Author's Note

Contains: >No Hooves, Fucking Math, Neb Nosers

Pls Don't Bulli

“So, it’s… three?”

Canterlot High School, home of the Galloping Broncos, was a ghost town. The students had left long ago to enjoy their weekends. The teachers were gone as well, some to the nearest bar to drink away all of the horrors they had witnessed in these halls, while others spent their evening staring at the walls, wondering what could have been, or eating their body weight in cake and sweets, as a certain principal was doing. Even the cleaning crew had yet to turn up.

The school would have been void of life entirely if not for the fact that two of its students found themselves in the library. One was a young man, stressed and haggard-looking, his hair sticking up every which way as if he had been running his fingers through it rigorously. The other was a bespectacled young woman of the same age, and the main reason why the two had been allowed to stay in the school so long after everyone had left.

The first was Anon, the other was Twilight Sparkle. For the past two hours the two had been sitting at a too-small table, notes and pencils and calculators strewn about, slaving over one of the vilest of subjects: Math.

Anon was looking at Twilight with narrowed but hopeful eyes. For the past forty-five minutes he had been on the same math problem. It was, of course, also the last problem that he needed to do before he could go home and turn his brain off for the next two days. He had wrestled with it, sworn at it, threw it, his textbook, and one of his shoes across the room, but he was pretty sure that he had done it. Eighty-five percent sure at the very least.

Twilight, his friend, tutor, and the only person dorky enough to watch Pro Wrestling at his house every Thursday, stared down at his work. Her brow was furrowed and her glasses sat a ways down her nose, as they always did when she was deep in thought. A pencil was intertwined in her fingers, spinning around in slow circle with each twitch of a digit.

“Hmm… I’m sorry, Anon. This isn’t right either,” she said with a shake of her head, looking over at him.

Several emotions flash across Anon’s face, most of them unpleasant. Thankfully, for both him and the library, despair won out.

Shoulder’s sagging, Anon let his head slam against the table. “Fuck Trig,” he said, his voice muffled by paper. “Fuck Trig, Fuck Mrs. Harshwhinny for making me take this stupid class, and fuck this planet.”

Twilight giggled. “Come on, it’s not that bad,” she said, reaching over to give his head a pat. “You were so close. There’s just one step that you didn’t do.”

Slowly, with some gentle coaxing from Twilight, Anon lifted his head. With tired, broken eyes he stared down at the equation before him.

“…Did I forget to carry the two?”

A smile exploded across Twilight’s face. “Yep, that’s exactly it,” she said.

Too mentally exhausted to summon up any feeling of joy at breakthroughs, Anon grabbed his calculator. It was a simple matter of typing in the correct numbers and he was finished. Though he had cried, sweated, and bled, he was at long last able to write that last answer down in his notebook.

“Finally,” he said, tossing his pencil away and letting his head flop back down onto the table. “Now I can die in peace.”

Smiling, Twilight gave his back a rub. “You did great.”

“It took me two and a half hours to get twenty math problems, Twi.”

Twilight giggled. “You’re getting better. You should be proud, Mr. Grumpy.”

“I’m not grumpy. I’m just sick of this math garbage.”

“You shouldn’t be. Math is very important to our everyday life, even math like this. And besides, men are statistically inclined to do well in math.”

Anon turned his head to the side so he could look up at the grinning nerd with a single eye. He tried to summon up what hatred and vitriol that he had, but failed utterly, only ending up looking even more tired.

“You can take your statistics and shove them up wherever you’re so inclined,” he said, making a rude gesture with a hand.

“Well, I’m proud of you, Anon,” Twilight said, practically beaming. “Most guys would have gotten too frustrated or just given up, but you didn’t!”

Sighing, Anon sat up. “I’d quit if I could, Twi. Unfortunately, Mrs. Harsh won’t let me drop the class, and if I fail it’s gonna make graduating impossible.”

“You’ll do fine,” Twilight said, placing a hand on his shoulder.

She stopped for a moment, a strange expression crossing her face as she looked at him. It was gone as quickly as it had come however, so Anon didn’t so much as notice it as the bookworm gave his shoulder a squeeze.

“I’ll help you every step of the way. I promise.”

Despite his exhaustion, Anon smiled. “Thanks a bunch, Twi. You’re a good friend.”

Twilight’s chest puffed out just a hair at the praise. “There’s nothing to thank me for. Any gentlewoman would go out of her way to help a guy.”

Anon grinned as he reached up and touched the lip of an imaginary sunhat. “M’lady.

A blush exploded across Twilight’s face. “Y-You know what I mean,” she said, giving him a light shove. “It’s just good manners. And I’d always help a friend…”

Anon chuckled, giving her shoulder a pat. “I know, Twi, and I love you for it,” he said. “You’re a fucking shooting star dynamo, and don’t let anyone tell you any different. Now why don’t we go ahead and get outta this dump.”

Twilight nodded, reaching for some of the papers on the table, only for Anon to stop her.

“I’ll get all of this stuff,” he said, waving her toward the door.

“Are you sure? I’d be happy to help,” Twilight offered, pushing her glasses up her nose. “Then the two of us can leave and I’ll drive you home.”

“Eh, I think I need to sit here for a bit anyway and let my brain recharge,” Anon replied, covering his face with a hand as he leaned back in his chair. “I need the walk anyways.”

Though she didn’t look too sure about the whole thing, Twilight nodded. “Alright,” she said, standing up. “I’ll text you later?”

Anon silently nodded as she stood up and grabbed her backpack, slipping it onto her back. She was just about to make her way toward the exit when her friend extended both hands.

“Come ‘ere,” he said, his eyes shut as he opened and closed his hands.

Rolling her eyes, Twilight nevertheless leaned down and allowed Anon to give her a hug. A tight, nearly rib-crushing hug that she knew would have lifted her off her feet he had been standing. She did her best to return the hug, placing her head on his shoulders and letting her eyes slip shut.

“A fucking dynamo,” Anon said, giving her back a few hard taps.

He broke the hug. Twilight, with some hesitation, broke it a few moments later, standing back to her full height.

“Well, don’t stay too long,” she said, adjusting her skirt. “The janitors won’t be happy if they see you sleeping in here again.”

“That was one time,” Anon said, twisting his neck so that it cracked.

With a wave, Twilight made her way toward the library’s exit. As soon as the door closed behind her, Anon was bathed in complete and utter silence. He sat there, just letting himself do nothing but breathe. An hour could have passed, but he did finally open his eyes, shattering the silence with a raspberry.

“Let’s get this shit put away. I need to get outta this hellhole…”

Grabbing his backpack, Anon began shoveling papers and textbooks into it willy-nilly, not caring what was damaged or destroyed. The only thing that he did treat with any care was the notebook containing his just-finished homework. He placed it in a separate compartment away from everything else. When the table was cleared and as clean as he could get it - by rubbing a sleeve across its surface - he pushed back his chair, stood up, and turned, only for his foot to hit something.

Grunting, he looked down, expecting to see one of his notebooks on the floor. To his surprise however, it wasn’t a textbook, notebook, or piece of paper. It was a small, leather bound book that he had never seen before.

“What’s that?” he muttered with a frown, bending down to pick it up.

A quick check of both sides of the cover revealed nothing but slightly worn, brown leather. So, without a second thought, he cracked open the mystery book to the first page.

After some thought, I’ve finally decided to keep a journal.

My mind has been all over the place after the whole magic incident, not to mention the stress of moving to an entirely different school. I said as much to Sunset, and she said doing something like this would be good for me. She told me that her journal helps keep her anchored to some sense of normalcy and order, and I really, really, really need some of that in my life. So, I hope this works.

I’m trying my hardest to think of something else to write, but for the life of me I can’t think of anything but Mr. Cranky’s lecture during Chemistry, and how wrong he did everything. Writing corrections for his equations don’t seem like the proper use for a journal, so I guess I’ll end it here.

Anon, with a frown on his face, quickly closed the book, placing it onto the table. “This is Twilight’s handwriting,” he said to no one in particular.

He looked down at the little journal. Picking it back up, he quickly thumbed through it, seeing that it was getting very close to being full.

“Must have fallen out of her backpack or something,” he said, setting it back down onto the table. “Huh… I’d say that Twi wasn’t the type to keep journals but I’d be a goddamn liar…”

He looked toward the library’s exit. Twilight was no doubt already in her car and on her way home, so there was no way that he’d be able to hoof it after her. Which wasn’t a bad thing anyway, since he had no real desire to do any running whatsoever.

“I probably should tell her that I have it,” he said, looking back down at the journal. “Text her or something when I get home. I’m not doing anything tomorrow either, so I could just walk over and take it to her house if I wanted. Hell, I should do that anyways since we’re gonna be doing stuff.”

He looked around the library. While he was the only one there, he could still feel disapproval in the air, as if he were being watched. He shifted in his seat, leaning foward so he could drum his fingers against the table. Humming a tune to himself, he looked down at the journal before quickly looking away.

Anon’s face scrunched up. Brow furrowing, he sat back in his seat, his hands at his sides. A solid five seconds passed as he just sat there, battling himself.

As quick as a flash, he picked up the journal and opened it. “Let’s see what she’s got in here…”

He flipped through the journal’s pages haphazardly. He wasn’t looking for anything in particular, just something that he’d be able to tease his friend with at a later date. So he never read more than a sentence or two of each entry, never seeing anything that caught his attention.

I watched another video of IT today. It was a short one, only three minutes and fifty two seconds, but even so the feelings of embarrassment and shame came on as they do every time.

“Oh, here we go,” Anon said, wiggling excitedly in his seat. “I’m gonna tease the heck outta this dork!”

But that’s not the worst of it. The thing that makes me horrified was that I HAD to watch the video. I had to watch it, and I couldn’t bring myself to look away even as that woman was pinned to the mattress and treated like she was nothing more than a breeding sow. It’s shameful, degrading, and if any of my friends knew that I watched this stuff I don’t think I’d ever be able to live it down. Especially if Rainbow or Pinkie’s found out, heaven forbid.

But I don’t care. I could hear my heart pounding in my chest as the man grunted and thrusted into that brunet with her black-rimmed glasses; the same sort of glasses that I I wear. Even now, hours after watching it, my entire body feels warm and coiled. I can barely write this entry, my mind’s so scrambled with thoughts of it.

A part of me should feel very worried about these confusing, growing emotions. A part of me wants to go back to watching regular videos that I can relieve myself with. But another part of me whispers that those sort of videos, the same kind that I’ve been watching since I was thirteen, aren’t going to do it anymore.

Anon’s excited grin was nowhere to be seen as he looked up from the journal. A look of contemplation had replaced it, along with the beginnings of a blush.

He wasn’t stupid, though one didn’t need to be all that smart to figure out what Twilight had written. His sweet nerd friend, the one that liked to drive him to school every morning and steal his orange juice when she thought he wasn’t looking, was in the middle of a fetish awakening. In most cases, with most of his friends, this would have had him on the ground laughing until he passed out. But this was Twilight.

Shifting through some very complicated emotions and thoughts, he skipped a couple of pages in the journal.

My choker came in today. I was both excited and horrified that either mom or dad would open the container before I got home. Thankfully, mom wasn’t at the door and I was able to take it up to my room in peace.

It was a bit tight around my throat, though I suspect that that’s the point. I think I was shaking when I felt the nylon dig into my skin.

Looking into my mirror, I saw that I was as red as a person can be without passing out. A thin layer of sweat had coated my entire body, and something was running down my legs.

I will need to see If wearing the collar makes orgasms as powerful as I think they will.

Anon cleared his throat so loudly that the noise made him jump. His head snapped up and whipped around the room, half expecting someone to be right behind him reading over his shoulder. Thankfully, there was no one to see the contents of the journal or the tent in his pants, so he flipped through a few more pages and read on.

Today I got some new neighbors. There was a boy in the family that I got to talk to when my parents and I went over to welcome them to the neighborhood. His name was Anon, and from what he told me he’s going to Canterlot High.

He seems very nice. A little nervous, but that’s to be expected, especially for a guy in a new place. I’ll have to remember to tell Sunset and the girls about him tomorrow, see if we can do something to make him a little more comfortable.

More pages were flipped, whole entries ignored or glossed over. In the silence of the room, Anon could hear his heart beating just a little faster.

This is starting to become frustrating.

Flash won’t even talk to me anymore after I tried to prod him on this thoughts for my particular fascination. I thought of contacting Timber, but from what Sunset told me, he got into trouble with the law. Apparently he was caught taping an adult video in one of the cabins at the camp, and now is getting charges pressed against him.

It’s a shame that he wasn’t able to upload the video before it was confiscated. I think that I would have very much liked to watch it.

Despite himself, a smile came to Anon’s face as he let out a snort.

I feel like I’m reaching for something that I can’t quite touch. There’s not enough boys in school to draw from, and even less that I know enough to even hold hands with.

On a brighter note, Anon seems to be getting far better with his math. He still gets frustrated, and I can see him look almost helpless at times when we’re working on his math together, but he tries, and that’s the most important thing.

I do my best to nudge him in the right direction, or give him some words of encouragement during our sessions together, but lately I’ve been finding it harder and harder to do so.

Thoughts I don’t want to think come to mind as I watch him hunched over a desk or table, his tongue stuck adorably out as he mulls over an equation.

He’s a lot bigger than me, and I know from experience that he can pick me up with ease. If he wanted, he could slam me onto a desk or against a wall like in those videos and I’d be completely powerless. I can see every little thing I’d want him to do to me, as if I’d made a checklist. I see him doing all of these things, not caring what I said or what I tried to do to stop him, as if I were nothing more than a worthless piece of meat.

I’ve been trying my hardest to ignore these thoughts. Anon’s a sweet, nice guy. I love talking to him or going over to his house to watch wrestling or anything else. He’s my friend; a very good friend that I’m lucky to have. But it’s getting harder. I can’t—

“Hey! What the heck do you think you’re doing?”

A yelp escaped Anon. He flailed wildly, sending the journal flying through the air and sending him and his chair crashing to the ground.

“Motherfucker!”

As quick as a flash, he hoped to his feet, looking over to see what was clearly a janitor. Said janitor didn’t look all that happy to see him.

“What are you doing here, kid?” he asked. “It’s almost eight o’clock!”

Anon, dazed and a little overwhelmed, looked toward the clock on the wall. Sure enough, it was a quarter past eight. He had been sitting there reading for hours.

His eyes snapped toward the journal on the floor. Making his way over toward it as best as he could with his overly tight pants, he bent down and snatched it up.

“Did you hear me kid?” the janitor said, his scowl deepening. “What are you doing?”

Anon brought the journal toward his chest as he looked over at the aging man, an almost haunted look in his eyes. He was silent for a few moments, thinking over his words very carefully. Then, in a tone that was confused and optimistic, he replied.

“Well, I think I’m about to start what looks like a very interesting weekend, sir.”