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!

Just to note I had two veterans of FOE look over this and tell me I got Velvet's personality spot on.

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