Title:           63
Author:          Anonymous
Pastebin link:   http://pastebin.com/Yedf37Lk
First Edit:      Wednesday 9th of April 2014 08:32:08 AM CDT
Last Edit:       Wednesday 9th of April 2014 08:32:08 AM CDT

>Female Anon in Equestria
>Everyone's canon genders are reversed, Mane 6 are all dudes
Been a little while since Anon came into their lives. Adjusting to life in Ponyville was a little awkward at times but has gone relatively smoothly so far. She lives with Twilight for now, sleeping in a makeshift pile of pillows and blankets, doing odd jobs around town.
Rainclouds roil ominously in the nighttime sky. Anon grimaces, gathering her woefully hoodless coat around her. The Cakes had needed a babysitter, and Pinkie Pie was down and out with a nasty case of the flu. Anon found herself doting upon him as well as the children. Thoroughly exhausted, she begins the trek home.
The door swings open, and an entirely drenched Anon staggers inside the wooden abode, wind and rain howling behind her. "Anon?" From above she hears muffled, tired hoofsteps and the shuffling of papers. The girl shoves the door closed behind her, turning just as Twilight Sparkle emerges from the second floor.
"Oh Celestia, you're soaked!" Twilight hurries toward her, clearly concerned. He urges the woman further inside before his horn begins to glow with the telltale shimmer of magic.
"Let's get you out of those clothes." By the time Anon's brain can parse this, her sodden jacket is already on the floor, and she can feel her shirt tugging upwards. Panicking, she stammers an objection and struggles to pull the offending article back down. The prince, though perplexed, ceases his attempts to disrobe her. "What's wrong? Your clothes are wet; you'll catch a cold if you stay in them..."
A very flustered and chilly Anon stammers through a rudimentary explanation of clothing's cultural significance for humans. After a brief pause, Twilight acquiesces, cheeks a bit redder than usual as he ambles up the stairs.
She listens momentarily for further movement before violently shedding the remainder of her dripping attire, shivering as her goosebumped flesh is exposed to even the mild air of Twilight's home. Realizing her new predicament, Anon shouts: "DO YOU HAVE A BLANKET OR SOMETHING?" A thick, quilted sheet is hurled from above, landing with a soft whumph. "THANKS," she hollers, swiftly surrounding herself in the blessedly dry material.
Minutes pass before Twilight, tentatively, inquires about her current state of decency. Upon assuring him of her intact level of dignity, he tiptoes down the stairs, levitating several books.
"Let's see... oh! It says here you need a warm drink." He ponders this, looking around. "I think I have some cocoa mix left over. Would you like some hot chocolate?" Despite her embarassed assertions that he doesn't have to do that for her, he insists, and eventually she's nursing an entirely-too-hot mug of cocoa. Soon she regains feeling in her extremities, and the pair of them idly chitchat about their evening in pleasant company until Anon drifts off mid-sentence.