Bug had learned long ago that one of the better perks of doing the occasional favour for the princesses was that no one tended to mind much when a maid periodically went missing. A single sporadic snacking easy enough to sweep under the rug, and was easily forgiven if the pony-sized partaking secured a discounted deal with the moody monster merchant. Bug more than happy to knock a few bits off the bill if it allowed her to indulge in a servant snack or two, and as such it was not uncommon for the dour devourer’s dealings in the royal court to end with a satisfied belch if it meant a better price from the predatory pony.

The bureaucrats and blue bloods rarely bothering to bat an eye at her squirming stomach, as in the hedonistic domain of the elites, it was far from the first time they had seen a suspiciously shaped swelling mewling in a mare’s misshapen midriff. The posh ponies just ignoring the wriggling bulge bucking withing Bug’s belly, as the natural negotiators when straight back to discussing costs and expenses to secure the sketchy services of the now engorged equine. Bug never the best at playing petty politics, but she understood money well enough to drive a hard bargain for her exotic wares.

This particular parley playing out pretty part for the course, as the insistent noble across the table was trying his best to haggle Bug down on one of the more expensive specimens in the grey glutton’s extensive menagerie of carnivorous creatures. Bug returning his bargaining in kind as they slowly began to hash out a contract in an oddly professional back and forth from the normally mardy mare. The earth pony having no gripes playing hardball, as she politely refused most of his attempts to whittle her down on pricing, simply due to the rarity of the aggressive annelid he sought to possess. The two talking about transport costs, feeding regimes and all the finer facets of the transaction, well casually brushing off the muffled protests of Bug’s mare meal. The only attention the opinionated food got was an occasional soothing stroke from Bug, as she explored the shuddering simulacrum of the swallowed staff swaying between her legs. The packed-away pony quivering all through the prolonged deliberation, though the incessant wriggling did little to affect Bug’s well-rehearsed poker face as the time began to drag ever closer to midnight.

Not like it was a hard sale though, as from the start the stallion had been quite clear with this client money was no object, allowing Bug to show off some of the more exclusive invertebrates in her inventory. The wealthy benefactor expressing a lot of interest, and with money being no item, the contract of tender was not hard for Bug to put together, though as always, the slate snarfer was sure to stipulate her lack of accountability if something were to go wrong with the aristocrat’s peckish pet. The mare taking her time to carefully write down the details of the agreement, before the mare triple checked it to ensure that her plump plot was completely any possibility before scratching her scatty signature onto the parchment. The elite equine opposite her taking his time to scrutinize Bug’s simple spiderlike hoofwritting, before smiling as it lacked most of the annoying fine print of his above-board endeavours, and it didn’t take long for a flourish of the quill to exquisitely add his name to the document.

The whole affair from start to formalizing toast taking several hours, which in terms of a Canterlot red tape was practically light speed. Bug overall pretty pleased with the outcome, even if the meeting had run longer into the night than she had initially anticipated. Bug taking a long sip of her complimentary drink, before calmly collecting her copy of the paperwork, thanked the client for dinner and retired to the private room they had been so generous to lay out for her. The stately place to sleep just another benefit of working with the rich, though Bug was just content that she didn’t have to waddle back to some seedy hotel with a heavy mound of mare meat marinating in her middle.

Bug dropping her formal mask no sooner had the door shut, as the mare let out a moist burp, causing a rich aftertaste of spiced cider to taint her tastebuds. The lavish tang interlaced with the fine flavours of the perfume and sweat of her now still snack, as the maid she had munched had stopped twitching after only an hour or so of her caustic confinement. The fidgeting female’s weak worming long since having bled it a silent stillness interspersed by the occasional gurgle from Bug’s grinding gut. The toff tolerating the low stewing sounds just as easily as the stifled screaming and pathetic pleading of Bug’s processing prey, as she was forced to curl up and capitulate to being chevaline by the more powerful body of her better. The whining white noise brief, and soon enough only the bubbling of breaking down biomass remained, as Bug began to liquidate the large lump of lunchmeat bloating her barrel.

Bug running her hoof over the curvature of her swollen stomach, as she made her way towards the sink, so she could look in the mirror to see how much like shit she looked after dealing with such a stuffy audience. The skirting frog getting a good feel for the digestive progress of her brewing banquet beneath her strained skin, as it seemed most of the maid’s soft tissues were already a simmering soup sloshing within her glorping gut. The majority of the stubborn skeleton still discernible, and just from a few prodding taps of what was still solid, it was clear the morbid conglomeration of acid pitted calcium was not quite sitting right within the kneading grasp of the gastric chamber. The sensation more irritating than indigestion, as the fermenting female flesh had settled into a classic fetal fold facing towards Bug, allowing the earth pony to begin sluicing her safely stowed snack in the most economical possible to be converted into a creamy pulp of ex-equine.

The grey glutton’s effective enzymes already making good headway in unmaking the unicorn, as just from a quick gander at her bony belly it was clear the majority of the mare was a pony puree pumping through Bug’s leaching lower bowels. A few crunches ringing out under the slight pressure of Bug’s poking, as more brittle bones buckled under the cramped conditions of the churning cavity. The more sturdy indigestibles clinking together within the claustrophobic confines of the sweltering sac, as little by little they too melted into a mushy mess under the corrosive caress of the oppressive organ. The red mare now little more than a slush of semi-soluble minerals and other peptide pulverised base components, that Bug was already well on her way to metabolizing down to manure.

Of course, before the mare was made into fresh fertilizer, Bug’s well-practised biology had to sort the useful nutrients from the rest of the sizzling slop percolating through her plumbing. Bug’s well-versed tubing more than capable of converting nearly anything she casually consumed into workable calories, and the eaten equine was as good as flank fat on Bug’s round rump the second she started to slip between Bug’s lips. The procedure of Bug’s piping swift and efficient, as the acrid secretions lysed their way through the large load that was Bug’s dissolving dinner. The trickling tartness pickily seeping muscle and adipose, as without a conscious thought it automatically segregated the more useless parts of a pony into a neatly packaged pellet ready to pass when Bug felt so inclined.

It was this prismatic pellet of Fur and clothing that Bug could feel nudging at her stomach sphincter, making the somewhat gassy earth pony glad she had managed to reach the marble sink before she began to retch. It was a fluid motion, a rolling heave and a moist hack, that was followed by an immediate splat as the pony regurgitated the sour hairball with only a minimum amount of posturing. If she had been greener to gulping, she might have needed a bit of preparation to stretch out her gullet into a sufficient gape, but for the experienced equine eater, it was little more than a slight muscle spasm to eject the oily lump of leavings from her sizable supper.

Bug vomiting forth the vile thing, before coughing as she curiously inspected the bitter bolus that she had thoroughly clogged the basin with. The tapered mass of matted hair and the assorted fragments of a maid uniform a bit too large for the stylish sink, resulting in the tip of the oral turd striking the rim of the washbowl, causing it to break away with a phlegmy crackle. The stray clump of mane plopping to the flow with a fleshy plap, causing the broken tip of a horn to tumble free with a soggy string of steaming spittle. The greasy pellet seeming to expand slightly now that it was free from Bug’s sauna-like interior, as the saliva slickened exterior reacted to the open-air slightly differently than when it had been coddled by the cosy clasp of Bug’s core.

“Ooougghhhh….”

“Uuurp!!”

Erupted the equine with a hearty eruption, as she voided some of the excess gas from her gut with misting spray of spit. Bug feeling her stomach squeeze slightly as it attempted to compress its contents, causing a couple of pops to ring out as the clenching clamp caused some of the more compromised bones to compound fracture as though they were caught under a vicious vice. The noise reminiscent of a bag of popcorn cooking off, as Bug gave a few more gags to make sure she had nothing left to disgorge, before wiping her muzzle clean with the back of her hoof, and taking a deep sigh now that the first of the two dirty deeds from taking a pony was complete. Bug chiding her soon to be chub as she made an amusingly ironic observation about the domestic, she was currently digesting.

“For a maid, you made quite a mess,”

“At least your friends will be the ones cleaning you out of my chamber pot… instead of me,” said Bug with a bemused snicker, before she dismounted the sink and bumbled to bed, keen to start sleeping off what remained of her mare meal…

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

When Bug dealt with the elites of Canterlot it was not uncommon for her to get to gulp down a maid or two to butter her up for a better deal. Unfortunately for Red Ribbons' employer, they valued her more as a mare-sized meal than an employee. I guess she should have been better at polishing the silverware, not like she has time to learn now, as Bug is well on her way to baking to poor unicorn into a bowel brownie.

An unexpected commission I got from Nomi, who was in need of a bit of brass, and offered to draw Bug with a bone belly to make up the cash. I was more than happy to oblige her even though I was a little strapped for cash at the time, with work fucking me over, and only giving me 1/3rd of my paycheck for February because of the classic admin error lark. Regardless of the circumstances, I am very happy with how this turned out, and I hope you enjoy Bug taking another mare's voreginity...

If you would like to support me and vote in upcoming polls check out my patreon at: https://www.patreon.com/doomfister


Also if you're feeling brave, check out Crazy Water's Discord, if you dare, it's where I tend to lurk ;) :

https://discord.gg/cVeAghu

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