“We may be… bwaarp! Divided, but of you all I be…URP!!!!”

Pinkie finding it hard to sing in key, as the two mewling mares squirming in her middle were making the cheerful equine rather gassy. The mare appearing to be having a little bit of difficulty managing her massive meal, as every frantic fidget and writhing buck from her lively lunch caused her bloated belly to quiver with an uncontrollable jiggle. The manic motions throwing the bubbly baker off her normally jubilant groove, though the well-fed pink pony would not let the incessant twitching stop her from chirping out her sanguine song.

The glee in her heart an overflowing ocean of optimism, as the engorged equine didn’t let the fact she was practically immobile get in the way of her strutting her stuff on stage. Pinkie basking in the attention, as she tried her best to maintain her choreography with the upbeat tune she was tweeting out. The waving motions and bumbling movements far from graceful, but in the pudgy pony’s mind, it was far better than just lethargically lounging there on her cushioned clam chair. Pinkie persevering through each note, as though her dramatic reveal had been somewhat ungainly at first, she was soon finding her stride once her smiling serenade had started.

Pinkie pausing these animated motions to periodically stroke the trembling sphere of her stomach, as she attempted to soothe the worried wriggling of the opinionated occupants of her gut. Her hoof tracing over the struggling shapes of her sizable snacks, as the taut skin of the overloaded organ allowed her to feel every little feature of the flailing figures of the entombed equine she had eaten. The indignant floundering of the ingested not bothering the bakers' apprentice, as Pinkie had partaken in enough ponies to know that they would soon start to settle down once they began to run out of air. It was just two earth pony mares after all, and sure they could be stubborn and spirited, but seeing as they were already safely tucked away in her tum, there was little her trapped treats could do other than to submit to the stern stomach and succumb to its churning embrace.

A few more flavourful belches and they would settle down, though in truth Pinkie had already forgotten the names of the two mares stewing in her stomach. Not like their identity’s mattered now, as in Pinkie’s eyes they were just a sagging swell swaying between her legs, that would soon be shrinking. A passing bump in her barrel, nothing more, as they joined the long list of previous prey currently padding the plump predator’s paunchy plot. The stifled screams making it clear that the pair of packed away ponies were not happy about their looming future as flank fat, even as Pinkie’s digestive system was actively gearing up to melt them into a simmering soup of liquidated lunchmeat. Their more indigestible components perhaps persisting for a time, but eventually, the two mare-sized portions would just be a uniform soup of pulped pony proteins pushing through Pinkie’s plumbing on an inescapable destiny to bump the ever elated equine up a couple of dress sizes.

Even now Pinkie’s frogs could feel them start to soften, and she was not even at the chorus yet. Her efficient enzymes nibbling away at the tender female flesh, as powerful peptides slowly converted them into a calorie-rich mess of molten meat and assorted fats, that was more agreeable to the intentions of the waiting intestines. What was useful would be absorbed, and what was useless would trundle towards her tail hole, just as with any other food that took the terminally tight transition down Pinkie’s ravenous throat. Their constitution corroding under the kneading of the grinding gastric chamber, as it eagerly tried to speed up its content’s conversion into chub, with a cacophony of gurgles and groans.

The more defined details of Pinkie’s dinner already beginning to diminish, which was not unexpected due to the swift rate of her normal metabolism. This mulching progress meaning that by the time she waddled to the train station for a return trip to Ponyville, she would likely have to make a quick pitstop at the local outhouse to drop off what remained of her processed passengers. That looming dirty deposit not of concern to the carolling cakemaker though, as she was a while away from wiping, so instead she just focused her seemingly endless energy on the blithe melody of her own composition, scanning the crowd for a possible snack to enjoy on the long train ride home….

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

During a recent visit to Appleloosa, Pinkie decided to indulge in the local cuisine before gracing the town's populace with a cheerful song and dance number. The outgoing equine doing her best to strut her stuff on stage, even if the two mare-shaped bulges in her belly are making the choreography somewhat tricky...

This lemon was another gift for Dendollae (https://www.furaffinity.net/user/dendollae/ ), who seemed to have been in a little bit of a rut as of late. I asked them to draw whatever they felt inclined of and I would lemon it my treat, and they decided that old-timey Pinkie was on the agenda. Hopefully, they enjoy this salaciously short story, as it was a nice fun segment to write :)

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