Changeling opposes the friendliness of the hive, gets punished with toilet use, scat and watersports.
(Kink information and guide available in the full description.)
This is your warning~.
It is tough to see everyone change around you, old routines breaking apart for the new order. Some resist it, but when this resistance threatens the good all all, just punishment is required. A story about putting a booty fanatic where they belong.
This story is part of a Chronicle, independant stories in a series that is not updated continuously. When updates come, you will find a link here.
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[Character Quote: "He got what was deserved, even if it didn't turn out as planned." -Pharynx]
[Quick guide:
Shake up in the hive, confrontation ending in malice.
After 1st: Seeking revenge, punishment in watersports and waste, facesitting, along with a few revelations.
After 2nd: Installation, finding your place in the community. ]
Pharynx's wings twitched under his shell. If not for his presence along being enough to induce fright, then changeling’s irritated demeanour was enough to part crowds of changeling before him. His hearing was leading in towards the chamber, where all the ruckus had rallied to.
“This goes against our nature, we have given up our place on this world, the whole ecosystem is out of balance. If us changelings won't return to our previous ways, and it is all the ponies fault,” the speaker showed vehemence in his cause, a single grey carapace changeling hovering over the colourful crowd. “We’d do better for ourselves, and the whole world, if we just went back to nature, and showed that we are not a force to mess with. We are changelings, and this friendship business won't last.”
“Enough is enough, Chrono,” Pharynx called out and unravelled his wings out in their full, crimson flare. While he didn't think anyone was agreeing with Chrono, they were all gathering, and listening to him, which was cause enough for worry.
“It is spooky seeing this from the other end of the debate,” the newly reformed changeling leader admitted, “but you have to listen to reaso-.”
Chrono flew up into Pharynx's face, blue and purple eyes clashing in glares.
“Don't talk to me, traitorous trash who sheathed his wings first sign of struggle, just to cover your own flank, the true hive doesn't need you.” Chrono darted off after exchanging a long stare.
Once calm had been reinstated, the crowd dispersed. Pharynx was silent.
~ 1 ~
The redolence of wilted vines and fungal growth condensed under the midnight moon, croaks and the rustling of wind accompanying a shadow zipping through the air. Snoring. The shadow turned. Shielded by bushes laid the sleeping form of a grey changeling.
“This is how much the hive needs you,” Pharynx proclaimed with his stallionhood dipping out of its sheath. Veins twitching along the vascular meat, Pharynx's tip rippled like algae In the wind, parting for pressure he had let build since the meeting come to its boiling point. -Frslllssh- It cut through the soggy air in an arc of liquid amber, flooding down Chrono's carapace in golden rives; oozing a stench of pickled changeling musk from the liquid veins sprawling and spattering over his natural armours. The fluids flushed through crevices and cracks, painting Chrono in outlines of tenebrous cockjuice.
“Mfma, mma… mmwa? Mfmf, aaammf mmf,” Chrono started awake, turning over onto his back, unable to escape the river of piss cascading down his front, dousing its oozing heat across his frame.
“I don't take dirty from noponies. You are a coward, neglecting the communities well being. You being so used to taking the piss, thought you wouldn't mind getting soaked in it fresh from the source.” He called out, straddling Chrono to the ground with his back hooves and painting the changeling in the hail of urine, ensuring every segment laid drenched in the vitriol substance before aiming it down his throat. It was going a bit too well… It surprised Pharynx that Chrono didn't put up further resistance, seemed to keep his maw open, along with his grunts being in tune with those of pleasure, rather than disgust.
“You can't… this is ridiculous,” Pharynx scoffed, the stream petering out and the changeling panting on the ground, soaking in the odours of vinegar and nutmould.
“Are you savouring my piss? Here I come, trying teach you a lesson, and you little stench sponge just take it all with an open mouth?” he scolded, wings flared as the changeling below attempted to wedge himself free. “Don't think about it, if I am supposed to be so good at covering my flank, then how about I cover it with you for a change?” the changeling roared out, and slammed their rear onto Chrono's head,
-Dddwfth- The cheeks mashed down, enveloping Chrono's face, gliding against his piss polished carapace as Pharynx finagled to get his pucker lined up.
“This is what you aremmf trying to feed out colony,” Pharynx grunted between words, his colon compacting mounds of raw contempt through his system, his pucker throbbing in the face of the humid, flailing Chrono. -Ppfhhrhrrth- -Brrrmmfth- A flush of vapour soaked him in molten intestinal sulphur, the brim surpassing the girth it gained from the gas exchange, bloating under the bulk of manure trudging through the changeling compost canals, and burrowing their way through the rim right into Chrono's gape.
“Mfmps, mmrw, mgmf… mm…” Chrono mumbled, muffled under the cheeks engulfing his face, his struggling petering out as the loaf of condescend bug dung crept into his maw. The segments laid bundled taut with an intestinal liquid serving as a coagulated binding agent, cobbled globules of corpulent ballast warping Pharynx's brim and Chrono's lips alike to their chubby, scragged exteriors. -Spslltlshg- -Chrhsls- A crinkle – wet latex rags polishing windows – ruffled from the egress of Pharynx's cargo; gelato with tree-bark skin and reeking of fertilised loam congesting Chrono's gob, swelling out his cheeks to the volume of manure deluging from the verdant cheeks above.
“Mfmmwr, fmmgrwh,” Chrono huffed, jerking his head within Pharynx's posterior chasm.
“Mfms, you aren't getting that down unless you handle all the, mm dung your mouth spews out for once, so instead of hurling it at our people, just, swallow, it.” -Bbwn- -Bbwbg- -Dbbdwf- Pharynx bobbed his rear onto the rival turned toilet-seat, mashing cheeks together over his face and mimicking the motions of masticating, until he felt Chrono sink his teeth into the tangled ribbons of filth bundled in his saliva.
-Shhhgtl- -Ghhrsls- Chrono's teeth chomped through the rump clay, separating globs of the putrid manure by the patchwork of cracks covering its exterior, breaking the bones from each lump, which instead clogged and gummed onto his teeth in layers of acrid soaked gel. When his molars dug through the congealed texture of flank bread, his saliva mixed with the filaments of dung dew, infecting his mouth with the sharp flavour of wilted roses boiled in cider and dust.
Pharynx sighed, grinding his rump back into the compliant changeling, spying at how Chrono's jet black member twitched and riled up at the exercise. “This is a joke, you are a joke of an ass muncher, lick my butt clean after I use you why don't you, worthless stink bugmfmfmgh,” Pharynx gave of faint squeal as the pale blue tongue swirled over his pucker, swiping up specks of gummed up fudge clutter and applying a sleek coating of drool.
“Ok, that is enough,” Pharynx concluded and raises his read from Chrono's face, watching the bug panting, flustered and quivering with his cheeks swollen full of the greasy gruel, stuffed to the point where he couldn't shut his maw.
“Disgusting, really are all that bile you spew out, just speaking straight from that crystal of mulch you call a heart.” Pharynx scoffed at the sight, and grabbed Chrono's horn, throwing it backward, exposing the changeling's gullet in a smooth arc. “Flush…,” Pharynx's commanded.
This opened the pathway down Chrono's oesophagus, easing the changeling's task, letting him chug down the load of foetid chocolate. Mulch contorted in droves down his throat, till there was just smeared strokes of manure across his cheeks and down his tongue, along with the lingering stench of a puppy back from a heist into into the outhouse.
Pharynx sighed, and let Chrono go. “I realised, that just because you want something to be true, doesn't mean you are given the right to force it on everyone. Isn't easy to know what to do, and that is ok,” he mumbled, somewhat humbled by the experience of the embarrassed, flustering below him. “However, I believe I have an easy solution for integrating you back into the hive…”
~ 2 ~
“And… you, really are doing this because…?”
“Because he wants it,” Pharynx answered his somewhat concerned brother, Thorax, while the two watched the changeling throne being fashioned with an extension, a lower chamber which Chrono was being funnelled into and restrained.
“He goes crazy about it.”
“So… you mean I should… use him?”
Pharynx wrapped a hoof around the Changeling ruler's back. “It keeps him happy, and keeps his mouth from barfing up propaganda, really, we'd be hurting the colony if we weren't treating him as the rightful filth bag he is, might as well enjoy it along the way.” Pharynx said and patted the somewhat distressed brother on the back before sauntering away from the royal chamber.
“Mister, mister?” a little nymph got Pharynx's attention, “what happened?”
Pharynx glanced back, nodding to himself. “I put a pervert in a throne. I thought it went great.”
“And thus the regal ensemble will have to reschedule its hosting location. It goes on to say any volunteering kingdom is urged to speak up within the next…” The messenger changeling peeked up from the parchment, raising an eyebrow at the sight of their king, cross-legged and quivering on his throne. “Thorax? You seem troubled.”
-Pffwwrth- A huff of exhaust dampened the atmosphere – muffled, imposing.
“Mmfwfmr-.”
“W-what wouldn't be fine? Of course I am fine,” Thorax announced to mask out the whimpers dampened underneath him. “For us to host, it would mean a lot of p-prepare… a… preparations for it, but the we are willing.”
The messenger affirmed and took her leave to send send a reply, sensing Thorax was was under more stress than usually.
“Mmgng… sorry, but I can't…,” Thorax whispered to himself, cradling his abdomen once the room was cleared. -BBFoororpprwwrth- A blast fluttered his cheeks in a force of stinking galewind, cascading noxious vapour over the throne. Tendrils of green smog wisping beneath the startled buttocks, integrating a greasy tang of wilted hay and anxiety into the air.
“MMFpfpf, Mmw.”
Thorax had to pin his cheeks down with his hooves to quench the thrashing and grunting beneath his rear, feeling the changeling's face swabbing and brushing along his crack, scraping the flank grease and condensed flatulence onto the black carapace. -Bbrrwwwtmp- -BBRwwffth- Thorax doubled over, his tail flinching at the smog bellowing forth – the hollowed out seat in the throne served to house putrid miasma of molten stage-fright doused in vinegar, with the remaining fumes sneaking out under his pastel mint hindquarters in smokestacks reeking of the hive's outhouse prior to the conversion.
“Pho… ha… cannot, quite believe that this is really, the best place for you, Chrono.” Thorax fanned away the smog with his wings, hearing a faint mumble as he scotched back into position over the changeling's head.
“Me neitherrmfm.” Chrono's cheeks laid perpetually flustered, in addition to being smeared with new layers of Thorax's seat as the wide cheeks ground on top of him. Encapsulating him in the yeast dampness of a sunless swamp brewing turbid mists to wisp and past his exteriors or seep into his nostrils.
Thorax was yet accustomed to sing one of his subjects faces for a pillow, much less a fart cushion.
“You, do… like it though, isn't that right?” He asked. The king was met with silence. “Chrono?” he asked, grinding his rear back to get the changeling's attention, letting loose another puff that vacated his rear with the graze of a hippo in a bathtub -Fbbrwwsth-. “You d-do right? Pharynx said as much, and you haven't actually… resisted, as of yet.” He reasoned more with himself than with the muted buttress fidgeting under his posterior.
-Ghhrbsllfwth- Thorax brushed down his abdomen, biting his lip. “Well don't, expect I won't… uphold your position as mmg, the royal throne, u-unless you explicitly say that you don't want it -Bbfrrrwth, mfmf… too much… quesedias.” -BBffrrwwdllh- A grumble of coalescing putty sloughing through a straw pulsed through his colon, Thorax steeling himself against the armrests as he smushed his bottom to smother his brand new toilet, wedging apart his cheeks for this brim to jab into Chrono's muzzle -Spllstch-.
-Crglglsncnsh- The brim warped under the constipated load within; Thorax bowels held in check by regal stress caved under the bulk wedging its way through, crinkles of moist mud paining over a canvas of flesh rippled out as the pit engorged, spreading Chrono's lips in the same motion and framing the hunk of manure between the two of their lips.
Chrono quivered, the air and atmosphere radiating from the foul hunk clamming a hold of his throat before the rime ha even entered. He sensed the presence of the mulch, the heat that oozed out of it spores and bathed his tongue in a spoiled pepper and truffle stew.
“Mmgsm, amppmah, oh stars,” Thorax groaned, and sensitising a snake of sulphuric smoke whipping through his catacombs. -BBRwppppfrrldth- The horn blow that launched scolding steam and dislodged the manure stake in Thorax's congested treat, Chrono's maw was assailed mudslide of fresh nougat.
Oil soaked filth plastered onto his tongue, gummed the roof of his maw and glued onto his teeth, the mountain moued lodging back into his gullet, – a hoof of grime that choked him with its girth – the oncoming load laid soft and as marzipan; muddied gruel cast a mould of Chrono's maw, forging a replica of his engorged cheeks in fluid bulk.
“Mmfps, ha, t-that was more than I though, y-you seemed to mm, handle it well,” Thorax noted, relaxing so his tensed buttocks loosened, slumping down to mould over Chrono's stuffed face. “Mmff. S-sorry little t-toilet,” thorax huffed out, sensing the mass jammed through his bowels, crawling through to egress in their depricating droves, “yyou aremm, mm, going to h-hafta take it all, j-just imagine y-yourself as a sewage d-drain: mfm, i-is that too far?” he wondered whilst vents of flatulence -Ppfwwerrth- Spewed from his bottom, soaking the clogged Chrono in copious corpulence.
Chrono swallowed, his throat rippling, distorting with the globule of filth revolving down his gullet, his teeth forging through the mass of curling clay crinkling into his gape. He could pick out corrupted odours and taste samples of the King's meal, deposits in the trenched texture hiding deposits of chilli spices, other with the starch of bread and vegetable tangible each time his molars dug through the gratuitous heap, flavours that gummed their way onto his pallet the way mould overgrows a basement. He couldn't stop thinking of what Thorax said, feeling clumps after chomped clump of changeling chocolate barrelling down his pipes, swallowing every bit of regal stench that would defile an otherwise pristine character, thrown down his throat, the pipeline of Thorax’s personal sewage system. In this spot, dunking down the fine brewed fudge in automation, whether was little separating him from a drain.
“Mmf, mmmvvf, how do you fit the crack of my flank so well,” the king mumbled, lax in tone light of heart, “You d-do make for a splendid toilet, mmf, hope you enjoy guzzling down on royal taffy as muchmmf, as I t feels like you are.”
Both King and Toilet flushed in during their this exchange, their relied and sighs and moaning coos respectively resonating. Personally, it was a joy for Thorax to relax his bowels without bothering bout the odour spreading through the throne-room.
“Mfms, your services, mmf, as a stench sponge, mm. Is greatly appreciated,” he mumbled, cooing with his rim rippling in disgorging kilos of damp silt, and Chrono gobbling it down without missing a beat.
~ 1 ~
”Phaa…” Thorax breathed out relief and satisfaction, sensing the rush of liquid amber flooding through his shaft, draining out into the stained changeling beneath.
Chrono nursed the top of the twitching member, the stream steaming clean the clots of manure bundling together in the recesses of his maw and webbing around his fags.
“Thirsty, how is it? Like you have dreamed, drinking down m-my piss like the golden nectar it is?” Thorax posed, to which Chrono nodded with the shaft bulging out his left cheek, urine trickling down his lips painting drool across the changeling repurposed as a royal drainage system. It was amusing to see just the face pop out of the padded velvet, swabbing Thorax's shaft in a viscous tongue between jets of urine.
“How, do you, like… mmf, this?” Thorax huffed, plugging his meat down to Chrono's throat.
“Mmpwf, wmmgm,” the throned changeling panted around the girth, cheeks trembling in heat.
The gate to the throne-room swung open. “Your majesty, I have just received a reply from t-…”
A piss soaked gulp was all that broke the following silence. Thorax quivered. He was posed as if he was… having relations with his throne. Which… well… wasn’t entirely inaccurate.
“Aaa-h… you could, leave parchment out for me, I'd like to pose something to be sent along with it.”
“Aha… c-course, your majesty.
~ 2 ~
“… in the end, my point is… do you consider it proper for, royalty to …. use or subjects, if it is within their own will and enjoyment to do so? Sincerely, Thorax.” The letter floated back down to the table.
“Sister of mine, it appears Thorax sits uneasy with one his subjects on the new throne,” the grand mare then mumbled, “and it has peaked our intrigue.”
Making out the letters on the page became a challenge coupled with the sparse light and the train-cart scrambling up the mountain path; under the gaze of the guards, I didn't have much reading appetite. It was tough to imagine especially as my position of 'Royal toilet'. Classed as an ambassador trip, I was inactuality just valuable cargo. That… or a prisoner.
“Imprisoned by thine true nature, mayhaps.”
At the tone of the authoritative peel ringing through the cart. As the light flickered, a spectre, twice my height appeared seated at my front.
“Tis what we hath found, in hearing of your tales.;” the figure continued, a coat woven from shadows and mane plucked from the summer night's sky, her prescence bearing down upon me.
“P-princess,” I stammered, my book fallen to the floor as I scurried back in my seat, “h-how do you-… what have they told you?” I hadn't respected pony authority, though this one's presence alone plucked my spine like a violin string.
“That we cannot say, they havth told us nothing,” she rose, gracing me with her full height. “Tis but thou who hath told us, dear changeling whelp. Your dreams speakest as glass whilst your body gargles mud.”
The last word held such gravitas, eyes narrowed to hone in on my very being. I swallowed, understanding she knew knew of everything.
“A shame, seeing a subject devoid of belonging, while your kin sees reason, your vocation veers towards a, vulgar voyage,” she loomed overhead, darkness encroaching us, as if engulfed by her mane. “We intent to, expedite your journey,” she proclaimed, with a flash of her horn sending a quiver of magic through my veins.
“W-I… d-don't want any of this, can't you just forget about me?”
“Be still, thou art lucky that we would grace you with the gift of vitality, so you may experience your true form in full,” she said in a hush, leaning in to whisper in my ear. “To end your days in the filth thou seekest so, molten in our regal frame into moon mud-cakes.” -Ghhrrllbblsth- Her stomach gave off a rumble as loud as the trains chugging across the metal tracks below, yet carrying a depth and gravity far surpassing the locomotive.
“Th-that sounded l-like you were gonna… e-… eat me?”
“Skies no,” Luna assured, and brushed across my cheek, “least, your facade is unsuitable for such merit. Yet, thine truth guise, however…”
The light fulfilled my frame as it radiated from he horn, control robbed from my body as I felt myself compacting, muscles bundling together, bones clumping as clay with the rest of me following. My skin crackled, crisped and filed, revealing gases of cyan mould venting an air of putrefied lilies and lard from my very being; my scent warped and corrupted by the sharp, cultivated moss, as my body shifted I took on the odours of a pickled bog.
“Here, we see thine true colours peek from your heart, thine dreams,” Luna said as she lifted me up, a fourth of her size, shaping to a muddled flat cylinder, hollow dents cropping up across my form to open the path for the blue mould to plume its stench into the cabin.
“Certainly, a fitting shape, littered with holes such as thy specie's bodies and heart, wretched with the crystallised desires of depravity and refuse,” Luna said, hoisting me up to eye height, “qualities which in a changeling should be pitied, but revered in such a glorious examplar of a cheese.” The princess held the jet black wheel of Chrono-Comte high, clutching me in her hooves as she sniffed my moulded exterior.
“Thine inside hath stepped forth,” she let her tongue glide across her lips. “One we shall savour in returning the rightful place as regal manure.”
Her breath washed over me, heated so to boil my rind on the way inside of the abyss of her maw. -Chnnnfggh- Her teeth clamped through me – bending my dairy body as butter in a heated grinder – in the same gesture as she scoffed me down, heaving the wheel surpassing her maw's girth inwards. My body compacted, clutched and kneaded by gnawing molars into a slough of grease, a strain coursing through my whole being at each much and shove, yet I stayed concision, even as half my body laid packed and bloated in the grand mare's cheeks, the other half of me soon to join it by the pleased coos rushing cooling me down and the ravenous shoves shovelling me, her meal, inside the nightsmare's gob.
-Gllslh- -Oooppmgph- Swallows, clamps, shivers, her body worked down on me, claiming me as not but battered sustenance inflating her gullet for moments at a time, molten fat curdling at her masticating jaw and clung to itself and her throat all the way on the journey through her elegant neck. Kilo after kilo, -Gllrlsk- -Oomgpsh- mMnch- devoured, caged, beaten into shape by the throbbing throat and unrelenting abdomen.
“Mmmgps, hath notmmf, sampled such such immaculate concentrations of mfms, taboo and debauchery in millennia,” she mumbled out with her mouth clogged with the black and cyan sludge now housing my conscious. Fear stormed through my mind; pleads, curses, despair all tangled within one another, But the princess would not listen to a meal, only delight as I deluged down her throat, an engorged her gut. She knew I was suffering, the faint grasp of my form withering away as her maw liquefied me into a dough of diluted dairy. She knew, that is what the first spell had been for. To know I would suffer through this ultimate fate.
“Sjjslglt Mmph… Indeed, Uaahooraaph-.” Luna answered me, just as she rolled the last mouthfulls of me between her cheeks, chewing my tough rind the way fillies munched gum, reeking of belches tainted in the pure repulsive tang of my body… To The same steamy odour I was imprisoned with, forced to suffer through my own filth fester and torment me in the confines of a princess's cauldron.
“Hoo, we desired thine lesson was one to to cherish, and relish.”
-Bhghrlspgh- -Chhstlph- Judging by the waves and sloshes of my frame within the darkness, she had taken my seat,, bogged down with a meal substantial enough to leave her gut bobbing as a tub of rubber in her lap. I felt her hooves brush, massage into the rim of my captivity, jabbing me with pressure as the brewing smog vented through her air pipe.
“-Aaahhoorraaup- -Hororusp- haa, we art satisfied with this outcome, knowing that thine purpose, thine vocation will be fille, mmf… as filled as our flank will be from the corpulent muck thou whilst devolve into.”
Her voice echoed, through the limits of her belly, through the fibre of my fatty being, though the very fabric of the night itself, permeating me with with my fate, bubbling and churning away in the regal pressure cooker, moulding me into chyme through revolutions of her stomach and gyrations of her hips, Luna savouring each moment, groping deep into her belly for folds filled with me slime crashing and pooling in bloated flabs of midnight coated tummy.
“Art thou not certain your will serve as pristinely as a subject of sludge? Delivered back to your hive, heralded as one of your kin reaching enlightenment, as our regal dung?”
Her stomach clenched, undulating around me, every moment globs of me oozed off into oblivion, cradled by her colon, baking into moon mud and I could not but suffer through my demise.
“Tis it not our royal duty to aid all of our subjects in finding themselves? As luck would have it, thine happens to be, as our royal duty…”
The world grew dim, haze consuming my perception, less of me remaining in her stomach, the purification building and congealing as I curdled through her bowls, rippling as sludge became putty to embalm into droves of greasy, oiled bile.
“Art thou listening? Thou should, this, shall be thine ultimate destination, all of our vacating my domain as pungent, mould changeling batter. Your ultimate desire… your ultimate destination…”
the word echoed in my head, overtaking my mind as if consuming my spirit, reverberating through my being.
“Destination, destination, destination…”
~ 1 ~
“Coming up on Canterlot, our ultimate destination, repeating, next up Canterlot.”
My eyelids flung open. As the conductor passed, they saw me as contorted pile in front of my seat, shaking and gasping for breath in a cold sweat. He merely shook his head.
“Tourists…” he mumbled.
From my position, I could make out the spires of the regal capital, crowned with the signum of the sun… and the moon.
~ 2 ~
-Fpfbbrrrwwth- The huff of flatulence filtered out into the air, sprawling over the room's atmosphere to taint it in a hue of nutty pepper stewed in matured lard.
“Our sincerest apologies, dear sister of mine,” Luna apologised.
At this, Celestia chuckled.
“Oh, sister, must you be so prude?”
The two shared a snicker in their solitude, which Luna was the last to break, clad in a smirk which foretold of mischief.
“My most sincere greetings, I trust you found the escort to your liking; isn't it lovely when you can drift off to the chugs of the train-tracks beneath you?”
“I... think… I slept through it.” My response curt, yet the grand white mare beside me chuckled. Her demeanour mismatched with the guards forcing me to trot in close pace with the princess.
-Pwffoff- A puff of white gas sprung from the regal rear, hanging in the air with a tang of marshmallow. “Even princesses get nervous,” Celestia commented before leading us past a gate, locking out he guards. “Once I had read thorax's letter, I was elated at the prospect of having an ambassador from the hive make a visit.”
Her horn flared up in a yellow gleam before the chamber was cast in luminance, my body elevated in the magic's clutches as the visage of tiled flooring and porcelain emerged underneath me.
“An opportunity to assist a fellow dignitary into the application of their subjects, along with an opening for cultural exchange.”
My levitated form plummeted into the polished bowl of porcelain I’d been levitated over, my lower body twisted and wringed through the straddled piping; torso and hooves swallowed up in the cramped abyss the Princess drilled my form into, until I was cocooned in ceramic. Only my head was spared from the abyss, yet light and fresh air was next to be sealed away from me, when the carpet of alabaster haunches plonked onto the seat.
“Only suitable we'd start with some regal exchange.”
Her voluptuous brim distended and retracted, matching the breaths of the princess, until she strained into a grunt...
“Mmfrf...” -Ppwbrlrlwwwrrpth- The pucker trampolined into a flutter as it discharged a mushroom cloud of virulent air, thick vapours stormed out into the toilet, swirling to a cyclone of green clouds polluting the atmosphere with of fermented what cider and lime broth. I watched her compact her thighs together, sealing me in the darkness with the stench padding through the air and down my lungs, in one pungent burst my throat was already retching and struggling not to choke on the damp humidity.
“Phhaa, there we are, even princesses have upset stomachs, but that is not something I could show to my subjects.”
She shifted and scooched to a comfortable pose, slivers of light giving highlights the once pristine white brim, soiled in splotches of verdant grease, her cracked caked in gellated crusts of old manure mushed between her cheeks in a Rorschach painting. -Chrllgrrsth- Her brim crinkled with the bulk welling up within, distending her clenched pit to a throbbing bulb; wisps of -Ffrwwt- putrid produce swished past to grease up the royal exhaust pipe, as the bulb bloomed open to a to a pillar of sludge. -Chhgnth- The force behind the bulk ramped up in as soon as the umber dung heap made its appearance, first not but a bulge of grime framed by once white lips now rammed forth half a hoofs length before the brim clutched the mound to a halt. -Grrhhtl- -Chrlslpth- -Frglllrsh- It creaked of rubber hinges as the mound was nursed out from the bottom, streams of viscous colon nectar lubricated the mounds to a scillitant gleam. The loaf of polished, lattice-cracked loaf towered overhead, radiating of warmth that glued onto my carapace and wafting of the breath of salted meat fished up from the sewers.
“Phaa, it is quite a relief, mmfph, to have a change to unload. Magic can hide it, certainly, though the urges and pressure mfmpf, do still build up,” -Ppfhwhwt- with another huff of dense exhaust the pillar morphed Celestia's pucker to advance down the drain.
I grunted, squirming as the length clobbered into my left cheek, rapping to a toil around my remained of my neck, a scarf of rotten pungency flaying into my essence as the congealed grime oozed forth to slumber onto my face in tangles of solidifying gut-wax. I couldn't keep my mind straight, any struggles were muted by the bondage of ceramic tubing me from my neck down. Matured odour packed down my nostrils – infecting my lungs with its muddled warmth – and the coil of muddy grime bending a fold down my lips left my ears whipping. My attempts to close my only opened it wider instead, with no method of resistance, I was forced to settle into the pulsating lust of degradation beating through my frame, leaving my head in a haze of stench and drunken excitement as the fold of mare fudge folded down my maw, oozing to fill up my cheek with the tart flavours staining my sinew in umber.
“It does feel relieving, mmhm, pardon my language, to have a friend I can relieve tension with.” The mare spoke.
I watched her hoof rub down at her crotch, until a I bent down into the bow... It wasn't a hoof... -Ppffssssllsh- A stream of steaming amber flushed through the tip of the princess's engorged member; orange lakes collected in the trenches the torrent of liquid carved out into the fresh mud. The air warped into a spiral of ammonia and stewed olives, which sliced through the blunt odour of the oozing colon caramel to singe into my nostrils. -Chhrlspth- -Cttdwth- Celestia's rind clenched off the cord of grime, which smacked into my horn; the muddled surface moulded to the around it, encasing my pride in a creaking drove of booty putty. With the column of cheek chocolate out of my line of sight, I watched the white cock convulse with the torrent of urine rushing through. The stream melted into the curls of fat dung, dislodging mounds of to ferry towards the center: my perpetually pried open muzzle. The stationary globules sloughed inwards, I watched the chiselled cracks and contours of the manure melt in the rising heat and sweltering flow, to a look of polished gummy, just before the virulent gelato crept past my maw -Chrlrslth- -Chrrllsth-. With the consistency of soft serve gelato, the grime invaded my sense, crawling through the brim of my lip to slather every nook and cranny of my muzzle in the slurry left of someone attempting to distil a swamp into alcohol only to give up halfway through. -Chhrsllt- -Shhrrss- The streams of hot amber converged, puddles breaking through the dams of muddled grime to cascade down my throat, sneaking past the gasps that still allowed me to breathe... but the flow only grew, the puttering and bubbling of wretched waters boring through the slimy dung only grew louder as more mud clogged my ears and gullet, and somewhere distant I heard Celestia's coos of satisfaction and relief.
“Haa, I Who's to say I might I have saved up some for your t visit, I wanted to mfmpfh,” Celestia shifted in the seat, rubbing her shaft whiles her rear dispensed heaping globules of curdling butt fudge, “give you ample research material, even if you are just an ambassador, I want you to know I already consider you a my subject.”
“Mmrpgn, mwmpgr,” I called out, my mind overwhelmed, my cheeks bloated: buried in manure I couldn't swallow, it only piled up, and the rivers of urine grew to lakes, to basins, to a pool rising above my head; buried and drowning in a sludgy grudge of manure and soling bladder juice,... my body was coming to terms with drowning in her filth, every muscle of my dung slathered frame oscillating, or... was it my heart fluttering as a colibri trapped in a cage of taboo? Bereft of oxygen, I resigned to the feelings of delight, as my head took on all the more properties of a sewage drain.
-Ker-Chllororrsh- I felt the flushing, through my whole being; tensed muscles tickled to a loosened swell, involuntary swallows sending bundles of compacted dirt and grease down my throat. The manure strained my fangs, my undulating throat, even my spirit, with its overwhelming tang of preserved lemon pepper and botched mushroom brûlée. It revolved down my throat, until I saw Celestia looking down under the sheet of reseeding urine, her hoof pressing down on the flushing handle... Once I had swallowed every last drop, her lips curled to a smile. Then a flash blinded me -Kt-ckdff-
“Certainly we cannot let your visage be a mystery? For such a historical moment, I am certain my subjects are eager to see the dignitary coming all the way from the changeling hive, isn't that right, Chrono?” She posed, marvelling at the picture of the black changeling muzzle peeking out – wide agape – from the bottom of the bowl.
“But, of course, I understand we both have our own duty to handle, I will provide you with some space,” she told me, trotting out of the bathroom, with a hum in her voice. Then, before the door shut and the lamps went out, I heard her cal out. “Oh, my sister says she is eager to meet you in person, I am certain she will take good care of you, throne ambassador.”
