Rarity's Secret Diary, Entry #372

My lust continues to disrupt my daily life as it corrupts my soul further and further. This growing obsession locks its hand shaped tendrils around my body at random intervals, refusing to loosen its grip, constricting ever tighter until I'm forced to satiate it and relieve myself. This monster, this Anon, consumes my thoughts each day, leaving my mind blurry and primal. It must be magic. This isn't natural.

In my weakness, my fantasies have broken into reality, and I've let myself commit terrible misdeeds. Thievery, as I have discovered, is not below me. This toxin, this scent of his, one day I found its source: a cologne named after a rudimentary chopping instrument, from his alien world. Procuring it from his home was no difficult task. Through the night, I ran home, disheveled and high on adrenaline. I locked myself in my bedroom and hugged the sturdy object. I may have licked it a few times, but that's not important. I sprayed the cologne into the air and sniffed it. The scent was strong, overpowering. I coughed for a while, feeling that if I had sprayed it directly into a bull's nostrils it would go down in a second. My lower parts were drenched at this point. Eventually, I took note of its shape and, feeling heat take over my senses, did what any young lady would. Hours later, I cleaned it off and returned it.

Anon, my dear human, you ruin me. I long to be held by you, to feel your claws grip me, to be corrupted by your touch. I long to be your prey. This can't continue, I know it now. Pleasuring myself is no longer enough. I will have him inside me, by force if that is what it takes.

Rarity closed the gigantic leatherbound book, it shut with a sound that resembled thunder. She set it aside. A familiar set of five knocks, she heard, beating on the door to her right.

"Are you finished in there yet? I've been waiting for hours. I feel like I'm gonna explode," Sweetie Belle said.

Rarity sighed and used her magic to flush the toilet.

Anon stood in his bedroom, invigorated, as he stared down with his keen predator-like gaze at his own personal herculean labor. Two dumbbells. Twelve pounds. That's six pounds each. His brow tense as a single bead of sweat dripped down his forehead. Anon grabbed them both, and with the strength of Odin himself, he lifted. His forearms motioned upwards and downwards, mechanically, like he was some kind of heavy lifting, ass-kicking machine. Each time his forearms hit his rock-solid biceps, he was sure that if he had a shirt with sleeves, his gigantic, unstoppable muscles would be busting out of them at this point.

The weights hit and bounced off the floor. Anon exhaled with a deep growl. He cracked his neck and stretched, before heading out of his- THUNK. His skull hit the top of the doorway. A few profanities were muttered and he was good to go. Anon headed to the kitchen.

"I need some protein," Anon said as he stomped through his small-enough-to-be-uncomfortable-but-not-to-the-point-where-he-would-consider-moving-out abode.

Anon rummaged through his cabinets and fridge and disappointingly found little more than a single can of spinach. This silver can that now sat on his counter, he stared at with a furious, red-eyed glare. This strange world had its positives like inexpensive living and friendly faces, but a fat, bleeding steak, it lacked. Far and wide, he had searched. Every grocery store he could find, he turned over dozens of times, and always he came home emptyhanded. Nowhere was there a single morsel of flesh, not pork, not beef, not even chicken, unless he wanted to rob that autistic Fluttershy. This was his hell. This was a vegan ethnostate, and he was the lone minority.

"No more," Anon said.

Anon angrily grabbed the can of spinach, and crushed it in his hand, blowing the top off and launching the contents into the air. He caught the spinach in his mouth and chewed, hard and slow, not enjoying a single second of it.

"No more..."

Rarity looked at herself in her full-body mirror, up and down, making sure every inch of herself was perfect. The fine, red silk dress flowed across her body, with a deep cut at the front to expose her chest fluff. Her ruby red lipstick popped against her white coat, and she had liberally applied a wash of black eyeshadow. Her mane was curled up at the back, giving it volume.

After doing a few odd poses, she was sure that she looked like sex incarnate. She blew a kiss to the mirror and left her home with her head high and a smirk on her face.

Rarity stood outside Anon's door. It loomed over her; its sheer presence left her legs feeling weak. She wasn't having second thoughts, mostly because she wasn't having thoughts at all. With a gulp, she took her tiny hoof to the door, knocking three times, each one being accompanied by dramatic reverb. A long silence followed. Rarity could feel her heartbeat as each second crawled to the next.

Suddenly her thoughts raced. What was she doing? It was noon. It's not romantic to have sex at noon. But she wasn't looking for romance. But what about Anon? Perhaps he would enjoy a candlelit dinner. What if he thought she was a whore for being outside his home trying to get fucked? What if he beat the shit out of her for treating him like a sex object? What if she liked it? But what if she died from her injuries? Rarity didn't know how humans felt about these things, and with her paranoia growing, she considered running away then and there.

Creak

Anon's door gently cracked open. Rarity jumped, her eyes wide.

"ANON PLEASE I NEED Y—" Rarity blurted out.

The door flew open and in a flash of white, Rarity's jaw was slammed, and she was knocked to the ground. Anon walked out, stomping his thick brown boots into the dirt. He threw the door back, shutting it. Rarity sat, her eyes rolling in random directions and her neck wobbling as she struggled to maintain her posture.

"An... anon... huh... what..." she mumbled.

Anon stormed off, not paying any mind to the small white pony he just knocked out. Rarity shook her head and awoke from her stupor.

"Hey! Where are you going?" she said.

"I'm going to get what I need," Anon said.

Anon threw the door to Twilight Sparkle's library open and invited himself inside- THUNK. He rubbed his forehead and shut the door behind him. The interior of the oak tree was drenched in black, being only lit by a few small candles lying about on the table and some of the many bookshelves lining the walls of the main room. Thick curtains shielded the windows. In the middle of the room, covered by shadow, sat a large swivel chair that faced away from the front door.

"...what the fuck," Anon whispered as he looked around wide-eyed.

"I know what you're here for," Twilight Sparkle said. The chair turned to reveal her in a dark robe, with a hood concealing the top half of her face.

"If this is another roleplay thing—"

"Roll the dice, Anon. Kandarissia needs its hero," Twilight said, throwing a few pairs of dice in Anon's general direction.

"I'm not here to play Dickheads & Dipshits, you freak."

"Just one five-hour session, Anon. You know you want to try it."

"I don't have time for this," Anon said, before flicking the light switch. Bright white suddenly hit the library like a flashbang.

"OH MY SCIENCE," Twilight yelled, frantically throwing her limbs in random directions. The chair fell out from under her and she hit the wooden floor with a heavy, thick thud. She looked up, hood caught on her head, covering her eyes. "I'M BLIND!"

Anon took his giant hand and ripped the cloak off of Twilight in one solid, swift motion.

"Twilight, I know I've never said this before, but..."—Anon gulped—"I need your help."

Twilight's face instantly shifted from shock, pain, and horror to a neutral expression. Her body popped into a sitting position.

"How can I help?" she asked, smiling dumbly, staring at nothing in particular.

Anon pulled out a chair and sat at the table. He awkwardly tapped his fingers together as he leaned on the wooden tabletop. "I used to eat more than vegetables when I was on Earth." He rubbed the back of his head. "Actually, I never ate vegetables at all and-"

"And you're an omnivore," Twilight interrupted, "I figured this would be a problem eventually."

"So... wanna help a guy out?" Anon said, tilting his head and putting on a wide, closed-mouth smile.

"The question is actually 'can I help', and the answer is unfortunately 'no'."

One of Anon's eyes went bloodshot. The word 'no' echoed in his mind. His muscles tensed up and he began to sweat. With heavily restrained fury, he pushed out the words: "Why not?"

"Well, it's more difficult than you would think to get meat in Equestria. There isn't exactly an industry for it, for obvious reasons. You would have to venture out to a kingdom occupied by carnivores, or other omnivores like yourself if you were looking to buy some. Alternatively, you could get the meat imported, though I'm not sure you would be able to afford that."

"And you're not going to help me pay for that?"

"You made it very clear last time I tried to buy something for you that 'you are your own man' and that you would 'buy whatever you wanted' with your own 'man's money'," Twilight said.

"Well, I don't wanna be a man anymore! I'm a boy! A poor innocent boy that needs meat, now buy it for me, dammit," Anon said.

Twilight shook her head, "I'm sorry, Anon. Maybe you could try diversifying your palate. There's a diner with some great hay fries nearby, and there's always Sugarcube Corner."

Anon stood up. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. "You know what I've been eating for the past month? Grass. Fucking grass. That's all that's here. Grass sandwiches, grass fries, GRASS SHAKES! I EAT GRASS, I DRINK GRASS! MY SHIT IS GRASS! I'M FUCKING SICK OF IT! I'm not a cow. I'm not a pony. I'M A HUMAN BEING! I SHOULD BE RIPPING APART PREY ANIMALS WITH MY BARE HANDS!"

Anon's mouth had begun generating worrying amounts of saliva, and his sentences became less and less coherent. Twilight looked up at him with wide eyes.

"Y-you've only been in Equestria for one month, Anon. Maybe you should exercise a little self-control," Twilight said.

Rarity stood on her hind legs and peeked through one of the Golden Oak Library's windows. She watched as Anon yelled at Twilight, though she couldn't make out the exact nature of the topic. Anon moved his hands in strange ways. First, he made a holding motion, and then a swift, repetitive, open-handed motion. He seemed to become more exasperated as the rant continued. Twilight's hoof was in her face, and she was nodding. She was denying him something for sure. Rarity wasn't quite sure why Twilight was in those hideous cult robes, but it seemed to be irrelevant.

"THIS PLACE ISN'T BUILT FOR HUMANS. IF YOU CAN'T GET ME SOME MEAT, I'LL TAKE IT MYSELF," Anon screamed.

Rarity felt a flutter in her heart and electricity in her loins. An idea sparked into her horny little walnut brain. A sick, dastardly idea. She knew how she was going to court Anon.

The Golden Oak Library's front door swung open and Anon stormed out. Rarity cut through the grass like a blade right into his path. Anon nearly stomped right through her, but he forced himself to halt. He stood over her like a giant, dark cloud, and looked down with an intense stare.

"Anon, dear. If you wanted meat, you should have come to me," Rarity said. His expression instantly softened, and his eyes lit up like a puppy.

"You have meat?" Anon asked. His initial thoughts were of disbelief, and he was about to ask her what species she butchered to obtain the flesh, or why she had it to begin with. But he realized that it didn't matter. Hunger was more important than petty notions of logic and reason.

"Why, of course! As a businessmare, I have to break bread with individuals of all species. They are my associates and my customers, of course, even if they have unsightly carnivorous tendencies. As such, on special occasions, I have dinner prepared. So, Anon"—she pressed up against his leg—"would you like to have dinner with me?" Rarity smiled and batted her eyelashes. Apart from the last sentence, Anon hadn't heard a word she said.

"Yes, please. What do I have to—" Rarity stuffed his mouth with a hoof.

"Just come down to the Boutique at midnight, darling. I'll leave the door unlocked," she said. Anon nodded. Rarity ran off like a bolt of lightning, back to her home. She had much to prepare.

It was midnight. Anon shuffled heavy-footed towards Rarity's home. Looking like a shell of his former self, his eyes were sunken in, his face was covered in sweat, and his hairline had shifted backward an inch. He looked like he got his ass kicked. He was exhausted, but he couldn't allow himself to sleep, not until he had his fill. Anon's mind was locked on a single idea: devour.

He kicked the door in and- THUNK.

"GODDAMMIT," Anon said calmly. He slammed the door, and whipped his head left and right, looking all around. The inside of the Boutique was nearly pitch black, save for a trail of candles and roses strewn about on the marble floor. The trail led into an open doorway and down a staircase.

Following the path sobered Anon up a tad as he began to realize what was happening. Rarity was always a little too friendly towards him, and he had picked up on her signals the moment he met her. Despite being a little adventurous sexually, he drew a harsh line at bestiality, regardless of the animal's sapience. For this reason, he rejected any romantic gestures thrown towards him... until today.

This was now a troublesome situation. Anon thought about calling it quits. He was craving meat, but not to the extent that he would sit down for a romantic dinner with a horse, or worse, let it go further than that. Thinking, he stayed on the path. He knew at that moment that he would draw a hard boundary between himself and Rarity, meat or no meat. This would be a platonic dinner between friends.

He came to the end of the staircase. Metal chandeliers hung from the ceiling. The basement walls were composed of stone bricks, and the floor was a smooth grey. The trail of candles spread out to the outer edges of the long hallway. He saw dribblings of a clear liquid that lead deeper into the hall. Anon ventured onward, feeling a little intimidated by the almost medieval—though well-kept—scenery.

After a while, the hallway opened up into a larger, dome-shaped room. Wooden accents now lined the stone walls, lanterns hung from the support pillars, and chains were thrown about the room. The floor instead of a smooth stone was a hard walnut wood floor.

Anon's jaw dropped to the floor when he saw what was in the middle of the room.

In the distance, atop a long, wooden dining table, was the fattest, greasiest ham he had ever seen. He was far away from the table, but he was sure of what he saw. The ham was adorned with purple ribbons and had a large sphere of bacon on the front of it that trailed downwards to a point. It looked juicy, with fluid dripping from it.

Anon's mind went into full monkey mode. All higher brain functions had shut down completely. With all his strength, he launched himself fifty feet into the air, a hot trail of smoke was left in his wake. His tongue flapped in the wind as he began to fall head-first towards the fat chunk of meat.

"YES," Anon bellowed, his voice echoing.

Rarity, with a fat, red apple shoved into her mouth, looked up from the table. Her eyes widened as she saw Anon, with his open maw of sharp, knife-like teeth, and his eyes locked onto her body. She tried to run, but her limbs were held together tightly by the ropes she had applied. The apple was spat out and Rarity screamed as loudly as she could.

Anon swan dived straight into Rarity's asshole, his entire head and shoulders penetrating her.

"SWEET CELESTIA!" Rarity shouted.

His body slid deeper until he settled, half of his torso inside her. Rarity let out a throaty, hoarse yell. She felt his hands search around her internals, and then he began grabbing and pulling. Roughly, Anon started snatching intestines and vital organs and shoving them into his gaping mouth.

"HELP ME," Rarity shouted.

Anon wasn't thinking. He couldn't; the hunger had taken him over. His teeth shredded through her intestines, his claws ripping through organs like a wood chipper. Pound by pound, he gradually cleaned out her insides. Organ by organ, limb by limb, until there was nothing left of Rarity but a pristine, white skeleton.

There, lying on the large wooden table, his belly fat and full, Anon stared up at the ceiling with half-lidded eyes and a wide, closed-mouth smile. He rubbed his tummy, and let out a large, satisfied belch.

He always did like his meat rare.

Author's Note

hehe get it? :3