Catbird Cataclysm: Equestria's End

It was a wonderful day in Ponyville. The sun was out, the birds were singing, and the only clouds in the sky were the white, fluffy cumulus clouds created by the local weather team. The Central Weather Control Council in Cloudsdale had forecast a few days of clear skies in Ponyville to make up for a recent rainstorm, and the citizens were out to enjoy this brief respite.

That's where they were, outside in their teeming hundreds, to watch the destruction of Cloudsdale. One moment, the city was there, and the next, an explosion ripped through the air, knocking ponies off their hooves all across town. By the time they looked back up, all that remained of the ancient capital of the pegasi was a vast green cloud, almost a crater in the sky. It was visible from Canterlot to Manehattan, and the smell was detected, however faintly, as far away as the Crystal Empire, where Shining Armor just groaned and wondered what jackass forgot to flush.

In Ponyville, however, the panic began. Ponies rushed home or to the Friendship Castle, banging on the door to be let in, for their local princess to save them as she had a thousand times in the past – Never realizing that Twilight Sparkle had reserved the whole day for some remedial studying on the history of picture frame design.

Sitting in her study, Twilight leaned over her desk, studying a half-burned scrap of paper which had so rudely interrupted her reading. Just another distraction in a day of distractions – Six hours of reading, and she'd barely made it two hundred pages into her eight hundred page book. First there was that weird booming sound earlier, then all that noise outside, and now this piece of paper...

“Send help...” She muttered under her breath, reading the chickenscratch writing, “Contact Celestia...”

It just showed up all of a sudden, appearing in a burst of green flame and scattering ashes all over the open pages of her book. Sighing, she swept them off, then held the book up and hit it against the table a couple of times to get the little bits out. Clearly, whoever sent this message was unused to communicating via dragonfire. This mode of communication required very careful calibrations of temperature and magical energy, and screwups like this weren't uncommon. At least Spike was an expert, having been taught by Celestia herself. He'd never make such a stupid mista-

A thud shook the room, rattling the crystal windows. It sounded almost like a bird had slammed into one – No, it'd take a pegasus to make a noise like that, capable of rattling the books on the shelves lining the room. Twilight looked around, feeling a growing sense of dread as she glanced back down at the paper. The words were hastily scratched, but if she squinted and tilted her head, they almost looked like Spike's handwriting.

There was a strange noise in the hallway, a kind of half-wheezing, half-sobbing, undercut by a loud gurgling noise. Something was out there, something heavy – Each footfall thudded against the floor, accompanied by sloshing as if someone were carelessly carrying a bucket of water. Twilight got to her hooves, steeling herself for just about anything.

Twilight's assistant was nearly spherical, more like a giant beachball than a dragon. His flesh was so overstretched that his scales spread apart, exposing the pale blue flesh beneath. Veins and stretchmarks throbbed across the surface with every beat of his overtaxed heart. His eyes were red and brimming with thick, white tears, which left streaks across his bloated cheeks. His spindly limbs stuck out like needles in a pincushion, his little legs barely able to support the immense weight of his body.

The dragon's backside... Twilight's eyes went wide with horror at the sight of Spike's prolapsed cloaca. The hole looked more like a pipe, five inches long and wide enough for Twilight's hoof to slide in comfortably... Not that she would try. He let out a fart, and white diarrhea flowed from his backside, mixed with just a hint of silvery dragonblood.

“Twilight,” Spike gargled, “Halb mrh...”

Twilight could feel the bile rising in her throat as horror and disgust took hold at the sight of her assistant's impossibly distended body. Her nose wrinkled as his backside belched forth another flood of cum, filling the air with an aura of masculine musk. The dragonling smelled like a locker room after an orgy – Not that she knew what that would smell like, of course, she was only guessing. Cum and sweat mingled on the dragonling's breath, grimy sweat oozing down his drum-tight body. His stomach gurgled and creaked, threatening to split open with every tiny movement.

“Wh-” She choked, her mouth suddenly feeling dry, “What happened?

Twilight took a step forward, reaching out to place a comforting hoof on her assistant's shoulder, but he pushed it away, groaning as the motion caused his overstretched flesh to creak ominously.

“N-no, d-don't touch-” He gurgled, cum flowing out with every labored breath, “G-gonna blow... Hurts... She's - She's coming.”

“Run.”

That was the dragon's last word before his eyes went wide, and his hands dropped to his belly. Twilight backed away, nearly paralyzed with horror as her assistant's belly throbbed, the blue flesh taking on a reddish hue. Spike's belly button twitched, then popped like the drain in a sink, sending out a spray of cum. Twilight scrambled back as cum flooded across the floor, a scream rising up in her throat. For his part, Spike didn't scream or cry as his body ruptured. The dragonling simply stared down as the hole in his belly widened, then split down the middle. A sigh escaped his lips, his face seeming to relax from the horror and pain that had twisted it, sinking into a placid expression. The relief on his face was palpable as the pressure and pain finally disappeared. He looked up at Twilight, and there was a light in his eyes, a glistening of tears – But they weren't tears, just stray drops of cum, and as his lifeless body dropped to the floor, so too did Twilight as grief overcame the alicorn.

“Suh-suh-Spike!” She stammered, hugging the dragon's head in her hooves, “W-what happened to you?!”

“Well, he didn't last long,” Gilda turned the corner, chuckling as she kicked away one of the dragon's broken femurs, “Too bad, too. He was an excellent cumdumpster.”

“Y-y-you did this!” Twilight's cry was more of a statement than an accusation. The alicorn stared up at the monster who had murdered her assistant. In that instant, all sadness was pushed aside, and rage flooded the alicorn's body, flowing from her horn to the tips of her quivering hooves. She felt cold, as if she'd suddenly stepped from her well-heated castle into an icebox, and all of that cold fury was directed at the beast before her. That it was unholy, she recognized instantly and impassively. No beast could attain such a powerful body without calling upon dark powers, not to mention that cock – She couldn't remember if Gilda had had one the first time they met, but she had one now, and Twilight intended to rip it off and bludgeon the murderous beast to death with it. Gilda's face remained smug even as Twilight's eyes began to glow, and an aura of purple magic flowed around her horn.

“I hope you're ready for what comes next.”

“Same,” Gilda shrugged, then reached out almost casually, and pinched the tip of Twilight's horn between her thumb and forefinger. A bolt of pain arced down into Twilight's brain, and the alicorn's spell broke off as she doubled over, screaming.

“W-what did you do?”

“You unicorns are all the same. Real flashy, but too damn easy to break.”

“I'm an alico-” Twilight's words were cut off as Gilda once again pinched her horn.

“You're a bitch,” The griffoness smirked, “And you're gonna die like one.”

While Twilight was temporarily incapacitated, Gilda moved swiftly and decisively, wrapping her hands around the base of the alicorn's wings and twisting sharply. There was a sickening crunch as her bones broke, and Twilight let out a jagged scream. Her horn started to ignite again, whether to defend herself or cast a healing spell, it was impossible to say, since another twist of her bones caused her to double over and puke all over Gilda's feet. There wasn't much difference in them, really, she just wiggled her toes, enjoying the creamy feeling between them.

Another crunch, and her wings came right off, sending out spurts of hot red blood across the crystal walls. Gilda looked at them before her and snorted; The two combined weren't as big as one of hers. With a sense of disgust, she tossed them away, then looked down at the agonized alicorn, whose stomach had once again voided from the overwhelming agony.

Before Twilight could compose herself, Gilda's claw wrapped around her horn and squeezed it hard. Twilight grunted, then a faint cracking noise rang out, which was quickly drowned out by the alicorn's screams. Pain blasted through her skull as the griffoness crushed her horn, her grip growing tighter by the minute. Cracks ran through the keratin as the microscopic crystalline structure shattered into fragments, forever damaging her ability to cast magic. The horn is a unicorn's conduit to access their mana, and without those millions of tiny runes etched into the very fabric of her DNA, a horn was nothing more than a pointy stick to hang your hat on.

That's what Twilight's was now, nothing more than dead matter. Sparks of errant magic flew out through the spiderweb of cracks, landing across the floor and burning tiny holes into the crystal. The same effect happened as the landed on Twilight, pitting her flesh with black, steaming holes and only adding to the utter agony the unicorn was going through. Gilda didn't notice the sparks splashing across her skin; Even this incredible power left no mark on her impenetrable flesh, not even singing her sweaty fur.

Finally, with a sickeningly meaty rending noise, Twilight's horn came off. Strands of bloody sinew snapped as Gilda ripped it free, leaving behind nothing but a jagged stump of keratin and throbbing, bleeding flesh. Twilight's scream grew louder and louder, reaching to a crescendo as her hooves slammed against the floor, so hard that the crystal cracked beneath the blow. Her eyes rolled up in her head, her pupils alternating between bright purple and blood red, and then, suddenly – The scream stopped, and the mutilated alicorn fell to the floor.

“N-nnno,” Twilight muttered, her voice dull and inarticulate as drool and blood mingled around her. She could barely think through the pain, and the words might've been mistaken for a random syllable uttered from a ruined brain, which hers surely was. The horror and grief of Spike's death, the sudden loss of her horn, that most sacred part of her from long before she was an alicorn – She could live without her wings, they were a convenience at most, and a hindrance when it came to fitting through small doors, but to live without her horn meant relearning how to walk, how to pick things up, how to interact with the world around her – Assuming she survived the ongoing shock, which not many unicorns did. She'd heard of them, but they were mostly idiots drooling away into cushions at mental institutions, practically mindless husks of their former selves. Some theorists supposed that a unicorn's soul was contained in their horn, and that breaking it caused part of their soul to dissipate into the ether, leaving behind only a semi-sentient husk. If Twilight were capable of conscious thought at this point, she would've taken first-hand notes to add to this body of research. As it was, she'd have to serve as a case study for the effects of such trauma on an alicorn.

Her bowels and bladder loosed their contents at the same time, but it didn't make much difference in the growing stench of the room. Sweat oozed in sickly streams down Gilda's body, while a constant stream of greasy yellow pre leaked from her cock. Twilight's agonized moans were like music to her ears, causing her erection to throb and belch up yet more of her noxious baby batter.

With a grunt, Gilda's fist crushed the alicorn's horn, grinding the chunks to dust between her fingers, and smeared the remaining blood across her tits, moaning to herself as the blood soaked into her fur.

Gilda grunted as a feeling like an electric shock ran up her arm, as Twilight's entire pool of magical energy flooded into her body. It wasn't unpleasant at all, more like the feeling after a long workout, a kind of warm tightness flowing through her muscles. The griffoness grit her teeth, feeling like she'd just stuck a fork in a toaster as every muscle in her body convulsed, involuntarily flexing to their maximum extent – Then growing further, expanding with every beat of her heart to new and unheard-of sizes.

“C-Celestia,” The griffoness uttered, speaking the name without the usual dripping malice, “I'm a Goddess!”

That's exactly what Twilight was afraid of. Even now, in her severely reduced state, she could just about comprehend what was going on. The thought of Gilda as a goddess, an actual, living being of immense power... It terrified her. Even now, nothing could stand in the griffoness's way – What could she do with Twilight's power? The alicorn had been capable of taking on monsters like Tirek, who was easily more powerful than the other three alicorns combined. By Celestia's mane, Equestria was doomed!

Bigger and bigger, tighter and fuller, her biceps swelled up larger than her head, her chest cracking and widening to hold a pair of exponentially larger pecs. Her chest no longer had real breasts, just little flaps of wobbling flesh hanging from rock-hard mounds of muscle, and her powerful body creaked and groaned with every new inch of flesh that piled onto her. Her cock throbbed, growing longer and thicker, her balls swelling to the size of beachballs, while her hips widened, allowing her to adopt a wide, masculine stance, with her package hanging down like a pendulum between her tree trunk thighs.

“I'm gonna destroy you,” She growled down at the ruined mare.

Lust flooded her brain, overwhelming her other senses, not that they wouldn't have led her to the same conclusion. Gripping Twilight's head in her claws, she slammed her cock through the alicorn's eye, listening to the bone crunch as her eye socket shattered. Even through the haze of agony, Twilight realized what was happening. She'd always wanted her final thoughts to be of Princess Celestia, the beautiful kindhearted goddess who had practically raised her from childhood – But the memory was gone, as Gilda's cock plowed through the part of her brain that managed such things. The only thing on her mind as she died was the griffon's massive, throbbing meatpole.

Her brain was still warm and pulsing slightly, even though the alicorn was for all intents and purposes braindead, and a moment later, the back of her skull exploded outwards, as a snake as long and terrible as Orm broke through, sending a shower of blood and gore across the crystalline floor.

Gilda huffed, then started working the dead alicorn's skull back and forth on her cock, her nuts churning, urethra bulging, until finally, the skull crumbled around her cock, worn away by her powerful grip on the thing. Disappointing – Pain shot through Gilda's nuts as they were left unfulfilled. A long time ago, she might've just jacked off to relieve the pressure, but she was far beyond such petty things. She was a fuckbeast, and she was on the prowl for some meat. Looking out the window of Twilight's study, she ripped a fart powerful enough to incinerate every last book in the room.

The castle library, several floors below, was mostly populated by common works of science and philosophy, fiction and literature such as one would see in any public library. Indeed, with the destruction of the town's library several years ago, Twilight had opened her own library to the purpose of feeding the town's literary hunger. In this study, however, Twilight kept her rarest and most valuable works, treatises on philosophy and magic by such luminaries as Starswirl the Bearded and Clover the Clever, unique, handwritten manuscripts detailing the intricacies of nearly-forgotten schools of magic, books of such unimaginable value that just acknowledging their existence would bring a swarm of thieves and prospective buyers clamoring at the gates of the castle. And, in one instant, every book in the room seemed to sag on their shelves, the covers rotting, the pages growing brittle as with incredible age, and one by one, these books which had weathered the ages now crumbled into dust in the wake of Gilda's toxin-riddled gas.

In the same moment, the corpses of Twilight and Spike were cremated, the bloodstains boiling, their bones turning to grayish-brown mulch, leaving behind so little that one might've wondered if they had ever really existed at all. Outside, just a few hundred yards away, she could see a carousal-shaped building, with a white unicorn standing by the entrance. The non-bestial part of her brain recognized this mare, and the bestial part suggested fucking her to death while her little sister watched.

The non-bestial part had a better idea. It was more fun, anyway, and that's what really mattered.

Rarity didn't know what hit her; One second, she was standing there, staring at the ruins of Cloudsdale along with the rest of the town, the next, she was on her back on the ground, with something incredibly heavy pressing down on her face. The force of the blow knocked the air out of her lungs, and she inhaled just in time to vomit in her mouth – Whatever was atop her, pressing her into the dirt, it stank to high heaven!

Gilda just laughed, grinding her filthy footpaw into Rarity's face. She never bathed them, and always made a point to walk through whatever disgusting filth happened to be before her, but mostly, the stench was just the natural result of her own dirty ways. So much sweat and toejam had built up between her digits that it left dark streaks in Rarity's fur, and the stench of rotting cheese filled the mare's lungs. Her scrawny unicorn muscles were nothing compared to the power of Gilda's tree-like thighs, and when she tried to scream, all she got was a mouthful of rank, acidic slime. Rarity couldn't stop herself from vomiting, sending chunks of half-digested alfalfa oozing between the griffoness's toes.

As the puke rolled back down her throat, Rarity tried to breathe in again, and only brought in another wave of toxic filth. Her mouth and burned like she'd just chugged a bottle of hot sauce, the filth soaking into every little pore, into her gums and cheeks and tongue. Her teeth, polished to a gleaming white through years of careful cleansing, turned yellow and cracked apart, as if she'd never touched a toothbrush in her life. Her gums became swollen and black, pus oozing through cracks in the skin and only adding to the sheer putrescence in her mouth. When she swallowed, trying to clear her mouth of the flood of filth, her vocal cords sizzled beneath the onslaught. As Gilda lifted her enormous paw from the mare's face, Rarity screamed, but the sound that came out was more like an elderly mare's moaning.

“Wh-wha dig gyu go?” Rarity moaned, her rotting tongue struggling to form words, even as her lips blackened and curled away from her ruined mouth, “G-Gilga-”

Before the unicorn could finish her sentence, Gilda grabbed her by the scruff of her neck and stuffed her face into one of the griffoness's armpits. To call it a rainforest would be understating the sheer wetness of that hairy canyon. A waterfall of sweat poured down, bringing with it the stench built up over years without bathing. Rarity's nose, so used to the scents of Prench perfume, simply couldn't handle it – The mare's eyes filled with tears as the stench hit her nose, pain blossoming in the space between her eyes. Her sinuses died like the rest, crackling as if burned by fire, while the soft flesh of her nose wrinkled in the wet pit.

The oppressive heat and dampness of Gilda's pit was enough to soften up the meat, allowing her acidic sweat to pour in. Rarity wasn't beyond fighting, but her flailing did nothing to halt the slow dissolving of her nose until nothing was left but a little hook of bone. The feeling of this rubbing against her flesh made Gilda let go, and mare fell to her knees, moaning from the pain which still flared across her ruined face.

Gilda's cock was still as hard as ever, covered in blood and brains from Twilight's ruined skull. Wrapping her hands around the base, the griffoness turned, then slammed her cock against Rarity's head like a baseball bat, sending her to the ground. There was a crack as her jaw broke, hanging loosely from one hinge, but the unicorn didn't just lay there and die – She was an element of harmony, and she couldn't be killed by regular torture. Even as Gilda jacked her cock, hosing the mare down in so much acidic jizz that her skin began smoking, the flesh peeling from her bones, her agonized howls never diminished, she never gave up the will to live.

She needed something advanced. While the unicorn struggled to crawl away, Gilda entered the boutique and came out with a little handheld mirror. Rarity rose shakily to her feet, and Gilda, ever the helpful friend, held the mirror out for the unicorn to see her face.

Her broken jaw hung open, revealing black gums and a tongue that was little more than a twitching nub. Here and there, blood oozed from holes that once held teeth, which were now nothing more than powder. Her nose was a great gaping hole, with nothing but bone and blood to show where flesh had once been. Her fur – in those places where it hadn't fallen out – was stained a putrid shade of brown. She looked like a corpse that'd been sitting in a swamp for weeks, and felt like it, too.

“What do you think, Rarity? Do you like your new makeover?”

The unicorn didn't respond. She seemed to shudder, then wavered in place for a moment and collapsed, blood streaming from the hole where her nostrils once sat. She couldn't stand it – The shock and horror at the loss of her beautiful face was enough to do what all of Gilda's attacks couldn't, and with the sudden stopping of her heart, Rarity's torment ended. Gilda looked down at the dead mare and snorted; Then, with an air of boredom, she stomped the dead mare's body into paste and slurped it up with her cock, grunting as chunks of bone and gore hooked themselves within her urethra, only to flow down with the rest into her constantly-churning nuts.

In Sugarcube Corner, Tootsie Frootsie's cute-ceañera was in full swing when death broke down the door. Ponies pranced across the floor, singing, dancing, playing games; Cranky Doodle was sitting in the corner, his backside sore after a particularly rambunctious filly decided to try playing pin the tail on the donkey. The hired band blasted their trumpets, almost drowning out the weird noises being heard outside. They didn't know what was going on, nor did they particularly care; For the partygoers, the whole world could wait.

Tootsie Frootsie, the filly of the hour, was walking around and showing off her brand-new cutie mark to everypony willing to look. It was a little wrapped-up bonbon, representing her skill at creating candies, as she discovered one day while helping Pinkie Pie with her baking. The pink mare following right behind her, a smile on her face as she rambled about the little filly's magnificent future in the world of candymaking.

It was a glorious future that would never come to pass. The partygoers paid no attention to the chaos outside; If they had, perhaps they would've been able to run. It wouldn't have saved them, but it would've prolonged their lives. As it was, unbeknownst to them, their time was already running out, as the bestial griffoness drew closer and closer to the front door. She didn't knock – A creature like her didn't need to worry about such things as politeness. Instead, she simply reared back a foot and kicked it down, knocking several ponies over with the splintered chunks of wood.

“Alright, where's the pink one?” A deep voice boomed across the small room, so loud that everypony's eardrums vibrated in their heads. The smell of cake and sweets was instantly drowned out, replaced by a stench almost too foul for words, like a mixture of rotting eggs and garbage, mixed with the odor of a decaying corpse at the height of summer. Globs of some foul yellow substance sprayed across the floor from a vast brown pipe, and that pipe was connected to a very large, very angry griffoness. A dozen ponies instantly stopped and stared, the joy of the party disappearing and being replaced by confusion, then horror as the true scope of the beast before them was realized.

Gilda was somehow even filthier than before, her footpaws caked in dirt, blood, and chunks of viscera. The first three feet of her six foot monster cock were stained with blood, and from the tip oozed a constant stream of viscous gel that could only generally be described as cum – It was more like an acidic goo, splattering across the floor and eating holes in the polished hardwood. Nopony dared utter a sound in her presence, much less move, even as she took a step forward, causing the entire room to shake. The cake – Or rather, one of the giant pink-frosted cakes that Pinkie and Tootsie had baked together, collapsed, sagging upon its foundations and turning into a rounded hill of moist mush.

“I-I'm pink,” Tootsie Frootsie stepped forward, nervously waving a hoof at the giant beast, “My name is-”

The little filly's innocent eyes were a stark contrast to the predatory yellow spheres burning within Gilda's head. The little pink filly, with her pigtails and her brand new cutie mark, represented everything the griffoness hated about Equestria. Taking a step forward, she placed a claw atop her cock and nudged it down, until the tip stood less than a foot away from the frightened filly's face.

“Give it a kiss,” The griffoness sneered, and the little filly raised a hoof, glancing nervously over toward the crowd, none of whom so much as moved a muscle to help her.

“Wait, don't!” Tootsie's mother charged forward, her plump frame jiggling violently as she rushed to save her child from a terrible fate. This display of parental affection had little effect on Gilda, who had grown up without parents upon the pitiless streets of Griffonstone, and turning, she just kicked at her, not harshly, almost a nudge – And the second her rancid paw came into contact with flesh, the mare's body just seemed to crumble, as if she'd been bucked in the chest by a dragon. Her chest buckled inward, bones snapping, her head rolling back as her neck shattered in a dozen places, and the old mare's body rolled to a stop just a few feet from her daughter.

Tootsie didn't have time to scream as her head disappeared within Gilda's cock; The tip of her cock flexed, and there was a crunch as the filly's headless body flopped to the floor. A gasp passed over the crowd, along with more than a few choked sobs, mostly from the filly's friends and family; Gilda counted at least three ponies whose coats and manes bore similar colors to the dead filly. Making eye contact with one of them, she winked, causing him to vomit.

“Who's ready for even more presents!” Pinkie's arrival was heralded by the explosion of a party cannon, streamers and confetti blasting through the air. Everypony turned to stare, including the griffoness, whose cock still dripped with the filly's blood. There was a long beat as Pinkie stared, her eyes wide, a stack of freshly-wrapped boxes falling from her hooves and scattering across the floor. Then, something changed, like an invisible switch had been flipped. Pinkie's expression changed from one of surprise to rage as she caught sight of the filly's corpse, her mane deflating like a balloon, falling around her head in boughs of straight hair. Her lip twitched slightly, revealing gritted teeth.

Pinkie leapt at Gilda, shrieking an incoherent cry of rage, and Gilda swatted her out of the air as casually as one swats a fly, sending the pink mare to the ground. Before she could get up, Gilda planted one of her massive footpaws atop her back, listening with satisfaction as the mare's spine popped, vertibrae snapping apart beneath her sheer weight. Pinkie's screams were like music to her ears.

“You-you-you-you absolute meanie!” Pinkie screamed, tears of rage and grief pouring from her eyes. Gilda had never seen the pink mare in such a state. It amused her enough not to kill her right away. “You killed her! On her cute-ceañera! She was innocent! She had her whole life ahead of her, and your big dumb dick gobbled up her head!”

Even now, trapped and crippled by the monster, she didn't stop squirming and trying to fight, her forelegs shuffling weakly against the floor, which her useless hindlegs just sat there, as if heedless of the mare's plight.

“Yeah,” Gilda rolled her eyes, her smirk growing wider with Pinkie's every word, “And you know what? It tasted fucking foul, like the rest of your treats.”

“My – My treats?” Pinkie paused, taken somewhat aback by the sudden change in topic, “What do my treats have to do with you murdering a little filly?”

“She was a treat to me, you see? Some ponies, the ones I really fucking hate, I'll eat. It takes a lot of energy to fuel this murder machine, you know?”

“Then... Why not just eat the cakes and candies instead of ponies?”

“Because I like eating things alive, Pinkie.”

“Then... Eat them! Please, in the name of Celestia, eat them instead of me! I don't want to be part of you!”

Tapping her chin, Gilda appeared to be deep in thought. After a moment, she shrugged her shoulders.

“Nah, I prefer live meat.” With that, Gilda clenched her fists and raised a leg, letting out a roaring fart so powerful that nopony in the crowd of partygoers had time to react; They had barely even started to choke when their flesh began to sizzle, their eyeballs popping, organs bloating and rupturing within their bodies, before one by one, they burst like the bloodbags they were. Gilda didn't even look at them, instead savoring the horrified expression on Pinkie Pie's face as a dozen innocent ponies died in agony, their bellies bursting, their hearts swelling in their chests, crushing their lungs and breaking their ribs before finally shredding themselves into a fine paste of viscera.

“Get it over with, then,” Pinkie groaned, the sound of defeat heavy in her voice. The poor mare, for all her mood swings, was sinking into despair, and Gilda loved every second of it. She wasn't just going to bite the mare's head off and be done with it, however – There was another body part of hers that wasn't yet satisfied. She moved her foot off of the mare's back, her snapped spine making escape impossible, and spent a few minutes watching as she struggled toward the door.

Gilda's claws sunk deep into her assmeat, her cheeks squishing like a pair of beanbags as she spread them apart, sending out a wave of hot, rancid stink. Her butthole wasn't just a donut, but a spare tire, thick and bloated from her calorie-laden diet, and stained nearly black by the sheer volume of farts she constantly pumped out. Spreading her cheeks caused her donut to stretch out, letting a pocket of trapped wind hiss forth, causing Pinkie to gag. A constant stream of brownish grease oozed forth from the hole, like a broken sewage pipe leaking its foul contents; It was pure fartjuice, so densely concentrated that it turned from vapor to liquid, growing ever more rancid in its new state.

“It's hungry,” The griffoness taunted. Sliding her claws down, she plunged them into that bloated ring and stretched it wide enough to admit a pony's head. Pinkie stared at the gaping abyss, the reddish walls of the griffoness's bowels almost glowing from their sheer pungence.

“Just kill me,” The earth pony muttered, sobs wracking her body as the true horror of her fate set in. Gilda could only laugh.

“How many times do I need to tell you?” Gilda chuckled, looming over Pinkie; She wiggled her hole, sending a few droplets of fartjuice across the mare's fur, forming permanent brown stains in her pink coat. “You're food, Pinkie. Act like it.”

“No, no, no,” Was all that came from Pinkie's mouth as she stared up into the gaping crevasse that would soon engulf her; Even as Gilda's butthole came lower and lower, the griffoness's legs flexing and seeming to swell with muscle, she denied her fate, shaking her head to get rid of the steady stream of greasy sweat that now poured down across it, staining her mane and burning her nostrils. This couldn't be it, her life couldn't end like this! She thought back to her childhood at the rock farm, to meeting her friends, all the adventures they'd shared – Was she, the element of laughter, going to die in this horrific situation? She was supposed to be happy, not sad! Not-not-

It was then that something snapped within Pinkie's mind. The sheer disgust and horror of the situation overwhelmed the pink party pony, and as Gilda's hole came within a few feet of her head, she began to laugh. It started as a chuckle, quickly blossoming into a manic cackle as the last of the mare's sanity dripped away, leaving only a shrieking lunatic to be eaten by the hungry beast. Heat radiated from Gilda's hole, and Pinkie's sweat soon mingled with the slime oozing from that disgusting donut; Her hair began to curl and blacken, sizzling as the temperature grew hotter and hotter, her insides showing their true nature as an oven.

Pinkie didn't even scream as her head was engulfed, didn't even stop laughing; The muffled sound of her laughter only stopped when her lungs ran out of oxygen, and the furnace-like environment of Gilda's rectum snuffed out her life. Limply, the rest of her body followed up the hole, Gilda's donut stretching to impossible proportions as she slurped the pony up, leaving behind nothing but a filthy smear on the floor. She could feel the dead mare sliding up through her intestines, her body slowly dissolving, and then, her belly surged out as the remains of the mare splashed into it, ready to be digested.

Gilda felt a pressure rising up her throat, and let out a belch so foul that the very walls of the building began to decay, creaking as their structural integrity weakened, nails rusting, boards rotting to mulch; The upper floor began to sway ominously, and Gilda took this as her time to leave. Walking away from the charnal house, patting her pony-filled gut, she didn't even glance back as Sugarcube Corner collapsed behind her.