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- >Just another day in Equestria. Sometimes being the only human can really get the best of ya.
- >You’ve been here for months, astounded at the pony homes made from trees and stumps.
- >Pony’s are a friendly race; not overly dramatic or in-your-face.
- >Some treat you fair, others treat you kindly. Although arriving at harvest time was a bit untimely.
- >You work like a dog to support your own life; thank goodness you don’t have any kids or a wife.
- >You live alone in your small little shack; the walls plastered white and the curtains are black.
- >Although in Ponyville there is one fine mare you always wish to hold.
- >Her name is Lyra Heartstrings; her eyes orange and her mane a minty cold.
- >Days pass on and you wish to call her yours, but after hours of mental prep you give up and retreat through the door.
- I love you, Lyra!
- >You scream out in your head.
- >”Oh, Anon! Come here…I’ll lead you to my bed”
- >With a fiery wink she saunters over to your location, until you remember that it’s just a mental hallucination.
- >You sigh and get back to bucking.
- Oh, Applejack, why must you work me so hard? Maybe after work I’ll find Lyra and see if she wants to go…
- >Play a card game.
- >You sweat and toil the whole day through. When you first started your job, it was truly something to rue.
- >”Thankya kindly fer that, Anon!”, Applejack states.
- >Bucking’s not so hard after all, you’re actually starting to become pretty great.
- >With a little more practice and a little less slack, you’ll be treating Lyra to dinner in no time flat.
- >The Sun sets down on Sweet Apple Acres.
- >In your time here you’ve seen the Apple family is tough; ain’t no fakers.
- >You make your way back to your home. Hopefully soon you won’t have to go alone.
- >You walk to your bed, your boy weak and legs weighted like the dead.
- >Onto the mattress you tiredly flop, until at the door you hear a clop.
- Oh boy; here comes Fluttershy again…ripe with a new ploy.
- >You trudge over and fling open the door, and see the tiny mare sitting on the floor.
- >”H-hello there, Anon”, Fluttershy states.
- >”care for s-some afternoon r-rape?”
- >She turns around and presents her flank as she glances at your face, which is completely blank.
- Fluttershy, I don’t have time for this jazz! I’ve got to go and score a piece of Lyra’s…
- >Rump.
- >The yellow pony looks up at you. She really does look rather lonely.
- >”O-oh, I’m sorry to be a bother. Maybe I wouldn’t b-be so horny if I wasn’t r-raped by my father.”
- >You cringe at the thought; Fluttershy’s father plowing into her plot.
- Fluttershy stop! Just let me go see Lyra. And when I’m gone, don’t smell my shirts and clop.
- >You set off down the path, away from Fluttershy’s crazy wrath. Then you hear:
- >”Anonymous, wait!”
- >Fluttershy trots up to you. This repetitive action is never out of the blue.
- >”Do you like lettuce?” She asks as she produces a head, “I-is that your fetish?”
- Again with this, Yellow Timid? Your fetish guessing has really reached its limit.
- >She gallops away, trying hard not to cry.
- Fucking Fluttershy.
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