Catbird Cataclysm: Equestria's End

Something smelled fishy in the gym, and not just in a metaphorical sense. Thunderlane's nose curled from the moment he stepped through the doors of the Cloudsdale Muscle Farm, his eyes growing watery from the intense stink. It smelled like old gym socks mixed with peanut butter protein powder farts, not an unusual smell for the gym, but amplified to a level that made the hairs on the back of his neck curl. Even more worryingly, the reception room was empty, with only a discarded cellphone and a knocked-over chair to indicate that someone was recently here. The place was usually crowded, the air ringing with a cacophony of clanking exercise machinery and grunting weightlifters; Now, the place was absolutely silent.

There were two doors, one to the locker rooms, and the other to the gym proper, the latter of which was hanging open just a crack. As he drew closer, a deep, baritone blast roared across the room, and a new wave of stench washed over the stallion, causing him to gag. As the staccato noise died down, a faint voice could be heard, so quiet that it was almost a whisper. He couldn't tell what was said, but the voice seemed desperate, pleading for their life. A moment later, a bout of harsh laughter echoed in the gym, and Thunderlane huddled behind the door, not daring to peek around the corner.

"Mercy?” The gravelly, vaguely-feminine voice snorted, “You're the dweeb who said I smell like a locker room. Well, guess what? Your corpse is gonna smell a lot worse!"

There was a sharp smack, followed by a cry and a thud as the first speaker fell to the floor. He recognized the voice - Gilda, the megabitch griffon who practically lived in the gym. Everypony hated her – She hogged the free weights, insulting anyone using the machines as being somehow beneath her. It was true that she smelled like a locker room, but that was on good days, when she actually bothered to shower. He wasn't sure she had a membership here. Hell, he didn't think she even had a job – On any given day, you'd find her sitting by the free weights, or doing squats and farting loudly on the apex of every crouch.

The gym staff wouldn't do anything about her. They wouldn't even go near her – When Gilda walked into the room, the personal trainers disappeared, as did anybody who had any sense. Sometimes, new members who didn't know about her would get in her way, and she'd stuff their faces in her pits until they went limp. Nobody could help, or do anything other than watch and wait till she was finished, then call an ambulance. Sometimes, they even survived the ordeal.

For these reasons and many more, Thunderlane was hesitant to open the door. He could hear the griffoness in there, and it sounded like she had a victim. But nopony else seemed to be around – They probably fled. Hopefully, they fled. He was just one stallion... But he was a Wonderbolts recruit, dammit! It was his job to help people! Thunderlane swallowed hard, trying to choke down his fear, but only managed to fill his throat with that impenetrable stank. The door swung open easily, and an oppressive heat washed over the stallion, matched by the powerful stench of an unwashed bodybuilder.

Gilda stood in the middle of the floor, surrounded by the limp bodies of the usual gymgoers. Eight feet tall and built like a locomotive, the griffoness stood with one huge foot planted atop the chest of a prone stallion, showing off her thick, muscle-girded legs. She was stark naked, leaving every inch of her furred body exposed. Her muscles were glazed with sweat, covering her head-sized biceps, her bulging shoulders and those cobra lats, slicking her fur down and outlining every little crack and cranny in her muscular physique.

Her cock stood mighty and erect, a full two feet of throbbing cat dick, matched by a pair of volleyball-sized nuts hanging low between her legs, where a normal female would have a vagina. Instead, all that lurked behind those orbs was a swampy taint, and beyond that, her ass. Squats were one of her favorite exercises, and it showed on her huge ass, the flesh as round as beachballs and just as tight. A dark stain surrounded the canyon of her crack, from which billowed clouds of noxious gas so thick that it was almost tangible, filling the air with an unholy miasma.

Her paw was the size of the stallion's entire torso, each head-sized toe tipped with a shining claw. That was the only shiny part – A couple of her toes had rings, but they were so tarnished from sweat and grime that they blended in with the stiff, bristly fur of her feet. Her claws were caked in the worst toejam Thunderlane had ever seen; It wasn't a dryish clump of dead skin and dirt, but a thick, viscous fluid oozing between her toes, leaving splotches of molasses-like ooze across the floor behind her.

There was a weight in her hand – Thunderlane hadn't noticed that even now, Gilda was still exercising, hefting a barbell with one hand even as she finished off the last of the gymgoers. He wasn't sure how much it weighed, but those looked like some of the biggest plates at the gym, and she was hefting it up and down with ease, her biceps barely flexing with each repetition. Every time the weight reached the apex, she shifted her weight forward, and the stallion beneath her grunted in pain.

It took a moment for Thunderlane to recognize the bruised and bloodied stallion as Soarin. The leading Wonderbolt was battered and broken, with one wing hanging at a sickeningly unnatural angle. Both of his eyes were swollen shut, and his nose seemed swollen too, both nostrils stretched big enough that he could've rolled marbles into the pegasus's lungs.

Laying on his stomach with both legs spread, a pool of cum and blood mingled around his backside. His asshole gaped wider than any he'd seen – Not that he'd seen many stallion's holes, but he was pretty sure they weren't supposed to be wide enough to shove a baseball bat through, or a dumbbell, for that matter – The blue foam tip of a dumbbell protruded from the stallion's hole, the numbers marking the weight obscured with a thick, off-white fluid that could only be semen.

He wasn't the only victim. There were more than a dozen of them, bodybuilders and new recruits, all laying atop one another in a heap of motionless flesh. Every one of them had a faintly greenish tint to their fur, as if they'd been bathing in some kind of toxic... Greenish-brown mist flowed from Gilda's ass as she let out a low, casual fart.

“W-what happened here, Gilda?”

“Fuck you,” The griffoness didn't bother answering his question, or even turning fully; Casting him no more than a sidelong glance, Gilda placed a hand on one of her cheeks, her fingers not even sinking into the rock-hard surface as she spread it, revealing her twitching, oily pucker. Before Thunderlane could react, a deep BRAAAAAFFFT resounded across the gym, and the pegasus staggered back as a cloud of brownish smog flooded over him. He tried to reach the door, but the force of the blast was enough to slam it shut, nearly bowling him over in the process and trapping him with the bitch.

Thunderlane clutched his head, blood streaming from his nostrils. The coppery smell almost overwhelmed the stench from Gilda's toxic gas, but not quite enough. He had to get out of here before... Before... It was impossible to think with that stench still swirling around in his head. His head ached, his brain pulsing with white hot agony, burning just behind his eyes. He could actually feel the neurons dying, cells burning out en masse as Gilda's fart hung around them. No amount of exhalation could save him, his insides were too thoroughly inundated with the filth for him to do anything but moan and plead in an increasingly raspy voice.

“N-no, no,” His words grew inarticulate as entire sections of his brain went dark, dissolving into foul, useless mush, “N-n-nurgh.”

The mush of his brain oozed from his nose and ears, while bloody tears slipped from his eyes. His jaw went slack, drool leaking out, while he weakly grappled to maintain some semblance of control over his body. It didn't take long before his hands fell limply at his sides, and as the last vestiges of intelligent thought faded away, his knees buckled, sending him to the floor. There was a low hiss as his bowels voided themselves into his gym shorts, and that was that.

Loomed over the braindead stallion's living corpse, Gilda chuckled and crouched down. Holding her cock in both hands, she pressed it against the bottoms of his feet, and with a wet slurping sound, the tip opened wide enough to admit one of the pegasus's tennis shoes. The moment her cum touched the rubber sole, black smoke began rising up, which Gilda banished with a raucous belch. Slowly but surely, her cock slurped up Thunderlane's body, bulging to a truly tremendous girth as his legs disappeared, his knees, his hips.

She groaned in pleasure as he slipped into her nuts, which stretched like a pair of overinflated yoga balls to accept their new meal. Digestion began almost immediately, as something akin to stomach acid began eating away at the stallion's flesh, warping and transforming his genetic structure into nothing more than rank futa griffoness cum.

Gilda trotted back over to Soarin', her balls swinging and quivering as Thunderlane's remains boiled away. The Wonderbolt, it seemed, had already died from blood loss or shock; A pity, since she was planning on filling him with another load as soon as Thunderlane's worthless soul turned into baby batter. Surveying the destruction of the gym, Gilda couldn't help but laugh – Some of them ran, but one or two of them actually tried to fight back, and they were the most fun. One of them even managed to hit her with a dumbbell – That would be the stallion slumped in the corner, his jaw missing and his stomach ripped open from the sheer amount of weight plates she'd stuffed down his throat.

Her hungry cock swallowed up Soarin's corpse, followed by the rest of the bodybuilders. She squirmed in pleasure as some of the larger ones stretched her urethra so tight that one could see every contour of their overy-muscled bodies, but none were nearly as big as the griffon bitch. It was a good start, but this was hardly a drop in the water. Her genocidal crusade began here; Equestria would burn, and ponykind would perish beneath her smegma-soaked paws.

Trotting out of the gym, Gilda gazed down across the streets of Cloudsdale, the fluffy white clouds reflecting the sunlight like spotlights along the sides of the towering buildings, all maintained in a classical pegasus style. It was a true triumph of architectural design, not to mention of pegasus work ethic, since the entire place had to be constantly maintained to keep the cloud buildings from drifting apart, sending the otherwise mundane objects to the ground a thousand feet below.

Ponies glided through the streets, carriages whizzing past; The gym was far enough away that nopony had heard or seen what was going on, and if she maintained a low profile, it would be hours before the massacre was discovered. She could make her escape, fly off into the mountains, and never be seen again... But that wasn't the plan. A cold grin spread across Gilda's face, and spreading her cheeks wide, her backside belched out a gale of gas.

The clouds on the building's facade turned a sickly shade of greenish-brown, then began to dissolve. Heads turned, drawn by the sudden noise, not to mention the noxious smell drifting through the streets, just in time to watch as the building collapsed, sending the equipment and bodies plummeting, leaving nothing but filthy, poisoned clouds in their wake.

A murmer spread through the sparse crowd; There were a good dozen or so ponies looking at her, and their horrified expressions filled Gilda's heart with rage. Flipping them off with one hand, she placed the at the base of her dick and spun it around, sending out a spiraling spray of precum. Ponies began backing away now, and one unlucky stallion got a full facial. Gilda's cum had the volume and consistency of wet cement, knocking him down and sticking to his face like glue. Writhing on the ground, he let out muffled screams, trying to wipe the mess off, but only getting his hooves stuck as he slowly suffocated.

Two ponies ran up to help him, a mare and a stallion, and both of them received shots from her incredibly potent seed. The blast hit the stallion in the leg, which buckled with a sharp snapping sound, and before he could limp away, he received another one to the windpipe, instantly crushing it and breaking his neck in the same second.

The mare suffered a similar fate a second later, her ribcage buckling beneath a rope of jizz with the force of a cannonball. Wherever her stray cum landed, a hole was punched through the cloud layer, giving the street the look of a hard-fought battlefield. Every step forward send the ponies a step back, and those who didn't found themselves rolling on the ground, trying to wipe the tarry fluid from their faces as their lungs started to burn.

“C'mon, little ponies!” Gilda taunted, flapping her albatross wings to blow the cumstink in their direction, “Come 'n get your filling!”

One mare actually managed to survive the initial blast, being lucky enough to only take a shot to the legs, breaking all four of them and immobilizing her. She had a unique opportunity to learn about the other effects of the griffoness's cum – That being, incredible acidity. It wasn't that her cum was acid, per se, but it was just so potent, so overwhelmingly, potently masculine, that cells buckled like wet tissue beneath its awesome power, bursting and warping the cells into a black, cancerous mass.

The mare was screaming hoarsely as her flesh boiled away, staining the cloudstreet red around her.

Those moans of pain were pretty sexy, but she knew what would be even better. Standing over her, she wrapped both hands around her ballsack, hefting it up - Then squatted over her, letting it loose. Her balls smashed into the mare's head with the force of a wrecking ball, her half-dissolved skull crunching loudly. Gilda smirked as she felt fragments of bone poking against her sack.

She didn't die, though; One half of her head was flat, but the other half pressed deep in the cloud, and enough of her brain was intact for her to let out a final, plaintive wail, before Gilda gave her another teabag, this time powerful enough to smash what remained of her brain into mush. With this sudden force, the weakened cloud layer gave way, sending her corpse all the way down to the ground.

Those few who were still unharmed turned and ran, and Gilda, in her infinite mercy, allowed them this brief moment of freedom. They wouldn't live much longer anyway, her next actions would make sure of it.

It was just a short walk to the center of the city, a vast plaza as wide as five city blocks. Along the way, Gilda made a point to demolish as much as possible, exterminating anypony who wasn't fast enough to run from her sniper-accurate cumshots, or was foolish enough to inhale after the griffoness let out one of her deadly belches. Chaos was already beginning to spread throughout the city as panicking pegasi flew this way and that, carriages zipping through the sky. Nopony knew what was going on – For all they knew, it could be a changeling raid, or some kind of new threat from Discord or Tirek. Gilda couldn't help but snort as a group of pegasus guards flew past, so focused on reaching their objective that they didn't even notice the ten foot tall griffoness.

When she reached the plaza, it was another story. The place was packed full, even moreso than usual; The city's police and guard units had set up some kind of strongpoint here, with heavy-duty barricades to protect on the ground, and a dome-shaped magical shield guarding against aerial attacks. The stallions behind the walls were hardened troops, but they were confused; All they knew was to protect the citizens of Cloudsdale from whatever new horror stalked the streets. Some of them wielded automatic crossbows, others, only spears. There were one or two ballistas, those massive crossbows capable of taking down a fully-armored minotaur berserker. Gilda couldn't help but snort; Did they honestly think those could stop her?

As she approached the barricade, one guard turned to her, a look of mixed confusion and disgust on his face. She was quite a sight, with a body as wide as a truck, girded in muscles bigger than any equine weightlifter, and a cock big enough to put dragons to shame. If only the wind would change and blow her intoxicatingly horrific stench over them... But alas, she'd have to deal with this the old fashioned way.

“Halt!” The guard shouted, cocking his crossbow and drawing the attention of other nearby guards. Before she'd taken another step forward, there were three of them standing before her, staring down the sights of their black polymer weapons. When her greasy footpaw hit the ground, one of the guards, no doubt confused and high-strung from the stress of the situation, loosed his bolt. Gilda grunted as it struck her bicep, and with a timely flex of her massive muscle, the bolt turned around and flew back to the one who shot it. Her aim was better than his, hitting him square in the groin. He collapsed to the ground, letting out an agonized, and slightly feminine, shriek, alerting the entire encampment of her arrival.

The other guards fired, but Gilda was through playing games. Wrapping both hands around the base of her cock, she gave it a firm stroke, almost like cocking a gun, and as a cruel grin spread across her face, she fired two wads, each one striking the two remaining stallions. One fell down, knocked unconscious from the force of the blast, while the other... His body seemed to waver, then crumple like wet cardboard where her heavy blast hit him, blowing a hole so deep into his chest that she could see his organs as they slowly dissolved in the acrid spray.

Gilda bolted straight into the center of the encampment, flapping her wings to propel herself at such a speed that nearby ponies were knocked down. Before any of them could get up, the griffoness's unwashed stench caught up with them, and those who were rising to their hooves collapsed once more, gagging and wheezing at the smell of a creature that hadn't known the touch of soap since her days at the Junior Speedsters Academy.

There was a crack as the ballista loosed a shot, but Gilda ducked the slow-moving projectile, and it slammed into the mass of ponies with a meaty thwack. The griffoness let out a callous snort as blood and severed limbs flew through the air, then turned toward the ballista, whose crew paused in their reloading as the beastly griffoness glared down at them.

“H-halt!” Cried a shaky voice, and out of the mass of terrified guards, a single stallion stepped forward.

Gilda had to hand it to him, he had balls, even if they were currently doing their best at retreating into his body. The stallion was holding a teargas grenade, his finger hooked in the pin. His jaw trembled as he beheld the beefy behemoth, and the cruel smile which spread across her face as she glared down at him. He didn't have time to move as she bit through his wrist, her beak cutting through flesh and bone like a hot knife through butter.

The grenade detonated the moment it hit her stomach, causing the griffon to belch up a little cloud of blueish gas. The stallion, meanwhile, screamed as he stared down at the stump of his hand, blood spurting out in arcs as he flailed around. His comrades didn't take a step forward to help him, all keeping their distance from the deadly griffoness. It was almost too perfect.

The stallion's cry was cut off as Gilda kicked him over, her grime-coated footpaw leaving a sizeable dent in his armor, and before he could rise, she slammed her meaty ass down upon his head with a tremendous crash. There was a sickening crack, and for a moment, Gilda thought she'd broken his neck, but his flailing arms said otherwise. She probably only fractured his skull, or broke his jaw – Yes, that was definitely it, she could feel the broken bones and warm blood as she pressed her bloated anus against his mouth.

Her big, sweaty cheeks formed a complete seal around the stallion's head. It was clear that he could no longer breathe, as the palpitations of his chest grew faster and shorter. With a grunt, Gilda unleashed flatulent hell upon the poor stallion. All the toxic contents of the gas grenade now flowed directly onto his face and down his throat.

His hands rose up instantly, clawing at the griffoness's ass as if he honestly thought he could push her off. There was a low hiss as gallons of tear gas flowed from her donut pucker, and with nowhere else to go, pumped into the guard's lungs and stomach. His midsection swelled visibly under his armor, straining the steel plates, while a faint hiss rose from his backside as the toxic chemical forced its way out through the only route available. Tears of absolute agony leaked from his eyes, his hands wrapped around his belly, as if he could somehow halt the swelling.

It was futile, his fate was sealed. The stallion didn't just rupture – He exploded. One second, he was intact, his hands scrabbling to hold a nearly pregnant-looking stomach in, and then, those same hands were flying through the air, along with chunks of gore and twisted armor, propelled by the toxic gas. Some of the nearby guards went flying, knocked unconscious by the blast, while others, frozen in shock at the fate of their comrade, fell victim to the tear gas. Not one of them managed to pull out his gas mask before the gas reached them, burning their eyes, turning their mouths and throats red and raw as they gasped for air.

Gilda's nostrils flared as she sucked down the metallic stench, her cock throbbing in delight. The tip stretching open as it slurped up some of the teargas-tainted remains of that poor stallion.

Grabbing a nearby case of grenades, Gilda didn't waste time popping pins, simply biting the tops off and chugging the aerosolized contents like a fratcolt shotgunning beers. Her stomach groaned loudly as the toxic fumes filled it to the brim. Her gas was already deadly, but this was the equivalent of throwing gasoline on a fire. She could feel the pressure building up in her bowels, her guts distending as they churned out more liquid death.

The pressure grew with every passing moment, and pretty soon, her stomach began to bloat from the sheer amount of gas, her skin creaking as it swelled like a balloon. The griffoness looked almost pregnant, with the rounded dome of her stomach pressing out beneath her beachball breasts. Her fur thinned as the flesh stretched out, exposing deep red stretchmarks arcing across the surface.

Gilda grunted as her belly button popped into an outie, and then her stomach lurched forward, sending ripples across the surface. The gurgling sound was louder now, echoing across the plaza. Sher could feel the gas within her, the bubbles pressing against both ends, just begging to escape and pollute the nearby area, but Gilda refused to let them out. Pain rose up from her asshole as a massive fart threatened to force its way out, but she clenched her hole tighter to keep it in.

Running her claws over her drum-tight belly, she could feel the countless gallons of liquid death gurgling around in there, begging, pleading to escape. Her body was like a chemical weapons factory, filled up with enough toxic fumes to destroy an army, and she, Gilda Griffon, was a living bomb. At last, as her belly reached the size of a medicine ball, the pressure grew too much, and opening both mouth and anus, she let loose.

It started as a faint rumble, the sound of a distant engine rumbling through the city. Nopony noticed at first, those ponies hiding in their homes or at the various safepoints set up by the military.

The wave of gas blasted across the city like the shockwave of a nuclear bomb, reducing nearby buildings and ponies to dust – The crowd of panicking ponies and guards simply vanished, wiped away as if by a giant eraser, leaving no trace of their existence. The street they were running down likewise seemed to buckle, the pure white cloud turning green before dissipating, leaving behind nothing but a few puffs of poisoned cloudstuff.

More distant buildings buckled, the outer layer of cloud peeling off like an eggshell, exposing the interiors to the most toxic stench ever known to Equestria. Ponies choked and died, their lungs melting on contact with the stuff, their flesh turning green even as it melted, dripping from their bones in long, gooey strands.

Inside her office at the Wonderbolts Academy, Spitfire heard the noise, catching a faint whiff of the horrific stench. It smelled like somepony had taken a dump on a pile of rotten fish, then left it beneath a radiator for about a decade – In other words, a completely normal smell at a military facility. She was just about to return to her paperwork when something flew past her window, and she looked outside to watch Soarin' as he crashed into the runway. His entire body was engulfed in green flame, from his mane to his tail, and as the flames licked up from the crater, she could see that he was still alive. She didn't know what was going on – How could she?

Leaping from her seat, she threw the emergency alarm switch, sending the base into high alert... Just in time for the toxic cloud to wash over the place. It was almost instantaneous, one second, the sky was clear and sunny, the next, the air became thick and foggy, filled with dense fog the color and consistency of pea soup, blotting out the sun – Even blotting out the burning form of Soarin', who, despite the flames eating away at his flesh, had managed to crawl out of the crater left by his impact.

She didn't know what was going on, but even as her heart pounded in her chest, horrified at the fate of her friend and comrade, she didn't give in to panic. Instead, as the foul odor of Gilda's cataclysmic cloud leaked under the door, she made her way to the emergency supply cabinet in the corner of the room, grabbing a gas mask and spare filters. She put it on just in time, and for a moment, she breathed easily, smelling nothing but rubber and the faintest whiff of oxidation from the mask's charcoal filter.

Then, the filter cracked – Audibly, she could hear the sound of the little disk of compressed charcoal snapping apart, then crumbling to dust, giving the pegasus a lungful of the putrescent odor before she could stop herself. She tried to hold her breath, but it was too late. Her lungs erupted with a burning sensation as the poison took hold. Spitfire wheezed, involuntarily taking another breath of the toxic air, and doubled over, clutching at her throat.

Pain shot through her chest as the fabric of her lungs disintegrated, blood leaking from her mouth, then gushing, filling the gas mask and leaking out through the end of the broken filter. The pegasus took another breath, or tried to, at least, but by now, her lungs were nothing more than a few scraps of charred flesh within a torso that was swiftly burning away from the inside. Her eyes burst like ripe cherries, and everything went red, not black, for the dying mare, as her optic nerves sizzled in the putrid mix of blood and gas.

-=-=-=-

Gilda flapped her massive wings, hovering amid the broken remains of the city. The entire place was filled with a greenish haze that was slowly dissipating, carried away by the wind, giving her a good view of the ruined city. The immediate area was nothing but a gigantic hole, like the eye of a storm, and she could look down to see the ground a thousand feet below. It used to be green, but now it was red with blood, dotted with the corpses of hundreds if not thousands of dead pegasi. There were even a few cloud structures whose levitating magic died with the inhabitants, sending them crashing down to the ground.

There were more buildings still floated, many of them, perhaps as much as half the city remained floating, but they were as ruined as those ones spread out across the ground below. Most of them leaned crazily, their cloudstuff colored a putrid greenish-brown, with many of the more detailed features burned away. The Cloudsdale Colosseum, that famous landmark of the city, was only half there, with the other half seemingly blown away by the sheer force of the griffoness's wind. All that remained of the once-proud edifice was a shapeless, leaning mass of cloud, only recognizable by its size as the largest still-standing structure in the city.

These poisoned clouds would dissipate over time, bringing shadows of death across Equestria, but the ruins of Cloudsdale would never fully disappear. This spot would remain in the sky, anchored by the same magic that once kept the city from blowing apart in the wind. No birds would fly here; Even as the air began to clear, the place would remain deadly for centuries to come. Even as she stood there, Gilda watched as a flock of geese flew overhead, only to break their strict V formation and crash to the ground as soon as they came into contact with the accursed place.

Gilda gazed out across the landscape, her heart swelling at the sight of Equestria's heartland laid out before her. Here was the vast expanse of the Everfree Forest, with the broken spire of the Castle of the Pony Sisters jutted up near the center, and over there, the Horseshoe Mountains. Canterlot stood in the distance, the immense white towers of Equestria's capital city standing like a thousand golden-tipped spears, glimmering in the sun even at this distance. She couldn't wait to watch the place burn to the ground.

Before that, however, she had some unfinished business. Nestled between the dense thicket of the Everfree and the loose scattering of trees that ponies called Whitetail Wood, was the small town of Ponyville, with that fucking crystal eyesore jutting up in the center of town. Gilda smirked, cracking her knuckles. The fun wasn't over yet.