“Another pair of satisfied customers,” thought Poppy as with a firm thump she sealed the lid on the fresh barrel of award-winning fertilizer she had just finished filling. The mare’s rear still feeling a little tender, as with a couple of follow-up taps from her practised hoof made sure that the top was on good and tight. Poppy just being careful, as she knew from past experience how bad the smell would be if the safely stowed sewage was spilt. Two mulched mares more than enough to make a lot of mess, especially once they were done pushing through another pony’s plumbing.

Not like their now-processed passengers had proven problematic during their transformation into turds, and by most metrics, the appointment had gone off without a hitch. Sure, there had been a couple of skittish squirms, but all in all the equine’s egress into Candy’s accommodating backdoor had been a smooth affair. The flustered fidgets of a spurred survival instinct nothing to fret about, and after a few hours, all that remained of Poppy’s liquidated load of equine-shaped lunchmeat was a steaming snake of soft serve scat coiling out of her straining ponut. Fragments of bone and greasy clumps of ruined fur tickling her sphincter as the clay-like crap curled out of her colon in a steady stream of crackling soil.

Poppy and Candy just giving this service with a smile, as they loved to give guided VIP tours of Cornland Farms, especially if the interaction involved ingestion. The method of entry always a little bit different for each of their delicious guests, as every pony had their preference in orifice, and in this case the end result was one in the front, one in the butt. Nothing too taxing, though Candy had gone rather red when her sizable suppository started to stretch her out. Poppy’s one willing morsel in comparison had gone down hassle-free, as a few confident chugs had been more than enough to tuck her treat neatly into her tummy. The motions of her throat not unlike drinking a glass of water, as she professionally packed away her pony-sized partaking with a practised proficiency that only came from years of sizable servings.

Poppy preferring to make meals of mares, though if push came to shove, she could swallow a stallion if necessary, though they tended to leave her a little sore afterwards. Once they were a swaying swell in her gut though it didn’t much matter, as it never took her digestive system long to churn whatever she unceremoniously dumped in her stomach into a creamy chyme. Pegasus, earth pony, unicorns, griffons, hippogriffs and one time even a curious changeling, all ending up the same by the time their reconstituted remains were poking against the dark side of her pucker. A new layer of pudge on forming on her plot as her colon condensed their less useful components into a dense deposit of dung for Poppy to dump at her discretion. The only variance being the texture of the thick logs trickling out of her tail hole, as the peppering of feathers crowned with a slightly different tingle than hair or hoof keratin, though all were equally enjoyable when they were slithering over her chocolate starfish.

The location of this brown birthing didn’t much matter though, as regardless of venue being an outhouse or a humble barrel, the cooling blob of organic waste would invariably end up spread on the farm’s fields. Poppy’s Hershey highway well used to handling the sheer amount of muddy residue that came from enjoying an equine-sized indulgence, even if it was a little annoying to have to plant her plump posterior down on a toilet seat for a prolonged period when the time came for her to let out what was left of her lunch. Poppy’s packed lower tubing soon filling the bowl with a hazel swirl of faecal fudge, as with a string of grunts she excreted the bowel-bleached biomass her engorged intestines had not felt poignant to absorb.

The moist mound of mulched manure, the same regardless of which of the two flirtatious earth pony sister’s arseholes it thumped out of, as whomever they consumed checked into a permanent stay on the property to help raise the next rotation of crops. Sometimes though the stinky souvenir of their short stay in a stomach might be sold either as a sample to a prospective client, or simply to raise funds to continue the farm’s day-to-day operations. The consent of the cooling butt brownies not really mattering at that point, as their right to an opinion had stopped mattering long before their well-brewed bulk began knocking against Poppy’s browneye in search of release. Poppy just letting out a satisfied sigh between her sunny smile, as the now lighter equine was rather happy with her handiwork. The mare taking a moment as she reflected on the delectable duo who had visited the farm, though she knew better than to lollygag, so with a shrug she gestured at her sister and they got back to culling the long list of chores that needed doing before sundown……

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

Noella and Buzzy take a trip to Cornland Farms, for a special session with the two flirtatious mares who run the place. After a short stint in two accommodating digestive tracts the digested duo were than neatly deposited into a waiting barrel, ready to fertilize the fields in the future as a muddy mulch of fresh mare manure...

A lemon done as a reward for one of my patreons Bebop . For this month they wanted a story to go along with a piece they commissioned from TastyDoodles( https://tastydoodles.carrd.co/ ). I have been told this image serves as the cover page for a comic commission so I look forward to seeing that ;)


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