Author's Note

Many thanks to Justanothermeal for commissioning Stout Heart to stay at Hotel Nightshade!

Stout Heart

Withania dropped a large seed into a shallow hole behind the greenhouse. This area was dead-space where nothing really grew properly. She hadn’t even paid much attention to this stallion, a red mane and pale coloured coat, but he was more interested in long-term storage. She’s edged him out just long enough to melt him into a seed and left him without orgasm, so he’d be trapped in stasis as a plant, stuck on edge, unable to climax. This dim corner should keep his plant from maturing for a while until she had to come up with another way to re-trap him. Pressing the seed into the dirt under one hoof, she smirked and sauntered away again.

Walking up toward her house, she brushed past a row of colourful tegmen plants, each one a guest in various stages of regrowth. They would feel the lingering touch of their mistress bestowing affection on them, while the lucky ones would be pruned and tied to canes to shape them in strange and weird ways. In the kitchen, she opened the jar of random seeds on the table and picked one out, absently chewing on it like hard candy. The sign-in sheet of the pony she’d just planted was still on the table, so she reviewed it one last time.

A frown scrunched up her nose as she realised that the stallion hadn’t filled out his personal details. He’d clearly gone right to the fun parts - he’d specified an almost arbitrary range of time, while also checking the ‘random release’ box, which gave Withania the option of differing his release for as long as she liked. He’d also ticked more or less every single box in terms of how he responded, and what she was allowed to do with him - but she had no details on who he actually was.

“Shoulda checked first,” she muttered to herself. She was a little too lax about the paperwork, and now she had a pony in her garden with no identity. Lucky for her, that was exactly what he wanted - but all the same she didn’t like the lack of safety net. She rewound her memory of the day to remember what he looked like. Tan-ish coat, brown mane - or was it red? He’d been so eager to jump down her throat that she hadn’t paid much attention, just gulped him up and pleasured herself on his disintegrating bulge of her belly. No matter, she thought to herself as she trotted upstairs to her bed. Lost or not, her guests came to no real harm. Nothing she couldn’t fix, anyway.

It was early morning when Stout Heart approached the garden gate, glancing up at the huge greenhouse visible over the vine-wrapped fencing. His cart had finally given up when he was barely out of the town boundaries, but seeing a large fenced garden nearby he figured the homeowner would have some tools he could borrow. He pushed the garden gate open, looking around for any sign of inhabitants. The rustle of the wind died down as he walked into the aisles of shrubs and plants, leaving everything calm and quiet. There was no one in sight though, so he continued up to the open back door of the house.

“Hello?” he called, glancing around the kitchen. His eyes fell on a green earth mare with a shock of red hair, who was looking right at him with a look of confusion on her face. “Oh, sorry to barge in, I-”

“You’re up quick… I think?” she cut in, looking him up and down. Tan coat, a clay-red mane… He had a scar on his right eye she didn’t recall noticing the day before, but why else would he be walking in from her back garden?

“Excuse me?” stammered Stout, not sure why the mare was speaking as if she knew him. “I think you might’ve made a mistake…”

These words didn’t seem to help his situation, as the earth pony seemed to take it as some kind of confirmation and turned about to grab him by the hooves. She dragged him into the kitchen proper, making sure they were in the middle of the room. “Yes, yes, sorry, you should’ve been under for at least a few days for your first session, don’t worry I’ll have you back in the garden in no time!”

Without waiting for a response, she wrapped her forelegs about Stout’s neck and drew him into a deep kiss, tongue and all. It tasted of flowery sweetness, like a sweet tea or even honey, and despite the absurdity of the situation Stout couldn’t help but let her continue. He wasn’t sure what she meant about the garden, but he certainly wasn’t complaining about her advances. And then she opened her mouth and put his entire muzzle inside.

Withania pressed herself up against the stallion’s chest, giving him full access to touch her as she loosened-up on his snout. He seemed reluctant - but then he’d ticked everything on the sign-in sheet including the box about role-playing an unwilling or semi-willing scenario. He must be putting an act on this time around, playing hard to get. She kept her breath to a minimum, not wanting to smother him with her pollen, but staying ready just in case he got a little too rough. He murmured something, but Withania ignored it as an off-handed moan and went in for the swallow. She relaxed her throat muscles, and gently, but firmly pressed her head over his. He tried to back away, but succeeded only in giving her room to bear down over him and push him onto his hindquarters.

Withania was prepared for this scenario, but unaccustomed to it. She felt a primal thrill in being almost forceful - just taking what she wanted while her prey was powerless to stop her. The stallion slipped into her throat up to his chest, wriggling and twitching in her grasp, and moaning the whole way in a deep, sonorous tone that reverberated to her core. Her eyes peeked over her nose to the strong, shapely behind that she was reaching for, and with a few firm gulps, she was ready to cram his rump into her mouth.

Stout Heart couldn’t believe what was happening to him - one moment he was trying to introduce himself, and the next, this crazy mare had thrown herself onto him and then literally started devouring him whole. He tried to cry out and tell her to stop, but his voice was muffled by the soft, slick tunnel of her throat. It was warm and pulsing with contracting waves to draw him deeper inside, and the sweet taste he’d picked up from her kiss was everywhere, working into his fur and skin alike. It wasn’t unpleasant, but more unexpected - she pinned his limbs to his side, forcing his wings down as she stretched impossibly over his larger body, until the tip of his snout pushed through a tighter check in her throat and dipped into a pool of watery fluid.

His hind was quick to follow, slipping through her jaws - accompanied by a playful lick about his balls - and pushing the rest of his torso into the dark tank of her belly. At first he recoiled, expecting stomach acid, but it seemed to be quite the opposite. Being larger than she was he was able to stretch up enough to keep the tip of his nose above board, and took full advantage to voice his complaints.

“What in the hay are you doing?!” he shouted, struggling as best he could without splashing the sweet smelling liquid over his face. Outside, Withania heard muffled yells, but she was more focused on the feeling of struggling prey. She’d never really experienced this, with her only other cases of an unwilling guest being relaxed by her hypnotising breath, or immediately subdued by being drowned in her belly squashed by her hips. Now she was resting on her bulging round midriff, forelegs off the ground, feeling jolts and buffets of the tan pony apparently making a very convincing case of being unwilling. It filled her with an intoxicating sensation of power.

“Oh helpless little pony, your struggles are entirely in vain, but don’t stop on my account!” she said seductively, “Although I’ve got to say I think I should offer a discount to anyone who can play unwilling this well - it’s a guilty pleasure! Let me return the favour!” She could see the vague outline of her guest, showing how he was oriented in her belly - and knowing that he wouldn’t easily be able to turn, she leaned and rolled onto her back so that her huge green tum pivoted on top of herself. This had the effect of turning the unnamed guest almost upside down, and definitely taking away the tiny air-gap he’d afforded.

Stout couldn’t see anything inside the green mare, and was caught completely off-guard as his world tumbled over, drowning him in the alluringly tasty liquid that was soaking into his body. He tried to twist and right himself, but between the soft and stretchy, but taut sack of her stomach and the darkness, his own bodyweight squashed him against her torso. The nectar flooded into his mouth, and his strength began to fail as she gently rocked him back and forth on top of herself. The liquid had done more than he realised, and within moments he could feel the weight of his flanks pressing his upper body in half. He fretted, expecting something horrifying to happen, but there was no pain. Quite the opposite, the sensation of turning into a soft doughy blob was unlike anything he’d imagined. It only got better as he felt his host roll onto her side, and then back on to her belly, using her now stronger weight to knead his mass against the kitchen floor. There was a chill where her belly was pressed flat against the tiles, but above there was warmth, and heat from between her hind legs, where her thighs clenched and pressed against him.

Unable to move or struggle anymore, Stout Heart gave in and relaxed what was left of his muscles, feeling the larger body all around smother him into submission, the sounds and motions lulling him into slumber as he was liquified into soup.

Withania flopped over her rounded a gurgling belly. Hard work was done, and now she could enjoy an early morning meal for the rest of the day. She gave her side a good rub, digging her hoof into the soft mass. Hopefully her performance would make up for a rather short first-night for this customer. She dozed for a while until her belly pulled back under her enough to comfortably waddle around, and then knowing that her guest would still be in a low-state of awareness, she turned on the radio and performed her daily chores with a jig in her step. Swaying her hips and swinging her belly, her occupant would receive a wonderful massage as he was pressed into her gut and strained through her digestive system.

Stout Heart fell into a reverie of swirling liquid, increasing pressure, and full-body stimulation as he journeyed through Withania. He was no longer really awake, but felt as though in a dream. Ideas and emotions made sensations feel real, and he imagined himself to be a blob passing through the maze of a larger being that moved and swayed almost lovingly. His body dwindled, but his sense of self became denser, compressing until he felt like a stone - or a seed. His senses were long gone, but his consciousness felt a sudden chill, as the warmth of his surroundings was taken away and replaced with the cooler touch of daylight and air around him. He couldn’t move, but was being handled by something, or some pony.

Withania gave the seed in her hoof a sensual lick, tasting the faint flavour of the stallion she’d devoured that morning. She opened the window, tensing up to throw the seed out into the garden, but then she remembered that he’d probably regrow within a day or so if she did that. She looked around and spotted the jar of seeds on the table.

“I think you’ve earned a spot in the trophy jar, mister anonymous… Next time remember to fill out your paperwork!”

Stout Heart tumbled through the air as he fell from her hoof, and with a rattle he felt the presence of more ponies around him. Each one in the same semi-sleep that he was, unaware of time, just aware of being an object. A sudden earthquake jumbled them all up as Withania shook the jar to mix the seeds up and then that was it. Stout Heart was lost in a collection of other ponies who had chosen this experience, stuck in a jar until such time that they were picked out at random to be eaten again, and perhaps planted after another trip through their mistress' body.

That night as Withania walked down her garden to check that the gate was closed, she noticed a Tegmen plant, in the mid-stage of regrowing a guest, growing out from the side of the green house. Odd, she thought, Who’s that? She wracked her brain to remember who she’d dumped behind the greenhouse.

“It was that tan-coloured stallion…” she said aloud to the garden. “But that means the pony from this morning was… Whoops…”