A drawn out, haunting note lingers amidst the warmly lit auditorium, until finally dissipating and being replaced by the dull hum of polite applause. It was the closing performance at the East Canterlot Theatre for the Performing Arts, a brief concerto being performed by a slightly infamous quartet from Ponyville. This had been their first real gig since they were slated to play at last year's Grand Galloping Gala; which, after several interruptions and a shakily improv'd rendition of 'the pony pokey', was met with jeers and a permanently botched reputation. This second chance didn't come without a price, though; they agreed to play at a fraction of the price the venue would normally offer, and during a time slot when most ponies had already had their fill of entertainment for the day.
When the incredibly meager audience of no more than 20 ponies had finished their forced applause, the quartet quietly took their bows. The cellist in particular, a silvery gray mare adorned with a single pink bow-tie affixed to a white collar by the name of Octavia Melody, was the first to head offstage. She paced ahead of her bandmates, leaving her instrument lazily placed alongside its case in the dressing room as she headed towards the theatre's back exit. As she pushed open the door and felt the wispy greeting of brisk night air, she let out a sigh while the moment of solitude washed over her. She couldn't help but gaze up at the night sky, admiring the peaceful stillness of the stars and the strange glimmer that seemed to vibrate over the skyline. It reminded her why she started playing music in the first place, the sense of mystique and wonder that a well-played melody would invoke in her. She sunk deep into reflection, and would have remained there if the sudden creaking of the door hadn't snapped her out of her trance; it was her turquoise tinted bandmate, Beauty Brass.
“It's not going to help our reputation if you keep darting out the instant the music stops, you know”. Octavia scowled at her, “actually, it's not going to help our reputation if we keep playing for the same hoof-full of people and getting paid hay for it. People won't hire us because they think we're terrible musicians, not because we won't stand around gawking for an hour after every performance”.
“Don't take this out on me,” Beauty Brass interjected, “I know you're frustrated, but we have to try all we can to bounce back from this”. “We have tried, Brass! It's been nine months, and what do we have to show for it? We're still a laughingstock to anybody that matters, I had to move out of my apartment, rent a room with that disc jockey, and for Celestia's sake, the gig we played tonight barely covered the trip here and the hotel!”. After a few tense moments of silence, Octavia finally sighed, “I'm sorry. You're right, I'm a little stressed out. I just need some time to myself to think. You should round up the others and head back to the hotel room, we can talk more about it in the morning”. Beauty Brass nodded, and disappeared back inside. Now alone, Octavia stared up at the odd glimmer radiating the horizon intensely, as it seemed to vibrate and almost pulse rhythmically. For a brief moment, the distortion magnified; warping the surroundings until a flash of lightning arced out of the epicenter, striking the theatre itself and causing Octavia to jump. After a few more minutes of contemplation, she thought better of watching the approaching storm and went back inside; maybe a drink would help calm her nerves.
The city of Canterlot, being such a densely populated location of magical creatures, is prone to the occasional spike in ambient magic, causing an unpredictable burst of energy. In most cases, this is fairly harmless, the energy itself being so unstable the bursts themselves end up being no different than any normal lightning strike. In this case however, in some cruel cosmic accident, reality within the theatre found itself warped. The remaining ponies from the audience, and the rest of Octavia's quartet found themselves coming to in rooms now much, much larger than they were. While the hapless remains of the audience were utterly lost amidst the now impossibly gargantuan auditorium, Beauty Brass and the other 2 bandmates quickly found themselves within the relatively smaller confines of the theatre's green room. The room, designed to provide a relaxing environment for performers before and after they go on stage, was rather humble; boasting only one couch, the storage trunk the quartet brought in with them, and a few drinking glasses arranged around a round ice bucket atop a coffee table in an otherwise empty space. To the now shrunken and confused musicians however, it was anything but relaxing. After huddling up underneath the table, they decided the best course of action would be to make their way to a vantage point in the hopes they could eventually get the attention of the next visitor. After carefully scaling the closed storage trunk which was conveniently placed against the table, they scrambled onto the smooth glass surface. The trio quickly realized the nearby couch was too far to leap onto, and were about to resign themselves to spending the rest of the night there when they heard a dull thumping in the distance. As the monolithic cellist seemed to make her way directly towards them, the group quickly climbed their way on top of the ice bucket and began shouting for her attention.
Octavia sauntered into the green room. She scanned over at the table, eyeballing her prize: the closed trunk. Grateful for once that the others left her to bring the luggage back to the hotel alone, she undid the latch and flipped it open disregarding the top as it knocked into the table, shaking it rather violently to the trio exhausting themselves vainly screaming the name of their colleague, who was lost in thought. While searching the contents of the trunk, she blindly reached over the top and yanked the lid off of the ice bucket sending the dazed ponies careening off of the edge and into the freezing darkness below, landing painfully against the mountain of “tiny” ice cubes that now matched them in size. Octavia finally found what she was looking for, and pulled the bottle of Johnnie Trotter scotch whiskey out with a pleasant smirk on her face. After opening it up, she grabbed one of the glasses in her hoof and placed it into the bucket, scooping out a small pile of ice. She generously filled the glass near to the brim, sat back on the couch and began taking sips of the smooth beverage while soaking in the peace and quiet.
It was cold, freezing in fact, within the confines of the ice container. Brass could feel her lungs burning trying to catch her breath in the arctic air surrounding her. She looked over at her tiny comrades: Horseshoepin, a brown stallion pianist with a short-styled white mane, and the harpist Nandermane, who had an indigo-colored coat and bright blue mane that matched Horseshoepin's. They were both dazed from the fall and seemed to struggle with breathing just as much as her. They didn't have much time to reflect on their predicament though, as they saw the few glimmers of light from the top of the container become eclipsed by an enormous gray hoof, a glass tumbler held underneath. It approached far too fast to react, uprooting the rocky footing beneath them as all three unlucky musicians were haphazardly thrown into the glass amongst the frigid chips of ice. Their world was violently thrown to the side, feeling as if they were in free fall before gravity seemed to take hold again as the ice came crashing down on top of them. Bruised and aching everywhere, they looked up at the heavens just in time to see a waterfall of caramel colored liquid about to submerge their new prison. As the deluge of booze collided with the glass, the ice blocks dislodged themselves and began rising with the liquid while the panicking equines flailed about within the flood. Several cubes of ice knocked into them, knocking the wind out of them and forcing them to take deep gulps of the intoxicating substance on their way to the surface. Horseshoepin was the first to breathe in precious air, but instead found himself choking on the intense fumes of alcohol near the surface. In addition to giving him a powerful contact buzz, he felt his nostrils burning from the stuff. Grabbing onto an ice cube for leverage, he was about to pull himself onto it when the liquid, and his orientation with it, began to tilt.
He turned around, and found himself paralyzed when he saw he was face-to-face with the lips of Octavia. Nothing was visible beyond the horizon that was formed by her snout, and in the center of his perspective was the stuff of nightmares. He watched in awe as the liquid began to spill into her maw, the monstrous appendage within that he was hesitant to call a tongue cupped itself to collect the sweet nectar as it arrived, the tip quivering back and forth with an alien sense of purpose, almost as if beckoning his arrival. When the light hit her mouth just right, he saw the glistening of saliva around an expanse of carriage-sized molars. There was the unmistakable swaying of a fleshy uvula behind the ridged flesh of her palette, and beyond that he could see only terrifying darkness. His survival instinct kicked in slightly late and he finally started to swim against the current, but found himself overtaken. He found himself knocked against an ice cube that was stuck against the narrow opening her lips formed, and was about to thank whatever deity above for his good fortune when the gargantuan lips began to encroach over the top of the ice cube that had just saved his life. He felt the rush of wind whipping against his mane until the ice cube finally gave in against the strain, disappearing with a “pop!” into Octavia's maw with the now screaming pony following shortly behind. The stallion struggled to get his bearings as the ground beneath him came alive, knocking him back off his hooves and face-first onto the slime-coated and bumpy surface of the tongue. He choked back a mixture of saliva and alcohol while something hard and equally slimy pressed into his back. The tongue put nearly unbearable amounts of pressure onto him as it pressed him against the roof her mouth, seeming to extract every ounce of scotch flavoring from his soaked and freezing fur. He felt the wafting of her hot, humid, and nauseating whiskey-scented breath passing over his compressed body, and he could feel himself starting to sweat. Just before the grip of unconsciousness claimed him, the muscle relented, putting the pony in free-fall until he landed back in the puddle of alcohol pooled at the base of the mare's mouth.
The feeling of vacuum came over him again, and he felt suction pulling on him, this time taking him directly towards the unyielding bulwark of teeth which began to part just enough to let his miniscule frame through. As his head was about to pass the unforgiving molar, the row of teeth shifted slightly, just enough to clamp down on the traumatized pianist. He attempted to let out one final scream before the pearly boulders claimed his life, but only found himself choking on saliva that wasn't his own. After his life flashed before his eyes, he realized he was still alive, and very sick to his stomach. The teeth themselves only rolled from side to side, knocking the stallion around before another burst of suction dumped him into the cheek where the rest of the alcohol he came in with was waiting. It felt like an eternity waiting inside the eye of the storm, the only thing his senses could make out was the rushing wind of Octavia's passive breathing, an oddly tranquil moment in an otherwise endless nightmare. This came to an abrupt end however, as the liquid around him began to drain towards the darkness behind him. Horseshoepin himself was pressed between the rigid surface of gum and cheek while the rest of the whiskey disappeared, leaving him in silence until...
Gulp. The shell shocked stallion not only heard, but felt the deafening vibrations of the swallow, as otherwordly muscles now far more powerful than he could have imagined pulled the drink into her gullet, removing any trace of its existence. He remained within the pocket of saliva in the side of her mouth, seemingly forgotten as the process repeated itself a second, then a third time as the mare savored her liquor. Eventually Octavia slowed down, as she began to feel a pleasant buzz wash over her. She brought the now nearly empty glass up to her mouth again, but instead of taking another sip she extended her tongue out into the glass, lapping up a tongue full of liquor and a strangely oblong ice cube. She pressed her tongue against the wall of the glass, letting the ice-cold scotch soak into every individual taste bud. She wasn't that familiar with this brand, but she was very satisfied with the tantalizing array of flavors that seemed to accompany it. Satisfied, she withdrew the tongue and the accompanying ice cube back into her mouth, and was preparing to take another sip, when she suddenly decided to go for broke. She shrugged, opened wide, and tossed the remaining whiskey back as one final shot.
Beauty Brass watched helplessly as one of her friends casually slurped up another. She would have begun to cry if her eyes weren't already watering from the volatile vapor around her. After several agonizing moments, she choked out a sob when she saw a visible lump radiate down the gray mare's neck, disappearing behind her signature pink bow-tie. Every attempt she and Nandermane made to call for help were just met with another scramble for safety as the glass sent more liquor past the threshold of Octavia's massive lips, followed by an ominous pause when another ridge traveled along Octavia's throat. They were quickly running out of liquid, and the force of each sip was pulling them closer and closer to the deadly gateway despite their struggles. Brass felt her muscles cry out in agony from the constant swimming, she knew she wouldn't be able to keep this up. She felt the glass lift up one final time and submitted herself to her fate, but the tilt never came. Instead, they remained vertical, the rim of the glass pressing up against the lips of the gigantic pony, her mouth alone blotting out the sky for the two helpless colleagues swimming below. The tiny turquoise mare had to turn away from the stifling gusts of air caused by the breathing of the monster above her. The breath was thick, and she choked on the even more overpowering scent of alcohol that came from the depths of her friend's throat. When she shook the tears from her eyes and looked up again, she began to shriek.
The lips themselves began to slowly part, and an absolutely massive tongue slowly slithered out. The glistening pink organ rapidly filled the space of the glass, the edges themselves seeming to contract and ripple as it inched ever closer to the hysterical pony. Upon touching the surface of the liquid, the entire muscle pulsed before undulating and plunging into the depths beneath Beauty Brass. She didn't even try to avoid the rapidly approaching muscle, she could only watch like a deer in headlights as it began to lift her, and a portion of the whiskey she was swimming in, up towards certain doom. What she didn't expect, was to be suddenly and forcibly pressed against the wall of the glass. The entire tongue flattened itself, leaving the mare completely enveloped by the spongy flesh. She could feel every individual ridge of Octavia's taste buds vibrating over her, as globs of saliva steadily splashed onto her face. Having the wind knocked out of her, she could only gasp as the tip of the tongue curled upward, catching her limp form as the salivating muscle made its faithful return back into the humid maw of its owner.
Brass could hardly move, but she could definitely cry. She had worked tirelessly to get this gig, and she had to convince Octavia it was a good idea. She just wanted to see the quartet become respected again, and now that was never going to happen. Now she was going to die, at the hooves of one of her closest friends, and she'd probably never even know. She tried to scream, but could only muster up a wheeze. From one of the few beams of light that shined in the otherwise pitch-blackness of the oral cavity, she saw something moving. “Shoepin?! Is that you?” she cried out into the darkness. No response. She sighed dejectedly, but still saw the flickers of movement off in the distance to her right. She heard the familiar cry of a brown stallion, “Brassy! You're alright!”. He tried to get his footing on top of the tooth to call to his friend. “We need to head for the sides! It's safer there, it's-”. A sudden burst of light filled the maw. The two scared and damp ponies looked out into the blinding light to see the lounge they found themselves relaxing in not just hours ago, they saw the door that led outside. To freedom. And they saw the glass with the rest of the liquor rapidly approaching, a solitary pony at the bottom nearly crushed by the rapid acceleration alone. All three of the tiny musicians let out a final scream before the torrent of cold liquor crashed over them. They tumbled around in the chaos, alcohol stinging their eyes and leaving them blinded, only the vaguest sense that their world was shifting. Shifting down. They felt the floor beneath them expand; all of them were effortlessly grabbed by the contracting sphincter as the esophagus claimed its next meal in an eardrum shattering swallow. After that, there was only silence as the remains of Octavia's once prestigious quartet vanished into the abyss of her stomach.
The remains of the audience on the other hand, were utterly scattered across the now country sized performance hall. Those that had sat in the front row had managed to reunite with eachother, and forge some semblance of an alliance to find a safe haven. The group, roughly 13 ponies strong, trekked across the expanse and climbed onto the stage, looking for some way to send a signal for help. They were ecstatic when they saw one of the mares from the night's performance come waltzing out from behind the curtains. They were less than ecstatic when their screams and pleas for assistance were altogether ignored as she recklessly walked directly over them, staring off into the distance. Each thundering hoofstep made the ground beneath them tremble, and they only narrowly avoided winding up underneath one of the towering gray pillars. They looked up at the skyscraper sized cellist that had passed over them, a lustrous black tail swishing through the air above them, which their eyes followed until it connected to a pair of breathtakingly firm cheeks, each emblazoned with a violet-tinted treble cleft, that almost completely eclipsed the stage lighting above them. “What's that smell? Is she drunk?!” One of the more gruff earth ponies yelled. He turned around to his group to find that they had all backed quite a fair distance away. He scoffed at them, “What, the stench of liquor aint' that b-” he stopped mid-sentence only to turn and see one of the apocalyptic ass cheeks closing in at an impossible speed. He barely even had time for his throat to gurgle a single nondescript sputter before he was completely engulfed by the multiple tonnes of her toned glutes. His body was instantly reduced to an unrecognizable viscid smudge of flesh and powdered bone, which remained pasted onto the curves of her rear as it fully flattened itself against the stage floor. The rest of the Canterlot concertgoers panicked, and were about to begin running for their lives when Octavia relaxed her tail; causing it to come straight down on top of them, leaving the dazed audience hopelessly tangled within the frayed fibers of her frizzled hair. Any attempts to get free were undone every time her tail subconsciously twitched, burying them deeper in the jungle. They had no choice but to follow along for the ride when the mare silently stood up and headed for the door. One of the pegasi closest to the edge of the tail nearly lost his lunch watching the world spin with every sway of the mare's hoofsteps as she made her way towards the edge of the stage. He looked down and made out the silhouette of one clueless unicorn trying to get the giant cellist's attention by having sparks shoot of his horn, before he could yell at him to get out of the way he could only watch the gray pendulum swing forward, a single hoofstep lining up perfectly and squashing the pony's miniscule frame beneath her sole. The pegasus passed out from vertigo shortly afterwards.
Octavia enjoyed the warm, numbing sensation running down her throat as she polished off the rest of her glass. Her belly let off a low growl, now working to process the drinks in her system. She reclined back on the couch, propping her hooves up on the table as she went ahead and poured a second glass for herself. Then another. It wasn't until she attempted to fill her glass with the now empty bottle that she realized she probably should have stopped an hour ago. She looked over at the trunk full of personal belongings and decided they could be brought back in the morning. Now thoroughly drunk, she headed out towards the main auditorium. She walked out onto the empty stage and stared longingly into the empty seats. She had given it so much thought, pushed herself through a lot of slumps, but she just couldn't run away from the niggling doubt in the back of her mind. Playing music just wasn't the same anymore. All of that passion, that primal sense of purpose that used to drive her to perform, was gone. She wasn't sure how to tell them, but this was her final performance. She had no idea what she'd do for a living instead, but she couldn't keep playing gigs as a means to support herself. She looked over at the space where she held her cello just a few hours before, took a seat on the empty stage floor, and spent several minutes just reminiscing. After wiping away a few silent tears, she got a new burst of alcohol-mediated confidence and started to head towards the front doors. She felt something damp and gooey stick to one of her rear hooves, and far too intoxicated to lament over stepping in someone's used chewing gum, stopped halfway up the aisle to casually wipe it off on one of the seats. She was heading back to the hotel. It was time to tell them.
Octavia finished the short walk down the block to the economy hotel room she and her group were sharing. She was surprised to find the lights off, and that no one was there. Somewhat disappointed that they were out all night partying without her, but relieved that she could put off telling them until tomorrow morning, she decided to make the most of her time alone and headed towards the bathroom. She went up to the ceramic bathtub and started running the tap. She carefully undid the collar around her bowtie, and stripped the only real piece of clothing she wore. Ready to fully unwind, she finally took a step into the soothing bathwater. Bringing the rest of her body around and rolling onto her back, she let her body submerge beneath the water, letting out a pleasant sigh. She could feel the tension being relieved, both by the effects of the alcohol and the warmth washing over her. Now fully relaxed, she reached up and grabbed a shower pouf hanging on the wall. She applied some soap, gently ran it through the water and began the process of bathing herself, starting with the bottom up as she lifted one of her hind hooves out of the water to give it a much needed scrub.
The unconscious pegasus woke up abruptly as the tip of the tail made contact with the surface of the water. The entire sprawling sheet of hair unfurled and cascaded on top of him, swathing him in oily blackness as the gigantic earth pony lowered herself into the bath. Hopelessly lost and bound within the thick bog of her tail, his mad flails to free himself started up with renewed vigor when the sea of hair was pulled taut by a powerful force. He could see several of the other attendees struggling to untangle themselves, a few of the ones near the base of the tail pulled screaming into the cloudy depths of the steamy bathwater. He spun against the wiry mesh binding him to the rapidly sinking appendage, and nearly cried out in joy when he felt his hooves rip free. He mustered up the last of his strength to separate himself as far as possible from a watery grave, but he was yanked back by a forceful snag on one of his wings. The wing dislocated with a sickening crack, causing the pegasus to yelp in pain; the now useless wing fell limp as the last errant strand of hair slipped off of it and disappeared beneath the waves along with several doomed ponies. Now left treading a veritable ocean of water, the pegasus took a look at his surroundings. His eyes could see the rounded shape of an immense hoof, easily the size of a building in its own right, slumbering beneath the waves. He followed the length of the leg up towards her curvacious thighs, stopping awestruck when he reached the end. Directly beneath him, in between the valley of two immense legs extending off into the distance lied Octavia's crown jewel. The water around him seemed to fluctuate with the gentle swaying of her vaginal lips, each movement causing the glistening folds of flesh within a chasm large enough to swallow him whole ripple inwards towards the abyss of the mare's body. Further submerged around him were at least a dozen of ponies just like him: some desperately swimming for safety, some were drowning, still trapped within the wispy strands of the tail, and others still found themselves being helplessly pulled towards the gaping orifices. He wished he could help them, but knew he still had to get to safety himself.
There were a couple of other victims who had managed to find their way to the surface, lost somewhere in the newly formed Gulf of Octavia. His eyes drifted upwards to the looming face of the pony mare, which appeared to be in a state of calm bliss. One of the monstrous walls of gray that made up her forehoof began to lift itself out of the water though, and reached above her head to grab a large pink shower pouf. The other ponies ahead of him seemed to sense the danger before he did, starting to turn towards him and swim as fast as their tiny legs would allow. The spongy mesh came descending like a bird of prey, causing a thunderous splash as it collided with the water and began skidding towards the four panicked equines. He tried to turn tail and sprint with the force of a horse possessed but shortly after found the enormous bathing instrument ramming into his back, knocking the wind out of him. The stallion once again found his limbs tangled in a restrictive mesh, and he could only dejectedly pant in exhaustion as he was lifted along with the sponge into the freezing air above the bathtub. He was rotated around, catching a glimpse of the face that had just condemned the lives of dozens of ponies. Her pleasant smile hadn't left her, her eyes were now closed and she appeared to be humming some sort of tune. He was then rotated further and brought face-to-face with the sole of a ridiculously large hoof that had just finished revealing itself from the depths.
He could make out every miniscule detail upon the smooth, ridged surface; the rivulets of bathwater running along the unique grooves etched into the spongy frog of her hoof, occasionally directing themselves around a generous spattering of dirt and grit that remained embedded in her sole after a full day of activity. The adrenaline surged, heightening the stallions senses and forcing him to count every agonizing heartbeat as the sponge he was on careened towards the inviting hoof in front of him. He felt the sweltering heat radiating off of the exposed surface before he even made contact with the limb and, in spite of the fruity smelling soap he was surrounded with, was still overwhelmed by the vaguely feminine scent of sweat and the musty smell of the earth, causing him to stifle a gag. His yells of protest were cut abruptly short as his snout was the first thing to touch the sopping wet hoof, smothering his cries and filling his nostrils with her scent. His face sunk into the plush flesh on the underside of her hoof, before he started being vigorously rubbed against it in circular motions. His mane and body was becoming caked with the thin layer of oily grime that tended to collect underneath the cellist from standing on her hooves for hours on end. He continued to choke on the pungent fragrance, begging for the torment to finally end, when he could feel the vice on his hooves from the sponge start to loosen. This was joined by an increasingly strong force pressing on both sides of him, however. He was slid upwards into the groove directly in the center of Octavia's hoof; with his back snugly inserted within the confined space and his shoulders bound tightly at his side, he could only dangle helplessly from his position, stuck to the bottom of her hoof, as the sponge he was brought in on lifted itself over his head and disappeared beyond the horizon. He hyperventilated, desperately trying to soothe his unabated terror while trying not to think about the fact that the soft, yet constricting sole of a giant pony's hoof left him as helpless as a foal in a world that was now 200 sizes too large for him. The temperature from the hoof was intense, he could feel every pulse of her body heat smothering him while he tried to think. To add insult to his predicament, the hoof suddenly angled downward and rocketed back towards the bath. He barely had time to take in a breath of air before he was plunged down into the murky depths.
To the other unfortunate individuals who still found themselves attached to the pouf, their life was about to take a very, very unexpected turn. They were lurched back over the surface of the bath, the face of the mare now in one that was unmistakable. Her eyes had lidded back, a deep red blush had formed across her cheeks, and her mouth was open slightly as a result of her relaxed and slackened jaw. They all knew what that meant. This was a face of ecstasy. Their nautical rollercoaster inched downward towards the thing they were all fearing: Octavia's shimmering nethers. The mare's lips were becoming increasingly engorged by her unsatiated arousal, the tumultuous rippling of her folds getting spastic as they eagerly awaited stimulation by the approaching aid. Those viewing headlong at their imminent demise saw several already lost in the literal meat grinder. Those on the sponge had just enough time to see a terrified female face amongst the shifting mass of muscle within Octavia's excited marehood. The small mare reached out her only free hoof, time frozen for a moment, until the expanding ridges permanently swallowed her into the musky depths. The sneak preview for the hoof-full of ponies ended, it was their turn now. They all instinctively held their breaths as they crashed into the now swirling tempest, towards the leviathan itself. The very instant the tangled ponies made contact with the moist flesh, the entire structure tensed violently before undulating, revealing the entirety of her dark tunnel to the hapless audience. While dark, they saw the limp, flattened body of the mare from before slowly float up towards the surface, causing one of the ponies to start attempting to scream, flailing hysterically against the vaginal walls still pressed close to her, and releasing a stream of bubbles containing the last of her precious air reserves. Right before she lost consciousness, she felt the rumblings of muscular contractions within her moist prison.
Down beneath the lewd activities currently taking place however, was an accident of a much more embarrassing manner. Two ponies were attempting to free one of their friends, whose lower body was crushed in the ensuing chaos between the mare's tail dock, and the immense ponut that was now resting on top of it. With only his head and upper torso free, he was quickly losing his calm demeanor beneath the crushing force, and the excruciating pain of his two buddies trying to pull him out by his hooves. The unicorn pulling on his right lost his grip, and found himself tumbling upwards head over hoof. He stopped spinning oriented directly in front of the puckered sphincter. This was, in a cruel twist of fate, at exactly the same time as Octavia's entire body tensed and subsequently relaxed. The mighty ring of flesh briefly twitched, before gaping open just long enough to create a powerful vacuum. The effect was instantaneous, the petrified unicorn was sucked head first with the rapid rush of water into a pony's darkest of orifices. As quickly as it came, the anus clamped down hard on his body, leaving him trapped halfway within the foul-smelling tunnel with only his hind legs free to kick wildly. With the muscular seal being water tight, he was free to start screaming. This only caused him to run out of air, and after being forced to take one hesitant, gagging breath within the putrid atmosphere inside the mare's colon, he quickly learned his lesson. He lit the surrounding area up with a spell from his horn. The seemingly endless ridged walls of intestinal tract sprawled out in front of him, glistening with a thin coat of slime that seemed to uniformly encase them, before they turned a corner into places the unicorn didn't want to think about. He gasped as he felt something tugging at his tail, was his friend trying to get him out? He started calling for help, angling his body around and trying to worm his trapped hooves free of the hot, wrinkled muscle. He felt the pressure tighten immensely, almost shattering his rib cage and pulping his organs, before he saw that familiar twitch begin to creep along the crushing flesh. His eyes widened in shock as he tried to brace himself for what was coming next. The tail hole pulsed open, bringing with it another deluge of bathwater and rocketing the poor stallion into the depths of the musician's bowels, before sealing up permanently and leaving him trapped in the fetid blackness.
The remaining survivors within the thick and humid marehood could feel the water becoming a cloudy white consistency around them, as the sponge started to move. They were compressed onto her labia, massaged roughly against the pulsating flesh at a quickly increasing rate. The prisoners were shaken free of their mesh shackles by the aggressive masturbatory aid above them, but this only caused them to be thrown around the turbulent water within Octavia's expanding and contracting sex. With little hope left, they made one last ditch attempt to head towards freedom. They fought their way into the jungle of flowery mesh thoroughly acquainting itself with the musician's most delicate of locations, and could see the glimmers of light shining through holes in the fabric. They could almost taste their freedom, until Octavia neared her climax. The sponge was thrust wholly into her waiting vagina, taking her uninvited guests with it into the deepest reaches of her moist cavern. She was practically thrusting now as the shivers of her impending orgasm overtook her. Her legs instinctively kicked out, bracing herself against the wall of the tub as every muscle inside her lithe body began to clench, the two sputtering ponies feeling the walls closing around them. The organ enveloped their fragile forms, the crushing pressure became unbearable. They both attempted to let out one bloodcurdling scream before their bodies gave in and everything went dark.
Octavia threw her head back, the orgasmic sensation of the mesh fabric against her tender folds had reached a fever pitch. She let a single primal moan escape her lips while the wave of pleasure subsided, a pool of viscous white fluid pooling up in the water around her crotch. Panting heavily, she went ahead and started draining the water while she rode out the aftershocks of her much-needed stress relief. Still quite happily drunk, she stood up, and stepped out of the tub. As her last hoof became completely flush with the tile floor, she felt something squish against the center of her sole. She figured she didn't get all of the gum off the first time, she did end up getting distracted in the tub after all. She grabbed a washcloth provided on the counter-top and, without bothering to look, scraped the nondescript mess off of the bottom of her hoof, finally disposing of it in the corner laundry bin. She walked out into the living room and checked the time. It was almost 3am and they still weren't back yet. Trying to well up the courage to break off from her passion still brought tears to her eyes. She stopped and thought deeply for several moments. Eventually, she nodded somberly in the silence of the dark hotel room, and turned to leave. She took a cab down to the train station and boarded the early bird's 3:15 train back to Ponyville, alone. She curled up on her empty bench in the still night, stopping only to absent-mindedly grind her rear end against the seat in order to relieve an embarrassing itch while hoping no one would notice, and fell into a deep sleep contemplating if she made the right decision.
Back in the empty hotel room, on the end table lies a single undisturbed piece of note paper, with some hastily written scrawls on it:
Dear my closest friends and colleagues,
I have given this matter an extensive amount of thought, and I decided that I'm finished. Playing with all of you has simultaneously been some of the happiest and most stressful periods of my life, and I don't regret it for a moment. However, I really need the opportunity to pursue different avenues in my life, quite possibly ones that don't involve music as a career. I'm terrible with goodbyes, and I truly am sorry I couldn't bring myself to tell you this in person, but I hope you'll find it in your hearts to forgive me in time. You're all extremely talented musicians, and I know you'll be successful in spite of my departure.
My deepest regards,
Octavia Melody
