"Hi, everypony! I'm Anonymous, and I'm here to get busy!"
No one in Ponyville town-square seemed to pay the olive-coloured interloper any attention. But he looked like he was having a good day anyway.
First, Anonymous noticed a yellow pegasus pony named Fluttershy. He wanted to talk to her, so he went up to her to talk to her.
"Hi, Fluttershy!" he said. "I'm Anonymous. Isn't it a great day to be alive?"
Fluttershy squinted into the sun, because Anonymous was standing in front of it.
"Um... I guess so?"
Anonymous smiled at Fluttershy.
"I knew you'd agree."
Fluttershy smiled awkwardly back at him.
"So," Anonymous said.
"Want to have sex?"
Fluttershy hit him over the head with a large metal bar until he went unconscious.
Anonymous woke up a few hours later on a park bench with a large lump on his head. It hurt a bit, but not too much. He decided to ignore it, rather than do anything about it. Problems usually went away if you ignored them.
Somehow, it seemed like everypony in town was busy with something. There was barely anypony around.
Well... Anonymous saw Caramel, hanging out by himself on the swing-set. Pushing an empty swing.
"Oh well, I guess. Any hole's a goal."
"Hmm?" Caramel looked up from his pushing, seemingly noticing Anonymous for the first time. Maybe Caramel had been pretending not to notice him.
"Hi!" Anonymous said. He walked over to Caramel and looked at him. He was a pretty horsey with a nice mane and a butterscotch coat. You had to say 'butterscotch' because if you said 'caramel' you'd be redundant. Everypony knew who Caramel was. Anonymous wanted to get to know him better.
"Hi," Caramel said back. He didn't seem as wary as Fluttershy. That was good.
"I'm Anonymous," Anonymous said, as though that was all the introduction necessary.
"Uh, hi," Caramel said again. "I'm Caramel—"
"I know who you are." Anonymous smiled at him.
Caramel's smile started to get a little uneasy.
"You do?" Caramel scratched his head. "That's interesting, because I don't think we've—"
"Have you ever thought that it'd be really convenient if you didn't have to like mares anymore?" Anonymous asked. "Like, there are so many pretty mares and fillies in Ponyville, but none of them want to give you the time of day... so what if you and your stallion buddies just decided to make the best of what you had? Technically speaking?"
Caramel was beginning to sense a stranger danger, and that wasn't even his special talent.
"I really don't think sexual preference is a matter of 'what's available'," Caramel said. He was judging whether or not he could make it to the park fence and jump over in the span of a few seconds. Before Anonymous could catch him.
"Yeah, but the more you think about it, the more sexual satisfaction is just a byproduct of our evolutionary imperative. If we didn't need to procreate, it's likely we'd never be born with an innate proclivity towards heterosexual intercourse in the first place. And if you close your eyes, the moisture and the friction feel just the same..."
Caramel pulled out a miniature blow-dart gun he'd been saving for an emergency. The single loaded dart contained enough tranquilizer to put an elephant into a permanent brain-coma. It'd probably work for about fifteen minutes to subdue Anon's lust.
Thwip. The dart landed in Anon's neck with a sound like a spitball being fired. He slapped at his neck with his hand to find the small, feathery dart protruding from his skin.
"Bwuh?" he said.
Then he fell over and hit his head on the swing-set.
Caramel ran away.
"So it's like everypony was avoiding me," Anonymous said. He had a bag of ice for his head, which he was holding on the various lumps at intervals. He was sitting in Celestia's castle, across the table from Celestia. Both of them had a cup of tea.
Celestia's was chamomile. She took a sip and nodded.
"It's like they didn't realize I was transported to Equestria to serve as a plausible self-insert for human fans," Anon said. "If I can't have wanton intercourse with anypony I meet, how are horny readers supposed to exercise their pent up sexual frustrations? How are they supposed to get their required dosage of... pony-p—"
"It is certainly a matter deserving of attention," Celestia said. She finished off her tea and set the cup down gently on its saucer. "So you mean to say that you accosted everypony you met today for... 'intimate encounters'?"
Anon nodded.
"Yep. I even thought about strolling by Twilight's Friendship School, to see if I could rustle up any—"
"I believe there may be a simple solution to this problem," Celestia said. She stared off into the later-afternoon sunset, the golds and purples weaving around the mountains and wisps of cloud.
Anon chugged his tea, which had til now been untouched, and shuddered before he put his cup back.
"Eugh," he said. "What kind of tea was that, anyway?"
"Sleeping draught," Celestia said nonchalantly.
Anon raised his hand with his index finger extended, then fell sideways away from the table and landed with an unpleasant 'thud' on the ground.
Celestia smiled.
Two weeks later, Anonymous was in the basement of the Canterlot castle. It probably had a good basement. And he was strapped to a table, naked, with a bunch of wires connected to his chest and head and body. And his eyes were twitching, like the way a dog does when it's dreaming about chasing something.
Celestia and Twilight Sparkle were standing next to the table Anonymous was strapped to. They were both smiling.
"I've managed to create a system to convert mental perversions into usable energy. With only one subject, we've already collected enough reserve power to keep Ponyville warm through at least three winters. Maybe four."
"And you are sure there is absolutely no potential of the apparatus malfunctioning and causing... problems?"
"Well... I've been monitoring the surges in output. I suppose with enough concurrent fluctuations, potentially, the array could overload..."
"Would that cause harm to anypony in proximity?"
Twilight let out a deep sigh and smiled.
"Oh, no, nothing like that. It'll just melt him like a cheese pizza in a microwave."
"There are sacrifices we must all make for the good of others."
"I think if we increase the terror level of his nightmares we can get an extra eleven percent output."
"That's my faithful student."
Author's Note
five days of unable to write and this is what we produced
it is a grim timeline
