Author's Notes:

This story is disgusting. I think that's about all the warning I can give.

"I need you to clean my pipes, Anon~" Cheerilee says seductively as you stand in the middle of her kitchen. With a sigh, you nod and get on your knees.

"Alright. I better get under the sink then, it's going to be a busy day,” you reply. Opening her cupboards, you push a few of her cleaning products aside and check the joints. “ You said that something was dripping and that you noticed a wetness?

Cheerilee's face scrunches and her body trembles with agitation. “No Anon, I said that I'm-”

“Well, I dunno. I don't see anything leaking right off hand,” you say to her, pulling yourself out from under her cupboard. “So, I'm going to pour some of my cleaner down your drain.”

“Finally! I thought you would never-”

Grabbing a bottle of drain-cleaner that you grabbed from the hardware store, you pour it down her kitchen sink slowly. “There we go! Now your pipes should be great. I gotta admit though, I'm surprised you've called me out so much. This is the fifth time this week! First to see why your bed was squeaking. Then to help you with that ladder and then the next time was to help you with your eggs. I mean, I know I'm a good cook, but I'm a handyman. Then before this was to see if I could deliver you my sausage. I didn't even think you ponies ATE meat. Plus that stuff was hard to get.”

She simply stares at you in pure disbelief.

"Huh. Well since this one was pretty easy... ill just charge an inspection fee,” you add with a smile.

Cheerilee's eyes light up and closes her eyes halfway. "Oh my... I'm afraid I'm all outta bits.. is there some other way I can repay you?"

"Uh.... well. Not really. Ill put it on your tab with the 4 other inspections. See ya later!" you say with a smile, striding out of Cheerilee's house with your bag of tools. She stares at you as you walk through the door. Just the gaze of another satisfied customer. Such is the life of Anon the handyman.

As you step outside, you smile, knowing you have one last stop for the day. Lyra's house. Lyra was a great friend ever since you arrived in this weird world. She was the only one who seemed to really hang off of every word that you said. Although, she did seem to have some sort of fascination with your limbs that you couldn't understand.

Lyra needed a special favor from you. She came to you in confidence, knowing that you could keep a good secret. When she came to you earlier, she seemed to be extremely concerned and unsure of who to turn to. She mumbled something about having a twin sister that she didn't like to talk about, which was a huge surprise to you. How could someone keep their own twin sister a secret?

Apparently her sister needed help with fixing a toy or something. Lyra didn't really give you a lot of details. She just mentioned that she wouldn't trust anyone else with something like this and she was heading off to work. So, naturally, you agreed to help her with her plight. Lyra smiled and mentioned that she let her sister know that you would be coming over and made you promise not to say a word about what happens. Approaching her home, you knock on the door and you hear a large crash from inside the house.

“I'M OKAY!” called a voice from inside.

“Oh... okay. Uh...” you muttered as you heard clattering from inside the home towards the front door.

The door opened slowly and a near replica of Lyra stood in front of you. Her flank bore the symbol of a large rock and the mare seemed to have the widest smile of her life adorned her face.

“HELLO!” she screamed at you. You took a step back, worried you offended her in such a short time after meeting her.

“Oh, um. Hey. I'm Anon, a friend of your sisters?” you replied to her unorthodox greeting. “She said I needed to fix something?” Suddenly, all five of your senses were immediately repulsed at the same time.

"YOU HAVE BIG DICK! CAN I TOUCH BIG DICK NOW PLEASE?" she screams directly at your crotch. Instantly, the overwhelming stench of backed up sewer assaults your senses as you view a growing puddle of brown spewing from the direction of Lyra's bathroom. The stench is so pervasive that it pushes into your mouth and you can taste fecal matter on your lips. Lyra's sister reaches out to touch you with her matted and brown colored hooves.

“Oh God. What have I gotten myself into?” you mutter to yourself as you push inside.

Stepping into the home, the sister closes the door behind you and you make your way to the bathroom, assuming this is your task at hand. Which means you will have to work quickly. Pushing into the bathroom through the sludge, the smell begins to become overbearing as you examine the toilet.

Somehow, in someway, these two sisters made this toilet forget how to toilet. Which should have been impossible, but here it was, pushing out into their home what seemed to be all of the contents of the Ponyville Sewers.

Come on, Anon. Think quickly. Maybe if you... reversed the flow?

Hell, that's crazy enough to work in this world. Grabbing your trusty plunger, you ram it into the toilet, but it can't get a good hold. The smiling green horse skips into the bathroom, the liquid splashing droplets onto the walls as she makes her way towards you.

“I PUT LYRA'S BOYFRIEND IN THERE!” she exclaims proudly. “IT WENT DOWN THE HOLE!”

You look to her, then back to the toilet. Lyra's boyfriend? What in the world is she talking about?

Well, no matter what, you gotta try to stop the block. Taking a deep breath, you close your eyes and try to imagine you are just reaching into a huge bowl of pudding.

This was not pudding.

Your fingers plunge into the slimy wetness of the back flowing toilet and feel thicker clumps brush by your hand as you push in deeper. Then a large, slippery and phallic object grazes your finger tips. It's your best shot. Wrapping your hand around it, you get a firm grip and try to yank on the block. Yet nothing comes out.

Getting into your power stance, you pull with all your might and grunt as you try to exert as much force as possible.

“OOH! I CAN MAKE FUNNY NOISES TOOO! WATCH!” The horse begins to do her best imitation of a dying whale that is about to throw up.

“Could... you please... not do that?” you ask patiently.

“OOOKAY!” she replies and is suddenly silent. Only staring at you. You suppose that's some form of improvement. Just one last pull.

Pulling with all of your might, you feel the object begin to give and then suddenly gives away. The sudden shift in force causes you to lose your balance as you watch a large, flopping, vibrating-

Oh god, look away.

Turning your head, the world goes into slow motion as your face begins to head straight into the muck. You open your mouth to say a single curse word, but your face collides with the tile before anything could come out. In a way, you had to eat your word.

Repressing the urge to vomit, you limp to the sink and rinse your mouth out as the toilet begins to return to normal. Looking at yourself in the mirror, you have a trickle of blood running down your face and your entire body is covered in backed up sewer. The only thing you hear is a buzzing in the background.

This is your life. What could you have possibly done to deserve this?

“Well, at least that's over...” you say, turning to Lyra's sister. “Sorry for just barging in, it just looked like an emergency.” Glancing out to the hall, you see the puddle soaking into the carpet. The green horse simply stares at you as you continue talking. “So, uhm. Like I said. I'm Anon. Who are you?”

“MY NAME IS LYLER!” she yells proudly. “THIS IS MY INSIDE VOICE!”

“So, uh,” you mutter as you wipe the crap off your clothes. “What do you do, Lyler? Something with rocks?”

“ROCKS TASTE YUMMY, BUT MAKE MY TEETH HURT!” she replies.

You stare at her as the words slowly process in your brain.

“MY FAVORITE FOOD IS THE COTTON CANDY IN THE ATTIC!” she adds.

“Uhm. Okay. Uh. I'm going to go and get a vacuum,” you inform her with a sense of caution. For some reason, you were concerned that one wrong move might make this mare suddenly snap.

You step through the home and head to where the coat closet was. Thankfully, when you opened it, the vacuum cleaner was there. The last thing you needed was to get more intimate with Lyra's belongings. Grabbing the vacuum, you head back to the bathroom to try and clean things up a little bit.

Returning to the contamination zone, you plug in the vacuum cleaner and Lyler stares at it, her mouth open in excitement. You look from her, to the device, and then back to her.

“Do you... like the vacuum cleaner?” you ask. Lyler shakes her head and nods violently. “Uh. Okay. Well, I'm going to turn it on.”

When you flip the switch on the device, the young mare's eyes widen and she begins to scream at the top of her lungs, backing away from the device. Quickly, you shut it off.

“Oh my God! Are you okay?” you ask in a panic.

“YES. ME LIKE VACUUM.” she answers as if nothing happened.

A moment of silence passes between you two.

You flip the switch on and she begins to scream again and panic. Her body trembles in fear. You turn it off, and she's suddenly back to normal.

On. Screaming. Off. Smile.

On. Off. On. Off.

“THIS IS TERRIFYING!” Lyler yells happily.

“Do you want me to use this damn thing or not?!” you scream at her.

“YES!” she replies.

“OKAY!” you yell, flipping the switch. She begins to scream at the top of her lungs as you begin to vacuum up the massive puddle of crap on the ground.

After 10 minutes of high pitched screaming and you are damn sure the neighbors thought Lyler was murdered by now, the house is left with a lasting smell that will ruin appetites for weeks. After a quick bag empty, you survey the plumbing of the toilet one last time and cast a glance at Lyra's toy.

On second thought, she can deal with that herself.

“Alright, Lyler. It was a pleasure to meet you. Uhm, but I gotta go now... soo. Unless there is something you need fixing...”

“OOH! OOH! I NEED FIX! TOY NEED FIIX!” she yells as you mention the word fix. Instantly, you regret extending the offer.

"What toy do you need fixing?" you ask solemnly.

She lights up with pure glee. Then pees on the ground little.

"You fix Mr. BOOMBOOM!" she demands. You stare at her curiously.

"Okay. I'll fix Mr. Boomboom,” you say assuredly. “Now where is he?"

"STUCK!" says Lyler proudly.

"Uh.. stuck where?" you ask in a cautious tone. She turns around and proudly shows her bleeding and bruised privates.

"HUR!" You stare at it for a moment in pure amazement. For the very first time in your life, you are completely speechless. Nothing you could have possibly done in your life time could have prepared you for this moment. So, you ask the first question that came to your mind.

"How long has that been happening?" For some reason, deep down in your soul, you knew this wasn't the first time.

"TREE DAYS."

"What is Mr. Boomboom?" you ask in amazement.

"POKEY PLANT."

Your jaw drops to the floor and the entirety of your body shudders.

"I LIKE GIVING BIRTH TO HIM. IMMA MAMA,"

You silently back out through the door and ask the neighbors next door to call for an ambulance. The right thing to do would be to stay... but sometimes you have draw the line and ask yourself: “What am I willing to put up with today.” One thing is for sure.

Not fucking this.

As you lie in bed in the middle of the night, your mind trails off to how in the world that mare could be so crazy. She didn't seem to be challenged in anyway. She didn't give off that vibe. It was more like... she was crazy. It was like she couldn't smell disgusting things, couldn't hear properly and had an unusually high tolerance for pain.

Was it drugs?

You stare at the ceiling pondering the question. Even if you knew, it wouldn't change anything. It sure would make talking to Lyra a little awkward for awhile. A part of you is just happy you could help out.

She should probably get a new robot boyfriend though.

Oh well, that's for future Anon to worry about. With a yawn, you roll over in bed and gently close your eyes, wondering what tomorrow could possibly bring. Hopefully not another call from Cheerilee.

A moment passes as you listen to the gentle sounds of Ponyville's night. The wind brushing the leaves through the trees. The sound of your home settling in and the gentle ticking of your alarm clock. Slowly, you begin to drift off to sleep.

Then your eyes shoot open and you sit up in bed. The answer was suddenly so clear now. Cheerilee. “SHE WAS TALKING ABOUT SEX THE WHOLE TIME!”