"What do you mean 'why flu?' You're the doctor, you tell me!" Steve said in the examination room, between fits of coughing.
"No no no, my boy! W-A-I-F-L-U. It's a new contagion going around with peculiar progression," the doctor said with an unsettling grin. As Steve listened to the litany of things that were going to happen to him in the next few days, he couldn't believe his fever-reddened ears. Things like that don't really happen. This doctor just had a weird sense of humor, right?
He certainly looked weird, with an ashy-brown skin color, jaundiced eyes with reddish irises, and unreasonably bushy white eyebrows. The way he smiled and chuckled as he stroked his goatee while describing all the impossible, stupid, nonsensical things Steve could expect to go through. Did that hand have a skin condition? It looked rough, almost scaly. Steve flinched when he reached out with the other, swollen-looking hand and tapped him hard on the forehead. Hard enough to make Steve feel dizzy for a moment. Maybe he really DID have this 'Waiflu' though. The doctor was probably right. He *was* a doctor, after all.
One sneeze in the hallway. That's all it took, apparently. According to the strange-looking doctor, his infectious neighbor Ed was an "asymptomatic carrier" like the other 99.95% of the population. Steve, he was told excitedly, was the point-oh-five percent. As his guts churned loudly, he didn't feel so lucky. The odd doctor misread his apprehension and assured him it was perfectly alright, that by now Steve was no longer contagious. Steve was more worried about making it out of the building without revisiting his last three meals.
The flu-like symptoms were brief but intense. Steve barely made it back to his apartment in one piece. He almost thought the entire doctor's visit had just been a fever dream, but the prescription in his pocket was proof against that comforting delusion. The doctor had recommended no drugs at all, merely to stay hydrated, eat as much as possible, then plenty of bed rest while the most dramatic of the changes took place over the next couple of days. Steve initially doubted any rest would be had, but his body had other ideas and he was unconscious as soon as he stumbled over to the couch.
He woke up around three in the morning, drenched in sweat but no longer running a temperature. Everything hurt: his joints, his muscles, his head, his stomach, his parched throat. He groaned with a cracking, froggy voice as he hoisted himself from the couch cushions to sit up, dizzy with the sudden change in posture. Despite the stomach ache, Steve knew he had to eat. Smacking his dry mouth and running a rough tongue over his chapped lips, he slowly rose to his feet and hobbled to the apartment's kitchen/dining area.
Grabbing a sports drink, he tried to slake his thirst. The first bottle didn't do it, so he opened the last one left and killed half of it before turning his attention to his appetite. Leftovers were devoured without bothering to heat them up. Then he turned to the cupboards and began mindlessly stuffing his face with the nearest junkfood. An entire bag of nacho chips was gone before he realized it, and their sodium aggravated his thirst even more. He eschewed the remaining half-bottle of sports drink for a huge glass of water from the tap.
The influx of fluids and calories seemed to take the edge off, and Steve's attention turned to how gross he felt from sleeping his fever off on the couch. Bleary-eyed, he abandoned the kitchen for a quick shower.
He looked about as good as he felt. His eyes were red, his skin was slightly off-color, his hair was a shaggy mess, and parts of him were starting to puff up and swell beneath his rumpled, salt-drenched clothing. But the expected stubble was not only absent, his chin seemed smoother than it had been even after this morning's shave.
The hot water felt relaxing and cleansing, and the steam eased the raspy feeling in his throat. When he tried to clear it, his voice still sounded cracked and froggy. Still, Steve felt about 90% better when he stepped out of the shower. He was still achy, though, and was still having abdominal pains. And still hungry, he noticed. While toweling off, he felt a tenderness in the front of his chest and looked more closely at his reflection in the mirror. The swelling he'd noticed earlier was localized entirely over his pectoral muscles. The doctor had warned him about this, but it still felt unreal to see the process starting before even a single day had passed.
Too small for Ed.
Okay, that was a weird thought. It came out of nowhere as Steve regarded the swollen, angry-looking flesh on his torso. The doctor had also warned him to expect some strange thoughts, and not to get too worked up about them. So he finished drying himself off and returned to the kitchen. It was still early for breakfast, but he was starving.
After satisfying his munchies, he felt up for nothing more than another nap. This time he made it to his bed and under the covers before slipping into a dreamless sleep. He woke up well after his remote shift was supposed to start. A quick email to his supervisor explaining the situation was enough to get him a few days off work with only a few points for his failure to report his illness ahead of time.
Frankly, he didn't care much if they decided to drop him. Being a remote-work call center drone was worse, Steve thought, than the prospect of this Waiflu thing.
What surprised Steve the most was how it didn't bother him. The loss, that is. The thing he'd low-grade obsessed over his entire life, the one body part that offered an immediate measuring stick against other men and which he regarded as an important feature for attracting women? Gone by the second morning, replaced with a developing set of lips and a small bud in front that were not quite in their final configuration yet, but definitely got the point across.
He should have cared more, but he didn't. He knew that was weird. But he couldn't bring himself to dwell on it. He was much more impressed with how nice his trim waistline looked, and how unnaturally smooth his legs were. He was wearing nothing but briefs around the apartment when not expecting grocery or meal deliveries. His bare chest, now sporting a couple of respectable breasts (for such feminine lumps couldn't be called anything else, especially now that they were enough to fill his two hands generously) felt oddly exposed to the cool air, but that just gave him an exciting thrill which eased the constant pain of their aggressive growth. He'd never had breasts of his own before and was enjoying the opportunity to experience them from the other side. They were already surprisingly sensitive, in just the way he'd imagined they should be.
Still not big enough for Ed, but moving in the right direction.
By now he'd gotten used to those sudden thoughts about how his neighbor would react to these symptoms. They didn't bother him. Kind of the opposite, he enjoyed playing with the idea idly as he walked around topless. If he dressed like a girl, would Ed even recognize him right now? Would he notice anything to give away Steve's identity? Would he simply like what he saw? These new thoughts captivated him and helped fill some of the time he had in his isolation.
The other thing that helped fill the time was reading. He was consuming lots of text, getting lost in the joy of reading like he never had before. He'd read a lot of things related to his call center job, despite the strict rules about staying on-script. He figured familiarizing himself with the topics customers called about would help him close their tickets faster and get better surveys, and he'd just go through the motions with the electronic script system to close them as necessary. At least, that's the excuse he used to explain why he was reading so voraciously on the topic. At this rate, by the time he felt ready to get behind the mic again he might just qualify as a subject matter expert.
The feminization went hand-in-hand with the unusual skin and eye color change, but it was the horn that really took him by surprise. The overdeveloped breasts seemed downright pedestrian in comparison. These were the most obvious (and painful) symptoms Steve underwent in the next week. Every cubic inch of his body was sore and tender for days as his entire skeleton remodeled itself. His pelvis had flared outwards, his knees turned in, his hands and feet shrank even more dramatically than his shoulders, all in a matter of days. Even after the changes were apparently through, his body still ached from the ordeal.
Well to be fair, the hair thing didn't really hurt but it was extremely inconvenient to manage as it grew down to his ankles in less than a week. And the fact that it was coming out of his scalp as a dark, glossy purple with some bits in pink, right from the roots, was definitely odd.
At least his appetite was finally ramping down to normal. It was alarming how quickly the constant pantry replenishment and delivered meals had depleted his meager debit account.
But more dastardly were the changes in mind and mood. Obsessing over certain women's clothing, to the point of browsing online and ordering some in his best guesstimate of the right sizes (with lots of margin, of course, until he could get a proper fitting done). The giddy feeling when he ventured out of the apartment and passed a book store, or to buy groceries in person to save on delivery costs. The way he quickly got used to the looks men gave him as he strutted in his new, feminine clothing. The growing certainly that Ed would approve, and the growing sense of pleasure that such thoughts inspired. It scared him. At first.
Ed definitely noticed when they passed each other in the building's hallway, though he didn't say anything. But Steve caught him gawking after the color change, and thought he saw a hint of a smile when Ed saw the horn coming in. Still, he kept his thoughts to himself. Steve could imagine what those thoughts might be, though. And he did, much to his chagrin. At first.
The week seemed to fly by. Her body was no longer in pain from the reshaping. She frequently forgot anything was unusual about it, now. It would have been scary how quickly she adapted to the new self-image if she wasn't distracted by other thoughts.
She was thinking about Ed pretty much all the time, now. Not since her last school crush had she obsessed so much, or wanted to be noticed by someone in particular.
She thought about him while making dinner, and found herself so distracted that she accidentally made an extra portion that went to waste. She thought about how empty her lap felt while reading a book, and knew she'd rather have his head laying in it. She thought about him while miserably alone in her bed at night, missing a warm body she'd never even lain beside before. She thought about him while touching herself in the shower, feeling that inevitably she wouldn't be taking care of her womanly needs herself because... soon she would work up the courage. She couldn't stand living alone anymore. It had to be tomorrow.
"Excuse me," the familiar voice said just as he was getting home from work. Ed turned around to see his neighbor, the one that used to be Steve, standing behind him in the hallway. That voice sounded exactly like he imagined, just like the one Tara Strong used for Twilight Sparkle. "Um, I was making a cake, and um, well, see, the thing is, I kinda ran out of stuff, and um... can I borrow two cups of milk?"
Ed almost lost the struggle, but refrained from remarking that it looked like she already had a couple of jugs. Instead, he stammered out something along the lines of "Borrow? Only if you give them right back after you're done!" They both gave an awkward laugh at the dumb joke. She was blushing. Ed realized HE was blushing. Quickly, he stammered an affirmative reply and opened the door to his apartment. "Ladies first," he said, clearing the way.
"Thanks!" the purple girl giggled. Her heels clicked onto the laminate floor as she strutted across the threshold, Ed stealing a glimpse at her swaying hips and tight backside as she passed.
Once inside his apartment, she looked around as if she'd just stepped into a national monument. He saw her breathing deeply through her nose, let it linger, then exhale slowly as a happy sigh. He was suddenly anxious about his apartment being clean enough, or having a smell he'd gone nose-blind to, but she seemed enthralled just the same. Looking around, she saw the living area had a couch that converted into a sleeper bed. "Oh," she asked, walking to the converting furniture "Do you have guests over?"
"Uh, nah," Ed said, scratching the back of his skull. "I kinda turned the actual bedroom into a hobby room for all my minis." Oh shit, why did he lead with that? She was going to think he's such a dork.
"Minis?" she inquired.
"Uh, yeah, they're these little figures for, um, gaming and stuff. I needed a place to paint them, you know..." he trailed off.
"Like, roleplaying?" purple girl Steve asked in Tara Strong's voice. Her eyes narrowed. But not in disdain, surprisingly. Were those... bedroom eyes?
"Um, yeah. Well, wargaming. Same thing but with units instead of individual characters," he explained.
"Wow, sounds complicated. There must be a system to it. Are there ... rulebooks?" she asked, her interest surprisingly genuine.
"Oh yeah, tons of 'em. New ones every year, rulebooks and sourcebooks and supplemental materials. I also like the fluff-"
"Fluff?" she blinked.
"Er, the game's fiction. I kinda have all the novels. They're not high literature, exactly..." he said before she interrupted his apologetic rambling.
"Could I read them?" she asked immediately. "I mean, you wouldn't mind if I borrowed them to read some time, right? I really love books," she explained with that look in her eye.
It was an understatement. In the last week she'd become obsessed with approximately two things: Ed, and books. Ed, books, and organization- three things! Those three things were Ed, books, organization, and an almost fanatical devotion to looking hot while doing all of them. Four things- she had to stop herself there, or she'd get so carried away she'd forget why she even came over.
"Sure, I don't mind," Ed said. Twilight-Steve sat on the futon. She was still giving Ed that look. There was a quiet pause while Ed tried to think of something to say that didn't revolve around perverse admiration of his neighbor's new body. She interrupted it by patting the space beside her invitingly. He readily obliged.
He was so warm and he smelled so masculine, she noticed. It was comforting. She leaned into him, enjoying the closeness. She didn't know why she was being so forward except that she needed it, and couldn't help herself. "You know, I used to have a futon couch in college," she said. "Just for a semester in the freshman dorm. There was something I kind of wondered about them."
"Oh?" Ed asked, chancing a hand around her shoulder. She sighed contentedly and snuggled in tighter.
"I never got a chance to see if they hold up to some rigorous extracurricular activities," she said softly, reaching into his lap to gently stroke the straining fabric.
"S-so, uh, do I still call you Steve?" Ed stammered.
"Call me whatever you want," she said, abandoning the gradual approach and shifting position until she was straddling his lap and holding his face up to her generous cleavage, looking down into his eyes with no signs of reservation. "I'm yours."
She felt the tension in his body disappear, the last of his trepidation dissolving away. He smiled with the relief of a man who has everything he ever wanted as he placed his hands around her waist and slowly slid them up into her shirt. "Okay, my little Twilight Sparkle. You're mine."
Twilight gave the batch of minis a touch on the underside of the base, on a spot she'd brushed on it at the end of her painting session to make sure the enamel paint was fully cured. Even though it had been more than three days since her final flourishes were applied, she didn't want to chance smudging one. But her finger came off clean and there was no tackiness, so she knew it was safe to take them off the putty-tipped bamboo barbecue skewers that served as a handle during the painting process. She carefully arranged the latest squad on a self with her growing army. It had cost a few thousand dollars and several months of detailing work, but now she had a factional force that could credibly threaten some of Ed's mid-tier units (with the right balancing, of course).
With their shared income and consolidating to a two-bedroom apartment in the same building it was just barely an affordable hobby, along with her reading habit of course. With the move, she insisted on using one of the bedrooms as an actual bedroom. It turned out that futon couches were not that great when it came to 'rigorous extracurricular activities' after all. The extra bedroom housed all the craft supplies and gaming books, but the rest of the apartment was quickly becoming one big live-in library. Twilight had to limit herself to bargain hunts in used book stores, thrift shops, library sales, and online auctioning of books by the lot. Once, she even surprised Ed with the gift of a rare edition of an out-of-print book for their wargame that she'd found in her excursions. He was delighted, she could tell. He probably didn't open it because he didn't want to damage the spine.
Speaking of spines, hers was in need of a little motion. Hunching over the painting table for hours at a time was not great for her back, especially with all the weight she carried up front. Ed really loved those particular weights, though, so she loved having them. She stretched languidly and looked at the packs of gray, unopened minis waiting to be assembled and customized. She'd have to dive into their shared library of splatbooks to find the optimal mix for some of Ed's favorite scenarios, but she was confident it could be done with a little min-maxing. With the slow acquisition of expensive plastic figures, she was gradually turning the statistics in her favor. But she wouldn't play to simply dominate Ed in every game, because he wouldn't enjoy that. She was much more interested in making forces that counterbalanced him enough to be a challenge, in new and interesting ways. She'd run the numbers and ordered the best units to give them some really close games, it was now just a matter of getting them ready.
Speaking of getting ready, Ed was due back from work at any moment. Twilight always enjoyed giving him a clean, comfy, welcoming apartment to come back to. She put away the paints and tools into her neatly organized little cubbies and drawers, then cleaned herself of any hobby residues. She decided to wear the outfit she had on when she finally worked up the courage to invite herself to Ed's old apartment, all those months ago. Taking off the men's clothing she wore while working with minis (stuff from her former life as Steve that she didn't have any other use for than to catch paint and glue for her), Twilight stopped to admire herself in the bedroom's full-length mirror.
Her figure was an amazing balance of trim and soft, immaculate and well-endowed, the ideal 'waifu' for Ed. She bit her lip and blushed just thinking about how perfectly her body suited his tastes, crafted by the Waiflu virus to match his desires. She'd heard there was another wave starting to go around in the population, but that wasn't something she had to worry about anymore. She was already spoken for, body and mind and soul. There was an unexpected freedom in accepting that destiny, and it buoyed her up to appreciate how secure she felt in this new life.
Black heels, black shorts with a button-up fly, and a white off-the-shoulder shirt with no bra. They all fit perfectly, her body automatically maintaining the metabolic equilibrium needed to retain her idealized figure. As far as Ed was concerned, she'd attained his perfect vision of Twilight Sparkle and hadn't deviated from that role one iota. For her part, it feel warm and lovey-dovey just to think about how well-suited she'd become to match his fantasies. Perfect wife, perfect life! Even their libidos and preference were precisely in-sync with each other's, though in her case that was another development that came with the rest of the package.
It was at the pinnacle of relationship bliss, and it was all thanks to a tiny little protein-covered set of genetic codes that had drifted through the air and into her lungs. Funny how life works out, isn't it? A few days ago there were headlines of an expected "second peak" in the Waiflu epidemic, but she didn't pay much attention to the news these days. Too many books to read, too much time to spend with Ed. If there was more of it going around, she hoped whoever it afflicted wound up as happy and satisfied as she was.
In a few minutes, Twilight was putting on their mail-order meal together. It was from one of those services that sent out recipes and ingredients in the right proportions, because otherwise she wasn't much of a cook despite how much she enjoyed being able to have a warm meal ready for Ed when he got home in the evenings. Her phone buzzed on the countertop to announce a text from Ed.
'hey babe plz order a veg meal to go with dinner 2nite'
That was odd. She sent back a question. 'Okay. I don't understand why you'd want an extra meal, though. And vegetarian, at that. Is something wrong?'
'nah its all gud i got a surprise c u soon' he replied.
Aw, he was so thoughtful! Twilight looked up some vegetarian delivery options and selected one that seemed interesting, then set aside her cooking to try and time it just right so they'd all be ready together. Sure, she could just keep them on a warming plate but where was the challenge in that? She loved coming up with little puzzles, like trying to figure out how long it would take the delivery service to bring their food and when she should resume meal prep to align them. Ed always told her she had a knack for getting things just right, but she'd always wave off the compliment with the explanation that it was simple math and educated estimates.
Her figures turned out to be almost prophetic. The meal arrived just as she was finishing up her cooking; the delivery guy sure appreciated her outfit, so she knew Ed would really love it. She set the plates with an extra spot on the table just as the door opened.
"Hi, honey! I'm home!" Ed announced cheerily on his way in. He was leading someone else in by the hand and- oh wow! She was absolutely gorgeous!
Twilight was instantly smitten with that angelic face, that beautiful mane of flowing, pink hair, the glowing radiance of soft, flawless yellow skin, the almost luminous blue-green eyes that blinked behind heavy lashes, a slightly nervous pout pursing her soft lips! The slender neck holding up this porcelain doll's visage was slender and graceful, perched delicately atop two tiny little shoulders that peaked out over her open neckline. The partially unbuttoned shirt hung loosely, draped over two absolutely huge yet perky breasts that looked soft and inviting as two waterbeds from Heaven itself. After letting her eyes linger on those achingly perfect prominences for a moment, Twilight's eyes finally managed to continue past them to the woman's delightfully tight, narrow waist that blossomed out into a set of hips which promised enthusiastic carnal delights as they led down to a pair of firm, buttery yellow thighs that flanked a tightly-enclosed little snatch, almost shrink-wrapped by her high-water black shorts with some generous thigh gap before their bare columns plunged down to meet a pair of impenetrably black stalkings with silk-like sheen, setting off their owner's high-visibility flesh in wondrous contrast. She was standing on a set of glossy black heels, not entirely unlike the ones Twilight herself was wearing, toes pointed in with dainty reserve and shuffling with suppressed anxiety.
Even before she brought her eyes back up to that irresistibly beautiful face, Twilight's brain read the shape of her as someone to be held, caressed, snuggled, and adored. Her every contour was a soft but unmistakable statement of feminine perfection that needed only to have a hand wrapped around it, a head rested against it, or lips pressed to it to be complete. The psychic imprinting was automatic and couldn't be gainsaid by doubt or second-guessing. Twilight's mind and body refused to even consider the possibility of not loving her. Such a concept was as ridiculous as not loving Ed! Ed, who was gently holding this vision's hand in his own like a caring shepherd guiding the most timid lamb as he watched Twilight to gauge her reaction. Twilight realized she was gawping. Picking her jaw off the proverbial floor, Twilight stammered a greeting that she hoped was as inviting and genuine as she meant it to be.
"Hi! I'm Twilight Sparkle! What's your name?" she asked with only a few slips of the verbal gears in the presence of this awe-inspiring goddess as she held out her purple hand.
"Um, I'm Hunter," a whispery, nervous, girly voice replied in barely audible volume as she slowly reached out her free hand and touched it to Twilight's as if looking for a light switch in the dark. Her improbably-blue-green eyes very nearly defined the neologism 'wibble' as she met Twilight's gaze, rosy pink blush radiating on the cheeks below as their digits came into tentative contact. "Hunter Williams, um, I'm Ed's supervisor," she managed to squeak out. The world's most delicious lightning bolt arced invisibly at her touch, passing through Twilight's arm to her brain, heart, and fluttering through her tummy on its way south as their hands touched. Hunter must have felt it too, because she almost inaudibly gasped upon placing her hand in Twilight's. "You're beautiful," the yellow and pink divinity uttered softly and automatically, framing her nervousness at last as the infatuation it truly was all along.
"M-me?" Twilight reeled. Who was this perfect celestial ideal to call her beautiful? Twilight felt like a gangly, awkward nerd in the presence of someone who embodied every female aspect polished to the zenith of conception. The sheer incredulity of the idea that someone so amazing would think of her geeky, fleshy sack of a body was matched only by the migratory swarm of monarch butterflies that materialized in her stomach at the compliment.
Incomprehensibly, 'Hunter Williams' nodded affirmation with a rose-petal soft "Uh-huh," biting her own lip and glancing down to the floor (well, whatever floor she could see beyond her massive bust) and shifting her footing at the frank admission.
"See, honey?" Ed remarked from the side, gently rubbing the new woman's hand with his thumb reassuringly as he looked to Twilight with a smug, self-satisfied expression. "What do I keep telling you? You're beautiful and even the bossman here thinks so. Now, are we all ready to eat?"
Over dinner, Ed explained that his supervisor (the one Twilight always remembered him complaining about being an unreasonable, overbearing, entitled little jerk) started showing symptoms of Waiflu last Friday. By Wednesday he was fully a she, though still not quite fully filled out.
Twilight recalled how long it had taken her own body to make the transition from male to female, the constant growing pains, and the lingering soreness in areas that developed more than others (cough cough, chest) while she was still in denial about her destiny to be Ed's perfect intimate partner, and she gave Hunter a sympathetic rub on the shoulder as Ed continued.
By the next Friday, Ed noticed the way his newly female boss was regarding him. He kept catching her staring at him. Back in real time, Hunter buried her smiling, blushing face in her slender hands and squeaked in what was rapidly becoming her trademark heart-melting way, like a girl at a slumber party whose confessed crushes were being revealed to her circle of besties.
When Ed got back to work on Monday, Hunter's affliction had fully incubated and turned the formerly domineering, selfish, abusive manager into a shy, meek, wilting woman whose personality was remolded into that of a nurturing but reticent lover. She had approached Ed in several aborted attempts before finally admitting how she felt about him, and announcing with difficulty her need for his acceptance and desire.
"I told her I had a girlfriend, but that I was open to exploring relations. Of course, I knew you would love her the instant you laid eyes on here, sweetie," he said to Twilight, who only giggled and blushed in suddenly self-conscious acknowledgment while mumbling something vaguely affirming and apologetic. "So I told Hunter here all about you, and she lit up like a candle. I could tell the two of you would hit it off as soon as you met face to face. You're both my girls, after all," he said.
'My girls.' The words echoed in Twilight's psyche, resonating with harmonic precision as it filled the spaces of her being and found itself a perfect fit. She knew she was Ed's girl, but now she realized her world fully embraced the other locus of her life's orbit. That of Hunter, as an equal partner. It was amazingly certain. If she hadn't already experienced such immediate clarity before, Twilight wouldn't have believed it was possible to know a truth so fully. Her counterpart seemed to occupy the same wavelength, since she was now glancing between parted fingers at Twilight with an eye that communicated agreement. The two understood perfectly that they were each other's and they were Ed's and Ed was theirs in a magnificently infallible surety.
"So I let her suck my cock at the end of the shift," Ed finished suddenly. "And she absolutely loved it, didn't you babe?"
"Um, uh-huh," the yellow-and-blush beauty confirmed with a face that mixed pride and shyness in a delightfully bashful manner. Twilight recognized that pride, she'd felt it herself every time she managed to coax Ed into climax orally (or otherwise). It was clear to her that this supervisor had felt the same exhilarating satisfaction when she found Ed's member pulsing with the final convulsions of orgasm in her pretty mouth's embrace. Twilight found herself feeling congratulatory, glad that the other woman had experienced the unique accomplishment of taking Ed all the way across the finish. Their common achievement cemented the bond between the two women in her heart. She took one of the yellow hands into hers and gave it a friendly squeeze, catching her glance and giving back warm smile.
"Pretty great, isn't he?" Twilight asked.
"Uh-huh," she replied in the now-familiar manner, their eyes lingering on each other's for a moment to communicate their appreciation for each other. Twilight found her hand being squeezed in return.
"Great!" Ed said, setting his fork down with a clink on the empty plate. "If we're all done with this wonderful dinner, how about we all go introduce 'Fluttershy' here to the bedroom?" he said, getting directly to the point.
"Oh that would be wonderful!" 'Fluttershy' said to Ed before turning timidly back to Twilight. "Um, if that's okay with you, I mean..."
YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES, Twilight thought.
"Yes yes yes yes yes yes yes yes yes yes!" Twilight blurted out like a huge dork. She lept to her feet and practically dragged Fluttershy over to Ed, putting their hands together and then taking up position on the opposite side to let him escort them all back to the room where fully half of all their previous lovemaking took place (as far as the interior of the apartment went, anyway).
Inducting this gorgeous, adorable new beauty into their love nest was something she'd had running through her mind during their meal, in fact practically from the moment she laid eyes on her. Just like Ed said. She was elated to share her and Ed's special bond with this 'Fluttershy,' and hoped the feeling was as mutual as it seemed.
"I think Fluttershy is a really pretty name," she said as they walked in unison through the short hallway.
"Um, I do too," the pink and yellow woman agreed softly. "And Twilight Sparkle really seems to suit you so well. Um, where does he come up with those?" she asked.
"No idea," Twilight admitted. "But he sure picks some great ones."
Author's Note
Both the cover image and the interiors were generated by Horselover Fat and sourced from Derpibooru. They provided the inspiration for this fic.
The cover image's source is: https://derpibooru.org/images/3344580
The Fluttershy image's source is: https://derpibooru.org/images/3283322