You know how there’s always that one guy who takes a joke too far? Well, you never knew that REALITY of all things is that guy. Sure, you've wondered what it would be like to meet fictional characters in real life before, but you weren't chomping at the bit hoping for one to slam into your life (and window) out of nowhere. You'd need just a little preparation for something like that.
Sitting on the edge of your bed, you sigh and rest your head in your hands. The past few minutes were enough to wake you back up at first, though now that the adrenaline has worn off, you are not so awake anymore. Your nightstand clock shows the time to be 2:54 AM. You went to sleep around midnight, so this means you’ve gotten maybe two and a half hours of sleep.
This kind of thing would be a dream come true for some people, but the situation you find yourself in right now isn’t so pleasant. First contact is gonna be a bitch, that’s for sure. From Fluttershy’s perspective, she’s going to wake up in an unfamiliar place with some strange monster looming over her. In addition to that, you get the pleasure of having to introduce yourself to the most shy and skittish pony that you know from the show.
Sighing again, you let your arms fall back down to your lap and look over to the crate resting at your feet. The mare inside remains curled up, chest gently expanding with each breath she takes. Despite the size of the crate, it's only so big. Enough so that the already small horse needs to curl up a bit to fit inside completely.
“That doesn’t look too comfortable. Maybe I should get you out of there…”
You kind of hope that the sound of your voice would be enough to spark some form of awareness in her, but just as you expected, Fluttershy remains knocked out.
...She's not going to get out of there herself, is she?
Maybe if you yelled, she'd wake up and find a more comfortable place to be unconscious. No, that would probably be just as rude as touching her while she sleeps. You'd really rather not touch her again, that one moment of placing your hand on her earlier would normally already be enough to get you sent to court for multiple things.
Now that you think of it, the only other comfortable spot in here is your own bed. So the question is this: what would be worse, her waking up in a wooden box in your house, or her waking up in your bed?
There is no winning here. You're going to feel bad no matter what you do, so you might as well just choose something and do it. You’d might as well just get her out of that crate while she’s still unaware. Wasting no more time mulling things over, you squat down and slide your hands under the small equine and cradle her in your arms.
Please, for the love of god don't let her wake up now. You won't ever be able to live this shit down.
Lifting her is not all that hard, she probably weighs about as much as a small to medium sized dog. Luckily for you, she doesn’t wake up as you gently place her on your unmade bed and drape the covers over her up to just under her head. With that out of the way, you resume pondering your current predicament. What kind of preparations should you make for the first encounter? Food might be a good start. You’re sure you have something decently vegetarian around here somewhere.
Stepping out of the door and back into the rest of the house, you make your way to the kitchen. Compared to the heat of your bedroom, the cold air of the rest of the house chills you to the bone. You’ll have to be fast in raiding your fridge, lest you become a human ice sculpture. There really isn’t much in here in terms of fruits or vegetables, but that shouldn’t be hard to work around. After a few minutes of scouting around, you settle on just getting some peanut butter, some bread, and a banana to make a sandwich.
You finish the meal making process by filling a glass with water and bringing it all back to your bedroom. Finding some open space on your computer desk, you set down the plate and glass and turn to Fluttershy. What else should you do? You can’t really think of anything right now, and you still feel like you could fall asleep standing up. Obviously you can’t share a bed together this early in your relationship. Normally you’d sleep on the couch if your FUCKING WINDOW WASN’T BROKEN. Oh well, might as well just browse the web again.
Gotta do something, right?
Perhaps you’ll check back on that thread from earlier. Now that you think about it with a somewhat clearer mind, you realize just how big a coincidence this all is. Not only did you end up getting a surprise visit from a cartoon character, but it happened only hours after partaking in a discussion about this exact thing happening. You fall back onto your desk chair and wake your computer back up. Perhaps this is just the start on an equine invasion and there are others in the world having their houses damaged by cartoon horses. Speaking of, you’ll have to check with your insurance to see if alien invasions are covered in your plan. Can you even sue otherworldly beings for property damage?
Eh, there’d be no use, even though you’re in modern times and you probably could. The government would just take the ponies away for "diplomatic reasons", and you wouldn't get a cent. Actually, you'd probably just get killed to tie up loose ends.
Hardly any time passes before you begin to dose off at your desk. The most you are able to do before drifting back off to sleep is open up your web browser and go to the website where you had found the thread before. An unknown amount of time passes before your trance is broken by the sound of murmurs and the rustling of covers from behind you. Groggily lifting your head up from your desk, you turn your seat around and notice the pile of sheets and blankets on your bed gently rustling.
This very well may be it, better make a good impression for humanity, Anon.
Fluttershy’s head lifts up, looking like it takes a great effort. Her bleary eyes take in her unfamiliar surroundings.
You say nothing, electing to wait for her to get her bearings straight. Her large eyes slowly begin to focus, pupils changing to the correct size for the current level of light. For a time, the mare just looks around, trying to figure out what’s going on. It isn’t until you raise your arm to scratch the back of your head that she seems to notice you.
The two of you lock gazes.
This is the first time you've seen her with her eyes open, and only now do you realize it’s just a little uncanny having something with such big peepers looking at you. You’ve never been one to back down from a staring contest, though.
Silence fills the room while the two of you just gaze into each other’s eyes.
Nobody blinks.
Your gut rumbles a bit, causing a bubble to rise up into your chest. Fluttershy tilts her head slightly, trying to make sense of the situation. The gas travels up to your throat, the tense situation not slowing it down in the slightest. Without thinking, you push it out through your mouth. Much harder than you need to.
The sound that comes out can only be described as the roar of a lion that had just drank a two liter bottle of pop. With that, you now also know that ponies might be the only living creatures currently on this planet with the ability to break the sound barrier without the use of a machine. In what seems like the blink of an eye, the mare bolts out from under the covers in response to your mighty display of gaseous power and runs for the closed door. A loud thump echoes through your room as she decides to run straight into it rather than try to get it open. You can’t even remember how much wing power they say that Fluttershy had in that one episode, but holy shit was she able to move.
Well, that certainly could have gone better. But hey, at least you won the staring contest, right? You stare at her for a few seconds as she nurses the bump on her forehead. Deciding to get the show on the road, you decide to try to get her attention.
“Uhh...” you calmly began to speak.
Fluttershy takes notice, turning towards you and scooting up against the door.
”S-stay away..!” she commands in a shaky voice, pointing one of her pale yellow hooves
at you. You should have known that this wouldn’t be easy. You would back up, but your desk takes up the rest of the space behind you.
“Okay, okay… Relax, I’m not going to hurt you.” you assure her, making sure to keep your body language as calm as possible. “Hey, I’m uh… I’m sorry about that. I just had a bad burp, that’s a-“ but before you can finish, you are interrupted by a low pitched growl. You jump to your feet when the sound hits your ears. What the hell was that? Shit… Is she transforming? Was this all a clever ruse? Are you going to get eaten and not even have a corpse to leave behind? These thoughts run through your head in the span of a second, just before they are interrupted by a yellow blur colliding into your torso.
You try to scream, but can’t. It’s too late now, the grip on your body is too tight. You squint your eyes, waiting for the inevitable feeling of teeth sinking into your flesh; that feeling never comes though. Another growl, and the grip tightens. The beast holding onto your body begins to shake and emit what could be mistaken as a whimper. Breathing is difficult, and life is slowly turning into suffering. You open your eyes, ready to face your demise. When you look down, you don’t see the flesh devouring monster you were expecting; instead, you see the familiar form of a quivering pony, holding onto you for dear life.
Relief washes over you as you come to the realization that your short, uneventful life is not about to come to a painful bloody, end. The growl from earlier sounds out again, and this time you are able to tell what it is. It’s the sound of hunger, and you are pretty sure that it’s not a hunger for delicious human flesh.
At least, you hope not.
“H-hey… don’t be af… afraid. It’s just your… stomach.” you attempt to choke out through your compressed rib cage. Some seconds pass before this registers to her, and she slowly loosens her grip. Then quickly backs up to the middle of the room when she sees just what she was burying her face into. You get to your knees, deciding that standing would probably cause some intimidation with your height. An idea strikes, and you twist to your desk to grab the food you made earlier.
“You must be pretty hungry.”