The next day passes without incident. You feed Floor reheated macaroni in the morning and make her a beets, lettuce, and tomato sandwich for lunch, which she liked. You go out for coffee as the sun sets, and sit behind the building to drink them and talk. Well, you talked, she mostly nodded her head and hummed to show she was listening.

Upon getting home, you fried some tofu that was on discount at the grocery along with some greens and dosed it all in barbecue sauce. It was far from good, but you are beginning to think your roommate was a vacuum cleaner in a past life with how thoroughly she cleaned her plate. After that, you went to work on a loveseat a stallion from the building helped you drag up from the alleyway.

It wasn't in good shape, but it was free and didn't smell too bad since you got to it before the elements. You simply flip over one cushion to hide a massive stain on it while taking a pair of scissors to the soiled fabric of the armrests and back. Removing some yellow foam in the process left you a patchy, puke green couch that you'd be sleeping on from now on once you deloused the thing. Better than the kitchen floor at least.

With that, you called it a day, and awoke to the next hoping you'd make some progress with Floor Bored. It's noon, and she hasn't come out of her room since sneaking out for a bowl of cereal.

Yeah, no. Not today little pony.

"Floor? You want to come out and hang? You haven't tried the new couch, come on and take a seat with me."

"Um... th-thanks, but I'll just stay in here."

"Aww. come on, Floor. It's so boring out here by myself, I can't imagine what it's like in there."

"I-I'm fine, really."

You sigh, rubbing the bridge of your nose. "Listen, Floor, I don't think it's healthy sitting alone in a stuffy room all day, and I don't think one walk for coffee is going to help much, so please, please come out." You wait a full minute with no response before moving on to tough love. "Okay, I'm counting to three, then I'm coming in there and dragging you out."

"What!?"

"One."

"No, wait!"

"Two."

"Don't come in yet, I-I just gotta-"

"Three."

You hear the little mare scrambling about, and give her an extra couple seconds before opening the door. It's just as you remember, except for the pony stuffing what looked like a magazine and magic wand under the bed. Dark, computer to your left, a bed to your right, garbage on the floor.

A black cord hanging from the ceiling fan, luckily no mare attached.

"Holy shit, Floor, you left that there? I let you leave that there?"

"Th-this is nothing, j-just some silly stuff, you don't need to see- ah- huh?"

You're already moving when the mare looks up confused, untying the computer mouse from the fan. "Jeez, I can't believe you've just been looking at this for two days."

"I couldn't reach high enough," she mumbles meekly, eyes dropping. "I just sort of threw it until it caught before."

"You should have asked me to help then. Really, Floor, I'm not a shrink, but I'm pretty sure the remains of a noose isn't a decor choice good for mental health." She flinches, but doesn't answer as you pull it loose. "Is the rest still on the floor too? Listen, you maybe want to clean this place up a bit? I'll help, if you want. I won't force you, but I really think it's a good idea."

You kind of expect her to turn you down completely since it is asking a lot. Change can be scary, after all, and the room's probably been trashed for as long as she can remember. But she blushes, scooting closer to her bed. "No! I mean, I-I'll c-clean, but you don't need to help. There's nothing embarrassing or anything, just boring mare stuff. You'll be bored, heh-heh..."

Okay, so there's definitely some embarrassing stuff stashed away in here that she doesn't want you to see. the magazine and wand-which-you-suspect-you-know-what-it-is-now being amongst them. "Yeah, well, if you need any help, just ask."

You're not going to humiliate a potentially suicidal pony by forcing the issue. When your mom found the swimsuit edition beneath your mattress when you were thirteen, you could have died from embarrassment. You'd rather not see that phrase taken literally.

Be a very flustered Floor Bored. Did he smell you? Did he see your vibrator? Oh, please let the answers be no. You think they are.

He seemed pretty distracted by the cord. It was pretty distracting to you too, but after failing to get it down, you just sort of got used to it. Sweet Celestia, that's not any better! You're such a freak!

Falling onto your mattress with a groan, you just want to stay there until you fossilize. But you need to clean. Augh, why'd you have to go and say something like that? Stupid panicking brain. You haven't cleaned in... Well, the fact that you can't remember the last time you cleaned is pretty telling.

With a groan, you slide off the bed and use your back legs to push towards the door. Stopping, you close your eyes and try to remember exactly where you saw Anon place the garbage bags. Right under the sink to the left side. You remember him bending over to put them there.

Mmmph.

No! If you think of that, you'll just get stuck in a vicious cycle of masturbating, crying, sleeping, and then more masturbating. And the room won't ever get clean and Anon will be disappointed in you. Determined, you whip the door open, dash to the sink to grab bags, and then disappear back into room before Anon has a chance to distract you with his Anon-ness.

Squaring your shoulders, you stare at your ancient foe with resolve. This filth has existed since time immemorial, but would now perish to your hooves. Where all the NEETs before you have fallen on this harsh quest, you will succeed.You are Floor Bored, Cleaner of Your Room. And you. Will be. VICTORIOUS!

"Squee!"

You are Anon, and very curious right now. What the hell is that pony up to? For the last fifteen minutes, you've heard what sounds like trench warfare emanating from Floor's room. You'd be worried if the mare hadn't come out and run to the bathroom to grab a spray bottle and rags. She didn't say anything before retreating to her room to continue what you assume was cleaning.

Ten minutes later, the sound stops, and the door slowly creaks open to allow a bedraggled, sweating Floor Bored to come shambling out. "Ah, how's it going, Floor? You finish cleaning?" you ask.

She looks at you with a tired smile and nods. "Uh-huh... you... you want to see?" You shrug and get up, the mare stepping aside as you reach the door to reveal a sight that honestly shocks you.

The room is near spotless, only two full trash bags set on the shining floor. "Wow, Floor, you really did an amazing job," you complement honestly, getting the little pony to beam up at you. "Really, it practically looks like a dif- huh?" As you step on the floor with your sock-clad feet, you notice it feels uneven, and your roomy starts to blush.

Kneeling down, you look more closely at the glossy floor, and notice that, under the opaque surface, carpet threads can be seen. "Is... is this some sort of epoxy? What is this, Floor?"

"Um.... W-well, you know that, uh, slime that was growing on the carpet in the living room...? I think maybe, this used to be that," she explains, beginning to shrink into herself.

You whip your hand away and stare between Floor, and the floor. Now that she mentions it, it does have the same, off-green color as the other stuff did. "Floor... when was the last time you cleaned your room?"

"Uh, maybe... four years ago? I'm, um, not really sure." she answers meekly. "It was before the last time I cleaned the living room, and that was the last time my GramGram visited before going to the old ponies' home. Other than that, I've always just sorta picked up some of the trash when it got too high. B-but I used the rest of the stuff in that bottle and wiped the whole thing down! S-so, it's kinda, sorta clean, and it doesn't smell, so maybe it's... okay?"

She is mostly right about the room not smelling, though there's an odor you imagine won't go away completely until the bedding is washed and maybe even a new mattress is bought. Tentatively, you lower your head and sniff the solidified slime, and hum. Well, it doesn't stink, at least.

"I've... never actually seen something like this, I'm pretty sure there's no molds back on Earth that can do this, but, if it's not going to make you sick, I guess it it okay... for now. Good work, Floor," you finish, patting her head without thinking.

She tenses, but relaxes a moment later and even begins to push against your touch. Quirking an eyebrow, you smile nonetheless and pet her gently, getting her to sigh. When you pull your hand back though, it's a little slick with sweat and oil, and the mare looks a bit disappointed.

"Hey, you know what I like to do after a hard job?" you ask, subtly wiping your palm against your jeans. "I like to have a nice, long bath."

She sits a little straighter. "y-your going to take a bath?"

"uh, no... I was, asking if you wanted to take one," you clarify, getting the little mare to lower a little bit, before your words fully register, and she tenses again.

"W-what? Why would I take a bath? I-I mean, I'll just get dirty again later, and besides, I already got one at the hospital, so I should be good for a couple months, right...? Unless y-you think I smell..."

Oh shit, you suspected from the beginning she could be this kind of NEET. You have to play this casual, Anon. "Nah, you don't smell, I just think baths feel good, don't you? Sitting in a tub of warm, soothing water, letting your thoughts drift away, and then when you get out, your skin- er- coat, feels smooth and soft and your mane is silky. Much better than feeling sticky with sweat, right? So, what do you say? Sound good?"

She scuffs a hoof across the glossy floor, looking down. "I... guess, but there's also the scrubbing, and the stingy soap in your eyes, and your mane gets all tangly when it dries, and... it's just a lot of work."

"Why don't I help you then," you offer, getting the mare to freeze. "Yeah, after all the hard work you did, you deserve to get all the relaxing parts of the bath, and I'll do all the hard stuff."

"W-what?" she breathes, eyes slowly turning upwards.

"Mhmm, I'm a pro at cleaning myself, do it everyday, after all, so you can be sure you'll get only the best service from this guy. I swear not a drop of shampoo will reach your eyes. Heck, I'll even comb your mane when you get out of the tub. I'll be like that gay guy friend from the movies, except for not gushing about cute boys and saying everything overly flamboyant like."

A few squeaking sounds come from the mare while you wait several seconds for a response, until eventually, she nods jerkily. You smile and clap your hands. "Great, I'll go run the bath water, you just get undressed and come in when you're ready."

As you leave, you hear her wheeze, "U-un-undressed?"

You are Floor Bored, a shaking, sweaty mess, barely standing after the three minutes it took you to get your sweater and panties off. And you're now staring at the door, trying to muster up the courage to go get bathed by Anon.

You shudder and moan, the mere thought of his big, strong hands gliding over your body turning your legs to jelly. As you fall to your rump, you quickly try to think unsexy thoughts. Uh, salads. GramGram in a bathing suit.

Anon rubbing your hideous body and being disgusted.

With a groan, you smack your head against the door. Why did you agree to this, again? Sure it'd be good during, great even, but Anon was never going to be able to look at you again after this. "Maybe... maybe he won't mind?" you whisper desperately to yourself.

It's possible, you try to convince yourself, that he won't even care one way or the other. You know he won't find you beautiful, after all, but that doesn't mean he has to think you're ugly instead. He's been so kind and understanding so far. He even cleaned you after you wet yourself, and still took you out for coffee that same night.

Anon is- or the closest you've ever had to- a friend, and friends don't care what the other looks like. At least, you think that's how it works. Letting a slow breath flow from your nostrils, you stand and square your shoulders. If Anon can not care about your looks while doing this super nice, platonic thing for you, you can do the same for him.

He's just helping you bathe, right? A perfectly normal, almost-friend thing to do... probably. Anon's definitely more knowledgeable on the subject then you, so it must be normal.

With your hoofful of scraped together courage, you leave to the bathroom, stopping at the threshold to see Anon, sleeve rolled up, testing the water. You gulp when he turns and smiles at you.

"There you are, you're just in time. Tubs full and the perfect temp," he says, taking his arm from the tub to give it a quick shake.

"Um, th-thank you, for doing this, Anon," you begin, shakily stepping towards him and the steaming tub. "It's really nice." And more than you deserve, but you've always been a selfish mare.

"It's no problem. I used to babysit for my neighbor's kids, and I had to give them baths a few times. At least you didn't get yourself covered in mud and fight me every step of the way to the bathroom." You actually huff a little laugh, mind trying to picture what hoo-man foals look like, and coming up with mini-Anon's instead.

"Well, come on, don't want the water getting cold, do we?" he says, gesturing you forward. You nod, and cross the bathroom to begin climbing over the lip of the tub, and eep when Anon gently helps to push you over.

He quickly pulls his hand back and says sheepishly, "Sorry, you just looked like you were having a little trouble."

"I was just surprised is all, I don't mind you... touching me," you answer, gulping at the end.

"That's good, or this whole thing would be a really awkward."

"Yeah, awkward. hehe..."

"So, how's the water? Good for you? If it's too hot, we can add some cold water."

"It's fine," you breathe, sitting down. It really is nice; you tend to forget since you go so long between showers, waiting until you notice cashiers start to grimace when you walk into their stores at night. Plus, as relaxing as the warm water was, all the work of actually cleaning yourself tended to suck the enjoyment out of it. Why waste time in the bath when you could be browsing PoneChan and getting yourself off to all the clopfics and art posted there everyday?

"Should we start with the mane first, then?" Anon asks, interrupting your thoughts. "That way you can stay sitting for a while longer."

"S-sounds good," you answer, forcing yourself not to sink further beneath the surface. Anon warns you before he starts, afraid to startle you again, then squirts some shampoo into your mane. Soon after, those strange fingers begin to work it in, and you can't help but hum at the feeling. There's no annoying, flowery smell since you've always opted for the cheapest, fragrant-free stuff, so you are able to enjoy the tiny digits massaging your scalp without distraction.

Even as he works his way down your long, uncut strands, pulling his fingers through the knots, he's so gentle he actually makes it enjoyable. The soft tugging strangely pleasant, getting you to sigh as your head slowly droops and your eyes grow heavy. True to his words, every blob of suds that tries to slide down your forehead is quickly wiped away by his deft hands, and after an eternity, yet still too soon, he stops.

"Mane's about done I'd say, now it's time for the rinsing." He says, grabbing a cup from his side to fill it with bath water. "Ready?" You give a small nod and hum, and soon feel warm water cascade down your neck. You tilt your head back as he pours three more cups onto you and declares it done.

"I'm glad to see your enjoying this, I knew you would," comments Anon, seeing your smile. "Now, I know you're all relaxed, but do you mind standing, Floor? We've still got to shampoo your coat and tail."

Your heart rate picks up, but you try to remain calm as you do as he asks. Right now, Anon is not only seeing your body, but focusing on it. Your ugliness on full display for him to stare and judge.

A part of you waits for them, the jeers and biting comments, but the only sound coming from Anon is a quietly hummed tune as he runs a streak of soap down your back.

"I'm not one to brag, but I hope you're ready, Floor, because there was a reason I was called MagicHands Anon back on Earth." Before you can ponder his words, his fingers sink into your back, ten points of pressure followed by his palms spreading the soap. You openly moan as digs his nails in, scratching through your coat to the sensitive skin beneath. He chuckles as one of your hind legs lift involuntarily and shake as he reaches a spot around your whither.

"You like?" he asks rhetorically, your response answer enough. You still hiss out a long yes, anyway, tongue lolling from your mouth as he presses between your shoulders.

Knots formed from years hunched over a computer desk begin to loosen, and aches and pains you'd long since grown accustom to begin to be replaced by the pleasant variety. You hardly register as he moves down your sides and lifts your front legs up to clean them, moaning louder as he works over your hooves to rub the grime from your soft frogs. It's only when he starts to work down your chest that you regain some of your senses and wince, leaning back and away from his hand.

"Is something wrong, Floor?" he asks, a hint of concern in his voice.

"Um, s-sorry, it's just that, well, my chest still hurts a little from before you took me to the hospital."

He blinks a few times, then smacks his forehead with a wet hand. "Ah, crap, I completely forgot about that. I'm real, sorry, Floor."

"I-it's alright, really! It doesn't even hurt anymore unless I press on it," you assure him.

"Which I just did, because I'm a forgetful idiot."

"You are not an idiot, Anon!" you practically yell, never more sure of anything in your life. "You're the nicest po- um- hoo-man I've ever met, and I know it was just an accident. You... wouldn't hurt me on purpose." ... And you believe that. As you look on the stallion before you, the treacherous voice in the back of your head remains blissfully silent, knowing it can not refute your claim as Anon smiles lopsidedly.

"It's human, and I'm kind of the only one you know."

"You're nicer than any pony, too," you whisper back.

His smile fades a little at that. "That shouldn't be the case," he mumbles, holding his hands out. You lean into them, giving silent permission for him to continue.

"Well, my GramGram's really nice too, I just don't see her much."

"And why's that? She's in a nursing home, right? Is it far away?"

You sag a little in guilt. "Not really, it's on the other side of the city. I'm just too afraid to go that far, especially during the day when all those ponies are out. That's the only time they allow visitors though, so I can't go at night."

His hands slow a little. "Maybe... I can go with you? If that'd help, that is."

"W-would you really?" you ask hopefully.

"Yeah, why not? I think it'll be good for you, plus I'm sure your Grandma would love a visit from her granddaughter." You're about to thank him profusely, but squeak instead, your rear end jerking down under the water as Anon's hand runs over it.

"Fuck, did I hurt you again?"

"No, I-I'm fine," you say quickly, hoping the blush on your face isn't to noticeable. "I'm just... ticklish, there."

"Oh, my bad," he responds, relieved. "You want me to keep going, I'll try not to tickle you."

"S-sure, you can keep going." You bite your lip as his hands return to your flanks, subtly tucking your tail in as he works the spots where your cutie marks would be. Normally you'd be ashamed off your bare, bony bottom, but the feeling of Anon's dexterous fingers there is simply too amazing to care. Until he brushes against the base of your dock.

*DripDrip-Drip-Drip...Drip*

"Hmm, is the faucet leaking?"

Sitting with a splash, you quickly bring all four legs together. "U-um, Anon, do you think, I could finish myself? I actually want to soak for a while, if that's okay."

"Well sure, but are you positive you don't want me to shampoo your tail first. Hands make it easier, right?"

"That's fine, y-you've done enough, really."

He shrugs after a moment and stands, knees popping as he does. "Okay then, just call if you need anything," he says, waving over his shoulder before shutting the door.

Once you're sure he won't be coming back in, you heave a sigh and let your legs spread out. Reaching a hoof down, you graze against your heated folds and gasp at how sensitive they are. It usually takes a lot to get you like this, and yet Anon did it with a few absent-minded strokes of his hands.

Reaching back down, you begin to massage your petals, hissing every time you brushed against your rapidly winking clit. If this starts to happen whenever he brushes against you right, you may have a problem on your hooves, but for now, you'll take full advantage of the warm bath water. Bringing your other forehoof up to to bite down on, you stifle the moans from your first orgasm, and immediately start building towards your second, images of Anon flashing through your mind as you do.

Just what are you getting yourself into, Floor?

Author's Notes:

(How I imagine a puffy Floor out of the bath might look.)

Art by Lazerblues.