Anonpencil Writes Drunk: Just Desserts (oneshot)

>You sit staring down at the piece of cake in front of you.
>It’s obviously gone bad, but you say nothing.
>The frosting is tinged with green and looks dried and cracked.
>The filling melts out the side like a baked brie and smells similar.
>What the fuck even is this?
>Who makes cakes that smell like this?
>Is it fruit filling? Maybe something dairy based?
>Who the hell knows, but you dare not say anything right now.
>It’s definitely not the time.
>Mrs. Cake sits across from you, her head in her hooves.
>Her shoulders heave as she sobs uncontrollably.
>Despite all your time in Equestria, you honestly have no idea how to handle this situation.
>You just came in to the shop, Mrs. Cake offered you something to eat, she gave you THIS monstrosity and started to cry.
>What the fuck is even going on right now.
>Should you say something, do something?
>You extend a hand and awkwardly pat her on the shoulder.
“A-are you ok?”
>At your question she wails all the harder.
>Ok, that’s a no.
“My husband found out!” she bawls. “He told me he knew about my affairs and just left! He finally figured out that the babies aren’t earth ponies for a reason! I’m a fool to think he’d never suspect...”
>Really? Wow, you figured one being a Pegasus and one being a unicorn would clue him in.
“I’m...I’m so sorry.”
>You pat her again, trying hard and failing at being reassuring.
“I just...I should have never...”
>She can’t finish her sentence and breaks back into sobbing.
>Shit, what now?
“I can’t do anything right,” she cries. “I can’t even make cake right without him.”
>She gestures pathetically to the cake in front of you.
“No, no it’s great! It looks...fantactic!” you say, hardly believing the words as they come out of your mouth.
>She sniffles, tears welling up and streaking down her pale blue cheeks.
“Really? You think so?”
“Of course, you’re an amazing cook!”
“T-then why haven’t you tried it?”
>Fuck, she has you there.
>You force a smile and look down at the putrid cake with trepidation.
>She looks so hopeful, so desperate.
>You know what you must do.
>With a hefty swallow of air, you lift your fork to show her your intentions.
>She smiles through her sadness, lower lip quivering with emotion.
>You have to do it. For her.
>You spear the piece of cake and with a deep breath shovel it into your mouth.
>Instantly, you wish you hadn’t.
>A slimy, foul taste fill your mouth as smoothly as silk.
>It flows over your tongue and teeth, and before you can stop it it slips down your mouth into your throat.
>oh god...what is this made of.
>A taste and texture similar to raw chicken mixed with week-old canned tuna flows through you.
>Your stomach turns, trembles, wretches.
>Miraculously, you manage a smile and rub your stomach in a happy gesuture.
“Mmmmmh, good,” you murmer between gags.
>Mrs. Cake sighs happily.
“Oh Anon, what would I ever do without you?” she says so greatfully.
>Your stomach sloshes in waves, the terrible cake urging a new and terrible tide in your innards.
>Keep it down, you tell yourself. You can do it.
>But...what is Mrs. Cake doing now?
>She bats her eyes at you, and a low blush spreads across her cheeks.
“You know, it’s so empty here without a man around the house,” she whispers, scooting closer to you.
>Wat.
>What is even going on.
>She scoots even closer.
“I’ve felt so lonely, so vulnerable here,” she croons.
>Acid gurgles inside you, rising and twisting.
>Come on, Anon, you can do this.
“Oh?” you croak out.
“Yeah. You’re so good to be here, so supportive,” she murmers.
>She’s so close to you now that you can feel her body heat.
>You can smell her vanilla perfume wafting around you, stirring up the nausea already growing in you.
>What does she think she’s doing?
>She leans towards you, still batting her eyes and blushing, but now with obvious intent.
>You want to back away, want to move, but you’re afraid that if you do the sour bile inside you will rise up and take you over.
>She’s so close now, you can see her puckering her lips.
“I feel so safe around you Anon.”
>You wretch inside, everything swaying and pushing in uncomfortable directions.
>She leans in, her pony lips reaching for yours.
>Oh god.
>She closes her eyes.
>Oh god no.
>The space between you closes.
>It’s happening.
>Before you can warn her, you feel your stomach start to turn inside out.
>The contents of your days’ meals spews out onto her face in a sudden gush, topped by that newly eaten piece of cake.
>She shrieks.
>You continue to vomit.
>She tries to back away.
>You continue to vomit.
>She tries to close her mouth, which is filling with your vomit.
>You continue to vomit.
>After what seems like an eternity, you stop throwing up and blink to see Mrs. Cake completely coated in your stomach contents.
“Um….” You say, searching for words. “I’m sorry?”
“Anon, what the hell!” she screams. “W-why?”
>She’s crying openly now as she wipes the vomit from her face.
>Your brain rages as the nausea swirls through you.
“Well, maybe if you weren’t such a slut, none of this would have happened!” you blurt out.
>You clap your hands over your mouth just as another rush of vomit spews out.
>Mrs. Cake gasps and points to the door with one hoof.
“How dare you!”
“But-“
“GET OUT!”
“But-“
“OUT!!!!”
>She pushes you to the door and you stumble outside, vomit still staining the front of your shirt.
>She slams the door behind you and you blink into the sunlight as all of Ponyville stares with bewilderment at you.
“Ah,” whispers bon-bon to Lyra. “Mrs. Cake is at it again I see.”
>You blink at them.
>...What the fuck just even happened.

-End-