[Scat] Gorging Morning, Slobby Sunset
[Scat] Gorging Morning, Slobby Sunset
Gorging Morning, Slobby Sunset
Written by Septia.
The sun rose bright and pastel, bestowing its light on the world below, a grand and encouraging symbol. Then, the sun rippled -Bwnnnng- with the image of the celestial body wavering under the waves of a white coat, as the hind swayed from side to side. Celestia peered back, observing her own amused expression along with her cheeks hustled together, the sun cutie-mark convex and stretched over the bulging bubble bottom.
“It appears we have accrued quite the bountiful dawn upon us,” Celestia remarked and swept her tail across the protruding voluptuousness of her flanks. She let her eyes trail along the arch of her bottom, along her legs, towards the crescent of her gut. The royal heinie was but one of the areas where curves had accentuated over the past while: the alabaster coat had filled to a silhouette of a modest level of bulk. The princess considered herself. She wouldn't dare call this by the dreaded three letter f word, but perhaps more, … robust. But, in the speak of the hip foals, her flank was certainly 'Phat'. She let the suns jiggle, a high rise and quick drop had them bobbing like pudding on washing machine.
She sauntered over to her wardrobe, perusing a selection of outfits, and later underwear. Though in terms of nether garments, there were few that could contain her sunrise without the risk of a tear. She decided then that instead of fighting, she would work with it. Celestia levitated a par of adjustable bikini bottoms and stepped back into them, tying the straps into little ribbons on each side, though even these bands sunk ever so gently into the padding of her haunches. The cyan fabric was a pleasant compliment to her coat. She clad herself in a dressing gown with fabric mimicking the rise of an autumn sun set in the gradient of tangerine to lemon sorbet, with the hind area of the dress accentuated in a deep yellow and patterns of orange suns, which now protruded outwards ever so noticeably… though the bikini aided in smoothing out the expanse of her rear canyon.
Just as the princess had swathed herself in the matching scarf she noticed a contraction in her belly. The growl that rippled under her dress gown had the princess straighten her neck -Ghhrbbgglpsh-, coughing to herself as if to hide the sound, then… -Snnff- -Snffns- She sampled the air, sniffing in a delectable aroma. A smile eased on her face as she left her wardrobe chamber, back to her bedroom. There stood a table dressed in a feast of a buffet, with a pair of maids setting the final dishes on the table. The plates and baskets radiated with an aroma of grease, batter, spice and chilly, plates and baskets of golden crisp and perspiring meat nectar painting a delightfully indulgent sight.
“Oh, princess, your brunch is all done, I do hope it is to your satisfaction,” A stallion maid said with a bow.
Celestia banished a drop of drool from her lips with a flicker of her horn. “An excellent job you have done, my little ponies,” she commended and sauntered towards the table, “after so much work, you two are deserving to have the rest of the day to do with as you wish.”
The other maid peeked up, “But, princess, if you beg my pardon I-.”
“Dismissed,” Celestia cut her off with a maternal, command.
The maids bowed and made their way out.
“Mff, haa…” she seated herself at the end of the table, waiting as she heard the hooofsteps of the aids disappearing. To then snap her eyes open and throw herself over the feast. First up she scooped a cauldron of gumbo against her, dipping the ladle into the slurry of meat and vegetables to scoop up a mouthful she poured into her open muzzle -Shrrllptsh-. The slop spattered against her outstretched tongue and trickled in a tilt down towards her throat, with a stray droplet winding down the side of her cheek. “Mmfmfs mmwf, oh that is good,” Celestia mumbled to herself as her tongue whipped up the droplet, ladling another scoop of gumbo straight into her muzzle. The brewn blemish oozing with a tang of crisped red onions, polluting the surrounding air. With the third scoop Celestia's muzzle was congested with the air of caramelised garlic and roasted beef brewed down to a thick bile. Her tongue lapped around her maw while she suckled down the sop -Shhrlrllrp- -Oosmpgsh- -Shhrpplltlsh-. “Phaa, haaa, oo that tickles down the throat…,” she mumbled and snatched up a burrito with her free hoof, rubbing the lightly toasted tortilla wrap against her snout before chomping into the rolled up bread -Aaawmfpsff-. She tilted her head and tore the top of the burrito clear off, scattering a mirth of refried beans, caramelised onions, cream and lettuce over the table. Two gnaws and a swallow for the burrito chunk to sink down as a lump in her gullet before she dove into the uncapped roll, concaving her cheeks. -Shhrrllrppprtp- With the rising air pressure she vacuumed the contents of the burrito, inhaling the carefully packed fillings with a sluggish -Chhrrlgpshrlspl- that filled up her cheeks with the bean fried fillings.
“Mmgnsm mmgpsh,” Celestia moaned and mumbled in between chews, crumpling up the hollow husk of the burrittortilla and packing it into her mouth in between chews, with globs of juices staining her cheek whilst the filling drooled passed every chance it had over her lips.
Before she had a chance to swallow she levitated another ladle of gumbo into her face, sipping up the contents, chunky broth with an eagerness rarely displayed to her subjects -Shhrrffwflwp-. With cheeks like a chipmunk the princess ladled in another mouthful of slop before tearing into another burrito, intermittently nursing the burrito and stew. Scraps of lettuce and flung chunks of beef sloughing around her while she indulged… She paused to chew -Chhrlrl- -Chgrgllgs- The slop swirling between her cheeks, the crisp crunch of cucumber and tomato smothered under the carpet of beans -Chhppwlflfwo-. Before swallowing… her cheeks deflated with an arch of her neck, the princess's throat domed around the multiple mouthfuls, sinking down her abdomen.
“Phaa, exquisite,” She mouthed and tilted the cauldron to her lips. The princess chugged down the remaining gumbo with a gusto that periodically swelled her throat as though she was swallowing anal beads. Dunking her head into the pot to lap up the globules of meaty stew her slurps echoed, peeling through the diving helmet of a bell around her head. She emerged with her muzzle painted a rich ginger red from the stew.
“Mmfph mfnssfrt,” Celestia snorted in a breath and smacked her lips before tearing into the last burrito -Shhlllrp- inhaling its contents and daintily allowing the tortilla bread to unfold in her grasp, dotting the impromptu napkin across her face to clear up patches of gumbo, swabbing up the streaks of crimson tangerine sauce -Shhrrlpts- and popping the soaked bread down her lips. The impromptu napkin went the same way as the rest of her meal. She scooped up the next pair of plates; a hillock of fried chicken and a pyramid of spicy cheese hot dogs. Her molars tore through the crispy batter with the crunch of sitting on a bag of chips -Chhrkkrffrtkt-, bread flakes of the battered poultry scattering in a dust storm under ravenous bites. Her cheeks curving into a grin as she chewed through the supple white meat, dunking the remaining chicken slabs into a bowl of buffalo sauce whilst hoisting up a chilly dog with her free hoof, snapping into it with the ferocity of a shark -Chhhrmmp-. The cheese stuffed meat tube detonated under the force of her molars, splurting its neon yellow filling of processed dairy, shooting ropes of gloop along Celestia's mouth and tethers of the gunk out across her lips. The mare moaned as her jaw fell open, unveiling a web of cheesy tendrils clinging from tongue to teeth to root, in a network of grease cluttered in mashed sausage meat before stuffing the rest of the sausage down her gob. But with her mouth still slobbered in the ruins of chilly and cheese the chicken strip had thoroughly been soaked in the red sauce and flung back to her mouth with a comet trail of condiments behind it, -Chhrlrlpthst- a crunch muted by the smothering of dip reverberated from under her teeth, the rich spice soaking the innocent flesh, invoking a smooth and indulgent, taboo of a flavour, reminiscing of watching a foal falling over. Celestia gnawed and crunched on the chicken patty -Chhrprbg- -Chhglrpsth- stuffing the rest of it down her gob as she reached for another hot dog, bursting at the seems with its greasy filling. Dip. Dip, chomp, swallow, dip, chomp, swallow. A macabre rhythm which sent all the more chunks of chilly-infused meat down the grindstone of her molars to be masticated into one uniform, delectable paste.
In between munches she let her tongue trail along her muzzle -Shhrrllpfth- moistening her coat though doing little with the grease other than sweeping it around her face in red and golden streaks. She levitated more chicken towards the middle of her muzzle as she stuffed sausages down the sides, reaching out her tongue to slurp -Shhrlrp- off the taste of spicy lubricant and smearing it along the gummed up cheese grotto her mouth was becoming to ease the path of the sticky processed clots, though the surefire way to get rid of it was just to cram more past her lips and dunk it down her throat -Ghhoooumpl-.
-Bhhouuraahlp- She let out a brief belch that sprinkled the table in crumbs and saliva infused mince meat. Along her lips laid straps of cheese, crowded with breading from her wild chomps, gathering towards the back of her lips whilst the front wolfed through the meats ahead, starting to look similar to a broken muzzle guard: vibrating the air ahead of her with the pungent mists of fat loaded, burning peppers. But speaking of fat, Celestia's eyes landed on one partially decadent piece. Levitating the plate to linger before her face: toasted sesame brioche, folds of bacon, fresh chilled lettuce, tomato, droves of fontina and cheddar, salt crystallized pickles and a lathering of mayo with two, fat patties… Oh, that burger was scintillating, Celestia slathered her lips up for a kiss as it approached, to unhinged her jaws over the helpless morsel. The bread, meat and toppings collapsed under the bite with the squelch of carving up an oil infused marshmallow -Chhngngk- -Spllrurth- . Celestia's pupils rolling back as the cacophony of lard coiled flavors rolled into her maw. The burgeons smothered into a crater around her muzzle like a delectable pillow. She rested there in the divot of her bite for a few moments, before pulling back, straps of lettuce, pickles and webbings of molten cheese stretching form burger to lips, snapping off and tumbling along with rivulets of undiluted baked buffalo lard streaming down her lips, past her chin and painting her delicate neck.
“Fmmfam mawmgh, phaa, my precious, little burger,” Celestia huffed in a haze, grabbing the burger with booth hooves and tearing into it, -ChhShfhrrkkrlsth- lettuce and straps of filling cluttered in her lap as she indulged. The princess used her wings to sweep off her midsection and let the clutter trickle onto the floor with the rest. “Mmfpsgms mpggha,” Celestia moaned around the confines of the burger, stuffing her cheeks to bloat as she chewed and chewed, imitating a cow in her ruminating, a zen-like state of chewing to feel the crunch of bread, beef, and crisp of vegetables -Chhrkk- -Chrrlrlpsts- all macerating into all the more drool soaked slobber -Chrrllllfsh- -Vrchlllsh-. With droves of lard seeping down her lips in fluid tendrils, imprinting the charred, beefy broth and cultured condiment flavors into her coat. Then, after one swallow… -Chglglpsmo- There was nothing… Celestia hissed, in an inhale, slobbering, searching with her tongue for any scraps of the burger, but feeling it long gone. Lost in the moment, a sadness of absence griped her. She brushed along the length of her neck, as if searching for where this pristine meal had gone. Soon enough she was drowning her sorrows in a bucket of fried onions, jamming her whole muzzle into the bowl to scrape and lap up the crackling grease fried rings, leaning back with long moans filtering through the bulwark of toasted onions in her maw and further polluting the air of the chambers. Her head tilted up to let the burger dip down in the pace of gravity, nibbling and gnawing away at its girth as it sunk in an intimate embrace past her gluttony.
The chomps and granulating gnawing of slobber and sauce rippled through her chambers. The redecorated feast left in a ruin of plates, pots, leaves with bite mark, and fat stains matting the cloth.
“Haaoogmpgsh, aosamgph, gmapgsugh-.” Celestia gnawed her way through the last bowl of nachos, slurping up creamy sourcream and chutney to the demolition of -Chhrrkkt- -Kksspggsh- crunches echoing from her lips, the grind of plaster pummelled by a wrecking ball -Chhhrxxgllrtch-. Her lips gradually closed around the mound of chips like an aperture, cheeks sinking inwards to siphon the crumbs down her neck, and into the engorging dome of a gut that swelled out the princess's abdomen. Bumping up against the table when she leaned back in the final swallow -Chhguuuooolpmgph-- -Gllrrrsk-. She groaned out, feeling a clutter of crumbs cyclone off her face in the gnawing grinds, and the elation that seeped through her nerves and into her every joint.
“Mmfm… phaa… mfmhaa…” Celestia reclined back with her gut bounding out ahead in a jostle of pudge, -Bbsvhnmp- as the royal gasped for breath after her airways had been clogged with grease so long. “Mmfp, phaa, even a princess has to let loose a few times, and what better way than such a scrumptious meal,” she mused to herself.
-Ghhbbrrllgpghghsl- her guts rumbled like a cement mixer full of bolognaise. The rumbles touring up her abdomen, along her barrel, and up her neck in a roaring, reverb convulsion. Celestia felt her cheeks inflate as the pressure built, and the growls -Gbbrhrlgllgps- roared up her neck as a pack of wildebeests. She parted her lips and freed the herd, -BbhUurrrahooaaaaaaaoooouuuuurrrrahp- -Aahrhlp- a typhoon of guttural fumes boomed past the once pristine lips. Shock waves fuelled by burning lard and frying oils cascading out in a howling blast of humid breath, the roaring storm vacated, flooding the room, setting the air atremble and the room quaking beneath her hooves under the tremendous expulsion of the last breath of her feast. The drapes of her bed rattling and an ill placed plate was shaken off of the table and fell with a crash -Crkrspth- of ceramic and fatty oils over the floor.
-Uuuarrharhapr- -ooooouurrhrp- Celestia formed the tail end of her belch with her lips, taming the final rung of the broiling storm, and feeling her gut contractomg and deflating around her meal. “Phaa… ha… Phew, perhaps I dropped some weight in that belch alone,” Celestia mused and caressed the mound of junk brewing away in her guts. Soon enough there were matters to attend to, but she required, but a moment to digest, which would hardly hold up her schedule.
~ 1 ~
-Bhrhgbbgsl- Celestia peered down at her belly, the faint rumble coursing through her abdomen, grown turgid over the course of the day's affair.
“What? Something the matter, Princess?” a Pegasus guard running to her chariot posed.
“Oh, that was simply,” Celestia mumbled, peering out over the landscape below… It had been a successful ceremony watching over the inauguration of Philistine's culture festival, though interacting with so many of her subjects at once was, tiring. Compared to he festival, the Wickersteed forest below appeared perfectly serene. “Come to think of it, let us land.”
“At ease, I am merely in search of some calm before we proceed to my next obligation. Rest, my little ponies, I will return shortly,” she instructed the guards and headed into the forest. A chatter of critters and a whispers of wind breezed through the early afternoon glow. Celestia peered around trees and bushes, she was certain she had seen… ah, there~. A glade, formed around a calm lake. She tapped the water. And with a nod relinquished her dress to the ground, letting her underwear drop with it before she thread into the water. Cool enough to chill, but fresh and clean on her coat. The mare shuddered as she swam out into the open water, humming a tune to herself as she savoured the weightless sense of bobbing along the surface. Listening to the buzz of nature and soothing graze of the water. “Mnff… haa…”
-Bhhrooourlp- A burble broke the surface of the lake, piercing Celestia's serenity. Her eyelids flew open, in time to catch a few stray bubbles break the water's surface. “Is there someone in the water?…” Celestia asked.
-Bhhrbglgbplbpplp- another cluster of bubbles foamed.
“I am sorry if I intruded upon-.”
-Cbrrglptsh- then she saw the bubbles form right after a growl from below the surface, right at her abdomen -bgbrlgpbrplprth-. Her eyes went wide. “That's… that wasn't me, was it?” she asked, then felt a spike of gurgles muted by the lake slosh through her guts -Bhrlpghhth-.
“Ofgh… o-okay,” she mumbled. The princess swimming back to shore and shuffling back into her clothes. “Perhaps we can make a pit stop before our next destingnnngmhg-,” she was interrupted by a coil of gurgles wrung trough her intestines, straightening the princess's neck and making her pinch her hooves together, “ation…” she grunted -Kkrbbgglglpgshgh- and took a deep breath. But the gurgles sprouted down her frame, out towards her packed dawn and…
-PPPhhhhbbrrrtfffrrrbbbrrpwtthhhs- The flatulence thundered through the thick thighs, bolstered by the bowel bog baked into bile though the princess' bum, cracking through the serenity of the glade like a firecracker whipped into combustion through the smack of a damp belt. Celestia's hind clapped at her rear under the torrent of smog roaring out her hind, seeping into the air around her in a boggy breath, the air growing damp with the scent of sports laundry unearthed form a swamp, left trapped and festering in the mud long enough for the sweat to cultivate into mouldy Gorgonzola.
“Mfphha, phaa…” Celesta coughed out. One wing wrapped around her muzzle and the other fanning behind her rear, her chromatic tail shedding some of its lustre in the point-blank impact of the vent.
“Phoa. I can not believe, it has ever been, that foul before… Was It something I ate? But, no that couldn't have come from, me, could it?” she uttered, attempting to finagle her way out of unleashing such a pollutant. Yet, -Gbbhrgllpghh- the churning growls of her guts proved otherwise.
-Vrrggfhhfgllpgsh- the milling of lumbered tensions crept through her bowels. Scanning her surroundings, Celestia scuttled over to a tree stump and pancaked her flanks into the woods, steeling herself to hold in the airflow.
“Phew, easy, we have a little ways to go still, we just have t-too… manage before… we-…” Celestia twisted and turned on the stump, the tension worming its way through her lap like an obease, carefree caterpillar. -Vrgrgffllh-.
“Your highness.”
Celestia froze, twisting one hind leg over the other and stiffened her spine straight, seeing one of her guards approach through the flora.
“Hello my, dear. How can a-aha… I help you.?” she asked, feeling a quake through her spine as the mire in her abdomen shifted downwards -Chffwlpfghs-.
“Merely to check in with your relaxation. You still wanted to arrive in Appaloosa in good time.”
“Oh yes, Appalosa,” Celestia said, then raised the volume of her voice to drown out a gurgle -Fbfhglglgs- “I was thinking of that too.” Beads of sweat formed under her tiara.
The guard blinked. “Yes. Surely. Then I presume you are ready for your departure?”
-Ghhrpghgsb- “Yeses,” Celestia wheezed out, holding her leg in place as her cheeks -Fbbfbr- vibrated against the stump below. “We, must make haste, there is something I nee…eeeh…” Celsetia felt the air leave her lungs, body instinctually contracting at the building ache of unreleased tension in her barrel -Chhgrllrllghsh. “Wha-. What I mean to s-say,” she controlled her voice, worked through the stammering and stimuli rearing through her frame, “that I wish to, take a brief stroll before we continue, merely require to stretch my legs after my swim, you s-see.” She smiled, teeth gritted as she could sense the whispers of venting fumes licking at her crack…
The royal guard nodded. “Certainly, your highness, we shall await you at the chariot.”
“Ex-excellent. I'll b…e. With you short…ly.” Celestia took her time annunciating to avoid slip ups, or slip outs…
The guard nodded and turned back. She watched the guard's tail fade into the greenery, listening to his hoofsteps disappear, cold sweat marinating her face. Then, once the coast was clear. “Uuuroghghhghsh,” Celestia groaned out and raised her hind leg high.
-Bpprrbbbrrwwwwbbrpthhhhhffrrrrppfsthsp- The cascade of yellowed miasma bellowed free in a torrent of exhaust, splaying her sphincter wide open for the blooming smog to project its rotten grandeur into the glade with the booming rupture of a punctured weather balloon. The fumes fluttered out, dense and reeking of a buffallo hide with flesh still marred into its sinews which had been tanned in pickle brine and chilli into a torched jerky leather. Celestia's clasped teeth spread open in a desperate gasp for air, sampling the grease fire of stench seeping out of her rear and launching her into a coughing fit. “Pha ahosha, ofhg… This, is disaster, my insides… feel like a trainwreck…” she groaned -Shhrglptsh- but then she felt the weight, the solids, that fat snake crawling through her innards… She dashed into the forest, half galloping, half flying over branches and bushes. “Somewhere, anywhere.” Has to be a place she could… And there it was, hidden away among a range of dilapidated builds, stood an outhouse… The wood was murky and damp with mold. It was a monument to abandonment and poor decisions. Celestia grimaced. She stepped up to the outhouse, recoiled in the damp humidity reeking from its walls, but persevered, opening the door, shuffling inside, and raising her dress up high within the glow of magic, to unveil the flowerbed of a hind bulbing at her backside, and dropped her hind onto the seat -Thhhdddwwrkrwp-. The impact echoed in creaks and strains through thee oaken fiber as the royal rear smothered the seat under its pale bulk. She closed her eyes, and eased the pressure. A thundering rupture of gas ruptured through her hind, -Pppppwhhhrrrwerooooopwtpths- shaking the foundation of the outhouse it the tremor of the fog flooding through her hind and jostling her cheeks like a setting batch of gelatin. Already a torching odour of charred onions crept up under her rear. The princess doubled over, her tail raised high and fluttering in the winds that seeped through -Cbbpthtsh- but the reflex sashed her belly into her thighs, and this amplified to the breath of a sledgehammer through her guts, until the gaseous flow was corked by a semi-solid clog -Frrhrhwhrhrhhfppt- -Klldthhhudggphls-. Celestia wheezed, eyes crossing and sweat drizzling her brow as she felt her hind distend, warping wider with a crackle of wading through mud, her muscles sobbing as the arching curl of regally forged bowel fudge wedged through her hind.
Outside, the air had been able to dispossess the stench of her bowel movement, but the outhouse was contained, the miasma from the flatulence and steam from the piping hot pony putty could fester. Whilst the bale unearthed itself from Celestia's plot she was left stewing in the stench. The atmosphere of the outhouse grew dense, a dampened atmosphere of lard growing rancid with with wine yeast; within laid the promise of something cultivated into a regal status, but instead corrupted, defiled by each other's mould and yeast eating away at each other, complimenting the fat and tart was the choking odour of meat slow cooked in sewage, an encompassing fragrance that chocked her maw with its demanding presence, and through the reek of beef molten to sludge, grease wilted to slurry, and wine and caustic yeast, cut the stink of moulding dairy pickled in liquified onions and ashes of blackened lettuce. Together, the smellscape painted a crude, warped parody of a high class meal, rendered in the deplorable dregs of each ingredient. The princess shed tears whilst her bowels cleaved her hind open. The onslaught of all the critters she had devoured conspiring against her in one coiling congestion.
-Shflrlpruttgghaht- The muck sloughed past her cheeks in a loaf of umber, pinching off under a hissing wheeze of gas -PPFhhrprpwhths- cutting into the grime. The loaf fell… -Kkkrwpptwwwulp- smacking into the corner wall in the basin below before sinking into the stale blue fluid filling the bottom. But it wasn't long before her hind swelled again under the yawning howl of fumes -Bbfwgrgrrwpth- and gape her brim broad in the onslaught of glistening, fat polished taffy winding its way out of the mare's regal posterior. -Chhrrslsllptsth- The mound ground against the lip of her brim to the crackle of crumbling meringue, a whole bunt cake of sludge warping through the straining princess's haunches and toppling into the blue abyss. -Chhrtwwwhhlllop- It fell with a sluggish heave, arching waves along the viscous fluids as it sunk like a scuttled ship in a swamp.
“Gnnghhragna…” Celestia wheezed and coughed in the circulation of her own concentrated miasma, fanning her wings as the outhouse buckled and teetered in her salvo of congealed compost… The regal alicorn contorted and squirmed against the ragged walls as she unloaded dough like a malfunctioning cementmixer. -Kkkkfplwthch- -Ckkrlrlp- -Twwhwooulp-. Creaks of grinding grease and lard culminating in a steep drop and a -Chhrrptphsth- splatter of goo staining the walls of the outhouse's chamber, the chunky, tubby dough spooling through in gratuitous, fat sausage links -Clpthth- -Clslptht- stacking into gummed hills atop one another, slowly devoured by the rising surface, until there was too much to contain, and the hill only rose higher through the fanfare of feculent farts -Fprpprwbrbrppthhs-.
~ 2 ~
An inhale. “Phaha,” and then exhale “Phhhaaaooourgghhs…” she wheezed and groaned in the mortifying relief, slumped back against the wall on the outside, limbs twitching as she tried to gather her thoughts. A splatter with the smack of coagulated banana puree into stale porridge, clapping into the mire below with the springy slap of a maggot eaten gummy worm. She panted, feeling her rear still trembling, twitching in the aftermath. She worried that there was more. She waited, but as the seconds stretched on, and the air of malformed, putrid musk melded the yeasty grease fire of an odour, she realised she had enough. Standing up on legs of boiled pasta. And reaching for…
“Uhh…” There was a distinct lack of toilet paper. Of course there was. Why would there beany? She stumbled, peered to and fro, trying to stand… -Chhrlrlpsth- but felt the smear and plaster of old glue grinding at her rear, there was no way out. She needed to do… something…, she needed, a sacrifice.
Celestia peered down into the pit, to the pile of stacked chocolate taffy melting into each other, cracks and fracture scenting to one another in a labyrinth of slick bowel lube, a crumbling monolith of a grand feast… and at its crown, a pair of, thoroughly, soiled bikini bottoms.
She closed her eyes, stepped out of the outhouse, and intending never to return…
“Your majesty.” A royal guard announced as they saw the princess step out of the woods. She barely reacted. “We heard screaming, and rushed back, is everything as it should be?”
Celestia peered to her hind. “It is… dealt with. I wish you to bring me back to the castle.”
“But, your highness-.”
“Please,” she said with a pause and then muttered, “there are, other obligations which I require tending to,” She said as she walked past them towards the chariot. The yellowed dress that caressed over her hind crept into a cleft under her tail, slimming to a pinched crevice accentuating the volume of her hind, as it bounced down in her delicate steps, bobbing smooth under its own weight.
The Guards exchanged a glance, eyes furrowed, then nodded, before joining the princess.
~ 3 ~
The guard peeked back as Celestia sauntered in through the castle doors, a single drop of sweat trailing his forehead, until she was out of eyesight.
“Didn't it appear before that her highness was wearing underwear?” The one guard asked the other.
“Humph,” the other replied in a scoff, “You certainly have been watchful over her plot, haven't you?” he curted, before returning to their duties.
[Scat] Gorging Morning, Slobby Sunset
[Scat] Relieved Day, Muddy Midnight
Relieved Day, Muddy Midnight
Written by Septia.
“Phhheee…” Celestia sighed as she closed the door to her quarters. There was an aroma of her royal breakfast still lingering in the air, of grease, cloaked fatty proteins and stale condiments, a scent that reminded her of the outhouse… She wished to be rid of anything reminiscent of such an odour, harkening back to those memories. Appaloosa were not going to be happy with the delay to her visit, especially since the trip to Philistine’s culture festival had gone off without a hitch. Though after her… excursion, to the Wickersteed forest she required a moment's peace, and a change of underwear… or, changing into, any underwear. The princess glanced back to her rear. Down the slope of the yellow summer dress adorning back, falling over her cheeks, draping and strapped between her flanks from the lack of underwear-. Her eyes snapped open. The dress had sunk deep, defining the portly princess hind with more contour and definition than if somepony had painted a massive target on her in black marker. In the rush of strain the princess had scrambled to tug off her dress. She slid out of the front, folding it back over herself, the yellow fabric unfolding over her rear like the petals of a wilting daffodil, the last of the cloth pinched stuck in her hind. “Just, get, it off,” she grunted. Her hind hooves stomping the dress onto the floor, and yanking herself forwards. It crinkled out of the grasp of her her rear in a splutter of dried fabric -Chhrffrrwth-. The matriarch sighed, seeing it fluttering into a fall, with clear folds of crumpled fabric outlining a butterfly of fissures where the cloth had been trapped in her south canyon. She tilted her neck down with a sigh.
“I really ought to cut back on frivolous diets,” she mumbled to herself. This whole day had turned into a cornucopia of coincidence and circumstance, certainly, though there was a certain courage in having a scapegoat to condemn rather than carry the consequences of her own accord. Besides, she could do with cutting back some. Celestia hoisted up the dress. The front kept light and airy, though as she leaned in close to the proverbial butterfly folds, -Snnf.- the sniff sent her muzzle caving back in on itself, squished like an accordion that tumbled down the stairs. The air rung foul in a wave of putrefaction with warps of decomposing jerky and crude salad oils. Celestia banished the dress to the laundry basket. She proceeded to stamp it down with her hooves, giving her hind a brief scratch before levitating the garment ahead of her. With her hooves to trap it near the bottom, away from prying eyes. It would be dealt with as would any laundry, residual shame was scrubbed under a platitude of soap and sponges. The cool, comforting air of her bedroom coursed through her lungs.
The shackles of embarrassment and strain of her duties eased. Vanquishing the weight off of her veins… she could focus inwards, feel her consicousness through every fiber of her behind, fee-… how… her rear was really itchy… She kept scratching at her hind, digging, massaging over her bun so a crater formed along the cheek where she weighed down the pressure of her hoof… But the itch sat, deeper. She recoiled. Of course… of course her underwear would not be… sufficient for clearing her hind… Banishing the thought of what would have happened, how much worse itwould have been if she abstained… Celestia's cheeks pinched together -Bbbwthham- bumping up with a jostle of steel taut buns clapping firm. Though the tingle disrupted her focus. She planted her hind straight down on the carpeted floor -Bbthwhthsp-.
“T’is merely a worldly matter, I have been throuuuoooo w-why?” Celestia asked as the itch spread from the depths of her crack up through her canyon: the ache a spider spun a web over the princess's nerves as it widened its territory across her posterior. Breathe in, then out, in then out… “Have to be strong, but the itch… This irritation plagued her senses. There had to… be a way to be rid of it… she thought, flailing and grinding her back. Opening her eyes, she looked back, noticing she had traversed across half her room on her hind. Forehooves clamped down on the ground ahead of her, and dragged back, hauling her forwards, scooching onwards in some display of raw, primal instincts. She reached her hooves forwards, then halted herself. This was beneath her, this was some sort of-. But her hooves moved out of their own volition, trawling her forward, steamrolling her cheeks plastered to the carpet, brushing her hind against the grace of the bristles in the fabric below, which caressed along the grooves and furrows in her pucker, sweeping away the straining ache. Her pupils rolled up into her head in this stream of relief. “Oh-a-hoahaa,” tingles cascading through her body from dealing with this disgraceful itch.
“Jus-just, a couple more…” she mumbled, dragging herself onwards like a tobaggoned and hound all at once, intertwined; scooching, with a brush of her grand hind bulldozing the carpet -Chhptphhgs- to have her hind be blessed by the embrace of the carpet, creeping its way up through her crack with the help of her motions, the bristling, drag of resistance pelting her aching hind with the taboo sensation the alicorn had seldom dreamed of…
Celestia stood sharp and straight as a nail. Wings unfolding and flapping along, providing additional drag to wind her onwards, sailing over the brush of the carpet like a ship across a calm ocean. Wingspan folding inwards, she coughed to herself, eyelids pinched taut. “There, has, to be a more poignant solution,” Celestia mumbled to herself. Though without the stride of the graceful carpet,the desire to scratch the ache built, revving like a steam engine… there had to be a way to handle this in a dignified manner, there must be some form of implement… And there it was – upon a tray bestowed upon her by her dear maids, steeped tea – still steaming – near to a cup; by the side, a jar of honey. It must have been Sweeper Clean, that mare always knew Celestia harbored quite the sweet tooth. Yet, it was not the honey, but what laid beside it. A stick of carved wood tapered off towards a bulb; wooden layers forming a rugged surface and shelves for honey to nestle within: A honey wand. It appeared to… shimmer.
Celestia's eyes sparkling in its grace. Trotting over, she levitated it with a whip of magic from her horn, spreading her cheeks, and… -Pwwthp- The marriage of wood and flesh commenced. Her tongue lulled out in the jolt of satisfaction crashing through her nervous system: akin to satiating a wailing foal with a pacifier, her royal trench was satiated by nursing the wooden implement. She threaded the first layers of elevated oak disks down to grind against the rhind of her mud chute, and the gentle scrub and twirl of the wand vanquished the ache with a serene spell of alleviation and comfort. Celestia's breath eased, the comfort settling in her nerves as she revolved the wand against the crusted perimeter. “Sweeper Clean, you gorgeous mare. What would I mfmmf, do without y-yooou~.” Celestia mused as she stirred at her pit, scrubbing and indulging with gentle vibrations that flushed the irritation out of her nerves, and let her settle in a calm she had not felt since this morning, gorging on those delectable fried morsels and chugging down her lemonade… perhaps it was too early to give up her lavish meals after all? Celestia pondered, close to the melting point once she had finally found the key that fit exquisitely in her steady lock, and she couldn't help but keep turning, and twisting the key, feeling it soak in and brush away all the discomfort. Such an indulgence… Her mind drifted away, and all the struggles of the day, seemed so inconsequential. All would be fine.
~ 1 ~
The princess held the honey wand ahead of her. It had served its purpose. And it had done so well. Were she able to provide a title of honor to a tea-time utensil, she would. Though as it stood, she needed to be rid of this too… It would be suspicious to find in the laundry and in the state it was now, it would certainly stand out with the rest of the dishes… She could wash it herself, certainly her wardrobe had some form of shampoo to rid the smell of her shame fr-.
-Kkdnk-Dkgnk-KDnnkg- three, clear, consice, knocks at the door.
“Princess, would it be fine if I bothered you for just a minute?”
Celestia swallowed. That was Twilight. She glanced between the honey wand and the door, then slammed the utensil back on the tray, hidden in the shadow of the honey jar.
“Of course, my most studious pupil. My doors shall always remain open for you,” she called out in the soft, regal tone she had developed though the centuries.
The door swung open, and the lilac mare trounced inside. “I know, though as a great ruler once said: ask for nothing, and ye shalt receive nothing,” Twilight said, walking up to her mentor's side with a touch of a chuckle. “That ah, was you, though the quote may be a touch old-fashioned at this point.”
“Oh, Twilight, if that is old fashion, then what would you call me?”
“Oh that's, ahah, I wasn't implying…”
Celestia let out a soft chuckle. “Oh, my dear little pony, as much as you have grown there is a cautious politeness that shall never fade.”
“Suppose you are right, though I have been reading up on cognitive behavioural therapy that might just, oh, well, no sorry. where are my manners.”
“Oh no, do go on.”
“I can always write you about it later, but I am here to ask how it went on your royal excursions: Quite the trip to go all from Philistine to Appaloosa.”
Celestia's brows stiffened for a moment. “Ah, yes, there, were some complications, though I had to move the Appaloosa appointment. Perhaps you would do me company for their address on the morrow?”
“It would be my honor, princess, though it is a shame the trip had to be cut short. I know how you enjoy the pastries they cook up in that ol' waterin-ge-hole.”
Celestia took in Twilight's attempt at slang with a smirk; it was the uniform pronunciation of somepony who had only read of accents in a book. Which, did fit the bill, and was was most assuredly the case.
“Only the more delightful to enjoy it together, dear Twilight.”
“Phoo, speaking of, I see you haven't had your tea yet, Princess.”
Celestia's insides shattered, only the facade remained congruent in holding her together.
“And I am feeling quite parched. Could I join you for a cup?”
“I… am not, thirsty,” Celestia… spoke.
“Oo, then don't mind if I have a taste? Rather parched and this blend smells delightful.”
Celestia reached out for Twilight who levitated the cup and filled it with tea.
The stress muddled Celestia's memory: did Twilight enjoy honey with her tea? She was the kind of pony to drink it straight for the steeped flavor, right? But if she did… what kind of excuse could she make for her? If it was even necessary? Her mind wobbled and inverted with uncertainty, affixed to the floor as her pupil finished filling the cup.
“Ooh, almost forgot.”
Oh no. Sweat pooled at the back of Celestia's head. Seeing the honey wand enveloped in a soft, purple light, raising together with the jar.
She reached out a hoof. “Twilight wai-.”
The wand dunked past the surface -Chhgtwhhllloop-, the golden fluid seeping into every nook of the carved grooves, spun and twirled through the jar before being hoisted out and drizzling a stream of the turgid syrup down the cup of cloudy drink -Csllrpth-.
“Hmm?” Twilight wondered with a raised eyebrow. “Oh, you changed your mind, princess? Would you like a cup?” Twilight said and offered the cup towards her mentor, in a sincere gesture of generosity.
She felt her eyes spinning, staring into the cup, watching the folds and tangles of honey coil upon another in the bottom of the porcelain, a swirl of thick nectar that curled and drooled together like a big, steaming, pile of…
She swallowed the repulsion before it reached her face. “Please, do go ahead. Just wanted to warn you-… a-about keeping honey i-in… moderation,” Celestia strung the words together like she was knitting a sweater, and halfway through had forgotten what loop or through-stitch meant.
Twilight snickered, “I assure you there is nothing to worry about calories on my end. I had a book for lunch, and you know those aren't exactly high in calories,” Twilight snickered.
Celestia felt inclined to join the guffaw. As she saw Twilight put the cup to her lips, a sniff, and… take a big swig of the tea. “Aha…aha… hfnnngf-…” Celestia felt a tinge of discomfort wrap at the tip of her tail, coursing upwards, through her spine, ravaging her frame in a cluster of displaced sentiment, the discomfort cultivated through her arteries, unearthed like farm loam.
“Phaaa… Oo, this blend really got some uh… zing to it. You'll have to tell me what kind this is,” Twilight said with, only a modicum of hesitation.
“Mm hmm,” Celestia nodded, with teeth clenched behind a delicate smile. She waited a moment, Twilight followed suit. Just… a long silence, stretching between them, elongating. Did she know? She must must know… But was she just not realising it to her face? 'Wow, Princess, this sure tastes rancid. Did you steep the tea in your plot or something?' But Twilight could never say that, could she? So was this just her playing? Or too awkward to mention it? Did she genuinely not notice it?
Twilight went for another sip, the light burbling slurp of tea filling the silence.
The fact she couldn't read her student only weighed on her like a carriage… “Ooh, that reminds me, did you remember to pick up that tome on the psychology of trench farming over in Philistine?” Twilight wondered.
A change in topic, score. “Yes, I do believe I did. It was quite a busy day, but I saw clear to that errand early on. It should be… should… be, right…” Celestia mumbled. She did recall picking up that book, but, she had other priorities which had been thrown off, certainly today.
“That is fine, I know I always remember to put away important things in some clever places, but if I could only recall what those places were afterwards, aha,” Twilight joked. “Perhaps they are just left in the chariot? That might be where you left your necklace too.”
“Most possible, I could have left it with… What did you say?”
Twilight gestured to her. “You, aren't wearing it.”
Celestia felt her hair tense down to its roots, peeking down at her neck. 'Oh, so that's why it felt cool.'
“Oh but, we are certain that…” Celestia's eyes bulged open. In her mind’s eyes she saw her vision zoom out from her bedroom. Then out to watch over Canterlot, then out over the land, and further to witness all of Equestria. Then focus, pull in towards the ground, above the Wickersteed forest, close by the pond she had visited, towards the outhouse, and there… at the floor of the outhouse… laid her necklace. A gleaming piece of jewellery in a run down, mouldy atmosphere of rotting bark and a far worse concoction in its depth…
Celestia's face froze as she processed this vision, quivering.
“Princess?” Twilight inquired.
Celestia shook her head. “Right, of course. It is certainly just left waiting in the carriage, I will see to pick them up shortly.”
“Celestia, with all due-,” she took a sip -Shhrlrp-, “With all due respect, you seem to have had quite a stressful day, I am sure the maids could escort me to-.”
“Twilight, Twilight, oh never bog yourself down with such a task. I could use a walk myself, and you just be sure to tend to your own studies, alright?” she said as she started to walk to her, then with the pony, head out towards the exit of her room.
“Princess, I assure you that-.”
“Oh I assure you, Twilight Sparkle, It is of no concern,” she said whilst practically shoving Twilight out the door. The mare looked back to Celestia, and felt her eyes drawn to the carpet. There seemed to be… grooves in the fabric, the grain of the threads, carved and curved in slopes, with… tracks of… skid marks?
“Well if you insist, I am not going to rob our princess of some exercise.”
“Ahah, I could use it, couldn't I ahaha,” Celestia mock laughed. “You be on your way now. Thank you for stopping in, bye-bye take care,” Celestia said and shoved the door shut, locking the door behind her student.. She blanketed it with her whole body like a goalie in preparation for a free kick. She held her breath… one… two… three… She heard the taps of Twilight's hooves dancing away in the hallway.
“Phaaaoooo…” Celestia wheezed, slumping together by the wall. Sashaying her head she gave a dismal salute to the jar of honey, knowing where it had been, there were precious few uses left for it. She patted her chest, at the vacant space of her necklace. She remembered the choking odour, how heavy the adornment had felt on her lungs. But how could she have forgotten?… She steadied herself. Staring out at the budding evening. Through her window. Striding out on the balcony. Partaking in a carriage back implied giving her guards an explanation of why she were to visit the desolate glade In the Wickersteed forest once more… But, perhaps, tonight… She closed her eyes. Horn lit aglow. At feeling the registry of the sun… that warm, youthful glow lingered after a long day of spreading its light. She comforted it, shushed it, allowed it to rest…. With that, the day's evening, was concluded before its schedule.
~ 2 ~
Celestia soared in the moonless night. It would be a moment before Luna took to her duties, realizing that no glow laid upon Equestrian, but that would give her just enough time… There was no pony who noticed a shadow in the sky among a world of shadows…
She soared over the forest, once the shine of night was upheld, she landed into the canopy of the trees, towards the silent ground. Silence all around her. Good… it was not far from here.
As the princess began to search through familiar vegetation, trying to catch the scent of water or… unsightly substances, lingering on the breezes… she did not consider… that silence, did not ensure she was alone…
A body shimmied in the darkness, hounding the bright pale mare… Its eyes caught on the grand, plump rump that was jostling gently on their haunches… The creature growled. And trekked through the darkness, closer… closer… Silent, not to spook its morsel. Jaws pried wide, dripping with drool, threading right up to the mare's frame.
-Gbbghrhgbghsh- Celestia felt a rumble through her frame, after a brief glance she eased the pressure, her tail hoisted as her cheeks blurred in the vibration of hot mists -Vvvrrfffppprrrwwwprth- The gale fluttered forth in a reek of sweat marinated bone broth distilled into a sharp alcohol wisping through the calm forest air. The Creature was stuck with a mouthful of the stench, filling its maw and clamming into its nostrils.
“Hughaahhgha…,” it wheezed out a breath of smog, and slumped down on the ground, cross eyed.
Celestia let out a soft sigh. “Haaa… so glad no one was here to sample that one,” she mused and strode onwards, leaving the piled up mammal knocked out in her wake.
~ 3 ~
It filled her with relief to see the light of the moon reflected in the lake, framing her sister's presence in the sky in a beautiful frame. A place she would adore to share with her pupil. But, she could never bring her with a clear conscience… Trotting onwards, she felt her path through the trees, her steps still fresh. And… there it was… The outhouse… An obelisk of filth towering in its hoof-made horror against the backdrops of the natural world… “In, and out, easy enough…” Celestia said, though it still took her near a minute with her hoof above the handle before she proceeded. “Please be there… Please be there,” She mumbled.
-Krrrrrnnnk- The door’s cringes creaked… There it was, gem pointed down to the tile of planks, a deep exhale ridding herself of worry as she reached down for it. “There we are.”
A rustle in the bushes -Ckrkrch-.
Panic. This was an outhouse, of course some pony lived nearby. And if they did, and saw here… here.
Celestia rushed into the outhouse, slamming the door shut behind her, and instantly cursing herself for the clack of wood that echoed out amidst the trees.
“Perhaps, it was just her imagination…?”
-Thhhd- A step… -Thhd- Another… it was approaching…
The ursine raised his head, and sniffed. There were scents, unusual, here, ones that were not a summer scent, nor an autumn scent. It was… fresh. Unnatural. It move and lumbered between the trees. And followed its nose. Until it found… the hollow tree. The strange, sharp tree that appeared one day. The scent. It was coming from in there. It walked towards it, raising its paws; and rested them to the bark…
“Please just go,” Celestia mumbled to herself, jamming the lock and turning it shut, hoping the intruder would take the hint or think it was jammed. The bear, weighed in on the outhouse. Claws digging into the fiber, carving paths through it, steadying its grasp.
“Celestia was muffling her own wheezes, feeling her hooves shake as she held the door in place. The wood buckled, paws slammed against the door, each time digging deeper, a rasp of skinning a tree as it screamed in splinters reverberating between Celestia and the nature-ruled night. “Stop,” she cried out.
The bear slammed harder. -Thhtgbpash- “Stop it, o-occupied just give me a moment,” Celestia pleaded.
-Ththwhpahg- -Thhtwngaj- slams after another, the ursine weighing into the box… until… -Clkrthc-. The bulk, set the booth off its center of balance. Celestia 's eyelids twitched, feeling the world, tilting backwards… and hearing a chug of a damp mire chugging onwards, staring down the pit to witness the darkness rushing upwards, lard in a crown of tainted white underwear…
The Outhouse, tipped. -Thhtbghgh- crashing down flat, its weight balance displaced, dragging it over the edge of a slope in the terrain. Roots and brushwood paved aside as the outhouse tobaggoned down the terrain, underlined by a weighty chug of a bathtub of syrup dunked over a mattress, and the cry of terror reverberating the planks -Chsgltlpgh-. “AhahKyayaaaarhg-.” -Chhgltpgh- though as the outhouse came to a stop, a few meters down the slope, the scream was buried to a faint mumble, and then nothing…
The bear, motionless. Paws resting on the ground. Its nostrils flared. -Snnfn- -Snnrrrffth-. The scent it sought, was no more. It sauntered off, leaving the outhouse toppled, and stewing, in silence.
~ 4 ~
“Princess Celestia? Princess?” Twilight called out, knocking on the door.
Twilight stepped back, confused.
“I, guess she is really not in there.”
Sweeper Snack stepped forwards, daintily knocking. “Your majesty? Your sister had to step in to raise the Sun, it is far too late in the evening. Please answer?”
She stepped back by Twilight's side. “Strange…”
“She must not be in.”
“That does not make sense…” A par of royal guards joined them. “The princess has not scheduled any outings, or reported leaving the castle.”
“So… we have no clue where she'd been? At all?” the maid said.
Twilight shook her had. “She could be anywhere. She could have been kidnapped, we must sound, some form of alarm. If we cannot find her soon, then who knows what could happen.”
“But,” the first royal guard interjected, “Her majesty could be anywhere: she could be in the town square, halfway across the continent, or-.”
The other guard raised a hoof. “Right there.”
Everypony's eyes turned.
-A droplet of grime hit the hallway with a splat of overcultured yogurt -Schrlrlptsh-. Drippling from a beard of sludge that had formed down a once elegant neck, now hung low to the ground. It was… difficult to discern the princess; few mares shared her, proportions, but her silhouette was… muddled. Coat drenched in a deep deluge of raw umber and chestnuts hues, cracked with fissures sprawling from her neck down her legs and all across her barrel, slathered. The fissures spread and contracted along with the mare's breaths, softer segments smushed and stretched with tethers of grime webbing them to entwine, while other slabs -Chhglrlg- ground together like coarse sandstone, crumbling with sediments of hardened sludge sprinkled across the ground she strode down. The worse laid to her underside – as though she had hugged an avalanche – but her back wings laid soaked in a tainted auburn, sprawled with a gallant blue spiralling through the pattern of grease and bowel lard coating her frame. The caked on dough reached all the way up her head, where her horn hung drooping with clogs of manure gummed to the appendage, sloughed down like dunes of candle wax pooling down from a long, lit candle. Ironically, there was little of the princess’s former, waxy white to be shown through the overcoat of muck that now made up her attire. Patches of toilet paper draped down her side, plastered and matted to her, the fissured furrows drawing down to the floor like a bride's dress train… leaving paving streaks of moisture in its wake. Her crown sat tilted, and her ears glued with grime to her head in a permanent slope. Stodge full of a mire of dried and goopy sludge, like a cargo of partially-baked cookie batter had been dumped on her, some segments softer, other crispy and crackling. A veritable trove of gunk and sediments drizzled in her path, each step, closing in… The air reached the bystanders… A raw bile of reducing cider to not but a sour pudding, and then boiling it with swamp water and dropping a bag of brine and a mountain of pepper into the pot, and leaving it to stew in basking summer sunshine… the air twisted before it reached the ponies' nostrils, warping the overwhelming tartness up their snouts as the… thing, hazed closer.
Twilight covered her face. The maid soon to follow. Both guards, attempting to restrain their composure, but finding themselves only suffering in the onslaught of pickled sweat and molten sulfur slag wafting in the winds as the figure approached. A sting of a neutralizing agent cut through the stench, though its quest to dampen the walking heap of sludge was a trifling endeavor. The stench displaced the air in a mockery of petrichor, as if a fertilized farmland had been struck with a hail of acid rain… The figure slugged up towards the door, ponies parting their way for it. One last, soft step underlined with a slough of sludge -Clslthpgh- stopping the mare in her tracks. The silence filled with the drooling percolation of acidic urine mixed with tart muck. Slow, quaking breaths weaved through the atmosphere. Her wings flopped out for a moment -Clfplwthh- casting a splatter of dung in a rugged perimeter around her, before they folded back in with a crackle and smear of muck plastered between layers of rubber -Chhrllghthth- -Clgphththaght-. The wings slotted into place in the gruelling splat of contorted grime. -Cslpgthahg-glpghtha- Globules of slop dislodged and toppled to the ground in a husk of umber -Sfllvglptwhwp-. Drooling bowel fluids in stretching puddles over the hallway flooring. One, soft breath.
The voice wheezed out, through teeth and spittle, as stern as a bowl of lemon peel. “Twilight…”
“Y-yes? Pr-princess?”
The silence laid pregnant. Celestia's pupils shifted to stare her down. “Do, not, involve, yourself.”
Twilight swallowed. Coughing as she held over her muzzle. “U-un. G-got it,” she replied, and backed off.
The pupil trailed to the maid.
“Sweeper Clean…”
“Y-Your majesty?”
She turned her head away. “Cancel… any of my dut-… appointments, for, the day…”
“B-but I-… Y, -yes.”
“Bring… four…” a silence, as a droplet of raw sewage drooled down her chin and splattered against the door, “five, bottles of mouthwash. Four, warm, wet towels… a liter… of shampoo-… p-poo…” she trembled at the word, “and a jug of conditioner…”
“O-of course, I'll see to it immediately.”
Celestia closed her eyes.
“Silver Feather, Ore Shield,” she addressed the guards by name, without a glance. “Speak of this day to anyone…” A heap of dried sludge drooped off of her, cracking against the ground like gavel striking jelly -DDtth-Gplltch-. “You will be banished. To the trenches of Canterlot's sewage system…”
The guards stood straight, keeping their posture in the waves of cloying stink, even if their hooves rattled.
Celestia hummed and opened the door to her chambers. A sigh fell through tired lips. “Dismissed…” she wheezed and stumbled inside.
As the door closed, one a chunk of slop drooped down off of Celestia's horn, uncovering a piece of fabric, flopping under the grime slathered weight… a pair of once petite, delicate underwear.
Shield blinked and looked loser, before the door shut. His eyelids flashed open with realization “Ooooh, so that's-,” he said with clarify slicing through the strained atmosphere, “So that's where her underwear went.”
