Agoraphobic NEETpone and Anon part 4

>You were now Anon.
>You’d never cuddled like this with Floor Bored before.
>It was nice.
>But your legs were falling asleep.
>If you didn’t get up now you weren’t going to be able to get up at all.
>Bad circulation was the curse of a sedentary lifestyle.
>You pulled away from Floor Bored and started working your way up.
>Your right foot was OK, but you couldn’t even tell you were putting any weight on your left foot.
>You started shaking it to get the feeling back.
>That awful, prickly feeling of your nerves rebooting was starting to crawl up your leg.
>Floor Bored was standing against you with her tail curled around you right leg.
>She made eye contact with you, then looked down to where you were touching.
>You could see her eyes widen before she jumped away from you.
>HNNNG
>Your heart bled for this little catpone.
>Speaking of bleeding her wound was still seeping blood.
>You looked down at your shirt where she’d pressed herself against you and you could see a bright, red stain.
>You suddenly became aware of how uncomfortable your wet clothes were.
>Like a thousand, little sucking tentacles were wrapped around your body, weighing you down like they were trying to drag you under the water.
>Your only recourse was to wiggle like a toddler who didn’t want to eat his vegetable mush.
>Or, you know, get out of your clothes.
>You shucked your shirt off you like it were a corn husk, and you yanked off your stretchy pants.
>You almost took off your underwear, but then you remembered you were in polite company.

>”I… I didn’t mean to bleed on you. I’m sorry about your shirt” Floor Bored said.
>She was averting her eyes and her blush had returned.
>You took a moment to compose yourself. You had never been comfortable being around other people without being fully clothed.
>It kinda helped to think of Floor Bored as a cat.
>Your cat back on Earth liked to curl up around your legs while you pooped and that never bothered you.
“It’s fine.” you said. “You’re the only one who’ll see me in it anyway, so it’s not like it’s been ruined. I just. I don’t like wearing wet clothes.”

>You walked over to the cabinet where you’d left the isopropyl.
>The toilet was next to it, so you closed the lid and sat down on it.
“C’mere, let me take a look at your leg.” you said while patting your knee.
>Floor Bored stayed where she was.
>You could see a grimace on her face.
>She was fidgeting the same way you did when you were about to do something you didn’t want to do.
“It’s alright, I’ll be gentle.”
>Floor squeaked.
>It took you a moment to realize what it sounded like you were saying.

>”No, no, no! It’s!” She huffed. “AAAAAGH!”
>”YOUDIDN’THURTMEIDIDTHISTOMYSELFPLEASEDON’TFEELBADJUSTLEAVEMEALONEI’LLTAKECAREOFITMYSELF.”
>wat
“Wat”
>She took in a deep breath before walking up to you and grabbing your hand between her hooves.
>She was failing to pull you off the toilet.
>”C-mon! Just go-I’ll-I’ll take care of it myself!” She grunted while you stayed where you were.
“Floor, what do you mean you did it to yourself?”
>”C’mooooooon.”
>You picked her up and sat her on your lap.
“No.”
>You held her with one arm while you fumbled to unscrew the rubbing alcohol with your other hand.
>”You don’t understand, this isn’t your problem! Lemme go!”
“Floor, it’ll always be my problem if you’re hurt.”
>You grabbed her chin and forced her to look at you.
“Now tell me what you meant when you said you did this to yourself.”

>Her eyes were shut tight and her nose was all scrunchied up.
>She couldn’t easily fight your grip on her chin, but she tried when she shook her head “no”.
“FLOOR.”
>You weren’t trying to shout. You were trying to imitate your old Papanon’s Authority Voice™. >Against another human it would have sounded weak and pathetic.
>It probably would have sounded weak and pathetic to most ponies, too.
>But you and Floor Bored were both weak and pathetic, so it was enough.
>She opened her eyes and withered under your stare.
>”I... did it in the shower...”
>She sniffed.
>”I started scrubbing… and I didn’t stop, even after it hurt.”
>You let go of her chin and she immediately looked away from you.
>”And… if you hadn’t come in I’d still be doing it.”

>You grip on Floor Bored had shifted slightly into another hug.
“Why would you do that?”
>”Be… because.”
>And then she went silent.
>You waited, but she said nothing.
>You were worried about Floor Bored, but you were also starting to get tired after the day you’d had.
>You wanted her to be OK, but you didn’t know if pressuring her like this was really going to help her.
>So you decided to just start tending to her wound while she thought about what she was willing to say.
>It took a couple of tries to unscrew the isopropyl with only a single hand. You spilled a decent amount, but not too much.
>You poured a little bit into the cap, then grabbed a Q-tip and dabbed it in the liquid.
>You didn’t realize your mistake until after you’d started doctoring her wound and you heard her scream.

>Your mistake was using 99.9% pure isopropyl like it were 70% pure isopropyl.
>That is, you weren’t as gentle as you should have been and you wound up applying way too much all over the wound.

“Ssshhh… ssshhh… It’s OK, it’s OK...”
>Your grip was tested when she tried to escape after she felt the burning.
>You were petting her from her cheek down to her withers to calm her down.
“It’s OK, I’m here. You’re fine. I’ll be more careful. It’s OK...”

>”NO! IT’S NOT OK!” she shouted. ”I did it because I’m the worst!”

“What? No, you’re not. I… I think you’re pretty great.”

>”Well, you shouldn’t! You don’t know what I did!”
>You cocked your head.
“Well… then what did you do? I’m having a hard time imagining what you could have done that would be worth this.”
>You gestured to her shoulder.

>”I… I was a bad girl. I...” She grimaced. “I…!”
>She started holding her breath.
>You couldn’t tell if she was turning red because she was blushed or because she was straining to hold too much air inside her lungs.
>”I came all over you!”