Author's Note

Relevant music for chapters such as these.

Where Flash Takes a Semi-Sensual Shower and Gets Assaulted by Paragraphs

Since Flash Sentry was a little child...

Actually, make that since Flash Sentry was a high schooler, he had often fantasized about having a miniature army of deer, squirrels, chipmunks, songbirds, and other forested creatures at his immediate beck in call... just in case he had to clean up a crippling mess before him. This was his one and only way of channeling Snow White, perhaps his least understood Princess. Most human beings would be smarter than to take a bite out of a stranger's apple.

Sunset Shimmer's house was a mess. It put the seven dwarves to shame. Flash hadn't paid it much attention until then—what, with the rattled boi being knee-deep in conversation and tears with his girlfriend of olde. But between the clothes lying all around her bedroom to the junk scattered across her living space, it was more than obvious that Sunset Shimmer was satisfied with being unsatisfactory. This danger was ever-the-more clear and present in the bathroom—which, upon close inspection, looked like an atom bomb had gone off. Given: a feminine atom bomb of deoderant cans, scrunchies, ointment containers, used towels, unused towels, tissues, nail polish, and hair. Hair. Hair everywhere. It was like two scarlet furred wolverines had ripped a golden honey badger to ribbons and then cast all their fibrous entrails across the otherwise immaculate linoleum sea. If Sunset had indeed enjoyed the company of house guests before, then they had to have been close enough to the young woman to be a laid-back, forgiving bunch.

Most twenty-two year old young men would have scoffed at the scene, given Sunset the finger, and then driven off to a Days Inn somewhere to shower in a brave new world free from the tyranny of estrogenical detritus and soap scum. But Flash Sentry wasn't just any twenty-two year old man. He was a pint-sized basket of beta, a victim of both the world's dominance and his own subservience. Also—much like Snow White—he was ditzy enough to accept any gift given to him, no matter the package. And, given the circumstances, he wasn't about to complain about Sunset Shimmer's generosity. She was the only non-stranger in his life, and—besides—Flash had already eaten of her apple, albeit in slices.

So, slowly—and with more than a modicum of trembles—Flash Sentry stripped, freeing himself of the ridiculously pastel Betty Boop shirt and then his own briefs. Soon, he stood naked. Naked and vulnerable—in another person's house. The reality of the matter frightened him; everything frightened him, but the boi clung to the memories of the deep, friendly, warming conversation he had just enjoyed with Sunset Shimmer, his most trusted companion in these dark, cold times.

And...

He still shivered. Sunset Shimmer was only a few walls away, and if the towering amazon of a girl-horse-girl randomly decided to come stomping that way, even the flimsy lock on the door wouldn't be enough to prevent a horribly embarrassing situation. One that ended, no doubt, in her booming laughter. Of this, Flash was certain, so he did the one thing that would only make the situation more awkward. He stepped naked into the shower stall and proceeded to wet himself. With warm water, of course.

This proved a much more difficult task than the boi expected. Sunset Shimmer's shower stall resembled a garage—it was huger than huge, most likely due to obvious, Amazonian reasons. Flash shivered as he tried to contemplate a mental word that was different and better than "Amazonian." All things considered, Sunset Shimmer wasn't a frightening giantess. She was just an attractive, voluptuous twenty-two year old vixen whom some divine Goddess had mischievously decided to enlarge with some celestial drag-and-drop tool.

In any case, this circumstance extended to the scale of the bathroom, and Flash found himself having to reach slightly above shoulder-level to actually grasp the shower handle. When the faucet—eight feet from the tile floor—finally erupted, the water laughibly roared in a rainbow arc over the petite young man's head. There was no way in purgatory that Flash could conceivably jump up and adjust the nozzle that was set for Shimmer-height, and climbing the soap dish and shampoo hangers to reach such a lofty goal proved far too stupid and fool-hardy, even for Flash's feathery weight.

So, with tender tip-toeing across the tile, Flash backed up until he was a tennis serve away from the shower knobs. At last—with his back against the far wall, he was enveloped in the rapturous flow of liquid. He threw his naked back to it and thus began the first of many saintly sighs.

The moment the heated rinse rolled over his body, the mess of the bathroom vanished almost instantly. Flash closed his eyes and relished in the liquid soaking his long sapphire hair. He reached back and gracefully threaded a few fingers into those moistening threads, allowing them to drape heavilly around the nape of his neck and to his rounded shoulders.

There was a time when Flash's hair was more... boyish. He regularly visited a barber shop in middle school... until the men there insisted on buzzing his scalp—perhaps in an unspoken attempt to make the male look more masculine. He switched to a salon on the other side of town. There, the workers practically fell in love with the young patron. He had to deal with a gaggle of middle-aged women fussing over all the things they could do to his 'do, but Flash always insisted on a simple short anchorperson cut and they always acquiesced with sniffling melancholy.

Then—after Sunset Shimmer had dumped him and Twilight Sparkle had skipped like a polished stone across the tenuous surface of his young life, Flash simply... stopped caring about keeping up with the gender-coded hairline that swiftly eluded him. At the same time, he was growing less and less prominent in the high school social scene, diving back full-force into the sheepish little object of ridicule that had marked his everyday existence up until Sunset turned everything upside down. Flash spent most of his days indoors, working on homework, surfing the Internet, and... sleeping. Doing lots and lots of sleeping in bed... hoping that the day or night or gray haze in between would go away. Unlike Aurora, he didn't have a thimble to blame.

The result was that Flash neglected to visit the salon any longer, and his hair just grew and grew. Once it had gotten past shoulder length, he would simply snip the unwanted ends off himself, a task that was purely chaotic at first and took watching more than a few Youtube tutorials to perfect. But his hair simply wanted so hard to be graceful and grew so swiftly that he stopped trying to keep it short. And buzzing was out of the option—something about it horrified him, something that he couldn't feel arsed enough to combat.

And now he enjoyed the way it hung heavily and clung to the upper back of his tender frame as steam rose around the stall. Eventually, he turned around—an act that took much courage. At first, Flash held his hands over his chest. He was already wincing by the time he lowered his palms, allowing the water to grace his nipples—but not directly. It still felt like needles were stabbing him across two parts of his body, and his entire spine rippled because of it.

Flash couldn't pinpoint the moment in his life when his nipples had gotten so... nipply. He was certain that he woke up one morning and breathed on them the wrong way and suddenly felt like screaming. It was as though a trillion nerve clusters rivered into the two pinprick spots and refused to spread out. At first, this annoyed him to no end, because he was certain that every other male his age—and perhaps most of the females as well—didn't deal with such an absurd problem. They looked like any other dude's nipples, only Flash's were secretly equipped with torturous invisible pipe bombs of unimaginable sensitivity. Towards the later years of his youth—most recently, as a matter of fact—Flash began to discover that it wasn't all bad. On lonely nights, when listening to Someday My Prince Will Come carried on a far more sensual meaning, he had gotten to know his nipples a bit better... although such an intimate "meeting" never lasted for very long.

Slowly, Flash lowered his arms by his side and allowed the water to cascade over his tiny frame—nipples and all. He shivered a bit, and his toes curled a few times, but he had finally gotten to a point of relaxation. His eyes thinly peered through the steam and moisture, observing the strange domain that embraced him as he had embraced it. Bottles of conditioner and shampoo lingered in the far corners—some full but most half-empty. Sunset was obviously the type of pony... ... ...person to buy something completely new when the previous product was just barely running out, and this produced an inevitable chain of unnecessary bric-a-brac. Almost all of the hair products and bath oils were scented with lilacs. Flash wasn't certain why she adored that scent so much, but it would forever remind him of her. Once, that used to be a bad thing. But now...?

The last person Flash ever expected to reconnect with was... well... it was Princess Twilight Sparkle, who had gone back to her equestrian world of equines to do princess equine things. But Sunset Shimmer was pretty high up there on the what-the-fuck list as well. Sure, the last few times she and Flash had communicated before that night were relatively pleasant occurrences, where it was obvious that Sunset had turned over a new leaf and was shaping up to be a kind, empathetic human being. But they were tiny, paper-thin episodes of socializing at best, and it was obvious to Flash that Sunset had moved on to being an unshakeable unit among the seven sacred students of Canterlot High—those who would become the quasi-anonymous Elements of Harmony who vigilantly saved and enamored the denizens of that local township over the years to come.

Ultimately, when it came to Sunset Shimmer, Flash would have nothing more to cling to than the dark thoughts of dark times lived under the thumb of a bossy, bullying valkyrie. The highest pinnacle of manhood that Flash had ever reached—as defined by being a young woman's boifriend—was dismal and pathetic at best. In the end, all he got out of it was a brief surge in popularity, one that plummeted into a far worse place than where he started once Sunset had surfed far away from his somber shores. And despite the terrible way she had treated him—for so many months of confusion and angst—he only found the courage to blame himself for how everything failed. This had left a bitter taste in his mouth for years, and—in addition to the way his parents and sister ostracized him—buried him deep in a pit of self-loathing.

All of a sudden, this had all vanished, literally overnight. And now Flash Sentry found himself standing comfortably naked in a warm shower, surrounded by lilac scented bath oils and dangling pink loofahs. The Sunset Shimmer who had cradled and caressed and fed him just minutes earlier was a far cosmic cry from the female dog that once hounded the boi in high school. Had the Equestrian magic that empowered the Elements of Harmony somehow changed her? Did it do more than increase her height and strength and... metabolism? Did it affect her person at all? There was no denying it—Flash was almost certain Sunset had been high the entire time that they talked that evening. True, it had been years since he and Sunset had a heart to heart, so perhaps this was just her new personality now: affectionate, empathetic, and motherly. It would have been nice to experience that back during his junior year of youthful floundering, but now it came across so... strangely—even if it was a miraculous blessing.

Flash felt water rising—rippling around his toes. He looked down. The shower drain had a dense collection of scarlet Sunset hair, wound tightly in a gnarled ring, and it was effectively blocking the flow of water so that it risked rising up to Flash's tiny cankles within a wet minute or two.

Flash sighed. He felt sorry for... feeling sorry about himself. What had he done these past few years to be proud of? After graduation, all he did was lock himself up in whatever home his rich parents had provided him, subsisting off of internet, ennui and rice cakes. There was no way he could relate to his seven feminine companions of olde. He hadn't struggled to maintain a healthy social life while also having to worry about Equestrian magic invading the lands of Homo sapiens. He hadn't taken the courageous route of donning a mask and battling anomalous threats along with a cabal of like-minded superheroines. And he most certainly hadn't been afflicted with abnormal height and other things that made life more... complicated.

If Sunset Shimmer was telling the truth about everything, then evidently she was a towering monolith of a woman before entering her college years. Those were supposed to be the best years of a young person's life: rife with flirting and partying and drinking and all the other stuff Flash may or may not have read in a random issue of Vogue. While Sunset and her friends may not have been cruel people, they did live in a cruel world, and it was with a heavy heart that Flash realized just how impossible it must have been for Sunset—or any of her friends for that matter—to win over the affection of a handsome young man her age. Tall women were given the short stick in this world. Literally. And while Flash was still catching up with the mistress of that most gracious house, it pained him to think that she had gone for so long without any real chance of intimacy or affection. Granted, it was a base assumption on the boi's part, but still a realistic one. Who knows how deeply she may have been hungering for closeness—any kind of closeness. It might even drive someone like her to being overtly affectionate towards an undeserving individual.

Flash gazed down at his water-logged self—at least the parts still capable of being seen. Even with the warmth and comfort of the luxurious moment, he was feeling decidedly sober. His manhood perched like an acorn atop twin peaches: a dainty coin purse with nary a hair to be found. His legs bent pigeon-toed beneath such hilarity, with the inner toes pointed submissively inwards at all times.

He was useless to the likes of Sunset Shimmer. He was useless to everyone and anyone. What Sunset Shimmer needed in her life was a real man... a real person with the courage, strength, and versatility to help her deal with all the crazy, phenomenal things in her life. Even if she had survived for so long on her own to more than prove her competence, what she deserved was a mountain to lean on, and Flash Sentry—at his very best—was a damp pile of clothes lingering on the edge of a twin sized bed. He couldn't even comprehend a "mountain," much less laughably emulate one.

Long story short, if there were any lingering thoughts of this entire debacle somehow leading to a reconnection between himself and his former girlfriend, it was best to dash such dreams to faerie dust right away. Flash Sentry wasn't a friend—he was a problem, one that Sunset Shimmer had scooped up like puppy poop from an old school courtyard. Now he was limping and festering about in her own house, and she was the last person to deserve such a burden—no matter how light in frame. Flash had spent countless years disappointing his parents with his lazy antics, but he wasn't about to shift that ungrateful stupidity to Sunset. He had a new life to live. He had a career to begin. If he acted swiftly and quickly enough, he might even be able to win back his family's respect and manage an affordable, healthy existence. There was no point to pretend he could accomplish anything otherwise, and he most certainly wasn't about to take advantage of Sunset's generosity. One night was enough. Come morning, he would endeavor to find an out—any out—and leave her stressful existence in gracious peace.

So, thusly, Flash proceeded with soaping and cleansing himself. Unlike most showers from his past, he chose not to linger and embellish in the moment. He had a place to be, and it was anywhere but there. If he and Sunset were going to be friends from then on, then that was great, but they could carry it forwards in between his collegic pursuits. He'd forever be grateful to her for getting him back on his tiny feet again. Funny how a single evening with an old friend did loads more for the boi than years upon years of passive-aggressive threats from Magnolia Buckler and his folks.

With a swift turn of the knob, Flash cut the water off. He was shivering once again, twice sobered by the chill of the autumn world that encompassed that steamy domain. He stepped out of the stall, shaking his wet feet. It would take a good minute or two for the water to completely drain, on account of the hair and all. As Flash's thoughts descended on a relaxing bed of sighs, he learned to appreciate just how messy things were. Sunset was confident enough to bring him—unannounced—to her sacred place of rest. Such trust and humility went a long way, and he was ready to reciprocate.

So, after swiftly drying himself with a towel, he slipped on his briefs, enmeshed himself once again in Betty Boop, and tip-toed out of that steamy domain. It took two turns for him to find Sunset Shimmer, who was standing right outside the door to her bedroom, collecting an armful of blankets from a linen closet—presumably for her humble night's stay in the guestroom.

Flash Sentry took a deep breath, clenched his fists, and spoke as firmly and assertively as he could. The boi still couldn't stop his voice from cracking: "Sunny, th-thanks for everything that you have done for me, but I really should be going in the morning."

"Hmmm?" Sunset looked over, instantly brightening like a morning dawn upon seeing him for the first time in... minutes. "Oh hi, sweetie! Had a good rinse?"

He continued awkwardly: "And, for a matter of fact, I think I should be the one sleeping in the g-guest room." He swallowed. "You've been way too kind to me so far. Way kinder than I deserved, and—"

"Flash! Holy shit!" Sunset nearly dropped her things.

He blinked hard. "What?"

"Your hair!"

"What about it?"

She rushed over towards him—a wild wave of woman. "Friggin' A, Flash! Do you always leave it dangling wet and crazy like that after a shower?"

"Uhm... maybe?" He cleared his throat, his voice tickling a useless baritone. "Look. I mean it. Come morning, I'll go out and find a hotel to stay in and then I can—"

"Come with me."

Flash's eyes twitched. "Buh?"

"I mean it. Now, Mister!" She clasped his weak wrist in a vice grip and yanked him towards the bedroom.

Flash's pupils shrank as he ragdolled after her. "Buh!"

Once inside, she flipped on a strawberry desk light. A rosy red aura filled the room from the novelty lamp, highlighting the heaps of unfinished laundry draped every other spot. As Flash dizzily fought for footing, Sunset let go of the boi just long enough to grab a chair, kick the odds-and-ends off of it, and then situate it before a tall standing mirror.

"Now." She commanded, not that it mattered. She was already hoisting the pint-sized man by his waist—off the ground and onto the furniture's plush seat. "Sit."

Frazzled, tugging at the ends of the pyjama top to cover his demure thighs, Flash stammered: "What are you doing?"

"Saving you from an unfashionable night of tossing and turning, that's what." In one bold stride, Sunset grabbed a brush from her vanity and swooshed back behind Flash and the chair. "Leaving it wet and dangling is just begging for tangles, Flash."

He pouted ever so slightly. "What—did you switch places with Rarity overnight?"

She stifled a giggle. "As a matter of fact, she did teach me a thing or two about proper human grooming. And I'm more than proud to extend that blessing to you."

He huffed. "Don't you mean proper women's grooming?"

A strong pair of iron hands framing his skull instantly silenced the boi.

"Now sit still and no fussing," she thundered... amicably. "This will only take a moment, Flash."

"But I'm fine, Sunset!" Flash squeaked. "Besides, I wanted to talk to you about—" With the first of many brushstrokes, he felt a sharp snap of pain, as if a firecracked had gone off in the roots of his scalp. "Owie!"

"Hah! See?" Sunset's knowing smirk rippled like a candle in the mirror. Flash shrank into her reflection as she towered over him with the brush, nevertheless stroking his hair with the most expert of girlish care. "You've got several tangles already. If you want long hair like this, Flash, you can't just half-ass the drying process! Or else you gotta deal with the repercussions!"

He winced as she fought and waged war with more and more tangled threads. "But..." He squinted one eye, tearing slightly with the next few tugs. "I c-can't help it."

"Hmmm..." She plucked a few sapphire strings loose from the brush and went back to business. "Is that a fact?"

He clammed up slightly, hugging himself as his feet dangled an inch or two from the floor. Even the chair was enormous—but he knew better than to give false credence to his own petite size.

"Let me guess..." She murmured, humming to herself as she lovingly stroked and brushed at his lucious threads. "You don't even use conditioner on this, do you?"

He gulped. "No."

"Not even at the start of the day?"

"Didn't I just say 'no,' Sunset?"

"Celestia above..." She shook her head with a smile of disbelief. "Fuckin' incredible."

"What is?"

"Do you have any idea, Flash—any idea whatsoever—how many girls would kill to have hair as naturally gorgeous and manageable as yours?" Her eyes burned with fiery truth. "And skin so kissably soft? I mean—I bet you don't even use lotion, do you?"

"I... uh..." His adorable face scrunched. Flash felt himself self-consciously stroking a set of fingers across the other hand's wrist. "Am I supposed to?" His skin felt as... normal as it always did. Or perhaps normal for him wasn't normal whatsoever... just like it wasn't for Sunset—the poor woman. "Like... I've never seen a reason why I should."

"No." Sunset exhaled, and it sounded positively melancholic. "I suppose you haven't." Her brushstrokes became slower... gentler. Contemplative and affectionate—a sharp contrast to the sad look in her reflected face. "And I'm sorry for that."

He blinked up at her. For a telepath, she was damnably cryptic. "Why are you sorry?" For some reason, he didn't expect an answer.

Sure enough, she didn't give one. "There..." She did one last brush stroke and gave the hair a slight whip at the end of it, letting it rise, flow, and settle with the grace of a blue waterfall. "All done. Now isn't that a lot better than normal? Feel for yourself."

"Sunset, I don't see how—" He reached back, frowning, and touched his own hair. That scowl left the moment his fingers made contact, for it felt like threading his hand through pure silk. Never—not once in all of his years of lying in bed, showering, or hobbling through public with a baseball cap on—had Flash felt his hair exhibit such unbelievable exquisiteness. And yet, all this time, it was his same head of hair... wasn't it? "Oh gosh," was all he had to exhale.

Sunset Shimmer laughed loudly She leaned over like a human crane until she was finally able to hug him around his waist. Once again, his delicate world turned warm, soft, and brimming with lilacs. "You're just so damned adorable, Flash." Her strong voice vibrated through him, echoing between the woman's encircling arms as if his body was made of nothing but tingling air. "I'm so very glad that you're here with me."

He gulped before speaking in a meager voice: "I really can't stay here for long, Sunny."

"Why not?" The world vibrated again.

He worked the courage into his lungs to respond, his gaze locked on the reflection of her glorious face leaning over his shoulder. "It... it just isn't right, Sunset. You've helped me, and I-I'm grateful, but I'm the one to blame for being in this mess to begin with."

"Flash," she spoke in a tender yet firm tone. "Your parents have been completely cruel and heartless to—"

"I'm well aware of the conditions they have long set for me," Flash said. "And—let's face it—I've had things easy in this life." A sigh. "For too long I've rested on a bed of undeserved fortune. But now I need to face the music. And... y-you've helped me, Sunset. This has truly been a wake-up call, and I thank you for that. Starting tomorrow, I'll work on getting back on the same page with my folks and Magnolia. But—first thing's first. I'll be finding a place to stay on my own. There's no need for me to burden you any longer."

"Flash, do you honestly believe you're cut out for becoming what your parents desire from you?"

The boi blinked. He was uncertain how to respond to that... uncertain if he should feel complimented or insulted.

"I really... really think you should stay here for a while," Sunset said. Despite the insistence in her voice, it was a soft and inviting tone. The edges of her arms kneaded his soft shoulders as the endless hug persisted. "You can't figure things out overnight, Flash. Besides... there's so much for you to learn."

"I know you want the b-best for me, Sunset," Flash said, struggling to find an assertive tone to speak with. "But there's a difference between being a houseguest and a prisoner." He slowly shook his freshly-brushed head. "You can't keep me here."

Her arms tightened ever so slightly around him. "Actually, I very well could."

The young man's heart skipped a beat.

"But..." Her embrace loosened, accompanied by a warm sigh that tickled past his earlobes. "...you and I both know that I won't. Not if you don't want to stay, Flash." He caught sight of a bittersweet smile aimed at him through the mirror. "But... I really... really wish that you would stay. It may not make sense right away... but I think you'll discover something better about yourself if you just... trust me for a bit longer." She reached around and toyed a friendly finger against his chin. "Mmmkay?" The woman's eyes positively sparkled in the rosy lamplight.

Flash felt the urge to tremble suddenly. Only his lungs gave in. He thought he had sufficiently dried now that it had been minutes after showering, but one tiny-tiny part of his body was inexplicably wet once more. It was as if all power from his meek framed had been sapped, and a body part or two took charge by replying in spite of himself:

"Okay, Sunny." High pitched, practically a whimper. He hated and loved himself at the same time.

Thankfully, Sunny's warm voice melted any chance of prolonged mulling over the matter: "Very good. Now..." With a chivalrous hand, Sunset gently led Flash off the chair and towards the bed. "...time to turn in."

"Yeah. S-sure." Flash lurched like a zombie towards the bed. It took a few embarrassing seconds for him to climb up and onto the surface of the amazonian resting place, and now he was wading across the empress-sized mattress to find his hibernating spot in the blanketed center of it all. By the time he had slid in beneath the sheets, he was flabbergasted to find that Sunset Shimmer was still there, standing prim and proper like a royal chambermaid at the bedside. "Uhm... what's wrong?"

"Nothing," she said with a wink, watching him get settled in. "Just here to help."

"To help?" Flash's face contorted with mixed amusement and annoyance.

"That's right," she said, leaning in to straighten the blankets.

He tried not to moan like a whiney teenager. "Sunset, I'm twenty-two years old." His ocean blue eyes rolled as he felt the sheets tightening around him. "I do not need to be tucked into bed."

"Yes, well..." She winked in between the swishy throes of the graceful gesture. "Maybe I need to do it."

He could only blink at that.

"I wish you sweet dreams, Flash," Sunset said quietly, like a mother bird singing her young to sleep. "In fact... I know you'll have some."

"What does that mean—?" Flash paused in mid speech, his lips pursing as his eyes drifted across the rosiness of the moment. It was then that he remembered waking up a century ago from a wild pastel dream filled with girlish frills and princessy giggles. All of his wayward fantasies from pre-pubescence to post-graduation malaise had been encapsulated in a perfectly manic vision. All those lonely nights spent falling unconscious to a marathon of Disney films had been made manifest in his sleep—in a far more concrete package than he had ever had the pleasure of embracing before. All because he had slept in the bed belonging to a telepath—"Wait. That... that was you?" He glared at her in awe. "Did you give me that dream?"

"Hmmmm..." She leaned in until she was within kissing distance and lingered there, levitating on a smile and a breath. "It was all you, Flash. I just... installed a few mirrors so that you would last there a bit longer this time." She reached in to brush loose a strand of sapphire bangs from behind his ear. "If you would like, I could place them there again tonight."

He stared up at her, breathless. In that intensely vulnerable moment, he felt too weak and too selfish to ask for such a thing.

Thankfully, he didn't need to. "Alright, then, sweetie."

And at last she made true with the distance between them. The kiss landed softly on his forehead, like it would between any friend, only there was more to it. A flicker of nebulous flame—invisible but sparkling true—and Flash felt it nestle somewhere deep inside his mind, where it aided the comfort of the moment and made his eyelids heavy. He was vaguely aware of Sunset's massive frame drifting away from the bed, towards the lamp where a single flick of her finger flooded the room with cool, inviting darkness.

"See you in the morning, Flash," she spoke, a shapely shadow among the rest. "It's going to be a brand new day." Her last words lilted happily, and that tone of joy and innocence and promise carried Flash into the slumber long awaiting him. A few tears even baptized the moment. But only a few.

Flash Sentry was showering again, and for once the spray of water didn't hurt his poor little nipples. In fact, the faucet had appropriately tilted down to face his petite frame. The water was warm, soothing, and even fragrant. The curiosity of how he was able to adjust Sunset's nozzle so easily was the first rational thought that entered his mind, and a pair of eyes-within-eyes opened to the ethereal moment.

He was in Sunset's shower stall, and the walls stretched on forever. Somehow, this anomalous fact did not disturb Flash, and he chose instead to relish in the warm liquid. He raised his nubile arms up over his head and stretched back like a cat, and still he somehow found hands stroking all over him—becoming one with the cascade of moisture.

He sighed contentedly. Flash's voice was high, naturally chipper, and he didn't fight it. Gazing up through the steam, he saw a dangling wrack of shower products. In the center of it all, a curvaceous egg-shaped container stood out in baby gum pink. Squinting as hard as he could, Flash couldn't make out any of the letterings on the surface of the shampoo bottle, but he was more than certain he spotted the cheeky illustration of a golden tiara crowning the very top of it, just beneath the cap.

The boi was instantly enamored. He reached upwards, holding his breath. When his fingers made contact with the cold surface of the bottle, he shivered all over in victory. One or two wet motions later and he was effortlessly twirling the cap off. His nose tickled with the smell of vanilla, and he felt like singing. He gathered a dollop of pastel pink solution into his milky-soft palm and then proceeded to lather the material into his hair while the half-full bottle levitated beside him.

Something happened next—something that permeated the warm moisture and the melodic tune he was pleasantly humming to himself. The air bristled with autumn crispness and birdsong. Flash reopened his eyes to see that the pink lather was cascading swiftly down his lithe body. Once it made contact with the tile floor of the shower stall, it morphed into a bed of grass and clovers. The dew-laden floor of a verdant glen spread rapidly around and behind him, blossoming with flowers and butterflies and honeybees.

Flash stood—breathless and naked—as the stall melted away, revealing a bright emerald forest teaming with life. The sun pierced the canopy above in playful god rays, christening the springy floor with gold. Birds chirped in the distance and cicadas lulled the beauty of it all with a subtle baseline.

The boi blinked, gazing timidly at the metamorphic landscape with pursed lips. He turned to look at the bottle floating before him. He squinted once more... but he still couldn't make out the words on the shampoo container—provided there were even any words at all.

"... ... ...I'm dreaming," he murmured in a breath strung up between awe and innocence. "... ... ...I'm lucid."

He expected his last exclamation to carry with it a thunder that collapsed everything into bitter darkness. Somehow, miraculously, that didn't happen.

What consisted of the "shower" was swiftly dwindling into a translucent haze of afterthought behind him. Meanwhile, the boi drifted forward, dipping his toes into the blades of grass and relishing in how they tickled his tender soles. He felt his heart racing—somewhere far away from his chest. It sent a vibration that cocooned the moment, sealing the scent of vanilla and lavender deeply within. Flash was suffocating on it, but it wouldn't kill him. Instead, he found himself close to a rapturous hyperventilation.

If he was lucid...

He gulped, stifled a whimper, and stuck his arms out. Then—with the grace of a floating lilly pad—he twirled around in two complete circles. Shower water fanned out around his waist, descending like an enormous flower petal around his legs before solidifying in a flicker of pink. The smell of lavender intensified, clinging to him—as did a lace bodice and a pair of puffy, satin shoulders. When Flash Sentry stopped, the skirts didn't. The pastel lengths of a princessy minidress flounced and ruffled before finally billowing to a stop. He stood like an absolute doll, with glitter and blush accentuating the delicate parts of his neck and face.

With trembling fingers, he reached down and fondled the fluffy ruffled skirt gathered about him. It consisted of countless layers of see-through salmon, bespeckled with tiny indescribably bright gemstones. And beneath all of that there wafted an ocean of snow-white petticoats that tickled and caressed the sensitive creature's soft thighs. Among other sensitive things.

Flash exhaled through a whimper. His lips began curving. He brought a hand up, watching with moist eyes as the most delicate of lace gloves formed around his slender fingers, with the wrists and upper arms accentuated by dancing seams dotted with miniature floral patterns.

He whimpered again, and a giggle was birthed out the end of it, the first of many. Flash sniffled, feeling a sob coming on, so he decided to outrace it. Hiking up the edge of his skirt, he ran out into the golden sunlight, blurring past rows of trees and overturned logs. The flowers tripled across the forest floor as he cavorted, and soon the earthen bed felt like a trampoline. He skipped along, cackling to himself... laughing and giggling. The air brimmed with the choir of a million giddy schoolgirls, and they were all emanating from him. He knew it; he reveled in it. Some way, somehow, this was how everything should have been.

He spun about, twirling in mid-run. The world around him rippled in pink, reflecting his joy and euphoria. At last, once the dizziness had caught up with his rapture, he simply allowed himself to fall down. A bed of colorful flowers caught him, and it was softer than any mattress he had imagined in his entire life. The pretty boi curled up, wrapped in silks and lace, liberated and constricted all at once. Not once did he stop giggling, even as he reached down to fondle his skirts... then upwards to cup a pair of gloved hands around his tear-strained face. A third eye had opened up amidst all this, and somehow Flash knew that no amount of sobbing—happy or otherwise—would ruin his glittery makeup.

Then, after he had endured this interminable wave of giggles—he smiled up at the sky. His smiling face reflected in the third eye, until it blinked—as did he.

"I'm lucid," Flash murmured, repeating a confused showering young man from an eternity ago. He managed a momentarily sober breath. "I never stay awake when I become lucid." He held his laced gloves up to his face. Even after such a fluid romp through a forest, they hadn't suffered a single speck of dust or grass stain. It was truly too perfect to be true—all of this. "This..." His pretty brow furrowed. "...Sunset is doing this, isn't she?"

There was a crash of thunder.

The boi gasped, instantly sitting up. His lace-clad body flinched like a damsel in the shadow of a dragon.

Sure enough, an enormous shadow loomed over the furthest horizon. It rippled over the landscape, casting a dark malaise throughout the forest. The trees dried up and lost their leaves one row after another. Meanwhile, the grass turned to ash, growing ever closer in its necrotic collapse. There was no voice to the rumbling from the heavens, and there certainly wasn't a face to be recognized among the clouds. Nevertheless—piercing the superficial layers of it all—Flash Sentry somehow knew what it all meant.

"Magnolia..." He grimaced, trembling. A tear rolled down his cheek as he felt chills running down his dolled-up body. "Mom... Dad..." His voice rasped, trying to emulate the baritone it fought for in high school. "I'm sorry. I'm s-so sorry but..." He sobbed, paralyzed to that place as the wave of darkness came. "I can't!"

The flowers died all around him. The forest bed turned to obsidian.

"I j-just can't...!" He held a pair of gloved hands over his face. "I'm so sick of trying to pretend—!"

Before that perilous thought could finish, he felt a tug to his center. Flash shifted, standing up... only he wasn't. A gasp escaped him, and he reopened his teary eyes to see that that wasn't all that had exited. A cloud of pink had billowed outward from his body, a color that had a form... an outline of his own figure wearing the same exquisite dress. She... he... they stood boldly in the center of the forest, fearlessly facing the incoming void as it thundered louder and closer. Then, seconds later, the translucent shape twirled around with a ruffle of those layered skirts. They looked down at Flash, and while he couldn't detect the features of the stranger, he somehow knew that they were smiling.

Something stood on the tip of Flash's tongue, something that he couldn't pronounced—although his entire being yearned to do it.

The moment broke when the figure reached down their hand, beckoning for Flash's. Nervously, he reached a gloved wrist up—gasping when he felt a tug. The pink shape had yanked him off the floor, and now it was leading him in a bold flight across what remained of the forest. The speed of the stranger was indescribable. Flash whimpered and clung to the arm of his savior, and somehow they clung back. He sensed the figure's smile increasing in tenfold, and it melted his shivers away as the darkness receded behind.

Like bullets of photonic energy, the two "princesses" zoomed over the dreamscape. Finally, at long last, the figure made a massive leap, hugging Flash close as they sailed into the sky. Flash held on for dear life, watching as the forest turned to clouds and then into stars. Soon, the two came to a tranquil stop on a carpet of galaxies and milky cosmos. Everything that Flash had ever suffered from in life was an entire universe away. He felt safe. He felt secure. But—most of all—he felt adored.

He gazed—awestruck—at the shape of his savior.

They turned to look back towards him. The two stood at the same height, and for a moment Flash could make out the shape of the colorful silhouette's bangs. He recognized how damnably similar the hair resembled his own—from any given point in his life.

"I..." He stammered to say. "...I know you..." He sniffled, melancholic and thankful all at once—but mostly curious. "I know your name..." An apologetic whimper. "But why can't I say it?"

The other princess said nothing.

He bit his lower lip. "...does Sunset know it?"

He felt a pair of feminine hands grasping his face. The unseen smile intensified, for the figure was leaning in towards his face. Instead of a kiss, the two merged, their bodies and their dresses becoming one. Yet again, Flash felt overwhelmed by the same joy and euphoria that had enraptured him as he ran like a schoolgirl into the flower bed. There was an undeniable taste of innocence to it all, and yet—at the same time—he found that same energy culminating in his pleasure center, at the very base of his being. It was naughty and holy all at once, and he felt himself drawn to it like a moth to the flame... only to discover the flame was inside him the entire time.

As the heat grew to a boiling point, he tried to scream out the name that eluded him...

All that escaped his waking lips was a squeak. Breathless and sweating, Flash Sentry sat up in an enormous bed, surrounded by satin sheets and the scent of lilacs.

Sunset's room.

Hours had passed. Or was it just minutes?

Flash couldn't tell. He was exhausted—his heart and mind fried.

What's more, his tongue felt parched.

So—catching his breath—he spent a good half minute struggling to get out from under the sheets and the rest of that same minute endeavoring to land safely onto the bedroom floor below. His body and mind—every nerve that existed within the twenty-two-year-old—tingled with the threat of a brand new numbness. Very little could compare to the sensuous intensity of the vision he had just endured. Only when Flash had managed a good dozen steps across the house did he finally detect a... tiny hint of moisture in the crotch of his briefs. He hadn't completely emitted—thank Goddess—but there was no more doubting on what level the dream had "appealed" to him. Had he been cavorting any longer in that mental flowery forest, he most certainly would have given Sunset a legitimate reason to go back on her insistence that he sleep in her bed. The whole concept mortified him; he needed a drink of water badly... to wake up after waking up.

Flash found himself once again in Sunset Shimmer's main bathroom. For having barely explored the lengths of this domain, Flash was quietly amazed at himself for finding his way around so easily. The sun still hadn't risen outside; everything was mostly dark. Yet, as he entered the room, he very clearly noticed one thing about it that had changed. There was a stack of phone books positioned in the center of the room—right before the bathroom sink.

Flash Sentry blinked tiredly. Then—after a momentary eye roll—he smiled once again at Sunset Shimer's nebulous spirit of generosity. With a humble sigh, the petite young man stepped up onto the makeshift "stool" of phonebooks so he could competently reach the amazon's sink. There—in waiting—the telepath had dutifully left for him a clean drinking glass that stood out from the rest of the estrogenical detritus. As he filled it with tap water and took a sip, Flash's mind wandered—as did his eyes.

How much did Sunset have to do with that dream he just had?

She implied that she only made it so that he could become lucid to his own thoughts once unconscious... but...

...was that as far as it went?

Was she manipulating his visions somehow?

He finished his glass and swallowed the cool liquid down his throat. In a pensive stance, Flash clutched the container demurely in two hands as he looked at his tiny reflection in the bathroom mirror.

No...

Even if she could read his thoughts, she couldn't know everything about him...

Including the things that he didn't know...

Gulping, Flash freed one hand and stretched it towards the mirror. The face in the glass wasn't a cryptic figure of pink translucence... but he felt like caressing it all the same.

There was a name. It stood on the tip of his tongue. It bristled with the desire to be manifested the moment the figure saved him from the thunder of his metaphoric anxieties.

But why couldn't he pronounce it? Was he unable to... or unwilling to?

And why did everything about it feel so innocent... so precious... so familiar?

Flash sighed. With a defeated slump, he placed the glass down. His thin wrist brushed against something that rattled in a separate container.

He looked over, eyes narrowing in the dim light.

There rested a pair of toothbrushes in a plastic cup beside the sink. Both had bristles bent after multiple uses. One had a bright orange handle and the other was colored midnight purple.

Flash blinked. He scanned the rest of the bathroom. It was then that he noticed that not all of the body care products and deoderants lying messily around were lilac-scented... but several followed a completely different motif whatsoever. He saw illustrations of moonflowers on multiple containers, many of them bunched into their own segregated corner of the washroom.

The young man dwelled on that for a moment... until the exhaustion of the undying night nearly made him teeter off the phonebooks. Stepping down gingerly, he exited the bathroom and headed back towards his prior sleeping arrangements.

Something shook through the house. Loudly.

He paused in his tracks. Tender toes kneaded the plush carpet in a pensive manner.

There was another vibration, laced with the muffled sound of a voice from somewhere.

Flash's poor little heart skipped a beat. He turned around, trembling—as always when something frightened him. Was there a fight going on outside? Was somebody trying to break in?

Something tapped. Rattled. Like a pounding noise.

Against his better judgment, Flash slowly shuffled towards the vague source of the outburst. This took him around a corner. He saw a window he hadn't seen anymore. The sky was a dark overcast, but the tiniest hint of a silver dawn loomed beyond the treetops. It must have been getting close to early morning.

One last time, there was a pronounced outburst, followed by what could best be described as thumping footsteps. However, the sound didn't move anywhere—instead localized to one spot.

At long last, a numb Flash Sentry found that spot. There was a door a few steps down—a shut door. Whatever room lay beyond, Flash couldn't guess, but he detected the hint of a flickering glow rippling beneath the frame. Like candlelight. Something was happening inside. Possibly happening to someone.

"S-sunset?" Flash murmured. It was a whisper, and nobody in that same hallway—much less past a shut doorframe—could possibly have heard him. Nevertheless, he approached the door. All was silent now, but the flickering light remained beneath the frame. Flash could feel his heart pounding with fear and worry. "Sunset, is... e-everything...?" His voice came to a cold stop.

He could hear heavy breaths from within—as if someone was hyperventilating. Albeit—a very calm and controlled hyperventilation. Flash was quite familiar with the sound. It was something he often experienced at the end of a good long cry.

Instantly, his heart ached for her. Sunset must have been going through something horrible—what it was, he couldn't pretend to guess. But considering all the changes that her and her friends' bodies had gone through—as collective victims and champions of Equestrian magic—there was no telling just what unfathomable toll it must have taken on their spirits as well.

He reached out to knock on the door... or turn the knob... or do anything—really. But the boi couldn't bring himself to finish any of those gestures. Thinking back on all the things Sunset had done for him, he was the weaker and needier half of every exchange. This was Sunset's domain, and so long as they both dwelled within, she was the one in charge. There would be no point in confronting her then and there. If nothing else, he would be better off gently bringing the matter up when they were both in a state of relaxation and peace.

All of these things Flash told himself to excuse drawing back from the door and its flickering light below. And yet—as he turned around with somber resolve—he couldn't shake the gnawing fact that he was simply a coward. Just how could he help Sunset like she had helped him? There was a reason why he insisted that he find a place on his own. This would all end with him taking advantage of her good graces, just like he had taken advantage of Magnolia's and his folks'.

And yet, Sunset had insisted that he stay "a little longer." It was all so very confusing, and it thoroughly exhausted the poor boi.

Quietly, he swam back into the center of Sunset's bed, clad in her shirt and lilac scent, hoping—mayhaps even dreaming—that such exhaustion would aid him until morning.