“What’s the matter Essex, I thought you liked anal,” chittered a bloated batpony, as the weight of his melted mare meal began to urgently press against his pert pucker. The processed pegamare weighing heavily against his anal aperture as the moist mass of manure rasped against his rectal ring yearning for release. The beckoning bowel movement indicating the pulped Pegasus passenger currently packing his poo passage was done brewing and was ready for a brown birthing.

Stick shuffling his shoulders slightly as he shifted his body into a stable squat ready to disgorged his digested dinner. The predatory pony knowing the correct position to allow his creamy creation to crown, and he spread his cheeks so that he could clear the congestion in his complaining crap chute. The dense dung knocking on his backdoor seeming to stir in response to his stooped stance, and Stick hiked up his tail and began to push.

“I hope you put up more of a fight coming out…. You barely even danced before you tucked your head in and stopped squirming,” remarked Stick, as his straining sphincter began to smooch the air with a few wobbling winks. The blinking bumhole daintily dilatating with a few faint farts, before with a grunt and a crackle the faeces began to flow.

“There we go….” Squeaked Stick through a bitten lip, as he felt his ponut part from its puckered kiss and gradually yawn into a groaning gape. The hazel hue of a second tail turtling out of the pale portal with a few chirping clenches, allowing the equine to appreciate the texture of the trundling turd before it fell free of the lapping log cutter with a phlegmy plop. The ajar anus pinching off the coiling chocolate, so that the metabolized mare could ooze from the orifice in a more manageable manner than a single spiralling shit snake.

Stick buzzing slightly as he felt his browneye buckle, causing a sensual shiver to run up his spine as he began to excrete Essex. The now pliable pegamare thrumming over his tailhole with a tender tremble, as she slid out as a series of thick albeit limp logs. Glimmers of Essex’s past self lewdly lodged in the oily loaves, as intermittent patches of oily fur and powdered bones softly scraped over the screaming starfish with a tempting tingle. The resistant relics of Essex’s existence peppering the steamy soil passing pleasurably over the agape arsehole, causing the pony to begin panting as the festering fudge slipped free of his cringing colon.

Stick smiling, as the pulped pony was performing much better as droppings than she had when he had rudely rammed her into his rectum. His tailstar slurping the mare without much protest, and aside from a few muffled complaints, she barely even wriggled before a brisk fart put his impromptu buttplug out to pasture. The packed-away pegamare he had shoved up his shitter not even giving a lively spasm as she digested to dung, as the equine expired with a cowering convulsion. From there nature had taken its course on the entombed Essex, and the claustrophobic colon had easily melted her into a meaty mush that it then proceeded to bake into a manure mudpie without much exertion.

His biology making up for his female food’s shortcomings, allowing him to mull the slick and smooth sensation of his stimuli-rich shit. The mulched mare massaging his posterior plumbing, allowing the batpony to enjoy every moment as he exuded the equine as a massive mound of soft-serve Horseapples. Essex amounting to a rather compliant crap, though her condensed cadaver had required a strong shunt to start the stool sausages moving.

Stick able to identify parts of the equine as she exited, a shattered skull, the unmistakable tickle of teeth, a clump of fused feathers, a weathered hoof, all gelling together in the clammy clay of well-used pony proteins. The dirty deluge the reconstituted remnants of an entire life that had been casually extinguished in the pursuit of pleasure, not like Essex would mind as it was not uncommon for the playful Pegasus to find herself on either side of the snarfing spectrum. She would still be mad at him though, as Stick was sure she would have preferred to cuddle rather than be crammed up his cornhole, and he was sure the mare would be in a mood next time they met.

The nature of reformation adding an interesting mix to this meal, and in truth he still wasn’t sure if his snack’s sentience was still lingering in the mess the mare made. magic and technology offering many perverse possibilities for the pegamare, but she was in no state to give any indication of her deviant doings in her sloppy state. A wet pop distracting him from his pondering, as like a champagne cork the slut’s strap-on stumbled forth like a lengthy latex log. The motion just like any other turd, though the rubbery rub against his rectum was a sudden shift from the greasy glide he had grown used to from the mostly uniform mare muck.

The purple plaything seeming to mark the end of curdled compost, as with a final flinch Stick found his previously packed piping empty. The chrysanthemum closing with a few wavering pulses, as the ravaged rear began to zip itself back up now the transitioning turds had finally stopped thumping out of his raw rosebud. Stick sweating slightly in the afterglow, before with a satisfied sigh he capped off his cooling conquest with the gentle patter of golden rain that struck the scat with a soggy sizzle….

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

After a strenuous strap-on shagging Essex was in no state to struggle when a feminized Stick decided to slurp her up his starfish. The poor pegamare in no state to resist, so here we have the anal aftermath of his debaucherous derrière dinner...

A story done for Gizmo (q123) as part of my patreon. For this month they wanted me to lemon this image done by spikesdasnowfox ( https://www.furaffinity.net/user/spikesdasnowfox/ ).

As mentioned above I also now have a patreon, if you would like to support me, it can be found here: https://www.patreon.com/doomfister

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