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A blush can be described as many things.

It is an openly worn symbol, an effective expression; for those who bear it, it is a mark of shame, humiliation, and sometimes embarrassment. A blush is a strong reminder of fears and worries, and is often forcefully avoided at all costs. To Fluttershy, a blush was all of these things and more.

"I just don't know, Twilight," Fluttershy stuttered as the unicorn magically lifted a few more books from the wooden shelf, poring over a couple more as she did so. "Sometimes, it-it just gets so hard."

"That's what she said!" Spike jeered gleefully from atop the stairs, sliding down them at the same speed that the heat in Fluttershy's cheeks went up.

"Hilarious, Spike," Twilight rolled her eyes, pretending to ignore the evident blush on Fluttershy's face as her friend tried to hide behind her curtain of pink mane. Spike apparently couldn't tell the difference between a compliment and a dry, sarcastic remark. Or, in all likelihood, he could, but simply didn't care. "Really; the seventh time is the funniest, to be sure."

"Ah, don't worry about it, Fluttershy," Spike patted her kindly on the back. "There's nothing wrong with you."

"I agree with Spike on this one," Twilight nodded kindly to the embarrassed pegasus. She turned slightly and narrowed her eyes, saying "Although it would be nice if he would stop poking his nose in where it didn't belong."

"That's –"

"I swear to Celestia, Spike," Twilight pinched the bridge of her nose between her hooves, "One more time."

The miniscule violet dragon huffed grumpily, stomping off out the door. "Hmph. She's just sore. Ooh-!"

"Still not funny, Spike!"

The door slammed behind him as he traipsed away, leaving the two in blissful silence. Twilight sighed heavily, replacing her copy of Equine Anatomy and thinking heavily.

"I-I'm sorry to have, um, bothered you with something so silly, Twilight," Fluttershy began inching backwards toward the door to make her own swift exit.

"Oh, don't worry, Fluttershy," Twilight smiled kindly. "It's no trouble, no trouble at all. Just about every mare experiences similar matters when going into heat. You might actually be surprised with just how many of them flock to the library to solve that particular problem," she nodded, levitating the rest of her books and placing them neatly on the shelves.

"Um, well, thank you very much for-for trying to help, Twilight," Fluttershy hung her head. "But I really should be going. I'm sure that I'll think of something or other to take my mind off of-of things."

The butter colored pegasus flushed brightly once more, color flying to her cheeks.

"That's not quite what I meant," she defended herself quickly, only for Twilight to titter good naturedly.

"I understand, Fluttershy. I know," Twilight smiled again and shook her head. "Although, there is always plentiful distracting literature here at the library in case you want to give reading a go."

Fluttershy slowly removed her hoof from the door handle, seriously considering locking herself into her cottage with a few hundred books and not coming out until her problem went away. She didn't think she could manage to look poor Mister Cake in the eye again for a week after the thoughts popping into her head plagued her every time he walked past.

Even remembering it caused a whole slew of particularly intimate images to arise, and the blush flowered into Fluttershy's cheeks once more. She shook her head furiously, forcing her attention on the library floor.

He was a married stallion, for Celestia's sake!

"I'll pass," Fluttershy spluttered. "I think I'm just going to go."

Twilight exhaled through her nostrils disappointedly, the prospect of convincing Fluttershy to read as much as Twilight did swiftly fading. As the pegasus was scrambling backwards out the door, Twilight took a shot in the dark.

"Say, Fluttershy…"

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The poor pegasus grunted and wheezed, dropping the heavy typewriter of Twilight's onto her desk. The trek back to her cottage had been nearly unbearable, the heavy instrument pushing downward onto her spine so hard that she thought her back would break. Her limbs were shaking uncontrollably as she dropped the typewriter, and she let out a gasp of relief as she allowed her sweaty body to collapse onto her sofa as she finally caught her breath.

The sweat was only because of the manual work involved. And the temperature.

Certainly not because of the muscular pair of earth pony stallions that had seen her struggling and politely offered to help, their musk singing through Fluttershy's nose like an arrow through the air. She felt a little tingly just thinking about the pair of them. Light sheen of sweat collecting on their brows from a hard day's work, muscles coiling beneath her as she ran her hooves over his chest, her wings rising with every –

Fluttershy sat bolt upright, giving herself a thorough shake.

"Come on, Fluttershy," she scolded herself aloud, regardless of the fact that she was the only one that could hear her. "Get a grip on yourself! They're half your age!"

She angrily stuffed reams of paper into the typewriter, taking a few deep breaths as she forced herself to remain calm. Her heartbeat felt so loud that she could hear it in her ears, and the burning sensation between her thighs wasn't helping matters at all. Fluttershy convinced herself that the constant, driving need to satisfy her insatiable craving was only a byproduct of living alone, and that she was blowing matters out of proportion. Just being silly, like many lonely ponies tended to do from time to time.

But Fluttershy was lonely, and in more ways than one.

It just didn't do for a mare her age to spend so much time alone, and there were certain things that she simply could not accomplish on her own. Oh, she had tried, all right; late at night, her wings stiff as boards beneath her as she lay flat on her back. Her hooves trembling almost violently as she slowly slid one between her legs, the dampness on her hoof making the heavy blush grow into a burning glow.

Fluttershy shook her head once again, vaguely remarking that if she continued doing that her brain was going to fall out. What was she doing, just standing around her cottage, thinking about… things?

Fluttershy let out another deep breath, seating herself before the aged and slightly dusty typewriter that Twilight had carefully removed from her attic.

She let out a quiet groan, her head dropping against the desk.

Things. Thinking about things.

She couldn't even think about calling them anything else without getting embarrassed.

But she had made a commitment to listen to Twilight's advice, and write out her troubles; after all, if she didn't, she might as well have carried the bulky chunk of metal the whole way for nothing at all.

"Focus, Fluttershy," she said out loud to herself again, forcing her attention on the typewriter as she aligned the carriage and carefully inspected the fresh ink ribbons that Twilight had so graciously lent her. "Just let words wash away your problems. Sounds easy enough."

Of course, it wasn't easy at all, and the itch spiking through her did nothing but distract her from her task at hoof. Fluttershy shook her head lightly for the umpteenth time, pulling in close to the desk and leaning over the typewriter. She just had to dive right in. Just… start typing.

Start typing what?

That was a very good question.

Fluttershy didn't even know where to begin, and she had been in such a rush to get away from Twilight and force quite a few blush-inducing mental images from her mind that she hadn't taken the time to learn. Of course, she had used a typewriter before; she wasn't a simpleton. But where to even begin when she just had so many… 'problems'?

Especially considering the ones about her friends. When Twilight began waving the rather explicit anatomy book around, several diagrams showing much more 'information' than Fluttershy expected, she thought her poor cheeks were going to catch on fire. But she wouldn't – couldn't – think of one of her friends in a manner like that.

Fluttershy might never be able to look at her the same again.

Right.

Right.

So, Twilight was causing Fluttershy quite a few… 'problems'. Perhaps there was a fine place to start.

Right.

Write.

Fluttershy pored feverishly over her typewriter, losing track of time when minutes ticked by into hours as the burning sensation in her cheeks began slowly turning her face pinker. For once, however, Fluttershy reveled in her blush; for once, it was not a mark of shame, or humiliation, or embarrassment. Despite her aloneness, she was quite embarrassed; however, this flush that made her feel as if she'd caught a delightful cold that made her temperature rise with every click of the typewriter was different at last.

And it didn't matter just how embarrassed her body might have been telling her it was; the physiological reaction was nothing against the onslaught of her rampant imagination.

She typed long into the night, her imagination boldly leading her places that no stallion had taken her before.

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"You mean, you actually like it?" Fluttershy gaped, sitting across from the businessmare in shock.

"Like it? Are you kidding me?" Polychrome Print cackled, tossing her long green mane from her face as the earth pony dropped the stack of papers onto her opulent desk. "Honey, this is some of the best I've seen in a long time."

Fluttershy clasped her hooves together, blushing at the compliment.

"I-I, um, that is to say, well, um, t-thank you, Miss Print," Fluttershy finally managed to convince her tongue to follow orders.

"Heh," Polychrome shook her head, dashing a few ashes from her cigar into the silver tray. "Guess you're a better authoress than you would be a motivational speaker, eh, stutter-box?"

"O-oh, I-I'm so sorry, I'm s-"

"Ah, don't worry 'bout it," Polychrome beamed at her, obviously enjoying teasing the stressed pegasus. "You're fine, kid, you're great. I loved it, and I'm pretty sure that our readers will, too. You did have a particular knack for bein' pretty vague on some of the descriptions, but I guess that's just the writer's talent for leaving things to the imagination."

"Oh, yes," Fluttershy nodded quickly, desperate to impress her potential publisher. "I think about things all the time."

The stark silence in the room was dispelled by Fluttershy's immediate attempt to sound slightly less like a blockhead. Or worse, a pervert.

Although with as much as she'd just read, Polychrome certainly knew about that by this point.

At that point, as Fluttershy tugged at the tips of her mane, she honestly thought that she was going to die from the sheer awkwardness. To her immense relief, Polychrome spoke again.

"So, when can we expect a sequel?"

Just like that. Relief – gone.

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