When Eclair Créme had gotten herself glammed up for the Grand Galloping Gala, the sophisticated mare could not have anticipated that she would be spending the prestigious event stewing in a stomach. Two hours of painstakingly preening her appearance to perfection and the better part of a can of hairspray wasted, as the belle of the balls evening took a sudden turn when a moist maw wrapped around the back of her head. The dank darkness disorientating the damsel, and before she could think to slap away the ruffian accosting her, a rough hoof had skinned her out of her stylish gown, and she was already up to her waist in the tight grasp of a throbbing throat.

The confused aristocrat letting out a woolly whine, as she instinctively slipped in a worried wriggle in an attempt to protect her dignity now that she had been disrobed of her designer dress. This bumbling buck doing nothing to stop the socialite's steady seep into the accommodating gullet, and it only took a few strong swallows to drag the dame to her digestive destination. The mare finding herself unceremoniously dumped into a claustrophobic cavity, forcing her to fold into a cramped fetal position in order to fit within its churning confines. The sour space squeezing against her almost instantly, as the kneading sack surrounding her attempted to subdue the squirming snack suddenly cast into its caustic care. These scared squirms not lasting long though, and soon the clamping compressions of the gastric sleeve had a skin-tight seal on Éclair’s floundering figure, leaving her only able to feebly quiver in disdain against her uncouth treatment.

These thrashing twitches quickly began to tire though, as the packed away pony found herself unable to find any purchase within the frictionless embrace of the stomach chamber. The mare now little more than a curled-up clump of cowering chevaline, that the diligent digestive system fully planned to melt into a molten mush of easily metabolized mare meat. The sweltering stomach mercilessly grinding against its safely stowed snack, leaving the entombed equine in no position to protest the relentless rubbing raking over her no longer spotless fur. Enzyme laced phlegm coating her cerulean coat with a greasy matting, as the mewling mare marinated in a rising puddle of nipping peptides that was already beginning to bite against her supple buttocks.

To add to Éclair’s mounting indignation, her devourer had decided to wash her down with a mug of mulled cider, as they partook in the festivities without a care in the world about the suspicious swelling swaying betwixt their legs. The stench of seasonal spices stinging Éclair’s sinuses as it just added another tang to the stale cologne of her tart tomb. The stifled sounds of snooty small talk audible over the sloshing of stomach acid, but no matter how loudly she wailed and wept no pony seemed to bat an eye at the simmering mare’s dire predicament. The only reaction her ruckus was rewarded with, was a slow stroke from the pony whose stomach she was currently stuffing, as though the casually cradling might soothe the spasms of their opinionated passenger while they made their way around the packed ballroom. This eventually came to an end though, went with a raunchy burp, Éclair’s predator voided her bloated belly of her meal’s lingering air supply, and braced for the suffocating convulsions that were sure to follow. The engorged equine taking the feisty flail with a sultry smile, before calmly apologizing for her unmannered belch with a ladylike chuckle and a suggestive comment to the wrongdoing currently bulging her barrel.

“Excuse me… something I ate didn’t agree with me….

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

Though Bug was never an invited guest to the Grand Galloping Gala, she had a habit of turning up anyway. Of course, for the grey glutton to gate crash, she needed a golden ticket, and that was something she could always get with a few confident swallows....

My seventy-fourth sketch from  Silent_E 's patreon.

This partying Bug was kindly coloured by my friend  plaguetyranno .

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