Running. That was all that she currently knew how to do. She couldn't turn back, not even if she wanted to. Everything behind her was dead. Her parents were dead. She had no where to run to, but she didn't care. She just had to run. She had to escape.

Her young chest was heaving heavily with every sharp inhale, but she didn't stop. Even when her heart began to beat a painful tune, she kept running. Everything was a haze of sights and sounds, and she could faintly feel rain hitting against her orange coat, dampening her body with visual dread. Most of her lower body had been covered in mud, with every step splashing more mud into her coat and mane. She felt physically broken, which was a good thing in Scootaloo’s mind. She wanted to look and feel like a broken foal, for that is what she now was. Broken.

Her running came to an abrupt end when one of her front hooves collided with a fallen tree branch, thrusting her forward through the air towards a shallow swamp. This is when Scootaloo realized just where her legs had taken her. She was within the Everfree Forest, surrounded by shadows, and flying toward an unknown body of muck. She felt pain all over, but the strongest source of pain came from her inner self. She felt sad, and angry, and afraid. But most of all, she felt alone.

In what seemed to take an eternity, Scootaloo’s body finally collided face first into the unknown swamp. Instantly, her nose was assaulted by unpleasant smells, and she quickly found herself gasping for air.

She had to fight the urge to pass out; the toxic fumes eating at her senses like a... thing... that eats at... senses?

Scootaloo found herself unable to properly formulate her thoughts, almost as if a large cumulus cloud had invaded her young mind, sticking her thoughts together like cotton candy. All she currently knew was that her life was in danger, and that if she didn't do something quickly, she wouldn't live through this chapter of her life.

She would die well before the author could finish writing her story. A part of her even believed that her life had become nothing more than a character from a story book. This unusual ideology gave the young filly hope, as she knew that all great stories eventually have a happy ending.

Of course, this isn't a story, and even if it were, the author is likely a cynical God of mischief and chaos. Scootaloo must remain Strong, or else she will drown in the Hay Ocean.

"What am I thinking?" Thought a confused Scootaloo. "This swamp... It's doing something to me! Gah, I hate this icky stuff"

Looking around for something to hold onto, she managed to find a large vine floating atop of the mucky surface. She reached for it, but stopped. Every movement she made forced the swamp to suck her down into its depth.

But she couldn’t give up, as she knew that there was no pony around to rescue her innocent form. She had to learn how to fend for herself. She had to learn how to survive without the help of others. Not like she even had others anymore. She was alone.

With one strong and final lunge of her body, she managed to reach out to the vine. She held onto it with dear life, knowing that if she were to let go, the swamp would suck her down, and eat her alive. First, the oxygen held within her lungs would escape through her mouth, allowing for the swampy liquid to slowly seep down and into her throat. The taste would be awful, but it ultimately wouldn’t matter. She would soon find herself gasping for air, inhaling nothing but more vile liquid. Before long, her brain would shut down, given the lack of oxygen. No pony would ever find her corpse, nor would they ever think to look at the bottom of this very swamp.

A part of her wanted to simply let go of the vine, and allow herself to sink. She already determined that she was destined to die, but she didn’t want to die like this. She would be responsible for her own demise, she knew that.

Tugging on the vine, Scootaloo began to use it to pull herself to shore. Unfortunately, this proved to be a rather difficult task, and she found herself unusually tired by the time she had actually made her way to solid ground.

“Phew, that was harder th-ack!” Said Scootaloo, a large clump of swamp having fallen out of her mane, and into her open mouth as she spoke.

After a few minutes of coughing, and a few minutes more of her attempting to get the vile taste of swamp out of her mouth, she found herself once again moving through the forest, albeit at a slower pace than before.

The forest had grown dark, and eerily silent. She could faintly make out laughter coming from behind her, which was more than enough encouragement to move forward at a quicker pace.

She trotted at the same speed of her pounding heart, and took in sharp gasps of air as her body worked overtime to find a way out of the cursed Everfree.

The trees seemed to blur around her, almost as if they were reaching out to her, trying to grasp what little she had of a body, and tear her into pieces.

She saw a clearing up ahead, and began to run faster toward the only source of light she could see. She half expected to find a path leading to Ponyville, but was instead greeted by a small wooden hut. The hut itself wasn’t all too interesting, though it did appear to be inhabited, if the smoke coming from the chimney was to be considered a sign of life.

Looking around, and standing just at the edge of the clearing, she noticed that she was still deep within the Everfree Forest, with darkness and sorrow surrounding her on all sides. The hut itself was situated within a bright clearing, almost as if the forest was incapable of swallowing this little patch of light.

Bravely, Scootaloo walked up to what she presumed was the front door, and knocked on it three times. She was hoping to find some form of salvation deep within the hut, but when nopony arrived to answer, she decided to barge right in, and explore the hut with her own two eyes.

Of course, breaking into a hut located in the middle of the Everfree Forest may not have been the brightest of her ideas, but it was one that she would see through till the very end. She wasn’t a filly that backed down once she had her mind set on a goal or objective.

Yet, the hut proved to be a difficult thing to gain entry to, as the front door was locked. This didn’t stop Scootaloo, who was now looking all around the hut for any open windows to gain entry. To her amazement, there was a backdoor that seemed to be entirely open and unlocked.
“Heh, that makes it easy” She said to herself right before walking in through the open door.

Once inside, she began to look around,. The first thing she noticed was how small this hut was. It consisted of only three noticeable rooms, excluding what she presumed was a closet, and the living room. The first room, which was directly on her left and not very far from the back door, seemed to be some type of kitchen. In the centre of the room sat a small wooden table, with no visible chairs to speak of. The walls were a yellowish shade of white, and the floor was a simple black and white checkered pattern. There was, of course, a small stove sitting in the corner, a fridge and icebox to the right of the stove, and the other typical things you’d normally find within a modern Ponyville kitchen.

Ignoring the kitchen, she continued on to the next door, which was almost directly across from the kitchen, or to the right after you’ve entered in through the back door.

This new room was a type of bathroom. There was a large tub sitting in the centre of the room, and a small stove to heat the water near the right wall. There was also a fairly simplistic sink.

Moving on further through the hut, Scootaloo found herself within a medium-sized room, which she assumed was the living room for the inhabitants. Two of the four walls consisted of boring bookshelves, housing nothing but dusty tomes. The third wall, which was located to her right, was fairly simplistic. Its only major characteristic was a small wooden door, leading to what Scootaloo thought was a bedroom. However, it was the fourth and final wall that truly caught her attention. This wall seemed to be home to hundreds of alcoholic beverages, some of which Scootaloo recognized, though most may as well have been alien to her eyes.

Looking closely, she read the label of one such bottle. “Sweet Apple Acres: Hard Apple Cider”

Scootaloo picked up and opened the bottle. She scrunched her face, debating internally if she should really consume this. She knew that alcohol was what some adult ponies drank after tragedies, seemingly to dull the pain. Right now, this was exactly what Scootaloo wanted to do. She wanted to dull herself, so she could no longer feel the pain of losing her parents. Further yet, she wanted to drink until she simply couldn’t feel anything.

Taking a sniff of the contents inside of the bottle, and after the smell of apples determined that it was indeed what it said on the label, she took two very large mouthfuls of the beverage, and downed them with an audible gulp.

“Whoa, that’s really good” She said while staring directly at the bottle in amazement. Never in her life had she tasted something quite like this, and she rather enjoyed the flavour. It was sweet, and had an unusual feeling when going down her throat. It didn’t burn, exactly; rather, it just felt nice. It also tasted very similar to Sweet Apple Acres Apple Cider, yet also different enough to provide an oddly unique flavour. She supposed that was the alcohol, though it didn’t really matter. All she knew was that she wanted more.

Without hesitation, she began to drink the whole bottle, which was the equivalent to two litres. She’s always been able to drink an abnormally large amount of liquid without feeling sick. This talent also applied to food, allowing her to either eat or drink far more than a typical pony of not only her size, but any size. So, she found it rather easy to down the whole two litres in a few simple gulps.

However, she wanted more. The kick that adult ponies said they got when consuming alcohol had yet to kick in. Thankfully, there consisted dozens of Hard Cider bottles, all of which seemed to be two or more litres. Her eyes visibly lit up once she realized just how many bottles she had at her disposal.

And so, with no hesitation whatsoever, Scootaloo jumped right into the closest bottle, and downed the whole thing without taking her lips away from the rim. While she was now beginning to feel slightly odd, perhaps even dizzy, she didn’t really care. She needed more.

One bottle, two bottles, three bottles, four. Once she reached her seventh bottle, she found herself completely unable to stand up. Not as if she truly wanted to, as she had finally found the one and only place in Equestria where she felt like she truly belonged. Except, she also felt like she was somehow already dead, the numbness of her overly drunk mind playing a toll on her young and inexperienced soul.

Within her drunken state, she thought about her parents, and how she would never see them again. She thought about the time when her father had given her a scooter that he purchased as a gift for defending a random filly in school. That had been her first scooter, and is the one that she still rides today.

...the scooter she left in the middle of Ponyville. The scooter she neglected.

Tears. She felt them burn down her eyes and onto the floor where she lay. These were the first tears since she received the news. This was the first time she had actually cried.

She was afraid, but no longer alone.

Behind her stood a young colt. He had a golden yellow mane, and chocolate-brown coat. He was a pegasus, and appeared to be no older than Scootaloo herself.

He was also quite confused as to why an orange and purple filly was lying drunk on his living room floor, sobbing loudly, with several empty Hard Cider bottles by her side.

“What the hay are you doing in my home?!” Yelled the colt, who startled Scootaloo onto her hooves, only to fall over again with a groan.

“Ugh, did you really have to yell?” Scootaloo asked with irritation. She was trying to rub a dull throbbing sensation out of her head, though all she really ended up doing was rubbing more mud and swamp into her already dirty mane. When she removed her hoof for inspection, she noticed that it was slightly damp. That’s when she remembered that she was just crying her eyes out, and that somepony had witnessed it. This caused her to blush lightly, though she was already formulating several excuses in her head as to why it looked like she was crying, just in case the point was pressed.

The young colt didn’t look too impressed, especially since this invader has thus-far failed to answer his question. However, he couldn’t help but to notice the rather horrible state that this new filly was in. She looked like she was just beat up by a rampaging bullmonkey, and didn’t smell all that well, either. In fact, the smell was the worst part. Sure, she looked like complete and utter shit, but she smelled like literal shit, mixed in with skunk urine, and pig vomit.

"You're making me repeat myself, and I hate repeating myself. What the hay are you doing in my home?" Asked the colt. "Also, why the buck do you smell like a sewer?"

Scootaloo sniffed herself, and frowned a moment later. While she hadn't realized it until now, she truly did stink. Not as bad as when she and the Cutie Mark Crusaders were trying to get their cutie marks in manure spreading, which somehow led to a tree sap explosion, coating everypony within ten yards in both sap and manure. Though, it was definitely worse than the time when they all tried to get a cutie mark in skunk taming, which for some reason, also involved tree sap. No matter how you look at it though, she smelled. A lot.

"I, uh, kinda fell into a swamp." Answered Scootaloo with a sheepish smile.

"Take a bath." The colt said simply, pointing a hoof toward the empty bathroom. "There's soap and towels in there. Just hurry up before the whole place smells like you. You can tell me why you broke into my house once you're clean."

Scootaloo was confused. She wasn't quite sure as to why this pony was willing to help her, especially since she broke into his place, drank some of his booze, and then started crying like a little foal. Not to mention the fact that she looked like a mess, and smelled horrible.

She quickly thought back to the last time that she had taken a bath, only to realize that she hadn't bathed since the accident. Knowing this, a part of her was against the idea of ever bathing again. She would forever associate bathing with the life that she no longer had. With the love that no longer existed.

She knew that no amount of soap could ever rid her of her internal grime. Like her parents, all Scootaloo wanted to do was sleep the eternal slumber. To be alone in the dark. To die.

Yet, she couldn't deny that she stunk. She needed a bath. Even though no amount of soap could ever completely clean her, she at the very least wanted to get the smell of swamp out of her mane.

And so, Scootaloo stood up.

And then fell right back down, seemingly too drunk to stand on her own accord.

"You're pathetic, you know that?" Asked the colt with a smirk. "I mean, who the hay drinks that much hard cider? You're lucky you're not dead!"

"More like unlucky" Thought Scootaloo, though she knew that the colt was right. No pony should be able to drink that much alcohol. Especially not a stupid little orphan like her. The very thought of officially being an orphan saddened her, but it also angered her. She hated the world. She hated Celestia. She hated her parents for leaving her behind.

Holding back a new wave of tears, Scootaloo forced herself to stand up. It took her a couple of minutes to find her balance, but before long, she was wobbling her way to the bathroom.

Unfortunately, by the time she made it through the doorway, she was no longer able to walk on her own. Everything was spinning around her. She fell onto her side, her head smacking against the tiled floor with a loud thud.

The last thing she saw before her vision faded was the colt standing in the doorway, his wings fully extended, and a shocked expression on his face. Then darkness took over, his form blurred into a silhouette, and nothing.

When Scootaloo awoke, she found herself tucked neatly in an unfamiliar bed. She also seemed to be clean, and could feel an unusual warmth from deep inside her.

She also noticed that her headache was completely gone, and that the world was no longer in a constant state of spinning.

Looking to her left, Scootaloo saw the young colt sitting on a small wooden chair. He seemed to be reading a book; his eyes cycling between the pages and Scootaloo’s sleeping form.

Upon realizing that his unwanted guest was finally waking up, the colt put the book down onto a small nightstand, got out of his chair, and proceeded to move closer to the bed.

"How you feeling?" Asked the colt.

"Fine, I guess." Replied Scootaloo in a voice that was only slightly louder than a whisper. Her throat felt dry, making it hard for her to talk.

"That's good. I gave you some medicine that should help with your hangover. At least, it does when I drink too much. Oh, and don't worry about taking a bath. I already did that for you."

"Thanks for— wait, did you just say you gave me a bath?" Asked Scootaloo, perplexed. Why would this complete stranger—a colt no less—go through the hassle of giving her a bath? Surely she just misheard him, as there's no way he would do that. Especially not to an unconscious filly.

“Uh, yeah. What of it?”

Scootaloo stared at the colt with as much hate and anger as she could possibly muster in her current state.

“What of it? Are you bucking serious? You can’t just go ahead and bathe every random filly that happens to stumble into your hut thingy smelling like a skunk!” Yelled Scootaloo, though by the time she had finished that sentence, she found it rather difficult to remain angry at the colt. She did end up stumbling into his home smelling like total crap. She also drank some of his booze, and cried on his floor. If anything, she should be grateful. This stupid little colt had protected her, bathed her, and possibly even saved her from some level of alcohol poisoning with whatever the hay kind of medicine he had given her.

And yet, she still felt disturbed that this complete stranger had bathed her. She knew what that entailed, and she also knew that the colt likely enjoyed every moment of it. She knew that, in order to properly clean herself, she had to preen her wings. That alone was a very intimate act, given just how sensitive they are.
Then there’s also her tail, coat and mane. Sure, the mane is nothing overly special, nor is the coat; but the tail? That is an erogenous zone for most ponies. When pulled, it’s like your entire body just shuts itself down. You just lose control, and can’t do anything to break free. For some, it’s the fear of being trapped forever that gets them off. For others, it’s the thought of having somepony else in total and complete control of your body. Pulling on a tail also sends a massive shock wave of pleasure throughout the body. This wave of pleasure only lasts a second, but it’s powerful enough to completely overwhelm the brain. Or at least, that’s what Scootaloo was told when she had her own tail accidentally tugged.

And even with all of those possible pleasure points, which the colt had to of touched in order to clean her, she was more worried by what was in between her legs.

As an awesome little filly, Scootaloo often found herself kicking up rocks, dirt and other debris into her lower regions. That’s just a side effect of being small, and riding a scooter around at high speeds. Occasionally, stuff gets trapped up there. It can’t be helped. At first, she absolutely hated having to clean her inner areas more thoroughly than the other fillies her age, but she eventually accepted it as just a part of being awesome.

Yet, she also knew that her lower area had to have been cleaned, as it was another part of her overly dirty body.
The realization that she had been touched, whether it was intimately or not, caused a blush to form on Scootaloo’s face.

As if reading Scootaloo’s mind, the colt spoke up in a reassuring voice.

“Don’t worry, I didn’t do anything funny to you. Just couldn’t stand the smell anymore, and didn’t want to wait for you to wake up. So, I put you in the tub, washed you as best I could, and dried you off.”

The calmness and sincerity of the colts voice proved to be highly effective against Scootaloo’s angry mind. She knew that the colt was only trying to help, and the very thought of his kindness sent roves of shivers down Scootaloo’s spine; each shiver scratching a different nerve within her growing body.

“I’m sorry for, you know, breaking into your place and all.” Said Scootaloo, who was now looking at the colt with renewed interest, and a sheepish smile.

“I’m sure you had your reasons. Speaking of, why did you come here again? You never did tell me, with the whole being drunk thing kinda getting in the way.”

Scootaloo was no longer smiling, and instead looked up at the colt with sadness. At this moment, she just wanted to leave. She didn’t want to answer that question, or to even acknowledge that the question existed.

"It's complicated." Scootaloo began. "Besides, it's none of your business anyway." She wasn't able to make eye contact, and could feel fresh tears forming at the corner of her eyes, just waiting to be set free by a burst of emotion.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to upset you. Though, you gotta at least tell me your name. I mean, that’s fair, right?” He paused for a moment, waiting for her to respond. When she didn’t, he decided to tell her a bit about himself first, to hopefully ease the situation.

“Right, well, my name is Cocoa Fire. I kinda live here alone. I mean, I used to live with my father, but he died a year ago in a Manticore attack just beyond the circle field, so it’s all me now.” Cocoa said with a saddened smile. “I’ve been living alone since then.”

"So, you're an orphan?" Asked Scootaloo in a small voice. She tried desperately to hold back her tears, but ultimately failed as she soon felt her cheeks grow ever wet.

"Yeah, I suppose I am."
Scootaloo looked at Cocoa Fire with renewed interest and understanding. He was just like her, even if she didn’t care to admit to herself that she too was an orphan.

“I’m Scootaloo, and uh…” She looked up at the colt with teary eyes, debating internally if she should tell him about her parents, or lack thereof. “I guess I’m an orphan too.”

Scootaloo felt like a weight had been lifted from her, which in turn caused the dam to break, forcing out waves upon waves of freshly made tears. She couldn’t explain it, but these tears weren’t of sorrow or despair, but rather, they felt somehow lighter. These were tears of acceptance.

Cocoa Fire didn’t know what to say to the pegasus that was now crying heavily in his bed, so he did the first thing that came to his mind; he hugged her. No, he embraced her, and allowed her to cry into his protective shoulder. He knew exactly how she felt, and assumed correctly that she had only recently lost her parents.

Scootaloo was at first surprised, but didn’t bother questioning why he suddenly chose to hug her. Instead, it proved to be very reassuring, and Scootaloo’s tears went into overdrive by the simple act of feeling the loving embrace of somepony around her. She didn’t want for this moment to end, and thankfully for her, it didn’t. She just kept crying into his shoulder, until eventually, she drifted off to a peaceful sleep with her new friend by her side.

Scootaloo was gently awoken by the morning light seeping in through the open window. By her side lay a sleeping pegasus colt, a happy smile splayed upon his tender face. Scootaloo couldn’t help but to smile as well, as thanks to this colt, she no longer felt an internal sadness. She actually felt… love?

“You big dummy” Scootaloo thought happily to herself, as she looked over his resting body. “I invaded his house, drank his booze, cried in his living room, and his bedroom, managed to pass out by drinking too much, had him give me a bath, and yet, he still somehow doesn’t hate me. He actually seems to like me. Heh, a colt likes me. That’s kinda awesome.”

Cocoa began to stir in his sleep, and slowly opened his eyes. The first thing he saw was an orange coat, which he instinctively snuggled up against, basking in its warmth.

“Heh, good morning to you too, Cocoa” Said Scootaloo. Cocoa responded with a simple “mmph”, and when Scootaloo realized that he wasn’t actually fully awake just yet, her smile grew.
She couldn’t believe that she was in the same bed as a colt, and that this colt was subconsciously snuggling up against her chest. She didn’t know why, but she somehow just knew that she was in love with this chocolate coloured doofus. She also knew that he loved her back. That this love had managed to fill the coldness of her heart with warmth and kindness.

She felt like there were a dozen butterflies caged within her chest, each flapping their little wings rapidly in hopes of escaping. She could also feel an unusual pressure between her legs, which was growing in strength, and pulsating to an unheard beat. Though, unlike the butterflies, this one seemed to be real.

Looking down between her legs in hopes of investigating the unusual pressure, Scootaloo had to do a double take. She couldn’t believe her eyes.

She looked at Cocoa, then back to the thing, and then at Cocoa, all the while holding back a massive fit of giggles that would have surely woken up the pegasus sleeping beside her. A smirk quickly formed upon her face, as her playful side made an appearance for the first time since entering the Everfree, and finding this hut.

The object between her legs, which was very much a real thing, and was now glistening slightly under the morning sun, was none other than Cocoa Fire’s fully erect member.

Author's Note

I've opted to split this chapter into two, so this story will now have four chapters instead of three.
The new 'Chapter 3' will consist entirely of clop. The reason I wanted to split them was, quite simply, it'd take me FOREVER to write the clop scene, and I kept going back and editing it, deleting things, adding things. All in all, clop ain't my speciality. However, I'm devoted to this story, so you can rest easy knowing that there will be at least two thousand glorious words of pure sexy fun times in the upcoming chapter. Though, it may take me several weeks and/or months to finish it up. I only have 500 words of clop so far, and it's pretty darn laughable.
In fact, here's a paragraph that probably won't make the cut.

Every time she moved her leg in just the right way, she felt a spark of pleasure pass through her body. It was like a cumulonimbus had formed a pulse storm within her, only to turn into a moderate cumulus eagerly awaiting its next stimulation. It was intense enough for classification, but no where near the levels of a proper supercell.

Anyway, please remember to leave a comment. I'm always open to constructive criticism and feedback. Also, like this story up! I live for the green!

Oh, and one more thing. The first chapter has received a major rewrite, and will be given another shortly. If you've already read the original chapter, don't worry; the story is the same. I just added a bit more detail, so it seems less rushed.