and is using their distribution to turn the dibbums into her little servants, having them go out and fetch her anything she needs in exchange for a single card each.

Though, she has taken to drawing little illustrations on her info cards to make them more desirable, and her artistic skills have been improving steadily as a result. So that's good, right?

Short Five: Equivalent Exchange.

Floor wants to be closer to Anon. She wants to make sure he can never leave her. So when she meets a strange pony over the dark net simply calling himself The Alchemist, and hears about some of his experiments, she's intrigued. Later, she asks Anon if he wants to go meet a friend, and he happily agrees.

Later, Sowing Life, an alchemist who focuses on the biological aspect of the art reveals his penultimate creation. A talking chimera.

Twilight of course is on the first train to Manehatten to see the scientific marvel. Before then though, she goes to say hi to her friend, Anon and his marefirend, Floor Bored. While she may not have liked the mare Anon has settled down with, thinking her odd and a bit too clingy, she made him happy, so she kept her mouth shut.

Strangely, Anon isn't home when she visits and the neighbors say they haven't seen him over a week. She's confused, but shrugs it off, deciding instead to go straight to the venue that the chimera will be shown at. The arrival of a princess causes a bit of a stir of course, and Sowing Life ends up coming out to greet her himself.

He's absolutely honored a princess would take interest in his work, and invites her in to see the beast before any other pony. Taking him up on the offer, Twilight meets the strange creature caged in a dark room. It growls at Life, but gets oddly excited upon seeing the princess.

It's slightly bigger than a pony, with an oily, black mane and tail. It has back hooves, but its forelegs end in what look like monkey paws. And it's bright grin shows both flat and sharp teeth.

"Why hello there, big guy," Twilight greets. "I heard you can speak, is that true?"

The creature tilts it's head. "Hel-lo? Sp-eak? Hello?"

"Amazing!" Twilight beams, getting closer to the bars to get a better look.

The creature leans forward, its mane falling away from its eyes as it tilts its head. They're small, beady, and a strikingly familiar shade of green that makes Twilight's heart clench At first, she thinks she's crazy, then it speaks again.

"Hello? You came- to say- Hello? Twiggly say Hello?"

The Princess goes rigid.

"Mr. Sowing Life, how long ago did you make this chimera."

"About a week ago," he says, "But I've been researching for much longer than that. I'll admit I actually figured out the method years ago, but I could never find the right components to make it work."

"I see," she whispers, reaching through the bars to pet the creature.

"Oh, I wouldn't do that, your highness, it can be quite aggressive," the stallion warns, but Twilight ignores him.

"You don't need to worry, he'd never hurt me," Twilight responds as the chimaera rubs into her hoof tenderly. "He'd never hurt me... We're... we're friends, isn't that right, big fella?"

"F-riend... Twig-gly friend?"

"That's right. I'm your friend," she says to the creature, gulping before raising her voice. "And which component was that, Sowing Life? A willing pony, or an alien primate? I imagine both must be hard to find. The second even more so."The stallion starts to step away as the princess stands, wings unfurling as she turns around to reveal teary, but glowing eyes. "I know Anon quite well, after all. There's no way he'd ever agree to this."

"Blast, I didn't think anypony would ever figure it out," Life breathes, eyes wide. He turns to flee, but the blast of scorching magic sears along his side, instantly debilitating him before melting the wall it slams into.

"You aren't going anywhere," she hisses. "Anywhere other than trial, you monster!"

Whipping around, she ignores the stab of pain in her heart as her friend flinches away, focusing instead on melting the bars so that the chimera can step through.

"D-don't worry, Anon, we'll fix this," she says, going down to wrap her hooves around the creature's neck. "I'll get every scientist I know to help. Even if I have to drain the royal coffers."

"Pur-ple Smart- Help Anon?"

"That's right, I'll help."

"Help Floor, too?" Twilight only gulps and continues to pet the creature, swolloweing her anger for the mare who no doubt played a part in this.

***

The only time either Anon or Floor's minds are capable of coherent, individual thought is while they are unconscious. When the chimera sleeps, the mind separates to form two distinct dreamers who share a singular dreamscape. Even so, Floor is constantly running from Anon, too terrified to face him after what she's done.

Princess Luna comes to help find the evasive NEET, but the little mare has spent her entire life hiding from others and being lost in her own imagination. She's even more skilled than the Princess of Dreams when it comes to concealing herself within the wrinkles of abstraction.

Floor thinks Anon is furious with her, but he really just wants to know why. And to tell her he forgives her. His dreams consist of wondering endlessly, calling out her name.

Short Six: Ghosts with the Most.

Anon is spooked at first when he suspects his home to be haunted. Things never get too out of hand, though. They never escalate beyond moved objects, underwear rifling, and suspected voyeurism.

To hopefully quell any real scary shit down the road, Anon even starts to try to accommodate his potential ghost, like leaving his computer on and the browser open when he leaves the house. That stops after his computer is loaded up with viruses and porn ads. After that, he also starts wearing swim trunks in the shower.

Over the year, though, Anon grows comfortable, and even starts to communicate with his house guest. He gets alphabet fridge magnets for them to leave him limited messages, which lets him know their name is Floorb, and gets cable so they can be entertained with something that can't get viruses. He even sits down and watches TV with them, made aware of when he's doing so by a cold spot against his side.

Things are going pretty well until Anon becomes terminally ill. It's cancer, and ponies simply don't know how to treat it in humans. It takes him quickly, and Anon finds himself in bed more often then not. The cold spot migrates to join him there, and the man takes solace in the fact that he has a friend to share his final days with.

Eventually, he falls asleep for the last time, passing peacefully without even realizing it. In fact, the first thing he's even aware of after his death is a mare he's never met snuggled into his side.

"Ah!"

"Ah!"

"Who the hell are you!" Anon shouts, scrambling back.

"Wh-what? You can see me?"

"Of course I can! What, you thought home invaders are magically gifted with invisibility?"

"Well, you never could before..." the mare mumbles, eyes dropping to land on a third figure in the bed.

Both she and Anon go rigid when they notice the body. At first, Anon is about to yell at the sleeping douche, but the words die in his throat as he takes in the man's features. He tries to convince himself he's wrong. Surely this stranger just looks like him. Yes, there's another human in Equestria he hasn't heard about who looks like a gaunt skeleton.

The illusion is cracked when he notices the man's still chest. It shatters completely when the mare looks back up to him and mutters, "You... you died."

Then reality sets in, and Anon is overtaken by despair, burying his face in his hands. The sobs that follow would have robbed him of breath normally, left him gasping, but now he has no such limitations, and he merely remains hunched over, crying, mourning the loss of his life.

No amount of mental preparation could have prepared him for this. There's no telling how long he would have remained like this had it not been for a pair of warm hooves wrapping around his shoulders.

"Shh, it's okay," the mare whispers, rocking him back and forth gently. "I know this is scary, Anon, but you're not alone. I'm here for you."

Anon's sobs begin to slow and he bends his head up to look at the mare. Her mane is long and black, shining in the morning light that manages to peek around the window shades. Her coat is off-white and mostly covered by a rumpled brown hoodie. And her eyes, despite looking tired, are full of kindness.

"Who- who are you?" Anon finds himself asking.

The mare gives a small smile. "Your roomie."

Anon's about to ask what the hell she's talking about, but then it clicks and his eyes go wide.

"Floorb?" he breathes, getting the mare to frown a little.

"It's Floor Bored, but you didn't have enough letters."

Despite himself, Anon huffs a quick laugh. "Sorry, I got them from a bargain bin at a resale shop. Couldn't you have just rearranged the letters around, though?"

She blushes. "Well, moving stuff as a ghost takes a lot of emotional energy, so it was easier said then done."

"That didn't stop you from visiting thirteen different porn sites on my computer and clicking through over a hundred videos."

Her blush deepens. "Horniness is an emotion, too."

Author's Note

Short Seven: Anon Becomes a Pet Mouse.

When Anon arrived in Equestria, he was not happy about it. Magic ponyland was interesting, sure, and a once in a lifetime experience, but the thing is, he was a multibillionaire on Earth, and that afforded him some pretty unique experiences in itself. You ever have a safari where you actively hunt down and murder a bunch of endangered animals on your own private island?

Shit's invigorating.

Needless to say, he was quite demanding towards Princess Twilight Sparkle about sending him back. In fact, after two months, she had just about enough of him. So she might have, just maybe, rushed the research along and bought less-than-fresh magic ingredient to get him out of her castle.

The circle was drawn, and Anon stood impatiently in the middle. When Twilight finished casting the spell, she was happy to see that there was no obnoxious human left in the middle. He was home, and if a tiny mouse was launched to the opposite side of the room unnoticed, well who cared?

Anon did, because that stupid horse turned him into said mouse. Now, he would have gotten Twilight's attention, informed her of how much of a monumental fuckup she was, but a certain house pet made things difficult. Mice, as it's known, are the favorite meal of owls.

Chased from the castle by the hungry raptor, Anon finds himself trudging through the snowdrifts of Ponyville's winter, slowly freezing to death. It's by luck that he finds a ground-level basement window with a hole busted through it. Escaping into the damp, but slightly warmer basement, Anon passes out, glad for the momentary respite from the harsh winds outside.

Of course, this is Anonymous, most powerful man on Earth, and he will not stand living in such squalor for long. Making use of his infinite determination, Anon-mouse scales the staircase to reach the toasty kitchen above. Loathsome as it is, he makes do with a meal of stale breadcrumbs and corn chips before lapping condensation away from behind the refrigerator.

For two days, Anon lives like this, slowly mapping out his new kingdom on his tiny legs. Intelligent as he is, he quickly works out pathways and techniques to reach counters and open cupboards, allowing him to eat and drink to his heart's content. Well, not eat pure rubbish at least. Whoever lives here doesn't exactly keep a well-stocked kitchen.

Really, Anon doesn't actually know who lives here as he has yet to see hide or hair of any pony. Roaches, sure, he's had to fight and kill plenty of those little monsters, but no ponies. He plans to rectify this on his journey to the second floor. The pungent odor as he reaches the loft is nearly overpowering to his new, mousy nose, but he perseveres, finding the source to be a closed door.

There's no way he could open the thing, but luckily, the door sat poorly in it's frame, leaving a large enough gap at the bottom for him to slip under. He almost regrets doing so, however, as the smell is even more cloying inside. He sees it though, the pony that owns his current residence, or perhaps owned. He can't quite tell if they're dead, slumped over the desk as they are.

If they are, that could explain the stench. They're wearing a baggy and crumpled brown hoodie that looks like it hasn't seen a proper wash in... ever. The mane appears to share this feature, looking more like a rat's (heh) nest than a hairstyle.

Anon goes to approach the pony, perhaps check for a pulse, before she suddenly twitches in her sleep. The minute movement, it seems, is enough to throw the mare's precarious position off balance, and she topples sideways, nearly crushing Anon. Still shocked by his near death experience, the mouse does nothing as the eyes of the head that had missed crushing him by an inch flutter open.

The mare groans, green eyes slowly focusing on the little rodent before her. Anon expects a scream, for the mare to hop up onto the bed and shriek like an imbecile, but instead, she coos.

"Cute..."

Short Eight: Shot Through the Heart, and I'm to Blame.

Anon tries to make Floor healthy out of love, but she makes it hard, fighting every step of the way. She hates her nutritious food, and fakes so many heart attacks to get out of exercise that it gets to the point that Anon never believes her.

Until the boy who cried wolf scenario plays out.

"A-anon, I uh, I can't feel my left side. It's really weird."

"Come on, Floor, don't get distracted. You've only got ten more pushups to go," the human encourages, ignoring his wife's pained grimace.

"But my chest is really starting to hurt. It's really tight, and feels like there's a boulder sitting on it."

"Sure, Floor, just like how the kale made you go blind when you ate it."

"But-"

"Or how you tried to claim you were allergic to sunlight when we went out for a morning jog."

"Okay, yeah, I was lying those times, but I'm serious now. Something's not right," Floor wheezes, legs shaking from more than just strain.

Anon gives her a hard look for several seconds.

"... Nah, no dice, faker, now pump out those last few pushups, and we can move onto sit ups."

Floor collapse, clenching at her chest as tears begin to roll down her cheeks.

"... Floor?"

*Later, at the hosptial*

Anon sits hunched over besides the hospital bed, head cradled in his hands as he listens to the steady beep of the heart monitor.

It was touch and go for a while, the doctors told him, the heart attack was that severe. Luckily, he had gotten his wife there in time to save her, and with magical assistance, she stood to make a full recovery, any permanent damage to the vital organ slowly being healed over the next several months. Despite the good news, Anon can't feel anything but guilt as he waits for his mare to wake up.

"A-non," a weak voice croaks, getting the human's head to snap up.

"Floor!"

"Wh-what happened," the mare asks, eyes, now sporting dark bags heavier than he'd ever seen on her, slowly cracking open.

He sees those emerald orbs drift around the room confusedly before landing on him, and he can't help but flinch. Despite knowing better, he feels the look is accusatory and not just questioning. "You... you had a heart attack, Floor," Anon begins. "B-but the doctors said you're gonna be alright."

"I... I did?" she wheezes disbelievingly.

Anon's head drops, guilt preventing him from making eye contact any longer. "Yeah, you did... I'm sorry, Floor."

"For what?"

"Because this is all my fault. I pushed you too hard, too fast, and your heart couldn't take it, and then I didn't believe you. My god, I didn't believe you. I'm such a piece of shit."

"No, Anon, don't- “she coughs, and Anon fights the urge to hit the call button. "Don't say that about yourself. You're the best thing that's ever happened to me."

Anon snorts. "Yeah, and I almost killed you."

"I'm remembering it now," Floor continues, eyes going to the ceiling. "The ambulance, when you were holding my hoof, I- I was so scared that I was going to die. I've never cared before, never really believed it would happen, even knowing it would. It was never real, but, then... Anon, I don't want to die young."

Anon swallows thickly. "I know you don't, Floor, I won't push you like that again."

"No, Anon, this only happened because I'm so unhealthy," she says, trying, and mostly failing to get her voice above a whisper. "I should have been listening to you more and not fighting you all the time."

Anon is the one to look confused now. "What are you saying?"

"That I want to get healthy," she affirms, looking more determined than he'd ever seen her on the subject. "Will you still help me, Anon?"

Shocked, Anon says, "Of- of course I will, Floor." Then, as an afterthought, "But we'll take it a lot slower from now on, and will put off the exercise until the doctors say your heart's fully healed."

"That sounds like a good idea," Floor says, a small smile on her lips as she holds a hoof out for Anon to take. "After all, I don't want to give my husband a bum heart. What kind of wife would I be?"

Anon smiles back, taking the proffered hoof and giving it a squeeze. "I'd accept it no matter what its condition... You still accept mine?"

"Where else would I get a human heart? Those things aren't easy to come by." They both chuckle at the joke and smile, feeling far better than the circumstances should allow. They'd get through this, and be stronger for it. Their love would make them strong.

Short Nine: The Floorb Identity.

Floor is a NEET with no discernible skills. It's been this way for as long as she can remember, blank flank and no purpose.

Problem is, she can only remember the last couple of years after she woke up with a grievous head injury and only knowing her name. Going through life without a past or seemingly even a talent, She struggles until she is found by Anonymous, who takes pity on the bedraggled and hungry mare. taking her into his home.

They are comfortable together, finding solace in each other as two individuals separated from their past lives. Things are peaceful until a mysterious stallion enters through Floor's window in the middle of the night, and tries to slit her throat while she's sitting at the computer.

Seeing his reflection in the screen- the glint of the knife- Floor acts on long lost instinct, and defends herself. The fight is short, and the stallion ends up on the floor with a blade embedded in his skull. The ponice eventually label the incident as a home invasion and the resulting death a self-defense, but they can't figure out the identity of the assailant.

Floor is shaken, and not even Anon petting her mane can comfort her. During the fight, it was like she became another mare.

No...

That another mare came up from deep inside to consume her. All other thoughts and feelings were devoured by a cold precision and calculative nature.

Meanwhile, in Canterlot, Princess Celestia mourns the loss of her greatest secret agent on the anniversary of her disappearance. Guilt weighs on her soul as she recalls picking the orphaned foal off the streets, and throwing her into training. Floor Bored never had a childhood or life, both sacrificed for the good of Equestria, and Celestia still punishes herself for that.

Even her cutie mark was one of violence and secrecy. A simple dagger... that only appeared under a black light.

Short Ten: The X-Factor.

Floor and Anon are sitting across from each other in silence after the latter walked in on the former doing something unbelievable. Levitating a corn chip to her mouth while her hooves were busy tapping away at the keyboard.

"So... You have telekinesis," Anon says.

"Yep."

"You know, it shouldn't be such a big deal what with unicorns doing it all over the place-"

"Exactly, so let's drop it."

"-But the whole, not having a horn thing is getting me."

Floor sighs dramatically. "Fine, I'm massively telekinetic, so what? I'm also a NEET."

"That second bits kinda weird to. Are there no jobs for... your kind in Equestria."

"Actually, too many jobs," Floor begins, bobble head falling back as she stares at the ceiling, gesticulating with a scrawny hoof. "Ponies find out you're the world's strongest mind-wielder, and suddenly it's all, 'Save us Professor Bored. You have to lead the X-Pony team. Can you read my mind? Okay, stop reading my mind now. Please stop transmitting images of your marehood into my mind.' Ugh, it's just so annoying."

"Wow... sounds tough when you put it that way. Lot of pressure."

"Yeah it is. Life behind a computer screen is way less taxing. Plus, no super villains shooting lasers at me."

"... Wait, you can read minds?"

"Know what you're going to ask, and yes, I've read your mind."

"How much?"

"Enough to know you think I look like a bobble head."

"... It's meant to be a term of endearment."

"It's okay, Anon, I got used to that in high school. If I didn't, I'd have tossed you out the window with my mind by now."

"So you used to be a super hero, though?"

"For a time..."

*Years ago*

The blast doors give instantly to the crimson beam from Cycloppper's visor as the X-Ponies rush in, quickly taking combat positions as Professor Floor takes center stage within her armored hoverchair.

"It's over, Fagneto! Give up!" Floor calls, hoof moving to her temple in psychic threat.

Being the massive faggot he is, Fagneto just smirks. "You're too late, old friend, the missile will launch in less than a minute, spreading fagcious gas across Equestria, turning all ponies into fags!"

"Not, if we have anything to say about! X-ponies, go!"

Just as the team leaps into action, Fagneto growls and lifts a hoof. Suddenly, Cyclopper and Badger lift off the ground, seized by Fagneto's fagnesis, and the villain uses their bodies to bludgeon our heroes. No! Clyclopper isn't a surprise, he was always a bit lame, but not Badger! He's such a badass, what with the claws and the cigars! How could Floor have made such a tactical error!

Even now, his adimatium skeleton (so shiny and cool!) is being used to beat off the whole team at once! Poor Badger has been turned into the proverbial head cheerleader in the hoofball locker room! Before she can linger too long on that thought, using her telekinesis to low key fiddle with herself, the metallic boned bro slams into her chair, sending her to the hard ground below.

At that same moment, the team just finishes blowing Cyclopper to bits (the school was going to have a hard time explaining that to his parents) and Grey Jeans finally wrestled control of Badger away from Fagneto, pinning him to the ground.

His faggots subdued, Fagneto flees from the room like a cowardly faggot instead of defending his missile, leaving it for our heroes to disarm.

"Quick, Professor Floor, you're the only one with the knowledge to stop that thing!" one of the X-pones yells, turning to see their fearless leader leap to action. Instead, they see their teacher unable to lift her massive head from the floor, legs scrambling to find perches.

"Quick, just roll me over their!" she commands, unable to work her telekinesis on herself as the fall had rattled her fragile, thirty pound brain.

*In the present*

"After that, and a bottle of aspirin, I quit the team. i just couldn't handle the responsibility anymore."

"Wow, that was quite the story," Anon comments, leaning back. "What about Fagneto? Isn't he still out there, trying to turn all of Equestria into faggots?"

Floor waves a hoof dismissively.

"Nah, he got AIDS from a male prostitute a couple weeks later and died."

"Oh... well, good, I guess."

"Yep, without him, there really wasn't much left for the X-Ponies to do, so it was a pretty good time for me to leave, anyway. Nowadays, they mostly just do anti-drug and celibacy seminars for elementary schools. Well, except for Badger. After the Fagneto-thing, I did some digging in his head to figure out why the fagnesis worked on him. Needless to say, he's not around near foals anymore."

"Jeez"

"Tell me about it. That whole team was a train wreck."

Short Eleven: Floorb and Her Evil Clone, Ceile.

Floor Bored is sick of being a cowardly beta. Sick of never being able to go for what she truly wants. Sick of seeing her human roommate, half-naked from the shower, and not jumping his bones. So when she sees an ad on a shady website promising to bring out a better you, she calls and sets up the appointment.

Going to a sleezy part of town, she passes over the bits to the trench coat wearing unicorn, and squares her shoulder. The unicorn zaps her with a spell, and when Floor comes to, it's to see a beaming copy of her own face. Anon is confused when Floor brings home the bubbly doppelganger, but shrugs it off as more Equestrian bullshit. As long as she can find a way to start paying her fair share of rent, she can stay.

Ceiling Excited is exuberant of her Anny-Poo's acceptance of her, and promises to pay him back in full that night. She's everything Floor Bored wishes she could be, after all. Ambitious, great in the sack, and willing to take what she wants. Even by force if she has to. And if Anon happens to reject her- tries to run away- well, she's sure hacking one of his feet off with a hatchet will make him stay with her.

Can Floor save Anon from her crazy yandere clone? Will she make the human fall in love with her in the process? Or will she completely fuck up and get them both murdered by Ceiling Excited? Who knows, but it's sure to be thrilling good time!

Short Eleven-Point-Five: Cousin Ceiling.

Floor's cousin, Ceiling, is staying with her and Anon for a week while she's in the city. Floor is ecstatic at the prospect of spending time with her super cool and confident cousin right up until Ceiling asks about her hunky boyfriend. Once Floor hesitantly explains that she and Anon are, in fact, just friends, Ceiling immediately goes into predator mode and begins trying to seduce Anon.

With every coquettish smile and 'accidental' brush against his thigh, Floor's anger grows. That hussy even has the gall to flash Anon her marebits on several occasions, disguising the action by having to pick up the multitude of items she clumsily drops. On the last night of her stay, she decides to do away with the subtleties entirely and leans up into Anon's side.

"You know, big boy, this is my last night before heading home. Why don't you help me end this trip with a bang?" she asks, giving Anon bedroom eyes.

"Oh, w-well, um, you see, I'm sure that'd be nice, but, uh, I'm sorry, I-" the human stutters before being cut off.

"That's it!" Floor bellows, leaping to the couch and grabbing her cousin by the shoulder. "That's my stallion, Bitch!" Ceiling flies across the room with a yelp, thrown by her cousin's earth pony strength straight into the overflowing garbage can. "Come on, Anon, let's use my bed. The sheets need to be changed anyway," Floor growls, dragging the hapless human to her room and slamming the door.

As the apartment is filled with the sound of straining springs and moans, Ceiling pushes a banana peel from her head and smirks. "Thatta girl, Floor, you claim your stallion," Ceiling says to the empty room. She knew her cousin could do it, she just needed a little motivation first.

And, hey, what's family for?

Short Twelve: Shadows of the Mind.

Floor tells ever more elaborate lies to explain away her NEEThood to Anonymous. They begin to become outright ridiculous when she starts claiming she's a space pirate hiding from the Intergalactic Federation.

Anon, having a bad day, snaps and tells her she's a NEET because she's stupid, lazy, and dropped out of tenth grade. He goes on to tell her that she is not remarkable, she is not special, and she is not the protagonist in her own epic.

She spends the rest of the night whimpering under her covers while Anon goes from angry to aghast at what he said. He tries to talk to her several times, but can't work up the nerve. The next morning, Anon is preparing a big breakfast in way of apology when he hears a piercing scream from Floor's room.

Rushing in, he finds his friend writhing on the bed, covers tossed aside and dark smoke wisping from the corners of her squeezed-shut eyes. He holds onto her and attempts to comfort her through whatever pain she's suffering until eventually she goes limp in unconsciousness.

Later, at the hospital, Anon is waiting anxiously for the doctors prognosis, of which they don't have a clue, when Princess Celestia herself enters the building. In the explanation to follow, she tells Anon of the newly returned Crystal Empire and it's even more recently disposed king.

Unfortunately, Sombra is a crafty one, and had a potent spell in place for just such an occasion. For if Sombra's body dies, his soul shall seek out the closest blood-relative to inhabit. And Floor Bored happens to be a distant decedent and only surviving member of his bloodline.

Now, Floor is at war within her own mind against the incorporeal tyrant, and if she loses, Sombra will return to the realm of the living. The princesses have no intention of letting this happen, and Luna plans on sending a single pony into the turbulent mind to aid the young mare.

Too many minds within one head can spell disaster, and she needs to maintain a steady dreamscape for the battle to take place. "Are you sure, Anonymous?" Princess Celestia asked. "What you're volunteering for is very dangerous. Sombra is not one to be trifled with."

"And do not think that simply because this is a dream, there is no risk of death," Luna adds. "While that might be the case in most dreams, Sombra's dark magic is laced heavily within this one. It might be enough to end your life here should he succeed in ending yours in the dream."

"I'm sure," Anon affirms. "Floor's my friend, and I have to help her."

The princesses share a look before the younger of the two sighs. "Well, I suppose your friendship with the young mare will help. Her mind is less likely to revolt against your presence if she trusts you. I only wish I could join you in this battle, but a fourth mind within her dream could very well turn Floor Bored's brain to mush."

"You don't have to worry, Princess Luna. Sombra won't win; I won't let him if it means Floor's hurt."

Celestia smiles. "This mare sounds quite precious to you," she notes. "It gives me hope of your success."

"She's my best friend," Anon tells her. "And... I owe her an apology besides..."

"Well, you can apologize while you aid her in the kicking of King Sombra flanks," Luna declares, getting up to head towards Floor Bored's hospital room. "Come, Sir Anonymous. We have a battle to win."

With a steely look in his eye, Anon gets up to follow, intent on rescuing his friend and telling her how amazing she is. She was the only pony to not be afraid of him upon their first meeting, after all, and was actually eager to be his friend. Such bravery and kindness was special in its own way, even if she hid it from the rest of the world by shutting herself indoors all day.

Luna was quick to set Anon down across from herself on the opposite side of Floor's bed while she prepared her magic. Anon looked down at Floor, her face screwed up just lightly, smoke still rising from the corners of her eyes. She looked like she was having a nightmare.

"Just hold on, Floor, I'm coming for you..."

Short Thirteen: The NEET and the Console Peasant.

When you had told Floor Bored that you would be getting back into gaming, she seemed really excited, but ever since you went out and got a PoneStation 4, she's been spending all of her time in her room. The most you see of her is a glaring eye, but you shrug it off.

Maybe you've been playing video games more than you should and not spending as much time with her as you used to, but you worked hard for the bits to buy this thing, and ponies are surprisingly good game designers. She'll get over her jealousy eventually, and when she does, the spot next to you on the couch will be open to her when she wants a turn.

You're in the middle of playing some retro-platformer you bought from the electronic store (you want to work your way up through Equestria's gaming history) when Floor, glaring from a crack in her door, snaps and dives from her room with a screech.

"REEEE!" You see the flash of a hammer right before your PS4 bursts into plastic chunks.

"Holy fuck, Floor! What are you doing?!"

She doesn't stop hammering away at the console even as she answers. "I. Can't. Stand. This. Another. Second!" After a final swing, she's left panting heavily as you just stare, shocked at her.

"You just wasted 400 of my bits, because I wasn't paying enough attention to you... Are you seriously that crazy?"

Unexpectedly, she gives you a look as if you're the crazy one, and answers, "What are you talking about? I busted this... thing, because I couldn't stand being under the same roof as a console for another second."

"What?"

"I mean, seriously, Anon, what were you thinking? A console? Even a gaming laptop would've been better than that."

Out of all the things to be upset over, you can't help but be the most so over her criticism of your gaming habits. "What's wrong with consoles? I don't like having to check my specs whenever I want a new game. I just want to plug and play and know my system can handle it."

She stares at you for several seconds before shaking her head solemnly. "Oh Anon, what sort of life you must have led to be so ignorant. Did you're parents lock you in a closet? Maybe you were in a coma for half your life?"

"What the hell are you talking about? My childhood was fine, and I've always played my games on home consoles. its how I like it."

Your scowl and statement doesn't deter the mare as she just shakes her head again. "So sad. I don't know how you got like this, Anon, but don't you worry, I won't rest until we get you right in the head."

You're too stunned to stop her as she walks over, grabs your hand in her mouth, and starts leading you to her bedroom.

"Come on, we'll start filling a cart with all the parts we'll need. I'll teach you how to build a real gaming PC so you won't ever have to go back to consoles again. You'll see, Anon, everything gonna be alright."

Short Fourteen: Pony Swears.

Floor Bored swears like a sailor. Her room had to be made sound proof because her profanity while playing online games was garnering complaints from all the parents in the apartment building. You can't take her out without witnessing at least a dozen mares cover their foals ears as the two of you pass. The cusses that leave her mouth could make Tirek blush.

But the thing is, pony cusses are adorable, and you can't help but giggle whenever your marefriend opens her mouth. Some of your favorites so far:

"You son of a biscuit-eating bulldog!"

"Shut the front door, cootie queen!"

"You are such a lint licker!"

"Son of a motherless goat!"

"Raggle Fraggle!"

"Smegma smurfing Nerf Herder!"

Okay, that last one even had you blushing a bit, but nine times out of ten, it's hilarious. Hearing new cusses from the mare is what drives you to destroy her in Mareio Cart, and do surprise butt sex without lube. One swear though, is no laughing matter.

*Angry Horse Noises!*

You don't know what this means, but even Floor covers her mouth, wide-eyed, the few times she lets it slip, as if she truly regret saying it. The one time she let this one loose in public, she had cracked her hoof on the curb, and the entire world seemed to freeze.

Every pony immediately stopped what they were doing to stare disbelievingly at the NEETmare, a dead silence overtaking the city. Then one pony vomited all over the sidewalk, and the quiet shattered into utter pandemonium. There was a legit angry mob, pitchforks and torches included, chasing the two of you down, and it took several hours and enough cardio to last a lifetime to give them the slip.

After dying her mane blonde- she insisted- and burning the sweater she was wearing, she broke down in your arms, begging forgiveness and for you not to leave her. Still confused by the whole ordeal, you simply held her close and pet her new, golden mane soothingly. When she finally composed herself enough to stand, you took her to the bedroom, and gave her the tender, comforting loving she needed.

You even used lube.

Short Fifteen: On Wings of a NEET.

You, as Anon, have a small garden of potted plants set up on the fire escape of your and Floor's shared apartment. Technically, yes, this is a lease violation as the escape is supposed to remain clear for emergencies, but the pony running the place doesn't give a shit, so neither do you.

"Keep leaning out like that, and you're gonna fall one day," Floor comments from the couch, eating a bowl of cereal lazily.

"I'll be fine, humans are related to monkeys, you know, so heights aren't shit to us."

"Mhmm, and I'm sure your inability to do a single pull-up is in no way representative of your amazing climbing skills."

"S-shut up."

Floor smirks around her spoon as you go to water a hanging planter over the side of the rail. Perhaps you simply filled the watering can too much, or maybe the railing was still slick with morning dew, but either way, next thing you know, gravity is flipped on its head as you topple over the edge. You hear your name called, but you're too preoccupied with the rapidly approaching pavement to care.

Your grandma always said you'd die falling off of a fire escape. Now you regret not entering the lottery that time she starting spewing a bunch of random numbers off while shitting her diaper. How were you supposed to know she was psychic and that it wasn't the alzheimer's speaking?

These were going to be your final thoughts before death, if it wasn't for a pair of beige forelegs wrapping around your waist. You're pretty sure some of the vertebrae in your spine have just been jarred out of place, but at least the ground has stopped flying up towards you.

Actually, about that...

"How," you begin, turning your head to see the wide-eyed Floor. "How did you..." Then you see them, a pair of humongous wings splayed out behind the little mare, flapping lazily from the remains of her torn hoodie. Jesus Christ, they might even be bigger than Celestia's. "Your'e... you're a pegaus?"

She blushes, eyes averting slightly. "Um, yeah... You okay?"

"Fine, but more importantly, you're a pegasus."

"I know, it's weird. They're weird. My wings are kinda..."

"Big. Like, really big."

She blushes more intensely. "Yes... they are."

"And you've been hiding them in your sweater this entire time?"

"... Yes."

"Wow, I always thought you were just fat."

She deadpans. "You know, I don't think a fall from this height would be fatal."

"Can you take me flying?"

"What?"

Short Sixteen: She Have Class, She Give Sass, but Most Importantly, She Make Me Sad.

Equestrian animals are quite amazing, when you really think about. Unlike the dull creatures back on Earth, they are obviously quite intelligent. They're expressive and capable of communicating quite effectively through their gesticulations. And yet, strangely, they are still treated as little more than simple animals and lack much of a civilization at all of their own despite clear capabilities to build one. Most seem perfectly contend to live outdoors and have ponies worry about the big stuff.

Except for three opossums, who have grown tired of the cold and boredom. They want to live like the ponies do, lives full of comfort and convenience. Entertainment always a click away, right beside a bag of tasty chips. So, using the combined power of their three marsupial brains, they device a plan so cunning, so daring, that it's practically guaranteed to get them away from the worm-slurping life.

They craft a pony costume from old fabric collected from the trash heap, topped and tailed with mop heads used to tar a roof, and enter the pony city of Manehattan, communicating with a salvaged Speak-&-Spell toy. Surprisingly, the plan goes off without a hitch, and the fabricated mare soon gets on pony welfare. No one aware that the NEETpone known as Floor Bored is, in reality, three opossums in a pony suit.

Not even her boyfriend.

"I'm telling you, Joe, she's the one," Anon says, looking down at the picture he keeps in his wallet of the love of his life.

"Heh, never thought I'd here you sayin' stuff like that, Anon. I always thought you'd be a lone wolf forever."

"The right mare can change a man, Joe, and she's the right mare."

"Must be quite the looker ta have captured your heart."

"Most beautiful mare in Equestria," Anon agrees, holding out the picture for Joe to look at.

What he sees appears to be a burlap sack tailored into a vaguely pony-shape, black holes for eyes that shine with what appears to be multiple little ones. Squinting, he swears he sees some sort of paw reaching out of a slit in the neck. "Wow... She's a beaut, Anon. You gonna pop the question soon?"

"Damn right," he says. "I just hope she says yes."

And that's exactly what Floor did.

Marrying Anon has worked out better than the opossums ever expected. Janice was sure living with the human would inevitably lead to their cover being blown, but a year in, and he still doesn't suspect a thing. Plus he waits on them paw and other paw all day long, asking only for snuggles in return.

Jill is especially fond of the cuddling, enjoying the warmth and pets through the fabric of their disguise. The only thing that Janice and Jill aren't big fans of is when their husband expects Floor to satisfy his baser needs. Opossum girl-parts don't exactly scale with those of the human male, after all, but they can usually get away with giving him a bj.

As a matter of fact, the opossums have developed a bit of a taste for the salty spunk, all three of them often fighting over who gets the money shot at the end of a session. When actual intercourse is required, however, Janice and Jill defer to Jullia's expertise.

Julia, the shyest of their trio who never mans the Speak-&-Spell, absolutely loves dick, it would seem. Even though she can only fit the head of his member into her tight confines, having to coil her tail around the rest of the shaft to properly pleasure their husband, her tongue hangs out of her mouth the whole time and her eyes roll up into the back of her head.

She often plays dead for thirty minutes afterwards, letting the post coital bliss slowly wear off while rubbing her bloated stomach reverently. Janice and Jill are pretty sure Julia fantasizes about bearing Anon's young, but they don't comment, happy to let their odd friend handle the... hard stuff.

It's always the quiet ones...

Alas, their happiness was doomed to fail as opossums don't live long, and after many happy years of marriage, Anon awakes next to a still wife.

"We've got the autopsy reports back, Mr. Non."

"And? What was it? What took my Floor away?" Anon practically begs, both wanting to know and dreading the answer if it turns out to be something he did.

"Well, it seems she somehow got three opossums inside of her, though that still has the doctors scratching their heads. The end result is that the critters seem to have eaten her from the inside out. All of her internal organs are gone, and we found a old Speak-&-Spell toy in her abdomen. The opossum must have dragged it in."

"Oh God," Anon says, hand flying to his mouth as his face becomes a darker shade of green. "I think I'm going to be sick."

"We also found this," the pony continues, holding out a piece of paper sealed inside a plastic bag. "One of the opossums was holding it. Any idea what it could mean? We think maybe foul play was involved, and this is a clue left behind by the killer."

Anon accepts the sheet shakily and looks down to see a crudely drawn crayon picture of himself holding an opossum in his arms, both he and the creature smiling with hearts around them.

At his feet, along with a bunch of smaller opossums posing as if for a family photo, are blocky, childish letters spelling out 'Anon & Julia forever.'

Anon shakes his head as tears start to fall. "I... I Don't know. I don't understand..."

Short Seventeen: CatPone Floor.

Floorb is on the phone with ponice. "You need to help me! I'm being held captive by a psychopath!" she whispers into he receiver

"Ma'am, I'm gong to need you to calm down. Now, are you in any danger?"

"I'm hiding under the couch, but he's looking for me."

"Who's he? What's your location."

Floor doesn't seem to hear as she stares off into the distance, remembering back on the past three weeks since she got her new roommate in horror. "He sexually assaulted me the first day he moved in. I was scratching my back on the carpet, and he just... just staring rubbing my belly. I bit him, of course, but the shame never left. He's kicked me too, every morning when he wakes up. It's like a sick routine. I try to greet hm as friendly as I can, asking for some food, and he just punts me in the side. Oh, and the food. He starves me. He's locked all the cupboards and the fridge and only lets me eat three times a day. He's left me a bag of chips, but it's half empty now; might as well be all the way empty. I asked for another, but he said I shouldn't finish this bag before they go stale... He tried to drown me three times, molesting me the entire time he has me under. I fight. I want you to know that. I fight every time."

The ponice mare is silent on the other line for several second, before saying, "Ma'am, we triangulated the call, there's officers converging on you're location. We'll have you safe soon, and that... than monster contained. You'll be safe. And ma'am? You are so strong."

Floor closes her eyes, a single tear running down her cheek. "Thank you... Oh! Tell your officers to be careful! He has a monster under his thrall! It's terrifying!"

"A monster?"

"Yes! He calls it... Vac-Doom. It can eat and shout... At the same time!"

"We're sending monster control right away."

"He keeps it locked in the closet whenever he isn't terrorizing me with it."

"Sick bastard... He's an animal abuser too?"

Phew, and there, hopefully there's enough NEETy goodness packed into here to tide you all over. Oh, and of course, some awesome art of the newest, cutest NEET around, Pontaku!

Artist: WhyDoMenHaveNipples.

Omake: Floor Meets Flutters

"A-anon, do I have to do this," you ask, shaking like a leaf outside at the entrance to the building.

"No," he begins, and you prepare to bolt with his blessings, but he continues. "But I think you should. Listen, Floor, you know I don't mind being there for you, I'll always be there for you, but I think it'll be good for you to make some other friends. And here, you'll be able to meet ponies like you. Ponies who are trying to get out there and meet new people. Ponies who are brave like you."

You blush. Anon always does this to you, makes you feel like more than the pathetic NEET that you actually are. That you deserve more than what you've been given. And as untrue as that is, he makes you believe in that way only he can do.

"Will you come in with me...?" you ask hesitantly, getting him to smile.

"Of course, I was going to whether you asked me to or not." You smile up to him, and he walks you into the building. The hand he keeps on your withers comforts you as you reach the room number the meeting would be in, and with a gulp, you push the door open.

Inside there are ponies, all crowded at the edges of the room, blank flanks planted in plastic chairs. They're NEETs, just like you.

Anon and you settle into a couple of chairs, front and center, his decision, and wait patiently. Anon, in his typical fashion, waves kindly at the other ponies, and a few shakily wave back.

Finally, after ten painful minutes of waiting, the door opens up, and whispers can be heard outside. Leaning forward, you see a yellow rump and long, pink tail, and something purple beyond that.

"Oh, I don't know, Twilight, are you sure you shouldn't do this? You are the Princess of Friendship, after all."

"And you're the Element of Kindness. Listen, I know you can do this, these ponies need help, and you're just the mare to give it."

"... If you really think so... I'll try."

"You'll do great, Fluttershy, just believe in yourself." With one final hug, the purple pony leaves and the yellow one takes a big breath before entering the room.

She's not a NEET, if the butterfly cutie mark is anything to go by, but she has the presence of one. Her body language closed off and she's fighting to keep her nose from touching the ground. "H-hello everypony, my name is Fluttershy, and I'll be hosting this NEET Meet and Greet... catered by Sugarcube Corner."

A loud, somehow pink-sounding voice from the distance yells, "The number one provider of sweets for party NEETs!"

"Um, right, and I hope we can all leave here tonight being able to call eachother friends," the pegasus finishes, swinging a hoof in front of her in the universal symbol for can-do-attitude.

It falls flat as everypony just stares. "You're not a NEET!" one stallion calls, getting a mare on the opposite side of the class to nod in agreement.

"Yeah, I didn't come here to be told how I should live my life by a normie!" As others begin to add their voices to the discontent, Fluttershy eeps and begins to shrink into herself.

Looking to Anon, You see the frown slowly form on his face to match your own, and he looks ready to say something, but you beat him to it."Hey! Leave her alone!" you shout, rising from your seat and surprising everyone in the room, even yourself.

You begin to wilt under the attention, but steel your nerves. No, this mare was just trying to help you all out, just like Anon did for you, and you aren't going to let these ungrateful idiots break her down. Stepping to the front of the class and besides Fluttershy, you level your most intense glare at the NEETs. "Ms. Fluttershy here is just trying to help us make friends and not be a bunch of anti-social losers, so how 'bout you pull the cheesepuffs out of your ears and listen to what she has to say!"

"B-but, she's not a NEET, though," one pony pipes up weakly, realizing he doesn't have the internet to hide behind here.

"Y-yes, that's true, but I almost was." You turn to look questioningly at the mare as she gives you a thankful smile and steps forward. "I got my mark later than most, and someponies didn't think I'd get it at all. I was even one of them. I was bullied horribly because of it, and even after, I didn't get over those memories right away. I shunned other ponies, only letting my family and closest friend in for the longest time. I didn't think I needed ponies when I had my animal friends. I thought I was happy being alone.

"But one day, more ponies came into my life than I ever thought would, and they showed me how wrong I was. They showed me that what I thought was happiness was only settling for not being sad. And most importantly, they showed me what true joy was, and that friendship is magic."

Everypony stares at the mare in silence, until one draws out a long, "Gaaay."

"Oh, shut up, faggot."

"What, you coming to the mare's rescue? Yeah, just keep sucking her clit."

"Whatever, retard."

Fluttershy slumps as the room devolves into name calling and you sigh. Anon approaches the both of us, hands in his pockets as he watches the spectacle and says, "Hey, you tried your best, and for what it's worth, I thought what you had to say was really touching."

"Um, thank you..."

"Anonymous, and this here is my marefriend, Floor Bored."

You blush, but still manage to look at the pegasus. "Uh, yeah, and I'm sorry these ponies are acting like this, it's just how NEETs are used to talking to each other. I'm sure they'll start getting along soon... maybe."

"I hope so," Fluttershy mumbles. "I don't want to let down Twilight, and having friends really is wonderful. I would really like for these ponies to realize that."

"I'm sure they will, but until then, I say we raid the snack table while the rest of the ponies are fighting," Anon comments, licking his lips. "Those cupcakes are calling my name."

You smile, and Fluttershy manages a weak one as well. The meeting goes better than you expected, though still nothing near how Fluttershy probably thought it would. She attempted meekly a few times to get things back on track. Trying to adhere to the list a friend gave her and have everypony sit in a circle to introduce themselves.

It didn't work, but the bright side was that, over the obscenities and insults, laughter began to be heard. The ponies slowly began to break off into their own little groups, and seemed to start really enjoying eachother's company. And by the end, some were even exchanging information to meet up online later.

Fluttershy, Anon, and you all stood by the entrance, watching the NEETs scatter into the night. "Well, looks like some of them made friends, after all," Anon comments.

"Mhmm, I'm very proud of them," Fluttershy responds, turning to both of you. "And I'm glad I made two new friends, as well. Really, it means a lot that you two tried so hard to help me."

You blush and scuff a hoof across the ground. "It's no big deal, I mean, you set this up to help ponies like me, so it's the least I could do."

"Yeah, and it's been great meeting you," Anon adds, "As a matter of fact, Floor and I were just going to spend the rest of the night in the apartment watching movies. You want to join?"

"That sounds nice, but I have some friends waiting for me inside that want to know how things went, then we're all supposed to go out to dinner."

In a flash of inspiration and boldness, you reach into your hoodie pocket to pull out an old receipt and pen.
"Here, this is our apartment and email address. Maybe we can meet up some time to hang out... If that's something you'd want."

"Oh, I'd love to, thank you, Floor. And maybe I can introduce you to my other friends too. I'm sure you'll like them." Agreeing, you soon part ways with you and Anon walking home.

"Aren't you glad you decided to go?" Anon asks, smiling.

You smile as well. "Yeah, I'm glad I got to make a new... friend."

Author's Note

Artist is Cinderfall.
This is as of yet not canon to the main story, and if it were, it would be quite some time after the main stories events.
I just thought I'd upload it since I already had it written and thought some of you would get a kick out of it.

Also
Extra Bonus!
Anon getting a job in Equestria, finds his lack of a cutie mark to hinder his efforts. Luckily, he has an alternative...

At the employment agency, the pony stares down at the resume you are working on together and hums. "Yes, yes, this is coming out nicely, Mr. Mous, you've had quite the colorful history in the workforce."

"Uh, yeah, I got around. Just sort of did whatever needed doing, you know?"

"Yes, that is very admirable of you. Not many ponies are so willing to settle for anything less than what their special talent dictates, but there simply aren't enough employment opportunities in singing for everypony with a microphone cutie mark to become a popstar."

"Yeah, I can see that. Guess some talents aren't too marketable."

"Indeed. Oh, that reminds me though, I still haven't filled out the section for your cutie mark. Would you like to describe it too me, or simply remove your pantaloons. I know they can be a pain to get in and out of."

"My... cutie mark?"

"Well, of course. Cutie marks are very important for employers, even if they may not have immediate use for your specific talent. You'd be amazed at the kind of crazy situations can crop up that an obscure talent can aid in. Why, I once heard of a balloon animal talent aiding in the chase of a crazed sorceress."

"How?"

"Who knows, but it's the reason why your cutie mark is so important... Unless you don't have one..."

"No, I have one! Just, uh, let me get these pants off."

Several seconds later, you have your bare ass pointing at the stallion as he ogles it, intrigued.

"Oh, how exotic. Is it normal for you humans to only have your mark on one flank?"

"Yep, completely normal."

"Interesting, and... what is it?"

Craning your neck back, you look at the crude image of a guy doing a girl doggy-style on your left ass cheek. "A bad life decision."

"What was that?"

"Massage. Yeah, and, um yoga. Yep, that's what it means."

"Ooh, multi-talented, we're have you a job in no time, Mr. Mous."

Omake: Noodle Exchange

"Come on, I've made dinner everyday since I moved in, can you please do it just this once?"

"Augh, why are you always asking me to do stuff?" Floor moans, flopping backwards on the armrest opposite of you. "Don't I do enough already?"

"You literally sit in your room all day masturbating to cartoon porn. The only thing I ask you to do is keep it down after 9PM and open your window so the whole apartment doesn't smell like fish and hay."

"That's still a lot," she mumbles, crossing her hooves and glaring up at the ceiling.

You begin prodding her with your big toe. "Come on, please? I mean it, Floor, work's got me wiped today. Just this once?"

Floor gives a long, suffering sigh, but says, "Fiiiine, I'll make dinner so you can rest your squishy human feet."

"That's all I ask," you respond with a smile, ignoring the waspish tone of your roomie. You'd let the mare call you every name in the book right now if it meant you didn't have to rise from the couch.

Grumbling, Floor Bored rolls from the cushions to flop onto the carpet, staying there for several seconds before standing. Acting as if each step is an ordeal, the NEET mare makes her way to the kitchen area behind the couch, and you stretch your legs across the now-available sofa space.

Closing your eyes, you drift into a state of half-consciousness as sounds start to emanate from the kitchen. Things start to get loud after a while, and a small part of you worries what the mare could be up to, but you shove it to the back of your mind and continue resting your eyes.

At some point, you must have fallen asleep, because the next thing you know, you're being shaken awake by an off-white hoof. "Come on ya big baby, dinner's ready," she says, only stopping when she sees your eyelids crack open.

"Really?" you ask with a yawn. peeking at your watch, you realize it's been over two hours. "What took so long?"

"You're welcome," she grumbles with narrowed eyes. "I had to make the noodles from scratch for one, plus we didn't have a lot of the other ingredients, so I had to go to the store." She makes a face. "I had to actually socialize, so you better appreciate the effort."

At that moment a mouthwatering scent begins to invade your nostrils, and your curiosity is instantly peaked. "What'd you make?" you question, rising up as the mare steps back. Looking towards the kitchen area, you see two large bowls sitting on the small table, their contents steaming.

"Miso ramen with tofu skins and a soft boiled egg," she explains dully, stepping around you to take her place at the table. Without another word, she picks up a pair black chopsticks etched with eastern-styled dragons in gold leaf, and begins slurping noodles down her gullet.

Blinking in bewilderment, both at the bizarre sight of a pony skillfully manipulating chopsticks with hooves, and the masterfully assembled meal, you move to your seat and flop down. Staring down into the heavenly smelling bowl and swirling soup, you pick up the pair of cheap, disposable chopsticks and break them apart on autopilot.

You use to eat out at oriental restaurants all the time back home, and the bowl of ramen before you equals any you got back home in presentation. You don't speak, too stunned and sure that this is all some strange dream, and twirl a bundle of noodles with your chopsticks. You don't wake up as you bring the broth-covered noodles to your lips and slurp. Flavor explodes in your mouth and you moan in ecstasy.

"Shoo goo," you murmer between mouthfuls, unable to stop. The noodles vanish in less than a minute, followed quickly by the half an egg and tofu skins. Your trip to umami paradise is over all too soon as you finish licking every last drop of miso from the bottom of the bowl.

When you lower it, it's to reveal the sight of Floor Bored's deadpan features and quirked brow.

"Like it?" she asks rhetorically.

"I love it," you answer, falling back in your seat, eyes just beginning to glaze over. "Tell me the truth, Floor, you ordered this, didn't you? Come on, tell me so I'll know where I'll be eating for the rest of my life."

In answer, she simply looks over to the stove top, your eyes following her lead to land on the simmering pots and pans and messy work station. She smirks.

"Sorry, Anon, but looks like you'll be coming to me if you want to eat like this again, and I'm sorry to say, but I don't think you can afford my prices."

"Anything," you say instantly, leaning forward. "Anything you want, and it's yours, just don't deprive me of your ramen."

"Hmm, well, I can be a generous pony," she says in contemplation. "For instance, I made enough for one more big bowl that I was gonna have myself, but-"

Tossing the bag of bit from your waist unto the table, you tell her, "There, that's all the money I've got besides the stuff set aside for rent. Now can I have the last bowl?"

She giggles. "Oh, Anon, I don't want your money, silly. I mean, lets face it, pretty much anything you buy is for the apartment anyway, so I already benefit from your bit bag. No, I'll need something different for payment."

You gulp. "Like what..."

Her smile turns wicked. "I'm glad you asked."

The room is filled with moaning as you go to work on Floor Bored, the mare writhing in pleasure. "Ooh, Anon- Yes! Right there! Harder!"

Grunting, you double your efforts, pressing harder into the mare. The muscles in your forearms begin to ache as your fingers and thumbs work into Floor's soft frogs.

She resists the urge to kick her back legs as your hands massage the sensitive flesh, a thin line of drool leaking from her lips as her eyes roll up into her skull.

You have no doubt that the smell of unwashed hooves will stick to your digits for days after this as your feel them dampen with frog-sweat, but you can't bring yourself to care as the taste of salty, savory ramen still lingers on your tongue. You'll have to do this, as well as give her back rubs and cuddles everyday for the foreseeable future, but in exchange, you'll be getting heavenly noodle soup for every dinner.

That's more than a fair trade, you think.

"Oh Gods, Anon, you're sooo good! Yes! Yes! Knead my hoof like a ball of dough! Yessss!"

Author's Note

I wanted to write a slightly different Floor Bored, and I've got to say, it was a fun little exercise. Where as the main story's Floor would have been more than eager to please Anon and jumped at the opportunity to cook for him, this lazy, anti-social Floor was none too pleased with the request.
Luckily, while far from a good cook, this Floor had mastered a single recipe, and Anon got to experience the benefits of such culinary specialization. He got hooked on the ol' MSG.

Anyhow, I've got one more short blurb to share with you all, and while it's not a clop, it is pretty sexual, so be warned. Now, without further delay:
BONUS OMAKE:
One day while browsing the web, Floor's screen goes completely black, but before she can start troubleshooting the issue, green letters start to type across the screen.

WE ARE ANONYMOUS. WE ARE LEGION. AND WE HAVE BEEN WATCHING YOU.

"W-what?" Floor squeaks, eyes darting to where the webcam of her computer is covered by a post-it note. As if somehow knowing where her eyes had strayed, the letters delete themselves to make room for a new message.

NOT THROUGH THERE, LITTLE PONY. WE HAVE ADVANCED FAR BEYOND THAT.

"L-like aliens or something?" she questions, feeling foolish a second after. Aliens aren't real, and wouldn't be interested in a NEET like her even if they were. This is obviously some sort of elaborate prank.

OF A SORT, YES. WE HAVE WATCHED YOU, FLOOR BORED, AND WE LIKE WHAT WE HAVE SEEN.

Instantly, she thought of just what they could have seen while she was sitting in front of her computer screen, and she blushes fiercely. "W-what do you want?"

WE WANT YOU.

"M-me?"

YES, YOU. WE WANT EVERYTHING THAT YOU ARE. WE WANT YOUR SCENT, YOUR LUST, AND TO SHARE OURS WITH YOU.

Floor gulps, not believing what is happening. She lifts a hoof and stares at it for a few seconds, before suddenly slamming it into her cheek. the force is enough to knock her from her seat, the chair falling one way as she falls the other.

"Ow," she mumbles, slowing raising to her hooves.

THERE IS NO NEED TO HURT YOURSELF, FLOOR, WE ARE REAL. THIS IS REAL.

"This is crazy!" Floor says, panicked, "There's no way aliens are talking to me, and definitely no way they'd want to- to..."

FUCK YOU SENSELESS? BREATH YOUR MUSK BEFORE COVERING YOU IN OUR SEED UNTIL YOU ARE DRIPPING WHITE? WE ASSURE YOU, THESE ARE OUR DESIRES, AND WE KNOW THEY ARE YOURS, AS WELL. ALL YOU NEED DO IS SAY YES, AND IT SHALL BE.

Floor stares disbelievingly, jaw hanging loose. There's no way this is real, but so what? What was the harm, really, in saying yes? Either nothing would happen, or the pranksters would reveal themselves and have a good laugh at her expense. Nothing lost in the former, or even the latter. She has no dignity left, after all.

... And there is a third, impossible possibility, that sets her clit winking.

She gulps, and whispers, "Yes..."

The screen flickers and goes dark. After several seconds, Floor feels her cheeks begin to burn. How could she have been so naive? Of course nothing would happen. She is such a little filly-

The light above flickers, and the air itself begins to hum. That's all the warning she gets as the room is suddenly filled with a blinding light, and she yelps.

She rubs her stinging peepers and blinks away the dots. Several black spots remain however, and for a moment, she fears permanent retinal damage.

Except... The dots weren't dots, they were suits. Fancy ones worn by tall, bipedal creatures.

She gawks as one steps forward, giving her a smile that shows pointed canines. "I must say, it is an absolute pleasure to finally meet you face-to-face, Floor Bored. I am Anonymous. We all are in fact, and we are all eager to begin."

Her emerald eyes follow his strange, elongated paw as he grabs hold of his bulging package, his pants stretched taut around the equipment. A thin strand of yellowish marecum drips to the floor as her pussy winks, getting many of the Anons around her to grin wolfishly.

"And I think it's safe to say you are just as eager. So why dally any longer?" He punctuates the statement by slowly pulling the zipper down.

Despite the fear and confusion still lingering in her heart, Floor can't stop the thrill of excitement. First-contact with these strange, alien beings is going to be extremely, intimately close.

Welp, that was weird, but also fun to write, and that's what matters, right?

By ScraggleMan.

Chapter 18

You are Floor Bored, and you are having trouble focusing on your moonga. Normally, the handsome stallions dressed in concealing, yet tantalizingly revealing outfits is enough to draw you right in, but you have too much on your mind. Also, the equine figure hasn't been doing it for you as much lately, mostly because of a certain cute human, so there's that too. Still, the bigger issue is your nerves for what is to come tomorrow.

When Anon had told you that his boss wanted you to come in with him to see her, you were shocked. Had it not been for Anon preemptively supplying a bag of your favorite junk food right before that, you'd have gone into full-blown panic mode. Needless to say, you stress ate the entire bag before the day was through. After many reassurances from Anon that it wasn't a big deal, and a night spent snuggling on the couch together, you were able to put the meeting from your mind for the rest of the week.

Then today, you brought it up with GramGram, and she told you to punch Anon's boss in the schnoz. "Ain't none of that mare's business what you and Anon feel for each other, and if she tries to say otherwise, you just put her in her place."

You were firmly against the idea, but she insisted, stating that Anon had to see you were willing to fight for him. You're pretty sure Anon doesn't need you to protect him, especially since you're the one usually being protected, but then again, maybe GramGram has a point. Anon's always there for you, so maybe you should show him you can do the same for him when it counts. Maybe not a punch, but perhaps being assertive with her?

"Hey, Floor, you okay?"

You blink your dry eyes, realizing you've been staring at the same spot on the page for who knows how long. "Er, yeah. Why?" you ask, looking up at the human you are currently on the lap of. Sure, there are other bean bags, but it's kind of chilly in the library. What else are best friend's for if not to be body heaters for each other.

"Well," Anon starts. "You haven't turned the page of your moonga in five minutes. And before you claim you're perving out on a cute colt, remember I can see what you're reading."

You look down to see that the page you are on only features teen fillies, and blush. "Right, so, maybe I'm just a little bit distracted thinking about tomorrow."

"Still, huh?" he says, sighing. "Listen, I know I've said it a million times, but-"

"Ms. Index is nice and really just wants to talk. I know," you interrupt. "Still doesn't make me any less nervous."

"You'll do fine," he assures, running his fingers through your mane. "We both will." You smile up at him, and he surprises you with a boop on the nose. "Now, unlike you, I've actually been reading this whole time, and I need a new comic, so if you could kindly move your rump."

"But Anon," you whine flopping back against him. "You're sooo comfortable."

"Come on, ya sloth, up you go."

You make sure to groan and go as limp as possible as he pushes you off his lap and lets you slide down to the floor. "So mean," you accuse, glowering up at him.

He simply rolls his eyes and stands. "You'll have your seat back in a minute." he says as he steps over you. "I just need to grab the next issue of Power Ponies."

"Fine," you huff, standing yourself. "I needed to use the bathroom, anyway." He hums his acknowledgment as he turns down an aisle, and you stick you tongue out at his back. Once he's completely out of sight, you chuckle and start walking yourself.

It's amazing how comfortable you two have gotten around each other. You truly feel like there's nothing you have to hide from him anymore. Especially after you showed him some of your more... risque drawings, and he simply told you how impressive they were. He had even said they were good enough to masturbate to, which had your face absolutely burning for several hours after. You'd have been perfectly okay with him doing just that with your pictures, as long as he let you watch.

As you step out into the center area of the library, you nearly bump into Page Turner, causing the grey mare to jolt back and drop a book. You quickly wipe the goofy grin from your face, along with the drool on your chin with a sleeve while she's busy picking up the book and checking it over frantically for damage.

"Phew, that would have been just awful," she comments after a moment. "This is a first edition."

"Um, s-sorry," you manage, already feeling your heart rate spike as the other mare turns her sight on you. Even if you're comfortable around Anon, you still find it hard to relax around others, and that's especially true for this pony. It's hard not to feel an odd combination of jealousy and fear towards the other mare despite Anon telling you how important you are to him. Page Turner is pretty, smart, and employed while you're just a NEET.

"It's fine," she says with a kind smile. "No harm done. I should have been watching where I was going, anyway."

"Ah, y-yeah," you stammer, then flinch. "Not, like, yeah, you should watch where you're going, but yeah, it's good nothing happened!"

She stares for several seconds, causing you to shuffle your hooves, then laughs. "Don't worry, I understand what you meant. I'm not offended or anything." The laughter dies down and she takes a breath. "So, Floor Bored. You know, I think that was the most you've said to me yet."

"I, ah, I guess so," you mumble, flitting glances over her shoulder towards the bathroom, wondering if it would be okay to make a run for it, or if that would be rude.

"Sorry," she says, expression sobering in response to your discomfort. "I'm not teasing you. It's just an observation. I was a quiet filly myself growing up. Still kind of em on some days. It's why I got a job in the library, after all."

"Right, that... makes sense," you respond, not sure what else to say.

"Mmm," she responds, seemingly in the same predicament you're in.

The moment is becoming more uncomfortable by the second, until finally you attempt to end it. "If you don't mind, I need to-"

"Not to pry, but I noticed-"

"Sorry!"

"Sorry!"

You both clamp your mouths shut at the same time, and you notice the blush coming through her light coat, no doubt matching the one burning your cheeks.

"What was that?" you ask, getting her to shake her head.

"No, no, you were speaking first before I interrupted. What were you going to say?"

"We actually started at the same time, I think," you mumble. "Really, what were you going to ask?"

She waves a hoof and gives an obviously fake laugh. "Nothing, it was stupid."

Despite your introverted nature, you find yourself curious, and press. "No, really, go ahead and ask. I'm not in a hurry."

"Well..." she starts slowly. "If it's not too forward of me to ask. It's just, I noticed when you and Anon came in he was, well, he was carrying you."

Your head lowers some. "You saw that?"

"Ah, yes, right before he put you down."

"W-well, it had just started sprinkling outside, and Anon didn't want to get caught in the rain, so he kind of just... picked me up and ran."

"Really?"

"Yeah. Ponies usually get out of his way pretty fast, and he has long legs, so he was able to get us here before it really started coming down."

"Oh, I see," she says, smiling lightly. "That was nice of him."

You smile. "Yeah, it was." You raise your head. "Was that all you wanted to know?"

"Yes," she answers at first, but bites her lip. "Well, no. I was actually kind of wandering... Are you and Anon... dating? I'd ask him, but it'd be kind of awkward if the answer was no." She gives another of those fake chuckles. "It's pretty awkward now, actually."

Yes. You wholly agree with the mare. This is really awkward. "A-anon and I just really good friends," you tell her. "That's it."

She tilts her head. "Really?"

You're about to say yes, but stop, mind flashing back to what GramGram had said. Fighting for Anon, and what you two might still end up being to each other. Then you think of this mare, who you feared would take Anon away from you, a thought that still creeps into your heart whenever you see her and Anon together.

Squaring your shoulders, you stand with as much confidence as you can muster. "Actually, we're best friends," you correct. "M-maybe even more. We haven't decided yet."

"O-oh," she manages, shrinking back a little. "I kind of figured. You two... you're cute together."

It feels strange, the roles being reversed like this with you standing tall as another pony is cowed in front of you. You're not really sure you like it. "Thank you," you say, smiling lightly. "I really like him."

"Of course you do," she answers, eased by your smile enough to match it. "He's a pretty great guy."

"He is," you agree.

"So, you're thinking about dating?" she asks.

You shrug. "Things are... complicated right now, so it's just not a good time, but later, when things are, you know, less complicated, we're probably gonna give it a shot."

Luckily, Page doesn't pry, nodding. "I see. Well, I hope things work out between you two."

"Thanks." You peak back over her shoulder, shuffling in place. "Um, it was nice talking to you, but I need to use the bathroom."

Her eyes widen. "Oh! I'm so sorry! And here I am bothering you about your personal life." She steps aside and you quickly trot past.

"It's fine," you say over your shoulder.

"It's Kind of not," she responds with a bashful smile. "Thanks, though."

You chuckle at that and slip into the restroom That went surprisingly well. Maybe being assertive really does work? It's a thought for later, though, because you really have to go this instant, or else you'll be walking home in wet underwear. The downside of wearing clothes all the time is the struggle they pose whenever you need to use the toilet.

After the library, Anon and you didn't do much. Seeing as how you had the morning's meeting looming over your heads, you opted instead to take the bus home and enjoy some simple sketching together on the living room floor.

"You okay, Anon?" you ask, glancing at his sheet. "Not trying to be mean, but I thought you were past drawing vegetables instead of ponies."

"It doesn't look like a potato," he defends.

"You're right," you agree. "It looks like a butternut squash."

He frowns and mumbles, "It's supposed to be a giraffe."

You look back at the page and squint. Pointing, you ask, "okay, then what's the fuzzy thing? It looks like that mold that was growing behind the bottom drawer of the refrigerator."

"It's a lion," Anon says defensively, but quickly takes a deep breath and says, "Sorry, I guess I'm a little distracted right now. It's just... was Page Turner acting strange to you when we left?"

Your eyes dart to the side. "Um, I don't think so."

"You sure? Because it felt like she was being, I don't know, more professional, like when I tried to make small talk, and she just kept nodding or humming."

"Maybe she had a lot of work to catch up on?" you offer.

"I don't know," he says skeptically. "The place was dead the entire time we were there, and I remember her mentioning the library being slow on days that were scheduled for rain."

"Maybe... she had a tummy ache?" you try, getting Anon to immediately narrow his gaze at you.

"Floor... Is there something you aren't telling me?" he asks, and you can feel the sweat beading up on your forehead.

"N-no."

"Now that I think of it," he continues. "You were gone an awfully long time when you said you went to use the bathroom. Did you do something to Page Turner?"

"No!" you blurt. "We just talked!"

He tenses, gaze narrowing more. "What did you say? She seemed really uncomfortable."

"Nothing!" you snap, not at all liking his accusing tone. "She asked a question, and I answered it!"

"What did she ask?"

"She wanted to know what we were," you say, blushing. "You know, to each other."

Anon looks surprised. "You mean, she asked if we were dating?"

You nod. "Eventually, yeah."

"... Well, what did you tell her."

Rolling a pencil with the tip of your hoof, you answer, "That we were best friends... and maybe more. I told her that we were thinking about it, which is true, so you can't be mad."

"I'm not..." Anon starts as he runs a hand through his hair. "I'm not mad at you, Floor, I'm just... confused. I mean, why even ask you? I would have told her."

You shrug, relieved that he's not angry. "She saw you carrying me when we came in, and I guess she thought that was something only special someponies do." It probably is, but no need to tell Anon that. You've grown to enjoy it when he cradles you in his arms, and don't want to discourage him from doing it more. You still miss the feeling of his soapy hands running over your wet coat.

Pushing the thought to the back of your mind for later in your room, you say, "Is it a big deal? If we did ever start d-dating, well, she'd figure it out, anyway, so..."

"I know, I know," he says. "It's just awkward, is all. It was for her, judging by the way she acted, and now it's going to be hard to talk to her next time we go to the library."

"Who knows? Maybe she'll be back to normal by next week," you say, hoping to comfort your friend.

"Yeah, maybe," Anon agrees. "If anything, it's not worth worrying over right now, especially not when we have the meeting to think about."

"Tell me about it," you agree, laying your head down on your drawing. "Or maybe don't. Just thinking of that still makes my stomach flip."

"Hey, don't-"

"Don't worry," you interrupt. "Your boss is nice and just wants to talk. I know, Anon. Still doesn't mean I'm not nervous."

He smiles sympathetically. "Well, it'll be over tomorrow, and then you won't have to stress about it anymore." He looks at the clock. "It's a bit early, but we could probably hit the hay now. Just means we can wake up a couple hours before we need to leave the apartment. Want to call it a night?"

"I've been going to bed earlier, but I'm not going this early," you say dryly. "Besides, those carrot dogs hardly filled me up, and I'm not going to bed on an empty stomach."

"I'm pretty sure going to bed on a full stomach is supposed to cause nightmares," Anon quips.

"Good," you respond. "I still haven't met Princess Luna, anyway, and having a nightmare means I have better chance."

Anon barks a laugh at that. "That's an interesting way to look at things. Okay, we'll eat, then sleep. You want to cook your GramGram's quiche?"

"Does Celestia like cake?"

"Actually, yeah, she does. I remember it being served with every meal when I stayed at the castle," Anon says conversationally. "I honestly don't know where she put it all."

"Huh... Always thought that was just an old saying." You shake your head and stand. "Whatever. The answer is still yes. I call chopping duty!"

"Find by me. It's harder to cut off fingers when you don't have them in the first place."

"Score one for hooves."

"Still got ten other reasons why hands are better," Anon says, wiggling his fingers at you.

Instantly, you catch the glint in his eye and take a step back. "Anon... I know what you're thinking."

"And yet, you're not running," he drawls, standing up while a smirk pulled at his lips. "It's almost as if you want it."

"Anon," you try again. "The cooking-"

"Can wait," he declares, suddenly lunging forward. "Come here, pony! I'm gonna tickle you senseless!"

You yelp, but don't make it a single step before he's on you, his fingers wriggling under your hoodie and going straight for your weak spots.

"No!" you wail right before being sent into an uncontrolled giggle fit. "Not my belly!"

"Oh? Then I guess I'll tickle here!" His finger dance under the pit of your forelegs, getting you to spasm even more.

"Evil!" you gasp between laughter. "Y-you're evil! M-my lungs! They're going to-to pop!"

Anon's fingers stop. "Oh, well, we don't want that," he says casually, sitting back and resting his hands on his thighs. "I guess we're done."

You lie there, panting heavily, an occasional giggle still escaping your lips as your head lulls to look at the human. After nearly a minute without him continuing his assault, you cave. "Okay, maybe you're not completely evil."

He raises a brow. "What was that? I thought my tickling was going to make your lungs pop."

"I could handle a few more minutes," you tell him, lifting your sweater to expose your belly, blushing heavily.

He smirks. "You're a sucker for tickles, you know that, Floor?"

You blush harder and pout. "Just rub my belly already, you tease."

He laces his fingers and cracks them. "You asked for it. One appetite building tickle treatment coming up. That quiche is going to taste great after this."

He really knows you too well. Something you both discovered a few days ago is that a lot of laughter makes you super hungry for some reason. Ever since, he has sneaked at least one tickle attack in each day before a meal, usually right before insisting on something extra healthy to round out your diets, knowing you'll be too famished to refuse. You'll have to be on guard while cooking to make sure he doesn't try to skimp on the butter and cheese, but for now, you enjoy the tickles and laugh like a manic.

Life is good.

You are a stinky, scraggly NEET, scrawny and unwashed as you cower before the intimidating mare sitting behind her impossibly tall desk. She's immaculately clean, white from her coat, to her mane, to even her clinically sharp suit. She looks like the evil head of some nefarious corporation, and she's Anon's boss.

Said human stood beside you, spine straight and hands clamped behind his back, offering no comfort as the mare scowled at you and spoke. "So, you're Floor Bored, the NEET so incompetent she couldn't even kill herself right."

You shrink back, biting your lip to resist crying. The lump in your throat prevents you from answering, and the mare continues. "And now you intend to drag Anon down to your level. Pinning him with pity and keeping him as your own servant."

"What? No! I'd never-!" you try to defend, but Anon cuts you off.

"Don't deny it, Floor," he says, voice tight and filled with all the hurt that's shining in his eyes. "My boss has made me see the truth. That you're just using me to feel better about your own life. That's why you chased Page Turner away. You don't want me to leave and be happy. You want me to stay with you and never go anywhere." His gaze becomes angry and feels as if it's literally burning you. "You want me to be a worthless NEET. Just. Like. You."

"No! Please, Anon, that's not true! I-I want you to be happy-!"

"We both know that's a lie," interrupts the white mare. "And as Anon's boss, it's my job to make sure he's doing his job, and he can't do that with you trying to ruin his life. That's why, after today, you'll never see him again."

"NO!"

"I'm sorry, Floor, but I'm just better off without you," Anon says, turning his back on you.

"Anon! Please! It's not true! I-I love you!" You try to follow after him, but it's as if you're stuck to the chair you're in.

"Such a liar," tsks the white mare, shaking her head. "Today has made it all too clear. You are an awful pony, Floor Bored. You don't deserve Anon. You don't even deserve bits, you worthless NEET! You belong on the streets like the rest of the garbage!"

"Please," you whimper, covering your face. "Anon, p-please come back."

"Still begging?" sneers the mare. "You deserve-!"

"Silence!" a new voice screams as a blue hoof comes crashing down through the white mare, cutting her in half from head to tail and dissolving her body into dust. "You shan't speak another ill word of our subject!"

You stare wide-eyed at the large mare frowning angrily at the now empty spot behind the desk. She snorts hotly, then turns those blazing green eyes towards you.

You press your back against the chair, fearing that you're about to get the same treatment as Anon's boss, but the mare's eyes turn soft and she lets out a rush of air. "Sorry, citizen, I meant not to scare you," she says smiling. "I am Princess Luna, and I've come to rid you of this nightmare."

"Y-you're Princess Luna?" you stutter. "This is a nightmare?"

"Indeed," she answers, brushing aside the desk like a house of cards before stepping towards you. "And quite the vicious one at that. I... understand what it's like when ones own mind begins to attack your self worth, but I've long since learned to shut out those voices, and listen to my loved ones instead."

She reaches out to you, and you numbly hold out a hoof for her to grab. With a tug, she frees you from the chair, and you find yourself clumsily standing before her, looking up to meet her gaze. "My loved ones?" you ask.

She nods. "Yes, I've found that they tend to be quite honest about these matters. Surely you can say the same yourself, yes? What is it those who love you think of your worth?"

You think of your GramGram and her love for you, as well as Anon, the real one, and smile. "Yeah... I guess you're right," you say softly. Thinking of your GramGram, you remember her old lectures on manners, and add. "I'm Floor Bored, by the way."

Her smile widens. "It's a pleasure, and of course I'm right," she says cheekily. "I am a princess, after all."

"Heh, you are," you say, chuckling. "I guess Anon and I are gonna get to say I told you so to each other in the morning."

The princess raises her brow. "Anon?"

"Um, yeah, he's my friend," you explain as you rub at the back of your neck. "See, he said that going to sleep on a full stomach would give me nightmares, and I said that was a good because it meant I'd have a chance to meet you." You shrug. "And now we're both right..."

"Anon the human?" Luna asks again, then her expression becomes even more confused, and even a little suspicious. "Wait, you wished to meet me? Why?"

Flustered, you say, "B-becuase, you're the best princess?"

"I am?"

"Well, I think so," you mumble, then look confused yourself. "You know Anon?"

"Of course," she answers. "He stayed in the castle for quite some time when he first arrived in Equestria, though our interactions were limited to the early morning when he and Celestia had breakfast, and I my dinner after a long night." She points a hoof at you, "You think I'm the best princess?"

"Um, yes?" you say again. "I mean, I've always been sort of a night owl, you know. Even with Anon trying to get me to go to bed earlier." You blush, and add. "Plus, there's that rumor, about, you being a, um..."

"A what?" she presses. "What is it my subjects think of me?"

"A gamer," you force out, eyes clenched. "I know it's stupid. You're a princess, after all. I'm sure you do way cooler things, like going to balls and traveling the world."

"Is that all? For a moment, I feared perhaps you were one of those Nightmare Moon worshipers believing me an usurper in waiting," she says with an easy smile and roll of her eyes. "I've had quite a time convincing those misguided citizens of the truth, that my sister is not, in fact, an evil tyrant hiding behind a mask of benevolence, and that I do not seek to dispose of her and take the place of Equestria's monarch."

She points a hoof at you. "Luckily it hasn't been hard to track them down as they have been intentionally inducing nightmares in themselves in a attempt to meet me. 'Tis why I was worried for moment when you claimed to do the same." She grins suddenly, and adds, "And as for me being a gamer, I can tell you that those rumors are indeed founded in reality."

You blink. "You're... you're really a gamer?"

She puffs up her chest. "Indeed, little one, and quite a skillful one at that." she leans in and continues conspiratorially. "You might even know me as my alter ego, Selene."

Your brow furrows as the name tickles at a memory, then it slowly dawns on you. "Wait... Selene, the famous streamer and game reviewer?" she nods proudly, and your eyes widen. "Is that how you get access to all the latest games and gaming gear before it comes out?! Every pony just thought you had connections in the industry!"

"Partially true, for who has more connections than a princess?" she asks. "I also happen to be quite close with Equestria's own R&E division." Her eyes shine as her voice becomes eager. "Oh, the marvels they're crafting thanks to Anon's cellular device! The power of a computer in the frog of your hoof! The technologies adapted from that little miracle are going to revolutionize the gaming industry!"

"Wow..." is all you manage for a time. "Anon said the stuff humans have is advanced, but I guess I didn't realize by how much."

"I can only imagine what their own video games look like," Luna says dreamily, then shakes her head. "Alas, we've talked long enough on the topic of electronic entertainment. What brought this meeting on is of more importance."

"Oh, right," you say, shoulders sagging as you kick a hoof. "It's nothing, really. I'm just nervous about a meeting tomorrow with Anon's boss. It's a long story."

"We have time," the princess prompts patiently.

You bite your lip and look up into the alicorn's eyes, planning to tell her not to worry, but when you only see genuine honesty and kindness, the words die on your lips. And that's how you find yourself spilling your guts to one of Equestria's princesses, from the sorry state of your life before you met Anon, to how he's been helping you piece the shambles of it back together, to even your feelings for him and what they've led to with this meeting.

As you speak, the princess does not interrupt, instead moving to sit beside you, wrapping a large wing around your shoulders when you voice sticks in your throat, waiting patiently when tears threatened to spill down your cheeks.

"What if it's true?" you ask as you finish. "What if I am just a burden? He tells me that it's not true, but how can that be? Even without a cutie mark, Anon is such a wonderful person. H-he could do better than me. C-could be doing better without me. Any pony could see that, even his boss, and when she does, won't she want to help him? I'm just dragging him down."

Luna pulls you tighter to her side and leans down to nuzzle you, much to your surprise. "You doubt yourself too much, Floor Bored, and measure your worth incorrectly. By your own words, as disparaging towards yourself as you try to make them, it is plain to see that you bring much joy into both Anon's, and your grandmother's lives. Do you truly think they seek material gain or favors from you? No, they need only for you to be in their lives for you to bring them joy."

"But they do the same for me," you argue. "And more. Compared to that, I hardly pay them back at all for their love and for accepting me despite being, well... me."

Luna sighs, sitting up straight and staring skyward. "Someday, Floor, you'll learn that love and affection are not things to be kept score of. Comparing what you give or receive to those around you... It leads only to self-loathing and envy." She looks down at you with a sad smile. "But such a lesson comes with time, and for now all I can ask of you is to trust me when I say that you are enough as is. If you truly believe that you receive more than you are due and are not repaying that kindness, then there is nothing for it than to improve. Become better every day and strive to give Anon and your grandmother as much love as you can."

Her smile becomes warmer as she nudges you. "You've already started down this path, yes? I have no doubt that in no time at all, you will find yourself a mare worthy of the love of those around around you."

Staring wide-eyed at the alicorn, your mouth hangs slightly agape. A literal princess is telling you that you aren't an utter failure of a pony. More than that, she's telling you that you can actually be some pony worth something. Anon and GramGram have said similar things before, but it's been hard believing that they weren't perhaps simply doing it out of some form of obligation.

But this is Princess Luna, Shepherd of the Moon, co-ruler of Equestria, and immortal alicorn who will still be around long after you are buried and forgotten by the world. She owes you nothing, doesn't know you, and certainly has nothing to gain, and yet still she says she believes in you.

When the tears come this time, you don't fight them, a low wail slowly building in your throat as you lean your head against her broad chest. She doesn't say a word, merely wrapping her wings around you and rubbing small circles into your back with a hoof as you cry.

It should be embarrassing, making a complete fool of yourself in front of the one who has quickly become your idol, but you can't stop crying, and when it runs its course, you feel a lightness throughout your being that prevents you from really regretting it.

"Sorry," you manage as you sniffle, pulling away to wipe at your eyes. "That was foalish."

"It was nothing of the sort," she answers immediately, tilting your chin up with the tip of her hoof for you to see the warm smile still there. "You think I've not cried before? We all need to let out our emotions once in a while, or else they build up and become poison for the soul. Your tears were a healthy release."

"Still, I got your coat all wet," you mumble, eying the stain on her chest and wincing. That's a lot of snot.

"Nonsense," she says with a dismissive wave of her hoof. "Do not forget that we are in a dream, after all." She waves again, this time over the mess you left, causing it to vanish. "I can even clean you up," she continues with a smirk, and suddenly, your face feels dry.

"Wow, thanks," you say, getting her to laugh a little.

"I would hope I could do this much, or else my title of the Mistress of Dreams would hardly be appropriate." Her expression calms some and she asks, "So tell me, Floor Bored, do you still fear the meeting that awaits you in the morning?"

You think about it a moment, then nod. "Yeah, but not as much as it did. I... I think I can handle it, now."

"I'm glad," she says. Her ears flick and she looks to the side, eyes narrowed. "It seems, though, that there are others still in need of my assistance this night."

"Go," you say, smiling up at the princess with no small amount of admiration. "Help them like you did me."

"I will," she answers confidently, looking back down at you. "Goodnight, and may your rest be peaceful." She stand and turns away, but pauses. "I hope we meet again soon, Floor," she says over her shoulder. "Either in this realm, or the waking one, but until then, enjoy this gift. A lucid dream to do with what you please. Have fun."

"A lucid dream?" you start, but she's already gone. Looking around into misty void, you ponder what she meant. Well, you are aware you're dreaming, and haven't woken up yet, so you guess that must mean you can control this dream, now. Scrunching your muzzle in focus, Anon suddenly appears in front of you. Or, at least a dream version of him.

"Hi, Floor!" he chirps, smiling brightly, all innocent and cute. You feel your cheeks grow warm as you bite your lip, both ashamed and aroused at what you are planning. With another mental flex, the man before is suddenly in nothing but those kinky boxers of his, the expression on his face heated and hungry. "Hello, Floor," he says, voice deep and sensual.

You squeak as he sweeps you up in his big, strong arms, then tosses you down upon a giant, fluffy mattress before following to land above you, braced up on his palms. "Anon~" you breath right before he catches your lips in his and pulls you against his chest.

Oh yeah, Princess Luna is definitely best princess.

Author's Note

Phew! I pretty much wrote the entire dream sequence in the last two days as it came to me, so hopefully it's not awful.
This chapter, to contrast the last one, is completely from Floor's perspective, if you somehow failed to notice, but I'll be going back to alternating perspectives in the chapters to come.
Anyway, for the art of this chapter, there's a bit of a treat. An entire new story by ScraggleMan with accompanying pictures!

Here's the first image, but the story continues, and quite spookily, I might add, on derpibooru with more pictures.
Start reading here:
https://derpibooru.org/1911509

Chapter 19

Be a nervous Anon, feeling like a hypocrite as you sit with Floor in the chair beside yours, waiting to be called into Ms. Index's. After all your talk about how there's nothing to worry about, your chest really shouldn't feel this tight. Glancing over, you see Floor fidgeting with the the plastic container in her lap, the sight making you smile as you remember the night before.

After a tickle attack that the Geneva convention would have thought excessive, Floor was left absolutely ravenous, and couldn't wait for a proper meal to be cooked, instead opting to devour two PB&J's and a third sandwich filled with just about everything in the fridge.

With cooking supplies dwindled and her hunger sated, there wasn't much reason left for a late dinner, but that didn't mean the the two of you couldn't make something, and instead opted for dessert. Specifically, you worked together to bake your first Floor-layered cake from the recipe the mare's grandmother had taught her. It was a bit time consuming, and left you going to bed later than you'd planned, but the end result was a delicious, dense, and chocolaty treat. The perk of adulthood meant you shared a slice for breakfast before coming to the NEET Inspection Agency HQ.

There was plenty left over, though, and you made a suggestion. "You think Ms. Index would want to try it?" you had asked, getting Floor to shuffle about self-consciously. Despite the cake turning out perfectly, she was still hesitant to present the dish to someone as important as your boss. At least, that was her logic, and she was none too appreciative of the laugh it got from you.

You explained that Ms. Index was a regular pony, and not, as Floor said, some high-class mare who ate only the finest of foods while laughing at the peasants below. It was something Floor Bored found hard to believe given the position Ms. Index held within the NEET Inspection Agency. You could sort of get the logic, especially with such a high-up government job, but it was still laughable to imagine the kind mare you worked for in such a way.

Regardless, Floor conceded, hence the slice of cake she now held. You're sure Ms. Index will appreciate the gesture, and secretly, you hope it might serve as an example of both Floor's recovery so far, and the progress she's made towards self-improvement.

"Ms. Index will see you both now," says the secretary, pulling you from your thoughts and getting Floor to jolt in her seat, she scrabbles with the container in her grasp, nearly dropping it before solidifying her grasp and heaving a sigh.

"That'd would have been bad," she mumbles as she climbs down while you stand and stretch your legs. "Not a good first impression if I smear chocolate cake all over her clean floor."

You pat her head and smile reassuringly. "Come on, lets not keep the boss waiting. Want me to carry that?"

She holds the container close to her chest and frowns up at you. "I've got it."

You hold your hands up in surrender. She's been adamant about carrying it this entire time, even after the a few close calls on the bus ride over whenever the driver hit a bump. She wants Ms. Index to see her as responsible and able to do things on her own, and is determined to do everything she can to project that. You doubt couriering a cake across town necessarily proves that, but you won't argue against something that helps her feel more confident.

Entering the office, you immediately know there's been a change, but it takes a few seconds to realize what it is. Ms. Index is behind her desk, same as before, putting away some papers into a drawer before looking up to smile at the two of you. The larger chair she had for you last time is out once more, along with an extra pony-sized one beside it. That is one difference, but not the one you found peculiar.

No, that honor goes to the flowery scent in the air provided by the candle currently burning on the mare's desk. You don't have much time to ponder this before your boss cheerfully calls for you both to sit down. You nudge Floor subtly with a leg as she stands stock-still for a moment too long, but eventually, you're both seated as Ms. Index stares at you with that pleasant smile and hooves pressed together atop her desk.

"It's good to see you again, Anon," she starts, her gaze meeting yours briefly before flicking to the other pony in the room. "And this lovely young mare you've brought along must be Floor Bored. It's a pleasure to meet you."

"Ah, yeah, you too, miss," Floor responds, forcing a smile and trying to meet the other mare's eyes. She manages a whole two seconds before her eyes fall to her lap. Luckily there's something to distract her from here social anxiety as she thrusts the plastic container forward. "I brought you cake!"

Surprise shows on the elder mare's face as she leans back, but she quickly smooths her expression back to a gentle smile. "Really now? You certainly didn't need to," she starts with a chuckle as she leans in. "... But my secretary out there is in charge of bringing me lunch, and she's a bit of a health nut, so I certainly can't say I'm not pleasantly surprised. A mare can only eat so many kale salads before her sweet tooth threatens mutiny."

This gets Floor to tilt her head even as she places the container on the desk and slides it over to the middle-aged mare. "Can't you just tell her to order you stuff other than salads? You're her boss, right?"

Ms. Index licks her lips as she leans forward and snags the dessert. "I could, I suppose," she says, peeling the top off of the container partially to smell its contents. "But she only means well, and frankly, I really should be eating healthily at my age. I spend too much time behind this desk to afford the eating habits I would like... Well, as long as I don't want to upgrade to a titanium-reinforced chair, at least."

This gets a snort of laughter from Floor Bored that she hurriedly tries to hide behind a hoof while you smile yourself. You don't think you've ever seen Ms. Index this casual and relaxed before, and you wonder if she's doing it to put Floor at ease. It's certainly working on you, after all, and it would make sense with the candle she's set out. The fact that she'd put forth the effort to do such a thing for someone she hardly knows increases your already sizable respect for the mare, and you're even more glad that she's your boss.

"If you eat that whole thing, you'll have to make the switch sooner than you think," you chime in. "That cake is delicious, but dense as all get out, and richer than the princesses."

"Oh?" Ms. Index responds. "Where'd you buy it? Because that sounds exactly how I like my desserts."

"Actually, we made it," you answer proudly, reaching over to pat your friend's shoulder as she bashfully taps her front hooves together. "We used her grandmother's recipe, and Floor did most of the work herself."

"Um, except the whisking 'cause it's easier with hands," Floor mumbles. "... And he handled the temperature knob." She frowns at the memory. "I still think the cake would get bake faster if the oven was hotter."

"You made this?" Ms. Index asks.

"Yep," you answer.

"And you really only helped a little?" she presses, looking at you. "There's no need to be modest, Anon."

That causes you to frown some, but you keep your voice level as you say, "No modesty required, ma'am. Floor here is very handy in the kitchen. She probably won't even need my help with cooking for much longer."

"I'm not that good," Floor interrupts, though there's a smile tugging at her lips. "I am getting pretty good at cracking eggs though- I don't even get shell pieces in the bowl most times anymore."

"That is impressive. You sound like quite the budding chef," Ms. Index agrees in a tone just shy of patronizing. While the urge to frown strengthens, Floor beaming from the apparent praise keeps you silent. "I can't wait to try this cake."

"You can try it now, if you want," Floor says with a hint of eagerness. "We wouldn't mind."

Smile faltering an instant, Ms. Index quickly shakes her head. "Oh no, I couldn't."

"I think Floor's right," you encourage. "Just think of it as part of this meeting. I've told you how much Floor here as been improving, but this can be first-hand proof of it."

Ms. Index looks between you both a few times before giving a small sigh. "I suppose, if it would mean that much to you," she says as she opens a drawer and rummages inside. "I think I have... Ah, here we go." The mare pulls out a set pre-packaged plastic utensils and tears it open to grab the fork. Setting aside the rest, Ms. Index removes the lid fully from the plastic container, stares down at the contents, sighs, and uses the fork to break off a bite.

Floor holds her breath as the other mare brings the forkful of confection to her mouth and hesitantly begins to chew. Starting slow with eyes clenched shut, her features begin to relax as she chews more. Opening her eyes, she stares at Floor with a confused expression as she swallows. "... You made this?" she asks again.

"Um, yes," Floor answers. "Is it... good?"

"Yes," she responds, blinking down at the cake. "Very good in fact. You've made something truly delicious, Floor Bored."
She looks up with a soft smile. "You should be proud."

Floor blushes intensely. "W-well, it's my GramGram's recipe, so-"

You clap your hand on the mare's shoulder and give her a light shake. "Come on, Floor, take the compliment," you tell her. "It might be your grandmother's recipe, but you pulled it off perfectly."

"With your help," she tries, but it's Ms. Index who argues this time.

"It's still an accomplishment," she says, sounding almost eager. "And as I understand it, you've only just started to learn to cook recently, yes? This is quite the feat for a beginner."

Floor looks up, shocked, but with a grin slowly splitting her face. "Yeah... I guess you're right. Thanks."

The grin falters a little to confusion as Ms. Index suddenly leans her front hooves on the top of her desk to peer over at Floor's lower-half.

You're as puzzled by the older mare's behavior as Floor as you look down to try and see what's so interesting. All you see is Floor's panties-clad bottom, however.

"Um, Ms. Index?"

She doesn't seem to hear Floor as furrows her brow, mumbling instead, "Perhaps behind the underwear..."

"Boss," you try, waving a hand through her line of sight. "I'm not saying Floor's fashion sense isn't great, but..."

Ms. Index looks up at you, blinks, then widens her eyes. "Oh! I'm sorry!" she starts falling back into her chair so hard that you hear the legs scrape along the floor. "I was just seeing if perhaps..." she trails off, looking away with a blush. "Never mind, it was nothing," she finishes instead, much to your chagrin. Just what is going through the mare's head.

You don't get a chance to press, though, before Ms. Index snaps the lid back over the cake with a promise to finish it later, and steers the conversation in another direction. "As I understand it, cooking isn't the only hobby you've picked up recently," she starts, hooves coming together over her desk. "You've started drawing, as well, haven't you?"

Floor rubs at the back of her head. "Well, not really started. More like got back into it. I always liked to draw, but I sort of, I dunno... let myself quit because I didn't think what I made was worth anything. At least, that's what I was sure other ponies thought..." She gives a fleeting, sideways glance up at you as she continues with a thankful smile. "But Anon's really been pushing for me to keep at it."

"That's good to hear," Ms. Index says with a nod. "The value other's might or might not place on your art doesn't matter at all as long as it makes you happy. That's value enough in itself." She tilts her head. "You wouldn't happened to have brought any of your work with you to show me, have you?"

"No," Floor answers quietly, then straightens. "B-but maybe next time?"

"I'd love that," Ms. Index encourages.

"Maybe I'll bring my stuff then, too," you pitch in. "Old stuff and new. That way you'll be able to see how Floor's been teaching this talentless chump how to actually draw halfway decent."

"That's not true, Anon," Floor chides with a frown. "You aren't talentless, and your drawing wasn't that bad."

You give her a flat look. "Floor, my stuff used to look like vegetable still lifes."

"What's wrong with that?" Ms. Index asks honestly, getting you to turn your dry expression on her. "Drawing vegetables seems an adequate place to start when learning to draw. Like those painting of fruit bowls and the like."

"They were meant to be ponies," you answer glibly. "Now though, they look like ponies... with maybe a few tragic birth defects, but they're little troopers who don't let that keep them down."

Floor snorts. "Yeah, they're real inspiring," she says with a roll of her eyes.

You point over at her. "See? You hear that? My work's inspiring, and all because of her top-notch lessons."

Ms. Index giggles behind a hoof. "Did you two rehearse this?" she asks. "I feel like this is a bit you set up to make me laugh."

"Nah," you answer. "Floor and I just bounce off each other well."

"You're certainly quite the comedic duo," Ms. Index agrees. "Why, I can see the two performing a whole routine up on stage."

Smiling herself, Floor shakes her head. "Oh no, that'd be terrifying."

"You'd just have to imagine the audience in their underwear and you'd be just fine," you wave off jokingly. Floor blushes, mumbling something under her breath about that just making her scared and horny, and you have to resist bursting into laughter. "Anyway," you start in an attempt to get the meeting back on track. "So yeah, Floor's a pretty good artist, and we can probably bring some stuff in to show you next time. Anything else you want to know?"

Ms. Index taps her chin in thought. "Not in the way of small talk, no." Her eyes flick between you both. "Though, I suppose there is that more... delicate matter of the relationship between you two."

You notice Floor's back straighten next to you while you try to resist the same impulse. "What's there to say? We've talked it over, and we've decided to wait before we try being more than friends," you answer blandly, getting your boss to tilt her head.

"And it's that simple?" she presses. "Living together as you do, spending all your time together, I wouldn't be shocked if either of you had given into urges to pursue more... intimate behavior."

"If you're asking if we've kissed or something, than the answer's no," you tell her truthfully. "And definitely nothing more than that."

The older mare hums, gaze falling on the fidgeting Floor Bored. "Floor, is this true?"

"Y-yes," she squeaks, face redder than Taproot's beet juice. "We haven't k-kissed."

"Really, Ms Index, you can trust me," you cut in, slightly miffed that the mare had gone after Floor like that. Sure, it might be obvious that Floor would be a worse liar than you, but for your boss to ask her the same question implied she thought you would lie to her. "Listen, the most intimate thing we've done is probably fall asleep together on the couch a few times, and that's hardly inappropriate."

"It's not," Ms. Index agrees with a small sigh. "And I do trust you, Anon, but it's my job to ask these kinds of questions."

You sigh yourself. "Yeah, I get that, but I want you to understand that Floor and I both want to be as honest as possible to you, right Floor?"

"Uh, yeah, what he said," Floor agrees, easing up a little. "And Anon really hasn't done anything like that. He doesn't even help me take baths anymore ever since we talked about how we feel about each other."

You bite the inside of your cheek as you see one of your boss' eyebrows slowly raise. "He's helped you in the bath."

Floor stammers. "Ah, w-well, he did a few times, b-but that was when he first moved in with me, and I really did need the help. Now I do it all by myself, though, and Anon makes sure I keep clean so it doesn't get so bad again. Just like how we keep the apartment neat. It makes a lot of sense, but it took Anon showing me it was a good idea, and now I pick up after myself so it doesn't become a mess, you know. And... ah..."

Realizing that she's rambling, Floor's mouth snaps shut, and she strains a closed-lipped smile.

"There's no need to be embarrassed, Floor," Ms. Index tells her upon seeing the tension in the other mare's shoulders. "Neither of you are in trouble. I was just taken off guard for a moment, but I can perfectly understand Anon helping in that regard. Honestly, I'm impressed to hear you've taken such an initiative in your hygiene and the upkeep of your home." Her eyes flick to the scented candle, and you suddenly wonder if perhaps there was another reason why she set it out when expecting Floor to come in. "Anyway, it sounds as if you've both been handling things very well."

Floor's smile becomes a little more genuine as the room falls into a amiable silence. Eventually, you clear your throat. "So... is this meeting over?"

Ms Index nods. "I suppose. I can confidently say that the worries I had prior to this morning have been put to rest, and in fact, I'm more than a little impressed with Floor Bored's progress."

"Really?" the younger mare asks, eyes wide. "You're impressed with me?"

"Of course," the other mare confirms. "You cook, clean, and even have notable skill in a hobby that you enjoy. I only wish all ponies under our care could be so self-reliant."

"Well, maybe they could be," Floor says thoughtfully.

"Excuse me?" Ms. Index asks.

"I never thought I'd be able to do all the things I do now," Floor begins, looking up at you with a warm smile. "But all it took was a really good friend who believed in me showing me that I could, and helping me learn." She shrugs as she looks back at the older mare. "I don't know, maybe if other NEET inspectors tried to be friends with the ponies they check up on, those ponies will have a reason to be better."

"That definitely sounds like a good idea," you comment, thinking about your friend's proposal. "I don't think there's enough inspectors for that sort of thing, though. I mean, how many of them are going to want to live with their wards too help them?"

"I'm afraid I'm going to have to agree with Anon on this," Ms. Index agrees. "Besides, you're case is a special one. I doubt our other wards would see such improvements even if they all had inspectors willing to give them their undivided attention."

"But," Floor starts, hoof raising minutely before she lets it fall, along with her eyes. "I guess you're right. It was just a thought."

"And a kind one," Ms. Index assures sympathetically. "You're a very good pony, Floor Bored."

Floor tries to smile at the compliment, but you can tell her heart isn't in it. "Well, I guess if that's everything, Floor and I should probably get going," you start, standing up. "It's been nice talking to you, boss, but I'm sure you have more to do today than just hang out with the two of us."

"Yes, yes, you're right," says Ms. Index with a wave of a hoof. "Though I admit, I've certainly enjoyed our meeting as more than a purely work related one. It's been nice talking to you both, as well. Would you believe I'm actually already looking forward to next weeks?"

"We'll have to make sure we have only good news for you then," you respond with a smile. "And some good art for you to check out." Glancing down at Floor, you ask, "Right, Floor?"

"Sure," she answers distractedly, stepping out of her own seat to stretch. "Sounds great." She looks back towards the door and adds, "We're going, then?"

Confused, you still answer yes, and with a final goodbye, you leave Ms. Index's office and begin the journey home, your boss promising to have your plastic container clean and ready for pickup by next week. You wave to the secretary on the way out, which she returns absently, and you step onto the bustling streets.

Something is definitely up with Floor as she hardly pays attention to the crowds, nearly bumping into a hurried stallion if it weren't for you giving her a gentle tug out of the larger pony's way. She looks back at the stallion before thanking you and going back to her thoughts.

"Okay, seriously, what's wrong, Floor?" you ask. "You're aren't worried about how the meeting went, are you? Because it went great."

"Hmm? No, the meeting was actually sort of nice," she answers. "Your boss is pretty cool, just like you said."

"She is," you agree. "That doesn't exactly answer my question, though. What's on your mind?"

"It's just..." she starts before glancing around at the ponies around her as if just noticing them. Moving closer to your side as you continue to walk, she speaks in a quieter tone, "Actually, can we wait until we're home? I promise I'll tell you then."

Your lips press into a line for a moment, but you nod. "Sure, but keep your head up, will you? Whatever it is your thinking about, I don't want you flattened by a bus because you aren't paying attention."

She rolls her eyes. "Anon, I've been living in this city my whole life. I know how to get around without getting run over."

"I'd argue that most of that time has been spent indoors, or traveling to the same convenience store, but whatever," you say in a blasé manner, then peer down to see her staring up at you with puffed cheeks and pouty lips. You chuckle and add, "Just teasing."

Floor huffs, but you're pretty sure you see the ghost of a smirk as she tells you to keep up and starts walking ahead of you.

Hopefully whatever is bothering her isn't serious. With how good that meeting went, now should be a time of celebration, not sadness. Regardless, you'll find out soon enough, and be ready to help her through it whatever it is.

That's what friend's are for.

Be a conflicted Floor Bored, knowing you should be overjoyed with how things went with Anon's boss, but instead stuck on something the surprisingly kind mare said.

You glance over at Anon and wonder if he agrees with her. You're sure if you asked, he'd say you were special and amazing, because of course he would try to make you feel good about yourself, but you certainly don't feel that way. And you definitely don't feel you're any better than other NEETs out there.

Ms. Index seems to think you being halfway to not a complete failure makes you unique, and that the other ponies she takes care of couldn't do what you do, but if anything, you were probably worse than them back before Anon came into your life. Surely if you can be better, so can they, right?

Perhaps it's a pointless thought. You're just you, after all, and you're not the kind of pony who goes out and helps others. That's the sort of thing the Princess of Friendship and her friends do, not some NEET living off of the tax payer's bits. Still, it's hard not to wonder if maybe something really could be done to help the others like you.

You're so much happier now, and all it took was one kind person lending you a hoof and a shoulder to lean on, surely the same can be true for other NEETs, right?

Your thoughts circle endlessly, and you find your pace quickening as questions build in the back of your throat, eager to seek out your best friend's opinion.

If anything, once Anon tells you that you're riling yourself up for no reason, you can get back to more important things, like drawing new pictures the best you can to really impress Anon's boss next week. What kinds of things to successful ponies like to see? Landscapes? Air ships? Maybe a picture of Celestia?

Hmm, this is going to be tough.

Author's Note

And there, one new chapter. I didn't write this one on 4chan at all because I wanted to get it out fast, so the style might seem a little different, seeing as, instead of doing it in green, and converting to prose format, I just did it in prose from the start.
Hopefully it's still good, and feels substantial after the long wait. Might be more mistake-ridden than usual, though, since I didn't effectively go through it twice like I usually do, so if you see errors don't be afraid of pointing them out.
Also, as a little bonus, here is a story blurb I wrote as sort of a prompt. Maybe it'll inspire an idea for someone else?

EXTRA
Anon, Necromancer Supreme, has recently arrived in Equestria, and can't wait to raise an undead army against those ridiculous princesses he's heard about. First, though, he must experiment, and to start, he has to make sure his magic even works properly on these strange equines.

They seem to be innately magical, far more so then the corpses of men he's used to working with, and he is unsure if that will aid or impede the raising process. Luckily, while stalking the night for potential candidates, one fell right into his lap.

Well, into the river from the bridge crossing over it that he had been skulking by, but it was only a minor inconvenience to dredge it from the riverbed once he removed the rocks from its hoodie pockets.

Really, the living are such fools. While he may agree that life is wholly overrated, there are far less painful ways of shedding ones mortal coil than drowning. A reasonably tall building tends to do quite well as long as the diver insures a head-first collision.

Who is he to complain, though? At least this way leaves the body completely intact for optimal service from the soon-to-be slave, and it's not even water-logged, fresh as it is. Really, he couldn't have asked for a better test subject.

Back in the cave serving as his temporary lair, Anon draws his dark circles and brings his bubbling, necrotic magic to bear. Arise from the darkness!" he calls, slamming his staff into the stone floor. crimson bolts of magic spark from the base, surging into the equine body and making it jolt. "Arise and serve your master, hooded one! Arise and be the first of his great and terrible army!"

The body twitches and convulses, water vomiting from its gaping maw as its eyes roll back into its head. The magic seeps into every inch of the creature and vanishes, then, nothing. Anon stares for several seconds, waiting for his creation to stand and bow to him. "Come on, enough laying there. Arise, pony."

It remains motionless, and he frowns. Stepping forward, he nudges it with a toe. "Seriously, arise." It does not, and he goes from nudges to light kicks. "Come on, I didn't drag your bony bottom three miles just for you to sit there like a potato."

He's just about to give the seemingly inanimate sack of flesh a hard, frustration-fueled whack of his staff when it shifts away from his foot. "Stop it," it groans in a raspy voice. "M'sleepy."

What?

Anon is unsure of how to respond to that. While it's not uncommon for his undead minions to speak, at least those with the fleshy bits and bones needed for the action intact enough to do so, it's usually never more than, "Yes, Master," or, "As you command, Master." Or, if his self-esteem is lagging, some variations of, "You're the coolest, Master," and, "The other Necromancers are just jealous of your awesome robes. They don't look like a dress at all."

"I'm sleepy," however, is a new one.

Anon shakes his head, determined to set things right. "You are not sleepy, you're dead, and like all good dead things, that means you're going to arise and serve me! I got river mock in my hair dragging you out of the silt, not to mention everywhere else, and you're going to help me clean it all off!"

"River...?" it grumbles confusedly, rolling over to stair at him with dead, dull eyes. Those eyes suddenly widen, and even through the milky film over them, shock is visible. "The river!" it, or perhaps she, yelps, sitting up to pat herself down. "I'm alive?!"

"No, actually, you're not," Anon says with a roll of his eyes. "You succeeded in your endeavor to end your miserable life. Congratulations."

"But, if I'm dead, how am I awake?" she questions, looking around. "... Is this the after life?"

"Afraid not," answers Anon with a sigh. "It seems that, in the process of raising your corpse, I've somehow dragged your soul back into it, which means my spells will have to be adjusted for your kind after all. Fun."

"Ah... What?"

Chapter 9

You're Anon, currently lounging on the couch, and finishing your second book. Only two days have passed since you picked them up, but you've had nothing by free time to read them.

The day after visiting her grandma, Floor didn't spend much time with you, mostly staying locked in her room instead, which you were okay with. You figure she probably had a lot she wanted to catch up with online, and also suspected she was still a little raw over the misunderstanding. That second reason is why you've done your best to not do anything that could be construed as overbearing by the little mare. It's best to let her come to you when she's feeling comfortable.

It's day three, however, and you think you can start showing the initiative again. "Hey, Floor, how's the new mouse working for you?" you ask when the mare steps out of her room at a quarter past noon.

"Hmm, uh, good, I guess. It works," she answers, glancing towards you before pointing, "I need to..."

"Oh, yeah, sorry," you quickly reply, "go ahead."

Trotting to the bathroom, Floor shuts the door behind her while you sit up. Slipping a bookmark in, you decide to save the last couple of chapters for later and set it on the floor with the others. It is a detective novel called, and you couldn't believe it, Fetlock Holmes. Fucking horse puns, man.

Despite it's eerily similar premise though, you are at least pleasantly surprised that the story is quite different than any of the Sherlock Holmes mysteries you remember reading back home. Being set in Equestria played a large part in that. Fetlock is an earth pony for one, and a large part of his character's deductive skills are played up by his vast knowledge of magical law that puts most unicorns to shame.

The other was Love and Tolerance, which you strongly feel is the Equestrian equivalent to War and Peace, especially with the swath of philosophical discussions in the latter half. The final book, which you have yet to touch and newest of the three, is the Friendship Journal, which was published by Princess Twilight Sparkle herself.

Since it seems to be meant to help ponies better grasp friendship, you think it might be helpful to read it with your anti-social ward. You hear the toilet flush and Floor steps into the living room a moment later.

She's on her way back to her room when you stop her. "Hey, Floor, you want to do anything today, Like, together, I mean."

She hesitates, and tilts her head. "Um, like what..."

"Well, we haven't gone out for coffee in a while, you want to do that? I'm kind of craving a mocha cappuccino."

She begins to smile a little and nod. "Y-yeah, that sounds nice. It'll help me not sleep so much, too. I've been doing that, like, eight hours a night... It's weird."

You can't help chuckle as the little mare grimaces. "Yeah, going cold turkey on caffeine will do that to you. You're looking better though, if that helps. Probably cutting out all those energy drinks is what did it."

"looking... better?"

"Mhmm, the rings under yours eyes are fading." She reaches a hoof towards her face as if to check, as you continue speaking. "Furs a little matted though. Want to squeeze in another bath tonight? You think you're sleeping better now, wait till you try it fresh out of the shower. Babies don't sleep that good."

She gulps, and slowly nods. "S-sure, that sounds... nice."

"Great," you say with a clap of your hands, before reaching one down. "That's for a later, though. Want to check out this book with me? It's Page Turner recommended, and with the other two being pretty good, I'm sure this is too."

The tentative smile that was forming falls along with her eyes. "No thanks, I'm not feeling much for reading right now... Maybe later."

"Oh, okay then," you respond, some of the cheer falling out of your voice as you wonder what you said that was wrong. "Maybe... drawing, than?"

Be Floor Bored, currently laying on a spread out blanket, doodling contently. The computer has been fun, and useful for helping get your... frustrations out, but it's nice to make your own drawings instead of clopping to others. You smile at the thought, once again thanking Anon in your head.

Back when you decided that life simply wasn't worth enduring any longer, drawing had been the last tether cut loose. And just like everything of value that has come back into your life since, Anon is the one who brought back your art. Still, you make sure to pay attention to your hoof while you draw this time. Don't want another page of embarrassing doodles torn out and hidden away in your desk drawer.

"Hey, this is actually looking vaguely pony-like," Anon says, tilting his paper for you to see. It looks like a potato on stilts.

You smile. "It does, maybe try to make the legs a little thicker, and the barrel more thin, though."

He looks down at it and tilts his head. "Good call."

You giggle lightly and return to your work. You're trying for something simple, but dynamic, with Spruce Spanner standing meekly while being overshadowed by the hulking silhouette of Saddle Rager. Though you might idolize Zapp the most out of the Power Ponies, you relate with the shy pegasus more.

Like her, you're easily overlooked, but also hide something ugly inside. The big difference being of course that the Saddle Rager is a destructive force for good, and you're just a pervert. That's not useful to anypony accept for the owner's of PornStable, and you stopped paying for that stuff years ago.

Over the next hour and a half, you finish your sketch, along with another, and Anon draws an okay stallion. He was trying for a mare, but at least it's equine-looking, so progress.

After that, he makes you both some peanut butter and jelly sandwiches and you sit side by side on the couch to eat. "I still can't get over how good you are at drawing," he comments after swallowing a bite.

"I'm really not," you try, but he cuts you off.

"No, I mean it, your art's nice. Okay, sure, it may not be the best, but for just random sketches to pass the time, they're pretty good. I bet if you were really trying, you could match some comic book artists."

You blush. "You really think so?"

"I do," he affirms with a nod. "You ever think about sharing your stuff online? I'm sure it'd be popular."

At that, the smile disappears as you stare down at the seeping red jelly of your sandwich. Anon put extra strawberry jam on yours because he knows how much you like it. "I've... put some of it up," you begin. "I don't think it's a good idea to to do it anymore, though. It'd just be a waste of everyponies time."

It takes a few seconds, maybe even minutes for some of the more detailed critiques, for ponies to type out how bad your work is, after all, so why not save them the effort of telling you something you already know. You've been told too many times to have not learned that lesson.

"Why do you think that? Appreciating art is just as worthwhile as making it. It's never a waste of time. I'm sure there are people out there eager to see more work from you."

You think of telling him how wrong he is, but just shake your head instead. "Maybe. I'll think about it."

"I hope you do." he says returning to his food. "And who knows, maybe if you make a name for yourself, you can start doing art commissions, make a few bits doing what you love."

"Heh, that'd be nice," you comment, trying to imagine it. You haven't made your own bits since GramGram used to pay you an allowance for doing chores around the house.

Once the sandwiches are gone, you and Anon lull into a peaceful quiet, his fingers absently coming up to run through your mane. He mentions something about the bath, but you're to distracted by the petting to comment beyond a hum as you slowly drift off. For a while, all your doubts and self-deprecating thoughts are overtaken by sleep as you rest your head in Anon's lap.

Be Anon, human-turned-pillow. You don't mind really, at least until your ass begins to itch. Now you're suffering a case of pony-paralysis as your urge to scratch your butt clashes with your desire not to disturb the resting mare with her head in your lap.

Low-key wiggling against the cushion doesn't satiate your itchy behind, but it does eventually get Floor to stir a little. Mumbling, the mare buries her nose into your groin and breathes deeply, giving a hum and smiling.

As she continues to nuzzle your crotch, Anon Jr. starts to get ideas.

Now diverting blood flow to genitals.

As commander in chief, I order a full retreat!

Negative sir, now reaching half-chub.

I said full retreat, soldier!

I'm sorry, but I cannot follow that order sir. And frankly, like this pony, you can suck a dick.

Insubordination!

Taking matters into your own hands, figuratively of course, you rouse your roomie before things can become uncomfortably awkward between the two of you. "Hey, Floor, uh, sorry to wake you, but it's been, like, over an hour, you think maybe we should get up? We're still doing the shower thing, right?"

"Hmm?" she begins, eyes blinking open a few times before settling shut. "Just five more minutes."

With Anon Jr. reaching seventy percent capacity, you're forced to lift her head with a thigh and start sliding out from beneath her. "Uh, okay, you stay here then, I need to... use the bathroom though, so..."

Feeling a little bad as the mare's head flops onto the cushion and she groans, you still don't hesitate to speed walk to the bathroom and not-quite slam the door behind you. Heaving a sigh, you lean against the door and glare down.

For a second, you have the urge to punch the disobedient dick, but remind yourself it'll hurt you more than it, and resist. Its opportunity missed, Anon Jr. relinquishes its stolen blood and you realize that you weren't lying about needing to use the restroom.

With another sigh, you move to stand over the trough-toilet and unzip your pants. While you empty your bladder, you can't help but ponder what just happened. Were you really just turned on by Floor Bored?

Thinking about it, you realize it's not that shocking. Your sex life hasn't exactly been thriving in Equestria, and since you've started sharing an apartment with Floor, you haven't been comfortable with relieving yourself. To say you're getting backed up would be an understatement. With a slight shake of the head, you put it on the back burner for now. Getting your rocks off isn't a priority like helping Floor is.

By the time you're done and back in the living room, Floor is up and stretching like a cat on the couch. "Mmm, I was having a really weird dream," she says after a lip-smacking yawn. "I could smell something really good and was looking for whatever it was, but you woke me before I could find it." She levels a weak glare your way. "Whatever it was, I was really looking forward to eating it, too."

Sending a silent reprimand southward when Jr. offers its catering services, you smile apologetically. "Yeah, sorry about that, but I really had to drain the main vein, if you know what I mean."

Floor's hind legs start to rub together. "Um, yeah I do, actually. Uh, give me a minute." Hopping off the couch and trotting past you, she takes her turn in the bathroom while you plan out the rest of the evening.

"Hey Floor, It's still a little early, but do you want to go out for coffee now? I figure I can get some shopping out of the way while we're at it."

"Ah, sure," she calls back.

Good, that means delaying the bath, and giving Anon Jr. some more time to cool down. Popping a stiffy while you lather a pony up isn't a good thing, despite what said stiffy might think.

No, Jr, we will not be using your all-natural hair conditioner, I don't care if you say it'll work wonders.

Ignoring your baser urges, you grab your shoes from the entryway and slip them on. A walk should help get your heads straight.

... Just as long as you keep Floor, and her flank, behind you and out of sight, that is. You don't trust Anon Jr. not to get anymore funny ideas right now.

Author's Note

Okay, Listen up!
... I'm open to suggestions on what friendship lessons will hit hardest for Floor when they get into the journal. I'm thinking of using it as one of the motivators for Floor being more honest with Anon about her feelings, but I actually haven't kept up with the show in a long time, so what all is in the journal, I don't exactly know.
Anyway, remember kids, words hurt, even over the internet:

Artist is WhyDoMenHaveNipples.

Omake: Thanksgiving Dinner... Sex

Author's Note

First, as a bit of a warning, there is some kinky weird sex stuff in this, so be prepared, and it is clop...
Okay, in my defense, I was drunk when I wrote this, so don't hate me too much. I just figured, since it was already done, why not post it?
As for the next chapter of the actual story, I just started it today, and hopefully will have something in a week or two.

By Scraggleman

Omake: Thanksgiving Dinner... Sex

Floor can't wait for Anon to come home so that she can surprise him with the turkey dinner she cooked for his "Thanksgiving." She had to venture into the dark net and use all of her bit coins to buy it, and then there was the cooking. Ew.

She found an obscure tutorial video that was equal parts macabre and informative, and followed the instructions to the letter. She nearly vomited two or three times, but the golden brown bird set in the middle of the cloth-covered ping pong table was worth it.

There's also some instant mash potatoes and canned cranberry sauce, but that's mostly for her. She knows from the few other times Anon has gotten to eat meat since getting to Equestria that he will ignore all other food on the table and go at the flesh with a gusto. That's okay with her; she just loves to see him happy after all the happiness he has brought into her dreary life.

The door cracks open. "Hey, what smells so good in here?"

"Surprise!"

"What the? Floor what is-?" Then he sees it, and the bag slips from his numb fingers, tins of instant cappuccino mix across the floor. "Is... Is that a turkey?"

"Mhmm, I remember you telling me all about Thanksgiving, and how you were sad that you were going to miss out, so I found a turkey and cooked it for you. I... I hope you like it," Floor explained sheepishly.

"But... Isn't the killing and selling of any animal other than fish illegal in Equestria?"

"Well, yeah..."

"And the eating of said meat a crime punishable by banishment?"

"Yes..."

"So, you committed what your country considers a heinous act, just so I could have a Thanksgiving dinner?"

"I'd do anything for you, Anon."

Anon sniffles, wiping a tear from his eye. "That's... that's the nicest thing anyone's ever done for me. Thank you, Floor."

Floor smiles up at the man. "Oh, Anon, come here, you big ape."

The human does what he's told, and falls to his knees in front of the little mare to be embraced by her forelegs. "Floor... I'm gonna stuff you more than that turkey for this. You deserve it."

Face heating up, Floor feels a tingle in a certain place. "Well, I guess we better get eating then. We'll need the energy for our after-dinner activities."

Anon is leaning back in his chair, a desecrated turkey corpse picked clean before him as he pats his stomach with a satisfied sigh. It was smaller than the turkeys back home, those having been bred for generations and pumped full of growth hormones to be bigger and bigger, but since he was the only one eating, it was more than enough.

"Damn, Floor, was that seriously your first time cooking a turkey? Because you knocked it out of the park."

Floor blushes. "Did I really? I was just following the instructions..."

"It was one of the best meals I've had in years," Anon proclaims, slowly pushing his way out of his chair. "Wish you would have tried some."

"That's alright, it was for you," Floor tells him, pushing her mash potatoes around in giddy embarrassment.

"Still, you've hardly eaten anything this whole time," notes Anon, walking around the table, probably to get a glass of water.

Well, watching a carnivore savagely tear into his meal with sharp, pointed teeth was a rare sight that was hard to look away from. She was frankly too distracted to take more than a couple of bites before being drawn into the spectacle.

Suddenly, a hand brushes gently along her hoodie-clad shoulder. "You really should start eating. Don't you remember what I said I was going to do to you after I was done?"

Floor is confused as Anon's other hand comes forward to push her plate further away, until the other grasps firmly at her nape and pulls her partway out of her seat. "It's time for your stuffing, Floor. Get eating."

The little mare yelps as she's thrust forward, her nose coming to rest an inch away from her plate. A sharp tug of her tail has her hind end in the air while the front of her body is sprawled across the table. Before she can say anything, Anon yanks her panties to the side, an act that he's practically trained her body to respond to by producing a flood of lubricants, and shoves his stiff cock into her plump vulva.

She moans throatily as he buries himself halfway in the first thrust, and starts winking against his testicles when he enters the rest of the way with the second. A firm slap to her ass sends shivers up her spine.

"I said start eating," Anon growls.

"Wha-?"

Slap!

This time, the slap is much harsher, and the pain nearly eclipses the pleasure. "Eat," he commands again.

Not wanting to risk another strike, Floor looks down at her cooling mash potatoes and slice of cranberry sauce before leaning forward for a bite. "That's better," drawls Anon, before delivering another powerful thrust. "If you stop, so will I."

Floor nearly chokes, white mush flying from between her lips as her human starts to mercilessly pound into her. She forces the food down though, not wanting to risk ending the pleasure building between her legs and radiating outwards.

Body rocking back and forth, she takes a small bite every time he thrusts in, and swallows as he withdraws. With his pace, it's not surprising she cleans her plate in less than two minutes. Anon see's this and slows, much to Floor's mewling displeasure.

"That's a good girl, Floor, you finished your first plate."

"F-first?"

"Of course, with the night we have planned, you'll need plenty of energy, right? Better keep eating." As he says this, he leans forward and starts shoveling the rest of the mash potatoes onto her plate, getting the mare to gulp at the site of the heaping helping.

"But, Anon, I-I'm already full," she tries fruitlessly.

"Nonsense, you're not stuffed yet. Here, I know what you need, some gravy for these bland potatoes." She's going to ask what he means, but grabs the plate and pulls out of her.

Pushing herself up on wobbly forelegs, she looks under her barrel to watch what he's doing as he holds the plate between her back legs. Without warning, he shoves three fingers into her pussy, getting her to moan and eject a yellowish stream or marecum onto the food.

After stirring her up a bit longer to collect more juice, he hums in satisfaction and slides the plate in front of her again. "There you go, that should taste better," he says, lining himself up behind her once again. Before she can protest, he re-enters her in one thrust and picks up a steady tempo. As Anon goes to work behind her, much to her enjoyment, Floor stares down at the potatoes hesitantly.

Did Anon really want her to eat her own... secretions? That was kinda gross, wasn't it? Suddenly, Anon starts to slow to a stop, making Floor's mind up her for. Who cares if it's gross? She's a bucking NEET for crying out loud! Gross is her element, and D her addiction! Besides, the marecum almost looks like melted butter if her uses her imagination.

Lunging forward, Floor shoves her whole muzzle into the mess, getting a chuckle from Anon as he resumes with long, deep strokes.

It's good. Not just the rutting, but the potatoes. She tastes great. And with a hint of Anon's pre, it was fucking amazing. Anon doesn't have to tell her again. She goes at the dish with a gusto.

The room is filled with squelches, moans, and the slapping of both the couples' hips, and Floor's lips, until the mare finishes her meal and drunkedly pleads, "M-more."

"Oh, don't worry, you'll be getting more soon," Anon says with a grunt, hunching over his mate and picking up speed.
"You're about to get stuffed real good."

Floor is hardly listening however as her tongue lulls out, both from the mind-destroying pleasure of multiple orgasms chained together, and to try and pull in any more scraps of food left on the plate. Anon's at his limit too as he tightens his grip on the mare's flank, digging his nails in so hard that they leave red whelps.

With a final drawn-out groan and surge of his hips, the human presses his cockhead directly to his mate's cervix and unleashes the first of many long ropes of thick, pearly cum. The virile semen blasts through the cervical entrance and begins to flood Floor's womb, stuffing her to brim with jizz.

When it's all over, the mare's belly is notably bloated with both his release, and food, making her look pregnant. Anon can't deny, the sight it damn sexy. "So, how you feeling, Floor? You stuffed?" he asks rhetorically, already guessing the answer judging by her expression.

Sooo stuffed." she groans.

Anon chuckles, finally pulling his partially softened cock from the mare and leaving her hind end to fall as her front end remains sprawled atop the messy table. The scrunchie was shook loose during their love-making to leave her hair splayed out, and her hoodie is bunched up around her chest. He's glad to see his seed not leaking out, the knowledge that it's nestled safely in her womb comforting, before he decides to help her out.

Picking the limp pony up, Anon transfers her to the couch to recuperate while he fixes her panties and adjusts her sweater. It'll be a bit before she shakes off the legendary "Thanksgiving Coma" but when she does, Anon hopes she'll be ready for round two.

The holiday isn't over yet, and they still have Black Friday to celebrate after midnight. Spotting the outline of her tight pucker hidden beneath the fabric of her underwear, Anon can hardly wait.

Not even December yet, and already he feels like a kid waiting to unwrap his presents...

Aaand a bonus spooky short for last month's holiday:

Floor Bored's poor hygiene finally bites her in the behind when she develops a urinary tract infection. Being the anti-social NEET she is, she refuses to go to the doctor, allowing the infection to worsen until it gets into her blood, killing her.

Years later, her former residents gets a new tenant; Anon moves in, and quickly begins to notice strange happenings. Seemingly at random, an awful smell, like wet hay and B.O. permeates the air, and neither the superintendent nor anyone he calls can find out why.

Whenever he returns after an outing, he's sure his underwear drawer has been rifled through. Sometimes, he can tell because they are slightly ruffled. Other times, it's more obvious, like the drawer being partially open, or a pair of boxers resting on the floor.

When rat traps turn up nothing, he changes the locks and begins making sure the windows are sealed tight. He even splurges and gets anti-magic locking mechanisms, but his underwear are still disturbed on a regular basis.

It gets really spooky when he goes to type in the password to his laptop, only to notice his hint is showing. Something that only happens if you type the incorrect password in multiple times in a row.

And he swears that whenever he takes a piss or gets in the shower, he hears perverted giggles from directly besides him.

If it wasn't for the extremely cheap rent, he'd have gotten the hell out of there after the first week, but he doesn't have the bits to afford living anywhere else in the city. Still, he is starting to suspect why the rent is so low... At least the cold spot that often follows him to bed helps him stay cool during the hot summer nights, saving him money on AC.