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// A Frog by Any Other Name 
// Story: An Especially Large Frog in Equestria 
// by Rad 
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It wasn’t so bad, the frog of unusual size thought to himself. 

“Mush!”

Not so bad at all, comparably. 

“Hiyah!”

It really could have been worse. He hadn’t been eaten, injured, or maimed.

“Ándale!”

All things considered, the day was still looking bright. At least, that was what he was trying very hard to convince himself of. Few born outside of the swamp know this, but rationalization is a skill that most amphibians pride themselves on. Self-delusion is often all that keeps a frog’s gear’s turning when the next pond is an unknowable distance away. 

“Yip-yip!” 

Indeed, the fact that the sharp hooves of a distastefully vibrant equine were digging into his squishy scalp even as her horrific barking pierced his sensitive ears, was almost assuredly a blessing in disguise, he surmised. An opportunity was surely waiting in the wings, just around the next corner, ready to be hopped upon. 

“Ribbit!” The perfectly plump frog croaked from its perch upon the filly’s head. That was finally enough to elicit a miserable rumble from the especially large frog. Humiliation was a new concept, but he was becoming familiar with it at an alarming rate.

“Scootaloo, I, uh, I think maybe that’s enough?” The butterscotch devil said softly, floating just behind the trio. Her nose was faintly wrinkled in a fashion resembling a polite form of agony. It seemed that the orange terror wasn’t only causing the particularly sizable frog distress. She quickly adapted a more kindly expression when the little pegasus whirled to look at her. Our semi-aquatic hero couldn’t see the little beast’s face, but he assumed it must have been quite a horrible sight to cow the pink haired demon. 

Fluttershy looked away under the weight of the filly's gaze, but cleared her throat and continued.  “I’m sure he’ll keep hopping even without being told. Isn’t that right, Mister…?” 

Her voice trailed off. The inflection denoted a question, but it wasn’t one he quite understood. The large frog was a pragmatist to the core. He didn’t need a name to eat or to hop, and he ribbeted as much as he hopped forwards again, proving that both the little filly’s shrieks and an appellation were unnecessary for his froggy function. Fluttershy gasped softly, as daintily as she floated. A relatively minor expression for most, but pronounced for the mare in question. 

“What!? What’d it say!?” Scootaloo danced excitedly atop the frog’s poor abused dome-piece, her even smaller companion lurching back and forth as the filly bounced about. 

“He doesn’t have a name,” Fluttershy cooed, floating a bit closer to the other two as they continued to make their way down a dirt path winding between gloomy trees and thorny brambles. A few beams of sunlight broke through the branches above. “Not that that’s too unusual, especially for an amphibian, but… well…”

“He’s too big not to have a name!” Scootaloo broke in, completing her sentence. Apparently adequately, by the way the mare nodded in agreement. The filly’s reluctant mount gurgled something approaching disagreement as he leapt further down the trail, rounding a bend in the dirt path. More and more light broke through the foliage ahead, and the trees seemed further apart with each hop.

“Yes, he's quite unique. I suppose it’s only natural for a creature that hasn’t had any interaction with ponies before, but I’m sure he’ll be fine with just Mister--”

“Frogula!” The filly roared, dramatically striking a pose upon her mount’s head as she cut off Fluttershy, who--to her credit--had the decency to look baffled as she halted, hovering in place, even as the especially large frog hopped onwards. She mouthed the name to herself as she stared at Scootaloo, the filly’s wings buzzing proudly as she waited for approval. 

“Frogula?” Fluttershy said again, audibly this time. If Scootaloo sensed her confusion, it didn't seem to dampen her mood as she continued on with unwavering enthusiasm.

“Frogula!” She chirped again, wearing a sly smirk as she relished her own cleverness. Or, whatever it was that she mistook for cleverness. The plump frog atop her head ribbited it’s own approval. “It’s perfect, right? I know, with a big guy like this you’d usually go with something cliche, like Frogzilla, or Gigantoad, or Titannohop the Hyperfrog, but in times like these you’ve gotta undercut the market! Hit ‘em with something they’d never expect! Frogula! 

The frog latched onto her maroon locks ribbited approvingly. "Oh, and the little one can be Plumpkin. I just like the sound of that one.” 

“Frogula…” The pink maned mare whispered, trying it out for a third time. Usually, repetition helped things to sink in, but her attempts at following the filly’s twisted line of logic was only confusing her more. After a few more moments of thought, she spoke up again. “Are you sure that’s--”

She stopped, looking up from her contemplations only to realize her three charges had continued further down the path, almost having already completely escaped the murk of the Everfree while she was distracted.

“Onwards!” Scootaloo barked, her cry echoed by an encouraging croak from Plumpkin.

And the especially large frog hopped forwards once more, his leap carrying him fully into the golden sunlight of Equestria. It warmed his skin in a way the gloomy light of his swampy homeland never had. The sprawling fields of pastel colors were almost beautiful enough to touch even his slimy heart. Almost. For beauty would not fill his rumbling belly. 

Frogula hungered, and Equestria was ripe for the chomping.