Omen flew over the fields separating Whitetail Woods and Ponyville. Her day had gone entirely as she would have wanted except for one thing - dinner. She'd spent the day away running errands as well as meeting friends, and now finding a nice, juicy meal would be the perfect end to the afternoon. Her waspling wings buzzed at the thought of a full gut and a rounded belly for the weekend. But alas, she hadn't found anyone suitable in Ponyville, and she had to maintain a low profile since a waspling was a bit uncommon already.
Her eyes interrupted her daydreaming mind as she spotted a solitary pony walking along the path from the other direction. They weren’t far out from Brushwood Hollow, her hometown and one of the small hamlets that formed satellites around the bigger town of Ponyville. A green mare with a wild autumn-coloured mane and empty saddlebags over a proper pair of earth pony flanks. Omen started drooling. Well there was no one around, and this pony definitely wasn't from Brushwood Hollow, it was worth a try. Or maybe even a dine and dash if the opportunity arose.
“Hi there! My name’s Omen,” she called, circling down to hover a little way in front of the earth pony, “I don't think I've seen you around Brushwood - just visiting?”
The green mare regarded her curiously, but cautiously. She clearly hadn't seen a waspling before. Omen was lightly coloured, with a peach coat and a white belly, but her body shape was somewhat reminiscent of the changelings before the fall of Queen Chrysalis. In the recent times of Ponyville's school of friendship, however, all kinds of foreign creatures had become common in these parts.
“Oh, hi!” replied the pony, “Yes it was my first time there today, I’m Withania. I was making a delivery from Ponyville. Just on my way home now!”
Omen landed just in front of Withania, not blocking her path as such, but inviting the earth pony to stop entirely. She could smell a delicious aroma even from here, somewhat sweet and floral, much more potent that she would expect. Something was different about this pony - but that only made her even more enticing.
“So soon! I’m on my way home to Brushwood, why don’t you come back with me and I can show you the local cuisine?” she said with a sly smile.
It wasn’t the most subtle line she’d ever used, but for better or for worse Withania seemed to clock her right away. “Uh huh,” she said slowly, “I think I can guess what your idea of local cuisine is… Tell me Omen, are you of a, how shall we say it, predatory nature?”
Omen’s smile spread - a pony who already knew the ways of carnivores was even more fun! Her strange pale eyes twinkled and her fangs made themselves visible. Even if Withania had bolted, she had the means to stop her, so she wasn’t terribly concerned that the earth mare had seen right through the offer. If anything, it made an even more enticing offer possible.
“You got me,” Omen admitted, “But that also tells me you’re no stranger to this… and I don’t think you’re just an earth pony either… we wasplings have a keen sense of smell and it takes more than working in a garden to get a scent like yours…”
“Heh, you got me as well,” Withania said. She opened her mouth showing off a pale tongue and green gums. “I started off a little sheepish about my pleasures and grew a very big flower to partner up with. Didn’t end quite how I planned, but it has its perks. In any case, I don’t tend to jump down throats I don’t know… what exactly are you looking for?”
She eyed the slender spike sticking out above Omen’s tail as she spoke. She hadn’t seen a waspling for real, but she could guess that as per the name, their folk had stingers. Omen got up and walked over to Withania now that they were getting better acquainted, letting the earth pony see her up close, including her exotic tail.
“I like to have a proper meal now and then,” said Omen, “and as you can see I’m quite capable of taking one when I please. But there’s something especially delicious about finding a pony who wants it. Somepony who wants me to render them helpless, to enjoy the experience of being devoured, and writhe in pleasure as they’re broken down into soup inside me…”
Withania’s ears twitched, and she was biting her lower lip slightly. Stranger or not, Omen certainly knew which switches to flick, and Withania’s mind had already jumped forward to thinking about her plans for tomorrow, and if she would miss anything by letting this exotic creature devour her. On the other hand, she had a sneaking feeling, looking at that stinger, that she was about to get eaten anyway. Why not make her own pleasure of it?
“That thing… your tail… does it hurt?” she asked. Omen was walking around her, eyeing up the best bits already.
“I don’t know - I’ve never been stung before…” she replied, before pausing to whisper into Withania’s ear. “But the previous ponies didn’t seem to be complaining in the slightest…”
Withania shivered pleasantly and looked around them. There was no one else in sight, and they weren’t even on a beaten path, where she had been taking a scenic route cross-country. She rubbed one hind leg against the other. She had spent a lot of time working and delivering this week, and it had been a while since she’d enjoyed a new belly. Variety was the spice of life, after all.
“Okay,” she whispered, looking into Omen’s ghostly looking eyes, “Let’s do it...”
The words had barely escaped her mouth when Omen’s rump twitched, and Withania heard a muffled whip sound, followed by a sharp jab just by her cutie mark. It was so fast that she barely saw it happen, and before she could think about if it had hurt, a tingling forced its way into her attention, a sensation that was rapidly spreading out from her flank. She stumbled away from Omen slightly, blinking in surprise. The waspling watched her from hooded eyes, knowing that everything was set now. First, there was confusion, every pony thought they’d see the sting coming. Then would be the adrenaline, the body would naturally go into fight-or-flight mode in response to her poison. Finally, the helplessness, her prey would collapse, weakened into immobility, powerless as she made them her own.
“Mmmm, I promise you won’t regret it… I like to take things slow, make sure we both really feel every moment, from the moment my tongue touches you, until you feel me sit down on top of the new padding you’ll make on my hips…”
Withania shuddered and shuffled about, instinctively trying to escape the feeling spreading through her flanks. It wasn’t unpleasant, just unfamiliar. Her body screamed at her to run like the wind while her mind still wrestled with how quickly Omen had just disabled her. No matter what her answer had been, she wouldn’t have stood a chance at running away, earth pony hocks or not. As her nervous system lit up like a spark igniting a flame, she relished the sudden rush of hormones - and yet, a weakness was draping across her body like a bedsheet. Her knees trembled under her own weight and her vision was swimming. The ground seemed to turn sideways and hit her flanks as she collapsed onto the grass in front of the waiting waspling.
“There there,” cooed Omen, walking over to the stricken earth pony, “That’s the worst of it, now let’s see what I’ve caught…”
She stepped over Withania’s twitching body and lay down on top of her, invading all personal space to take a closer look at her prize. Withania looked normal enough, but up close Omen could see that her fur and hair was almost fibrous, the corners of her eyes a pale green like her mouth - she really was like a living plant. A strand of golden coloured saliva drooled from Withania’s mouth, and Omen could smell the sweetness of it, like the nectar of a flower. Suddenly, Omen caught another smell, an overwhelmingly powerful scent from Withania’s mouth that suddenly derailed all thought. It was alluring, it made Omen want to taste Withania’s sweet liquids, even as far as to put her head into Withania’s mouth to get more. The waspling shook her head in surprise and the haze cleared in an instant.
“Phew, that’s one heck of a trap you have there, little flower, I wonder how many have fallen for that one? It doesn’t matter now, of course, you’re all mine. I’ll drink up every last drop of your sweetness, and the rest of your body while you watch. You’ll be a bulge in my belly, a big, round, squashy bulge that’ll slowly get smaller and smaller until there’s nothing left of you. It’s going to take hours, and you’ll be awake for the whole ride…”
Withania writhed slightly, looking up at her captor. She wasn’t numb or in pain, and could still feel everything, she was just too weak to lift her limbs. It was a different sensation from being tied up, or actually paralysed. However, Omen was on top of her before she could overthink anything. The waspling whispered into her ears, and bore down on top of her, gently resting her belly against Withania’s cheek so she could feel its smooth texture, and even hear intermittent gurgles of the expecting stomach inside. The very idea set Withania’s flames alight. She wanted to respond, to tell Omen to hurry up, maybe even to beg her to get on with it, but the best she could manage was a wordless moan.
Omen gave one last smoosh of her belly against Withania’s face and then moved back down to her legs. Using her levitation magic to pick up her meal’s hind hooves, Omen opened her mouth wide and threaded them into her gullet, using her tongue to slick the green fur of Withania’s coat before it entered her mouth. Her prey moaned and gasped, eyes fixed on the waspling’s wide maw enveloping her hocks, her expression lustful and pleading in equal measure.
Withania felt the familiar hot, slick embrace of an esophagus wrapping around her legs, but as Omen slowed down to start talking her generous thighs, Withania’s eyes widened in shock as a new sensation began to flood her senses. The dull weakness of Omen’s poison had finally worked across her entire body, but now her nerve endings seem to be electrified. The rough grass and dirt she was laying on was prickling and abrasive to her skin, but Omen’s mouth was heavenly. The soft warm embrace against her thighs was nothing short of the sensations she would normally feel from her privates. The sudden stimulation, combined with her current lack of self-control, opened her floodgates and as Omen gorged herself on Withania’s hips, a trickle of sweet liquid dripped from her flower, while another drooled from her mouth.
Omen moaned with satisfaction, seeing her prey utterly helpless and begging for more. Her luscious earth pony hips were quite a mouthful, but that only gave her more time to enjoy them. Her tongue worked its way up the inside of Withania’s thighs, tasting the slightly floral skin that seeped sugary liquids. Pushing herself forward against the bulk of her prey, she reached the gooey centre that was Withania’s pussy, licking up the drizzle of thicker nectar that leaked out, letting it mix into her saliva that pooled around the soft hips bulging out her cheeks.
Withania flexed her lower body as best she could, trying desperately to rub herself against Omen’s mouth and throat, to slip further into that warm canal and the sensory haven that lay within. The outside air felt cold, and the ground like sandpaper, but the waspling devouring her was like slipping into a hot bath after a hard day, except the water was alive and hugging her all over. She could feel the vibrations and moans of Omen savouring her flavour and the deep rumble of a stomach that awaited her. She wanted to satisfy those rumbles, to be a meal for those walls to embrace.
With a powerful swallow, Omen managed to get past Withania’s rump. She was almost sorry to leave it behind, but now she could move onto her meal’s midriff, a delightfully soft belly that almost seemed to ripple slightly as if it were full of liquid. The slow wriggle of her prey shifting inside her ensured that no part of her body was left untasted, a wholesome and bonding experience that Omen didn’t often get since not many ponies willingly went into her jaws. A willing meal, an exotic taste, a perfect way to dine. She almost wanted to complement her prey on being so receptive, but having her mouthful excused her from this. Fairly soon it wouldn’t matter anyway, once a pony was past her jaws they weren't really a pony anymore. They were food. Substance. Pleasure. A long-lasting lump that would fill her up in the best possible way.
Omen picked up Withania’s forelegs and guided them into her waiting jaws, giving another great swallow to bring in the pony up to her chest. She paused to slowly chew on her mouthful, her teeth digging in - but not piercing - the soft pony body. Her saliva spread everywhere until her prey was sopping wet, a rag doll squelching like a sponge, leaking flavour over all of Omen’s tongue and sense of smell alike.
The earth pony’s eyes rolled back in ecstasy, her body on fire with hypersensitivity that was best sated by Omen’s ravenous appetite. The waspling sat upright for one last mighty swallow, her tastebuds alight with Withania’s aroma, and with an audible gulp, the red headed mare disappeared into a bulge that worked its way down Omen’s throat and into a larger, bulky mass at her belly.
“Oooooooh yes!” exclaimed the waspling, gasping for breath and sitting back to spread her legs wide, so that her huge belly sagged into her lap. Withania could be seen as a jumble of limbs poking out at odd angles, moving feebly, but still dulled by the poison. “Let me help you out there…” said Omen. She began to carefully stroke and rub her enormous belly, nudging the shape of her prey into a ball, stroking her curves and pressing everything into a comfortable position. For Omen, at least. Withania didn’t matter now, she was just another meal - and if the expression on her face as she was being swallowed was anything to go by, she’d be in paradise whatever her orientation now. The stretchy belly wrapped around her tightly, slathering her already saliva-drenched body with digestive fluids that would start working into her and slowly break her down into a green mess to be absorbed into Omen’s body.
Omen lay back so that her bulbous tummy rocked up on top of her and listened to the gurgling of her stomach juices bubbling and settling around her food. She felt heavy with the earth pony inside her, but it was nothing she couldn’t manage. Next, she rolled onto her side, and with a little difficulty, onto her hooves. She pressed her crotch against the soft, but firm mass she now stood astride, kneading its contents until she felt balanced. It was time to head home, she could fly on a full stomach, and being in her home while her dinner slowly digested away in her gut was far nicer than sitting out in a field.
She stretched her shimmering insect wings, flexing the joints, and with a slight hop took to the sky. She veered back and forth for a moment as the rather large weight of her belly swung from side to side like a pendulum. It was harder work, flying on a full belly like this, but she rather enjoyed it on occasion. Rather than darting around like a dragonfly, she felt like a battering ram, carrying a large amount of momentum. It was like piloting a flying belly. The smooth rise and fall ironed out the last trapped air from around the earth pony she’d eaten, giving her more than a few hiccups and light burps along the way. Flying on this weight was hard work, but she liked it. A heavy flight was the sign of a good meal, heading home on a full stomach.
As Omen touched down at her front door her belly brushed the floor with a gentle bump, and inside Withania twitched awake from the stupor she’d fallen into. She was covered in a thick layer of goop - a mixture of stomach juices and her own melting self. Combined with the soft belly walls it made for a perfectly conforming cushion around her, one that was pulsing and rippling an orgasmic massage through her very core. Feeling herself kneaded and melted into mush was one of Withania’s biggest turn-ons already, but combined with the hyper-sensitivity Omen’s poison had instilled in her, she was on edge, constantly trembling with arousal and climax as her limbs softened and bent out of shape. By the night, I need to visit this village again sometime soon, she thought to herself. She had no idea that there were non-magical means of becoming as sensitive as she was inside Omen’s gut.
Omen felt another stream of bubbles in her belly trickle their way around her meal with a gurgle, and she smiled, rubbing on hoof over her mound lovingly as she entered her house. Typically she knew it would take several hours to reduce a pony to mush and pudge, and afterwards, she tended to get snacky. So her first task was to prepare food for later. This required pottering around the kitchen and reaching - or crouching - for cupboards, but it was good for her. It helped stretch her belly out and avoid cramps, as well as settle her stomach contents as it started to lose shape. If she was in a rush, she sometimes even did light exercise to apply even more motion to her mound and mix it up even faster. She prepared a mix of sweet snacks, honeycomb biscuits and honey sponge cakes being among her favourites. Plenty to pick at while she relaxed later on with a much more saggy belly full of liquid pony.
Her meal seemed to be regaining their muscle control, as the occasional twitches were becoming stronger and more frequent. But as fast as that earth pony was finding her strength, her body was softening into a doughy mass. Omen loved the sense of knowing that once they’d been stung, her prey was doomed even if the poison cleared while they were still awake. Some prey thought they were about to get a chance to escape or struggle, only to find that their limbs had recovered with all the integrity of the sponge cake on the countertop.
Omen sat down on her kitchen floor for a moment, absently rubbing her belly and feeling how the previously lumpy sections were becoming soft and squidgy. The movement from inside caused jiggles and swirling gurgles, the most delightful sensation of a living thing inside her. She still couldn’t reach all the way around the huge mound in front her, although this was a matter of time. A few more hours and her devoured earth pony would be liquefied and sloshing about, giving her greater mobility and flexibility again. She leaned forward to feel her gut squash up and then rebound back again. Her hooves pressed into her sides, mushing her bloat around and stretching her in different places.
The post-feeding tiredness was really kicking in now, and the last waning struggles of her prey were a perfect massage to fall asleep to. Struggling back onto her hooves, Omen waddled into her bedroom, where a pile of bedding was ready for her to nest into. Walking to the rhythm of her swaying gut, the waspling flopped down onto the soft pillows and blankets, eliciting a particularly large thump and gurgle from her over-sized middle. There was a pause, and then the soft motion of her meal moving around resumed, almost simulating a rocking motion for Omen to nod off to.
Withania’s ears bubbled as the last air escaped from them, the liquid soup of Omen’s stomach acids mixed with her melting limbs finally making its way into any holes it could find in her. The muffled outside world was finally switched off, and all she could hear now was the omnipresent beat of Omen’s heart, and the gurgle of belly juice swishing around her curled up body. She wriggled this way and that, writhing in pleasure at the feel of the stomach walls pressing and kneading her flesh, bending her to their will both figuratively and literally. Her muscles were almost back to normal, but all her strength was good for now was rubbing herself against the plush walls.
After a lot of being jumbled about, it felt like Omen had finally settled down, so Withania decided to make her last-ditch attempt for a climax whilst she could. Closing her eyes as her head slipped under the liquid line and feeling between her hind legs, she began to rub away at her button with the tip of her hoof. She was already stimulated from the bubbled and vortexes that swirled about her curves and privates, and now her last wish was to add her own fluids to the mix. She stroked herself in time with the thudding heartbeat in her ears, her entire body falling into sync with the now larger one consuming her, gently bring her inner fires to a blaze.
Alas, just as she felt the sharp rise in tension that signalled her imminent satisfaction, Omen turned over in her sleep. From being on her side, the waspling settled onto her front with her belly pressed under her body weight. Withania’s foreleg was pushed past her crotch and against what would have been the floor. Already softened by her long soak, her foreleg was squashed and all but broke apart in the thickening soup she was becoming.
No! I’m so close! she cried out in her mind. In her despair, she gasped and let the entire broth flood into her mouth and throat. In an instant, her fragile body came apart. Her stewed joints broke and Withania became a disembodied group of lumpy dough in a bubbling cauldron, stuck on the edge of orgasm with no means to finish herself off. Her mind fuzzed over with the realisation that she was now stuck like this until enough of her dissolved to put her into her seed-coma. Once her body was gone, the seed at her core would remain, where she would sleep until her plant body regrew. But at the current speed of her digestion, that could be hours. The stomach continued its rhythmic motion oblivious to the contents, churning Withania up so that her body mushed into a thick paste, body parts losing their definition like putty that had been folded and kneaded many times until the creases disappeared. The tingling sensation of her skin remained throughout the entire process, teasing her almost to madness with pent-up tension that she couldn’t release on her own.
Omen frowned in her sleep for a moment, a soft uuurrrp escaped her mouth as the last trapped air in her belly was pushed out, and the soft rustling abated into the occasional grumble and creak in the dark of the evening.
With the night to pass, the bulging gut dominating the bed slowly diminished down somewhat, shrinking and redistributing itself around the curves of Omen’s body. But while initial progress seemed quick, it would take much longer to fully process the pony inside it. When morning broke, Omen opened her eyes to find that there was still plenty left to enjoy.
“Mmmm,” she moaned, wrapping her forelegs around her now more manageable tummy, “You’re going down nicely… I’m glad we’ve still got the morning together. Fast digestion is no fun, I find a slower pace to be far better bang per buck.” She got up and swung her hips back and forth, rocking her still-heavy belly so that it swayed slightly. After gurgling away all night, it was now all liquid, making an audible slosh like a built-in hot water bottle.
Omen shrugged off the last blanket and made her way to the bathroom with a slow and deliberate stroll. She could feel the extra weight on her body now. The evening before it had felt like a sack of potatoes on her gut, but now it was a little extra padding all over. Not enough to throw her off, but enough to know that she’d eaten well. Maybe she’d even buy a reformation spell for this pony, since she’d been an excellent guest. Maybe the green mare already had something in mind, since she seemed to have had no concern for herself when giving Omen permission to turn her into dinner.
She stepped into the shower and with a flick of her magic, turned on the hot water. The cascade of warmth flowed over her from head to stinger needle and after a few minutes of letting the water spread all over, Omen went right back to lavishing attention onto her belly. She stood on her hind legs, leaning against the shower wall, and kneaded her tummy with both forehooves at the same time. Pressing the squashy flesh down, she started drawing deeper breaths as the warmth flowed between her hind legs. Her massaging hooves slowly worked their way lower and lower, until one of them found its way down to her privates and stroked her velvet folds in time with her other hoof pressing and probing the soupy remains of a good meal.
Somewhere deep in the haze of being a fluid slush, the remains of Withania’s consciousness was stirred up by being jostled around. Having been left on edge all night and now feeling the unmistakable regular motion of her predator pleasuring themselves her only remaining thoughts were on one final release. Unfortunately for her, it wasn’t up to her now. She was swirled about by Omen’s belly rubbing, the rising pleasure of the waspling transferring over to her as well. She was nothing but a nutrient soup now, not even a pony in a belly, just liquid food. Even if Omen cared about her, she wouldn’t be aware of Withania still being present. She was too focused on the result of her meal now.
Omen lifted the front of her belly up and let it drop again, relishing in the slight jiggle, and then repeating the process as her lower hoof steadily increased its pace. It was impossible for her to tell, but she liked to think that her prey was still aware while she sloshed what was left of them around, their addled minds alight with her lust combined with their own leftover stimulation.
Magicking a bottle of shampoo over, Omen reluctantly abandoned her throbbing folds and began to work up a lather in her mane, shifting back and forth in her inpatients to get back to the fun bit. Once her mane was an afro of foam, she rubbed the silky lather down her neck and chest and then began to massage her stomach once again. Alternating between easy circular motions and then heavy presses that pushed the contents around with a glorp, she used her magic to stimulate her velveteen passage again. Flicking her button whilst gently stretching her internal walls, her passion rose quickly, the rush of pleasure still transferring to the dimming consciousness being smooshed about in her slick belly.
A heartfelt moan escaped her mouth, one hoof slipped down to assist her magical stimulation, and with a great sigh of pleasure, she felt the crashing wave of a long-brewed orgasm break across her. Deep inside her gurgling gut, Withania felt the jab of hormones electrify her soggy mind and soundlessly felt the same rush. After being left on edge all night, the final burst of pleasure split her apart, and she dispersed entirely into Omen’s body. All that would remain was a large seed somewhere in Omen’s belly, one that would find its way back into the world and regrow the plant-pony.
“Aaaahh,” panted Omen, “Living amongst the ponies is just the best… so many prey to choose from, but when they want it… stars above it’s the best there is.”
She admired herself in the bathroom mirror. The top half was steamed up, but she could see her body perfectly, plump and soft with some winter padding, and a smooth bump over her belly where the majority of her digested meal had taken up residence until she burned the calories off to a flat barrel again. Then it would be time to find another pony. Or maybe before.
“I should have a root through that pony’s saddlebag, find out where she lives so I can visit her again. Maybe even this week if she’s lucky…”
