Not Creepy At All
Spike the Dragon was an individual of great triumphs and many talents.
He was known for being the lifelong friend and number one assistant to Equestria’s one and only Princess of Friendship, Twilight Sparkle.
He was a gentledrake of the noble dragon creed, champion to pretty fashionistas and baby phoenixes everywhere.
He was recognized for his deeds during the battle that was now known as the Siege of Canterlot, Invasion of the Mutant Cockatrice, for which he was awarded the medal of valor.
He’s renowned as Great and Honorable, Spike the Brave and Glorious throughout the Crystal Empire.
He was even the runner up for last month’s March Muffin Muncher competition! He would have won too, if first-place winner Derpy hadn’t allegedly dropped a kitchen sink on him by accident and devoured his portion of the contest muffins in the ensuing commotion. There was little doubt in his mind that he was the most stallionly, er, dragonly baby dragon in Ponyville, if not all of the wide, wide world of Equestria.
In short, he felt completely secure in his dragonliness and saw no reason to feel embarrassed for his current choice of pastime. Well, as long as nopony saw him anyway.
“More tea, m’lady?” Spike said, unconvincingly mimicking the deep bass of famous R&B artist, White Berry, as he gestured to his exalted guest, a stuffed white unicorn pony replica with pristine blue buttons for eyes and curly shears of violet yarn for the hair and tail.
“Why, thank you, dear. How very courteous of you,” the unmoving doll seemed to say, her reply greatly fabricated by an amateurish display of ventriloquism.
Having granted himself permission, Spike leaned over the round top table and filled the porcelain cup placed before the little inanimate pony. After settling the pot back on the pink scalloped centerpiece, he wagged his brows at his lovely company with a toothy grin. “Please take this the right way, but you’re a beautiful sight for sore eyes, as always.”
“Teehee!” the pony doll seemed to emit after the dragon gave it the appropriate body language by folding a foreleg across its bulbous muzzle. “Oh, I bet you say that to all the mares. But do go on.”
“I must say, your fabulous mane does appear to be extra fabulous today. Did you change shampoos?”
“Why, yes!” the doll exclaimed, being made to brush through its mane with a hoof. “I’ve recently upgraded to a more expensive brand. I’m impressed, not even Fluttershy noticed.”
Spike buffed the back his claws against the scales of his shoulder with a smug little grin. “What can I say, I’ve got the eye of a dragon.”
The mini pony bobbed about for a bit, as though overcome with laughter. “Oh, darling, you certainly know how to keep a lady in stitches.”
After holding the pose for several more moments, Spike spluttered in a generous quantity of spittle, slapping his knee as his body contracted from the guffaws. Still laughing, he picked up the little doll and gave it a hug.
Who knew acting out a bit of pretend like a silly pony could be rather fun? He was beginning to see why Twilight played with her Smarty Pants doll the same way when they were younger.
Then again, he probably wouldn’t be having fun if it weren’t for the little gem, so to speak, he was nuzzling against right now. Unlike the precious stones he routinely unearthed from the Rumbling Rock Ridge, though, this particular fluffy little number instead came from Fluttershy’s home of all places.
It happened right before Twilight started suffering from her ‘castle-a-phobia,’ when he had been helping out with looking after a large group of forest critters that were driven out of their dwellings. The cause had been a young hydra that had ventured beyond its territory in the Froggy Bottom Bogg and stumbled into the rest of the Everfree forest, terrifying the various woodland creatures that lived there. As was usually the case, the animals ended up seeking aid from the kind Fluttershy in droves. Twilight and the others naturally caught wind of the situation and, being the courageous ponies that they were, were more than willing to lend a dozen helping hooves.
As for Spike, being the tactful dragon that he was, figured that the best way to minimize the chances of getting an express tour of a hydra’s digestive system was to not be near one in the first place. With that in mind, he had sprightly volunteered to stay behind to assist Fluttershy in tending to the displaced critters while the others went ahead on their monster hunting mission.
During Spike's task with distributing the food rations, a rambunctious raccoon that wasn’t quite in the sharing mood decided to live up to its stereotype and, in one dastardly Quick Attack, blindsided the dragon, making off with the entire basket full of sweets and treats he was entrusted with.
He wasn’t about to let some shifty raccoon get the best of him, of course, and had promptly chased after the furry crook all over the place, the voice of a surprised and concerned Fluttershy calling after him to be careful.
Just when it seemed the criminal was about to evade justice, Spike, in what was probably a once in a lifetime moment, nabbed the little rogue with a diving tackle maneuver that would have undoubtedly earned a big, teary eeyup of approval from fellow hoofball fan Big McIntosh, had the stallion been there to bear witness.
The dragon of law and order had been just about to bring the little troublemaker back for a well deserved scolding from Fluttershy when he noticed that the stirring pursuit had led him right next to the wooden shed located behind the cottage.
He had wondered about the contents of that simple outbuilding in the past. Common sense told him that it was probably used as storage, just like any average shed would be. But for some unexplained reason, his imagination instead conjured gruesome images of a dark dungeon lined with the dissected remains of victims at the hooves of a psychotic serial killer. He felt silly for even entertaining the notion.
Still, unable to resist his morbid curiosity, Spike had decided to take a peep just to be sure, his heart pounding in anticipation of something macabre like a decorative toaster made out of a pony. What he actually found was significantly less diabolical, but still unexpected.
There were loads of stuffed toys, ranging from tiny adorable gerbils to giant huggable pandas, lining the walls and arranged on shelves and crates and tables. It was like he had stumbled into a secret toys cache or some sort of plushie internment camp.
What really caught his attention, though, was the conspicuous batch of cute pony dolls placed within an opened trunk at the center of the room. They were not just your average stuffed pony toys of nondescript designs, however; each one was unmistakably modeled after traits of very recognizable ponies. Namely, every one of his friends in addition to many familiar faces from around town.
A worried Fluttershy had came rushing in soon after. Once she had made sure nopony was hurt, the mare became visibly anxious with Spike’s continued presence—especially when he looked closely at the yellow pegasus plushie squeezed between a doll resembling a big red stallion and another one of a large white pegasus with diminutive wings, and timidly tried to coax him into leaving. The young dragon had been too fascinated to be deterred, though, and instead excitedly asked where she got all the toys from.
It turned out every fluffy piece around them had actually been personally stitched and woven together from scratch by Fluttershy herself. The pegasus explained that she had been making them ever since she was a filly, using the art of the needlework she had learned from her nana. It was how her freaky knowledge of sewing originated, as a matter of fact. She had made the dolls as a means to cope with her loneliness and debilitating shyness, modeling them after the creatures and ponies she wished she could befriend in real life. Rainbow Dash was the first pony she designed a doll after, for example.
Fortunately for young Fluttershy, with time came good fortune in the form of a butterfly cutie mark and the glorious light that was the magic of friendship. With real life increasingly engaging and fulfilling, she naturally began to cease productions, but could never bring herself to fully severe the thread and part with her childhood creations, hence the shed. She admitted that a childish part of her wanted to think that there was a bit of magic in the plush dolls she made, that one of the reasons they were all friends and would remain so indefinitely was in some way due to her unknown efforts.
Her short backstory finished, Fluttershy then nervously asked Spike if he thought her silly and weird for her naivety. The dragon had quickly reassured her that it was not the case at all, praising her craftsmanship and the sentiments behind it. Elated at the dragon’s kind response, the two friends shared a warm hug. He had then encouraged her to not stow away but instead share the stuffed fruits of her talent and labor with those who might need or appreciate them. She had readily agreed and, with a knowing wink, bestowed upon him the plushie of a certain white unicorn.
And that was how Spike came into possession of his new cute special someplushie, who was responsible for making naps and lazy afternoons all the more enjoyable.
His brief reverie over, Spike turned to the clock and saw that it was almost time for his weekly deluxe bath. “It’s Saturday,” he said aloud with a wide grin. “And you know what that means.” Hopping away from the tea set, he grabbed a clear oval bubble bath bottle from a drawer and strolled out of the room with his plushie in toe, whistling a casual tune.
On the way to the luxurious castle bathroom with an awesome large tub, a nagging thought poked at Spike and he couldn’t help but stop by Twilight’s room.
One of the many perks of living in a castle, besides the potential real estate value, was the ample space that allowed him and Twilight to have their individual rooms, a living arrangement that was discontinued since early childhood when the two of them became nearly inseparable best friends.
Said best friend was currently holed up in her new room, having probably dozed off at some point with her face planted in a good book as she often did.
What concerned him was that even though Twilight had eased into the magical duties of a princess, the same couldn’t quite be said for the physical aspect of being an alicorn. Her wings would still occasionally gain a mind of their own in the middle of the night, springing out unprompted and flinging blankets and ruffling bed sheets awry in the process.
One quick peek inside confirmed his suspicions. Twilight’s snoring form could be seen while her wool blanket had been flung into a heap on the floor. With a wry grin and a roll of his eyes, Spike crept into the room, tiptoeing his way over. He smiled as he saw many familiar stuffed pieces, once hidden away, now sitting about on the princess size bed.
Just as Spike was about to make sure the sleeping book pony was kept warm, his eyes widened considerably at what he saw, dropping the blanket once again to the ground in a heavy thump.
The whump bestirred the pony princess, who slowly awakened. “Spike?” she blearily uttered, rubbing at her eyes as she sat up. “What are you doing in here? Has something happened? And what’s up with your face?”
“Guh…”
Twilight groggily regarded Spike’s look of dumbfounded shock. After a beat, she looked down at herself, then observed her sleeping arrangements, before returning to examine the dragon’s expression with a beady stare. After a long moment of lagged contemplation, her eyes flew wide open, snapping out of her sleepy stupor.
“Spike!” Twilight gasped. “Th-this isn’t what it looks like!”
It was exactly what it looked like.
Twilight was inexplicably dressed in her human form’s schoolgirl attire—short skirt and undergarment and all—now altered to fit her alicorn form. That alone raised enough questions, but the clincher was the full body pillow decorated with the likeness of human Flash Sentry in a questionable state of undress lying next to her.
Near perfectly still, Spike eyeballed the mare quizzically.
Twilight began to gesticulate frantically, explaining that it was a misunderstanding and that they were all just gifts, albeit by commission, from Fluttershy and that she was intrigued and just wanted to measure the effectiveness of the so-called huggy pillows as ‘sleeping aids’ for sleep science and that the erotic portrait of a certain interspecies romantic interest and her outfit were there as positive controls to ensure immersion quality for the experiment.
With the motor control of a master surgeon, Spike backed away slowly.
Twilight eventually faltered when she realized that her defense testimony fell on deaf ears and the sole jury’s expression remained rigidly aghast. Lips quivering and eyes moistening, the mare dropped to the floor and curled into a mound of flustered pony.
Spike’s gawking softened down to a look of empathy upon realizing just how mortified Twilight was. He hadn’t seen her like that—face buried under forelimbs with her bum sticking up like some sort of giant, mutant, skirt-wearing, purple radish—aside from her ‘sunshine, sunshine’ dances with Cadance or that one time when she misquoted Starswirl’s second law of thaumadynamics during magic physics class. Twilight, despite her impressive growth both as an individual and as a princess of Equestria, still couldn’t quite handle perceived embarrassment well.
While he could do without having the mental image of the pony who was essentially his BSBFF wearing a skirt and spooning a questionable body pillow in her sleep filed into his long term memory bank, he didn’t mean for her to feel as though his opinion of her had changed for the worse; he was just caught of guard.
Spike wracked his dragon brain for some way to denigrate the situation:
Well, I can see why his name is Flash. No, that would just make things more awkward.
So you were at Pinkie Pie’s yard sale too? No, that didn’t make any sense.
I say thee neigh! He really should start reading actual literature.
Then, in a stroke-of-genius that a certain seamstress undoubtedly would have been proud of, a vividly superb thought flashed through his mind like a glowing lighthouse in a dark storm.
“Ideaaa,” Spike singsonged, emulating the fashionista in her own moments of brilliance, and reached into his scales for the necessary tools to enact his plan.
Before long, the still unmoving Twilight felt her horn being poked at. With the same enthusiasm one would experience when confronting the grim reaper or a cake-deprived Celestia, Twilight peeked out from the gap between her forelegs. What she saw made her eyes widen like saucers.
There, standing at the epicenter of the large room, was Spike. But not just regular ol’ Spike. It was Equestria’s dragonliest baby dragon, decked out in a top hat, a black velvet cape, a jewel encrusted bow tie, and a thick, bushy handlebar mustache. Tucked under one arm was the Rarity plushie, somehow all dolled up in a little black dress.
Her previous embarrassment forgotten, Twilight sat up, rapidly blinking and gaping like a ponyfish. Before the mare could utter a single coherent word in reaction, the lights in the room dimmed and a golden spotlight beamed down upon the dragon and his fluffy partner. Off to the side, a phonograph was activated by an unseen force, and shortly started to play.
Then, Spike began to dance.
With mini-Rarity in claw, Spike swept across the room and started tripping the light fantastic.
They waltzed and they tangoed; they boogied the woogie and hatched the cabbage patch; they jigged the jive and they jived the jig.
In spite of having the dancing graces of a paraplegic swan, Twilight could still recognize an affront to the performing arts when she saw one.
And yet, with each intermittent change of the song and dance, she couldn’t quite stop her smile from stretching wider by the second.
As the music accompaniment came to a halt, Spike ended the show with a flourished dip and eagerly awaited his applause, which Twilight did not hesitate to oblige. In a spur of theatrics, he then planted a loud, sloppy kiss right on the tip of his dance partner's muzzle, causing the sole audience's eyes to go wide and her sniggering to renew.
As her irrepressible laughter finally simmered down, Twilight brushed away the tears in her eyes and held out her right foreleg.
Smiling widely, he set the plushie down and made his way over to the princess, accepting the proffered gesture. A hardy hoof-to-claw shake was dealt, and thus the unspoken age-old armistice was struck:
I won’t say anything if you don’t.
Their already unbreakable bond further strengthened by the addition of yet another strong connection—this time in the form of mutually assured humiliation, the pony princess and noble dragon shared a warm embrace of familial camaraderie. And as Twilight’s soft, bell-like giggles drifted down to his ears, Spike knew that everything was once again right as rain.
She gave a gentle squeeze. “That was one of the creepiest things I’ve ever seen.”
He beamed. “I know.”