>I walk into the store, briskly, the door ringing at my arrival as the clerk stares at me with eager eyes.
>I adjust my own to the interior of the dimly lit comic store.
>“Hello, welcome to Page-Turner’s Comics! Need any help, ma’am?” asks the clerk.
>I politely shake my head no and smile.
>“Kay, just let me know if ya do then, alright?”
>I quickly mouth an ‘okay’ back with the same smile and a polite nod.
>He probably thinks I’m shy.
>He’s right, too.
>I am.
>The set-up for the shop is quite simple.
>Place isn’t too big nor is it too small — think the size of a slightly larger basement and you’d get the right idea.
>Layout’s pretty simple too; when you walk in just as I had, your first view is straight down to the back of the room where rows upon rows of thick, overfilled long boxes sit atop plastic tables.
>I usually go to those for older issues that date as recent as last month to the last decade, sometimes more.
>The right side of the shop is a long wall with racks holding this week’s new comics by different brands. Multiple number ones make me grimace.
>The long racks go down about half the length of the wall before ending with a large, black, wooden shelf — graphic novels are here.
>Next to them are toys that cover the bottom right corner of the room which travels along the length of the back of the store, and finally end at the bottom left, where older graphic novels begin traveling down racks on the left wall.
>They stop half-way down the wall before collectible trading cards and RPG memorabilia remain.
>Next to those and dominating the majority of the left-top corner (my left) is the clerk at his table.
>Nerdy magazines are there on tiny shelves below the register and more valuable issues behind him, framed on the wall in plastic seals, orange stickers on top with high prices.
>It’s a simple set-up.
 
>It works well for the shop.
>Works well in not looking too overbearing for new customers.
>I begin my way down the right wall’s racks, scanning each row for the next issue of the run I’ve been reading.
>I take my time.
>Typically I glance over the issue I want unknowingly whenever I do this.
>Not today, though.
>Instead, I find it rather quickly and pick it up in my hooves.
>The cover stares at me with a proud image of a stallion with slick black hair, a red cape, and a familiar insignia on his blue suit’s chest.
>A smile breaks its way upon my face when I read the title.
>Superstallion.
>I make my way to the register, ignoring the long boxes as I wind through them.
>The clerk makes eye contact with me in an instant, fixing his glasses.
>“You ready, ma’am?”
>I nod with a smile and place the comic on the table.
>He scans it, rings up the register.
>“Three bits, please.”
>I retrieve the necessary coinage from my bit bag, sliding them on the table to him.
>He picks one up with his hoof, bites it to determine its authenticity, then smiles.
>“Thank you,” he says, placing them in the register. “Would you like a bag?”
“Bag,” I answer quietly, mainly because it was easier than saying, ‘no thank you’.
>As such, he slides the comic into a plastic bag and hands it to me with a receipt inside.
>“Thank you. Come again, ma’am,” he says warmly.
>I — you guessed it — nod with a smile, and head to the exit.
>However, before I walk out the door, I remember that I forgot to say something.
“U-um…thank you…” I say to the clerk in a mere whisper, hoof holding the door barely open.
>He smiles back at me.
>“Your welcome. See ya next week, Fluttershy.”
>My cheeks raise just a bit higher as my smile becomes genuine.
>Unfortunately, it is within an instant I feel the blush beginning to creep upon the skin of my face.
>I quickly make my way out before it may become noticeable…
 
>My walk home was very nice.
>The town is quite lovely an hour after midday I’ve come to discover.
>Just enough working ponies are still out for the end of their lunch-break before heading back to work, and just enough regular passer-byers to make it easy to wind through without feeling as if I’m drowning in a swarm of ponies.
>As such, I wasn’t afraid to stop by the market place on my way home.
>I come by here often at this time of day to make a wish at the fountain.
>It’s a lovely spot with a delightful statue of a pony.
>Don’t know who it is supposed to be of, but I like it.
>I flipped a bit into it, wished that the animals have good dreams during winter when they hibernate, and trotted home before an evening crowd could form.
>When I entered my cottage, I, as usual, greeted my animals and sat down on my loveseat.
>I turned on the fireplace. It’s cold during late-autumn in Ponyville.
>Finally, now I sit here, basking in the glow of my fire, engulfed in warmth with a blanket around me, and the bag containing my comic on my table.
>I’ve greeted my friends, made my wish, and bought my comic.
>Now, it’s time to read it.
>I pull it out of the bag, staring at my hero’s square jaw on the cover, his perfect hair, his assuring smile…Superstallion.
>Sometimes I stare at the covers too long before I read the comic.
>I just get lost looking at him.
>He’s so confident, yet so modest.
>He’s so kind, yet free-spoken.
>He’s so considerate, yet doesn’t back down.
>And what I like best?
>He loves everyone.
>I just wonder, however…if he would love me like I love him.
>I-it’s weird, I know, but it’s true; I love Superstallion.
>Me, a real life pony, loving a fictional comic book character...  
>Crazy, huh?
>It’s been eating me up inside for a while.
 
>I’m obsessed with him. I dream of him at night, I think of him during the day…and when I am at a crossroads, what do I think?
“What would he do?” I sigh to myself.
>I wish I spoke louder sometimes — that I wasn’t so meek…
>I open the comic book and enrich myself in my idol’s ventures.
 
Hours later...
 
 
>I settle myself into the warmth of my bed, sliding under my covers.
>Comfort greets me in its tender embrace, and I take a moment to appreciate my bedroom whilst I still have my bedside candle lit.
>Goodnight, room.
>I blow the last remaining light in my cottage out, and inky blackness covers all I see.
>I’m afraid of it at first — I’ve always been afraid of the dark.
>Not a surprise, no, but still, I always fight to suppress a gasp when I turn off the light.
>I slide deeper under my covers, trembling, whining…I’m scared.
>Then, I ask myself a question: “Wouldn't it be nice if Superstallion could hold me?”
>I blush at such a thought.
>It’s the kind of thought I would have if I were still a teenager!
>However, it brings me such a warmth.
>In fact, I’ve already forgotten about the dark!
>Maybe…maybe I can allow myself to think such thoughts.
>What if Superstallion were to hold me?
>What if he said he loved me?
>The giddiness these questions create cause me to smile.
>My face turns red.
>My thoughts turn lewd.
>What if…what if he were to /kiss/ me?
>Oh, my…
>I picture Clark Canter, his diamond blue eyes gazing into mine, a warm smile on his face as he tells me I’m beautiful the way I am.
>I’d flail my hoof with a girlish giggle, saying he’s such a charmer, him.
>Then, he’d take the very hoof I’d flail, his gaze deepening as we stare at one another.
>H-he then pulls us closer to each other, my heart would be racing, his too…
 
>The moment they’d touch, there’d be a sense of rightness in the world as all would go well.
>The stallion of my dreams, giving me my first ever kiss, holding me with his muscular legs…
>His voice would deepen.
>He’d tell me his secret identity — how Clark Canter and Superstallion are one and the same.
>I’d tell him I knew all along.
>Then, I’d muster the courage to kiss him myself this time and I’d beckon his hoof to my…
“EEP!”
>I startle, sitting up from my bed with heavy breaths and look below my covers, swearing by Luna’s moon that I feel something down...
>It’s my hoof.
>...
>M-my hoof was…
>It was going to…
>…
>I let it stay where it is, allowing my winking clit to gush against my frog.
>A shaky breath escapes my lips, and I feel myself burn with the heat of arousal.
>I…I went too far…
>I should stop, go to bed before I allow my thoughts to let me get carried away.
>But…I never ever done something like this before.
>It feels…strange.
>It feels…
>Good.
>I gently allow my hoof to rub my winking clit, my mare dampening the fur around it with juices I’ve never been bold enough to discover.
“Ooh…”
>A shaky moan shudders out from me.
>I try to keep quiet lest I disturb any animals downstairs.
>I mustn’t wake them up.
>Despite that, I continue to explore the alien sensation I’ve feared to acknowledge my whole life.
>I return to thinking about Superstallion.
>I feel ridiculous…but I feel so good…
“Superstallion…” I hiss quietly, his name bringing me pleasure.
>My wings, stiff, my spine, tingling — I can’t believe that the first time I choose to indulge myself, it is under such odd circumstances, all but brought upon by a silly fantasy and an unorthodox crush.
>I picture myself doing things I’d never do.
>I picture myself doing them to him.
>My thoughts become more daring, and I begin rubbing my soaking marehood, my winking clit, with more fervor.
 
>I suppress the urge to let loose massive moans and contain them as modest whimpers and lewd squeaks.
>I think I enjoy making those noise more, to be honest.
>It feels right.
>Eventually, my abdomen tightens, and a strange, strange pressure builds within me.
>What’s this?
>I’ve never felt it before…
>It becomes more and more powerful, and eventually…
>I blow.
>Oh my goodness.
>I partake in a full-body shudder and bite my bedcovers to prevent myself from crying.
>Oh, how delightful it is.
>My mind becomes dull by the immense euphoria that I’m struck with, enraptured in its divinity.
>My hind legs hitch and twitch, my tail swishing beneath the covers as my muffled cries of intense pleasure reach into silent squeaks.
>My whole lower body trembles as warmth erupts from my marehood, soaking the mattress covers in my liquid love.
>I care not about such things as I succumb to the whims of the ultimate climax.
>When it dies down, so do I, exhausted, sweating like I had just flown for two days straight.
>I roll my eyes, swearing I see a red ‘S’.
>The rest is blank.
>I must need help…
>Tomorrow.
>I must seek help tomorrow...
>Celestia, help me.
 
The following day…
 
>I called Twilight this morning — asked if she would like to have tea with me.
>'I had something I needed to tell her,' I said.
>She’s the only one I think would understand.
>Not that the others wouldn’t be supportive, just that I feel Twilight is best suited to talk about this dilemma of mine.
>She asked if half-past three sounded good.
>It did, and so the date was made.
>As of now, I stare at my mirror.
>I look deep and hard into my own eyes, take a breath and collect myself.
“Twilight, I think I’m in love with Superstallion,” I say.
>It sounds too unsure.
“Twilight,” I say again, trying to add some boldness to the name, “I think I’m in love with Superstallion.”
>It still sounds off.
>I give up, sighing into my hooves in front of the mirror.
>It’s a sight I don’t like to see reflected, me in my own self-pity.
>Makes me feel weak.
>Makes me acknowledge I’m weak.
“Oh, what am I doing?” I ask my reflection, then proceed to brush my mane.
>I don’t want it to look messy when Twilight arrives.
>Not like she’d judge it the way it was right now — it’s just as it usually is — but I still fear that I may give a bad impression of myself to her.
>As the bristles of my brush score through my silky mane, I can’t help but wonder how to bring this troubling topic of mine up to Twilight.
>I mean, I’m in love with Superstallion.
>What will she think?
>Will she give me a look of uncertainty, tilt her head in the way she does with that awkward side-smile?
>Will she act completely normal, masking judgemental thoughts through the visage of comradery?
>I have no way to know.
>I just need to talk to someone about this, and as close as I am to Rainbow, Rarity, Applejack, and even Pinkie; Twilight is the only one that understands being fascinated with fiction and, well, I believe she can, therefore, help me.
 
Not long after...
 
>It’s ten minutes from half-past three.
>Twilight will be here very soon. In fact, considering her punctuality, she’ll probably be here very early.
>I expect a knock on my cottage door in five minutes.
>As such, I work away in the kitchen, boiling a kettle of tea, preparing a tray with two saucers, a small bowl with sugar cubes (I may have had two or three to eat, though) cream, milk, you know how it is.
>Finally, I hear the whistle of the kettle, and I pour carefully into two small cups.
>I place them on their respective saucers and proceed to place the kettle on the tray.
>It’s hard carrying trays when you are a pegasus, especially when you have weak wings like mine.
>I manage, though, but not without accidents every now and then.
>Thankfully, there were no such accidents today as I carry the tray to a small wooden table I’ve placed between my furniture.
>My mother bought me that table, actually.
>It was a small, round, wooden table — ‘perfect enough for wine and tea’ she said.
>I happen to agree with the latter.
>Most likely because I don’t drink wine.
>Suddenly, my thoughts snap away as I hear two firm knocks on my front door.
>I take my first step and freeze in the middle of my second one.
>She’s here.
>I have to tell her now, don’t I?
>Oh goodness, I don’t know if I can do this.
>My heart races, my legs tremble.
>I suppose I could, I don’t know…not answer?
>She might think I’m not home and forgot!
>Yes, that would be opportune.
>Two more knocks.
>“Hello? Fluttershy? It’s Twilight!”
>Again, I could just…oh, who am I kidding?
>I can’t do that!
>It’s not only rude, it’s mean!
>It’s selfish!
>I have to answer the door.
>I set myself into this situation and now I’m going to go through with it.
>I take a breath, and finish my second step, and accost the front door.
“O-one minute, please…” I say.
>She can’t hear me.
>As such, she knocks again.
 
>“Hello? Shy?”
>I open the door, staring at her like I was staring at the barrel of a gun.
“Hi,” I say. “Come in.”
>Twilight tilts her head, giving me a curious look.
>Her forehead wrinkles in thought beneath her horn, and as I seat myself quietly, I make a conscious effort of avoiding her eyes.
>“Um, hi Fluttershy.”
>I tremble like a leaf.
>She’s onto me.
>I don’t know how, but she sees me panicking on the inside.
>Oh, by the sun of Celestia, how I wish I had the gall to run away in fear.
“H-hi,” I say again.
>I sound even quieter.
>Twilight seats herself slowly in the loveseat, me sitting adjacent to her on my sofa.
>“Fluttershy? Are you okay?” asks Twilight.
>I nod, still avoiding her gaze.
>I can tell by her voice that she’s perturbed by my more-timid-than-usual behavior.
“Mhm,” squeak out.
>Twilight doesn’t believe me for an instant.
>I know she doesn’t.
>I feel her eyes, scanning my form as I shakily bring a cup of tea to my lips.
>I try to steady my hoof, seeing the tea slosh in my cup.
>“Fluttershy,” asks Twilight, her voice sincere, “what’s wrong?”
“I…I…”
>Words fumble before I can even make them out for myself, and I start to tremble more and more.
“I-I…um…well…”
>Inside my chest, a sharp flare of fear, anxiety, and panic takes over, my heart races with the force of hundreds of galloping ponies, and I my eyes dart from one place to another.
>My nostrils flare my chest rises.
>I shake more and more and more until finally, I take in a massive breath and say…
“...ᵢ ₐₘ ᵢₙ ₗₒᵥₑ ₛᵤₚₑᵣₛₜₐₗₗᵢₒₙ.”
 
>“I’m sorry, could you repeat that? A little louder, please?”
>I place my cup of tea on my tray.
>I start sniffling, hiding under my hooves.
>I can’t do this.
>What was I thinking?
>How can say I something so weird and embarrassing to one of my best friends?
>As I quiver in a tiny ball upon my couch, trying desperately to hide, I hear a sigh and feel Twilight take a seat next to me on my sofa.
>She shushes me.
>“There, there, Fluttershy. It’s okay. I got you,” she says like a mother would, bringing me into her side, literally taking me under her wing. “It’s okay…”
“I love him,” I say, starting to sob, “I love him, Twilight!”
>Twilight looks at me, petting my mane lovingly.
>“Who?”
“I don’t wanna say it,” I say pitifully, wiping my tears.
>New ones follow instantly.
“But I need to talk to someone about it!”
>Twilight frowns, looking upon my miserable form, convulsing as sadness drains out of my shut eyes and drip onto her slim stomach.
>“I can get Cadance to talk with you,” she says, trying to be helpful.
“Nuh-no…i-it has to be you…” I say. “You’re the only one who’d get it!”
>“Fluttershy…you’re not going to say who I think it is, are you?”
>I shake my head no like a filly.
>“Okay, good. Oh! Um, well, not that that’d be bad, but…er…you know what I mean…but who is it? You shouldn’t be upset, Fluttershy. If you love somepony, you love them, so why are you so upset?”
“Because…” I say, sneaking my hoof under the sofa’s cushions, “he’s HIM.”
>I pull out the comic from yesterday, holding it in front of her.
>She stares at it, silent.
>I fret over what goes through her mind.
>It’s worse when I see her start to speak again.
>“You like…Superstallion?” Twilight asks, blushing as she speaks the name.
 
“Yuh-huh…” I say, nodding in shame.
>I feel awful.
>She’s never going to take me seriously ever again, is she?
>Oh, how I’ve made such a gigantic mistake.
>I’ll be weird forever to her, a princess!
>How could I have let myself done this?
>Why must I be so insecure?
>Twilight takes the comic out of my hooves, studies it and then looks at me.
>Slowly, a look of sympathy and friendliness wrapped into one sad smile slowly emerges onto her face.
>“You love Superstallion,” repeats she.
>With a nod, she lets out a relieved sigh.
>“Superstallion,” she says.
>It’s weird to hear a name you’ve only heard yourself say and think roll off another’s tongue so easily.
>She pulls me into her side again.
>“Superstallion. Not bad, Fluttershy. Not bad.”
>Needless to say, I’m confused.
“Y-you mean you don’t think it’s weird?” I ask, blinking away my tears.
>“Oh, no. It is a little. I just can’t judge, though,” she says with a light smile. “Superstallion was my hero when I was a filly,” she says, a look of nostalgia clouding over her eyes. “…I am, er, sure you know I wasn’t the most outgoing filly, you know…I just had books, Shining, Cadance, and, well…comics!”
 
“But…but it’s weird, right?”
>“A little…but that didn’t bother me from crushing on him when I was young. He was everything I wanted to be…in a way, I’m actually getting close to being like him,” says Twilight sadly, looking at her wings. “When I was forced to leave my parents and brother behind to become a student of Celestia…the only thing I had left from home was Superstallion. And wow, was I obsessed!” she says, laughing a little at the end. “Eventually, I stopped reading his books altogether. I just... well, I didn’t have time. It was no longer important to me. I had studies. I was older. I had a little dragon to care for, lessons to attend, and all at the age of eight years old…I grew a little too fast.”
>I look at her, watching the expressions on her face blur between happy and sad.
>I’ve never heard this from her.
>Never.
>It made me feel…comfortable.
>I felt normal.
>I could talk about myself, and trust her.
>She’s opened up to me.
>I can trust her.
>“Fluttershy,” says Twilight, “go ahead and love him. It’s weird, but it’s not wrong. It’s okay to love…I learned that a long time ago. Just don’t let it hinder who you are. Don’t let it take over. Love it honestly.”
“Yeah, but…I want him to be real…” I tell Twilight. “I want to meet him one day. I love him, Twilight. He’s…he’s the first thing to make me feel this way, but he’s not even real!”
>Twilight holds me tighter, staring me in the eye.
 
>“It doesn’t matter if he’s real or not…” says Twilight. “You love him. You know you do. You have feelings so strong for him that it tugs at your heart everyday. They’re there, aren’t they? Those feelings?”
“Well, yes, but…”
>“Well there you go! It doesn’t matter if he’s real or not, because I promise you this, Fluttershy — he’s real to YOU,” says Twilight, placing a hoof atop my heart. “And guess what? That’s all that matters…”
>I smile.
>I feel the familiar sensation of tears streaming down my cheeks, dripping off my chin.
>My smile wavers as I stifle my new tears.
>I can’t hold it.
>I smile fully as I turn into a mass of hiccuping sobs, and hug into Twilight’s chest.
“Thank you, Twilight,” I say, crying into her. “Thank you.”
 
 
Fin.
 
 
Author's thoughts:
Whew. Not my best, no, but I'd like to think of it as helping me get back into writefagging. I tried to stretch myself with this one a little, writing with a character I have trouble getting -- Fluttershy. I tried making her act shy like a person would (like an actor, I inserted myself into her footsteps, acted shy, and wrote my own timidity as her's) and hope I did her dialogue justice.
 
Twilight was supposed to be Cadance originally. However, I didn't know how to convincingly put the two together. I also felt that it'd be more logical for Twilight, a character in love with stories and books, would be more fitting. Unfortunately, I think writing her dialogue was a bit difficult. I tried a different approach than I'm used to, and I don't think it worked for her. Perhaps I'll stick to my original method with writing her.
 
I'm definitely out of practice with smut. I need to work on it STAT. It was not good enough -- it could be better by a LOT.