A Meek Yellow Pegasus

“Um… I think that’s me… if that’s okay with you.”

The crowd gasp. Clearly they’re just as surprised to see this pony up on stage as you are. She certainly doesn’t seem the type, but then you’ve met such a variety of deviants in your time that you’re not quite sure what “the type” really is.

“And what’s your name, dear?” Cherry Jubilee asks.

This seems to put the poor Pegasus on the spot. She tightens up and conceals her face behind a wing.

“Fluttershy.” She bleats. She’s so adorable you almost don’t mind the fact she’s just brought rights to your nostrils.

“And how long would you like to use Fart Bitch for?”

“Oh, I don’t want to be an inconvenience. I was thinking just for tonight. Is that okay? I don’t want to… hog her, or anything.”

She’s shaking like a leaf, the poor thing. Clearly this is all new to her, which might just be a good thing for you. And it’s just for a night. That’s not too bad.

“Alrighty, Fluttershy! Drop the bits in the can and take your brand new fart huffer home with you!”

She crawls forward and does just that. Her eyes catch yours for a second, before she bows her head down, gazing at the floor while a raspberry blush spreads across her face.

“I’ll show you the way to my cottage, if you’re really sure you want to come.”

You follow the soft-spoken Pegasus along a windy dirt road that leads out of town. She doesn’t say anything, just keeps her head low.

Eventually you arrive outside a quaint cottage that’s isolated off towards the Everfree forest. Clearly this pony’s fond of animals, you already spot about five different species in her front yard and the trickling stream rolling through the scene.

Before Fluttershy opens the door, she turns to face you. A lock of pink hair is down over her right eye.

“Do you have to use that name?”

“Fart Bitch?”

She nods, “I really don’t want to call you that. It’s so mean. Can’t I just use your real name?”

“Uh, that is my real name.”

Her eyes widen, “Oh, goodness. I’m sorry if that sounded rude. It’s a very unusual name.”

“Well, how about you just call me Farty?”

Even that’s too much for her. She trembles and shakes her head no.

“Uh… cushion?”

That’s a bit better. “Alright, cushion. This way, please. Wipe your hooves, if you don’t mind.”

She takes you inside the cottage and the combined scent of about a hundred animal pens hits you. It smells like a pet shop in here, and looks like a zoo. There are cages and birdhouses dangling from the ceiling, various enclosures and pens on the floor, and an army of critters bouncing and scurrying along the carpet.

“Here we are. Sorry about the mess, I have a lot of animal friends.”

“I can see that.”

For the first time so far Fluttershy looks at you directly.

“I need to be honest about something. Applejack always says a lie is an argument waiting to happen.”

Oh no. Is she going to turn out to be a crazy serial or something? It’s always the quiet ones.

“I don’t really want a, uh, fart .” Those words feel so dirty in her mouth, “The truth is I just really wanted a companion. Somepony who can, uh, sleep in bed with me and stuff.”

“Like, a marefriend?”

Her blush deepens several shades. “No! No, nothing like that! I just want a friend. A close friend, somepony to keep me company. I-If you want to go back to your boss I’ll understand.”

That’s a first. A pony who doesn’t want to blast farts into your face.

You can tell this mare has a hard time connecting with others.

“That’s fine, though there’s one small issue.”

“Yes?”

“You see, I kinda… need to do my job. I go a little crazy if I don’t.”

“Oh.” That confuses her a little. “So I have to, uh, poot on you, if I want to keep you?”

“That’s about the size of it.”

Fluttershy nods. She understands, and pauses in a moment of though.

“Okay. I can try…”

She shuffles over to her couch and lays her upper body over it. Her soft little rump is there on display, she even lifts her tail for you.

“But I don’t really need to right now. Maybe if I push really hard…”

She puffs out her cheeks and starts to strain, lifting a hind leg to try and things through.

Not wanting to miss the potential of a toot from her, you jog over to the couch and nestle under her tail. It shocks her a bit to have somepony nosing around such a private place, but she’s more focused on squeezing some air out of her guts.

At long last, her efforts produce a very short, airy pop that bursts against your nostrils.

“Excuse me…”

You take a heavy whiff, and…