Not today

>Day you’ve had enough in Equestria.
>This is it.
>No more fetish attempts from Fluttershy.
>No more experiments from Twilight.
>Today is the day you’re going to kill yourself.
>You’ve been pushed too far by these tiny, talking, trotting horses, and it’s finally sent you over the edge.
>You stare at your ceiling from in bed.
>Maybe you can die from starvation if you lie here long enough and don’t get up.
>You lie there for a good 15 minutes, staring.
>Then a smiling, yellow face slowly creeps into your vision.
>You daren’t lock eyes with what you know is gingerly trying to enter your world today.
>”H-hello, Anon... How are you today?”
>Dammit.
>Your good upbringing as a child forces you to respond to your wannabe rapist.
“Fine. Go away.”
>”O-oh! I can’t do that! I haven’t shown you today’s guess!” Fluttershy responds.
“Oh joy.”
>Fluttershy peels back your covers in an attempt to rouse you from your bed.
>Maybe if you never start your day with your morning routine, she won’t be able to start her day either?
>She enters your field of vision and smiles awkwardly at your scowling face.
>”P-please get up, Anon! I’m sure you’ll like this one!”
“No.”
>Her grin becomes wider somehow and is accompanied by an odd squeaking noise.
>She obviously thinks she can outcute your levels of grumpiness.
>That’s never going to happen.
>”Pleeeeeeeeeeeeeeease?”
“No!”
>Thankfully her cheery jaundiced visage leaves your sight and you’re granted a brief respite to wallow in your misery.
>You say brief, because suddenly instead of you going to meet the world, the world tilts 90 degrees to meet you.
>With a mighty grunt of exertion, Fluttershy has picked your bed up and thrown you out of it.
>You go tumbling into your bathroom.
>You roll until you hit your head on the edge of your shower cubicle.
“Ow! Wait... That’s a good thing...”
>You lament that you didn’t manage to split your head open.
>”Now, get up mister! There’s plenty to be done today!”
>Fluttershy is showing an uncharacteristic display of ballsiness today.
“N-no! Leave me alone!”
>”Not on your life mister! Now get up and make me some sugar honey iced tea!”
>You find yourself staring at her big blue eyes.
>You’re transfixed on her gaze, unable to look away.
>Your body rises of its own accord and follows her orders.
>You let loose your bowels, staring at Fluttershy the whole time.
>”Now shave! And then have a shower!”
>Again, you’re a passenger in your own body as your hands pick up the razor and hold it to your throat.
>You will your hands to move as much as you can, begging them to end this all with a quick flick of the wrist.
>Fluttershy’s commanding stare gives you no such opportunity, though, and you complete your second S with no hassle.
>Showering is an entirely different ordeal, though.
>Fluttershy has to keep her eyes fixed on your own.
>She realises this, and so keeps her stare locked on your own.
>However, she’s free to move as she pleases.
>And so she gets in the shower with you.
>You let the hot water pour over you and your molester.
>She touches you in all the wrong places.
>By the end of it, you’re cleaned in crevices you didn’t know you had.
>But you feel so dirty.
>”There! Now that wasn’t so hard, was it?”
>You muster a grunt in response.
“Great. So what horrors do you wish to visit upon me today? I can tell you now that ordering me to do my daily routine isn’t my fetish.”
>”Oh, no! I’m sure this is, though!”
>Fluttershy turns around to present her dripping vagina to you.
>Nothing ever good comes after that sentence.
>Fluttershy grunts and moans as her nether lips part.
>Slowly, something blue and shiny starts to make its way out of her opening.
>It squeaks as it rubs against her inner walls.
>Fluttershy’s chest drops to the floor and she bites a hoof to stifle her moans.
>She strains and pushes as hard as she can.
>Finally, with a squeaking, squelching, sickening pop, the newborn is released from her marehood.
>It floats up and hits you in the face.
>”A-are balloon insertions your fetish, Anon?”
“...”

MEANWHILE IN ANON’S BRAIN
>”RED ALERT! ALL HANDS ON DECK!”
>”Sir, where do we file this?!”
>”I DON’T KNOW! I DON’T EVEN KNOW WHAT WE JUST SAW! WE WEREN’T TRAINED FOR THIS!”
>”Sir! We’re getting a message from stomach! He says he wants to barf, but we haven’t had breakfast yet!”
>”Tell him we’re sick and tired of his bullshit and he’d better keep it down! We just had a shower and we don’t want to have another!”
>”Sir, this recording! It’s volatile! We need to file it somewhere!”
>”PUT IT IN THE BACK OF THE FILING CABINET AND LOCK IT! THEN SET THE CABINET ON FIRE! THEN SET THE KEY ON FIRE AND SWALLOW IT! THIS IS NOW OFFICIAL PROTOCOL FOR ANY OF FLUTTERSHY’S ANTICS!”
>”Sir, skin is getting a message! IT TOUCHED US!”
>”AAAAAAAAAAH! AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH! OH SWEET LORD, NO! ABANDON SHIP! WOMEN AND NEURONS FIRST!”

>”S-so is it, Anon?”
“...”
>You casually push Fluttershy out of the way and silently make your way downstairs.
>You put your shoes on and grab your jacket as you leave the house.
>Fluttershy follows you, looking at you inquisitively.
>It takes a few minutes, but eventually you reach your destination.
>You look down from the top of Ponyville dam.
>The fall will definitely kill you.
>”A-anon... You’re scaring me...”
>You turn around with your back to the lethal descent.
>You look at Fluttershy with your best poker face.
>She takes this as a sign of approval.
>”S-so... Are balloons your fetish?”
“Not today.”
>You fall backwards off the dam.
>The wind whistles around your ears as gravity takes a hold of you in its cruel embrace.
>You look up at the shocked face of Fluttershy, who already has tears in her eyes despite her confusion.
>She gets further and further away from you.
>Soon she’ll be out of your life forever.
>Down and down you fall.
>You shut your eyes, anticipating the terminal conclusion to your journey.
>*POMF*
>Ah... Finally...
>Bliss.
>It turns out that hitting the ground at terminal velocity is quite soft, really.
>You don’t feel any pain at all.
>In fact, it feels quite nice – like you’re floating.
>”O-oh! I’m so glad you’re okay!”
>You know that voice.
>It belongs to someone who shouldn’t be here in the afterlife.
>You open your eyes just in time to see a pair of yellow legs envelop your chest.
“No... NO. NO! WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON?!”
>You look down at yourself.
>You’re in one piece.
>And you’re not on the ground.
>In fact, you’re pretty sure the ground isn’t pink, nor does it have wings.
>You float gracefully on a bed of butterflies.
>They’re the same pink and blue as the ones that adorn Fluttershy’s flank.
>You bet she had something to do with this.
“WHAT IS THIS?!”
>”Oh! That’s just the antimatter butterflies! They’re a helpful bunch! I fell onto a group of them once. That’s how I got my cutie mark! Wanna hear about it?”
“NO!”
>You flail your arms and disperse the butterfly cloud.
>Without the pink insects to support you, you fall the last metre to the ground and land on your arse.
>It’s nowhere near as grizzly as you were expecting.
>You pick yourself up off the ground.
>You’re practically frothing with rage.
>”S-so... Are balloons your fetish, Anon?”
“NO! AAAAAAAAAAAAARGH!”
>You scream all the way home.

>You storm into your kitchen with one thing on your mind.
>You know the location of a big, sharp blade.
>It’s perfect for your intentions.
>Nothing can go wrong!
>You throw open the kitchen drawer and take out the knife.
>It gleams devilishly in the sunlight.
“Perfect...”
>Now, for the moment of truth...
>You hold it in front of you with both hands, point towards your chest.
>Should you just stab yourself?
>What if you don’t hit anything important and just bleed out?
>You could fall on it.
>Again, same problem.
>You grip it with one hand instead and hold it to your throat.
>Okay, well you could slit your throat.
>But then you’d be wheezing as you bleed out...
>Okay, you just need to give yourself a Chelsea smile.
>From one ear to the other, severing your jugular and carotid as you go.
>It’s like a really close shave.
>Somewhere in your mind, the voice of Johnny Depp echoes...
>”Make me proud, son. There’s a tin of a terrible impression of cockney jellied eels waiting for you up here...”
“Wait, you’re not dead!”
>”I’m not a cockney, either. That didn’t stop me from trying to be one! Now kill yourself, you tremendous faggot!”
>Well, you’re not going to let the ghostly hallucination of a living actor think that you’re a pansy.
>You place the blade of the knife against the side of your throat.
>You pause, feeling the bite of the sharp blade against your skin.
>You shut your eyes and contemplate.
>This is it.
>No more pestering from these annoying horses!
>Now it’ll all be over!
>”No, it won’t. And you’re using that wrong. *nom nom nom*”
>You open your eyes to look for the intruder to your house.
>Sitting on your tabletop is a familiar, pink, reality-breaking pony who appears to be eating cake.
“Pinkie... What are you...?”
>”You were using that knife all wrong, Nonny! So I knew I definitely had to show you how to use it properly!”
>You look her hooves to see her ‘holding’ your knife in the crook of a leg.
>Sure enough your hands are now empty.
“H-hey! That’s mine! Give that back!”
>You lunge at Pinkie, but she deftly dodges your attack by ducking.
>You sail over her completely and land in a crumpled heap on the other side of the room.
>”But Nonny, you obviously don’t know how to use it properly! Let auntie Pinkie show you how it’s done!”
>Pinkie twirls the knife on her hoof... somehow, and proceeds to stop it dead with seemingly no external influence.
>She then starts juggling it from hoof to hoof and performing tricks with it.
>She spins it on the tip of her nose and throws it up into the air with a flick of her neck.
>As it falls threateningly to her soft, pillowy form, she snatches it from mid air with her teeth.
>She then carefully cuts a 3-tier birthday cake that sits next to her.
>You don’t think that was even there a second ago...
>Before you can question it further, Pinkie thrusts a slice of cake into your mouth.
>”Here you go, Nonny! Enjoy!”
>Your mouth and throat are full of chocolate, rendering you incapable of replying to the pink party pone.
>It also takes away your ability to breathe.
>You panic and flail initially, but then realise that this helps you on your way.
>You smile at Pinkie, smug in the knowledge that although she foiled one of your suicide attempts, she has unwittingly helped you on your way to death’s door anyway.
>”Oh, Anon! I’m glad you like it! Here, have another slice!”
>Pinkie crams another slice of chocolate death into your mouth.
>Your cheeks strain from the amount of food that has been crammed into your maw.
>You smile at Pinkie even more and give her the thumbs up as your vision starts to go black around the edges.
>Pinkie gets the biggest grin of all on her face and proceeds to shove slice after slice of cake into your mouth.
>Your jaw aches from the amount of baked goods that you’re holding, but you endure it, safe in the knowledge that the skeletal pony with the scythe standing by your door will soon take you to your rest.
>Your eyelids start to droop as you find yourself drifting off into deep sleep...
>”Nonny? Nonny! Oh no! I got carried away again... Don’t worry, Nonny! I’ll save you...”
>Pinkie’s voice trails off as you find yourself wrapped in the embrace of dark oblivion.
>It’s weird though.
>That skeletal pony almost looked like he was smiling at you.

>*GULP*
>*GASP*
>Cool, refreshing air fills your lungs once more.
>”Nonny! Nonny! Are you okay?”
>You breathe deeply, inhaling and exhaling with frightening speed.
“W-what? WHAT?”
>”Oh, Nonny! I’m so sorry! I’m so glad you’re alright! I sometimes forget to breathe myself when I end up eating too much cake and so then I have to massage my throat to get it all down into my belly and it’s not nice, but you’re really lucky to have me here after all, even if I did cause your problems in the first place and I’m really sorry, but...”
>You clamp her muzzle shut with a hand.
>You pick up the jabbering pony and carry her to your front door.
>You throw her outside.
>When she hits the floor she explodes into a pile of confetti.
>Uh...
>Problem solved?
>Wait.
>Problem not solved.
>Not solved at all.
>You’re still alive.
>This calls for desperate measures.

>You walk lethargically, but decisively through the market.
>The amount of cake in your belly is weighing you down, but you know exactly what you need here.
>You don’t spare the inquisitive ponies a glance as you march down the road to the vegetable stalls.
>”Boy howdy there, Sugarcube! You’re lookin’-“
“Shut up, background pony.”
>”Hey, at least I got more episodes than Rarity this season.”
>She has a point.
>You walk past Applejack’s stall towards your destination.
>”Whoa, hey Anon-dude! You’re like, totally tubulariffic today!”
>The alpaca manning the stall is just as brainless as his wares.
>A spread of vegetables are out on display in front of him.
“I’ll take an onion.”
>”Totally cosmodacious, dude! Awesome choice! That’ll be half a bit!”
“Half? There’s no such thing as half a bit.”
>”But, like... That’s what it’s worth, man... You could get two! That’d be .75 of a bit, if you wouldn’t mind, my mondo man!”
>Your temper is rising again.
>Never mind.
>It’ll all be [spoiler]ogre[/spoiler] soon.
>You flip him a bit.
“Keep the change.”
>”Whoa! You’re, like, one totally prodigious pal! Awesome, Anon! Thanks!”
>You cringe at his words, but leave with your prize.
>You clutch it in your hands like it was made of gold.
>With a maniacal grin you regard its smooth, brown outer layer.
>This is your ticket to paradise.
>YOU THROW IT ON THE GROUND!
>It seems to squeak in pain as it impacts the hard flagstones of the road.
>Ponies around you gasp in horror as you assault the vegetable.
>You bring down a cruel boot to crush the helpless onion.
>It takes a few stomps, but soon you’re looming over a ruined vegetable paste.
>The pungent smell of onions fills the air.
>”What do you think YOU’RE doing?”
>A thick Scottish accent announces the arrival of just the person you wanted to see.
>You turn around to see a green giant of a creature towering over you.
“Just destroying this worthless onion. Got a problem with it?”
>Shrek leans in close to your face.
>”As a matter of fact, I do.”
>The smell of his breath is overpowering, but you keep up your tough facade.
>You can see Death waving to you from around a corner.
“Yeah, and what are you going to do about it, you overgrown fairytale?”
>Shrek gets a look of incredible anger on his face.
>”I’m going to wring you out like a big, wet, girl’s blouse!”
>You dismissively fold your arms and look away.
“Pfft. As if I haven’t heard that before. Go on. Try me.”
>Shrek looks confused.
>”You... You aren’t scared of me?”
“Not in the slightest.”
>”But you know who I am, right?”
“Of course. Though you peaked in your second film. It’s just not been the same since.”
>Shrek looks around nervously for a moment.
>He twiddles his fingers in bout of anxious fidgeting.
“And don’t get me started on Shrek 4. You had to be a complete idiot to not see that coming. And where was the humour? Wasn’t the Shrek series supposed to be a comedy?”
>”O-ogres have layers!”
“Your films don’t.”
>Shrek drops to his knees and embraces you with his meaty hands.
>He starts bawling right there in the middle of the street.
>”OH GOD YOU’RE RIGHT! I used to be funny! I used to have fun! But now all my movies are a bunch of ogreused puns and references! WE HAD BURGER KING IN OUR MOVIE! BURGER KING! That’s not even a joke!”
“Uh...”
>”I can’t help but feel that I’ve ogrestayed my welcome. The kids don’t want me anymore. I just want a nice life with my wife, but I went and messed that up in four...”
>All of a sudden the mane six surround Shrek and hug him.
>”There, there, Mr Shrek. It’s okay. It’s all ogre now.” Fluttershy consoles.
>”You know, you don’t have to keep making films if you don’t want to.” Twilight suggests.
>”R-really? I could stop being an ogre in a swamp?”
>”Of course! You could stay here in Equestria! Then we could have all kinds of fun and play games and eat cake and *GASP* THROW A PARTY!”
>”A party? I haven’t had a party in ages! Will it have slugs?”
>”Mmhmm!”
>”And bugs?”
>Pinkie nods her head violently.
>”And... onions?”
>”MOUNTAINS OF THEM!”
>”Oh wow... I’m just ogrewhelmed by all of this... But who will stay in my swamp?”
>All pairs of eyes fall to you.
“Whoa, whoa. No way. I’m not living in a swamp...”
>”But you’re so much of a better ogre than me! You made me cry!”
“I was just acting ogre the top to... Ah goddammit, you got me doing it now!”
>”You’re perfect, Anon! I’ll send you now.” Twilight says as her horn glows purple.
“No! Wait!”
>With a flash of light you find that your surroundings have changed drastically.
>It’s smelly, muddy and the only sign of civilisation is a sign warning it to keep out.
“Well that backfired...”
>”Shrek, is that you?”
>A door in the stump of a tree opens up to reveal a female ogre in a green dress.
>”You’re not Shrek!”
“Uh... no.”
>Fiona suddenly licks her lips seductively.
>”But you’ll do.”
“No... NO. NO!”
>And that’s the tale of how you ended up
>Fucking Fiona.

>”Heya Anon, where the white wimmin at?”
“NO, DONKEY! NO!”