Author's Note

Art by twilite-sparkleplz

Oh nothing, just a fantastic work of art Twilite-sparkleplz did of Felicity, Cherish, and her favorite Shadowbolt: Sunny Flare. Why am I sharing it? Cuz it's cute. Also because the pyjama top that Cherish (on the right) is wearing is what I have in my head for the type of "bedshirts" that Flash has been wearing so far in this fic... ... ...except that they look like friggin' gowns on him cuz of the femboi-to-amazon size difference. F'naaaaaaa.

This really isn't like normal smut fics out there--if you can even make the comparison. I think I realized this about myself ages ago--that I would be far more obsessed with the mental machinations of setting up a sissy/futa situation than the actual moist-moist portion that inevitably comes (or hopefully comes). Lots of sissification stories involve a sort of push/resistance element... in which the character does not *want* to be feminized but experiences it in a dub-con situation until it's accepted.

I more or less aim for the same thing, but it's a lot more complicated. I like to have the characters *desire* the "transformation" from the get-go... but they just have emotional and psychological reasons for resisting. It's not a complete non-con situation. They just gotta break down the barriers of their resistance until they can fully embrace their withheld fantasy.

That... doesn't make a single lick of sense, does it? F'naaaaaaaa. Long story short, Flash Sentry has always had a dream-scenario in his head, but he's been so bogged down in guilt and loneliness that he's never perceived himself as actually accepting it. That's what I'm aiming at here... and the pulling of the literary trigger takes dozens of chapters. Go figure.

Also, fruit snacks.

I Swear to Emma Thompson That This Isn't a Latex Fetish Fic

Flash Sentry was a dainty eater. This—among a whole slew of other prissy things—was an inescapable truth that he had to live with. To his chagrin, he didn't have a chance to 'fess up to Sunset about it before she skipped out of the house... although part of him suspected that she knew about it quite well.

He consumed the breakfast as best as he could, but he didn't finish his own plate—much less have a chance to touch the bacon and eggs on hers. There was no way Flash was prepared to put the food to waste, especially since it was comprised of mostly meat and dairy products and had been cooked up by a magical otherworldly horse girl. So—after a bit of rummaging—he found a cabinet where Sunset stored plastic containers. This proved to be a bit of an adventure and involved standing precariously atop a well-positioned chair. Nevertheless, the slight boi dutifully acquired a medium-sized box and scooped the remaining edibles into it. Storing them in the fridge proved even more adventurous; the appliance was sized to appropriately match a seven foot six inch goddess, and Flash huffed and puffed before his meager muscles were finally able to hoist the refrigerator's massive door open. Afraid of being stuck in the proverbial tomb, he all-but-tossed the plastic container inside and allowed the fridge to slam shut on its own.

Catching his breath, Flash took a look around the kitchen and... simply couldn't leave it in the disarray that it was in. So—with the utilization of another chair—he stood before the amazon's sink and manually hand-washed the dishes and cooking ware. This turned out to be a great deal more therapeutic than one might expect. However, being used to living alone from a very young age, Flash managed brilliantly, humming a Disney tune or two (or three) to himself in the process. When he was done, he had an entire assortment of squeaky-clean dishes and utensils resting in the dish drainer. He followed that up with a clean sweep of the counter and table and soon the kitchen was practically spotless... or at least as well as a five foot nothing creature of miniscule masculinity could manage.

He knew that Sunset hadn't asked him to do all of that. But she did give him close to virtual free reign over the household. In truth, Flash never truly felt "at home" unless it was a clean home. Apart from the work he had done on the kitchen and the brief brush-up Sunset had done in her bedroom while she was sleeping, the place still looked very... ... ... erratic. Random nick-nacks, articles of clothing, and oodles of young adult humanity lay scattered across every other platform and corner of the place. Flash always knew Sunset to be something of a wild genius—prone to organized chaos. He couldn't berate her for it; if he too had magically arrived from a land where sapient creatures possessed only hooves, he'd leave things lying around too. It was a good enough excuse for him to live with... at least an excuse that made him giggle slightly inside.

Part of Flash—the girly part, which was the only part—always wondered what the magical unicorn version of his ex-girlfriend actually looked like. He just never thought he'd dwell on the topic... not until now, when his entire life had been essentially hijacked.

For that truly was the case. He never asked to be scooped up out of the streets and poured lovingly into her lilac-scented bed. While Sunset pretended to give the boi many "outs," she was clearly quite intent on keeping him there—or at least keeping him from being elsewhere. It was a delightful gesture—to be sure—but it still minimized his agency. Being forced into something was a sensation Flash hadn't experienced since... well... since he had gone steady with a girlfriend/valkyrie/bully.

And he'd be lying to himself—at least on some small level—if he claimed that he didn't entirely enjoy that helplessness.

Before Flash knew it, he had gone about the living room, front room, and adjacent hallways—picking up the random junk he had found lying around. It helped him concentrate... or perhaps not concentrate, as he waited for time to limp by. Within half an hour, he had collected all of the scattered mess into separate piles placed neatly into the northeast corner of each room. Sunset might be mad at him, but at least the junk had been compartmentalized, and Flash would be sure to ask her what to do with it when she got back.

Diligent or not, the whole ordeal left him feeling more than a little bit sweaty and anxious. Plus, he had the delicious-yet-greasy taste of bacon lingering in his little mouth. There was only one thing Flash yearned to do when his world felt unwaveringly yucky.

He took a shower. His second within less than eightteen hours of being there. He knew that Sunset wouldn't mind—even if she thought it was silly. If Flash had a place of his own—or at least a permanent place of his own that wasn't held hostage by his folks—he'd take more than three showers a day. He just felt so good feeling... good. Squeaky clean. Fresh. Pleasantly-scented. There were several types of soap that he possessed back at his last apartment, but they were likely lost in a trash compactor now. Even as he scrubbed himself clean in the steamy domain of an old friend, he still couldn't get over the fact that he was now adrift... bereft of his own bed... essentially homeless. It was more than clear why someone like Sunset would look at him and immediately want to help the boi. Her kindness and—yes—even her teasing managed to distract him from the harrowing turn his life was making. It was a bit too stunning for him to conjure up the proper gratitude. So, instead, he showed his thanks by relying on proper memory:

After getting out of the shower, he laid a towel over the toilet, sat there, and proceeded to brush out his hair just like Sunset had the night before. It was oddly therapeutic, and he found himself attempting to mimic the gentle motions the amazon had done with her hands. It didn't feel nearly as heavenly on his own, but he managed well enough. As he fixed his sapphire hair straight, the naked young man glanced around the bathroom. It was very silly: the bathroom stall, sink, and towel racks were all clearly designed for an epically tall human being... but the toilet hung low to the ground—resembling a bidet. Sunset wasn't kidding about the purpose and expense that went into constructing this house. It was specifically designed so that a normal person could go number one or number two while the true owner did everything else.

That was another thing Flash couldn't get over. Sunset simply had less biological functions to worry about. He couldn't tell if it was a blessing or a curse—what magic had done to her. On one hand, it seemed nifty to be able to eat and drink without fear of metabolic consequences... or perhaps there were still consequences but they manifested themselves differently? Also, if Sunset didn't need to urinate or defecate anymore... did she still possess the same nether regions? Did her tubes still end up flowing in the same direction, only completely empty?

Come to think of it... did magic do anything to her ability to produce a child?

A lump formed in his throat. The sensitive boi couldn't help but feel immeasurable sympathy for the amazon/old friend... even if it was just a frightening theory at best. Still, Sunset hadn't made any attempt to breach the topic, so he decided to keep silent about it on his own end. In due time, he would find out more and more about the telepathic Element of Harmony—or so he was told. At this point, Flash truly had no other recourse but to trust her.

Once dry and thoroughly brushed, Flash put the clothes back on—although he lingered in doing so this time. As he was an avid fan of cleanliness, part of him regretted having to wear his briefs yet again. This would make nearly two days in a row of wearing the same underwear... and for some reason that really miffed the boi. Flash had always had the luxury of switching his... "intimates" on the fly. But—as he was indeed now "homeless"—this was proving to be a new hurdle. He didn't have another pair of briefs in his backpack. Aside from the pants, shirt, and hoodie—all oversized—the rest of his wardrobe had bit the dust along with the rest of his possessions scooped up from his apartment.

With a somber sigh, Flash closed his eyes and slid the scratchy, cotton guy-briefs back up his slender frame. First thing first—with Sunset's grace—he would go out somewhere to buy something... anything... to replace his wardrobe. Something cheap that he could afford. He'd even venture as far to purchase (insert audible shudder here) boxers. Flash may in fact have been one of the tiniest-endowed-creatures on Mars, but that didn't change the fact that he liked to feel... protected "down there." Wearing something loose and open like boxers secretly terrified him. It was tantamount to dangling a canary from the ceiling of an enormous cave, knowing full-well that hidden crocodiles were present. The poor boi crossed his legs at the absurd thought, and then came the time to adorn Pinkie's unwitting hand-me down.

Once again, the stupidly girly article fwoofed over his body like a cocktail dress... ... ...but this time he paused to look at the mirror from where he stood on the stool Sunset had placed there at the sink for him. With his pixie-like features, long blue hair, and pouting lips... Flash looked like a shy younger sister who had gotten stuck with her older sibling's pyjama top. Something deep inside Flash's sensitive chest fluttered, and he remembered his young self spending time with little girls his age and older—because he had no alternative. He remembered how the young Flash endured such get-togethers... relished them, in fact. There was a simple joy and elegance to embracing something that—given another circumstance, an alternative life—would have been looked on as "forbidden." The daughters of his parents' house servants had accepted him as one of their own—a sweet little girl needing friends. Here at age twenty-two and impossibly petite, he almost looked the part. His eyes rested on the adoracute pastel image of Princess Peach winking up at him from the shirt's reflection and he felt a tingle all over... an inkling of that same innocence that once enchanted him before he was old enough to read. But there was something else too... something he couldn't put words to... or was afraid to.

Sunset may have been teasing him with her choice of a "house shirt," but it was doing more to his fragile psyche than she could imagine. Or—perhaps—the telepath knew more than she was letting on. If this was all part of some devious plan, Flash wanted in on it... but he was afraid of what he'd end up finding out. So—instead—he surrendered to the sweet cotton candy smell infused to Pinkie's article. Relaxed somewhat, he slipped the pink socks back on and walked back into the house—fully clean and refreshed.

Along the way towards Sunset's bedroom, he passed by the door to the guest room...

...and he lingered. His soft socks scuffled to a stop and he glanced at the door handle. Just the night before, he had heard what sounded like tormented whimpering from within... but as soon as he mentioned it to Sunset, she had laughed it off like some sort of goofy spring break fiasco. Flash's brow furrowed. He licked his lips as he felt his fingers clenching and unclenching, all the while his beautiful blue eyes lingered on the door handle.

At long last, he forced himself forward with a burst of movement... leaving the door behind and entering Sunset's bedroom to fetch his phone and laptop. Soon, he retired to the living room, climbing up onto the enlarged sofa and sitting cute and cross-legged with the unfolded computer on his lap. True to her words, Sunset had charged the thing up fully. The gesture brought a smile to Flash's face... until the desktop came up and he found himself blinking at an insanely pink background featuring Disney Princesses.

"The... fluff...???"

His eyes narrowed on a shortcut icon placed in the dead-center of his desktop. He clicked on it, and a text file opened up.

Sorry, sweetie. ;) I simply couldn't resist.

Flash rolled his eyes with a sigh.

Nevertheless, he read on.

I hope you don't mind that I took the liberty of running a virus sweep for you. Didn't you realize that this thing was running on the slow side?! You have to protect your stuff, Flash! Also, the wi-fi password is "TireksRevenge3". That's my favorite in the series. But shhhhh... don't tell anyone! qB^)

The boi ran a hand over his face, stifling a moan.

Was nothing sacred?

Not only did she abduct him from the CHS campus and virtually strip him...

...but she had gone perusing through his computer as well.

Flash truly was defenseless to Sunset Shimmer's intervening ways. Part of him felt that—on some basic level—he should be righteously indignant. But Flash was very bad at... being angry. In truly beta fashion, he let it roll off his shoulders. He linked himself to Sunset's router and clicked on his browser.

It loaded up in half a second, forcing him to blink.

"Wow," he squeaked. Another blink. "That is fast." It usually took his computer half a minute to load up anything. Maybe it was a good thing that he had the valkyrie back in his life.

Predictably—the first thing Flash did was check his e-mail. He searched for a message from his folks... any message.

But there was none.

Nervous, he picked up his phone and activated it for the first time since waking in Sunset's house.

Also nothing. There was no message from Magnolia... nothing on the call-waiting list... no message in response to his frantic pleas the afternoon before.

He had just been kicked out of his own apartment... virtually ostracized from the lives of his folks and sibling. Did they simply not care about where he was or what had happened to him? Did they—perhaps—just assume he was dead on the street and left it at that?

What happened to wanting him to follow in their footsteps?

Or was that no longer important anymore? Had he run out of strikes? Had their patience finally worn thin?

Flash sat there with the laptop weighted to his knees, grasping his mouth as he gazed into the upholstery of the room. Tears were already welling up in his eyes. In truth, there wasn't a day that went by when Flash didn't cry. It was simply something he... normally did for therapeutic purposes. It came naturally to the sissy boi. T'wasn't something meant for melodrama or theatrics. At so many avenues in his life, he felt encumbered by hopelessness, and a good long cry helped alleviate the thickness.

But this? This was different. This was the absent of order. And the only thing that made any sense in Flash's young life—that gave him any semblance of a path to take—was the cornucopia of demands that his folks made... that his sister Magnolia Buckler had enforced.

And now...

...they were giving him radio silence. It was nothing but the void... and Sunset's generosity and Pinkie Pie's fuchsia bedshirt were the only things keeping him afloat.

How lost would he be once he had failed them too?

Flash shuddered through another quiet sob, his eyes darting between beige purses and fur-lined coats and double-layered sundresses with brown accents and goddessdarnittoheck he was googling dresses again! The amazonian telepath was right—Flash's most common pasttime was gently crying while silently gazing at galleries of women's outfits.

Flash quickly closed the search engine marked: women's autumn fashion color tag: brown. He was about to shut off the laptop altogether...

...when he noticed an alert for a fresh new e-mail.

"!!!"

In a pallid blur, his delicate hand stroked the cursor towards opening it.

The message wasn't from Magnolia Buckler. It wasn't from his folks neither. Nevertheless, the open e-mail stole the breath away from him all the same.

It was a pre-generated message, animated in Adobe Flash—starring none other than Tinkerbell. Drawn to digitized life, the bright-eyed Disney character waved a wand and then a series of elegant gold-on-pink font glittered to life:

HELLO AGAIN, OLD FRIEND! IT'S SO NICE HAVING YOU BACK IN OUR LIVES, DARLING

Flash blinked; his lips pursed. Sniffling, he glanced further down on the document. There were six "signatures" lined up... all names that he knew from high school... all of Sunset's friends. His eyes looked at the sender of the e-mail: LadyRarity97@canterlotboutique.com. Blinking, Flash looked at the middle of the animated message—just above the signatures:

WE LOOK FORWARD TO MEETING YOU! BEST WISHES. XOXOXOXO

A whimper escaped the boi's throat. He practically leap-frogged over the laptop, fled across the house, and bolted back into the bathroom. There—with trembling hands—he splashed water all over his face, attempting to drown out the ensuing sobs... and failing.

"Guhhhhhhhhh..." He hiccuped and whimpered, seething through clenched teeth as he hunched over the edge of the large sink. Tear drops fell into the faucet water as he clenched both fists and hissed into the dimly-lit air. "Man up... man up ya frickin' sissy. Why won't you man up?!?!"

Several minutes passed, and he eventually stopped hyperventilating. He lifted his head, breathless and redfaced, until he finally gazed into his pitiful reflection. A gulp, and he sputtered at the girly image he saw:

"You'll only disappoint them. So man up. Just... accept Sunset's generosity... then resume the search. All is for nothing if your folks up and quit on you. Do you understand?" He tried to frown, but another wave of sobs came through instead. He cupped his little palms over his eyes and wheezed. "For once in your life why can't you act like a m-man?!?"

There was no response—not from Flash, not from the mirror, not from anything. Flash sighed. He wanted to feel angry, but instead all he could feel was guilty... guilty for letting down his parents... and guilty for producing the undesired outcome of the sweet message Sunset's friends had sent them. It was more than evident by now that they were all waiting patiently to hear back about how he was fairing, and he couldn't even summon the strength to be happy or grateful for their empathy. He really truly was useless.

With yet another sigh, he dried the water and tears from his face. The day's "good cry" was over... for now. He turned the faucet off... but lingered, gazing at the cup and toothbrush lingering on the counter. Once again, he found the purple constellatory design on the objects to be hauntingly familiar. Much like things he had seen in Sunset's bedroom. In fact, they looked just like...

...just like the starry field that had appeared on Sunset's phone when she last received a call in front of him.

Flash chewed on his bottom lip. Yet again, he chose to leave it be. He exited the bedroom, shuffled down the hall...

...and lingered by the guest room door again.

"... ... ..." He wrung his delicate fingers together, gazing at the doorknob.

A reflected pair of sapphire eyes gazed back.

Silence. Reflection. Squirming. And then...

"... ... ...heck it."

Flash's wrist flung to the doorknob. It was cold to the touch. He turned the thing, half-expecting it to be locked.

But it wasn't. The knob turned with the greatest of ease. What's more, the room inside was dimly-lit with a rosy glow. Whatever Sunset had been doing in there the night before, she had left the light on.

Slowly—curiously—Flash opened the door all the way. He stopped himself before stepping in, though, because doing so—he discovered—would have meant a sudden drop.

"Huh?"

In the first few milliseconds, he thought he was looking into a set of basement stairs.

In the next few milliseconds, he realized the steps were only descending about three feet. The room was situated lower than the house's general foundation. But that wasn't the weird thing about it.

The weird thing was that the floor... the walls... the furniture... and even the ceiling was all uniformly coated with the same soft, squishy, laminated surface. It was a fairly large room too—about the second largest compartment Flash had seen so far in Sunset's house, just after the front living room. The light source came from thin fluorescent panels situated at even spaces across the ceiling in a semi-futuristic style, and they contributed to a distinctly rosy aura.

But that wasn't entirely the light's doing. The "substance" texturing every surface of the room was akin to pink vinyl. Or a bubble gum pink latex. There were two noticeably large mattresses—or beds—but instead of cotton sheets they simply possessed plush pink surfaces, shiny and waterproof. There were cushions—also pink and layered in latex material. There was also a matching sofa... what looked like ottomans... and some sort of triangular-shaped piece of furniture. In fact, there was a whole lot of oddly-shaped structures resting above waist-height to Flash's petite frame. Like avante-garde future furniture.

"Uhmmm..."

The boi looked up. He squinted.

There were objects sticking down from the ceiling in over eight places. They were slinder and shiny and silver. It took Flash a few blinking moments to realize that they were shower heads.

"Huh..."

The boi looked down.

He realized that the floor—shiny and plush and vinyl—was interlaced with a series of thinly-toothed metal grates. While they were dry as a bone now, he realized that they had to have been drains.

Curious, Flash took his deepest breath since entering the place—inhaling through his nose. He realized that the room had a wild hodpodge of conflicting scents. Most were pleasant—sweet and sugary and even floral. But beneath it all—or above it all—was this underlying muskiness that permeated every corner of the place. It repulsed and allured him all at once.

Flash's eyes wandered towards the walls. He found—fastened at random spots—shelves where half-empty tumblers were resting. Scented candles. Most of them had been capped off, and the tell-tale stain of soot lingered along the inner surfaces of the cylindrical glasses. A few spaces away from these shelves were translucent panels—flippable lids, beneath which rested knobs and switches and other controls... ... ... for the lights? The shower heads? Both?

Something else caught Flash's eyes. In the far corner of the place stood a pair of cabinets—tall, to match an amazon's height. Curious, he shuffled down the steep steps. His toes made contact with the floor, and even through the pink socks the room felt satisfyingly sterile and squishy to the touch. There was a light "squelching" sound as he walked through the pink latex domain, approaching the cabinets on the far end.

Reaching up, he opened one cabinet. It was filled to the brim—on every shelf—with towels, wash cloths, and potpourri.

"Uh huh..."

He closed this shut.

He opened the next cabint.

"Uhhhhh—" His tongue clicked in the middle of his mouth as his slender grip locked on the opened cabinet door panel.

The shelves were full of... things. Bright pink, purple, baby blue, and sultry red things. Slender things. Stubby things. Beaded things. Flash's eyes darted around. He saw what looked like plugs—some jewel-studded, others narrow and ribbed—and then there were curved specimens with flared bases and tapering lengths and intricately sculpted "veins" and—

"Aahh! Guh!" He slapped the cabinet door shut and hopped back with a wincing expression. The Princess Peach nightshirt flounced as he landed—but he wasn't the only one.

Th-Thap! An equine dildo longer than the boi's forearm flopped freely onto the shiny pink floor. It rotated to face a drain then wobbled to a stop, silicone testicles bubbling.

Flash couldn't choose between grimacing and giggling—until fate chose for him.

Whud! The whole house shook as he heard the front door slamming from beyond. "Flash! Sweetie! I'm back!"

"Oh gosh..." Flash squirmed in place, dancing on pink cupcakes. "Oh gosh oh gosh oh gosh... uhm..."

"Sorry for taking so long!" A valkyrie's footsteps. "I made a stop along the way..."

"Uhhhh... erm..." Sweating, Flash knelt down to grab the fake phallus. He stopped at the last second, his fingers just millimeters from touching the obscene toy. Fidgeting, he rushed up to the other cabinet, grabbed a random towel, and used it as a hand-guard, picking the unsavory object up like he was at an Ethiopian barbeque. With careful motions, he hoisted the faux horse penis back into its home. He sweated from how laughibly heavy it was.

"Twilight sends her love, by the way!" The footsteps came closer. Echoing down the hallway corner. "The rest of the girls do, actually. Did you check your e-mail...?"

"Hunf...!" At last, Flash deposited the dildo into the cabinet and threw the towel into the adjacent one. He slapped both containers shut.

"Flash...?" The voice came closer... more worried. "Where are you, sweetie?"

Stifling a whimper, Flash scampered across the pink floor of the "guest room." He nearly tripped on the hem of Pinkie's bedshirt as he reached the stairs. At last, he hopped outside, shut the door close, and leaned against the frame—

"Flash Sentry!" Sunset Shimmer stood like a rook, glaring down at him with her hands on her hips.

"...!" He gazed up at her, eyes small as horrified pinpricks. "...Sunset Sh-Shimmer!"

"What..." She stepped towards him, cold and menacing. Looming. "...is the meaning of this?"

He gulped, forcing a nervous smile up at the telepath. "The meaning of what—Guh!" He yelped...

...for she was lifting him up by the waist until they were face to face. He dangled helplessly in her strong grasp.

Her scowling faced matched the gesture perfectly. "Flash... be honest with me." Her brow furrowed. "...did you clean up the house while I was gone?"

The boi blinked. He looked at the floor far below, then up at the strong inquistor dominating him. "I-I guess I couldn't help myself."

Silence.

At long last, Sunset broke character, snorting up a laugh. "Hah hah hah... oh Flash..." She leaned forward and eskimo-kiss'd him, rubbing her large nose to his petite button. "You didn't have to do thaaaaaaaat." She smiled and winked. "Still... it was very sweet of you."

"It's the least I-I could do," he stammered. There was a rattling sound. Curious, he looked down at Sunset's forearm, just below where she was gripping him. There was a bracelete clinging to her wrist—a bulky bracelet with large silver beads that glistened in the morning light.

"Well, you'll have to tell me where you put everything." She put him down as quickly as he had been picked up. He saw that she was carrying a shopping bag that she quietly took into the bedroom. "Not that I'm complaining, mind you. But I did kinda sorta know where everything was... ... ... even if everything was everywhere."

"I... uh..." Flash wrung his hands together, glancing from her bedroom to the guest room that he had just scampered out of. "I'm sorry..." A light cough. "...I know you didn't ask me."

"Don't be sorry!" Her voice echoed back towards him. "The house looks better than it has in ages!"

"Couldn't we... uh... see this as my way of repaying you?" Flash took a few meek steps forward. "For... y'know... all the things you've been doing for me? I-I mean... I can do more, of course! Dusting... mopping... window cleaning... ... ..." He fidgeted. "...laundry."

"Hah! You would love to do the laundry, wouldn't you?!"

His cheeks reddened. "Sunset..."

"Relax, Flash..." She stepped back out, holding something behind her back. "If we wanted something in exchange for helping you out..." Her words trailed off for some reason, and her eyes wandered across the lengths of the house. The amazon seemed briefly flustered.

Flash's eyes narrowed curiously at that.

She shook it off with a toss of her fiery hair. "Never mind. Look what I got for you on the way back!"

He was already sighing guiltily. "What is it, Sunset?"

With a cheesy grin, she brandished the object in question. A bright pastel box which she forced into his grasp.

Lethargically, he took it, then squinted up at her. "Disney Princess fruit snacks? Seriously?"

"Ssssseriously." She stuck a tongue out. "By the way, did you like the new desktop background?"

"Did you give the rest of the girls my e-mail?"

"You answer my question first."

Flash rubbed his temple with a free hand. "... ... ...I didn't hate it."

Sunset laughed yet again, reaching down to ruffle his sapphire bangs. "You're so adorable when you're you." The silver beads around her wrist rattled. "Sorry if it felt like an invasion of privacy, but your computer really needed a tune-up, sweetie." She lingered with her touch to Flash's head. "Wow! Did you shower while I was gone? Feels like you followed my advice!"

"What... uh..." Flash glanced briefly over his shoulder at the guest room, then back at her. "...what did Twilight have to say?"

"Oh, we had a short meeting," Sunset said with a wave, walking out of the hallway. "Over in a flash! Heheh... no pun intended."

"And she's not upset or anything?"

"Why would she be upset?"

He knew he shouldn't have said it. Nevertheless, it burst through his pensive lips: "Because I'm taking up her spot."

Sunset stumbled to a stop. Calmly, she glanced back at him.

"I may be 'adorable,' Sunset," Flash murmured. "But I'm not dumb. At least... I don't like to think I am." He gulped. "That's her cup and toothbrush in the bathroom. And her things..." He gestured towards her bedroom. "They're spread all over where you sleep, too. Where you both sleep."

Sunset was silent.

"Look, it's no secret how much you love each other... how much you've always loved each other." Flash toe'd the floor with his socked feet. "Even as distant as I was to you and the girls, I could tell how close you both were getting. It's great. It really is wonderful. But... now that I'm here... and she's—like—sequestered somewhere else?" He rubbed one forearm with his other hand, avoiding her silent gaze. "And... and you keep treating me so 'lovingly' and stuff, Sunset—which is nice and all, but a the same time—it just doesn't seem right." He took a deep breath, looking back up at her. "She should be here with you. But she's not... because I'm here, right? Isn't that the truth?"

Sunset as already smiling. "Oh Flash... it's not like that. Not like that at all."

His heart sank for some reason. "You... you and her aren't—?"

"Oh! We are! We totally are!" Sunset waved a hand, beads rattling. Her smile was a genuine, rosy one. "Believe me... heh... Twi and I are mad about each other. What—were you deaf when she called the last two times?"

"Uhhhhhhh..."

"Sweetie..." She motioned gently towards the living room. "Let's have a talk about a few things, and it'll all make sense. Come along." She sashayed out of there on beautiful amazonian hips. "And bring the fruit snacks!"

Flash blinked. He glanced at the box clutched in his grip... then acquiesced with a sigh. He gave the guest room one last look before leaving sight of it altogether.