>Day Hold up thy Sword. In Equestira.
>Fluttershy is reading a book she borrowed from Zecora.
>She laughed it off originally.
>It was kind of stupid.
>Zecora isn't one to judge.
>But even she thought Fluttershy was being silly.
>She sets the book aside and closes her eyes.
>"..o-kay...uhm..."
>She opens on eye and looks back at the book.
>"You...We're g-going to f-force you now."
>"We're in my cottage...and uhm...you look however I want."
>She closes her eyes tight.
>"You're tall...and handsome..and you smell like the ocean-"
>She smiles pleasantly.
>"You smell like the o-ocean mist over a valley...uhm--"
>She stops forcing her eyes closed.
>"You're c-c-cold...no wait. Wait!"
>She opens one eye and drags the book closer to her.
>"...you're physically cold r-right now. N-not emotionally or anything, mister."
>She closes her eyes.
>"And you're a mister. And you're loyal...and s-strong. And you l-love me."
>And she scrunches up her face.
>She begins to get into it.
>She indulges in a scent that is not there, triggered by memory.
>And she feels coldness near her.
>She opens her eyes.
>But you're not there.
>She looks back at the book and flips a page.
>"Oooh. Okay...uhm-"
>She'd been doing this for over a week.
>And she hadn't even turned the page.
>"Y-you need a name."
>She closes her eyes.
>"And you have to look like a-anypony I want, or anything I w-want."
>"You c-can be A-anonymous."
>She begins to get a headache.
>And she holds herself for a bit.
 
>You feel cold.
>Wet.
>Cold and wet.
>And empty.
>You see -her- sitting on the floor of this place.
>Much the same as you are.
>Your flesh is black as ash and riddled with holes.
>You reach forward with a hand but take a moment to examine it.
>Your arm is an eviscerated thing.
>The fingers long and spindly.
>You feel something on your face.
>An expression.
>You rub your hand over your face.
>Sensory explosions run through you.
>You're not just cold and wet.
>You're alive.
>You're thirsting.
>You're empty.
>You try to open your mouth but there is no opening.
>You reach out and touch the leg of this strange yellow creature.
>She opens her eyes.
>She stares at you.
>She...squeals with jubilation.
>"Ohmygoshohmygosh, it worked!"
>She lowers her voice, though it was hardly a whisper from the start.
>"I made you, mister."
>Then her smile starts to fade.
>"...maybe I did it wrong, you look s-scary."
>She puts a hoof over her mouth.
>You reach towards it.
>"..t-too much like a ch-changeling..."
>She closes her eyes. Reliving some trauma.
>"..b-but they ch-change however they want...ju-just like Discord but-"
>You feel your dermis rip and musculature shift.
>Your jaw muscles spasm and a mouth forms with a single jagged fang.
>Your eyes are somewhat off-kilter.
>But you're still burnt black.
"What am I?"
>She opens her eyes and pales.
>"..my tulpa."
 
>Her name is Fluttershy.
>She goes into detail about this book she borrowed.
>The methods within which allowed for your creation.
>How she's not crazy, this is something normal mares do all the time.
>Something in her doubts this. You doubt this.
>She tells grim tales of woe and misery.
>Of these so called Anonymous who have spurned her advances in the past.
>Who have left her destitute and alone.
>And all she wished was to love them.
>"...b-but n-now I have you. A-are you going to love me?"
>There's something pulling at your innards, drawing you towards her.
>She flinches again.
>"...c-can you m-make yourself less sc-scary?"
>You try to get a gauge of what this one constitutes fear to be.
>It is quite a list.
>You are unsure of your capabilities.
>She is the one who makes and changes.
>You bow your head and try to come to form.
"I am as I can be."
>She smiles at you.
>And then she approaches you cautiously.
>"...now the book said I c-could do anything with you."
"It is possible."
>She spreads her legs.
>She presents her loins.
>You gaze skeptically through glowing pale orbs.
>"..d-do me bad boy."
>You reach out a hand.
>A mass of darkness. Matted hair.
>Shadows.
>And it seeps through her.
>She frowns.
>"I said t-touch it!"
>You can feel a lash at your back.
>Your spine, a knotted and blistered thing.
>You try again.
>Nothing.
>She frowns at you.
>"Maybe I did it wrong."
>She scoots away from you and begins looking through her tome.
>You gaze upon your claws and the emptiness comes back to you.
>But the pain lingers.
 
>"..So, it says you're made of my thoughts."
>She looks at you and smiles awkward and nervous.
>"And I used my s-strongest emotions to f-fill you up...so I don't see why you can't love me, mister."
>You try to think.
>You try to focus.
>"..I should just start over...I'm sorry."
>She closes her eyes.
>And the lash.
>That black lash of torment is at your throat.
>You burn.
>You writhe in silent pain.
>You just wished to be loyal.
>To be strong.
>You are the sum of her parts.
>You can be nothing she is not.
>You are a fool, born of weakness.
>Made only to suffer and weep as you die bitter and alone.
>And she must feel this exact way.
>You struggle with movement towards her.
>If you concentrate hard enough.
>The lash tears at your throat.
>It rends across flesh.
>Milky, pale, mortal flesh.
>You feel arrows in your back now.
>Impaled through.
>The black blood of thought-stuff leaks from your wounds.
>Every inch is a mile.
>But you cannot die like this.
>You are no weaker than she.
>And if she has strength enough to kill.
>You have strength enough to move.
>You can feel the loss now.
>But she's just an arm's length away.
>You reach out for her.
>You cannot speak.
>But you plead for such a kindness to whatever higher power than she brought you here.
>You put a hand on her hoof.
>She shudders and opens her eyes.
>They're beautiful in all their terribleness.
>You collapse.
>"Oh...oh no."
 
>You awaken.
>Can you even rest?
>You lay on the floor of a cottage.
>Smoke rising from your wounds.
>The yellow one looks at you with a small smile.
>"Momma's so happy she didn't...uhm...sorry about---I thought I m-made you wrong."
>You raise up your hands to console her.
>But you cannot lift them more than an inch.
>They are bandaged flesh.
>You cough.
>More of the darkness leaves your lungs.
"Why?"
>"...I didn't finish reading the chapter. J-just the how-to section."
>She frowns and looks around her cottage.
>Dozens of small animals are looking at her strangely.
>"N-nobody else can see you."
>And then she smiles again.
>"You're all mine."
>And you feel cold and damp again.
>"And s-since you c-can t-touch me."
>You are but a figment of an imagination.
>You exist on a whim and can die all the time.
>"M-maybe...if y-you wanted to m-mister..we c-could d-do it."
>You close your eyes.
>But all you can see is her.
>"...y-you should be a little thankful mister, I m-made you...and I l-let you stay."
>And in your closed eyes and imagined mind you can see why she let you stay.
>A thousand terrible scenarios.
>Every time a loss on her part.
>Scorned by humanity.
>Forsaken by her peers.
>Seen as weak, fragile, flawed.
>And kind throughout it all, save for when this was replaced with the darkest emotion.
>She wished for love.
>Physical love.
>And that's the only reason you're here.
>Your entire existence, nothing more than a rag doll of consciousness.
>Built for her gratification.
>You plant a hand on the ground and lift your wounded frame.
>Nude.
>She's smiling at your genitals.
>They're as she wished.
>You think therefore you are.
>Clothing, little more than a long surcoat.
>She frowns.
>"You...you're supposed to do what I say, m-mister."
 
>She's speaking to you as though you are but a servitor to her whims.
>You know what sort of future you have here.
>And the only other alternative.
>A bargain for mercy.
"I...am not you. I am--"
>She shakes her head, cutting you off.
>"No, you're m-mine. M-made from m-my thoughts."
"I am... conscious of myself. I am not just you."
>She frowns.
"As you are not just...meat."
>You say it with a sickened tone.
>She looks a little disgusted as well.
>A route to pursue and consider if she lashes you.
"This shall be a partnership, shall it not?"
>She knocks her hooves together.
>"...can y-you just s-stick a f-finger in my c-c-cooch?...please?"
>You feel obliged.
>She is your creator.
>But you must define yourself in these moments.
>Or else she can remake you to such purposes.
"...I will be strong. I will be loyal. But you must see me as something beyond you."
>She rolls her eyes.
>"I c-can just close my eyes and y-you'll disappear."
>There's something to her tone.
>It's not a threat, nor is she sure of it.
>She just wants to feel control.
>You can relate.
>"You r-really are nothing without me, mister...if that's uhm...okay with you."
"You had to put me through great pain and risk for me to merely graze your hoof."
>You let an unseen wind blow your hair and feel the breeze of the ocean.
>She's smiling at you.
>Like you're what she wants to be in this situation.
>Like you're here little toy and she wants you to feel heroic right now.
>"...okay Anonymous-tulpa. B-but we're going to be forcing a lot. And when you have a-any strength..."
>You feel insignificantly small, perhaps because now you are.
>She presents her glistening vagina at you.
>"Y-you're going to fu-fuck Fluttershy."
>You can see why others have reacted the way they have to her approach.
>You reach out an arm and feel it fade into her like mist enveloping a rock.
>Sadly, you cannot run.