Day twenty-two of the most miserable month ever. The bell rings overhead as you stagger your way into Sugar Cube Corner. Most of the customers are oblivious to your entrance, which is just fine, but you aren’t so lucky when it comes to the help behind the counter.

“Hey stranger!” Pinkie Pie says with a squeal. “It’s been ages since you stopped by!”

“It’s been a week,” you deadpan.

Pinkie recoils in surprise, her glittery lips popping into a perfectly rounded o-shape as she gawks. “For real? That’s like, four forevers. What were you doing away for so long?”

“I don’t want to talk about it.” You really don’t. It’s just too much right now. Pinkie tries to press you further, but you cut her off with your order, pay the gal, and then hurriedly move off to a dark corner where you won’t be disturbed.

Or, well, you would, but dark corners are in short supply in the candy-colored wonderland. So you settle for a corner booth instead. The perfect location to sit, stew and enjoy some of Sugar Cube Corner’s confections without having to look at anyone else. Even still the Corner was never an ideal place to sulk, but venues for brooding are in short supply these days, and you’re cursed with a terrible sweet tooth. So, you could opt to stay at home, or head down to the store and derive at least some pleasure from an otherwise miserable day.

That was the plan anyway. But it seems that someone wasn’t having any of that.

“How’s it taste?” Pinkie chirps in your ear. As would be expected, you jerk back, jamming your shoulder against the wall thanks to the sudden motion. As the pain rockets through your arm, you take time to make another notch in why this day is absolutely awful.

Glaring at the grinning girl, you reply, “It’s fine. Thanks.” You hope you held back just enough of your ire to help Pinkie get the hint that you don’t want to talk, but without scaring her off. From the way she’s cheesing however, it looks like you intentions went clear over her head.

“Super!” she declares, sitting down in the space you just vacated. The two of you sit in silence, staring at one another for a whole five seconds before she speaks again. “So what’s wrong with you, Bugaboo?”

“Nothing,” you say. At least you try, before Pinkie presses her finger to your lips.

“Aw, don’t give me that,” she says in a tone that’s both teasing and concerned, “because you look as lonely as the last cupcake of the batch.” With a smile and a bat of her eyes, she leans in close. “So, what’s eating you?”

Well, she’s not gong to back off without an answer, so you give her something totally amorphous. “It’d take too much time to go off one by one. Let’s just say that my life is like a country song.”

“Omigosh,” Pinkie gasps, bringing a hand to her mouth. “Did your truck break down and your pupper run away? That’s awful!”

Before you can explain what you mean, Pinkie’s bounced up from your former seat and rushed back over to the counter. Quick as a flash, she’s back with a plate piled high with Corner Confections. Similes are, apparently, lost on the airhead, who is balancing a bit of honey-glazed sweetness on her fingers in an attempt to get you to open your mouth. You sigh and push her hand aside.

“Look, Pinkie, you’re over reacting. It’s just- it’s been a really bad month. That’s all I want to say about it, okay?”

The frizzy-haired girl frowns, choosing to stuff the sweet into her own mouth and chew with what might be a thoughtful expression. Her lips give a few lewd smacks while she wipes off her fingers, and then she smiles at you again. “Well, okay. You don’t want to talk. But what about cuddling?”

What?

“What?”

“Yeah, you heard me,” Pinkie grins, scooching into your personal space again. “You might not want to talk, but we don’t have to talk to make you feel better, right?” The invasion of pink along the western front continues as she creeps closer. “I mean I could just sit here, next to you, all nice and quiet.”

“Pinkie, I don’t think you know the meaning of the phrase, ‘nice and quiet’.”

“Well, maybe not totally quiet, but I know that I’m super-de-duper cuddly. See, I could sit like this,” she says, saddling up next to you. After a moment, she takes your arm and casts it over her shoulders, “And you could hold me like this. And then.” She pauses for dramatic effect, before taking your hand and placing it above her navel. Her voice trembles in a mix of airy lightness and excitement. “And then you could rest your hand all comfy, cozy riiiiiight here.”

And there it is, the legendary Ponka Paunch, squishy warm and waiting underneath your fingertips. Pinkie would never be confused for a skinny girl, even with her excitable lifestyle, but that doesn’t stop her from being pleasantly plump in the right places. Her belly is no exception, an adorable muffintop that is certainly hefty, but still sits high and unhanging above the waist of her pants; truly a testament to the solid musculature beneath her rubenesque exterior.

Your fingers inadvertently twitch, earning a delighted giggle from the girl under your arm. “It’s okay, you don’t have to be scared, nobody can see us here, and I’ve got a while left on my break.” Nestling her cheek up against your shoulder, the adorable airhead bats her baby blues and offers a tender smile. “You just relax and give me a good squeeze; I promise you’ll feel all better, m’kay?”

This girl is completely bonkers. And has zero understanding of personal space. But even still, you can’t stop your fingers from spreading out over the soft orb underneath your palm. To her credit, Pinkie does little more than giggle and gasp as you explore the space, but a quick look up at her face shows that she’s biting her lip to keep quiet. After a short while investigating, you decide that it couldn’t hurt to give her a squeeze. So you do.

Your fingers don’t sink in nearly as far as you might expect before they hit the muscle underneath, but the pliable space slides up past your first knuckle, making it possible to kneed her belly. Pinkie gasps and giggles again, sliding her cheek further down your shoulder, now resting on your chest. As you work her tummy, she asks, in a slightly breathless state, “So? What do you think?”

How do you even answer that? “It’s, uh, squishy?”

“Yeah,” Pinkie says with a smile, massaging the other side of her belly with her hand, “I know. But its super fun to play with and I always feel better afterwards.” As she speaks, she turns her upper body so that her chest squishes against you. “Anyway, am I the best cuddle buddle ever, or what?”

It’s really hard to argue with her, so you just bob your head, much to her delight. Then, without another word, she turns back into your chest and closes her eyes, letting you get back to the task of working her over like a stress ball. The girl’s not-quite-modest weight is pressed firmly against you and, if you’re being honest, the closeness and warmth of her body against yours, and against your hand, well, it’s kind of nice. Really nice. So nice that you don’t really want it to end when she finally pulls away twenty minutes later.

“Oof, that was a good’un,” Pinkie grins, stretching her arms over her head. “How about it, feeling good?”

“Feeling better,” you admit, not quite ready to relent on the idea that, aside from one bright spot, this entire month has been awful. “Thanks Pinkie.”

Despite your appreciation, the junior baker looks rather put off. Puffing out her cheeks, she pouts at you for a moment, then smiles wide. “Well, at least it’s a start. But how about, next time you’re feeling down in the dumperoonis, you come see me, and we’ll squish all those troubles away?” Without waiting for you to respond, she flashes a cheeky grin and adds, “Maybe I’ll let you cuddle something else too?”

Well, regardless of how you’re feeling about the month so far, the rest of it seems like it could be looking up.