You could barely contain your excitement as your annelid assassination had played out perfectly to a sudden commotion and stifled screams. Your leering eyes watching the frantic fight run its course before concluding with the lively lump that was Spitfire come to a stop and settle about halfway down the beast’s body, where its stomach no doubt sat. The mare shaped mass moving meekly as she wriggled beneath the taut epidermis as a boisterous bulge, that meeped out muffled protests as even though completely ingested the Wonderbolt refused to capitulate to the biology of the brutish beast that had devoured her.

The bulge still bucking as you emerged from your hiding place in the small wardrobe to inspect the handiwork of your hungry pet. Your first few steps slow, as to not startle the stuffed creature, though it did not seem the least bit interested in its owner’s presence as it lay there lethargically, wobbling weakly as its body dissipated Spitfire’s incessant thrashing. Spitfire yet to suffocate in the stale stomach sack, as she tumbled and turned as much as the foul fetter allowed, as she was reduced to little more than a shapely swelling sloshing the stomach as she struggled.

The veil of flesh conforming to the Pegasus’s features as she contorted as little more than a Spitfire sausage, as even from a distance you decern some of the finer details of her tucked up form. her wide hips waggling beneath the rubbery hide, drawing your gaze to the dip of her groin, as you slowly followed the contours of the feminine protrusion upwards to the twin mounts that were her compacted breasts. The seal upon her skin so tight that you could see her nipples putting little dimples in the waxy wrapper, that shifted slightly with each panicked breath as the mare’s hyperventilating barrel heaved beneath the constricting surface.

Your hand reaching out to touch the bobbing breasts, as the salacious spheres shuddered seductively as if they were begging for one last bit of attention before they fondleable fat melted under the pressure of the grinding gastric sleeve. Your fingers stroking the right breast causing Spitfire to flinch and freeze as she realized someone had walked in on her ingested predicament. The stifled sound of her begging for aid morphing into a scream in an instant as you squeezed the gland in a sudden grope that was enough to make Spitfire squeal. The mare tensing up and thrashing as she realized her so-called rescuer was simply taking advantage of her bound predicament, as the kneading of her rack as a suddenly two hands were grinding against her repressed rack.

The mare unable to resist the molesting, as with her arms bound to her sides by the biological bonds of the stomach, she could only worm weakly as you had free reign over her exposed form. Your fingers dancing over the doughy flesh, feeling how they compacted and bubbled between your defiling digits, as even with a layer of skin and muscle surrounding the attractive anatomy, you could feel her shivering upon your palms. The sensation of caressing the forbidden fruit incredible as you cupped a feel of the adipose accentuated assets of one of the most attractive athletes in Equestria, as you did what countless wanted to but never had the means to truly experience.

Spitfire whining weakly, her stale atmosphere fleeting, as she felt her beautiful body assaulted by a barrage of fingerprints, as her body was flustered by a flurry of probing pinches. The nips teasing her teats, nibbling the nipples at the tender flesh was twirled like a moustache as if her assailant were trying to unscrew them from the bouncing bosoms. Spitfire shrieking as their protests did little more than burn through her tart air, as she marinated in an emulsion of acrid acid and her own perspiration that sat in a clammy fashion upon her matted fur. The itching intensifying as the golden locks acted as a sponge holding the lysing liquid to her soft skin letting it reduce the epidermis to little more than a raw surface that grew more sensitive by the second as the layers of resistance were stripped away by lapping waves of the grinding gut.

The barrage upon her breasts growing so intense that the normally indifferent worm twitched lightly, as your crushing grip tickled its thick hide, prompting it to fidget not much different than its defiant dinner. The repetitive manipulative motions upon her mammaries forcing Spitfire to squirm, as she tried to bunch up to protect her more intimate areas from the unwanted solicitation that was scarpering over her chest. The mare bucking as you leaned over and mounted her rearing legs to pin her down, so that her relentless writhing would not cause your pet any further indigestion from its fiery feast. Spitfire grunting as you put your weight on her already pinned hips, as without missing a beat you continued to massage the mare turned meal. The feeling of your hands sinking into Spitfire’s jiggling jugs too much for you as the blissful feeling of firm flesh prompted you to exhale.

“Sweet Celestia, how did you fly with these?” you asked rhetorically, as you scrunched the substantial bags together as you juiced the peaches. The sudden smoosh in combination with your exclamation of ecstasy prompting the pinned Pegasus to please.

“Please…….” She meeped, the words barely audible over the sound of the growling gut and your own pleasurable panting as your gametes had warmed prompting you to leak a lubricant for what was to come if the mare you were seated on were not in a full-body condom.

“Relax…. Just let your troubles melt away and enjoy your early retirement,” You whispered, feeling the mare’s thick thighs trembling beneath you, as she was clenching her buttocks causing the bulbous bulge to ripple as she tried to push you off in one last weakening wriggle. The motions fading from her before suddenly renewing as your worm let out a wet hiss that for its primitive biology was tantamount to a loud belch. The sudden voiding of air triggering some primal response in Spitfire as she ground her groin against your hips in some suffocating parody of sex, before she seized up and the spasming convulsions stilled into a sombre silence with only a light gurgling to mark her exit as she blacked out and capitulated to the worms digestive tract.

“See was that so difficult…” you said to yourself, as your captive audience followed your advice, and was no longer in any state for a stifled response as she had given in to her fate as food. Your marauding mitts giving her face a slow stroke to feel her features beneath the shrink-wrapped layer, as the gut seemed to tighten in preparation to sluice the simmering meat that had been dumped in it. The outcome now inevitable, as nature would take its course, and you would have the pleasure of watching the buxom bulge smooth out over the next couple of days before what remained of Spitfire was unceremoniously squeezed out as fresh fertilizer. The thought making your loins twitch, as you gave one last scoop of the captain’s pliable melons, before you rose as it was time to leave before someone came looking for the digesting dame.

The last touch lingering as you just breathed in the curvaceous cadaver beneath you, before you rose lightheaded sated with your fill of Spitfire’s nooks and crannies. You tilted your head as you stood to tell your pet it was time to go, well simultaneously having a glancing gander of the salacious shadow of Spitfire’s toned body. The worm undulating slightly as if it was preparing to move before it fanned its toothed maw as if it were retching. The sight causing your heart to skip a beat, as you went wide-eyed in fear that the fondling flurry it might have upset its stomach forcing it to disgorge its heavy mare meat meal.

You recoiled slightly, to hopefully get out of the splash zone in case the beast spilt its guts and showed the steaming carcass of what it had for lunch in a way that was sure to stain the carpet. The creature hacking, wheezing huffs coming from its dilating gullet as it seemed to twist in bloated indigestion before with a burping heave a lone legging slipped from its marbles with a soft splat. The item no doubt slithering off its owner’s muscular leg as a silky indigestible, that the worm was fast to pass lest it clog its piping as it snaked through its soon to be packed bowels. The annelid wobbling its head as the spittle-soaked sock caught it its throat, before with a few bobbing motions the drenched article joined the collection of scattered garments on the floor. The worm throbbing for a moment now its gullet was clear, before it turned its eyeless head towards you like a dog as it slid slowly towards you. The worm eager to get back home as there was a hot pad back at the apartment where it could coil up, and finishing digesting its meaty meal of woman...

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

And the owner of the worm enters the lobby, sure to exploit Spitfire's predicament to the fullest as they feel up their pets shapely snack.

Part three of a saucy anthro collab between me and Crazy Water ( https://derpibooru.org/profiles/Crazy+Water ).

Part one: https://aryion.com/g4/view/612844

Part two: https://aryion.com/g4/view/613018

Part three: you are here

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