The air is still above the cloud layer.

Vertipad technician Rain Splatter slowly sips on her Razorhay margarita as she looks over the patchy farmlands around her post. Cloud seeding never quite worked right, and all of their research, she’d been taught, had been lost in the war. Anything that was left could only been found in the Underworld below. And from the snatches of conversation that she officially didn’t hear, the superiors were just fine with supplementing their own diets with meat instead.

Swishing the faintly-green liquid around the plastic glass, she peers over the side of her Vertipad, making sure the lights in the below-cloud ring were still steadily blinking. They were what the Vertibird pilots used to find the safe points to come through and land.
Flash. One, two, three, four, five, flash. Good.

Her ears prick up as the sound of an engine shakes the metal under her. After a moment, her eyes widen, and she shotguns the rest of the margarita before tossing the glass to the side. Her wings extend and she flutters to the side of the platform closest to the airbase’s “VIP entrance”.

With a roar, the clouds in front of the platform split open, and Commander Skyheart’s personal Vertibird emerges from the underworld into the sky above her. It’s a squat, dumpy dual-rotor helicopter painted an idealistic sky blue, and through the cockpit window, she can see the eyes of the pilot searching for her and her Vertipad.

She fluffs her wings and tilts them slightly to the left. There’s a layer of glowing yellow paint across her primaries, and the pilot smiles as he spots her, then starts pulling the Vertibird closer. She tilts her wings back and he stops, then slowly begins easing his way down to the pad.

After a moment, there’s a heavy ‘thump’ as the vehicle lands, and the cloud layer supporting the platform rocks up and down like the tide. The doors slam open in unison, and four ponies step out, two in the insectoid Enclave armour, their tails whipping from side to side protectively, and two not. One is obviously Commander Skyheart herself, pulling off a respirator and tossing it back into the Vertibird’s cabin, and she drags out the last—an earth pony mare wearing a dirty stable suit.

As the engines spin down, Rain Splatter averts her eyes from the prisoner and starts trotting towards the craft, to run a post-flight check with the pilot. Skyheart doesn’t even give her a glance as she shoves past, Stablepony in tow, and pushes the unfortunate mare towards her guards. “Here, why don’t you two have some fun with her. Go nuts, but bring her alive, intact, and coherent to my quarters after.”

“Interrogation, Ma’am?” Their voice sounds all crackly through the speakers.

Skyheart chuckles. “Fuck no, I’m hungry. Besides, she barely got ten steps outside the Stable before we grabbed her. She doesn’t know jack shit.” She trots back to the Vertibird, one hoof inside, but pauses. “Seriously! If she isn’t all three of those things I mentioned, then I’m gonna be pissed! And whoever broke my toy for me is gonna be next, after I forcefeed them what’s left of her!”

Skyheart climbs back inside behind Rainy, and the technician is praying the Commander doesn’t spot her as she taps the pilot on the shoulder. The Flyboy nods, pulling off his headset. “Afternoon, Rainy. Nothing major, but the vapour camo died on us while we were on the dirt.”

“I’ll check the valves,” she nods, and starts trotting back, only to freeze. Skyheart is sifting through a duffel bag right in front of the access panel. She could wait… but surely the commander wouldn’t bother a lowly mechanic? With a cough, she lets out a choked “Ma’am?”

“Eh?” Skyheart jumps, halfway to drawing a plasma pistol on her before she sees her uniform and the painted wings. “Oh. What, wrench monkey?”

Cringing, Rainy points with her hoof. “Just need to do some routine maintenance? I won’t be long, I promise.”

Skyheart stares at her, fire in the Commander’s eyes. Then they soften, and she picks up the moldy duffel bag, dragging it away from the panel. “Of course. Be my guest.”

With a relieved sigh, Rainy pulls out a screwdriver and sits next to the panel, starting to unscrew it. Behind her, Skyheart resumes her rummaging, and she starts to filter the large mare’s movements out.

With a ping, the panel comes loose, and a cloud of steam follows it. Rainy waves it away then sticks her head into the gap, searching for the source. It’s easy to find—a simple pipe rupture between the liquid tank and the thaumic boiler. The camouflaging liquid never made it to the boiler, and instead started leaking all over a heatsink. Easy fix. She pulls out a wrench to tighten both ends of the pipe, so it won’t get any worse while she gets a replacement.

Suddenly there’s movement behind her, and she pulls her head out of the gap. The second it’s clear, her head is slammed against the wall, and she lets out a yelp. Skyheart is pinning her against the wall with her voluminous rump, and it feels like it’s gonna pop!

“You… don’t… service… anything while I’m present!” Rainy’s eyes search out Skyheart’s, the technician’s smushed face a picture of terror and confusion. “You might be a spy or an assassin. Maybe you tweak a valve or plant a grenade, and this whole thing goes up with a boom, and me inside!”

Skyheart was screaming at her now, spittle flying from her mouth as her ass ground Rainy’s head harder into the metal plating. “Do you understand me, vermin?”

She pulls away, and the relief from the crushing weight is like a pony in the desert getting water. “Yes! Yes, I understand! I’m sorry, Commander Skyheart, it won’t happen again!” Clutching her head, the mare flops to the deck of the Vertibuck, the ringing in her ears slowly fading.

“See that you don’t.” Growls Skyheart, slinging the duffel bag over her shoulder and hopping back out onto the Vertipad.

* * *

You, Dusty Shelf, are not having a good day.

For the past hour, you’ve been beaten, raped, and pissed on by a half-dozen horny pegasus stallions, stallions who knew they could cut loose with no repercussions, and now you’re being dragged off to somewhere else. You’d tried to ask where you were going, but the two stallions doing the dragging were being assholes about it, just snickering.

A few more minutes and about a mile of rugburn later, you all stop outside an unassuming door with the nameplate “CDR SKYHEART”. The stallion on the left drops you unceremoniously on the floor, and knocks on the door.

It’s answered by the bitch earlier, the one in the ugly tan uniform. She nods. “Ah, Sergeant Tailspin. Was just about to go check you weren’t being too rough on her.” She crouches down and grabs your chin, yanking your head up sharply. “Had some fun, tribal?”
“Fuck you,” you spit, cum and blood spattering across her shoulder.

“Perfect!” She grins, then waves them away. The older one nods and turns to leave, while the other stands watch outside her door, and the Commander grabs you by the end of one of your tattered Stable-suit’s legs. Dragging you inside, she lets your hoof drop in the centre of the room.

You let out a whimpering cough. “So why bring me up here? You want my Pipbuck? Maybe a map of the twenty metres I managed to run? My Stable’s access code? Bad news, can’t do any of those.”

“No, tribal. I expect you to die!” In a blur of motion, the Enclave commander grabs you with her hooves and beats her wings, flicking you onto her lavish bed in the corner. There’s an unsettling moment of flight, and then she slams you down on to the mattress, knocking all of the wind out of your lungs as she’s lying on your chest.

You try and take a deep breath right after, but she spits into your mouth as you do, and you start coughing. She took you by surprise, the bitch! You open your eyes again and get a faceful of clothed Enclave ass. It’s all you see before it goes black, and she sits down on your face.

She’s not using her full strength yet. It’s mostly just enough to block out your vision and push you flat, but it establishes something pretty quick; you’re at her mercy. She starts showing this off by rolling her asscheeks around on your face, trying to get comfy.

“Mmm…” She moans, shifting her mound under the clothes against your face. “ You know, I always love doing this, but so many ponies we bring up here like to bite…. Glad I had the Sergeant soften you up a little.”

“Mmph!”

She shakes her rump again, and lifts it just enough for you to breathe, and look at her between her forelegs. “Do you wanna know what I’m going to do?”

Snarling, you growl, “Rape me and send me skydiving without a parachute?”

“Ooh! No, but close!”

“Bite me!” You hiss, and she just smirks.

“Ohh, and cold again. Guess who gets their air cut off?” The ass slams down over your face once more, tighter than before. You struggle, your face grinding against the fabric, but she’s fatter than she looks, or maybe just a little bit stronger. “Yeah, keep that up…”

She presses herself down just a little harder, and presses down on your chest with her fores. With a wheeze, your air is gone again, and any you can get is suddenly tasting mighty stale. Still wrapped in darkness and butt, your eyes go wide, and your struggles redouble, hooves flailing. An errant hind catches the commander right in the jaw, and she yelps, rolling off of you with fire in her eyes.

For a single moment, you regret doing it, but the air tastes too sweet for you to care.

“That’s how you wanna play, is it…?” A sudden, evil grin spreads across her face. You’re suddenly grabbed by the guard that was standing watch by the door, and his hoof smashes you back into the mattress. Skyheart uses the opportunity to pull open a drawer, and she pulls out a set of pre-war hoofcuffs. You try to struggle, but another blow to your gut settles you down, and she easily starts clicking them into place at your knees and elbows, hoofcuffing you to her bed’s metal frame.

You whimper as she crawls back onto the bed, sliding herself up onto your belly, and purring like a cat the entire time. The guard steps back, keeping an eye on her, but you can see he’s nervous too, like he’s seen this happen before. After a moment, he decide he’s content with you being hoofcuffed to the bed, and he bolts out the door.

“I was going to play games with you, you know… Going to keep this up for as long as it took to tire you out, maybe even send you off with some licking.” She leaps forward and snaps her teeth before your eyes. “Not. Fucking. Any. More.”

“What… What are you going to do…?”

She sits back on your belly, compressing your chest with her mass. She pulls on last thing out of the chest… A mouth spreader. “Do you know what the punishment for assaulting an officer is, Tribal?”

You’re about to whimper something else, but she punches you in the chest and jams the spreader into your mouth, then ties it around your head, locking your mouth open in a perpetual scream. You can taste other ponies on it, like she’s never cleaned it.

Then she starts unclipping her officer’s shirt. “Death. But the fun part is, how it’s carried out is entirely up to the officer’s discretion.” Then she turns herself around on your chest again, so you’re looking at her clothed ass once more. And this time… You notice something that you didn’t before. Stains, not like she’s shit herself, but more like she’s just been wearing those pants for a very long time, without having them washed.
Then the loud trumpet of the commander farting echoes through the room, and you start shaking in terror.

Still grinning evilly, she moves backwards slowly, letting herself approach like a wasteland predator stalking you. You start struggling, trying to get away, not wanting her to do… whatever it is she has planned, but you’re too solidly restrained. The cuffs are strong, and the gag is keeping your face horrifyingly open.

A few inches before impact, she farts again, and the stench gets blasted right into your face. It literally smells like death, like ponies had died in her rectum, and you realize with start that ponies probably have. Then the smell is gone, for the most part, but it leaves a smell like rotting meat on your tongue.

Then she stops, just an inch away from your face. “Lick it.”

You shake your head wildly from side to side, and she smiles. Slowly, deliberately, she puts a hoof on one of your hind knees. “You sure about that? Because death can come mighty slow if a pony knows how to prolong it...”

Shaking in terror, you clench your eyes shut, and shake your head again. You hear her hum, and wait for the pain, but it never comes. After a minute, you open your eyes, confused, and that’s when Skyheart grabs your knee and slams her own elbow into it.

Pain lances up your body as you knee snaps like a tree branch, and all sound goes watery as you listen to yourself scream, the noise echoing around her quarters. Then when you thought she was done, she gives it a couple twists for good measure, and each time the pain is new and horrific.

“I said… Lick it.”

Gurgling in pain, you stick your tongue out of your mouth, and run it along the length of the stain. It’s like a encyclopedia of horrible flavours, from simple sweat to to a heavy taste of sour shit, like she didn’t wipe herself after taking a dump. At all. After the first lick, she growls at you and grabs your other leg, and you’re quick to keep licking, even move your head closer. Out of pure fear, you try and seal your lips around a fold in the gross cloth, and suck at it.

She clearly likes that, or so you think, but then you scream as she snaps your other knee. The pain starts dulling, shock already setting in, as she looks between her legs at you again. “That was just ‘cause I love the noise of bones snapping.”

Your brain feels like it’s buzzing from the pain, and you can see both of your knees bent at strange angles, and blood seeping into her mattress. With a gurgle, you keep working at the stained ass of her pants, until the faintly-brown streak starts getting soaked back into a dark tan.

She lets that go on for a little bit longer, before suddenly pulling her ass away from your face. You try and let out a sigh of relief, but a well-timed fart from Skyheart taints your air and sends you back into a coughing fit. You swear you can see flecks of blood on the mattress where you’re coughing…

“Enough of that. Time for you to get acquainted with me on a more personal level…” She unzips her pants, and kicks them off, revealing that she wasn’t even wearing panties underneath that. Then she leaps back onto your chest one more time, and slams her cheeks down over your face before you can take a breath.

She lets loose a rank one as you’re struggling for air, and you start gasping as all you can taste, all you can breathe, is the gaseous remains of former ponies, fresh from Skyheart’s bowels. And she’s not getting up. You’re suddenly terrified this is how you’re going to die, breathing nothing but ass, under Skyheart’s butt.

She’s perfectly content to let you think that, and the world starts sounding underwater-ey again. You let out a sad, weak, gurgle, and you can feel yourself starting to go numb, starting to fade away…

Suddenly you have air again, and you’re gasping, panting, breathing as much as you can as deeply as you can. While you’re greedily sucking in oxygen, she rests her butt on your chest once more. “Call that a little… Taste of the future. Your death, your “burial”, and eventually, the Wasteland’s.”

Chest heaving, you gasp in air as her ass moves back to your muzzle, ready for it this time, but now she’s content to keep it within slurping range, and no closer. “Well? Back to work. Bring me to orgasm, and when I’m satisfied, I’ll make your suffocation quick.”

Your first lick is along her slit, but her response is to slam her cheeks back into position around your head. It should not feel as familiar as it does now. “Not there, you stupid tribal! I want you to suckle my asshole. Can you do that? Or do I need to starve your brain again?”

You nod in terror, and the asshole moves back to where it was before. With barely any hesitation now, you lick around the ring of her ponut, sliding your tongue in between the folds of her cheek and ass. That flavour of digested pony returns, and you whimper as you start cleaning the area around her asshole clean of her last meal.

After about five minutes or your careful cleaning, the fur around her ponut is back to her normal copper. Or as close as you can get, anyway. Some of it, you’d need a box of Abraxo to scrub completely clean. Still, she seems satisfied, and you poke your tongue into her butthole proper.

Instantly, a massive fart rips out and washes over your face, complete with a faint spray of her ass juices across your muzzle, down your tongue, and into your mouth. You want to vomit, but you just keep cleaning, afraid she’s going to break more bones if you stop now.

Your world smells like her ass. You can barely remember what clean air tasted like, now. And as you probe deeper into her anus, you start losing your sense of taste. Especially when little chunks, little tiny scraps, of her last meal slither out into your mouth. With one final moan, your last shred of dignity snaps like a dry noodle, and you start licking around the inside of her ass, cleaning it out with your tongue and swallowing everything you find.

“Oooh…. Very nice, Tribal… You almost make me want to keep you around. Almost.” As your tongue swirls around, she lets out another fart, and you eagerly gulp it down. Then she turns her head back to you. “But I think if you’re going to do that, then we’d better go for a deep clean.”

Your eyes go wide and you try to struggle, but nothing you can do could ever hope of stopping her. Slowly, she begins easing herself down your muzzle, sliding her ponut over your eyes and enveloping your entire head inside her ass. There’s a loud ‘slurp’ noise, and she slips down to your neck, her ponut sealing around it.

Your head is literally inside her ass, being smeared with shit while you’re already starting to suffocate on her farts. Frantically, you keep licking, trying to clean it as fast as you can, while you can hear her moan and groan and talk outside.

“Ooh, yes… You like it in there, hm? Maybe you should stay in there for the rest of your life… And you certainly seem like you’re doing better than our terrible toilet paper up here.” You start jerking around again, and the pain of your broken knees flares up once more as you try and move them futilely.

She flexes her head around as another fart fills the chamber, all methane and death, carried by a thin spray of liquid ass. “Tell you what, Tribal… If you can make me cum from inside there, I’ll let you take one last whiff of clean air. How’s that sound?”

You try and nod again, but there’s not enough room. All you do is rub your head around inside her rectum, smearing your mane brown with her shit. Licking frantically, you start trying to make her cum, but there’s just not enough air.

You start fading even as you keep licking, then when you lose all feeling in your tongue you start flopping your head around as best you can. You can’t feel your legs any more, broken or no. Your entire existence is Commander Skyheart’s rectum now.

It’s as you’re at the end of your rope, twitching spasmodically, and about to go unconscious, that her entire body clenches around you. As even that starts fading and another spray of ass covers your face, you realize something; She not getting off on your licking. She’s getting off on the way you’re dying.

Skyheart squeals, and then suddenly you’re bathed in light as the rectum is yanked off of you with an obscene slurp. Your head flops back onto her mattress, still coated in ass juice and digested pony remains. All you can taste, all you can breathe, is the smell of Skyheart still sharting across your face.

She flops onto your chest, panting. “You… hah… you still alive, Tribal?”

Your only response is a single, sad, whimpering gurgle.

“Wanna know why I didn’t let you die in there?”

You try and move, try and shake your head, but all you do is flop to your side. You’re so tired….

Unabated, she continues. “I wanted to watch you die. I want to watch the light fade from your eyes as you suffocate under my cheeks. And you know what I’m going to do with you after?”

Another gurgle. Still no fresh air. Just barely breathable oxygen.

“I’m going to use your corpse to wipe my ass. Not clean it off… To smear all that shit on your face back around it, for the next dumb piece of shit I have to put down. Whether it’s one of those fucking Dashites or another Tribal in the wrong place at the wrong time.” She shifts closer, and places her ass back over your mouth, her wide butt cheeks spreading around your head like fleshy pillows. “The only pony that is ever going to see you again is going to be the next pony to clean my ass, when they’re licking up your digested slop, and breathing you as my rank… wet… farts.”

You don’t even have the energy to fight it it any more. When she pushes back fully with all of her weight, cutting off your air for the last time, you don’t even protest. You just can’t, not even to get that last gasp of clean air that never came. You can’t fight the sheer weight of the Enclave Officer’s ass as it literally starts crushing the life out of you.

Her doughy cheeks spread over your face, covering everything but your eyes. She looks back at you, and you make contact between her asscheeks like they’re the ironsights of a gun, and just as deadly.

It doesn’t take long for you to waste the rest of your air, and you get a pounding headache as the world starts to dim. She shifts her ass around, crushing you a little bit more as you twitch your broken legs like a smashed bug, your body trying to escape. But there’s nothing you can do.

She doesn’t even say goodbye as everything fades out focus, and your brain shuts down. The last thing you ever see is her grinning at you psychotically, as you die under her fat, heavy, pillowy rear. Faintly you can feel something warm between your legs, and then you slip into a deep, deep sleep that you’re never going to wake up from.

* * *

The tribal gave one last twitch before her eyes rolled back, and a thin stream of piss squirted out of her abused pussy and across her legs, soaking into the mattress. Skyheart kept her ass down for a bit as she went cold, then slowly rolled off of her ruined bed onto the cloudy carpet.

Striding confidently to the door, she pulled it open, and yelled down the corridor. “Hey! Fuckheads! Lightning and Key Tapper, I mean you! Come here.”

She turned back to her room as the sound of scared hooves on cloud echoed down the hallway, and they practically scrambled over themselves to make sure they didn’t incur Skyheart’s wrath. As soon as they entered, they saw the dead mare on the bed, piss still soaking through the mattress into the clouds below and shit all over her face.

“You see this?” Skyheart barked. “This is why you don’t piss me off. Unless you want to die under my ass like this dumb illiterate bitch here, then you snap to it.”

They both nodded in terror, and Skyheart smirked. “Good. Thought you fuckos needed a reminder. As you were.” They were gone in the next moment, and Skyheart turned back to the dead tribal. Walking to the far end of of the bed, she started by unlocking the metal cuffs and dropping them back into her dresser drawer. Then something in the drawer caught her eye, and she smirked, though the corpse would never see it.

“You know, you had a good idea, earlier… It’s been a while since I got to use this particular little toy, and I do miss how it feels on my hips.” She pulls out a double-ended strapon, with black synthetic straps holding the fake cocks on firmly. She starts pulling it on, only to stop midway through. “Fucking… I don’t remember it being this tight, though.”

Yanking it past the folds of fat on her ass and sliding the end pointed inwards inside herself, she gives her hips a shake, making sure it’s settled. Then she trots back over, and grabs the dead mare’s hips, yanking them off the bed so she’s nearly sitting in a natural position, hind legs hanging limply.

The fake silicone dick prods at Dusty’s piss-soaked rear, and after a moment, Skyheart thrusts her hips forward, trying to jam it inside. It’s slow going, though, even with the soldier’s gaping her earlier, rigor mortis is starting to set in slightly.

“Come on, you tight… fucking… tribal!” With a slurp, the cock slides inside, and Skyheart’s hips smack against the corpse’s. She lets out a gasp as her end tickles her with pleasure, and yanks it back out, trying to smack it inside again. It’s slow going though, with Skyheart being out of practice, and her impatient thrusts leave her buttocks bouncing wildly as she grunts, slamming Dusty’s corpse into the side of the bed and into the wall with a solid ‘clunk-clunk-clunk”.

Reaching forward as she humps, she grabs Dusty’s head, turning it to face herself, examining those dead eyes as she fucks it. Something about the way her eyes are bloodshot and rolled upwards, unchanging despite everything happening, is just unf… But she wants a better look. Letting the corpse flop back forward on the bed, she leans over it, and grasping the mud pony’s jaw with her hooves.

Slowly, unstoppably, she starts twisting it around. The pony, if she hadn’t already been dead, would already be screaming in pain, begging her to stop, but the suffocated body is silent as she feels it start to creak under her military-strong hooves. There’s a faint series of cricks and cracks before it really starts to resist, but with one last grunt she twists again, and the head cranks around with a snap. Something in the corpse somehow has enough energy for last motion, and it twitches, before stiffening once again.

The neck was turned back around at an unnatural angle, the skin white with the force as it’s twisted and stretched into a position it was never meant to see, and Skyheart grabbed the corpse’s shoulders again as she continued railing it’s ass against the bed. Wet slurps and slaps came from where their hips connected on every thrust, and she leaned forward, kissing the corpse deeply, even though it was painted with her own shit. She’d shower after.

All of that had been enough to really get her off though, and she started getting close, continuing to hump as she panted, exploring the mouth. That limp, stiffening tongue, the saliva pooling in the back of her throat, those perfect teeth, such a rarity out here in the wasteland. It was almost a shame she had killed this one, she would have made a fantastic toy. But no, too dangerous. Besides, she had underlings for that, or other wastelanders if she could catch them.

Pulling back out and curving herself back, she lets out a grunting moan as she cums, clenching around the silicone and squirting out around it onto the tribal’s thighs as the corpse utterly fails to mirror her. After she starts coming down off the high from the orgasm, she slumps forward on the tribal’s back, looking into those dead green eyes again for a moment, before rolling off to the side and pulling the toy out with her. “Whoof! Alrightey, just about done with you. Time to become pegasus fat, the highest honour one of you ground-pounders can attain. Really, you should be honoured.”

Giving the earth pony a kick to the cutie mark on the side of her thigh, she hissed in pain. “Yup. Rigor mortis is setting in already. Least that makes this easier.” Another kick, more solid this time, made the corpse roll slightly and start to slide off the bed, before landing on the carpet with a ‘whumph’ on the clouds. She ended up sitting mostly upright, though the head was still flopping limply on it’s broken neck.

Crawling across the bed above it, Skyheart let her own hinds drop to the floor, bracing herself as she used her fores to spread her asscheeks. Then she slid down, placing the tribal’s head against her asshole. “Seeya Tribal. Fuck off.” Then she jammed her hips down, squishing her asscheeks around the head and pressing it inside.

“F-fuck…” She groaned, as she pulled and pushed at the same time, to slide the dead pony up her ass. The head popped in with a slurp, but the shoulders were a bit more trouble, and she had to adjust a little bit, moving the head around like a joystick as she looked for the right angle. Then she forced herself down again, pressing the body inside, and let her legs go out from under her when she was close enough, making her guts rumble as she crammed the pony inside herself.

The tribal’s wide hips were a challenge just to get between her own, but gravity helped a ton as Skyheart kept pushing herself downwards, until her thighs were grinding against the carpet. Standing up, the stiff legs poked out from her ass, and little bit of anal juices and maybe some shit squirted out from around them as she pulled them in. As the hooves disappeared, she laid back on her piss-soaked bed, reveling in the feeling of the Stable pony sliding upwards through her intestines.

She was tempted to conk out on the bed and let her body work her meal over, but she had a meeting in an hour, and needed to clean up. As soon as the mud pony was no longer in danger of letting her slide back out, she rolled back onto her hooves, and waddled towards the door, gut rumbling as the tribal’s head entered her stomach. Though she paused at the door, and took a few steps back to grab her dildo as she sauntered into the bathroom.

* * *

Half an hour later, the tribal was mush, and Skyheart needed to dump her out so she wouldn’t be going to the meeting bottom-heavy. You never knew when one of the underlings had decided that today was the day they tried to perform a coup, although none of them had succeeded yet. Hers was the last, and she liked it that way.

Sliding open the shower door, a cloud of steam rolled out, and a noticeably slimmer Skyheart followed it, although she still looked pregnant with all that digested pony in her colon. Tossing the silicon cock into the sink, she sat on the toilet, and relaxed, exhaling and watching the air swirl through the steam.

Then she inhaled, and started pushing, Instantly a nasty fart tore out of her ass. The noise was short, but only because there was so much gas, and it instantly filled the room with the wonderful scent of pony mulch. She could even swear the steam took on a green tint, as the fart cut off with a whimper.

Then a splattery chunk of digested pony shot out of her ass, and a few pints of diarrhea followed. Skyheart’s diet was worse than some of the wastelanders below who were actually eating radioactive pre-war food, and her gut had never quite been able to catch up. Greenish-brown muck filled the bowl, and she hit the lever seconds before it actually overflowed.

With an obscene sucking noise, the bottom dropped out of the centre of the bowl, and the liquid shit was yanked into the stratosphere below. For a moment she almost released it out of habit, but decided it would just be faster to shit directly into the sky below her. Her next log was somewhere between a liquid and a solid, and it slid out like it’d been greased, more diarrhea following it, before the wind snatched it away.

Then she strained, the dead pony’s skull finally free of her broken neck and instead lodged in her anus. With a growl, she flexed her anal muscles, and the skull crushed into splinters inside her rectum, before instantly being squirted out by a spray of more digested pony. A couple of hooves followed that, and then another nasty fart.

If anypony had been flying beneath the cloud layer (and sadly, a few maintenance pegasi were, checking the uniformity of the clouds) they would have seen an upside-down smoke trail of shit, piss and liquid pony streaming downwards through the sky and breaking up into putrid raindrops a few hundred feet later. Even the bones became grisly hail, thanks to Skyheart’s caustic gut.

Finally, she was done, and let out one final fart. In that moment, that was the last time she ever thought about Dusty Shelf, the stablepony she’d murdered with nothing but the sheer weight of her asscheeks, before pureeing with her intestines and shitting back out. She didn’t even bother to wipe most of her out of her crack before pulling on the same pair of pants and going to the meeting, and if anypony, any insane, foolish or suicidal pony asked, “What was the last thing you ate?” She would’ve shrugged, and answered, “I dunno, some mudpony.”

Author's Note

Again, taking cheap commissions: http://www.fimfiction.net/blog/690307/opening-up-cheap-commissions