The Anoniad

O sweet-tongued Lyra, sing again the song
of dumb Anon, the green ape lacking name
or sense, who thought himself a hero strong
of body, wise in mind, and great in fame,
but whom all ponies know as crass and lame.
Some kindly souls suppose his head was sick,
but those who knew him, knew he was a dick.

One rosy-fingered dawn, while Ponyville
aroused itself from Luna’s dreamy sleep,
a brilliant mare had read all night and still
her purple muzzle in her book was deep.
The mystic grimoire’s learning curve was steep,
but Twilight’s studious genius was intent;
her hungry drive to learn would not relent.

But Twilight’s eyes had, missing rest, grown dim.
The words and letters swam before her head,
and in her state she made an error grim.
A bungled spell that Twilight had misread
unlocked a gate. Anon stepped through and said,
“My faith in portals to Equestria
secured a ban from Wikipedia!”

His swollen, blubbered corpulence, a mass
of jiggling fat, o’ertopped his bulging jeans.
The putrid stench arising from his ass
was fruit of countless meals of pork and beans.
No job, no skills: he was no man of means.
A greasy unkempt beard upon his neck,
the unwashed basement dweller was a wreck.

“What loathsome horror stands within my sight!”
But shamed by her unkindness, Twilight leapt
to make amends. “My words were impolite.
I pray for your forgiveness,” Twilight wept.
“I’ll send you promptly back now, please accept!”
Upon her brow were beads of fearful sweat.
She knew not why but thought he was a threat.

“Forsake a place where those like me are prized?
A stallion lasts but moments in a mare,
but man’s endurance is well-publicized!
The human organ is beyond compare;
you too will offer me your derriere.
Observe your joy, my +2 pleasure sword!
You brought me here, so take it, your reward!“

The monster peeled away the sticky shirt
that said, “I want to cum in Rainbow Dash.”
Undoing his belt—his eyebrows raised to flirt—
he dropped his pants, revealed an oozing rash,
and threw his tattered undies in the trash.
“And now, sweet Twi, it’s time for us to play.
I’ll buck your hind so hard I’ll make you neigh.”

The gross display clogged Twilight’s brain with shock.
The fetid, nauseating, loathly sight,
the slipp’ry, slimy slug, the noxious cock-
-atrice becursed poor Twi and drizzled blight
on her before the mare could take her flight.
The hex sank into flesh and into bone;
from dock to nose she turned into a stone.

Anon’s unsated lust for flank propelled
him into town, where ponies, young and old,
diverse in tribe and color, were repelled.
They fled from him in gallop uncontrolled;
none stayed to watch the tragedy unfold.
To his foul lechery all mares looked good:
to foal and milf alike, he thought, “Would.”

The Bearers of the Elements were fleet
to arm themselves for war against Anon.
With Dash’s speed no mortal could compete;
The earthy hooves of Applejack had brawn;
Arrayed in armor, Ra-ra strutted yon;
Fun Pinkie tumbled in with comic flair,
while kindly Fluttershy was poised to stare.

Anon was like no villain they had faced.
His brain was empty of what passed for thought;
his blood had surged to body parts unchaste.
The mighty bearers with their friendship sought
to save the townsfolk from the juggernaut.
No spell nor hoof nor weapon had effect;
when all was clear, Anon was still erect.

Sad Ponyville was helpless to defend
itself against the shambling mindless fiend.
Of lust and filth the monster was a blend;
from here to there, unthinking it careened;
each pony that it met became demeaned.
Unhappy victims, stripped of all their pride!
The fiendish ogre left them petrified!

In Twilight’s lab, machines began to click.
Her safeguards, tripped by crisis, reached for aid.
They sent a message to her mentor quick,
who came with hurry once it was relayed;
her godly power started its crusade.
Her transport used the message for its frame:
straight out of the machine the deity came.

Anon’s libido was insatiable,
his virgin satyriasis intact.
But royal strength was undeniable,
and the all-pow’rful goddess never slacked.
She called forth rain; his crust of soil cracked;
Celestia’s revenge, her sacred wrath,
was giving rank Anon a needed bath.

The cleansing water fell upon Anon
and soaked his exoskeleton of dirt.
He screeched with anger at the horse of dawn,
but layers that for years had sat inert
sloughed off, exfoliated without hurt.
His pallid skin was missing nat’ral pink,
but now at least his paleness had no stink.

Victorious, the princess cast a spell.
Across the land, a wave of healing spread;
misfortunes of the town she did expel.
The statues that so recently were dead
received her blessing, and their curse, they shed.
And wishing nude Anon to not expose,
she magically decked him in bright clothes.

“Anon,” she said, “you’ve much to learn about
the world. There’s no wrong way to fantasize,
but sometimes we have thoughts we don’t act out.
I’m merciful and will not demonize;
you’re welcome here; we’ll help you civilize.”
But shapely royals make the mind’s eye spark;
without a pause, he groped her booty mark.

The outraged goddess set her heels to buck.
With lust, the ape observed the princess spin.
In foolishness, he did not think to duck.
Up till his last, his face displayed a grin,
believing pony orgies would begin.
The imbecile his fortunes had misread;
with blazing rage she kicked him in the head.

Revenge befogged the monarch’s faculties;
through dust she dragged his corpse about the town.
Her fury mortals could no way appease;
she rent him for his insult to the crown.
Then Luna came and cried to her, “Slow down!
Such vengeance is unseemly for the sun;
your honor, sister, bids your fury done.”

The sun horse paused to tell how she’d been spurred
to so much anger by that wicked troll.
When Luna had Anon’s offenses heard,
his mass of malice weighed upon her soul;
she yielded to her sister’s righteous goal.
She vowed, “I’ll see that felon quartered, drawn,
and into bits his remnants I’ll have sawn!”

The sisters did not need the grimoire’s page.
Their magic ope’d a passage to a con;
the portal’s other end took center stage.
They threw the body fragments thereupon,
and left the quaking audi’nce with Anon.
“Beware that we’ll protect our little ponies;
we’re sick to death of Faust-forsaken bronies!”