[NEETPone] Anxious Move, by Anon

>You are Floor Bored, and it seems the Canterlotian bureaucracy has found yet another way to torture you
>Last week you'd received an official letter in the mail, informing you that you were being transferred to the heartlands of Equestria, some little town called Ponyville
>"The clean air and rustic surroundings may ease your anxiety," the letter had read.
>You really doubt it; the previous letter had suggested that living in the city might help you *overcome* your anxiety
>Much like you, it seems like they've given up on that particular goal
>As had your case worker; apparently you were getting a new one
>"You will be supplied with ample food, comfortable lodgings, and access to many forms of recreation," the letter had gone on. "Please use the included boxes to pack your belongings so that they may be shipped to you upon your prompt departure."
>Of course, a week had gone by and you'd neglected to pack anything whatsoever
>You figured all you really needed was your computer and your old hoodie
>The rest of all your accumulated crap could just go in the trash where it belonged
>Instead, you'd just been using the boxes as an expedient way to relieve yourself
>At least, it seemed expedient at the time, until now the night before you leave, it dawned on you that somepony was going to have to clean up the piss-stained cardboard lying in the corner of your apartment


>In a fit of panic, you'd alternately tried shoving them down the garbage disposal and flushing them down the toilet, with disastrous results
>You'd converted one of them into a fort, under which you now hide as you lie on your filthy futon, the palpitations of your heart gifting you with an endless sense of impending doom
>You distract yourself by obsessively posting your fetishes on 4Clop, too nervous and nauseated to eat, only barely remembering to occasionally drink some water
>As morning dawns and exhaustion finally begins to take you, you once again type out the sad song of your heart, your deepest desire, your desperate cry into the Ponynet
>"tfw no stallion will ever cum while sniffing ur butthole"
>You bury your face into your hooves and sob, fat tears rolling down your cheeks until at last merciful sleep comes

>The knocking at your door is a brutal return to consciousness
>Instead of nightmares, you'd been dreaming about nothing at all, for once
>It had been nice
>Now, reality was slapping you about the face with the reminder that you will have to go outside and interact with it
>It takes you ten minutes to drag yourself to your door
>You know you look and smell horrible
>The nerves are killing you; you feel like your throat is closing, like you can barely breathe
>In the brief crawl from futon to door, you fantasize, crazily, about the possibility that your new case worker will be a hot stallion who will fuck you right up the ass
>You know, of course, that it will probably just be some old grandmare, like the previous one
>The thought at least is distraction enough for you to bring your trembling hoof up to open the door
>A wave of horror and despair washes over you when you see who's waiting on the other side
>Long, beautiful pink hair
>Sparkling turquoise eyes
>A luscious, shiny, golden-colored coat
>A regular motherbuckin' Stacy Glitterhooves


>She stands an awkward distance away from the door, but when she sees you, she looks almost - no, that's impossible - relieved?
>"G-Good morning!" she says. Her smile is so bright and cheerful that you feel like you might just die. "My name is Fluttershy. Are you Floor Bored?"
>You try to answer, but your throat is so tight that all that comes out is a reedy gasping sound. "Nnn," you finally manage.
>This isn't really an answer, but Fluttershy seems to intuit that you are indeed the mess she has now inherited
>"It's so nice to meet you!" she says in a rush, a sentiment that normally you would be certain is insincere, and yet you can't help but believe her
>Of course you believe her, everyone instinctually loves Stacy Glitterhooves, even maladjusted NEETs
>She's probably had hundreds of coltfriends and miles of sweet hot dick
>"I'm really looking forward to helping you get settled in your new home," you hear her saying. "Are you all packed up and ready to go?"
>It's just… impossible to even look at her
>She's everything you're not, and all you feel is the crushing sense of your own worthlessness
>There is no reason that someone like her should be wasting her precious time shuttling a pissbag like you from place to place
>You tear up uncontrollably; your attempt to fight back the sobs makes you gag, and you taste vomit in your mouth, acrid and sharp
>Her expression immediately becomes one of concern
>"Oh, it's all right," she says soothingly, reaching out with a gentle hoof to touch your shoulder. "You're gonna be just fine, Floor. I know how hard it is to leave someplace you've lived for a long time. But I promise, you're going to love Ponyville!"
>Her hoof is warm and she smells like vanilla and honeysuckle
>Every moment of her continued proximity is agony
>"It's okay. You can take as much time as you need," she says. "But, um, the train does leave at 3 PM. Maybe I can help you get your things together, while you say goodbye?"


>You stumble away, needing to free yourself from her aura of perfection before you puke
>"Oh dear, I'm sorry, was that stressful? I'm so sorry," Fluttershy says, sounding oddly flustered for some reason. "Once we get to Ponyville, you won't have to worry about any silly deadlines or anything like that. The hardest part will just be getting there, I promise. And you won't have to go through it all by yourself - I'll be with you every step of the way!"
>You lie down in the corner, cover your eyes with your hooves, and groan
>For a moment you expect her to just keep talking, but you're surprised when she says nothing at all
>You take a peek, only to see her shuffling her hooves and staring quietly at the ground
>Eventually she sneaks a glance in your direction
>Is she.. nervous? No.. that's impossible.
>"It's gonna be okay," she says. "I'll help you."
>You watch as she steps into the room
>To call it a mess would be a vast understatement
>You live in a wasteland, a fucked-apart dead thing of a domicile, splattered with the many fetid juices of your wasted existence
>It's going to take several rounds of fumigation just to make this space livable again for normal ponies
>Yet Fluttershy seems to take it all in impassively, walking slowly to the center of the room where your hoodie lies splayed on the floor
>"This'll be good to have in Ponyville," she says, running a hoof against the fabric of the sleeve, "it can get awfully cold at night. And we have cold winters! Can I put it with your other clothes?"
>Are you supposed to say something? You don't *have* any other clothes.
>Should you make a joke? The whole situation suddenly seems very funny for some reason, though you can't really explain why
>You let out a very loud and sharp "HA HA" and then begin to hum nervously to yourself


>Saying nothing, she roams quietly through your apartment, looking for things that either don't exist or you haven't packed
>A sense comes over you that you should do something, say something, but you're not sure what you can really do or say
>In time she returns with your computer, gingerly holding its handle in her mouth, a sight that gives you a brief pang of guilt knowing what kind of substances have touched the thing
>"I can carry this in my bag," she says. She noses your hoodie toward you. "Put this on, okay? It might be a little chilly on the train."
>Wordlessly you obey, sliding the garment on over your head and shaking out your greasy mane after you've pulled it all the way on
>"Is there anything else you want to bring?" she asks
>This time you do manage a coherent response, an emphatic shaking of your head
>"Okay," Fluttershy says. "Then, let's get going… if that's okay with you, Floor."
>She turns around and heads for the door
>For fuck's sake, that is an absurdly long tail
>That can't be natural…. can it?
>Of course it is
>And while you're busy staring at Fluttershy's rear, a much more important question occurs to you
>What exactly does Stacy Glitterhooves' ass smell like?
>You want to know purely as a matter of scientific inquiry
>You're no lesbian, you don't even *like* mares, you just want to know what stallions smell when they shove their snouts under that shiny pink tail
>This curiosity is PURELY non-sexual
>You follow up behind, hoping to sneak a whiff, but she turns around once she's passed the threshold
>She seems surprised that you've followed her
>"You're doing great," she says, smiling. "Once we get outside, I'll get a driver to take us to the station."
>Clarity returns when your focus shifts from Fluttershy's ass to the hallway around you


>Dread hits suddenly when you realize that you'll be following her outside
>Outside, where thousands upon thousands of ponies walk in the open, talking and laughing
>And looking at you
>Violent trembling sets off in your limbs, your hooves clacking against the floor
>Fluttershy is looking at you encouragingly over her shoulder, walking slowly toward the exit
>Steeling yourself, you stare directly at her ass, her flanks sashaying as she walks, undoubtably perfect marebits hidden by her tail
>It's somehow soothing, even hypnotically so
>Down the hall, out the door, down the front steps
>You feel the usual tightness throughout your entire body, your breath quickening, heart pounding, but you remain focused, following behind Fluttershy
>Somehow, her ass is getting you through this
>Is this the true power of Stacy Glitterhooves?

>3 PM
>The train pulls out of the station, leaving the city behind
>Fluttershy was wise enough to spring for a private cabin; the two of you sit on opposite bunks by a window
>"I brought lots of tasty food," she says cheerfully, pulling parcels from her bag. "Are you hungry?"
>You quickly down what is probably your first real meal in ages: hay sandwiches, fresh green salad, and strawberry cupcakes from someplace called Sugarcube Corner
>Fluttershy seems pleased to see you eat, not at all angry with you for eating 3 times as much as her
>You've gotten a little more used to her presence, though it's still hard to look directly at her, and eye contact is impossible
>Once you've both finished eating, she returns to her book
>She'd given you a few to choose from, but you can't really muster the concentration to read anything longer than a 4Clop post
>Instead you stare out the window, watching the land go by
>It's almost calming, feeling a kind of detachment from the world of ponies
>Out of the corner of your eye, you see Fluttershy yawn widely
>Every so often, her eyelids flutter and her head dips
>She's trying really hard to stay awake


>After awhile, she finally dozes off, head slumping against the pillow of her bunk
>Once she's asleep, you find it much easier to look at her
>It feels weird to stare so intently at a mare, when for so long you've thought only about stallions
>Mares are usually so odd-looking and gross, you've always wondered how stallions can stand being around them
>Yet looking at Fluttershy, you start perhaps to understand
>She is ridiculously beautiful, looking so soft and so pretty as she lies there partially illuminated by sunlight, pink mane softly glowing as it covers half her face
>Her sides slowly rise and fall as she breathes, her mouth making adorable little noises
>Even her drool is perfect as it seeps into her pillowcase
>Memories of her ass flood your mind
>You suddenly want really, really badly for her to sit on your face
>Maybe you could just smell her breath while she sleeps? Would that be so wrong?
>Your hind legs tremble as you sit up on your bunk
>A shaky sigh escapes your lips as you feel yourself leaking on your bedsheet
>Masturbating right here, right now?
>Well, it is a private cabin…
>But - this is wrong
>Mares shouldn't be turned on by other mares
>This is just the spell of Stacy Glitterhooves, it's not real, right?
>You're not actually attracted to her, your mind is just too weak to resist her natural charisma
>You try really hard to imagine throbbing stallion cocks pressing into all your holes
>But try as you might, your thoughts naturally gravitate toward your memory of Fluttershy looking over her shoulder at you
>And then your fantasy of her flashing you a sultry look as she slowly slides her tail to the side, showing you her -


>You gulp repeatedly, feeling your throat tighten
>No, no, you shouldn't be having these thoughts
>Are you even in control of your own mind anymore?
>Anxiety mounts rapidly
>This isn't right, you feel like you're going crazy
>You don't want to think about Fluttershy, you don't want to think about Ponyville, you want to be back *home*, you want to be on 4Clop, you want to feel *normal* again -
>Head clasped between your hooves, you rock back and forth, trying desperately to think the thoughts you want to think
>You can barely breathe, your heart feels like it's going to stop at any second
>Suddenly you feel hooves on your back, and you let out a yelp
>You realize that you've fallen on the floor
>Turning your head, you see Fluttershy looking down at you, her brows knit with worry
>"Floor Bored! Are you okay?" she asks.
>You tremble violently beneath her, whimpering incoherently, trying not to look at her
>"It's all right," she tells you, laying a hoof comfortingly upon you. "You're gonna be just fine. It's just an anxiety attack."
>"S-S-Sorry," you say. The first word you've uttered in her presence.
>Oh Floor Bored, you don't have to be sorry." She hugs you, and your head swims with her sweet scent, her softness. "It's my fault. I'm so sorry I fell asleep."
>Your head slumps against her fluffy chest, the grease of your hair soaking into her coat


>The aftereffects of the adrenaline rush set in, your limbs feeling weak, hooves tingling
>Usually the comedown from the anxiety attack is just as horrible as the attack itself, but this is oddly comforting
>Fluttershy's heartbeat sounds softly in your ear as she cuddles you
>"Let's move you back onto your bunk, okay?" she says.
>"…Okay."
>Gingerly she supports you as you shuffle decrepitly back into bed
>Now she rubs your back as you lie there
>Maybe thinking about Fluttershy isn't so bad
>She just seems so… nice
>In what is perhaps a fortunate turn of events, you have little time to think more about the issue
>Your own exhaustion rolls over you in a wave, as you realize just how much tension you've been holding in all day long
>Watching the land rush by through the window, feeling Fluttershy's warm presence beside you, you feel a sensation that you'd long forgotten
>Relaxation
>Your eyes close, and as sleep takes you, you are vaguely aware that you've pissed all over the bed
>Not to worry though
>As Fluttershy has assured you, once you get to Ponyville, everything will be
>just
>fine.

_____

That's it for now