Femboi and Chill

“...after all, we found Katie in the street. Alone. Cold. Hungry. She was mature at age three—the vet said—but her small size meant that she was probably malnourished as a kitten. Nevertheless, she lived. A stable, strong cat. And my parents felt it was okay to adopt her...”

You realize you're not dreaming.

Your eyes flutter, and you squint thinly across the shadows. All you see is an ocean of blankets, glazed over with an amber sheen from a nearby nightlight. The sheets, the air, the whole room smells like sweet vanilla. Yes, you remember being laid down in Fluttershy's bed, but something about this fragrance... this warmth is too intense to be a simple memory of what brought you there.

Sure enough, you feel a soft pair of arms enfolding you from behind. She's spooning you, with her ample bosom pressed softly to the back of your shoulders. When she speaks, you feel the edge of her chin brushing against the top of your head, and the whole bed vibrates gently with her whispery breaths.

“I'll never forget when she gave birth. The month before, it looked like Katie had swallowed two bowling balls. I expected her to give birth to a litter of live ponies. What did come out of her were so tiny and fragile that I just... didn't know what to do but giggle and coo. I was age four at the time... maybe five, and my whole world lit up as if with Christmas tree lights. There were six tiny little mewling baby kittens. They were the most adorable things I had ever seen. They were also... very thin. Weak. I thought it was just because they were infants. How could I have known that Katie birthed them prematurely... and that the sad look on my parents' faces meant something...?”

You blink. You don't know when this one way conversation began, but you are not about to interrupt it. For all she knows, you're still asleep. You lie still and motionless, absorbed into her arms... her softly rolling words.

“One by one... every morning and evening... I watched as the kittens became still... never to move again. At first, Mom and Dad attempted to make excuses. But they became harder and harder to maintain with each passing death. 'Oh, darling, she's gone on vacation! A kitten vacation!' 'I think he's just playing hide and go seek!' 'I don't know what to tell you, dear, but you'll see her again someday!' By the fourth time Katie loss a member of her litter, I think they... realized they had to stop pretending. But they didn't really give a proper explanation either. I don't blame my parents. I wouldn't know how to look after my daughter's feelings in such a situation myself. But I think they also knew that... I understood. Or that I was beginning to.”

A deep breath, and she hugs you closer. You feel her jaw tightening against your scalp as she speaks firmly into the darkness.

“I told myself that Katie was not going to lose all her babies. Somebody had to do something. So... when there was only one kitten left—I decided I would stay with it. Look after it. Never leave its side. And it put up a fight... a very brave and... challenging fight. There were times when it fell asleep and I was most certain it wouldn't wake up again. But...”

Her lungs sigh, and her grip of you lessens slightly.

“...he lived. He survived the next morning... and the morning after that. And soon, Katie's one surviving baby was walking around on its paws... eating on its own... even playing with me and my parents whenever we stepped on past the nest Katie had made in the bathroom closet. My parents attempted to congratulate me... insinuate that I was the reason for it living. I think I knew better. It was simply the strongest of the litter—that or pure luck. I'm not sure. But... but simply being with it for so long... and feeling it nuzzle me and just... sensing its warmth intensifying as it struggled against all the elements and pulled on through... well... the whole experience forever made me in love with precious fragile things... as well as forever afraid.”

One hand reaches up and strokes your hair—softly, so as not to “wake” you.

“He ended up being sent off to an adoptive family who always wanted a cat. My parents named him Cocoa. Secretly—in my mind—I named him “Hope.” Because—so long as he was without me—I had no way to know or guarantee if he would ever... well... stay alive. The miracle of his life was just so spectacular and... and d-delicate. If something had gone amiss—Hope would have gone the way of five brothers and sisters. And... eventually... he would go the way of them. It's been nearly twenty years; I doubt he's still on this earth now. I grew up from a young age dwelling on this. It made me very sympathetic, I think, but also very skittish. I mean... it's not the root of it all with me, but it certainly contributed to a lot of it. I've always known that—no matter where you are, or what you do—there is always something to dread. For all of us. And... s-sometimes... sometimes I think that's why I allow myself to get scared by the smallest, silliest of things—everyday. It's because I need to distract myself from the true horror. And... as selfish as it sounds... I really like it when my friends come to my rescue. Call me a damsel in distress, but I really... truly do...”

She sniffles, and you feel the bed quivering slightly in tune to her melancholic tone.

“And I think it's also why I've always wanted to look after cute, helpless little animals. They're all so fragile... we are all so fragile. We can all be plucked up and tossed into the dark at any moment and there's no way to stop it. But... but we can make every moment we spend here precious. There are just... s-so many ways to be pretty... and happy... and kind and loving and adoring to one another. Mmmmfff... that's why I'm always so keen on doting on the small things... and also why I just... c-can't handle scary stuff when I can't do anything to distract myself from it. That's wh-why I walked out of that movie early. I know that Rainbow Dash is upset with me. Sunset and Applejack are probably losing their patience as well, but they're too gracious to say it out loud. I'm always ruining my friends' fun. There are just... things I can't handle. They're much fewer than anyone gives credit for. But the small things... the things I can control... the things and animals and... p-people that I can hold and care for and love on... … ...they're what makes this life worth living, even in spite of the fear. And it's more about distracting myself. It's... it's about teaching others what I first felt with Hope. It's about showing them... that we're all precious... and we're all beautiful... and we all deserve to be held close on into the night... even the night that will never end...”

You hear her sigh, and she hugs you tighter again. Her voice is shaky... made of glass.

“Maybe someday I'll tell you all these things, Cherish. Deep down—beneath all of the beautiful... beautiful layers—you're just as much an adult as the rest of us. I guess I just... just can't help but keep pretending a little longer. So long as the rest of the girls do as well... I don't feel so bad about it. Maybe that's not something to take pride in but...”

Suddenly, you stir. You tighten your limbs... then untighten them. A tiny sound escapes the back of your throat, like a trilling sound.

She freezes in place, her arms and legs locking still. She acts as if a bomb went off.

You play act a yawn, stretching... stirring some more. “Mrmmmfff... pretty... pr-pretty dresses—”

“Oh shhh-shhh-shhhh...” She strokes your shoulders, your neck, your chin.

You roll over slowly. Once you face her—still engulfed in her hug—you curl up tighter and surrender into her warm chest and arms. You clutch the sheets between you, clenching your eyes shut, purposefully-looking tense.

“Shhhhhhhh...” You feel a soft hand carressing your chin. “...go back to dreamland, Princess. Shhhhhh-shhhhh.... Everything is fine. Don't let me disturb you...”

You wait for her to finish talking, and you relax your upper muscles. Your eyes rest close, and you manage the slightest of smiles as you “drift” away.

There's a slight squeaking noise, followed by a sniffle. She hugs you close and you feel her lips press to the top of your brow for a kiss. Followed by a second. Then a third—each gentler than the last.

“I-I'm so glad we found you,” she whimpers. Her tears carry the scent of vanilla until they blend with your soft skin as well as hers. “Oh goddess... I'm so very glad we did...”

You feel her arms encircle around you, her fingers playfully running through your pixie-short hair. There's a bittersweet shudder, but—in your mind's eye—you know she's smiling in the dark.

“...you should have seen Angel's face the first time you visited. Somehow... he knew he was in for some competition. Which is silly, of course. I love all of my precious little friends equally. Did I ever tell you about the time Rainbow's pet tortoise visited and Angel kept tipping him over? I had to come up with a way to make them both get along, because I knew—with all the times that Rainbow comes to visit my home—Angel and Tank would be meeting each other constantly. So, with Applejack's and Twilight's help, we devised an escape room. Hmmmm... it's not simple for a tortoise and a hare to work their way out of an escape room. But the activities were really creative! You want to know about some of them? So... Tank and Angel had to find a key hidden to open up a mini-fridge that was actually a secret passage into a tiny pet photo-developing room...”