“Okay Line I want you to clean out the gerrothorax pit, no excuses this time, I fed them so they won’t try to take your hoof at the knee,” said Bug sternly, as she looked at the schedule she had tacked to the fridge with strangely cheerful magnets for her normal dour deposition. Line not looking to enthused about the task as last time the pancake salamanders had been rather territorial, and she would rather not experience their toothless nips that tended to develop into full gastric grapples. Not wanting to become acquainted with such claustrophobic conditions today Line was about to decline when she felt the ground tremble with periodic thumps that rang up her legs.

If this sensation was not a familiar occurrence Line would have assumed it was the aftershocks of an earthquake, but the dull splats reminded her that it was just the Gollox stirring as it had heard Bug talking and assumed, she had scrag for it to scrounge. The large amphibian squeezing through the doorway, its girthy backfat scraping slime across the frame as it barely slotted through the in comparison to its bulk narrow space. Making it past the precipice it then just stood there, a mentally deficient look plastered upon its broad expanse of a mug, its eyes glazed over with its normal stupor as it towered over the two mares in a manner that might have been menacing if it were not such an unintimidating creature.

It then stood there, its eyes drifting apart for a moment as Bug was about to roll up a Mare’s Monthly and goad the creature back to its lair, before it caused too much property damage with its clumsy bulk. But before she could do so, the Gollox opened its cave of a maw and began to wheeze like a popped air bed, the creature bobbing its head rhythmically as hissing noises escaped the now seemingly distressed creature.

“Bug, is it okay?!” asked Line, an eyebrow raised as even for the Gollox this was odd behaviour.

“Don’t worry Line, this is normal,” Said Bug casually, as she took a step backwards as she clearly knew what was going to happen and didn’t want to be in the splash zone. Line thinking it prudent to do the same, and no sooner had she stepped away from the slimy pink monstrosity did it hack up a grotesque mass that hit the metal floor with a sodden splat. Both Bug and Line going wide-eyed as the Gollox deposited a moist mess, before it nonchalantly yawned and plodded off wince it came, leaving a familiar greasy prismatic lump of leavings in its bumbling wake.

The mass of hair and other hard bits immediately recognizable as a technicolour blend of grey and yellow fur, oiled thick with excess stomach secretions that oozed from the conglomeration of former pony’s in a phlegmy stream. The sight clearly the remains of Bug and Line’s indigestibles pressed into a vague 69 position with all their shame on full display. A pair of bleached white skulls peaking from the greasy former fluff, as if ashamed of the disorderly state the Gollox’s gut had left them in. Ribs, hoof cups and countless other acid pitted bones protruded haphazardly from the pellet, the flesh stripped clean leaving just the hardy deposits of what had once been two attractive female frames. But as their now grotty manes would attest that was long gone as their meat had been repurposed into calories for the bipedal frog, leaving just a flaking atrocity to fashion to slowly peel from the pellet in solitary strands as it dried in it's now not so sauna-like surroundings.

Line just looked at the hairball in shock, her hazel eyes following a dollop of drool as it trickled down the skull of one of her former forms, before landing with a soft squelch upon the steel floor. Bug on the other hoof just rolled her amber eyes at the common occurrence in her profession and with a smug smile on her face handed Line a bucket and mop. The grey mare having waited a week for this to happen after Line had roped her into an unexpected workplace accident with the clumsy cretin that was squatting in her downstairs toilet.

“Line be a dear and clean up your mess,”…….

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

Bug is no stranger to seeing coughed up wads of ruined technicolour hair, she has done it plenty of times herself. Line on the other hoof is still new to the more unpleasant facets of ingesting other equines.

In their adventures in Bug's little shop of horrors of a house, the yellow mare quickly became acquainted with cleaning up such leavings though, though it was still a queer event when it was her own fur she was scooping up for the garbage, and once in a while she and Bug would share a stomach, leaving a mass like the one pictured.

A lovely little commission I got from  plaguetyranno

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