Fallout: Equestria - Red, White and Blue

I was off to the Sacred Bog. And so was Carbon Copy. The man and his family were at the mansion with Tequila. And I knew him queerly dependable because he would box a smuggler to save his children. And he, in turn, thought of Tequila as a daughter he never had. It was early in the morning when we first started and I happened upon Lots of Money brawling with a feral ghoul. He struck it down with his right leg up and his lefg leg down; it was curious because his back curved curiously to lower him and he resembled a crescent with his forelegs.

I was so utterly stunned that I froze in place and saw him strike it with blunt power. He was older than thirty and balding at his apex, but he was capable. I knew him and all his passion. I shed a tear, remembering my own father. He was brave. He was strong and kind. He was what any father should've been.

He turned back and stomped the head in. I hid myself behind the kitchen doorway and heard him with his daughters.

"Daddy, are you okay? You got cut!" The youngest shouted.

And all he did was laugh about it. He waved it off and said 'don't worry. Daddy is the strongest man in the world.'

So I muffled my lips and darted away. I couldn't shake it. I couldn't keep my eyes dry.

I galloped lap after lap around the mansion. And around the estate, I ran from my memories. I picked it up by doing slope pushups in Merryland's mud. I'd keep my form and stay my hooves or dirty my muzzle. I worked my body for an hour straight. An hour and six minutes, according to my glorified smartphone.

That's when Tequila found me. And that's when I pressed her against the wall of the mansion and had my way with her. She held my hooves throughout. I made love as hard and deep as she could handle and I barely kept her alive indulging myself. She buckled countless times and barely made it inside. She fell asleep halfway back and tumbled into me. I should've been more careful, I reckoned. She was still inexperienced. I was still far too flavorful for her small and tender body.

Carbon Copy helped me carry her. I spoke to her about the Sacred Bog and she instantly agreed to reach it. She didn't know before, but after time with Tequila and reunion with Caviar Mansion, she told me her original agenda. She was, for the better of two years, to return to Caviar mansion. But she was stolen one night from a makeshift bed in a makeshift shack not far from Pilgrim's Landing. And that was how she, a once proud scientist and believer in the obscure Yawje, became a Sodomite.

We spoke for many hours about the nature of Sodom and it's eerie parallel to the sexual philosophy of most ponies to date. And in betwixt our parallels, we spoke of genealogy and the impossible hybridism of fishponies, a common cryptid of legend and yore in deep Merryland. We waited patiently for Tequila, who woke the instant we locked eyes. I tried explaining to her that we were just looking. And she pushed me away claiming I'd use her and drop her for Carbon Copy.

"That's horse shit and you know it." I answered.

And that's when me and Tequila had our first fight. The first fight hurt the worst. And the first fight hit the hardest. What could I say. All I did was scrunch my muzzle and cover my face. How was anypony supposed to feel when their lover asked who they loved more, a stranger or an angel. I broke down crying and choked on all the hurt she gave me. I bit my lip and shutdown. My angel hurt me. I would only cry. It was all I could do.

I heard her sob and she scrambled over with wordless fright. Tequila kissed my muzzle and begged me to see her.

"I'm sorry- I-I didn't mean it- I was being stupid, please Whitestar, I-I'll never say it again-"

"How could you say that to me." Was all I could choke out of me.

And all she could do was let go of me and tell me that she loved me. There was something empty about the house that morning. And I left it behind, after telling Tequila I loved her too.

The Sacred Bog was a dense, fog-drowned region of insect uttering and swampfolk charms. But no comfort kept me hopeful. It was half-past noon at that time. I pondered the state of my pack and presented a well-needed double barrel shotgun. I loaded it with eight rounds, six buckshot, the last two being slugs. Scaley was sure there'd be little to no resistance in the deep recess of Sacred Bog. And so said Carbon Copy, who rubbed her horn right by the trenched, stone entrance.

"What's wrong...?" I inquired, my wing stinging and fluttering once in place.

"I... I don't know. It feels bad here. And not like the usual way. When we got here, my horn started hurting. It's so bad right now I can't even think straight."

That was a bad, bad omen. We couldn't afford to get captured by Celestia knew what and I couldn't afford to see my Tequila raped again. I asked her to hold my double barrel. She had some trouble at first because it was so thick and heavy, but she took it better than I expected and nursed it against her. My double barrel was against her chest, loaded with ammo. We agreed wholly that I would brave the bog and she would guarding my six.

I sloshed about, haunted by vivid predictions of ghosts and phantom monsters ambushing me from every corner and crevice. I once mistook the hanging algae and swamp moss for hiding tendrils. Something horrid lurked inside and I knew not it's form or shapeless dread, but I knew it, no, I felt it over me. The inescapable psychic fear I felt breathing down on me never relented. I trotted deeper and paid no heed to the sloshes of my own hooves. Instead, I watched for drop-offs and pits along the marsh.

I reached a clearing in the many twists and circles of Sacred Bog. It's Mother Puncher was immense and fruitful as it was unimaginable. It stood before me taller than four stories indefinitely. The seeds were clustered beneath a hoof-sized hole in the center of the mother fruit. I surveyed the many roots and flowered vine snakes. It's roots were curled and strong like petrified snakes doomed to guard it. Most of the bogland was assimilated by the mighty puncher fruit. It's spawn were many and streaked the cavernous sides of the mother puncher's lair.

So that was it, then. I stuck my hoof in and reached the seeds. When I touched them, however, I fell backward and lost my footing. The world was blurry. And I was rather intoxicated. Either Mango Summers needed to die, or I needed to build an immunity to hallucinogenics.

The bog was a bitch to wade through. It got my coat dirty and it got me dirty and it was really horrible because I wanted to smell nice. Could a girl smell nice for one day. I stopped with my makeup when I realized Whitestar was tumbling around and mumbling to herself. She was narrating everything she did. Wasn't that just silly, I thought, my hooves on my hips.

Then it happened. Then this ugly, sweaty ponything came out of the water. He had this fishy odor about him that reminded me of my periods. His face was pointy and his nose was two, thin slits for breathing. At the sides were deep gills and weirdo amphibian crests. I would've studied him more but he walked toward us with a hulking, heavy body.His musculature was crazy. He was built like a shark and uglier than anything I'd ever seen. And I'd fucked ghouls before.

I stumbled backwards and fumbled my shotgun away. Fuck, I cursed, fuck you, I cursed again, slapping the gun around in slippery mud.

"N'gha na hlirgh! N'gha!"

I almost screamed because I felt like it touched me. My ears were itching and all over I could feel it growling and grainy all over my insides. What the fuck was happening. I took the double barrel and sprayed it over and over. I shot him till the bullets were done and when the shells were done I found a big fucking log and slammed it into him.

Fishman opened his mouth and coughed worms at me. I swallowed one by accident and I reeled over in disgust. He pinned me down and I could barely breathe from surmounting stress and the fact that we was fucking pinning me. I didn't wanna feel him pump me full of gross fish eggs.

"No! Get away!" I grunted, bucking him off of me and gagging on the nightcrawler taste.

"Get away from me...!" I shrieked, wobbling and falling to my side.

I finally did it. I copied myself. The shine of newly-disposed magic dust sprinkled the air and I lay flat on my ribs. I watched my clone, sticky and icky with fresh blood, slip and weave him. Fish monster man swiped away in feral slashes and haymakers but Clone Carbon stuck him with big straights. She kept her hooves up so all he saw were her eyes and the top of her head.

I couldn't believe it, haha. All those lessons Mr. Money taught me were going somewhere. I could never do it because I was clumsy and bad at paying attention. But my clone sure could. Mr. Money called it the 'peak-a-boo' style, I remembered.

She swung around in pendulum movements and closed in on him. Fish thing monster McGee was too tired from all the muscles he had. And his last swing was horrible. Like his swing was so bad he almost fell over from the half-assed body mechanics. And that's when Clone Carbon struck him right under the chin.

His skull cracked against the cave stones behind him. Clone Carbon turned around and bucked his skull in over and over. I fainted and I saw my clone melt, too. It was only six or seven minutes. That's all the time I had, I panted, saying goodbye to my clone. What was it about cellular degredation that melted a clone. Was it the advanced growth inertia finally slamming into her, or the unstable structure it brought constantly sustaining a state of cellular macrotrophy.

I collapsed and felt like someone was carrying me.

I closed my eyes and thanked her.

Whitestar was carrying me home.