Title: Vinyl Scratch: The Septic Tank Author: StallionStoryGuy Pastebin link: http://pastebin.com/sjmiGbrf First Edit: Friday 23rd of January 2015 11:40:59 PM CDT Last Edit: Last edit on: Saturday 24th of January 2015 04:50:17 AM CDT Heavy shit beyond this point.   ---   Vinyl Scratch lays back, against some cold abrasive concrete floor, a cloudy grey dull light shining through some hole behind, where she cannot turn her head. The room is dim and impossible to make out the scale of, the light falling off to pitch blackness beyond a point. Dark, cold, but dry. As her senses return, she makes out the object attached to her muzzle as well as something down below that spreads her anus wide and full. Claustrophobia dominates her mind as she attempts movement in the unfamiliar environment. Vinyl tugs against her leather bondage cuffs as the yellow, acrid, liquid makes it's way up the tube trailing into her lips. A generous amount of duct tape clamps her muzzle down firmly over small rubber exterior, careful attention paid not to obstruct her nostrils, and spirals several feet down the length of the tube. It nearly chokes her as the flow begins far back in her throat, and gags her as she clamps off the way down. The sour flavor grows as the liquid bulges her cheeks until finally she takes a great gulp. The pony winces as she forces the salty solution downward, settling roughly in her stomach. Several gulps later her mouth is emptied only to be filled again, the unabating flow drives her into a panic as the pony swishes it around her mouth, seeking a way to force it out some other way than to swallow, yet again. Her mouth reaches capacity as the liquid keeps on flowing, seeping into the back of her throat and coating her tongue eliciting unsavory sensations. She twitches as a few salty droplets spew from her nose, and drizzle down the mass of tape bonding the device to her muzzle. She makes several attempts to resume pace with the flow, her cheeks painfully full of acrid liquid, three twitches of her throat manage to send a reasonably sized bubble of liquid down, settling again with the same unpleasant dropping pang, deep in her gut. She continues, trying her best to avoid the taste as she forms some semblance of clearance to the possibility of drowning in the piss being forced into her. A shudder in the tube wedged in her anus brings her head over her jiggling potbelly of urine, eyes widening as she tries to shuffle her hips to block the flow. A deep dark liquid creeps it's way slowly through the tube, running through the massive silicone plug that widens her anus, painfully, and seals to the walls of her rectum through a considerate application of some clear and hardened adhesive substance. She can only struggle pitifully as the sludge disappears behind her distended belly and into the hole of the plug, sealing such grotesque sewage inside of her body, tightly, but not before pressing the remaining air of the tube along with it leaving her feeling heavily bloated. Her stomach twists as the warm golden flow continues and the disgusting mix meets her insides with a pleasant warmth, causing her to moan out in shock. She can feel it against her insides, the flow speeding up over several minutes, as she shifts uncomfortably. Her stomach, now distended greatly, towering over even the horn that pokes from her vibrant, messy mane. An urgency builds as the pressure does, as she comes closer to panic. Her intestinal tract and stomach now a warm, billowing, balloon of disgusting waste, showing through her increasingly taut abdomen.   The tubes shudder once more as the flow in both ends abruptly.   Fetid gas and foul fluid slosh audibly as she shifts her weight into a more comfortable position, gigantic gut bearing down on her poor frame, yet unable to move far, bondage gear holding her in place on the floor. Only now has she noticed, the large mass of liquid fed into her, being processed by her body, has left her bladder full. Inflated to the precipice of it's capacity. She wiggles her thighs, holding in the recycled fluid. It assaults her senses in violent pangs of pressure, the same as her stomach, leaving her rear hooves to fidget as best they can in bonds. One final pang sends her over the edge as she lets go and her bladder empties it's warm, wet payload onto the stone, cold floor. Her fur becomes matted and wet as it pools under her, running over the very tube that filled her.   The light begins to dim.   She panics, wobbling, and evoking the fermented sludge to bubble and evolve gas, as the room goes dark. Vinyl's stomach expands slightly,  darkness consumes her remaining thoughts and vision.   She lays still, in wait, the pressure building in her bladder again.   The wait drawn out, as time seems to flow forever in the dark, silence. She releases again, wetting the ground beneath her further in the pitch black.   The wait turns to sleep, interrupted only to empty her bladder as it fills up, her flesh softly expanding with fermented gas over what feels like hours, maintaining it's warmth in such a cold environment.       ...         She is awakened, in the warm and growing puddle of reprocessed liquid, swiftly, as the tubes shudder to life again.   Such is the Draconian punishment, the rise of nightmare moon. Sentencing resistance to the most severe and inequine forms of punishment to be conceived of by pony kind. The DJ groans as she is her immaculate, wet, matted flesh is strained, becoming accustomed to it's new permanent life as the queen's royal septic tank, disgusting mass of her majesty's powerfully, magically enhanced refuse responsible for her bodily, hermetically, contained punishment.