Author's Note

Art by fantasygerard2000

I really gotta get it on the other members of the EqG bishie scene some day. F'naaa.

On a side note... but not really a side note... I wanna reiterate something that I may or may not have touched upon in the past.

Flash Sissy is indeed a very slow-paced, in-depth, and introspective look at sissydom/crossdressing/pet-play fantasies. As such, I've chosen to get really detailed about Flash's and Sunset's emotions. I do in fact like the push/pull relationship of his feminization journey... but that's central to feminization fantasies on the whole. A lot of stories of this ilk out there will make it a dub-con thing and have the male-identifying protagonist outright resist the "transformation" at full force.

I do not (nor ever do I) wish to imply that Flash Sentry in this story (or the story at large) is somehow an analogy of the transgendered experience or trans identity. If there are people out there reading this who identify as trans and you see elements in this story that you can relate to, it was not the express purpose of this fic. (But I'd nevertheless be flattered to think that I may have impacted readers in some remotely positive manner).

And to such hypothetical readers, I say this: I hope that reading this is not a detrimental or insulting experience. One might call certain plot contrivances (or eventual plot contrivances) in this story to be "wholesome," but they'll only be wholesome when seen through a perverted lens. This fic is the construct of a fetishist with a fetishist goal, and while I'd be happy to have anyone reading this--transgendered or cisgendered or what-have-you--I cannot pretend to be producing anything especially significant with the narrative.

When it comes to the directions I plan to take this story, I personally think it would be insensitive of me to pretend that it's attempting to touch base with any serious analysis of the transgendered experience. That being said, I'm pleased to see a consistent view count with each chapter, and every little review--even the tiny ones--give me immense satisfaction. So thank you--everyone--for keeping up with this story. Even casually. It's far more than I expected.

I also apologize in advance for those of you who will likely be turned off from reading this fic a hundred chapters from now when I *really* get into some FETISHY stuff. (Lulz.)

Peace. With ghosts.
-SS&E

These Super Long Meaty Chapter Titles Correlate Directly to Something in the Story and You Already Know Exactly What I Mean

Flash's shower... wasn't as cold as it should have been. He only had himself to blame for that. That... and the unshakable feeling of vibrations rattling through the shower walls. Sunset, vibrations, and they rolled in through the very foundation. Accompanied by noises. Vocalizations—deep, guttural, and primal. This went on for the better part of an hour... then two hours... then three. Long past Flash's shower. Long past the time the boi took to dry himself. Long past the time he spent pacing in the center of the house, forming a soft oval in the plush carpet, trembling with each sonic reverberation that billowed from the guest room.

The boi wrung his delicate hands. He had known for over a day and a half now that Sunset Shimmer was a person beset with side effects of her magical transformation. More specifically: erotic side effects. The moment he “accidentally” explored that room, he knew what it was for.

However...

Actually knowing that she was using it for those purposes—and hearing her use it—in a desperate effort to relieve herself... carried with it now far more gravity than when it was all just hypothetical.

And there was more to it than that. Everything that had to do with everything had been laid out on the table, including Flash's involvement—in there was no involvement. At least not yet.

Nevertheless, things came to a head hours ago when Flash—in a gesture of good will—invited Sunset to reveal everything. That's what led to this—the distant grunting of beautiful anguish beyond the door to the guest room. It was one thing to know that she was an amazon in her own natural habitat. It was another to know that she was going through all of that simply because of him.

It was as surreal as surreality gets. One might expect himself/herself to be flattered by such a twist of events, but all Flash could feel was... guilty. Twisted. And even evil to some extent.

Because he knew that—no matter how deep Sunset Shimmer and her friends were—he himself wasn't quite ready or willing to make the dive. And why would he want it? It sounded so... torturous to the poor Sunset. For every whimper of pleasure she made through the muffled partitions of that house, there was a prolonged groan of frustration. It sounded like she was climbing a ziggurat to get to the top of a roller coaster, but there was never... ever any relief.

Could he even be the salvation she needed? Sunset Shimmer made it clear that a “fix” would only be temporary. That only meant that if Flash gave his body up to service the supremely beautiful, strong, and sexually advanced woman... he'd only have to do it again in a matter of days. Perhaps hours.

And her friends...

...could he even do the same for all of them? Could he even promise the same? Seven women for seven days of the week—what about his stamina? Never mind the fact that he was a five foot nothing weakling with a sex organ that could scarcely fit through a bagel hole. That was an awful lot of attention demanded by an awful lot of curves. Even if he was somehow a stud who'd be up for the challenge... he knew that the reality of the matter would destroy him.

Sunset had said that it wouldn't necessarily amount to sex in all cases. He could just be close to them... cuddling up to them during a movie, or holding hands, or sharing Eskimo kisses—and that'd be enough to restore their Harmonic powers.

But who was anyone fooling? Sunset's moans rocked the house once more, and Flash had to sit down (more like sit up—he struggled for a second to climb it) on the living room couch and breathe steadily.

Whatever was required of him: Flash had every reason to believe that it would dominate his existence. He would no longer be a free individual. Instead, he'd be a tool... a sponge... a doormat for all of the women to wipe their everythings on. Every day of every week would be consumed in being consumed. Even if Flash was the lowliest form of life on earth, he had to consider the weight of all this and think...

...where would his freedom go?

Would he ever again have a chance at being himself?

Would he have an identity outside of being a tool? A plaything? A proverbial pink vibe in everygirl's purse?

What's more...

...did any of that matter?

Flash was now a basket-case of goosebumps... but things were very very different a few hours earlier. When he had first limped into the shower, he suffered a hotness bubbling from deep within. It was similar to Sunset's—he figured—but not nearly as severe in its consumption of his senses. As soon as the hot water poured on him, the boi suffered every fantasy he had ever entertained throughout the course of his young life: being a damsel needing salvation from a knight in shining armor, being a princess on her first ball with Prince Charming, being a nervous exchange student with a purse and high heels who took an Uber to the wrong side of town after dark—the lattermost fantasy was something he turned to only in times of intense desperation and dry-mouthiness.

But before he could even touch himself—as per usual with Flash Sentry—his mind took over. Registering the sounds from the guest room, he realized that... things had changed now. Sunset Shimmer had always seemed cool, collected, and motherly in how she took care of Flash. Now—it would seem—she wasn't in control of anything anymore. She had lost so much with the increasing intensity of the so-called “Allure,” and now the dog days of autumn were turning the tables. Suddenly, the slumped amazon crying on the bench outside Cadenza Corp made perfect sense. Unlike Sunset—who seemed more than happy with the idea of a trembling Flash in tears—Flash couldn't even sample a taste of the opposite.

So he switched the shower water from hot to cold, and now—three hours later—he sat on the couch, drowning in Pinkie Pie's Princess Peach nightie... hugging his knees to his chest and worrying. Worrying.

The muffled sounds from the guest room continued, and they seemed more anguished than before. Or perhaps that's just what Flash assumed. In truth, it was difficult to tell. All he knew was that he hadn't been able to bear witness to it before. And it just... went on and on and on.

Into the fourth hour, he was starting to get worried.

Was this normal?

Was anything normal?

How could he even begin to tell anymore?

This was not his world. It never was.

Now he was being invited to join it. What—exactly—would he be gaining in the process? Sunset had insisted on him being pampered and lavished gifts... no doubt to supply him with a supremely 'girly' existence the likes of which he had always dreamed of but never allowed himself. But...

Would that be worth it if he 'couldn't walk' in the morning from how much the girls used him? At what point did he stop being a friend and instead simply remained an object? A used an abused object?

It simply didn't look or feel like a fair trade. The long and short of it: the girls needed relief. And between the seven of them, there was no credible way knowing how Flash could sustain his own 'relief.' Even with 'payment' and 'pampering' in return... he couldn't help but expect being no more than an abused whore at the tail end of all this tail-ending.

And the only thing scarier...

The only thing more frightening than comprehending all of this mess...

...was knowing that a part of Flash... a very large albeit shadowed part of Flash...

...would have been perfectly okay with that.

The poor boi crossed his legs as he sat—shivering—on the couch.

For as long as he remembered... the common thread in all of his fantasies was about being a means-to-an-end for far more dominant, far more mature, far more sexual partners than himself. Whether it was Prince Charming, a knight in shining armor, Thunderbass and his old band mates, or an entire football team... or two football teams... it always amounted to Flash being at the bottom of the pile... stripped of freedom, stripped of agency, stripped of... of... the simple luxury of being allowed to strip himself. Everything would be in the hands of his dominating partner... all of Flash's things would be in the other one's hands... and Flash would have no say in whether his partner(s) chose to caress, fondle, or yank. Flash's own joys meant nothing. His fears meant nothing. His tears—ironically—meant everything.

Flash had always... always dreamt... hoped... yearned for a submissive role in a relationship. And when it became “sexual,” it submerged somewhere deep and depraved beyond “submissive,” settling on what one might call “enslaved.” And it wasn't because Flash had such a low opinion of himself (although that didn't hurt), but rather he found the most joy in an idea of being used for another's pleasure... even if it turned out to be a painful experience. The more depraved and heartless the actions committed to Flash—in direct relation to the orgasmic degree it serviced another person or more—the harder Flash found it to keep his own underwear dry. All of his fantasies eventually culminated in this dynamic. In some way, it felt lazy on his end... until he rationalized that the act of giving himself—fully and freely—up was the greatest form of exercise anyone could commit, and conceptually it even put doms to shame.

So... now his fantasy had a very legitimate opportunity to become reality. And despite all of the tendrils of pleasure attached to the notion... Flash found himself mortified. With a sore lump in his throat. With feet encased in individual ice. With goosebumps running rampant across his petite body. And as Sunset's moans continued on the opposite end of the house, he simply felt like throwing up.

Losing one's agency—it would seem—did in fact involve agency. There was a choice to make. The choice—and it was the hardest thing Flash had ever encountered in his entire life. The lazy thing to do, ironically, was not make the choice altogether. And meanwhile, Sunset suffered and Nietzsche-only-knows what the other six Elements of Harmony were going through.

But why did the choice have to be up to Flash?

What did he do to deserve to be the very fulcrum of everyone's agony and ecstasy?

If this universe was indeed artificial, then that might explain the innate cruelty of it.

Flash clenched his eyes shut and he hugged his knees so hard that his knuckles turned white.

And just what had happened to Sunset Shimmer earlier? To make her leave? To soak the kitchen floor like a passing hurricane?

And why did Flash feel so intoxicated immediately afterwards? What was that permeating smell that sent his insides on fire?

How much more magical bullshit was at play here? If Flash made a decision now—or a hundred years from now—would he be anywhere near equipped to deal with what the Elements of Harmony threw his way?

Flash Sentry always struggled with figuring out what to do with the rest of his life. But this was a different limbo than what he had previously been stuck in. Unlike the purgatory that his parents and Magnolia Buckler put him through, this was an awkward sun-lit dance upon the cusp of ecstasy. Because—no matter how awkward or weird or even painful things might get—Flash had every reason to believe that Sunset and the girls would look after him. It'd be a rough journey—for his soul as well as his body... but at least he'd know that he'd be cared for. At least he'd know that he'd be loved.

Perhaps... just perhaps... Flash's life was always meant to incur a certain degree of suffering.

His choice... his one moment of agency—as it turns out—was choosing which avenue would provide a certain modicum of joy and contentment in return.

If only Flash could stop punishing himself unnecessarily and receive that joy. Even now—as ever—he couldn't understand what stapled his feet to the ground and kept him from moving. Maybe it's because he was a permanent amnesiac. Flash couldn't see or remember all the things that Sunset had seen and remembered—even in the depths of their dreamwalking... in the depths of himself. He couldn't see the mirror... couldn't grasp it long enough to bear witness to a hand on the other side... a feminine and sisterly hand... reaching out... reaching towards him... bearing a smile and a name...

A name...

A name that carried and secured him on long, lonesome nights...

Smiling so close and so warm that the comfort took on a reflection that almost took on his own essence and—

Flash's thoughts were cut off by a vibrating noise. It was different from the sporadic yet pervasive gunshots coming from Sunset's side of the house. This was quieter... more focused... localized. What's more, it was coming from the coffee table.

“... … …?” Curious, the cute and timid boi lifted his confused face. He craned his neck, seeing past the edge of the amazon's house furniture.

Something sat on the edge of the table. It was a very large book—with thick brown binding. In the center of the cover was Sunset Shimmer's emblem—Flash could even see the halved solar crest in his dreams.

The book was indeed the source of the repetitive vibrations. More than that... it was glowing.

Flash pursed his lips. He had seen the book in Sunset's possession before. But this was the first time the effeminate young man had witnessed it pulsating like this. There were a lot of magical things in Sunset's life, but Flash only knew about them in brief pieces and glimpses. Perhaps if he had stayed connected to his ex and his ex's friends during the last year of high school, he may have understood it all more.

But at the moment he could only feel a great wellspring of alarm. Why was the book vibrating? Was it... going to explode?!? Or did it mean that trouble was near? Or maybe...

Flash scooted closer to the book until he sat on the edge of the massive sofa. His breath normalized slightly, and he regarded the tome with a calmer gaze.

It made perfect sense. Sunset must have been receiving a message. And if it involved a glowing book like this...

...then it must have been supremely important.

Flash looked towards the noisier end of the house. He bit his lip.

Sunset was in no position to respond to anyone right now, and Flash wasn't about to try knocking on the door to the guest room—or any door for that matter. Flash held strong to many principles: and among them was how heinously wrong it was to answer another person's cell phone. But this wasn't a mobile device in the traditional sense—it was a magical glowing book, and the only reason Sunset was indisposed was that Flash had flustered her.

All things considered, this was the easiest choice of Flash's week.

He reached over and grasped the book in two hands. It was far heavier than he expected. No doubt it was shaped and molded for the amazon's grip. By the time Flash had opened it and balanced it on his tender lap, it felt like an enormous atlas in his embrace.

Nevertheless, he found himself flipping through the pages. Even as he held the tome open, there was still a glowing vibration—but it came from a page near the middle of the book. Turning to it, Flash discovered that it was the last page with writing on it that was glowing. All of the text had been handwritten, but they appeared in at least two contrasting fonts: cursive and orange... and another cursive style that was noticeably emerald in color. When Flash came to the enchanted spot in the book, the page stopped glowing—and in its place the last line of written words appeared glowing instead:

Hello, Sunset. Any luck with the Harmonic Well? The Court of Friendship is eager to learn about how you and the Elements of Harmony are doing with the balance of magic.

Flash felt his heart palpitating. It wasn't so much due to the words and the significance thereof, but rather to the implications of who was writing back. He found his grip of the book shaking, and yet he couldn't tear his eyes off the glowing green words.

At long last, he braved a response.

“H-hello...?” he wheezed in a dry, dry voice.

Nothing happened.

The green words glowed on the page... but nothing formed afterwards.

Flash squinted. He looked all over the book... then back to the table where he had left it.

He saw a pen lying on the corner of the table.

It took much fuss and stretching of tiny, prissy limbs—but Flash was finally able to procure the pen. Once again, he sat on the edge of the couch with the large book crushing his poor knees. Catching his breath, he looked at the pen... then at the last set of glowing words. Gulping, he reached down and produced a simple line on the page. He blinked when he realized his cursive looked even better than Sunset's. What's more, the words glowed a different color than orange.

To his bottomless awe, they manifested in pink.

Hello? Can you read this?

He felt a twinkling aura of gold light rippling out of every square inch of the book's binding. At first, Flash was scared—until he realized that it must have meant that someone was responding. Green worlds rolled across the page far sooner than he expected.

Indeed I can! Who is this? The words are coming out in a different color.

Flash shook from his own heartbeat. If he was anywhere near as polite as he strove to be, he would have answered the person on the other side right away. Instead, he boldly wrote:

Your Highness Twilight Sparkle...?

The book glowed. Twinkled. And the green words replied:

No, this is Fenrir! The Princess is off performing diplomatic missions in Yakyakistan along with Chancellor Yona. Who am I writing to? Could it be... Flash Sentry?

Flash exhaled a breath of relief. Nevertheless, he still remained confused... and more than a little bit concerned. Part of him told the boi to put the book now and pretend that none of this had ever happened. Nevertheless, temptation gave way, and he wrote back:

Yes. This is Flash Sentry.

Almost immediately, the green words splashed enthusiastically across the page:

Flash! It's been so long! How's it been?

Flash merely squirmed in his seat, unsure how to respond.

The the next few words appeared:

It's Spike! Y'know... Spike the Regular Dog? Twilight's little purple fluffball?

Flash's lips pursed. He hadn't thought about Twilight Sparkle's pet in ages. In truth... his cynical self merely assumed the worse about the tiny thing.

He found the strength to write back:

Hello, Spike. I do remember you. But... I thought you said you were 'Fenrir.'

Spike replied:

Because that's my name now! I chose it 'cuz it sounded nearly as ferocious as a dragon! Also, 'Spike' was already in use over here, and it's already confusing enough with two of us stomping around.

You're living in pony world now?

Yup! You bet! Earth's ambassador to Equestria! Sorta like how Sunset is Equestria's ambassador to Earth! Only without the crazy change in size and libido. Well, I mean, I am a dragon so that makes me bigger than I used to be, but there are dragons over here that are way bigger. Not forever, of course. Tee-hee... oh... wait... has Sunset Shimmer told you any of that stuff about the Harmonic Well and Fountain and such?

Flash squirmed on the couch.

She has... told me some things. All in all, she's been doing a lot to help me where I'm at in life. I'm truly grateful.

The book glowed for a period of time before a response manifested.

Well, I'd probably best leave most of the explanations to her. I don't really understand all of the Harmonic Well and Harmonic Fountain stuff—not like she and Twilight do. I barely have any luck understanding stuff here in Equestria! Did you know that rainbows taste like Tobasco Sauce?

A tiny smile formed on Flash's lips for the first time in hours.

No, Fenrir. I did not know that.

You'd think they'd taste fruity, right? Well, wrong! I found that out the hard way. I tried explaining it to Pinkie Pie... this world's Pinkie Pie. But I think her mind broke when I had to explain what 'Tobasco' is. Which is rather hard because I only learned to read four years ago. And then, of course, ponies write with a different kind of alphabet, so I had to learn all over again. But that's fine. I really love learning... which is saying something because once upon a time I only loved chasing squirrels.

Is that why you're over in Equestria, Spi—er... Fenrir? To learn about stuff?

Well, truth is, dogs don't really live for very long, now, do they? And I was already going on six years by the time I got zapped by Equestrian magic and began speaking like humans. At some point, Twilight or Sunset figured that—if I went over to Equestria—I'd turn into a dragon. And dragons live... like... one thousand times longer than an earthling canine. Soooooo... they sent me over here and I set up permanent residence. Sure enough, being a dragon has affected me on the whole! I can burp up magical flame now and—from what Princess Twilight and Dragon Lord Ember can tell—I've got a full draconian life ahead of me! Talk about a win-win-win! Ha HAH!

That's wonderful to hear, Fenrir. You were always a bundle of joy to the girls, from what I recall. You deserve a long and healthy life. How'd Twilight take it? Our Twilight, that is.

It wasn't easy. I've known Twilight all my life, and I'm the longest friend she's ever had. Leaving her was tough. Super tough. But... we all agreed it was for the best. And it's not like I never see her. The Princess estimates that if I keep my visits to a week or less—separated by about a month in between—then I won't upset my draconian age cycle. So... I'm always popping my snout in every once in a while, so to speak. Maybe next time I pay a visit I'll get to say “hi” to you! Shake a paw and catch up!

That sounds lovely, Spike. But... to tell the truth... I don't really know if I will be here when you visit next.

But I thought you were there to help the Elements of Harmony find their magic again! Aren't you the Harmonic Well? Sunset's written about it all last week.

Flash blinked.

Curious, his eyes slowly darted towards the page preceding where he and Fenrir were “communicating.” He saw fancily scribbled text in a bright orange font. But the moment he saw random words like “staying over” and “superpowers,” he ripped his eyes off and situated them back on the conversation at hand.

He really shouldn't have been holding that book in the first place, much less using it to communicate with Sunset's friends on the other side. But—for the time being—Sunset Shimmer was... “indisposed,” to put it lightly. And Flash was desperately needing something or someone to center himself.

The boi remembered that Fenrir was waiting for a response. Sure, he could have let the dog... dragon... acquaintance wait a little longer than normal. All-in-all, this was a lot like texting... only with a huge J.R.R. Tolkien bullshit contrivance wedged directly in between the communicators.

Eventually, Flash managed to drum up a response:

Sunset Shimmer has insisted time and time again that she wants to help me out—first and foremost. Yes, there's stuff that she and the girls hope to get out of me by being near them, but... I think they're afraid to go all out and ask me to stick around. Well... at least Sunset seems afraid. She's worried about me, and I can't help but feel worried about her.

When he finished writing this, he glanced towards the far end of the house. Muffled grunts and all-out-yelling noises shook the foundation. From the outside looking in, this would actually appear to be a pretty hilarious situation. But Flash wasn't feeling amused in the slightest.

The book in his grasp vibrated, and before he knew it there was a response from the other side.

Well, if I know Sunset, she has two separate track records. There's the super long and awesome one where she's saved the world from magical dangers, introduced Twilight to a lifetime of friendship and happiness, found me a new life and home, bridged relationships between ponies and humans in both wizardry and science, and formed a very small but very successful group of magically-imbued superheroines who save the day on a regular basis. But then you've got the very very very short track record where she was a maniacal she-demon bent on extra-dimensional domination. And despite all of her exceptional accomplishments in the former, she's a bit too distracted by the latter. I sadly think—no matter how many good things she'll do—Sunset will never quite be able to shake off that guilty part of herself. That leads to a bit of overcompensation. Maybe even with you.

Flash took some time reading and contemplating that.

Then, with his thoughts composed, he wrote slowly in response.

She does seem a bit overprotective of me. You know, I always thought that she was a strong woman... or pony. And she is! She truly is strong and charismatic and smart and inspiring. But... it wasn't until now that I started to realize just how vulnerable she is. I get the feeling, Fenrir, that you know more about what's going on than I do. I get the feeling that everybody and every... pony knows more than I do. And the reason that Sunset has been afraid to share the total truth with me is because she thinks I will appreciate her less in light of understanding the depths her needs, weaknesses, and desires.

The former dog's response was remarkably fast and blunt.

Do you appreciate her less, now, Flash?

Flash tapped the pen to his chin. He heard Sunset's noises from the distance. Never before had a soul sounded so anguished and enraptured at the same time. Flash felt immense sympathy for the valkyrie. But—with each subsequent moment that he spent dwelling on the matter—he felt less and less sorrow and guilt attached to such emotion. And the reason for this—he figured—was that he ascertained the solution... and it was a solution that didn't frighten him so much. Not like it would have years ago... days ago.

I could never not appreciate her, Fenrir. She's done so much to help me and make me feel appreciated. What's more... and I'm starting to feel this now as I write it down... but I think I can help her too. If for no other reason than the fact that... helping her out would mimic ways in the past where I've “helped” myself out as well... or at least attempted to. I used to feel so bad about needing and wanting things. I don't want Sunset to feel bad about it. I appreciate her too much. I...

He chewed his lip.

The house was silent—if only for a few seconds...

...and then a pronounced vocalization came from the guest room. The chaos ensued, in both agony and ecstasy.

Flash sniffled. He fought the lump in his throat as he stroked the pen.

...I love her too much, Spike. And she doesn't deserve to suffer or to be stripped of magic or to feel anything but as awesome as I've always known her to be. Even when she was trying to be a she-demon. She just didn't know... relief yet.

The book glowed... vibrated... and glowed some more.

Then the dragon's text rolled across the tome in response. Flash had to turn a page to read the full length:

The first few times I came back to visit my home, and I realized that Twilight and the rest of the girls had become... … … let's say, “very very very close,” I was confused at first. I always thought one was meant to find only one other soul in this life. That's Puppy Love 101... or at least as I observed it. But then—with each visit I paid and repaid Twilight, and I saw how unbelievably happy she and Sunset and Rarity and Pinkie Pie and Fluttershy and Applejack and Rainbow Dash were—I realized that there really is no stopping love. That it can and will make even the impossible happen. I've heard endless lectures about how the world I came from started... how a bunch of crazy pony sorcerers wanted to “play goddess” or create some trans-dimensional “fungeon,” but none of that really adds up to me. Sure, magic is weird and selective and maybe even a little bit raunchy in that world, at least compared to Equestria. But—at the end of the day—it's all powered by love. Love and bliss and happiness. If there's any truth to the Harmonic Well/Fountain thing—and if that's why you're there with Sunset right now—then it can only be a question of love. And, if you ask me, it's okay if it takes time... or if there's not a lot about it that can be understood at first or even ever. But whatever changes the girls have undergone, it's made them better, happier, and livelier. And I believe the same thing can be true for you, Flash. It may not seem that simple... but—where I come from, and with what's happened to me—I can tell you that most things in magic really are that simple. A little faith goes a long way when it comes to this stuff.

Flash didn't realize he was crying until halfway through reading this. His vision got blurry and he wiped his eyes dry to finish the last two sentences. By then, he was smiling... a tender and delicate contrast to the bombastic happening on the other end of the house.

Fenrir added a bit more:

Of course, don't let me speak for you, Flash. It's been a while since we've caught up... if we ever even caught up. But when it comes to Sunset and the girls, I wouldn't fret much. They really really care for you. We all do—even us dragons and ponies over here.

Sniffling, Flash had to struggle to keep his writing his steady.

Even the Princess?

Fenrir replied:

Of course. Who else do you think supplied my Twilight with those leyline nullifiers?

Did Sunset or anybody say what they were for?

They said something about “safety first.” When you think about it: almost seems pointless for a bunch of superheroines struggling to regain their powers suddenly wanting to have artifacts that would cancel out magic. But then you come into the picture.

What do you mean?

Isn't it obvious? With the Elements of Harmony out of the picture, the entirety of the known Harmonic Fountain is currently dried up. That means that the Harmonic Well is the one and only living source of unbridled energy... even in its passive stance. Right now, Flash Sentry, you are literally the only magical being existing on earth... at least who's not a chaotically-imbued supervillain like Juniper Montage or those... siren ladies.

Flash fidgeted in his Princess Peach nightie. He scribbled a meek response.

I'm that special, huh?

Flash, dude, you are priceless. Even if you don't have a roll to play in helping restore the Elements of Harmony, Sunset and Twilight and the rest are essentially sworn to protect you. Heck... we are sworn to protect you! Even over here! In Equestria! And... no pressure or nothing... but if you ever feel the need to talk or share or vent about this whole situation, we're just a penstroke away.

Flash sniffled again, staring at the lengths of the household... so large and spacious and inviting. He still possessed Cadance's business card from earlier that day. Somewhere, on his laptop, two glittery-girly e-mails of love and endearment lingered—sent by six adoring friends. Now he was being virtually bro-hugged by a dog!dragon from another universe.

For all of the teasing and cheek-pinching he had generally received from Sunset since being scooped up in her amazonian arms...

...he had received a hundred times more in love, acceptance, and opportunity. He felt—in some ironic way—like he was in a similar position to when he once basked in the support of his parents. For months... years... he languished away in an unnecessary funk while they gave him hundreds if not thousands of opportunities to become more than he was.

The difference—ultimately—was that they wanted him to become something that his entire being was adverse to.

Sunset and the Elements of Harmony, however...

...were offering him a life that only ever existed in Flash's fantasies.

Why had he been fighting and resisting for so long?

Was it that he wasn't used to what Sunset and the girls were offering him? The one thing that his parents and Magnolia never once promised?

Was Flash really... truly such a sad stranger to love?

Flash found a few polite things to write down and conclude his conversation with Spike/Fenrir. Minutes after the fact, he couldn't even remember what he said. He simply parted ways amicably and hugged the massive book to his tender chest. Relishing a strange... new feeling bubbling up inside of him. Something warm and toasty and tingly... like sparkles going off in his blood vessels. It made him dizzy... like a four year old twirling in a pink bedroom while his godsisters giggled and complimented him.

He closed his eyes.

There was a mirror before him.

He waddled towards its.

Skirts dangled... lace and shine.

A hand reached out.

A name...

Flash's eyes opened before he could discern a single syllable. His heart was racing, and his thoughts were on Sunset.

He very... very desperately wanted to talk to her. Needed to talk to her.

However, the earthquake was persisting on the opposite side of the house. Each time he thought it was subsiding—dissipating into aftershocks—an even louder tumult would follow. The boi knew better than to second-guess the stamina of a magically-heated amazon.

So...

Flash decided...

...to just talk to the woman when she was done.

Hours later, the sun started going down...

...and Flash Sentry was still waiting.

When the boi first saw the guest room and the contents thereof, his imagination went to some pretty far-off places... conceptualizing the sort of things someone—or someones—might be capable of doing in there.

But he never once thought—even after years of having read and watched erotic content online—that any living thing could sustain a marathon of this nature for the same period of time that Sunset Shimmer was... “indisposed.”

And yet... there Flash was. And there Sunset wasn't. A guest room door and a symphony of muffled grunts/yelps/moans/whimpers/snarls/sighs separated the two of them. And it wasn't as if Flash was lingering at the doorframe and intently listening in to catch every auditory detail. Far from it—he was far from it, choosing to situate himself in the kitchen or living room or bedroom. And still he caught an earful of the indiscernible vocalizations of delicious torture from the sealed portion of the house. It was almost comical, and the lingering adolescent hornball inside of Flash would undoubtedly had been permanently turned on by the whole matter—had he not been wrestling with the fresh emotions of guilt and shame for somehow being responsible for Sunset running off and then going off behind a closed door.

The lonely boi did his best to bide the time...

He sat down at his computer, searching in vain for an e-mail from his family. Still finding none.

He found some cleaning solution and put a shine to his sneakers.

He tidied up the house—even mopped the kitchen floor... an act that was somewhat difficult to fulfill, seeing as that mysterious smell still intoxicated him.

When hunger struck, Flash found enough greenery in the refrigerator to prepare himself a light salad.

He slipped a princess dvd into his laptop and watched it.

Then he watched a second film.

It became dark outside...

...and still Sunset remained a tremorous ghost, banging through the walls.

There was a pattern to it—Flash discovered. Every now and then, Sunset would go silent—but the house would take on a new noise. That of rattling and groaning. It wasn't until he propped a stool before the kitchen sink to wash the dishes that he realized that the plumbing of the house was vibrating at full capacity. Water was being rerouted to the guest room—and at intense pressure, too. This would end after the space of five minutes, and once or twice he thought he noticed warm steam wafting out through the creases in the guest room frame. But then—moments after the currents had run their course—the grand orgasmic barrage would continue... and the lonesome boi was left to his own devices.

The latter would prove rather anticlimactic. For his last shower of the day—preparing for an inescapable sleep—Flash Sentry stood under the warm spray with a glazed expression and somehow he felt that he was... even limper than normal. This was saying a lot from a sissy life that was lived flaccid, but Flash couldn't even feel an inkling of a rise—despite all of the auditory sensations he had picked up on for hours at a time.

The truth was he couldn't allow himself to feel joyful. Because—despite what half of Sunset's moans might suggest—Flash had the unshakable impression that she was suffering... like a desert wanderer thirsty for water might suffer. And... once again... he'd remember that he was the one who cast her off into the choking wilderness to begin with. He had only meant to encourage her to relax around him... but it had the opposite consequence to what he had expected. Now he felt responsible... sad... and more than a little bit lonesome.

He very very sorely missed Sunset Shimmer... and they had only been apart for a few hours... and yet they hadn't been. All things considered, she was just a door-knock away... but Flash wasn't about to risk it. For all he knew, in a show of concern for her, he might instead fling her even deeper into... into...

...heat?

Flash felt confused once more... and terribly helpless. He had hoped that patience and good hope would have some “magical” effect, and Sunset would come walking out of that guest room any minute now and he could apologize and they could catch up and then they could cuddle up to some old wrestling videos like they did the night before and he would be swallowed up in her arms and her giggles and the smell of lilacs...

...just like that damnable scent from the kitchen that he had swept up without fully understanding...

Confused.

Simply... confused... and lonely. What he wouldn't give for Sunset to pick him up and tease him and stealthily coerce him into wearing one of Apple Bloom's old Fall Formal dresses or something... anything... if it would just make her happy. If it would just bring her here.

He wanted more than anything to just relieve the woman... and that longing didn't “excite” him in the slightest because he knew how impossible it suddenly was. He only had himself to blame.

True to form, Flash Sentry had a good long cry in the shower. It was not unlike the “cries” he endured for the years he lived on his shadowy lonesome. Only this time... it actually helped him out. Maybe because the spirit of Sunset and her words vaguely manifested themselves around him, and for once he knew to accept the cry for what it was... and what it meant for his sissy well-being.

He got out of the shower. Dried off. And slipped into the pink-pink nightie again. Looking at himself in the mirror, he sighed... for he had nobody but himself to be pretty for. And that felt hardly enough.

He made for Sunset's bedroom. There, he sat on an ottoman and brushed his tangled hair straight a hundred times on each side like a good princess. Part of him hoped that Sunset would walk in on him like this. She'd witness him in the act and would smile in pride and hug him close. But that never happened. The guest room remained the noisy barrier between the boi and his savior. Flash realized it was like waiting out a hurricane—it was best done in one's sleep when the anxiety of the wait could be done unconscious.

The boi left the bedroom door to the hallway cracked open ever so slightly. Maybe he'd wake up to see Sunset emerging. He let the tender bliss of that thought caress him—along with the lilac-scented sea of satin embracing his petite frame as he hugged a pillow to his chest...

...and drifted into lonesome darkness.

And then—a century later—he had to pee.

He awoke with a whimper. Somewhere—in the back of his mind—there were the scant vestiges of a dream involving dragon dogs and a pony-shaped viking ship traversing an ocean of glitter. Dr. Cadance was captain—or at least she wore a beautiful long-skirted sailor's dress uniform, complete with a matching hat and sash. Flash took a delicate mental note of the last detail as he fumbled out of bed, crossed his slender legs, and more or less pogo-sticked his desperate self to the bathroom across the house.

Flash sat when he went. He always sat when he went number one. He was thankful that the one toilet in Sunset's house was designed for normal-sized people. The poor boi always had a legitimate fear of falling through most seats without having to contemplate what it'd mean to utilize an amazon's nonexistent bowl.

His relief was short-lived. The moment he stopped worrying about his bladder, he remembered why he hadn't talked with anyone in hours... and his heart sank again with a sad sigh.

Nevertheless, with dutiful motions, Flash flushed then washed his hands then returned to the bedroom. Exhaustion caught up with him, and his bare feet side-stepped a few times across the plush carpet while he dizzily rubbed his eyes. The house was dark—but distant night lights at the end of the hall cast a dim amber sheen across the corridor, allowing him comfort of navigation. Flash was thankful for that. Even when Sunset wasn't around, she was still somehow looking after him.

When he reached the bedroom, he heard the click of a doorknob turning... but it wasn't him. He hadn't even closed the door behind him.

It was at that moment that his heart skipped a beat.

“!!!”

Bright-eyed and grinning, Flash spun to face the guest room...

...right as a massive figure stepped out. A well-toned figure who was limping... with tired, sluggish motions. A moist sheen glossed over her amber skin, accentuating every curve and dimple and muscle. Her calves were taut with rigid tension, and her ankles arched to maintain her dreary, careening height. The amazon's posterior was kissed with the same liquid that dribbled from her tangled mess of hair as well as trickled down her flexing shoulderblades. Flash noticed all of this because Sunset Shimmer was as naked as the day she was foaled.

A startled squeak escaped the boi's lips before he could stop it. “S-Sunny...?!” He held a hand over his blushing lips like a dumbstruck damsel.

Sunset didn't pay his outburst any heed. Probably because she couldn't hear it. Probably because she couldn't hear anything. Or feel anything. The poor woman lurched as if with a drunken haze, and Flash noticed that she was clutching a length of towels that dangled from her limp wrist like a second skin.

“Grnnngh... mrmmrffffnngh...” She took one step. Flash saw—but didn't see—but totally did see two back-lit globules of ample bosomy goodness jostling with each movement she made. The gun barrels had not receded, and their diamond-hard outlines sliced at the shadows between Sunset and the wall as the distance narrowed. “Ffffffffff—!” She slapped a hand out and caught herself against the lip of the hallway before she could outright collapse. “Fuckin'... T-Tartarus...” Sunset slurred. Sunset heaved. She was past whimpering or crying at this stage. Utter exhaustion poured out of every orifice attached to her weathered lungs. “Mmmmmmmmm... fuck...!”

Flash grimaced. Normally, he'd rush to the valkyrie's aid, but the fact that there was so much... … … flesh between them made such a proposition awkward. He was too overcome with anxiety and paranoia to make a quick decision. Paralyzed for untold seconds, he simply watched with uncertain breaths as Sunset's leg swung wildly.

Wait... she was already standing on two legs...

Fatefully, Flash's eyes traveled down.

Something was peeking in and out from behind the shadows of Sunset's thighs. A pendulum. A peninsula, perhaps. With each shadowed swing, it evoked images of child Flash's trips to the elephant paddock at the local zoo. When at last it dangled to a stop, it reached just below Sunset's knees, and even in the amber backlight the boi made out pronounced lines.. ridges... veins that ended upon the threshhold of a flared head. These organic lines matched the seams in a second pair of “breasts” that hung... from Sunset's undercarriage...?

“Just... fuckin'...”

Flash's bulging eyes darted to the woman's head.

She shuddered visibly as she ran her hand across her face... then gestured an index and middle finger into the air above her abdomen.

“...fuckin' go away already, Goddess-dammit.”

As she said this, there was a glow of gold light. It first manifested along the extremities of the woman's lower silhouette... then traveled like yellow-and-black sparkles up all the outlines of her that weren't quite so “womanly.” That weightedly pendulous length undid itself from end to base, vanishing along with the twin spheres that meatedly completed it. The phenomenon looked not unlike bad 90s CG as filtered through a television smoke screen. When the organic attachments had finally dissolved with sparkly clean golden goodness, all that was left was an immaculately clean womanhood... albeit haloed by a mist of otherworldly steam that too evaporated with time.

“Praise Celestia,” Sunset sighed with a slight touch of melody. Still drunk with exhaustion, she nevertheless managed to stand upright, as if a horrendous anchor had been cast off.

But by the time her nude self had turned around...

...the petite witness had scampered off. Flash ran, dove, and threw himself under the covers of her bed. Trembling. Shaking. Not necessarily with fright, but with... with with...

Heavy footsteps.

He clenched his jaw. His butt. His everything.

The amazon shuffled past the cracked door to the bedroom. There was a bout of silence... a sad, sleepy sigh... and then she carried her dinosauric self slowly towards the far end of the house—where there issued a thunderous slouching sound, followed by a pronounced grumble... then at last persistent waves of slumbering breaths.

Sunset Shimmer was finally asleep.

For the first time in hours, a beady-eyed Flash Sentry envied her.

There would be no sleep for the poor boi. Only thoughts—soaring, spiraling, back-flipping thoughts—and a rapid heartbeat that would not quit.

Straight on until morning.