In Equestria's grimdark future, humour is utterly dead as ponies struggle to survive the wasteland.
When the balefire bomb fell, millions of ponies weren't the only casualties. In that moment, humour was utterly annihilated from the wasteland, leaving nothing but a grimdark existence for those unfortunate enough to be left behind.
Cover Art by the really cool VBronny, check their stuff out.
Proofread by the lovely Neth, dedicated RoMS, and my good friend, Heartshine
"These are amazing, one and all. Looking forward to seeing what other madness you bring to the wasteland." - FanOfMostEverything
"I feel like this needs to show up in Speak now. Just... because it is amazing. I lost my shit several times while editing for this, and it was freaking great!" - Heartshine
Fallout Equestria is a very serious AU where someone had to reinvent slavery
Four creatures sat in the boardroom of Southern Equestria’s premier arms manufacturer, Sonthorax & Barrel.
The company formed twenty years prior with the union of Sonthorax Sugar, the Changeling Republic’s largest sugar importer, and Barrel and Son’s, an unknown Canterlot marketing firm. Some might find it a little peculiar that these two decided to get into the arms industry.
However, when you realized that Changelings didn’t eat sugar and Sonthorax shipped a whole lot of cargo into recently unstable tropical nations, it became pretty obvious where their revenue stream and expertise really lay. On top of that, add an Equestrian firm’s business savviness and flair for opportunities and you had a pretty bankable combination.
Plus, outrage over the merger had been pretty low. Mostly because, twenty-five years after the bombs fell, no reputable business magazines were still around to print news of it.
Apocalypse notwithstanding, the arms industry was still booming, and cash was flowing in. Well, at least when they could find a stable workforce. This little headache had become quite the chronic issue.
“I think we need to address the elephant in the room,” Barrel Head Sr. said.
Sonthorax nodded, shuffling his notes. “We’re hemorrhaging capital. If we don’t get the Oedipus Project underway, we’re going to be out of business by year’s end.”
“Yeah, but we don’t have the labour for that,” Barrel Head Jr. said, gesturing to a series of very negative looking charts. “We don’t exactly have the assets to just hire dozens of scavengers, let alone outfit them with gear and security.”
“Plus! Our turnover rate is atrocious,” Senior added. “We lost something like thirty percent of our workforce to raider gangs and another twenty-five to taint poisoning and starvation. We’re worse than a fucking fast food restaurant. We’re paying top rates to train employees who likely won’t make the year.”
“What if we didn’t pay them?” the fourth voice at the table asked.
Everyone turned to look at the small pink unicorn sitting off to the corner. Her name was Carol, and yes, she was from ER (Equestrian Resources).
Junior cocked a brow. “Are you suggesting that we institute slavery?
Carol shook her head. “Dear gods no, slavery isn’t very in vogue. It’s something that gryphons do.”
“Or Zebras,” Junior said.
“Or Changelings,” Senior muttered before throwing Sonthorax an apologetic smile. “No offense.”
Sonthorax sighed. “None taken. My nation’s legacy is pretty terrible in that regard.”
“Plus, imagine what this would do to our corporate social responsibility,” Junior said. “Remember when Ponysoft was caught importing cobalt from Zongo? They lost something like three billion bits of stock value in a day.”
“We’re an arms manufacturer.” Carol deadpanned. “War is kind of our business here.”
Senior waved his hoof. “No, we’re an arms recycler. Remember, emphasis on recycler. It makes us sound green. And having a green image is all the rage.”
Sonthorax snorted. “Maybe it was, like thirty years ago. I doubt half the ponies out there even remember what the colour green looks like.”
“Then we use other buzzwords. Environment, sustainability, future generations. One of them is bound to stick.”
Carol beamed. “We’ll rebrand it.”
“What?” the other three asked.
“It’s not slavery. Slavery is something other species do. Instead, these are… unpaid internships!”
“Just with no prospect of getting a paid position with benefits?” Junior asked.
Carol nodded. “Like I said, an unpaid internship.”
Senior shook his head. “You really think they’re going to do thankless, backbreaking work free of charge?”
“Yes, like I said, these are unpaid internships.” She clapped her hooves together. “This is a fantastic idea.”
“Does anyone else find it ironic that ER is proposing slavery here?” Sonthorax asked.
“Kind of,” Junior said.
“Unpaid internships, Sonthorax,” Carol corrected, her smile growing increasingly eerie.
Sonthorax glared at her. “It’s slavery.”
“Look, I’m in charge of talent acquisition and managing Equestrian Resources and well, these ‘slaves’…” She made very exaggerated air quotes, “would fall under said resources, and I can say with one hundred percent certainty that I would not label them as slaves. Honestly, Sonthorax, I think we need to have a frank discussion about how you refer to our future valued employees.”
“Well, I, for one, am strongly opposed to the idea. Can we really throw away our Equestrian ideals so freely, just to earn a couple of easy caps? No, we will simply be patient and come up with some alternative and morally correct proposals. If we survived the war, we can survive a disastrous third quarter. Plus, it’s not like Fort Oedipus is going anywhere.”
A silence settled in place, as the three ponies looked sheepishly at each other.
“How many guns are in that fort?” Senior finally asked.
Carol flipped open her notes and read a single page. “Enough to arm a division.”
“That’s a whole lot of caps,” Junior said.
“Even more if we don’t have to pay our interns,” Senior added.
The three ponies looked awkwardly at one another and Sonthorax’s righteous demeanour began to deflate.
Senior cleared his throat. “All in favor of removing Sonthorax from this board and imposing unpaid internships, say aye.”
“Aye.”
“Aye.”
“N-nay.”
“Aye.”
And just like that Barrel and Carol Arms began a revolutionary business practice that would forever alter the wasteland.
“We need to be careful,” Calamity muttered. “We’re entering Interner territory, now.”
“Interners?” Littlepip asked.
“Yeah. Folks who kidnap ponies and force them into multigenerational unpaid internships.”
Littlepip paused. “Wait…isn’t that just slavery?”
“Don’t be silly.” Velvet Remedy snorted. “Ponies don’t do slavery.”
Fallout Equestria is a very serious AU where we weaponize thots
In the village of Rockford, a mystic is on the precipice of a prophecy. Discarded around her were used up pill bottles and needles drained of their magical vigour.
The entire village is in attendance, watching as the mare goes through agony, lust, and happiness. She giggles and moans, groans and pants. It is a torturous dance to watch as her body jerks and tenses, as if going through a stroke and orgasm all at once.
Yet, she eventually freezes and sits up straight, her blind eyes looking over her audience.
It was time.
“A mare of great renown stands parched, thirstier than beyond mortal comprehension. Yet, even as she enters a great desert, not a drop of fluid will come from her stallion company. Instead, she will be called a great thinker, a world renown…”
“You have got to be the biggest thot I’ve ever met,” Bubblegum said, rubbing the bridge of his snout.
“Come on, Bubbles.” Blackjack grinned pervingly. “Thren’s doing whatever with Glitter. We could afford to blow a couple of hours.”
“Yeah, I’m sure that’s all you wanna blow,” he muttered.
“What?”
He sighed. “I said no. We are not going to bang.”
“Fine, fine, can’t blame a mare for trying.”
“Tell me, what’s your opinion on bondage?” Blackjack asked as she scanned the skyline.
“Can be pretty fun,” Bubblegum answered as he did the same. “Why?”
“Wanna try it out on me? I’ve got a bundle of cord in my pack.”
Bubblegum pursed his lips and turned to her. “You sound a little thirsty there?”
Blackjack took a step forward, invading his personal space. “Is that a problem?”
“Not at all, maybe I can even help you out with…” He leaned even closer, getting intimately close. “…thatthirst.”
Blackjack recoiled, taken aback. “You… will?”
At that moment, their pegasus companion, Threnody, fluttered in and emptied her canteen over Blackjack’s head.
Blackjack yelped and stumbled back as her wet mane dripped over her face, sticking to it.
“Harr, harr, harr. Very funny,” she muttered, brushing her dampened mane aside.
Bubblegum snorted and hoof bumped Thren. “It was, wasn’t it?”
“You know what else is funny?”Blackjack seethed.
“What?”
Blackjack grinned as she started chambering rounds into her shotgun.
“You got thirty seconds to run.”
Blackjack collapsed into Bubblegum’s hooves.
“Help,” she feebly whimpered.
“W-what’s wrong?” he asked.
“I’ve been stung by a… bugwaspbear.”
“A what?”
“A highly poisonous creature.” She covered her face with a hoof, her voice growing hoarse. “Only one known antitoxin.”
“What is it?” Bubblegum asked, his eyes wide and panicked.
Blackjack closed her eyes, her voice barely stronger than a whisper. “Dick.”
Bubblegum deadpanned and dropped her. “Then perish.”
“I bet this desert won’t end after this ridge,” Blackjack said.
“Oh yeah?” Bubblegum grunted, hoisting himself over a rock. “And what do you wanna bet on?”
“If I win, you have to sleep with me.”
He snorted. “Figures.”
“And if you win, I’ll…give you a blowjob.”
“This sounds like a lose lose.”
“I give very good blowjobs. Isn’t that right, Solidarity?”
Solidarity snorted. “Yeah, I sure do want to talk about this right in front of my daughter.”
Hyacinth covered her ears. “Ew, ew, ew, ew.”
“You’re worse than this pegasus I knew back home,” Bubblegum muttered. “Luckily she had the decency to get a gryphon fetish.”
Blackjack grinned. “Oh come on, what do you say?”
“I say…”
“ROCKSLIDE!” Threnody screamed… making said rockslide infinitely worse.
Blackjack stumbled through their temporary refuge, a darkened town crumbling under centuries of abandonment.
She was delirious from withdrawal. A full twenty hours had passed since she’d gotten laid.
Was dick withdrawal even a thing?
She approached a decrepit house, Bubblegum’s temporary residence.
“I need dick,” Blackjack feebly muttered before furiously shaking the door. “I NEED DIIIICKKKKK!”
Meanwhile across the street, Bubblegum peered out his window.
“What the fuck is wrong with that mare?” he asked.
Hyacinth snuggled him a little tighter. “Lots of things.”
“So many things,” Threnody agreed, snuggling from the other side. “Her issues have issues.”
Puddle Splasher snuggled him from behind. “It’ll pass, just give her some time.”
Glitter Bomb shuffled in the sheets next to them. “For the love of unity, can you four please go back to sleep.”
Fallout Equestria is a very serious AU where ponies have fun at their day jobs
The wasteland was a great place to make money. Drug smuggling, pimping, slavery, gun manufacturing, there was no shortage of morally grey, or downright black, ways of making a quick fortune within this magically tainted wasteland.
However, no revenue source was more lucrative than good old fashion mercenary work. Some called prostitution the world’s oldest profession, however Rifled Recoil bet that the forefathers of Equine society probably had more interest in killing one another than fucking one another.
The prospect of money was what kept him crawling through the muddy hills that flanked the raider encampment. That sweet paycheque, for just one measly kill. It’d be enough to keep him drowning in whiskey and hookers for a year.
Okay, so maybe assassinations weren’t quite mercenary work, but they were adjacent. Both involved killing, money, and everyone trying to frantically justify their motives.
For this mission, he even got to pretend to be a good guy. His target was a raider boss after all. Those guys were never good. Probably had an affinity for drug abuse, non-consensual intercourse, and good old fashioned sadomasochism.
As he crested the next hill, he was in position, overlooking the encampment. Even from this range, he could see all the little ponies scurrying about, probably readying themselves to launch a raid or something.
Rifled Recoil smirked as he shrugged the contraption off his back.
He wasn’t going to let that happen, however. Not that he liked to brag or anything, but he was damn good at his job of putting scumbags and degenerates in the ground. Not only that, but he had a certain calling card, a little trademark that made his work highly sought after.
Rifled took pleasure in killing ponies in the most ridiculous ways possible.
It was the reason his weapon of choice today wasn’t a gun but a haphazardly thrown together pile of metallic components that included a vacuum cleaner, leaf blower, firehose nozzle, and enough superglue and duck tape to stop the stupid thing from imploding.
This was going to be the masterpiece of assassinations, the crème de la crème of contracted killings. This was what would put his name on the map and leave his legacy on the world. Littlepip may have restored the beacons and Security was… well Security, but this night would be Rifled’s crowning jewel of fame.
A smile graced his muzzle as he began to load his munitions into the contraption. Memories of far tamer kills were coming back to him.
There was his first, you always remembered your first. His target was an unfortunate mercenary captain who slipped on a strategically placed banana peel and fell down a flight of stairs. His neck was broken before he was even halfway down.
Or how about that mayor who really liked sleeping with stuffed animals. Too bad she didn’t pay close enough attention and realize one had been slit open and stuffed with a proximity mine. Rifled still remember the shower of debris and fluff that came from that kill.
Now, some might call him psychotic for what he did. However, the only crazy ponies were those who never had a little fun on the job. Like, really farmer Lily Leaf, are you honestly going to call a pony out for having some morally questionable fun when you’re probably sticking your dick in livestock?
With his munitions loaded, Rifled peered through his scope.
The camp was now crystal clear and he could make out the manes and coats of the tribal raider he was scouting.
Yep, just like he thought. They had mohawks and shaved sides. These were raiders and that alone was enough to know they deserved death.
He snorted, remembering the first time he killed a raider boss. Shot him with a dart that dispersed Yaogaui pheromones. He’d never seen a pony gallop so fast in his life. Not that it did him any good against Yaoguais. Those fuckers could clock in at close to thirty kilometers per hour if they wanted to and, oh boy, with that much pheromones in the air, you better believe they wanted to.
Though honestly, his favourite kill still had to be the time he left a rake in a grassy field and stuck a landmine to the top of it. One wrong hoofstep and bam, that pastor was missing a head and half his body.
But that was all about to erased, as this would be the kill that marked the peak of Rifled’s career. A shot from half a mile away.
All he needed to do was stay put as those raiders came together, waiting for their nefarious leader to take the stage.
Consul Equis Gracchi stood upon his platform, looking out upon his legionaries.
“Friends, Roamens, Countrymares, lend me your ear. I come to bury Julius Canter.” He bowed his head. “As our beloved leader, he dedicated his entire life to fighting those despots from the village of Veii. They took our children, raided our lands, and raped and plundered with no remorse.”
He watched the row of heads bob and the attitude of the crowd embolden. He witnessed anger, desperation, and sadness in the gathered eyes.
“However, as a great statespony, he wished for nothing but peace. As your new Consul, I will continue with his goal in mind. Trying to bridge the hatred of our two tribes as per the scripture of harmony. It is what Goddess Venus Fluttershy would’ve wanted.”
There was a crack in the distance and all eyes turned towards the hills.
For a moment, Gracchi stood tall and proud. The next, his headless body tumbled to the earth, broken and battered.
A few metres away his head crashed against the wall, gore splattering against the temple of Jupiter Celestia.
His horrified expression was obscured by the pink suction cup of a plunger that protruded from his face.
Fallout Equestria is a very serious AU where ponies know a thing or two about fine dining.
“Do they have restaurants where you’re from?” Baroness Apple Orchard asked.
Stabby McKnife looked at her prospective client. Everything about her reeked of trying too hard, from her clothing that shimmered in the low light to the garishly chintzy jewelry she wore. And of course, how about the “luxurious” wooden carriage they rode in. It smelled of plywood and tainted maple, and caused a rather uncomfortable itch.
This was a mare who had recently come into money and didn’t know a thing or two about how to properly, nor smartly, flaunt it.
Still, she had caps and a target she wanted dead, so Stabby could afford to swallow her pride and go along with this little pre-contract charade.
“Yes, we have restaurants in Seaddle,” Stabby said.
“Oh, but I doubt they’re anywhere near as good. Our little fine dining establishment has four stars on Yelp.”
“Yelp?”
“Not important. Just know that is a very fine score indeed.”
“I’ll take your word for it,” Stabby muttered. “I was wondering, though, if we might be able to talk about my target a little more.”
Apple waved her hoof. “Nonsense, business can wait until after dinner. Tell me… Are you put off by a little taboo?”
“I uh… I kill ponies for money, Baroness. I don’t think you’re likely to find something more taboo than that.”
“Very fair, very fair. I just wanted to make sure. This place has a reputation for being a little out there and it's not for everypony’s taste.”
This got Stabby’s interest.
What did these rednecks and cattlefuckers do for fun? Was there going to be dogfights, gladiatorial combat, live pornography?
She shook her head.
Nah, it was probably going to be something stupid like they let you pick which cattle you want to eat before killing it. That was probably more their speed. Give you a little bit of a thrill before you got your food.
“We’re here,” the Baroness said before her carriage came to a stop.
A second later, the door opened and a chauffeur helped the Baroness out. When he offered to do the same for Stabby, she politely waved a hoof and hopped onto the dusty street.
They faced a decrepit former train station. It was constructed from a sun-bleached, eroded wood. The neon sign which hung over the entrance had long ago burnt out. Still, Stabby had no trouble reading it in the dusk light.
“CC,” she read aloud. “Not a very descriptive name.”
“Best meat you’ll find this far west.”
Every town made that claim. None of them could beat a good old-fashioned steak from Las Pegasus in Stabby’s opinion.
She nodded. “I bet.”
Yet, even with its downtrodden appearance, Stabby realized that only well-off ponies seemed to enter the building, probably heading in for an early dinner or late lunch. In fact, she noticed that the more down to earth citizenry seemed to be eyeing up the place with a bubbling resentment.
Class conflict, that was never a good sign.
Still, a contract was a contract.
“Shall we?” the Baroness asked.
Stabby nodded. “Let’s.”
Together they made their way through the front door.
The interior was like any other steakhouse. The wooden furniture smelled faintly of barbeque sauce and a nice, big skull hung over the hostesses’ work station.
As Stabby scanned the premise, she noticed ponies making energetic small talk over very fine cuts of meat. It would’ve been a pretty standard steakhouse if it weren’t for the cage off to the side with…
Oh, dear gods no, that was a pony inside.
“Welcome,” a cheery voice beamed.
Stabby whipped around to face their hostess.
“Is this your first time coming to the Cannibal Café?” she asked.
Stabby’s blood cooled.
The baroness nodded. “She’s a business partner from out of town.”
“Oh? Well, if she’s one of your partners then shall we be expecting a fresh shipment in the near future?”
The baroness laughed, “Now, now, I have no idea where that reputation could possible come from.”
Okay, Stabby, you got this, there has got to be an easy way out of this. Uh…um…
The waitress picked up two menus. “If you’d follow me.”
“Actually.” Stabby cleared her throat. “Do you have a vegetarian menu?”
The whole restaurant went dead silent as everypony turned to her. The tension was thick. Not even a hot knife could’ve cut through it.
Shit.
Stabby looked around, feeling an overwhelming sense of resentment bear down upon her. Amongst the assembled scorn, she noticed a pony with a gun approaching. Judging by the crisp buttoned up collar he wore and the fact he was the only stallion on the floor, he was most likely the manager of this establishment.
That wasn’t good.
“Did you just… ask if we have a vegetarian menu?” the pony with a gun asked.
Stabby swallowed hard. “Is that a problem?”
The pony kept his steely gaze on her for a moment, before beaming. “Not at all!”
He grabbed a menu in his magic and held it out.
“Now, we can replace the filly wings with tofu bites,” he said. “Oh! And of course, there’s the salad. We could just remove the unicorn flakes from that if you’d like. You could also have pretty much any of our pasta dishes. Since those can be prepared without meat.”
Stabby blinked. “You are…surprisingly more flexible than I would’ve imagined.”
The stallion shrugged. “What can I say, you don’t stay in business by ignoring dietary trends. Are you just vegetarian? Because we also have an excellent gluten and dairy free selection as well.”
Fallout Equestria is a very serious AU where ponies can kill you with interesting guns
Stabby McKnife ventured deeper into the town, cautiously scanning from left to right with every step she took. She usually wouldn’t enter an urban area but the place seemed abandoned and her supplies were running dangerously low. As such, the sea of houses and businesses were a very enticing offer.
Still, towns were dangerous, inviting all sorts of ponies to turn them into their base of operations. Mercenary companies, cannibals, ghouls, and raiders. All the worst kinds of ponies imaginable. She should know, she used to be a raider and guess what? They had made their base in a fucking town.
It had been a really nice joint: an old elementary school done up in a traditional raider décor. Lots of jagged metal, flaming barrels, and an abundance of blood and viscera. Too bad the place was taken out by the raiders’ one natural enemy. That being TB, cholera, and every STI imaginable. Turns out that bathing in the blood of the innocent was not the brightest idea in this disease-ridden wasteland. Especially when your décor was prone to leave all kinds of nicks and cuts.
She shoved such thoughts aside as she turned a corner and saw exactly what she was looking for. It was a main street, littered with only partially ransacked and broken-down storefronts. A hardware store and gun depot faced various clothing boutiques and, most importantly, a big fat supermarket.
It was a looter’s wet dream.
Before drool could even stain her barding, she heard a gun noisily cock to her right.
Shit.
She leapt through the air, diving for cover behind a blue mailbox. Thunder then cracked and a cascade of shrapnel and debris peppered her cover. It was like a fragmentation mine had just gone off. Stabby thanked whatever deities were out there that the box held against the furious torrent of destruction.
What the fuck kind of gun did that?! That was more like a godsdamn fucking cannon.
“Well, well, well, what do we have here?” a feminine voice growled. “It looks like some raider scum.”
Stabby pulled out her revolver and checked the chambers. They were all loaded.
“I’m just a traveller coming through,” Stabby said, hoping her voice didn’t come off as too desperate.
“You look more like a looter looking to make a quick buck.”
“Nobody owns this godsdamn town, so what do you care?”
The pony laughed. “You’re wrong. This here town is property of the United Communes of Western Appleloosa.”
“Says who and what army?”
“Me and the Appleloosan Army.”
Stabby blinked. “Appleloosa is like… six hundred kilometres away.”
“And her reach is far.”
“Bullshit.”
The pony approached, her hooves clacking against the asphalt. “Are you really going to argue with the mare who has a gun. Now are you?”
Stabby chuckled. “It’s the wasteland, sweetheart. We all have guns.” She paused. “By the way, what the fuck did you shoot at me with?”
She reached up with a hoof and fired off a blindshot. It must’ve missed by a mile but the pony still dove for cover, cussing under her breath.
“A blunderbuss,” she growled.
“Where the hell did you get a blunderbuss?”
“Made it.”
“That’s actually…” Stabby chuckled, “kind of impressive. Not gonna lie.”
“Why thank you. My papa was a gunsmith.”
Stabby nodded. “No shit? So was mine.”
“Raider or…”
“Oh no, we were toats raiders. He, uh… was a very troubled parental figure growing up. Addicted to morphine, wasn’t a pretty sight.”
“I could imagine.” She sighed. “My condolences.”
“Well they’re appreciated.” Stabby fired off another blindshot. “Though, I do have one question.”
“What’s that?” the mare asked, her voice strained.
“Don’t blunderbusses only hold a single round?”
“And one hell of a round at that.”
“No argument there.” Stabby grinned as she chambered a fresh round. “But don’t they also take like… five minutes to reload?”
A pause, then a faint…
“Oh shit.”
Fallout Equestria is a very serious AU where Velvet can be kind of a bitch
Life was a pain in the wasteland, and could either be made a whole lot better or worse based entirely upon who your travelling companions were. Sadly, Littlepip had some pretty unbearable companions.
“And there we go,” Velvet Remedy said.
She pulled away from Littlepip and twirled a set of tiny metallic keys in the air.
“With the last of those locks in place you should now enjoy the full protection of my patent pending crotch armour.”
Littlepip looked between her forelegs at the steel construct that hugged her more… delicate anatomy.
“And why am I in a chastity belt?” she asked.
“It’s not a chastity belt,” Velvet beamed. “It’s crotch armour.”
“And it’s strictly for your own protection,” Calamity offered. “Who knows what threats are out there.”
Velvet nodded. “You could get shot by a raider.”
“Or zapped by a laser pistol.”
“Or stabbed in the ovaries by a radscorpion.”
“Who the fuck gets stabbed in the ovaries by a radscorpion?” Littlepip grumbled.
Velvet grinned. “Fillies who aren’t wearing the proper protection.”
“And why are there locks on it?” Littlepip asked.
“Because we don’t want it slipping off in the heat of battle. This way it can only be taken off by the pony who has the keys.” Velvet hummed, jingling these very same keys in the air. “Speaking of which, I should probably give these to Calamity for safekeeping.”
Littlepip watched as Velvet hovered them into Calamity’s barding.
The two of them then made very uncomfortable eye contact with Littlepip as they leaned in and shared a painfully heterosexual kiss.
And yes…
Tongues were involved.
Littlepip stirred in the middle of the night to the sounds of two ponies going at it behind the thin walls of the abandoned dormitories they used for refuge. She groaned at the sound of wet slurping, frantic kissing, and enough moans to create a faithful rendition of a whole damned legion of undead feral ghouls.
What the fuck were they doing? Didn’t they know that they still had a whole day of travel ahead of them. They needed their fucking rest.
She sighed and shook her head, allowing her hoof to travel down her body.
Fuck it, if she couldn’t join them, she might as well…
Clang.
Oh right, her “crotch armour.”
She cursed under her breath and swore to the goddesses that she was going to shoot the two of them in the morning.
At about midday, the three of them stumbled upon a scavenger, pitching their wares along an abandoned stretch of highway. It was a small and rickety booth, but had some products that actually caught Littlepip’s attention.
“Look we have 350 caps between the three of us,” Calamity whispered. “And that shotgun is selling for 500?”
“Maybe we can haggle him down?” Littlepip asked, her voice equally hushed.
Calamity snorted. “Haggle him down a whole 150 caps, good fucking luck.”
“I’ll do it,” Velvet said. “I have a silver tongue for these sorts of things.”
Calamity and Littlepip looked at each other before collectively nodding.
So, Velvet ventured forth, holding her head up high.
“Hello,” she called, waving a hoof.
The scavenger waved back. “Hey there, looking to trade?”
“Of course, and who may you be?”
“Rusty McKnife.” He looked between the three. “And yourselves?”
“Well I’m Velvet Remedy,” she said before gesturing to her companions. “The stallion is my pegapet, Calamity, and the unicorn standing beside him is the mare he’s cucking. Her name isn’t too important, so don’t worry about it.”
Littlepip swore she was about to put a bullet through the back of Velvet’s head.
Littlepip groaned as she was awoken for the second night in a row. All she could hear was the wet smacking of sex through the paper-thin walls of a hellhole motel in a shit stain of a town.
“Motherbucking Velvet,” she grumbled. “And that piece of shit stallion…”
“It ain’t me,” a familiar drawl whispered beside her. “I’m sittin’ over here with great big blue ones.”
Littlepip yelped and summoned an illumination spell. Lo and behold, there was Calamity, laying next to her in bed.
“Why are you here?” Littlepip growled.
Calamity shrugged and tapped a hoof against his own crotch armour. “Velvet found an upgrade.”
“An upgrade?”
“Remember that minotaur we met at the bar earlier?”
Littlepip groaned. “Why is she fucking a minotaur?”
“Well you know what they say about Minotaur’s.”
“What’s that?”
“Minotaur’s are half…”
Bull horns pierced the wall, causing three ponies to scream. Two in terror, as they clutched one another for dear life, and a third as she noisily climaxed in the other room.
Littlepip has leveled up!
She has selected Tag! as her perk, putting 15 additional points into lockpicking!
Her lockpicking is now 60 and she can unlock average-level locks!
Sadly, the crotch armour is protected by an expert-level lock! Please return to your Pip-Buck assisted lock picking program after you’ve levelled up the point of no longer being a cuck!
Fallout Equestria is a very serious AU where we sell drugs to kids
The mare held up a hoof. “What if I told you that herb was one hundred and twenty percent not addictive.”
“I would most likely call you a liar.”
The pegasus extended a wing, holding a single feather against Threnody’s lips. She opened her trench coat and revealed a whole plethora of products.
“Now, you don’t look like a pair of fillies who smoke.”
“Cigarettes are expensive, and I’m poor,” Threnody muttered, using her hoof to wipe away the grime left by the mare’s feathers.
“And the headmare at Stable 9 said that you make Director Fluttershy cry when you smoke,” Puddle Splasher added.
The sketchy pegasus nodded. “What if I told you that you could eat herb?”
Threnody snorted. “You can eat Mint-als, and those little fuckers sure are addictive.”
“Okay, but what if I told you that herb could be baked into…” She pulled out a box, “snack cakes?”
The shine on the box threw Threnody off. She’d never seen snack cakes in this good of condition before, though she was perplexed at why there were so many green leaves weaved into its art. Also, the bloodshot eyes of the mare on the front didn’t look very trustworthy.
“Er… we’ll pass,” Threnody said.
“Or how about…” The pegasus ignored her and rifled through her coat, pulling out another box, “cotton candy bites.”
Like before, the box was way too clean and smooth, looking rather off with green leaves and bloodshot ponies on the front. It also came from a company Threnody had never heard of. One known as Dank Nugs Industries, which she knew for a fact were not the original creators of cotton candy bites.
Who the hell were these herb-ponies, and how the hell were they producing boxes that looked so good?
It was… weird.
Then it clicked. These boxes were new, fresh from the factory. What the hell was Dank Nugs Industries, and how were they doing that? Did the means of making cardboard even exist anymore?
Threnody had never even heard of the herbs before. Well, besides like… cooking herbs. But you couldn’t get high off those.
Er, not that she tried or anything.
Unless it was when her mom made her special med-x and dash soup. Now, with that, you sure as shit could get high as balls.
That probably explained why she hated that soup so much. Actually, it probably explained why she hated her mother’s cooking in general.
In hindsight, there might’ve been a little tension between Threnody and her mother.
Gods, she really hated her mother.
Channeling this hatred, she shook her head forcefully. “Like I said. We. Are. Not. Interested!”
The herb-pony’s eyes narrowed, and she reached back into her coat. Threnody tensed for a split second, expecting the obviously addled mare to pull out a weapon. Instead, she pulled out a bottle of Sparkle Cola Cherry.
“How about herb-infused Sparkle~Cola?”
Threnody’s jaw dropped and her eyes began to sparkle. “I’m listening”
The addled, but extremely persuasive, mare smiled. “It’s twelve bits a bottle and contains twenty milligrams of…”
“Hey, what’s going on here?” a voice called from behind.
Threnody looked over her shoulder as she was fishing out her money pouch.
Bubblegum was marching towards them, an extremely pissed off look on his face. Blackjack was on his tail, equally worried.
Puddle Splasher waved her hoof. “Bubblegum. This weird pegasus is trying to sell us narcotics.”
“She’s doing what?!” Bubblegum roared.
The mare stepped back, quivering on her legs. “Oh, horsefeathers.”
He thundered up to her and grabbed the scruff of her trench coat, sending herb flying in every direction.
“What are you trying to get them addicted to? Mint-als, Dash, Rage?” He shook her before throwing her back. “Trying to get them while they’re young?”
The mare shielded herself as she fell to the ground. “Look, I’m just…”
“I got something to say,” Blackjack grumbled coldly.
Everypony looked at her.
Her expression was frigid. Threnody had dubbed this the I’m going to shoot you in the fucking face demeanour.
“What’s that?” Bubblegum asked.
Blackjack stepped over and picked up one of the boxes of herb. She examined it closely, hummed to herself, then glanced at the mare.
“What strains are you selling?” she asked, cracking a crooked smile.
Bubblegum facehoofed.
The pegasus blinked. “Uh… I got a lot.”
“Got any Seaddle Shade.”
The herb-dealer’s smile returned. “Hell yeah, I do.”
“Blackjack,” Bubblegum warned. “Don’t forget that this pegasus just tried to sell Threnody drugs.”
Blackjack waved a dismissive hoof. “Phhh, it’s only herb. Honestly, Thren can use it. It’d help her finally chill out a little.”
Bubblegum stepped threateningly towards her. “Yeah, that’s exactly what we need. A stoned, little filly who stops every ten seconds to point out every shiny thing and look at every interesting cloud.”
“It’d finally get her to eat,” Blackjack commented as she fished out her money bag. “And she won’t look like she’s 300% stressed 100% of the time. Isn’t that worth it?”
“Blackjack, you are not buying narcotics for her.”
“No, I’m buying them for myself. I’m simply stating that…”
Puddle Splasher leaned over, drawing Threnody’s attention away from the approaching blow up. “Hey, Thren?”
“Yes, Puddle?”
“Why are mom and dad fighting?”
Fallout Equestria is a very serious AU where Trixie was actually uniquely qualified to manage IMP
“You are dangerously underqualified for this position,” Head Researcher Sugar Star snarled, taking a menacing step towards Project Director Trixie. “A Diamond Dog would do a better job advising scientists.”
Trixie frowned, pouring the amber content of her decanter into a nearby rock glass. She made a show of bringing the drink over to her snout and sniffing it, before downing the potent double in one mighty pull.
“Trixie does not need to defend her reputation before you, Head Researcher. She was selected for the position, and that is something you should respect.”
“Bullshit! The only reason you were put in this post is because Twilight Sparkle is getting under your tail.”
Trixie’s grip on the glass tightened. “I suggest you return to your duties.”
“Not until we get someone competent in charge of this team. We’re fighting a fucking war and our leadership is corrupt and full of nepotism. And I won’t stand for it!”
Trixie’s grip tightened again. “Out!”
“No! Not until I, and my entire research team, get what we deserve!”
Trixie’s grip tightened to a critical point and shattered the glass into a cloud of shrapnel, peppering both herself and Sugar in a shower of glass and bourbon.
“Do you want to know why Trixie was put on this team!” she yelled. “Do you?”
“Why?” Sugar growled right on back, ignoring the glass that coated her as she leaned over Trixie’s desk, getting right in the director’s personal space.
“Because this whole damn project is a charade, a cover up, a ruse!” Trixie screamed. “The work you are doing is pointless and all your fancy equipment meaningless! Twilight put Trixie in charge because she needed somepony to run a cover up and who better to do that than the Elusive and Secretive Trixie. Who better to do it than the greatest showmare in the world? She needed eyes turned away from who was really behind this.”
Sugar huffed, but her fury had abated enough for her to justify stepping back. “Pardon?”
Trixie got out of her seat and stepped towards a console anchored to a nearby wall. “That green goop you dip ponies into? That’s food colouring, corn starch, and water. Those injections, the ones you pump into ponies, are just saline solutions. All those fancy numbers and figures you’re getting? Guess what? All of it is just bullshit that Trixie types out to make you, lab coats, feel like you’re actually doing something important. Why do you think all the scientists here are third rate?”
“I… I got a doctorate at the University of…”
Trixie silenced her with a wave of her hoof. “Shut up. If you were actually valuable, you’d be making weapons or power armour. But no, Trixie instead has to babysit you lot. You’d think that with the combined IQ you like to brag about, you’d be smart enough to spot bullshit when you’re stepping in it.”
She booted up her top-secret console, typing drowssap into it, at which point a section of wall began to part, revealing a secret corridor.
Sugar stared at this development cautiously. “But we’re getting alicorns? So clearly we must be doing something right?”
“Well that has absolutely nothing to do with you or your team. You’re a cover up for what is really going on here.”
“I don’t believe you.”
“And Trixie hardly expect you to. Thus, she will show you proof.”
Trixie stepped into the corridor, not waiting to see if Sugar followed. Though she didn’t really need to, as curiosity struck the mare, her hoof steps soon echoing behind Trixie’s own.
“Fifteen years ago, an alien vessel crashed landed in the north of Equestria,” Trixie explained.
Sugar nodded, though strictly out of politeness. She was too busy examining how the design of this hall transitioned so jarringly away from the cold metal of a vault to the faux wood paneling of an office building. It was like something you’d find in an old Manehattan skyscraper.
They even added windows along the way, all of which looked out upon paintings and photos of nature. Some were realistic, while others were more abstract. Still, it was a refreshing break from the sameness of the laboratories.
“Do you really expect me to believe in aliens?” Sugar finally asked, arching a brow.
“Like Trixie said, proof is coming.” She sighed. “While she isn’t sure of all the contents of the crashed vessel, Trixie knows for a fact that two things of importance were recovered from the site. An advanced portable computer, that puts anything Equestrian to shame, and an alien survivor. Both of which are within this site.”
Sugar pursed her lips and said nothing more as they approached a door at the end of the corridor. It was simple, made of wood. You’d find a door like it in any town in Equestria.
“And research showed,” Trixie explained. “That when the alien used this computer, he was able to manipulate the traits of the pony he was describing. He could make a green pony blue, he could make a mare a stallion, and he could even… bestow Alicornhood on anypony he wanted.”
Sugar snorted. “That’s fucking ridiculous.”
“And yet, that’s the truth. And that’s why Trixie was put in charge of this project. Not because she’s some fancy scientist, but because the Princesses needed to employ one hell of a cover up, and who better for the job than herself.”
They stopped before the door. Affixed to it was a humble-looking brass plaque.
Sugar Star leaned forward to read it.
M. A. Larson
“W-what does the M. A. stand for?”
Trixie shook her head somberly. “No one knows.”
“And if this is such an important secret, why are you telling it to me?” Sugar asked.
“You aren’t the first researcher to ask about it and you’re not the first I’ve ever had to explain it to. Do you remember Head Researcher Bumble Hooves or Head Researcher Chance?”
Sugar snorted, making a show of rolling her eyes. “Don’t be ridiculous, I’ve been the only head researcher on this project.”
“Well as far as you know,” Trixie said, growing a hint of a smile.
“What does that mean? I’ve been here since the site opened.”
“Remember how I said that Mr. Larson could rewrite anything about a pony?”
“Y-yes…”
“He could also write them out of existence.”
Sugar’s blood ran cold. “Wait, are you…” She stepped back. “No!”
“You really shouldn’t have crossed Trixie,” she said, shaking her head sadly and putting her hoof against the door. “Come along, Sugar, it’s time to meet your maker.”
Fallout Equestria is a Very Serious AU where Heartmenders are notorious for having weird kinks
Threnody prodded at the rather sad-looking carrot on her plate of steamed vegetables. The carrot had so much in common with her, beside the depressive and lumpy root vegetable appearance, of course. Both were small, deficient in vitamin C, and Blackjack creepily wanted them to interact with her genitals.
There was one key difference between the two, however. Something that left Threnody in her current funk. Yet, how could she even explain something like that?
She sighed loudly and bit into the carrot, grinding it between her teeth with great effort. It tasted like dirt.
“Something’s the matter?” her companion asked.
Threnody looked across the fire at Blackjack, and slowly shook her head. “It’s… it’s nothing.”
“Oh no, something’s up, I know that look.” Blackjack snorted and rolled her eyes. “What did I do this time?”
“For once…” Threnody scrunched her muzzle and finished off the rest of her carrot in one bite, “absolutely nothing at all.”
“That’s… surprising.”
“Blackjack, can I ask you a question?” Threnody said, pursing her lips.
“Sure? What’s on your mind?”
Threnody paused for a second, running the question through her brain.
Was Blackjack honestly the best pony to talk about this with?
However, she knew that there really wasn’t anypony else.
So… fuck it?
“Do you ever get… urges?” she asked.
Blackjack snorted. “You’ll have to be a bit more specific there. Are we talking about murder urges, horny urges, or the like the urge to cook up a nice meal?”
“Like…” Threnody tapped her hooves together, “urges that kind of make you feel funny?”
“Wait, how old are you?”
“Uh… fourteen?”
Blackjack shook her head. “And neither Sandalwood or Slate had the talk with you.”
Threnody’s cheeks warmed. “Wait, what? No, they totally…”
“Well, you see…” Blackjack sighed, as she vaguely gestured with her hoof. “How did my mom put this? So, there’s like… this gryphon and there are some… bees? And what happens is that the bees are forced to put the gryphon into captivity and extract honey from his, uhm, dong because, well…” More vague gestures, “reasons.”
“I think we had drastically different sex eds,” Threnody muttered.
“That…” Blackjack snorted, “is incredibly likely. I don’t know if you knew this but my Stable was kind of a little fucked up.”
“Yes, alittle.” Threnody sighed and placed her half-finished plate off to the side. “But no, I meant more like… do you get weird urges related to certain… like… ideas.”
Blackjack looked puzzled for a moment before clarity crossed her face in a perverse smirk. “Oh, so you mean, do I have any kinks?”
“Is that what they’re called?”
“Yep.” Blackjack chuckled. “It sounds like you might’ve got yourself a kink. It’s okay, tons of ponies have them. I, for one…” She placed a hoof proudly to her chest, “have many.”
“That… isn’t remotely surprising.”
“Hey, what can I say, when you’ve been through hell, you’re bound to get off from being burned. I think that’s how the saying goes.”
“That’s honestly a little concerning,” Threnody murmured.
“So anyways…” Blackjack leaned forward, grinning from ear to ear, “spill the beans, what is your special little kink?”
Threnody’s face warmed. “It’s… embarrassing.”
“All the best ones are.” Blackjack grinned even wider. “Come on, you have to tell me, you’ve got me interested.”
“I…” Threnody sighed. “Promise not to judge?”
Blackjack held a hoof to her heart. “Scout’s honour.”
“Alright, so…” Threnody inhaled, “I kind of want to maybe… be like…” She tapped her hooves together, her voice dropping to a whisper, “get eaten.”
Blackjack blinked; her expression impossible to read.
“Blackjack?” Threnody asked, concern dripping from her voice.
“I’m judging.”
Threnody’s face lit up. “You promised you wouldn’t!”
“That’s because I had no idea how fucking weird it was going to be!”
“It’s… it’s not weird,” Threnody stammered.
“It’s pretty fucking weird, dude.”
Threnody looked away and sighed. “Okay, fine, it’s… a little out there, I’ll admit.”
“Why are all you Heartmenders like this,” Blackjack grumbled, running an exasperated hoof down her face.
“Wait?” Threnody swallowed a lump in her throat. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Literally all of you mind-reading weirdos have strange kinks?”
“We… don’t read minds.”
“Regardless, clearly Heartshine is doing something to you lot, because every single one of you has a weird kink.”
“I don’t think that I want to…” Threnody began.
However, Blackjack cut her off. “Like gods, I thought it was a one-off that Slate wanted me to call him big brother.”
Threnody pursed her lips, her expression rapidly evolving to one which begged for a quick and merciful death.
Sadly, Blackjack was not in one of her killing moods.
Instead, Blackjack waved her hoof, gesturing towards nothing. “And yeah, I’ll admit that I was kind of getting into it when Sandalwood asked me to pee on her, but still! Does your power just have this unintentional side effect of making you all deviants, or do you just pick up on enough pervy vibes that these things just manifest within you.”
Threnody opened her mouth. “I…” And promptly closed it.
“Sorry, sorry.” Blackjack shook her head. “Just got off on a bit of a tangent there. Maybe it’s best that we change the subject.”
Threnody nodded slowly. “Yeah, that’s probably not a bad idea.”
The two of them looked across the fire at one another, neither seeming to know what to really follow this revelation with.
Finally, Blackjack worked her jaw. “So…”
“So?” Threnody offered back.
“Do you like… want me to eat you… because I mean I’m totally willing to give it a try.”
Fallout Equestria is a Very Serious AU which is a little closer to Fallout 3 than Kkat would like to admit
Calamity growled and slammed his hoof against the steel door. “We’re locked up like godsdamn vermin.”
Velvet Remedy sighed. “Stop banging against the door. You’re going to fucking shatter your hoof at this rate.”
“Hardly matters, we’re dead anyways.”
“You don’t know that,” Littlepip said. “We’ve gotten out of far worse situations than this.”
Calamity trotted away from the door and shook his head. “Trapped in a prison cell in a Unity compound with no guns or gear? I don’t think we’ve been in a stickier spot than this.” He blinked and motioned towards Velvet. “Well, I mean except for you.” He smirked. “No offense.”
Velvet snorted. “None taken.”
Littlepip ignored the banter between the two heterosexuals and instead moved around the little cell, tapping her hoof against the wall.
“What are you doing?” Velvet asked.
Littlepip shook her head. “It’s hard to explain.”
“Well, explain it anyways,” Calamity muttered.
“Fine.” Littlepip briefly glanced at them before continuing with her work. “When I was a foal, back in our Stable, I remember finding this little broom closet where… reality seemed to be a little bent out of shape. If you ran into its walls, it almost seemed like you could fly into another plane of existence and appear somewhere else.”
Calamity blinked and then shook his head. “That’s it, Littlepip has finally lost her godsdamn marbles.”
Velvet shook her head. “No, I remember that spot, I used it to get out of stable chores.”
With that she also went to the wall, feeling around for this supposed spot.
“Stable ponies,” Calamity muttered before falling to his haunches. “I’ll be over here until you two come up with a sane and rational plan. If you two don’t mind, of course.”
Littlepip ignored him and continued to work, probing and prodding, hoping against all odds that such a spot would rear its head.
Then… her hoof landed upon it. The metal of a specific section felt a little softer, like it was both metal sheeting but also something gelatinous. It felt wrong, like it shouldn’t exist.
“I found it,” she whispered.
“What do you think causes them?” Velvet asked.
Littlepip shook her head. “Maybe the balefire blasts warped reality, like they warped everything else. Maybe it’s a higher power? Who knows?” She looked at Velvet. “I’ll go first, okay?”
Velvet nodded and Littlepip took a step back, breathing in slowly.
“Here goes nothing,” she muttered.
And with that she stampeded forward, throwing herself at full speed against the jelly-like steel. And just like that, she pushed through into a void of solid black. She was floating and as she looked back, she could see the skeleton of the Unity complex, laid out before her. There were patrols and machinery and so much more. All of it stretched out like some kind of map.
A moment later, Velvet popped into this blackish void and Calamity after her. None of them talked, none of them could. This was some other dimension, something that was both real and not real. This was… purgatory!
Then, Littlepip appeared on the other side, thudding to the dusty wasteland ground outside of the complex. She quickly scrambled back, making room for Velvet and Calamity to pop into existence right behind her. Which they promptly did, landing on top of one another.
“What the fuck was that?” Calamity breathed, holding a hoof to his racing chest. “That ain’t right.”
Velvet shrugged. “You learn not to question it.”
Littlepip nodded. “It just works.”
Somewhere, far far away, a man sits at his desk in an office in Maryland.
He cradles his fingers together and smiles along as a junior team member explains his report.
Once this junior associate leaves, the man gives this report a passing glance. The topic is about glitches within their newest IP.
The man chuckles to himself and instantly tosses the report into his recycling bin.
Then, he promptly lights a cigar with a one-hundred-dollar bill.
For, in all of his years of service, Todd Howard has learned one thing.
