> Be Sonata, mistress of torment!
> Poor, poor Anon
> He didn't do anything wrong, just tried to return a wallet to a pretty girl
> Now he's curled up in the corner, rocking back and forth
> You sneak over and poke him
> He jumps awkwardly, his shoulder hitting the ground first
> He ends up on his back, groaning
> So cute!
"Sooooo, you said you found something of mine?"
> He whimpers and tries to roll up onto his side
> We can't have that!
> You kneel beside him, feeling almost motherly
> You grab his shoulder and roll him right onto his back again
"Hey, it's not nice to make moaning sounds when a girl asks you a question. Now tell me, where is my wallet?"
> He stares at you, his left eye twitching
> "It's not yours. E-even though it has yo- someone's student ID in it. No, not yours."
"For reeeeeaaaaaalllllziiiiieeeesssss?"
> Anon nods jerkily
"Okay!"
> He tries to get up, but you press him back to the ground
> Anon stares at you in confusion
"Belly tax."
> "What?"
"You'll see."
> With that, you lift his shirt up halfway
> Look at that tummy, just pudgy enough to
> You poke your finger into his stomach
> "What."
> Ignoring his silly noises, you poke his belly some more
"Hehehe, nice tummy, Pillsbury!"
> "Hey!"
> But you're not done, not by a long shot
> You seize his belly in both hands, relishing how soft and squishy it is
> Anon doesn't have anything to say about this development
> Oh hey, his pants are doing someth-
"You're getting off on this?"
> "N-no!"
> You stare at his perfect stomach in revulsion
> You draw back your hand and give him a good slap
> A wave ripples across his flesh
> Serves him ri-
> That is definitely a boner
> Ew ew ew ew
> You just don't want to touch him anymore
> You get up slowly, not at all like you want to run away from the boner cooties
> Aria said they are sticky and gross and you really don't want to find out
"Anon, I gotta go, see ya later!"
> You skip away like the mistress of torment that you are
> You round the corner, wait a bit, then stick you head back around the corner
"And Anon?"
> He looks up at you as he gets up
> "Yes?"
"Let me know if you find my wallet, it's been missing for a while, and I'm starting to get worried."
> As you skip away, you hear Anon scream in frustration
> You grin, your work here is done

----------
> Be Anon, janitor extraordinaire of CHS
> In the past two years you have seen things
> As such, when a grumpy girl floats by, flapping some folders, you don't make a fuss
> Though you do note that her breasts are absurdly large and unnaturally perky
> It was only a matter of time, when you have girls and magic together
> Might as well get to work
> You close your door behind you and cross the street to the school
> The floating girl notices you
> "Oh, it's you. Could you give me a hand here?"
> Kids these days
"Alright. How you want to do this?"
> She considers this
> "Get me a leaf blower or some rocks or something."
> Reasonable enough
> You jog back to your backyard and grab a few broken bits of a cinder block
> When you return, Area or whatever is resting her arms on her floating mammaries
> "About time."
"Oh, so you didn't want these?"
> You heft the cement pieces
> Maria's frown deepens
> "Look, this hasn't been the greatest morning for me. Cut me some slack, alright?"
> That's probably the best you're going to get out of her
"Alright. How'd this happen anyway?"
> You walk around her, reaching for her backpack
> She turns her head, trying to keep an eye on you
> "You know Twilight? Flat chest, magical?"
> You unzip the main compartment and drop one of the rocks in
"About what I figured, but why you and why are you floating?"
> Amelia rolls her eyes
> "Near as I can tell, it's every girl in the area. As for floating, Twilight just learned about lower back pain, and wanted to solve that. She says the expansion is part of levitation effect, but I think we all know that's bullshit."
> You drop the rest of the chunks of cement in, and her feet hit the ground with a soft tap
> She takes a few experimental steps, looks like the moon landing
> Wario turns and gives you a wave
> "Thanks for the rocks. See you around."
"Right. Just remember to return them when the spell wears off."
> "Yeah yeah, it'd be terrible if you didn't get your rocks."
"Punk."
> She grins and turns away, her hips twitching back and forth as she takes small steps
> Nice
> Still, you don't think you have enough rocks for everyone
> Hopefully the other girls will be more sensible than folder-flapper over there
> ...
> Maybe you can herd them around with a leaf blower...
> Your cellphone rings
> Celestia?
"Hello, this is Anon."
> "Anonymous, I'm afraid we need your help with a delicate matter."
"Yes?"
> "Could you come over and get my sister and I down? We seem to be stuck to the ceiling."
"Right away."
> The Principal and the Vice Principal in pajamas with inflated boobs?
> You wouldn't miss it for the world

--------

> Be Anon, confused owner of a blue raspberry ring pop
> Who even likes blue raspberry?
> Sonata, you guess, since she's the one who gave it to you
> She giggles and scampers away
> Not the weirdest thing you've seen as Taco Bell cashier, but this girl is clearly not all there
> Hours later, you clock out and go home
> You unlock the door to your apartment, shifting your bag of leftover tacos to the other hand
> Why are the lights on?
> Wait, why is she-
> "Welcome home, Jelly!"
> Why is she ironing the newspaper?
"Am I...jelly?"
> Sonata nods happily
> "You are so jelly. Like, for realsies."
> Right
"Let me start over. Why are you in my apartment? In fact, how did you get in my apartment?"
> She pauses, setting the iron aside
> "I'm you're wife! Don't you remember our beautiful wedding?"
> What is she talking about?
"You mean, when I brought a taco to you and you threw a ring pop at my face?"
> "You do remember!"
> ...
"You're insane."
> Sonata shakes her head
> "I'm only crazy for you."
> ...
> "For realsies."
> ...
"That's not disturbing. Or the point. I never agreed to this, you are not my wife!"
> She looks at you with sad, teary eyes
> "D-divorced at my age... where am I going to find a handsome young man to sell my body to for tacos?"
> ...
"Sonata,-"
> "You know my name!"
> And now she's happy again
"You do come to my workplace fairly often. But that's not the point. I think we have a case of you not knowing what the hell it means to be married."
> "Nuh uh, I totally know what it means to be married!"
"Enlighten me."
> Sonata blushes a little, smoothing out the folds of her skirt
> "It's when a man and a woman love tacos very much, and the man gives the woman some of his tacos and all of his dick and they have little babies wrapped in tortillas."
> what
"What."
> "You know, those really big tortillas? Like, for crunchwraps?"
"Please tell me you don't eat the babies."
> "Oh gross! No, why would you even think that? The tortilla is just their heritage, you know?"
"Right, how silly of me. Now let me tell you what I think being married is. It's when a man and a woman love each other very much, after dating and getting to know each other over a long period of time, and they decide -together- to get married. There's also a ceremony in a church, or in a park if you're gay."
> Sonata tilts her head to the side
> "That's the fakest thing I have ever heard. How do you come up with this stuff?"
> She gasps 
> "Are you a writer? Is tacos, like, your secret identity, and writing is your super suit? Where's your super suit, I want to see it!"
> You set the bag of left over tacos on your kitchen card table
"I'm not a writer, and even if I was, I wouldn't have a super suit. My point is, I don't think we're married."
> You walk back to the door and open it
"Now would you please go back to where you came from?"
> She isn't even paying attention
> Sonata is bent over, digging through the bag and happily counting the tacos
"Those are my tacos! You can't have them!"
> She starts fussing with her skirt's waistband
> "Sorry, I'm still new to being your taco wife. Here, you can fuck me while I eat."
> She slides her skirt and panties down, presenting you with her perky ass and moist womanhood
> You close the door gently
"Fair enough."
> Your name is Anon, Sonata's taco husband

> Be Anon, worn out from a long day at work
> If you could just melt into the couch and never get up, you would be a happy man
> You take long, deep breaths, relaxing, loosening, 
> The door to your apartment opens and Sonata comes stumbling in
"Welcome home."
> She groans and flops face down on the couch
> You let her feet fall to your lap with little protest, just a mild, 
"Hey."
> Somehow your girlfriend got a job as a hostess at a Mexican restaurant
> Mostly that entails standing around and walking guests to their table
> Considering high heels are part of the dress code... 
> You know your duty
> The straps loosen with some gentle persuasion
> Sonata lets out a muffled hum of relief as you ease the shoe off her stockinged foot
> The other shoe follows not long after
> You tug at the thigh highs, savoring the slow reveal of her tender legs
> She wiggles a bit as you bare her feet, the stockings cast aside
> At last, you set to work, your thumbs pressing into the arch of her foot, working out the stress
> Sonata moans into the coach cushion, her toes curling
> You spend an extra minute or two, pressing up and down her foot
> You then shift your focus to her cute little toes
> You roll them gently between your thumb and forefinger, smiling at the little jolts when the stimulation turns ticklish
> You lavish much of the same attention on her other foot, trying your best to ignore your gradual stiffening at her sensuous outbursts of pleasure
> Her calf is dense, but squishes readily in your grip 
> You move steadily up her leg, digging your thumbs into her pliant flesh, stopping just short of her buttocks
> You lean into it as you pour gentle force into easing her aching legs
> Sonata turns her head to the side and gives you a lazy smile
> "Best boyfriend."
"Heh, you're welcome. Now for the butt tax."
> You straddle her legs, sliding your hands up her skirt
> Her rear is so deliciously round and plump, you dig your fingers in again and again
> She giggles and shifts her hips under your onslaught
> You give her as a few more squeezes, then a fond pat
> Reenergized, you start working on the tense muscles of her lower back
> She arches a little under your touch, squeaking at the ticklish spots you make sure to hit
> She gives you a pouting look over her shoulder, and you grin at her
"I just had to."
> "Meanie."
> You shift your hands up her back, working on the knots near her shoulder blades
> At once, she falls facedown again and moans in relief
"See? I'm not a meanie at all."
> She just grunts
> This is the hardest part, digging, grinding, circling those stubborn knots
> Not too hard for too long, but firm enough to loosen up some fibers
> You shift to rubbing her narrow little shoulders, marveling at her delicate frame
> As you work, you can feel her legs shift and tense under you, accompanied by her heartfelt groans of happiness
> Your hands slide up the nape of her neck, pressing and working outward
> Sonata lies limp under your ministrations, content and tired
> Truth be told, you are rather worn out yourself
> You wiggle your way first to her side, the sort of lifting her on top of you
> She snarls her hands in your shirt and rests her head under your chin
> "Thank you Anon, for realsies."
"Glad I could help, Boo berry."
> You wrap your arms around her and drift off in to a warm, cozy nap

---------------------------

> Be Anon, Emelpian Priest
> You once had another name, but you abandoned it to join the monastic order of Phorchen
> By the vagaries of fate, you have been stationed at the Emelp Monastery, a place of bountiful creation
> You pass by many brothers engaged in writing odes to the various muses
> Others labor diligently upon gathering them up in codex generalis, and still others paint scenes of devotion
> You... have not yet devoted yourself to any one muse as of yet
> The muses are something of a trouble, even as they are the reason for this monastery
> It is not uncommon for priests to devote themselves so fully to one, as to despise the others
> Even this internecine war is overshadowed by the sects of those who worship the pony aspect, and those who worship the muses in other aspects
> You are mostly neutral, there is merit to all aspects of the muses
> However, recent apocrypha has fanned the flames of sectarian war
>  You pause in your round walking meditation, and bow to the shrine of Refracted Light Stones
> Your eyes drift over the portraits, a familiar feeling of gentle awe at the beauty and virtue of the muses
> As you resume your pious rounds, you feel as though eyes are upon you, not that you see anyone
> As you near your room, you nod politely to one of your brothers in passing
"Faggot."
> He nods back
> "Faggot."
> You enter your chambers and close the door behind you
> Unease creeps about you as you get ready for sleep
> You stare at the ceiling in darkness for a long time, restless 
> A slender, glowing hand enters your vision
> Your breath catches as you realise that you cannot move
> Warm fingers stroke your cheek fondly
> "It's past time for you to find a waifu, Anon, don't you think?"
> That low, velvety voice
> The curly orange hair in your peripheral vision
> Your heart races at the recognition of what is happening 
"Muse Adagio, I am unworthy-"
> "Of course you are. But that doesn't matter to me. What does matter..."
> Her face looms over yours, her eyes intent and hungry, her smile predatory
> "Is your devotion. Choose me to be your waifu, and serve me. It is your destiny, your purpose."
> You stare resolutely into her eyes
"By Faust above and Moot below, I am free to choose my waifu, without any coercion."
> Adagio chuckles
> "Oh Anon, I won't coerce you. You shall choose me of your own free will. I'll make quite certain of that."
> Delicate fingers trace wandering designs down your chest, growing more elaborate as she nears your waist
> You find yourself breathing faster as she slips her hand under the hem of your pajama pants
> Soft fingers curl around your erection, gently squeezing it
> As she shifts above you, her curled tresses spill over her shoulder, lightly grazing your bare chest
> Adagio smirks at your flustered face
> "So what do you say?"
> Her hand pumps your dick slowly
> She leans in closely, her breath warm on your face
> "Am I your waifu yet?"
> She strocks your cock faster and faster
> "Well?"
> You hold your breath, on the edge of climax
> She senses it too, and stops, your throbbing erection in her motionless hand
> Even through the haze of arousal, you know what you must say
"B-by Faust above, and Moot-"
> She makes a noise of disgust and releases your dick
> Adagio stands up
> "This is not over, Anon."
> Once her presence leaves, you can move again
> With quick, guilty movements, you deal with your erection in the customary way, the spent tissue dropping into a trash can set aside for this purpose 
> Sleep claims you quickly, despite the conflicted feelings coursing through your heart

------------------------------
> Be Anon, currently losing
> You draw a card, topdecking a wog
> Finally
"Cards in hand?"
> Aria smirks
> "Two."
> And she's tapped out
> You have next to no board presence, almost everything stolen by Guile
> You tap four plains and cast Wrath of God
> Fitting
"Your reign of terror is ended, you controlling bitch!"
> She just smirks
> Oh god no
> "You have activated my trap card."
"You have got to be kidding me."
> Aria tosses out a Pact of Negation
> "My reign of terror is just beginning, Anon."
> You sigh
"I fold. Seriously, Island is overpowered."
> She laughs
> "You're just so cute when you're frustrated! Come here, let me make it all better."
> You cross your arms resolutely, scowling
"Honestly, this isn't fun. I am sick and tired of losing to your money wins decks!"
> Aria's smile widens
> "Are you saying you want me to purposefully make weak decks?"
> ...
> You know how frustrating it is to play against an opponent who isn't trying to win
> Girls who didn't really want to play the game, just share an interest
> After a long pause, you close your eyes
"No, not really."
> You hear her stand up, her presence drawing closer
> A warm, soft weight settles on your lap
> You open your eyes to a lap full of girlfriend
> Aria rests her arms on your shoulders, a soft smile on her face
> "And that's why I like you."
> She kisses your forehead, and you feel the last bit of resistance within you crumble
> You wrap your arms around her and  hold her close, your head resting on her soft breast
> She hugs you back, stroking your hair
> You spend a few minutes like that, stress leaving your body
> Finally, you set aside your pride
"How about you help me build my next deck?"
> She grinds her hips in your lap
> "I thought you would never ask."