Anon will always be Number Two...
Author's Note
The prompt for this was given by a friend one drunken night, and consisted of "What if the ponies tried to train Anon to use the bathroom outside?" And lo, this oneshit (literally) was born.
Also, a final warning that this has some of the grossest humor I write, and it's scat related. Not in a sexy way, but still. If you don't want that, don't read this, really. Go fap to tentacle porn or something instead. I know I could have gotten worse with this, but...yeeegch, no thanks.
There isn't enough scotch in the world for that. Not even for me.
Thanks for reading.
-Pencil
Anon will always be Number Two...
It has been three weeks since you first arrived in Ponyville, and all in all, things have been great. You've been pretty happy, but right now you're actually feeling a little uneasy. You see, Fluttershy is giving you that look again. It’s that same one she gives her pets when she is concerned, wants to say something, but is too ashamed or shy to do so.
Usually you find it endearing. Like she’s a legless puppy who has long since realized it’s not able to play with the other puppies, but internally still wants to. But now that she’s been turning this gaze on you over the past week, you’re beginning to find it less and less charming. What’s more, it always seems to happen when you come back from your…er…necessary excursions. You know it’s probably weird to her that you’re always ducking into side rooms and excusing yourself but you’re really not quite sure how to go about things involving your necessary bodily functions. And you're certainly not willing to tell her what you're actually doing.
You lock eyes with Fluttershy, and she winces, obviously uncomfortable. From that expression alone, it actually probably does have something to do with your secretive potty habits, or at least your sudden absences.
“C-can I help you?” you stutter out.
She looks as if you’ve struck her, and you feel a little bad for even speaking. Fluttershy always makes you feel that way, as if every single thing you say is a verbal assault. Or at least an ill-timed “hay guuurl.”
“W-well,” she says, instantly looking away from you. “I wanted to talk with you about something.”
Oh boy, here we go.
“Ok, fire away.”
“…Anon, the others and I…well…we noticed that you don’t…”
“Don’t…what?”
Her face is growing red, and you can see that she’s deeply uncomfortable about whatever she’s trying to say.
“That you don’t…well…defecate.”
There is nothing in the world that could have prepared you for hearing this delicate little yellow pony say those words. You'd have expected her to say she enjoys being cockslapped while feeding squirrels before she'd say something like this. Welp, now it’s your turn to get awkward.
“…oh,” you croak out.
Though you have been, in fact, defecating, you’ve been doing so in secret. You have no desire to discuss exactly what you’re doing if she hasn’t guessed yet, even if she's curious. That's partially because you’ve never actually seen a pony excuse itself to use a restroom. Not for number one, not for number two. They just…don’t seem to do it. Or maybe they only do it at certain times of day? You have no idea. You don't really want to know.
And more importantly, you haven’t seen a single real restroom since you got to Ponyville. Not one. Twilight’s house doesn’t have one. Fluttershy's doesn’t have one. Even Pinkie, who generally looks like she’s about to piss herself at various intervals every day, didn't seem to have one for you at Sugarcube Corner. Well, not a real one. There was a bathroom, but it only had a fucking tub, and a fucking sink. That’s it. That time, you just pissed in their sink out of bitter revenge for their lack of toilet. How can none of these ponies have toilets?
In fact, when you asked Applejack where the outhouse was at her farm, she just cocked her head at you and said something along the lines of “Uh, aren’t all houses outside? Unless you mean a house inside a house er somethin’ like that. You'd have to really like houses fer that.” So, no help there.
Given all this, you’ve had to try to figure out a way of evacuating your bowels without making it weird for anyone. Well, anyone but you. You’ve never been comfortable going outside. Sure, taking a piss off the side of a cliff is one thing. That’s a matter of personal pride, seeing if you can hit hikers at the lower trail and then run before they notice. But actually squatting down somewhere and…doing your dirty business that way? No thanks. Public indecency isn’t really your thing, and it makes you feel gross. And not in the fun way.
So, instead, you’ve taken to carrying little plastic bags and tissue paper with you wherever you go. You do your filthy deed, bag it up, and all the trimmings too, and then unceremoniously toss it all out of whatever nearby window you can find. Leaving no trace of your bizarre actions. Besides, it’s pretty much what you did for your dog back home anyway, right? It's not that weird...ok you know it's weird, you just try not to think about it if you can help it.
Because you’re currently living with Fluttershy, you’ve been courteous enough to carry the bags of your leavings to nearby homes and deposit them in the trash there instead, or hide them in nearby bushes. So it can’t possibly be your waste that’s bothering her…can it? You make a silent prayer that she hadn’t found out about that time her stupid rabbit thought it was fudge and tried to eat it.
“So…I am. Doing that, I mean,” you assure her awkwardly. “Regularly, even. So no worries, right?”
“W-well,” she says again. “It’s not that simple.”
“…it’s not?”
“Not exactly.”
Oh joy.
“Y-you see, we realize that you’ve most likely been…doing your business inside. We’re not sure where you’ve been hiding it but…we’ve noticed you’re not doing it outside like we do. That’s what everypony, every animal does. And…we’re not exactly sure why. I-is it a sex thing?”
Does she sound hopeful? Oh god you hope not.
“Wait, you do it…outside??” you almost shout.
How have you not noticed this? Maybe you didn’t want to notice. You are suddenly painfully aware that you’ve probably stepped in it hundreds of times by now, and never even realized it. You suddenly want to burn your shoes and then destroy their ashes in a vat of acid. She blinks at you, looking a little confused.
“Well of course, every living thing does that outside.”
“Not people!” you nearly explode at her. “We…we don’t…that’s just not what we do!”
Then, you see something kind of horrifying. A light of recognition dawns in Fluttershy’s face, and it’s like some relief, some feeling of understanding floods over her. And she looks at you calculatingly, appraisingly. And she smiles.
Oh no.
“Oh you poor poor thing!” she exclaims.
“…what?”
“I completely understand now, you poor dear! Oh it all makes so much sense!”
“What does?!”
“Just come with my you sweet dear thing, I know exactly what to do.”
This is not good. This tone, this strange shift in mood, there’s no way it can bode well for you. But before you can protest, she takes your hands and, with a beaming smile, leads you to the front door of her cottage. Before you can even think of another word to say she throws it open…
And you find, with horror, that all the other ponies you call friends are standing there, looking at the cottage expectantly. Like they’ve been waiting for you. What in the pastel-colored hell is this.
“Ok, so…what was the verdict?” Twilight says gently, like she’s afraid she might scare you off. "Why is he doing it?"
“Yeah,” says Dash, less gently. “Did you find out who he won’t poop like a normal pony?”
Your mouth works as you try to find words to deal with this situation, but no luck. Really, you’re in no way prepared for any of this. Fluttershy holds fast to your hand, but steps in front of you, almost a little protectively.
“Everypony,” she says. “I’ve found out that the situation is more drastic than we feared, and I want you all to treat this matter very sensitively. I don’t want to hurt poor Anon’s feeling.”
They again look to you expectantly, and now searchingly. You feel naked under all their gazes, and not the fun kind of naked. More like the kind where you finally tried experimenting with autoerotic asphyxiation, and your mom just walked in, and you can see the wheels turning in her head and you know it’s just a second or two until she figures it out and starts screaming. Fluttershy clears her throat, like she’s about to make an important announcement.
“Anon doesn’t know how to defecate outside.”
Wait.
What.
A mixture of horror and sudden understanding flashes over the faces of your friends, and instantly you see their postures and moods change to ones of pity and compassion. Except for dash. She looks like she’s about to burst from trying to hold back laughter. Stupid gay-pride bitch… But back to the matter at hand.
“Oh, Anon…” Rarity says, genuinely sympathetically. “I had no idea, darling.”
“W-wait,” you start to say. “That’s not…it’s not…”
“Now now,” Fluttershy cuts in. “There’s no need to make excuses. I mean, you’re from a different place, one that seems to have very different customs. You wear those silly garments over your bottom, it must be hard to figure out how things are supposed to work when you’re wrapped up like that. You must have felt so ashamed and confused this whole time. But it’t alright now, we’re here to help you.”
Help you? What does…no, you don’t want an answer to that.
“That’s ok,” you say quickly.
“Don’t worry,” Fluttershy says, gently stroking your hand with one hoof. “I’ve potty trained lots of animals before. I’m sure I can help you too.”
“Yeah sugarcube,” Applejack says warmly. “She got Winona to piddle outside in just a day! It’s perfectly natural, no need to feel all bent out of shape n’ stuff.”
“Why of course Anon,” Twilight says, seeming to brighten. “Every creature poops! I can explain it to you in a step by step process if you-“
“No, I don’t need that, really.”
“But I can make diagrams and charts! I can get statistics!”
Ok, she looks WAY too happy about the prospect of poop statistics. You need to get out of this. Now.
“Girls, I do NOT need your help,” you say firmly. “I’m fine. I don’t need to poop outside, ok? Thanks for the concern but-“
Fluttershy frowns at you, and the sight is enough to make you go silent.
“But Anon, you have to learn. Everything that lives in my cottage goes outside to poop. See, I’ll start teaching you right now. Just take off those clothes and-“
“No.”
“Come on Anon, there’s a good boy, you can do it. We believe in you.”
“Nope.”
“We’ll hold your hand every step of the way.”
“NOPE!”
“I’ll watch closely the whole time to make sure everything goes ok.”
“FUCKING NOPE!”
This proves to be just too much for you, and you decide that you are officially, 100% done for the day. You turn to go inside, away from all of…this, and you’re greeted with a sudden, startling whack in the middle of your forehead. What the…
Standing there is Fluttershy, a rolled up newspaper in hoof. She’s hovering at eye-level with you, eyes and mouth set in this oddly disapproving way. She waves the paper in your face slowly, from side to side. Did she…did she just hit you on the head with that thing? What the actual fuck is she doing? It didn't even really hurt but...holy fuck, that's disconcerting. She is looking at you still kindly, but also rather sternly now.
“Now Anon, you have to learn sometime.”
“No. I don’t. I’m leaving.”
You once more move towards her cottage, and she raps you again. A little more soundly.
“That’s a bad Anon. This hurts you more than it hurts me. But you’re not leaving this spot until you do your business.”
What the fuck does she think you are, a puppy who needs potty-training? You study her, and from the look in her eyes, that’s exactly what she seems to think. And you don’t really want to fight her, but it looks like she’s willing to use force, pussy-ass force though it is, to keep you here. She's demanding you poop for her. In front of her. Now.
Well, this certainly wasn’t on your to-do list today.
You stare her down for a moment, feeling the eyes of the others on you too, but she doesn’t budge. This isn't solving anything. You’re losing this battle. You get the sense your back is against a wall, that you have no where to go, and this yellow hellspawn is giving you only one way out.
“…fine,” you almost spit at her. “You know what, fucking fine! If that’s what you want, fucking have it.”
You can see her smiling at you then, like a proud and expectant mother. She knows she’s won. With a sneer, you jerk off your pants in front of her and squat low to the ground. Making direct eye contact, you strain your body, staring her down as the sounds of your dirty work, and the smell of it too, begin to fill the air. You feel gross, but now you also just feel angry. You’re doing this to slight her, this is your very stinky revenge.
As you feel your waste start to drop from your body, you point at her, finger shaking with the effort of forcing one out so unexpectedly and so in public. You hear a muted squish as it hits the ground and begins to form a wet, disgusting pile beneath you. You hear the other ponies wincing and gagging behind you, and you hope they're suffering. You hope you make them all suffer for this. Thank god you had some of Spike’s dragon chili as your last meal.
“Is this what you wanted? Huh? Is THIS what you wanted to see?” the almost scream as you stare Fluttershy down, feeling your face grow red and angrier with every word. “Tell me, is this what you fucking wanted? You DISGUST ME.”
As you squeeze it off, she steps forward. You wait for her to cringe, to heave, to show some sign or distaste at your grossness. But to your surprise, she reaches out and gently pets your sweaty and fevered brow. Somehow, you feel even more violated by this act than any other she could have done.
“Who’s a good boy!” she says brightly. “I knew you could do it, I'm so proud of you! See Anon, now you’ll be able to poop outside every time, like the rest of us!”
You feel yourself gag from her words as well as the scent permeating the scene as she pulls your still shit-stained body towards her in a hug. You feel the other ponies step forward to hug you too, all crooning congratulations and encouragement. You suddenly find you’re sobbing with confusion and disgust, still gagging from the smell of your own excrement.
Today, all your friends watched you take a massive shit in the middle of town. And they love you for it.
…God damn it, fuck this shitty place.
-End-
