Approaching a heavy, wooden door, Anon hauled his trusty cart of cleaning supplies along behind himself. Lit by softly glowing lanterns, the short hallway led to his final stop for the night. Deep within the bowels of Le Foin de Fantaisie, the upscale eatery with whom he was employed, he readied himself for his final task of the evening.
Being a janitor had its ups and downs; for starters, he usually got to bring home leftovers and he’d been lucky enough to meet some pretty influential ponies - that being said, it was a common occurrence that he had to clean up some rather stubborn messes. His daily duties weren’t that bad, and he’d developed a routine to save himself time on the clock, but he always saved the bathroom for last - not because it was a particularly arduous task, but because of whom he had to deal with.
No sooner had he pushed the doorway open than he heard her. “Hark,” a lilting, effeminate voice rang out, resonating throughout the room, “has my courageous concierge come to rescue me?”
“Forsooth, fair lady of the latrine, ‘tis I,” Anon responded, barely containing his mirth.
Embellished with all the accoutrements befitting of a classy restaurant, the unisex restroom was delightfully cozy and welcoming. Quickly scanning the area, taking note of what items needed to be replenished, he took stock of the situation. The incense, towels, burnished sink, and intricate tilework were all as they should be, yet they weren’t what demanded his attention - no, that honor went to Ms. Kohlette.
Cast of a malleable porcelain, standing nearly to his chest, she rested near the far corner. If viewed from the waist up, she could easily be mistaken for a pony, although the similarities ended there. Her entire lower half was a fully functional toilet, affixed to the floor by a number of bolts and a pipework.
“There he is,” she greeted. Petulantly placing her hooves on her hips, she piqued an eyebrow at him. “It took you long enough today.”
“Not my fault! Some colt wanted to have a fiesta with his taco bowl,” he chuckled, grabbing a bottle of liquid soap to refill the sink-side dispenser.
“Well at least I won’t have to deal with the aftermath of that,” she chuckled.
“Please, as if you wouldn’t relish berating him after that gastronomic adventure,” Anon countered, affixing her with a smirk.
Giggling to herself, she bat a hoof in his direction. “Only if he wasn’t constipated! I hate when my younger visitors have a hard time.”
Shaking his head, Anon nabbed the sullied hoof towels from the bin near the door. Kohlette always had a way with words, especially when it came to humor. Truth be told, she was the reason he finished his nights in the bathroom. She was witty, fun to chat with, and she always managed to raise his spirits, despite the fact that she served as a privy for customers and employees.
Be damned if he could explain why somepony thought it was a good idea to make a sentient, chatty, commode companion, yet somepony had invented and patented the things. Kohlette, while not being the most recent model available, was a tried and true design. Well looked after and routinely cleaned, she appeared fresh out of the box and was as spry as ever - if anything, her age only served to bolster her pith.
Just as he finished placing a fresh stack of towels besides the wash-basin, a throaty groan cut through the air. “Oh Anon,” she cooed behind him, causing him to turn, “I need to feel those big, strong, human hands.”
Wheeling ‘round, he grabbed his favorite cleaning rag from his pocket and grinned over at her. “Is this what you want?”
Kholette nibbled her pouting, porcelain lower lip and nodded, knowing what was coming next. She’d always adored his eye for detail, from the way he wiped her base to how his fingers played over her seat and tank. She’d been elated when the man was employed and had quickly learned to love just how dexterous his digits could be.
Taking a step towards her, he paused. “No,” he intoned, casting aside the grimy material in his hand, “you don’t deserve this.”
Taken aback, her eyes widened in shock. Throughout all the years she’d known him, she’d never been denied his touch. She faltered, unsure of what she’d said or done to displease him so, before he reached behind himself. As his hand reappeared, holding a snow white bit of linen, she gasped. “I...is that?”
“I went and got you your own special handkerchief,” he smugly stated, looking down at the cloth. “Because you deserve it.”
Her heart swelled within her cool, cavernous, ceramic torso, as her hooves flew over her muzzle. In all her years, nopony had ever extended such a nicety towards her. Quite literally frozen in place, she watched him anoint the fabric with a bit of liquid bleach. Drawing nearer, he loomed over her and grinned.
“Now that I’m properly equipped for the job, let’s say we try this again...” he whispered, dangling the small towel between two fingers.
Nodding eagerly, yet too afraid to unveil her face, she peered up at him. “Mmmhmm.”
“Good,” Anon purred, sinking to his knees before her.
With all the skill and grace befitting a custodian of his caliber, Anon put himself to task. Slowly, almost sensually, he wiped down her exterior. Breaking eye contact, focusing on removing even the slightest blemish from her body, the sound of her hushed whimpers of delight were music to his ears. Though a comely commode she may have been, she was still very much a mare.
“Oh yeah,” she groaned, rolling her head back against the wall.
Lovingly running the handkerchief around the underside of her bowl, something hard bumped against his digit. Knitting his brow, he flicked his thumb and dislodged an intact, nearly immaculate peanut. As the offending legume floated about in her basin, she reached down and plucked the little nugget from the water.
“Another one for your collection?” he asked, as she leaned forward and stashed the used bean behind her closet bolt.
“She’s a keeper, for sure,” Kohlette beamed, having hidden the small treasure. Unfortunately, between contorting herself and the excitement of Anon’s visit, she lost the grip on her lid. Slipping from her hoof, the plastic ring plopped around the man’s head with a small Thunk. “Whoops! Sorry about that,” she blurted, hastily amending her error.
With the lid pulled free and the seat resting around his neck, he peeked up at her. “Yeah, sure, just like you’re sorry for the last dozen times that happened. If I didn’t know better, I’d think you want to trap me here.”
“Anon,” she protested, solemnly raising her free hoof, “as amusing that would be, I’m not that kind of mare.”
“Is that so?” he hummed, retracting his head and getting to his feet. Moving his face to within an inch of her own, seeing a blush steadily creep into her cheeks, he smiled. “So it’s just a coincidence then?”
“Listen, you and I both know what I’d like to do with you,” she snickered, playfully elbowing his ribs.
Rolling his eyes, Anon turned and casually walked towards the exit. She’d been more than candid about wanting him to make use of her, although he simply couldn’t bring himself to do it. She was a charming lady loo and the thought of relieving himself with and within her just didn’t feel right - as such, he’d cooked up an alternate scheme to sweep her off her molded base.
“I’ll be right back,” he uttered.
Tittering to herself, she waved her hoof. “Oh-ho! Someone’s finally brought some fiber drink-mix to work with them?”
“Oh yeah, totally, to help with all that extra spicy curry I had for lunch,” he lightheartedly responded, shooting her a wink.
“Anon, you tease! You shouldn’t flirt with a senior stool like me! Why - I may spring a leak at such a scandalous thought!” she shot back, abashedly hiding her face.
Shaking his head in amusement, he fled from the room and out of view. Were she able, she would have given chase in a heartbeat - sadly, what with the bolts and pipework cementing her to the floor, that wasn’t an option. So far as she knew, the only times she’d ever been mobile were upon leaving the factory and on her transit to the restaurant. With a heavy sigh, she awaited her attractive attendant’s return.
As soon as Anon was out of sight, he bolted towards the utility room. Besides her kerchief, he’d had something special planned for the earthenware equine, although it had had to wait some time. One part of his duties included doing rudimentary maintenance to some of the equipment, including several tasks which only needed tending to every few years. Bursting into the small chamber, he grabbed up a pair of items and bolted back towards the restroom.
“Hey, Kohlette?” he called, slowing by the doorway. “Can you do me a favor.”
Looking towards the exit, her ears perked up. It was unlike him to ask her for much of anything - well, besides holding her lid and seat, but that was apropos of his job. “Yeah?”
“Close your eyes and keep ‘em closed for a minute. I want to surprise you with something,” he yelled.
“If you’re going to doo what I think you’re going to doo, I want to watch - that’s half the fun,” she guffawed, slapping her bowl.
Pinching the bridge of his nose, Anon shook his head. Honestly, there was no helping her. “Just...please?”
“Alright alright,” she murmured, clamping her eyes shut. “Just don’t do anything weird…”
Coming from her, he couldn’t fathom what her concept of weird was - regardless, he peeked into the chamber and ensured she wasn’t watching him. True to her word, her eyes were sealed closed. Slinking in, taking care to be as quiet as possible, he inched closer to her. “No peeking…”
“Geez, I won’t!” she grumbled, listening to his every move.
There was a momentary ring of metal on metal towards her base, although he remained silent. Clamping her hooves over her face, lest the temptation to see what he was doing became too much to bear, she shivered. There was something positively thrilling about getting a surprise which didn’t involve a bowel movement from somepony she didn’t know. With a grunt of exertion and the sound of fleeing footfalls, Anon moved away from her.
“Can I ask what you’re up to?” she humbly inquired, twisting her head towards the noise.
“Nope,” he replied, just before she heard something heavy impact the floor. “Ok,” he continued, “now hold still.”
“Pfft! As if I have a - Gah?!?” she bleated, feeling herself move.
Acting on impulse, driven by the alien sensation, Kohlette’s eyes flew open and fearfully looked around the room. Cradled to the man’s chest, securely held in his arms, she found herself hauled from the floor and into the air. Confused, alarmed, and more than a little surprised at the development, her voice failed her - that was, until she noticed where she was moving.
His cart, normally adorned with his faithful mop and bucket, had been stripped bare. Beneath the set of handles, the sizable platform was left vacant. Eyeing the empty area, a stark realization struck her. Whipping her neck around to face him, her mouth hung open in disbelief.
“A...are we…” she gulped, reluctant to put stock in the absurd notion.
Easing her onto the wheeled platform, Anon gritted his teeth. Though she weighed a small ton, with her tank filled with water, he was undeterred. If he had flushed her and greatly reduced her heft, there was a good chance he would have inadvertently peeked and derailed his plan. Wiping his hands on his pants, he cleared his throat.
“Since it’s about time I changed your seal, I figured I could share something special with you,” he huffed, attempting to ignore his aching back.
Kohlette’s jaw flapped uselessly for a moment, before she snapped to. Crossing her forelegs and casting her head to the side, she snorted in frustration. She was by no means angry, yet she’d be remiss for not putting up a bit of an act - after all, he had potentially voided her warranty.
“You think that was bad,” Anon darkly muttered, strolling around to the handles of her chariot, “wait until you see the rest.”
As the cart spun beneath her, wheeling her to face the exit, she peered up and back at him. “Rest of what?”
Trundling through the doorway, towards the dining area proper, a lilting tune wafted to her ears. The soft sounds of an accordion and guitar of some sort were quickly joined by someone singing. After only a hooffull of words, the pieces clicked into place; between the lyrics and the selection of instruments, it could only be one song.
Straining to turn, trying desperately to face him, her eyes went alight. “Is this-”
“Bella Notte,” he interrupted, steadfastly pushing her onward. “I can’t sing worth a damn, but I made it in a recording booth for you.”
His rendition was, in fact, rather atrocious. Between his nasally tone, glaring inability to keep a rhythm, and his butchering of the italian, it was a travesty to the genuine article - still, he had a sneaking suspicion that it would mean the world to her. Bringing her to rest before the polished wooden surface of a dining table, he kicked the parking brake on her carriage and walked proceeded deeper into the eatery.
“Just need one more thing,” he announced, scampering into the kitchen.
In the blink of an eye, the man returned with an oversized, steaming plate in his hands. Dumbfounded, wholly at a loss for words, she watched him place an immaculate mound of spaghetti on the table. It was only when he seated himself opposite from her did she find her voice.
“Y...you did all this for me?” she sputtered.
“Can you really blame me?” he laughed, forking one of the meatballs on his plate. “I mean, you’re one of the best parts of working in this crummy restaurant!”
“I’d be more inclined to say it’s a shitty restaurant, but that may be my bias talking,” she giggled. Awkwardly fumbling with her flatware, she stared down at the silverware with consternation.
“Here,” Anon interjected, leaning forward and presenting her with a portion of pasta.
Slurping the sauced noodles from the tines of his fork, she smiled. She didn’t have the heart to tell him that the meal wasn’t quite to her liking, or that she’d never been meant to eat in such a contemporary fashion, yet she was profoundly moved by the amorous gesture. Snatching her napkin and dabbing her enameled chin, she took a deep breath.
“Anon,” she sighed, tenderly putting her hoof over his hand, “I...I don’t know how to say this…”
“You don’t like the food,” he lamented, lowering his gaze.
“No! I’m sure it’s amazing!” she asserted. “It’s just that, well, I’m pretty sure this will wreak havoc on my plumbing.”
Glowering at the floor, Anon’s shoulders wilted. Making her dinner had been a calculated risk, since he’d been unsure if she could conventionally eat - nevertheless, he had a backup plan. Though he wasn’t exactly proud of what he was about to do, he was absolutely certain that she’d love it. Pushing himself away from the table, he got to his feet and reached for his waist. Even if she couldn’t enjoy the food he’d prepared, that didn’t mean the two couldn’t spend some intimate time together.
“Anon, what are you…” Kohlette trailed off, as he unbuckled his belt and tugged at his fly.
Her pupils dilated, her fill valve quivered, and she nearly spontaneously flushed at the show. Like watching an angel descent from the heavens, Anon’s pants loosened and fell to the floor. She’d often wondered about such a divine sight, yet the marvels didn’t end there; unlike with his arms, his entire lower half was completely bereft of hair.
“Do you mind if I have a seat?” asked, giving her a small bow.
Nearly wrenching her lid from its hinges, Kohlette presented herself. Though she’d dreamt of such a monumental event, she’d never thought it would actually come to be. Ushering him over and graciously waving to her seat, she gnawed her lip.
With as much elegance as one could muster, Anon stepped over and mounted his throne. Despite facing away from her, with his bare, shaven bottom resting on her bowl, he felt her shiver beneath and behind him. As much as he wished to face her, that would disrupt his plans and may well rob her of the experience. Leaning forward, he shoveled a helping of spaghetti into his maw.
Wrapping her forelegs around him, she wrapped her forelegs around his torso. His warmth was unparalleled, the sensation of his bare flesh against her was glorious, and his rhinally singing made him combined to make him a veritable feast for the senses. He’d liberated her and tended to her like no other ever had; in a very real sense, he was her angel.
“You know,” Anon slurred, speaking through a mouthful of gluten and faux beef, “all this food is gonna have to go somewhere.”
Kohlette reared back in shock, stricken by the implications of his statement. “Y...you don’t mean…”
He shrugged and deftly spun his fork to gather another bite of pasta. “Lots of fiber, spicy sauce, plenty of cheese, and meatballs? I tell ya, I sure hope I can find a commode that will be able to accommodate everything tomorrow.”
Involuntarily leaking onto the cart, Kohlette was barely able to restrain her excitement. The news that the man was going to use her for the ultimate conclusion of their romantic dining experience thrilled her beyond belief. Holding him tightly, tears of joy streamed down her polished cheeks.
“Save the waterworks,” he mused, twisting around and returning her embrace. “Trust me, you’ll need it for later.”
“I just have one small request,” she sniffed, regaining some modicum of her composure. “Can you have a side salad and a dessert too? I’d really like the full course experience.”
Positively beaming, Anon looked towards the back of the eatery. “Funny you should mention dessert, because I think I saw some corn pudding in the fridge.”
“Sounds perfect,” she hummed, reaching around to delicately caress his belly.
Content with one another’s company, Anon and Kohlette savored the remainder of their evening. While the music was far from a digestive aid, her conversation and presence more than made up for the miserable melody of the song. Though the night had been a bit of a crapshoot, they could both definitely say that it was a turd worth polishing.
