“Umm….”

Bug letting out a soothing sigh of utmost satisfaction like a blissful coo, as she sauntered out of the diner’s backroom with a smug smile on her face. The boisterous bulge writhing in Bug’s belly making it clear where Pinkie Pie had gotten to, whilst also indicating that the now entombed woman had hit the spot nicely. The pleased slate snarfer carrying her protesting prey well, as the overly-cheerful girl currently mewling in her middle did little to slow her wiggling stride. The itching irritation of soaking in simmering stomach acids stirring a spasming squirm out of the grey glutton’s large lunch, as the cramped space of Bug’s pressure cooker of a tummy clamped down to claim its bleating prize.

Pinkie barely able to move, let alone kick, as Bug’s claustrophobic gastric chamber left her no other choice than to sit tight and compact down into a nice brown bowel-movement. A sugary taste lingering on the dour devourer’s palate, as she detected the slight hint of frosting on the saccharine slut currently being squeezed down into a quivering ball of trapped distress within her engorged midriff. Bug savouring the restricted resistance of her ingested indulgence, as the lack of desperate struggles tended to make a batch of freshly baked butt brownies that were bonier on the bum on the way out. Thankfully though, based on how Pinkie was squirming, this marinating meal was going to make a creamy coil of colon chocolate.

Bug not even batting an eye that she had re-entered with her buxom body bare as the day she was born, as it simply meant that any onlookers would get a good gander at her curvy caboose, that her wriggling snack would soon be adding to. The only article of clothing being a pair of roller skates clutched in her hand, as the grey glutton had taken the time to swiftly peel them from Pinkie’s feet, during the short time it had taken Bug to swallow the squealing waitress. The amount of synthetic material alone enough to mean the footwear would have proven a pain once they began seeping through her dung ductwork, as unlike Pinkies flesh and bones, the indigestible plastics wouldn’t simply break down into a chunky soup like their owner. The rest of Pinkie’s cotton clothes unlikely to wreak havoc on Bug’s guts, as they would just serve as fashionable fibre and smoothly slide through in the churned chyme of Pinkie’s nutritious base components.

The only certainty as Bug strode by was that soon a toilet would be clogged with pink hair, as the slate snarfer began to shuffle back into her now too-small outfit she had walked in with, in order to take her dinner home to process in privacy. The stifled whimpering of her lady lunch going unheeded, as at this point Pinkie was just a cute, if a little lively food baby for the short stint it would take the acid-filled sack surrounding her to melt her down into pudge and poo. Bug an expert at converting a person into a single densely packed turd, so perhaps she would grab a coffee from the counter before she left, in order to get Pinkie hurried along, but by then she would have already forgotten the name of her next urgent trip to the shitter…..


...................................

Bug stops by a local diner after class, and makes a meal of the pink and perky waitress on duty....


My one-hundred-and-forty-sixth sketch from  Silent_E 's patreon. This one featuring Bug rocking a suspiciously Pinkie Pie sized belly bulge.....


This image of a flaunting Bug was kindly coloured by my friend  plaguetyranno .

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