Gilda's Wrath

Next on Gilda’s hit list was Pinkie Pie. Of all the revenge she was set to enjoy that day, this was by far the one she was most looking forward to. Ever since her humiliating departure from Ponyville her hatred for this dumb pink pony had festered. Her stupid voice, the way she bounced around like an idiot the entire time, and especially the way she had turned her old friend Rainbow Dash into a namby-pamby, friendship-loving… urgh! Just the thought of Pinkie Pie infuriated Gilda to no end. Her footfalls came extra heavy as she stormed towards the gauche candy-constructed sweet shop, she knew she would find Pinkie inside, probably playing a stupid party game, eating her stupid cupcakes or something equally as juvenile.

As she forced her way into the establishment, though, Gilda was immediately met with surprise.

The place had been decked out with all of Pinkie’s party paraphernalia; streamers, bunting, showering confetti and a table lined end to end with candies, cakes and sweet treats of every variety. The most alarming thing, though, was the huge banner strung up across the ceiling reading ‘Happy Welcome back to Ponyville after leaving in disgrace, Gilda!’

Pinkie had planned all this for her!?

She didn’t have long to think about it before the party pony herself hopped her way across the room, stringing a festive hat over Gilda’s noggin and pressing a smiling snout up against her..

“I was wondering when you’d show up, party gal!” Pinkie beamed, retrieving a noisemaker from the endless void of her rump and blowing it in Gilda’s face.

“What? Huh? How’d you know I was-”

“In town? Well, my party sense flared up something fierce! It’s kinda like my Pinkie sense, only it lets me know when there’s a pony, or, in your case, a griffon, in the vicinity in need of a shindig! Don’t worry, I’ve got all your favorite games, and this time I promise none of ‘em are booby trapped!”

Gilda, still awestruck, looked around at everything Pinkie had put on display. All of it Pinkie had worked tirelessly to arrange, and all of it just for her. Perhaps Pinkie’s intention was to cheer her up, maybe make her change her mind about eviscerating her friends under her fat fuming ass, but instead it just made her even angrier.

“You just don’t get it, do you!? You pony dweebs are just, just… just more than I can handle!”

Gilda struck first with her natural odor. Even though she’d wicked a good deal of sweat off onto that uptight rag-makerRarity, the walk over to Sweet Apple Acres and back had built up even more. She raised her right arm up behind her head, using the other to waft the ripe stench of exposed pit right into Pinkie’s face.

The pony’s nostrils flared a bit, but her smile remained

“Pee yew! No offence, Gilda, but I think you need a shower!”

“What!? Why aren’t you reeling in disgust? Why aren’t you rolling around on the floor with your nostrils turning inside out!?” She pushed her armpit closer, almost touching Pinkie, who simply gave it another whiff and giggled.

“Sti-nky! Totally reminds me of Rainbow Dash right after practice! That pegasus sure knows how to work up a sweat!”

Gilda grumbled impatiently. Just as expected, this little pink twerp was being a nuisance and not letting up. No, it would take stronger stuff to break through that perky outer shell of hers.

That’s when Gilda looked around herself, at all the party supplies laid out, particularly at the large banquet of sugary treats, and it struck her. Pinkie had unwittingly constructed the perfect means of revenge and laid it right out in front of her.

Her smirk returned.

“Say, Pinkie, this is my party, right?”

“You got it!”

“And so I guess that makes me the party queen, which means I get exactly whatever I want!”

“Well of course, silly! It wouldn’t be your party if you weren’t the guest of honor!”

Gilda’s smile widened.

“Okay, well I want some birthday kisses.”

Pinkie faltered for the briefest of moments. “Huh. Well, I can’t say I was expecting that, but you are the birthday griffon!” She leaned forward on her hooves with her lips puckering up in preparation.

“Oh no no no, not on the beak.” Gilda spun around, presenting her rank end to the eager hostess. “On the butt!”

Pinkie was confused at first, then slightly disgusted when she caught a whiff of Gilda’s tush.
“Uh, are you sure you-”

“Yes! I’m sure! Now kiss me! Right here!” She spread her right cheek with a wet peeling sound, revealing her glisteningfart starwhich blinked a few times. “C’mon, Sinkie Pie! If you really love sweet treats so much, get a load of this griffon donut!”

Pinkie’s smile faded as she stared deep into Gilda’s dribbling crevasse. The horribly savory smell rollingoff it was already foul enough to make her eyes water, but when Gilda started grabbing up cakes and candies from the table and scarfing them down, Pinkie feared the smell would only get worse.

Suddenly, the looming threat of being buried alive under griffon butt grew closer. Literally. Gilda slowly backed Pinkie up against the wall, giving her hips a few meaty shakes as she did so. It was getting harder for Pinkie to avoid having her face up close and personal to that spread ass and her nostrils too close for comfort to its mind-numbing fragrance. Before she knew it, she was well and truly walled in.

“Kiss.” She instructed.

“W-Well, anything for the party queen!” Her lips pecked Gilda’s asshole quickly.

“Nuh uh. A proper kiss!”

“Gee, Gilda, I want you to have a great party and all, but maybe this is a teeny tiny bit-”

“Too late.” Was all the warning Pinkie got before a merciless storm of flatus broke against her face, bouncing her head into the wall.

Pinkie Pie reeled, trying to laugh away the atrocious smell like it was a forest full of ghosties, but in that moment she struggled to eek out even a giggle.

“Ahh!” Gilda fanned her claw around, pushing the foggy cloud of stink in Pinkie’s direction. “I gotta hand it to you, these cakes are delicious!” She slathered her beak in another generous clawful, “Shame my stomach doesn’t agree!”

Gilda’s stinkhole wobbled and splurted out another muddy fart, so thick with heat and oily, meaty filth that Pinkie’s coat was soaked. Her throat burned all the way down to her lungs as she was forced to inhale more and more fumes. It suddenly set in that there was truly no escape.

Still stuffing herself full of cakes and candy, Gilda shoved back into Pinkie’s head, crushing it against the wall and squeezing a little squeal of surprise from the pony’s squished lips.

There she rubbed herself around, kneading her fat mounds against the cotton candy cushion. Even with her skull being squashed and shaped like a ball of clay, Pinkie managed a grin.

“Boy, Gilda, you’re really putting the s-squeeze on me here! How about you ease up just a little? What do you say, ol’ buddy ol’-”
Gilda dropped a wet fart into her mouth.

“Cut the chit chat, Stinkie Pie! I think you’re forgetting whose party this is! Now I want to hear you say something, and if you don’t say it exactly the way I ask, I’m gonna grind your stupid head into paste and fart it into powder! Got it?” She blazed through a fierce scowl.

“G-Gilda, I-”

The griffon lifted the pressure up from Pinkie for half a second, before shunting her ass back twice as hard, hard enough to make her eyes well up with tears. She couldn’t even move her head from left to right, and frankly she didn’t want to find out what would happen if she tried.

“Got. It?”

“Got it.” Pinkie whimpered back in defeat.

“Good. Y’know, I always knew you had the makings of a loyal butt-bitch, Pinkie Pie! You munch ass with the best of them!” Gilda cackled out, spraying spittle and chewed cake across the room. She turned back to look at Pinkie, her face all rumped under her ass, slick with sweat (and most of it not even hers) her eyes pinpointed with panic as she tried to breathe under all that claustrophobicpressure. If she pushed down on the poor thing any harder her head would go right through the wall!

“Say: ‘I’m a filthy, disgusting mud pony, and all I’m good for is sniffing Gilda’s raunchy farts.’ I’m giving you one shot. I got a real bad one brewing so I wouldn’t do anything stupid if I were you!”

The deep, gurgling sounds coming from Gilda’s overstuffed stomach validated her threat.

“I’m a… a…” Pinkie swallowed back the sorrowful lump in her throat, “I’m a filthy, filthy, disgusting m-mud pony, and… all I’m good for is sniffing Gilda’s… raunchy… farts.” Her voice croaked on the final word, and she broke out into a quiet sob.

“Hey, not bad! But I’m not convinced. My farts are really that raunchy, huh? Sounded like you were having a real hard time sucking them down.”

“Y-Yeah! Your farts are… oh, they stink! They’re s-so bad I wish I didn’t even have a muzzle right now… uh… is that good enough?”

“You’re kidding, right? Let’s try another one.” Gilda paused for a second to think and take a sip of punch. “Okay, okay… ‘I’m Stinkie Pie, and I love whiffing up Gilda’s delicious ass blasts! Yum yum yummy yum, can I have another juicy fart, miss Gilda?’” The griffon burst into a fit of hysterics, forcing out a few nice, robust belches just to add to the spoiled state in the room. But Pinkie didn’t even crack a smile.

“Uh… Can you r-repeat it, mayb-”

“Nope. Lights out, Stinkie Pie!”

With this, Gilda bulldozed her ass back into Pinkie’s face, and a loud crumbling sound erupted as her head dented into the drywall. Pinkie’s face was now fully enveloped in butt on one side and submerged in plaster on the other, she screamed her lungs out in some pathetic attempt to make this torture stop, but her cries muffled into silence. To Gilda, they were little more than a pleasant vibration in her crack.

“Scream a little more, dweeb! You’re giving me a primo booty massage here!” She roared with laughter for a few more moments, but playtime was over. It was about time to execute this braindeadbubblegumdweeb.

Gilda’s stomach bubbled up like a chemistry experiment gone awry, she buckled over in a blend of suffering and satisfaction. Taking a few seconds more to savor the deliciously sharp intestinal pain, she allowedthe impending assault a few moments more to stir up and putrefy, as well as giving Pinkie a chance to pray to whichever royal rump she admired most that this would all be over quickly.

Tucked into Gilda’s sodden crack, Pinkie couldn’t even tell what was what. Her muzzle slipped up and down against something firm and fleshy, then something wet that made a squishing sound when she fought against it. All she knew was despite its warmth and softness, Gilda’s bum absolutely reeked. Her sickly ass smelled worse than garbage boiling in the summer sun, worse even than a thousand unchanged cake twin diapers, and the worst part of it was she hadn’t even started farting yet.

But that was about to change. The firm fleshy thing—her asshole, as it happened—tensed against Pinkie Pie a few times, as if to simply inform her of its current position jammed against her nostrils.

Pinkie burbled something out in those last few moments of tension. Perhaps a goodbye to her friends, an apology to Mr and Mrs Cake for the state this incoming fart would leave the shopfloor in, or maybe she used that last window of silence to just suck up to Gilda a little bit more in the hopes that it might somehow get through to her.

It didn’t, of course, Gilda could only feel a few whimpered words leaving Pinkie’s lips before she loosened up her sphincter and sealed her fate.

A long, voluminous fart blitzed out of her, every bit as powerful and destructive as she had hoped. Though muffled, it was still thunderously loud. Pinkie Pie’s face took the worst of the barrage, buffering the vilest of stenches. It was so piercingly hot that Pinkie swore it would straighten her mane and then burn it right down to its roots. Gilda’s fart didn’t just stop with Pinkie though, it spread across the entire room in a thick, churning cloud of death. The griffon covered her beak so as not to drown in her own eggy, carnivorouspollution. All of the food on the nearby buffet table turned immediately rancid; the milkshakes curdled, the candies hardened and cracked like shattered glass marbles, even the frosting atop every cupcake bubbled up before melting down the sides.

It was impossible to say for how long Gilda’s fart lasted, she was far too busy enjoying the blissful release to count the seconds in her head. Although minutes would have been a better unit of measurement; Gilda, without even breaking a sweat, broke several world records with the length, stench, and overall aggressiveness of her absolute whirlwind of rotten stench. With the entirety of Sugarcube Corner shuddering and decaying under the oppressive winds, Gilda finally raised herself up from Pinkie’s steamed head and her fartsputtered and sploshed to an end. One final wet hiss blew out into Pinkie’s lifeless face.

But her stomach wasn’t quite done with the pernicious pink cunt. Not yet. Something more substantial shifted through her lower intestine, led by a symphony of wet, gurgling groans. Oh yes! It was time to get even filthier. Gilda moaned, fingering her leaking pussy lips as her pooper opened up nice and wide. After a short overture from her belly, a violent flurry of watery brown slop shot out like a pressure washer, piling onto Pinkie’s limp body and then the rest of the floor. Gilda walked around the room as she evacuated her hot mess, spraying excremental oatmeal over every wall, every balloon, every stupid streamer and party game. All the while, her raunchy bird cunt squirted out thick globs of clear fluid as a nice little garnish. She left Sugarcube Corner baking under a generous pile of ripe, zesty griffon shit, but not before tearing down the welcome banner to wipe her sloppy ass clean.