Author's Note

[Contains: Scat, heavy scat, gross scat, implied post-vore scat, shown post-vore scat, walking through scat, drowning in scat, and copious amounts of fecal matter. If you don't like poop, this ain't your chapter.]

This was originally Part 44 (Bad End)

Well, this one's just plain gross. But kinda hot gross. Again, major props to Cainiam, who made it into quicksand when I went for a shit tsunami. Also, this is absolutely his fetish, and I expect not many others'. We'll be right back to proper vore soon, I promise.

I'm also going back and adding properly "Pulpy" titles to all of these chapters. I've always kind of liked them, and they just fit Fallout perfectly. (And the content warnings at the beginning, sorry about that.)

A Sewer Escape gone Horrifically Awry!

“Uh… Okay. You’re not gonna like this, but we’re going down. Close your mouths, cover ‘em with something, definitely plug your noses.” You start shifting forward as Eissen balks behind you.

“What? Why?” By the time the words have left him, you’ve shifted forward enough to let him get a whiff, and you hear his hooves clank on the aluminum sheeting. “Oh Luna’s crusty teats, Dusty, please tell me that was just a fart…”

It’s only about a foreleg’s length to the vent cover below, and you can see a dim light shining through. After a couple smacks with the butt of your newly-acquired gun, it pops off and clatters on the floor below. It’s not far enough you’ll break something, but it doesn’t look like a fun drop either.

With a gulp, you shove yourself forward and hold out your hooves as you plummet, face-first, onto the concrete floor. You land okay, but after a moment Eissen follows you with a yelp, landing on your belly. Maybe you’ll just lie here for a little bit until all the little spots of light go away…

“Dusty, I’d like to officially veto this plan,” Eissen murmurs through his foreleg.

Behind you, the previously-bound mare flopped out onto the concrete floor with an unsettling crack noise. The stallion dropped right after her but managed to land on his belly, knocking the wind out of him. It also forced him to gasp a lungfull of the air in the room, and the expression on his face was hilarious. “Eissen, look, it’s a sewage pipe. Shit’s gotta go out somewhere, we just follow it until it does.”

You follow that up with a groan as you roll onto your belly and struggle to get your wobbly hooves underneath you. Above you, Optic drops down, but leads with her shoulder into a combat roll that sees her on her hooves, scanning the room for anything useful. Optic wrinkles her own nose as the smell finally hits her full-force. “Dusty, this… this is not a good plan. For sanitary and tactical reasons.”

Behind her, Eissen helps the two prisoners to their hooves. The mare’s eyes are crossed, but she looks better after a moment. You can mainly tell she’s regained her senses when her eyes widen and she claps her hooves over her muzzle. “Oh Celestia it’s in my mouth!”

Shaking your head, you glance around the room. A couple shelves with boxes on ‘em, and one side of the room is entirely taken up by a giant pipe. “Optic, unless you wanna climb back up into that vent, we’re here now. You followed my lead, and I’m leading us into this and out of here.”

“And what about the armory, huh?” She glares at you. “The plan was to get to the armory, stock up, and fight our way back out.”

...She’s got you there. But with possible escape looming this close… Was it really worth risking it all just to get your stuff back?

After a few tense moments of you two glaring at each other, Eissen coughs. “It’s, uh… Kind of a moot point anyway, ladies.”

You both turn to face him… and the rusted door handle that’s just snapped off in his hoof. “Unless you actually can climb back up into that vent, looks like… ugh… the sewers are our only way out of this room.”

Optic hangs her head, and you can hear her mutter, “The requisitions officer is going to be so pissed…”

With a shrug, you trot over to the pipe. There’s a platform next to it with a wheel mounted nearby, and a sign reading, “turn left to open pipe.” Below it was a smaller sign reading, “Check light for pipe capacity”.

There was a green light above the pipe itself, and you figured that meant everything was fine. Behind you, Eissen was looking back up into the vent, while Optic was trying to cram the handle back into the door. The prisoners were poking through the plastic boxes, and you gave them a nod. “Anything useful in there?”

The mare shook her head and pulled out a socket wrench that was just a little too small to use as a weapon and a flickery, dim flashlight, while the stallion pulled out a bundle of pipes that he identified as a filter a second later. With a sigh, you turn your head back to the wheel. “Alright, I’m opening it up. Everypony hold their breath.”

You put your hooves on the wheel, and turned, very nearly pulling something.

“Holy buck!” Shaking your fores, you turn back to the prisoners. “Hey, anything in there that can take rust off? It’s glued in place.”

The mare shakes her head and starts sobbing again into the box, but the stallion pulls out a plastic jug of vinegar. “Here, empty this on it.”

With a shrug, you uncap the bottle and turn it over, splashing vinegar all over the wheel. It almost, but not quite, drowns out the smell of sewage. After it’s empty, you toss the bottle away, and the stallion rears back before giving the wheel a solid kick. There’s a deafening squeal of metal-on-metal as the wheel shifts and flecks of rust flutter down to the concrete. You start turning it the rest of the way, and the pipe beside you groans.

With another loud clunk, a section of the pipe pulls away from the rest, and starts sliding upwards on rusty rails. The smell of shit was bad before, but at least you were kind of getting used to it. This… This was a whole new dimension of fucking horrible. It smelled like this pipe had never been emptied since it was built, with workers, irradiated survivors, ghouls, raiders, slaves, and every single other pony who had ever taken a shit in this place leaving their own little unique mark. And then it was left here to rot the entire time.

New species lived, died, and evolved in this fecal ecosystem. The buzzing of flies drowned out all conversation, and instantly tails were swishing and hooves covered noses to keep curious insectoid explorers from entering.

And of course, there’s one little thought in the back of everypony’s heads; how much of this shit used to be a pony? The very thought that a pony’s existence could be reduced to nothing but a spray of filth a log of crap only to be dumped in here and rot with the rest, and that any of the ponies here could easily have suffered the same fate… It’s a humbling moment, and the pipe’s not even entirely open yet.

Eissen looks into the box while you’re working on that, and pulls out a ratty pre-war jumpsuit, which he immediately starts tearing into cloth masks for everypony present. When you’re finished, you take your own, and tie it behind your head. It doesn’t help with the smell, but at least it should deter the flies, and it allows you to speak freely. “Right… So, who’s first?”

There’s a couple chuckles from the group, Optic just shakes her head again, and growls, “You made the bed, you sleep in it.”

“Fair enough…” Turning around, you look again into the pipe, looking left and right. Both directions are totally dark, but seem to go on forever. With one last sigh, you grit your teeth, and drop your fores into the chunky river of shit.

It’s uncomfortably cold, and that numbs you just enough to drop the rest of your body in, the shit staining the fur on your belly but going no higher. It also keeps you in the dark about the consistency until you try to move, at which point you realize it’s not liquid, but instead a semi-solid slurry of sickening awfulness.

The ripples of your entry spread out and start shifting the skin on top of the squamous mass. Fighting back the urge to puke, you you take a step forward and instantly bang your shin into something solid, freeing it from the hardening muck at the very bottom of the pipe. When it bobs to the surface it reveals itself as a pony’s skull, which you carefully nudge off to the side before it starts to sink once more. “Sorry…”

Eissen follows you in reluctantly, holding the flickering flashlight high, and points out the skull. “We’re looking for an outtake pipe, so… Follow the flow.”

“Right,” you nod, and start leading forward. You feel like you’re slogging through quicksand, your hooves dragging with every step through the muck as the rest of the ponies squish in behind you. You definitely hear some puking as it’s all too much for Eissen.

“What a bucking amazing plan…” Optic grumbles amid a series of gags as the stench of years of shit crossed over her nose. “You know this is basically a graveyard? Most of this shit ain’t Dandy Colts,” she feels the need to point out.

“Least the only ponies here are corpses,” you retort, focusing on wading through the mess. You could feel the pipe curving downwards, but the level of shit was one solid line. Each squishy step earning another few inches of that clammy squishy mess up your chest. You try to pretend it’s a clay pit, but you aren’t fooling yourself.

Ten pairs of hooves squish their way through the wide river of waste. There wasn’t nearly enough water to make it flow properly, leading to this stagnant, squalid swamp. The flies buzzing was almost as annoying as the smell… no, nothing was as annoying as the smell. It got in the back of your nose, infecting every breath with the stench of digested ponies discharged as runny backside slop.

Your belly grumbled again and you considered this being a good place to dump out yourself… but just in time you remember how pressure works and endeavour to screw your tailhole extra tight as the thought of being violated by this cold, clammy fecal matter was almost enough to have you heaving back with Eissen.

“How… how can there be so… so… much… Luna save my poor nose,” Eissen complained. You could see him out of the corner of your eye, looking a lot paler than usual…well what of him you could see above the increasingly high river of literal shit.

“So… hard… to walk…” the mare who still hadn’t had a chance to clear the cum off of her face whined.

“Yeah… this shit is so thick… it’s like I’m walking in a lake of porridge…” you comment. It was true. The act of lifting a leg and pushing it back down was an intensive as it was unpleasant. The cold, clammy shit stuck to your legs, clinging to the fur and making them heavier as you tried to lift. The unpleasant squelching shlorp of shit squeezing back into the gaps you left didn’t help either. Then you had to step back down, stamping the sem-solid matter to the bottom of the pipe with another sickening squelch… and a snap if you were unlucky and stood on the bones of one of the many, many corpses that littered the sewer pipe.

Around ten seconds later you hear the stallion who wasn’t Eissen pitch in. “What the buck is porridge?”

You snort a brief laugh, but don’t answer his question. Slowly and sluggishly the group of you turn a bend… and there you see it. Light. Something was casting light from around the next corner. This could be the way out you were praying for. Seeing it fills your party with determination and you start to power on, pushing through the veritable ocean of scat. Then you heard a scream.

“Ahh-” It’s as loud as it is short and punctuated by a very unpleasant squelching splash. You turn your head, peering over your shoulder, eyes counting your group… and one’s missing. A series of bubbles is coming up through the scat in one spot, then you see a hoof weakly break the surface, twitching before it sinks again.

“Bucking hell!” Optic yelled. “Somepony grab her!”

Eissen was the closest and his horn glowed as he tried to grab at her, but he couldn’t feel her… her hoof was gone and she was obscured by the shit. “I can’t! I can’t see her! Where is she? What’s going on?”

Underneath the oozing river of squishy, stinking shit, the mare thrashed, trying to scream and cry. Her hoof had a weak spot. What they thought was the bottom of the pipe was actually just the fossilised shit that slowed to a crawl in this pipe two hundred years ago. The more fresh fecal waste surged into her mouth, forcing her to taste the indigestible matter of raider victims, a bony hoof lodging in her jaw and holding it open. Her screams were little more than bubbles on the surface, and they were rapidly slowing. Her hooves couldn’t even windmill in how thick and constricting the slop was. She twitched as her body inflated, crap bulging out her stomach and lungs, seeping through her nostrils as the cold, clammy mud invaded every pore of her body. Then her eyes rolled up and she grew still.

You couldn’t believe that just happened. She’d been there one second, then gone the next… and it was such a disgusting way to go.

“I can’t believe this shit! This was such a shitty plan! You’re such a shitty leader! Now the mare you risked our lives to save suffered an even shitter death!” Optic yelled, switching into full rant mode. You wondered if this was how she coped with the grave fact…

“I…” you began to reply when you felt the floor of the pipe quake. The mare’s hoof had been like an icepick in a frozen lake, cracks spreading throughout the ancient desiccated waste.

“Buck everything! Everypony for themselves!” the stallion yelled at the top of his voice, suddenly trying to break into a gallop, his hooves working overtime in an attempted sprint as he furiously pushed through the oozing, rancid scat. He made it all of ten steps before his hoof came down on a bone, and with his ridiculous gait there was nothing to stop him from going straight down. He didn’t even have a chance to scream. The squelch was just as unpleasant a second time, the force of his trip actually dragging his hind legs free from the muck with an audible pop. As he went under they started to wiggle in the air, kicking furiously in some vague attempt to roll himself back over.

You couldn’t draw your eyes away from those desperately kicking legs, the last struggle of a stallion suffocating in squishy scat. He couldn’t breathe, he couldn’t scream, he couldn’t fight. The wiggling of his legs was the only thing he could attempt to do as his life was snuffed out by shit, taking the express trip to becoming sewage and cutting out the raider shitting him down the toilet as the middle man. More of those bubbles were popping around his steadily sinking legs… but then they stopped. A moment later the kicking legs were just twitching, and then they went completely still, the only sound a slow squelching as the legs were slowly claimed by the quicksand of digested ponies.

“I can’t die like this… this… this can’t be happening,” Eissen started to mumble, the stallion whimpering. The three of you didn’t dare move… one wrong step and you could end up just like the others, buried underneath a thick river of shit. And the light was right there… the exit just out of reach.

“You… better have another plan fat for brains… because I am not ending up drowning in raider shit because some stupid fatass thought this was a solid plan,” Optic snapped. “Waterworks is all backed up with waste, and Twitchy ain’t twitching no more. So what next? Dusty going to get filthy?”

“I…” you try again to say something, but Eissen snaps in before you get started.

“Lay off her, Optic… this is some real bad shit, but she didn’t know this was going to happen… we need… we need to work together and figure this one out…” Eissen said, taking deep breaths to keep things slow and measured, the stink now actually secondary in their minds.

“Yeah… what Eissen said,” you say in agreement, although the gesture seems meek.

“I’ll tell you how you can help me out,” Optic growled, the mare suddenly surging forward and grabbing Eissen, pushing her hooves against the back of his shoulders. “I can’t make it across myself, but if I use your shit bloated corpse as a raft, then I’m home free!” she declared, giving Eissen barely a second before she pushed hard.

Eissen spluttered at her madly before he was shoved down, his body submerging in waste up to his eyes, the two orbs going wide in shocked horror as his muzzle lay just beneath the surface. “Come on, row, row, row your unicorn, gently down the shit stream!” Optic declared, her laughter near maniacal.

You try to help, wasing through the waste but they were just too far, and you moved just too slow. With another squelch, Eissen’s eyes vanished, his orange horn and flattened out blue mane the only things above the surface, underneath the shit stained hooves of Optic. Then that horn glowed. Optic lifted an inch, it wasn’t much, but it was enough.

The mare screeched, losing her grip and slipping straight up, tumbling from the unicorn and landing on her back in the shit river. For a moment it seemed the spread pressure was absolutely perfect, her body resting atop the surface, but then the shit started to squelch up and over her. “No! No! No! You little shit! Dusty! Dusty! Save me!” she screamed at the top of her lungs, her body slowly sinking, the shit rushing in to claim her sides, and then start flowing up over her chest.

Behind her, Eissen’s horn fizzled, the glowing crackling to a stop as the stallion so close to the surface twitched, making barely visible ripples before they went still. The waste of hundreds of raiders and their equine meals rushing into him, even slipping into his unclenched butthole and bloating him out just as Optic predicted… he would of made a good raft.

Optic never got a chance to use him though. Her stomach slipped entirely under the waist, followed by her neck. I flowed over her mane, sealing her head in place even as she struggled and screamed. Sluggishly it slipped over her face, covering everything but her screaming muzzle before that vanished with a last squelch. Everything was silent as she no doubt fought beneath the waste, but there was no getting out of there. Soon she joined the others in the graveyard, just another victim of the raiders.

All that remained was your own breaths, ragged as they were. All your floundering to save Eissen had put the waste up to your neck and now your chin sat squarely on top, keeping your head barely above the clammy waste as it cocooned your body, encasing you like one colossal log of crap. You whimpered. The escape had failed. Everypony was dead… and you couldn’t move. A single inch and the shit would claim you.

You must have sat there for hours, unable to risk moving, unable to do anything but silently pray for salvation. Then you heard a voice.

“Buck… that chilli last night was so damn good… but my bowels can’t take that kind of a beating…” That voice… a mare’s… a raiders. Where was it coming from? You couldn’t lift your head, but your eyes wandered, and it was only at their highest that they saw the end of that pipe… and you realised why the shit was so thick there. You were right underneath the main toilets in this place… and a mare had sat on the shitter above you. You whimpered again.

“Ugghh… my gut’s flipping about like a Friendship Game’s athlete…” the mare groaned, her voice echoing down the pipe, followed by the rank rumble of a gassy fart. The flatulence seeps out of the pipe, wafting down like a foul cloud. Your nose had grown used to the stench of age old waste… but throwing a new stink in the mixture brought a fresh gagging, your eyes watering as the developing cobwebs were blasted from your nasal cavities.

Your first instinct is to struggle, but your second is quick to shut up your first as struggling would mean more sinking… which meant you would drown in shit… you prayed that this mare only needed to piss, but her words were pretty obvious. Still, you hear a sigh of relief and the sound of liquid splattering against metal. It grows louder and then above you it comes, a golden shower of hot, fresh piss. From the complete lack of water you realise why this shit is so horrible… the pipes must drop straight down from the toilet bowels so the only liquid component down here was age old piss and what came with the shit.

The stinking rank fluid splattered all over your head, hitting the top of your head first and splashing all in your mane before it rained down the sides and into the shit below. You tried to block it out as it drummed on your skull, droplets working their way down your head and over your face, one even crossing over your lips. The flow kept on going, staining your fur a little yellow as the reeking scent of fresh mare urine cut through everything, the mare not even realising she was marking you with her foul scent.

It couldn’t last forever though and you heard that grumble again, another boisterous fart leaking through the pipe, and then another, the rank stench joining the piss before the flow died down. A mere drizzle splashed on your head for a few seconds longer before a last few drips ended it off. “That radaway sure goes right through you,” she commented, making your eye tick.

“It’s an IV drip…” you grumble although she had no chance of hearing you over the abominable blast of hot, stinking flatulence. You couldn’t just smell the chilli… you could taste it in gaseous form. It was not nice. You gagged and coughed, choking up your guts when you heard a wet squelch… this one not from below you.

“Ah… yeah… that’s more like it…” the raider groaned before as you heard that squelch again, then a wet splat and the sound of something moist sliding. It slammed you right in the skull with a wet thump, the fat log of shit exploding into brown mush and splattering all over your head, smearing its way down over your face. But that wasn’t the worst part… the force actually pushed you down, shit sliding over your chin and up to the base of your muzzle, sinking you more into the rank waste below.

Please no more. Please no more. Please no more. You repeated the mantra in your head, but you could hear the squishy sounds up above, the mare groaning and grunting. Then the lovely present slammed onto your skull again. Your muzzle went under over your lips and right to your nostrils, the two round holes just out of reach of the lake of shit.

“Oh… Ugh… Damn… here comes… the big one…” The mare groaned, and you heard the sound of ripping ass before it got squelchy. A horrific wet sound resounded above, then came closer and before you knew it a shitty deluge of horrible mare waste came pouring from the pipe. In an instant your nostrils were pushed under, and then your eyes, everything giving way to cold, clammy, stinking darkness as you tried to keep your everything shut. The wet, warm splatter could still be felt on the top of your head as it slowly pushed further down, the wet splats of mare diarrhea clubbing you like hailstones.

With a last schlurp, the shit claimed your entire body and the mare’s dump was no longer your concern. You held everything in, hoping to the very last second that something might save you… but nothing did. When you released it was all at once. Shit rushed down your throat, pushed in your nostrils, squelched in your ear holes, forced its way up your butthole and even squeezed into your slit, pouring into you to equalise the pressure as you felt the cold, squishy stuff filling every cavity it could. For a last moment, you twitched… and then everything went black.

“Buck me… that was a hell of a dump… and there weren’t even any pony bones in the filly chilli that time..” the mare groaned from up above. Then the sound of her hooves clopping on the tiles as she walked away. Two sheets of old newspaper filthy with shit drifted down the pipe, splatting in the spot where you sunk, before slowly vanishing themselves… then all was still as if nothing had happened. On the bright side, the raiders thought you escaped at least. A few parties went searching, but they found no trace. None of them thought to check the sewers beneath the communal toilets...