Synopsis: Anon's New Year's Resolution is to make Fluttershy cry whenever she tries to hit on him.

>Day Plus One in Equestria.
>You trot up through Anonymous's yard and stand in front of his front door.
>Because you are Fluttershy; Element of Harmony; Caretaker of Animals.
>Lover of Anonymous.
>Unfortunately, you're only a 'lover' in the sense that you love him very much, but he's yet to reciprocate your feelings.
>But that changes today!
>New Year, new you, and that means new guesses for that golden kink that will sweep him off his cute feet and into your bed.
>Today's lucky guess is something you read about in one of Rarity's comic books that you…borrowed from her.
>She doesn't know that you borrowed it, but she'll get it back later.
>Apparently, there's a facial expression that—well, *expresses* complete and utter sexual arousal towards the one you love.
>And that's exactly what you need to show Anonymous you mean business.
>And if it also happens to be his fetish, that'll be like…feeding two birds with one hoofful of feed!
>Anyway, it's called an "ahegao."
>You flex your facial muscles, ready to practice it one last time before the real deal.
>Mouth open, tongue lolled out, and eyes rolled out to the back of your head.
>Hold that pose for five seconds and…there, done.
>You're confident that you can call yourself an "ahegao" master now, after all the practising you've been doing today.
>The concerned looks that Angel gave you while you were "ahegao"ing in your house earlier did little to boost your confidence, but you pulled through anyway.
>Not that you hold it against Angel; he doesn't know what it's like to fall so deeply in love with somehuman that you just…ah~
>Easy there, Fluttershy; don't finish yourself off before you can even enter his house.
>That'll cum—come later.
>Okay! Time to get down to business.
>And then maybe you can get down on him, unf.
>You give the front door three curt knocks, letting him know that you're here and ready.
>And you patiently wait.
>For a minute.
>For a few minutes.
>For several minutes.
>Hm.
>Maybe he didn't hear you?
>Three more knocks—with feeling, this time.
>A few more minutes pass.
>You bring out your outdoor voice—which is every other pony's indoor voice, but it gets the job done well enough.
"Anooon? Are you in there?"
>No response.
>But you know he's in there somewhere; he's off work today and you saw his silhouette on the other side of the window an hour ago.
>You saw it because you were staking out his house at the time.
>It gave you ample opportunity to practise your "ahegao," too.
>Wait a minute, the window!
>Glancing to your right, you see that one of his windows is slightly open.
>Of course! It all makes sense now! He *wants* you to come in this way!
>Well then, you're not one to leave your beloved waiting, so you hover up to the window and pry it open the rest of the way.
>It takes a bit of hoofwork, since there's a window limiter attached that hinders your progress, but no chain can stand in the way of true love.

>After opening the window, you slip inside the house, quickly recognising that you're in the living room.
>No sign of Anonymous.
>Plenty sign of his couch.
>His wonderful, smelly couch that must have soaked up so much of his butt-sweat, mmph~
>Maybe you can take a quick detour on your search for Anonymous to…appreciate the finer things in life.
>You trot over to the couch and plant your face on the seat, taking a good, long whiff.
"O-oh yes…"
>Heaven. Pony Heaven.
>Human Heaven too, but you like to think you and Anonymous will head to the same afterlife together when your times come.
>You're not sure how long you have spent snorting up his couch, but it doesn't matter; every moment here is pure bliss.
>What *does* matter, is the sound of footsteps moving closer to your position.
>The footsteps stop once they're close enough, and you hear dulcet tones grumble indistinctly.
>You don't need to be Twilight Sparkle to figure out the identity of those footsteps or that voice; you groggily raise your head and look to your side.
>Standing a couple metres away from you is Him.
>Or his legs, at any rate; he towers above you, so you take the opportunity to slowly work your eyes up his sexy, sexy body.
>Those long, muscular legs, unf.
>That broad, thick upper body, double unf.
>That…gas mask he's wearing.
>Huh?
"Anon? Why are you wearing a gas mask?"
>"I'll be damned. There's still enough brain cells rolling around in there for you to notice something different about me."
>His words are harsh, but you know there's a lot of love hiding behind them.
"Could you take it off, please? I'd like to see your face."
>His handsome face.
>"No can do, Flutterbutt."
>Flutterbutt? Saucy. He rarely uses that nickname with you. Is he looking at your butt under that mask? You hope so.
>Can he see your tail flagging? You hope he can; maybe you should turn around and—
>"BEFORE you do anything to embarrass yourself any further, I'd like to inform you of my plan."
"Oh, okay. Does it involve your mask?"
>"Yes. You see, I'm a man of goals, of resolutions—"
"Me too! A mare of resolutions, I mean."
>He silently stares at you.
>You sit down on your haunches and proudly cross your forelegs.
"My New Year's Resolution is to get you into my bed."
>"Great. Are you done?"
"Well, I've still got to go through today's guess. I've got a good feeling about—"
>"Don't bother. Whatever it is, it's not my fetish."
"But you haven't even seen it."
>"Don't need to. Besides, don't you want to hear about my New Year's Resolution instead?"
>His resolution? You suppose your guess can wait.
"Okay, sure!"
>Maybe it'll involve getting you into *his* bed!
>"You see, it involves me, you, and our fucked-up relationship we got going on…"
>You're hearing "you" and "fucked-up" in the same sentence—you like where this is going.
>"For this year, I figured—hey, why not spice things up, yeah?"
"Yeah?"
>"So for this year: I'm gonna make you cry whenever you try to hit on me—sound good?"

>You stare at him for a bit, taking in his words.
"Oh."
>That's certainly…a unique resolution.
"Um…I guess that sounds good. Do you want me to start crying now?"
>Maybe you can work it into your "ahegao."
>"That won't be neccessary."
"Hm?" You tilt your head.
>He raises one of his glorious mare-hugging arms, and it's only now that you notice he's holding something in his hand.
>It's a controller of some kind.
>He presses a button on the controller, and you hear a beeping sound throughout the room while the surrounding area begins to flash red.
>"Heads up, Fuckershy."
>Naughty name, ominous omen.
>The window shuts behind you and you hear a locking sound.
>You hear a hissing sound as a thick, grey gas is released in the room from various angles.
>He's gassing you! You never knew he was into this!
>Looks like you have the next week's worth of guesses planned out!
>As more of the gas fills the room, you gulp.
"I-is this sleep gas?"
>You never thought *he'd* be the proactive one here! Oh my!
>You hear him exhale deeply and sexily through his mask.
>"No, it's not, you fucking degenerate."
>The smell is somewhat pleasant, a little bit spicy, even.
>"It's tear gas. I had this all set-up before you got here."
"What does it do?"
>"Just give it a little bit longer…"
"What do you—"
>It suddenly hits you, all at once.
"H-huk!"
>Your throat closes up, your eyes burn like mad, and snot flows freely from your nose.
>It's very hard to talk—or even breath.
>"What do you think? This is just a taste of how you've made me feel over all these fucking years, you fucking yellow maniac!"
>This is how he felt? If only he had accepted your advances sooner—he wouldn't have had to go through this torture!
>He cackles in victory while you struggle to look up at him through your teary eyes.
>Oh—teary eyes, now you get it.
"Fuh…fuh-wah…"
>"Hm? Oh, speak up, Flutterbutt. I can't hear you."
>If he calls you that one more time your lower body is gonna start leaking too.

"Fuh-feh…feh-teh…"
>"Yeeesss?"
"Feh-teh-shuh…"
>He tilts his head.
>"Oh, you're asking if tear gas is my fetish, right?"
>Unable to formulate a verbal response, you weakly nod.
>"Hm…"
>He saunters over to you, crouching down to meet you down at eye level.
>Your strained attempts at breathing quicken even more.
>"You really wanna know…?"
"W-wah…wahwugweh…"
>You're pretty sure that's a "yes" in some long-lost dialect.
>"Well…"
>He reaches out one of his hands towards your head.
>"Since you asked so nicely…"
>Oh gosh! Oh gosh! It's really going to happen, isn't it?
>You'd live your whole life like this if he would—
>He flicks your forehead.
>"It's not."
>Darn.
>He stands up and walks away, chuckling to himself.
>The tear gas continues to fill the room, and with no open window to ventilate it out, its effects only intensify with time and exposure.
>Your skin is burning, your eyes are forced shut, and you can't stop coughing.
>You can't go on like this, especially when it's not Anonymous's fetish.
>What do you do?!
>…Quick, ahegao!
>Okay—no, that just made the situation worse.
>"What—what the FUCK are you doing?!"
"A-a hay…guh…"
>"You know what—never mind. You just enjoy yourself over there. I'll check back in later when you've learned your lesson."
>That's not his fetish either then. Double darn.
>In a moment of last-minute desperation, you manage to fly up and smash through the window you came through, propelling yourself out of the building.
>"Oh for fuck's sake! Should've expected that, I guess."
>After flinging yourself through the window, you land on the grass back-first.
>Everything hurts.
>But it still pales in comparison to the pain that comes from being rejected by your beloved Anonymous once again.
>You can feel your body slowly start to recover from the ordeal.
>Your throat opens up enough for you to take in the fresh air of the outside world.
>You can open your eyes up the narrowest of squints, seeing a sliver of blue sky up above.
>Eventually, even your heart will recover—just in time for tomorrow's guess.
>You hear footsteps as Anonymous pokes his head out of the window.
>"Stay the fuck away from me!"
"S-see you…tomorrow…"
>"Urgh!"
>You hear him stomp further into his house, leaving you alone with your thoughts.
>This was a pretty roundabout way of going about things.
>But you now know that tear gas *and* "ahegao"'s aren't his fetish.
>A smile forms on your face.
>You really *did* feed two birds today!
>Nice work, Fluttershy!
>You've got a good feeling about this year!