> 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