> Be Anon, working member of the Coopers' Guild
> Your actual occupation...
> Well, the saying goes "if you want a band around your barrel, see a cooper."
> You're a hugwhore
> It's a fairly comfy job even without the compensated cuddling
> The room you use has a bed, a couch, loveseat, recliner, and a rocking chair
> Tons of pillows
> Soft blankets
> A good fireplace for the colder months
> Hot cocoa supplies, and so on
> And so you wait for your next Jane, content in your place in the world
> The door opens, revealing a slightly pudgy orange unicorn mare, with dark circles under her eyes
> Her short navy mane lies tousled at ear-length
> You welcome her with a warm smile
"Come in, come in. How can I make your day today?"
> She closes the door behind her with a flick of magic, and looks at you with haunted, empty eyes
> "Don't. Don't say what you don't mean. I know I'm not beautiful, or cute, and the only reason why this is happening is because I paid for it."
> You hesitate
> There are mares that like when you talk down to them, that enjoy a stallion pretending to be disgusted about having to cuddle with them
> But you can feel a difference here
"Alright. Hop on up, and tell me what you want."
> The mare climbs up onto the couch next to you, staring at you with a certain wariness that makes your heart break a little
> She lays her head on your lap, and you start petting her automatically
> She sighs, closing her eyes
> "Tell me what you really think about me."
> You consider the matter, her slightly coarse mane sliding under your fingers
"You need to get more sleep, for one."
> She nods, breathing deeply
> You think you know what she needs
"And you would look better if you lost some weight."
> She sniffles at that, but you pretend not to hear
"I get the feeling that you have a hard time reaching out to others, and don't have many friends. Certainly not any close ones."
> A spot of dampness hits your thigh, and now you look down
> The poor mare is thoroughly scrunched, tears leaking from her closed eyes
> You shake your head quietly, and wipe her tears away
> She looks at you, vulnerable and hollowed out by life
> You smile kindly, and gently lift her head
"And you are my favorite kind of customer."
> She stares at you with wide eyes
> "I-I am?"
> You hum an affirmative
"You are. For some ponies, they come to me because I'm convenient, and discreet."
> You gently tug her up into your lap, and lay her head on your shoulder
> She nuzzles your neck instinctively
"They're just satisfying their animal appetite. But ponies like you, well."
> You draw her into a tight hug, breathing in her slightly soapy scent
> She shudders in your arms, wrapping her forelegs around you
"You just want to feel like a pony again, to remember what affection feels like."
> She nods, her hot tears falling on your shoulder
> You stroke her back comfortingly, syncing your breathing up with hers
"You aren't using me, you're asking for my help, when no one else will answer."
> You turn in your seat, leaning back against the armrest of the couch
> The mare melts, her weight and warmth falling on your like a heavy blanket
> She stares at you with wondering eyes, hoping desperately 
"And I love being there for you. I love healing your heart, even if it is just a little bit."
> You peck her cheek, and draw her back into your embrace
"So cuddle with me, and forget about the world for a while."
> She timidly kisses your cheek, before turning her head away
> You chuckle, and stroke her mane
> After a few long minutes pass, she swallows
> "I think I love you."
> Oh, this poor dear
"I care about you, my little mare."
> She starts to shake
> "I- I shouldn't have said that, just for-"
> You shush her gently, patting her withers
"It happens. It's hard to receive affection and not return it. All that I ask is that you leave room in your heart for other ponies you may meet."
> You can feel the motion of her throat as she swallows
> "Alright. I promise."
> She relaxes, almost completely limp on top of you
> You wait, patiently and comfortably
> Her breathing deepens, sleep having finally claimed her emotionally overwhelmed body
> You let yourself drift off, content in a job well done