> The Allure
>  by Coin Purse
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

> Subject Thirty-Three
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Flash Sentry awoke crying—as he always did—only this time his shuddering breaths belonged to an angel.

In a fright, he opened his eyes wide.  All he saw was darkness.  Flash panted fitfully, feeling tiny, trapped, alone.  But most of all tiny.  The air in the room was strange.  Hungry.  Intimidating with a taste of black metal.

A lump formed in his throat.  Flash hadn't been punched or insulted or maligned in anyway.  Nevertheless...

...he just felt like sobbing.

In an effort to remain brave, he flexed his limbs.  They refused to budge.  This was more than just sleep paralysis; he felt like his arms and legs were being held down by savage, dark weights.  He squirmed, attempting to flex the rest of his body.  That's precisely when a sharp pain rippled up his spine.  He gnashed his teeth, feeling the urge to grunt, only...

...another voice yelped at that precise moment.  The high-pitched sound echoed across invisible bent walls, bouncing around.  Tickling him.  He blinked, pondering who else was in the room.  They sounded like a young woman.  He thought of calling out to them—when he heard the same woman murmur:

“Hello?  Who's there?”

Flash felt dizzy.  His extremities tingled with anxiousness.  But what made him even more paranoid was the sensation that those extremities... weren't quite so “extreme” any longer.  Flash's body was stretched and splayed out in the dark, but somehow he was certain there was a great deal less of him.  The whole situation was numbing, and he was certain he would pass out any moment—were it not for the hot tears dragging over his face... keeping him alive.

“Please... anybody...”  The woman's voice repeated.  “...can you tell me where I am?”

Flash's breath caught in his chest.  Maybe if he could win this woman's trust, the two of them could figure a way out of this place together—

A loud buzz filled the room.  A set of speakers crackled somewhere, followed by a muffled voice amplified with maximum echoes:  “We have you back, Subject Thirty-Three.”  Static.  The voice was stern.  Dry as a stone.  After another electronic belch, it returned.  “Are you conscious?  Has the manaflux ceased?  Please copy?”

Flash felt his face distorting in confusion.  Had he fallen asleep to some godawful sci-fi movie on Netflix again?  As he fumbled for a response to give—

“Please.  Can you tell me what's going on here?  Where am I?”  The woman's voice spoke in his place.  “I'm sc-scared.”

The speakers above and everywhere once again crackled:  “Subject Thirty-Three, do you still feel a shift in manaflux?  We can't enter the chamber until we know for sure that the experiment is over.  Please copy.”

Flash bit his lip.  He waited... waited...

The voice whimpered in response:  “Please, I don't understand.”  She was sobbing uncontrollably now.  Flash envied her.  “I'm so sorry.  I just... d-don't understand...”

“Oh for crying out—”  The speaker crackled once again.  Even the static was angry now.  “Abort mission!  Cut power!  LIGHTS!”

Flash Sentry's eyes were stabbed by bright luminosity.  He winced, squirming in his restraints.  Once again, he felt that pain shooting up his body.  Only now—it clearly had a source.  His lower abdomen felt... stiff.  Confined.  Uncomfortably warm.  And—on top of it all—he was now certain that something was inserted into him.

The tightness spread all throughout his body, so that he was sure that he was wearing something that covered every square inch of his frame just below the neck.  As his burning eyes tearfully adjusted to the invasive brightness, he realized he was indeed wearing a bodysuit of sorts.  It was made out of a glossy, solid black material and it hugged every curve the young man had.  In his mind, it was much like the “plugsuits” he had seen characters wear in popular anime.  There was only problem... … ...Flash hadn't had the body of an “anime” character since high school.

He didn't have much time to focus on this.  For as his foggy vision cleared—layer by layer—he realized that his body was attached (more like anchored) in the center of some impossibly gigantic contraption.  It looked as though he was nestled deep in the chest cavity of some onyx robot; once more the late night Netflix anime binges were haunting him.  The plush seat he was reclined in looked like a throne befitting a BDSM cyborg queen.  His arms and legs were sunk deep into multi-layered metal orifices with rigidly-reinforced steel bolts.  The walls and ceiling and floor surrounding his “bed” were bent ominously towards him at rigid, geometric angles... as if he was deep in the womb of some soundproof testing chamber.

This vision was further supported with one of the walls opened inward with a hydraulic hiss.  Steam vented as tall, tall shadows formed against even more invading beams of light.  The room shook with heavy footsteps as three figures entered—with a person with short violet hair arriving front and center.

Flash winced, squirming in the shadows of these intimidating giants.  He once again heard the woman's voice:  “Please d-don't hurt me!”  His eyes widened as he gasped... for it now dawned on him that he had always been the only person in that room.

But now he could focus on nothing but the pale face bending down towards him.  “Relax, sissy,” the person droned.  “You're probably just disoriented.”  She was a woman—more like two and a half women stacked on top of one another.  The person was giant.  A veritable amazon.  And yet—as she spoke and moved and felt Flash's forehead with her ginormous hand—she carried the gait and possessed the voice of any normal-sized woman Flash had ever known.  “You ported too friggin' far this time,” she continued, her fuchsia eyes cold, scientific, and with just a hint of bitterness.  “It sent your manaflux all haywire.  You've likely got spatial sickness.  Haven't we gone over this time and time again?”

Flash felt himself hyperventilating.  Even as his mind tried to rationalize this current situation, something... else within the young man was racing even further.  All he could summon was panic: a fear of what this towering specimen could do to him.  He tried to summon a response, but all he produced were squeaks—and each of them higher pitched than the last.

“Shit on a stick,” he heard another woman say.  Flash's eyes darted to a person standing behind the one examining him.  She was likewise a giant—a smirking vixen with teal-striped pink hair and adult freckles.  Like the other two, she wore what turned out to be a full-body uniform comprised of neutral colors with the emblem of floating crystals emblazoned across the upper breast and shoulders.  “Have you ever seen him this wasted?”  She giggled like a schoolgirl—then switched to a full frown on a dime.  “Goddess, I knew this experiment was a total bust from the start.”

“You're just upset that you got called in for a full shift when you could have stayed back at the Den stroking it to Feather Bangs videos,” spat a monotone voice at high speed.  Flash's eyes darted to a uniformed woman in the back—the third—who was adjusting multiple dials on an instrument panel flanking his “bed.”  She straightened a pair of glasses over nose, and as she turned to look at the others a long snow-white ponytail flopped over her shoulder.  “The least you can be doing is taking notes so that this entire experiment isn't a complete bust.”

“Oh bite me,” grunted the second woman... only everything about her voice, her complexion, her everything—save maybe her extreme height—was obvious to Flash by now.

“Sour Sweet?” he wheezed.  His eyes shifted back to the third person in glasses.  “Sugarcoat?”  He then faced the pale one leering directly over him.  “Sunny... Flare...?”

The woman in question froze in place.  Her lips pursed as she fished for a response, ultimately throwing the weight of some deep, innate authority.  “Now... Subject Thirty-Three... what have we talked about using each other's real names?  You know that these sessions are always being recorded—”

Flash raised his voice in desperation.  Again, he heard that strange woman talking:  “What's going on?"  Their faces looked as young as they did back in high school.  This was absurdly impossible.  Nevertheless:  "Is this Crystal Prep...?”

Sour Sweet blinked, nearly dropping her tablet.

Sugarcoat leaned in.  “Uhm... did he just say 'Crystal Prep?'”

Sunny Flare leaned back, rubbing her chin in deep thought.  Her eyes reflected a frightened yet beautiful face, awash in tears.  Flash's head turned, and the reflection's did as well—

“What the Hell is wrong with him?”  Sugarcoat looked at Sunny Flare.  “Did the last port fry his brain or what?”

“Let's... not panic,” Sunny Flare spoke.  As the other two tried to interject, her voice rose into a growl that shook Flash's whole frame.  “Just try and stay focused!”  She fumed, fumed, then calmed.  “First thing's first.  We have to get the subject out of here before his manaflux triggers another spatial displacement.”

“I'm not touching him,” Sour Sweet scoffed, bearing a wry smirk.  “Who knows what dimension he's farted through.  I don't want hell spiders popping out of my skin or something.”

“I've got him,” Sunny Flare grumbled, leaning over Flash and flipping several switches.

A yelp escaped Flash's lips.  His arms and legs were freed from the womb of the machine.  He rolled over slightly—but not from gravity.  His sheer trembles were enough to send him flying.  He felt as light and flimsy as a feather, and were it not for a pair of strong arms cradling him—he just might have collapsed to the floor of the chamber.

Instead, he felt himself being lifted up briskly.  A faint memory rippled through his dizzied head—a tiny infantile echo from childhood, and just as precious.  Somewhere in the sensation there were enough triggers to tell the man that this was a woman carrying him.  He clung thoughtlessly to that bosom, discovering that it was Sunny Flare's.  Her arms were as indifferent as they were strong, and soon the foreboding chamber blurred away, replaced instead by blinding white laboratory hallways with more tall... undeniably feminine figures strolling through.  It was a whole building of them, like the Silicon Valley of Themyscira.  Flash spotted strange faces looking his way.  A few were concerned, but most were merely confused and unfeeling—much like the jaded colors of their matching uniforms.

Sugarcoat and Sour Sweet were following closely behind.  The footsteps of all three women shook Flash to his core.  He felt that same fear before—an inescapable anxiety over what these vaguely familiar haunts from the past might do to him.  Only... it wasn't quite fear.  It was something else, beating deep beneath the paranoia.  Crackling with a strangely longing sensation.  Like hunger.

“If he turns into a vegetable now, we're done for,” Sugarcoat said without a hint of emotional inflection.  “We've wasted enough time as it is in collecting data just so he can extend his reach further and further.  All because you've been giving him leeway.  But now what?  The dateline is coming up and the Magistrate expects quantifiable results.  Do you know what will happen when we have nothing to deliver?”

“Yeah, Sunny Flare!”  Sour Sweet nodded, breathless.  Panicking slightly.  “She will totally nullify you for good!  She'll nullify all of us!”

“Don't lecture me about Mother,” Sunny Flare grunted.  They reached a tall gray door and Sunny Flare nudged a button with her knee without dropping Flash.  “I've handled her thus far.  I can get us through this.”

The door slid open like some sound stage prop on Star Trek.  Flash watched as he was taken into a broad locker room.  Each of the lockers looked tall enough to handle basketball players.  In fact, they looked even taller.  There were smells in here... smells that were both foreign and familiar.  In any case, Flash couldn't shake the fact that there was some importance to these scents.  Something that sent his heart pulsing wildly.

“... … ...the fuck are you going to do?” Sour Sweet could be heard stammering.  “Hide him in a gym bag and pretend he ported into oblivion?  Boy would THAT go well!”

“Will you just shut up?”  Sunny Flare gnashed her teeth.  She sat down and cradled Flash in her lap.  The ease with which she did so was fantastical.  Flash felt he was looking up at Santa—granted a female Santa Claus with violet hair, pale skin, and permanently-resting-Judge-Judy-Face.  “I don't think this is manaflux shift sickness.”  Her massive fingers reached in and... caressed his face and eyelids with a remarkably delicate touch.  “This... is something else.”

“So now you're a doctor of medicine too...”  Sugarcoat's rhetorical question dangled on an invisible cliff.  Flash looked sideways to see her folding her arms as she stood indignantly beside Sour Sweet and the woman cradling him.  “This is the worse condition he's ever come back in and you know it.  The smart thing to do is report the premature cancellation of the mission and see to it that Subject Thirty-Three is taken to the infirmary.”

“Pfft!  And then what?!”  Sour Sweet tossed her arms.  “Just hand in our careers?!  Just like that?!”

“You can hand in your career,” Sugarcoat droned.  “As for myself—I have enough credits staked in the Astrophysics Department that I can stay afloat as the Corporation attempts to compete with Queen Sparkle.”

“Oh, that's rich!  Always thinking of yourself, eh, Sugarcoat?”  Sour Sweet sneered at her.  “You've been plotting this dick-between-your-legs retreat all along, haven't you?!”

“You're being a condescending attack-on-all-fronts coward, as always, Sour.”

“What kind of a Valkyrie backstabs her own sisters-in-arms?!  Y'know, I've been onto you ever since you got Lemon Zest and Indigo Zap kicked out.”

“They left on their own volition because they didn't have what it takes to remain with the pack.  Besides—you've got more of the Corporate Fountain to yourself since they're gone.  So why bitch about it?”

“Dammit, Sugarcoat—!”

“Quiet!”  Sunny Flare snarled.  “The both of you!”  She calmed a bit, leaning down to look into Flash's face more closely.  “Subject Thirty-Three...”  She swallowed, then spoke in an uncharacteristically soft tone.  “...Flash... we're safe now.  Far away from any recording devices.  I promise.”  Her fuchsia eyes narrowed.  “... … ...now, can you try and tell us what's really going on?”

Sour Sweet and Sugarcoat leaned in.  For the briefest moment, they didn't look angry or frustrated or intimidating.  They simply looked...

...gorgeous.

Flash's fear... his longing... his hunger—whatever it was... it all vanished under a suddenly crushing weight of failure.  He didn't know where he was or why he was.  All he felt was this impenetrable wave of shame—as if he had somehow failed these women.  He had somehow failed on all fronts, even though he couldn't see them.  It made no sense, but the longer these giantesses looked at him, the more he felt directly responsible for all of their disappointment.  There was simply nothing he could do.

Nothing he could do but cry.

“I'm sorry...”  He whimpered.  Again, he heard that voice from the chamber.  He didn't understand it.  He couldn't understand it.  He couldn't do anything.  “I'm so... so sorry...”  He just wanted this dream to end.  He reached out with every emotion, begging for a hand to pull him out.  It had been decades since Flash had felt so desperate to depend on a mere wish.  He singled on something beyond the moment—a pulsating heat between him and these three towering goddesses—and he felt that if he just hugged it tightly enough then maybe something might tug him back to the surface... or else drown him entirely.  He wasn't quite certain at the moment which of the two options he preferred.  “Please...”  He mewled like a kitten.  “...forgive me.  For everything.”

His vision had fogged.  Flash realized that tears were streaming down his face.  What was that thing that Sunny had called him?  A “sissy?”  So this was a dream, only—unlike the others Flash usually had—this was just completely fucked up and sad.

Sniffling, Flash made a tiny fist with clutching fingers and wiped the tears off his face using the back of his shivering wrist.  When his vision came two, he saw the three women still leering over him... … ...except that two new limbs had joined the huddle.  Sugarcoat's and Sour Sweet's pupils had enlarged, and their nostrils were flaring noticeably with deep breaths.  Only when Flash's eyes wandered downward... … …downward did he realize the reason for this sudden shift in complexion.

Both women were sporting third “legs,” only these legs—otherwise enormously pendulously things—were slowly rising upwards like ICBMs ready to launch.  They were clad in a thick felt fabric, much like the material that comprised the women's uniforms.  Only they stopped at a point near their abdomen, fitted on them like long woolen socks.  More akin to sheathes, and past the border Flash could spot a hint of veiny flesh poking through.  By the time that Flash had finished his coquettish, whimpering monologue, both “legs” were solid as gun barrels... and mutually aimed towards him.

“Huh...?”  Sunny Flare's gaze followed Flash's, and when she saw the two otherworldly erections, she sneered through angry teeth.  “Oh goddess dammit, you two!  How many times do I have to tell you to wear the nullification bracelets!”

“But we are, Sunny—”

“Don't fucking lie to me, Sour!  We're professionals and this is hardly the time nor the place!  Now put them on!”

“She is not lying,” Sugarcoat said.  Her eyes remained locked on Flash, and while she spoke as calmly as she could, there was a noticeable redness spreading across her face and upper neck.  “There is...”  She reached up and fanned herself while remaining deadpan.  “...something different about him.”

Sunny Flare squinted at her.  “... … ...no shit?”

“Can't you feel it too, Sunny?” Sour Sweet stammered.  Her mouth was dry and she gulped.  She shifted from leg to leg, her eyes affixed to Flash as well.  “The Allure.  It's intensified.  I swear to Goddess I could cut it with a knife in this very room.”

“You know I'm nullified,” Sunny groaned.  “Just spit it out.”

Sugarcoat did as she was told.  “It's like standing amongst a Fountain full of unclaimed.”

Silence.

Sunny Flare blinked.  She lifted and re-positioned Flash so that he was straddling her thighs and facing up at her directly.  “Flash... listen to be very carefully...”  Her eyes were firm and her voice firmer.  “I need you to tell me—honestly—what is the very last thing that you remember?”

“That...”  He hiccuped on another pent-up sob, his voice cracking against itself, rising high and higher.  “...th-that I remember?”

“Before we took you out of the room just now.”  Sour Sweet held her breath.

The other two did as well.

Flash looked at them all, still afraid of what was to come next—whatever it might be.  Nevertheless, he did as he was told.  It was the only thing he could do that felt comfortable.  “I was lying on the couch... watching something on stream.”  He swallowed.  “I have t-to go into the shop tomorrow morning, so I set my alarm.  Figured... I would shower before work.  The... uh... the toilet was clogged.  But I was too lazy to fix it.”

Sugarcoat and Sour Sweet exchanged shocked looks for some reason.

“I... uh... I think I ate too much pizza and I know I need to lose some weight,” Flash whimpered on, trembling.  “B-but I just keep running into the same stupid habits over and over and all I can do is slump down on the couch and turn the tv on and—”

“Go back a bit,” Sunny Flare said, her eyes taking on a knifing glint.  “What did you say was clogged?”

“My... uh... m-my toilet?  Back home?”

“... … ...why would you need a toilet, Flash?”

He bit his lip, glancing at every woman.  “... … ...to go in?”

Silence... then there came a prolonged hissing sound.

It was coming from a mile away deep within Sunny Flare's lungs.  “Fffffffffffffffffff—”  She shot up with a burst, carrying Flash with her.  “—FFFUCK!!!”  She paced in angry circles.  “Fucking fuck fuck FUCK sticks!”

“Who what when where?!”  Sour Sweet wrung her hands together, looking decidedly pensive and worried despite her gargantuan stature.  “Who is fucking fuck sticks?!”

“It's the wrong Flash!”  Sunny Flare paced and spun and kicked a locker.  Clang!  Flash yelped and clung to her like a spider monkey as she twirled about once more.  His frightened eyes shot downward, and only in the middle of Sunny Flare's pacing did he spot that she too was sporting an extra "leg," albeit this one dangled meatedly flaccid and was bound to one of her uniformed thighs.  “Don't you get it now?!"  She continued rambling.  "It's the wrong Flash Sentry who came back!”

“But... but...”  Sour Sweet's mouth twisted in disbelief.  “...how could that even happen?  Did he get caught up in the leylines of the projected manaflux?”

“Sour Sweet it's obvious that a switcheroo has been committed,” Sugarcoat said.

“A switcheroo...?!”  Sour Sweet did a double-take.  “You mean... … ...our Flash Sentry did this on purpose?!?”

“Of course he fucking did!”  Sunny Flare barked..  “The stupid selfish backstabbing pretentious manlet!”  She kicked a locker again.  “RRRRGHHH!”  CLACKKK!  The door bent inwardly at a savage angle, startling Flash even more.  He slipped slightly, getting a face full of Sunny bosom—hot and sweat-inducing.  “I should have seen it!  I should have seen the signs from light-years away!”

“Yes, you should have,” Sugarcoat droned.  The “third leg” she had been sporting had drooped considerably now, as had Sour Sweet's.  “And now the real Subject Thirty-Three is untold dimensions away.”

“But... why?”  Sour Sweet wheezed.  “Why would he fuck up a perfectly-good operation like this?!  What's in it for him?!”

“Does it matter?”  Sunny Flare's voice rippled through Flash's body.  She hissed and re-positioned him so that he was being bridal-carried with breaths to spare.  “Fucking Hell... Now look at what we've got to deal with!”

“How are we going to send him back?!?”  Sour Sweet exclaimed, tossing her arms.  “Only Fla—... only Subject Thirty-Three was capable of porting past the dimensional barriers!”

“I do not believe that we can send him back,” Sugarcoat said.  “Not with Subject Thirty-Three gone.”

Silence.

“Then what do we do?!” Sour Sweet's voice wavered with palpable panic.

“... … ...”  Sunny Flare examined Flash's face closely.  Her eyes thinned as she dragged a finger across his brow, then his bangs, then his neck and lycra-covered chest.  A deep breath, then:  “We sleep on it.”

Sour Sweet's jaw dropped.  “You've gotta be fucking kidding me—”

“No I'm fucking not.”  Sunny Flare looked at the others. “Look, he's a spitting image.  Pure doppelganger shit.”

“Yeah.  Except for the fact that the Allure is off the fucking charts in this room!  For Goddess' sake, Sunny, if only you could smell the flowering!”

“I don't care.  Our jobs are at stake.  The Magistrate's reputation.”

“Again with the reputation—”

“Shut it.  The decision is made.”  Sunny Flare held a hand out to Sugarcoat.  “Give me the inhibitor.”

Sugarcoat rummaged through a pouch at her waist and produced what looked like a tiny metal cylinder.  “So, let me guess.”  She handed the device to Sunny.  “You're taking him back to his Fountain.”

“Damn good mind-reading, Sugar.”  Before Flash could react, Sunny swung a hand up to his neck.  He felt her tugging on something that had been fitted beneath his chin all along—a choker?  A collar?  A leash?  Tchhh!  Before he knew it, the cylinder was firmly pressed to the object around his neck, and he felt a wave of exhaustion roll over his whole body.  He didn't even have the strength to  make a sound.  His ears managed to catch the words of the women rolling through the foggy void suddenly surrounding him.  “So long as this Flash is in the place where our Flash is supposed to be, it means less questions asked.”

“How long do you expect that to work?  He lives with—like—a half-dozen Flitters.  Fae like that synchronize, Sunny.  They're gonna figure something's off.”

“I just... need to buy some time.  I'll figure a way out of this.  For all of us.  That's a promise.”

“How are you going to get him out of there?”

“Hover car.  Garage Delta.  Won't be the first time I've had to take him... er... Subject Thirty-Three home exhausted out of his pretty little gizzard.”

“Well at least get him out of his friggin' port suit!  Jeez!”

“No can do.  If the real Subject Thirty-Three is gone, then so is the corporate property he was wearing.  It'll help sell our story for the time being.”

“You really think you can pass this under the Magistrate's nose?”

“Sisters, I'm the only one capable of doing that.”

“Pfft.  No argument from me there.”

“Go.  Both of you.  Tell the Board that Subject Thirty-Three passed out before full spatial displacement could occur.  And for the love of Goddess—put on your damned bracelets!”

“Just... just c-can't help it, Sunny.  Did you hear his little sissy voice—?”

“GO!  Fucking go, already!”

By now, the world was a tempest of swirling colors and shapes.  Flash had every reason to panic, but in the arms of this crazy tall woman who was most likely doing insanely questionable and unethical things to him... he nevertheless felt strangely secure.  He clung to her as long as he could afford to in his numb, teetering state.  Then—much to his saddening heart—he was weightless again.  He felt himself strapped to a seat—albeit much less restrictively this time.  He felt shifts in motion and gravity, accompanied by the dull hum of an engine.

“Goddess damn traffic,” he heard Sunny Flare mutter to his left.  He became vaguely aware of her hands gripping something like a rudder wheel.  “Of all the fucking afternoons...”

Flash licked his lips.  He could have sworn he was drooling.  The seat he was lying in swayed, and so did he—slumping ever so slightly against his restraints.  He looked to his right and saw skyscrapers whizzing by.  Four horizons kissed a beam of light in the center, forever rotating, full of glass and steel.

“What did he think he'd get out of this, huh?”  Sunny Flare's anger was tempered by the faintest layer of melancholy.  “I thought we had a connection.  Purely professional.  Scientific.”

More swaying.  Beyond glossy sheen, flickering lights and bright letters strobed.  There was laughter.  Wind.  A hint of green and more green.  Smatterings of water and more engine hums.

“All this time... you strung me along, didn't you?”  She was talking to him and yet she wasn't.  The world came to a gentle hover.  The engine lowered in its tone, as did her voice.  Soft and vulnerable.  “Was it his place that you took?  If so... what did he have that this world's Flash didn't?”

Flash's world was dimming, but with a spark of emotion he broke through the surface, scalding with tears.  “I'm so sorry...”  He choked on a sob.  “You deserve better.”

A sigh fluttered against his eyelashes.  The next touch was a caressing one.  “Stupid little sissy.  You couldn't possibly know that.”

He felt his figure lifted—this time in her arms.  He leaned into her bosom.  There was no resistance.  The voices were distant ripples now—fading with the darkness.  Multiple shapes sashayed in and out, circling worriedly around the two of them, producing melody like birdsong.  At last, he was deposited alone and limp against a plush surface.  Tucked in.

And suckled by shadows.
> Flash Sentry
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

The worst thing about sleeping is that Flash Sentry did it constantly.  As the years under his belt grew more numerous and the days more dreary, the only way to pass the time was to erase it.  Thus, whenever he came home from work, sleep became one of three primary pasttimes:  the others being eating and stream-watching.  And more often than not he attempted all three at once.

This—along with a heaping helping of incurable chronic depression—made for a frumpy bag of a male specimen at age thirty-seven.  Hairy in all the greasiest places, shoulders covered with acne, toenails always grimy and un-manicured: middle-aged Flash was just barely unassuming enough of a nobody to make up for his otherwise all-penetrating un-attractiveness.  Not that he really needed handsomeness or charm, of course.  Four decades of floundering out of high school and pinballing through community college got him a bottom-of-the-barrel job at a car shop.  He made for a wish-washy grease monkey, never quite advancing to a supervisory role because he was constantly cutting corners to give impoverished customers little money breaks here and there and the only reason his angry boss didn't outright terminate him was because the privately-owned shop had too few stars on Yelp to bother gaining enough new employees.  Plus, Flash Sentry was pretty certain his boss had connections with the mob and was using the shop primarily as a front for several illusive drug deals, but Flash was far too much of a spineless pansy to do anything but quietly, dispassionately tolerate it all.

So day in and day out he crawled beneath other people's cars, risking carbon monoxide poisoning and becoming one with the scent of worn out hydraulics.  His back was forever ruined by age twenty-nine.  His hands and fingers had become scarred facsimiles of the dashing guitar plucker they once belonged to.  Flash resorted to exclusively playing reggae on the shop's radio because it was the only thing that failed to remind him of his past glory—all two and a half blissful years of it spent hammering away at rock'n'roll instruments in a teenagehood long lost.

Flash Sentry had lost a lot of things from his youth—the primary one being friends.  They had all gone on to enjoy glorious lives elsewhere.  He was certain of this, most especially in regards to Sunset Shimmer—his beloved “ex-girlfriend” of twenty-one years and counting.  She her closest companions were magical—in the literal sense.  It's hard to believe looking back now, but Flash once stood shoulder-to-shoulder with honest-to-god superwomen in teenage form.  He watched with naked eyes as metaphysically-empowered vixens of pure heart-and-mind vanquished the local neighborhood from countless forces of otherworldly malevolence.  He even once sang a song on stage for them.  Like a cheerleader.  It was pure and pathetic and cute and cringey all at once.

He dreamt of those days in his sleep.  But not as much as he dreamt of other things... far saucier things...

Flash couldn't quite put his finger on what exact month or year it all started, but at some point he gave up on the increasingly bleak reality of his life and retreated to a far more alluring fantasy in his mind.  As the seasons turned into years and he saw his former friends less and less—making far too many bad decisions than a profitable future could afford—Flash started enjoying (more like suffering) an impenetrable dreamworld that would come back to devour his obsessive consciousness day after day, night after night.  Maybe it was a porno that he had chanced upon, a gallery of adult fanart he once browsed through, or perhaps even some deeply-seeded Freudian concept from pre-adolescence—but whatever the impetus, Flash developed an unshakeable kink for futanari, fembois, and hyperfeminization.  He connected all of these things in his mind with laser-focus and conjured an impossible world where the men were tiny girlish manlets, the women were tall amazonian dickgirls, and the entire culture they dwelled in facilitated a sex-positive harem culture where the tall “futas” banged the petite “traps” and...

...Flash could not stop.  He could not stop fantasizing.  On the bike on the way to work, it became difficult to remain painlessly seated.  On break between cars, he found it hard to piss into the toilet straight.  Then finally—coming home and secured in the pathetic isolation of his grimy apartment—Flash did nothing but indulge.  This became a nightly thing: visiting bookmarked websites and reading saucy fanfictions and browsing countless subreddits—all centered upon the themes he fixated so unhealthily on, and each colored pinker than the last.

And it was unhealthy.  Never mind the fact that such perverted fantasizing was the only glimmer of joy in his detestable life.  Never mind the fact that Flash was consciously aware of how gross, disrespectful, and heinously transphilic he was for indulging in such things constantly.  Never mind the fact that he took consciously long routes away from the pink aisles of department stores' toy sections because the otherwise-innocent products gave his sissified mind ridiculously impure thoughts.  It was all unhealthy because it was his everything.  All Flash's free time was spent in the consumption and conjuration of this undying fantasy world where futas banged sissies and it was somehow all “squeaky clean” fun.

And this consumed him... this plagued him for decades.  It got to the point that Flash convinced himself that it was his only way of coping—of pushing away the grief of past joys and friends, all inescapably lost to the forward motion of existence.

But it got harder and harder to drum up mental excuses for it all—especially when he made portions of his obsession manifest in his life.  Through frilly pink dresses that he'd order online (and wear like a fat pimply gorilla at a circus).  Through princess figurines and posters he'd adorn across random spaces in his adult apartment that he was barely renting by the month.  Through the silicon dildos he'd scrimp half-a-year for, stick up his butt without enemas, then leave marinating on the shower stall floor as he cried in a fat heap on the bathroom tile like a bitch before handwashing the fake penises in warm water and hand soap and then repeating the whole fucking cycle all over again next weekend.

It was such a pathetic wheel of habits, and he could have flattened it all... ended it all so easily.  So damned easily.

But he didn't.  And as the years went by, his apartment got pinker and his belly got fatter and the faces of past friends grew fainter and fainter until all he could see was the shadows that permeated his living space 'cuz he refused to turn on the lights and reveal to himself the sheer filth he had accumulated these past decades through time, neglect, and purely selfish hedonism.

And so, his pasttimes were whittled down to three.  Eating, which was only natural.  Stream bingeing, which everyone did.  And sleeping—which was the closest thing to suicide his cowardly ego could handle.

But it was there—in dreams—that the painterly landscapes were at their most intricate.  An elaborate mural detailed through eons of subconscious dedication, where nobody else could stroke the brush but him, and when he slept long enough—gazed long enough—it almost resembled beauty.

At some point—egged on no doubt by a serious need for catharsis—a very desperate Flash at the tail-end of very desperate wits reasoned to himself that none of this could possibly have been his own doing.  No sane human being had to go through the mental self-fellatio that his mind endured nightly.  This wasn't a mere obsession; it was a curse.  Some... gay Equestrian thing had obviously polluted his being.  Had jumped out of a bush at Camp Everfree and stung him with its... horse butt.  Or something.  That had to have been it.  He was knocked unconscious at the time, that's why he didn't know.  That's why nobody knew...

Somebody had to know... somewhere, someplace... someone had to know why Flash just couldn't stop dreaming of this world.  Why couldn't he stop?  Why couldn't he just simply stop...

He had to stop.  It was unhealthy.  He had to stop.  The only way to get better was to accept his own real life body and figure out how to clean it up.  He had to stop.  At this rate, he'd never settle for either a woman or a man in his life because he was too damned obsessed with some nebulous icon of fetishized gender dysphoria in his mind and...

...it was all too much.  All too much to change.  The more he thought about it, the less merit a lifestyle change had and the more weight a bullet carried.  But he hadn't the courage to pursue either.

So...

Flash Sentry simply slept.

And in so doing, he dreamt up more painstrokes to the mural.

Including this latest one.  This bothersome one—involving waking up in a strange industrial tomb with giantess versions of former Crystal Prep Shadowbolt rivals showing up to manhandle a pixie petite version of himself and...

It felt bitter.  Like arsenic against the tongue.  Here he was at nearly forty years old and his own mind was finally committing mental seppuku.  Perhaps it was for the best.  With nowhere left to go—even in his own subconscious—the only destination worth flocking to was oblivion.  Perhaps his brain was doing his existence a favor.

Lord knows it'd be doing the whole universe one.

He'd...

...just sleep a little more.  And wake up to a toilet to unclog, a job to do, a car to fix for people far more worthwhile than him.

And maybe—just maybe—he'd find that courage somewhere.

Until then, he had a few sensations to carry on his shoulders from the dream.  Like the tears.  They were nice while they lasted.  Too bad they were just as real as his joy...
> The Fountain
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Flash Sentry slowly woke like a loose iceberg turning over.  Everything was liquid molasses, and the moment he bubbled at the surface of it all—the first thing he became aware of was how comfortable he felt.  For one—his nose, throat, and sinuses were not sore from untold hours of obesity-induced snoring.  What's more, his usually tiny worn-out lump of a bed mattress had somehow been replaced by a ginormous sea of plush tranquility.  Usually at that age—upon waking up—Flash felt like a tired blob of unevenly displaced blubber.  His first thoughts were typically “I hate myself” or “I should just jump off a bridge” with the occasional smattering of “I want Hot Pockets.”

But here—here and now—in this foggy world of plush comfort and tranquility... Flash felt tiny.  He felt precious.  He felt hungry.  But not in his belly.  Somewhere else... somewhere that extended within and beyond him, so that he instinctually felt that be belonged to something and was simply waiting to be found.

A sniffle escaped his nose.  He opened his eyes at the same time that tears beaded at the edges of his lids.  He brought a dainty hand up and rubbed his cheeks dry, squinting at the intense brightness filling his room.

Hadn't he bought blackout curtains years ago...?

He rubbed his eyes some more... when he felt the intense need to stretch.  He did so—lithe and yearning, like a cat.  Somewhere in the middle of this gesture, he must have realized just how... nimble he was.  A gasp escaped his lips, and the breath that accompanied it was deliciously high-pitched.

He blinked, glancing down at himself.  He saw legs curled up, clad in a black lycra plugsuit—as was the rest of his body.  He saw a tenderly sloping tummy, an indiscernible and nearly flat mound at his crotch, and a narrow athletic space lingering just between his upper thighs.

Where the fuck had all his belly fat gone...?

He ran a gloved hand down his supple chest—lycra gliding across lycra—until his fingers phased through where his belly should have been.  He felt so paper thin.  So fragile.  Even in high school, he had more girth to him.  This was something else—triggering memories from middle-school, even.  His hand traveled further down and—to his shock—he could touch his toes.  They too were clad in the lycra suit, but there was no denying the fact that he could easily and without any fuss whatsoever touch every square inch of his feet.  There was nothing at the equator of his being fighting the effort—no pain and discomfort in the feat whatsoever.

Fidgeting nervously, he ran his hands back up.  They brushed past the part of his suit where his nipples were located—and a sharp jolt of sensitive energy ripped through him.  A high-pitched yelp filled the room, like that of a startled woman coming home to a surprise party.  He curled up against a headboard, noticing how large the bed looked compared to him.  The mattress was plush—a sheer black.  A blanket had been partly strewn across his frame upon waking, also black.  His confused eyes darted across the room and he saw... more black.  Black furniture.  Black bookcases.  A black chair before a black desk.  The only other tone was... slightly less-black shades of gray.  The room was remarkably spacious—nearly half the size of his very own apartment—but it was also noticeably spartan in its furnishing.  Not a single decoration or hint of color could be seen.

He glanced back at his own figure—at the shiny black gloss of the plugsuit thingy he was wearing.  There were occasional rings of metal situated at fixed intervals along his limbs, joints, and torso.  But Flash couldn't begin to guess where he'd have to pull or what he'd have to press in order to get the tight, tight, tight uniform off of himself.  There was a light tinge of musk to the room, and he got the impression that he had been wearing that suit for a long... long time.  The first natural thought that crossed his mind was having to use the bathroom, but he soon discovered that he... simply felt no need.  In fact, his abdomen felt clean and pain free—entirely unlike the gallstone-riddled bowels he was used to possessing after years upon years of habitually drinking unhealthy sodas.

Curiosity and yearning drew him off the bed.  As he attempted sliding his legs towards the distant floor, he realized just how small he was from the sheer distance that he had to travel.  Either that or the bed was bigger.  Perhaps both.  In any case, he landed on the plush carpet with an unceremonious plop and—

—a sharp pain rippled up his spine.  Flash covered his mouth, stifling another high-pitched yelp.  Only after more tears budded along the corners of his eyes did he relax and realize that... the “pain” wasn't quite so painful as it was discomforting.  More of a sustainable discomfort than anything.  He held his breath and flexed his kegel muscles, relatively surprised at how well they tightened and untightened on command.  A familiar sensation came to the man—something learned after countless lonely nights of fiddling with his gross nethers.

There was a plug inside him.  Flash had played with butt plugs before, but he had always been the one to insert them.  This thing—whatever it was—was no doubt smaller than what he had experimented with previously in life.  But the fact that he didn't remember putting it in down there—plus how the unremovable lycra suit prevented him from examining things—really put him at unease.  And as the unease bubbled higher and higher to the surface, it carried with it fumes of the previous vision: of waking up in a dark machine womb and being crowded tightly by giantess versions of Shadowbolts.  Sugarcoat, Sour Sweet, Sunny Flare—all vague haunts from Flash Sentry's high school years at CHS... and they were all sporting giant penises?

Flash knew what this was.  This was a “sequel” dream.  He hadn't actually woken up, and now his subconscious was carrying the mental narrative from one stage of REM sleep to the other.

That would explain the plugsuit.  The butt plug.  The lithe and nubile physique.

But the same anxiety that made his previous nightmare such a feverishly awkward cringescape had carried over, which is why Flash wasn't prancing alongside pretty princesses while wearing a pink ballgown.

Yes... that had to have been the only explanation...

...and yet, just why was this dream so plain, colorless, and boring?

Flash pivoted about in the room, squinting towards the source of light.  A wide stretch of windows loomed across from the bed, perpendicular to where the desk was located.  The curtains were eggshell white, adding contrast to the monochromatic domain.  He shuffled towards it, feeling light as a feather.  There was an... odd sway to his movement, as if his hips somehow required more say than he was used to—despite his tiny frame.

Nevertheless, when he reached the window he tugged the curtain aside.  The brightness of the world beyond was blinding, but by the time everything came into focus... Flash's jaw dropped in disbelief.

There.

Now there's a dreamer's imagination at work...

For starters, the room Flash was in was high... like unimaginably high.  It was set in the body of an incredibly tall skyscraper.  More like a megastructure.  If he had to take a guess, he'd say that he was on the hundredth floor of... something.

From his perspective, it appeared as though the skyscraper he was in was part of one giant coagulated artifice of glass and steel that extended well beyond his peripheral capabilities to see.  He gazed down in search for the ground—and he saw multiple levels... elevated roads like highway overpasses but wider, thicker, and buzzling with activity.  It was something straight out of Metropolis, only very real and filled with more detail than his brain could sort out.

Small bodies flitted in all directions like flies.  Flash's eyes darted after them, and soon he spotted hovering vehicles cruising along invisible freeways that criss-crossed in midair at multiple intersections.  Never mind Metropolis, this was like a setpiece straight out of a Star Wars prequel.  Only—it got a great deal more complicated than that.

When Flash looked up in search of a sky... he only found more skyscrapers... and more ground.  There was another city hanging upside down above him.  Only... it mirrored two more cities that made up parallel vertical “horizons” to the left and right of his perspective.  It took some time for his brain to comprehend, but he realized that all four cities were one—forming a vastly long and hollow tube of urbanization that carried on farther than his vision could discern.  Nestled between this hollow cylinder of high tech life was a sun—only it was not the Sun... but rather a narrow rod of luminescent energy stretched out towards some nebulous vanishing point.  Things floated more within this strobing “center,” and the chiefest of which were long floating rectangular platforms that blocked out the light in three places.  When Flash looked back at the inner surfaces of the cylindrical city, he spotted long swaths of darkness blotting out the light to countless districts and townships, courtesy of the shadows cast by these floating platforms.  In these lengthy patches of “night,” pinpricks of light could be seen twinkling, like Tokyo after sunset.  If he focused really hard, he could see—or imagined that he saw—the shadows slowly snaking their way clockwise across the cylindrical surface, so that at some point the shadow would stretch over his building and it would be “night” for him ever so temporarily.

Flash took a step back from the grand immensity of this outer (inner?) world.  He ran a hand through his scalp—shocked to feel just how incredibly silky his hair was.  It was a softness not unlike down feathers, and gone was the graying stiffness that the thirty-seven year old was used to.  There was almost a playfulness to the ends of his hair, something he hadn't felt since countless ages ago when he was allowed to stroke his hand through his ex-girlfriend Sunset's hair.

Gnawing on his bottom lip, Flash turned around and saw—yes—an open door to a smaller compartment just adjacent to the bedroom.  The reflective sheen of gray tile confirmed that it had to have been a bathroom.  He made a bee-line for it, again sensing an undeniable sway to his hips.  When he reached the chamber, he fumbled his hand around for a lightswitch—ultimately grazing a panel that was evidently touch-sensitive.  A cold white light filled the room, and he squinted dumbly at the bathroom's contents... and lack thereof.

There was a bathtub and a shower-stall, both luxurious in size (if not in décor).  But there was no mirror to look at himself with.  What's more—and somewhat distressing—there was no toilet.  It was a “bathroom” in a literal sense.  Only tools for bathing and washing.  The sink had a... curiously large amount of lotions and hair conditioners, but otherwise the lavatory was just as spartan as his bedroom.  There was a cabinet beside the sink.  On a whim, Flash swung one of its tiny doors open.  The interior of the cabinet was chock-full of packages containing what looked like tampons, feminine pads, and pantyliners.  Instinctually, the masculine reptile inside Flash flinched and slammed the door shut.  He gripped the sink, trembling.

What the fucking hell...?

He gulped, slowly backing away from the bathroom.

Just whose bedroom was this?

Flash wrung his hands nervously together, looking all around like a scared, cornered puppy.

Just whose apartment was this??

He bit his lip.  He looked down at his lycra-covered figure.

And why did his crotch feel so damned tight?  Was there ever going to be a way out of this suit???

Just then...

...Flash heard voices.

High-pitched voices.  Sing-songy.  Melodic.  Like a Saturday morning cartoon giggling itself awake.

Curious, he turned towards the other door of the room.  It was sealed tight, but no doubt it led to the rest of the apartment.

Might as well see how far this dream will take him...

As he proceeded towards the door, he spotted a computer station at the room's desk.  It was an elaborate computer station... with multiple monitors and input devices and other geometric doohickeys that Flash couldn't even begin to understand.

Right.  Do what you want to, dream.

He came to the door and reached for a knob... only to find that there wasn't one.  Fiddling, he felt all around the door... then tried shoving against it.  He whimpered and panted with the effort—feeling like a feather trying to push over a mountain.  At some point, however, his shoulder must have brushed against a panel because—

Schwissssh!

“Aackies!” Flash exclaimed in the most effeminate tone of his life.  He fell across the floor in a lycra heap, wincing all over.

Far across a luxurious apartment flooded with daylight—decorated ornately with floral motifs and delicate fabric patterns—two bodies shifted from where they stood beside what looked like a mini-bar or a kitchenette.  There were pretty blinking eyes and pretty heads of hair.  Soon—after a combined giggle—two sets of pretty pretty voices trilled in Flash's direction.

“Rise and shine, tangle-foot!” snickered one soul—a pale petite thing with long silk-black hair.

“Heeheehee... about time, Flashie!”  The more melodic of the two hummed in delight.  Flash saw golden blonde hair and milk-soft skin.  His heart skipped a beat, then another as she continued speaking:  “Get some nice shuteye?  From the look of things, you earned it, sweetie!”

Flash Sentry lingered on the floor, confused and twitching.  “Sweetie,” he repeated, and the musicality of his breath matched the word with sugary softness.  Flash felt like he was lost in an apartment with three strangers, and he was one of them.  He must have been lying on the floor for far too long because—

“You okay over there, Flash?” asked the brunette.  She had light purple eyes—a soft flicker of color set against a pale complexion with jet black hair.  The girl's lips were somewhat puffy, and an application of shadow hung smokily above her eyes and lashes.  The petite specimen's body sat casually in what looked like a glittery blue cocktail dress, with a pair of shapely legs dangling off the stool she was seated on.  A loose pair of heels sat empty beneath her, and a glossy gray handbag rested on the counter's edge.  A glass of rose-colored liquid rested in her manicured fingers, with a dark lipstic stain on the edge of the container.  The woman looked like she had crawled straight out of a fashion magazine and Flash could positively smell her spicy perfume from clear across the living room.  “Hello???  GSS Equestria to Flaaaash?”  Her luxurious eyes glazed over with abject confusion.  “Are you with us, honey?”

Flash pulled himself up, feeling another sting from his posterior.  He wobbled as he stood upright.  “Equestria...?” he stammered.

“What the Hell did they do to you over at Cinchcorp?” the brunette asked with a wry smirk.  “You've been conked on the head a few times by those experiments but nothing like this!”

“I...”  Flash rubbed his face with his palm.  With one squinting eye, he observed the lengths of the apartment—along with its high tech contraptions, insanely large television set, and comfortable looking sofas and chairs.  “Cinchcorp...”  He saw a broad window with what looked like an enormous balcony—more like a landing platform directly outside, and beyond which the cylindrical horizon shimmered with urban life.  “I didn't...”  His lips pursed.  “...the other dream...?”

“Other dream?” murmured the blonde—and again Flash's heart skipped a beat at how sweet and melodic she sounded.

The brunette continued:  “What, you mean when your co-worker carried you in here?  Flashie, that was—like—the day before yesterday.”

A sharp breath escaped his lips.  He had to lean against the back of a couch to keep from collapsing again.  “I've been... sleeping for two days...?”

“Pfftchyeahhh...”  The brunette eyed his glossy uniform.  “Although, how the Hell you managed to do it in that thing is beyond me.”  She took a dainty sip from her drink and glamorously tossed back her jet black bangs.  “You gotta be retaining several gallons of sweat, silly bean.”

“I'm...”  Flash sniffed his own lycra-covered arm.  All he could smell was an all-permeating fruitiness.  Like a vineyard.  “...fine?”

“Hey, works for me.”  The brunette looked across the counter at her friend.  “So anyways, like I was saying, I told her that I had reserved the very end of the year for my next dusting.  And she gave me this judgmental look—as if to say 'Sure, whatever, coward.'  Pffft... bitch, please”  Another sip.  “I've already endured my minimum in record time!  I just want some extra credits to land myself a slot at Sparkle's Royal Ball!”

“Uhm... I-I'm so sorry, Fannie,” the blonde said, waving her off.  “Just hold onto that thought for a minute.  I promise you, I'm interested.  Just...”  She bird-stepped out from behind the counter, slowly approaching Flash with a look of concern.  “Flash, sweetie?  Is everything alright?”  She was an absolute cherub, with pixie short golden hair and ocean blue eyes.  Kissably soft ivory skin with a hint of golden tinge.  She wore a modest pink blouse with terry cloth bedshorts and a baby pink choker around her neck with white lace trim.  “It's... really not like you to come stumbling out of your room like this.”

“Or to sleep in like a valk after a Blossomversary Orgy,” mused the brunette.  Flash noticed that she too was wearing a choker—a solid blue specimen.  “Just what goes on at his workplace, I wonder.”

“Fannie, please.”  The blonde spoke softly and firmly all at once.  The concern in her voice outweighed any frustration, and she caressed Flash's vision from a half dozen feet away with a princessy smile.  “It was... kinda scary how you came back here the other day.  To m-me, anyway.”  She gulped, toying her fingers together nervously.  “Flash, I know you really don't like us prying into your life and career... but... we really can't help it.  We love you, bae.  I swear—you're the glue that holds us together.”

“Us?”  Flash murmured.  He realized that his eyes were slowly traveling up and down her pixie-porcelain thighs, and judging from the abject blink in her expression—he had been caught.  He leaned back, wincing.  “Erm... I was just... I didn't mean...”

Just then, a musical chime filled the room.  A pair of automatic doors beyond the kitchenette hissed open, and a third woman entered.  She wore a hellishly skimpy gold miniskirt and matching halter top.  A green collar gripped tightly around her neck.  The woman walked inside with a victoriously sway of her hips, set to the percussion of clicking high heels.  “Heyyyyyyy betchesss!”

The brunette echoed, waving dramatically.  “Heyyyyyyy betch!”

“Woo!”  The stranger sashayed into the apartment, tossing loose a fountain of long wavy chestnut brown hair.  The air filled with a decadent scent—reminiscent of chocolate.  “Fuck me with a chainsaw, was that a good sesh!”

The brunette giggled.  “Something tells me somebody already did.”  She swiveled on the stool and held her arms out.  “Come 'ere, girrrrrrrrl.”

The newcomer tossed a golden purse onto a couch and approached her friend.  The two leaned in, quickly pecking each other on opposite cheeks, followed by a straight kiss on the lips.  “Muah!  Muah!  Mmmmmmmuah!”  Her blue eyes lit up within a golden complexion, beaming.  “Take a good long whiff!”  Eh tugged down at the front of her top, and Flash couldn't make out any cleavage—but rather a deliciously flat chest bespeckled with a sneeze of cosmetic glitter.  “No, seriously!  Just breathe it all in!”

The brunette leaned into her friend, her dainty nostrils flaring a few times.  “... … ...sweet Goddess!”  A proud smile crossed her pale features.  “Was there a war I didn't know about?”

The chestnut specimen held two fingers up.  “Two alphas.  One room.  I basically brought an entire club to its knees!”

“All the while on your knees!” the brunette said, and both girls giggled.  “How'd you win over two packs at once?”

“It's all in the rhythm, girl!  You gotta take dancing classes!  I swear!”  Ms. Chestnut winked.  “Holy butt monkeys, bitch—I had them all over me like cringe on Tik Tok!  And they had been feuding in the arena for about a week before I got them both to let loose!”

“Whew...!”  The brunette fanned herself.  Her upper body flushed red.  “Fuck that must have been hot.”

“Could barely see anything from all their hot steamin' milk.”  Chestnut hopped onto a stool and poured herself a drink beside the brunette.  “Needed to take a friggin' mana-injection just to be able to walk home.”

“Sweet tits!  How many valks are we talking about?”

The newcomer filled the glass, slung the bottom to the ceiling, and drank all its contents in ten gargling seconds.  She finished with a happy exhale.  “Thirteen.  Almost six per pack.”

“Woo!”  The brunette reached out and slapped the other's ass.  “Way to go, Melody!  That's a record, isn't it?”

“Gettin' real damn close!”  She slapped her glass down and sighed with a milky glaze to her thin eyes.  “I'm tellin' ya... when both alphas imprinted at once, I was sure their pythons were gonna crush my skull.  You should have seen everyone gawking at me along the walk home...”  She rubbed her neck and face just above her choker, looking more and more flushed.  “Shitfuck... I'd be surprised if Queen Sparkle herself couldn't smell me from across the Beta District.”

“Wow, that must have been so fucking hot.”  The brunette's lips pursed.  “Everyone you passed knowing just how badly you've been conquered.”

“The only conqueror is the one standing here!  Both alphas are practically drooling before the sesh was halfway over.”  The chestnut haired one—“Melody”—looked across the room.  “Hey!  Cherish!  Come over here, princess, and get a whiff too!  It'll make you cream your glass slippers!”

“Melody, I'm so very happy for you, but...”  The blonde winced delicately, gesturing at Flash.  “We're h-having a bit of a situation here.”

“Huh?”  Melody narrowed her blue eyes.  “The Hell is wrong with him?  Why's he still wearing his weird-ass work clothes?”

The brunette sighed.  “He's been out like a light since his valk coworker carried him in.”

“No shit?”  Melody arched an eyebrow.  “Flash?  You doin' okay there, dude?  I know you're something of a workaholic and all, but it's not every week they bring you home in a fuckin' BDSM cocoon.”

Flash Sentry was squinting this whole time.  His vision stayed affixed to this “Melody's” face—her sun-kissed face hanging under an earthy-brown head of hair, long and flowing.  Like tilled ground.  There was something incredibly familiar about her, and the flatness of her chest triggered an old memory in his mind.

“Wait... I know you...”  Flash muttered.

Cherish—the blonde—craned her head aside.  “Why wouldn't you?”

Flash's eyes twitched.  An epiphany struck him—and he remembered performing a guitar jam over at Applejack's place.  She was having a family reunion on the farm and couldn't afford hiring a professional band.  So Flash had gone to her place and performed a few country tunes free of charge so that the many people attending—both young and old—could enjoy some relaxing ambiance.  It was there that he ran into one of her cousins, a bashful country bumpkin with chestnut brown bangs and blue eyes as bright as a swimming hole.

“Caramel...”  Flash's lips hung open.  “Caramel Apple...?!”

Every person in the room blinked.

Melody cleared her throat.  She sported a smile that was meant to steel her own nerves.  “Flash, buddy, just because you stick with your biological name doesn't mean the rest of us like throwing ours around.”

“Yeah, Flash, like—what the Hell?” the brunette made a barfy expression like a valley girl.  “Have some manners.  She's only trying to be sympathetic and stuff.”

This time, Flash was staring at the brunette at the counter.  Now that she was giving him some sass, he found the spunky attitude somewhat recognizable.  That tone in her voice reminded him of a conversation he had observed ages ago—in another life.  He was at a soccer game to support Rainbow Dash.  Among the fans was a middle schooler—Scootaloo was her name—and she sat on the north bleachers with a bunch of other adolescents of the same age.  There was a punk kid who didn't want to be there, and he was constantly getting into arguments with Rarity's younger sister.  His older brother was supposedly a professional soccer player named Thunderlane and he was rubbing it in all the other kids' faces.  The constant back-and-forth badgering got so annoying that someone nearly kicked the boy out.  He had a name that ironically overstated his social fortitude.  It was something that began with an “R”... Ricochet... Railroad... Rocket...

“Rumble..!”  Flash exclaimed, strangely proud of himself.  “You're Rumble!”  A blink, and he felt himself grimace slightly as he once again observed the specimen's saucy cocktail dress.  “You're Rumble???”  His gaze bounced once more to Melody.  “Why are you both girls?”

The duo's momentary indignance was replaced with abject confusion.

“Uhm... it's Fannie?” the brunette droned, violet eyes narrow.  “Fannie Femmestar?”

“The Hell have they done to your brain over at Cinchcorp, ya sad little dork?” Melody asked.  The sarcasm in her voice was a thin veil for surmounting concern.

“Flash, maybe you should see a doctor,” Cherish said.  “It's just a hop, skip, and a jump to the nearest fae clinic—”

“I...”  Flash squinted at Cherish as if peering through a fog.  “I don't recognize you.”  He was telling the truth.  The blonde in front of him looked maybe like a hybrid of Tinkerbell and Miley Cyrus, but a million times snugglier.  There was nobody Flash remembered that could have dredged this person up for such a weird dream.  “This doesn't make sense...”

Moisture lined the edges of Cherish's eyes.  She looked hurt to hear him say that, but it didn't lessen her concern one bit.  “It's me, Flash.  Cherish?  Cherish Lynne?”  She reached out with a soft hand and touched his shoulder.  “Sweetie, maybe you should sit down.”

“Look...”  Flash yanked his hand away and started backing away from her.  “...I know exactly what this is...”

“Care to fill us in?” droned Melody.  “You're the last person on this galaxy ship to get this theatrical.”

“You're all gorgeous as Hell,” Flash muttered, frowning.  Frowning at himself.  “Friggin' pizza.  If you're gonna give me a wet dream—at least keep it simple.”

“The fuck does he mean by that?” Fannie remarked.

“Flash—” Cherish reached out to him again.

“Just leave me alone!”  Flash snapped, turning rapidly around.  “It's all so pathetic!  I don't need this!  I don't—”  He froze in place.

A beautiful face was likewise frozen in front of him.  Kissable lips.  Soft gold skin—completely devoid of blemishes.  Eyes like the sea over a tropical beach.  Then shiny blue hair, so immaculate and glossy that they reflected starlight beyond the walls and ceiling of that confusing place.

Flash blinked—and the face blinked.  He brought a hand to his neck, and he saw the shocked specimen fondling a black choker with lycra-covered fingers.

“Who...?”  His voice.  A woman's voice.  A masterpiece strung between awe and terror.  “Jesus Christ...”  Never in all his dreams—fantasies, video game avatars, shameless art commissions—had a vision been achieved this pristinely.  Something he imagined.  Something he longed for.  Something he desired yet missed at every blink against the endless malaise of a filthy existence.  “Sweet Jesus...”  Those gloved hands went up, and he saw the reflection do the same.  “...is this... is this...?”

“Since when did you love mirrors, Flashie?” Fannie asked.

A whimper escaped Flash's throat.  He stood—trembling—before a random sheet of glass that hung on the wall he happened to be facing at that precise moment.  A lithe figure stood before him.  Petite.  Slender in frame.  Slightly narrow at the waist.  A flat chest—yet subtly precocious all the same.  But everything about what he saw—including the face and its soft features and its gorgeous hair even when tossed and disheveled—was undeniably feminine.  Like a teensy-sized supermodel who had just crawled out of bed in some glamorous soap opera.  As he ran his fingers through his own hair—marveling at the glittering sheen of those flawless follicles—he squeaked out another sob, smiling at the girlish tonality of what came out.

“I never thought...”

A smile.

“...never thought I could see it...”

Tears.  Trembling lips.

“...and it'd somehow be more beautiful than I had ever hoped...”

He felt his knees buckling.  Memories of the dark metal chamber he had met the Shadowbolts in came to mind.  That was a wild and crazy dream... and so was this.

“...shit...”

So was this.

“...shit...”

Just a fat middle-aged loser farting up a collapsing pizza vision that was doomed from the start.

“...it's not real...”

His fingers swam to his nose and mouth and soon he was smothering himself with trembling palms.  He fell to his knees, curling up and weeping.

“I'm so fucking gross.  Such a fucking sick perverted freak.  Fucking wake up, you fat fuck.”

“Flash...!” an angelic voice hovered closer to him.

But he shook her away, curling into himself even more.  “Wake up.  Just wake up.  This isn't real.  This isn't real.  It's too good to be real.  Fuck.  Fuck!”

“Flash—please!”  Warm hands grasped his shoulders.  “Just calm down, honey!”

“Yeah, chillax.”

“Stop wiggin' out, dude.  You're freaking us out!”

Three bodies gathered closely around him.  Flash's weeping senses were accosted by sweet scents—vanilla, chocolate, flowers.  Soft hands gently raised him to his trembling feet.  He couldn't fight them if he tried—as delicate as their touch was, he was infinitely weaker.  It occurred to him about halfway through the trek across the apartment that he still wasn't waking up.  This was both alarming and sobering, and he composed himself enough to sit down on the sofa—warmed by the light wafting in through the wide windows.

“Shhhhhh... shhhhh...”  Cherish smiled as she set him down.  She was the closest of the three girls, and Flash felt like someone was spritzing vanilla perfume on his face for each second she absorbed his gaze.  “It's okay, Flashie.  That's right.  Let it all out.”

At first, he didn't know what she meant, until he realized that he... was still sobbing.  He couldn't stop himself if he slammed his brain into a semi truck.  The crying came from deep within—somewhere beyond his lungs—and each heave sent him inescapably bawling into the next wave.  Tears flowed relentlessly, and he felt like crawling into a little ball.  So he did—hugging his knees as she smooshed up against the cushioned corner of the sofa.

“I'm sorry...” he whimpered, again in that deliciously beautiful voice that somehow came off as even more precious in its melancholic octaves.  “I'm so s-sorry... I... I don't kn-know how to stop...!”

“Who says you have to, sweetie?”  Cherish sniffled.  It occurred to Flash that she was crying too.  From the echo of hiccupy breaths, he realized that Fannie and Melody were likewise in tears.  The room had cascaded into a collective well of synchronized emotion.  Everyone sat close to one another, with Flash's tender, huddled self in the center.  Cherish plopped herself right next to him, sliding a box of tissues over and giving him one to dab his eyes with.  “I... I think this has been a long time coming, Flash.  Trust me.  Don't fight it.”

Flash heaved and heaved and... dabbed at his eyes and heaved some more.  A sniffle—navigating several trembles—and he bit his lip as he looked at Cherish.  “... … ...you smell wonderful.”

Cherish giggled.  She used the back of a dainty wrist to wipe her eyelids dry, smiling sweetly his way.  “So I've been told.”

“Flash, we're so sorry,” Fannie said.  Black eyeshadow was running, and she used a tissue to bring her gorgeous pale complexion back to bear.  “We had no idea what you've been going through.”

“We still friggin' don't,” said Melody, a bit calmer than the rest.  She nevertheless shuddered with emotion as she leaned towards him.  “Could it be that your nullification devices aren't working?”

“Null... null...”  Flash hiccuped and sniffled.  “...nullification device?”

“Hell's bells, dude.”  Melody pointed.  “You're wearing two of them!  On your neck and up your pussy!”

“My... what?”  Flash shuddered in silence for a few seconds.  A trembling hand reached up and fingered the black choker around his neck.  “What... why...?”

“Your co-worker said that there might be some residual spatial displacement sickness,” Fannie stated.  “Whatever the Hell that means.”

“It means 'sorceress gets dizzy,'” Melody said.  Her expression straightened as she looked at Flash.  “Cinchcorp financed that shit.  Maybe they have a spare for you to wear?”

“I... still don't know what you're talking about,” Flash said, still curled up and trembling.  “I'm sorry.  I just... I-I'm so confused...”  He looked at Melody, then at Fannie, then at Melody again.  “You're not Caramel?”

Melody shook her head slowly.  “Haven't been for years, dude.”

Flash looked at Fannie.  “...and you?”

Fannie dried her face, took a breath, and said:  “I left 'Rumble' to ruin when I fully-blossomed.  You're the only fae I know who's stuck to your biological name, Flash.  But—that's just null lifestyle, I always figured.”

Flash gulped.  “Fae...?”

The three roommates stared blankly at him.

So he said it out loud:  “What's a fae?”

“Uhm...”  Fannie arched an eyebrow.  “...we are?  You are...?”

“I...”  Flash's lips pursed.  He felt Cherish's gentle hand squeeze his shoulder, and he instinctually leaned into it.  “I don't get it.”

Cherish looked at Melody.  “There has to be some way we can contact his co-workers or something.  Anybody at Cinchcorp.  Someone's got to be clued in to what's happening to him.”

Flash glanced at the blonde.  “Why... is everyone referring to me as 'he?'”

Cherish blinked at him.  “Because...”  There was a flicker of something sad in her ocean blue eyes.  “...that's how you've always preferred it, Flashie.”

“Huh?”

“You're null,” Melody explained.  “Have been for as long as I've known you.  Even back in Canterlot.”

Flash perked up slightly.  “There is a Canterlot?”

“Yeah?  Back on Earth?”

“We're...”  Flash's face twisted.  “...not on earth?”

Melody opened her mouth.  “... … ...”  A plastic smile, and she held a finger up as she slowly stood from the scene.  “I'm... … ...going to try phoning in Cinchcorp.”

“Right.”  Fannie also stood up.  “Gonna check up on the nearest fae clinic.”

“No, guys—gals—you people!”  Flash stammered after them, still shivering.  “I-I-I'm not sick!  I just need some answers—why...”  He tugged at his wet face, whimpering.  “Why am I so beautiful?  Why is everyone so beautiful?  Why... why...”

“Ohhhhh Flash...”  Cherish squeaked, squeezing his shoulder.  “Just try to relax.  We're going to take good care of you—”

A wave of fright flittered through Flash's tender frame.  His beating heart shot into the nebulous spaces of his beleaguered mind—and he longed for someone strong to hold him.  Carry him.  Protect him.  For whatever reason, the only person who came to mind was Sunset.  She always admired her strength, tenacity, and emotional growth.  It was no wonder he still randomly thought of her, even after so much pathetic time had gone by.  But she wasn't there right then—nothing familiar was there, aside from the vague feminine shapes of distant acquaintances from the past.  Regardless, he needed to surrender to something.  His will was too weak and fragile to stand it for long, and so he threw himself at the closest source of warm there was.

“Guh—!”  Cherish gasped as Flash Sentry threw his arms around her.  A calm breath, and she smiled tearfully as she held him back—stroking pink-painted fingernails through his short blue hair.  “It's going to be okay.  Don't you worry, sweetness.  You've done so much for us throughout the years.  We're going to make sure you get through this alright.”

“Mmmmm...”  Flash whimpered, squeezing his teary eyes shut.  “Thank you.  I'm so sorry...”

“Why are you sorry, Flashie?”

He gulped.  “I don't know.  Just...”  He shook against her embrace.  “...so scared.  So shook.  Never felt this way before...”

“I believe you.  Really, I do.”  After a while, Cherish let out a light giggle—like birdsong.

It warmed Flash's heart.  Enough for him to tilt his head up and brave a look at her.  “What is it?”

“Nothing, sweetie.”  She wiped a tear dry from her smiling face and caressed his chin.  “Just... you've... n-never been this touchie-feelie before.”

“I haven't?”

“No.”  Cherish gulped.  “It's... kinda refreshing, really.  Knowing that you can actually be so needy... that we can give back to you for a change.”

Flash sniffled.  His ears tickled with the sounds of Melody and Fannie speaking in the background.  “You're being so very nice to me.”

“Heeheehee...”  She squeezed him tenderly in her arms.  “...why wouldn't I be?”

“And you really... really smell nice,” Flash found himself blurting, once again adrift in vanilla.

Cherish gnawed on her bottom lip. “You... really don't remember anything, do you?”

Fresh tears flowed as Flash slowly shook his head.

“What... do you remember?” Cherished asked.

Flash shuddered.  “I came home from the shop.  I ate pizza.  I was streaming... Black Mirror or something.  Had my phone nearby... browsing 'Delicious Traps' on subreddit...”

Cherish blinked, blue eyes darting back and forth as her face scrunched.

“...must have fallen asleep...”  Flash murmured.  “...dreamt I woke up in a weird laboratory place thingy... buncha Shadowbolts from Crystal Prep were there... only they were giant and they had—”  Flash's teeth clenched as he thought of those massive sheathed pendulums sported by the three women in the lockerroom.  “—really big uniforms.”  He gulped.  “Sunny Flare was to tall that she could carry me—”

“Sunny Flare..!”  Cherish exhaled.  “That's what your friend's nametag said!”

“Huh?”

“When she brought you here in her hovercraft!  I'd seen her face a few times before when you two have carpooled in the past.”  Cherish looked off as she stroked Flash's hair.  “I couldn't help but notice how worried she looked.  She too might be nullified, but a valk like that can't hide her feelings from me.  There was more about you that she wasn't letting on about when she dropped you off...”

“Valk... fae... what—?”  Flash shook into a sitting position, looking directly at Cherish.  “My brain's weird, but not this weird.”

“You still think this is some sort of dream?”

“Just... tell me, Chi Chi.”

“Cherish,” she gently corrected.

“What... are you supposed to be...?”  Flash squinted through his teary eyes.  A sniffle.  “What are all of us supposed to be?”

“Why, we're a Fountain, of course.”

“... … ...”

“A Fountain?”  Cherish swallowed delicately, eyes locked with his.  “Of fae?”  After more silence, she stammered:  “Mmmm... the fairer of the new sexes?”

Flash's face twisted.  “New sexes?”

Cherish's pretty lips hung open.  Somewhere between the beauty and the concern, a straight face of lucid reason carved through.  “You're not really you...”  A worried, lonesome breath.  “Are you, Flashie?”

He gulped.  “I'm starting to think I'm not either.”

Cherish squirmed nervously.  She looked off at Fannie and Melody in the distance.

Flash followed her gaze.  “Last time I saw Rumble—”  He winced.  “...Fannie.  He... she... they were like... twelve—”

“Mmmmm well that would have been before her blossoming.”

“Blossoming...”

“When one transforms from male to fae.”

Flash's mouth hung open.  He was hunting for words but coming up empty.

“Of course, that was ages ago.  Fannie blossomed around age fifteen or so.  Hopped onto the Equestria along with Melody—both grew up on Earth.  Not far from you.”

“How old are they now?”

“Well, Fannie is thirty-two—”

“Thirty-two?!?!”  Flash exclaimed—loudly enough for the person in question to glance over from where she stood with a phone of some sort.

“Uhm...”  Cherish smiled nervously.  “Yes?”

“How old am I?” Flash wheezed.

“Thirty-seven, last time I checked—”

“Thirty-seven?!?”  Flash gawked.  He swam his hand in a circle around his face, like a picture frame.  “This... is 'thirty-seven?!'”

Cherish giggled, sweating.  “Goddess, Flashie, you're acting as if it's two-hundred-and-thirty-seven!”

“Two hundr—”  Flash's voice dropped off the earth.  He felt weak, slumping back into the sofa while Cherish held him in place.  “Can someone even faint in their own dream.”

“Flash, honey, you're not dreaming,” Cherish said, stroking his bangs.  “I promise.”  Her fingers lingered.  “...gosh, I always knew your hair looked like silk, but now that I actually feel it—”

“Chimney.”

She jerked her hand back, blushing.  “Ahem.  'Cherish.'”

“I feel like I'm suffocating...”

Cherish gave him a sympathetic look.  “Well, you're still in that... tight black thing.  Wouldn't it help you to remove it?”

“I...”  Flash bit his lip, flexing his lycra-covered fingers.  “...I don't know how.”

“Isn't it the collar?”

“Huh?”

Cherish pointed at his neck.  “I figured Cinchcorp manatech is like most plugsuits.  It's keyed into the user's collar.”

“Collar...”  Flash brought a finger up to the black choker around his neck.  “You mean this thing—?”

His fingers squeezed the article in two places, and there was a chiming sound.  With a flash of ultraviolet light, the entire lycra suit unraveled in opposite directions—bottom to top—until all that remained was a rubbery belt around Flash's slender waist.

The rest of him was as naked as Greco-Roman statue.

“Fuck—!”  Flash yelped girlishly, hopping off the bed.  Heads turned as he stumbled over the table and did a bare-ass somersault onto the floor.  “Shit—!”

“Flashie, what's wrong?” Cherish asked with remarkable casualness despite the panic of the situation.

“What's gotten into him—?” Melody asked from afar.

“Friggin'—”  Flash crawled back towards his bedroom like a fiddler crab.  “I'm in the buff, you crazy fruit baskets!” he wheezed, throwing himself through the doorway and fumbling for the door switch.

“Flash!”  Cherish got up from the couch and girl-jogged towards the door.  “Wait!  It's okay—!”

SCHWUNK!

The door shut, and Flash leaned against it with his meager weight pressed through his bear palms.  He panted and shivered—feeling colder and weaker in his nude state.

How did that suit vanish completely like that?

Why was he wearing absolutely nothing underneath it?

...and why weren't the other three rushing in after him?

He could hear their worried, panicked voices from the other side of the apartment.  But—his gymnastic mental state concluded—they probably couldn't get through the door due to some highly technological authentication thingy.  Why the fuck not—his dream was cyberpunk-y enough as it was.

“This can't get any more fucked up,” he muttered, standing up straight.  A thought flickered through him—that he could now ascertain the reason for why his groin felt so tight.  Flash looked straight down... and that's when he saw a translucent gray “cage” encasing his flimsy excuse for a scrotum.  “... … ...huh.”
> A Dream...?
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Flaaaaash?”

He could recognize it as Cherish's voice.  There was a light knocking on the closed door to the room he was in, and her sweet musical voice continued.

“Flash... it's nothing we haven't seen before, sweetie.”

Fannie's voice joined in, vibrating through the metal frame.  “Yeah.  Fae of a wing flitter together, dude.”

Melody:  “But seriously, though, you've got a Cinchcorp cage???  Isn't three nullifiers going overboard, bud?”

The other two feminine voices hissed at her.

“Melody!”

“For Goddess' sake!  You're not helping!”

“For the love of valk milk!  It's friggin' overkill!”

“... … ...well, you're not wrong...”

“Flashie...”  It was Cherish.  “...I really don't know what's happening to you, but you don't have to be alone right now.  Won't you let us in?  We'll give you space.  Just... j-just throw on a shirt and shorts if need be!”

“Yeah!  What she said!  Not sure it's super safe to leave you alone while you're freaking out, dude!”

“Please, just—”  Flash clenched his teeth, backing away from the door and bumping into the door.  He wobbled, then hugged himself with a slight shiver.  There really wasn't any point in talking sense to the participants of a dream.  Nevertheless...  “I... I-I'm not going to hurt myself or nothing.  This is all so crazy and freaky and—”  A shuddering breath.  “I just need some time.”  A gulp.  “Alone.  To process.”

Silence.

Cherish's voice rang, and Flash swore he could taste the vanilla flavors of her pink pouting lips through the door.  “Well... if you're sure about that, Flashie, then we'll honor it.  But please... come out and talk to us as soon as you can.  We need to know that you're alright, honey.”

“Yeah...”  Melody added.  “Don't be a stranger, pal.  Even if you are acting like a total stranger...”

“Melody...”

“Well, do you have any idea what's going on?”

“No, but that's not the point—come over here.  You too, Cherish...”

As the three ladies went off to “huddle”... or whatever...

...Flash was left alone in the spartan monochromatic room.  Alone with his very naked butt and his very naked tummy...

...and his very caged cock.  If one could call it such.  Back in the “waking” world, Flash was about—an average specimen of masculinity.  He sported around four and a half to five inches on a hot summer's evening.  It wasn't something he was too terribly proud of, but it mattered little—seeing as how he had nobody that he ever shared his mundane Freudian lure with.

But here—and now—he had to venture to guess that he was relatively microscopic in size.  This wasn't... entirely a “downgrade” for Flash.  At least not in his mind.  A long life of fetishizing individuals (both real and fictitious, but mostly fictitious) with considerably smaller endowments than himself had led him to the point where he admired small packages.  Like... on every level, it was aesthetically pleasing—to the point that Flash had often imagined himself in the vicarious position of being the “limp femboi bottom” whom he drooled to.  This was all complete fantasy, of course.

Until... now?

“Hooooo boyo...”  He nervously reached a hand down—until his trembling fingers hovered next to his micro-member, further dwarfing it in comparison.  “What crimes have you committed, tiny friend?”

The confidence in his words were betrayed by a noticeable shiver running up and down his lithe body.  He gently tap-tap-tapped the translucent gray “cage” that was encasing him.  It felt tight—but not quite so painful.  He imagined that, given enough time, he could get used to it being there.  In the past, Flash had considered the idea of ordering a chastity device of sorts.  But it made very little sense for a man who had fully embraced his wizard-y fate of permanent virginity.  Plus, there was always the fear of losing the key that was needed to unlock his most precious of preciousnesses.

As he observed the device, he realized that there... simply was no locking mechanism whatsoever.  At least—not that he could discern.  That means there was no feasible way of unlocking it.  This was disconcerting.  So was the fact that there was no open slit at the head of the constricting device.  That meant if he had to take a piss, he'd only marinate his own genitalia in gross middle-aged pee-juice.

Flash blinked.

He realized that he didn't feel the need to pee.  Which was strange... considering that—according to the so-called “Fountain” of friends beyond the door—he had been stuck unconscious in bed for nearly two days.  Then again, if this was all a dream, then urinating totally wasn't necessary.  That'd explain the lack of a toilet in his bathroom.

Flash looked at himself... then looked at himself closer... then looked at himself some more.  Pretty soon, he was being over like a gymnast, and while he was surprised at how far his lithe joints allowed him to go...

Dammit...

Gnawing his lip, he padded around the room and crawled up into the bed.  His body shuddered at the soft caress of the plush dark comforter against his stupidly beautiful figure.  The man's heart started racing, and a perspiring level of reality descended upon him as he looked down at his own flat chest, his slender limbs, his spotless skin.  A million hours of a million nights of his life were spent perving at videos, fanart, and literotica concerning a visual moment such as this... only now he was living it.  He was it.

And yet, for as much as it sent his pulse quickening... there was no arousal.  None that he could tell.  The chastity device didn't “tighten up” or feel any more constricting.  It was as if Flash was only aroused... on the inside.  Or something fruity like that.  He decided not to dwell on it too much.  For putting too much thought on the moment—he suspected—might end the dream right then and there, and he was suddenly in the mood to explore a bit more.

And explore he did, reaching down and feeling around his lower thighs... his groin... the skin above and below the translucent cage.  He wasn't certain why it didn't dawn on him until now, but he was absolutely bereft of pubic hair.  In fact, there wasn't a single fucking follicle of body hair on him.  Not that he could tell.  Running fingers (now free of the stupid lycra) over his flesh sent shivers dancing across his spine.  He felt like he was caressing a peach or an apple or a pear or some other tasty analogy—albeit stretched all across his body.  His heart beat faster and faster, for somehow this moment was far more heavenly than he had ever imagined in all his years of dreaming about actually making out with a deliciously sweet femboi—

“Aaa-aaahhh!!!”  Flash yelped, curling up instantly as if a knife had been stabbed into him.  He shuddered and shook all over, eyes wide and temple beading with sweat.

There was a flurry of girlish footsteps at the door, followed by a delicate-but-worried knock.

“Flash?”  It was Fannie.  Or maybe it was Melody.  One or the other—neither of them sounded as heavenly as Cherish.  “Are you okay in there?”

“I... uh...”  Only now was Flash starting to calm down.  He stretched his golden body out across the bed, relaxing his toes.  “...I f-found my nipple!” he blurted in breathless honesty.

“... … ...good luck with the other one, assuming it's still there!”  And the footsteps dwindled.

Definitely not Cherish.

Flash gulped, looking down at his offending chest.  He brought a finger up and gently... gently pressed it against a single diamond-hard aerole.  The contact made was light as a feather, and it yet it felt like a glass chalice as being shattered inside his heart and pumped through every vein.

“Mmmm-mmmmm!”  He curled his toes and fingers again, shaking all over.  “O-okay...”  A sniffle, and he wiped hot tears dry from the corners of his eyes.  “...note taken.”

He sat up for a moment, running his hands down over his own body.  He repeated this motion more and more, slower each time.  He timed his breaths with it—shuddering at how high pitched the melodic exhales sounded.  If Flash concentrated—not that he had to try that hard—he could even produce tiny little squeaks of blissful self-discovery, and such audible samples sounded none too terribly much unlike voice actress lines that he had happened to memorize from a bevvy of hentai overdubs.  At one point, he closed his moist eyes, relishing in the firm warm slide of his palms down his sides, over his hips, and over his smooth hairless legs.  Another stifled whimper, and he raaaaaaan those same delicate hands back up, rivering across his chest and forming a “cupping” motion beneath invisible breasts.  And while there were none there—and a good portion of him was happy for it—Flash could nevertheless feel a sensitive layer of tissue just beneath those two offensively fragile nipples.  Enough of a level to be played with... to be worshipped... adored...

All of this should have been intensely arousing—and it was—but Flash was overwhelmed with something else instead.  The need to cry.  It rose out of him like a faucet, and he reopened his misty eyes with a quivering smile.  In reality, he should have been frustrated.  Just minutes ago, he was bawling like an idiot before the three “fae.”  Back in his other vision, he was sobbing in the arms of a Shadowbolt.  And here and now—as he so happened to be living out a viscerally girlish fantasy—he was on the verge of tears again?  It was outright pathetic.  Where were those tears when he was alone and drowning in pizza and porn beneath a grimy apartment ceiling?

Still—at the moment—all he could feel was... right.  This was somehow just... right.  It was the most leeway a dream had ever taken him.  The tears ran hot and heavy, but he wasn't about to complain.

“Oh gosh...”  He whimpered, and again that invisible woman's voice joined him.  Cascading off the bed.  He fell back too—bouncing with a slight giggle.  Her giggles.  He hiccuped on a sob.  Her giggles.  Flash hugged himself, overcome with numbing waves of unforeseen bliss.  “Paint me like one of your French girls,” he said.  She said.  It was perfect, and he covered his tear-stained face while laughing up a storm.  “Hee-hee-hee—Someday my pr-prince will come!”

It occurred to the nearly-hyperventilating soul that he could vocalize something orgasmic and somehow not sound like a hairy walrus gargling on phlegm.  But before he could so much as give that a try—he calmed down slightly... and remembered the stiffness in his posterior.

A phrase came to mind:  “nullification device.”

Flash breathed and breathed and breathed.  At last, he calmed down.  At least, he calmed down enough for what would come next.  What should come next.

Turning to his side, he snaked a hand down and—with remarkable ease—fingered the space between his buttcheeks.  Halfway through the venture, he couldn't help but let loose a breathy gasp.

“Holy fuck... I gotta see this ass in a mirror...”

Nevertheless, he reached further... deeper... until he struck something solid.  A nub?  A handle?  Whatever it looked like, it was no doubt the outer end of the plug.  He fished his fingers around until he sorted out the shape of the exterior piece.  He gently began to tug.  Then more firmly.  Then something akin to a half-yank.

It refused to budge.  It was as if some immutable sliver of silicone had been stapled into him.  He was afraid of pulling any harder, and he mulled over the hideous thought of... asking one of the girls outside to help him.

It was around that time that Flash heard a repetitive chirping noise—cold and electronic.  It shook him out of the moment and he sat up in bed with a girlish gasp.  His legs curled up as he clutched a blanket over his chest and navel like a spotlit damsel.

His eyes frantically searched the room for the source of the noise as it repeated like an alarm.  At last, he saw a pulse of red light issuing from one of many black screens looming in the corner.

The computer.

Flash raised an eyebrow.

Was it an alarm?  If so, who had set it?

Nervous, he slid off the bed and bird-stepped nakedly towards it.  With an effeminate grunt, he pushed a large office chair out of the way and stood before the device.  He squinted at the keyboard... for he couldn't locate any keys.  The seemingly matte-black monitors weren't offering much information either.  There was simply a blood-red pulse of light emanating in the center, accompanied by a repeated tone.

“... … ...it's not a bomb going off, I hope.”  Flash gulped.  “Cuz that'd be a lame way to end a dream.”

The alarm stopped.

A pause.

Then—an odd number of seconds later—the noise resumed.  The red light blinked in the same spot that it did last time.

Curious, Flash did the next dumbest thing and... reached his hand towards it.

He was just millimeters from grazing the light source when—

BLIPPP!

All of the monitors came alive, and a holographic fountain of words levitated in the very center—right above a luminescent array of projected keys.

“Guhhhh!” he yelped, wriggling sissily in place.  He nearly took a step back when...

...his nervous eyes caught sight of a few words.  There were messages—several of them stacked on top of one another—dating back by the hour and on the hour:

“Subject Thirty-Three.  Report in.”

“This is Dr. Flare.  It's urgent that you respond ASAP.”

“Subject Thirty-Three, I have tried every contact you have listed at Cinchcorp.  Why aren't you responding?”

“Subject Thirty-Three, this is Dr. Flare.  All bioscans show up positive on the remote instruments.  I know you're alive and well.  Nullification devices don't work on the dead.  Now message me back.  Post haste.  This is important.”

“Flash.  This is Sunny Flare.  Please respond.”

“Flash, our lives are on the like.”

“Wait, you're awake?  Dammit, readings say that you collapsed the plugsuit.  I know you're out and about!  Answer me!”

“Please respond.”

“Flash, respond.”

Then...

Finally...

“For fucking Queen Sparkle's sake just reach your sissy hand into the floating message thingy and jab your thumb into the 'reply' icon.”

“Oh shit.”  Flash winced.  “Uhmmmm...”  With a nervous squeak, he thrust his hand forward into the message.  Hovering icons appeared, and he swung his digits through the appropriate part of the hologram.

A melodic blip...

...and an eight-foot-tall Shadowbolt giantess was suddenly standing in his room.  She immediately tossed away a tablet and notebook and leered over the little manlet with her strong hands against her massive hips.

“What the fuck took you so damned long, asshole?!?”

“Gaaaaaiee!”  Flash flailed, spun about with a flash of his curvaceous butt cheeks, and ran like a monkey to the far end of the room.  Once out of direct line of sight on his naked body, he cowered behind the bed, shaking and peeking over the mattress at the amazon...

...who was as translucent as a silk lampshade.  The computer was somehow broadcasting a live hologram of the scientist, who—no doubt—was a million whale dicks away in some nebulous underground laboratory where middle-aged men spontaneously woke up in the bodies of dream twinks.

“Huh...”  She struck a contemplative pose, squinting down at the cowering person.  “That didn't take very long.”  The holographic woman rubbed a holographic chin with holographic fingers.  “Getting used to yourself, I see.”

“I...”  Flash gulped, rising up slowly behind the bed.  “I-I would rather you not stare at me like that, please...”

“Why not?”  The voice came from behind.  The hologram had shifted in a blink, and now she was staring down at his squatting figure—buttocks and all.  “You actually think I'll spot something new that I haven't observed before?”

“Sonuva—!”  Flash rolled over the bed, crossing his legs in futility.  “Ooof!”  After falling on the other side, he whipped a hand up, grabbed the loose blanket, and used the thing to cover his trembling figure.  “Why is everyone saying that to me?!”

The projected giantess stepped through the bed, towards him.  “So you've had a girl-chat with the Fountain?”

“Uhhhhh...”  Flash gulped, clutching the blanket to his petite self.  “...kinda?”

She leered over him, practically snarling with holographic fangs.  “What did you tell them, huh?!  Out with it!”

“Wh-wh-wh-what—”  Flash leaned forty-five degrees away from her, full of shivers.  “What can I tell them?!  I don't know anything!”

“You know damned well that my colleagues and I fucked up the other day,” Sunny Flare said.  “I'm no fool!”  She nodded her head towards the closed bedroom door.  “I know at least two of those pansy asses have close contacts within Queen Sparkle's court.  If word gets around, the scientific community will bounce the news of our failure back to Cinchcorp!  Then the Magistrate will have my throat!”  She crowded over him, the holographic bands intensifying.  “So how about it?!  Huh?!  How much did you spill?!?

Flash squeaked.  A whimper, and tears sprung from his eyes.  Again.

“... … ...”  Sunny Flare rolled her digital eyes.  “Fucking leaking flowers of the universe, unite...”  A groan.  “Alright fine.  Crybaby.  Hold tight.”  She reached out beyond the projection, keying a pattern into an unseen console.  With a flicker of light, she shrunk by three feet.  At last, she was level with the quivering Flash Sentry.  “There...”  She shrugged dramatically with a plastic smile.  “Is that better?  Is that less intimidating?”

Flash sniffled, wiping his cheek dry.  “Kinda... y-yeah...”

“Fuck me...”  The smaller Sunny Flare paced around Flash, forcing him to cover himself tighter with the blanket.  “How could I ever have gotten you mixed up with Subject Thirty-Three?  You're like... polar fuckin' opposites.  No wonder he chose your dimension to make a landing.  Maybe there's some sort of... 'opposites attract' rule that facilitates successful spatial displacement.”

“Who...”  Flash gulped.  “Who are we talking about, exactly?”  He couldn't shake the fact that—in having to shrink down to his current size—this adult Sunny Flare was somehow shorter than the one he remember back from Crystal Prep.  Both of them were.  Was he still actually thirty-seven years old?  “Who is Subject Thirty-Three?” he continued asking.

Sunny Flare came to a luminescent stop.  Sighing, she folded her arms over her uniformed chest.  “Subject Thirty-Three is you.  This universe's you.  He is a long-time registered employee of Cinchcorp, much like myself.  Together, he and I—and my two imbecilic lab partners—were working on coss-dimensional teleportation.  Progress was slow—but it had much promise for amazing accomplishments.  Subject Thirty-Three is—for lack of a better term—a prodigy at spatial displacement sorcery.  So much so that... as it would seem... he pulled the wool over my eyes.”  She sighed and facepalmed momentarily.  “...still can't fuckin' believe it.  What a selfish asshole.”  She slowly looked up again.  “...you'd think he would leave some kind of an explanation too—”  Sunny Flare froze in mid-speech, blinking.  “Hey!”

“... … ...”  Flash's head was lowered, his eyes locked on the giant holographic member hanging between her legs, nestled tightly in a thick black sheath.

“HEY!”  Sunny Flare enlarged just enough to leer over him again.  “Piddle-pants!  Do you want to know the fuckin' truth or don't you?!?”

“I... I-I'm so sorry...”  Flash leaned back, but his eyes darted to her groin yet again.  “It's just that... it's just that it's so... so—”

“It's so mine and none of your damned business!”  She snarled, pacing angrily through him—making the manlet shudder.  “That means both eyes and hands off!  For Goddess' sake, boi!  Don't you know simple etiquette around null valkyries?”

“No... I-I don't...!”  He twirled to follow sight of her, clutching the blanket closer to his fair body.  “I don't know anything!  I'm sorry, but... every little thing here is like a goddamn land mine of shock and surprise!  Like... just a moment ago I nearly exploded from touching my own nipple!”  He sniffled, wiping his eyes again.  “And I k-keep on friggin' crying like a little b-bitch and there're cages and plugs and leashes gripping me all over like undercover priests at an expensive BDSM orgy and—”

“Okay, I get it!  I get it!”  Sunny Flare barked, spinning around to face him.  “You're through the looking-glass and full of buttplugs.  It's weird, I know.  But my job is on the line here and—”

“And my life isn't?” Flash asked.

“... … ...”

“I... I can't help but think...”  Flash shuddered, his tiny toes curling into the carpet beneath him.  “With each passing minute... with each tear I shed and each jolt my body feels from touching myself...”  A prolonged shudder.  “... … ...that this isn't really a dream...”  His puppy eyes gazed up at her.  “Is it?”

Silence.

Sunny Flare casually sunk back down to his size and rested a holographic hand on his shoulder.  To Flash's surprise, it made contact—light and tingly—but definite contact where the projection brightly intensified.

“No.  This is no dream, Mr. Sentry.”

Flash looked at her hand on her shoulder.

“Concentrated photonic energy.”  She smirked lightly.  “The first manatech innovation that put Cinchcorp on the map.  It landed us this place here on the GSS Equestria.  Subject Thirty-Three and I told each other time and time again that once we were through with the dimension jump experiments, we'd work on creating completely self-reliant photo-solid environments.  For a while there, I had the first portion of my life set out in front of me.  But now...”  She clenched her teeth, leaning back and enlarging into a holographic giantess again.  “He's gone.  He betrayed me, my colleagues, and the company without warning.  And after thinking long and hard about it, I think I finally understand why.”

Flash leaned forward, lips pursed.  “Wh-why is that...?”

“He always hated what he had here.  His lot in life.  But you?”  Sunny Flare's eyes narrowed.  “...I think he saw something in you that he envied.  That he wanted.  So—when he made this latest jump—he took your place... and never came back.”

“And... and I...?” Flash stammered.

“You're now him.  His body.  His home.  His possessions.  And—if Sugarcoat's readings are correct...”  Sunny Flare sighed and gestured.  “An unbridled upgrade in manaflux... which I can't explain.  Nor do I particularly want to.  We're just... fucked every which way now.”  She facepalmed again.  “Still can't believe that he frickin' went through with it.”

But Flash was busy gazing into monochromatic space.  He knew that he should have been terrified by this.  Existentially mortified, even.  But... every way he looked at it...

...he felt a rosiness slowly rising within his center.

“So... if only Subject Thirty-Three could make that jump...”

“He's got your body... and you've got his.”  Sunny Flare looked at him with her arms folded.  “Cross Dimensional cultural exchange.  La-dee-fucking-da.”  Her holographic nostrils flared.  “The way things look, sissy, you're stuck here.”

A tear ran down Flash's face.  And yet...

...his heart had just skipped a beat.  Felicitously.

He felt Sunny Flare's projected eyes on him.  The silence was disconcerting, so he covered for... whatever he was feeling.

And he looked up at her with a vulnerable expression.

“Don't I deserve to know what 'here' is?”

“... … ...”  Sunny Flare sighed.  She looked at her watch, over her shoulder at something beyond the holographic broadcast, then back down at the petite figure.  “Yeah.  Yeah, I suppose you do.”
> Diet Exposition
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Okay okay okay...”  The holographic visage of Sunny Flare paced mountainously back and forth across the spartan bedroom, rubbing her photonic arms.  “Let's make this quick.  Mmmmmmmmmmm... yeah.”

She spun and looked down at the petite pixie of a boi seated on the edge of the bed.

“You...”  Her translucent eyes narrowed, rosy and hard.  “...are Subject Thirty-Three, the Executive Fae Experimenter of Spatial Displace Operations at the Galactic Headquarters of Cinchcorp.  You are—according to Regal Valkyrie classification—a Level Ten Sorceress... although you've always preferred 'sorcerer' or 'wizard.'  Nevertheless, your manaflux levels surpass those recorded even in Queen Sparkle's court.  In accordance with the contract you signed with Cinchcorp about eleven years ago, you've agreed to keep your manaflux levels secret, barring a Regal Valkyrie investigation from the Covenant Keepers.  Up until two days ago, you've been an exceptional employee, following all orders and making one hundred percent quota over forty business quarters in a row.  Your latest project was a trans-dimensional venture past the fifty-second recorded space-time parallel.  However, when you entered the chamber... when the other you entered the chamber, he was replaced within minutes of the spatial displacement spell.  Presumably, a quantum signature swap was performed, which explains why you're here and you—the other you... my 'you' is over there... … ...in one of the fifty two parallel realities.”

She placed her hands on her holographic hips as if proud with that delivery.

Flash Sentry merely blinked at her.  “Uhm...”  He stirred under the blanket he had wrapped around his demure figure.  “...but where is here?”

“Beta District,” Sunny Flare quickly replied.  “Riley Towers.  Floor Ninety-Eight.  Fae Wing.  Fountain Chambers Eleven.”

More silence.

“And...”  Flash leaned forward, puppy-dog-eyes on full display.  “...what the heck is all this nonsense floating on?”

The amazon's photonic lips pursed.  Then—with a flicker of understanding—she rolled her eyes and droned:  “Oh for milk's sake—The G.S.S. Equestria.”

“G.S.S...?”

“Y'know, Galactic Star Ship?”  Sunny Flare waved a hand.  “Huge intersolar habitat on a neverending round trip between Sol Three and Altair Five?”

Flash blinked stupidly.  “We're headed for an Assassin's Creed planet?”

“No!!!  For the love of—”  Sunny Flare facepalmed, sighed, and gestured slowly.  “Do you not have star ships in your reality?”

“Uhhhh...”  Flash's toes curled and uncurled off the edge of the bed.  “...there's the International Space Station.”

“Yeah?  And what solar systems does it travel to?”

“None.”

“None?”

“None.  It just...”  Flash drew an invisible circle in the air.  “...orbits the planet really close.”

“... … ...it does?”

“Yeah.”  Flash gulped.  “I think I saw Sandra Bullock floating inside it once.”  He clutched the blanket closer.  “She had boring underwear.”

“... … ...”  Sunny Flare reached off screen and pulled in a holographic chair from the office she was located in.  Slumping down, she ran a hand through her short bangs and sighed long and hard.  “Why the fuck would Flash want to end up in a backwards place like that?!”  Her holo-face grimaced visibly.  “Fuckin' stone age, I swear to bricks.”

“Uhm...?”  Flash slowly raised his dainty hand like he was sitting in elementary school.

“If you wanna ask something, just spit it out.”

“Okay...”  Flash gulped, fighting the urge to shiver.  “What am I.”

“...huh?”

“What am I?”  He pointed at the door.  “What are they?”  He pointed at the holographic member dangling between her legs.  “What are you... like...”  He winced.  “I'm hearing terms like 'new sex' and 'valk' and 'covenant' and 'fountain' and... and I just don't know what the fuck...”

Sunny Flare's mouth was slowly hanging open.  “... … ...are you kidding me?”

“Sh-should I be?”  Flash squirmed on the bed.  “I've been in and out of a coma for two days with a space plug up my butt.  Also I'm wearing a leash and a chastity device, which is kinda weird.  In addition to that, two of the girls in my apartment look a hell of a lot like not-girls who I remember from my high school days and—”

“Wait wait wait...”  Sunny Flare leaned forward and gestured at Flash.  “...answer me this.”

“Yeah...?”

Her eyes narrowed.  “What are you in your universe, Mr. Sentry.”

“Me in my universe?”

“Nice to know your ears work.  Now move your ass before I come over there and kick it.”

“Gah!  Uhm...”  Nervously, Flash fidgeted to produce an apt description.  “I am... a car mechanic and engine maintenance specialist going on twenty-two years just outside of Canterlot—”

“Canterlot...”  Sunny Flare lifted a photonic eyebrow.  “You mean on Sol 3?”

“By that do you mean Earth?”

“Unfortunately, yeah.”

“Well, yes.  I live on Earth.  And I work on cars.”

“... … ...is that it?”

Flash felt a lump forming in his throat.  He fought past it.  “I'm... uhm... thirty-seven years old.”

“So's my Flash.  But that's not what I'm trying to get at here.”  Sunny Flare gestured.  “Let's narrow this down.  Do you have any children?”

“Uh, no?”

“... … ...can you make any children?”

“I... uh...”  Flash blushed.  “...never got around to it.”

“Do you... pee standing up or sitting down?”

“Standing up, as much as I can afford it.”

Sunny Flare leaned back with a contemplative breath.  “So you're a man.”

Flash blinked.  “Yeah...?”

“Not a woman.  Not a fae.  Not a valkyrie.”

“Uhhhhhh—”

“Just a man.  A man who works on engines.  Living alone at nearly age forty.  Back on Earth.”

“Yes.  Yes, that's exactly right.”

Sunny Flare folded her arms again.  “That sounds boring as Hell.”

“Hey...”  Flash pouted.

“But...”  She stroked her own chin in thought.  “It also sounds kinda... nice, actually.  Very... simple.”  Her rosy pupils narrowed.  “Well no wonder the selfish bastard chose you of all people to switch with.  It sounds like all he's ever dreamed of.”

“What do you mean?”

“Tell me this, Flash...”  She pointed.  “Have you never... EVER heard of 'fae' or 'valkyries' before?”

“No!  For a thousand times, no!”  Flash sat up on his knees and adjusted the blanket in his tense grip.  “Please—I need to understand!”  His face hung between desperate and annoyed.  “What am I?  Why am I so... so...”  He bit his lip, blushing more.  “...tiny and gorgeous?”

Sunny Flare snorted.  “'Gorgeous?'”

He merely squirmed.

“Ahem... don't mind me...”  She stood up, kicked the holo-chair into oblivion, and resumed pacing.“Just never thought I'd hear that said... in his voice.”  She clamped two hands over her face and groaned into the palms.  “Rrrrrrgh-goddessssssssss.  Howtoexplainthis.  Howtoexplainthis.”

Flash could only stare after her eagerly.

“Alright... so...”  She clapped her hands together and turned around to face him.  “About five thousand years ago, there was the Great Enchantment.  Valkyries—such as myself—manifested randomly among the female populace.”

“Wait.”

“It was pretty dicey at first.  Most of mankind didn't like tall-as-fuck women with built-in swords.  We were pretty hardcore about rutting the ever living stars out of everything we saw.  One thing led to another and there was a class war—more like a sexual class war.  Bunch of blood and sperm and anger.  Yadda yadda yadda...”

“Wait...”

“But soon after—everyone discovered that there was a another new sex manifesting: the Fae, only they transformed from males.  Turned out both Valkyries and Fae had magical compatibility.  The Fae pacified my kind and we no longer took our sexual frustrations out on men and women.  Good times.”

“Wait... … ...”

“The First Covenant was made.  We formed warrior packs.  The manaflux within ourselves became valuable resources for progressing manatech and sorcery.  Several Covenants later, and here we are among the stars.  New sexes are still... new sexes.  The human populace is only about five percent valks and one percent fae.  But—it still sorta works and everything's all sunshine and roses so long as the two new sexes are boinking each other first and foremost—”

“Wait wait wait!!!”  Flash insisted.  He dropped the top portion of his blanket to pull at his hair.  “You're g-going too fast!  What do you mean the valkyries 'manifested?'  How are fae and valkyries 'magically compatible?'  What is this 'manaflux' inside of you?”

“Queens of the Star Age...”  Sunny Flare groaned.  She checked her watch and looked over her holographic shoulder again.  “This is something you realllllllllly should get from a blossoming counselor.  I'm not the expert.  I'm more about the future than I am about the past or present.”

“Right n-now, I'm not about anything other th-than freaking out!” Flash's voice cracked as his tears welled up once more.

“Now don't go doing that again!  Goddess damn it!  I just—”  Sunny Flare stopped in mid-speech.  Her hologram looked at the bedroom door.

Shivering, Flash turned and did the same.

“... … ...”  Sunny's brow creased.  Her hologram increased to full size while she simultaneously “marched” towards the door.  Once she stood before it, she flicked her photonic wrist towards the panel.

Schwisssh!

The door swung open.  Melody and Fannie—who had their ears pressed to the frame—immediately fell in a fragrant, femme pile.

“Oof!”

“D'oh!”

While both girlish specimens sprawled across the floor, Cherish shuffled up, standing behind them and craning her neck.  She wrung her delicate fingers with a worried expression.

“Seriously?”  Sunny Flare folded her arms with a cynical frown.  “I told you to look after him.  Not eavesdrop like a bunch of drooling petal-sniffers.”

“Mrmmfff...”  Fannie stood up, straightening the skirt of her dress.  “Well, can you blame us?”

“Plus, we all heard a valk's voice,” Melody said, tossing her chestnut hair back.  “Sounded sexy as Hell.”

“Eugh... Fountains...”  Sunny Flare rubbed her temple.  “I haven't got the friggin' time for this...”

“Is... uhm...”  Cherish gulped before stammering.  “Is everything alright?”

“Look.  You little nymphs wanna know what's going on?  I'll break it to ya.”  Sunny Flare pointed at Flash.  “That is not the Flash that you know.  He's a different Flash from a parallel dimension—one that your Flash purposefully went to in order to swap places with the other.  Why?  I'm not entirely certain and my partners and I are still trying to figure it all out.”

“Whoah...”  Melody did a double-take.  “No shit?”

“The one thing that I can guarantee is that—for the time being—it does not look like the Flash you know is ever coming back, and we haven't the means at Cinchcorp of reeling him in either.  Instead, we're all stuck with this one.”  Sunny Flare turned and pointed at the nervous creature on the bed.  “What's more, he's from a universe without new-sexes or magic.  He was a man there, and he knows absolutely nothing about the Great Enchantment or manaflux or—Goddess help him—the Allure.”

“Pffft...”  Fannie made a face.  “No Allure?  What kind of cruddy universe is that?”

“Uhm... d-did I hear that right...?”  Cherish padded into the room, lip quivering as she looked up at Sunny Flare.  “Flash... our Flash is gone?  Gone for good?”

Sunny Flare was about to retort, but something about Cherish's soft, vulnerable expression even made her pause.  “I'm sorry, doll,” she said, her holographic eyes lingering on the fae's collar.  “But he's long gone.  Alive and well?  I don't see why not, but we haven't the means of communicating with him or bringing him back.”

“Because...”  Cherish shuddered, her features drooping as she leaned back.  “...he's gone... and his sorcerer powers along with him.”

“I want you to know that my partners and I had nothing to do with stranding him in that parallel universe.  What's more...”  Sunny Flare pointed at Flash.  “...he had nothing to do with it.  It's not his fault that he's here in your Flash's place, and yet... here we all are.”

“Well... what are you going to do about it?” Melody asked, hands on hips.

“Pffft.  Me?”  Sunny bore a bitter smirk.  “I'm gonna do all I friggin' can to keep my job from utterly tanking!  My team and I have made far too much progress in Cinchcorp to burn up now!”

“And what about... about...”  Fannie waved a hand at Flash.  “... … ...False Sentry here???”  She squinted up at Sunny.  “Maybe you didn't mean to assist in the switcheroo—nevertheless you and the other valks at Cinchcorp are partially responsible!  Don'tcha think?”

Melody added:  “You're telling us he's a man in his universe?  And now—all of a sudden—he's plopped into the body of a young fae???”

Flash was numb all over.  He hugged himself, feeling the shivers redouble.  He glanced at Cherish and saw her paling with each passing second.  As thunderous as all this news was, it seemed to weigh triply hard on her—and for some reason the pain in Cherish's expression is what anchored him to that particular moment in time.

“Look, I'm not that fond of the development myself.  Flash and I worked closely together for years.  I had no clue that he would up and do this!  And now—”  Sunny Flare winced for some reason.  She looked over her shoulder and spoke hoarsely to an unseen body.  “Yeah, Sour!  I'll be there soon!  Tell Sugarcoat to have the report ready!”  She turned once again towards the fae, her voice lower and hushed.  “I have to split.  I'm on company time and I've probably already raised enough suspicion.”

“You can't ditch us now!!!” Fannie exclaimed, gesturing at Flash.  “What's to be done about—?!”

“Look, I'm going to do everything I can on my end to keep things from hitting the fan!”

“What does that mean?!”

“It means that—for the time being—that is Flash Sentry.  The truth must remain secret.  That way, he and the rest of you get to keep that precious apartment of yours.  In the meantime—I'm going to need you faeries to help get him acclimated.  HE'S going to need you to help get acclimated.”

“Pffft!  Are you insane?!” Melody squeaked.

“Insane situations call for insane measures.  If I pull my strings right, I can help this Flash transition into a more unassuming position, and all of us can carry on like nothing's changed.”

“What do you mean n-nothing's changed?”  Cherish sniffled, on the verge of tears.  “Flash is... is...”

“Suck it in, princess,” Sunny Flare said.  “You're not the only one who feels betrayed.”  She took one look behind her, then reached for an unseen computer console.  “Flare out.”

And with that said, the projected valkyrie vanished—phallus and all.

Four petite souls were left looking helplessly at one another.

The first one to speak was Melody—gently—towards Cherish.  “Cherish, sweetie, don't make a scene—”

“I-I'm sorry...!”  Cherish was already weeping.  She covered her eyes and fled out of the room like Sleeping Beauty in search of a bedspread to sob on.  “I... I-I just need a m-moment...!”  She was gone in a pink blur.

Fannie winced.  “Ohhhhhhhhhhh bother...”  She cleared her throat and stepped gently into the heart of the room until she stood face to face with the nervous soul on the bed.  “Is it true?”  Her violet eyes blinked.  “Are you a Flash Sentry... … … from another dimension?”

Flash shakily nodded.

“And...”  Fannie cocked her head aside.  “...you know nothing about the Allure?  The new sexes?  Manatechnology?  Any of that?”

Flash gulped... and again shook her head.

“And in your universe—the place where our Flash swapped with you...”  Fannie arched an eyebrow.  “...you're a man?”

“Mmmmhmmm...”  Flash managed weakly.

“Whew-wee...”  Fannie leaned back, running a hand through her smokey bangs.  “Poor bastard.”

“Or a lucky one,” Melody said with a slight smirk.  “All things considered.”

“Melody, let's...”  Fannie sighed, looking Flash up and down as if in a new light.  “...let's try to tone things down a bit.  This is an awful lot for all of us to process.”

“Well...”  Melody waved and walked out of the room.  “...process it on your own.”

“Where are you going?”  Fannie turned to look at her.  “Gonna check on Cherish?”

“No.  I'm taking a shower and getting some rest.”

“Seriously?!?”  Fannie barked, frowning.  “You're walking away from all of this?!”

Melody spun around and gestured.  “Two packs, Fannie.  I spent the night being porcupined by thirteen valks!  If it weren't for the mana-injections, I'd not be able to walk away from anything!  Speaking of which, I have twenty minutes left at best before every muscle in my pretty body turns to goo!  Besides...”  She gestured in the direction of the room's computer station.  “You heard the null bimbo!  The poor sap's here to stay!  Plenty of time to get the hang of things!”

“What if it's all too much for him to process?!  It's basically like he's a super mega late blossom!”

“Well, then...”  Melody put on a plastic smile as she waved at Flash.  “Welcome to the after-life, chump!  We've got dicks forever!”  She began stripping to her lacy lingerie as she made a bee-line for another room inside the apartment.  “Fuck me, this is why most flitters don't live with a sorcerer.”

Fannie sighed, facepalming.  She looked nervously in Flash's direction.  “So... uhm...”  A gulp.  “How are you holding up... Flash?”

“I... don't know what to hold onto...”  He covered himself more with the blanket.

“... … ...”  Fannie looked at his ongoing quest for decency.  “Not comfortable being naked, huh?”

“Not... really...?”

“Well, all things considered, you're the milking image of... our Flash.”  She pointed at a closet.  “Everything in there oughta fit you.”  A wry smile.  “Hope your a fan of black.”

Flash took a deep breath and slowly slithered off the bed.  “Something tells me I don't have much of a choice.”

“Yes, well... we'll work on that.”

“Is... uhm...”  Flash fumbled in mid-step.

“Yes?”

Flash's sad blue eyes darted towards the doorframe and the apartment beyond.  “Is Cherish going to be okay?”

Fannie blinked.  A sweet smile crossed her lips.  “Cherish is just being Cherish.  Don't worry.  Let's just focus on you at the moment.”  She gestured.  “Hop into something, then come on out and let's have a chat.  Assuming you're in the mood for some... info dumping.”

“Something tells me it's the only kind of dumps I'll be enjoying for a while.”

“Hey.  You're catching on already.  This'll be easier than I thought.”
> The First Covenant
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Minutes later...

And after a prolonged rummaging through the most boring wardrobe in the history of fashion...

...Flash Sentry came sauntering out of his room—or his doppelganger's room—wearing a long-sleeved black sweatshirt over long black sweatpants.  The ensemble was dull, baggy, and far from flattering—and yet even in that garish getup he felt tinier, prettier, and lighter than he'd ever felt before in his life. Flash felt an all-encompassing sensation that no matter what he wore or how he presented himself, there was something innately adorable about who he was and how he moved and how he so-much-as-breathed.  He padded across the room, noting an inescapable sway to his girlish frame.  Even as “plain” as his dimensional double evidently attempted to maintain himself, there was no denying that this Flash was then—and forever—a far more feminine specimen than the car mechanic from another world could ever possibly imagine.

And now he no longer had to imagine.  He simply was.

He stepped delicately across the apartment.  The tightness in his groin and the plug up his butt followed him.  Flash felt in some ways like a helpless specimen, tagged and branded for some harvest he knew nothing about—except that it was undoubtedly sensual.  Funny that—as far as he could gather—these very same tags were implemented to nullify some grand sensuality looming just beyond the horizon.  Like a dark thundercloud, broiling with both excitement and dread.  There was still so much that he didn't understand, but he hoped to alleviate that soon.

Flash was halfway towards the heart of the apartment when he stopped dead in his tracks, blinking.

Fannie sat on a couch, waiting.  Gone was her cocktail dress.  Instead, she snow wore a gothic looking number with multiple dark ruffles to the skirt and embroidered gray lace interwoven into a corset top.

“Don't mind me,” Fannie said, blushing slightly.  “I felt like putting on something more comfortable.”

“... … ...”  Flash blinked.  “Okay,” he exhaled.

Fannie twirled a length of smokey hair, fidgeting where she sat with legs curled.  “Sorry.  I... uh... I tend to stress-dress.”  A gulp.  “Consider it a flitter quirk.”

“I... uh...”  Flash girl-stepped up to a couch across from her and sat at a respectable distance away.  “...I have no idea what that means.”

“No, you don't, do you?”  Fannie repositioned herself so that she sat with legs crossed off the couch cushion.  “First thing's first—feel better?”

“I... guess...?”  Flash fiddled with his long sleeves.  “Does... Did your Flash get cold a lot?”

“Heh... maybe.”  Fannie shrugged with a wry smirk.  “Either way, she dressed like a real ice queen.”

“Yeah.  Guess so.”  Flash gulped.  “Even his briefs are black.  I haven't worn black briefs since... since...”  A slight shudder.  “...well, let's just say that at my thinnest—I was never this thin.”

“I just...”  Fannie twirled more with her hair, gazing off past the brightly-lit windows onto the circular horizon beyond.  “...I just can't get over it.  You're you... and yet you're not you...?”

Flash bit his lip.  “I'm awfully sorry.”

Fannie looked directly at him.  “For what?”

“This... this has got to be so very awful for you.”  He looked towards the kitchenette—the first place he had spotted Cherish.  His mind couldn't shake loose the image of those innocent blue eyes and that golden, cherubic hair.  “For... all of you.  Your friend is gone.  Seemingly by choice.  And what's he replaced with?”  He curled up tighter on the couch.  “This stupid moron...”

“Hey, now... don't say that.”  Fannie smiled from across the space between.  “Seriously, sweetie, don't—”

“Why...”  Flash clenched his teeth.  Tears squeezed out of his eyes.  “Why can't I stop... cr-crying...?”  He sniffled.  “I-I'm not even s-sad!  I'm just s-so... so...”  He clenched his wet lids shut.  “It keeps coming out!  It keeps coming and... I-I don't know how to stop it...!”

“Oh gosh.  You really aren't used to being a fae, are you?”  Fannie stood up but stopped halfway through leaning over.  “Uhm... do you mind... that is—would you be okay if—?”

Flash simply nod-nod-nodded.

Without wasting a breath, Fannie darted across the room with a flounce of her gothic skirt.  She hopped onto the couch and leaned in, scooping Flash into a close hug.

Flash nestled his face against her shoulder and quietly sobbed, wincing the whole time his body-and-soul unavoidably wrung itself out in the femme's embrace.

“There there... don't let anything hold you back...”  Fannie smiled, her own eyes watering as she nevertheless comforted him.  “Not like a faerie to fight it.”

“Mmmm...”  Flash sniffled.  His puffy eyes squinted at her.  “Isn't that...”  He gulped.  “...k-kinda demeaning?”

Fannie merely blinked.  “What is?”

Flash was silent—save for the random hiccup or two.

Fannie took a long breath.  She shifted until she was more comfortable and allowed him to lie down until his head was practically in her lap.  Slowly, she stroked his head of silky blue hair and spoke calmly.  “Let's... start from the top again.”

“Okay...”  Flash breathed.

“In your universe... … ...there are no new sexes.”

“Right...”  Flash breathed again.

“And you are... were—in fact—a man.”

“Right... ...”

“Not fae.”

“Right... … ...”

“And magic.  What about it?  Do wizards and sorceresses ever perform spells where you're from?” Fannie asked.

Flash stared off across the apartment.  His mind went back to those adventurous days at CHS.  He remembered his ex-girlfriend who once put on a crown that turned her into a raging she-demon who threatened to make zombies out of teenagers.  He remembered a trio of sirens-turned-humans who used bewitching music to mind control an entire township.  He thought of a camp counselor levitating across a lakeside clearing while turning the surrounding forest into a death trap.  He recalled a cruise ship where the ocean turned into a raging tempest spurred on by a flickering pattern of stationary lightning in the sky.

And then—fatefully—he remembered a portal.  The portal.  It was where Sunset Shimmer came from.  It was where Princess Twilight Sparkle—a passing flame in Flash Sentry's young life—also hailed from.  It was the source of most magic that spawned across the world.  What's more—from all that was evidenced—it was a gateway to a world where sapient horses lived in harmony alongside creatures of limitless shape and size.

All things considered, it was not too terribly beyond Flash's mental capacity to envision multiple realities where just about anything could happen... even the manifestation of “new sexes,” whatever the Hell that meant.

But for him to end up in such a parallel world where... the populace—albeit a minority, according to Sunny Flare—somehow mirrored that which he had nebulously fantasized about all these years...?

“Magic is...”  Flash finally fumbled for an answer to Fannie's innocent inquiry.  “... … ...it's not nearly as prevalent where I come from.”  That was as simple and honest a truth as he could muster for the time-being.

“I see.”  Fannie continued stroking his hair.  “So—if I was to venture a guess—your world only has the old-sexes.”

Flash was silent.

Fannie re-worded:  “Just men and women?  Males and females?”

“Kinda sorta...?”  Flash cleared his throat.  “It's... a lot more complicated than that, but—”

“Nobody called 'fae' and 'valkyries.'”

“No.  Nothing like that.”

Fannie nodded.  “That's sorta what I figured Sunny Flare was describing.  Can't say this is the first time I've imagined that idea.”  She smirked at nothing in particular.  “Y'know... for hundreds of years—thousands of years—people have been pondering over exactly what caused the 'Great Enchantment.'  The fact is that nobody knows why valkyries and fae came into existence.  Only that they did, they still do, and they likely will for as long as humans are alive.  Or—Hell—maybe someday there will be new new sexes.  Why not?  The sky used to be the limit, but then we eventually pierced that as well.”

“Yeah, but... how...?”  Flash grimaced.  “How this?  How you?  How me?  How everything?”

“Dear Goddess...”  Fannie randomly stammered, running her hands deeply against Flash's scalp.  “Cherish wasn't kidding!  Your hair is silky as all get-out!”

“Rumble—”  Flash growled, then immediately regretted it.  “I-I mean Fannie...”

“... … ...”  Fannie craned her neck.  “You... know me in this world you're from, don't you?”

“Uhhhhhhhhhhh—”

“Forgive me.  I can't help but be curious.”  Fannie continued stroking Flash's hair, albeit slowly.  “After all, I've been fully blossomed for over a decade and a half now.  It's hard to imagine life not as a fae.  But...”  She looked down at the newcomer.  “...in your world, there's still a 'Rumble', isn't there?”

“Maybe...?”

“'Maybe???'”  She blanched.  “You mean I'm dead?”

“No, what I mean is...”  Flash stirred.  Finally, he sat up.

Fannie slid over, politely giving him some space.

Flash sighed, sitting in a friendly parallel to the person he was talking to.  “I-I never really interacted with you... him... that Rumble.”  Flash shrugged, rubbing his eyes dry as he looked at her.  “When I was in high school, I knew Rumble in passing—as a scampy little companion to some of my friends' siblings.”

“Like... who?” Fannie asked.

“Uhm...”  It was Flash's turn to rub his own scalp—as he wracked his brain for names nearly forgotten.  “Apple... Bloom.  Sweetie Belle... Scootaloo...”  A shuddering sigh—as he realized that he would never see any of these people again.  Then he suffered an even deeper sigh—as he realized that it made little difference because the life he lived never afforded them in his day-to-day existence anyways.  “Once upon a time, I was part of a small, tight social net.  But... I-I haven't talked to any of those people in ages.”  He swallowed a lump down his throat.

The image of a warm smile across Fannie's face alleviated that soreness within Flash.

“So... you knew the Crusaders...”

Flash blinked—surprised that he could remember that word, suddenly.  “They were called 'Crusaders' in this world too?”

“Why wouldn't they be?”  Fannie giggled slightly.  “But none of them ever blossomed into valkyries in your world?”

“Uhhhhh... no?”

“All of them stayed women?”

“Figured that's kinda obvious.”

“Wow... that's so friggin' weirrrrd...”  A gasp escaped Fannie's lips.  “Oh—did any of them have children?”

“I... I really don't know.”  Flash sniffled.  “I'm sorry—!”

“Hey!  Shhhhhh...”  Fannie reached over and squeezed Flash's shoulder.  “It's okay!”

“I... I d-didn't live that snazzy of a life, to be honest.”  Flash looked sadly towards the floor.  “I lost touch with everyone and—”

“Let's... let's not focus on that so much,” Fannie said.  He cleared his throat.  “I'm sorry for bringing it up.”

“No.  It's okay.  It's... important to touch base, I think.”

“Well, then, let's go over this world's history a bit.  My history.”  Fannie gestured.  “So, in my universe, you knew me as a male.  A little boy—once upon a time—I'm guessing.”

“Yes.”

“And I was named 'Rumble,' correct?”

“Yes...”  Flash cleared his throat.  “You had an older brother.  Thunderlane.  A real alpha male, that dude.  Used to show off at track and field all the time.”

“Hah!”  Fannie giggled melodically.  “He's the same smug asshole in this world too!”

“He's still... uh... a 'he'?”

Fannie rolled her eyes.  “Forever and always.  Now...”  She pivoted and sat butterfly-legged in her skirts before Flash, staring intently into his eyes.  “...as for me... something happened to 'Rumble' at age fourteen.  Something that is referred to as the 'Blossoming.'”

“The... Blossoming,” Flash repeated.

“Wow...”  Fannie's lips pursed.

“What is it?”

“Just...”  Fannie giggled lightly.  “...kinda mind-blowing that I gotta explain all of this to someone older than me.  This makes me feel like I'm back in blossoming counseling, only... way different.”

“Uhhhh...”

“I-I'm sorry.  I'll stick to it.”  She cleared her throat and gestured.  “At a certain point in a person's life—at mid to late adolescence—there is a chance that they may randomly blossom into one of the two 'new sexes.'  There's... uhm... no way of predicting this.  No genetic predilection one way or the other.  No true signs of the change before it happens.  It just... happens...”

Flash blinked.  “To everyone?”

“It can happen to everyone—or perhaps 'to anyone'—but in the end it's simply a small minority.”  She held one finger up.  “For people who are biologically born as girls, there's a five percent chance that they'll blossom into valkyries around age thirteen-to-sixteen.  For boys, there's about a one percent chance that they'll blossom into fae at around age fourteen to eighteen.”

“And this...”  Flash blinked.  “...has always been a thing?”

“Not always.  But—for a good chunk of recorded history.”  Fannie nodded.  “Remember Sunny Flare mentioning the 'Great Enchantment?'”

“Kinda sorta?”

“Well, that happened a long time ago.  Around 3000 BC.  The year 3196, to be accurate.  There was no major event that aligned with it.  People... just started blossoming out of nowhere.  It caught everyone by surprise, and it wouldn't be until much-much later that the magical nature of this transformation would be fully tapped in order to progress humanity into unforeseen accomplishments of manatechnology.”  Fannie blinked.  “You still with me?”

“Uhhhhhh—”

“Anywho.”  Fannie gestured as she continued.  “The first to blossom—or the first that anyone cared to take notice of—were valks.  Valkyries... people like Sunny Flare and her so-called lab partners.  Whom... you've met before, right?”

“I mean... yeah.”  Flash nodded.  “I awoke to them.”  He squinted as he hissed:  “They're friggin' tall.”

“About eight feet on average.”

Flash blinked.

“... … ...is nobody that tall in your world?”

“If they are, they don't live long,” Flash droned.  “But... Sunny Flare and her partners?  They looked and sounded like they were... uhhhh... five and a half foot women enlarged to eight feet.”

“Sure.  I can see how you'd interpret it that way.”  Fannie nodded.  “That's manaflux at work.”

“Manaflux?”

“All valkyries—and fae—blossomed since the Great Enchantment are in possession of a... a...”  Fannie struggled to explain it, ultimately pointing at the center of her flat chest.  “Of a core of magical energy.”  She gulped.  “It's the essence of new-sex being.  We—valkyries and fae—depend on our manaflux to survive.  It replaces natural metabolism.  It allows us—some of us more than others—to perform magic spells and other forms of sorcery.  If it wasn't for manaflux, we'd still be stuck on the rock that is Sol 3.  Instead, we've learned ways of harnessing that energy throughout the years.  After five millennia, we've cured almost all diseases, extended lifespans, settled among the stars... you name it.”

“That's... all very much different than what we've accomplished in my universe,” Flash stammered.

“Oh yeah?  What have you accomplished there?”

“Not fucking much.”

Fannie snorted.  “Ahem... anyways...”  She carried on.  “Valkyries came into being about five thousand years ago.  From the perspective of the old sexes, it was pretty wild.  Biologically-born women would—without warning—transform into eight foot tall versions of themselves.”

“With...”  Flash gulped.  “...a little bit extra.”

“More like a lot extra.  But that's not even half of it.”  Fannie stared evenly with Flash as she explained:  “From the get-go, valkyries were just... waaaay more passionate than other men and women.”

“Passionate?”

“Horny as fuck.”

“Oh.”

“Also aggressive as fuck,” Fannie added.  “Since it all began upon the cusp of prehistory, it's hard to know who fired the first shot.  No doubt valkyries were ostracized for being so new and different.  What we do know is that—for whatever reason, understandable or not—the first generations of valkyries took their frustrations out on the rest of the populace.  Magically.  Violently.”  She gulped dryly, fanning herself.  “Sexually.”

Flash didn't realize he was leaning forward.  “Uh huh...?”

“Valkyries are... waaaaaaaaay stronger than members of the old sexes.  It's integrally related to their manaflux.”  Fannie clenched a fist.  “Like... a single valk can lift four men up with just her biceps, and that's the lower end of the average spectrum.  Soooooooo...”  A wry smirk.  “You can maybe imagine how back in ancient times they made for super strong warriors, and even a small minority of these super tall and super endowed women could lay waste to an entire battalion of non-valks.”

“I guess...?”

“Come on, Flashie.  Use your mind's eye here.  Imagine a bygone age—buxom eight foot tall women wearing useless metal bikini armor, marching away from burnt-out cities with the writhing trophies of victories under their armpits!”

“Do I have to...?”

“Okay okay okay...”  Fannie held both pretty palms up.  “I'm exaggerating... kinda.”  She smoothed out her skirts, clearing her throat delicately.  “In truth, class warfare is never a pretty thing, and soon enough—back in 3000 BC—the world was shaping up to be a really ugly place... what, with human civilization prepared to suffer a war of attrition with a small sub-sect of warrior goddesses.  The majority were scared and indignant of this new magical manifestation among their gene pool.  Valkyries were angry, horny, and feeling pressured to survive.  If things kept on that road... it'd be bloodshed and rape forever...”

Flash was already grimacing.  “What... changed?”

A sweet smile flicked between them.  “We did.”

“Hmmm?”

“The Fae came into being,” Fannie explained.  “In truth, they manifested at the same time as valkyries—only their changes were far subtler and there was a lot less of them.  But, as the generations passed, society took notice.  What's more—the Fae themselves stepped things up by approaching the Valkyries directly.  And you know what they discovered?”

“What?”

“... … ...they were the only ones sexually compatible with valkyries.”  Fannie's violet eyes widened slightly for emphasis.  “Our ancient ancestors pacified them.  Endless war was averted.”

“Wait... 'sexually compatible?'”  Flash's eyes narrowed.  “How?  You mean... valkyries can impregnate fae?”

“No,” said a sweet voice behind them both.  “But—due to the magic of the Allure—we're the only ones who can take what valkyries have to give.”

Flash and Fannie turned to see Cherish strolling slowly into the room.  She was wearing a loose pink sleeping blouse with ruffled hem—but the wardrobe change wasn't having its desired effect.  With a look of insomnia, she curled up on a couch perpendicular to where the other two sat.  She had something tucked under her arm.  Upon closer inspection, Flash determined that it was a plush Tinkerbell doll.  He and Cherish were maybe two inches different in height, but everything about her outfit and posture somehow made her appear infinitely tinier.

“Meaning, we can take it up the butt,” Cherish blurted less delicately.  Her otherwise bright blue eyes were dim and meandering.  She squeezed the doll and sighed through a button nose.  “Males and females simply are not physically compatible with valkyries, and full copulation with the stronger of the new sexes would absolutely eviscerate them.  This isn't the case with fae.  The Allure—combined with our mutual manafluxes—makes full intimacy possible.”

Fannie winked aside at Flash.  “If Cherish sounds like an open book, that's because she's volunteered for blossom counseling all her fae life.”

“I think it's a nice thing that you're doing, Fannie.  I hope you don't mind my stepping in.”

Fannie reached across the space and rubbed her dangling leg.  “Not at all, sweetie.  Did you get any rest?”

“Mmmmm... no...”  Cherish sniffled, then her blue eyes looked sadly at Flash.  “I... I-I want to apologize for rushing out earlier, the way I did.  I...”  She chewed on her bottom lip.  “I-I have a hard time handling big news like th-this.”  Another sniffle, but she maintained her composure.  “Mom's always encouraging me to take baby steps, but... b-but just a moment ago I-I couldn't...”

“That's okay...”  Flash smiled genuinely, feeling slightly more comfortable to see Cherish once again—and not bawling her eyes out.  “I think it's understandable.”

“Doesn't make it right,” Cherish said, eyes glancing to the floor.  “As big as this may be for me and the rest of the Fountain, I-I can't even pretend to imagine how difficult it must be for you.”

“From what I understand, Flash... this world's Flash... was your friend.”

“Even still...”  Cherish looked at him.  “...let's focus on you for the time being.”  She balled her hand into a fist, rubbed her eyes dry, and sat up straight with the doll in her lap.  “Fannie was talking about the First Covenant, right?”

“Well, we almost got there.”  Fannie looked at Flash.  “As I said, the first generations of fae learned that they could pacify valkyries.  All of the aggression... anger... arousal... it was like this second new sex could just absorb it all.  It gave valkyries an outlet for their frustrations.  And because the manaflux within fae made them durable as it made the valkyries strong—the two could interact without anyone suffering lasting damage.”

“Sounds like...”  Flash blinked.  “...there was no longer any need for any conflict.”

“That's right.”  Fannie nodded.  “The fae showed up in the valkyries' lap and cleansed them of all their starving need.  So...”  A flicker of something in her smile—perhaps pride.  “...the first pack leaders of the valkyries decided that they would change their entire attitude.  Instead of warring against the majority of human civilization, they would utilize their skills of strength and magic to serve the greater good.  What's more, they would use all of their power and might to protect the fae—since the fae basically saved them from a bleak eternity of death and violence and misery.  In return, the fae would service the valkyries—tempering their passions and desires.”  She nodded towards Cherish.  “And this is what led to the First Covenant.”

“Ever since...”  Cherish added.  “...there have been multiple covenants, all designed to maintain the safety of fae and valkyries alike.  Some covenants ensure social prosperity for fae.  Others find ways of allowing valkyries to act out their aggression in competitive yet non-destructive ways.  There are pacts designed to assist peers of fae as well as peers of valkyries.  It's... something of a complex tradition and—no lie—it can take a lifetime to fully ascertain.  But, without the covenants, we simply would not exist in a balanced state among the old sexes.”

“And...”  Flash glanced between them both.  “...this has worked out just peachy-keen for the last five thousand years?”

“Pretty much, yeah.”  Fannie nodded with a smile.  “You see—soon after the First Covenant was made, it was discovered that fae possessed far more potent manafluxes than valkyries.”

“Despite being physically weaker on the surface,” Cherish added.

Fannie pointed at her.  “That's right.”  She looked at Flash.  “And as the centuries went by, the new sexes formed communes and guilds dedicated towards further understanding the magic within themselves—the same kind of magic that men and women lacked.  This led to schools of wizardry and sorcery.  Then there was the faerie dusting and the invention of manatech—”

“... … …and now here we are on a starship,” Flash Sentry murmured.  “The GSS Equestria.”

“Thaaaaaaaat's right.”  Fannie winked.  “I mean, the dots don't connect that simply, but they might as well.”

“But... like...”  Flash scratched his head.  “One thing I don't understand is... how are fae and valkyries so compatible?  I mean... I-I've glanced at those things dangling off of Sunny Flare and her associates.  There's no way in Hell that those things would fit into anyone—much less people as small as us!”

“Well, not with that attitude,” Fannie mused.

Flash's eyebrows went straight.  “Seriously.  What's the explanation here?”

“The Allure,” Cherish said.

Flash glanced at her.

“It's what makes fae and valkyries compatible.”  She delicately cleared her throat.  “The Allure is why a... sq-square peg can fit into a tiny round hole.”  A blushing smile, and her blue eyes glittered.  “But it's much... much more than that.  It's a force... an attraction... that automatically exists among fae and valkyries.  The Allure draws us together.  It enchants us... entraps us... arouses us.”  She freed a hand from her doll to run through her pixie gold hair.  “Some think that it's the subconscious manifestation of the Great Enchantment... that it's the driving force for why we've been made manifest in the first place.  But—for all of its sometimes brain-numbing qualities, the Allure is why we experience prosperity.  It gives us purpose.  It gives us life.”

Flash Sentry thought on this—even before Cherish had finished speaking.  He thought of all the days... weeks... months... years languished alone in his apartment.  All those lonely evenings spent obsessing over some crazy sexual fantasy—a combination of factors that illustrated a lewd dream world in his beleaguered mind.  He had to admit—it felt like a force possessing him... leeching him of all otherwise-rational thought.  There were times when he tried to displace the blame for his constant self-absorption, as if something had been influencing him from beyond.  He always thought he was crazy.  But...

“And... uhm...”  Clearing his throat, Flash slowly looked towards Fannie.  “Women and... men don't ever feel the Allure?”

Fannie shook her head.  “Not to say that there's no room for attraction between old sexes and new sexes.”  A slight giggle.  “We've all had five thousand years to acclimate, and the pond for new sexes isn't all that super huge.  There are tons of men coupled with fae and women coupled with fae and valkyries coupled with men and women coupled with valkyries—”

“But...”  Flash squinted.  “...how?”

“They make it work.  Such is love.”  Fannie's eyes flickered emphatically.  “The human spirit and the Allure don't always have to color between the same lines.”

“But some things are only physically possible thanks to the Allure,” Cherish explained.  “It's from this function that valks and fae specifically become compatible.”

“And...”  Flash fidgeted in his seat.  “...valks and fae thereby... … … procreate?”

“Oh no.”  Fannie shook her head.  “No no no no no—it's not a matter of procreation.”  She giggled slightly, flashing a look at Cherish.  “It's kinda silly—trying to explain it to an outsider.”

Cherish managed an amused grin.  “I know, right?”

“Uhm...”  Fannie straightened her hair before continuing:  “Only men and women can create children.  But...”  She gestured.  “Fae and valkyries still manifest as they've always done—going back to how it all began in 3196 BC.”

“By just... 'blossoming' at a certain age.”  Flash raised an eyebrow.  “From young males and females at puberty.”

“Roundabouts,” Fannie said.  “Even to this day—valkyries comprise five percent of the population and fae about one percent.  So long as this trend continues—undaunted—the new sexes will continue to exist.”

“Has there... been any change?”

“Thank Goddess, no!”  Fannie enjoyed a flighty little laugh.  “The manatech of the world kinda sorta depends on our being around for the next few eons!”

“That's... that's pretty nifty...”  Flash looked down at his petite self, sandwiched loosely in unflattering sweatclothes.  “So... uh... me... I-I mean... this body...”  He blinked.  “...it can never father a child.”

“Oh sweetie...”  Cherish suddenly winced, her eyes watering.  “I... I'm so sorry.  You were literally a man just days ago, weren't you?”

“Fucking Hell,” Fannie cursed, blinking into oblivion.  “I didn't really think of it until now—but it's practically like Flash here just blossomed overnight.”  A gulp.  “That's gotta suck no matter which way you look at it.”

“It's...”  Cherish put the doll down and scooted towards the edge of her seat, looking tenderly at Flash.  “...while it's true that neither valkyries nor fae can impregnate a woman, there are... m-many unique and creative ways to leave a legacy!”  She bore a crooked smile, her eyes remaining hopeful.  “I mean—the sheer potency of fae magic alone can empower entire societies and—”

“Oh, don't fret.”  Flash blinked at Cherish.  “I-I wasn't really regretting it.  In truth, I... uh...”  He glanced down at his delicate hands.  “...I wasn't planning on having kids back where I was.”

“Besides, who knows!”  Fannie cleared her throat.  “Maybe the valks at Cinchcorp can... uh... f-figure out a way to get you back to your universe if... if that's... uh...”  She looked at Cherish.

Cherish shook her head.

With melancholic features, Fannie looked towards the floor.

“I can tell you're both trying to cheer me up,” Flash said.  “But... it's all starting to weigh on me too.”  He spoke with remarkable calmness.  “There's likely no way of me going back to the life I was living.”  He looked at Cherish.  “Just as there's likely no way of your Flash ever coming back here.”

Cherish shuddered.  She looked aside, rubbing fresh tears away from her eyes.

“I mean... who knows.  Maybe Sunny Flare will come up with something.  But... I-I gotta figure out what I'll have to do if... if I have to stay here...”  His voice went dry, for even as he tried to drum up a solemn angle to approach this subject...

...there was no denying the intense fire that was slowly burning up within the center of his being.  As far as he could tell, this was the very epitome of a dream come true.  What's more, he only grasped the very fringes of it all.  Every moment he contemplated learning more, his mind went back to those massive staves of Sour Sweet and Sunny Flare raising at the sight of his sissy tears back in that locker room.

There was a magical world.  It existed.  And suddenly—felicitously—it was all Flash's oyster.

And...

...he felt guilty.  Guilty that there was no way out of this without feeling enraptured.  The guilt was so palpable that it sent his mind reeling, and he once again implored the unseen gods as to whether or not this was a dream.

“Flashie...?”  He heard Fannie voice with musical concern.  “Are you okay, honey?”

“I... uh...”  Flash rubbed his head, visibly sweating.  “...I-I think I need to breathe.”

“Shhhhh-shhhh...”  Cherish rushed over and grasped his hand.  “Just relax.  I... uh... I know a place where you can get some air.”

“Oh...?”  Shivering slightly, Flash looked up at her.  He blinked, his gaze nervously drifting towards the brightly-lit windows.  “...how much 'air?'”

Cherish simply bore a tender smile.
> Where Sky Meets Sky
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Quite the sight, huh?”

Flash Sentry had no immediate response.  He trembled from where he stood in the center of the balcony, wringing his delicate hands together.  His blue eyes reflected a cylindrical world of skyline against skyline against skyline.  Seeing the world out of a window was one thing; bearing the full visual brunt of it from the neck of a skyscraper was another.  The longer he stared, the more details he gathered: of mid-air tracks filled with hover vehicles scouring the inner sky, of floating platforms loading and unloading emergency VTOLs fitted with flashing lights, of pockets of green vegetation and blue lakes filling the gaps between the gray steel urbanity.

Flash looked harder, and he saw that there were layers of platforms far below and above them—so that the “true floor” of the habitat was next to impossible to discern.  On some of these elevated districts, he spotted courtyards and shopping districts where the wandering dots of humans strolled to and fro.  Flashing advertisements and holo-screens added color to the tiny splotches of life, giving the extreme pockets of this place much-needed character and levity.

“Flashie...?”  Cherish asked, her head cocked curiously to the side as she shuffled adorably into his peripheral.

“It's... uh...”  Flash gulped.  “...it's something alright.”

“Hmmm...”  A calm smile crossed Cherish's lips.  “I'm... kinda glad.”

“Glad?”  Slowly, a dazed Flash turned to blink at her.  “Glad for what?”

“To see you look so mesmerized.”  He watched as she wandered into a cluster of plants.  A flower garden hugged the inner edge of the balcony, complete with shiny, colorful buds and sparkling petals.  “It really truly is the first time you've seen anything like this.  I know that now.”

“Did...”  Flash ran a shaky hand through his hair, glancing back at the hollow of the sprawling habitat.  “Did you have your doubts?”

“It's not so much that...”  Cherish gently watered and tended to the garden, one flower at a time.  “I mean... in some ways, yes.  I'm still tr-trying to process the Flash I know being gone as much as you're processing being here.”  A melancholic sigh.  “I guess it helps to know that the gravity of this situation is as real for someone else as it is for me.”

Flash thought of asking more about that particular friendship, but he decided to hold back.  At least for a bit.  “Is this your garden?” he asked.

That made Cherish smile, which lit up Flash's heart momentarily.  “Yes.  Do you like it?”

“It smells good,” Flash said.  “Sorta like you—”  He winced at spouting that out loud.  After a brief face palming, he sighed.  “It's very nice, Cherish.  Certainly makes this place feel more... more...”

“Pleasant?”

Flash fidgeted.  “I was gonna say 'girly,' to tell the truth.”

“Oh?”

“But... I guess it all means the same.”

She put a watering can down and turned to face him directly.  “You... do like all things sweet and pretty, don't you?”

Flash bit his lip.  He could already feel his cheeks blushing.

Cherish let out a gentle giggle. “It's just... so obvious.”  She walked closer, filling the air around Flash with unmistakable vanilla.  “The... the other Flash... he was so desperate to distance himself from all of the typical 'fae' tropes that he went overboard.”

“Yeah...”  Flash tugged at the loose lengths of his bulky, black sweatclothes.  “I can tell.”

“There was no showing of affection.  No giving in to cute and adorable things.  No flirting with valks.  Barely any smiling—if he could help it.”  Cherish sighed, but it wasn't all too terribly woe-some in tone.  “Despite all of that, I could tell... I knew when he was sliding hidden feelings between the cracks.  He did his damnedest to hide it all beneath a cold, black-and-white veneer, but part of him—I believe—part of him was inescapably fae.”  She hugged herself, sniffling back an urge to cry.  “In the end—it would seem—he got what he wanted.  I... I at least hope that's the outcome he's enjoyed.”

Flash chewed on his lip not to say anything.

But Cherish was just as observant as she let on.  “Go ahead,” she murmured.  “Don't hold back for my sake.”

Flash gave in—but just a little, pivoting the subject a tad.  “You... uh...”  He ran a hand through his hair, smiling awkwardly.  “You seem to have the whole 'cute' and 'adorable' thing down pat.”

Cherish giggled.  Then she giggled again.  Her smile was as rosy as it was sincere.  “Thanks.  I try my best.”

Flash shrugged.  “What's to try?”

“I was... always pretty girly,” Cherish said.  Flash watched as she wandered over towards a recliner chair facing the balcony railing.  “Even well before my blossoming, I was... I-I guess you could say I was 'prepared' for the transformation to come.”

Flash blinked.  “I thought... uh... boys who 'blossom' into fae don't see it coming.”

“True.  But I felt something,” Cherish said.  She squatted down in the center of the chair—which enormously swallowed her.  It looked built for a valkyrie, and so she sat hugging her knees like a tiny pixie in the pink blouse and shorts, surrounded by glass, sky, and steel.  “Since I was an infant, I... gravitated towards the pretty and delicate.  Everyone around me joked that I was gonna blossom.  Guess it was just a prophesy confirmed.”

“Must have been a dream come true when you... changed.”

“Mmmm...”  Cherish brushed a hand over her blond feathery strands.  “I certainly didn't hate it.  Things turned out a bit more challenging than I expected.  But I found my place.”  A sweet smile.  “And it's a most wonderful place.”

“Do... uh...”  Flash wandered over to a matching chair adjacent to Cherish's.  “...do most fae have a hard time changing?”

“Unfortunately, it's usually a less-than-positive experience.  At least at first,” Cherish explained.  “Unlike valkyries, fae metamorphosis is a lot... subtler and more psychological from the get-go.  Boys becoming fae experience a lot of mood swings... followed by shrinking body statue... muscle fatigue...”

“Yeesh...”  Flash winced, squatting in the chair beside her.  Both individuals looked like tiny mannequins on chair-sized rafts adrift in concrete.  “And what about valks?  What do they go through?”

“Well, right away, they lose their natural-born metabolism to manaflux,” Cherish explained.  “Then they grow rapidly in size and strength.  At the same time, they lose their womb to... well...”  Cherish exhaled with a shudder.  “...a very different set of organs.”

“It's... gotta suck to lose your ability to give birth with no choice,” Flash said.

Cherish merely nodded.  “It's an emotionally-charged issue for the ages, no doubt.  But most valkyries—especially when they're still young—feel incredibly empowered by the transformation.”

“Why?  Cuz they have huge dicks?”

Cherish rolled her eyes.  “Because they're suddenly taller, stronger, and more assertive than any other person around them.”

“Oh...”  Flash sweated.  “I knew that.”

“No you didn't.”

“Fair.”

Cherish waved.  “Valkyries usually maintain their social groups for a while after changing, only now they're now stronger and a lot more inspiring.  But with fae—the change happens a lot later in teenagehood.  Most have already fully adapted to gender roles and expectations.”

“So when the transformation happens...”

“...a lot of fae feel betrayed by fate.  They have a lot of trouble keeping ahold of past acquaintances.  And—as much as I hate to say it—but society is a lot less nice to fae.  In a lot of ways, the transformation is looked on as a downgrade.”

“That's...”  Flash grimaced.  “...horrible.”

“It's only a perception, and a shallow one at that.”  Cherish gave Flash a hopeful smile.  “Thankfully, there's blossoming counseling.  And beyond that—fountains.  It takes a while, but fae soon learn to adapt, acclimate, and ultimately find their place.”

Flash leaned in his seat.  “I've been dying to ask—”

“What are fountains?”

He nodded.  “Yeah.”

“Well, we are,” Cherish said.  A beat.  She cleared her throat and said:  “What I mean is... everyone in this apartment—myself, Melody, Fannie...”

“The other Flash.”

It was her term to nod.  “Fountains are social groups for fae.  Support groups.  Typically no less than three per household.  Sometimes as much as a dozen.”

“Sorta like... sororities?”

“That's a term commonly used for valks.”

“Oh... uhhh—”

Cherish giggled lightly.  “It's okay.  Between your world and this one—there's gotta be a lot of criss-crossing terms.”

“I guess.”  Flash rubbed the back of his neck as he gazed beyond the balcony.  “So, this fountain...”

“Yeah?”

“It's helped you out, huh?”

“Well—I mean, it's not the first fountain I've ever been a part of.”  Cherish's little fingers played against her spotless knees.  “But it's gotten me to where I'm at.  And that's a good thing.”

“That's nice.”

“I... … ...should re-phrase that,” Cherish murmured.  “Flash Sentry got me to where I'm at.”

He looked at her, blinking curiously.

“This particular fountain... has all been thanks to him.”  Cherish looked over with a bittersweet smile.  “For all of his emotionless stand-offish ways... he really truly was the glue that kept us all together.”

“I think I heard Sunny Flare say something about trying to keep this place from falling under—”

“We're in a somewhat... pricey part of town,” Cherish explained.  “Not that money is much of an obstacle.  The Allowance Covenant makes it so that fae like us will never go wanting.”

“Uhhhhhh—”

She continued.  “But it's still a very nice apartment for just four faeries.  It's all because of Flash Sentry.”

“His... job at Cinchcorp.”

Cherish nodded.  “All things considered, he was the princess of this fountain.”

Flash blinked.  He looked down at the plain black clothes he was wearing, then back at Cherish.  “Uhhhh—”

“Oh, dear me...”  Cherish leaned sideways to face Flash.  “It's a title in this universe.  Used both domestically and officially.”

“How so?”

“In... new sex society, 'princess' is the official term for the most powerful fae sorceress of a community.  For example, there's Princess Feather Bangs, Princess Tender Spritz, Princess Spire.  It's a relatively small list—at least compared to Valkyrie Queens—but it does go on.”

“Gotcha...”

“But when it comes to households—to fountains—there's almost always a faerie who shoulders the weight of keeping everything proper and afloat.”

“And this is... was Flash Sentry...?”

“Mmmmm... technically, yes.”  Cherish lay reclined on her side, relaxing as she nuzzled the chair's surface with her cheek.  “He reached out to Melody and Fannie—formerly Caramel and Rumble—back when he made the move with Cinchcorp to board the GSS Equestria.  He met me even before he hit it off with Cinchcorp, so I too was given an invitation.”  A soft sigh, and it was accompanied by a matching smile.  “It's all thanks to him that I got to come out here in the first place.  That I got to make friends with so many fae.  That I got to meet Mom...”

Those last few words struck Flash curiously.  Nevertheless, he tried to keep on topic.  “So, all this time, Flash was a princess.”

“Only... he rejected the status of being a fae.”

“I thought he was a wizard and shit.”

“Oh, h-he was!  He was amazingly gifted at fae manaflux potential!  But...”  Cherish curled up a bit, sighing.  “...he just never cared for the lifestyle.  He never wanted to dress or look the part.  Which—y'know—is totally fine.  He more than earned the right to pursue his own fashion, and who are we to dictate who or what he is?”

“Is... it considered taboo for fae to... be unlike fae?”

“No.  Erm... n-not quite.”  Cherish rubbed her pixie hairdo and stared off past her garden.  “Oh gosh... it's kinda hard to explain.”  She gulped, then her ocean eyes looked at Flash again.  “But—traditionally—each and every fae have a duty to perform for new-sex society.”

“Is ittttttt... boinking valkyries?”

“No.  I mean, technically, no.  It's more delicate than that.  To make a long story short, fae who don't deliver on what's expected of them in accordance with the covenants are... more or less deprived of the things that are most rewarding in being fae.  But to Flash—that was more than fine.  He embraced his chosen lot in life, and he found a way to make do despite being non-traditional.  And the rest of us—his special fountain—only benefited from his courage and zeal.”

“I'm... not sure I quite understand all of that,” Flash said.  “But I'm glad that Flash was able to find his way.  If not for himself, then for all of you.”  He bore a sweet smile.  “It sounds like an incredibly special fountain.”

“It was!”  Cherish giggled... but slowly that giggle broke down into shuddering breaths.  Tears lined the edges of her eyes as she looked back towards her garden.

Flash bit his lip.  He fumbled to change the subject from his doppelganger once again.  “S-so... uh... Caramel and Rumble... th-they got their names changed?”

“Mmmmm...”  Cherish sniffled and rubbed her eyes dry.  On a dime, she relaxed and answered him.  “Oh yes.  It's... a lot harder for fae to maintain their given names post-blossoming than it is for valkyries.  Some manage to keep it—like Flash did, since he wasn't very keen on being fae—but the majority of us change once we reach the point of Felicity.”

“Felicity?” Flash asked.

“Oh.  Uhm...”  Cherish blushed, smiling tenderly.  “Remember how earlier I said that blossoming is usually a less-than-positive experience for fae?”

“Yeah...?”

“Well, that eventually changes.  And praise Goddess.  You see, new sex lifestyle isn't exclusively pleasurable for valks.  There's a great depth of joy, contentment, and euphoric expression for all fae to experience... to explore.  They just... don't really see it at first.”

“But after they meet up in fountains—”

Cherish giggled, nodding.  “Yes.  We make lotsssss of new girlfriends and that's when the Felicity kicks in.”

“Sounds like a contact high.”

“No, that's the Allure.  But it contributes all the same.”  Cherish gestured.  “Between the Allure and a newfound camaraderie, fae discover boundless joy and potential in their new lifestyle.  And it's a good thing too, because it is... so not easy to be fae on a daily basis.”

“And this phase of... embracing life—”

“Is called the 'Felicity.'  Sometimes we like to call it the 'Second Blossoming.'  It's the final hump we all pass before fully becoming our true selves.”

“Whew...”  Flash slowly shook his head.  “This universe and its terminology.”

Cherish giggled again.  “Yes, well, a rich tapestry of existence needs its interwoven threads, hmmm?”

“Poetic.”

“Thank you.”

“I'm curious.  Were you...”  Flash squinted.  “...always 'Cherish?'”

She shook her head.  “No.  Before the blossoming, I was called 'Garnet Star.'”

Flash nodded in silent contemplation.

“Why?”  She sat up slightly, eyebrows raised.  “Did you know a 'Garnet Star?'”

Flash exhaled.  “Can't say that I ever have.”  It was an honest truth.

“I see.”  She leaned her head aside.  “But... you knew Caramel and Rumble?”

“Barely.  And—for what it's worth—I knew a Sunny Flare as well.  Along with her two companions I met.”

“And... if they weren't valkyries in your world—”

“They were women.”  It was Flash's turn to hug his knees to his chest.  “I'm tellin' ya... it's so weird that this is actually happening and not some dream...”

“You...”  Cherish's eyes narrowed.  “...expected all of this somehow?”

Flash clenched his jaw.  Goosebumps spread across his shoulders.  He hadn't expected her to glean anything from that.  Or maybe he was just a stupid blabbermouthing idiot.  Perhaps both.

Cherish remained quiet.  Curious.  Patient.

With a stifled groan, Flash murmured:  “This... is going to sound very weird...”

“You've handled 'weird' all this time, I think it's only safe to say that it's my turn.”

“That's not fair.  Your world isn't weird.”

Cherish shrugged with an angelic smile.  “Understandable if it is to you.”

“Even still—”

“You cried when you saw your reflection a while ago,” Cherish said.  Her breath was pressing, yet gentle.  “... … ...was this something that you wanted, Flash?”

He bit his lip.

“Something about this universe... this reality... is dreamlike to you?”

He hugged himself tighter.  “At... mmmm... at the risk of sounding grossly disrespectful of all the things you and the rest of your kind have been through... valks as well...”  He clenched his eyes shut.  “... … ...I have always... always fantasized for a world like this.”

“Fantasized?”

“Erm... what I mean is—”

“Like a sexual fantasy?”

Flash winced.

Cherish winced because he winced.  “What?  You have a problem with that?”

Flash blanched.  “Shouldn't I have a problem with that?”

“Why would you ever feel bad about fantasizing about people and places?”

“Cuz... cuz...”  Flash fell in and out of a cold sweat.  “It's putting them in an exclusively sexual light!”

“Flashie...”  Cherish's eyelids hung heavy and casual.  “...I think you're bound to discover that everyone here on the Equestria—and in all the solar systems for that matter—are incredibly sex-positive.”

“Uhhhh...”

“We've had to be.”  Cherish giggled, blushing a bit.  “Nobody can really abstain from anything around valkyries.  Certainly not valks themselves.”

Flash slowly shook his head.  “I don't think you get it.  I don't think anyone can get it.”  Flash gestured.  “In my world... society is nothing like what I've learned so far about this one.”

“Uh huh...”

“We've got so many hang ups.  So many things to fear and worry about—a lot of them self-imposed.  I... I-I couldn't quite blend in, and my only escape was... w-was...”  He gulped dryly, his feminine voice cracking.  “...was this persistent fantasy about being somewhere else.  Somewhere innately erotic and pornographic.  And... and what's more, I... I-I quite specifically imagined that fantasy world filled to the brim with fembois and futanari—”

“Filled with what?” Cherish asked, her lips pursing.

Flash rolled his eyes at himself.  “In short—I imagined a world that was creepily close in fantasy as this one is to reality.  I... I was born a man... but I-I couldn't stop dreaming about stuff that muddled the image of that with forced-feminization... and vice versa, I guess.  It was... just so damnably niche and all-encompassing a dream and I went back to it every night and... and...”

“And you find this world to be a close match to it?”

“... … ...”  Flash looked worriedly at Cherish.  “It can't be a mere coincidence that it's so on the nose.”

She gave a solemn nod.  “I'm starting to think that the Flash Sentry I knew might have the same thoughts about your universe.”  Her nostrils flared.  “No mere coincidence, that too, I wonder...?”

Flash blinked.

She looked inquisitively at him.  “Tell me.  How many sexes are in your world?”

“In my world?”  Flash remarked.  “We have two.  Wait.  No.”  He winced.  Hard.  “Shit.  Fuck.”

Cherish's brow furrowed in confusion.

Flash ran a hand over his face, sighed, and explained:  “It's... a lot more complicated than that.  There are... people who are biologically born with 'male' sex organs and people who are biologically born with 'female' sex organs.  Such individuals can have heterosexual relationships and procreate.  But... the absolute status of one's sex is quite often complicated by the notion of gender, which many find to be far more fluid than is traditionally maintained... or perhaps even nonexistent whatsoever.”  Flash cleared his throat.  “Not everyone adopts the role that is ascribed to them, and every culture has varying degrees of pressure.”

“Are your referring to transgendered people?”

Flash gave Cherish a surprised look.  “People in this universe can be transgendered?”

“Why not?”  Cherish shrugged.  “You think a world with twice as many sexes would somehow have less gender roles?”

“... … ...holy shit, you're right.”

She smiled gently.  “Flash Sentry... never quite 'came out' with it himself, but I came to believe long ago that he was a man trapped in a fae's body.”  A sweet, sad sigh.  “A blossoming that was never meant to happen.”

“Is that why you and the rest of the fountain are always referring to him with male pronouns?”

“We do that because it's what he's always preferred.”  Cherish shrugged.  “Simple as that.”

Flash blinked.  “Oh.  R-right...”

“Lots of fae stick with 'he' and 'him.'  Some valkyries also have masculine identities.”

“Sounds like a lot to juggle and get used to.”

“As much as one can 'juggle' and 'get used to' each individual person,” Cherish said.  “Such is life, I suppose.”

“Yeah...”  Flash exhaled heavily, contemplating that.  “You're... pretty on the level, Cherish.”

“Could the mirror still reflect true?”  She leaned forward.  “Would you consider yourself transgendered, Flash?”

He gave her a double-take.  “Huh?”

“In regards to your fantasies...”  She shrugged.  “Maybe you were just someone else trapped in your male body.”

“Oh no no no no no.”  Flash shook his head.  “It was never like that.”

“It wasn't?”

“I was just a lonesome, freakish pervert whose fantasies made light of the not-so-happy reality of gender dysphoria.”

Cherish chuckled.  “Now I don't think you're being very fair.”

“Aren't I?”

“For one, stop being so hard on yourself.”  Cherish gestured.  “For another... in all that time—did you ever once think of hooking up with a transgendered person?”

“What??”  Flash clenched his teeth.  “No!!”

She jolted from his explosive reaction.  “Uhm... why not...?”

“Cuz... I-I didn't want anyone crossing paths with my gross, obsessive fetishes!”

“You...”  Cherish's eyes narrowed.  “...don't think transgendered people are capable of feeling pleasure or lust?”

“... … ...”  Flash blinked.  Hard.

“...or that beneath any of that surface-level pleasure, there'd be a mutual love that could be shared and make you shed all of that 'gross' and 'freakish' perspective of yourself?”

“I... that...”  Flash slumped back into the chair, staring at the hollow sky beyond in a numb state.  “... … ...Damn.”

Cherish smiled.  “What we enjoy in life shouldn't become barriers.  I'm not sure what you struggled with in the world that you come from, but it sounds frightfully imprisoning.”

Flash closed his eyes.  After a deep, meditative breath, he spoke:  “I'll be the first to admit that there are several hangups I never got past, even at my best.  But...”  He gazed at Cherish.  “...in the end, it just... d-didn't feel right to hook up with anyone solely through the motivations of an erotic fantasy.  It would have been... disrespectful.  Maybe there's room for something eternally satisfying beneath the outer layer of one's desires, but... I-I never learned to see past that.  All I perceived was my own shortcomings and failures, and I never... ever wanted to put that baggage on another person.  I had many... many opportunities to improve, but I didn't.”

Cherish nodded.  “I still don't fully understand, but I will respect your restraint.  Still... I can't help but sympathize.”

“If there was ever one word to describe my past life, it's 'pathetic,'” Flash said.  “That's for sure.”

“Oh sweetie, that's not what I meant.”

“You didn't have to.”  Flash took a deep breath.  “The way things were going—to be perfectly honest—I might not have continued living.”  He gulped, his eyes growing misty.  “At all.”

“... … ...”  Cherish gazed calmly at him.  “But... here you are.  Now living.”

Flash gulped.  “And seemingly another life.”

“A better life...”  Cherish winked.  “If your... uhhhh... 'dreams' are of any indication.”

“But...”  Flash hugged himself.  “...it still doesn't feel right?”

“Why not?”

“Isn't it obvious?”  Flash looked at Cherish with a weak expression.  “It's not my home.  It's not my body.  All of this... it belongs to your Flash.  I mean... it's all happened so fast.  I'm here and you girls are short one super close friend.  I can still tell that you want him back.”

“We never said that—”

Flash sniffled, on the edge of a sob.  “But isn't it obvious?”

“Even so...”  Cherish spoke steadily, but tears were forming along the edges of her eyes as well.  “...even if I could get him back somehow... back in our fountain...”  She slowly, sadly shook her head.  “I know it's not what he would have wanted.  After all... none of this is our doing... or your doing...”  She looked at him.  “But Flash's.”

Flash bit his lip.

“So... just as I did when I blossomed...”  She sat up and swung her lithe legs off the chair's edge.  “...I have to buck up and shape up.  Besides... it's not all about me... or us...”  She smiled down at him with her hands on her hips.  “But you've got a new life ahead of you.  Seems only fitting that you get some much-needed help along the way.”

“I...”  Flash trembled, still very emotional.  “I-I'm not sure I can handle this new life.”

“Even if it's possibly everything the past you has ever wanted?”

“Because it's everything and more.”

Cherish gave a nod.  “Well, that's to be expected, I guess.  What say we both take things one step at a time?”

“You'd...”  Flash bit his lip, shivering slightly.  “You'd really do all of this?  For me?”

“Ohhhhhhh honey...”  Cherish reached down with a tender hand and helped lift Flash to his feet.  She drew him into a close, fragrant hug.  “I frankly don't care where you came from or what fears you have.  You're here.  You're beautiful.  And you need love.  What are fae for than to look after one another?”

“I... uh...”  Flash's mind rippled back to Sunny Flare, her friends, and their not-so-little friends attached to them.  “...I can think of a few things.”

Cherish seemingly mind-read him.  After a girlish laugh, she patted his shoulder.  She was a teensy bit shorter and had to look up into Flash's eyes—smiling rosily the whole time.  “Well, let's push that to a safe distance for the time being.  Now...”  She clasped her hands together.  “...does somebody like princess movies?”

Flash's heart fluttered, skipping more than a beat.  His pupils shrank above a blushing complexion.  “Can I marry you?”
> All at Once Everything is Different
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Eee-hee-hee-heeeeee!”  Cherish kicked at the air before flopping back down on her sofa cushion.  She hugged her Tinkerbell plushie to her chest while pointing at the floating holo-screen in the middle of the room.  “I just adore how happy she is to be at the lantern festival!”

“Don't you love the part when she spins around in the courtyard dance?” Flash remarked, sitting a seat beside her.

“I know!  And the flowers in her hair?!”

“The girls were soooooo pleased to be able to braid it like that.”

“Aaaaa-aaaah!  I love this movie!  It's just so... so...”  Cherish bit her bottom lip, bubbling at the core.  “...so pink!”

Flash giggled, smiling at the footage.  “One thing I never understood—Rapunzel and Eugene are trekking across half the kingdom, right?  Wilderness and caves and city streets...?”

“Yeah?”

Flash gestured.  “Why does she have to be barefoot the entire time?”

“Cuz Punzie never stepped foot out of her tower before.  Literally.  She's got no shoes.”

“Yeah, but that's gotta be super painful on her skin and joints and all.”  Flash cleared his throat.  “It always felt to me that the animators just had an obvious thing for feet.”

“Well... she does have adorable feet.”

Silence.

“Yes.  Yes she does.”  Flash nodded, bereft of a new string to the argument.

The “sun” had gone down outside.  Only, it wasn't a sun.  The rectangular platforms had simply begun their rotation past the bright beam that illuminated that particular portion of the habitat.  Nevertheless, the softness and rosiness with which the “sunset” slowly played out convinced Flash that it was the real thing.  Focusing on it too much would likely drive him insane, which is why this princess distraction was just perfect.  Sitting down before an animated feature with lots of bright eyes, music, and songbirds made him feel almost as if he was home.  Only—instead of squalor and loneliness all around him—he had an energetic little movie buddette who made his heart jump with each thing she said.

“Ohhhhhhh I love how the tempo in the music builds up and up here!”  Cherish sniffled, her blue eyes glossy with adoration.  “And how the locals join in with the dance—both young and old?  It's just so... so...”

“Bouncy?”

“Innocent.”

“That too.”

“Oh, I wish the other fae were into movies like this.”  Cherish sighed, hugging the doll tighter.  “I mean, I enjoy the daily fashion or runway show like any other faerie, but it's rare that I can share an appreciation of plain ol' pretty pink princesses.”

“Here's something that's bugging me, though,” Flash said.

“Yeah?”

“So... like... five thousand years ago, two new sexes came into being.  And this led to people ultimately living for over three times the natural life cycle as well as technology improving so much that civilization has branched out beyond the stars...”

“Uh huh...?”

“... … ...how come your universe and mine still have the same Disney movies?”  Flash blinked.  “And pop culture references and everything?”

“Would you want to live in a reality without Disney Princesses?”

“... … …guess you got me there.”

“Just relax and enjoy the girliness.”  Cherish curled up, smiling drunkenly at the bright, moving images.  “That's my philosophy.”

“I feel like I might want to steal your philosophy, Cherish.”

“I think I just might let you, Flashie.”

They both giggled.

After a moment of silence, Flash glanced over at Cherish.  He noticed how calm and content she was.  Perhaps now was as good a time as ever—

“Say... uh... Cherish...?”

“Mmmhmmm?”  She rubbed her eyes, stifled a yawn, and lay curled up cozily on her side.  “Yes, Flashie?”

Flash felt goosebumps from the nickname.  He carefully continued:  “Have you... uhm... have you thought about what you'll do if... if the Flash you know can never come back?”

Her expression remained tranquil.  Both blue eyes remained glued to the screen in front of them.  When she spoke, it was with a peaceful air:  “I might just be facing that kind of a reality.  Not sure there's a choice to be had in it.”

Flash bit his lip.

“Besides...”  Cherish continued.  “I think that's more of a concern for you than it is for me.”

“Don't... worry about me at the moment.”  Flash delicately cleared his throat.  “Every worst-case-scenario that's been presented to me as of late has... been pretty okay, in my view.”  He gulped.  “Personally speaking, that is.”

“Mmmhmmm.”

“But... it still doesn't seem fair.  Not to you.  Not to any of the fae or valks or people who got to know Flash.”

“You'll... mmm...”  Flash saw her toes curl up... then relax.  Her body shuddered forth a breath.  “I don't think you'll find an extremely long list of people who... wh-who'll terribly miss Flash.”

A pit formed in Flash's stomach.  For it felt so damnably familiar.  He hung his head...

“I mean... there's me of course,” Cherish said.  “And—while they might not outright admit it—I'm more than certain that Melody and Fannie will feel bad that he's gone.”

“But for you...”  Flash looked up, eyes delicate.  “Being an acquaintance of Flash meant something?”

“Yes.”  Cherish smiled gently.  “I adored him.”

Flash blinked.

“But... uhhhh...”  She blushed in the flickering light from the holo-screen as she stole him a glance.  “You might discover that... I-I adore most people.”

Flash bore a fragile smile.  “Seems admirable in my book.”

“I... uh... I showed him lots of sympathy.”  She gulped.  “At times, maybe too much.  He always wanted to be self-sustaining.  Flash was... obsessed with 'manning up' and 'grabbing the bull by the horns' and such.  But... I-I knew it simply wasn't easy for him.  Not in the body that the blossoming gave him... gave us.”  She closed her eyes for a brief spell, hugging Tinkerbell tight.  “So... I gave him space.  As much as I could afford.  And with each passing day, I saw him grow more distant and... sad.”

Flash leaned his head to the side.  “Did he ever... try to push you away?”

“No.  That's just the thing.  He always checked up on me—and the others.  He was eager to support us—ever and always.  I think it... well... I've always believed that...”  She reopened her eyes, and they were moist.  But she accompanied the expression with a sweet smile.  “...he always loved us too... in his own way.  In how he could afford to inspire us and take care of us.  He may not have been very close—or even intimate—but he was always 'around.'”

“Until...”  Flash winced as he said it.  “...until now.”

“I think one of the biggest reasons why he always kept so distant is that he figured it would hurt us when he eventually took his leave.  And... and for the longest time, I was afraid he would take his leave.  Only...”  Cherish sighed delicately.  “...not in the way he ultimately did.”

Flash blinked.  “Oh.”

“Maybe now you can understand why... I'm actually somewhat relieved that he's... just in some other parallel universe.”

“I... uh...”  Flash rubbed the back of his head.  “...I didn't know he was that bad off.”

“When you're stuck in a life that you refuse from all angles—in a body that you don't recognize as your own—how can you possibly keep going on without change?”

Flash hugged himself.  He gazed into the shadows, reminded of the dark corners of his own apartment.  He had felt miserable for a long time.  So much so that—more often than he cared to admit—he too had contemplated taking the “ultimate exit.”  But... the “prison” he had stuck himself in was one of his own construction.  Nothing alien had been forced on him.  Life hadn't committed some grand crime to sequester him in a place where he had no choice but to waste away.  It was his own obsessions, frailties, and hangups that delivered him unto so much squalor and malaise.

It felt so very unfair... that he'd be given a free ticket to... to...

Whatever this was.

And as for the other Flash...

“...you really think he's happy now?” Flash asked.

“I want to believe that,” Cherish said.  “I just wish that he wouldn't achieve that ultimate happiness by forcefully replacing the likes of you.”

“I... can't imagine he's got ultimate happiness,” Flash murmured.

Cherish's eyes flicked at him.  “Oh?”

Flash smirked.  “He left you behind, didn't he?”

Cherish blinked.  A light giggle escaped her lips, and she leaned more comfortably against her side, gazing half at him and half at the movie.  “Are you really truly liking the looks and sounds of this place?”

Flash slowly nodded.  “More and more with each passing second.”

Cherish stifled a yawn.  “Then... I like to believe that it's a fair exchange.”

Flash gazed contemplatively at the darkening windows past the holoscreen.  If he let his eyes unfocus, it looked like floating yellow lanterns were dancing against a circular horizon.  Like staring at stars down a revolving kaleidoscope.

“I can't think of anyone back home that would miss me,” Flash murmured.  “My family and I broke ties emotionally long before I had gone out on my own.  There's nobody I work with who shares more than a passing conversation at lunch.  All of my friends were... just old ghosts from high school that I've long lost contact with.”  He smoothed back his bangs and sighed.  “It's almost like all of my life I've been preparing to... shut down and disappear.  Only, I had no idea how it would happen.  Or maybe I did, but I didn't know it.  I labeled it all as a 'disgusting obsession.'  When—in fact—it was just some crazy foreshadowing that... broke the laws of time and space.  Hell, I've witnessed magic before—in my world—why couldn't I foresee a miracle happening.  I mean... it's a miracle for me.  I can only hope it's a miracle for your Flash too.  Why else would he have chosen my life to leap into?”  A passive smile.  “All things considered, it looks like the switcheroo is working out for him as much as it's working out for me.  I... know I've barely known you for a day or two, Cherish, but—”  He looked over at her.  “...I can only hope all of this works out for you—”

Cherish was asleep.  Her pink lips hung open, pursed and delicate.  The fae's body slowly rose and fell, curled up with the Tinkerbell doll clutched tightly in her embrace.  The gold lights of the holoscreen's lanterns formed a delicate starry dance against her pixie gold hair.

Flash enjoyed a long, warm, contemplative breath.  Then—on tip toes that... actually resembled a ballerina's for once—he sneaked over and grabbed a fleece blanket folded off to the side.  He unraveled it—exposing Snow White with woodland creatures (of course)—and he gently laid it over Cherish's figure, warming her.

“Mmmmm...”  A slight trilling sound escaped the femme's throat.  Her pink lips smiled, and she curled comfortably under the fuzzy cover.  “...thanksssssss Mom...”

Flash smirked at that—both delighted and confused.  He tried to figure out a way to lower the volume on the high tech theatre system—ultimately deciding that it was too complicated to attempt without fucking something up.  So—with quiet motions—he made for the only portion of the apartment that he felt was appropriate to retire.  The other Flash Sentry's room.

But before he could completely Solid Snakette it through the bedroom door—

“Hey.  Flashie.”

He scuffled to a stop.  He turned towards the direction of the voice.

A petite figure with a girlish frame bird-stepped towards him.  Flash saw long chesnut brown hair.

“... … ...Melody?”  Flash asked.

She nodded.  “Freshly-squeezed and full of bubbles,” she murmured, keeping her voice low with Cherish off in the distance.  “I'm flattered that you remember me.”

“There's...”  Flash rubbed the back of his head.  “...an awful lot that I think will be burned into my brain bone from today.”

“Yeah, well, best that you take it one step at a time,” Melody said, her blue eyes flickering through the shadows.  “Assuming, of course, that you're staying.”

Flash gulped.  “I'm... not sure I have much of a choice.”

“Yeah.”  Melody breathed, nodding.  “I guess you don't, huh?”

Silence.

“So...”  Melody folded her forelimbs.  She was wearing a thin silk camisole that left little of her flat chest to the imagination—although Flash tried his damnedest not to stare.  “What are you going to do?”

“I...”  Flash winced.  His toes squirmed against the plush carpet.  “...I'm not sure.”

“It's a crazy world out there.”  Melody smirked slightly.  “An awful lot to fuck with.”  Her eyebrow arched.  “Literally.”

“Yeah.”  Flash felt his heartrate increasing for a brief spell.  “I... uh... I got that impression.”

“There're two ways to go about it,” Melody said.  “Very slowly... or fast as balls.”  A wink.  “I prefer the latter.  But... it's not without its bumps, so to speak.”

“And... there's also the path of not taking a path,” Flash said.  He brought a hand up and tugged on his black collar.  “So I suspect.”

Melody nodded.  “I mean, if the other Flash could live that way, I don't see why you can't.  But I doubt you would.”

“Oh?”  Flash leaned his head aside as he whispered.  “Why do you say that?”

“There's something about this reality that... get your noodle going,” Melody said.  “Even if your noodle currently has nowhere to go.”

“Are you an expert on this?”

“When you get around as much as I do, the Allure talks between fae as much as with valkyries.”  Melody smirked proudly.  “Lots of people say that's a myth, but they're all dumb melon fucks.”

“I... uh...”  Flash fidgeted where he stood.  “...I really really really like what I'm learning about this universe.”  A deep swallow.  “Almost too much.”

“Ohhhhhhh I'm gonna like showing you around.”  Melody reached out and squeezed his shoulder—but upon Flash's flinching, she leaned back with her fingers curling delicately in the air.  “Buttttttttt maybe you should take the 'very slow' path.”  A delicate cough.  “My bad.”

“No.  I could... use as much advice as possible, I think,” Flash said.

Melody looked over at the flickering living room where a certain blonde lay curled.  “The little doll been keeping you company?”

“Yeah.  Cherish is cute.”

“Sir, Cherish is fucking adorable,” Melody growled.  “And don't let anyone tell you otherwise.”

Flash sweated.  “You'll get no argument from me.”

“I think she's always dreamed a day like this would come.”

Flash winced.  “You're saying she wanted her Flash to leave?”

“No, but she always goaded and prodded him to reciprocate her emotions—all of our emotions.  I'd say it's no big secret that she wished he would give in to his blossoming—find the same Felicity we all have.  But... that was always asking too much.  And she respected him enough to let him live out the life he was meant to.  She's doing it now—even if it's not by her choice.  We all our.  And now that you're in his place... curling up on a couch and watching pretty pink fruitcake productions... well... I think you're more or less Cherish's dream come true.”

“O-oh yeah...?”  Flash chuckled lightly.  “And what about you and Fannie?”

“As long as you don't steal our clothes without asking, you're A-okay in our book.”

“It... doesn't bother you that the Flash you knew is gone?”

“Flash was always something of a little bitch.”

Flash winced.

“I mean... don't get me wrong.  He helped us out.  He got us this apartment.  He supported the fountain.  But—he was such a stick in the mud, y'know?  And not the sexy kind.  The most grating thing—however—was all the tiny little ways he'd find to remind us on a nearly daily basis of how fucking unhappy he was with the state of things.  But now...?”  Melody stifled a yawn, then ran a hand through her luscious hair.  “...he's off in his own fantasy world.  So... like... I can appreciate him from afar, which as comfortable I can deal with him.  Or—in this case—the memory of him.”

“Well... uh... thanks for being... honest with me, Melody.”

She smiled sexily.  “It's the tenth best thing I'm good at.”

“And the other nine?”

“Switch your collar and I just might show ya.”

“Eheheh...”  Flash took a noticeable step back.

Melody giggled—covering her mouth so as not to wake Cherish.  “Awwww shit.  You're gonna be soooooooo damned fun to tease.”

“I... I'll take your word for it.”

“There are worse things to share by mouth.”  An eyebrow waggle.  “Or better things.”

Flash took a deep breath.  “What... uh...”  He looked at the fae.  “What do you think I should do, Melody?”

Silence—save for the Disney music playing in the background, faintly.

“I mean... this is the other Flash's body.  This is the other Flash's clothes.  This is his house, his Fountain, his everything...”  Flash hugged himself delicately.  “...would it even be right to just... take all of it and run?”

Melody stared at him solidly.  Then she crossed the distance between them.

A nervous squeak escaped Flash's lips—but he found himself being engulfed in a soft, tender hug.  The air ripened with sweet scents between each breath Melody took to speak to him:

“The first and most important thing about being a fae... is learning to love yourself,” she said, followed by a tender kiss to his ear lobe.  Flash felt her stroking his chin and face, and then her smile engulfed all he could see.  “I sense that you're someone who's struggled with that all his life.  So... maybe here and now... this is your ticket to get started.”

Flash sniffled.  Fresh tears formed along his cheek.

Melody wiped them dry with two well-placed thumbstrokes.  She drifted backwards, smile and all.  “Learn to be a bit selfish.”  She did a tiny pirouette and walked backwards towards her room, arms spread.  “It's what we faeries are good at, after all.”  A slight humming sound, and she was gone with the shadows.

It left Flash with a happy, vibrating feeling.  He carried it into the bedroom where he collapsed and surrendered to the joy's embrace.





Several untold hours and a line break later...

...Flash woke up, blinking delicately to a dim light entering the bedroom.

“Sunrise without a sunrise,” he heard a woman's voice murmur.  It took a few seconds of putting two and two together, and he found a reason to smile and hug himself.

Seconds past.  He then did something he always wanted to do.  He sat up in the middle of the bed with his legs curled and slowlllllly stretched his arms up.  In so doing, he resembled—(and new he resembled)—some pixie perfect nineteen year old supermodel reenacting the Birth of Venus.  A melodic hum, and he brought his hands back down his slender frame and body—all down to his hips... which took the hands on a noticeably round detour on both sides.

A giggle escaped his lips.  The endorphins were running so rapidly that it nearly forced tears out of his eyes.  That was so damnably easy to do—he wondered if he would dehydrate himself from crying.

There had to be a balance.  An equilibrium.  Already—upon waking—he thought about food, only to realize he wasn't hungry.  And if he wasn't hungry for food, and he wasn't needy for any other bodily function—so it was already a challenge to figure out just what kind of a rhythm his new body needed.

But it was a delicious challenge.

Standing up, he made for the bathroom...

...only to remember there was no mirror.

So he went towards the computer station instead.  In the slowly intensifying “morning” light, he saw the reflection of his skinny, feminine figure.  His hair was short—the other Flash had made sure of that—but it wasn't so short that he couldn't develop bed hair.  There was a playful fluffiness to those blue strands that Flash couldn't remember enjoying from his past life.  And yet—even as he played and toyed with the follicles—he could already sense how deliciously manageable it all was.  He was confident that—if he grew it out long enough—he could wear it straight or put it in ponytails or even braid it into innumerable patterns...

...and just as his excitement was reaching a fever pitch, the monitors to his computer blipped on.

Zzzt!

“Aaaack!” he yelped—hopping uncontrollably—like a cartoon damsel encountering a doormouse.  As his lungs calmed, he saw that he was looking at the holographic equivalent of a desktop.  It took him a few pulsating seconds to figure out what had transpired.  “It... it's a high-tech space computer.”  He blinked.  “It... probably responds to my body signature.”  A beat.  “His body signature.”

As he realized this—almost as if via magic—his gaze focused on a large icon lingering in the center of the plain black desktop.  There was the .jpeg of a door, and beneath it the text read:




“For You, Flash.”




Flash's heart caught in his throat.

His hands clenched and unclenched.

He looked nervously at the apartment beyond his doorway... then back at the computer.

Biting his bottom lip...

...he reached his hand into the holoscreen... and “touched” the icon.

Bzzzzt!

Bright projector lights rose from the computer's mainframe and zapped a beam of light through his flinching body.

“Gahhh!”  Flash tightened all over... then realized that something was being projected behind him.

He turned around...

...and stared into a translucent reflection of himself.

Only it wasn't a reflection, but rather a simulation of another him from a different place and time.  The petite fae stood straight and tall in a Cinchcorp uniform.  His hands hung heavy at his sides in fists.  His hair was combed into a company-friendly anchorman cut.  His face was stern and his eyes stone cold and serious.

After the newcomer's eyes stared at the simulation, the program began, and the doppelganger spoke in a forced deep voice—like a tomboy trying to fit into the boy's locker room.

“Hello, Flash Sentry.  If you're seeing me right now, then that means that I've succeeded with my final spatial displacement experiment.  I will have embarked on a new life.  And—for better or for worse—so will you.”

Flash's breath caught in his throat.  “Oh...”  He leaned back and plopped down into the computer chair.  Blinking.  “...so here we go.”
> Talking Pixies Syndrome
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

“I doubt that you will be familiar with the level of technology that is making this message possible,” spoke the holographic double of Flash Sentry.

His image flickered calmly in the center of the dim bedroom.  Meanwhile, his photonic eyes were facing the recording's recipient who was seated in the computer chair.

“So, a quick explanation is in order.  I've recorded these words just two days prior to the procedure that will switch us between our respective dimensions.  While it may look like this image of me is responding and reacting to you right now, it is merely a programmed conduit for the message I have inputted.  You may find yourself able to ask this projection questions, but I'm afraid you will find its interactivity greatly lacing beyond the explanation I am currently giving.  As I make this speech, I have very little time left before I have to rendezvous with Sunny Flare and the other agents of Cinchcorp in order to prepare for displacement.”

Flash Sentry's eyes narrowed on the image.  The holographic figure's stance and posture was just as rigid as his words.  And yet—if he stared long enough—he could see inescapable traces of subtle beauty hidden deep within the eyes, bangs, shoulders, and mouth movements of the individual.  It was as if, no matter how hard the doppelganger tried, he could not one hundred percent eliminate the faintest trace of cuteness about him.  There was even the slightest lilt of a voice that belied an innate musical charm, obscured as it was by a consistent deepening of vocal tone.

The figure continued:  “Let's get straight to the heart of it, shall we?  You're here—here in this universe—without having asked to be brought here.  No doubt Sunny Flare has deduced it by now, but there is no way for you to return to the place you've called home all your life.  At least—no possibility by my calculations.  It took nearly a decade and a half of consistent experimentation at Cinchcorp with full utilization of my well-practiced sorcery to make even the first, simplest jump beyond the space-time barrier.  No doubt this decision of mine will set Cinchcorp back by years.  Also, I cannot pretend to guess how violated and betrayed you must feel for being displaced without any say in the matter.  Perhaps you will be looking for an apology from me.”

The hologram's eyes narrowed.

“I have no apology to give.”

Flash Sentry blinked.

“There are two kinds of prisons in this multi-verse,” the other Flash broadcasted.  “Those we make for ourselves, and those which we are born into.  I believe that—on some level—you know what I'm talking about.  In all of the Flash Sentries I've observed in our neighboring realities, each and every one of us has collectively possessed a philosophical spirit.  In short—we think too much.  And we act very little.  This is why—I believe—you remained stuck the way you were for so long.  And it's also why I've made the bold decision to move beyond the barriers that have always constrained me.

“It may come as a surprise that I have been observing you for a very long time, Mr. Sentry.  Through astral projection combined with spatial displacement over the years, I discovered over fifty-two universes and I made very detailed notes about each and every one of them.  These notes I shared with my chief associate, Sunny Flare.  All but one.  Your universe struck me as very peculiar—not so much because of the situations I observed unfolding in it.  But specifically because of the unique situation of my counterpart.  What you most likely consider an existence of depression and misery, I saw nothing but promise and opportunity.

“You see, the only reason I ever started out on a life of sorcery is because I wanted out of this world... out of this body... out of this life.  And while I knew that the extenuating motivations were entirely selfish, I could not settle with plotting a course until I knew that there would be some sort of catharsis with the chosen destination.  For the displacement to happen successfully, I would have to switch astral positioning with the universe's parallel reflection to my person.  This just... did not seem permissible unless... unless I could find someone who could actually benefit from the exchange. Or perhaps even achieve some sort of fulfillment from it.

“Is this line of so-called reasoning completely subjective and short-sighted?  Yes.  Yes it is.  And I anguished for months over making the move... until I observed some key details in your universe... in you, Mr. Sentry.”

Flash watched—glued to the edge of the seat—as the hologram strolled closer.  While the photonic projection came within proximity, so did his words strike nearer and nearer to the heart.

“Astral projection has afforded me a chance to get close and intimate with the subjects of my study—far closer than even Sunny Flare and the rest at Cinchcorp have been afforded to know.  When they assumed that I was just scaling further barriers of space-time for potential displacement, I was actually spending hours suspended in invisible flux.. observing and studying you.

“All your life, you've felt... consumed by what you've called an 'obsession'.  Day in and day out, you wrestle with an erotic fantasy that plays out in your mind, in your sleep, in the journals that you keep.  It's a battle that has been kept hidden from the world at large... but for you it is your world.  It's driven you to tears... and almost to madness.  Why couldn't you just shake it loose?  Why couldn't you be normal?  Why couldn't you simply give up this... 'pretend' world of phallic amazons and subservient ladyboys?  You could so easily have had a normal life—spent with normal people.  But none of it felt right.  Only the fantasy did.  And so... you allowed the obsession to live... just as you allowed your life to die.

“While I should have been mapping out other realities, I stayed exclusively in orbit around you.  I studied you.  And the more I saw these cravings and these thirstings played out... the less they resembled disorders to me.  But instead—as I realized in an epiphany—they resembled symptoms.  Symptoms of the Allure.”

The hologram waved a hand at the seated Flash as he continued.

“But you were male.  You never blossomed into a fae.  Nobody in your universe ever did or could.  How could you possibly be experiencing the Allure?  Be receptive to it?  Be a conduit of it?  Part of me thought I was mad—that I was looking for signs that weren't there, simply due to my own obsessions.  And then... a moment of realization occurred to me... both genius and insane.  There was a perfectly legitimate reason for why a male version of myself was experiencing the Allure despite their physical and sexual state in their respective parallel dimension.  You must understand: spatial displacement is not bound by traditional laws of space and time.  It is simultaneously a bridging of divides and a burrowing of walls.  Laws of nature—even in scant quantities—are bound to break through.  So long as the connections are made thinly without risk to universal metastability, it is quite possible to achieve monumental leaps in time displacement—as well as spatial.”

The hologram's eyes narrowed.

“In short, you were never just an obsessive pervert, Mr. Sentry.  The true reason why you've experienced the Allure all your life is that at some point in your future—in both our futures—a successful astral switch in spatial displacement would be achieved, which would mean that the symptoms of the Allure manifested throughout your life prior to the exchange... as an echo of a future existence to be.”

A breathless Flash watched as the holographic figure began pacing around the room in mid-broadcast.

“Of course... this—for me—conjured pure enthusiasm.  I had what I interpreted as definitive proof that not only would I target you for the spatial displacement, but the procedure would eventually work.  You would end up in my universe, thus explaining the trans-echolocation of the Allure that has imprinted upon you beyond the barriers of space and time.  It... might even explain why the Allure has almost never ever worked on me.  As you had a higher calling in existence, so have I.  We are both opposite heads of a coin resting on the nail of a celestial thumb, just waiting to be flipped.  And when the time would come that I finally sent it spinning—it would be less an act of agency and more akin to prophetic fulfillment.”

The hologram swiveled to face Flash.

“And so, I went to work preparing the experiment.  I have told nobody about it.  Not even Sunny Flare.  I...”  The photonic figure shifted.  Flash watched as his fists clenched at his sides.  “...I regret the distress that it will cause her and the others.  But it does not change how sincere I have been and continue to be about an act of conspiracy that will ultimately betray her trust in me, even after all these years.  In doing this, I am also abandoning my Fountain: Fannie, Melody... Cherish.  They have been completely supportive of me all these years.  No doubt they will consider this an insufferable blow to the heart.  Once more—this procedure goes to great lengths to function upon several bold assumptions concerning your own disposition, Mr. Sentry, and now you've been placed in a very awkward predicament.  While I acknowledge the innate cruelty to everyone in this act of mine... I still maintain that it would be decidedly hollow to apologize for it.”

Flash watched as the projection clenched his teeth, looking in his reflection's direction with great earnest.

“In every conceivable way, I can only see this as a gift for you.  I don't care how selfish that statement is.  But—let's not pretend that you weren't in the deepest abyss conceivable over in your host universe.  I read those journals as you wrote them.  I heard the rambling words you murmured in and out of sleep, awash with tears.  If... if I don't do what I'm about to do, odds are... … ...you won't even be alive for me to switch with, Mr. Sentry.  I... don't think that's very melodramatic of me to say... or a base assumption, for that matter.”

Flash bit his lip.  A lump formed in his throat.

The hologram went on.  “After I do this... you will have a better life.  A healthier life!  A healthier life and a healthier body.  This is no mere exaggeration.  Fae—on average—live to about three hundred and fifty years in my reality.  Valkyries aren't far behind.  Males and females about half as long.  You'll also have full amenities provided by the covenants.  You won't even have to work what you consider a 'traditional' job—unless you want to, of course.

“In essence, Mr. Flash, the world is your oyster.  A very... sexual oyster, where you can play out ever fantasy you've ever had—not as some rite of perversion, but as a standard of living.  Are there catches to be had with these blessings?  Well, yes—but I've no doubt that you'll find them trifle at best.  Or else you can take the route that I have—be nullified and not have to deal with anything.  Bottom line: even if you existed by the means of least resistance—as you did in your past life—you'll still be in every conceivable facet better off than you were before this procedure.

“What of your friends? Your acquaintances?  Family members?  Let's not kid ourselves, Mr. Flash.  You weren't ever going to meet up with any of them again.  Not at the pace that I was observing.  And—hell—if you actually feel like reconnecting still, you can look up most of those individuals in this universe.  You'll find that most of them still exist, and—for the most part—I left them on far better terms than you left your world's versions.  This world's Flash Sentry was on a stable path to greatness  In fact, I'd be tempted to call this entire scenario an 'intervention,' if it weren't for the fact that I am doing all of this purely for myself.  Not you.  Although... I've done all I can to somehow make it as beneficial for you as possible.

“Nevertheless, this is the only truth that I can attest to.  I... want your life, Mr. Flash.  I want your way of living—as unflattering as it all may be.  I know that this means cutting my existence to possibly less than a third of what it could have been if it stayed here, but I don't care.  I can make do with your life as it has been left.  The squalor, the borderline destitution, the unhealthiness—I can work my way out of it.  I can turn it into something amazing.  Do you know why?

“Because I will have the strength and the vessel to do all that I've ever wanted.  I will no longer be a... weak, frail facsimile of what I was truly born to be.  I'll no longer have penis-wielding vultures towering around me with drooling expressions and carnivorous eyes.  I'll no longer be gawked at in public or laughed at in board meetings or consistently patronized every hour of every day for some freakish mutation that happened to me post-puberty.  I'll no longer be an object—I will be a subject, with the power and might to match my will to agency.

“Time and time again, I've had people—fountain fae and valkyrie co-workers and estranged friends—tell me that if I just put enough time and work and effort, I can achieve as much as any valkyrie or man or woman.  But they're all just piling on useless fluff in some attempt to placate me.  Nobody has worked as hard as I have to achieve what I achieved—and I know for a fact that sheer courage doesn't amount to shit in this universe.  I'm a man like you, Mr. Flash.  I was born a man.  I was given the blueprints and the map of life at the very get-go but then the bullshit magic of this universe swerved in out of nowhere and slammed me with unwanted manaflux and I'm tired of it!  I'm so... mmm... f-fucking tired of pretending like I'm okay with all of this!  Like it's p-perfectly natural to suffer through a nonconsensual reformat of my b-body and emotions... and... and...”

By now, the projection was seething.  Tears formed in his eyes, and he gnashed his teeth as he clutched at his face.

“Shit...”

His legs buckled, and Flash watched as the holographic figure slumped down onto something—no doubt seated on the same bed as in the real room.

“Dammit... Goddess fucking d-dammit!...”

The translucent figure choked, squeaking tiny sobs into the palms of his once-clenched hands.

Shaking, he brought his face up to look at the listener.  Tears trickled down his tense, angry face.

“I friggin' hate this body... friggin' h-hate this... all-pervading weakness.”  He sniffled.  “I don't understand h-how anyone could possibly 'enjoy' this.  I don't fucking understand how you... h-how you...”

Silence.

Flash held a hand over his chest.  His heart beat heavily—sincerely sympathetic for this broadcasted soul.  All things considered, he shouldn't have even given the holographic message the time of day.  This phantom individual had stolen everything from Flash—had robbed and displaced him against his will.  And yet...

...everything the projection said rang true in his heart.  This wasn't just Flash being a sissy submissive conduit either.  He couldn't help but agree with this individual with every faculty he had owned over the last three decades of his life.

Yes, this was all wrong.  So very wrong.

And yet...

...Flash couldn't think of any other way out of the rut he was in.

A shuddering breath, and the projection finally composed himself.

“Well... I'm convinced...”  He stood back up, wiping his face dry.  “With your life... your body... your resources at the helm... I can have all my dreams come true.  Just like... I hope for you, Mr. Flash.  I hope you get as much as you can out of this.  What your past self—and my current self—see as nothing but gross sexual nonsense... you'll find normal, accepted, and encouraged in this world.  And that which I've always envied... I will do my best to achieve in the place you called home.  I know my way around machines.  I can handle the car repair just fine—long enough to find elsewhere to work.  I'll get plenty of exercise; make that body healthy again.  I'll return to school.  Advance my degrees and find better opportunities so I can achieve higher pay.  Basically all the things you yourself could always do, only I will wish to do them.  I will give your past life a future, as you can enjoy the future I never wanted.”

He looked steadily at the body he had switched with.

“And from then on... I shall be a man.  The man I was always meant to be.  I will find love... give love... sustain and support.  I want to be the bread winner for a woman... a woman I will treat with respect and provide for.  I.. I wish to be a father.  Even at my age... at our age.  I want to leave more than just the shadow of a name, Mr. Flash.  I want to procreate... to add to the circle of life... to bring something precious to this world—the sum of love and union.  I want to experience existence for all of its challenges, and I'll grapple death with all my reserve strength when the time comes.  Because all I've ever done here was shake my fist against it—as I did against life.”

The hologram held his hand out.

“I don't expect you to appreciate any of the things I have done.  In fact, you are quite welcome to hate me.  It... may even be a miracle that you have listened this far into the recording.  Nevertheless—on top of all of the selfish things that I have done—I have one more supremely selfish thing to ask.  A request.  Not for my sake—if that makes any difference—but for Sunny Flare, the Fountain, the souls I have left behind... left for you in this universe...”





“In the end, he... uh...”  Flash Sentry sat on a couch in dark clothes.  His fingers tapped nervously on his knees while he balanced a computer pad in his lap.  “...that is, after his big long speech and stuff... he linked me to a few files on the computer network thingy.”  He looked up at the other three fae seated in the living room with him.  “He had stuff he wanted me to give you three.”  A gulp.  “Along with Sunny Flare.”

Fannie, Melody, and Cherish sat quietly... still attempting to digest the account of the message Flash had received.

“So...”  Fannie exhaled through delicate nostrils.  “...he did it on purpose after all.”

“Of course the stick in a mud did it on purpose!” Melody snapped.  “What, you think he just farted his doppelganger here by accident?”

“Melody, please...”  Cherish murmured, sniffling slightly.  She had done her best to compose herself throughout the whole message.  By now, her eyes were consistently misty.  “It doesn't help to be angry about it—”

“Why?  Cuz it's unfaerielike?”  Melody frowned.  “I know Flash did a lot for us, but it's pretty damn stupid to pretend like this isn't a supremely shitty thing to do—”

“Not like there's much that can be done about it now,” Fannie said emphatically.  Her eyes narrowed.  “Hell, he could have just zoop'd off and not given us a message whatsoever.  At least he provided us something to lean on.”

“And does any amount of excusing it make it all that better to swallow?”  Melody folded her arms.  “In case you haven't noticed, he totally wrecked a man's life to get what he wanted!”

“It wasn't much of a life,” Flash muttered.

All three looked at him.

“How can you say that?”

“Because it's true.”  He looked up with soft eyes.  “I... was shoulders-deep down a path of no return.”  A gulp.  “Melody, just last night you told me that the first and most important thing about being a fae is loving oneself.”  He bore a bittersweet smile.  “I... think I can finally do that now...”

Melody's lips pursed.  “Why couldn't you do that earlier?”

“Doesn't matter.”  Flash gulped.  “The deed's done.  At least...”  His fingers clasped the edges of the computer pad in his lap.  “...I know where your Flash stands when it comes to what to do with this life.  This body.”  His eyes blinked.  “It's all mine now.”

“Considering what he's done to seize everything that belongs to you...”  Fannie shrugged.  “...seems like a fair exchange.”

Melody hugged herself tighter, glancing out the bright window.  “Mmmmmmmmm...”

“Melody, I understand why you're upset,” Flash said.  “If I had any self-respect, I'd be angry too.”

“Look, I'm not all froth and bubbles.  Honestly,” Melody said.  “I can already tell I'll like you a lot more than the other Flash...”

Fannie couldn't help but giggle.

“Just...”  Melody sighed, loosening up slightly and reclining on the couch.  “...feels a bit icky to think about how you got here, y'know?”

Cherish looked directly at Flash.  “Do you think it's possible, though?”  Her blue eyes blinked wide.  “All your life... you've actually been experiencing the Allure?”

A soft sigh escape Flash's lips.  He managed the tiniest of smiles.  “Not gonna lie... it makes me feel... a lot better about things...”

“What a fuckin' prison that would have to be, though...”  Fannie blanched.  “To experience the Allure... in a world without fae or valkyries?”

“Like having a giant balloon inside you that you can't pop.”  Melody brushed her bangs back and exhaled heavily.  “Not a fun feeling.”  Her eyes glazed with sympathy, aimed Flash's way.  “I'm glad you don't have to deal with that, at least.”

“Almost makes what Flash did merciful,” Cherish said.

Melody droned:  “I wouldn't go that far.”

“Why not?”  Cherish hugged her knees to her chest.  “If our Flash was right about the spatial displacement thing, he was simply acting out fate.  Maybe... maybe this Flash was always meant to be sitting with us here today.”

“I wonder what Sunny Flare thinks about all of this,” Fannie said.

“I haven't messaged her yet,” Flash explained.  He looked across the room at the fae.  “I wanted to share this with you first.”

“You said something about stuff Flash had to give away,” Fannie remarked.

“Pffft.  Oh, sure... Christmas in July!” Melody rolled her eyes.

“Shhhh... this is the last thing our Flash will ever convey to us!”  Cherish sniffled slightly, then looked at Flash with a delicate smile.  “Go ahead, sweetie.”

Flash took a deep breath.  “To be honest, I don't... understand a lot of it.  But... it kinda sorta looks like he accumulated stuff... uhhhhh... digitally?  Over the years?”

“Uh huh...?”  Melody's eyes narrowed.

“Anyways... uhm... without further ado.”  Flash looked at Fannie.  “Fannie.”

“Flash.”

“The other Flash wants you to have this.  Uhm... whatever it is.”  Flash tapped his finger on the computer pad and held the screen out for her to see.  “It looks like something that he got... uhm... through Cinchcorp?”

Fannie leaned forward, squinting her pretty eyes at the screen.  After a few seconds, the truth registered for her.  “Oh.”  She brightened slightly.  “Oh, cool!”  A melodic giggle.  “How about that!”

“How about what?” Cherish asked.

Fannie gestured.  “So—you know how the Allowance Covenance maintains that fae employment be compensated variably based on extent of manaflux usage?”

“Yeah...?”  Cherish blinked.

“Looks like... Flash accumulated a fuckton of credits over the year.”

Cherish's jaw dropped.  “And he never used them?”

“Used them on what?”  Fannie snickered.  “The dude barely spent money on haircuts!”  Smiling bright, she pointed at the computer pad.  “Says here he's got over ten years worth of fae maintenance credits!  Now they're signed off to my name!  'Fannie Femmestar!'”

“Well, congratulations!” Flash smiled wide.  A blink.  “Uhm... is that good?”

“Well, technically, the credits are exclusive to what's considered 'essential maintenance' for fae lifestyle,” Fannie said.  “Looks like Cinchcorp doesn't have an exclusionary clause for nullified workers.  So—over the years—Flash built up spare credits that had a bonus increase because of his excessive practice in wizardry.  Now he's bestowing the credits to me, which... is like a boon on top of the credits I myself have thanks to the Allowance Covenant.  On the surface, it means greater access to cosmetics, flowering products—”

“Aaaaaaaaaaaand wardrobiiiiiiing!” Cherish sing-songed, smiling brightly.

“Heeheehee... yes ma'am!”  Fannie did a little shimmy where she sat.  “Dresses!  Dresses!  Dresses for light years!”  A giggle, a sigh, then another giggle.  “Yeahhhhhhh... I'd say that's a pretty nice parting gift, alright.”

“Lucky you!” Cherish exclaimed.

“Pffft.  Oh honey, you know very well that I'm gonna share with everyone!”  She stuck her tongue out, winking.  “That's waaaaaaaaay too many wardrobe credits.  Even for me.”

“Are you sure?”

Both Cherish and Fannie laughed.

Flash smiled, warming at the sound of their delight.  He turned to Melody and cleared his throat.  “Melody...”  He plinked on the computer pad to bring up the other file.  “...now for you...”

“Ugh... please...”  Melody rolled her eyes.  “Like anything Flash could give me would buy a blind eye to what he's done.  The whole idea feels insulting.”

“Sooooo...”  Flash squinted quizzically at the pad in his hand.  “...I guess you don't want a 'lifetime membership pass to the Pixie Hollow Club?”

“... … ...”  Melody blinked.  “Fuck me, what?” she droned.  “Fuck me with a giraffe dildo, what???”

“Holy shit...” Fannie remarked.

Flash looked confusedly at everyone.  “What's that?  Is that a good thing?”

“How...”  Melody hopped across the space and flopped down in Flash's seat, bouncing them both.  She snatched the pad from him and gawked at it.  “...how in the Hell?!?”

“Cinchcorp's owner has huge stock shares in several organizations on board the Equestria,” Fannie said.  “Kinda makes sense that there'd be a company-paid connection to the PHC.”

“But that funeral-dressed asshole was nullified!!!” Melody sputtered, wide eyes jittering across the computer pad.  “Why'd they ever offer such a thing to him?”

“Well...”  Fannie shrugged wide, smiling.  “Just like the maintenance credits, he never used it!”

“Looks like it's your ticket now, Melody!”  Cherish threw her hands up, beaming.  “Welcome ot the Pixie Hollow Club!”

“Lucky-ass bitch!” Fannie laughed.

“... … …!”  Melody fanned herself with a free hand.  “Galloping Goddess In a Diaper!”  She dropped the pad.

Flash grabbed it, gasping.  “What...?!  What's the Pixie Hollow Club...?”

“Only the most esteemed high-class hangout for valk elites,” Fannie explained.  “Usually only top-of-the-line sorceresses and princesses go there, fae-wise...”

“And now I'm a lifetime member...”  Melody whimpered, squeaked, and smiled wickedly through hot tears.  “Fuck it!  Fuck everything I ever said about Flash!”  She jumped up and down, skirt flouncing.  “He can rob a million men of their lives and run for the hills!  Woohooo!  Pixie Hollow, here I come!”

“Heeheehee!”  Fannie got up, joined hands with Melody, and hopped with her.  “Yaaaaaay!”

“Aaa-aa-aa!”  Melody jumped, jumped, and danced in a circle.  “I'm gonna get spitroasted by Queens in the first week!  I milk you not!  Let's bet on it!  Bet your brand new dress budget!”

“Hahaha...”  Fannie shook a finger.  “Not on your life, betch!”

“Betch!””

“Hahahaha!”

“Heeheehe—Aaaaaaaah!  Ha ha ha!”

As the happy hysterics continued, Flash quietly shuffled over to the far side of the couch... until he was seated perpendicular to where Cherish was.

“Ahem...”  He leaned away from the noisy pair and smiled gently at her.  “Cherish...”

“I... really hope he didn't expend much for my sake,” Cherish said.  Her eyes were nevertheless glazed above a small smile.  “I just want for him to be happy where he's at.”

“I... uh... I think he wants the same for you.”  Flash looked over his shoulder at the others, then back to Cherish.  “I sorta lied a bit earlier.”

“Oh?”

“The thing he's giving you appears to be... a bit more physical.”  He tapped on the screen and switched it around.  “Do you have any idea what this thing is?”

“... … …?”  Cherished leaned in, squinting at the screen.  After a few seconds, her ocean eyes registered what she was looking at.  There was a sharp... sharp gasp, and she covered her mouth as tears instantly streaked down her rosy cheeks.  “Oh... oh Goddess...!”

The sound of Cherish's gasp immediately shook the other two out of their reverie.  They spun about, looking at her with instant concern.

“Chi-chi?”

“What is it, Cherish?”

“Oh gosh...!”  With a whimpering smile, Cherish hopped out of the chair and ran a golden streak towards her bedroom.  “Oh gosh oh gosh oh gosh...!”

“... … …?”  Flash looked at her departure, then at the computer pad in his hand.  The image was that of a long glove—or else some sort of apparatus that would fit over a hand just like a glove.  “Uhhhhh...”  He showed the pad at the other two.  “Do either of you know what this means?”

“Ohhhhhhhhh jeez,” Fannie exhaled through a soft smile.

“Who didn't see this coming?” Melody purred.

Around this time, Cherish came bouncing back.  Flash saw her strapping a lightweight device to her left arm.  It resembled a computer console—except it clung to her wrist.  It took a few taps of her fingers, but she brought a brightly-lit screen to life.

“Okay... okay...”  Cherish tried to compose herself, standing—and squirming—before Flash.  “...he's... h-he's instructed you to place your thumbprint on something, hasn't he?”

“Uh.... yeah.”  Flash blinked.  “How do you know?”

“Do it!”  Cherish did little hippity-hops in place, holding her arm-computer out.  “Do it do it do it do it!”  Her eyes positively sparkled above a teethy grin.  “...please?”

Flash merely shrugged... then placed his thumbprint over a sensor.  The pad in his grip stated: “Transferring to Account: Princess Cherish Lynne.”  Flash watched as files faded from his pad forever...

...and evidently rematerialized on Cherish's device, as reflected in her bright eyes.  She bit her bottom lip, waited for the data to transfer, then pressed a singular button on her device.

Everyone watched as a beam of light coalesced—projected from her arm-puter.  The photonic energy compressed, then took on a tiny humanoid shape.  Flash saw gossamer wings materialized, followed by a green leafy dress, trailing pixie dust, and blonde hair to match Cherish's.

“Welllll look who's back,” Melody said.

Cherish fought back tears as she squeaked:  “Tinks?”

Twirling about, a very familiar faerie faced Cherish.  After emitting a mute gasp, the pixie waved dramatically and flittered up to the femme's face, showering Cherish's cheek with tiny mouse-sized kisses.

Cherish giggled up a storm.  Tears sprang forth from her eyes as she raised two hands up and cradled the tiny hologram, nuzzling it with a happy smile.

“Ohhhhhhhhhh Tinks...”  She fell to her knees, all-but-hugging the hologram.  “It's been so long!  But now...”  A choked sob.  “...n-now we can spend as much time together as we like!”

The little translucent tinkerbell emitted little ringing noises.  After a firm salute, it spun projected circles around Cherish, showering her with simulated dust.

Cherish wavered between giggles and sobs, happier than words could convey.

Flash felt a warmness in his heart—almost enough to wash over the confusion.  He sensed Fannie settling down to his right.

“That Tinkerbell...”  Fannie spoke quietly.  “...is a super advanced computer A.I. program, designed by the finest architects at Cinchcorp.”  She kept her eyes locked on Cherish as she leaned in to Flash.  “Usually only valkyrie queens or fae princesses are lofty enough to afford photonic constructs of that quality.”

“Flash's dedication to his work was so respected that the company donated him such a program without any fees... which is a goddess-damned blessing,” Melody added, sitting suddenly to Flash's left.  “Ninety-five percent of the time, he simply... used the holographic A.I. as a research partner, during which it materialized as a monolothic array of numbers and information that accompanied him.”

“Buttttttt...”  Fannie smiled sweetly.  “...the remaining five percent of the time, he let it turn into Tinkerbell... for Cherish.”

“Which was a dream come true,” Melody said.  “Cherish and that A.I. got along like royal sisters in incestuous Frozen fanfiction.  With a basic portable computer like Cherish's—an AI like that can follow her around anywhere and anytime.”

“And—from the looks of it—Flash has transferred the program to Cherish's account for life.”  Fannie brushed her bangs back.  “Y'know... I always figured Cherish was his favorite.”

Flash nodded.  “I can see that.”  He bit his lip.  “But... won't Cinchcorp want their property back once they figure out—”

“Figure out what?”  Melody smirked.  “As far as anyone knows, Flash Sentry is still here.”

“And that A.I. stopped being their property once they contracted it to him... and now it's contractually given to Cherish.”

“Kinda underhanded, really,” Melody added.  “But... all things considered... I can't hate Flash for this move.”

Fannie let out a dreamy sigh.  “Me neither.”

The three watched as Tinkerbell conjured holographic fireworks across the room.  Cherish clapped her hands and laughed.

Flash hugged the computer pad to his chest.  His eyes locked on Cherish's golden features.  His ears tickled to her songful laughter.

He smiled.

“So...”  Fannie tapped his shoulder.  “...is that all Flash had to give?  Or are there more lucky recipients in this universe?”

“Yeah, I figured that Sunny Flare would be receiving something at least,” Melody said.

“Uhhhh... yeah...”  Flash gulped.  “Just one more thing—for Sunny Flare.”

“Heh... can't say Flash wasn't generous.”

“Got that right.”

Flash exhaled.  When the other two weren't looking, he glanced down at his computer pad.

There were two more files left—not one.  The first folder was addressed “For Sunny Flare.”

And the second...

“For Sunset Shimmer.”

Flash bit his bottom lip.  He felt his heart pounding the longer he stared at that name.  For the moment, he chose to hug the pad to his chest once more and fill his eyes with Cherish.
> Holoexposition
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

“So, it's true, then.”  The hologram of Sunny Flare stood on the edge of the balcony.  Beyond her (or through her) the cylindrical inner sprawl of the Equestria curved out in all directions.  The valkyrie folded her forearms.  “The little bastard took the money and ran.”  She snorted at her own words.  “And by 'money,' I mean your friggin' life.”

“Mmmmhmmm...”  Flash Sentry sat on the edge of an over-sized lawnchair.  He playfully dangled his feet as he gazed across the balcony at Cherish.  The blonde fae was playing tricks with a holographic Tinkerbell and giggling up a storm.  The joyous sight of the scene brought a calm smile to Flash's lips, and it didn't fade away easily.  “Back home, I was a loser... a pushover... a slob... a pervert... and a failure.  But... your Flash wanted it.”  He took a warm breath.  “All of it.  Misery, destitution, hopelessness—the whole bag.”  He turned towards a second arm computer—similar to Cherish's—that was placed casually atop a patio table near him.  “Kinda makes you wonder how bad he had it here to covet it so badly.”

“'How bad he had it?!?'”  Sunny Flare's translucent jaw drop.  She paced around the arm-pooter that was remotely projecting her image.  “For milk's sake!  He had an executive experimentation position at Cinchcorp!  Higher than any other fae in history!  He had credentials!  Credits!  Countless amenities!  More funds and resources than my mother—”  Sunny Flare gnashed her teeth, facepalmed, and sighed.  “...than my company could keep track of!  We treated him like a princess—and if he never nullified himself I can guarantee you he damn well could have become one!”

“Yeah... about those 'amenities.'”  Flash smiled sheepishly.  “He bequeathed a bunch of them to the members of his Fountain.”

“Oh yeah?  Which ones?”

“His accumulated... uhhhh... maintenance credits.”

Sunny Flare nodded.  “He never used them.  At least they're going somewhere.  What else?”

“Some sort of... lifetime membership to the... Pixie Hollow Club?”

“Pffft!”  Sunny Flare actually smirked.  “If you call a VIP pass to that glam show a 'gift,' then sure.  Whatever.  That all?”

“And... uhm...”  Flash touched his fingers together.  “...he kinda sorta gave his super-duper advanced A.I. hologram program to Cherish Lynne.”

“Wait... you mean company programming?”  Sunny Flare blanched.  “To work at home with?!  He gave that to someone?  Are you milking me?!”

Sunny Flare's blue eyes were hard.  “Is that going to be a problem?”

Sunny Flare blinked at the icy tone of his words.  She looked across the balcony, no doubt processing her holo-projector's best approximation of Cherish huddling with an artificial Tinker Bell.  After a prolonged breath, Sunny Flare ran a shaky hand through her short bangs.

“No,” she murmured.  “No, I suppose it won't be.”

Flash nodded.  “Glad to hear it.”

“As far as Cinchcorp is concerned, holographic programs are a dime a dozen.  But sorceresses gifted in spatial displacement spells?!?”  She clenched her teeth, pacing angrily.  “That shit is pricess!  Your doppelganger...”  She pointed at him.  “... … ...was priceless.”

“I'll...”  Flash shrugged with a crooked smile.  “...take that as a compliment?”

“You can take it with a space-time-folding engine up your flower!  FUCK!”  Sunny Flare kicked at something in her lab, and the arm-computer generated a rattling noise.  He watched as the towering individual stomped her foot to the ground, fuming in place.  “He's totally screwed me!  Screwed us all!  Y'know, if he saw an opportunity and seized it impulsively, I might be okay with it!  But—according to you—this was alllll fuckin' premeditated and that just tears my balls out!”  She clenched her jaw, red in the face.  “Where does he think he get off backstabbing me like this?!  Doesn't he know how helpless the entire fucking department is without his wizardy at the helm?!?”

Flash stirred where he sat.  “He felt trapped.  Imprisoned.  Doomed to live out life in a body that wasn't his, with the rules of the universe all stacked up against him—”

Sunny Flare spun about, looming intimidatingly over Flash with a snarling expression.  “And you think I'm not?!?”

He nearly fell out of the chair, blinking rapidly at her.  His heart ran a million miles per minute, and he felt sweat forming along his fair features.

Sunny Flare instantly regretted the outburst.  Her face paled twice over, and she rolled her eyes at herself.  With a sad slump, she marched across the balcony space and sat down on a holographic office chair.

“... … ...”  Flash slowly sat up, calming down as he observed her dark uniform and short haircut and even the plain, unremarkable way she clothed her flaccid member.  A sad lump formed in his throat.  “I... think I understand why his betrayal cuts so deeply with you.”  He looked up at her with sad eyes.  “You two were very much alike, weren't you?”

Her translucent shoulders slowly rose and fell.  “The two of us... had an understanding.  No matter what fate threw at us, we had unique skills... talents... intellectualisms.  We were going to combine our strengths to make a better world... even if we didn't... care very much for that world.”

Flash blinked.

“I can't pretend to say I fully understand what Flash was going through, but I identified with him on many levels.  I'm not... the absolute best at making friends.  All of my valk companions—I've just never truly clicked with them.  Things that they find innately 'alluring,' I've only ever seen through.  Science, observation, and hard work are the only things that have ever worked for me.  It was true with Flash Sentry as well.  At least... I thought it was...”

A sigh.  Sunny Flare sat up and kicked the holographic chair out of the projection's range.

“Fuck me.  I never figured it got this bad with Flash... that his only way out was an absolute escape.”  Flash sensed her gulp visibly as she turned around and paced back towards him.  “There were worse alternatives, I suppose.  But with him out of the picture... a person like me finds herself with even less distractions in the long run...”

Flash winced.  “Miss Flare—”

“I'd rather not dwell on it.  Now...”  She placed her hands on her holographic hips.  “You said that you had something to give me?  Hmmm?”  She arched an eyebrow.  “A parting gift from Flash?  A message of some sort?”

A blink.  Flash jolted into action.  He crawled like a lost kitten towards the edge of the patio chair, reaching for the holo-projector sync'd with his doppleganger's computer network.  He stretched, licking his bottom lip.

“I... I-I'm not sure I'm doing this r-right...”

“Just bring your hand within proximity of the array,” Sunny Flare droned casually.  “The smart device will do all the rest.”

“If you... s-say so...”  Flash's fingers collected a “cluster” of holographic bits.  “Ah... here we go.  I think.”  He watched as the projector broadcasted a miniature dashboard in front of him.  Kneeling, he swiped his fingers in midair as if utilizing an invisible tablet.  “This is so wild.  I can't believe how out-of-this-world your technology is.”

“Well, it's your technology, now,” Sunny Flare said.  “No doubt Flash intended this sort of a transfer.  Since you both have the same genetic signature, it's a total steal.”  She managed the slightest of smirks.  “Likely a good step up from banging rocks together back in your universe.”

Flash's forehead furrowed as he fiddled with the lit interface.  “We've got... t-technology, back home.”

“I'm sure you do.”  Sunny Flare ran a hand through her holographic hair.  “Without magic—though?”  She shook her head.  “It's a miracle your entire civilization didn't commit communal suicide through sheer boredom.”

“You ask me, we just... fought harder... and longer.”

“Doesn't sound like a very fun existence.”

Flash exhaled.  “You make a good point.”  His fingers pinched a holographic icon.  “Here.  I... I found the file marked for you.”

“Well, alright.”  Sunny Flare motioned.  “Let me have it.”

“... … ...how exactly do I do that?”

“Press your thumb against it for a few seconds until it flashes green, then toss it at me.”

“Like... actually toss it at you?”

“Yes.  Like a ball.”

Flash exhaled heavily, doing as he was told.  “Guess the MCU producers were prophesying something in my universe.”

“What's Disney got to do with anything?”

“Not sure I'm gonna get over that either.”  Flash then tossed the holographic bit of data towards Sunny Flare.  “Here you go—!”

As nimbly as could be imagined, Sunny Flare caught the module.  “Nice throw, sparky.”  Flash watched as she performed multiple hand-signals from her end of the broadcast.  “Not used to fae doing it overhand.”

Flash blushed.  “Guess I-I've got a lot to learn.”

“Don't...”  Sunny Flare blinked at something.  “We all...”  Her jaw gradually dropped.  She froze in place, her immense body suddenly slumped.

Flash's eyes narrowed at her.  “What?”  He scooted towards the edge of the chair and sat up straight.  Curious.  “What is it?”

“If...”  Sunny Flare rubbed her hands together and rested them over her mouth.  “Mrmmmffff...”  She shook from head to tow, calmed, then murmured:  “... … ...if I'm right... then this... th-this is all Flash Sentry's accumulated notes.”

Flash's eyebrow raised.  “Notes?”

“Of all of his spatial displacement figures... cross-dimensional readings...”  She stroked her fingers through the air, seemingly looking at multiple screens that weren't showing to Flash.  “...even the metrics of the manaflux fields he generated.”  She gulped.  “The precise specifications required for reality jumping.”

“Is... is that good?”  Flash put on a hopeful smile.  “The way you're reacting—it's almost the same way Melody, Fannie, and Cherish reacted.”  His feet danced against the balcony floor beneath him.  “Maybe Flash was good at one thing at least.”  A show of teeth.  “Giving gifts?”

“Oh, he's still an asshole.  Don't get me wrong.”  Sunny Flare took several deep breaths, composing herself.  “But this... this data...”

“What about it?”

“It's a lot to process.  But... but he's never shown this to anyone before.  And...”  Sunny leaned back, arms folded.  “...I think... I think... if only I had the right kind of raw magic at my disposal...”  She wagged a finger at nothing and everything before making eye contact.  “...I just might be able to recreate some of the experiments we did.”

“Recreate experiments?”

“Yeah...”

“You m-mean without him?”

“... … ...”  Sunny Flare looked his way.  “Now don't get your hopes up.  I've no friggin' clue what universe you belong to, much less how I'd even get there.”

“Oh... I... uh...”  Flash kneaded his delicate knees with tender fingers.  His eyes fell to the left... then to the right.  “I was... m-more happy for you...”

“... … ...”  Sunny Flare cocked her head slightly.  “You're no longer wanting to go back to where you came from.”

Flash bit his bottom lip.

“... … ...or perhaps you don't want to?”

Flash sniffled.  He rubbed his shoulder with the opposite hand.  “Do... d-do you think that's awful of me?”

Sunny's holographic ears narrowed.  “What does the Fountain think?”

“I... I-I dunno...”  Flash's eyes watered.  He curled his knees to his chest and looked nervously at Cherish from a distance.  “I've had Melody try to tell me to respect myself.  Fannie's been really helpful and informative.  Cherish—I think she really misses Flash, but...”

“According to you, he's making many bold claims,” Sunny Flare said.  The valk's image walked closer and leaned down towards him.  “The chiefest being that he thinks all of this is in your interests.”

“Mmmmhmmmm.”

Sunny Flare squinted.  “Is he right?”

Flash sniffed.  A tear ran down his cheek, and he shook before wiping it dry.  “I... I-I feel horribly selfish and more than a little bit naive, but...”

“Well?”

Flash slowly... eventually nodded.

Sunny Flare said, “Do you like being selfish and naive?  Does it... feel good?”

Flash's heart was beating hard.  He clenched his teeth, but couldn't sake the truth rattling loose:  “Kinda.  Yeah.”

“I see.”  Sunny Flare leaned back.  “In so many ways, you are the total goddess-damned opposite of the Flash I knew.”

He wiped his cheek again, looking up at her with a meek expression.  “What's that mean?”

“It means that Flash was right.  At least about you.”  Sunny Flare paced across the balcony once more.  “Who knows.  Even if he screwed the rest of us over... I think he really truly did save your life.”  She ran her hand once more across the holo-files on her side of the broadcast.  “Everything else here is just consolation.  The credits he gave your fae friends.  The hologram.  These notes for me.  But... you?”  Her eyes narrowed.  “He friggin' gave you everything, dude.  That's the one true gift here.  It'd be a shame to waste it.”

“But...”  Flash wrung his hands together.  “What about you?”

She snorted, smirking slightly  “Well, ain't you a peach.”  A shrug.  “These notes.  I... I can salvage something from this.  It'll take a while to peruse it all, but... I just might be able to concoct something to pass the time until it becomes a new esperimental pursuit.  It might not necessarily be over for me and my lab assistants.”

“What should I do in the meantime?”

“Frankly?  I don't care.  As for 'Flash Sentry,' I think it's time that he took an extended break from work.  Goddess knows he's built up enough credit for some much-needed time off.  Then—once I've gotten things leveled around here—we can get back together and work on an excuse for... mmmmm... permanently re-assigning you.”

“You... still want me 'working' for Cinchcorp?”

“I don't honestly know.  I'm sure you wanna preserve the living quarters for your Fountain at all costs.”  Her eyes glanced over.  “Flash's fountain, that is.”

Flash looked again at Cherish's happy figure.  “I-I would like that.  Yes.”

“Then let's keep in touch.  At a distance.  I'm... going to be distracted for a bit.”  Her mouth hung open as she settled on a particular file.  “Huh...”

“What is it?”

“Something... addressed to me.”  Sunny Flare gulped, swiping rapidly.  “Whatever.  I'll read it later.  Now...”  She glanced over.  “Is that all that Flash had to provide?  Nothing else?”

Flash held his breath.





“Last but not least—if you find yourself able and willing—I would like you to deliver a message to Sunset Shimmer.”

Hours ago, the hologram of Flash's doppelganger paced before him in the bedroom.  The recorded projection's eyes were glazed over with a touch of melancholy.

“Unfortunately, this message cannot be transmitted over long distance.  The program allows for localized access only... which means the bearer of the holofile has to get a digisignature from the recipient through photonic contact.  That bearer is you and the program is attached to you and you alone.”

A lump formed in Flash's throat.  He rubbed the back of his neck, feeling numb.

The projection looked at him intently.  “I know this... will likely mean some degree of inconvenience for you... should you happen to follow through with the delivery.”  He cleared his throat.  “Nevertheless, if you decide to give her the message, I believe that you shall find Sunset Shimmer quite easy to reach.  Her door has always been open to me—as t'were.  I suspect it will likely be open to you.  If you need a place to start, I'd suggest you ask the Fountain.  Melody has connections with Queen Sparkle's Court—where Sunset servers as an honorable valk defender.  Cherish—as of late—may in fact be able to get you in contact with Sunset even faster.”

Flash watched as the hologram hugged himself, leaning against something at the time of recording.

“I... have a history with Sunset in this universe.”  He swallowed.  “In a lot of ways, it's similar to the connections you had with Sunset in yours.  There are differences—of course.  Several, in fact, but the empathy and the constitution of Sunset's character remains absolute and magnificent throughout almost all iterations of her that I have discovered in my various spatial displacements.  If you should ever... ever feel the need to connect with someone... … ...Sunset no doubt will be there for you.  As... she always offered to be there for me.  I just simply couldn't... I-I mean there wasn't a chance that we... … ...”

Silence.

Flash blinked curiously at the non-spreaking hologram.

At last, the image of his doppelganger shifted with a sigh.  He stood up straight and brushed his short bangs back.

“Anyways, I simply ask for you to deliver the message to her.  I don't ask for anything else.  And... with that...”  His fists clenched.  “...I go on to change both of our fates.”

Their eyes connected again.

“Maybe you'll hate me.  Maybe you'll actually come to thank me.  It doesn't particularly matter.  I've made up my mind about my future.  I can only hope that—one way or another—you resolve yourself to yours.”

His hands clasped together.

“Good bye, Flash Sentry.”

And with a flicker of light—





Sunny Flare waited patiently for an answer.

“... … ...”  Flash took a deep breath.  “I... uh...”  He hugged himself, staring down at the floor of the balcony between them.  “...I think that about covers it.”

Sunny Flare studied him for a moment with a contemplative expression.  Eventually, she nodded.  “I know it probably feels like you've been left out in the cold...”  A blink, and the valkyrie shrugged.  “Hell, between Flash Sentry and I, you pretty much have been.”

“You've been... really helpful though,” Flash said.

“Don't fuckin' lie to yourself.  You're no better at it than most fae.”

Flash hung his head.  “Sorry.”

“Don't friggin' apolo—!”  Sunny Flare stamped a holographic foot.  “Goddess!  You are so unlike the Flash I know in every way!  Look...”  She leaned over.  “Just... hang out with your Fountain, okay?  They're all the touchy-feely sort.  Flitters through and through.  If you're as hardcore a fae as I suspect you're shaping up to be, you'll feel stronger in numbers.”

“Okay...”

“Think you can do that?”  Sunny Flare leaned back.  “Take care of yourself?  Or at least... be around people who can help you take care of yourself?”

Flash rubbed his eyes dry and nodded shakily.  “Okay... … ...”

“Just... try and do something to make yourself happy, for milk's sake.  From what I can tell, you've got an insanely long bucket list to get started on.  I'd say make the most of it—so long as your flower doesn't implode.  You feel me?”

“I... guess...?”

“We'll be in touch.  Flare out.”  And with that, she was gone.

Flash let out a long exhale.  He squatted on the edge of the patio chair, hugging his knees to his chest.  Back home—he always felt so alone, forgotten, and putrid.  Now—here in this strange world—he also felt alone and forgotten.  But instead of disgusting, he felt... small.  Delicate.  Precious.  Like a princess in a tower waiting to be found.

But why was he finding it so hard to embrace that?  To take a step forward and fill the gaps in his beating chest?

Perhaps it's because he knew that he had done nothing to deserve this fate.  It was all a freakish circumstance brought upon someone whom he had no responsibility for.  Now he was living that person's life with that person's resources and that person's toys and that person's unfulfilled ambitions.

Flash in many ways felt like an impostor.

Was he simply doomed to feel depressed no matter what state of being he was in?  Even if all his dreams came true?  What was wrong with him...?

He thought about the final message he had to deliver.  It frightened him to the core, but there was no denying that a huge portion of him would love to reunite with Sunset Shimmer—or anyone familiar, really.

Except... it wouldn't be the Sunset Shimmer that he once knew... that he once loved.  Flash had dealt with this dilemma before... of being in love with someone only to have to live with an alternate universe doppelganger of her thereafter.  It tore his heart into far too many pieces to ever reasonably put back together.

Now, he was having to deal with it again.  Only it was an entire universe of familiar strangers, and he was the sole oddity.

The sole, adorable, girlish oddity.

It seemed like the making of a faerie tale come true, only he didn't know where to begin to feel joyful about it—

“Hey!  Flashie!”  A melodic giggle.

Flash turned to look.

Cherish stood tall—as tall as she could manage—with a bright smile aimed in Flash's direction.  She winked and held her finger out.  “Check this out!”  She nodded at a tiny hologram flitting around him.  “Now, Tinks!”

Tinkerbell gave a salute.  Flash watched as the holographic pixie stepped onto Cherish's hand, marched to the edge of her outstretched finger like it was a plank, then dove off with nimble acrobatics.  The Disney icon performed several twirls, flips, and somersaults before crashing into the ground with a splash of flowers.  The hologram spread all across the balcony, carpeting the floor with a holographic bed of carnations, lavenders, rosebuds, and daffodils.  There were even floating butterflies, bees, and hummingbirds added to the mix.

But as beautiful as all that was, nothing matched the sheer prettiness of Cherish's Peter Pan pose and musical:  “Ta-daaaaaaaa!”

Flash couldn't help it.  He broke loose into a giggle, his breath lilting in that feminine voice that he still couldn't believe belonged to him.  He wiped a tear loose and applauded with two petite hands.  “Way to go.  Did you program that into her?”

“Naaaah...”  Cherish whistled, and the bed of flowers shrunk into a pixie-shaped focus of light.  Tinkerbell materialized and perched herself on Cherish's shoulder.  “She's adaptable  But she's got a whole lot of tricks up her sleeve!  Well... she doesn't have sleeves, but you know what I mean.”

Tinkerbell “laughed” with a bell-ringing noise.

“Sooooooo...”  Cherish pigeon-stepped over and hopped down onto the large patio chair, sitting cross-legged next to Flash with a happy smile.  “Did your meeting go well with Miss Flare?”  She cocked her head to the side.  “Did she like what Flash had to give her.”

“I... think it went over well.”  Flash swallowed.  “She seems to be in a better place now that I've made the delivery than she was before.”

“I see.”  Cherish nodded, running a hand through her pixie blonde threads.  “And what about you?  Are you off the hook?”

“Off... the hook?”

“Y'know... free from Cinchcorp to do whatever it is you wanna do?”

“I... uh...”  Flash hunched over a bit.  “I guess...”

“You guess?”

“Mmmmmyeah...”

Silence.

Cherish spontaneously flung her arms around Flash's shoulders.

Flash let out a high-pitched gasp.  His world was awash with the scent of vanilla.  He blinked widely at Cherish.  “What's this for?”

“You really looked like you needed it.”  Cherish hummed, rubbing his cheek against Flash's neck like a kitten.  “The Flash I knew never ever emoted anything.  But you... you're a different you, aren't you?”

Flash clasped a hand over one of Cherish's arms.  He struggled not to cry.  The warmth rolling over his center was a melting thing, and soon it spread to all his tingling extremities.  Everything just smelled so wonderful and felt so soft and promised so much excitement.

He spoke without thinking:  “Cherish?”

“Yes, Flashie?”

“What exactly... is 'Queen Sparkle's Court.'”

Cherish looked at him.  “Why, it's one of the most influential valkyrie packs in all of Equestria.  They flocked on board the ship from Sol 3.”

“So... is Sparkle a person?”

“Indeed she is.  Queen Twilight Sparkle.  One of the wisest and most powerful of valkyries in our time.  She and her close friends all blossomed together—almost as if their metamorphosis was perfectly synchronized.”  Cherish smiled with evident pride.  “Together, they manage one of the most advanced science guilds in new sex society.  It's responsible for the powering of the GSS Equestria.”

“They... sound very important.”

“Mmmm.  Very sexy too.”  Cherish blushed as Tinkerbell nodded.  “Although... I-I'm a bit biased there...”

Flash chose not to comment on that.  “Is... is th-there a Sunset Shimmer among them?”

Cherish blinked.  “... … ...so you know Sunset?”

Flash looked at her.

“Oh.  I'm sorry.  Just...”  Cherish squeezed Flash's shoulder and smiled gently.  “...our Flashie and this universe's Sunset... erm... knew each other.”  She gulped.  “But it was a long time ago.”

Flash glanced aside.  “I see.”

“I think it's... quite interesting to hear you refer to her by name.  Was there... a connection between you two in your world?”

Flash gripped his knees tightly.

Tinkerbell sharply nudged Cherish's neck with a photonic arm.  The fae cleared her throat.  “But we d-don't have to talk about that—”

“Flash wants me to deliver a message to her.”

Cherish blinked.  “He does?”  She looked at Tinkerbell.  The hologram nodded.

“I... didn't mention it to the rest of you earlier.”  Flash kneaded his legs with his fingers.  “Or t-to Sunny Flare.”  He threw Cherish a delicate look.  “Because... I-I'm not sure that I want to.”  A hard gulp.  “I'm not sure that I”m ready...”

“That's okay, sweetie...”

“Everything... is j-just what I've always wanted it t-to be...”  Flash's face sadly grimaced.  “...but it scares me.  If... if I somehow was able to talk to Sunset again... … ...I-I don't know if I'd even deserve it...!”

“Ohhhhh honey...”  Cherish hugged him again.  “Don't be saying things like that.  It's... it's all just so sudden for you.  I mean, this has all been a lot for the whole Fountain to process, but it's perfectly understandable for you to get butterflies in your stomach.”

“I just... I-I don't know where to begin...”  Flash fought the urge to hyperventilate.  His glossy eyes filled with the circular horizon.  “...where would I even dive in...?”

Cherish exchanged looks with Tinkerbell. She smiled brightly.  “Tell you what...”  She hopped up and gave Flash a light tug by the hand, lifting him up to stand face to face with her.  “...let's do the best thing to get you distracted.”

“What's th-that...?”

“Fae's day out on the town!”  Cherish flung a hand out nebulously towards the curved sprawl.  “Show you the sights!  The colors!” She did a little golden shimmy in place.  “Shoppppppiiiiing!”

Flash couldn't help but giggle.  “Wouldn't it be... I dunno... a little awkward with me tagging along?”

“Are you kidding?!” Cherish gasped childishly.  She and the holographic pixie did identical pirouettes in place.  “It'll be whole new levels of exciting with someone like you to explain it all to!  Like experiencing the Felicity all over again!”

“Well... uh...”  Flash rubbed the back of his neck.  “I-I'd be glad to be of assistance!”

“I gotta go tell the others!  First thing's first, we're letting you borrow something good to wear.”  Cherish made a mad dash for the balcony door—but stopped in her tracks.  A beat.  She hopped back over, leaned in, and rubbed her button nose against Flash's.

Flash's eyelashes fluttered.  He leaned back with a curious expression.  “What was that for?”

“Couldn't help it...”  Cherish stuck a tongue out, backing into the apartment.  “You're just toooooo adorbs!”  With a ballerina leap, she flounced into the living room.  “Hey fae...~!”

Flash stood behind, cupping a hand over his nose.  A rosiness came over his upper features, and he felt the doubt and self-loathing that followed him from his own dimension wash away.  He scooped up the holo-projector and walked into the apartment after Cherish, following her trail of vanilla scent.