A collection of prison/Kinderquestria-themed shorts I've written in the thread. Enjoy.

>Day Colored Pencils in Kinderquestria
>You are the resident big green human bean, and you have just been bequeathed another drawing from a local resident.
>"Here, Anon! Thanks for helping us clean up the other day!"
>You smile down at the crayon-crafted image of you, your friend Sunny Smile, and various other ponies gathered to clean up the park after a day of horsing around.
>Heh heh. Horsing around.
"Thanks, Sunny. It's even better than the last one!"
>"I've gotten a lot of practice in, big guy! You're always being so helpful all the time."
"You don't have to make one for me every time, if it's a bother. I just help you guys because I want to."
>Sunny gives you a big, happy grin
>"Yeah, well, I draw you because I want to, so there!"
>A brief, fiery pain in your chest informs you that you are one step closer to dying from heart disease.
>Damn these cute ponies.
>What he said gets you thinking, as you head back to your house for the day.
>He draws you and your other little friends all the time, but you've never done the same for him.
>Let's fix that.
>You get back to your place and immediately set to work, gathering all the arts and crafts materials you've been gifted with during your stay.
>In particular your gigantic box of colored pencils, and a few normal ones besides.
>You lay down a sketch first.
>…
>Hmm, no, Sunny's face is more like...
>…
>There, that's better.
>And then Cirrus, and Wall Flower, and...
>...
>There!
>After a good couple hours, you're finally satisfied with the lines.
>After selecting just the right shade of yellow for Sunny's coat, you begin coloring in.
>Then his mane...
>Eyes...
>Give a bit of shading here with a regular pencil, just to be fancy...
>Lookin' nice!
>You repeat the slow and laborious process for each of your four-legged amigos pictured, and the end result has you beaming in spite of the cramps in your hands.
>You really went all-in on this, you're sure Sunny will like it.
>But why stop? You've got all this craft stuff anyway.
>You fill in the sky and background before decorating a simple wooden picture frame with macaroni noodles and gold paint.
>You REAL fancy now, boy.
>The hour is late before you know it.
>You magnetize Sunny's gift to you onto your fridge with its brethren, and you set your gift for him by the door so you won't forget it in the morning.
>Nine hours of sleep and a morning routine later, you are out the door with your masterpiece tucked under your arm.
>You can't wait until he sees it, you bet he'll flip out!
>Smiling at the thought, you jog down the path into town.
>You find your friends hanging around by the fountain.
>"Good morning, Anon!"
"Good morning, Sunny. Check this out!"
>You present your piece de resistance.
>Sunny's jaw hangs open.
>"What... Wait... Is that me? And everypony else?"
"Yeah! I made it for you. Do you like it?"
>"You MADE this?!"
>Sunny takes it in his trembling hooves, just staring for a little bit.
>He starts tearing up.
>You start getting a little weirded out.
"Uh... Sunny, you alright?"
>"I... This... It's the most beautiful thing I've ever seen..."
"You look like you need to lie down, man."
>"No! I need to put this where it belongs!!"
>Sunny zooms off on his little pegasus wings.
>You see neither hide nor hair of him for almost a week afterwards, only to discover that he basically converted his house into an art gallery holding a single painting.
>Overpriced drinks and everything.
>You're ushered inside one day, Sunny bursting at the seams with suppressed excitement as he shouts
>"Ta-dah!!"
>…
>It's your painting, macaroni frame and all, hanging behind a glass case with a plaque.
>The plaque reads:
Friends
By my best friend, Anonimuss the Hyooman
>You clutch your chest.
>And that's how you became a famous artist in Kinderquestria.

-*-

>Be Anon in Kinderquestria
>Fighting has broken out between ponies and changelings.
>By fighting, you mean pillow-throwing and name-calling.
>It all started when ponies found out that changelings eat peanut butter crackers instead of pudding.
>The ponies tried to convince them they were eating an inferior snack.
>Chrysalis didn’t like that one bit.
>One open letter declaring all ponies to be “chubby nerds” later and here you are...
>Out in the badlands, attempting to calm things down before someone trips and hurts themselves.
>It’s a maelstrom of flying pillows, wrestling equines, and vaguely rude “your mom” jokes, but you navigate it easily, making your way to the big circle where a bunch of ponies and changelings sat down to watch their leaders duke it out.
>You’ve gotten a little too used to stuff like this.
>The sight of Chrysalis and Celestia using magic to pull each other’s faces into a funny expression gets a brief snicker out of you, but it’s time to try and bring this nonsense to a close.
>It’s almost dinner time.
“Alright, you two, enough. It’s getting late.”
>They both turn to look at you, faces still contorted by the other’s magic.
>”I won’t give up, Anon! Not until she admits she’s wrong!”
>”Anonymous, you tell her! Tell her she’s fat and that peanut butter crackers are way better for you!”
>Yeah, this isn’t going anywhere. Time for emergency measures.
>You walk up and use your secret technique.
>Ear scritchies.
>They know what you’re doing. They try to fight it.
>Celestia does her best to keep her face stoic, and Chrysalis scowls through the blush, but their magic fades as their concentration weakens.
“You both went overboard. Celestia, you don’t get to force others to eat a snack just because you really like it. She’s entitled to eat crackers if she wants. Chrysalis, you know she’s sensitive about her weight. It’s cool that you think about keeping your subjects healthy, but no bullying.”
>Celestia heaves a sigh, face softening, but Chrysalis, to your utter shock, actually manages to break contact with your hand.
>”N-No, I’m not falling for this again! You always do THAT to me, and then I forget what I was mad about and go home, but not this time!”
>She points an accusing bug hoof at Celestia
>”And how come you always stay in Equestria?! You should come visit me, too!”
>...Well, that’s actually a good point. You can’t really mediate effectively if you’re only ever hanging out with one group.
“That’s fair. I’ll come stay with you for a while.”
>Chrysalis immediately brightens.
>”Really?”
>”Oh no you don’t!”
>Celestia wraps a wing around you and points a gold-clad hoof at your surroundings.
>”He doesn’t visit you because you live in a barren wasteland you silly changeling! What would he eat? Where would he sleep?”
>”No one was talking to you, fatty! And he’d eat crackers with us! A-and sleep in my-“
>”Not on my watch! Equestria’s mediator, living off lesser snacks?!”
>”YOUR MOM’S A LESSER SNACK!”
>A massive chorus of “OOOOOHHHHH” sounds in the background as the changelings cheer their queen on, and Celestia’s cheeks puff.
>Before she can retaliate, you run a hand up and down her neck.
“Hey. Come on. You’re bigger than that. Let’s try and handle this productively.”
>She huffs, but a few more rubs settle her down.
“Chrysalis, I’ll come stay with you, but only if you call all this off right now. Okay? I’ll pack my stuff tonight and come over tomorrow.”
>The changeling queen claps her front hooves.
>”Deal! I win, sunny snoot!”
>Laughing with delight, she flies off, and all the changelings follow her home.
>Only when they’re all safely out of earshot does Celestia turn to you, teary-eyed.
>”A-Anon, you aren’t going forever, are you? I- I’ll stop eating pudding for a week if-“
>Secret technique: chin scratchies.
>Celestia groans quietly.

-*-

>Be Warden Anon
>You’re headed to bed after a long day of keeping rowdy pony prisoners in line.
>You’re in your pajamas and about to belly flop onto your cloud mattress when you realize that there’s a lump beneath the covers.
>Only one guard brave enough to do that.
“Cookies?”
>The lump shifts.
“Cookies, I know it’s you. What are you doing in my bed?”
>”U-uh, I just, uh, there’s no pony named Cookies here!”
“Cool. So who’s the pony that IS there?”
>”...Shoot.”
>You pull back the blankets to reveal your head guard, with no hair tie in her mane and wearing cute little cookie-patterned pajamas.
>You burn the image into your brain.
>”I... I had a bad dream, Anon. It was really scary. Can’t I stay here?”
>You sigh.
>You’re already painfully aware of your inability to say “no” when she sulks like that, so you just accept the inevitable.
“Yeah, you can stay. Scoot over a little.”
>She smiles happily and rolls over, leaving you enough space to lay down.
>Your head flops back onto the pillow, and Cookies rests her head on your upper arm.
>It’s pinned in place, but you can still move just enough at the elbow to rub her back.
>She sighs in content, and you pull the blankets back over you both.
>Cookies’ nose just barely pokes out from beneath.
“So?”
>”Hm?”
“What was the dream about?”
>”...Do I have to say?”
“No. But it might not seem so scary after you talk to someone else. A lot of scary dreams are only scary when you’re in them, you know?”
>”Yeah, but... Do you promise you won’t laugh?”
>You give her a little squeeze with your arm.
“I’d never. I promise.”
>”Do you remember how I got my cutie mark?”
“Yeah. You worked in an old folk’s home, and tried to make some cookies for them. They came out burnt, but they liked them because they became really soft when they dipped them in milk. It was perfect for all the old fogies with dentures.”
>”Don’t call them fogies, they were nice! But yeah. That’s what happened.”
>She’s silent for a moment.
>”I was back in that moment. But it didn’t go like that. I... nobody like my cookies. Nobody laughed, or smiled, or...”
>She shudders.
>”It hurt so bad, Anon. I felt so empty, like... like nopony wanted me.”
“Aw, Cookies. That’s not true.”
>”I know, but... it felt so real! I was crying when I woke up, and I just... I had to come see you.”
>You gently turn on your side to face her, pulling the blankets back a little.
>Her face looks up at you with an unasked question, and you answer by rolling her over too.
>Wrapping one arm around her barrel, the other goes under your pillow.
>Spooning your head guard would catch you jail time if anybody found out, but you know she won’t complain.
>You give her tummy a rub as you speak.
“Everything’s alright now. You’re back here, with me. There’s not a single person in this prison who doesn’t like you, Cookies ‘n Cream. You know that, right?”
>You see the tips of her ears turn red.
>You keep speaking.
“Not all of them will say it. All the prisoners need to look tough. All the guards like to pretend to be even tougher. But I see it. You’re a good pony who always does her best. Nobody could hate that.”
>She still doesn’t respond, but you feel two little hooves grip your forearm.
“Just a bad dream, that’s all. Let’s try and get some sleep now.”
>”O-Okay... But, one last thing.”
“Mm?”
>”When... when you say everyone here likes me, that means... that means you too, right?”
“Well, yeah. Of course.”
>”But... but like... in what way?”
>Ahhhh.
>There it is.
>You laugh softly.
“Tell you tomorrow.”
>”Awwww!”
“Nooooope. Don’t even pout. My eyes aren’t open, it won’t work.”
>”...Fine.”
>Silence falls.
>She fidgets. After another breath, she pulls your arm, turning your hand and putting her hoof in it.
>You squeeze softly.

-*-

"Your Honor, I stand by my statement that I can wear socks if I want to, and that the plaintiff is the one who's lewd because she deliberately looked under my pants."
>You stare defiantly at the judge with arms crossed.
>You'll win this. There's no way in hell you're going to jail for something as dumb as wearing socks.
>"Objection! My client only looked to make sure that he was really wearing socks-"
"Objection to your objection, if she didn't want to see she didn't have to look."
>"You can't do that!"
"Just did."
>"Yeah, well, I object to your objection of my objection!"
"OBJECTION TO HIS OBJECTION OF MY OBJECTION TO HIS OBJECTION!"
>"I OBJECT TO MY OBJECTION! Uh, wait, no-!"
"HA!"
>"ORDER! I WILL HAVE ORDER IN THIS COURT!"
>The judge pounds on her podium with her squeaky gavel.
>"Mr. Anonymous the Human, your logic is sound but wearing socks in public is still lewd."
"Ridiculous. With all due respect, Your Honor, it's my business what I wear under my pants and nobody else's. If the plaintiff will drop charges I'm willing to just walk away from this case. However, if she continues to insist on sending me to jail for exercising my right to dress myself as I please then I will insist on sending her to prison for being a lewd pony."
>The gallery gasps, and a pony in the jury faints.
>Your opposition sputters.
>"T-That's outrageous! You can't just-!"
"I mean what I say!"
>Your sharp retort cuts through his response, and you keep speaking over him.
"Why in the world would I change my behavior for others' sensibilities? I'm not the one who thinks socks are sexy. You guys are! If anything, it's the weakness of pony psyches that has wronged me, instead of my socks wronging your society! Your peace was disturbed because-"
>You make a grand sweeping gesture to maximize the effect.
"-ALL PONIES SECRETLY THINK SOCKS ARE HOT!"
>More ponies faint. The judge is red-faced. Your opposition is regretting his life choices.
>You're considering a legal career.

-*-

>Day MILF in Kinderquestria.
>Discovering you were in a world full of horses with grade school sensibilities was kind of a trip.
> After a few months you're comfortably settled in, and things are just peachy.
>In fact, there's only one thing you'd ask for.
>You really, really need someone to squeeze at night.
>You got over the whole interspecies thing quickly.
>It's not like you're ever getting back to Earth again, and you sure as hell aren't going to spend the rest of your life celibate.
>Nah, your main issue was the ponies themselves.
>Not to say they were unattractive. Just the opposite.
>Every mare you've met is cute, has a round butt, and is generally a sweetheart.
>But they're also utterly clueless about come-ons or are too... childish.
>It feels weird and uncomfortable to even consider it with most of them.
>Except one.
>You saunter through Ponyville, checking for her.
>It's just after noon, she's usually done with her work by now...
>The sound of a collision and the flower sisters screaming catches your attention, and you grin as your pace quickens.
>Sure enough, there she is sticking out of the flower shop.
>You help get her extricated from the wreckage of her latest accident and smile as her crooked eyes meet yours.
"Hey, Derp. You alright?"
>"O-Oh, Anonymous! I am, thanks. I'm so sorry, we always seem to meet at my worst moments..."
>Only because she's easiest to find when she's accidentally trashing something.
"Don't sweat it. You get all your work done?"
>"Yep! Everypony's mail, safely delivered. Only two mix-ups and one crash!"
>You gesture at the pile of rubble.
"Wow! So, this is your only crash today?"
>She turns away, blushing slightly.
>"...Not exactly. I meant I only had one while I was on the clock."
"Heh heh heh. Well, hey, that's still pretty good. Want to get lunch to celebrate?"
>She perks up at that, staring up at you with her golden eyes.
>"Really?"
"Really really."
>"W-Well, since you're offering..."
>You set her down, give her a light dusting off, help her apologize, and soon the two of you are making your way across town.
>You are both greeted by ponies you know as you stroll, and you have to politely refuse multiple invitations to come play.
>You love these little guys, but you’re a man after a mare. Gotta stay focused.
>Derpy, for her part, helps you smooth things over each time.
>Her relatively calm demeanor is part of what you like about her. She only gets riled up when there’s something big going on.
>And moms hold some strange power in Equestria, even over ponies that seem to be of the same age.
>With her help, no little pony feelings are hurt, and you both arrive at the local sandwich joint.
>”Thank you for this, Anonymous.”
“My pleasure. And call me Anon.”
>You get seated outside since it’s such a nice day, and the waiter brings you two glasses of water while you talk.
“How’s Dinky? She seemed a little down last time I saw her.”
>”She’s good. She’s just bummed because one of her friends is on vacation. They love to jump rope together.”
>You smile in relief.
“I’ll try and cheer her up next time I see her. I can at least hold the jump rope.”
>Derpy giggles.
>”She’ll love that. But how about you, Anon? We never have time to talk when I deliver your mail.”
“Oh, you know. Pinkie keeps me busy at the bakery.”
>Time seems to flow quicker when you’re around her.
>Before you know it, you’re paying for a sandwich you barely remember eating and walking out of the restaurant with Derpy following you.
>”Say, Anon.”
“Yeah?”
>”I’ve been wondering about this for a while, but…”
>She hesitates for a moment.
>”You’re awfully nice to me, even though we rarely talk. Oh, b-but don’t get me wrong, I like it! Seeing you always brightens my day a little, but I just wonder…”
>She stares up at you, her eyes aligning for a moment.
>”Do you want something from me?”
>…Jesus, she caught on quick.
>Is this the power of pony MILFs?
>Like, sure, you probably aren’t hiding your intentions very well, and an Earth girl would’ve seen you coming a mile away, but you were genuinely not expecting this from a pony.
>Well, from the way she’s speaking, you don’t think she’d be opposed to it.
“I do, actually. Do you mind if we talk somewhere private?”
>She tilts her head.
>”Is it serious?”
“Yeah. Well, serious to me.”
>”Okay. Then, let’s talk at my house.”
>She leads you back to her cottage, and you sit down on the floor while Derpy pulls over a cushion to sit on.
>”I’m all ears, Anon. What do you need?”
>…Maybe she didn’t read you after all.
>Still, this is a good opportunity.
“Derpy, you know how I’m the only human in Equestria?”
>”Yeah… I’m sorry. That must be really lonely.”
“It is. But I realized a long time ago that I like ponies, too. In a love kind of way.”
>She looks surprised, but in a good way. She leans forward a little.
>”R-Really? That’s great! You’d make a great special somep- uh… somehuman, I guess? Well, you’d make a mare really happy Anon.”
>A sly smile crosses her face.
>”So, do you want me to talk to somepony for you?”
>What?
>Oh. Ooooooooooh.
>She thinks you’re asking for help telling a mare you like her.
>Heh. Well, she isn’t wrong, but you learned in fourth grade that you gotta do this stuff yourself.
>You play coy.
“Weeeeellllll… Yeah. She’s super cute and has a little daughter who’s almost as cute. I’m kinda worried she might think I’m not serious.”
>”Hmmm. I wouldn’t worry about that. You’re a stand-up guy, Anon. Everyone in town knows that. So, who is it? I’m sure she’ll be really happy when I tell her!”
>You slide a hand forward to poke at her front hoof.
>”…Um, Anon…”
“Yeah, Derp?”
>”Y-You poked me.”
“Sure did.”
>”Right after I asked who you like.”
“Yep.”
>”A-And… That… Kind of means…”
“No ‘kind of’ about it, Derpy. I like you. A lot.”
>She’s beet red, both eyes looking anywhere but you.
>”U-Um, if you don’t mind me asking… Why?”
“Why not? You’re one of the most mature ponies I’ve ever met, and I’ve met the princesses. You’re nice, calm, easy to get along with, and a pretty girl. What’s not to like?”
>She squeaks at every trait you list until she’s covering her eyes and steam comes out of her ears.
>”You say that, b-but-! I break things all the time! A-And I’ll ask you to help me take care of Dinky. You… You won’t want me after a while… He didn’t…”
>You don’t know who “he” is, but you could smack him for making her think that.
>You scoot forward, gently taking her hooves in your hands.
“Hey. Look at me.”
>She does, face still red and tears starting to form.
“I don’t kid around about stuff like this. And whoever left you with Dinky? His loss. Now, it’s one thing if you really don’t want to give this a try. I won’t argue, I won’t get mad, and we’ll still be friends. I can’t make you like me.”
>You grip her hooves tight and stare into her eyes.
“But if you give me a shot, you’ll never have to handle anything alone again. I promise. I’ll help with anything. I’ll do my best to be a good dad for Dinky. Just let me try.”
>She tears up as you finish, and just stares back at you for a long time, sniffling as she opens her mouth, only to close it. Eventually she opens it again.
“…Okay…!”
>You pull her into a hug, and she squeezes you tight with both hooves and wings.
>You both sit there holding each other for a while.
>She turns her head up to look at you, locking eyes.
>Well, one of them.
>”Hey… Can I kiss you…?”
>She licks her lips
>You answer by leaning in. She meets you halfway.
>What comes next is a blur.
>All you can think about is heat of her breath on your face, and the happy little moans she makes into your mouth every so often.
>She’s surprisingly okay with tongue.
>Lots of tongue.
>You didn’t think ponies would even know how to French kiss, but you aren’t too beat up over being wrong this time.
>You’re being pinned to the floor and the room is getting hot when there’s a knock on the door.
>”Mama? Are you there? School’s out, how come you didn’t come get me?”
>You both shoot upright, looking at the grandfather clock nearby.
>Shit, you were sucking face for almost an hour!
>Derpy tidies her mane before hurrying to the door.
>”I’m so sorry, little muffin! I just lost track of time!”
>You straighten your shirt collar just as Dinky walks in and sees you.
>”Mister Anonymous! Hi!”
>She runs over, rearing up on her hind legs and waving her little hooves.
>You laugh, picking her up and whirling her around.
“Hey, Dinky! Sorry, I was just, er, talking with your mom about something.”
>”T-That’s right, muffin. We… have something important to talk to you about. A surprise.”
>”Oooooo, I love surprises!”
>Derpy smiles, flying up to wrap her forelegs around your neck from behind, rubbing your cheek with hers.
>”Mama does too.”

-*-

>Be Anon.
>Get sent to jail for eating your boss’ cookie at work.
>Not like that.
>You had hoped your foolproof legal defense of “I didn’t see his name on it” would work, but the judge declared you should still have asked around considering you’d already had your own allotted cookie for the day.
>It was a fair coupe, but you still tried to convince the court that you needed more than one cookie a day for medical reasons.
>You are now in a holding cell waiting for the little pony doctor to come see you.
>He walks in with a stethoscope hanging from his neck and a box of cookies.
>“Good afternoon Mr. Anonymous. Before we begin, could you tell me a little about this need for multiple cookies per day?”
>Alright, here we go.
“Well, doc, I just never feel full when I eat my one cookie. I don’t know how to explain it. I just... I get really slow and sluggish, and I can’t focus on my work at all. I think I need more sugar because I’m bigger than the average pony.”
>You’re lying off the cuff. You just want more cookies.
>”That’s a fair point, Mr. Anonymous. I have a little test I’d like to try.”
>The doctor offers you the box of cookies.
>”Please eat as many cookies as you can in 10 seconds.”
>You grin like a shark.

>The next day in court is a regular opera show.
>The doctor is in hysterics.
>”Never, in all my years, have I seen such a gross neglect of a living creature’s needs! Shame on Mr. Anonymous’ employer for forcing him to subsist on a single cookie a day! This poor human ate a quarter of a box in ten seconds and didn’t get sick! How could you deny this starving being one more cookie?! How dare you, sir! Have you no heart?!”
>You’re unanimously acquitted.
>The jury awards you ownership of the company in reparations.
>You’re the boss now.
>You got cookies for days.
>And a cute secretary.
>Today was a corporate climbing kind of day.

>Be Anon.
>Get caught rubbing your secretary’s belly at work.
>Get sent to jail for public lewdity.
>Your secretary deliberately knocks over a vase so she’ll get sent too.
>Nice.
>Get caught rubbing your secretary’s belly in your cell.
>They move her cell to the other side of the prison and put you in perma-timeout.
>The harshest punishment of all.
>You remain unrepentant and rub your guard’s belly.
>They keep switching your guards, you keep getting new bellies to rub.
>You slowly corrupt the prison.
>Become the shadow warden.
>All the bellies are yours.

-*-

>Be Anon in Kinderquestria.
>Freshly released from jail after serving a sentence for shouting "penis" really loudly.
>You've never lost that game on Earth and you sure as shit weren't going to lose here.
>You're hanging out at the train station waiting for your ride back home when you hear a voice calling out to you.
>"Hey you! Tower-lookin' fella! Care to test your luck?"
>Recreational gambling? Here?
>You make your way over to the busker pony and see that she's got a little table set up.
>There are three little cups set on its surface.
>All around you are muttering ponies who seem to have been previously beaten.
"Sure, what's the game?"
>"Just keep your eye on the birdie! If you guess which cups it's under, I'll double your money!"
>Oh, it's this.
>You idly wonder if she's pulling the old drop-the-ball-off-the-table trick to have beaten this many ponies, but you have a sneaking suspicion that they're just silly boys and girls.
"Alright, put me in for ten."
>You set your money down, and the crowd ooos and ahhhs.
>"Ten it is! Here we go!"
>You keep your eyes locked on the cup the little red ball is under.
>As you suspected, she's not pulling any funny business, everybody's just goofs.
>She stop after a little bit.
>"Alright, take your pick!"
>You tap your fingers on the right cup, and she pulls it up to reveal the ball.
>The crowd whoops and stomps, and the busker is flabbergasted.
>"Shoot, mister, you're pretty good!"
>She quickly recovers, giving you a cocky grin.
>"Bet you can't do it twice in a row!"
>You smile back.
"Yeah? How much?"
>"I'll give you another twenty if you beat me this time!"
"Game on."
>She slide the cups around like a mare possessed, but since she doesn't do anything fancy like passing the ball between cups it's not too hard.
>She stops, panting with forelegs spread wide, looking up at you expectantly.
>You tap the center cup.
>And sure enough, there it is.
>Her jaw hangs low, but she pays up.
>You're about to leave when she stops you again.
>"H-Hang on a second! Let's play again! A different game!"
>She stows the little red ball and pulls out some dice instead.
>"You ever roll dice, mister? Let's put forty bits on this one roll!"
>The crowd gasps, and you raise an eyebrow.
>She must really need that money back.
>You hope it wasn't her train fare, though you kinda laugh at the thought.
>You'll blow her mind one last time, but you'll at least buy her ticket after.
"Sure. Let's make it interesting though. How about lowest roll wins?"
>"Huh... Lowest? Well, if that's how you like it! Let's do it!"
>You let her go first, and she does surprisingly well.
>Of a five-dice roll, she gets two ones, two twos, and a three.
>She smirks up at you.
>"Nine!"
>The crowd are packed in to watch, and they're on the edge of their seats.
>You've got a trick up your sleeve, though.
>Good thing you spent an afternoon figuring out how to stack dice.
>You carefully line your dice up on the table, evenly spaced, and scoop them into the cup with a zig-zagging motion.
>All the ponies watch, bemused, as you slam the cup down, only to gasp when you raise it.
>A neat tower of dice stands proudly, showing a four on top.
"Four. Looks like I win again."
>Someone in the crowd starts shouting.
>"Hang on a second! That's cheating, isn't it?"
>Suddenly you're surrounded by accusing ponies.
>"Yeah, you can't do that! You still have to count the dice underneath!"
"Says who? That's not a rule!"
>"W-Well, it's still kinda…"
>"What's all this, then?!"
>Great, of course the cops show up now.
>"Ponice! This guy just cheated at dice!"
"What the heck!? What'd I ever do to you, dude?!"
>You find yourself surrounded by copper pones, with your erstwhile opponent still staring in awe at the tower of dice.
>"Cheating at dice, eh? You're going in the slammer for that, you... uh... thingy!"
"I just got out of the slammer! Bug off!"
>"RESISTING ARREST!"
>You're tackled and dragged off by the popo.
>By "dragged off," you mean shepherded away when you eventually feel bad enough about not falling over when they whack you with their squeaky batons.
>As you're dragged back to the station for questioning, the busker pony slowly turns her head to stare after you.
>"...So cool...!"
>Today was an "earned a fan, but at what cost?" kind of day.

-*-

>Be Anon.
>Get your first paycheck from kinderjob.
>Working in Ponyville Town Hall wasn't so bad, especially when damn near nobody came in there.
>You put the sack of coins in your jacket pocket and walk home.
>Get home to count them out.
>These gold coins are weirdly soft.
>…
>No way.
>They wouldn't. They couldn't.
>THEY DID.
>You hold your face in your hands as you stare down at the half-unwrapped chocolate coin before you.
>You... you get paid in candy.
>You go back to work the next day to make sure you didn't just get pranked.
>Nope. Everybody gets paid in chocolate coins.
>You watch a coworker accidentally eat his lunch money.
>That's when it hits you.
>An idea. An amazing idea. Possibly the single greatest idea you've ever had.
>What if you could get ponies to accept other candies as payment?
>Candies that you made?
>It's worth a shot. What could go wrong?

>Plenty, as it turns out.
>After learning some basic skills from Bon Bon, you set about making some gummy coins.
>Gelatin and fruit juice are pretty cheap, and so you crank out a bunch to test with.
>You start small. You walk out to Sweet Apple Acres and try to buy yourself some apple juice with them.
>You offer Applejack some jelly-coins instead of bits.
>She eyes you up and down before taking one to look at.
>You start sweating. Maybe you shouldn't have tried this on the Element of Honesty, you dingus.
>She takes a bite of one, then immediately brightens.
>"Mm! Don't think Ah've ever seen coins like that, sugarcube, but they're good. Here's yer apple juice."
"Thanks, AJ."
>You have to contain your hype as you walk off the farm.
>As you quickly confirm with various other purchases, ponies judge the authenticity of the money by how good it tastes.
>You're about to be the richest man in the world, baby.
>Over the course of weeks, you craft enough jelly-coins to make a dragon hoard out of, and buy yourself a palace of a house.
>Daily backrubs from the spa twins, hiring out a cook and a maid, you're living the dream.
>You get so loose with your money you buy a boat.
>The only place to use it is on the lake, and you just let whoever sail it.
>You can always buy another if it sinks.
>Anyways, you live like a baller until tax season.
>Turns out, a variety of ponies from all over the country trying to use a mysterious foreign currency to pay their taxes is gonna draw some attention.
>You get visited by the Equestrian IRS.
>You sweat bullets as they ask where exactly you got your jelly-coins.
>You lie and say that they're human money, and that you had a bunch when you came to Equestria.
>They book you for not reporting your wealth when you first arrived, and not only are you going to jail, you now owe quite a bit of back tax.
>Today was a white-collar crime kind of day.

-*-

>Day High Five in Kinderquestria.
>You're a green tower of power, too sweet to be sour, so you must be Anonymous.
>You're hanging out on one of the many benches in Ponyville, doing some pony watching.
>Heh. Pony watching. In Ponyville. On the Pony Planet. In the Ponyverse.
>Anyway, you're watching your four-legged neighbors be the cute little creatures they are.
>Given that they're friendly to the extreme and had no problem accepting you into their community, you receive waves from almost everyone who notices you on the bench.
>You return each and every one, a smile on your face.
>Suddenly, a little mint green unicorn gallops over.
>"Hiya Anon!"
"Hey Lyra. How are you?"
>"I'm great! I've been looking for you!"
>She clambers up into the bench, imitating your sitting position.
>Rear legs dangling off the bench, forelegs at her sides.
>You have no idea how pony skeletons work.
>"I wanted to show you something!"
>She holds up one of her hooves, and a magical glow surrounds it.
>Five glowing, golden fingers wiggle at you!
>"Look! Now I have a hand too!"
>She looks so proud of herself. It's too cute.
>You play along.
"That's really neat, Lyra. Here, put your hand up."
>She tilts her head, but obliges you.
>You lightly slap your hand onto hers.
"High five!"
>She laughs happily.
>"My turn!"
>A satisfying smack rings out as she returns the gesture.
"Nice. What made you want to have hands though?"
>"I just think they're really neat. I like your hands!"
>Awww.
"Well, I'll teach you some other hand-related activities then."
>"Really?! Yay!"
"Alright, so there's a game humans call rock paper scissors..."
>You teach Lyra the relevant hand signs, and play a few times.
>The little green pony giggles happily every time she makes a gesture with her new magic appendage.
"Now you've got it."
>"This is so cool, Anon! Humans use this to decide stuff?"
"Yeah. That or nosegoes."
>"Nosegoes?"
"Yeah, that's where somebody shouts 'nosegoes!' and whoever puts their finger to their nose last has to go, so to speak."
>"So, like this?"
>A glowing finger bops the tip of your nose.
"Heh. No, you use your own nose. Like this."
>You grab hold of her hand and press her finger to her little pony snout.
>"Oh, gotcha!"
"So there's that, and... Hm. There's chopsticks, but that one's more fun with two hands."
>Lyra raises her other hoof, and another golden hand appears.
>"Ta-da!"
"Hahaha! Well, alright. Put out your fingers like this..."
>You spend a good long while teaching the pale green unicorn the finer points of chopsticks strategy.
>You let her win a couple games, too.
>"This is all really fun, Anon! I never knew you could do so much with hands!"
"And I'd almost forgotten how fun some of this stuff is. We can play whenever you feel like it, Lyra."
>"That sounds great! We'll be hand buddies!"
>You chuckle.
"Here. One last hand tip, for a hand buddy. A good way to say hi or bye is to give a handshake. You can make it as long and elaborate as you want."
>"Oooo! Oooo! Then, let's make ours!"
>The next ten minutes is spent perfecting a needlessly long and pointlessly complicated secret handshake, that no other two citizens of Ponyville would be able to replicate anyway on account of their not having hands.
>You love it regardless.
>You're about to go through the whole thing again when a ponice officer spots the two of you.
>She pulls out her whistle and gives it a blast.
>"Holding hooves in public! You two l-lewdsters are coming with me!"
>Aw, what?
>You're just thinking about how to get yourself out of this when Lyra speaks up.
>"Nuh-uh! My hand's made of magic, doesn't count! I'm not actually touching Anon!"
>The cop hesitates.
"Look, officer, we're just a pair of hand buddies doing hand buddy things. If you don't like our super-secret hand club handshake, then we'll take our business elsewhere."
>The cop relents.
>Thus went the first meeting of the Hand Club.

-*-

>Day Team Building Exercise in Kinderquestria.
>Be Anon working for a little pony firm.
>You still aren’t entirely sure what this company does, but they pay you, so you don’t ask questions.
>In typical corporate fashion, management decided having everybody climb the stairs all the way up to your 43rd floor office suite would be fun and good for building synergy.
>Even in pony land, you can’t escape the buzzwords.
>Anyway, it started out fun enough.
>Everybody was having fun chatting and laughing up until about the 10th floor.
>One of the secretary mares tugged on your pants leg.
>”Anon, my hooves are starting to hurt. Can you carry me for a bit?”
>Like you’d ever refuse a chance to touch ponies.
“Sure, Ink Well. C’mere.”
>You gently hoist your coworker up in your arms.
>She sighs in relief as the journey resumes, but Cross Correlate’s cheeks puff.
>”Hey, that’s not fair! I want an Anon Ride too!”
“One at a time, Cross. I’ll let you switch in when Ink feels better.”
>The little pegasus stallion grumbles. Ink Well sticks out her tongue at him.
>At floor 20 even your chest is burning.
>Whose idea was this? Is this even physically possible for kinderponies?
>You’re surrounded by groaning and pleading pastel penitents, all begging for help.
>Ink Well’s still tired, so you shift her around onto your back, two pegasi clamber onto your shoulders, and you squeeze as many ponies as you can carry into your arms.
>A few minutes of this makes your lungs feel like someone lit a match inside them.
>The wails of the ponies you don’t have room to carry reaches a cacophony, and they cling you your pants and the back of your shirt, with others clinging to them, until a giant chain of clinging, moaning lumps trails behind you down the stairs.
>At floor 30, you’re pretty sure you’re gonna die.
>The others are arguing with Ink Well, who still refuses to give up her seat but won’t say why.
>She’s squeezing your chest tightly with her hooves, making it even harder to breathe.
>Cross Correlate is trying to pry her off, which slows you down.
>Everybody else is pawing and clambering all over you, and the background noise could fool you into thinking you’d somehow descended into hell.
>At floor 40, only one thought remains in your head.
>You are going to DESTROY whichever shareholder thought of this.
>Cuddly pony or no, this was a terrible idea and they should feel terrible.
>Drenched in sweat, you claw your way up the last three flights and in through the door to the office, collapsing.
>One by one, your little pony passengers join you, flopping over on the carpet.
>Except Ink Well, who sees fit to just splay out on your back.
>Your boss walks up.
>”Welcome back, everypony! Did you have fun?”
>You all slowly turn your heads to look at him.

>Some time later, you’re walking out of the building, as many pudding cups as you can carry under one arm, Ink Well under the other, surrounded by comrades in the movement.
>The boss’ll get out of his duct tape prison eventually.
>Today was a worker’s uprising sort of day.

-*-

>"I can see time, Nonners!"
>You're standing in what you thought was your kitchen but has apparently been converted into some weird pony laboratory.
>Your refrigerator stands open, your last can of Monster empty on the floor, and Pinkie Pie is vibrating in place before you.
>She's destroying the floor beneath her and you don't like the look of that smile she's got.
>There are other little ponies galloping around panicking about it. They keep trying to "lock down the premises," but they can't because you won't give them your keys.
>It's gonna be a pain in the ass to clean up after this...
"Panko, I think you need to leave. It's hard enough getting these guys out of my house without you scaring them like this."
>"Heeheehee! Silly Nonners! Mortal concerns are trivial compared to the power that comes with CHIM!"
>Oh god. Did an energy drink seriously bring her to enlightenment? That's both stupid and amazing, somehow.
"Ponka, listen to me. I don't know what you're seeing, but what you drank was just a bunch of sugar and taurine. You'll be over it in a few hours."
>"But I don't want to be over it! It's so much fun having hidden knowledge and seeing the future!"
>She taps her chin with a hoof after that statement.
>"I think I might have always had the hidden knowledge, though."
>This isn't going anywhere. You'll need to do something to get her to calm down.
>You take a step forward only to see nothing where she was a moment earlier, and hear a voice in your ear.
>"I see all, Nonners. Resistance is futile."
>You slowly turn your head to find a single baby blue eye boring into yours.
>This... might actually be a problem.
>You try to snatch her off your shoulders only to feel her bouncing on top of your head. You reach up there only to see her sitting on your kitchen counter across the room.
>"With all this power, I can finally make you do it."
>Her eyes stare unblinkingly at you as she utters her simple command.
>"Say my name right, Nonners."
"Pinker Pong."
>The universe collapses around you.

-*-

>Day Swim Meet in Kinderquestria.
>The sun is out, the temperature is high, and there's not a cloud in the sky courtesy of the weather team.
>On days like this, everybody in Ponyville heads to the lake, and you are no exception.
>You are Anonymous, amateur lifeguard and professional alien.
>It could be said that you were incredibly unlucky, what with you getting struck by lightning and sent to an alternate world, but you were simultaneously lucky enough for the alternate world to be this one.
>You lounge in your high lifeguard seat with an iced glass of punch in your hands, trunks over your junk, and guns to the sun.
>Beneath you, happy little equines frolic under your watchful eye. Everybody's got their water wings on and floaty rings equipped.
>The ponies being what they are, they needed somebody who could actually swim to watch out for them, and you happily volunteered for the role of summer lifeguard.
>Not a problem in sight. Not a worry in anybody's mind. Just sun and fun.
>It's a good day to be alive, man.
>You take a sip from your drink as you survey the scene. It’s not a “drink” drink. But it is some bomb-ass punch.
>Its creator, Berry Punch, is manning a little stand handing out refreshments for the thirsty at a couple bits a pop.
>You think you see a rainbow out of the corner of your eye and turn your head to look.
>”Heya Anon!”
>A sky-blue pegasus with the most colorful damn mane and tail you’ve ever seen swoops over, circling you as she talks.
>”Check out my new water wings! These ones leave enough of my wings uncovered so I can fly even while I have them on!”
>You smile at Dash, nodding appreciatively.
“Lookin’ sharp, Speedy Snooze.”
>She’s got a little swimsuit on, a swim cap and goggles resting on top of her head. The vaunted new floaties cling to the base of her wings.
>”Dang right! Hey, do you wanna watch me race? AJ and I are gonna have a swimming contest!”
>Your fingers tap against your punch glass as you consider it. Most ponies are decked to nines with flotation devices, and in all the time you’ve been lifeguarding you’ve never had an actual incident. It should be fine if you take a little break.
>Knowing the mares in question, you should probably be there anyway for safety reasons.
“I’d hate to miss it. Lead the way!”
>Dash squeals happily.
>”Aw yeah! Come on!”
>Dash seizes hold of your hand and tugs. She can’t actually move you, but you follow along as quick as you can, draining your drink and setting the cup on your seat before taking off down the beach.
>Rainbow chatters animatedly the whole trip down the beach, about racing, and how swimming is really just flying underwater if you think about it, so that means she’s bound to win, and how she can’t wait to rub it in AJ’s face.
>You smile and nod all the way through. You can’t get a word in edgewise when she’s on a roll.
>Soon enough, you spot AJ warming up near the water’s edge, and the other four are lounging on a big beach towel.
>After exchanging pleasantries with the rest of the equines of amicability, the two contestants stand in the shallows, awaiting your signal.
“Alright, first out to the rock and back wins. You girls ready?”
>Rainbow puffs out her chest, and AJ adjusts her swim cap.
>”I’m always ready!”
>”You betcha. Just say when, Anonymous.”
>You raise a hand to the sky.
“On your marks… Get set… Go!”
>Your arm swings downward, and they’re off. Swimming as best as ponies can.
>AJ’s got a floaty ring on and seems to be relying entirely on her back hooves to propel herself. Not a bad strategy, considering how powerful those legs are by pony standards.
>Rainbow, on the other hand, pulls through the water with every appendage she’s got. A six-limbed doggy paddle. It’s messy, but her sheer vigor keeps her in the race.
>…the thrilling, meter-a-minute race.
>You shake your head, chuckling quietly. The Summer Olympics it ain’t, but it’s still fun to watch.
>You sit down on the sand as Pinkie Pie bounces over to you, a tray of treats balanced on her back.
>”Cupcake, Nonners? I’m really proud of these ones!”
>You take one of the colorful confections, peeling the wrapper before taking a bite.
>For a moment, you can process nothing else other than the flavor of this cupcake.
>Next thing you know, you’ve got an empty wrapper in your hands and are eyeing the others on her tray.
“You’ve really outdone yourself, Pinkie. Can I have another?”
>She giggles, bouncing in place while somehow leaving the tray undisturbed.
>”Of course you can, silly! I made a batch of red velvet because I know it’s your favorite, and I held back on the sugar this time because you said the last batch made your teeth hurt, and I put swirls of cherry jam in the frosting because I felt like it! Applejack said I should have used apples instead but she always says that, and-“
>Your eyes drift back to the race as you munch your second cupcake, Pinkie prattling away.
>Still neck and neck. Dash looks like she’s losing on the stamina front, which is no surprise. AJ’s got her inflatable ring keeping most of her torso out of the water.
>Every now and then Dash lifts her head out of the water and looks your way.
>Upon making eye contact, she grins, immediately plunging back below and paddling even harder.
>You grin too, watching until you feel a gentle tap on the shoulder.
>You turn to see a very yellow and very quiet Banana Hush.
>”C-Can I sit here, Anonymous? If you don’t mind.”
>Hey, she barely even stuttered there! Progress.
>You do your best to keep your eyes on the race but are continuously distracted by Dash’s friends.
>The few times you catch Dash looking at you, she looks more and more peeved.
>Finally, in the middle of a discussion with Twilight about whether solar flares are caused by Celestia sneezing-
>”Anon, you’re not watching!”
>The petulant shout grabs your attention, and you look out over the water to see Rainbow waving angrily.
“Sorry!”
>The four girls around you giggle as you refocus.
>Satisfied that you’re paying attention to her, Rainbow returns to the race, only to realize she’s lost about a foot to AJ.
>What follows vaguely resembles a songbird floundering around in a too-deep birdbath.
>Honest Apple gets to the rock and turns around, but Blue Fast doesn’t seem to be making any headway.
>…And that movement is beginning to look less like paddling and more like struggling.
>Yeah, okay, this has gone on long enough.
>You rise and launch yourself into the water, pulling yourself forward with swift strokes.
>Fortunately, she’s not too far out. You get to her in a matter of moments.
>You draw in close, feet still barely able to touch the bottom as you lift her up out of the water.
>She coughs and splutters for a minute. When her airway’s finally clear, she sulks.
>”…How come you weren’t watching?”
“I was. I was just visiting with the others. Why’re you so keen for me to watch you swim?”
>”W-Well, I just, I see you swimming all the time, and you’re really good at it, and I just thought I’d try and be like you and swim without a floaty ring, and…”
>You shake your head, beginning to make your way back to shore, holding Dash aloft the whole way.
“Dash, I’ve had a lot of practice swimming the way I do. Using flotation devices when you need them is nothing to be embarrassed about.”
>”Yeah, but it looks so lame compared to you! Like, just now, you were all like whoosh, and just jumped in the water, no hesitation! And you’re super fast! I wanna be like that!”
“Then I’ll start teaching you. But you can’t just start swimming unassisted, that’s dangerous. Okay?”
>”O-Okay… But you’ll really teach me?”
“It’s a promise.”
>You get her back to shore safe and sound and are cheered by all the little pony townsfolk for your dashing heroics.
>Just another day lifeguardin’.

-*-

>Be Anon in Kinderquestria
>Get thrown in jail for saying you wanted to cum inside Rainbow Dash
>Get placed in super maximum security timeout
>This entails two guards staring at you while you sit in the corner
>Get super bored
>Decide to mess with your guards
>Hold a staring contest with the guard on your left
>He tries his best to be intimidating and fails stupendously
>You bug your eyes out at him
>He gets scared and hides behind his friend
>You turn your attention to the slightly braver Guard B
>You're gonna give him the ol' razzle dazzle
>You slowly raise your hands
>You do the little magic trick where you pull the tip of your thumb off
>Your guards scream and run away
>You escape
>Silly ponies

-*-

>Be a very confused Anon lying in a hospital bed
>The last clear memory you have is getting coughed on by some asshole
>You vaguely recall making your way home after that, but you got really dizzy and passed out soon after
>You dreamed you were being dragged around by tiny horses, and then when you woke up, you were here in this bed
>What happened? How did emergency services find you? You live alone
>The door to your room opens
>Your question dies on your lips when you see who it is
>A pale white horse-looking creature with pink hair and an old-timey nurse’s cap
>It gasps
>”Oh, you’re awake!”
>It ducks back out the door for a moment
>”DOCTOR, HE’S AWAKE!”
>You’re still in shock as it rushes back in the room
>”You really shouldn’t be sleeping outside, sir! You caught yourself a nasty fever, and you’re very lucky somepony found you and brought you here.”
>Now that she mentions it, you do feel pretty sick
>She hops up on the bed, a floating thermometer following her
>...Wait
>How is she doing that?
>”Now, say ‘ahhhh...’”
“Uh...”
>She giggles
>”No, silly, with the back of your throat. ‘Aaaahhh.’”
>You comply this time, and the thermometer flies into your mouth
>She gently closes it with her front hoof
>She peers at the medical instrument intently
>”Hmmm. Still pretty warm. I know cold milk isn’t as good as warm, but it’s the best thing for you right now. I’ll be right back!”
>The thermometer is pulled from your mouth by some invisible force and follows her out of the room
>You’re still stupefied
>Why is there a talking horse? Why are things floating? Why do it be like it is?
>Your brain makes no progress in this epic mental struggle, and by the time she gets back you’ve only succeeded in making yourself tired
>A tray floats up into your lap
>It’s... got milk and cookies?
>”Now, please drink your glass of cold milk. The doctor will be with you shortly.”
>The doctor trots in a few minutes later.
>”Gooooood afternoon! I don’t believe we’ve caught your name.”
>He offers a little hoof to shake, which you do without thinking
“Anonymous.”
>”Well hello Mister Anonymous! Hate to tell you this, but you seem to have caught a really nasty case of something. Do you sleep outside regularly?”
“Well, no. I’m... I’m not really sure how I ended up outside in the first place.”
>”Uh oh! Maybe extreme sleepwalking? I forget what the cure is for that, but we’ll figure it out! In the meantime, Nurse Redheart will be taking care of you!”
>In comes the little horse nurse from earlier
>She takes your tray with a smile
>The doctor continues
>”Nothing left to do but relax, Mr. Anonymous. You’re in capable hooves!”
>He departs, and the nurse tucks you in
>”Just push your buzzer if you need anything!”
>Today was a weird day

>You remain the first and only Covid-19 patient in Equestria, so you must be Anonymous.
>You lie face-up in your bed, weak as an overcooked noodle, with fever clouding your thoughts.
>A very worried doctor horse paces around your room, and a nurse horse sits at your bedside, staring sadly as she changes out the cloth on your head for a new one freshly soaked in cold water.
>”I just don’t understand it. He’s up to four glasses of cold milk a day, a different kind of cookie with each. But not only has the fever has gotten worse, he’s begun to develop other symptoms! We may need to take more advanced measures...”
>The nurse turns to look at him.
>”Doctor, you can’t mean-!”
>”I do, Redheart. If he starts coughing again, we’ll need to...”
>The doctor gulps, placing a hoof over his eyes.
>”...administer the cough syrup.”
>The nurse gasps.
>”B-But it’s so gross! It tastes nothing like strawberry!”
>”I know, dang it! Don’t you think I know that? But look at him! What choice do we have?”
>You stare at the ceiling slack-jawed and vacant, but that little exchange just now helped to form some coherent thoughts.
>Such as: these horses are fuckin’ weird, man.
>How can milk and cookies be of any medical use? Why do they care so much about how cough syrup tastes? They have to give you something. Even just a lozenge would make you feel a bit better. You should try and ask.
>You croak, attempting to form words as your raspy throat betrays you.
>The nurse clutches your hand with both hooves.
>”Please don’t worry! The doctor’s just overreacting a bit! I’ll make him see sense!”
>You groan, shaking your head.
>”You see?! He’s against it too, Doctor! You can’t treat a patient without their consent!”
>”But it’s for his own good! What if he gets even worse?! We have to take steps now, or else we’ll just be making him suffer needlessly!”
>Fuck’s sake, they make it sound like you have cancer.

>Day Home Remedy in Kinderquestria.
>You are Anonymous, resting in a hospital bed in a world of talking horses and feeling like you’re starting to get over the ‘Rona.
>Your throat still feels like sandpaper and your uvula is touching the back of your tongue, but at least you’re not burning up anymore.
>The ponies are still waxing Shakespearian over giving you cough syrup. Might be time to take things into your own hands.
>Little Nurse Redheart trots into your room with another tray of cold milk and cookies on her back.
>”Good morning, Mr. Anonymous! It’s tike for your first dose of the day. I’m so glad it’s finally started to work!”
>You don’t have the heart to tell her that it was more likely just your immune system finally growing a pair.
>But you do have the heart to write her a little note.
>She reads it, then gives you a quizzical look.
>”Er... Salt water...?”
>You try to rasp out a “yes,” but it sounds more like a mummy coming back to life.
>You settle for an emphatic nod.
>”Well, if you say so... I’ll be right back with that.”
>True to her word, she doesn’t keep you waiting long.
>She trots in with another tray, this one bearing two cups.
>One should be full of warm water mixed with some honey, the other warm water and a healthy pinch of salt.
>You set the tray on your little bedside table as Redheart speaks.
>”This might be a silly question, but you aren’t going to drink that, are you?”
>You shake your head as you clamber out of bed, salty solution in hand.
>”Right, of course not! Oh, but please, you should really lie down-“
>You gently brush past her and shuffle to the sink in the corner. It’s typically used for the staff to wash their hooves in, but it’ll serve for your purposes.
>”Mr. Anonymous, I insist. Please go back to bed and we’ll- Oh my goodness!”
>She exclaims in shock as you down half the glass, swishing and gargling it around in your mouth until the burn from the salt hitting your sore throat is too much to bear.
>You cough, spitting up most of it into the sink before repeating with the remainder. It stings like nobody’s business, but when the last drop goes down the drain your throat already feels a little bit better.
>”Mr. Anonymous, you said you weren’t going to drink it! Why would you subject yourself to something like that?!”
>Your caretaker rears up, hooves flailing.
>You chuckle.
“And I didn’t. I just washed my mouth with it. It’s not a big deal.”
>Your voice is grating, but functional. She gasps.
>”But-! How can that be? You could barely speak a moment ago!”
“Your mom never taught you that gargling salt water help with sore throats? Well, now you know.”
>You flop back down on your bed, draining the glass of honey water in a single gulp. You sigh in relief at the soothing sensation it brings.
“Much better. If you don’t mind, could you bring me another couple glasses of water? I’d like to drink some now while I can get it down.”
>She stares with mouth agape for a few moments before nodding.
>”S-Sure! I’ll, uh, just be a moment...”
>This time, she kinda lied.
>It takes her a little while to come back, and when she does she isn’t alone.
>Your doctor is in tow, and he looks very excited. He’s got a notepad with him.
>”Hi, Mr. Anonymous! Could you tell me a little more about this remedy of yours?”
>You chug glasses of water in between sentences. There’s not much to tell anyway. Salt to clean the throat, honey to make it feel better. Don’t drink the salt. Drink the honey.
>Yet judging by the doctor’s expression, you’d think you just gave him the recipe for panacea.
>”Incredible! Certainly, salt water is very gross, but not as gross as cough syrup! I need to have this peer reviewed! You said your mom taught you this?”
“Uh, yeah?”
>”We’ll be sure to give her credit!
>And that’s how your mom became famous in the field of horse medicine.

>You’re a man on the mend among little horses in labcoats, so you must be Anonymous.
>You’ve finally kicked Earth’s newest plague and are now illness-free.
>You’re also grody as hell from lying in bed for days on end.
>After convincing Redheart and the doc that you’re perfectly capable of walking on your own, you make your way to the showers while they wash your clothes for you.
>It’s a bit cramped, but you make do. The issue after that is finding a towel in your size. One of the hospital staff had to run home and grab a beach towel for you.
>Finally dry and decently covered, it’s time to clean that scruff off your face.
>You walk through the halls of the pony hospital openly. Everybody’s buck naked except for a few hats and coats anyway, so you wearing only a towel is nothing special.
>Arriving at your room, you push your little magic nurse buzzer and wait.
>Redheart canters in shortly.
>”I’m sorry Mr. Anonymous; your clothes aren’t quite dry yet.”
“That’s alright. I was actually hoping you could get me a razor blade.”
>She recoils a step, staring at you with wide eyes.
>”T-Those are really dangerous! I can’t give something like that to a patient!”
“Please? I’d like to shave.”
>”Oh! Then you should see a barber instead! They’re professionally trained to handle sharp objects. It’s much safer to rely on them than to do it yourself!”
>You love Redheart for all she’s done for you, but this is starting to get a bit ridiculous.
”Look. I promise I know how to handle a razor. Almost all humans do. Have I ever lied to you?”
>She hesitates, scuffing a hoof against the floor.
>”...No, but... Oh, alright.”
>Turning about, she heads for the door as she speaks.
>”I’ll bring you one, but on one condition! You have to let me supervise!”
>She returns after a few minutes, followed by a flock of flying objects.
>She sends one of them your way. It’s an old-fashioned straight razor, folded into its wooden handle.
>”It goes without saying but please, please, please be careful! I’ll be right here when you cut yourself!”
>A box of bandaids, a couple tubes of disinfectant, a washcloth, and a lollipop remain circling around her.
>You chuckle. Not “if,” but “when,” huh?
>You get up and move to the doctor’s sink in your room. Taking the little bar of soap into your hands, you rub it until you get a thick lather and smear it all over your face. Redheart giggles at your bubble beard.
>Unfolding the razor, you start shearing away. The soap keeps it gliding over your face with each stroke, slicing off facial hair and foam alike in swathes.
>You withdraw into your thoughts as your hands work automatically. What are you going to do after you leave the hospital? There’s no way this is Earth. And if getting coughed on by some dickhead and passing out is how you jump dimensions then you’re not getting home, because you haven’t encountered any dickheads here.
>Before you know it, you’re staring sadly at your reflection, running a hand over your bare chin as you drop the razor in the sink.
>A sudden burst of applause and whoops startles you.
>It seems the daring act of shaving your own face garnered a small crowd of hospital staff. Ponies are clustered into your hospital room, and some peek in from the hallway.
>Redheart climbs on a chair and rears up to get at your face, turning your head left and right to check for cuts.
>”I... I can’t believe it!”
>You grin.
“Told you, Redheart.”
>She huffs but gives you a small, wry smile as she wipes your face off with her washcloth.
>While she does that, you’re congratulated on your “surgical achievement” by everybody else.
>Your doctor is shaking your hand.
>”Mr. Anonymous, I don’t know what you do for work now, but you should quit and work with us! How did you transform soap into shaving cream?! Between your knowledge in experimental medicine and your surgical skills, you could help a lot of ponies!”
>Well, it would solve the “what-do-I-do-now” problem. Why not?
“Sure doc. I’m, uh... between gigs at the moment anyway. And between houses.”
>”Aw, that’s no good! You can stay in your hospital room for now, if you like.”
“Is that really okay?”
>”Sure! It’s the least we could do!”
>And that’s how you became the Equestrian equivalent of that one Russian surgeon who removed his own appendix.

-*-

>Day Magical Mishap in Kinderquestria.
>You’re hanging out in your house and minding your own business, so you must be Anonymous.
>You’re the only one in this whole town who does that after all.
>You lie back in your armchair, flipping through your latest issue of Mare Butts Monthly.
>This one’s pretty great. The centerfold is goddamn flawless.
>There’s a knock on the door. Jolted out of your study of living works of art, you grumble, hiding the magazine under the seat cushion before sauntering over to see who it is.
>Your peephole is about midway down the door, in order to accommodate the average height of 99% of your visitors.
>It’s murder on your knees.
>You peer outside to behold a baby blue eye staring back.
>”Nonners! I need help!”
>Pinkie, huh? Well, at least she’s bothering to use social niceties like knocking and not just magically appearing in your cupboards like usual.
>You yank the door open.
>...Wait a minute.
>A pony who very much resembles Pinkie bounces in place. Same floofy mane. Same three balloons on her hiney.
>But she’s a bat!
>”Nonners, it’s terrible! I was sneaking around the library secretly decorating for the surprise party I’m gonna throw Twilight that you’re totally invited to by the way but I startled her by accident and she hit me with a spell and now-“
>As sudden as the verbal deluge began, it ceases. The pink bat continues bouncing in place with her head hanging down, snoring.
>What the fuck? Did she really just fall asleep?
>You gingerly reach down, grabbing her shoulder.
“Pinkie...?”
>She snaps back to consciousness and keeps right on talking.
>”And now I’m a bat! And I can’t stay awake! But I have to stay awake because these are optimal party hours! Except for dinner parties obviously but you get my point and Twilight’s trying to figure out how to undo the spell but I need somebody to help me make snacks and hats and things-“
>And she’s snoring again.
>You heave a sigh. You bend down, catching her mid-bounce.
“Pinkie, if Twi’s trying to turn you back then you should wait with her. You’re in no condition to be doing anything.”
>She kicks her hooves fitfully, waking up again.
>”No, please Nonners! This one’s really important! Just help me with one party’s worth of things!”
“The surprise bash for Purple Nerd? What are you celebrating this time?”
>”No, that party is next week. This one’s a secret! A secret party that HAS to happen today! Pleeeeaaaase pleasepleasepleasepleaseplease-“
>The rapid-fire pleading devolves into snoring again. You crack a smile.
>Thinking about it, you realize it’s a been a while since you last hung out with one of your equine neighbors. Why not? There are worse ways to spend a day. And you know from experience that you can’t escape the pink party pony. Better to just surrender now.
“Alright, you little nut. Just one though, okay?”
>”YAY!”
>You’re almost immediately wrapped in a vice-like hug.
>There are times when you think Pinkie might have super strength.
>”There’s no time to lose! Let me use your kitchen!”
>She glides clumsily on her new wings, almost smacking into the floor as she swoops into your kitchen. You chase after her.
“Easy there! Don’t try to fly around, Pinkie. You’re just going to hurt yourself.”
>”But it’s so fun! Anyways, get out your flour and sugar, I’ve got the rest of the stuff here!”
>She begins pulling cake ingredients out of her mane.
“...That’s kind of unsanitary.”
>”It’s fine! If Twilight can’t even explain how I store things in my mane, then it probably doesn’t operate on conventional science, so we probably don’t have to worry about germs!”
>You aren’t sure which part of that statement terrifies you more.
>Pinkie sets about crafting a confectionary creation, with you helping as best you can and holding her head when she falls asleep so she doesn’t face plant into the batter.
>When she’s actually awake, she’s even more adept than usual. She puts her two extra limbs to good use.
>Soon enough, a pan full of batter slides into your oven. Pinkie closes the door and whirls around.
>”Time for decorations!”
>She launches herself through the air again, zooming out of the kitchen.
>In the few short seconds it takes you to follow her, she’s already got paper & other supplies laid out on a table.
>”C’mere Nonners! I need you to-“
>You just barely sprint across the room in time to keep her head from slamming on the table. You lower it down gently, sitting beside her and giving her a shake.
>She shoots back up after a few moments, but you shush her.
“Rest your head on the table, alright? Just tell me what to do.”
>Instead, she flops against you.
>”Tables aren’t comfy, but you are!”
>You snort.
>With intermittent but precise instructions, you eventually have...
>Well, it’s a bunch of pieces of paper cut and folded in weird ways.
>Your confusion is immediately cleared up when Pinkie takes one of them.
>”Tah-dah!”
>It’s like one of those paper chains that look like people holding hands, except every other one is a pony.
“...Did you come up with that design yourself? Wow, Pink.”
>”Of course I did, silly! I’m the princess of partying! The queen of confetti! The sultana of celebrations! The-“
>Her list of titles is cut woefully short by another attack of the sleepies.
>You snicker, adding one of your own.
“The tsarina of snoring.”
>Still, these decorations are pretty great. She’s talented at making cute stuff like this.
>You prod her, trying to get her to wake up again.
>...
>Huh. She’s sleeping pretty deeply this time.
>Maybe you should should just let her rest. She may or may not miss this secret party of hers, but it’s not good for her to keep pushing herself until the local librarian could get her back to normal.
>You gently pick her up off the floor and stand up.
>You take a couple steps towards your couch to lay her down, but your good intentions are rewarded with an almost bone-crushing hug.
>”Gotcha!”
>Pinkie laughs her bubbly little laugh as she clambers around to your back, clinging like a limpet.
>”You’ve been afflicted with a curse, Nonners! There’s going to be a bat on your back until you stick my streamers everywhere!”
“What? Pinkie, you aren’t throwing a party here. I’m trying to relax today.”
>”I won’t! I just want to see how they look!”
“Sounds like an awfully good excuse to have a party.”
>”P-Please?”
>Aw, fuck. No. You can feel the puppy dog eyes even if you can’t see them.
>You open your mouth. That’s it, Anon. Tell her no. Tell her you’ve got reading to do. Very important reading that you can’t show to anybody else.
“Alright. Only for a little bit though!”
>Goddammit.
>You put the decorations up. Your living room is now positively festooned.
>Pinkie gives you a squeeze.
>”Thanks! And now, the cake should be ready!”
>And sure enough, it is. And it just so happens to be your favorite.
>You know where this is going.
>You brace for the coming chaos as Pinkie sets the cake on the table.
>”And now, I’m proud to announce the beginning-“
>She whirls to face you.
>”Of the ‘Nonners Let A Pony Into His House For the First Time In A Week’ Party!!”
>Pinkie stands on her rear hooves with her forelegs spread wide, but...
>Nothing happens. No cannon, no crowd of ponies emerging from thin air, no alligator, no confetti...
>You stand stock-still, perplexed.
“Uh... it’s just you and me, Pinkie.”
>”Yep! Just a party for two. You don’t like ponies making a fuss over you, right? I thought maybe one pony’s worth of fuss would be okay though.”
“Has it really been a week?”
>”Yep yep! Twilight’s getting worried, Rarity’s getting anxious, Fluttershy’s getting sad, Dash is getting pouty, and Applejack was getting ready to bust your door down!”
“...You told her not to, right?”
>Pinkie strokes her chin.
>”I think I did. Anyways, it’s a party for you and me! A stealthy celebration! A low-volume luau! A humble hullabaloo! A-“
>You once again catch her as she nearly pratfalls.
>You shake your head at the merry bundle of madness dozing away in your arms.
>She clearly put a lot of thought into this, and she’s actually respecting your wishes this time.
>And that cake does look good...

>Half a Pinkie Pie cake later, you’re flat on your back on the floor, groaning at Past Anon’s foolishness.
>He knew damn well he was gonna get sick, the greedy bastard, but did he care? Nooooo.
>Pinkie giggles at your suffering.
>“It was good, huh Nonners?”
“Myep... urgh... a little too good...”
>”That’s a keeper recipe then! Thus concludes the party. Now for the after-party!”
>The thought of moving right now causes you physical pain. Fortunately, you’re not the one who moves.
>The princess of partying snuggles up next to you, resting her chin on a shoulder.
>She whispers.
>”Pinkie Pie’s Patented Pony Press. Only for the most extra special of friends.”
>Your heart accelerates for a moment there.
>You place your arm over her, and she sighs contentedly.
>”Mmmmm... Gotta get caught up on my sleep...”
“Me too.”
>You give her some back scritches as you begin to fade out.
>Man, this was really nice. Maybe you should spend more time with ponies after all-
>BLAM!
>The sound of shattering wood jolts you wide awake. Pinkie squeaks in panic, and you pull her against you protectively.
>”ANAWN! Ya in here? Ain’t seen yer face in too dang long, ya silly monkey!”
>”Yeah! We haven’t had a wrestle or anything in forever! You’re okay, right?!”
>”...I-I have my first aid...!”
>”That’s strange, Pinkie was supposed to be here first...”
>”Well there’s no sense standing here shouting about it, darlings. Come, I’m sure we’ll find him if-“
>Rarity crosses the doorway to your living room, and freezes when she sees the both of you.
>A grin slowly spreads across her face.
>”Oh my... That does look cozy.”
>You are promptly assaulted by four other pastel ponies while Rarity hides her laughter in the background.
>”Well, Ah never! So you two was gettin’ all comfy without us? Make some room there!”
>”What the heck, Pinkie?! That’s not fair, I want hugs too! Uh, I mean-“
>”...I-I’d like some back rubs, if that’s okay...”
>”Wait, what does this have to do with being turned into a bat?! I only did it because you said it would help us sneak into Anon’s house!”
>You shoot Pinkie a pointed look.
>She grins sheepishly.
>”I said it would get me in, Twilight. Nonners can’t refuse a pony in need!”
>You groan, flopping onto your back and accepting the inevitable.
>You are buried under six giggling girls.
>Today was Personal Pinkie Pie Party kind of day.

-*-

>Day 0 in Kinderquestria.
>You sit against a tree, one hand clutching your head as you try to make sense of what the fuck is going on.
>Your name is Anonymous. You aren’t sure why or how, but you are in a small village filled with colorful, waist-height horses.
>And none of them can talk.
>You peek between your fingers. A small crowd stares back at you, glancing at each other uncertainly.
>It had started with a single pony. Stunned by where you found yourself, you had approached the nearest one and hesitantly asked where you were.
>Its eyes went wide, and it just stared at you for a second before skittering away.
>You tried again, and again, and again.
>Each pony you approached grouped together, until there was a little herd of the things following you around.
>They’d always book it whenever you tried to approach them again, then slowly regroup as you walked on.
>So here you are. Stuck in a bizarro world where everybody is horses and nobody can understand you.
>You blink back tears.
>The sound of murmuring catches your attention.
>You look up to see the horses huddled together in discussion.
>You cock your head and cup an ear to listen. Their volume gives you a strange sense of nostalgia. It’s like watching kids try to be sneaky.
>”...looks so sad...”
>”...know the law...can’t get close...”
>”...maybe Princess Twilight...?”
“Hey!”
>They freeze.
“You guys can talk after all? You speak English?”
>The wide, unblinking stares and nervous glances return. But you’ve had about enough of this.
“I know you guys can speak! Talk to me! Where am I?!”
>”RUN AWAY!!”
>That single panicked shriek sends them all galloping for the hills, and you spring to your feet to give chase.
>Ducking through cobblestone alleys, sidestepping other cowering ponies, and pumping your legs as fast as you can, you try your best to catch up, but they’re quick little guys.
>Other ponies have begun chasing you while you chase your original marks.
>They have little blue caps and vests so you think they’re police, but even they aren’t saying shit to you!
>What’s going on?!
>At length you arrive in front of a towering crystal castle. The things’s a mess of strange geometry and kinda hurts your eyes when the sun hits is just right.
>The ponies you were chasing bang on the gate frantically, and you skid to a stop a short distance away.
>You feel something hit the back of your legs and turn around.
>One of the cops ran smack into you. He rubs his nose sheepishly.
>”Sorry.”
“No worries.”
>You turn back around only to almost gives yourself whiplash as you round on him again.
“Hey, wait!”
>But he’s already getting hurried away by other blue-skinned pigs, whispering frantically.
>You’re about to start chasing the police when the sound of large doors opening make you spin to fave the castle.
>The little ponies clamor around as a purple one comes out.
>”Princess, help!”
>”Can you talk to him?!”
>You stomp over.
“Every last one of you could’ve talked to me! And I need answers!”
>”Leave it to me, everypony!”
>Leaving the trembling crowd behind her, the winged unicorn meets you halfway.
>You stop, slightly relieved that this one isn’t running away.
>”My name is Twilight Sparkle. Won’t you tell me yours?”
>...Huh. It’s a weird name, but it also strikes you as slightly beautiful.
“It’s Anonymous. Now can you PLEASE tell me where I am?”
>She smiles, offering you one of her hooves.
>”It’s a pleasure to meet you, Anonymous! You’re in Ponyville!”
>Fucking finally! You firmly grasp her hoof and smile back as you shake.
>...
>Wait, that doesn’t help.
>You take a minute to explain everything to her. Twilight gasps.
>”You don’t know your way home? That’s terrible!”
>Her gasp is echoed by those ponies still in earshot, and you’re immediately swarmed by sympathy.
>Ponies that were fleeing from you as if their lives depended on it are now introducing themselves and offering hooves to shake, patting your legs, nuzzling your hands-
>You’re a little overwhelmed and slightly weirded out.
“Wait, guys, hang on. I appreciate all this, but why were you running away from me before?”
>Twilight tilts her head.
>”Don’t you know you shouldn’t talk to strangers, Anonymous?”

-*-

>You do your best to disregard the open stares and whispering.
>You’re not sure if they actually know or not. Ponies take keeping secrets comically seriously, and the two ponies that know your eating habits are supposed to be paragons of friendly virtues.
>But it can’t be that hard for the rest of them to figure it out. You’ve been seen walking through town with strange bundles wrapped in brown paper. They might be kids mentally, but kids ask a lot of questions. Most of which you’ve dodged.
>You don’t have one of those bundles now, but you will soon.
>You walk quickly, skirting places where ponies gather as much as possible as you cut through town.
>You only go to collect later in the day, but even then there are still ponies about. And most of them can still see you out of their windows if you’re not careful.
>Nosy little things.
>The sky burns with the colors of evening as you beat down the little path through the woods.
>The most picturesque little cottage you’ve ever seen comes into view. It looks straight out of a painting. Like a Monét, or some shit.
>You never much cared for art, but this place makes you think you could get into it.
>You step up to the door and knock softly.
“Hey Shy. It’s me.”
>It takes a couple minutes, but the door opens.
>”H-Hello, Anon. Please come in.”
>You stoop through the little door as the butter-colored pegasus welcomes you.
>She’s not alone. The ever-present Angel Bunny gives you his best haughty stare from between her forelegs. Harry the Bear sits placidly on the sagging couch, and small birds flit to and fro about the sitting room.
>You take what precious little space remains next to Harry as Fluttershy murmurs at you.
>”Um... Harry could only find fish this week.”
>You clap the bear on the shoulder.
“That’s no problem. Thanks as always.”
>Fluttershy nods, but just stands still.
>”...Have you told the others yet...?”
“No. I honestly don’t think I should.”
>”I-I don’t think it’s good to keep secrets, Anon. Especially that secret. If ponies found you were hiding being a meat-eater, they might think...”
>She trails off.
“That I was planning on preying on them, or something?”
>”...”
>Her head sags, and a barely audible “yes” makes it to your ears.
“That’s a good point, but... I dunno. Not yet.”
>”Mmm. I understand. Opening up to others can be scary.”
>She peers up at you from behind her mane, venturing a small smile.
>”B-But sometimes good things happen when you do. If you hadn’t asked Twilight, you wouldn’t come see me so often.”
>Oof.
>You wish it weren’t true, but...
>Of all your friends in Ponyville, Fluttershy’s one of the ones you only run into when she’s with others. The other invite you out to play pretty frequently, so they take up most of your time.
>Visiting her at home never really occurred to you before Twilight’s suggestion.
“I... guess you’re right. I’m sorry, Shy. I don’t want you to think that I only come here for meat.”
>”Oh no, I would never, I just-“
>Once again, she hides behind her mane. You’ve learned to just let her talk when she’s ready, so you sit patiently.
>Finally, a single baby-blue eye makes contact with your own.
>”T-Then, can you show me how you cook fish?”
“...come again?”
>”I-I’d like to make some for Harry...”
“Oh! You bet. Actually, we can head over to my place and eat together, if you like.”
>”Oh...! I’ll bring tea and pudding for after!”
>The both of you stroll back through town, your bundle of fish tucked under your arm and Fluttershy’s treats balanced on her back. Harry ambles along behind.
“I was kind of surprised about you when we first met.”
>”Hm?”
“With you tending to carnivorous animals, I mean. I sort of figured ponies would be scared of stuff like that.”
>”T-They are. Bears, wolves, even owls... all kinds of things eat meat, and a lot of ponies are afraid of them because of it. But all those poor animals can’t help what they are. Just like you can’t.”
>She looks up at you. Her mane falls away from her face and you find yourself transfixed by the sight.
>”I understand if you want to keep it secret a while longer. But when you tell everypony...and I really think you should...I’ll be with you. I’ll help them understand. Okay?”
>You finally tear your eyes away from hers. The darkness hides your flushed face.
“W-Well... we can talk about it over dinner. You and Harry can come by whenever you’ve got something for me. Or... or just whenever you feel like it.”
>She smiles.
“Y-You too, Anon. You can come see me whenever you want.”
>You can’t help but chuckle at your own stuttering. Fluttershy joins in. Your chuckle becomes laughter, and hers turns into happy giggling.
>It was an awkward first date sort of night.

-*-

To be continued as I come up with more silly shorts.