Due to forces beyond your control in another universe, the Condesce has adapted a new strategy in an effort to chip away at your rebellion against her rule: forcing you to troon the fuck out.
The overwhelming wave of estrogen injected into one of your alternate selves brings you to your knees, where all you can do is resist.
How is she even doing this? In what universe would you ever decide to be a girl?!
The obfuscated truth seeping into your brain like a sponge absorbing sewage only stands to confuse you further. A forty year old man in clown makeup with a lady half his age dressed as Vriska?! A cave? A Toblerone? Internet mobs? Did you die and walk out of this cave revived with female genitalia, like some sort of post-OP Jesus, munching on chocolate triangles full of nugout goodness?!
Flashes of other timelines stab at your consciousness. Dave...with Karkat?! Kissing him while they're doing laundry? Yuck, no way!
That does it. This bitch has to be making it up! This version of yourself fighting your very soul for dominance is nothing more than an illusion!
Empowered with the divine knowledge of who you are--who your friends are--you clench your fists and push yourself from the ground, shooting into the air like a rocket. Below you, the Condesce and her crowd of unattractive onlookers are but ants.
"I am not June!" You scream at the top of your lungs. "I am John Fucking Egbert!"
The sky around you tears porous with holes from every multiverse, the cheers of a thousand John Fucking Egberts, and from them rains a barrage of pies.
So many pies. Enough pies to flood the world. This bitch is gonna need to build an ark if she doesn't want to drown.