Buttershy Kisses
The thick layer of snow crunches under your boots, and your breath rises in clouds as you heft the heavy bag onto your shoulder to direct a small stream of seed into the bird feeder – the last one for the day.
Fluttershy's home sits under a glittering blanket of winter white, the planters empty of their flowers and the roof of her little cottage ringed with tiny, dripping points of ice. Even the Everfree forest seems peaceful under the quiet silver sky.
Fluttershy herself, however, isn't faring quite so well. Her path around the house is marked by a wide furrow where her plump belly has carved through the snow. She stands on a small gray outcropping of stone, her head extended into a fox den that sits in the shadows of her home, a basket of berries and nuts and other wintertime animal snacks in her teeth.
Even from where you stand, you can hear her squeak as her hooves slip from the icy stone. Her feet scramble on the rock, dancing fruitlessly on the slick surface, and in spite of her best efforts, she soon finds herself lodged quite firmly in the hole.
You try not to laugh … well, you try not to laugh too loudly, as you walk to her side, watching her hind legs wiggle as she struggles to free herself. It looks as though she's somehow managed to squeeze even deeper inside, her pudgy middle squashed about the edge of the opening and her wide, yellow haunches in the air.
She lets out a quiet “Eep!” as you poke the side of her rump, her legs stiffening, then slowly falling in resignation as she recognizes her humiliating predicament.
“Fluttershy? You uh, need any help down there?”
After a moment, you hear her muffled voice. “... Yes, please.”
With a grin, you grip her about the hips and carefully tug. She doesn't make a “pop” sound as she slides free, but it's funnier to imagine that she did.
Her embarrassment is evident on her blushing face as you sit her back on her hooves. “Are you okay? Didn't hurt yourself anywhere, right?” you ask. She just shakes her head, giving no further response to your smile as she starts back to the house with her red face drooping low behind her mane.
“Aw, now, this won't do,” you think to yourself as you sigh.
Acting quickly, you speed ahead of her, forcing her to pause as you spread your arms wide and fall backward into the snow.
She hesitates for a moment, then leans over you as she speaks. “Um … what are you doing down there?” she asks.
You begin pulling your arms and legs in long arcs through the powder. “Snow angels,” you answer. “Don't you have anything like this in Equestria?”
Fluttershy giggles at your silliness, but after a second of thought, rolls to the ground by your side and flaps her wings up and down through the snow.
The two of you rise together and look down at your simple creations. Unfortunately, you see Fluttershy's face drop once more in disappointment as she looks over the large indentation her body has made.
“It's just a big circle,” she says sadly.
You huff in exasperation. Then you reach a gloved hand over to brush away the stray flakes from her mane, and you kiss her cheek.
“My favorite shape.”
You stroke her mane once more, then head off toward the cottage. As you pause to retrieve your bag of seed, you watch a much happier Fluttershy trundle along behind you, a pile of snow developing in front of her tummy as it drags along the ground.
-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-
Fluttershy's chipmunk friends dance from branch to branch carrying a glittering rope of shiny silver garland all around the Hearth's Warming tree. Hummingway and a handful of other birds flit around your shoulders, passing back and forth from the box of ornaments that sits nearby as you hang a delicate crystal ball among the upper boughs.
A smile comes to your lips as you watch Fluttershy rise into the air, her wings flapping furiously as she struggles to keep her plump body aloft. She has a determined look on her face as she stretches out her hooves to place a velvety red bow upon the tree.
“Are you sure you don't want any help?” you ask.
She slowly falls back to the floor, panting lightly as her pudgy little hooves touch down. “No, that's okay.” She sinks down a bit as she catches her breath, her big, round belly squishing out between her hind legs. Her cheeks are pink, her smile carrying a hint of apology as she looks up at you with twinkling, candy-sweet eyes. “I never was much of a flier,” she says.
Eventually, she stands and walks toward the table where the decorations lie. Her legs bump and push against her fuzzy belly, sending it jiggling as she moves and adding a bit of waddle to her steps as she approaches the ornament box.
You sigh, and Fluttershy squeaks in surprise, nearly dropping the ribbon she's taken as you reach down and grab her up in your arms, one around her tummy and one supporting her wide, soft bottom. Her chubby yellow body seems to flow around your grip, and she gives you a miffed look from the corner of her eye as you step over to the tree.
“I said I was fine,” she says as she places the ribbon on a branch with her outstretched hooves.
“Well, I'm sorry. I can't help myself,” you answer in a matter-of-fact way. You nuzzle at her neck and grin as she squirms and titters at the feeling of your nose under her ear. You fill your voice with a comical amount of sugar. “I just wuv you so much!”
She laughs and rubs her cheek against your tousled hair. “And I wuv you, my snuggwy wittle bunny-bun.”
You quietly cringe, and with a nervous look, your eyes roam about the room. “Fluttershy, come on,” you grumble, “I told you not to call me that when the animals are around.”
You can already hear the squirrels riffing on you, those jerks.
Her smile slowly fades away, and she lays her hooves over your arm. “Oh, but you spoil me too much,” she moans. “And now I'm all big and fat.”
“Nope, I spoil you just the right amount,” you reply and give her a squeeze. Her pudgy fat rolls through your fingers, brushing the sides of your fingertips as your hand sinks gently into her plush little body. You drop your head to her shoulder, and you smile as you hold her close and breathe her sweet, spicy gingerbread smell. “And besides, I like your fat. You're like a big pillow filled with cookie dough.”
“Well, a lot of it is cookie dough,” she says with a blush.
Suddenly, a smirk comes to your lips. “You know …” you say thoughtfully, “I just had an idea.”
You turn about and place her carefully upon her odd little green sofa, her head laying comfortably on a throw pillow. She begins to speak but finds herself cut off by your loud, theatrical sigh as you plop yourself down, throwing your legs over the end of the tiny couch and delicately resting your head on her oversized tummy.
“Ah, I was right,” you announce. “Just like a big pillow.”
She laughs at your antics and bops you lightly on the top of the head. “Hey, you! Your hair is tickly, you know! Besides, we still have to finish the tree.”
You raise a hand into the air and swat away her objection. “Phssshh!” you say. “The decorating can wait. We have all day, after all.”
Already the walls are strung with garlands of evergreen sprigs and berries, every table covered with red and green cloths, arrayed with gleaming silver nicknacks and brass bells and candles that send sparkles bouncing from every surface. Yeah, the rest of the decorating can wait – for a little while, anyway.
You reach a hand up and gently squeeze one of the chubby yellow fetlocks that sits curled by your head as you watch the snow outside drift down in big, fluffy flakes. With a soft and slow touch, you draw your fingers along her marshmallow hoof, and her foot twitches every now and again as your finger just happens to stroke a particularly ticklish spot.
“So,” you say, “is there anything special you'd like for Hearth's Warming this year?”
Her fuzzy skin brushes the back of your neck as you sink into the warm, supple surface of her tummy. Her hooves stroke lightly through your hair. In your mind, you can see her watching over you, that familiar expression of tenderness and love in her eyes.
“Well, I guess the thing I'd like the most would be … to spend Hearth's Warming with you.”
You groan as you turn about, burying your face in her belly. “Fluttershy!” Her downy flesh presses against your cheeks, and your voice is muffled by her cottony pudge as you speak. She laughs and kicks her hooves at the feeling of your lips moving across her skin. “That was so cheesy!”
You rise up to meet her smiling face. She throws her hooves about your shoulders.
“Well, I like cheesy things –” she kisses you on the nose – “and I like sweet things –” she kisses you on the cheek – “but I think I like you most of all.”