> “Um… Anon?” 
> Glancing over the rim of your book, you see Twilight fidgeting in place, looking nervously at the ground. 
> “I-um, I have a question, and since you’re a stal- a good friend!” she corrects, “I’d really like your input on this.” 
“Sure thing, Twilight. What’s up?”, you ask, sitting up from the hammock, and giving her  your undivided attention. 
> “Well, it’s um… about... It’s about…“ She begins, but quickly stops again, drawing circles in the ground with her left hoof. 
> Her feathers on her wings ruffle in what could only be described as anxiety. 
“What is it, Twi?”, you prod again, getting a bit nervous yourself at the prospect of what kind of question has the newest princess fumbling in place. 
> Twilight draws in a deep breath, visibly steadying herself. She looks you in the eye. 
> “Anon, ever since my ascendance, I’ve been wondering this question. I can’t find any mentions of it in any books, or scrolls. I’ve sent letters to Princess Celestia about this as well, but she hasn’t answered yet.” 
> “I’m at the e-ends of my wits, Anonymous.”, She stammers. 
> Now downright fearful of an unseen side effect of her new powers, you quickly kneel down in front of her, placing both your hands on her shoulders and look at her. 
“Twilight, I want you to be clear with me here, what’s going on?”, you ask. 
> “Anon… Anon, are my teats too big?”, she finishes, lips quivering. 
> … You stare blankly at the purple horse. 
“If your… what now…?” 
> “Are my teats too big?”, she exclaims, now openly sobbing. “Ever since my ascendance,  they’ve only grown, and grown, and I don’t know if this is a usual part of Alicorn-hood!” 
> You open your mouth to answer, but before you can, Twilight rambles on. 
> “Don’t stallions, um, guys, hate big teats?” She plops her butt on the ground, tears running down her face. 
> “Sure, I expected some growths, my horn and height mainly, but nothing like this!” she rants. 
“Twilight,”, you sigh, “Let me have a look at them”, you say, placing your hands beneath her front hooves, lifting her up. 
> She whinnies, and squirms, but you hold steady. 
> Now, you had been in Equstria for some time now, and you had seen your fair share of horse-bits, but nothing like this. 
> Big, bountiful, perfectly shaped forms hanged from above her crotch. A soft dark-purple teat adorning each like a testament to the sheer excellence that was those knockers. 
> Carefully, you prod one, feeling the gently give of this manifestation of matriarchal evolution. 
> Despite their size, no imperfections were to be seen. No imbalances, twists or other physical defects smeared these godly globes.  
> Momma-Non, your son is coming home. 
“Twilight…” 
> “I knooooow, they’re hideous. I-I’ll go into exile. An abomination like me is not fit to rule,” she sobs. 
“Twilight…” 
> “I’ll rescind immediately, Princess C-Celestia would understand, I’m su-...” 
“Twilight, I would motorboat those puppies across the pacific and back again a happy man.” 
> “H-Huh?”

And that’s how Twilight learned that Anon was a Titty-man.