Chapters View Online
An Annoyingly Asinine Assemblage About Anon's Alleged Allegories: An Anonthology
Monday the Twelfth (Or Nightmare Night) (1/2)
Author's Note
Haven't we been here before? Ohhh, right.Starting this one-shot filled anthology off with a two-parter... *clicks tongue* Noice.
as per the norm with shit from me, i'll fix it whenever i deem myself able.
probably never.
Monday the Twelfth (Or Nightmare Night) (1/2)
"Anoooooon!"
Oh my God.
"Anoooooooon, please! It's impooooortant!"
Oh. My. God.
"It's not proper to leave a lady alone outsiiide! I promise you won't regret it! Pleeeease!"
Mother? Obviously, you're smart enough to know it's not your mom standing outside your three and a half foot tall doorway, but still. The resemblance is astonishing. It's also not Butters, she definitely doesn't whine... unless that's today guess: annoyance. Chances are unlikely, but still... Must be the white horse then. You stand up from your relatively small couch, crack your spine in several places—might be a little unhealthy down the road, and make your way to the door. When you pull it open, it's no surprise when you come face to... er, groin to muzzle with Marshmellow, clad in nought but a white detective-reminiscent overcoat. "Yo." You should probably remember her name.
"Oh, thank goodne—oh my stars! What is that foul odor?!" Her face contorts oddly as she reels her head back in disgust. Ah, time to take a shower that means. You leave the door open for her and make your way to the kitchen, your shower could wait. Can't leave a stranger in your living room, right?
"Whatdya want? If it's about that whole adopting Scooterdoodle thing, you can go fu-"
"Anon, language! And please do take care of whatever it was that," she shivers as she continues, "smell was." She moves into your living room with a flick of her tail. Huh, must be pretty bad this time. "As for what I want, darling, it's simple. You're a hugh-man, you're frightening. Mayhaps you could help me with a troublesome situation? You see-"
"First off, racist." You interrupt, snapping your fingers at her all snazzily—why is the only show you think of here Keeping Up with the Karda—er, not something you should admit, not even to yourself. Just... just continue the conversation with what's-her-name. "Secondly, can I say no?" Her hoof flies up to her chest ~~or is it a barrel?~~ with shock.
"Of course, dear! Don't you ever, ever think I would force you in a situation such as this-"
"So, no?" You raise a brow.
"No." She huffs.
"But it's really important! And you're the only pony, er... hugh man that can help me!" Why is it she's the only one of these horses that can't say human correctly? Is it seriously that hard? Human, see? Even you thought it correctly. Oh, oh crap. She's saying something. "-it's just so unfair! Rainbow Dash doesn't even try with her costumes, yet she's the scary one. Puh-lease, all she does is sit on her cloud during the night and lets it go off whenever she so pleases. And I'm the one who doesn't do Nightmare Night correctly? Well, I never—my own Sister doesn't think I'm scary! I am, I am scary! In fact, so much so, I'll prove it to them. In short; Anon, darling, a little help?"
From all of that, only a single question arises in your mind. Something that burns so deeply, you have to know the answer. "What day is it?" And the look on her face was so worth it.
Her jaw drops at your question, and she shakes her head several times in disbelief. "I-uh-wha. " She raises her hoof again, catching herself looking like a fool and coughs gently into it. "Of all that, Anon, and you choose to ask me the date? Blatantly ignore all of my other woes, because what catches your wonder is the date? Why, I almost feel the need to smack you." With her eyes closed tight, her hoof now at one of her temples to ease her mind, you believe she was actually going to, but her eyes open and she holds a bright smile. "But! A lady never demeans herself in such ways, so I will simply oblige and answer your question. Today is-"
"I really don't care, oh my God. You, especially you, of all horses talk too much." You groan, bringing a hand up to rub your face in annoyance. At this point, you'd much rather have Butters try and guess something stupid, like Yellow. Screw that colour. "Point is, the Hell do you need my help for? Don't you all have like a hive mind or something? Just ask one of your friends, like that pink one, for help." Besides, you can't really be bothered to helping someone during Halloween. You'd much rather eat candy, get fat, and—why does that sound familiar? It doesn't seem like—oh yeah, Eighth grade. You shiver at the horrible memories of your crush pantsing you. Shaking your head, you look over the counter to her sitting idly on your couch, looking at you with those big blue eyes of hers. "Don't do that."
"Do what, dear?" Oh, she's playing stupid. Her eyes seemingly glisten as she looks at you. "All I'm asking is for you to make me scary, shouldn't be too hard for you. After all, you are a big, strong, handso-"
She can eff right off. "No. I told you "no" not even ten minutes ago! What makes you think I'm gonna change... my... mind. Huh." The little choo-choo train in your head slows down on its tracks as you look at a photo in her magical grasp.
"Wouldn't it just be generous of me, if I let this scandalous picture just... disappear?" Oh, that conniving... "It would be such a shame if this somehow made public, wouldn't it?"
You throw your hands in the air, defeat made obvious. "Fine! Jesus! I'll, ugh, I'll make you 'scary'. But if you come running to me 'cause you traumatized your sister or anyone else, that's on you." Your eyes follow the picture as it slowly drops into her pocket. The white horse claps her hooves together in blunt joy. It was kinda cute, kinda, but she has a very incriminating photo so that sorta nullifies the cuteness.
"Oh darling, it is absolutely wonderful you've decided to come around and help me. I'll be the most horrifying pony yet!" Her oddly cute laughter destroys the possible image of 'horrifying.' Despite having that Godawful photo.
Problem is though, I don't exactly know scary, so this might be an issue... so I might not even get it back-
But then, you remember a certain costume that took two people to pull off. Plop it in Horse world, and it might just do the trick. Pair that with the ~~only~~ best seamstress you've ever seen, it might also give these kids nightmares for life.
Great.
You are so getting arrested for this.
-----
"We are not dressing up as—as that! No!"
"Hey, watch it! You wanted scary, this was the best I could draw up!"
"Spike nearly had a heart attack when he came in half an hour ago, the poor dear, we are not using your—ugh, the answer is no!"
"Like it or not, White Horse, this is the best bet for you being scary. Now make the damn thing already, I don't want to be hugging your ass for too long." The piece of paper you presented her is the epitome of horror ~~in Horse World.~~ Drawn on the somewhat large sheet is a horse. A large horse that can come apart, thus the "two people" part of the costume. "If we split any time during the whole Trick or Treating process, we'll scare the Hell outta those kids. Maybe even some adults. You wanted scary, I'm presenting horrifying, least for you guys. And, if you make the costume, I'm sure you can make it lifelike. Kinda like that big lizard costume you made for Firefly and them to spy on that baby lizard-"
"Spike is not a baby lizard, he's a-"
"Ah, ah," you tsk, "baby Demogorgon, I know. Jeez, it's like you guys think I'm stupid. Anyway! Just make it lifelike and we'll be the talk of the town or something like that. Point is, it should work for your whole... wanting to be scary plan... thing." You'll probably stuff it with bags full of fake blood. It'll make the whole separating factor so much more interesting. Or you'll just be rushed to the hospital with horse doctors trying to sow you back up to Marshmellow's ass. You shiver and put 'fake blood' on the 'Maybe' list in your head.
Don't want anything too real. Even though it'll look fake as Hell to you; you have to remember, these idiots thought a potato dressed as a bunny was a real thing. Three days of explaining that and you still got sentenced for a month. "I want you to know, Anon, that I wholly resent this idea, but if it's to make me more of a fright for others, just for the sake of Nightmare Night, I will do it." Both of you are going to jail.
"Just, just make the thing already. It's the Eleventh—I hate how you guys date your Holidays by the way—so that means we've got one day to work on this." You raise your right index finger, a look of confusion crosses her eyes for a moment before she realizes you meant "one" verbally and physically.
As you said, idiots.
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An Annoyingly Asinine Assemblage About Anon's Alleged Allegories: An Anonthology
The One Where Anon Wasn't a Total Jackass (Dedicated to Vaalintine)
Author's Note
the original chapter name, outside of the one before this one and this one was going to be "Scootabuse, but not by Anon"
Hey, lookit that, I can make a not-asshole Anon. I mean, sorta.
I tried, okay?
Anyway, for all of those wondering why this one is dedicated to Vaalintine, it's because his comment on another story ( this one ) of mine actually got me to bust a gut. Going over old comments, it got me to laugh again and I'm like, "fuck it, let's work with this" lmfao.
Turns out, I can't entirely not make Anon an asshole, but I did a pretty good job at making him more reserved in this one-off.
But, whatever. Hope you enjoyed
point out any discrepancies, and i'll fix them when i can. i actually really, kinda liked this chapter lmfao
The One Where Anon Wasn't a Total Jackass (Dedicated to Vaalintine)
Scratching at your neck, you let loose a sigh as you stare at the door in front of you. Miss, erm... Cheerylee? Miss Cheerile? Shit, you never could remember her name, despite it being one of the more simple ones in this town. Regardless, Miss Cheery, as you have just now decided to call her, asked you, the sole human inhabitant of this Godforsaken dimension, to speak to her class today. You recall it being about something along the lines of how you've gotten along so far here, but other than that, nothing else comes to mind. Pursing your lips, you decide it's for the best to just get it out of the way.
Gently, you rap on the door three times and the bickering inside the small school building silences. A muffled voice sounds over it, "ah! That must be our surprise guest today, my little ponies!" Honestly, it's a tad odd that she'd ask you in the first place; given your reputation, you wonder what could have caused her to look past all that. You sincerely don't know. You wait at the door, your throat tightening as you dread the resounding hoofsteps from the teacher horse. Maybe you should turn back and, y'know, gtfo here? It's starting to sound like a good idea, frankly.
Just as you turn around, the door begins to open and you about-face, like, instantly. A soft grin peaks between the cracks, soon showing the cerise horse herself. "H-hi, Miss Cheery!" You stammer out, giving a nervous wave down to her. The door opens entirely and you see her smiling up at you, and beyond her, the entire class—nine midgehorses—stare at you with mixed expressions. Probably shouldn't have even knocked. Should've just left and slept through the entire day. Would've been better than this.
Ah, well, beggar's can't be choosers. "Anonymous! Glad to see you've arrived, I was just telling the students here how much of a great pon-er... hugh man you were." I noticed that fuck up, don't think I didn't. Racist. You shrug off the comment of how she was lying to her students and give a nod.
"Figured I'd, ah, I'd get out and do shisooomething, for once! Y'know?" Don't. Swear. In. Front. Of. The. Kids. You practically gnaw your tongue off as you see Cheery's smile waver for all of a split second. She manages to keep it in place and takes a step aside, allowing you to enter. You've got one chance, don't fuck it up. Swear in front of these kids and it's pony prison.
You've been there. It's not all that it was cracked up to be; your ass still hurts from your last, ah, visitation. Brushing by the teacher, the kids' eyes following your every move, you stop in front of the blackboard, Cheery following suit. "Well, class! This is the hugh man I was telling you all about! Anonymous, the Saviour of Equestria, Defeater of Nightmare Moon, and [REDACTED]! He's come to tell you all his journey, from a lowly street urchin-" wait, what, you weren't a fucking urchin. Shit, the moment you landed here, royalty—Sun Butt—was on your ass, throwing money at you like a prostitute! This bitch, "-to all of the titles he's gained today!" Throughout her introductory speech, the entire class ooh'd and awe'd as if they haven't heard your stories before.
Save, for one.
An orange midge horse with like, a... a violet mane? I don't know, you don't want to use the word cerise again, but whatever. This one you've seen before is what you were getting at. Not just seen, but know as well. While the other students are gawking at your exploits, she alone is somewhere else. She stares almost beyond both Cheery and you, in an attempt to feign paying attention. Shit, the only reason why you know this is because you've seen her do it before. You open your mouth to call out to her, to pull her from her head again, "-isn't that right, Anonymous?" But Cheery's voice pulls you back to reality instead. You blink, turning to look back at the fibbing teacher and give a dumb nod. She turns back to the class and continues, "you see, class. And this is why you don't do drugs," what the fuck? You weren't staring at the kid for that long were you? How did she get from introducing you to not doing drugs? "If you smoke whead, you die."
"Anyhoo, before I get too far ahead of myself, for the last thirty minutes I'm going to have Anonymous here regale you all, now! How does that sound?" About 6/9ths of the children cheer at this. You can already guess the other two outside of Scooterdoodle. Yep, that's right. Mama-beats-her and Closet Lesbian. What? You thought the CMC cared about her? Shit, they're too busy trying to get their cutie marks to notice Scoot's dilemma. Whatever, point is, teach is having you talk now.
"A-ah, hello everyone. My name is Anonymous and I've been smoking whead now for [REDACTED] months..."
. . . . .
"... and that's how I was born. As a prom night dumpster baby." The now mortified children and teacher stare silently as you move your finger out of the imaginary hole you made with your left hand. This continues for all of several minutes, the only noise that occurred was an awkward cough from one of the male midge horses, before Cheery puts on that crooked smile of hers.
"W-well, now. Wasn't that something, class? You learn something new every day—me included, evidently... " Her lips pull into a flat line as none of her students responds, You take it as a sign that you did your job. Albeit a very poor one.
You open your mouth again, but slowly close it as the bell rings, signalling the end of today's session. Also, likely, your last. All of the students awkwardly gather the shit at their desks, mumbling their farewells to Cheery. None make eye contact with you as they move through the door outside to their respective parents. Again, all save for one. Cheery glances between both her and you before going to her own desk to grade papers or whatever. A mumble under her breath. No one wants to say the obvious, not even you.
You take this as your chance to walk to the back of the classroom and tap the distracted midge horse's shoulder. "Hey, Doodle. What's up?" Your question draws her from her trance-like state and she looks up from her desk at you. "You haven't said a thing all day and that's sayin' something. Don't you usually yell at me? What happened to that girl?" Your prying questions garner a dry chuckle from her and she shakes her head before laying it on her binder.
"I dunno, A. I'm just not feeling it right now." She half speaks, half mumbles out. Her eyes lie half-lidded as she starts drawing invisible circles with her hoof. Other than that, however, silence follows.
You turn away for a moment to pull a desk next to hers, despite being twice its size. Taking a seat that you'll likely regret later, you slouch back and cross your arms over your chest. "Something happen? Grades killing you?" She lightly shakes her head, the fur under her muzzle creating a soft scratching noise against the plastic beneath it. "Boy trouble?" Even after a roll of her eyes, the same answer comes from silence. You purse your lips again and sigh, placing a hand on the top of her head, softly mussing up her mane. You didn't want to ask, but it had to be the reason beyond her attitude. "Still, y'know... having home issues?"
She doesn't shake her head, but she doesn't need to. It's practically common knowledge that her dad is a drunkard who doesn't give a shit about his daughter. It's why she kept asking to spend the weekends over for a while there. That stopped happening a bit back, though. You assumed that maybe things were clearing up for Scoots at her place, but maybe they weren't. Maybe they were just getting worse and you didn't know about it.
She tried playing it off as purple blush, that she only liked having it on one cheek because she's asymetrical like that, but you're not stupid. The dots connected themselves. You see her eyes begin to water and her jaw clench. You don't want her going in her head, not now. "Hey, Scoots." She blinks a few times and the dampness disappears.
Looking up at you, a curious yet sad glint in her eye, she quietly asks, "yeah, A?"
"Summer's almost here. Ready for weekend getaways again?"
"I think I'd like that..." A ghost of a smile forms on her face. Maybe not now, but one of these days, you'll get her away from that bastard. If she's willing, it could be sooner rather than later.
But for now? Just one step at a time.
An Annoyingly Asinine Assemblage About Anon's Alleged Allegories: An Anonthology
Day One of this Horseshit (1/3)
Author's Note
A three-part anontroduction.
Nah, realized I'd never shown how my Anon came to be in this Godforsaken hellhole. So I figured I'd just write it out my ass.
Enjoy!
any mistakes i made, i'll fix later
ha, we all know that's bullshit by now
Day One of this Horseshit (1/3)
Scratching the fat above your left ass cheek, you release a sniffle. Constipation was, of course, your illness for today and a perfectly good reason to call out of work. Mister Last Name can fuck right off if he thinks you can still come in with the rockiest turd stuck halfway in and out of your ass. Actually, he can fuck off in general. He's a prick. "Jerkoff thinks he can dock my pay just because I haven't shown to work in a few months."
"Tch, fuck you, dad." You shake your head as your bottom end quivers on the toilet seat.
Last Name makes you so angry, like, heart attack on the shitter angry. That's how much he pisses you off. You push with all of your might, the rock hard faecal matter ripping your insides as it slowly, agonizingly slowly works its way out of your sphincter. You swear you pop a vein or two just doing this. You don't reckon that's a good thing because your vision starts to blacken around the peripherals. Maybe you're pushing too hard?
Nah, gotta full throttle this shit if you want it out.
Taking a deep breath in, clenching your fists tightly to your bare thighs, you push as if you're giving birth. You can't, obviously, 'cause you're a male, but still. It feels like you're giving birth. "ReeeeeeEeEEEEeeEEEEEEEE!" With a shrieking scream into the heavens, you hear a resounding-
kersploosh
-and sigh the biggest fucking sigh you've ever had to sigh. You then proceed to fall limp, dead.
. . . . .
Groaning, you turn over to your side; amidst the grass, your cheek starts to itch and it kind of annoys you. Wait, lolwut? Grass? You lazily pull open your eyelids with them super strong eyelid muscles of yours and blink several times. The blinding light of the outside world around you reverts you back to squinting. With this nature shit as your wake up call, you raise a hand and rub the side of your cheek. "What in the Goddamn?" The invisible 4th wall that was beginning to zoom in on your face, as you murmur your astute question, backs the fuck up when you exit dialogue. You look up and see blue skies for miles, not a cloud in sight. Odd, considering you live in [REDACTED] where factory clouds kill you faster than age does.
Did you go on vacation or something? You don't remember what you were doing before you got here. Well, now that you think about it, vacation seems improbable because Mister Last Name won't give someone who doesn't work a vacay. Fucking asswipe. Even your brain gives a sassy impersonation of him, that's how much of a dickweed he is. You chuckle outward, soon quieting with a smack of your lips.
"But seriously, where the fuck am I." Glancing to your left, you see jack. To the right, you see shit. Put that together aaand? That's right! You get jack shit, you fuckin' retard. You're in the middle of bumfuck nowhere with plains for miles. Maybe a tree or fifteen. It'd be a gorgeous view if you gave a shit, but you don't. So, yeah. It's more of a nuisance if anything because there's nothing to see here. It's a boring cesspool of bore. With a capital B.
Well, shit. "Nowhere to go but forward," you suggest, even though that's fucking obvious. Really your best bet, at the moment too. You get up and prep a step forward—only to trip and eat dat grass. What in the fuck? Why're your pants down?
Were you drugged and butt fucked out here? Slowly, the stars begin to align in your head. "Hm," that... that actually makes sense. Your ass is sore. Your pants are down. And you don't remember shit from last night.
"Oh my God," you begin to mutter, "I'm not a virgin anymore! Fuck yes!" You pump your first while lying prone. You lower your hand to pull up your pant coloured pants. With that revelation in mind, you can finally get going. Maybe find out where the fuck you are. That'd be great.
Unless you're back in Alabama with your uncle somewhere about. Then it'd be a fucking nightmare. Shaking your head before you delve too far into repressed childhood memories, you stand back up and actually proceed forward. Staring ahead, all you see is looming fields of green and endless skies a'blue. God fucking dammit.
This is going to be a looong walk.
. . . . .
What feels like days—in all actuality, about the length of a Neil Breen movie—passes by and you finally spot something in the distance. A hamlet of sorts: homes, shops, a farm off to the side, fields of whatever-the-fuck, and horses. The works. This definitely isn't Alabama. Outside of everyone fucking their cousins, no one else in that shit ass state would even consider living in a place this small. Everything's bigger in Alabama—or was it Texas?—especially the people.
And redneck population.
Okay! Point is that it's someplace to go and you're going there. You seriously have to stay out of your head, right now, Anon. This is a life or death situation.
Well, okay, not really, but still. Just-just go already.
And you do, towards the small town. As you near, the mountains giving a lovely backdr-what. What. What the fuck. What in the fuck is that? On the lovely backdrop of mountains, you see a fucking kingdom or a castle or-or a fucking city. Like, built into one of the mountains. Hooo-kay. That shouldn't be a thing but is, apparently. Moving forward, still, your eyes remain on the impossible city for the remainder of your short walk. You probably should've been paying attention to the populace instead. Just outside of the town, on the opposite side of a bridge, you notice something odd about a horse nearby.
First of all, it's a small ass horse. Like, barely comes up your thigh. Secondly, it had a tattoo on its ass. How the fuck does a tattoo go over fur? Thirdly, it has a horn. Four-ly, it looks soooo fucking disfigured. Like, it went through a cartoon printer and it got jammed in the machine. Since when did horses look like that? Likely never, but you've never seen a real live horse before. So, yeah, that's weird. Reminds you of something you glanced at back home online for some reason. You shrug it off as you continue to notice shit about it.
Five-ly, it's white as fuck. With purple hair. Should've pointed those out sooner, but whatever. Either this is a really well-kempt horse with a horn taped to its forehead or maybe you're having a stroke. Let's go with option A.
As soon as the white horse notices you, which is weird considering horses don't usually acknowledge humans unless they're being treated like a slave, its eyes perk up. It begins trotting over you to with a grin on... her... face.
Since when can horses smile? Could they always do that? Fuck do you know, but it looks weird. Not the good kind of weird, either. Honestly, more like a fucked up R34 search of weird. Yeah, that makes sense. Anyhoo, it starts talking to youuuuuuuuuuu-HOLD THE FUCK UP. "Aha~! You must be new, darling. Such a strapping minotaur as yourself, on behalf of everypony in Ponyville, well... welcome to Ponyville!" Hahahaha.
Hahahahaha.
HahahahAHAHAHA!
Oh my fucking fuck. She called you strapping. That's hilarious. You know you have a small di-SHE FUCKING TALKED. WHAT IN THE FUCK. "Pleasure to make your acquaintanceship, dear. My name is Rari-"
"Shut up." You're already tired of her nasally ass voice. How many litters of puppies did you stomp on to end up talking to a horse? NONE ~~okay, three, but shut up.~~ Why in the fuck is she talking and where the fuck are you? Can horses talk? Is that a thing? Talking horses? Sentient, talking horses? Really?
She goes to speak again, "I-I beg your pard-"
"Shut the fuck up." But you weren't having it. No, nuhuh. That's not happening. "Where's a human I can talk with because this is crazy." She opens her mouth but you silence her with a zipping motion across your lips. "I was talking to myself, not you, Marshmellow."
"A-actually, dear, my name is Rar-"
"Say one more word and I'll yell rape." Her lips press together so tightly, they almost look like an anus. You put a hand to your forehead as you think aloud; "what the fuck, where the fuck, and why the fuck is this happening? Horses shouldn't be able to talk... not that I know of, anyway."
"I'm a pony, miste-"
"RAPE. SHE'S RAPING ME. SHE'S SHOVING HER FAKE HORN UP MY ASS!" You shout, walking away from her while flipping the bird. You cross the bridge and enter into the small town. The small town filled to the brim with horses of all colours and sizes. None paid attention to your rampant screaming, thank Christ, and you frantically stare between each and every horse you pass by. None so much as utter a word to you, being background characters and all, as your breathing soon becomes laboured.
What fucking paedophile's dream did you end up in? Cutesie talking horses, lopsided colourful buildings, pastel everything. It's like a moronic little girl's candy shop. One without a fucking door to leave. This is a nightmare! Horses continue to pass you by, not a human in sight, and you fall to your knees, defeated. You almost feel like crying, but you're a man.
Flushing away those tears, you whimper silently. "Where the fuck am I?"
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An Annoyingly Asinine Assemblage About Anon's Alleged Allegories: An Anonthology
Monday the Twelfth (Or Nightmare Night) Part 2
Author's Note
I haven't slept. I typed this all on my phone. I hate everything.
Goodnight and fuck off I love you all.
Monday the Twelfth (Or Nightmare Night) Part 2
Why did you agree to be the ass end again? Oh yeah, so Marshmellow could see the look on her sister's face... that, and she doesn't know how to walk on her hind legs while holding on to your waist at the same time. ALSO, you don't want her face in your ass. You'd much rather have it the other way around. Why are you thinking to yourself about this? It's done; the monstrosity her and ~~mainly~~ you created is finished and ready for tomorrow night.
"Are you sure about this, darling?"
"It was your idea in the first place."
"May I say to Tartarus with this whole thing then?"
"No."
"I'll give you the photo, please!"
"I got off my ass just to help with something, I'm not sitting down now."
-----
This is it, the day you knew was here—granted you knew it was coming since yesterday, but still—this horse has been at your house for the whole day and a half since she came to you (except, of course, to leave and grab some supplies) just for today. Which is weird, but pleasant, because her being here somehow denied Butter's appearance this morning. Always good, but still. She might come in for an attack later tonight, so it's best to stick around, er... shit, seriously, what's her name? You might have to thank her later for keeping fetish horse off of you.
Might.
"So, Anon... we are actually about to perform this horrid act, then? We... are about to wear a two-pony, er... one hugh man and one pony costume... and, for a lack of a better word, I apologize dear, kill us?" She grimaces as she looks down to her finished work. She bites her lower lip as she looks to you for an answer, which of course, you have one.
"Yeah, pretty much." Your own eyes were crossing over the empty costume; of course, it's infinitely better than your grade school drawing, but like you predicted, because of her, it looks lifelike ~~for their standards.~~
"Oh, what mess have I driven myself into..." She whispers to herself, still questioning her decision to come to you for aid.
"One that's probably going to land us in horse jail for a long time." You hear an audible gulp come from her throat and you sigh. It's time. "Let's go cause nightmares on Elm Street."
This, for some reason, sets her on a different line of thought. "Actually dear, Ponyville doesn't have an Elm Street. We have an Oak Lane, if you'd prefer we visit there."
"Screw off, just get in the damn horse." Who doesn't have an Elm Street? Regardless, you pick up your end of the costume, place it on the floor and shove your lengthy human legs into the pant-holes. Looking up, you give an annoyed sigh, before grabbing a bucket full of red filled bags and dump its contents inside your half of the costume. "Go big or go home, amiright?" You expect a chuckle, but the horse in front of you only whinnies in regret. "Fine, don't laugh. But hey, remember. As soon as we split apart, we both have to hit the ground. It's the only way these things are going to pop. And seem like we're dead. That too." You almost forgot about the acting dead part, you just want to get jailtime over.
"Yes, yes. Let's just, as you often put, get over this." You think even she realizes you're both screwed at this point.
"Get this over with." You correct before lowering your upper half into her ass. "Anyway, gimme a sec. Gotta velcro this thing shut." You murmer, trying not to think about where your head is going to soon rest. She whinnies in compliance, despite the odd pitch in her tone and you seal the lower portion of the costume to hers. You soon rest your head under her rear—the heat radiating off of her inner thighs makes you want to kill something.
-----
It takes a fat minute, but the two of you get into the groove of momentum; you pressing your neck tightly against her teets, her hindlegs over your back, both of your available legs move you forward with little to no more struggle. Really, it's like a fucked up version of wheelbarrowing someone. The white horse, who you have still yet to learn the name of, is well aware of this fact and it seems to have elevated her excitement for this plan. Even if there was none to begin with. "Anonymous, dear! I feel this may just work in our favour after all." You can hear her smile and you roll your eyes. You already knew this was going to work, but you refrain from saying anything... lest you taste whatever that foul aroma is that's irradiating from the horse's nether regions.
You both continue to walk—or trot rather—as one through Horseland. Nary a soul questions the costume... or "lack," thereof, in this case, and you begin to wonder just when this plan of yours will come to fruition.
However, that wonder disappears right quick. Nearly stumbling on a rock you couldn't see, your head grinds against the underbelly of the white horse; a moan sounds in your ears.
You. Fucking. Freeze.
She, however, does not. With a rip, the white unihorse falls forward without the support of her hind legs and her half of fake—oddly lighter than your own—blood spills behind her. You don't follow suit. Standing stock-still, hunching over her half of the costume, you bite your tongue.
A horse screams, but you don't pay it any mind. Because what the fuck was that?! That was not at all in the contract—you digress, as there wasn't one obviously—and was a violation of your person! This was blatant rape! Well, at least you think so. Whatever, your mind is too busy panicking to work out the finer details at the moment. She looks up at you, and motions with her head to the ground. "A-Anonymous!" She whispers harshly to you with a wavering blush across her cheeks. Ignoring that last bit, it seems she still wants you to play your part.
Fuck. You'll work this shit out later. For now? Action.
You flop on your side and crush your own packets, letting the scentless liquid pool around and stain your shirt. Honestly, it doesn't even bother you. You just turned on a horse, something that definitely never should have happened. Maybe you should've just said fuck it and went for the front end? Bah, wouldn't have made a difference. This shit already happened.
You stare, as dead on the inside as you are acting on the outside, at Rarity's ass.
Well, you remember her name finally, but at what cost? By failing your trick, she got a nasty treat. You sigh, no longer enjoying the sound of horses rushing for aid or other whatsits.
Worst Hallowcream ever.
An Annoyingly Asinine Assemblage About Anon's Alleged Allegories: An Anonthology
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An Annoyingly Asinine Assemblage About Anon's Alleged Allegories: An Anonthology
Five Minute Shit-fest, featuring Beck Foster (Apparently)
You're getting tired of it all: the horses, the villains trying to kill the horses, the horses, the horses that try and kill the horses, the horses. All of it, especially the horses, but no matter what you do, you can't escape them and their horseshit.
Take now, for instance. What you thought would be an absolutely normal day turned into the exact opposite of that, what with another human popping up. "Oooh, he's so exotic," "wow, he's so interesting," "wow, I like your accent, where are you from?" Well, fuck you Duck Fester. If he hadn't have shown up yesterday, today would've been fine. You probably would have just been sitting on a couch, jerking it to Mary Poppins or something, but no.
Stupid British people.
He's so smug, being drunk all the time and getting all the pussy he wants. Look at him, petting all of those cats Flutterbutter owns. He looks so stupid! You can pet cats too, granted, you're allergic to them, but still, you could.
Bastard ass.
You know what, no, you're not gonna deal with this horseshit. You're going to walk over to him and sock him right in his perfect jawline. And stroke your fingers through his absolutely tantalizing hair. And leave kiss trails down his gorgeously tanned chest. And-oh my God, this place turned you gay.
Deciding against doing any of that, you turn away from the jackass who stole your spotlight and head home.
Totally not going to jerk off to him because he's the only human around.
Yeah, you're definitely not gonna do that, you faggot.
Author's Note
Well, this took a route I didn't expect it to go.
An Annoyingly Asinine Assemblage About Anon's Alleged Allegories: An Anonthology
Through the Portal, We Go!
Author's Note
Yeah.
Through the Portal, We Go!
All this time there was a portal back to your realm. All this time, there was a way home. None of these goddamned horses... none of them told you! Firefly herself went into this portal and said nothing of the sort! You stare at the janky looking mirror in contempt. They wanted to keep you prisoner in this godawful land of talking horses and gay rights. They didn't care for your well being. They didn't care for anything but themselves.
You're only just now learning of this mirror because of a certain book that was delivered to Firefly. A certain book that can transcribe messages through space-time. A certain book you knicked from under her nose because you were bored. A certain book... that told you about this portal. Once every thirty whatevers or so, this thing opens up and you have no idea how long it'd been since its last use. But, you're hoping your luck isn't shit for just this moment. You don't care about saying your goodbyes, they never bothered to tell you that you could even leave!
Slowly, you move your hand towards the reflective structure, hoping, oh-so hoping it would work. The moment your hand makes contacts with the glass, your hope diminishes. For all of a moment before light begins to shine through from the other side! The glass ripples at your palm and you slowly push it through. Fuck these horses! Fuck all of 'em! You take a step forward and thrust yourself into the mirror, full throttle like.
Prismatic colours surround you, your entirety, your vision, everything. You could even taste green! Which tastes remotely like ass, but you're not complaining. You're outta here! Rainbows flash by, well, the colours of rainbows do, but semantics. You fall through an almost infinite spiral, seeing no end to the brightness. It seems indefinite. Maybe you made the wrong choi-
Something akin to a fart sounds in your ears and you're standing outside somewhere unfamiliar. The front of a school? A university? You don't know. Your heart pounds in your chest, fear and dread—essentially the same thing, but fuck off, brain—building up inside of you. Looking up at what casts the shadow you stand in, you see a statue, a horse with... with the head of a man? Odd choice, but... maybe... maybe it means you're home! Only humans can design something so fucking stupid! You break out in a large grin.
You take in your surroundings ever more and see the backs of many heads entering into the building you stand before. They look human. Oddly coloured, but they look human and you'll take it! You run up to a cyan looking girl, wearing a cheerleader's ensemble and tap her on the shoulder. As she turns around, slowly, ever so slowly, the grin on your face turns into a look of shock and revulsion.
"Nnneeeeigh!" The horse-headed girl whinnies at you and you scream, backing a solid ten feet away from her. You turn on a dime and sprint back to the statue, what you'd assumed is the portal back. Your hand encounters solid stone and you feel tears beginning to brim at your eyes. No, this can't... this can't be happening!
You pound your enclosed fists on the rigid material, screaming at the top of your lungs.
"Let me in! Let me innnnnn!" To no avail.
You were stuck in horseman land for thirty seconds/minutes/hours/days/months/moons/weeks/years. And you had no way of telling which one it was.
Fuck.
You come to a stop as you rest your head against the statue's base. You'd rather be stuck in Horseland forever than be here... you're not even sure if their porn here is hot enough to jack off to! You might-you might have to desecrate the sacred tomes with marker over these unholy abomination's faces... a sin you were unsure you could do.
You silently weep underneath the statue, at a loss.
Enjoy!