Originally Published December 1st, 2012

>Day too many days in Equestria.
>You’ve been living at Fluttershy’s house for the past week, as a live-in patient under her care.
> A week ago, you somehow managed to break your dick when you were asleep.
>Now, you’re chained to a fridge…drinking a white russian.
Is Celestia punishing me for avoiding a rapist?
>”I don’t even know man; What’s a rapist?” 
>Cool little bastard that he is, Angel keeps you company whenever Flutterbutt leaves for town.
It’s a person who forces sex on someone who doesn’t want it.
>”Oh.” The gears started turning in his little head. “I think Rarity has a fetish for that.”
>Vodka and cream spray out against the walls.
THE FUCK?! Rarity is into that kinda shit?
>Angel looks in disgust at the soiled walls while you take another drink.
>”Yeah. She has a room leased out at my complex. No one goes in or out except for Scruffy the janitor, Rarity, or Spike.”
>White Russian flies out of your nose, coating your cast in alcohol.
Spike too!?
>”It’s a weird relationship, but it works.”
>Damn. A janitor named Scruffy? Small worlds.



>Anyways, who would’ve guessed that Angel runs a sex-hotel?
>Or that he sounds like Samuel L. Jackson?
>Everyone in this Technicolor world has such a weird voice.
>Wait a second…
Say Angel, how come you never talk when Yellow Quiet’s around?
>He chuckles. “Yellow Quiet; It’s because of a s-”
>”H-hello Anon! Who were you talking to?”
>At the moment Fluttershy walked in, Angel switched back to his usual charades.
Ummmmm….
>Angel is giving you the glare of death.
I was doing impressions of famous people…for Angel!
>You affect your best Mickey Mouse voice. 
“HOHO! Hey kids; my dick is purple!”
>Fluttershy laughs because you’re Anon, and Angel gives you a handful of bits.
>Rich little bastard. Why does he even live here?


>Fluttershy moves over the chain holding you to the fridge and unlocks it.
>They don’t even have thumbs, and yet they can hold keys in their hooves.
>Well, Pinkie had thumbs once…but that was a day you never want to remember.
Poor Mrs. Cake.
>”What? ”
Uhh…nothing Fluttershy. And why are you unlocking me? Freedom isn’t my fetish.
>You think about what you just said, quickly adding in
NEITHER IS BONDAGE!
>She giggles. “Silly A-anon; We can’t have s-sex until your sweet m-monkey dick is healed.”
>nobodycallsmemonkey.gif
I’M NOT A MONKEY YA’ PASTEL HORSE!
>Silent Canary runs up to her room crying, offended that you would call her horse.
>”Nice one, Anon.” Angel’s glaring at you, and you can feel his anger, but he looks so damn cute.



I’m sorry man. I mean, how would you feel if you were called a “rat” all the time?
>”Okay, okay; just be gentle with her, she is taking care of you after all.”
>Taking care of you?
Did you not find it weird that I was chained to a fridge every time you visited me?
>”Well I-”
Or that she put MY prescription under her name?
>”I-”
OR THAT I WAS CHAINED TO A FUCKING FRIDGE?!
>Angel looks scared ”I always thought you guys were dating, so I never asked.”
>Oh hell no. Did he say dating?
That crazy asshole has tried raping me since the day after I landed in this world; and she’s almost succeeded a few times!
>”Well buck; I did not know that man. I never knew she had it in her.”
That’s another thing! No one believes me because of how shy she is! The mares at the police station actually CONGRATULATED her when I tried to file a complaint!
> He’s staring at you, a small smile on his face. ”It couldn’t have been that bad Anon.”
They brought out a cake that had little wooden figures of us on top of it.
>”What flavor was it?”



Choc-why the fuck does it matter man? All that matters is there was a cake.
>Angel just laughs: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=E4AUpn-vhYc
>”At least make sure she’s alright; she does care for you, even if it’s non-traditional.”
>Damn…he’s right.  She is a competent nurse, and she hasn’t tried to molest you this past week.
Okay.
>”Alright; See ya’ tomorrow Anon, it’s time for me to go open up shop.”
>As Angel headed back to the Red Light District, you headed up the stairs, fighting through the sleepy feeling in your right leg.
>Reaching her room, you open the door and see her asleep on the bed.
>Her pillow is drenched with tears, and she’s mumbling quietly to a teddy bear that has your face stitched onto it.
>Well, not YOUR face per se, but a fabric copy of your face.
Dawww.
>You couldn’t stay mad at her…even if she was a bit obsessive. 
>Ignoring the urge to rip the doll to pieces in front of her, you cover her up with one of the blankets.
>She stops mumbling, hugs her doll, and little smile grows on her face.
Why do these ponies have to be so cute?
>You turn to leave her room, when you see a piece of paper on her nightstand.
>It reads: “Plans for Anon”.



>Oh dear Celestia.
>There’s about 100 bullet points on the first side of the page.
>The worst part is that you can’t understand some of the words she used.
What the hell is “snafflong”?
>Quickly forcing the thought out of your head, you leave the room and head to the kitchen.
>Set the oven to 350*F, bake for 3-15 minutes.
>You quickly draft up a new letter, and stick it to the fridge with a magnet.
>You get into a bear-sized wheelchair, as broken penises don’t accommodate running, and roll away as smoke begins to fill the cottage.


>You are now Fluttershy.
>The smell of smoke begins to fill your sleeping form as if to say
>”WAKE THE BUCK UP YOU FOAL!”
EEP!
>You crash into the ceiling and fall down the stairs.
I h-hope Anon didn’t see that.
>Your blush slowly fades as you remember the smoke pouring out of the oven.
C-crisis averted.
>As you start back to your room, you notice a piece of paper on your fridge.
A-anon wrote me a letter?! 
>You’re moister than a glass of water.
>And from reading a letter? Come on Flutter-
>Anyways, you begin to read:
Dear Fluttershy,
Thank you for taking care of me this past week. While you did treat me like I was your prisoner, you were very respectful and polite towards me as well, and I thank you for that.
The smoke from the oven was from the burning of your “plans” for me.  The things on that list were revolting, and made me lose some respect for you. I’m not sure if I can even be around you after reading that list, not even if you begged forgiveness ten times over. Give my regards to the animals. 
Goodbye,
Anon
>Your eyes begin to water ever so slightly.
>But they dry up as a sly grin takes form on your face.
>A line from the letter begins to loop in your mind.
>” Not even if you begged forgiveness ten times over.”
>”Not if you begged forgiveness ten times.”
How about a hundred times?