Screw Subtlety. This is Gilda Vore.

by NormalVoreForNormalVeopl

Rating: mature
Tags: Profanity, Random, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Anthro, Porn, Fetish, Rainbow Dash, Comedy, Gilda, Non-consensual, Sex
Length: 3185

Dead Dove, Do Not Eat

In a world where horses have hands and stand on their back legs, one griffin who also stands on her back legs has a much-needed parcel inside her that our intrepid hero must retrieve while shrunken to the size of a two-inch tall thing.

Contains: Unbirth, Vore, Burning Loins, Dialogue with a bartender written while watching Clerks, Profanity, A Disturbing Lack of Cloaca

Written as a commission for Star Sage. i may have... put too much confidence in the fetishes he has.

Art by Tsitra360. You can delete your fetish accounts, but you can't be subtle.

Published 2022-02-03 19:30:00 UTC
Last updated 2022-02-03 19:30:00 UTC

2- The Unbirth

"Ah-!"

The bartender rose an eyebrow, impatiently tapping his hindhoof. "What's wrong with you? Are you going to clean up your drink or not?"

Gilda tensed, squinting her eyes shut and flexing her talons to regain her bearings after the sudden sensation that entered her in a rather sensitive position. Sat on something? She had stood up. "Y-yeah, I got it, just give me a break."

Gilda grabbed her napkin, and trying not to wince, sat back down slowly and experimentally.

"Oghf..."

Yep. That was definitely a moving object in her pussy.

That wasn't there before.

Fast and loose was the only valid way to play for Dash. It got her to the best part more often than not, and it didn't leave her enough time to think over her actions- actions like punching through someone else's love tunnel with only her head, and then worming the rest of the way inside with her arms at her side, grappling with the slick surfaces inside to try and get any sort of leeway before her gracious host caught on. Unfortunately, catching on was one thing Dash herself wasn't doing well with her hands, instantly caking themselves in streams of thick and sticky liquid that stuck fast but gave her no rock to sink her grip into. Instead, half of her body was still outside, awkwardly upside down and sticking partly out from under Gilda's jeans. Her hindlegs kicked in the air as she started panicking, with just enough air in the pocket her muzzle and arms were wedged into to consider how best to push the rest of the way in.

The antidote must be a small fucker even at her old size. This was gonna be a needle in a haystack now especially. But the only option was to push forward, bunch and coil her leg muscles and kick out at the inside of Gilda's jeans to shove herself forward through the slick tunnel contracting against her upper half wildly. It felt like she was reaching through a solid wall of jell-o, compounded now that her head was slipping deeper while her legs were still kicking outside. Then, a sudden force at her legs, and she slipped in entirely, crumpling like an accordion into an uncomfortable position as something she reckoned she knew all too well slammed into her from the outside.

Gilda reached for her pants discretely at first, then slapping her own ass full force without thinking as she realized whatever it was was starting to sink. Ignoring the bartender's clearly flummoxed glance, she tried desperately to imagine what it could be; particularly pervy changeling? Actually, she couldn't even finish the law of three, because there were no other options she could think of, no matter how absurd she went. This was her absolute epitome of absurdism- and for a resident of Equestria, that said something.

Gilda delicately set her hand on the table again, not even caring that it was in a puddle of ice water. "I'm... going to the restroom."

"Hold on a fuckin second, this is a dine and dash." The bartender snorted. "You spill water all over my nice counter, you get the fuck out before cleaning it- you don't care about the counter, you don't care about me, you just want the food."

"It's a- augh- a fuckin counter." Gilda growled back, leaning to the side at a sudden pinch from within and trying to stealthily rub her legs together.

"It's a goddamn principle is what it is, alright? This is an independent business, you people come in here because the goddamn Specs is closed, or the McDonalds as it were-" He glanced down at Gilda's barely touched fries. "You spill your shit, you duck out the window-"

"There's a window in the bathroom?"

"People were complaining about the lack of light. You duck out the window, you've taken a shit over my establishment! Celestia, what's caught up your cooch?"

Spasms of pleasure were rocking Gilda's body from her thighs, and sitting still was becoming more of a challenge- clearly noticed by the Keep. Mustering the last of her restraint to not dine and dash for real, she stood leaned forward as close to the bartender's face as she could, doing her best to flash a menacing sneer despite the blush on her face.

"That's what I'm trying to figure out."

To his credit, he kept his gaze set for an impressive set of seconds. Gilda looked away first, actually- via an involuntary closing of her legs and seething stifled moan.

"Alright, go get it out. Keep me posted. If you don't come back within ten minutes, I'm calling the Guard."

Gilda pushed off from the counter. "On who?"

"You're a female gryphon. Can't take that long to run down the list of G names."

"Ha, well..." Loins aching. Nethers moistening. Comeback faltering. "...Eat a dick." Was all she got out before rushing to the bathroom.

"Hey, I was gonna use that stall-"

"Get out!"

After slamming the door on the earth pony she had cut in front of, Gilda quickly dropped her pants and sized up the damage.

(Anthros don't wear underwear. That's what the fur is for.)

Whatever it was was completely vanished up her by now, and she wasn't particularly up for keeping it in- but Celestia, now that she was alone she couldn't deny how good it felt. She could certainly deny that same feeling to this asshole, though.

Taking a deep breath, Gilda worked her finger around her outer lips to loosen herself from her tight clenching, finding little resistence before plunging it in with her thumb to pry around for the little nuisance, doubling over from the sensation of spreading her own cooch wider than she was used to. Her body felt like it could give out now, and she must be seconds from climaxing, which couldn't be great if this really was a living organism and not- again, very hard to consider what else it could possibly be. Really tiny Hexbug?

It at least seemed cooperative, ceasing movement when she seized its damp form in her claws and delicately dragging it out, clenching her teeth and shivering as what felt like tiny hairs dragged along her clit, and finally popped it out the rest of the way, followed shortly by a small climax that only dampened her fur more. Getting the last of the electricity out of her nerves, Gilda's vision restabilized where it had been darkening, and she held the foreign invader up to the dim light of the window outside.

She pursed her beak. It may seem hard, but there's a trick to it.

"You better have one damn good explanation for this, because I was all ready to eat you if you were a pony. It's times like this I wish I didn't care about you so damn much."

3- The Normal Vore, Relatively

Dash coughed and sputtered, shaking from the frigid air and the sticky ropes she was covered in. "Y-Yeah... I got something like a good explanation. My friends are assholes."

"The superheroes or the military?"

"M-Military."

Gilda clucked her tongue forlornly. "You have so many friends, and so few are good ones." Comebacks were coming back to her. Easier when your velvet folds weren't on fire. She took the edge of her shirt from under her jacket and began using it to hastily clean Dash's squirming form.

"I'm not a kitten..." Dash muttered.

"Yeah, if you were I'd lick it off like my mom used to. Now, you wanna tell me what your shitty friends have to do with today's events? Why you crawled up my vagina?"

There was an awkward cough outside. "Hey, I know you told me to get out, but I really need to go-"

"Get out!"

"Picky, picky." Dash griped. "Look, obviously it's a Poison Joke. For a plant named after its sense of humor, its horribly one note. It shrinks you, it gives you a dick, it makes you walk funny, its basically if you gave a college frat boy Discord's powers. But what I've been told is that the antidote is inside you."

"We talking Saw or E621?"

"Remember that frat boy thing? There's a reason it's popular with the Bolts. Definitely E621. So sue me, I assumed they meant your cooch, which by the way, smells awful that close up." Dash shook womanly gunk off her head and leaned in like she was about to share a secret, although that may be in part because their affairs had already been listened in on once. "But I've had some time to think while trying not to drown, and it occurs to me- how'd you like me to take you up on that 'being eaten' offer?"

"You've been waving meat in front of the lion since Flight School. Take a fuckin guess."

Dash waved her hand impatiently. "Look, I'm an idiot. Stuffing it up your cooch? How is anyone gonna pull that shit off?"

"I can definitely think of a few ways."

"But making someone eat it? Now you're talking. That's easy, it's classy, you can make food puns during it and snigger afterwards. That's Bolt Behavior."

"Bolt Behavior sounds an awful lot like some Revenge of the Nerds shit."

"Why do you think they hired me? Now come on, I owe you a lot for today, and I think we can settle at least one of those allowances right here right now, by shoving me-"

Gilda crammed her entire fist into her mouth and wiped the empty claws on her jacket.

"Love you, Dash." She muttered around a mouthful of food as she stood up again.

"Love you t-" Dash sighed as an all-too familiar tongue rubbed up along her cheek before barreling her entire body into the hard plates of Gilda's beak. It only got gentle rubbing her against the ridges, inwardly facing to keep prey from escaping in less civilized days, as Gilda was all too proud to admit.

Even then it quickly tried to make up for the lull in roughhousing, shoving her against the roof of her mouth instead and rubbing vigorously along her back as she coughed out saliva, then falling out from under her to land with a squelch back on the floor. It flipped again and pinned her under the giant muscle like a wrestling match, prodding around at her, slathering her up and even dipping low with an impressive show of flexibility to smush barbarically at her outer entrance between the legs, only to quickly give up when she found how hard it was.

Tossed back into a front flip to land spread eagle on Gilda's tongue again, and she finally got bored, the edges of it tilting up to collect saliva in a puddle under her- one she was facefirst in and not loving the smell of, mind you- and with a glk and a reload cocking motion, her face was pressed firmly against a starfish of flesh that opened all too eagerly to suck her head in. For her part, she did her best to just let it happen once Gilda was done fucking with her; it was impossible to see, but the sensation of flesh rubbing against her body was one she was getting used to, and she found herself wishing she had taken her uniform off in between scenery changes. Wasn't like Gilda had never seen her naked before.

Her arms were much too compacted going down the throat to consider that now, and all she could do was try not to swallow the journey through.

Gilda took her seat back at the bar, throwing her hands out in a sarcastic display to the Keep.

"What was up yours?" He asked curiously.

"My girlfriend." She muttered.

"Horny changeling?"

"You're halfway there."

"Could never date em myself. The eyes creeped me out."

With a tight squeeze that she felt pass over from her grimacing face to her feet, Dash finally dislodged from the peristalsis and fell ungracefully to the ground in a splash.

The smell hit her first, devoid of sight and far used to the physical sensation. Meat generally tended to make her squeamish, and this high a concentration of the stench of rotting animals- Yech. Then, once her head was pulled out of the lukewarm and thick brine she landed in and her soggy hair was pulled out of her eyes, next came the sound, beating and thumping, sloshing and grinding, grumbling and groaning. It was almost a sensory overload, and she sacrificed what little dignity she had to stay hunched over in the puddle that bubbled around her to get used to the sounds.

It was also oppressively hot. Screw her suit. They gave these things out to visiting kids, they could afford her a spare. She unzipped the back and yanked the one piece off from her legs, kicking it into the lumps of who knows what to digest while giving her newly freed body space to breathe, now completely bare and trying its damnedest to ignore the grimy sensation of pure, unaltered wrongness.

Job to do. Dash reached blindly in the darkness, meeting a lump of something solid and just as quickly pulling her hand away with disgust. What would it be in? A bottle, a parcel? It was likely to be liquid, but even they wouldn't let Gilda just digest it. Something that could be easily enchanted to protect against the pH, as well as... everything else. Gilda's system wasn't too big a fan of her being here bumbling around, growling at her and quivering in motions and sudden vibrations that toppled Dash with every step she tried to take until she was dragging herself through the puddle with her nose an inch above liquid.

Something easily enchantable, like... a glass bottle! Dash's grip clasped around something solid and smooth, seizing it to her chest and cradling it like a lost child between her breasts while pulling into a fetal position. Bless her mess, the team actually fed it to her girlfriend. Now to drink-

Hmm. Now to get ou-

Hmm. Now to tell Gilda to let h-

Dash sighed, trying to get comfortable in the quaking, dripping, hot, loud, slimy, rank chamber.

The bartender refilled Gilda’s fries coolly. It was amazing the kinship that could be formed over a sudden genitalia emergency.

“I think there’s some weird euphemism here I’m not getting, with the whole stomach thing, but I get the gist. Do you two fight often?”

“Oh, like cats.” Gilda confirmed.

“But do you love her?”

“More than life itself.” A small smile met her lips.

“Seems you’ve got something good going on then.”

“You know I’d never deny it.”

The bartender turned away to continue cleaning the glasses. “You’re a weird chick. Sorry about your pussy. I honestly assumed gryphons had cloacas, like dragons.”

Gilda shrugged it off. “Happens a lot.” Then, patting her stomach, she muttered one last, “Sorry, Dash. Cough you up when I’m in a better mood.”

And ordered another drink.

1- The Context

With a deep breath, Dash took her running start, eyes following the wood grain as the patterns zipped under her. At this size, the grain was a veritable maze of lines, weaving over the wood runway. Guesstimating the distance, Dash took a leap and found her aim to be true, the wood shooting under her and ending as she found herself in freefall what felt like miles above the ground, feeling the wind hit her cheek for a few fleeting seconds of daredevilling. One half flip later, she caught the air again on wings gusting open and entered a glide to catch her bearings of her surroundings.

An open bar, the barkeep washing glasses at the other end of the table. The wine shelves she had just left. A basket of fries on the table, fiddled with idly by the one occupant seated on the barstools- A butchy, muscled female griffin, disgruntledly looking down at her food.

"Don't suppose you'd have any meat...? No...?" She muttered halfheartedly to the barkeep, tearing her wandering hand from the fries and impatiently tapping her claws on the table.

And Dash herself, currently around two inches tall, riding the winds around the scene with an eagle's eye surveying the best route to her destination.

Wonderbolt-only parties suuuuck. The same as any party held by a band of sort-of-soldiers, with the homophobic jokes swapped out for heavy doses of magicky-pranks on whoever was newest, or closest. Dash was often saved only by her own quick wit; it was awfully hard to activate a turn-your-eyes-into-turnips cantrip when you were laughing too hard at the spell's intended target dumping octangerine juice through a funnel into the mouth of the sleeping Bolt just above her on the food chain. So, Dash was as close to a member of the jokes-don't-fly zone as Spitfire was, by sheer concentrated appreciation of a good joke. Of course, when something's off limits, it only makes the breaching of etiquette that much more tempting, and that much closer to inevitability.

"Alright, alright, very funny. So where's the antidote?"

Last night's wasn't so much 'pushing it' as it was 'a particularly creative one'. Poison joke in the glass, raised tenderly in a loving environment with naughty jokes whispered into its ear every rotation on the dot, and down Dash went, her size exponentially decreasing with her plasteredness. Antidote wasn't readily on hand, of course- that would only be an okay joke. For someone like Dash, special conditions were required, and over bouts of giggles, said conditions had been outlined.

"Inside your girl-friiiiiiiend."

Dash's friends often wondered if the Bolts were enablers, but she couldn't imagine what would make them think that.

That had been all the clarification she had gotten. Two inch tall fingering got old fast, and the party died quickly after they realized nothing could top that. So after an embarrassing morning of realizing no clothes fit her anymore and climbing back into her just-used Bolt uniform again, it was time to body slam onto the call app of her phone and bodyslam onto each number to call Gilda, arrange an impromptu date, and fetch that gem back.

Luckily, of all the creatures she was willing to climb inside, she didn't need much coaxing for this one.

"What the hell...?" Gilda leaned away from her glass as it suddenly toppled, sending water cascading down the bar counter. Behind one of the ice cubes, Dash ran hunkered down out of sight through the running water to safely make it back off the table, falling in tandem to the floor with the cube and spreading her wings as Gilda leaned over to grab a napkin. The subtle act pulled Gilda from the back of her chair, and Dash swooped in to intercept the advantage, bracing herself for the tight squeeze under the hem of Gilda's beaten brown bomber jacket.

"Laugh about this later, Gil," Dash quickly muttered before closing her eyes and diving.