"Super Conservative Horse Adventure RPG"
By nhfip2 (https://pastebin.com/u/nhfip2)

URL: https://pastebin.com/MLfWzsit
Created on: Friday 6th of March 2015 03:43:44 PM CDT
Retrieved on: Sunday 1 of November 2020 01:34:48 PM UTC


SUPER CONSERVATIVE HORSE ADVENTURE RPG
v 0.1

A Message From The Author:

I began writing this greentext in the middle of a Conservative Sunset Shimmer prompt thread on /pone/ because the idea of a liberal horsefucker Anon trying to adapt to living in a traditionalist Equestria sounded funny to me.

The name of the story is a pun on "Super Lesbian Horse RPG", the title of a very *progressive* FiM game made by Tumblrina Bobby Schroeder in RPG-maker that I played once because ponies. Besides having a cute art style and some clever jokes, it was shit. 4/10, wouldn't reccommend. It's the type of game that the Anon in this story would love and probably have played, though, and he processes being stuck in Equestria as being the protagonist in an RPG-style adventure.

What you are currently viewing could be called revision 0.1. 0.0, which consisted of the entire prologue, was put onto /pone/ with minimal proofreading; this is the first edit.

[EDIT:] I have a part-time job now, so my updates will probably be smaller and less frequent, but I won't stop working on the story till its finished. My dumping schedule has now been changed to "whenever I feel like it," but since I will most likely be working weekends only for now, expect updates during weekdays.

I hope you enjoy it. If you'd like to give feedback, do so in the thread on /pone/.

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PROLOGUE:
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>You are Anon, and you are lost.
>You are sitting cross-legged in the middle of a sun-drenched patch of grass full of wildflowers. It is so bright that you can only see a few feet in front of your face, and you blink repeatedly and shade your eyes with one hand as you wipe welled-up tears with the other.
>As far as you can figure, you just woke up here - wherever here is - a few minutes ago. Upon reaching consciousness you instinctively patted your pockets to check for your iPhone, but couldn't find it; which doesn't make any sense now that you think about it, because the last thing you remember was handing it over to a nice African-American gentleman who asked to borrow it for a minute. At least, that's what you think he said. It was hard to remember. Surely, though, he and his ten friends would have given it back by now. But when was now?
>Slowly and shakily, you stand up, your eyes nearly adjusted to the blinding sun overhead. It's a meadow, sure enough, and not just an overgrown ditch as you suspected at first. How did you get here? You don't remember getting drunk, but then again, you rarely do. You don't have a hangover, either. In fact, you feel pretty great, sans the momentary blindness. Your genitals, for one, were not nearly as itchy as they had been earlier today.
>Which reminds you! Where the hell is your girlfriend?

>You try your best to recall the exact sequence of events that led up to this moment. You got up in the morning and went to classes the same as usual, as far as you can remember. You got into an argument with some disgustingly blonde townie girl during Women's Studies over the subject of abortion. Her internalized misogyny literally made you want to vomit, as did the cross hanging bigotedly around her neck; but you remembered that as a man, you had no right to tell her what to think. That was the job of other women, like your professor.
>Later, during lunch (organic pomegranate-and-dandelion salad with conflict-free chocolate-covered artisan free-range goat cheese tapas, packed in an authentic lacquer bento box hand-painted with an MLP/Doctor Who crossover mural) your mood soured further when you got a text from your parents. Your Grandfather Herschel had died at the tender age of 120, the trauma of years of nightmares from his seven repeated gassings at the hands of the Germans finally catching up with him. It made you wonder about all the coincidences that went into making you who you were. If your Grandfather had never survived, had never gone on to make a fortune in Hollywood as a producer of historical documentaries, had never met your Grandmother and settled down in SoCal...who would you have been born as instead? For that matter, even if you had been born as yourself, what would you have turned out like if you hadn't had such a wonderful environment and upbringing (setting aside your privelege as a white male)? You shuddered to think, remembering that poor close-minded Christian girl from earlier. She'd probably go on to have lots of racist white babies just like herself, continuing the cycle of hate. This is why you had decided to become an educator.

>You were shaken from your reverie by an alarm on your phone - lunch was over and it was time to meet up with your girlfriend. You had been waiting for this date for a long time. Chloe had been so busy lately volunteering at the local animal shelter across town that you had barely had any time together in the past few weeks.
>You thought eagerly of her smiling face, piercings shining seductively in the candlelight of the vigil for Treyvon Martin where you first met. The thought of her never failed to cheer you up. She had so much postive energy; always with a Mona-Lisa-esque smile on her face, as if there was some secret that only she knew. She was so friendly and loving, too, always affectionate with friends and strangers alike. 
>Her inner beauty was marred by tragedy, however, a tragedy she had only ever shared with you and her tumblr audience. Well - she had shared that there ''was'' a tragedy, just not exactly what. You respected her privacy as a woman too much to pry. You just knew that Chloe sometimes needed her space, and would sometimes take breaks away from your relationship to be alone, usually with mutual friends.
>It was after one of these week-long breaks that you both finally had some free time to spend together. You were so happy you forgot all about your dead Grandfather. You walked briskly to where you had chained up your fixie bike, whistling a jaunty tune, when you stopped in your tracks in shock. It was gone! The chain, the lock, your bike, your vintage thermos- everything! The only clue to its disappearance was the sickly-sweet smell of churros, which left you confused and hungry.

>Your only option if you didn't want to be late was to start walking. You'd worry about the bike later. Your parents could just buy you a new one, anyway. Luckily the park where Chloe wanted to meet was only a few blocks away.
>You were about halfway there when you saw a large group of young black men coming towards you. Some small, racist part of you thought about crossing to the other side of the street, but you shut that insitutionalized hatred down faster than the patriarchy shuts down the dreams of trans youth. You decided to hail your African-American compatriots, being careful not to appropriate any of their cultural or linguistic heritage.
"Hi there!"
>You made sure to smile in what you deemed was a non-threatening fashion. You didn't want them mistaking you for a member of the neighborhood watch.
>"Mip da mo bup gibme yo fone blamma mo dub bix nood, muffugga!" the foremost gentleman intoned.
>You weren't ''quite'' sure what dialect of Afro-American English he was speaking. You silently reminded yourself to take better notes in your World History of People of Color class.
>"Gibs", the man said as he extended his hand. You still weren't sure exactly what he wanted, but then you realized you were still clutching your iPhone in your off-hand.
"Oh! I'm sorry, I was just a little distracted. Here, you can totes borrow it."
>Laughing with what you assumed to be relief on his part that you weren't flouting the one mile no-gun zone around campus, he quickly snatched the phone and put it in his pocket.
"Oh...uh...is it gonna take a while? Does someone in your family need it? Cause I can totally come back for it if you-"
>You were cut short by a blinding flash and a series of loud pops, and that is all you remember.

>...and now here you were, standing blinking in the middle of a flowery meadow.
>Where the hell was Chloe? You weren't very far from the park when you had mysteriously lost consciousness, and you were sure that she would have call-
>Oh. Right, your phone was gone. Huh. Well, you were sure she would have gone looking for you, at any rate. If only you could remember exactly what had happened...
>You tried to think, but no dice. You felt great in the few minutes after you woke up, but now you seemed to have a bit of a headache; and no wonder! Who knows how long you had been laying passed-out in this meadow. Your blood sugar was probably dangerously low, and you were almost certainly dehydrated from being in the hot sun so long.
>You decide to look for some sort of landmark. It was still daytime, so wherever you were, you couldn't have wandered far from campus.
>Looking around, you see more grass, flowers, butterflies, bumblebees...but not a street or building in sight.
>There is something odd about your surroundings that you just can't put your finger on.
>You turn in place, and finally, behind you in the distance, you spot some trees. They seem to be the only feature of note in the area.
>Was this a section of the park you hadn't seen before? 
>You tentatively put one foot in front of the other and discover that aside from your new headache, you seem to be in good condition. You walk towards the trees.
>As you come closer to the small copse of trees, you can suddenly make out the faint sounds of someone singing.
"Chloe!?" you shout.
>You strain your ears, but you can't hear any reply. The singing seems to have stopped. Maybe you were just hearing things.

>The stand of trees is thick with low-hanging branches and underbrush, but you can sense that there is something on the other side of them. You push your way through slowly, having trouble avoiding snagging your clothes on what seems like every single piece of foliage around you. After a few hard-fought minutes of flailing, tripping, and removing thorns from your ass, you emerge panting into a small clearing.
>What greets your eyes takes a solid minute for you to process.
>There is a small cottage in front of you, barely one story tall at the apex of its green turf roof. A small babbling stream runs in front of it like a moat, bridged by a raised earthen pathway. Like a hobbit's hole, the cottage has a round door and windows and seems to meld partially into the surrounding terrain. Both it and the surrounding trees are covered in birdhouses, which, like the cottage itself, seem to have been hand crafted by some breed of Alpine European storybook folk.
>There is what looks like a small doghouse out front, with a tiny signpost carved and painted to look like a carrot. There is also a chicken coop and what look like bee hives.   
>You recognize where you are immediately, because this is Fluttershy's cottage. Yet, it can't be, because Fluttershy is a magical talking pegasus pony who doesn't exist and who you certainly did not hear singing a few minutes earlier.
>You mentally begin to go through a checklist of possible scenarios.
>Am I dreaming? You pinch yourself. It hurts, and you squeal girlishly. Nope, you're awake; and everything feels so deliriously real that you are starting to get vertigo.
>Is this a prank of some kind? Or a surprise from Chloe? Maybe she threw a bag over my head and knocked me out and took me to an exact replica of Fluttershy's cottage in the middle of a vacant lot that she built just for me. For some reason.
>...
>Hmm. Could I be...dead? No...no, that's silly. Everyone knows that nothing happens after you die, and that whole "magic bleach" thing is just a joke. Besides, you definitely don't remember drinking any poisonous liquids. You don't remember doing anything dangerous at all. You gave your phone over to that underpriveleged youth, and then...
>Gods, that hurts! You can't think anymore, your eyes watering as you forehead seems to split in two. You drop to your knees, feeling dizzy. Oh no...not again. If you pass out now, who knows where you'll wake up next. You wobble to your feet and stumble towards the cottage. 
"Chloooeee!"

>Shouting in a voice that reminds you of your drunken stepfather, you shuffle unsteadily along the path to the cottage, windmilling your arms like one of Don Quixote's giants, if it were real and had a splitting migraine.
"Chloooeeeeeeeee!!"
>Somehow you manage not to fall down and kill yourself. Your momentum is halted by the front door, which you rest your forehead against wearily.
"Uuungh...warrrm." 
>Actually it was more than warm. The blazing afternoon sun had baked the brownish paint of the front door to a crisp, the skin on your forehead peeling as you yank your head away a second too late.
"Aaauuugh!" 
>You just want whatever this is to end. If only you could remember what had happened. If only you could find Chloe. If only your fucking head would-
>"G-g-go away!"
>You snap out of your delirium instantly. It couldn't be.
>"I'm warning you!"
>Despite sounding shrill from utter terror, the voice coming from behind the door was soft, feminine, and unmistakeable.
>"I don't know who Chloe is, but she's not here! I-I'm pretty sure. So please look for her somewhere else. I mean...if you wouldn't mind."
>Your heart skips a few beats and what feels like an hour passes before you decide to blurt out -
"Fluttershy?"
>"Oh...um...yes, that's me. Mr. Monster. Sir. Pleased to meet you. W-would you like to come- eep! I mean, please go away!"
>You hesitate on the threshold for a few moments. If you decided to barge in, you would either be frightening the piss out of a socially anxious yellow pegasus, which now that you thought about it would be tantamount to rape, or you would finally get to the bottom of this grand ruse, if that's what it was.
>You press your ear to the door, but can hear nothing more.
>Pull yourself together, Anon! You've had a bad day, but everything is gonna work out! I'm gonna go in there and Chloe's gonna be there, and we're gonna laugh about all of this as she continues to show off her unnervingly convincing Fluttershy impression.
>You attempt to push the door open, stubbing your toe as you realize it pulls open from your side. You try again and hear a clack.
>It's locked.
>Fuck.

>Now you are faced with a conundrum. Whatever is really behind this door, it is now locked. You have never burgled your way into a building in your life, except for that one time you went urban exploring and spent a night in the county lockup - an outcome that was as traumatic as it was, in your opinion, completely unjust.
>Therefore, your only options are twofold: You can walk away and leave probably-not-actually-Fluttershy alone, risking becoming hopelessly lost; or you can attempt to negotiate with whoever is behind the door and risk looking like a total chode when they reveal that this is all a giant, made-for-TV prank.
>Ultimately your fatigue, confusion, and thirst win the day. You don't give a shit what's behind the door as long as it involves air conditioning and the possibility of a frosty chai latte.
>You debate internally over how you want to address the mystery tenant, and decide that playing along will resolve things more smoothly.
"Fluttershy? I'm sorry if I scared you. I'm just a little lost. See, I was walking to meet a friend of mine, and next thing I know, I wake up in the middle of a field a little ways from here. I'm not sure what happened, and I'm really confused, and hot, and tired, and thirsty...and uh...lost. I'd really appreciate it if you would let me inside and we could talk. I promise I won't hurt you."
>Silence greets you. You wait a few more moments, but nothing happens. Apparently a little more commitment is necessary.
>You sigh in frustration.
"Fluttershy...sweetie..." - you say, putting an edge into your voice that you hope Chloe and whoever is instigating this on her behalf can hear - "I promise I'm not mad. I juuust need you to open the door, so I can get out of this heat. I've had kind of a bad day. I didn't mean to frighten you or any of your little animal friends, I promise. Just open the door so we can talk. Please?"
>Still no answer. What did you do to deserve this? Surely Chloe, or any of your friends, would never be so cruel as to play a prank on you and draw it out like this?
"Okay, listen. You've had your fun. I gotta admit, it was pretty funny, too. You had me goin', there. Ha ha." 
>You begin to sweat, the veins on your forhead pounding. Still nothing.
"Look, I'm sorry, okay? Whatever it was I did, I'm sorry. Just open the door!"
>The door does not open. The air in front of your face distorts from its reflected heat, mocking you.
"Open up god damn it! I don't deserve to be treated this way! I mean...maybe I do, I dunno. Just tell me what you want! Please!"
>Your voice grows shrill as hysteria sets in, and you get on your knees and begin to pound weakly at the door.
"It's REALLY hot out here, Chloe. My blood sugar is really low. I'm dehydrated. I have thorns in my ass and I think Mexicans stole my bike."
>You begin to hyperventilate as you realize what you just blurted out, but it's so hot. You just want inside.
"Chlooo! Chlo-...Chloeshy...Ffffluttery....aaaaughh...aaaahahaha! Bleaze..."
>Tears stream down your face as you collapse to the dirt and begin to sob like a woman.
>Unbeknownst to you, the top half of the door has opened a few cracks and a very confused little horse looks down at you with pity.

>You are Fluttershy.
>A little while ago you had been picking flowers for your pet rabbit's lunch, singing merrily and enjoying the afternoon sunshine, when you were interrupted by a blood-curdling yell.
>Not wasting any time, you courageously made a beeline for your cottage to check on your animal friends, who must have been terribly frightened by the strange noise. Just to be safe, you locked and barred the door behind you, and then went to check under the couch for Angel, your pet rabbit. You didn't find him, but you're fairly sure this is the first place that he or any of your animal friends would go in an emergency, so you crawled under and waited dutifully for them to arrive.
>A few minutes passed without any further commotion, so you came out from under the couch and fluttered over to the window to take a peep outside.
>Your timing was not very good, because the instant you peered through the glass, you spied a very strange and ugly creature come crashing out of the treeline that seperates your property from the bumblebee meadows. Peeking cautiously from a corner of the window with the curtains drawn, you had time to get a good look at it while it stood still, seemingly trying to get a bearing on its new surroundings.
>It stood on two legs like a Minotaur, though its hooves were oddly shaped and covered in some sort of protective wrapping. It also had two arms like a Minotaur's, with - what were they called? Paws? - on the ends, though they didn't seem to be covered in fur. This is where the similarities ended. It was taller and more slender, and wore more clothing than you've ever seen a Minotaur wear. Its face was very different, and reminded you of a monkey, bald and flat with fur on top of its head.
>Overall, it was not a very attractive animal. You silently hoped that its seeming lack of fur and bandaged hooves were not due to some terrible leprous disease.
>You would soon find out, however, as after a few moments the creature began to have a fit of some kind, falling to its knees and clutching its head. It soon got back up and began to stumble towards your cottage - and then it spoke.
>At least, its caterwauling seemed reminiscent of speech to you. Any other pony less gifted with empathy for all living things might have simply assumed it was roaring in preparation for an attack. It repeated the same noise over and over, which to your ears sounded like a name: "Chloe".
>It also sounded very upset for some reason. You were not sure you wanted to find out why, but you couldn't abandon your home and all the little animals to the depredations of this strange beast. It was time to put all that assertiveness training to good use. You're Fluttershy, after all - friend to all creatures, cute and terrifying alike. Even if you'd never seen an animal like this before, you were sure you had what it takes to put it at ease.
>As it got closer, you moved away from the window and crouched assertively behind the door, ready to give this monster what f-
>You involuntarily launch to the ceiling and clutch the wooden beams, shivering with fear from the thud you just heard as the creature bumbles to a stop outside your door. 
>"G-g-go away!" you shout - or what passes for a shout. "I'm warning you! I don't know who Chloe is, but she's not here! I-I'm pretty sure. So please look for her somewhere else. I mean...if you wouldn't mind."
>This seems to take the creature aback, because a few moments later it speaks timidly.
>"Fluttershy?"
>Oh dear. Not only does it talk, but it apparently knows your name.

>Your manners get the better of your good sense, and you reply as courteously as you can manage under the circumstances.
>"Oh...um...yes, that's me. Mr. Monster. Sir. Pleased to meet you. W-would you like to come- eep! I mean, please go away!"
>You are greeted with silence, but not for long. Just as you consider letting go of the ceiling-beams to take a peek out the window again, you hear another thud, and then a clack as the creature tries to manipulate the locked door handle.
>Oh dear, oh dear. It wants inside, and it's not going to wait for your permission. If it knows your name and where you live, that must mean it's some sort of changeling or minion of Tartarus, here to lock you up in a dungeon for daring to aid Twilight Sparkle and your other friends in foiling its evilly evil plans for the tenth time. If only it knew how little you actually contributed, maybe it would go bother somepony else - but you're not sure it will give you the time to explain.
>Suddenly, it speaks again. It explains that it is lost and tired and thirsty, among other things, and that it promises not to hurt you if you let it inside to talk.
>A likely story, you think to yourself. That's just what somepony who knew you and wanted to trick you into opening your door would say. Though...he does sound awfully nice- no! Stay strong, Fluttershy! It's a trick! Maybe if you stay quiet, it will give up and go away.
>The creature continues its attempts to persuade you to let it inside, rambling about Celestia knows what and sounding increasingly frustrated. You listen more closely, and if you didn't know any better, you would almost say the poor fellow seems genuinely lost and confused. For a moment, your fear abates, and then you hear a feeble thumping against your door.
"It's REALLY hot out here, Chloe. My blood sugar is really low. I'm dehydrated. I have thorns in my ass and I think Mexicans stole my bike."
>Oh...oh dear. Your heart begins to melt a little as you sense the distress in the creature's voice. You don't know what bikes are, or Mexicans, or why they would steal from him, but he's hungry and dehydrated and covered in thorns and probably just wants to take a nap away from the heat. It ''was'' awfully warm out today. Maybe if you showed him a little kindness, got him a glass of lemonade and sent him on his way, he would...
>All doubt is erased from your mind as you hear the sound of confusingly feminine weeping. The poor dear. Maybe you had been a little quick to judge him. If he really was lost, who knows how long he had been wandering around without food or water or any friends to comfort him. That settles it.
>Cautiously and silently, you unlatch and de-bar the door, gently pushing open the top half a few inches so that you can see the creature.
>At first you don't see anything. Then you look down. The thing, whatever his name was, was collapsed face-down in the dirt, sobbing and babbling incoherently. Awww. The pathetic display puts your maternal instincts into gear, and you open your mouth to speak.

>You are Anon.
>You are laying face-down in the dust (which is quickly turning to mud from a cascade of tears and mucus) in front of a replica of Fluttershy's cottage.
>Things could not possibly get any worse, as far as you are concerned. It's very hot, you are delirious from multiple nutritional deficiencies, you have a terrible headache, and you're fairly sure your privates are starting to itch again.
>On top of all this, you are hopelessly lost and your only hope of salvation is from some mysterious, cruel prankster pretending to be a flying pony, who in reality is probably your girlfriend or one of her friends, out to punish you for some overlooked act of oppression on your part. You would gladly accept that this is what you deserve for not being sensitive enough, if only someone would just open the door and end this charade.
>Perhaps this is what she wanted - to see you pour out your emotions onto the ground? As far as you remember, Chloe had never complained about you being overly macho, but then again, you knew that sometimes you bought a little too much into the patriarchal narrative when it came to relationships; like that one time when you insisted on paying for dinner while on a date at a local sushi bar. In the end you changed your mind and split the check anyway (fifty dollars a plate? you'd feel so patronizing assuming that she couldn't pay for something so cheap), but you knew that Chloe had probably noticed your less than full commitment to gender equality by that point. The fear of making mistakes like that kept you up at night.
>A good public display of emotion might be just what your relationship needed. Elated at the thought that Chloe might be watching this new milestone in your emotional development, you put a bit more enthusiasm into your blubbering.
>All thoughts of getting back into your girlfriend's good graces evaporate, however, when suddenly your hear the voice of an angel.
"Oh you poor, poor thing. Everything's gonna be okay, now. Fluttershy's here."
>The voice, while convincing, had been muffled before; but now it was as crystal clear as the sound of a vinyl record through SkullCandy headphones. Every syllable conjured up the scent of honeysuckle, the soft warmth of morning sunbeams, and the silky caress of tafetta silk. There was no denying it, now. Either Andrea Libman herself had been recruited to help stage this prank, or...
>You look up slowly, grunting as you work out a crick in your neck. The top half of the bisected door is wide open, but nobody is there. You groaningly push yourself onto your knees, but before you can stand, the lower half of the door opens and you are suddenly greeted with the face of Fluttershy, the Element of Kindness, in the flesh.
>You stare with your mouth agape, unable to process what you are seeing. As if you have just taken several virgin hits of ''uncommonly'' dank weed, your vision tries to sort itself into a new frame of reference and a new palette of colors. She is clearly a cartoon, and yet...you put your hands in front of your face and look at them. Everything seems to be in order. Everything looks real - or rather, ''realer than real''. Maybe you're dreaming after all. That is the only explanation you have as to why the experience of stepping into a children's television show doesn't feel out of place.
>Fluttershy patiently waits for you to drop your hands, though she is now daintily pawing at the ground with one of her crossed hooves, her mane fallen over one eye. "Oh...um...hello again. It's nice to meet you. I'm Fluttershy. Oh! - but you already knew that. Somehow."
>She blows her mane out of her eyes and flutters gently a foot into the air. You can feel the breeze from her wings on your face, and you're not sure if you're okay with that.
>"Why don't you come inside? I know it's ''awfully'' hot out there. I can make you a nice cold glass of lemonade, and then our we can sit and talk about your problems, if that's okay?"
>Though you thought it wouldn't be possible, more tears well up in your eyes. You scrunch your face in a pathetic grimace and sniff.
"Yeeesss...that sounds really good, please."

>Fifteen minutes later, you are laying on Fluttershy's pony-sized couch, your legs folded over the far arm and almost touching the floor. You gulp down glass after tiny glass of lemonade. Fluttershy politely gives you a refill from the pitcher every five seconds.
>Feeling suitably refreshed after the pitcher is empty, you take a few moments to collect yourself as Fluttershy flits off to refill it. 
>Some part of you feels a little ashamed about the display you put on earlier. Though it was difficult to keep track of exact time due to your partial amnesia, you're pretty sure you had been in dream-Equestria for no longer than an hour before breaking down crying like a b-...like a very emotionally unstable person. Suddenly you almost feel glad that Chloe hadn't been around to see you like that; but you push that feeling away.
>You could hardly blame yourself for being a little unstable. Anyone would be disoriented after waking up in a strange place with no clue how they got there. Everything was so real, too - the sun, the grumbling in your stomach, the stabbing pain of brambles in your butt-cheeks. The anxiety, too, was realistic. That was probably what instigated your little panic attack, moreso than the heat and deprivation.
>You had always been a bit sensitive about being made a fool of, especially in front of girls. You think back to a moment in your childhood, on the playground outside of school. There was a very cute little brown-haired girl who you recognized from your third-grade class, playing with her friends by the swings. You walked over to her, bold with the naivety of youth, and said something that you don't remember. You think you asked her if she and her friends wanted you to push them, because you could push really hard and they'd go, just, super high and that would be fun. The girl laughed, you smiled, and then you felt the wind get knocked out of you as you fell flat on your face. 
>A pair of hands belonging to a very tall and freckled boy had pushed you very, very hard. You knew this because he said as much.
>"I can push way harder, see?"
>You got up, picking wood chips out of your hands and elbows. The little girl and her friends stood off to the side, looking afraid and unsure of what to do.
>In a move that you never repeated in the rest of your life, you didn't even wait to look the other boy in the face before whipping around and punching him square in the testicles (he was pretty tall). He fell, curled up, and began to cry. In hindsight, you have no idea what came over you.
>You went straight home after that, and the boy's mother called your parents a little later that day. Your parents told you that there was no excuse for hitting another person, especially if they hit you first. You explained that there were girls there and that you didn't want to look like a pussy. You got grounded for a week for saying that word, and your uncle got yelled at by your mother for teaching it to you. She sent you to a therapist, who prescribed you some drugs to combat your aggression. It seemed to work, because the freckled boy continued to pick on you for the rest of elementary school, but you didn't once fight back.
>"I'm back~" hummed Fluttershy, snapping you out of your reverie. "I'm sorry it took so long. I had to squeeze a whole new batch of lemons."
>The little pegasus refilled your glass, which you set down carefully on the small table she had set in front of you.
>"Now, if you feel comfortable, do you mind telling me your name? It seems you know mine already, but I didn't catch yours."
>Shit. The whole time she was in the kitchen, you should have been thinking of a good cover story. There's no telling how she'll react if you tell her the truth about where you're from and how you know her name already. Think, Anon...

>You try your best to recall any details from the show that could help you come up with a plausible story.
>Let's see...humans didn't exist in Equestria, but that didn't matter, since the ponies in the show are used to seeing all kinds of fantastical creatures. You could just say you were from some far-away land across the sea. You ''really'' hope Twilight Sparkle doesn't have any books or maps that describe lands outside of Equestria, but you'd just have to take that risk.
>As for how you knew Fluttershy's name, you rapidly conceived dozens of outlandish scenarios before deciding to keep it as simple and vague as possible. During your travels you asked a passing pony if he knew of anywhere you could stay to get out of the heat, and he suggested you go find Fluttershy's cottage. Perfect.
>You realize that Fluttershy has been hovering in front of you waiting for an answer for approximately thirty seconds.
"Oh! Uhhh, my name! I'm sorry, I just sort of spaced out for a second there..."
>"Oh, that's quite alright. You've been through a lot today. Take your time."
You clear your throat. "My name is Anonymous," you say, seeing no harm in telling her your real name. A lot of ponies had human-esque names, anyway.
>"What a nice name; and of course, you know my name, so I suppose we're now officially introduced. Speaking of which, um, I was wondering exactly how you know me. I mean, I don't think we've ever met. Unless I forgot, in which case I'm terribly sorry."
"I don't know you, actually. Just your name. I was travelling to Ponyville and getting really tired and hot, so I asked a passing pony if there was anywhere nearby that I could seek some shelter and hospitality. He told me about you and your cottage and pointed me in the right direction." You silently pray that she buys it.
>"How nice of him! I would have been terribly fri- I mean, umm, anypony else might have been a bit less friendly. To a complete stranger, I mean. I mean, not to say that you're strange..."
"It's okay, Fluttershy. I know you've probably never seen anything like me before. I'm uh, not from around here."
>"May I ask where it is that you are from? You're right, I've never seen anypony like you, not even in all of Equestria. Not that there's anything wrong with that..."
"I'm from a faraway land across the sea. I'm a, uh, traveler. Been on the road for quite some time. Always wanted to see Equestria, so when I figured out that I was on the right continent, I swung by." Lying to Fluttershy was incredibly easy.
>"How fascinating! I love meeting new creatures. Oh - and I'll have to introduce you to all my friends in Ponyville! Especially Twilight Sparkle. I'm pretty sure it's her royal duty to establish diplomatic relations with new peoples, being the Princess of Friendship and all."
>Oh no. Twilicorn is canon here. You're not sure if you're going to be able to handle that. You decide to change the subject.
"So, I forgot to apologize for scaring you earlier, Fluttershy. I know I didn't make the best impression. I was kind of having a bad day."
>"Me? Scared? Oh, no, when I saw you outside, all I could think of was how distraught you seemed."
>You are a terrible liar, Fluttershy.
>"I wanted to ask, actually - and stop me if this is too personal - who is Chloe? Is she a friend of yours? Are there other, umm...whatever it is you are, out there? I wasn't lying when I said I hadn't seen anyone like that around here."
Oh boy. This was a can of worms. How much information was too much to give?

"We're called humans, and no, there aren't any more of us around these parts as far as I know. Uhh, except for Chloe. She's a friend of mine. My girlfriend, actually," you say, with entirely too much pride. Fluttershy seems nonplussed. "Oh, I mean, my...marefriend? Special somepony? I'm not really sure what the appropriate term would be."
>Fluttershy smiles sweetly, bringing her front hooves together like a fawning girl. "How romantic! Did you come all this way just to find her?"
>For some reason this question catches you off guard. The whole reason you ended up here was because you were going to meet Chloe. You broke down into a sobbing mess earlier just because you thought you'd found her, only to be deceived. When you thought about it, Equestria was an awful long way to go just for a date. 
>Your pulse quickened as you considered the possibility that your girlfriend could have followed you in some form to...whatever this was. Dreams were supposed to be symbolic of internal struggles and anxieties; maybe after getting your phone back you tripped and fell in a ditch somewhere, and now you're having an unusually vivid dream about the last thing you were thinking of, interpreted in the form of a friendship lesson from your favorite cartoon. It was certainly more plausible than you having died, forgotten the details of your demise completely, and gone to Equestria as your personal heaven. Maybe if you find Chloe in here, you'll wake up?
"Yeah. She disappeared a while ago, and I've been looking for her ever since."
>Fluttershy gasped. "How terrible. Oh you poor dear, you really have been having a bad time, haven't you? I can't even imagine what it would be like if my special somepony just disappeared one day and never came back! If there's anything I can do to help you find her, I'd be more than happy to help."
"I appreciate the offer, Fluttershy, but you've done enough for me already. Thank you, by the way."
>"It's no trouble at all, Anonymous. When somepony's in need, I just can't help myself, really."
>You chuckle at the cute little horse, suddenly reminded why your brain decided to set this dream where it did.
"Well, I suppose I should be..." 
>You think for a moment. What exactly should you do next? Finding Chloe was going to be no easy task, considering you didn't even have a concrete reason to believe she was here at all. You also have no idea when this dream or whatever will end - if it decides to end anytime soon. Your best bet was probably to ride things out for a few hours and see if you wake up. If not, you can figure out what to do later.
"I suppose I should shack up somewhere in town. I don't want to impose on you any further. Is there a hotel or an inn or something in Ponyville where I could stay?"
>"Oh, I couldn't let you do that, Anonymous," Fluttershy said nervously. "I mean, I think there aren't any vacancies left. You can stay here for a while if you need to."
"The ponies will be terrified if a human just strolls ?into town out of nowhere, won't they?"
>"It probably wouldn't be the best idea", she replies sheepishly. "In fact, I think it might be best if I go into town with you and introduce you to Princess Twilight and the rest of my friends. She can help you, umm...integrate."

>You wonder what "integration" is going to entail. According to your story, you're a traveler, so surely the ponies wouldn't expect you to stay for long; but if the unthinkable happens and you don't wake up, you're not sure you could survive on your own outside of Ponyville. Equestria wasn't completely alien thanks to it being fictional, but your relative omniscience in this world only extended to scenarios you'd seen in the show, and as far as you knew, the only reason pony society survived was because of the magic of friendship and harmony keeping all the bloodthirsty monsters at bay. You're a friendly and harmonious guy, but you're pretty sure that wouldn't manifest itself in the form of magical powers or super-strength like in the ponies.
>Even if you managed to avoid being eaten alive while traveling between pony towns, you had no money and no reputation, and as much as you loved the show, ponies were pretty racist. Like, they never let Zecora live in town, and this is after finding out they actually ''like'' her; Spike is basically Twilight's slave; the Appleloosans were one conservative writer away from committing a pie-fueled genocide of the Buffalo; and Donkeys and Mules are nothing but the butt of jokes. You're even more different from ponies than any of those races, and you doubt that if you manage to befriend the Ponyvillians that their goodwill will carry over to all of Equestria.
>You also have no idea where in the timeline you are, except that it is sometime after Season 3; so predicting a disaster and saving the day, thus securing your place as Hero of Equestria, was probably off the table.
>The worst part of all this was that you couldn't let any of the ponies know just how helpless you were. If you had truly managed to travel all the way here from across the sea, there was no reason why you couldn't leave if they asked you to.
>Somehow, you have to convince them to let you stay. This is not going to be fun.
>Your musings are interrupted by a loud gurgling from your stomach. You are momentarily startled, as this has never actually happened to you before in real life. You're not sure if this is because you are now trapped in a cartoon, or because you've simply never been hungry enough to find out if tummy-rumbles are an actual thing.
>Fluttershy covers her mouth to suppress a giggle. "Oh my! I had almost forgotten that you mentioned you were hungry. Stay right here, and I'll get you something to eat." She flutters off to the kitchen, leaving the still-full pitcher of lemonade for you. She disappears before you have time to tell her what you'd like, but then you remember that you're a vegan and that anything ponies eat, you'd probably be fine with. 
>A few seconds later, Fluttershy comes back anyway. "I'm sorry Anonymous, I got to the kitchen and remembered that I have no idea what humans eat. What would you like? We ponies are herbivores, so we only eat plants or things made from plants, but I know some animals eat other animals..." The little pegasus tenses up and a pensive look comes over her, as if she is only just now considering that you might eat her.
>"Anything you have should be fine. Humans eat plants, too. Well...the civilized ones, anyway," you add under your breath.
>"That's a relief! I mean, I sometimes catch fish for my animal friends, and it would have been no trouble at all to do the same for you, but I don't keep anything like that in my pantry."
>"It's fine, Fluttershy. If you have any fresh vegetables, a salad sounds good."
>Fluttershy beams. "One salad, coming right up."

>Before Fluttershy can leave, however, a small white rabbit hops clear through an open window into the living room.
>It gives you a single sharp glance before turning its back to you and engaging in a very agitated pantomime directed at Fluttershy. The pegasus seems embarassed.
>"Oh...well...yes, but...I see. I was picking the flowers for your lunch earlier, but then Mr. Anonymous over there showed up and..."
>The rabbit gives Fluttershy a look that clearly expresses that he wants to eat flowers, not excuses.
>"If you can hold on for juuust another minute-"
>She is cut off by rapid, angry stamping.
>Fluttershy blushes and turns to you. "Anonymous, this is my pet rabbit, Angel. Angel, this is Anonymous."
>Angel falls over and coughs in a pantomime of what you assume to be him starving to death.
>"I promised him I'd gather some flowers for his lunch, but then you arrived, and I, um...forgot about them. Would you mind waiting just a little while for that salad, Anonymous?"
>"Sure, Fluttershy. I'm sorry to have interrupted Angel's lunch."
>"Oh, that's not your fault. But I did promise him, and it won't take but a minute. In the meantime, why don't you and Angel get to know each other? I'll be right back." She grabs a wicker basket from a corner and breezes out the same window that Angel had jumped in through.
>You look down at the little rabbit, noting that he seems even less enthusiastic than you are to have to wait with a stranger for your lunch to arrive. Well - he isn't a ''complete'' stranger, you suppose, but he doesn't know that. 
>Luckily, you don't have long to wait before Fluttershy returns, her basket overflowing with a random assortment of wildflowers. She prepares both Angel's and your lunch quickly, humming sweetly as she floats out of the kitchen with two bowls.
>You thank Fluttershy for the meal and almost ask her for a fork before you realize that ponies probably don't use utensils to eat...or do they? You had never quite gotten your head around how hooves worked. It was just as well - she hadn't put any dressing on the salad, and the vegetables were cut into fairly large chunks.
>You're surprised by how delicious everything tastes; the produce in Equestria must be ''organic as fuck.'' Somehow you manage to finish your lunch before Angel does, and that little rabbit ate like a woodchipper. You must have been starving.
>Fluttershy seems to have greatly enjoyed watching you eat, because she has an adorable grin on her face as you offer the wooden salad bowl back to her.
"That was ''really'' good, Fluttershy, thank you. Did you grow these vegetables yourself?"
>"Why yes! I need to, to feed myself in addition to all of my animal friends. You might say that gardening is one of my other special talents," she explained proudly.
>"I can tell," you reply, picking a lump of dirt out from between your teeth. You'd have to take Fluttershy's gardening tips back to real life. Right now, though, you didn't want to waste any more time before heading out to meet Twilight and the gang. As much as you needed to bide your time, you also felt terrible imposing on such a gentle and helpless pony. Even though she seemed curious about you and eager to please, there was a reason she lived by herself on the edge of town. It was time to move on.

>You're ready to leave, but you realize you need a bit more time to mentally rehearse the story you were going to tell Twilight Sparkle. A simple pair of fibs might have been enough to fool Fluttershy, but Book Horse was almost certainly going to ask you a million questions, and being caught in a lie in front of the pony princess would turn this dream very awkward, very fast.
>You also need to pee.
>Deciding to kill two birds with one stone, you ask Fluttershy if she wouldn't mind you using her bathroom.
>"Oh! Well actually, my cottage doesn't have any plumbing; but you can use the outhouse out back if you need to."
>You feared that might be the case. Thankfully, you don't need to take a dump. You shudder at the thought of what sort of system ponies came up with to wipe their asses, and follow Fluttershy out the back door. She points with one hoof to a perfectly stereotypical outhouse back beyond the chicken coop, complete with a crescent-moon-shaped window carved into the bare wooden door. It's more squarish than rectangular, you guess to accomodate the lower profile of a pony, and you assume you'll have to hunch down a bit to fit inside. You thank Fluttershy and she leaves you to your business.
>You place your hand on the crude rope handle of the outhouse door and reflect a bit on the absurdity of the situation you are in before pulling it open. No more than an hour or two ago, you were having a perfectly normal day, and now you are about to use Flutterhy's outhouse. If you had a flashlight and were a special kind of gross nerd, you could take this opportunity to once and for all find out what Fluttershits look like. An image of a pile of pink marshmallows greeting you from the bottom of a dark, snake-filled hole floats before your mind's eye, and you can't help but burst out laughing.
>Hoo boy. What a day. Time to get a grip on yourself.
>You open the door and step inside. Sure enough, you have to crouch. You decide to leave the door open a crack so that a little more light streams in. You'd imagined it'd be dark, but now that you're inside you wondered how anybody managed to use these things at night. Luckily the darkness is your only real complaint. It doesn't smell nearly as terrible as you imagined - more like damp earth than anything else. Perhaps Fluttershy periodically sprinkled the pit with lime or some other chemical agent. In any case, you manage to take a leak without a hitch; no spiders or snakes leap out to bite your dick off. After that's accomplished, you continue to squat awkwardly in the dark and think.
>Since this is your dream and there's no one around to shout homophobic slurs at you, you decide to take inventory of your situation RPG-style, starting with your literal inventory:
>Inventory:
- The Clothes on My Back
Well, that was easy. You silently thank Gaia that you weren't wearing your "20% Cooler" Rainbow Dash t-shirt today.
>Objectives:
- Survive Equestria's Angry Sun [x]
- Eat and Drink [x]
- Evacuate [x]
- Befriend Fluttershy [in progress]
- Come Up With Convincing Back-Story [ ]
- Successfully Lie to Twilight Sparkle, Princess of Scrutiny and Vanquisher of Liars [ ]
- Wake Up? [ ]
- Find Chloe? [ ]
- Befriend Ponyville [ ]
- Convince Ponyville to Let You Stay [ ]
- ???? [ ] 
- Profit [ ]

>This was going to be more difficult than you initially assumed.
>Okay, what's the first rule of lying?
>Probably "Keep It Simple, Stupid". You try to think of a few solid threads upon which to build your web of deceit, some lynchpin details that, once accepted, would give you less to lie about. Where you're from and how you got here both jump to mind. "Across the sea" wouldn't cut it as a home location if by chance Twilight has maps or books that describe the world outside Equestria. "America" might do, though; it's not even a lie. It does have several very easy horse-pun homonyms, but you're almost certain that Equestria already encompasses all fascimiles of American culture in the show. If Twilight asks you what it's near or discovers that it's not on any of her maps, you can just say that it's an island that has remained undiscovered by other races, and that you want it to stay that way.
>As for how you got here, you're glad that you spent all that time memorizing that map of Equestria; unless you were quite mistaken, the west coast was less settled than the east. You had no idea if the south even had a coast, since the maps didn't extend that far, and the north was out for obvious reasons. So, to avoid coming up with too many excuses as to why rumors of the appearance of a completely new species in Equestria somehow hadn't reached the ear of the Princesses, it would be best to say that you arrived somewhere south of Las Pegasus, found the river running through the San Palomino Desert, and followed it all the way to the Everfree Forest.
>Yes...this just might work. Any other details the ponies wanted out of you wouldn't have to be lies. Well - except The Big One, but that much was easy to hide.
>Come Up With Convincing Backstory [x]
>Now to go lie to Former Best Pony.
>You open the outhouse door and stroll leisurely back to Fluttershy's cottage, proud of how quickly you've been able to get the ball rolling. At this rate, you'll either be back in real life or become a friend to all of Equestria in no time.
>Fluttershy is ready for you when you enter inside, hovering by the front door with what looks like a small hobo's bindle leaning against the wall, complete with a red-and-white polka-dotted handkerchief that is stuffed near to bursting with items. She grabs it and holds it out to you as you approach.
>"Here Anonymous, this is for you. I filled it with a few things that I thought you might need, since you seem to be, um...travelling light."
>You are simultaneously smitten and miffed. It is certainly very sweet of Fluttershy to give you gifts, even if it is par for the course with her. Your eyes can't help but become a little misty at the thought of you being the recipient of her kindness. On the flip side, however, she seems to have really well absorbed that lesson with the Breezies, because she didn't even ask if you wanted to leave before getting prepared to usher you out. Maybe you shouldn't have described yourself as a "traveller".
>Ah, well. You had decided to leave, anyway.
>"If you're ready to go meet the Princess and my other friends, Anonymous, then I'm ready to escort you."
>Somehow the thought of needing to be escorted by Fluttershy makes you feel rather small inside, but you push that feeling away and nod at her.
"Let's go."

>You and Fluttershy set out on the dirt path leading from the front door of her cottage, the little pegasus trotting slightly ahead of you. She must have decided it would be rude to fly in the company of someone without wings. It's not like it would have gotten her there faster, anyway, since she had you in tow.
>The afternoon sun was, if possible, even hotter and brighter now than it was earlier, its rays beating savagely on the back of your neck. You try your best to shade yourself with your newly acquired bindle, which reminds you that you're lucky to have stumbled upon Fluttershy's hospitality earlier; you might actually have gotten heatstroke. It makes you wish you had some sunblock with you. Maybe Fluttershy packed some for you? Do ponies need sunblock? Their fur might offer them enough protection, but then again they must get awfully hot in summer even if they didn't get sunburn.
>Fluttershy did't seemed bothered by it, at any rate. She ambled happily along, keeping her eyes on the road ahead. 
>You suddenly realize you've never actually seen what Ponyville's environs look like other than a few set-piece locations, and so you look around to scrutinize the scenery. If you recall correctly, Lauren Faust had said that there was no official canon on exactly where locations in the vicinity of Ponyville were in relation to each other, and since this was a dream, that was doubly true. You may have to memorize landmarks.
>As far as you can tell, the Everfree Forest is now behind you, to the...south? You never were an expert at determining cardinal direction, even with a compass. Its gloomy eaves are unkempt and strewn with moss, casting a long shadow towards what you assume to be the east, a shadow that a veritable cloud of butteflies and bumblebees seems to be going out of its way to avoid. Around you are the same familiar flowery meadows that you woke up in, stretching seemingly without end to either side to the south of a small river ahead of you, which is spanned by a cobblestone bridge. As you cross the bridge, you can finally spy Ponyville in the valley up ahead.
>It looks much as you imagined it would, though the sensation of vertigo you had when you first saw Fluttershy's cottage returns as you are confronted with (what feels like) its physical reality. The town is composed of clusters of timber-framed houses with white plaster walls and thatched roofs. The timber beams are mostly painted in an inoffensive shade of pink, though some are bare. Most of the homes are two stories tall, though a pony story seemed to be around three-quarters the size of a human one; not so small that you couldn't comfortably fit inside, but probably very lofty and spacious by pony standards. Under the windows and around the doors of many of the houses are painted wooden flower boxes filled with Geraniums, Gardenias, and Marigolds, like you might see in a European village.
>The Town Hall is the tallest and most imposing building, and Ponyville's homes cluster in a concentric ring around it, set back some distance to form a circular town square or commons, green with grass. In fact, the streets of all of Ponyville didn't seem to be paved now that you took a good look. This made sense when you considered that a creature with hooves was made to walk pretty much anywhere. They probably didn't need roads and streets for quite the same reasons that humans did, which means that dirt roads through the country and city streets like in Manehatten were probably created more to provide planning and a sense of direction than for comfort.
>Green trees are interspersed throughout the town, and to the west you can see the rolling hills of what must be Sweet Apple Acres, themselves covered in - what else? - apple trees.
>In the distance to the north, you can see the entirety of the mountain on which perches the royal city of Canterlot, its golden and alabaster spires gleaming brightly even at this distance. The mountain itself is purple, snow-capped, and majestic, like out of a patriotic song. Even in a pony-sized world like this, its sheer size overawes you when you remember that it is canonically an afternoon's train ride away, and yet seems to loom directly overhead.
>Overall, you can't help but feel impressed, especially when you remember that Earth ponies built all of this. You'd definitely want to live here. A pang of anxiety hits you, however, as you remember that proving you're good enough to integrate into this town is just what Fluttershy is bringing you here to do. This must be what Latin Americans feel when they manage to make it to the United States. You're not sure whether your white privilege carries over into Equestria, or whether you'd want it to; a torrent of conflicting emotions brewing in your chest doesn't help you decide.
>You take a deep breath and prepare for the worst.
 
>As you enter Ponyville, a knot forms in your stomach at the thought of what the ponies's reactions to you will be. Luckily it seems that not many of them are out and about at the moment, perhaps avoiding the afternoon heat indoors. While the windows of all the homes you pass appear to be open, you don't see any faces in them yet. The streets, too, are seemingly deserted. You don't even hear any hoofbeats, or wagons rolling, or any sound of life at all. 
>Curious, you ask Fluttershy.
"Fluttershy, is it normally this quiet in Ponyville on a hot afternoon, or do you think they saw me coming?"
>The little pony halts mid-stride and considers carefully before replying. "To be honest, Anonymous, I'm not really sure. If anypony saw you, they might be a little scared without having been introduced first; but it's also true that everypony might be taking a nap." She resumes walking, but then stops again, bringing a hoof to her chin. "Well, not ''everypony'' everypony. I mean, I'm pretty sure I've never actually seen Pinkie Pie sleep before." This seems to puzzle her, and you fidget awkwardly for a few moments until she snaps out of her meditation. "Oh! But I'm sure that after I introduce you to Princess Twilight, everypony will be very happy to meet you," she finally adds, obviously trying to sound as reassuring as possible.
"Uh-huh...well, that's...good to know." The two of you resume your seemingly private tour of Ponyville. 
"So," you continue, trying to cover the unnerving silence around you with small-talk, "Ponyville's ruled over by a Princess? I mean, I've heard rumors of Equestria's political system, of course. But I didn't know there was a full-fledged alicorn Princess in charge of such a small town. It seems a little..." You want to say "excessive", but think better of it. "...odd."
>"Believe me, Anonymous, it was a bit of a shock to Twilight and the rest of us, too. Sometimes it feels like it was only yesterday that Twilight arrived here from Canterlot and became our best friend...after vanquishing Nightmare Moon...and the Changeling Queen...and Discord...and an Ursa Minor...and a rogue magician with an artifact of ultimate power...and a drag- oh! wait, that was me."
>You try your best to sound overawed. 
"Wow...she sounds like quite the lifesaver."
>"She is! But much more importantly than that, she helped teach us all about the magic of Friendship. Why, if we had never become friends, we wouldn't have discovered the Elements of Harmony, and without the Elements of Harmony - oh my, I wouldn't even like to think what would have happened."
"I see. So, she was a normal pony before meeting all of you? And then she was...promoted?" You ''really'' want to hear the justification for Twilicorn; and now you have a chance to hear it right from the horse's mouth.
>"I wouldn't have called Twilight a normal pony, exactly," says Fluttershy as you weave your way through the town market, your worst suspicions seemingly confirmed by all of the deserted stalls. "She was Princess Celestia's most gifted student and protoge. The Princess sent her to Ponyville one day to oversee the Summer Sun Celebration, but then Nightmare Moon showed up."
>You didn't stop her to ask who Nightmare Moon was. Even keeping up the ignorant traveller act wasn't worth extending this particular story. 
>"It was Twilight that led us into the Everfree Forest to find the Elements of Harmony and stop Nightmare Moon from casting eternal night over all of Equestria. Along the way, she and four other ponies and I became friends, and when we finally reached the old castle at the center of the forest and faced Nightmare Moon, Twilight discovered that the Elements of Harmony had been inside us all along."
>You have to physically force yourself not to roll your eyes.
"Yes, I've actually heard this story from pony travellers. Quite a few times, in fact. Ahem. So, how did she become a Princess?"
>Fluttershy takes a breath to speak, but then looks up and stops walking. "Goodness, it seems we've already arrived. Perhaps you can ask her yourself, Anonymous."
>Before you in all its leafy glory stands the Treebrary. An unbid tear wets the corner of your eye at the sight of it. Maybe things will be just fine.

>You wipe your face with your shirt, making an excuse about sweat in your eyes. It takes you a moment to regain your composure and act surprised.
"S-so your Princess lives in a treehouse?"
>"Actually, this is the Ponyville library. Princess Twilight has made this her home since before she became a Princess. Nowadays I suppose you could say it's the Royal Treehouse. Just follow me inside, and you'll get to meet her. Oh, and try not to feel too nervous - Twilight is one of the nicest ponies I know. I'll introduce you, and then you can tell her your story. I'm sure she'll be able to help you find your special somepony."
>Fantastic. Here goes nothing, you think as Fluttershy knocks on the front door. Your heart is racing a mile a minute. Keep it together, Anon - you've got this in the bag.
>Apparently Fluttershy didn't knock hard enough, because nobody has answered. Figures. You almost consider asking the timid horse to let you have a try, but you're half-hoping that nobody is home.
>On her fourth attempt, you hear a creak as Fluttershy's hoof manages to gently nudge the door inwards.
>"It seems it wasn't all the way shut," she remarks. "Hellooo? Is anypony there?"
>You notice that there don't appear to be any lights on inside, and that all the curtains are drawn.
>Fluttershy cautiously boops the door all the way open with her nose and steps inside, repeating her salutations.
>"Anypony at all?"
>You wait on the threshold, unsure whether you should enter uninvited, even if you're just following Fluttershy. She pokes her face out and beckons for you to come in. "It's alright, Anonymous. I think Twilight wouldn't mind if we wait here for her to come back. She's usually home around this hour."
>You shrug and follow after her. It's unusually dark inside the library. In fact, you can barely see a th-
**>"SURPRIIIIIIIIISE!!!"**
**>You nearly jump out of your skin, momentarily blinded (and deafened) as the lights flick on and what sounds like a hundred ponies jump out, shout, and blow vuvuzelas.** 
**>It takes a second for you to realize that you are now engaged in a mutual terror-hug with Fluttershy, and have only a moment to savor it before you both awkwardly disengage, blushing so hard you're surprised you haven't turned the room pink...er. Surrounding you both is what looks like all of Ponyville, crammed tightly into every available nook, cranny, and empty bookshelf. How they managed to hide will probably remain a mystery.**
**>As if on cue, Pinkie Pie is the first to bounce up to you. "HI THERE, STRANGER!" She places her mouth on her right hoof and blows, causing four rubbery pseudo-fingers to sprout. Then she shakes your hand with more enthusiasm than you felt was possible. After she lets go, the "fingers" dissapear one by one with a pop, and she points overhead to a hanging banner. "Welcome to your Super-Duper-Official-Welcome-To-Ponyville Party!"
**>Emblazoned in rainbow letters on the cloth is the word "Welcome", then three question marks striked out with a line, under which is squeezed in the word "Friend!"**

>"I'm Pinkie Pie, by the way! What's your name?" Everyone in the crowd hushes instantaneously, waiting to hear you speak. To your relief, fewer of them than you expected seem to be in any way frightened of you; though now that their initial Pinkie-led enthusiasm has worn off, many of the ponies are scrutinizing you curiously.
"Uhhh..."
>Pinkie doubles down on her grin and extends her neck, flicking an ear eagerly towards you to catch your reply. The ponies imitate her, leaning in close.
"I'm Anonymous," you deadpan.
>"Hiya Anonymous! Welcome to Ponyville!" Several noisemakers go off as confetti explodes seemingly out of nowhere, and you are buffeted by multi-colored balloons from above.    
>You should have expected this, in hindshight. Nobody new enters Pinkie's town with out getting the cake and confetti treatment. Still, you have to ask...
"How did you know I was coming?"
>Pinkie Pie blows her lips apart dismissively. "Pppbbbtt...I'm always on the lookout for new faces to welcome to Ponyville! I just so happened to be borrowing Twilight's hot-air balloon for reasons when I saw you and Fluttershy heading in our direction, and I thought "Who in the world is THAT walking with Fluttershy?" And then I thought "Oh my goodness! It's somepony I've never met before! That means I get to throw a party!" And since you're not any sort of critter that I'd ever seen before, apart from being somepony I'd never met before, I figured Flutterhsy would bring you to see Twilight Sparkle, and I was right! I had just enough time after parachuting out of the balloon to gather everypony together here at Twilight's house! Luckily I keep an emergency party kit stached in a secret compartment behind one of Twilight's bookcases!"
>"It's true," said Twilight Sparkle, stepping forth from out of the crowd. "Even I didn't know it was there."
>A few of the other Mane 6 chuckle, and all of them step forward alongside Twi. Fluttershy flutters over to join them.
>"Twilight," Fluttershy begins, "I'd like you to meet Anonymous. I met him earlier today. He's something called a human, and he traveled all the way to Equestria from a faraway land across the sea. I told him that you'd want to meet a new species to Equestria, and that you might be able to help him feel more at home here."
>...and I figured you wouldn't want a potentially-dangerous ape-creature wandering around unsupervised, she didn't say; but it was sweet of her to be so tactful.
>"Is this true?" Twilight asked, taking a few steps forward and staring you in the eye regally, her alicorn posture so perfect that it made your back hurt to look at her. "You came here from all the way across the ocean?"
>Whelp, it's showtime.
"That's right. I came here on a ship from an island in the ocean west of here. As far as we know, it's undiscovered by other races. We'd like to keep it that way. In fact," you add, silently congratulating yourself on your ability to think on your feet, "I won't be allowed to return."
>A few ponies gasp, and you note that Fluttershy looks downright horrified.
>"I don't understand," said Twilight, ever the detective. "Why would you leave behind your only home if you knew you wouldn't be able to return?"
>God damn it, Book Horse, stop being too smart for my own good.
"Because my girlfriend left for Equestria, and I have to find her."
>Twilight blinks a few times before Fluttershy nudges her and helpfully explains that you meant your special somepony.
>The professional gaspers in the crowd are working for their money today.
>"I see. You'll have to tell me your whole story."
>Fuck.
>"...but for now," she continues, putting on an adorkable smile, "let's all enjoy the party!"

>All of the party guests cheer and commence the festivities. You were wrong about all of Ponyville being inside Twi's house; the remainder that wouldn't fit merely hid inside their homes, and now as if alerted by some signal they trail out the front door in a long line, entering the party in revolving-door fashion as other guests introduce themselves to you, grab cake and party favors, and leave.
>Some important (or merely curious) personages remain for the duration, however. Mayor Mare takes it upon herself to represent Ponyville and personally welcome you to town, sticking around looking dignified while everyone else files in and out. Lyra Heartstrings, true to fancanon, seems ''really'' interested in you, and accidentally introduces herself to you twice. After that you lose track of her exact location, but you can swear you feel eyes on the back of your head for the rest of the party. The Mane 6 keep both you and Twilight company, accompanied by Spike and the CMC, who are almost as enthused to meet you as Lyra was. You're afraid you might keel over from a sudden cuteness-induced embolism every time they tug at your pant-legs to ask you a question.
>Questions are on the lips of all the ponies; and you meet a ''lot'' of ponies. Ponyville's population wasn't huge, but even so, your right arm feels limp after shaking the hooves of what must literally have been everypony in town. You're silently glad when eventually all the freeloaders and rubber-neckers leave, the Mane 6 send their sisters **and Scootaloo ;_;** away to let the big ponies talk, and you are left sipping punch with them, Spike, and Mayor Mare.
>You hadn't had any time to really hold a conversation with any of the Elements of Harmony during the party beyond introductions, being focused on personally greeting the entire town. Now that it was quiet, you took a moment to appreciate the fact that you were getting to meet your six favorite minature candy horses of all time. Even if this moment is part of a dream, you're sure you're going to remember it for the rest of your life.
>"Well," began Mayor Mare, breaking the ice like the pro that she was, "as always, you did a wonderful job preparing the festivities, Pinkie Pie - even if it was on rather short notice."
>Pinkie was completely unabashed. "No problem, Mayor! It's all in a day's fun!"
>"Indeed; and now that we've taken the time to celebrate this...unique occasion, I believe Princess Twilight, the other Elements and I should have an audience with you, Anonymous. We have much to discuss."
>"Do we reaaally have to sit around and talk for another few hours?" chimed in Rainbow Dash. "I mean, no offense to Mr. Anonymous, but I think talking is more Twilight's thing. I've gotta get more flying practice in today. You can tell me all about your little discussion later. We'll all have plenty of time to hang with Anonymous - it's not like he's going anywhere soon, right?"
>You're curious for the answer to that question, yourself. Also, you have to quickly suppress an erection when your favorite pony speaks as if hanging out with you later is a given. What did Fluttershy tell her friends about you while you were distracted? 
>Twilight rolls her eyes. "Rainbow, this is a matter of the utmost importance. Do you know how long it's been since a new species has been sighted in Equestria?"
>"No", said Dashie, "but I know you're going to tell us."
>"It's been exactly ''one thousand, three hundred and fifty-six years'', and the last time it happened there was a war."
>"...oh. I guess maybe I should stick around, then. Just...let's not take any longer than we have to. Or else I may take an opportunity for a nap."
>"Don't worry Rainbow, we just need to ask Anonymous a few questions and then decide what we're going to do about his presence here. Anonymous, if you wouldn't mind following us upstairs to my study, we can begin."

>You follow the ponies upstairs to a middle floor between the library proper and Twilight's alcove-style bedroom. It contains a fireplace, a writing desk, a chest with writing supplies, a few small bookshelves carved into the walls, and various decorative knick-knacks - but no chairs, you notice. You suppose that ponies aren't really built to sit, but simply lay down or rest on their haunches when they get tired of standing. This is small comfort to you; your feet are beginning to hurt, and you aren't flexible enough to sit on the floor cross-legged. You uneasily shift from one leg to the other as the ponies form a semi-circle facing you.
>A large round window looks out on the town and lets in a welcome breeze which ruffles the ponies' manes ever so gently. Mayor Mare defers to her Princess, who is the first to speak.
>"I hope you can forgive us for being a little suspicious, Anon. We don't mean to make you feel unwelcome. It's just that historically, when we get new arrivals to Ponyville - let alone Equestria - they tend to rock the boat. I just have a few questions, and then we can move on to more practical matters."
"Certainly,  Princess," you reply confidently. "I have nothing to hide." Dissembling mode, engage.
>"So, Fluttershy told me her version of how you two met. Would you mind relating yours?"
"Not at all. I was travelling through the Everfree Forest when I became lost. I had abandoned all of my supplies earlier after being surprised at camp by what looked like wolves made out of logs and tree branches. I'd never seen anything like them before."
>Applejack interrupted. "I reckon those were Timberwolves, Anon. Real varmints. Why, I nearly got eaten by a whole pack of 'em once, but luckily Spike was lookin' out for me that day."
>Spike blushes and makes circles with his foot. "Aww shucks, Applejack. It was the least I could-"
>Applejack cuts him off. "Let's not get into that particular barrel of apples again, sugarcube. You did good."
>"Y-yeah..." The embarrased little dragon shuffles back behind Twilight's legs.
>"Ahem." Twilight clears her throat. "Please continue, Anonymous."
"Right. Well, as I was saying, they had surprised me at camp after I had wandered away to collect firewood. I was barely able to fight them off and escape. I somehow made it out of the woods by morning, but I had left all of my supplies behind and didn't dare go back for them. My only option seemed to be to skirt the woods northwards, the same direction I had been traveling before." 
>"And why were you travelling north through the Everfree in the first place?"
"I was on the trail of my gir- my special somepony. She's the reason I left home in the first place. It's a long story..." you say, trying to put as much sadness into your voice as possible. You hope Book Horse will take the hint and let it alone for now.
>"I see. Please continue." Thank Faust, that was close. You're making up enough shit as it is.
"Anyway, I was a little tired and disoriented, so I ended up going in circles in some meadows before I spotted a road. I stumbled over to it and met a pony traveling south."
>"Who was he? Do you remember what he looked like? Would you recognize him again?" Jesus, Twi, are you head of the Horsetapo, now?
"He seemed to be some sort of wanderer like me. He was wearing a hood and cloak, and I didn't get a close look. After convincing him I wasn't a threat, I asked him if there was anywhere nearby I could find some hospitality, and he pointed me in the direction of Fluttershy's cottage and told me to ask for her. After that, uh..." You rub the back of your neck, blushing hotly as you remember the circumstances under which you met Fluttershy.
>The yellow pegasus notices your discomfort and comes to your defense. "It's okay, Anonymous. I already told Twilight that you weren't quite yourself when we first met; and who can blame you?"
>"Still," Twilight interjected, "I'd like to hear it again from you, if it's not too much trouble." Somehow she didn't sound like she was asking. She couldn't possibly think you could have influenced Fluttershy's account, could she? Things just took a turn for the depressing.

>Then again, Fluttershy is not the most independent-minded horse if she's anything like the show depicted. You could easily imagine her acquiring Stockholm Syndrome after...after whatever it was Twilight may suspect have happened. Christ. You begin to sweat despite the breeze from the open window, both from embarrassment over what you're about to relate and from anxiety that Twilight Sparkle might suspect you of being less than completely friendly towards her friend.
You take a deep breath before resuming your tale. "Well, by the time I made it near Flutterhsy's cottage, I was very tired, very hungry, probably dehydrated, and most likely suffering from the beginnings of heatstroke. I remember shouting for my girlfriend," you say, no longer giving a fuck about ponyfying your vocabulary, "and I was babbling all kinds of nonsense in front of Fluttershy's door. I was a mess. Luckily Fluttershy was kind enough to take pity on me and invite me inside. She gave me something cold to drink, made me lunch, and then took me here. Oh, and she gave me this," you say, waving your bindle. You glance at Fluttershy and smile. She smiles back.
>This time, Twilght's expression softens a little. "I see. I'm sorry if I was a little pointed with my questioning..."
"It's all right, Princess." It's not remotely all right, you think. How could she even think for a second that you'd hurt sweet, innocent Fluttershy? You'd never so much as made a girl mildly self-conscious in your life. It was absurd. "Fluttershy tells me you ponies have seen a lot of trouble from interlopers, lately."
>"Still, I hope you can forgive me. I didn't mean to suggest..."
"Really, it's fine. You're just looking out for your friends." You don't really mean that, but hopefully she'll let the matter drop.
>The alicorn lets out a nervous breath and regains her composure. "In that case, how about we move on to the business of getting you settled?"
You raise an eyebrow. "Settled?" You squee'd internally behind your poker face.
>"Yes. You're a stranger in a strange land, with no supplies. I don't know if we can help you find your...girlfriend," she says, trying out the new word from memory, "but we can certainly give you a home base for your travels. As you've discovered, Equestria can be a dangerous place without friends to help you on your journey. It wouldn't be right for me as Princess not to extend Equestria's hospitality to a visitor to our realm."
>Fluttershy interjects softly but firmly. "But he's not just a visitor, Twilight. He can't return home, remember?"
>Twilight turns to you again. "I almost forgot about that. Is it really impossible for you to return home?"
There's no way in hell you're backing off from this one. "I'm afraid so. As I told you, the location of our home island is secret, and hidden by magic. Even if I could find my way back, the penalty for leaving is..." You wonder briefly if ponies have a stigma against mentioning death. "...severe. If I ever find my girlfriend, I'm afraid both she and I will be stranded here in Equestria." 
>"Oh, how terribly tragic!" Rarity finally chimes in. "Equestria is a lovely place to be stranded, of course, but to never be able to see one's home again? I don't know what I'd do if I was lost in a far-away land and could never return home to see my family, or Sweetie Belle, or any of my friends! You poor thing. I agree with Twilight - it's the least we can do to help you get back on your feet. At least then you'll have some hope of meeting your - your ''girlfriend'' again. I know it must be a small comfort, but please don't lose heart, darling."
>Just when you begin to doubt these ponies...and you didn't even like Rara before now.
>"Yeah!" Rainbow Dash flaps her wings enthusiastically. "We'll help you find her in no time at all! You're talkin' to the fastest, most eagle-eyed pony in all of Equestria. I bet I'll set a new record for finding a missing person!"
Applejack chuckles at her friend. "Easy there, Rainbow. Don't go gettin' his hopes up. We don't even know if Anonymous' girl-a-thingy is within a thousand miles of here. Let's take things one at a time. I reckon Anonymous here wouldn't want us takin' all the credit for findin' his friend, anywhow," she says, winking appleishly at you.
>That much is true, you think to yourself. If the worst happens, and you don't wake up soon, finding Chloe is next on the quest journal. Letting the ponies do it for you is not part of the plan.

>Now is not the time to be getting ahead of yourself, however. You've already accomplished a lot. You mentally check off a few items on your objective list: 
>Successfully lie to Twilight Sparkle, Princess of Scrutiny and Vanquisher of Liars [x]
>Befriend Ponyville [in progress]
>Convince Ponyville to let you stay (at least temporarily) [x]
>Events were progressing swimmingly with the Element of Kindness going to bat for you. Earning the ponies' trust was almost too easy, in fact, even with Fluttershy's help. What had she told her friends during the party earlier that made them so ready to help you?
>You suppose you can ask her later. It's time to see what Twilight had in mind when she said she'd give you "a home base for your travels."
"I can't thank you all enough for offering to help. To be honest, I've been traveling alone up until now because I was afraid of what ponies might think of me. It wasn't until my journey nearly came to an end in the Everfree that I finally considered accepting help; and now I'm glad I did."
>"Why were you afraid of what we'd think of you, Anonymous?" asked Pinkie Pie. "Did you think we'd make fun of the way you look, with your long lanky legs, and your weird wobbly arms, and your five freaky fingers on the end of each hoof?"
#rude
"Well, I..."
>"Did you think that we wouldn't be so generous as to offer you our hospitality?" asked Rarity.
"I guess not..."
>"Then what was it? Ponies don't scare you, do we?" asked Rainbow Dash.
"Of course not!"
>"We weren't rude to you, were we? I'm terribly sorry if we did anything to -"
You cut Fluttershy off. "Look, perhaps I should have phrased things a bit differently. What I meant to say was, I wasn't sure what to expect when traveling all alone to a new country. But now that I've met you all, I'm glad I'm no longer alone."
>Huh. That felt really good to say, for some reason; which is silly, because in reality you'd only been alone for like an hour or two before running into Fluttershy. Before that, you'd had a ton of friends, family who loved you, a beautiful girlfriend - practically the antithesis of alone. If anything, you're more alone now that you've temporarily left all that behind. So why do you feel so comforted in the presence of these ponies now? You weren't one of those creeps who obsessed over the show or had a pony waifu, after all. Sure, you loved watching it. Maybe you owned a few pieces of merch. You've been known to reference pony memes once in a blue moon on Reddit or Facebook. Perhaps you liked Rainbow Dash a little more than was appropriate. But forming a psychological attachment? Never.
>"We're glad to hear it, Anonymous," said Twilight. "Like I said before, nopony should be alone and without friends in a strange land. On that note, let's decide where you're going to stay for the time being. I already have a suggestion, if you don't mind."
"It's your town, Princess. Whatever you think is best."
>"In that case, I think you'd be the most comfortable lodging with Fluttershy. You two seem to be fast friends already, and she's told me that she wouldn't mind having company for once."
What? This was the last arrangement you expected after the grilling Twi gave you just a few minutes ago. Plus, Fluttershy had been awfully quick to usher you out the door of her cottage. You try not to look too surprised.
>Fluttershy blushes and glances furtively at you from underneath her bangs. "I-I know I may have seemed a little over-eager to make you leave earlier, but I just wanted to make sure Twilight and the Mayor saw you as soon as possible. You said you didn't want to impose any further on me, either, so I didn't want to impose back by insisting you stay..."
>Somehow you believe her.

>"If you'd rather stay somewhere else, I understand," said Fluttershy.
"Not at all," you reply, rubbing the back of your head awkwardly. "I guess when it comes down to it, I just didn't want to be a bother to anyone, but this is kind of a unique set of circumstances we're all in, here; so if you're offering, I gratefully accept."
>The expression of glee on Fluttershy's face is enough to convince you that you made the right decision. "Don't worry, Anonymous, you won't be a bother at all! I've already got a guest bedroom made up, and I grow all my own food so bits will be no problem. If you wouldn't mind helping me tend the garden, you can stay as long as you need."
"I wouldn't mind that one bit," you say, breathing a sigh of relief. "In fact, if there's anything else you ever need from me, please don't hesitate to ask. I won't be able to repay your kindness just by doing a few chores, but I'll do what I can."
>Fluttershy closes her eyes and smiles. "Being able to help somepony in need is all the payment I require, Anonymous."
>You mentally adjust your Best Pony rankings and smile back at Flutters.
>"So it's settled, then," said Twilight. "You can stay with Fluttershy while we figure out the next step in getting you back on your feet and reunited with your girlfriend. Until then, I believe Mayor Mare has some official business to conduct with you, Anonymous."
>Official business? This should be interesting. Mayor Mare steps forward to speak.
>"Thank you, Princess. Yes, I just need to begin the process of registering you as an immigrant to Equestria. Normally we don't require such formalities; we haven't had any non-pony visitors that didn't return home or weren't already Equestrian subjects since Zecora the Zebra arrived a few years ago. However, since you said you won't be able to return home, that officially makes you a resident and not simply a visiting foreign national. I just need you to fill out some documents and answer a few more questions, and then you can leave the rest to me."
>Heavy. You wonder whether these beauracratic elements to Equestrian society are merely a part of your dream, or whether death and taxes are canon in every conceivable universe.
"Oh...well, okay. Does this mean I'm going to become an Equestrian citizen at some point?"
>"Subject," the Mayor helpfully corrects you. "And I would suppose so, though that decision belongs with the Princesses."
>You're not sure you like where this conversation is going. On the one hand, everyone seems to be assuming that you're going to become a full-fledged Equestrian at some point; all thanks to your awesome skill at coming up with tragic backstories. On the other hand, if you end up being stuck here, you're not sure if you want to become acquainted with the finer points of differentiation between citizenship and subjecthood. Exactly how does Equestria's government work, anyway? You've watched four seasons of FiM, and yet you're not really sure. Celestia is technically a "Princess", but rules like a Queen...a very, very aloof Queen. As far as you can tell she doesn't do anything except raise the sun every day and officiate at certain ceremonies. Then there's Luna and Cadence and now Twilight, who have even more minor spheres of influence by comparison. Do local leaders like the Mayor do all the real governing while the Princesses reap all the rewards? How dystopian that would be. Where do Equestria's people fit into the equation? They obviously don't vote for Princesses, so do they vote on anything else? Was Mayor Mare elected, or is it authoritarianism all the way down? Is there a Constitution or a Parliament of some kind?
>Thinking about this is making your head hurt, so you decide to bid the Mane 6 farewell for now. You suppose you'll get your answers at the Mayor's office. 
"Very well, Mayor. I'll follow you in just a moment." You turn to Twilight. "Princess, thank you again for all your help. You too, Flutters...shy." You catch yourself just in time. Get it together, Anon! If you start calling them by cutesy nicknames this early they'll know something's up.
>"You're very welcome," Twilight replies. "If you need anything else, feel free to stop by. My door's always open."
>"Mine, too!" adds Rainbow. "I mean, you can't exactly reach it, but you know what I mean."
>"Quite," Rarity chimes in. "I think I speak for all of us when I say that you are always welcome to visit any of us here in Ponyville."
>"Me and Mr. and Mrs. Cake just loooove visitors! Stop by whenever! Oh, who am I kidding, I'll probably run into you first," Pinkie chortles.
>"Feel free to swing by the farm anytime, Anonymous," says Applejack. "You ain't seen Ponyville hospitality till you've met the Apple family!"
>"...and I'll see you at the cottage later, Anonymous. You do know the way back?" Fluttershy asks.
"I'm sure I'll find my way back no problem. Thanks so much, everyone. I'll see you all around." You wave goodbye, the ponies reciprocating cheerily, and then follow the Mayor out of the Treebrary.

>What a trip, you think to yourself as the door closes behind you. You figure it's going to take a while before you get used to having long conversations with talking cartoon ponies. You also pray it doesn't come to the point where you have to get used to it.
>"This way, Anonymous." Mayor Mare leads you at a brisk trot - but not to the town hall, where you expected to go. You almost make a comment before thinking better of it. Now that you think about it, the town hall was more of a gathering place than a "government" building from what you'd seen in the show. Instead, the Mayor leads you to a large house standing apart from the others, next to the river. Your view of it from the town hall had been blocked by a tree, presumably planted there for privacy. There's another large tree on the other side, as well.
>Aside from looking somewhat taller, the mayor's dwelling shared the same elements of design as every other home in Ponyville, and didn't seem to be any more upscale in its construction, at least on the outside.
>The Mayor opens the door unceremoniously when you arrive - it's already unlocked. You duck your head and follow her inside.
>Huh. So the houses are always bigger on the inside. Must be magic. Though your head is uncomfortably close to the ceiling, everything is near enough to human size to be mildly silly rather than outright ridiculous. Ponies were shorter than humans by around a third if you measured them to the top of their heads, putting them at around 4 feet - or at least, the adult mares you've met so far were that size. The average stallion you met at the party earlier was only slightly taller (Big Mac being the exception; he could nearly look you in the eye!) You could almost compare them to large dogs, but half their height seemed to come from their neck and head, so in reality they were more like...well, very little ponies. In any case, either ponies liked to build spaciously or your dream was exaggerating the size of things a tad so you could be free to interact without feeling like Godzilla.
>"This way," calls the Mayor from halfway up the stairs as you catch yourself daydreaming about eight-foot candy canes and pixel-to-height ratios.
>You exit the living room on the first floor and head up to a cozy little office on the second floor. It's less fancy than you expected. There's not any hardwood paneling, or expensive-looking knick-knacks, or even a liquor cabinet; though there is a very comfortable-looking brown (faux?) leather chair, in front of which sits a simple wooden desk on which sit an inkwell, quill, sealing wax, stamps, and piles of scrolls. Besides some wooden filing cabinets and a trash can, that appears to be all there is. Mayor Mare evidently has a very Protestant work ethic.
>The dignified little horse takes a seat in her chair, and you set your bindle into a corner and then stand in front of her desk, blinking down at her. There is yet again nowhere for you to sit.
>"Oh...ah, feel free to pull over one of those filing cabinets. They should be about your size."
"Thanks." She rummages through the drawers in her desk as you drag one of the cabinets on the far wall up to her and take a seat on top of it. It is not very comfortable, but you just put on a fake smile and twiddle your thumbs.
>The Mayor finally pulls out a stack of forms and sets them carefully down, then yanks a quill out of the inkwell (hooves - how do they work?) and poises it above the first paper on the stack.
>"This won't take long. So...what is your full name?"
"Anonymous A. Anonymouson."
>Scribble scribble scribble. "Date of birth?"
"I'm not sure if the calendar is the same, here..."
>"I just need to know approximately how old you are, then."
"I'm **[redacted]** years old."
>Scribble scribble. "Species?"
"Human."
>Scribble. "How do you spell...ah, nevermind. Occupation?"
"Student." Shit. Should you have said that? "Traveler" wasn't exactly an occupation.
>"...and what do you study?"
"The Liberal Arts."
>"I...what is that, exactly?"
You sigh. This is just like that time you had to explain to Grandpa Herschel why you signed up for Women's Studies.

>An hour later, Mayor Mare finally sticks her quill back into the inkwell and blows gently on the last paper in the stack to accelerate the drying process.
"So, is that all you need from me, Mayor?" you ask, pre-emptively standing up to stretch. You remind yourself to have somepony build you a folding chair to take around with you.
>"Yes. I'll make a copy for my records and send this one on to Canterlot. Thank you for your patience, Anonymous. I think I'll speak to somepony about having a portable chair built for you," the mare says with an apologetic chuckle. Every time you start to dislike these ponies, they read your mind and say something cute, damn them.
"Thank you. My species isn't exactly built for standing. We've got sitting and walking down pretty well, though."
>"Ha ha! No worries, Anonymous. I'll have it commissioned today and sent to Fluttershy's cottage. Consider it a welcoming gift. No repayment necessary."
"That's...really too kind, Mayor Mare. Speaking of which, I wanted to ask: since I'm going to be staying in Ponyville for the forseeable future, I should probably seek some form of employment. Are there rules against that, or...?"
>"There are no rules against anyone performing honest work in Equestria, Anonymous, subject or not," the Mayor says with a smile. "If you'd like to find a job, there are always Ponyvillians looking for a helping hand. I know you said you're a student at a university, but unfortunately the nearest university is in Canterlot, and there are a lot of bits you'd need to earn and a lot of beauracratic red tape you'd probably need to cut through before you could attend. In the meantime I would suggest taking some time to make friends and become familiar with life in Ponyville. After a few weeks of acclimating yourself and letting our townsfolk get to know you, I don't think you'll have any problem finding a way to make some bits. You could also try asking Princess Twilight to help you if you'd like to continue your education here; she's a very down-to-earth Princess, and used to be a student in Canterlot before she became our librarian. You may not be able to get a formal degree just yet, but you don't need to attend a university to learn!"
>That much is true. Mayor Mare is a very good Mayor, you think to yourself, and also a very good mare. In fact, she's probably the friendliest government official you've ever met in your life. If every mayor next to the Rio Grande was as friendly as her, America's immigration woes would be solved overnight. You wonder how she got her cutie mark in Mayoring.
"I'll keep that in mind, Mayor. Right now, though, I think I'll take your advice and take it easy for the rest of the day."
>"All right, Anonymous. I hope to see you in town again soon."
>You extend your hand and shake her hoof. Apparently this is just another inexplicably human thing that ponies do, because she doesn't bat an eye. You bid her goodbye, grab your bindle of goodies from Fluttershy and see yourself out of her home.
>What a day. You look up and note that the sun is beginning to dip low in the sky. You estimate it's somewhere around five P.M. The breeze from earlier has picked up, and you get goosebumps from the cool air on your skin. For a moment, that vertigo-like feeling returns, and you begin to doubt that this is a dream and that you'll wake up. 
>As you walk the path back to Fluttershy's cottage, staring out at the reddening sun, you try to think back to earlier today. What had happened out on the street? You gave your phone to that African-American guy, and then...you can't remember. At least you don't get a headache this time; but the feeling of vertigo doesn't go away. It's as if you're standing on the edge of a very great height and have the urge to jump, but something is just barely holding you back. You feel like after any one of the steps that you're taking that you might just fall right through the earth.
>Luckily, Fluttershy's cottage comes into sight before you can begin to brood too deeply. The little yellow pegasus is hovering in one of the windows, and as soon as you spot her, the vertigo dissipates. She smiles and waves, then dissapears from sight as you near the front door. It opens and Fluttershy greets you.
>"Welcome home, Anonymous."
A new feeling comes to replace the one that just left.

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CHAPTER ONE:
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>You are Anon, and you are awake.
>It is dark and silent. You blink several times, but the darkness doesn't clear. You listen but can hear nothing.
>You are lying on your back in your bed. You know it is your bed as you run your hands over the sheets, and the slight panic in the back of your mind recedes and is replaced with confusion. What time is it? You roll over and look at the alarm clock on your nightstand.
>00:00
>The bright red numbers blink at you. The power must have gone out in your dorm while you slept.
>You reach over and reset the clock to...
>Ugh. Shit. Where'd you put your phone? You blindly paw at the nightstand, but it's not there. Slowly, you sit up and look around, but to no avail - you can't even see shadows in this blackness. Time to get out of bed, you guess.
>You swing your legs out and place your feet tentatively on the carpet. All dry, no stains or squishing - your roommate must still be gone partying for the weekend. You stand and stretch your arms out in front of you, waving them like feelers as you prod the floor with your feet, step by step. When you reach the door to your room you slap at where the light switch should be. It's there. The electricity, however, is not. Great.
>Sighing, you fumble your way back to your bed and kneel beside it. Your phone might have fallen underneath it, and in any case, your laptop was there. With luck, one or both of them still had a charge. You sweep your arm underneath your bed, immediately hitting your laptop. You drag it out and set it aside, and make another sweep. No phone. Fuck it, it's too dark.
>You open up your laptop and hit the power button. You wait, but nothing happens. You hit it again. Still nothing.
"Fuck!"
>You could have sworn you remembered to plug the damn thing in before you went to bed. Now you'll have to go find out when the power is coming back. Speaking of which...
>You listen again. The entire building is silent. If the power went out, you'd expect there to be students roaming around and bitching, or people with flashlights, or something. Maybe you were just the first to notice.
>You stand up again and waddle blindly over to your closet to find some clothes. With difficulty, you manage to find some and get dressed, though you have no idea what shirt you put on. It's probably backwards or inside-out, too.
>You make your way out into the hall. As expected, it's empty, and just as dark as your room. The silence and stillness unnerves you a bit. Usually someone was awake somewhere at all hours in this place. Luckily you know the dorms fairly well. You place your hand against a wall and begin to walk towards the exit. 
>Suddenly you trip hard, the tip of your foot snagging on something long and taut. You nearly break your arm trying to prevent your fall, cursing as your hip and shoulder slam into the linoleum floor. You hiss in pain as you get shakily back on your feet. That's probably going to leave a hell of a bruise. What in the world did you trip on?
>You reach down and feel around until you grab what feels like an electrical cord. You try to tug on it, but it seems to be stretched to the limit. You feel along its length for a ways until your hands bump into a knot of what feel like plugs; an extension cord? God damn STEM grads and their fucking experiments...
>Your suspicions are seemingly confirmed as you notice a faint glimmer of light coming from the room to your right, whose door is open. You grab onto the extension cord and follow it, crouching down to avoid tripping again. It leads you into the small dorm room and up to and open window, which is where the light is coming from.

>You're on the ground floor, so you can see directly out onto the quad. The cord runs out through the window and off into a huge crowd of people clustered around what looks like a stage, which is lit up like Times Square at New Year's. What the hell kind of impromptu show is this?
>You climb out the window and make your way over to the crowd. They are whooping and hollering up a storm, and as you approach you can see that they are corralled into a long queue inside velvet rope. Many of them have their arms raised, holding their phones up to take pictures of whatever is onstage.
>A man dressed in a theater attendant's uniform who looks disturbingly like Louis C.K. stops leaning against one of the brass poles holding up the rope and extends his hand at you. "Can I see your ticket, please?" Your skin crawls as you realize this guy sounds just like him, too.
"Uhhh...ticket for what? What's going on?"
>"Look man, you can't get in line unless you've got a ticket."
This is ridiculous. "How much do they cost?" you ask.
>"About three fifty."
>You pat your pockets and discover that you didn't bring your wallet. You try to think of something clever to say, but you're interrupted by the sound of your roommate's voice.
>"Anon! Hey, Anon! Over here, man!"
"Keith?" You spot him waving at you from in the crowd and walk up to the edge of the queue. "Hey! What's going on!?" you shout, straining to be heard above the din.
>Keith slides through a sea of bodies to get to you, then holds out a ticket to the attendant, who inspects it perfunctorily and then nonchalantly crumples it up, stuffs it into his mouth and eats it. He then unhooks the rope and waves you in.
>Before you can think too hard about what just happened, Keith pulls you into the crowd. "I got you a ticket!" he says, stating the obvious. He slaps you on the back. "Follow me, you're gonna love this!"
"What's going on!?" Your query is lost in the roar of the crowd as something new catches their attention onstage. Keith drags you by the arm with absolutely no regard for queueing etiquette, and you duck and weave awkwardly. Soon you are in the front row.
>Before you stands a concert stage so brightly lit that you assume it must be drawing the power from your entire dorm. On it stands a naked woman, bent over and facing away from the crowd, behind whom a long line of people have formed. The first in line is currently buggering her enthusiastically, and the rythmic slapping of his testicles against her backside manages to make it to your ears despite the noise from the audience. Keith turns to you, grinning from ear to ear, and claps you on the shoulder. "What'd I tell you, right?"

>Though you've seen some pretty transgressive performance art in your time, some part of you wonders why the school is allowing this display in the middle of the quad. You'd hate to miss out on an opportunity to expand your mind, however, so you stand and watch.
>The man currently humping the lady onstage finishes quickly to much applause, and turns to face the crowd without bothering to pull his pants up. To your surprise, you recognize him. It's one of Chloe's friends - you forget his name. After saluting the crowd, he high-fives the girl in line behind him, who now that you're paying attention you also recognize as a friend of Chloe's. Friend number one pulls his pants back on and struts confidently offstage while friend number two lines up behind the star of the show, already pantsless and equipped with a ridiculously large black strap-on.
>You are certainly getting your three-fifty's worth, you think to yourself. As the naked woman prepares to be ridden again, she turns her head and looks back at the crowd, smiling and waving. Your heart suddenly drops into your stomach as you recognize her. It can't be...
>Oh, but it is. There's no mistaking that shade of hair dye, that pixie cut, those piercings, that mona lisa smile. The tattoos on her thighs of other people's names are unfamiliar, but other than that, it's her.
>Dumbfounded, you look to either side of you, gauging everyone's reactions to this spectacle. 
>To your right, a young black gentleman whose face somehow seems familiar holds up an iPhone with a Rainbow Dash-themed cover that seems even more familiar and takes a picture. "Bix nood!" he shouts raucously.
>You look to your left and see...Rainbow Dash? Rainbow Dash the pegasus pony is hovering on your left, somehow managing to wolf-whistle using her hoof. As Chloe resumes being penetrated, Dash begins to chant.
>"Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!"
>The frenzied crowd begins to imitate her. Chloe's friend joins in, clearly mouthing the word over and over as she grips Chloe's ass with one hand and holds the other up to the sky like a cowgirl.
>Your mouth is set in a firm, unyielding line and your eyes are bugging out of your head as you watch your girlfriend get professionally ploughed by a lesbian who, counting the dildo, is more well-endowed than you are. Rapidly, your mind begins to come up with justifications for what you are seeing. This is art, you think. Chloe is an artist. She is using her body - which she owns - to craft an experience for everyone to enjoy. Absolutely everyone. Publicly, while selling tickets, the proceeds from which she will no doubt give to-
>Keith bumps you as he climbs onstage. "C'mon bro," he calls down to you. "I reserved us a spot!" He runs up to the person next in line to fuck your girlfriend (who if you were more of a bigot you would say looks rather like a homeless man) and hands him a wad of bills. The man grins and lets Keith take his place.

>You snap out of your fugue and reach into your pocket, pulling out the ticket that Keith gave you. Not knowing what else to do, you clench it in your fist and climb onstage after Keith, attempting to take the spot behind him. He grabs your shoulder and pushes you in front of him. "You're the man of the hour, brah!"
>Chloe's LGBTQ friend finishes up just as your roommate pushes you forward. She pulls out with a squelch, then unstraps the dildo and hands it over to Chloe, who is panting and sweating feverishly. "Thanks hun," she says, ushering her friend offstage with a slap on the ass. "Call me!" she calls after her. Then she turns to you.
>You thought you wanted to tell her something, but now that you're in front of her, all that manages to make it out of your mouth is
"I missed you."
>Chloe looks at you as if you just farted, then begins to laugh. So does everyone else. Then, out in the crowd, Rainbow Dash begins to chant again.
>"Cuck! Cuck! Cuck! Cuck! Cuck! Cuck!"
>As before, everyone chants in unison. Chloe grabs you and forces you to your knees, facing the crowd. She's impossibly strong, and you don't resist. As you feel her unbuckling your pants, you can only think of your first date, and how happy you had made Chloe when you agreed to give pegging a try. You knew that this time, you wouldn't scr-
"AAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHH!!!"
You wake up screaming in a puddle of sweat. You don't know where you are or what made you scream. All you know is that you feel like you want to die. Then, slowly, as your heart hammers in your chest, you recognize your surroundings.
>You just woke up, but not in your own bed. 
>"A-anonymous?" A small flying horse with a long, couffure-like mane pokes her head over the banister separating the bedroom from the room below. "Are you alright?"
Oh my God. It's not a dream. 
It's not a dream.

>How is this possible? You just awoke from a nightmare; or at least, you think it was a nightmare. You can't remember any details, but you can feel the wisps of the memory of a dream fading rapidly, leaving behind only dread and the dampness of your sweat. There's no mistaking that feeling. You are awake, and you are not on Earth.
>In the sunlight of ignorance yesterday, the world had looked like the painted backdrop of a puppet theater, so much background static that you'd simply forget when you woke up. Now that you were awake and hadn't forgotten, every detail pops out at you with such starkness that you swear you can feel the texture of Fluttershy's mane just by looking at it. Each tick of the clock on the wall behind you is as loud as a hammer, and as you peel the damp sheets off your chest you can smell something earthy, musky, and sun-baked - the smell of horses. Oh God. You smell horses - real horses - real, tiny horses. In slow-motion, you look over at Fluttershy, her giant moist eyes reflecting moonlight at you. Oh, no. Her eyes; she has eyes, bulbous, fleshy eyes with whites and irises and pupils, both attached by nerves to her pony brain which is in her pony skull which is part of her pony skeleton -
>Everything goes dark, and then you blink your eyes open at the touch of cool dampness on your forehead. "There, there," Fluttershy coos. She somehow wrings the washcloth she's holding in her hooves out into a bowl next to her, then resumes dabbing gently at your face. It feels heavenly. The sticky fear-sweat that's clinging to your skin melts off, replaced with cool water which evaporates in the warm night breeze coming from the bedroom window.
>A small candle sits on the bedside table, its flame flickering lazily. It illuminates the cozy little alcove that is now serving as your bedroom, and for the first time you notice that this room and everything in it was built and not drawn. Every grain of wood, every cloth fiber, every drop of moisture becomes more and more detailed the harder you stare at it. There is no sense of credulity, as in a dream; you are keenly aware that you shouldn't be here and that none of what is happening is normal. Your mind teeters on the edge of panic everytime Fluttershy's hoof goes near you, as you can clearly make out the tendons flexing under her skin.
>The expression on your face must have alerted Fluttershy to your discomfort, because she pulls the washcloth away and sets it down. "Oh dear...there's no need to be afraid, Anonymous. You're safe, here. I think I know how you must be feeling, though. Are you maybe...homesick?"
>Your expression does not change. The air wafting from Fluttershy's horse-wings as she hovers near you is brushing your face and you're even less okay with it than you were yesterday.
>Undeterred, the yellow pegasus perches on the open windowsill, folding up her wings. "You know, when I'm far from home and feeling afraid, I like to think about my friends. I know you must have left a lot of friends behind when you travelled across the sea, but even if you can't see them again, they'll still be with you in your heart if you choose to remember."
>Somehow, hearing those words out of Fluttershy makes you want to cry instead of rolling your eyes. The panic on your face recedes and turns to sadness as you think about home, of your friends and family. Unless you can find out how you got to Equestria and how you might leave, you'll never see any of them again.
>No, Anon - don't cry. Not in front of the pony...again. You suck up your emotions and look over at her.

"Uhhmm...thanks, Fluttershy. I know this might sound funny, seeing as I've been traveling alone all this time, but...waking up in a soft bed like this made me realize for the first time that I'm probably never going to see home again. I mean, I knew that, but now I feel it."
>For a moment, Fluttershy's eyes droop and she starts to frown, but then she recovers and smiles reassuringly. "It's probably not much comfort to you right now, but since it seems there's no way for you to return home, perhaps you should start thinking of how to make room in your heart for a new home. Did anypony ever tell you the story of how Ponyville was founded?"
>You remember that episode, but you decide to let Fluttershy re-tell the tale.
"No. How does it go?"
>"Well, hundreds of years ago, the Apple family - that's Applejack's family - were sellers of seeds. They traveled all across Equestria, but they never had a home, that is until they came to Canterlot. There they met Princess Celestia, and she granted them the land that would become Ponyville to plant an orchard. They went there and planted their trees, but the trees of course couldn't grow fast enough to feed them that year, so they soon ran out of food. Granny Smith, Applejack's grandmother, went into the forest to look for food and -"
"Wait," you interrupt. Did you somehow forget the detail that Granny Smith had been alive 'hundreds of years' ago? "You said this happened hundreds of years ago, but Granny Smith is alive today, isn't she? I remember meeting her at Pinkie's welcome party; unless this is a different Granny Smith we're talking about?"
>"Well, yes, it is the same Granny Smith. Are you surprised?"
"Surprised? More like astounded. How many hundreds of years ago are we talking, here?"
>"Only two hundred. Two hundred and ten, to be exact. Do humans not live as long?"
"Only two hundred..." You let out a sigh of amazement. "Not even close, Fluttershy. My grandfather lived to be a hundred and twenty, and he was about as old as humans have been recorded to get. Like, freakishly old. Usually we live to be around eighty or ninety, and that's only if we're lucky enough to have been born somewhere with enough wealth and medical knowledge to keep us healthy."
>"Oh, my! That is a big difference. I suppose we ponies do live a long time. Of course, not everypony lives as long as Granny Smith, but I'd guess the average lifespan is something close to two hundred years."
>Amazing. You knew the ponies in FiM were technically magical creatures, so anything was possible; it would also explain a lot about how the younger ponies in the show didn't seem to age with the passing seasons. You'd have to gather more information on this later. You almost gave in to the urge to ask Fluttershy how old she was, but you weren't sure whether that would be rude. In any case, you had already interrupted her in the middle of trying to comfort you.
"I see. Sorry for interrupting, it's just I had no idea that ponies lived that long."
>"That's alright. There's probably a lot of things about Equestria and ponies that seem strange to you, but I'm sure you'll get acclimated in no time at all. Ahem. So, to continue my story, Granny Smith went into the Everfree Forest to look for food. She found a grove of extraordinary rainbow-colored apple trees, and took some of the fruit and seeds back with her. They were Zap Apples, and their seeds grew into Zap Apple trees. The jam the Apple family made from their fruit was so unique and delicious that trader ponies settled near the Apple's orchard just to be able to sell it, and the town of Ponyville grew from there."
"So what's the moral?" you ask, unable to help yourself.
>"Moral? Oh...well, I guess the moral would be that home is where you make it. The earth ponies who founded Ponyville didn't even have homes before settling here, and those who came later left their old ones behind, but when they all came together as friends, they made a new one. I just know that if you really want to, you can make Equestria just as much of a home as the one you left behind. It might be scary, but it's certainly worth a try - and you already have friends here," Fluttershy says sweetly.

>As much as you appreciate Fluttershy's unyielding kindness, the thought of '''literally''' being stranded in Equestria '''for real''' and having to live among ponies for the rest of your life leaves you with mixed feelings. 
>On the one hand, there were bronies back home who would cheerfully murder you for the chance to take your place. The pony world is as close to a utopia as you will probably ever see, even with a black president back home. On top of that, some of your favorite characters live here and will no doubt become your friends - '''for the rest of your life'''. 
>On the other hand, you realistically have no idea what to expect from this world anymore. Sure, things so far have met your expectations based on the television show, but this isn't the show. This is another dimension...or something. You don't know how you got here or where "here" even is. You've heard all kinds of weird theories about multiverses, but you are no physics major. You didn't even watch the Discovery Channel as a kid. This situation is completely beyond your comprehension. If you were some kind of religious zealot or one of the creepier members of the brony fandom, you might think you had died and gone to Equestria, but that was obviously out of the question. You don't remember dying at all. One minute you were walking to a date in the park with your girlfriend, and the next you're in the middle of an Equestrian meadow. None of this makes any sense, which means you shouldn't expect things to keep going your way. This version of Equestria may turn out to be entirely different from the one you know and love.
"That...actually makes me feel a lot better," you say, only half-lying. "Thank you again, Fluttershy. Heck, you're probably tired of hearing that."
>"Never," Fluttershy says sincerely. "Now you try and get some sleep, Anonymous. I'll leave this candle burning for you. See you in the morning." With that, she flutters off downstairs, leaving you alone with your thoughts.
>Quest: Wake Up [FAILED]
>You lie back, flinging the damp sheets away from your torso and flipping your pillow over. Ahh...cool. As you settle back into bed, you go over yesterday's events in your mind, searching for clues to what had really happened to you. 
>You woke up in a meadow. Okay - pretty arbitrary. If you had been teleported here by some random quantum event or something, it seems unlikely that you'd end up lying on your back in a patch of wildflowers, instead of face-down in a pool of magma under the planet's crust, or falling through the upper atmosphere, or basically anywhere that wasn't a mere hundred yards from the home of the kindest and most accomodating pony in Equestria. If this world is an RPG in which you're the protagonist, then you are currently in the tutorial area. For that matter, it is a ridiculous coincidence that some random event would transport you to a dimension that just so happens to be identical to the world in your favorite TV show. You couldn't be any luckier. Which means...
>It couldn't have been random. Maybe someone here could have cast a magic spell to summon you? Normally you wouldn't even consider something so ridiculous, but now that you were literally breathing Equestrian air, you couldn't rule out any possibility. Perhaps the laws of physics have other possible arrangements than the ones you knew back in your home dimension, and in this one, magic is real. Or rather, what they '''call''' magic is real; obviously, if it's physically possible, it's no longer really magic. 
>You got the feeling that you're going to be spending a lot of time studying with Twilight Sparkle to find out, at any rate. Luckily, Mayor Mare had said that Twilight would be happy to have a study-buddy. She was basically in college, herself, and as far as you knew she was the smartest pony in Equestria. If anyone could help you find out how you got here, it was her. You just needed to be careful to avoid tipping her off that you didn't land here in a boat.

>You quickly go over the rest of what you remember from yesterday, but nothing stands out other than the fact that Equestria is fictional and shouldn't really exist. You found Fluttershy, she looked after you, she took you to town; Pinkie threw you a surprise welcome party and invited all of Ponyville; you met everyone in Ponyville at the party; you told your cover story to Twilight and the Mane 6; they decided to let you live here and stay with Fluttershy; you filled out immigration paperwork with the Mayor; you went back to Fluttershy's cottage and helped her make dinner; you ate, helped clean up, got a tour of the cottage and the surrounding property, and before you knew it, it was time for bed. All in all, it was probably one of the most normal days you've ever had in another dimension.
>With no clues as to how you got into this predicament, and no real plan for what to do next, you decide to finally turn off your brain and sleep on it.
>You turn over so that the light from the candle isn't shining into your face and close your eyes. Crickets chirp outside, and you wonder if the dawn is far away. You think you just might sleep through the day if Fluttershy doesn't wake you up.
>Before you drift off, you think back on the happiest moment of yesterday. You had just arrived back at Fluttershy's cottage, and she welcomed you home as if you had been living there for years. You set your bindle on the couch in the living room and sat down next to it as Fluttershy went back into the kitchen to finish preparing dinner. Curious, you decided to finally have a peek at its contents.
>You carefully untied the large red, white-polka-dotted handkerchief (more of a picnic blanket in pony terms) from the wooden pole and unfolded it, revealing a white woolen blanket. Bundled carefully inside of it were a number of items that Fluttershy must have hurriedly guessed might be useful to a traveller. There was a box of matches, some nuts and pieces of fruit in wax paper, a fishing line with a hook and sinker (no pole), and a folded-up piece of paper. You unfolded it, and saw that it was a map of Equestria. Just south of Ponyville, butted against the Everfree was a little stylized drawing of Fluttershy's cottage. Above it, scrawled quickly but neatly in what looked to be charcoal pencil, was a message: "You're always welcome back."
>You fall asleep with a placid smile on your lips.

>You wake up early the next morning due to the light of the rising sun shining directly into your eyes through the eastern-facing bedroom window. Blinded, you roll over and relfexively slap at where you suppose the alarm on the nightstand to be, hitting air. Oh, that's right - this isn't your room. Though you don't panic this time, you take a few minutes to process the fact that you just woke up in the bed of a friendly yellow pegasus. It's a comfy bed, too; you're tempted to snuggle in, pretend yesterday didn't happen, and go back to sleep. 
>Your head rests airily on what feels like a genuine down pillow, and you scrunch your toes into the cool sheets and rub your fingers over the blanket to appraise the fabric; yep, that's 100% cotton. Darting your eyes around the room to make sure Fluttershy isn't watching, you next give the blanket a cautious sniff. Just like last night, there's a musk that the primitive part of your brain knows came from another large mammal, despite never having smelled it before. On top of that is a sort of earthy tang that reminds you of wild vegetables and ploughed dirt. It's not at all mild, and you'd almost compare it to the smell of a zoo, except that it's missing the rankness of sad animal feces. Not exactly alluring, but not truly unpleasant, either. You guess you'll just have to get used to it.
>The candle that Fluttershy left in your room last night has gone out, melted down to a nub. You stare at it for a while before deciding that you've procrastinated enough. You're not going to escape this situation by going back to sleep. With luck, you might be able to find a way back home with the help of Twilight Sparkle - or rather, with the help of her library, you remind yourself. She has no idea that you're from another dimension where she and her friends are a vehicle to sell shitty toys to little girls, and it's going to stay that way. You suppose you'll have to commit to the charade of integrating as a good Equestrian ''subject'' for now, and take things as they come. Being college buddies with Twilight might be an amusing distraction in the meantime, anyway.
>You roll out of bed slowly so as not to stress the small springs of your pony-sized mattress and find your clothes neatly folded away in the dresser where you left them. They don't smell too great after being sweated in all day in the hot sun, but you have nothing else to wear, so you put them on. You'll have to ask Rarity or maybe the Mayor about having some new clothes made for you. A single pair of jeans and a t-shirt are not going to be very convenient to wear day in and day out.
>Normally, the first thing you'd do in the morning is take a shower, shave, and brush your teeth, but Fluttershy's cottage has no plumbing. As she explained to you yesterday during the tour of her property, she survives on well water and the occasional visit to a river, stream, or pond, all of which are nearby but not near enough for your liking. Grabbing a bucket to go get water and then having to heat it up over a fire just to get clean is unimaginable to you, and you're sure as hell not taking a cold shower at this hour. You'll just have to hope that Fluttershy is polite enough to pretend not to notice your poor hygiene for now, until you can muster a bit more willpower.
>With no other options, you make your way downstairs to see about breakfast.

>You hear humming coming from the kitchen, and sure enough, Fluttershy is already awake and making breakfast. You know she's probably under a psychological compunction to be a good host, but even so, you feel a little embarassed. Certainly, she wouldn't do this for you every day?
>You decide to go help her out. You walk into Fluttershy's cramped kitchen and bid her good morning.
"Good morning, Fluttershy!"
>"Oh! Good morning, Anonymous!" Fluttershy looks up from a pot of raw oats into which she is pouring milk. On the counter is a glass jar of cinnamon sticks, as well as a cutting board on which she has sliced up an apple into small chunks. She must be making oatmeal. You remember from yesterday that her kitchen does not have an oven or a range; instead, there is a wood stove out in the living room that doubles as a hearth, which is currently crackling. "I didn't know when you'd wake up, so I decided to go through my normal routine and check in on you once in a while. I went and fed the animals, and when I came back you were still asleep, so I started making myself breakfast. I'm almost done, but now that you're awake I'll make yours, too. U-unless you're not hungry, that is..."
>She fed the animals before feeding herself? Adorable.
"Actually, Fluttershy, I am hungry - but there's no need for you to wait on me like that. If I'm going to be living here for a while, I may as well get used to making my own meals."
>"It's really no trouble, Anonymous," says Fluttershy, looking abashed. "You're my guest, and you won't be staying all that long. Just a few months till you get on your feet." She smiles at you, her tone indicating that she is trying to be encouraging. Maybe she thinks that if you act like the place is your home, you'll get complacent and never leave; but then, why had she been acting so...motherly? Ponies are hard to read. Still, there's no way you'd be able to stand months of being waited on hand and foot by a girl, even if she is a pony. You need to let her know that you consider her an equal.
"Even so, I insist, Fluttershy. I'd feel terrible imposing on you and not pulling my own weight."
>Fluttershy bites her lip, a strand of mane falling over one eye. "D-did you not like my cooking yesterday? Y-you won't hurt my feelings if..."
>What the heck is she talking about? And why does she look so crestfallen?
"Whoa, hey - I'm not saying that. I just, you know - want you to know I can take care of myself. I can cook, you know."
>Fluttershy no longer looks upset. She looks confused, blinking at you with her huge aquamarine eyes. "Well, I know you can take care of yourself," she begins, not sounding entirely confident, "but you don't need to cook. Not unless you really want to. I mean, you're my guest. And, well, you're..."
>It is your turn to blink in confusion.
"I'm...what?"
>"Well, you're a...a stallion. Not a stallion, because you're not a pony, but you know...I don't know the word for a human stallion..."
>You look at Fluttershy as if she's speaking a foreign language, choosing to ignore the weird tingly feelings you're getting from being called a stallion just now.
"I...I'm sorry?"

>"Oh, don't be sorry," says Fluttershy hurriedly. "I'm the one who forgot about the language barrier. Let me think...umm..." The pegasus fidgets nervously while you hesitate. "I know!" she shouts, looking triumphant. "Your girlfriend!" She looks awfully proud to have pronounced that word correctly.
"Uhhh..." You have no idea where she is going with this.
>"If your girlfriend were here, she would cook for you, wouldn't she? And she wouldn't let you cook for yourself, not if she was around to do it, right?"
>You're not sure what's happening right now. Somewhere at the point of asking to help make breakfast, you seem to have taken a detour into the 1950's. Is Fluttershy seriously suggesting that she should cook for you because she's a girl and that's what girls do? You don't remember this behavior from the show; then again, you don't remember seeing Fluttershy cook for anypony at all. That was more Pinkie Pie and Applejack's deal. In any case, you're inclined to agree with Fluttershy that this must be a language thing. You somehow can speak perfect Equestrian - or ponies can speak perfect English - but maybe some minor details aren't the same as you'd expect. You did warn yourself earlier that this Equestria might be different from the one you're familiar with. You decide to try to clear up this little mistake.
"Actually, my girlfriend never cooked for me - "
>Fluttershy gasps.
"- but I think maybe something got lost in translation, here," you say, putting on a friendly grin. "I just want to help make breakfast. That's all. I'm your guest, you're my host - it's good manners, right?"
>Fluttershy is nervously mimicking your grin, her eyes shifting with discomfort. "Ohhh...is that how they do things in your country? I - I didn't make a mistake, did I?" She hovers into the air and flits around you, examining you from all angles. "You are a stallion, aren't you? Oh! I mean - oh dear! I wish I knew the right word..."
>You can't stand the awkwardness any longer, so you decide to humor her and see where it goes.
"I am a stallion, yes. That is to say, I identify as male. In human society, that makes me a man. That's what we call stallions - men."
>Fluttershy lets out a great sigh and drops to the ground. "Oh my, that is a relief! I wasn't a hundred percent sure, because I've never met a human before, but I was afraid to ask. I'm sorry - I should have asked you yesterday, and spared us both a lot of awkwardness. As for me, I'm a mare - the opposite of a stallion. You know, opposite - like your girlfriend?" She grins adorably at you and strikes a feminine pose to strike home her point.
>It's official. Fluttershy thinks you're mentally defective and can't tell the difference between girl ponies and boy ponies. No, wait - now that you think about it, you don't know why Fluttershy would assume you ''could'' tell the difference. She doesn't know you've seen hundreds of ponies before her. Heck, why would she assume you know what gender xe identifies as, either? It's just a misunderstanding. You're in another dimension, Anon - stop making so many assumptions. Again, you decide to humor her.
"Ohhhh. I see. I, uh...wasn't sure, either."
>Fluttershy beams. "I'm glad we cleared that up. Now that we both know where we stand, I'll go make breakfast. What would you like?"
She has left you with no option but to play along. You feel strange...violated. "O-oatmeal is fine..."
>"Good. Now you just relax on the couch here, and I'll be out in a minute to warm up your oatmeal," Fluttershy says confidently, strutting into the kitchen.
>You settle obediently onto the couch, wondering what the fuck just happened.

>It isn't long before Fluttershy trots perkily out of the kitchen with a pot of oats and sets it on the range over the blazing hearth in the living room. She grabs a wooden spoon from off of a rack nearby and stirs the pot, humming softly. You watch silently, unable to think of anything to say as the scent of warm apples and cinnamon fills the room. You can't remember the last time a woman had made you breakfast since you were a child - you think you must have been visiting your grandmother.
>Soon the oatmeal is ready, and Fluttershy takes the pot off the range and flits into the kitchen with it, leaving the fire to smoulder. Presumably she'll use the coals later today to start the fire for dinner, storing them in the metal tin you see next to the hearth. You wonder why she'd go to all the trouble to keep a fire going in summer just to make hot meals, but then, temperature didn't seem to effect ponies the same way it did you.
>Fluttershy comes out of the kitchen with a steaming wooden bowl, a wooden spoon sticking out of it. She offers it to you with a smile and you take it, examining the contents. Just as with everything you've eaten in Equestria thus far, these oats appear to be organic as fuck. They're not even rolled, and you're pretty sure you can spot some stray bran and hulls mixed in with the fragrant, mushy apples. Ponies must love their fiber. Luckily, so do you. Wiping a bit of involuntary salivation from the corner of your mouth, you tuck in.
>After shoveling the embers of the fire into the coal tin, Fluttershy comes over and eats with you in silence, taking dainty spoonfulls from her own bowl every once in a while as she watches you devour your breakfast. Her eyes seem to sparkle with satisfaction in the morning light. It doesn't take you long to finish eating, and when you do you look up from your bowl to see that Fluttershy has barely touched hers. She's just sitting across from you on the other couch, watching...waiting. Waiting for...what?
>You blink at her a few times before realizing you've got an empty bowl in your hands. Oh, right. You're not sure what to do next, given Fluttershy's behavior earlier. Would she be offended if you offered to clean your own dishes? Should you just hand her the bowl? She's not even done eating, though...
>"All done, Anonymous?" Fluttershy chimes, snapping you out of your reverie. "Or would you like seconds? I made plenty~"
>As dank as that oatmeal was, you're not really hungry anymore; but the hopeful look on Fluttershyl's face and your current indecision over how to broach the subject of dish washing force your hand. You hold out your bowl.
"I'd love seconds, Fluttershy. Your oatmeal is delicious."
>That seems to be the right response, because Fluttershy's eyes grow to twice their normal size and her smile threatens to blind you. "Of course, Anonymous! Coming right up~" She takes the proffered bowl and quickly flits over to the pot to give you your seconds. This is getting weird. You decide that after you've finished your second bowl of oatmeal to just thank her for breakfast and walk to the kitchen. If she stops you, you'll just roll with it.
>Thankfully, Fluttershy decides the isssue for you after she hands you your bowl. "After you've finished, you can come meet me out in the garden," she says. "Just put your bowl in the sink in the kitchen and I'll take care of it later. I've got to get an early start on some weeding, today."
"Do you need my help with that?" you ask.
>"Oh no, I've got something else I need your help with today. If you wouldn't mind, that is."
"Of course not, Fluttershy. Anything for a friend," you say with a smile.
>Fluttershy smiles back. "Then I'll see you outside." She flutters out of a window and leaves you alone with your oatmeal.

>So she's going to put you to work, you think as you half-heartedly gulp down the rest of Fluttershy's admittedly delicious cooking. Maybe that's why she won't let you handle any smaller chores. Heck, maybe that's why she wants you to eat so much, too. You wonder what she's going to have you do. You've only ever dabbled in agriculture, helping your family and friends tend rooftop tomato gardens for fun. Fluttershy's "garden", as she calls it, is substantially larger, more like a small farm to your eyes. If she hands you a hoe or something, you're not sure you'll know what to do with it. Then again, how hard could it be?
>You swallow the last of your breakfast and hastily toss your bowl in the kitchen sink. You don't want to keep Fluttershy waiting.
>After you exit through the back door you take a moment to look around again. Celestia's sun hangs low but bright over the treetops of the Everfree, the last bits of morning dew glinting at you from the few remaining shady spots under bushes and tufts of grass. Chickens wander around the back yard, clucking, scratching, and swallowing earthworms. A chain of flagstones set into the turf form a path off to what you think is the southeast, through a curtain of trees that seperates the garden from the back yard. When Fluttershy showed it to you yesterday, it appeared to be growing in one of the many clearings at the edge of the forest, the edges still dotted with tree stumps.
>You stretch lazily, from your toes to your fingertips, and take a deep breath. Gods, even the air around here is...organic? You're not sure what term you were looking for, but every time you breathe in it's as if the air is wafting directly into your brain, enervating your every thought. Refreshed, you amble along the stone path to the garden.
>When you arrive, Fluttershy has already gotten her hooves dirty, digging out weeds from under rows of cabbages. As you approach, she grabs a big one in her teeth and yanks hard, falling on her haunches into the dirt as its roots give way. You jog over, concerned.
"Are you okay, Fluttershy?"
>She shakes herself off and hovers up to your level. "Oh, I'm just fine, Anonymous. These weeds are awfully stubborn, today. But I can manage with them; what I need you to do is over here," she says.
>You follow her as she floats off, noting the many different types of vegetables she's growing. Cabbage, carrots, celery, tomatoes, peppers, pumpkins, corn, green beans...and that's just the ones you can identify. The patch she takes you to, however, seems to be empty - just a flat rectangular strip of soil. 
>Fluttershy drops to the ground and trots over to a stump at the edge of the patch, on which rests a full burlap bag and - sure enough - a hoe. She grabs it and hands it to you. You take it from her and examine it carefully, as if you've never seen one before. It's a little small for you - or at least you think it is - but it's heavy, seemingly antique, with a dense iron blade and a polished haft made of some dark hardwood. 
>"It's the middle of summer, which means it's time to plant the cold-weather vegetables. This year I'm planting beets. I've got the seeds in this bag here. I don't know if you've ever gardened before, but it's not too hard. All I need you to do is break up the soil with your hoe, and then plant the seeds. I'll plant one to show you."
>Fluttershy plants her front hooves and then uses her back legs to dig into the dirt behind her, like you've seen dogs sometimes do. Her hooves are very effective at this, tearing up the hard-baked soil with little effort. Why does she even need the hoe, you wonder? Equestria seems to work on a mix of horse logic, anachronism, and arbitrary bits of human technology; best not to think about it too hard, you decide. After digging up a small strip of dirt, she goes over to the burlap sack and grabs a hoof-full of seeds. They're dark, knobbly, and irregularly shaped, like little clusters of granola.
>"You just take a single seed, and then make a little hole like this," she says, pawing with her hoof to make a small depression about an inch deep, "and then drop it in and cover it up." She finishes her demonstration and looks up at you with a smile...always with a smile. She's hell-bent on making you feel at ease, it seems.
"That looks simple enough, Fluttershy. I don't think I'll have a problem."
>"Oh, good! If you get tired or thirsty, just call for me. I'll be nearby, weeding. When I'm done, I'll go get started on making lunch. See you in a few hours, Anonymous!"

>You wave goodbye to the cute flying horse and stare dourly at the ground in front of you. It looks pretty hard. You kick it with the tip of your foot to confirm, wincing as you bruise your big toe on a rock. Great. Well, you signed up for this when you accepted Fluttershy's hospitality, you think to yourself. At least the patch she wants you to hoe doesn't seem all that big - maybe five yards by twenty. You can easily accomplish all this in a day.  
>The sound of cicadas seems to presage the fact that today, like yesterday, is going to be a hot one. No time to waste. You spread you legs shoulder-length apart, raise the hoe (with difficulty) over your head, and then swing your arms downward like you're a crazy axe-murderer, giving off a manly grunt for good measure. When the blade of the hoe impacts the ground, it sinks about a half-inch in and then sends a shockwave up through the handle which pulverizes your knuckles, sprains your wrists, and turns your arms into spaghetti. You think you felt it in your skull, too. The only sound you can make is a wheezing groan as you let go of the haft and let your arms hang limply at your sides.
>Fuck me. Okay, so we're not going to do that again. Obviously you've got the wrong technique going. It's certainly not the hoe's fault - that thing hefts like it's made of depleted uranium. The ground can't be too hard, either. Fluttershy dug into it with her bare hooves, for goodness' sake. So the fault must lie with your technique.
>You haven't really done a lot of manual labor in your life, but you seem to remember hearing the phrase "let the tool do the work" from somewhere. You decide to give that a try. You loosen your grip on the haft, turn your body a bit more perpendicular, like you're swinging a baseball bat, and decide to put your hips into it this time. You wind up slowly, struggling with the weight of the hoe, and then swing in a sort of diagonal arc, making sure to let the hoe fall naturally on the downswing. The results are much better, this time - you don't hurt yourself! The indent in the ground, however, is no bigger than last time, and the blade actually bounces back up at you a little.
>Okay, okay - no reason to be upset. You just need to refine your technique a little. You notice that the blade on the hoe is bent at almost a 45-degree angle; maybe it's meant to be wielded in a sort of chopping motion, slightly towards the user, rather than swung down like a pickaxe. You try this, standing with your legs shoulder-width apart as before, and instead of raising the hoe over your head, you bring it up about chest-height. This causes you to adjust your grip as well, placing your right hand at the base of the haft and your left hand somewhere in the middle. Using what you hope is your whole bodyweight, you lean forward and take a hefty chop downwards and slightly towards yourself, careful not to hack off a toe.
>Success! A large clod of soil is dislodged from the ground! A small fanfare erupts in your head, and you mentally tally a single point to your Wield Hoe skill. You involuntarily turn to look and see if Fluttershy has noticed your triumph. Luckily, she hasn't, and you realize how silly you're acting. 
>You turn back and look at the mark you made in the dirt, and then at the 99.99 undisturbed square yards of hard earth in front of it. Piece of cake. All you need to do is pick this hoe up and put it down again roughly a thousand times.
>Gung-ho **carlos.jpg** at the prospect of earning your keep with a hard day's work, you get to business, bringing that hoe up and chopping it down. You bring it up, and you chop it down. Up, down. Up, down. Clods tumble to your left and right as you kick them out of the way, and it's quite some time before you realize that you probably should be chopping them up so that you can use them as topsoil instead of disposing of them. Fffff-
>You gather all the stray clods and place them roughly back where they belong, then resume hoeing, this time making sure to hack each clod apart after you dislodge it. You try to ignore the fact that you already have blisters forming between your thumbs and forefingers, and that your arms are getting tired. Work through the pain, Anon. There's people in the third world that do this for a living, after all. Maybe you could come a little closer to understanding their struggle if you buck up and do some real work for a day. Chloe would be so impressed...wherever she is.

>You think about Chloe as you work, taking your mind off of the stinging pain in your hands and the ache in your back and shoulders. Where in the hell could she be? Probably back on Earth, you think, worried sick over the fact that you've mysteriously dissapeared. She's probably already called the police, the poor girl. You wonder if you'll ever be able to make it back before she gives up hope.
>Of course, there was a slim chance that whatever had happened to you had also happened to her, and that she was in Equestria somewhere. It was a very, very slim chance, but considering that a one-in-quintillion event had already occurred, the roullete wheel of the universe seemed to be weighted at the moment. If some sort of magic had targeted you personally, it stood to reason it could also target those close to you. For what purpose, you couldn't even begin to guess, but you preferred to have hope.
>So far this Equestria seemed to be a more or less exact copy of the one in the show, writer-induced idiosyncracies and all, which meant that EqG is probably canon and there exist doors to other dimensions. Maybe some entity kidnapped you through such a door. If not, then maybe Discord or another Equestrian being with godlike power had simply magicked you here. When you're not slaving away on Fluttershy's plantation, you really need to pay Twilight Sparkle a visit. In fact, after you're done working today, you're gonna see if you can't schedule regular "study" sessions with her every day, if possible. Thinking about Chloe, you realize, has made you legitimately homesick for the first time since you got here.
>You sigh and push those thoughts away, focusing once again on chopping dirt. You fall into a rythm, not allowing yourself to pause and give in to the pain in your extremities. You reckon time only by the rise and fall of your hoe, the crunch of sand and rocks, the sweat dripping off your nose.
>You're so in the zone, in fact, that when Fluttershy finally interrupts you, you nearly jump out of your skin. You had momentarily forgotten that talking horses existed.
>"Oh! I'm sorry to interrupt you, Anonymous, since you seemed to be enjoying your work - but lunch is ready, if you're hungry."
>Gingerly, you set the hoe down, hissing as you flex your blistered hands and hissing yet again as you straighten your back. You turn to Fluttershy, laughing with relief.
"Haha! Yeah, I guess I was kinda enjoying it, wasn't I? Though," you say, looking at the red, wet, oozy sores on your hands, "I think it's gonna take a while before I get used to being a farmer."
>Fluttershy gasps and covers her mouth with her hooves when she notices the state of your hands. "Oh dear! Oh, Anonymous, why didn't you tell me that your paws had gotten blisters! I could have bandaged them up for you!"
"Hands," you correct her absentmindedly. "To be honest, I didn't really think about it. I kind of wish I had, though...this really hurts."
>"You need to follow me right away! Come on now, we need to get you patched up." Fluttershy hovers backwards towards the cottage, not taking her eyes off you and repeating "Oh dear, oh dear" over and over again.
>You follow her inside, where she commands you to lie on the couch and flies off somewhere else in the house. She returns quickly with what is unmistakeably a first-aid box, complete with a red cross painted on it. She opens it up and takes out gauze, bandages, and a bottle of clear fluid. It has a screw-on lid with a little brush attached to the underside, which Fluttershy uses to daub your blisters with a gel-like substance that you assume to be aloe. It feels wonderful, immediately dousing the burning sensation on your skin. She then places a bit of gauze over your blisters and expertly binds up your thumbs and forefingers with cloth bandages, pinning them with safety pins. Considering that she's never seen a human hand before, she did a great job.
"So, Fluttershy," you ask as she puts the supplies back in the box, "I have to ask...do you ever use that hoe yourself?"
>"Not that often," she admits, closing the lid of the box. "Sometimes for weeds, or for little precision sculpting jobs...but usually I just borrow one of Applejack's ploughs."
"Why didn't you do that this time?"
>"Oh, well I was going to, but now that you're here, I didn't want to impose on Applejack."
>You grit your teeth and smile outwardly. You love these ponies, Anon. They're good ponies. They're good ponies, they're helping you, and you don't want to hurt them at all.

>Fluttershy pats you on the leg and picks up the first-aid box. "Now you go ahead and rest on the couch, Anonymous. I'll bring your lunch in here for you."
>You comply, attempting to get comfortable on the undersized couch while Fluttershy trots off to the kitchen. Like yesterday, you end up hanging both your legs over the far arm, your head laying back on the cushions, looking up at the ceiling.
>You feel no guilt this time for being waited on. Do you mean to tell me, you think to yourself, that Fluttershy was just about to go borrow a plough from Applejack so that she could plant those beets her own damn self, but changed her mind as soon as I showed up? Is there something about me that just screams "free labor"? For that matter, why didn't she just borrow the plough anyway and make me use it? Humans can pull ploughs, right...? Okay, maybe not, but still!
>The sheer audacity of Fluttershy's admission has you confused. She obviously seems to care for your well-being, and yet she has no problem using you to get out of doing manual labor, even when it's plain that she could have performed the task much easier than you, even with her bare hooves. The more you get to know Fluttershy, the less you understand. You begin to wonder what she sees when she looks at you. Sure, she talks to you like a person, but she does that around her animals, as well. Does she see you as some sort of pet? Is that why she isn't socially anxious around you? Is that why she treats you with such maternal care? That might explain it, except that you're pretty sure she'd never make one of her animal friends into a dirt-grubbing serf. So just what does Fluttershy think of you? Thinking about this is stressing you out, you realize, and you put it out of your mind for now.
>Fluttershy returns with a plate of bread, cheese, and an assortment of pickled vegetables. Your mouth waters as she pulls over a small table for you to eat on without having to sit up. You put on your best appreciative smile.
"Aww, thanks Fluttershy. You didn't have to do that. It's not like I'm in a body cast," you say with a chuckle.
>"Nonsense. You worked harder today than I had a right to ask. If I had known you might injure yourself, I would have done the work myself."
>God...damn it, Fluttershy. These ponies refuse to let you stay mad at them.
"Hey, there's no need to feel that way. I was just trying to do a good job, and got a little carried away. In fact, it probably would have happened even if I had taken it easy. Back home, I was a student, not a farmer. My hands aren't exactly adapted to manual labor," you say, wiggling you fingers.
>"They ''do'' look fairly delicate. I-I mean, compared to hooves. N-not to say that your hands are ''especially'' delicate -"
"It's okay, Fluttershy. Like I said, they just aren't used to working a hoe. They'll get tougher with time."
>"Oh, well that's good to hear. They need to heal, first, though - so go ahead and enjoy your lunch. You need to get your strength back."
>Your stomach is legitimately grumbling, so you don't argue. You shift onto one elbow while reclining and examine your plate. The bread, appropriately enough, seems to be made from oats and oat flour, with a thick dark crust and a robust, crumbly interior. The cheese is soft, white, and fragrant with the smell of the green onions that it's been infused with. The pickles appear to be made from onion, peppers, radishes, and carrot, jarred in vinegar with herbs and spices that remind you of peaceful visits to ethnic wholesale shops in better days. You couldn't have asked for a more artisinal lunch; back home you would probably pay twenty bucks for it. Wasting no time, you dig in, making appreciative nomming sounds, only half for Fluttershy's benefit.
>In the middle of nearly choking on a radish, you hear a knock on the front door.
>"Oh my! I'll get that!" Fluttershy says, zipping over to the door. You cough out the radish onto your plate without assistance.
>Fluttershy opens the door to find a walleyed blue-gray pegasus mare in a delivery cap.
>"Delivery for Anonymous!" the delivery mare shouts enthusiastically, blowing Fluttershy's mane back. Her voice reminds you of Rudolph the reindeer in the old Rankin-Bass movies, and you grin involuntarily. You had almost forgotten that one of your favorite horses happened to live here in Ponyville.

"That's me!" you shout, leaping up from the couch and bounding to the door. 
>Fluttershy steps out of your way, attempting to brush her mane back into shape. You lean on the doorframe, grinning like an idiot, and make a little wave at Derpy with your free hand.
"Hi there!"
>"Hiya Mister Anonymous! I have a package for you!" She points with her hoof at an oblong cardboard box standing on one end just behind her. "Courtesy of Mayor Mare!" She scrunches her face and blinks a few times, then grabs a clipboard out of the leather satchel hanging over her flank with her mouth, holding it out to you from between her teeth. "Shurgn herr pwead!" she mumbles cheerily, her googly eyes staring at you from over the top of the form.
"Hnnngg..."
>You realize you've been clutching your chest this whole time, and you move your hand behind your back with a sheepish smile. You grab the pencil hanging by a chain from the clipboard and sign your name at the dotted line.
>Derpy spits the clipboard back into her satchel and then brings her hoof to her temple in a short salute. "Pony Express Delivery, at your service! Have a nice day!" Before you can stutter a thank you, she leaps into the air and flaps away over Fluttershy's cottage. A few moments later she zooms over you in the other direction, doing corkscrews that nearly land her in a tree. You watch with fascination till she disappears.
>Fluttershy pokes her face out the door, and then looks up at you curiously, noting your rapt expression. "That's Ditzy Doo," she says, bringing you back to the here and now. "She's a very ''nice'' pony. I can see why you like her."
You sputter. "I-I what? Pff, tch, I don't...I mean, who wouldn't? She's sooo...friendly. Hey look, a package!" you shout, pointing at the box you've neglected up till this point. "Let's bring it inside!"
>You grab the box with one arm. It's heavier than you expected, and you huff a little as you carry it inside. You wipe a few beads of non-exertion-related sweat from your forehead with your free hand and set the package onto the couch. Way to gush there, Anon. God help you if you run into Rainbow Dash today. You reluctantly admit to yourself that you may have a thing for pegasi. A completely platonic fascination, of course; just maybe a ''little'' too intense. You're not some kind of weirdo. Luckily, only Fluttershy was around to see you nearly embarass yourself. Next time you'll have better control.
>"What is it?" asks Fluttershy.
"It's probably my chair," you reply, attempting to tear into a corner of the box before realizing your hands are bandaged. "Do you happen to have a box cutter around?" you ask.
>"Allow me," says Fluttershy, neatly tearing off a perforated tab with her teeth that you hadn't noticed before. The box flaps seem to be able to be flipped open, now.
"Oh...thanks."
>You open the box, then tip it over carefully, sliding the cardboard off from around its contents. Inside is a cylindrical collection of sturdy wooden poles and canvas ingeniously connected by jigsawed hinges and wooden pins, like Amish furniture. You unfold it, and it becomes something much like a stereotypical director's chair. You heft it up in one hand to feel the weight; you'd guess it's around fifteen pounds. It's certainly not going to break any time soon, you think, but it's going to be hell to lug around everywhere. You guess that ponies are much stronger for their size than humans.
"Wow. Mayor Mare spared no expense, it seems. That's some craftsmanship."
>"How kind of her," Fluttershy says. "Though, umm, why did she send you a chair?"
"Oh, I must have forgot to mention - yesterday, Mayor Mare noticed that I was having a hard time keeping on my feet due to the, uh, relative absence of chairs in Ponyville. We humans aren't really built for standing in one place for long. So she commissioned this for me. I know you ponies have benches and so on, and the occasional couch or stool, but not as many as would be needed in a human city. This will be really helpful to have when I'm out and about. Which reminds me..."

>You sniff the front of your shirt, crinkling your nose.
"I need to take care of some things today. Like a bath. I think I'm starting to smell."
>Fluttershyl's cheeks pinken. "I didn't notice anything. But if you say so..."
>You raise an eyebrow at her.
"That's very polite of you, but if I stand around ripening any more, I think I might start wilting your vegetables. I would have gotten clean this morning, but I wasn't quite sure how you take baths around here without any plumbing. That, and I only have one pair of clothes, which also need to be washed. So, if I take them off..."
>You trail off, but Fluttershy hangs on, waiting for you to finish. Oh, right. This subject. You sigh.
"Humans don't ever take off their clothes in front of other people. I mean...not never, but...it's contextual. We don't generally go around naked like you ponies do. It would be really embarrassing for me to take a bath and then not have anything clean to put on where no one could see me. So even if you were to wash my clothes for me while I took a bath, they'd still have to dry, and then..."
>You hope she gets the point this time. Luckily, your explanation seems to have sunk in.
"I had no idea! Oh my, and I had forgotten that you had lost all your posessions in the Everfree! You must have had spare clothes, and now you don't, and oh dear it must be so embarrassing for you! We need to get you to Rarity right away! She'll know what to do."
>You mentally pump a fist. An outfit made by Rarity - oh man, you've been here like a day, and you're already going to be swimming in friendship swag. You knew you'd end up having to ask for a few handouts, of course, but you really don't deserve all this - and it feels great.
"Rarity? Your friend Rarity? Perfectly coiffed purple mane, diamond cutie mark, impeccable fashion sense?"
>"Yes, that's her!"
"How can she help?" you ask with false naivety.
>"She's the most generous pony I know, and she happens to run her own fashion boutique here in Ponyville. She could make you a set of new clothes in no time at all!"
"Wow, geez, Fluttershy...first Pinkie throws me a welcome party, you offer me a place to stay, the Mayor of Ponyville personally commissions a chair for me for free, and now you're saying I should go ask for free clothes? I'm not sure I feel comfortable with all this..."
>"Oh, please don't feel uncomfortable, Anonymous. It's not your fault that you've lost so much. Once you get back on your feet, I'm sure you'll be able to repay us all - and I don't mean with bits," she says with a warm smile. "And don't worry about Rarity, she'll practically jump at the chance to design a new outfit. I have so many from her, I don't know what to do with them all."
"Well, if you say so, Fluttershy. If that's the plan, I should get going as soon as possible."
>"Would you like me to come with you? Rarity's my friend, and if I explained the situation, it might be less embarassing for you."
>While she's not wrong, a part of you has no desire to be escorted everywhere by a tiny flying horse as if she's your mother.
"That won't be necessary, Fluttershy. I think I can handle it on my own. Rarity did say I was welcome to stop by any time, after all."
>"If you're sure."
"I'm sure. After my business with Rarity is over, I might take a little jaunt around town to get to know it a little better, too. I promise I'll be back for dinner, though."
>"Be careful, Anonymous! If you get lost, don't be afraid to ask anypony for directions!"
"Okay! See you later!"
>"Oh, and be careful with your hands! Wait, maybe I should bandage them up with another..."
>You have backed all the way out the door and gently shut it in Fluttershy's face before she has the chance to react. Quickly, you turn and begin to walk briskly in the direction of town.

>You smile and wave to all the ponies you pass on the way to Rarity's boutique, making sure not to accidentally call them by name. They all greet you more or less warmly in return. Even though a few of them forget your name, Pinkie's welcome party and the blessing of the Mane Six seem to have really cemented you in their minds as "That nice monkey man who just moved here."  All you have to do is not fuck up, and you'll no doubt have them eating out of your hand in a few weeks. It's almost shamefully easy. Then again, you've read a lot of psychology books that say that people develop positive feelings for those who they've done favors for; it has something to do with tricking the mind into assuming that anyone you'd go to the trouble of helping must be part of your in-group. How lucky for you.
>No matter how friendly they are to you now, however, you've made a very shallow impression so far, and if you walk around smelling like Applejack after a rodeo while wearing the same ratty outfit day after day, you might begin to wear out your welcome. Thankfully, it doesn't take you long to find the Carousel Boutique, as its unique architecture is impossible to miss. You pause for a moment to collect yourself before knocking on the beautifully crafted front door.
>You think you hear Rarity's voice from some inner room, and a few moments later the door opens to reveal Sweetie Belle. When she manages to direct her gaze from your knees all the way up to your face, her eyes light up. "Anonymous! You came to visit!" Her voice is cracking even more than usual out of sheer excitement, and your mouth curls up in a perfectly genuine smile. She must have been waiting to get a chance to meet the cool and mysterious foreigner again since the moment she got shooed out of your welcome party. 
"I did!" you reply matter-of-factly. "I'm here to see your sister about something."
>For a second, Sweetie's head and ears droop, but you hastily add -
" - and to let the both of you get to know me better, of course."
>Her hope and optimism restored, Sweetie ushers you inside and closes the door. "Rarity!", she shouts, galloping on her tiny legs to what you assume must be Rarity's workroom, "Anonymous the hyoo-man is here! He came to visit us!"
>Again, you hear the muffled sound of Rarity's voice, and then Sweetie gallops back out. "She'll be out in a minute. She's just finishing up some details on a piece for her fall line."
"Getting an early start, eh?"
>Sweetie rolls her eyes. "Yeah, that's my sister...hey!" She squeaks in surprise at your bandaged hands. "What happened to you?"
"Oh, I just got a little roughed up digging in Fluttershy's garden. Human hands aren't as durable as hooves."
>"Fluttershy made you dig with your bare - what did you call them?"
You chuckle. "Hands. And no, that would be silly. I used a hoe."
>"Ohhh - that makes much more sense", Sweetie says with a nod. "...so, can I get you anything? Something to drink, a snack?"
>You quickly scan the room, finding it seatless as expected, and unfold your collapsible chair. Carrying it was beginning to make you tired, especially after all the work you put in to Fluttershy's garden today. You slide it into a corner unoccupied by mannequins and make yourself comfortable.
"I just ate lunch over at Fluttershy's, so I'm all refreshed, thank you Sweetie." 
>You can make a comfortable exception to the name rule with the CMC; they talked your ear off yesterday. You answered so many questions, in fact, that they might get their cutie marks in anthropology. Poor Lyra...
>"Are you sure? Rarity keeps the kitchen stocked with all kinds of fancy things; I bet we have something that hyoo-mans like. What do you eat, anyway? I don't think I asked you that, but I noticed that you have a few pointy teeth like Opal. Rarity feeds her fish sometimes. Do you eat fish?"
You laugh, showing off your nubby canines. "I don't, but others do. Humans can eat just about anything."
>"Even ponies?" Sweetie Belle looks more excited than scared by the implications of her own question.
"We make a very firm exception for ponies," you reply, attempting to sound as reassuring as possible.
>"Awww..." Her momentary dissapointment gives way as Rarity enters.
>"Sweetie! Stop interrogating our poor guest!"

>Fashion horse still has her red-rimmed working glasses on as she saunters over to greet you. She always reminded you of Audrey Hepburn, if Audrey Hepburn was a horse, and didn't starve herself to Ethiopian levels of thin-ness, and had better hair, and...well, maybe it was just the accent.
"It's quite alright, Rarity. If I were Sweetie, I'd be curious, too," you say, giving Sweetie a reassuring smile.
>Rarity's expression softens at your remark, and she lets Sweetie's enthusiasm slide. "It's lovely to see you again, darling. Welcome! What brings you to my boutique? And what happened to your paws?"
"Oh, this?" You hold up your bandaged hands. "I was a little overzealous doing gardening work for Fluttershy. It's nothing to worry about. As for why I'm here," you say, tenting your fingers and congratulating yourself once again on your cleverness, "I have something of a ''fashion emergency''."
>To your surprise, Rarity is nonplussed. "I know. I didn't want to say anything before, but it's clear that you are in dire need of a new wardrobe."
>Ouch. You weren't wearing your best clothes, it's true, but you paid top dollar for the distressed jeans you're wearing, as well as the vintage sneakers and graphic tee. Luckily it was a generic design, rather than one of the many MLP prints you own.
>Rarity plucks at the sleeve of your shirt, crinkling her nose. "Just what ''is'' this fabric, my dear? And your pants! They look like they've been tumbled in a vat of, of...rocks, and acid, or something! Oh, and your shoes - " She lowers her head to squint and poke at them. "- they're some sort of ''athletic wear''. What terrible tribulations you must have endured to be left with only this mish-mash to wear. Such a handsome human deserves far better, don't you think?" 
>You're not sure whether Rarity actually finds you handsome, or whether she says that to every male client, but you don't care to find out.
"Yesss...well, as I explained yesterday, I lost all of my spare clothes to Timberwolves. It wouldn't be an issue, except that we humans don't ever take off our clothes except to wash or change into a new set. We don't wear them only when we want to, like you ponies do. I haven't taken a bath in some time, and if I don't have a clean pair of clothes to change into, I can't wash. Fluttershy told me you might be able to help me with that. I can't pay you right now, but..."
>"You needn't fear, darling! I must confess, ever since we first met, my mind has been positively swimming with ideas for how to accessorize your...unique anatomy. It would be a pleasure to design you a new outfit, free of charge."
"That is absurdly generous, Rarity. I -"
>"Anonymous, darling, you just told me that you can't even take care of basic grooming without a spare change of clothes. Please, don't feel indebted. Let me help you."  Rarity's eyes practically sparkle with heartfelt empathy, and you can't help but give in with a sigh.
"Alright. Alright, but I insist that you at least add this to my tab, or something."
>"Pshaw. If you insist; but I insist that you not worry about it for now. There is work to be done! Follow me, dear. I must take your measurements."

>You follow Rarity into her workroom, taking your chair with you. Sweetie tags along as well, humming happily to herself.
>"Now Anonymous, be a dear and stand over there," says Rarity, waving a hoof absentmindedly at no corner of the room in particular while she searches for something. You shrug and stand off to the side of her sewing table, placing your chair down next to you. Sweetie Belle promptly hops up into it, circles around in the seat a few times, and then settles down like a cat.
>Rarity finds her measuring tape, levitating it with her magic. Then she grabs a pencil and drafting paper from her drawing table. She trots up to you and sets the paper on the floor next to her, holding the pencil in her mouth while she uses her magic to loop the tape around your body. It doesn't cinch anywhere, yet; Rarity pauses a moment to consider her next move, spitting the pencil onto the paper so she can speak. "Hmm...I've never taken a human's measurements, before. Would you mind holding still for a few moments? This might feel a bit strange."
>You obey silently, curious to see what she'll do. Suddenly your right arm tingles all over, as if it's being dipped in ice water. You breathe in sharply.
>"Now now, just hold still. This will only take a minute, dear. I need to see how you articulate." You comply, watching as Rarity's magic begins to manipulate your arm like a marionette. Dress horse has a look of intense concentration on her face, and she periodically grabs the pencil in her mouth to scribble notes as she works your joints one at a time, mumbling quietly to herself.
>"No hooves, though that sha'nt be a problem...high degree of articulation in the fetlock...all of them...and in the hips...goodness, this will need to be flexible in almost every direction...ahh, but this doesn't bend ''that'' way...I see..." 
>It's a very strange sensation to feel your body move without you telling it to; it's rather like getting a physical check-up at the doctor, if the doctor was a ghost with icy fingers. When Rarity suddenly bends you at the waist, you can't help but let out a "Whoa!", though she quickly sets you back upright.
>Soon enough, she is finished playing puppeteer and begins to take your measurements with the tape. You've never had clothes tailored before, so you can't tell if any of the measurements she's taking are unnecessary, but she takes an awful lot of them. Perhaps she's just being thorough so she doesn't have to re-do it. Sweetie Belle yawns from her perch on your chair, and you're tempted to do the same, but you don't want to seem rude. Finally, Rarity puts down the tape and hops into the high-backed chair in front of her drafting table.
>"Thank you, Anonymous. You've done your part. I'll draw up a few designs and have an outfit for you by tomorrow."
>You frown. Tomorrow? How are you supposed to get a bath today without a clean change of clothes? Damn - and you can't exactly tell Rarity to speed it up. She's in creative mode now, and she's already being overly generous. You guess you'll just have to suck it up until then. You open your mouth to thank Rarity, but you're cut off by a high-pitched squeak.
>"Tomorrow!?" Sweetie Belle jumps out of the chair and marches up to her sister. "But how will Anonymous get clean? The only reason he came to get new clothes in the first place is because he's all smelly and dirty, and he can't get a bath if he can't change! No offense," she adds, looking back at you.
>You grin sheepishly as you attempt to dissuade Sweetie from ruining your first impression with Rarity. 
"Sweetie, it's fine, honest. I can wait. You can't rush these things."
>"Anonymous is right, Sweetie Belle," says Rarity, taking off her glasses. "There's no outfit that I can make in less than a day's time on short notice, especially with such unusual measurements. Besides, he doesn't smell so bad..." She doesn't look at all convinced to hear herself say that, and Sweetie cocks an eyebrow at her. "...though I suppose if you wanted to, Anonymous, you could do some freshening-up in our bathroom. Surely you could at least wash your head and neck, and arms, and so forth. Oh, and I have the loveliest selection of perfumes! Sweetie Belle, be a dear and show Anonymous to the bathroom. I need to stay here and get to work on those designs."
>"No problem, Rarity! C'mon Anonymous! Follow me!" Sweetie gallops off. You wait a moment before following her.
"Thank you, Rarity. Really. It means a lot."
>"You are most welcome. I'll come deliver your clothes to Fluttershy's house when I've finished, and then perhaps you and Fluttershy and I can spend some time together?"
"I'd like that. If you're not busy, of course."
>"Spending time with friends is part of my schedule, darling. Until we meet again."
She smiles and turns back to her drawings, and you take your leave.

>No matter how much you know about FiM and no matter how many times the ponies demonstrate their kindness, it's still hard to believe how willing they are to drop everything and lend some weird-looking vagabond foreigner a helping hoof. Rarity owns and manages a very demanding small business, and yet not only is she setting aside her normal schedule to make you custom duds at the drop of a hat, she's allowing her kid sister to escort you around without supervision. You have trouble imagining any human doing the same; though for a pony, they might. You don't think the perception of cuteness and innocence goes both ways, however. These small horses are uniquely charitable, almost naively so. That, or they're simply excellent judges of character. You certainly wouldn't take advantage of any of them, but how did they know that for sure?
>Sweetie's attitude is at least explainable, you think as you jog after her. She's just a kid. What is she, like nine? Ten? Certainly no older than twelve. What is that in pony years, you wonder? Do ponies age half as fast, or do they mature at a similar rate when young and then just live longer in their prime? You figure it wouldn't hurt to ask. Sweetie is probably an open book. But first, it's time to freshen up.
>As you enter the bathroom of Carousel Boutique, you find Sweetie Bell already waiting with a washcloth in her teeth. You chuckle and gently take it from her.
"Thanks, Sweetie. Now, if you don't mind - "
>"Oooh, this one smells good!" Sweetie begins to spritz and sample all the different bottles of perfume that Rarity has stored on the shelves.
"It sure does. Now -"
>"Too flowery? I agree. How about this?" She blasts you right in the face with a cloud of scented water, and you begin to cough.
>"Oh, I'm sorry! Here, uhh...we can balance it out!" She begins fumbling for more jars, and you are forced to raise your voice.
"Sweetie! If you want to spend time with me, that's fine. But right now I'd like a little privacy, if you don't mind."
>The filly's ears droop and she trots dejectedly out the door.
"I'll be right out."
>You close the door on her and take stock of your surroundings. Rarity's bathroom is the first you've seen in Equestria, and it's every bit as fancy as you imagined. There is a porcelain standing tub - real "Chinese" porcelain, you note - as well as a matching sink with a mirror above it, and a huge selection of glass jars filled with scented grooming products, soap bars, fluffy towels, hair brushes, and other paraphernalia. There is also, to your amusement and relief, a very low but unmistakably-shaped porcelian toilet with an antique-style chain flushing handle. So Fluttershy's lack of plumbing is unusual; or maybe Rarity is more high-maintanence than anypony else in town.
>You turn each handle of the faucet at the sink to test the temperature, as neither is labeled. A-ha! So they do have hot water! You sigh with relief and strip off your shirt, and then wash yourself as thoroughly as you are able to above the waist with just a washcloth. You scrub your face extra hard, attempting to get rid of any lingering traces of that perfume that Sweetie blasted you with. Then you dry off with a nearby towel and drop it into what looks to be a wicker laundry basket by the door.
>You put your shirt back on and look at yourself in the mirror. Not bad. You're noticeably less grimy than you were when you walked in, and while your clothes are still a little gross, you think you won't cause anypony to lose their lunch. You also smell faintly of roses, now, which can't hurt.
>When you open the door, Sweetie Belle is standing there, balancing your folded chair on her withers. "You forgot this!"
>You take it from her and then extend your hand to ruffle her mane a little, but stop halfway. Would that be appropriate? Sweetie seems to think so; she's craning her neck in your direction with her eyes closed, as if she was expecting it. Eh, what the hell. You give her ringlets a little ruffle, and Sweetie doesn't bat an eye.
"So, it seems like you wanted to spend a little time with me, right? I was gonna take a jaunt around town, anyway, so why don't you tag along and show me around?"
Sweetie's eyes grow to the size of saucers - literally, in her case. "Really?"
"For realsies. Just ask your sister f-"
She has already disappeared.

>Rarity apparently trusts you, or her sister, or both a great deal, because she's already given Sweetie permission to follow you around by the time you make it to the front door. You thank her again for all her help and promise to look after Sweetie, and then you and the little filly leave the Boutique together.
>To be honest, you're not really sure where you want to go next. You had planned to visit Twilight today, but you're not really presentable enough considering that she's a Princess, now. Or would she even care about that? She certainly liked to act as if her new status didn't make her better than anyone else. At the least, you could go make sure she knows you want to be her new study partner. You decide to pay her a visit. If nothing else, you know that Sweetie enjoys spending time with Purple Smart. 
>The little filly trots next to you, making two or three steps for every one of yours but not minding one bit. "So, where should we go? Do you wanna see something cool? My friends and I have a clubhouse, and - "
"Actually, Sweetie, I have some business with Twilight Sparkle today."
>"Ooo! What kind of business?"
"I'm going to see if it's possible for she and I to be study partners. I was a student just like her back in my home country, and the Mayor said that if I wanted to continue my studies, Twilight would be the one to ask."
>"No way! Me and my friends study with Twilight, too! We can share Twilight Time together! This is gonna be great!"
>You're pretty sure you just made a best friend, and it gives you fuzzy feelings in your chest. You wish Chloe was around to see you being so great with children...damn. You were having a great time forgetting about your problems.

>Before long the two of you are in front of the Treebrary. You knock on the door and hope that Twilight doesn't mention the idea of hunting for your girlfriend; you don't feel like acting today.
>The door handle turns and Spike appears. He seems glad to see you. You're beginning to wonder whether you simply have that effect on kids, or if monkey-people look cool from their perspective. "Oh hey! Anonymous, right? And Sweetie Belle? Well, it's always nice to see you, too!"
>"Hi, Spike!" she replies cheerfully. 
>"C'mon in, Twilight was just thinking about paying you a visit!"
"Is that so?" you say, allowing Sweetie to enter first.
>"Totally! She's been poring over all kinds of books since you left yesterday, trying to find information on your species, where you came from, stuff like that."
>Awww, crap.
>"She hasn't had any luck so far, and she was hoping you could help."
You chuckle nervously. "Well, I'll do what I can, I guess."
>Fucking fantastic. You should have known that Purplesmart wouldn't be satisfied with your explanation. Now you're gonna be stuck playing twenty questions; though maybe you can use this opportunity for some quid pro quo. You'll tell her everything she wants to know, and then do a little interrogation of your own. In the friendliest possible way, of course.
>Spike leads you and Sweetie up to the second floor, where Twilight is busy making a book fort. She has wrinkles around her eyes and her mane is frazzled. Knowing her, she probably didn't get much sleep since yesterday. Spike, his duty fulfilled for now, ignores her and waddles over to his bed, curling up with a comic book.
>Twilight perks up as you approach. "Anonymous? Oh, and Sweetie Belle, too? What brings you two here together?"
>"Hi Twilight!" Sweetie scampers up to her favorite Princess and nuzzles her leg, earning a wing hug in return.
>"Hello, Sweetie."
>"Anonymous and I just came over from my sister's Boutique."
"That's right. I needed a change of clothes, and Fluttershy suggested I speak with Rarity. She was kind enough to design a set for me to wear, though it won't be ready till tomorrow. I was going to pay you a visit next, and Sweetie wanted to tag along."
>"I see," Twilight says, re-folding her wings. "That was very generous of her; though I suppose that's to be expected. I'm glad you came by, Anonymous. I was hoping you could answer some questions for me."
"Right - Spike told me about that. What did you want to know?"
>Twilight levitates a book from one of the many piles and holds it in front of you. It's opened to a page with a map of Equestria. This one looks different from Hasbro's or any of the fan maps you've seen; it's drawn purely in black ink which has faded to brown in spots, and it features places you've never seen before, including...oh dear God. There are islands out in the oceans. You feel sweat beginning to drip from your armpits. Time to think fast.
>"I've been trying to find out a bit more about your people - where you came from and whether there were any accounts or legends referring to humans in Equestria. You told me you came from an island out in the western sea, so I did some digging and found a bunch of old maps, and there are references to islands in the western ocean, but none of the accounts of travelers to those lands mention humans. I know you said that your people keep your island hidden with magic, and that you wanted to keep its location a secret, but I was hoping that there might have been at least some myth or secondhand account of it in history. Are you sure that none of these islands on the map are yours?"
>You feign taking a closer look for a few moments.
"Hmmm...if you know I'm keeping it a secret, I'm not sure why you'd ask."
>The alicorn's ears flatten and she withdraws the book. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have -"
"...but no, none of those islands are my homeland," you say, trying to give Twilight a reassuring smile.

"To tell you the truth, I couldn't tell you where it was on a map even if I wanted to." That much wasn't a lie, you think. "It's not just that it's hidden from the outside world; the outside world is hidden from us. I know that it's west of Equestria because I ended up on the western shore of this continent, but other than that, I couldn't say. I had to arrange to have a boat smuggle me here, and the captain didn't share much information with me other than the fact that he had also brought my girlfriend here, and that this land was called Equestria."
>"Oh, I see...I apologize for prying, but I just can't help but be curious. I've read almost every book on Equestrian history, and travelled on a lot of adventures and met a lot of different creatures, but I can't find so much as a footnote on humans. If nopony has ever heard of your people before, it makes me wonder what else I don't know about."
>...and what you don't know might kill you in these parts, you think. Is Twilight worried you might be dangerous? You decide to reassure her.
"If you're worried that I'm a spy or something, or the vanguard of an invasion, I can assure that my people aren't remotely interested in leaving the safety of their island. Well...except for me and Chloe, I guess...as far as I know we're the only ones to have ever left."
>"Oh no, no no! I didn't think that at all! It's just..."
>Spike rolls his eyes and places his comic down, jumping out of his basket. "It's just that Twilight here prides herself on knowing everything about everything."
>Twilight glares at the little dragon, but he isn't fazed. "What? It's true! I don't see why you have to get worked up about it. Besides, if you really knew everything about everything, there'd be nothing left to learn. You'd be devestated."
>The alicorn princess cocks an eyebrow at Spike, and you take this moment to interrupt.
"Spike is right," you say, for the first time ever. "I know how it feels to be out of your depth, believe me. But I think I can help with that. You just reminded me why I came over here in the first place."
>Sweetie Belle jumps up and shouts. "To be the newest member of the Twilight Time club!"
>Twilight looks at you with confusion, and you chuckle. 
"Sort of. I came to ask if you'd like a study partner. The Mayor and Fluttershy both told me that even though you're a Princess, you used to be a university student as well as the town librarian."
>"Technically I still am," says Twilight. "I still look after the library, and even though I'm not under Princess Celestia's tutelage any more, I still spend most of my time studying."
"Well, that's perfect, then! I used to be a university student back home, and if it's all right with you, I'd like to continue my education here. I wouldn't have asked, except that apparently there'd be difficulties if I tried to enroll at the university in Canterlot."
>Twilight blushes. "It's true that you need to either show special talent or have, erm...special connections to be accepted to Canterlot University. As for your request..."
>Sweetie Belle's eyes glitter with anticipation.
>"...I'd love to have a study partner!"
>"Yyyyyeeessss!" The little filly hops back and forth over Twilight's back while the alicorn looks on amusedly.
>"I'm not here all the time thanks to my royal duties - "
>" - and the occasional adventure where we save the day," says Spike, puffing out his chest.
>" - but I can certainly spare some time a few days a week. What subject are you a student of?"
You remember the Mayor's reaction to your choice of major and rub the back of your neck. "Err, let's just say I study a little bit of everything. Plus, now that I'm on the fast track to becoming an Equestrian citizen, I may as well take the time to learn as much about my new home as I can."

>"Well, whatever it is you want to learn, I can help. I have books on almost any subject you can think of, and if I don't have a book you need, I can request one from any other library in Equestria. This will be so fun! We can come up with a syllabus for you, and we can study together, and have homework parties, and give each other pop quizzes..."
>It pains you to admit it, but even as an alicorn, Purplesmart can still be adorable.
"That sounds great, Princess."
>"Please...you can call me Twilight."
"Are you sure? I'm going to be a subject of yours, soon enough," you say half-jokingly.
Twilight frowns and paws at the floor awkwardly. The fact that she's so uncomfortable with being royalty is really endearing. With enough time, you might be able to convice her to let her subjects give democracy a try. For now, though, it'd be best to play along.
"Though, I'll call you whatever you like, Twilight."
>"Thank you, Anonymous. It hasn't been very long since I got this title. I just need a little more time to get used to it. It's fine if you call me that in public, but somehow it doesn't feel right when we're meeting as friends."
"Of course. I understand. So, now that that's settled, what days would be most convenient for me to visit?"
>"I do most of my business, official and otherwise, during the day, so you can drop by anytime for a few hours in the evenings. If you stop by and I happen to be out, you're still free to come in and use the library. Just put everything back where you found it, or leave a note if you need to borrow something."
"Well alright, then! Thanks so much, Twilight!"
>"You're welcome! I'm sure there's a lot we can learn from each other."
"I guess I'll see you tomorrow, then. Sweetie here was going to give me a little tour of Ponyville, weren't you?"
>Sweetie stops playing book-Jenga with Spike and hops over by your side. "You bet! But first, to the clubhouse! I've got to tell Applebloom and Scootaloo that we've got a new study buddy!"
>Twilight smiles at the two of you and waves. "Have fun, you two! Oh, and Sweetie Belle - try not to involve our new friend in anything too adventurous today, okay?"
>"Awwww...okay. C'mon, Anonymous. Let's go." The little filly trots dejectedly downstairs, and you follow after waving goodbye to Spike and Twilight. What was that supposed to mean?

>It doesn't take you long to reach the Cutie Mark Crusaders' clubhouse, as Sweetie's pace forces you to follow at a jog. How she knows her friends will be there you're not sure, but when you arrive at the base of the tree Scootaloo and Applebloom stick their heads out of the windows as if on cue.
>"Whoa!" shouts Scootaloo when she spots you. Applebloom chimes in with a "Goodness Gracious!"
>Though they've met you once before, you suppose you can't blame them for being surprised to see you again so soon. 
>"It's just Anonymous, sillies! We met him at Pinkie's party yesterday, remember?"
>"Of course we remember!" Scootaloo disappears from the window and begins to set up the treehouse ladder so she can climb down.
>"We just didn't expect you to show up with him at our clubhouse the very next day," Applebloom adds. She follows Scootaloo in a rush down the ladder, the two of them attempting to slide down by gripping outside the rungs and succeeding in landing in a heap at the bottom. Undiscouraged, they quickly disentangle themselves and trot over to you.
>The tiny fillies need to crane their necks almost directly upwards to make eye contact, their eager faces lighting up with the same childish awe and curiosity they displayed the first time you met. It's a little flattering to be looked up to, literally, and you get the sudden urge to start teaching the three little ponies something; what, you're not sure.
"Hello again," you say simply.
>"Hiya Mister Anonymous!" says Scootaloo.
>"It sure is nice of ya to come visit!" says Applebloom. "We thought you'd be busy doin'...whatever it is that grown-up whatever-you-ares do!"
>"Humans!" squeaks Sweetie Belle. "And it was my idea to come here. Anonymous wants me to give him a tour of Ponyville, and I didn't want you gals to miss out."
>"You mean in case we get our tour guide cutie marks?"
>"That, and I needed to tell you that Twilight Time officially has a new member!"
>"Is it Babs?" Applebloom asks excitedly.
>"Nope."
>"Is it Diamond Tiara?" Scootaloo asks with a grimace.
>"Nope. It's Anonymous!" Applebloom and Scootaloo gasp with delight and begin to bounce around you. You can't help but laugh at their antics.
"Whoa there, girls. I don't know what Twilight Time is, but if it happens a few times a week during the evenings, then I guess I can see why you're so excited."
>"No, no," says Sweetie Belle. "We're not excited because we'll get to see you - we can do that anytime we want."
>"We can?" asks Scootaloo hopefully.
>"Yes! But the reason we're excited is that now we're not the only ones learning new things with Twilight! Think about it - Anonymous is a grown-up human, and even he still needs some help learning!"
"Hey, hold on now - it's not like Twilight is going to be my tutor. She's just going to provide me with reference materials and help guide my studies."
>"That's what she does with us," says Scootaloo. "She gives us books and points us in the right direction if we get stuck."
>"Seems pretty much the same to me," says Applebloom.
"Yeah, well, it's not," you say, unsure of why you've suddenly become so defensive. "''I'm'' a university student. Before I came here I was working on getting a degree."
>"What's a degree?" asks Sweetie Belle.

"A degree is a piece of paper that proves that you're an expert on a certain subject."
>"Ooohhhh," the three fillies say in unison. "What were you working becoming an expert at?"
You grit your teeth. "Guh...that's not important. What is important is that there's a big difference between what you girls are doing with Twilight and what I'll be doing with her."
>"If you say so," says Scootaloo. "But if you become an expert at something, why do you need a piece of paper to prove it? Rainbow Dash is the best flyer in all of Equestria, and she doesn't have a degree."
>"My sister doesn't have a degree, and she knows more about apple farmin' than anypony!"
>"Yeah, and my sister is as good a fashion designer as anypony in Canterlot, but she doesn't have a degree, either! If someone wants her to prove she knows how to make dresses, she makes them a dress."
>This is ridiculous. It's Thanksgiving at your Uncle's all over again. ''Why don't you learn a trade? Whaddya need a fancy piece of paper for? College is a scam! You're gonna be in debt up to your eyeballs!'' Sour grapes, all of it. He won't have anything clever to say when you graduate and are head and shoulders above all the future fry cooks that were too dumb to understand what "return on investment" means. You feel a small surge of self-righteousness as you contemplate the fact that you now have proof that your Uncle is at the mental level of a pre-pubescent horse. Luckily, unlike your Uncle, these ponies are young enough to be taught.
"Look, it's very simple. You ponies have cutie marks, which means you're born naturally good at something. We humans are different; when we're born, we're like a blank piece of paper."
>The three fillies look at their flanks, and then back to you.
"That means we can be good at anything we want, as long as we work really hard. A degree symbolizes how hard we had to work to become a master at something, and when we show it to others, they know that they should listen to what we have to say and believe that we're the best one for the job. I guess you could say that it's like the human version of a cutie mark."
>The CMC look perplexed. "So," ventures Scootaloo, "nobody will listen to you or give you a job if you don't have a degree?"
"Well, no, I didn't say that. But your word doesn't carry as much weight as an expert's, and you can't get a ''good'' job without a degree."
>"What's a good job? I mean, as opposed to a bad one?" asks Applebloom.
>This shit is getting philosophical in a hurry, you think. You'd think the answer would be obvious. Then again, they are just kids.
"A good job is one that allows you to make a difference in the world, instead of just making money."
>"Make a difference? What do you mean?"
"I mean, doing something that's really important, that really helps society."
>"Like farmin' crops to feed ponies?" 
>"Or making clothes for them to wear?"
>"Or protecting them from danger?"
"Uhhh..." 
>You're drawing a blank, here. You guess all those things are necessary, sure, but they're obviously not on the same level of significance as the glaring issues in need of fixing in human society - issues that can only be fixed with the guidance of people like your professors, and creatives, and activists, and Barack Obama. Perhaps those sorts of issues aren't so obvious in pony society; or maybe they've all been indoctrinated to believe that everything is fine. Either way, you don't think you're equipped to tackle this topic in a delicate fashion just yet. 

"Y'know, I think this conversation has gotten a little off-track. Sweetie Belle, didn't you and your friends want to give me a tour of Ponyville?"
>"Oh yeah! I almost forgot! Scootaloo, Applebloom - you know what to do."
>The two fillies look at each other and shrug. "We do?"
>"Cutie Mark Crusaders Tour Guides, assemble!" Sweetie gallops back to the ladder and climbs back into the treehouse, followed by her friends. They return momentarily, having donned their red CMC capes.
>"Let the tour begin! Follow us, Anonymous!"
>Glad to have dodged the bullet of making children cry by telling them that their sisters' jobs are petit-bourgeouis, you tag along with the CMC as they gallivant around town. The enthusiastic fillies stop at literally every structure and landmark in town and explain who lives there, who works there, or what happens there. They even take the time to point out trees, fences, market stalls, and the occasional interesting rock. You're getting to learn Ponyville at the level of a two-foot-tall child, and to your surprise, you find yourself fascinated. There's something magical, for lack of a better word, in the way that Ponyville is lived in by its residents. Every silly detail the CMC provide about every seemingly insignificant feature of the town forms part of a history that the children can recall in its entirety if they wish. Here is the spot where Pinkie Pie taught us how to jump rope; there is the fence where Sweetie Belle's father proposed to his wife when he was captain of the hoofball team; here is the tree where the newly emigrated Rainbow Dash took her first nap; that house belongs to Bon Bon, she gives us candy sometimes, and sometimes she's mean, but Rarity says she's just lonely; here's where Trixie set up her cart the first time she came to town. You'd be hard-pressed to remember any significant details about your own home town beyond the confines of the street you grew up on or where you went to school; all the homes and apartments look the same, the baking concrete sidewalks and parking lots blended into each other, and you never cared to follow the exploits of those you could have called your neighbors, for you couldn't even recognize their faces. As the day wears on, your chest begins to fill with a mix of wistful appreciation and envy that renders you mute during the tour. You can only nod and smile at the motormouthed little ponies.
>Every so often, the CMC re-introduce you to a pony you recognize from your welcome party. Not a one of them seem to find it odd or innapropriate that an adult male is wandering around unsupervised with three little girls in tow. In fact, it seems to make them warm up to you. You're not sure of the logic behind it, but you can't complain. Nobody forgets your name this time around, and it's only your second day here.
>By the time your guides suggest visiting Sweet Apple Acres, the sun has begun to set, and you reluctantly say goodbye. Even though your feet are aching and your arms are numb from lugging around your chair all day, you don't want to leave your little friends behind. You have to remind yourself that you'll be able to visit them again any time you want, a fact that continues to astound your waking brain. You wave as they gallop off, as full of energy as they were hours ago. Then you turn and make your way back to Fluttershy's cottage. 
>You're a little late for dinner, you surmise - not that Fluttershy would tell you. At any rate, she seems more concerned after you than after her food getting cold. It's delicious, like every other meal she's served you so far, and you make sure to compliment her and make no suggestion of cleaning up. You're too tired to volunteer, anyway. As the two of you eat, she asks you about your day. You relate your meeting with Rarity, her generous offer, and her suggestion that the three of you spend some time together tomorrow. You also report your success in getting Twilight Sparkle to help you resume your life as a student; but for some reason that you can't fathom, you leave out your adventures with Sweetie, Scoots, and Applebloom. Every time you think about mentioning it, a cloying ball of emotion wells up within you. If you didn't know any better, you'd call that feeling shame - not over the impropriety that would result from having too much fun with small children back on Earth, but from the realization that of all the kind things that ponies have done for you since you came to Equestria, you deserved what those fillies gave you the least.

**********************************************************************************************************************
CHAPTER TWO:
**********************************************************************************************************************

>You awaken from a dreamless sleep the next morning to the crowing of a rooster. Startled, you nearly roll out of bed. It is much, much louder than you imagined, as if the bird had stuck a tin horn into your ear and was personally summoning you awake. It must be right outside the window, in fact. You have no idea how you managed to sleep through it yesterday. With your eyes now wide open, you notice a faint reddish light filtering into your bedroom, but it is otherwise dark. The rooster started crowing at exactly the moment the sun began to rise. How punctual. You stick your feet out from the sheets and onto the bare wooden floor to test it; it's not cold, so you sit up and stretch. To your surprise, you feel like a million bucks, with not a single crick or sore muscle. You don't remember the last time getting out of bed felt so satisfying; probably never, you think. Perhaps all the work you did yesterday in Fluttershy's garden, not to mention carrying around that heavy wooden chair all over Ponyville, was less strenuous than you thought? You weren't exactly a couch potato, of course, being used to biking as your sole mode of transportation, but when you hit the pillow last night it felt like your arms and shoulders had been beaten with a bat, and you had fallen asleep almost instantaneously. Youth has its advantages, you suppose.
>The rooster does not stop crowing, but mercifully it sounds as if each cry is getting fainter and fainter. It must consider waking the entire Everfree Forest to be its duty. You yawn and scratch yourself, reflecting on what you have planned for today in your mental quest-log. 

[ ] Daily chores for Fluttershy
[ ] Receive outfit from Rarity
[ ] Take bath, try out new clothes
[ ] Go on outing with Rarity and Fluttershy
[ ] ???
[ ] Study with Twilight Sparkle

>Excited by today's many prospects, you waste no time in getting dressed in your now thoroughly disgusting clothes and head downstairs. Fluttershy is already in the kitchen, mixing up what looks to be another batch of oatmeal. Horses sure love their oats. You greet her, and she seems unsurprised to see you. She must have heard you wake up and get dressed. That means this must be your breakfast she's making. You wonder if she already fed the animals.
>"Good morning, Anonymous! I see Monsieur Chanticleer did a better job of waking you up today," she says with a shy smile.
"Mons...oh! The rooster! Yeah, I'm not used to being woken up by a bird in the morning. Then again, I guess it's not so different from having an alarm clock. A really loud, precise alarm clock."
>Fluttershy giggles softly. "He takes his job very seriously. I know it'll take some getting used to, but try to think of it like a personal wake-up call. Every creature has to make the most out of every minute in Celestia's day, and Monsieur Chanticleer just wants to help you get a head start."
>Although that sounded like something written on a Hallmark card, you can't help but find pretty much everything that comes out of Yellow Quiet's mouth to be adorable, and you smile wryly despite yourself.
"Well, I guess I can thank him later. So..."
>You almost blurt out "What's for breakfast?", but some unbidden gatekeeper forces your vocal cords shut and you struggle to get the words out of your mouth. They hover in front of your mind's eye, each syllable dripping with patriarchal oppression. Though you see Fluttershy, having awakened just before you, standing in the kitchen; though you see the ingredients for what is no doubt intended to be your morning meal set on the counter by Fluttershy; though you know that Fluttershy takes pride in cooking for her guests and seems to authentically, if dysfunctionally bundle her ability to feed the males in her life with her feminine identity; despite all this, you cannot for an instant bring yourself to verbally acknowledge any of it. You can eat the food that she makes for you out of politness. You can compliment her on her skill. You can even humor her delusions of traditional domesticity in conversation, as you would with your own grandmother. But to willfully engage in perpetuating a system of sexually-segregated menial labor, with words from your own lips and without Fluttershy's express consent beforehand? Rank and utter heresy. You may as well start raping her right now. The best you can manage is a stuttering -
"W-whatcha got there?"
>Fluttershy politely explains that she is making your breakfast, and that she hopes you're hungry because she'll be joining you in the living room for some oatmeal in a minute. Then she gently shoos you out of the kitchen. 

>You sit despondently on the couch, lost in thought as Fluttershy cooks. Two days has not been enough to acclimate you to living out what seems to be your host's own weird domestic fantasy. She caught you off-guard at first, so you had little choice but to play along, but now you're not sure how long you'll be able to last without saying something. She just acts so...''strangely'' around you. Could she be...?
>You look over at the little pegasus as she stirs the pot, humming playfully, her tail twitching back and forth. Suddenly, she looks over at you. A strand of mane falls over her eye, and she blows it out of the way once, twice. The third time's the charm, and she giggles and smiles at you. Woodenly, you smile back. Her look says everything. Dear gods. You should have seen the signs. Fluttershy is...''infatuated'' with you.
>This explains everything - her motherly behavior, her clinginess, her doting on you hand and foot. She'd been so eager to try to make you feel comfortable around her from the moment she met you that she unwittingly started falling into gendered stereotypes! Poor Fluttershy. You've learned about this very phenomenon in Women's Studies. Your professor calls it "Barbie and Ken syndrome." It's an insidious process in which even an otherwise free-spirited womyn, in a misguided attempt to secure the attention of a male they happen to like rather than approach him as an equal non-gendered person, "plays house" with him. She may insist on cooking meals for him, doing chores, doting on him when he's hurt or ill, acting in stereotypically feminine ways and attempting to call the male's attention to how stereotypically female she is acting, even going so far as to perform depraved, male-centered sex acts. MRA's and other unsavory types like to use this kind of behavior as ammunition in their sick political games, claiming that it proves that womyn naturally behave according to patriarchal mores, but in reality it's the centuries of violent imposition of those mores that have been psychically imprinted into our culture, oppressing women to this day, even without their conscious knowledge. You gulp as you mentally check off all the signs that Fluttershy has shown...all but one. How long before she attempts to act out the final stage of the oppressive patriarchal mating ritual? 
>As flattering as it may be that Fluttershy finds you attractive, the very thought of her forcing herself to please you makes you sick...and...and...''sick''. So sick that it tingles. You begin to think of all the times she's showed you kindness up to now, and the perverse sexual domination going on in her poor oppressed mind every time; serving you, pampering you, tending to your wounds, cooing sweet words of encouragement, tenderly wiping down your sweaty body with washcloths... Your nausea begins to manifest in an erection, and you quickly envision a field of dead kittens. You need to put a stop to this at once.  
>Well...maybe not ''at once'' at once. These things need to be approached delicately, after all. You don't want to hurt her feelings. Fluttershy is under the influence of some very powerful internalized misogyny, here. Much like surgery, you'll have to be careful when excising it so as not to damage her delicate psyche. For her sake, you may need to keep playing along. Just for a while. You wouldn't want her to think that you don't think she's a valuable person, or that you think she's unnatractive. For a horse, you mean. According to horse standards. For horses.
>You suddenly realize that you've been staring at Fluttershy's hindquarters for an indeterminate amount of time, and that she is staring back at you over her shoulder, unblinkingly. She has stopped stirring the oatmeal.
>"Anonymous?" She drops to all fours and turns to face you. "Are you all right?"
"AHHH-haha~ Yes. Perfectly fine. Great. I just...space out occasionally...stare at random spots in front of me. Thinking, you know."
>"Oh? What are you thinking about?"
You place your hands over your lap and press down lightly. "Dead kittens," you mumble.
>"I'm sorry, I didn't catch that?"
"My girlfriend! I was thinking about my girlfriend."
>"Oh, you poor dear. Of course you still miss her. I know you said that Rarity wants to spend some time with us today, but if you like, we could maybe -"
"NO NO NO no no no, no no, no...no. No, that's necessary, really. No need to worry about it right now. In fact, this is a great opportunity for me to take my mind off my girlfriend. Off the fact that she's gone, I mean. That she's missing." 
>Fluttershy seems unsure of what to say next. You cough, and awkard silence ensues as Fluttershy serves you your bowl and the two of you tuck into breakfast.

>After breakfast, you resume work in Fluttershy's garden, much to your relief and her dismay. The state of your hands, in her opinion, leaves you incapable of performing hard labor. You quickly put a stop to her protests by suggesting a temporary compromise until your hands heal or you get a pair of gloves: she can dig holes while you follow with the seed-bag and plant. This seems to satisfy her, and she makes a show of letting you know how helpful even this small task is to her, and how awkard it normally is to drag a heavy sack around in stops and starts, especially for a pony. You have to admit, it works out to be a rather efficient division of labor. Fluttershy's hooves tear up the hard earth like pie crust, and your arms and hands allow you to hold the seed-bag and plant at the same time. 
>Neither of you speak while you work, falling into a rythm that is only interrupted by short breaks where the two of you sit in the shade of a nearby tree and enjoy the company of Fluttershy's animal friends. Their near-sapience takes some getting used to; whereas if a girl on Earth "introduced" you to her pets, it would essentially be a form of small talk, these animals are quite literally Fluttershy's friends and neighbors, and you find yourself trying to make a good impression on them. Luckily, Fluttershy's implicit trust in you seems to put them at ease around you, and your own initial nervousness evaporates as you find yourself attempting conversation with various birds and small mammals while Fluttershy bemusedly offers translations. The time flies by, and in only a few hours the two of you have planted roughly half of Fluttershy's beet plot. You are only interrupted by the sudden arrival of Rarity.
>"Good afternoon, darlings!" Miss Rarity makes quite a sight when you put down your bag to look at her. She's wearing a lavender saddle-mounted parasol, sunglasses, and a sun hat tied down with a silk scarf. Behind her she pulls a small cart, beautifully hoof-painted and studded with gems, that is piled high with packages wrapped in gaudy gift-paper and tied with ribbons. "I come bearing gifts," she says playfully, unhitching herself from the cart. You and Fluttershy walk over to greet her.
>"It's good to see you again, Rarity," says Fluttershy, floating over to give her friend a welcome hug.
>"Ooohh~ It's lovely to see you as well, Fluttershy. It's simply been too long since we spent some quality time together."
"Hello, Rarity," you say with a small wave. "You said you come bearing gifts, but those certainly can't all be for me, can they?"
>"Oh but of course they are, darling! Did you think that when I said I'd help you with your wardrobe that I'd leave you stuck with only two outfits? In a summer with such dreadful heat?" Rarity holds a hoof up to shade her face for emphasis. "Preposterous!"
"Rarity -" you say breathlessly, beginning to sweat with embarrasment as you double-take at the huge pile of gift-wrapped clothing, "don't tell me you spent all yesterday and last night making a dozen outfits just for me, and used all those materials..."
>"Anonymous dear, it was far less trouble than you suppose, and I'll have you know that there are only eight outfits." You sputter, but Rarity waves you off. "Seven sets of simple shirts and slacks, one for every day of the week, and one suit for special occasions. The suit was the only thing that I could honestly say was a bit of an effort; the rest was barely make-work. The time flew by."
>Though you're fairly sure she's downplaying her efforts for your sake, you suppose that it would probably be insulting to Rarity's generosity, not to mention her talent, to press the issue.
"Thank you, Rarity. I know it may not seem like much to you, but a set of hand-made clothes is quite a gift among humans. I don't know how I'll repay you."
>"Think nothing of it, darling. For now, it will be payment enought to see you change out of those dreadful rags and into some proper attire."
>You reach out a hand at one of the packages, but Rarity levitates it out of your reach. "Ah-ah-ah! ''After'' you wash! Fluttershy, be a dear and show Anonymous to where he can bathe. I'll bring along the suit I made and leave it with him so he can have his privacy. I'm terribly excited to see how he'll look, and today is a special occasion, after all."

>You follow Fluttershy back to the cottage, where she grabs you a towel, scrub-brush and a hunk of what looks to be homemade soap. You take them from her and then follow her to a nearby pond, Rarity in tow. The water is surrounded by shady willows, and Fluttershy promises it's secluded from prying eyes, and not too deep. To assure your comfort, she tells all the birds in the area to leave you alone, as well as a few frogs who agree to swim over to the deep end of the pond and not stare. Then Rarity leaves your suit in its package at the edge of the water and the two ponies leave you be.
>Though you're used to taking hot showers every day, which means the cold pond water initially causes your nethers to retract up into your torso, you're so glad to be able to rid yourself of all your accumulated grime that you manage to suck it up and wade in to waist-level. You're not really sure what to do with the scrub-brush since you don't have any fur, so you toss it to the shore and lather yourself up repeatedly with the soap, using your fingernails to scrub yourself when necessary. Before long you're clean as a whistle. For a moment you worry that it might somehow be rude to leave your suds and filth in a pond that belongs to other creatures, but the frogs don't seem to mind. The pond is rather large, and no doubt the soap is organic.
>You dry off with the towel, wrapping your lower body with it in case the ponies decide to come back to check on you for some reason, and then pick up your gift-wrapped suit. The paper is silver, with a pattern of golden fleur-de-lis, and it's tied with a classy black ribbon. You unceremoniously tear it to pieces and examine Rarity's handiwork. You knew before you even asked for Rarity's help that the clothes that she'd make you would no doubt be fancier than you're used to, but looking at what you now hold in your hands, you're certain that if one of your human friends had acquired it for you, it would have bankrupted them.
>You hold up what appears to be an old-fashioned three-piece suit, complete with a waistcoat, undershirt, and an Ascot tie. While you're no expert in matters of historical fashion, its form evokes a distinctly Victorian feeling. The fabric is gray, with subtle white pinstripes, and feels much lighter than it appears; probably cotton, you surmise, it being summer. The coat and waistcoat both have large buttons that appear to be made of mother-of-pearl, and the burgundy Ascot is made of what is unquestionably silk, patterned with dark and tasteful paisleys. Goodness knows precious materials in Equestria don't have quite the same value as they do on Earth, but the sheer extravagance that Rarity poured into this gift leaves you breathless.
>You admire the suit for a while until you begin to shiver from a passing breeze. You fling away your towel and suddenly realize that Rarity doesn't seem to have made you any underthings. Oh well; how was she supposed to know? You don't even know if ponies wear undergarments when they choose to wear clothes. In any case, you've gone commando before. It'll be a privelege to do so in such fancy duds.
>Figuring out exactly how to get into your new outfit takes a while, and you're only halfway through buttoning the waistcoat when you hear Fluttershy and Rarity calling your name.
"I'll be there in a minute!" you shout. 
>After your battle with the many flaps and buttons is complete, you look down at your feet and realize that in addition to your lack of underpants, Rarity has not provided you with new shoes or socks, either. Unwilling to put your nasty socks back on, and unsure if walking around barefoot would gross ponies out, you hurriedly slip your bare feet into your sneakers and begin to jog out to meet your friends. You stop yourself, backtracking to the edge of the pond to take a quick peek at your new look. You let out a low whistle. You're not one to brag, but damn - spend what must be a thousand dollars' worth of tailoring on you, and you clean up well. You look like a gentleman out of a Dickenson novel. Grabbing your old filthy clothes, you dash out from the seclusion of the willow trees and spot your pony gal-pals milling around giggling. When they notice you, they both gasp. Fluttershy in particular seems taken aback; whether from your looks or from the effort Rarity put into accentuating them, you don't know.
>"A-Anonymous!? Is that really you?"
>Wow, geez, you didn't think you looked that bad before. Then again, you already know that Fluttershy was attracted to you from the start. It must be the shock of seeing you in a completely different outfit.
>For her part, Rarity seems to have surprised even herself. "Uuuwahaha~! I knew my designs were fabulous, darling, but on you - on you -" Unable to finish her sentence, Dress Horse settles for circling you with a rapturous expression on her face.
"That good, huh?"
>"You look so...''different''," says Fluttershy, hiding her face behind her hooves. "Do your people wear things like that all the time? It fits you so well..."
"As a matter of fact, this style would be considered -"
>You nearly say "old-fashioned", before catching Rarity's beaming eyes.
"- very high-class," you say with a wink. Rarity dances in place in response.
>"Uhuhuhuhu~! I don't wish to toot my own horn, but what can I say; I'm a natural! We simply ''must'' take advantage of how dashing you look, at once!"
"What did you have in mind, Rarity?"
>The unicorn's eyes gleam mischieviously for an instant, but it's gone as soon as you notice. She trots over to Fluttershy's side with a haughty air. "I know ''just'' the thing. But first, let's go out for lunch. You poor dears must be famished after after so much...''yard work.'' Follow me!" With that, Rarity canters off in the direction of Ponyville, and with a mutual shrug, you and Fluttershy follow behind.

>You make a small detour through the backdoor of Fluttershy's cottage to retrieve your chair and then rejoin your two pony friends out front as they amble towards Ponyville. Though your suit is light and breathable, between the bright sun and the load you're forced to carry you're worried about rendering it as sweaty as the clothes you just changed out of. Luckily, Rarity doesn't lead you and Fluttershy very far in search of lunch. You recognize the cafe from an episode of the show - open-air with bales of hay for seats and yet with a fancy French-style waiter and menu. You wonder with amusement whether the proprietor of this place gave up searching for a venue halfway on the road to Canterlot or if they were born here and are trying to be avant-garde.
>As the three of you take your seats at a table (allowing the mares to take the two hay bales while you unfold your personal chair), you notice that your new clothes appear to be attracting many curious stares. It occurs to you that since even Fluttershy almost didn't recognize you after you changed outfits, these ponies might think Equestria already has a new human visitor. In any case, you decide to ignore them; you came on this little date to work on solidifying your friendship with Rarity and Fluttershy, not to worry about your public image. That will take care of itself after you have the Mane Six eating out of your hand. 
>It doesn't take you long via process of hay-limination to pick something from the menu, and as the waiter scurries off you take the opportunity to socialize. You start with Rarity, conscious of the fact that she must have brought you out on the town with her and Fluttershy for a reason; to "take advantage of how dashing you look," she had said. For whose advantage? Hers, or Fluttershy's? Did she already sense the pegasus' affection for you? Is she playing the part of chaperone, and if so, is it out of suspicion or of approval? You formulate your opening words carefully.
"So, Rarity, Fluttershy tells me that you're in the habit of making sure your friends are always immaculately dressed. I feel a bit better accepting your generosity knowing that it's because you already consider me a friend. I suppose that I have Fluttershy's kind words about me to thank for that?" you ask, darting a glance at Fluttershy to gauge her reaction.
>Fluttershy merely blinks, her face inscrutable, waiting for Rarity's response.
>"Of course Fluttershy only had nice things to say about you at the welcome party, and after meeting you I can see why! You cut the figure of a perfect gentlehuman. But if you wanted to thank anyone for letting me know all about your good side, it would have to be Sweetie Belle. She's quite taken with you, you know, even from the first moment she saw you. You're all she talks about, of late. I think you can imagine how exciting it is for a young pony to get to meet a visitor from a far-away land that nopony's even heard of before; and for your part, you've been most accomodating of her curiosity."
"Heh, what can I say - I'm an open book," you lie casually. "Though, I can't say I've done much to earn that kind of acclaim. All I did was answer some questions and let her and her friends give me a very excellent walking tour of Ponyville."
>"Children make friends very easily, it's true. But, I find, they are also very excellent natural judges of character," Rarity says with smiling eyes.
>''Some of the time'', you think to yourself. Rarity doesn't seem to have yet caught on that Fluttershy's kindness to you rested on a bed of perverse lust. Perhaps she hadn't had enough time to observe your interactions with her friend. Yet you need some form of outside confirmation that your suspicions are one-hundred percent accurate. You decide to keep pressing.
"Well, I don't doubt your sister's instincts, of course. It's just that, aside from testimonials, you and I haven't exactly had a lot of time to get to know each other, and yet you've shown me as much generosity as you'd show any one of your closest friends. I naturally assumed that Fluttershy must have played a part in that, since she's spent the most time around me out of anypony."
>You spot the faintest trace of a blush on Fluttershy's cheeks, but she remains silent.
>"I place a great deal of faith in my friends, Mr. Anonymous," says Rarity, a twinge of confusion lurking behind her switch to formality. "You'll find that all six of our number do the same, and for good reason. If Fluttershy considers you a friend, then that makes you a friend of mine, as well. There's really nothing more to it."
>Damn it, Anonymous, you're making an ass of yourself. Rarity is obviously a little hurt that you'd question her reasons for trusting you, even though that wasn't your intention. All you wanted to know is what Fluttershy really thinks of you. You're sure you know, but you need to be ''certain''.
>Fluttershy surprises you by breaking the tension. "I don't think Anonymous means anything by being a little suspicious, Rarity. It's true that he hasn't had a lot of time to earn our trust, and I get the sense from my time with him that trust doesn't come as easily to humans as it does to ponies - meaning no offense, Anonymous. If that's the case, I'm sure they have a good reason."
"She's right," you say, jumping in quickly. "I didn't mean to imply that you or anypony else had ulterior motives for helping me. It's just that as Fluttershy said, trust doesn't come as easily in my homeland as it has since I arrived here. To be honest, I'm a little taken aback with it all. You, and Fluttershy, and everypony else I've met so far have treated me like one of your own without so much as a favor from me beforehand. I've never encountered that level of kindness before."
>"Well darling," says Rarity without missing a beat, "as I told you at your welcome party, Equestria is a lovely place to be stranded."
>If Rarity had been a little miffed before, she now seems perfectly comfortable again, and just in time for the conversation to be smoothed over by the arrival of your food.

>The three of you eat in relative silence, Rarity and Fluttershy catching up with each other's recent goings-on in three or four sentences in-between dainty mouthfuls. When you've finished, you wipe your mouth with a cloth napkin in what you hope is a gentlemanly fashion and reach for your wallet, only to remember with sudden embarrasment that you no longer posess one. Apparently your poker face isn't very good, because Rarity playfully chides you.
>"Still feeling indebted, darling? Well, that feeling is only going to get worse if you dwell on it, especially when you find out where we're going next," she says, slapping a small gem on the table to pay for everyone's meals. At least Fluttershy is only marginally less poor than you, you reflect.
"...and where are we going next?"
>"I'm curious, too, Rarity. You're acting as if you've got a surprise lined up for us."
>"It wasn't going to be a surprise, but now that you mention it, that sounds like a rather fun idea. I shall keep you both in suspense until we arrive. Speaking of which, we should hurry - we wouldn't want to be late for the train."
"Train?" Oh dear Faust, where is Dress Horse planning on taking you? You were looking forward to spending tonight studying with Twilight.
>"Indeed. Last one there's an ugly stitch! Uuuwahahaha!~" The unicorn dashes off in what must be the direction of the train station, giggling like a mad mare. This cannot bode well. You turn to Fluttershy, and the two of you yet again shrug and then trot together after your unusually playful chaperone.
>What in the world could Rarity be up to? you wonder as you step up onto the train platform a few minutes later. The only place she could be taking you that counted as a day's jaunt was Canterlot, as far as you knew, but considering that it's already the afternoon, and counting the trip back, there's no chance you'll be home with Fluttershy before bed. This must be one hell of a surprise.
>You board the waiting train, noting with interest that you don't appear to need a ticket. Socialized public transportation? Somehow you did't expect that, despite how utopian Equestria seems. Then again, perhaps it's just part of Celestia's royal largesse, intented to make her slave-subjects feel as if they're getting something in return for allowing themselves to be tyrannized. You note wryly that Canterlot is centrally located in Equestria, and must therefore be the nexus of Equestria's railway network. All roads lead to Rome, indeed - where the God-Empress can keep a close eye on everyone.
>You take your seats at the back of the train, the front having already been filled up with very well-dressed passengers. You must have arrived just before the train was scheduled to leave, because the platform hadn't been crowded. If all these swanky passengers were from Ponyville, you wondered what the occasion was that they'd put on clothes. Perhaps a visit to Canterlot was special enough in itself, but given Rarity's behavior you begin to suspect otherwise. You wonder if you're prepared for surprises at this stage. Out of an old habit you developed to focus during times of stress, you take stock of your situation as if this were a real fantasy adventure; or, at least, as if it were a ''computerized'' fantasy adventure, you think with amusement. It's certainly real enough.
Current Quest: ??? [ ]
Side Quests: Confirm Fluttershy's Infatuation [ ], Let Fluttershy Down Gently [ ], Befriend Rarity [ in progress ] 
Inventory: Bespoke Carousel Boutique Suit, Sneakers, Custom Folding Chair
Stats: Dissemble 99, Wield Hoe 1, Knowledge (Liberal Arts, Women's Studies) 25
>Calmed, you settle into your corner next to the window (Fluttershy insisted, since you haven't seen the view before) and announce your intention to take a nap. You're not particularly tired, but train rides always make you sleepy, and you'd like to spend some time thinking before you doze off. This almost seems to disappoint Fluttershy, but you explain to her that you'll make an effort to stay awake on the trip back so that you can view the scenery together, and she cheers up.
>With a whistle, a lurch, and a huge puff of steam, the train takes off, and the rythmic clatter of the wheels on the tracks begins to slowly work its magic on your eyelids as you stare out the window in contemplation. Your attempts to verify Fluttershy's feelings for you fell flat during lunch, which was frustrating. If anyone could tell whether your suspicions are correct, it's Rarity, but she's either oblivious or is being coy. This whole third-wheel type setup seemed odd to you from the get-go, but who is the third wheel? You, or Rarity? Fluttershy's behavior so far seems to speak for itself, but your naturally rigorous logical habits compel you to find at least one secondary point of verification. It'd be really awkward if this was somehow a big misunderstanding. Still, you're almost a hundred percent sure you're right, and if you are, you're going to have to do the right thing and get Fluttershy to confess, and then...
>...and then you fall asleep.

>You are Rarity.
>You're feeling absolutely fabulous right now, and it has less than usual to do with your ensemble, though you must admit that your sun hat and silk scarf combination is perfect for the weather and occasion. Across from you in the traincar sits your dear friend Fluttershy, and next to her in the window seat sits an immaculately dressed human named Anonymous, the only one you've ever met. By this point you also consider him to be a friend, even if he doesn't seem to believe it yet. No matter; by the end of the day he won't have a doubt. It's for this reason, and out of excitement for what will certainly be another magical visit to Canterlot, that you can't help but hum softly to yourself with elation as you watch the scenery roll by in the window. Anon is asleep at the moment, sitting in that curiously upright fashion that seems natural to humans, his head lolling off to one side. You were a little afraid he might snore, but thankfully that doesn't seem to be a thing humans do; instead, he breathes gently through that odd little snout of his and mumbles quietly to himself from time to time. You wonder what sort of fantastical scenes from his homeland he must be dreaming about at the moment, and whether it's a good dream.
>You hope that it is, but ever since you met the young fellow you got the feeling that something is troubling him. You can't put your hoof on it, exactly, but your natural attention to social graces lets you see right through his polite and well-spoken exterior. In his eyes you see the same look of existential bewilderment that you once saw in Spike's eyes when he set out on his quest to follow the dragon migration. It's the look of someone who isn't sure who they are or where they belong, and as with Spike, it saddened you greatly. The oddest thing about it, when you gave it some thought, is that it doesn't seem to be due to his being stuck in Equestria. You don't know whether he's simply putting on a brave face, but you never once got the sense that Anonymous felt homesick, per se. Rather, he seems quite at home in Ponyville, almost like he'd been there before. And he knew ''just'' how to act with Sweetie Belle and the other fillies... His mind seems troubled by something else entirely, and you have no idea what it might be. 
>You wonder if Fluttershy might know. She's naturally grown very close to Anonymous in the few days since he arrived, being the first pony he met, in Ponyville at least. You haven't spoken with her about him since Pinkie's welcome party, and are curious to find out what she knows. Now that Anonymous is asleep, it's the perfect opportunity for a private chat before the day's excitement begins. Anything you might find out that could help you make Anon feel more comfortable would be useful.
>Fluttershy sits with her legs tucked demurely up under her, facing the aisle, just like you. You silently get up from your seat out into the aisle and stretch your legs in as ladylike a fashion as possible, and then wave a hoof at Fluttershy to follow you. She glances over at Anonymous and then shakes her head, not wanting to leave him alone. You roll your eyes and wave harder a second time, and this time Fluttershy gets up and follows you, a curious look on her face.
>You lead her into the next car, which like all the others is brimming with fancily dressed ponies ready for a night on the town. You manage to find an empty booth and take a seat next to the window, using your magic to open it and let in some fresh air.
>"There now, isn't that better, darling? I didn't want to wake Anonymous, but it was getting a little stuffy in that car, wasn't it?"
>"That's not why you brought me with you, is it?" It wasn't a question.
>"Well, no...I was thinking we could have a little chat. You see, I'm a tad concerned about Anonymous. Something seems to be bothering him, and I was wondering if you might know what it was. I just want him to have a good time with us today."
>"So you've noticed it, too? At first I thought he was still homesick, but now I'm sure that can't be it."
>"And why is that, darling? I don't think he's homesick, either, mind you, but it seems strange that he wouldn't be, doesn't it?"
>"That's just it, Rarity. The first night he spent at my cottage, he had a nightmare and woke me up. I told him that he might be homesick and he agreed, and I think he meant it at the time, but..."
>Fluttershy pauses contemplatively for a few moments, her mind on the cusp of some realiziation.
>"Go on, Fluttershy. What is it?"
>"I don't know. Since then, he hasn't seemed too worried about being stranded here. He hasn't talked about his girlfriend Chloe, either. He must have loved her an awful lot to leave home forever for her sake, but he doesn't seem too interested in finding her. In fact, he told me that today's outing would be a chance for him to take his mind off of her."
>"Oh, well of course he wouldn't want to be reminded of his two biggest problems, darling! Surely you can see that?"
>"I know...it must be really painful for him. Yet, he doesn't act that way. He seems more concerned with trying to fit in in Ponyville. Maybe he took my words to heart, after all."
>"What did you say to him?"
>"When he woke up from that nightmare, I told him that even though he couldn't go home, he could try to make Ponyville his new home. That seemed to make him feel better for a while. But then earlier today he started acting...strangely." Fluttershy looks very uncomfortable, as if she doesn't want to continue.
>"However do you mean?" you plead, a note of concern in your voice.
>Fluttershy paws the floor nervously. "I was making breakfast, and I turned around to say something to him, and I found him, umm, staring. Not ''at'' me, I don't think. More ''through'' me." Fluttershy's blush belies her words, but what she's implicitly suggesting is too silly for you to countenance at the moment. You let her continue. "Anyway, he had obviously been lost in thought about something. It wasn't his look that was strange, it was how he reacted to me catching him thinking about whatever it was he was thinking. He said he had been thinking about his girlfriend, and I started to suggest that if he was feeling badly that we could postpone our outing today, but that seemed to upset him somehow. That's when he said that he'd like to get his mind off of his girlfriend."
>You blink. "And you don't believe him?"
>"It's not that. It's the way he said it. But oh! I'm being silly. I can't read his mind. I've never met a human before, and even if I had, I can't guess what he's thinking after only two days. This whole conversation is silly." The abashed little pegasus allows her mane to fall over her eyes.
>"Please understand, Fluttershy darling, I'm not asking for gossip. You don't have to tell me anything private. I just think that perhaps there's something wrong with Anonymous that he's not telling us. As his friends, I think it's our job to help him if we can."
>Fluttershy perks up semi-indignantly. "Of course it is! I just don't want to go making guesses about what he is or isn't thinking, when we hardly know him at all!"
>A few dignified-looking ponies turn their heads questioningly in Fluttershy's direction. She utters an "Eeep!" and falls silent.
>"You're right, dear, of course you are. Just promise me one thing, will you? Keep an eye on Anonymous. If something ''is'' bothering him, I want him to feel like he can talk to us. You understand?"
>Fluttershy nods, and the two of you enjoy a companionable silence for quite some time before going back to check on your new human friend.