[RGRE] Anon the Cakeslut


                                            >Day stripper/cakesmith in Equestria.


                                            >You are Anon, and as your calendar implies, you are Pinkie Pie's co-worker at Sugercube Corner.

                                            >And right now, you are being forcefully evicted from the kitchen by an amused Mrs. Cake.

                                            >"Don't feel too badly about it, Anon. He's just over-reacting again."

                                            >You turn your head back to see a pouting Mr Cake staring at you. As soon as he makes eye-contact, he whips his head back around towards the kitchen, and resumes cleaning up your mess.

                                            "I still don't understand what's gotten him so upset."

                                            >Mrs. Cake sighs.

                                            >"He's.... passionate, Anon. He knows better than anypony else that the way to a mare's heart is through her stomach."

                                            >She brings you to the back room and begins to rummages through some cardboard boxes.

                                            >"And when you told him you didn't know how to cook, well...."

                                            >She pulls her head back up, a light-red piece of cloth in mouth, which she deposits on the ground.

                                            >"He took it upon himself to teach you."

                                            >You snicker.

                                            "And we saw how well /that/ went."

                                            >Mrs. Cake laughs along with you.

                                            >"Sweetheart, I have /never/ seen a stallion as bad at food prep as you are."

                                            >That's a little bit harsh. You lived alone before you arrived in Equestria, and you managed to survive without a huge mount of take-out food or canned beans.

                                            >"I think he saw it as a mixture of failure on his part, and also worry for you."

                                            >Worry? Jesus, you weren't THAT hopeless when it came to feeding yourself. Hell, you've lost weight already just from cutting meat (and junk food) out of your diet!

                                            "Worried about what? That I'll be unable to fatten myself up in time for winter?"

                                            >Mrs. Cake sighs and shakes her head.

                                            >"No, Anon, I mean he was worried that you would have a hard time gathering a herd."


                                            >Not this shit again. You were in Equestria for /maybe/ a week before your caretaker/interviewer/jailer brought up the mating rituals of ponies.

                                            >Apparently you, being male, needed to have a certain range of skills in order to attract a "proper herd".

                                            >>"One that will treat you right and provide for you and your foals", Twilight told you.

                                            >As that implies, the males in Equestria didn't exactly do the heavy lifting.

                                            >You remember when you applied at Applejack's orchard as a farmhand.

                                            >After she was done laughing, Applejack pointed you in the direction of the SCC and told you that Pinkie might be able to talk things over with the Cakes.


                                            >A hoof prods you in the shin, and you look down to see Mrs. Cake presenting you with the salmon-coloured fabric, which you relieve her of.

                                            >"It's your uniform, colt. It's designed with a pony's body in mind, so it'll have to do until we can work something out with your friend, Rarity.

                                            >You look at it. It's just a pink, flowery apron.

                                            >Sometimes you forget what qualifies as a uniform for a species that doesn't wear clothes.

                                            >"It'll probably be a tight fit, so you'll have to ditch your top-clothes."

                                            >She has a point. There's no way this thing will tie itself together around your snuggley clothing.

                                            >........

                                            >Not only is this apron skin-tight, but it's also tiny.

                                            >It spans from about six inches below your neck to just above your belt buckle, and you've got clearance on either side of the apron.

                                            >It's like you've strapped a dish towel onto your chest.

                                            >"There we go, Anon, it fits perfectly."

                                            >She beings to push you out the door and towards the front room.

                                            >"If the mares don't find you handy, they should at least find your handsome. It never hurts to slut it up a little bit, Anon."

                                            >With one last shove, Mrs. Cake disappears to the back again.

                                            >"You'll thank me for this when you're sleeping in a pile of ponies!"

                                            >Fucking dammit.


                                            >As you stalk behind the counter, the shop falls silent.

                                            >You could swear you heard somepony mumble "l-lewd", but you can't be sure.

                                            >You know what? Fuck it. Fine. They want a slutty colt? You'll /show them/ a slutty colt.

                                            >Man. Slutty man.

                                            >Whatever.

                                            >A certain blue birdpone walks up to the counter, and a line forms behind her.

                                            "Well hey there, Dashie," you purr, "Welcome to Suger Cube Corner. What does the Wonderbolt-in-training want to /eat up/?"

                                            >"J-just a blueberry muffin, please,"

                                            "Just a muffin? Wouldn't you like to get something a bit more...."

                                            >You lean forward and brace your arms on the countertop.

                                            "....thick, and satisfying?"

                                            >Oh yeah, she's blushing now, and her wings are diamond. Time to go in for the kill.

                                            "Hmmm... impressive wingspan you're sporting, Dashie."

                                            >You remember the day you walked in on Fluttershy holding out one of her wings to a ruler.

                                            >It took you nearly an hour of mane-brushing and belly-rubbing to calm her down.

                                            >Back to the present.

                                            >Rainbow stutters and just points to a display of rich, chocolate cakes.


                                            >You slide a slice of it onto a plate, take her bits, and hand the treat to her.

                                            "See you around, filly."

                                            >You throw in a wink for good measure.

                                            >She blushes hard, and you hear the sound of splashing.

                                            >She drops her plate and hoofs it out the door.

                                            >You get the feeling that business is about to pick up.


                                            >Today was a good day.


                                            >You are Anon, Cakeslut extraordinaire.

                                            >You've got a big plate of apple fritters in your hands, still steaming-hot.

                                            >You saunter over to the customer's table like the naughty boy you are.

                                            >You tugged your underwear EXTRA-tight in the employee bathroom, and your package jiggles in appreciation.

                                            >Your cheeks burn from the friction with each step, but you can buy cream for that with all those tips you'll be drowning in.

                                            >Surprise surprise, this order is for Applejack.

                                            >Ah, the simple, honest farmmare. All she wants to do is find an innocent colt and make an honest stallion of him.

                                            >Maybe even save a naive colt from the bright lights and the corruption of city-living.

                                            >What kind of mare would she be if she didn't try and help a young stallion who was using his body to make ends meet?

                                            >Bring him back to her farm, maybe, and show him the satisfaction brought on by an hard day's honest work.

                                            >Enjoying a hot meal and a warm bed that you've EARNED right-proper.

                                            >At the very least, she'd tip him generously.


                                            >You set her plate on the table, and give her your best, most innocent smile.

                                            "It's good to finally see you here, Applejack. I know you don't get much time away from the fields."

                                            >Your smile becomes decidedly less innocent.

                                            "A big, strong mare like you needs to relax once in a while, I imagine."

                                            >You shift on the balls of your feet, from one foot to the other.

                                            >Her eyes dart down to your crotch and then back up to your eyes.

                                            >Aww, did she think you didn't notice?

                                            "You look so tense."

                                            >You smile for her and reach out to rest a hand on her withers.

                                            "You know, I work part-time in a spa...."

                                            >Time for the kicker.

                                            >You lean in real close and whisper in her ear.

                                            "Maybe I can help you... loosen up a little bit..."

                                            >You wriggle your fingers against her shoulder to emphasise your point.


                                            >When Applejack eventually leaves, you find two things on her table.

                                            >A generous tip, and a note that says:

                                            >"CMC clubhouse, sundown"

                                            >Nice.


                                            >You are Past!Anon

                                            >You are still doing your best to be a dirty little colt

                                            >Just like Mama Cake wanted you to be

                                            >You'd do something about that if she weren't the one signing your paychecks.

                                            >Is this was employees at Hooters felt like?

                                            >You don't want to be the woman in this relationship anymore.

                                            >Maybe that nice Earth Pony has a position for you.

                                            >That one who fixes clocks.

                                            >Doc Brown, or something like that.

                                            >Whatever.

                                            >You've got some man-slutting to do.

                                            >Who's the next customer for ol' Anon?

                                            >My my, it's the Princess of Magic herself.

                                            >You stayed with her for a few weeks when you first arrived.

                                            >The number of times you've caught her staring at your ass...

                                            >All the times she would "accidentally" brush up against you...

                                            >The musky smell that would stay in the room long after she left it....

                                            >Mare was clopping like it was going out of style.

                                            >Before you left, she was something like half a glance at your cock away from smacking dat ass of yours.


                                            >You walk over to her and kneel down.

                                            >You clear your throat and her eyes widen at the sight of you.

                                            "Well hello, Twilight. It's been a while, hasn't it?"

                                            >You scratch her head, teasing the base of her horn.

                                            >She shudders.

                                            "It's soooo~ good to see you again. What brings to here?"

                                            >Twilight stutters for a few seconds before regaining her composure.

                                            >"I... Just saw Applejack storm out of here. I asked her what was wrong, and, well..."

                                            >She leans in close to you.

                                            >"She was super-pissed at you, Anonymous. I'm not sure what you did to her, but you'd better find out as soon as possible."

                                            >Wait, was that why her face was all red?

                                            >Aw shit, she wasn't blushing at all.

                                            >Twilight's still talking.

                                            >"Did you know that she's really old-fashioned? Her whole family was raised with the attitude that a colt should behave a certain way."

                                            >Oh fuck me, you've upset the ultra-conservative backwater hick family. This'll only end with either a public lynching or a shotgun wedding.

                                            >"Now, I'm not saying that my friend can't control her temper, Anon. But what I AM saying is that she has some MIGHTY strong applebucking thighs."

                                            >YEAH she does.

                                            >"So.... Maybe.... you want to stay at my castle for a few days? Wait for things to cool down?"

                                            >She gives you a surprisingly seductive look.

                                            >"You know you're ALWAYS welcome, Anon. Always."

                                            >Yeah, no. You'll just talk to AJ tonight at the clubhouse.

                                            >You'd rather face a possible gelding with Applejack than spend a night with Twilight "Stranger-Danger" Sparkle.

                                            >You turn around to leave and whoops your apron's come undone.

                                            >Better bend over and pick it u-OOF!


                                            >Be Lyra

                                            >Be sitting at a table, waiting for your order to be taken.

                                            >Be watching that hot piece of flank, Anonymous, struttin' his stuff with the mares.

                                            >You're pretty sure he's wearing entirely too many clothes.

                                            >How lewd.

                                            >You magic the knot on his apron open and wait for those delicious muscles to show themselves.

                                            >Down it goes.

                                            >Mmmmmm that's right colt, shove those flanks into the princess's face.

                                            >Dirty colt.


                                            >Be Anon again.

                                            >Twilight is vigorously humping your ass.

                                            >"WANT IT NEED IT"

                                            >You did not get a tip today.


                                            >Y'all be Applejack.

                                            >Yer waitin' fer that dirty slut, Anawn, to show up at yer sister's clubhouse, and yer madder'n a pig without any shit to roll in.

                                            >Y'all don't know what lahfe is lahke fer Anawn back 'round his parts, but ain't no proper stallion gon' be behavin' lahke that on yer watch, no ma'am.

                                            >Don' he know it's dangerous? Any mare offah the street could snatch'im up'n nopony would ever hear from him again.

                                            >An' how does he 'spect to gather a herd that's not full of a buncha abusive colt beaters?

                                            >T'ain't right. Not his behaviour, an' certainly not the life he done set 'front of him.

                                            >Now, yer papa taught you never to hit a colt, and y'all intend to heed his words, but Great Apple help you, y'all were dang close when you left Sugarcube Corner.

                                            >Y'all left a big tip fer Anawn to lure him here tonight. If that harlot thinks he can jus' spread his legs fer you and get through life, then he's got another thing comin'.

                                            >A knock on the door brings you outta yer musin's. Y'all walk over and throw open the door, a lecture hot on yer tongue.

                                            >But you stop short at the look on his face.

                                            >Colt looks terrified.

                                            >Sweet Apple above, did Anawn thing y'all were gonna force'im to have relations with you?

                                            >He probably thought yer high tip was some sorta payment!

                                            >You done goofed, AJ.

                                            >He's probably bin dreadin' this all day.

                                            "Oh, Anawn, no. We ain't gonna do nothin' lahke that, 'hear?"

                                            >He just nods and steps inside. He don't look convinced none.

                                            "Ah... Ah just wan'ned to 'splain that yer behaviour wasn't acceptable here in the decent parts of Equestria. That's all, 'swear. On mah honour as an Element of Harmony, 'specially the Element of Honesty, ah promise I really did jus' wanna talk witchuh."

                                            >Oh filly, he won' even meet yer eye. He looks so 'shamed of hisself.

                                            >Y'all sit on yer flanks and use yer hoot to gently make him look at you.

                                            "Wah did y'all act lahke that at the Cake's, Anawn? Are y'all not makin' enough bits at yer job? Is that it?"

                                            >Anawn's shaking his head, startin' to look relieved that y'all ain't yellin' at him nor fuckin' him.

                                            >"I.... it was Mrs. Cake's idea. She said it was my new uniform."

                                            >Oh.

                                            >Oh no.

                                            "Anawn, y'all don' have to go back there no more, 'hear? 'fact, if'fin yuh don' feel safe no more, y'all can move yer colt things into the guest bedroom here oh mah orchards, and ah'll set y'all up a home good'n proper."

                                            >He looks so surprised that yer bein' so kind to him. What kind of tartarus has this poor colt been livin' in?

                                            >Oh Celestia, did Pinkie know about this? She ain't NEVER said nothin' 'bout this sortuh thang happening. She done said to yer face that Anawn enjoyed his new job. Y'all think a conversation is due to be happenin'.

                                            >"Y'all go gather yer things, now. Tomorrow morning, Ah'll be havin' words with a few certain mares."

                                            >You pull Anawn into a hug and then send him on his way to gather his stuff.

                                            >Tomorrow's gonna be a TARTARUS of a day.