Anon's Corruption: Part 3

>Be Discord’s right hand man, Anon.
>You are currently watching Discord completely buttfuck downtown Canterlot.
>Literally. He put a butt on a skyscraper and is currently raping it.
>Much to the displeasure of the residents.
>Man, what a guy.
>He always knows how to keep it classy.
>You’re watching this on a 42” plasma screen TV you conjured using your new chaos powers.
>It’s so nice to be able to get some human items again!
>You sit on your new throne in Canterlot castle with popcorn on your lap, idly munching away.
>But you need something to slake your thirst.
“FLUTTERSHY! GET YOUR BUTTERFLY STAMPED ASS IN HERE PRONTO” You bellow.
>Obediently, Fluttershy trots in, tears streaming down her face, but otherwise expressionless.
>”Yes, master? What can I do for you?” she asks in monotone.
“Get me a beer. And while you’re in the kitchen, make me a ham sandwich.”
>She flinches at the mention of ham.
>”Y-yes, master. At once.”
>She turns to leave, but her hoofsteps are uncertain.
>Welp, better turn up the mind control.
>You hold your plated hand up towards her, and blue lightning shoots out of your fingertips, sith style.
>It’s not meant to hurt her physically.
>Oh no. It does to her what she thought was so acceptable to do to you.
>It’s the equivalent of looking at enemies in Amnesia: The Dark Descent, but 10x worse.
>Her head feels like it’s going to burst, and her vision is now blurry and shifting. She’s dizzy and nauseous, and her ears are filled with a piercing din.
>She falls down, screaming in pain.
>You let her experience this for a good 10 seconds, then stop it as suddenly as it came.
“And be quick, bitch. In fact, just bring me my goddamn beer, then go get my sandwich.”
>She picks herself up, and turns around to face you.
>”As you wish, my master.”
>Her soulless expression is back on her face.
>Good.
>See, now this is how you do mind control.
>Fluttershy is in complete awareness of herself.
>But she’s not in control of her body.
>And you can watch what she’s doing and thinking 100% of the time.
>Bitch couldn’t even get that right.
>But man, these chaos powers are awesome.
>Yeah, you could have just conjured a beer, but that’s not the point.
>The point is that you swiped yourself some pigs from Applejack’s barn, then set it on fire when she tried to stop you.
>Fluttershy is well acquainted with those pigs. She hates harming animals.
>She comes back with your beer.
>You roughly snatch it off the tray she brought it on and crack it open.
>... Ah, you needed that.
>She’s still here.
“What are you waiting for? GET BACK IN THE KITCHEN AND MAKE ME A SANDWICH.”
>She hesitates no more and turns to leave again.
>Oh man, this is going to be good.
>She walks into the kitchen and picks up a meat cleaver with her mouth.
>In the corner are the three terrified pigs you picked up earlier, in a pen of sticks tied with rope.
>She approaches the pen and the pigs recognise her.
>Their fear is temporarily alleviated as it is replaced with hope.
>One of them, a sow you think, comes close to the edge of the pen and squeals, pointing at the rope on the pen with her snout.
>Fluttershy stares at her with cold, unfeeling eyes, betraying her inner turmoil.
>”No. Please. I don’t want to. Please don’t make me. NO. NOOOOOOOOO!”
>The butcher’s knife comes down, slicing the sow’s throat open.
>Through her body you can feel the warm blood splatter all over her face.
>She’s crying up a storm inside.
>Her feelings of helplessness and guilt wrack her psyche once again, as you’ve made her feel many times since you got your powers.
>In fact, it’s mostly another form of mind control.
>You held her up above Canterlot as the flames chased the fleeing inhabitants.
>You both stood in Discord’s paw, as he strode through the city, leaving absolute chaos in his wake.
>You said to her,
“You drove me to this, Fluttershy. This is all your fault.”
>You didn’t even have to try very hard to suggest it to her.
>Her mind picked it up and has ran with it so well that you don’t need to put much effort into tormenting her.
>But you do so anyway. It’s the thought that counts.
>She brings your sandwich to the throne room.
>”Here you are, master.”
>The tears have carved streams through the blood on her face. Fresh and delicious tears.
>You take the sandwich and stare into her face as you take a bite.
>Her eyebrows twitch, but otherwise she shows no emotion.
>Oh god, this ham is so good. You haven’t had pork in so long.
>But that’s not the point of this.
>You spit out the bite in her face and throw the sandwich and plate at her hooves.
>She steps back reflexively.
“YOU CALL THIS PIECE OF SHIT A SANDWICH? THIS TASTES LIKE CRAP! GO GET ME ANOTHER, AND USE A BETTER PIG THIS TIME.” You scream at her, literally inches from her face.
>You can feel inside that she’s begging and pleading with you to spare her from going through that again.
>But her body betrays her and she simply replies,
>”Yes, master.”
>And walks away.
>Yes.
>Vengeance tastes better than any ham sandwich could.