Author's Notes:

(This was a partner artjam from forever ago. To find the art that goes with this story, search “voraciouscutie heroes” on furaffinity.)

(For this one, I personally suggest you skip my usual fetish checklist and go in blind. I feel this one is more fun with some surprises.)

Immediately after being cleansed of evil is when a pony is most at risk of corruption, so when Luna indulges in an old “tradition” that exposes her to this danger, Celestia decides to intervene.

Fetish Checklist:

ONE: implied vore (Luna/[unknown]), mild corruption, aftermath of bone disposal, scheming

TWO: misleading/lying to prey, classroom/lesson setting, teasing cruelty, slow/detailed oral vore (Celestia/Moon Dancer), unwilling to semi-willing prey (via sexual teasing) and back to unwilling, self-stuffing (Cele/cake), mostly-implied beginnings of digestion

THREE: intimate setting, slow/detailed oral vore (Luna/Twilight Sparkle), enthusiastic prey, mid-vore tongue sex, discreet purification, implied endosoma

FOUR: post-digestion weight gain (Cele), appreciating WG, corruption (Daybreaker)

- - - -

ONE:

Immediately after giving Twilight Sparkle her new assignment of studying the magic of friendship in Ponyville, Celestia looks around and notices the absence of the newly restored Luna. Though disappointed (which she did her best to hide for Twilight’s sake), the princess is, all the same, sadly not surprised, for Luna had always been—even since foalhood—reclusive; indeed, a party of this scale should only be expected to drive her away. Neither, however, is Celestia worried, as even in her weak, recently-restored state, no average danger could possibly threaten Luna with so much a scratch, even if that “average” is by Ponyville standards.

Still, Celestia wishes to talk with Luna as soon as possible, as up until now things had been going all too fast for pleasantries, so she leaves Twilight to connect with her newest friends as she herself goes in search to hopefully reconnect with her oldest friend.

Luna, however, has managed to make herself surprisingly difficult to find in a town/crowd full of non-Alicorns, which leaves Celestia both amused and annoyed—and at least the search is eased by the townsponies parting before her. In alleyways and stray shadows, quiet corners and lonely corners of the park: None of the most obvious hiding places yield any hint of Luna’s presence.

Many hours later, long after Celestia has given up her search and reentered the festivities (figuring that Luna will make herself known when she wants, also sure that she will want it eventually), the younger Alicorn reappears at Celestia’s side, almost as if she had teleported, and acting as if nothing had happened—that the hours spent away from a party in her own honor had been something as simple as a mistake in the schedule.

When Celestia shoots Luna a discrete, questioning raised brow, Luna merely responds with a fabricatedly innocent smile. Judging by the still-carefree ponies around them, Celestia is seemingly the only one who catches anything off about Luna, then, and she fights not to show her suspicion with narrowed eyes. There, so she’s sure, Celestia notices the ever-so-slightly pointed teeth in that smile: They’re not even close to the fangs Nightmare Moon had sported, but they’re not quite as flat and square as a normal pony’s teeth should be, either.

Now looking over Luna more closely, Celestia next notices the garland that had been placed around Luna’s neck: In the interim the loop had been broken, and now instead hangs loosely across her withers. Why…? Celestia wonders.

As cover, Celestia sidles up against her sister and nuzzles her. It’s subtle—very subtle so that even Celestia isn’t certain—but she senses a change in Luna since her purification this morning: She feels she had grown about an inch in only a few hours. -and if she isn’t mistaken, How…? Celestia wonders.

No answers are forthcoming.

- - - -

Not until the next day, anyway.

Back in Canterlot, after raising the Sun, Celestia steps into her bathroom and finds a jumble of bones—unmistakably a pony’s bones—in her toilet. With a resigned sigh and facehoof of disappointment, Celestia near-instantly narrows her mental list of suspects to one: Luna. The stories of Nightmare Moon’s appetite for foals on Nightmare Night are only partially true; both Luna—as herself, before Nightmare Moon—and Celestia had eaten ponies of all ages, and they had done so countless times, whenever they liked, not just Luna, nor on one specific night.

Here she is, a thousand years without a decent meal, let alone a pony-shaped one, and Celestia had failed to anticipate Luna’s hunger? She turned to the bathtub, in which her younger sister now rests in a sea of bubbles, unconcerned—not that this would have elicited any concern… a thousand years ago; now, Celestia had developed a “code”, and she quickly decides that she would have to insist Luna follow it.

“Luna.” Celestia waits until her sister sleepily peeks open an eye, and then asks with an exasperated sigh in the back of her throat, “Who was this?”

Seemingly not catching Celestia’s tone, Luna shrugs and closes her eye as she settles back into her bath. Celestia clears her throat with some authoritative force, causing Luna to frown as she forces herself to sit up, and she rolls her eyes as she turns to Celestia, holding herself up with her legs crossed on the edge of the tub. “I don’t know. Not like I asked.” Luna scoffs at the idea. “Why? Why do you care all of a sudden?”

Celestia takes a short moment, only as much as she dares, to muster her equanimity before stepping forward and sitting calmly beside the tub. “It was not ‘all of a sudden’, Luna. It’s been a thousand years, dozens of generations, and things have changed. -yes, even that.” Celestia preemptively cuts Luna off to answer the obvious question.

Luna then full-on glares at Celestia, and the older sister worriedly but silently notes the odd shape of the pupils; just like her teeth, Luna’s eyes are only the slightest bit misshapen in the slitted-persuasion. “How… could… you?” Luna struggles to speak through her stricken shock. “That was… ours! One of the few things we both were able to enjoy! -together! -and you -what? -you thought you could just change it however you wanted? -without me!?” Her short reproof voiced, Luna seethes from bared, clenched teeth, barely restraining herself from growling.

Keeping her face carefully neutral, Celestia rest a leg on the rim of the tub and lays a hoof gently on Luna’s elbow. “Luna, Equestria can’t just go back a thousand years for your sake. You’ll have to meet today’s ponies halfway. They can’t-”

Suddenly, Luna stands, splashing Celestia, who slips into the tub from the shock. “I’m going to bed,” she announces as she steps out of the tub and wraps a towel around her mane. “I still have a lot of energy to regain after… well, you know what.” Determinedly stone-faced, Luna marches for the door, but just as she reaches it, Celestia calls out.

“I know it’ll be hard, Luna, but know I only want to help you. There are a lot that’s changed, and I think it’ll be easier if you let me teach you, so… tomorrow, or the next day -whenever you’re feeling up to it, please come to me… Promise?” Celestia asks as she looks up at Luna with hopeful desperation.

A few long seconds later, Luna gives a curt nod and promptly leaves before Celestia can say anything more. Celestia stands with a sigh and returns to the toilet, looking down at the bones. She knows Luna won’t be responsive in any sense of the word to changing, at least, this particular behavior. -but—Celestia begins to grin as a scheme forms in her considerable mind—that very stubbornness may yet be turned to destroy itself.

- - - -

TWO

Finding a volunteer to demonstrate her lesson had not been hard for Celestia, naturally. She did first consider somepony directly employed by herself, such as some Royal Guard or castle staff, but as quickly as the idea came, she as quickly dismissed it, worrying that too agreeable an aid would not produce the necessary result.

Moon Dancer, on the other hoof, has seemingly gone to great lengths to distinguish herself in Celestia’s school… and has proceed to do absolutely nothing with her accreditations—an insult to her most esteemed alumni, at least as Celestia considers it, and Celestia’s “least” is yet of grave import.

Currently, Celestia and Moon Dancer are making their way to Luna’s newly, expediently refurbished bedroom. Luna had, most surprisingly, sent word she was ready to learn the modern day’s practices the morning after their argument, and now is the day after that confirmation. Not so surprising once one thinks on it, however—Celestia (rightly) suspects Luna only has so quickly agreed so as to get it over with.

“Excuse me, but I still don’t really understand what sort of lesson you need me to help with, Princess.” Moon Dancer looks up at Celestia out of the corner of an eye, like a dog expecting to be scolded.

Celestia, for her part, holds her sigh—she had been deflecting and dodging questions on details ever since she had asked for her aid last evening, but Moon Dancer’s insistent inquiries have so far proven the determination she would have needed to graduate in the first place. “I know, Moon Dancer, as I have been deliberately keeping you in the dark so far, but not too much longer; you will know only when I think you have to. All I need you to know now, is that I want you to disagree with me on every point. -during the lesson,” Celestia finishes as means to waylay further interrogation.

No such luck. “Yes, but what do you want me to disagree with, and how? If I at least knew the subject matter, I could prepare some-.”

“-and that, my little pony, is part of the point,” Celestia interrupts. “I do not want you to ‘prepare’ anything. As I’ve said many times, you will understand when it happens. Trust me.” Celestia, with her well-practised mask, grins and winks reassuringly. “Ah! See the moment grow nearer?” she then teases with playful mystery as the pair turn one final corner through the castle’s infinite hallways and the door to Luna’s suite comes into view.

Not satisfied, Moon Dancer whispers and grumbles, which would have cemented her selection in Celestia’s mind if she hadn’t been already. Moon earns no further acknowledgement from Celestia for that last stretch to the door, and when the Princess opens it and allows Moon Dancer to walk ahead of her, she giggles at the reaction: A few steps in, when Moon finally notices who they’ve come to see, she freezes with one leg up, which quickly begins to shake violently. “N-N-N-Nightmare M-M-!!??”

Celestia, ever graceful, steps to Moon Dancer’s side and closes Moon’s mouth with one hoof to her chin. “You mean, ‘Princess Luna’. Don’t call her… that or she might eat you.” Celestia giggles again, which Moon Dancer takes as a comforting jest, rather than the foreshadowing-in-plain-sight that it is, which of course is only further amusing for Celestia. Irony is, indeed delicious!

“P-Princess Luna.” Moon Dancer takes a stumbling bow, at which Luna raises a disinterested brow. “Forgive me, Princess Luna.” Standing, Moon whispers to herself, “I should introduce myself! Right.” With another, slightly more composed bow, she announces, “I’m- My name is Moon Da-.”

In the interim, unnoticed by the flustered Moon Dancer nor amusedly distracted Celestia, Princess Luna has sat up more straight from her once-disinterested slouch, and now interrupts Moon Dancer, “Oh, I didn’t know today’s lesson was going to include an exercise,” and she finishes with an expectant lick of her lips.

All Moon Dancer can get through her brain at this is, “Uhh…”

Shaking her head, Princess Celestia corrects her sister. “No, it’s not here for an exercise, but a demonstration.” When Moon Dancer looks up, confused by Celestia’s phrasing, the elder princess, with a flash of her horn, snaps the door shut and locks it.

Luna narrows her eyes, annoyed but still intrigued; in the next second, she remembers her defiant intent, and rolls her eyes with a huff. “Whatever, but next time I expect you to bring enough for the whole class.” At this, Celestia merely giggles once more, which further annoys Luna, which she uses to further fuel her stubbornness.

Now thoroughly confused, Moon Dancer looks between the two Royal Sisters a few times before mustering the courage to speak in such illustrious company to ask, with a hint of desperate fear in her voice, “Can you please explain what I’m here for, Princess Celestia?”

Said Princess only gives Moon the sparest of glances from the corner of her eyes before returning to Luna. “Well, let us not waste time in getting to the lesson, then.” With a flash from her horn, Celestia summons a freestanding whiteboard, and on it writes, “Consuming Ponies in A.H. 1000”, except written in Ancient Equestrian, so as to yet keep Moon Dancer in the dark.

“Huh? ‘something… ponies’?” Moon Dancer reads out uncertainly. “Uhm, Princess, I’m not really adept at translating Ancient Equestrian, at least not on the fly-…”

Still, the Princess seems determined to ignore her “aid”, now instead focused on Luna, who is at the moment most intent on examining her right forehoof. With a grumble and a smirk, Celestia once more lights her horn, and when the light dissipates, revealed is Luna, now sitting in a schoolchair with an attached desk, and a pad of paper and a pencil on said desk. Luna blinks, mildly shocked, but once this wears off, she bears her assignment with a grinding of her small fangs.

“Good! Now we’re all ready!” Celestia announces with an all too cheery tone; Moon Dancer raises a hoof and opens her mouth to object, but, realizing she’d probably be ignored again, goes back to standing awkwardly and quietly to the side. Turning back to the board, Celestia writes, “1. De-equinizing Your Prey”, still in Ancient Equestrian.

“Huh?” Moon Dancer tilts her head as her focus on the heading, which she has yet to finish translating, is derailed. “One… something… equine?…” Shaking her head, Moon returns to deciphering the heading first. She’s sure she should know that word, yet, oddly, she feels herself encountering some block in her own mind.

Focusing instead on her sister, Celestia coughs when she sees the generously provided notepad still closed, and once Luna disinterestedly looks at her through lidded eyes, Celestia summons a baton and with it slaps the whiteboard a few times, eventually convincing Luna to open her pad and start writing, though with a grumpy-resigned sigh.

“Is it ‘Devou-’?” with a whisper, Moon Dancer renders herself mute by the implication she doesn’t want to believe; with quickly growing dread, she shivers as Celestia, finally, truly begins the lesson.

“When one has selected their prey, the first critical step is to completely de-equinize them. Prey is no longer ‘somepony’, or indeed a pony at all, but merely food: a thing to be used and enjoyed. Don’t think of anything they say or do as equine, for their words are no more than the like of the squealing of a pig, and their actions no more than the sad final struggles of a rabbit with the timberwolf’s teeth already at its neck. Acknowledging the equinity of your prey will make you hesitant and weak.” Noticing Luna is completely tuned out, distractedly doodling, Celestia smirks to herself. Just keep exactly like that, Sister. Perfect.

“Princess Ce-Celestia, what are-?-eep!” Moon Dancer squeaks when Celestia’s horn lights up and levitates the unicorn a few inches off the ground, which has Moon frantically wiggling her legs for any leverage against the inevitable. “Wait! Princess, wait! Please, don’t do this! I graduated from your school! Isn’t there anything else I can-?-Please don’t eat me!” Moon the screeches out when Celestia then pulls her up to her mouth, licks her lips, then licks Moon Dancer’s flank.

With a wistful sigh, as if she were restraining herself from gobbling down Moon Dancer right then and there, Celestia turns back to Luna. “For example, your prey is likely to beg or bargain or, most likely, both. The proper response is to not respond at all—in fact, you shouldn’t even act as if you hear its pleadings.”

As Celestia turns Moon Dancer so her rear faces the Princess’s muzzle, Celestia writes on the board, “2. Play With Your Prey”. “That being said, never feel discouraged from having a little fun—after all, food is meant to be enjoyed, and you should never feel shamed for enjoying whatever you want, however you want, no matter how your prey might feel about it.” Celestia then takes a tighter grip on Moon Dancer’s hindlegs and lifts them towards her mouth; Moon tries to fight, but to hold her prey still, Celestia finds as easy, relatively, as a normal pony would find lifting an apple. “If you’re not sure where to start,” Celestia says to Luna, who is still determinedly ignoring the lesson, “a little physical teasing, such as licking, sucking, and nibbling can go a long way.”

With a lick of her frogs, the whimpering Moon Dancer is once more spurred to speech. “No! No no no no no…” Another lick “Princess Celestia, please, if it’s ‘fun’ you want, I can-… You can u-…-use me however you want, just-” In the middle of Moon’s offer, Celestia wraps her lips around one of Moon’s hindhooves. “-just not like this! Please, not like this!!”

As Celestia sucks on Moon Dancer’s hoof as one might a lollipop, the shock starts to wear off and instead hopelessness creeps up Moon’s mind: She now lets herself hang limp in Celestia’s levitation spell, and her eyes slip shut as she starts to cry silently. Releasing Moon’s hoof, Celestia turns Moon around so they’re face-to-face, and then tuts sympathetically, as a mother might when looking down at a colt who had scraped his knee while rough-housing.

Her heart latching on to this sign of salvation, Moon Dancer allows her eyes to open and her head to lift so she might meet Celestia’s venerably kind eyes once more—instead, she finds herself staring right into Celestia’s wide-open mouth and right down to the deep shadows that cloak her throat (who would ever think the Sun can contain something so dark?), and with a shout, Moon Dancer tries to lift her hooves in a last-ditch defence, but Celestia keeps her forelegs still.

The unicorn’s cry is quickly muffled by Celestia closing her mouth over Moon’s face. Here, Celestia takes her time running her tongue over every inch of her prey’s face, but focusing particularly on the salty streaks of her tears. After nearly a minute of this, Celestia finally releases Moon Dancer with a tiny, wet pop sound, leaving Moon with a face completely and thickly covered in slobber, and causing her to cough and spit in disgust; Moon also tries to wipe the spittle away, but Celestia continues to keep her hooves still.

With an appreciating smack of her lips, Celestia chuckles. “However, if you’re confident enough, I find emotional teasing much more fun. Hope is a particular favorite of mine to toy with, but there so many others—trust, anger, grief, disgust, humiliation, and-”—Celestia interrupts herself with an extremely quick peck to Moon Dancer’s lips, then she turns the unicorn back around so Moon is once more rear-to-face with Celestia. The princess then pulls Moon’s tail to the side to bare her behind, causing Moon to blush, and then without warning Celestia darts forward to give the exposed vagina a brief prod with her tongue, and Moon moans on pure instinct—“-and lust, just to name a few of the most obvious. You’ll have to experiment a lot to find your own favorites.”

The older sister snorts in amusement when she pauses to consider her “student”, who is apparently now finding it harder and harder to distract herself with mere doodling, but still Luna is determinedly staring down at her paper, and her breathing is obviously forcibly even.

With a smack of her lips and click of her tongue, Celestia returns her focus to Moon Dancer as the princess then tightens her telekinetic grip, pinching Moon’s hindlegs together and pulling them out to be in line with her spine, as well as pressing her forelegs tightly against her sides. “Still, all good things must be in moderation, and you would do well to remember that food is always, in the end, nothing but food, thus only ultimately suitable for eating. If you forget this and have too much fun, you are liable to be distracted, and risk letting your prey escape. So, be wary of prey who appear to be enjoying themselves unreasonably much, especially once your intentions are known, lest you be played the fool.”

Finally, Celestia takes Moon Dancer’s hindhooves into her mouth now without intent to merely taste and release them. The saliva from Celestia’s earlier play has partially dried during her instruction, leaving the hooves and ankles flavorless, but this only inspires her to swallow immediately, to once again savor the failed alumni unicorn. If she’s not going to use her specialty training for anything, I might as well take back what I gave her, Celestia justifies to herself as a second swallow renders Moon Dancer’s hindhooves as nothing more than a tiny bump at the top of the Alicorn’s neck—the curve is so slight the only reason anyone would be able to notice it and know what it is is because the majority of the unicorn is still hanging out of Celestia’s mouth, in her telekinesis.

After the third gulp, Celestia takes a pause, now past where she had previous sucked on the hooves, she now lets her tongue once more explore, matting Moon’s coat with saliva and wiggling between the clumps of fur to the especially delectable skin beneath.

“Princ-c-cess-ss-ss,” Moon Dancer whispers between heaving breaths; the horror-driven adrenaline has already run out, leaving her once-tensed muscles exhausted. “I-I-… Y-You… shouldn’t-… Please, not me… Why me…” This, however, is not a real question, at least not for Celestia or even Luna—it is only Moon Dancer’s question to herself as she submits to the fate Celestia had deemed for her, which said princess can feel through the muscles in her legs reluctantly limpening.

After a swallow to test this resignation proves it true, Celestia’s throat rumbles around Moon’s hooves with a chuckle. A sidelong glance over her prey’s tail reveals Luna at last rendered enraptured, one corner of her mouth agape, but she quickly notices Celestia’s eye on her and flips her notebook to a new page with a slam of her hoof. Good. Have to keep making sure Luna remains distracted! Lighting her horn slightly brighter, Celestia casts an intricate telekinesis on the air itself, vibrating it to create soundwaves that perfectly mimic her voice. “With that said, once you have your prey secure in your throat, there’s no need to rush. Everypony has a subtly unique flavor, so you should take the time to enjoy that flavor for as much as it deserves, and a little play along the way to the goal won’t hurt.”

Celestia then snakes her tongue out between her lip and Moon’s legs to thoroughly lick them over in a more visible, demonstration-friendly manner. With a humming of appreciation for the tangy sweetness prickling along the princess’s tongue, Moon Dancer’s fear and sorrow is weakly muted. This, and the plush and the warmth and the strong rippling grip of Celestia’s throat, all together bring an alien quell, and indeed if she could only ignore the obvious and inescapable, Moon then, maybe, could imagine herself receiving Equestria’s most surreal, bizarre massage. Entranced by this faintest repose, Moon Dancer thinks, As sudden as this is, at least it’s peaceful and comfortable, even, and this is, indeed, enough to allow her the tiniest smile.

This is all too soon shattered when the next few gulps culminate in Moon’s rear meeting Celestia’s lips. The quiescently padded butt, with fat gently creased where the raised legs pressed into it, forms a stopper, or would if Celestia could not open her mouth any wider; unfortunately for Moon Dancer, this is not even close to true. In the moment, this does not concern her, as instead her focus is snatched by her clitoris meeting Celestia’s bottom lip, and her derelict cunt alights with misprioritized demand, vulva shivering in vain anticipation.

Celestia barely holds in her laughter as Moon Dancer barely holds in a moan; The princess keeps her composure well, except for eyes that narrow with amusement, but this Moon cannot see, and the alumni shivers as she desperately controls her breathing, letting out a quiet, low wheeze stuttered with interrupted huffs. “Celes-sssstia-aaaa,” Moon Dancer breaths out through clenched teeth, nearly inaudible. I suppose if I could choose how to die, oral sex with the princess, emphasis on oral, is far from the worst! Yes. So, allowing herself to focus only on “the now”, Moon Dancer tests Celestia’s telekinetic grip, and manages to wiggle her hips just enough to flick and rub her clit against the Alicorn’s lip, if only by millimeters in any direction—in fact, the severely restrained movement seems only to contribute to Moon’s arousal, considering how rapidly her labia puffens and moistens.

Now Celestia allows her disportment to be known, and Moon Dancer is jiggled by laughter muffled by her own body; their mirthful shaking causes Celestia’s lip to erratically strike and buff Moon’s now-winking clitoris, rendering the unicorn unable to hold her moan any longer. However, her predator, of course, has no intention to let her enjoy this, and so Celestia widens her jaws and, with a swallow supplemented with a little telekinetic shove, pulls Moon Dancer’s rear between her lips.

The unicorn seems to either not notice this, or no longer care, as she begins to attempt to grind against the tip of Celestia’s tongue, but even as big as the Alicorn is, her lips can still only stretch so wide, and currently they hold quite tight around Moon’s buttocks. Instead, it’s purely for her own selfish entertainment that Celestia then waggles her tongue, lapping up and down Moon Dancer’s labia as if she were toying with a light switch, but the only position here is “on”. When Moon’s clit beckons with a wink, Celestia’s tongue responds by darting in only a fraction of an inch and instantly darting back out. Another wink, and another dart. When her clitoris’s third and then fourth wink earns no reply, Moon Dancer blinks, waking partially from her lustful daze.

Again, Celestia’s horn brightens with her telekinesis-speech spell as she writes: “3. Stay In Control”. “Even when you are playing with your prey in accordance to the second guideline, Luna, you should be careful not to allow your food to dictate or control the type or pace of your games, lest they play with you or, worse, manage to distract you enough to escape.” Luna, expectedly, makes no effort to respond or even acknowledge, but Moon Dancer blinks again as Celestia’s words sink in over a couple of seconds. Her sex-readied, tense muscles relax, and she begins to sigh, believing her playtime with Celestia is over—just as Celestia wants her to believe, but instead Celestia interrupts that sigh by shoving a good few inches of her tongue into Moon Dancer’s now-unprepared pussy, eliciting an “eep!” from the unicorn prey.

Just as quickly, Celestia retreats, and instead of blessing the quivering Moon Dancer with any reprieve, she swallows a couple times—Moon’s begging clit slides down Celestia’s tongue, but the princess shows no sign of either noticing or caring. Although, if her lips were not currently stretched around dormant-plumped hips, Celestia would have on what could have been mistaken as her trademark smile, but distorted: no longer benevolent—it would have made anypony- any being quiver, though most wouldn’t be able to guess why.

Luna yawns and lays her head on the desk—it’s awkward, but she is determined in her laziness—yet she keeps her ears perked and directed to Celestia, more than half-expecting her older sister to scold or complain or at least say something, anything. Instead, Celestia silently cheers as Luna, in spite of herself, grows curious, so in response she flattens her ears to dampen sound and begins to meditate, focusing particularly on ignoring sounds.

Unaware of her own part in this silent and enigmatic battle, Moon Dancer arches her back and tries to rub herself against Celestia’s tongue, arousal preempting any concern Moon might have over the fact her humping is only helping Celestia’s gullet claim her rear. The princess, for the moment, loosens her throat to allow Moon Dancer a freer range of motion, but this only helps Moon seal her own doom, and to this end Celestia also releases her telekinesis after tilting her head skyward. The supposed teacher then adds, “With enough skill, you can even manipulate your prey into doing what you want. In fact, by finding and pushing just the right buttons, you might even trick your food into feeding itself to you, which is always particularly satisfying!”

Moon Dancer doesn’t hear this, for her wiggling and consequent slipping has pulled her clit down and off the very back of Celestia’s tongue, leaving her with nothing to rub against—not that she would be able to, with her entire rear now completely restricted behind Celestia’s lips. Still, her puffy vagina is not yet ready to release her own mind enough for Moon to concern herself with anything else just yet, such as trying to escape being ingested by her demigod monarch. With back still arched and eyes clenched shut, Moon Dancer pushes her hooves against Celestia’s jaw, not in an attempt to pull herself from the princess’s esophagus, but in a vain bid for some traction with which to rub herself against Celestia’s throat. Even if she could, another swallow brings the last inch of Moon’s legs into Celestia’s esophagus proper, constricting them together so tightly that Moon’s thighs most effectively seal her vagina away from any touch.

Yet indifferent, Moon makes no effort to remove her forehooves as Celestia slurps them in with her next swallow, rendering herself consumed up to her bellybutton, and still her heated rear misguides her, now convincing her to rub her hindlegs together, which only imparts a tantalizing trace of nirvana to Moon herself, but grants far greater relief to Celestia’s peristalsis. As the rest of Moon Dancer’s rear follows into that gullet, its constriction finally renders her completely incapable of self-frotting, leaving her to shiver, groan, scowl, and pant at the thwarting of her terminal bliss—only the imputed promise of some space within the inevitable stomach grants Moon Dancer a momentary stay of frustration, and thus dread.

As still as Celestia’s tongue is pinned, it cannot help but wiggle in every millimeter of space it finds, which is enough to tickle MoonDancer to (without diminishing arousal) giggle. A few more thick gulps, leaving Moon’s chest half way past Celestia’s lips, rouses enough imminent alarm to intrude on this, and the prey, now with more than half her body inside Celestia, gasps with shock and fright at how far this sexual lure had drawn her in.

By the time Moon Dancer is freed from the strong grip of surprise, Celestia has already swallowed again—if Moon had acted in time, she could have at least put up her futile fight, but now Moon’s hooves have been taken by the unrelinquishing throat of an Alicorn. Again, Celestia would have smiled, now as she feels Moon Dancer tugging her forehooves; just as a show of the strength she so rarely gets to display, Celestia swallows against Moon, timed with her jerking movements.

When Celestia’s lips touch Moon Dancer’s collarbones—the cusp of the easy slope down the shoulders and across the neck—Celestia lets her own neck relax, letting her head fall back down from being tilted up. With this, Moon is touched by a fleeting hope that this is the end of her exciting and scary ride, and it’s time to turn around a go back home. The princess makes no move in either direction, but seems content to pause for a quiet intermission.

Eventually and yet all too soon, as fear begins to prick at the base of her mane, Moon Dancer experimentally shifts her shoulders, but there is no give or leverage to be found—if she is to be released, she reasons, it will be on Celestia’s time. “Princess Celestia-?” Moon rasps out in a whisper, and wets her lips before continuing. “Princess, this is j-just a… demonstration, right?” Moon twists her neck around as best she can to look at Celestia.

However, true to her first rule, Celestia acts as if she were deaf to her prey, even refusing to make eye contact—though not in any overt, direct way, but merely looking at the side of Moon Dancer’s head as if she were, indeed, no difference between herself and a salad. After waiting far too long, another gulp makes Moon groan despairingly as she looks away, forward. With a gulp of her own—hers fearful—Moon Dancer lights her horn, and her aura flashes weakly around Celestia’s muzzle only a few times before swiftly going out; there’s a reason her magic is her last resort, as her talent only lies in theory, not any practical strength, skill, or finesse.

One more swallow, and Celestia’s lips slide up Moon’s shoulders to the base of her neck, and now the princess can feel the unicorn’s mute whimpers vibrating along that neck. “Princess? -Celestia?” She tries again, but when her eyes, darting frantically about, fall on the whiteboard and those damning instructions, Moon clenches her eyes shut and shakes her head in fervent denial. This can’t be! Why would the Princess do this?! -and why me?! Can’tcan’tcan’tcan’t…!

Moon Dancer remains about as animate as one of Celestia’s usual meals, at least until the back of her head contacts Celestia’s nose. At last the denial Moon had been building since Celestia first wrote on the board is demolished, and all at once the sensations of her situation hit her all at once: the sweltering body heat, the slimy saliva and mucus, and the constricting tube all around her—or at least almost—preventing all movement except the inexorable pulling downward, directed only at its own pace. Moon’s eyes bug out wide when Celestia’s jaws widen once more, readying to take in her skull.

The princess’s lips, sucking, creep forward, folding Moon’s ears forward, against her temples, and if she hadn’t been already, the saliva soaking into her mane would have made Moon shiver, only with disgust instead of mortal terror. Is it that Celestia forces herself to slow down as her lips crest Moon Dancer’s skull and begin to fold over her face, or is that just her panic-stricken imagination? Even if she could have voiced this, Celestia would not answer, but as it is, the unicorn no longer has control over herself even to let out one last meep of horrified disbelief.

Celestia’s lips, pinching tightly closed with desperation for respite, force Moon”s glasses against her face, which in turn causes her to flinch instinctively backwards. Feeling now the grip of the throat on the back of her head, Moon’s eyes widen once more, and she tries to force her neck to stretch back outward, but too late: That inch her recoil had given Celestia’s gullet is enough to finish what it had started.

With her glasses providing just enough protection, Moon Dancer cannot stop her own mind from its vain protection as it manically seeks survival. This view is something Moon Dancer never imagined could be seen, let alone would some day—this day—be seen by herself. All she can see outside now is the door; all else is the inside of Celestia’s mouth framing that door. The smooth, soft flesh of the cheeks to either side sharply contrast the ridged, steely roof, and those contrast with the sinuous, robust tongue below. All four sides are separated by the rows of teeth, as sparkly white as should be expected of a princess, and more, even from the back, which so few ponies would ever see—which they should never expect to see.

The penultimate gulp resounds in Moon Dancer’s ears so that she would have flattened them shut if they hadn’t already been forced so. The pinching force of Celestia closing her jaw properly in so long gently shoves Moon Dancer’s head back, and closed lips bind her in darkness—now, even if a suddenly appearing stranger could easily guess Celestia had eaten somepony, Moon Dancer the individual has vanished. Belated hyperventilation gives Moon the wherewithal to wield her voice one last time, but just as she opens her mouth, the back of Celestia’s tongue, heralding a last swallow, rises up and forces her mouth closed—the rippling, ever-clenching esophagus that follows leaves her no opportunity either.

A few more swallows to help speed Moon Dancer along, and the prey finds her hindhooves sliding through a tight but eager ring of muscle into a relatively open space—and if she didn’t already know, the sting of acids that neigh instantly tingle against the frog of her hooves would tell Moon her fate.

Outside, Celestia rubs the bulge of the disappearing bulge of Moon Dancer still in her neck and few times, and then gently presses against the top of the head to encourage her meal along its way. When the last of Moon’s head recedes into the front of Celestia’s chest, she release a long and great gasp of satisfaction. The swelling protuberance of pony in her belly grows slowly at first, and then all of a sudden, with the tip of scales from esophagus to stomach, the rest of the prey formerly known as Moon Dancer suddenly spills into that caustic sac with a visible bounce; inside, this pony suddenly finds herself without her glasses—not that she can even use them here, but still she searches for them instinctively, yet comes up empty-hooved, leaving the only conclusion being that they got caught on the sphincter in some way.

Each individual lump wiggling around Celestia’s belly may be unidentifiable, but if taking in the whole, the fact Celestia has just eaten a pony alive and whole is not just obvious, but undeniable. With a giggle that, like her smile, is familiar and yet all too wrong, Celestia prods the peppy bulges, light and briefly at first, as if experimentally, but soon she’s all but shoving the poor, digestion-condemned prey side-to-side, renewing her giggles as the already-forgotten pony within squims madly to find some snug position. -some final, relative solace.

Suddenly, Celestia stops giggling—her eyes bug out, she straighten up, and her cheeks blow up slightly. A moment later, and the princess has it almost under control, for as she allows herself to relax, a tiny burp escapes the corner of her lips. With a hoof to her muzzle purporting modesty, Celestia presently lights her horn to once more write on the board, “4. Move Prey Around Stomach”. Celestia then makes to speak, but the obstinate burp returns, interrupting, but with a particularly forceful swallow, Celestia restarts. “Once you get your prey down and secured in your stomach, you should move them about as much as you can stand. It will likely be uncomfortable at first, but I strongly advise it to prevent worse indigestion later. That, and you might even come to enjoy it!” Celestia demonstrates with a jerk of her hips that sends her belly astir, bobbing and shifting about, and the princess giggles as she turns to watch this.

The other princess in the room, however, seems to be finding the inside of her eyelids infinitely more compelling, so with a smile that follows a sigh, Celestia steps forward, unnoted but not unnoticed by her supposed student. One hoof on the desk: no reaction. Both forehooves standing on the desk: a curious flick of an ear from one Princess Luna. Two quick steps from the desk to the back of the chair finally prompts Luna to curiously raise her head, and bump right into Celestia’s tummy. More confused than dazed, Luna still leaves herself open long enough for Celestia to lower herself and squish her pony-filled stomach against the side of Luna’s face, also pinning her against the desk.

“The purpose of playing with your food after it’s in your stomach, you will find, is more than just for fun, but to ease the strain on your stomach. The tossing and rubbing motions help your acids soak through your prey’s fur so it can start properly digesting your meal faster and easier. This takes quite a lot of the work off of the stomach muscles themselves, which will result in reduced heartburn and nausea, pressure and aches.

“-but as I’ve said before, the important part of this whole process-” Celestia pauses to press her stomach into Luna’s face, “-is to have fun with your toy.” With a jiggle, Celestia sends the pony inside sloshing around; Luna’s ears are pounded by the incessant splashing, both from Celestia’s jolt and the confused scrambling within as the prey searches for some kind, any kind of purchase or stability. “Even just the tiniest amount of pain, coupled with some disorientation, can concoct a tasteful medley.” A incidental punch from her meal hits the sphincter that would lead back up Celestia’s esophagus, and the princess has to pause to once more hold a burp. “For example, my prey here is putting up a fight that feels wonderful; now, you can’t tell that yourself, but can you hear any screaming or crying?”

Even if her life depended on it, Luna cannot ignore Celestia now, and she has no way to ignore her question—in fact, even if she shoved Celestia off her this moment, she already has her affirmative answer. Seeming to know or at least strongly suspect this, Celestia steps back and off the chair and desk, grinning amicably as if inviting Luna to an innocent card game, rather than callously digesting an unsuspecting pony to teach her… something. With the way Celestia is acting, Luna thinks it’s almost as if Celestia is like a changeling, except feeding off of fun and joy rather than love and affection.

Without segue (or even bothering with Luna’s yet-given answer), Celestia writes once more on the board without turning around, “5. Belch To Remove Prey’s Air.” As Luna is, now drawn into the lesson, expectedly reading this new point, Celestia hits her with the burp she’s been storing since her prey flopped into her stomach. Long and powerful, Luna blinks against the persisting gastric gust as it blows back her mane. Her attention now fully riveted, Luna blushes as she stares at the wobbling rings of muscle that augurs the eternal, absolute, insatiable darkness within the Sun. Almost three full seconds of this go uninterrupted until a quiet gag, which is all the warning Luna gets before a pair of glasses suddenly flies up and out with the veritable gale. When Luna peeks out from her flinch, a mild throbbing in her ear tells her where the glasses landed: One of the arms had caught on the right groove in her tiara, and from there slid into her mane, leaving the actual “glass” of the glasses to lay mostly on her temple, in front of her ear.

As Luna recovers, face still somewhat heated, Celestia smacks her lips and unconcernedly continues the lesson. “Of course, all good things must come to an end, and for food that’s doubly certain. Before your meal gets too rowdy, particularly in the few minutes before it dies, you’ll want to get rid of all that life-giving air that went down with them. Now, as you might have seen before, there were a few times I had to focus on not burping, and this is very common except for the smallest of prey, so this should be as simple as letting it go.” As if scripted, Celestia’s belly bursts with movement. “Of course-again, death throes will still happen, but oxygen-starved kicks are much weaker.”

Now stepping back off the desk, Celestia sits down with a satisfied sigh, and pats her now-sluggishly stirring belly. With a shimmer and barely audible pop, Celestia teleports a cake before herself, then writes, “6. Consume Prey With Other Food”. The princess cuts the cake and takes a large bite from a slice, then swallows before continuing with the lesson. “Now there will inevitably be times where even a whole pony will not be enough to satisfy, or you otherwise find yourself craving something more than either prey or normal food can provide alone.” She takes another bite. “In such cases, you should simply eat whatever you want! After all, you should not let food dictate what other food you eat with it; if your prey complains, ignore it!” Celestia finishes the slice of cake in a third bite, and chuckles, for as the cake now falls into her stomach, the yet-conscious prey within lurches weakly in indignation, trying to wipe off and avoid the splatters of pastry and frosting.

The princess takes a bite from another slice just as a burp—much tinier than before—makes its way up, and this belch sends out crumbs and little flecks of frosting flying onto the floor and Luna’s desk, barely falling short of the younger sister herself; Celestia doesn’t even acknowledge this unprincessly act, and goes on with her dessert without care. After she finishes the second slice, she continues, “-And this, ultimately, is the most important thing to remember:” and now she writes as she takes her third slice, “7. Prey Is Just Food”. “No matter how it pleads or cries or fights, don’t give in, as I know your stomach, like mine, will never fail to digest every morsel you provide it, as long as you don’t willingly and foolishly hold it back. In the end, your prey will be nothing but fat to be used as energy, and waste to be flushed away, so you should have no more concern or attachment to it than anything else that ends that way: just food.”

Another bite, and Celestia has to swallow back a burp as she chews. “Anything more than that makes no sense, so-” When Celestia swallows, she stuffs down the rest of the slice down with it, unchewed, passing down with a notable bulge in her neck, though this was nothing to her—as easy as any adult pony find swallowing a poppy seed. “Never do that,” she pauses to stifle another burp, “Only villains do that.”

With this, she takes the remaining half of the cake and gulps it down nearly whole; a few stray smears of frosting and small clumps of cake stick to her lips, which she quickly takes in with her tongue to send down with the rest. Inside, she can feel the mass of sugar arrive in her stomach, which she pats—nothing happens now but a mute blorp of displaced air—her belly is so full and round that her prey is truly indistinguishable from the cake now, no longer identifiable as anything living (or post-living) from outside.

Celestia giggles a last time before announcing, “Class dismissed!” with volume and formality as if she were telling this to a classroom full of her school’s students. Only the click of the door closing behind the leaving “teacher” finally snaps Luna from her awkward stupor, and she shakes her head before swiftly leaving as well, her pace only just under a proper gallop.

- - - -

THREE

Immediately after raising the Moon (with her sister’s help), Luna sits near the end of her bed, trying to meditate, but recent events keep intruding, no matter how tightly she squeezes her eyes shut, as if this can block these memories from her consciousness. With an aggravated, growling sigh, she jerks open a drawer in her nightstand, and from it she takes a notebook—the one Celestia had given her for the… lecture.

A quiet click of the latch of her bedroom’s door prompts Luna to stuff the pad barely out of sight, under the blankets, right between her hooves—the little indent would instantly give it away to anypony, even from across the room.

In walks one of the few ponies familiar to Luna in this “future” the younger princess finds herself in: Twilight Sparkle. Not that she is truly that known to the depowered Alicorn, but still more familiar than most. At the party in Ponyville, and subsequent snippets of conversation caught from the Canterlot Castle staff, Luna had heard quite a bit—more than she would expect—about the otherwise-seemingly-normal unicorn, and certainly not the least of these trivia is that she had been taken by Celestia as a personal student when she was a mere filly.

Given the oddities that have marked this day, the to-be reinstated princess is instantly put on guard, no matter the idle, friendly smile on her visitor’s face. “Ah, Twilight Sparkle! You are lucky it is… yourself, elsewise I would have to vaporize you for this unannounced, unauthorized intrusion!” At this, Twilight stops midstep through the doorway, tilting her head and with smile turning awkward.“No, do relax!” Luna chuckles as she waves for Twilight to enter and approach, “‘Tis been an odd day. We could use normal company.”

Inside, however, Luna focuses her suspicion: This visit from Twilight—Celestia’s student—cannot be coincidence after this “odd day”. Stranger, though, is the question of why Celestia would send such an important pony on this particular night? -for certainly her sister—her trickster of a sister—would expect Luna to put her lesson to practice? Certainly. This has to be a test. Perhaps, since Twilight has served her purpose in restoring Luna from Nightmare Moon, Celestia has decided to dispose of her, or at least doesn’t care if Luna disposes of Twilight (metaphorically and literally) for her…?

Ridiculous! Luna frowns but quickly restores her neutral, but not uninviting, expression. Curse you, Celestia! I’m not going to let you control or dictate to me how I have fun! Let’s see how you like what I do to this precious “personal student” of yours! Outwardly, Luna gives Twilight a friendly smile in return to the unicorn’s earlier one. “Welcome and good evening, Fair Twilight Sparkle. I took you for one who would prefer to get up with the morning sun, even discounting your relation with my sister. I seem to be mistaken!”

Twilight laughs lightly before she hops onto the bed, sitting near Luna’s side. “Well, you’re not technically wrong, but my sleep schedule is more nonexistent than anything. Some days I’ll wake up early, others I’ll stay up late. It all depends on when I can find a good breaking point in my studies, really.”

“Indeed?” Luna raises a brow, “We- I suppose I know that feeling from a thousand years ago—two thousand years in actuality—and We- I suspect I will be bothered by my own studies tonight.” The Alicorn taps the hidden notepad, and Twilight only glances down for the shortest of seconds, not surprised by its presence there, for it had not been truly hidden. “We have a lot to do after a thousand years absence, so not to offend my savior, but why is thee here?”

“Oh! Actually partly for that reason: for being… your ‘savior’.” Twilight squirms, smiles, and blushes like a young stallion about to kiss his first mare, but she soon shakes it off, and quite literally as well, like a wet dog. “Also, since I’m in Canterlot to pack up for my move to Ponyville, I kind of thought I wanted to meet the pony I saved. I mean-! -I’d… like to get to know you, inside and out.” At the phrase that would be normal in any other context, Luna scrutinizes the unicorn before her, up and down, but no body language betrays covert intent, and her smile is all too innocent… and ignorant.

With sudden inspiration, Luna pulls out the notebook. “Actually, in that vein, and knowing you are my sister’s student, perhaps you could help me with something?” With implicit invitation from Twilight’s eager nod and widening smile, Luna opens the book, with herself facing Twilight so the unicorn cannot see anything written inside. The Alicorn’s expression instantly falls: Inside, of course, is not a single note from Celestia’s lesson, only the useless doodles she had distracted herself with. The most prominent is in the center, with Celestia and Luna as stickfigures. The Stick-Luna has a big, mad grin and angry eyes, with her head tilted down and her impossibly-long horn impaling the neck of Stick-Celestia, who has her tongue sticking out and ‘X’s for eyes.

“Errr… Ahhh…” Luna vies for time as her eyes dart around the page for any miniscule hint. Think, Luna, think! What did Celly say?! I have to remember so I can do the opposite, to fail on purpose! Teach her that she can’t change me at her own whim… Focus: First, how should I approach a pony I want to eat? She said something about… -about… treating prey as if they are no longer a pony, but just food, right? So I should not think of Twilight Sparkle as food?

“You know what, Twilight? Forget that.” Luna tosses the book, seemingly wanton, but it falls perfectly in the left-open drawer, which the princess harshly slaps shut with an actually haphazard telekinetic burst. “Today has been too long, too weird, and too exhausting. We are left feeling most famished and, we admit… fastidious.”

Twilight has her lips pursed with mild confusion topped by evenly matched curiosity and annoyance, but when Luna finishes her implied request, the unicorn’s ears perk along with her smile. “Oh, I know: You’re saying you don’t know today’s Canterlot very well yet! I can show you all the best restaurants around town, and you can-!” She stands, readying to hop off the bed and leave then and there, but Luna awkwardly puts a hoof on her back to stay her enthusiasm.

“Actually, Twilight, I was thinking more along the lines of…” Luna hesitates, biting her lip with indecision, and instantly internally scolds herself, What’s the matter with you, Luna! How many thousands of ponies have you eaten with hardly a thought!? How many of those names do you remember? None! Go! With a flick of her ear and a tightening in her jaw, Luna forces herself to speak evenly, without pause. “I was hoping if you would allow me to eat you, Twilight Sparkle.”

The solicited mare sits back down rather heavily, and one side of her mouth slips open, as if she were about to question what Luna means, but then she puts a hoof to her lips as she whispers, “‘-allow-’?” Luna cannot tell at first how Twilight is taking this, until the smile hints itself in her eyes. “Oh, my… You really want to eat me? I hoped you would!” Twilight bursts out with an excited little hop before Luna can fully process the rhetorical question. “You know, Celestia has eaten me eight times so far—I’d be honored if you ate me, too! -and even more in the future, again and again, if you’d like! Celestia says I’m ‘tasty’.”

Twilight giggles at the thought of that particular adjective being applied to her by her mentor, Celestia’s name only serves to remind Luna of her original purpose in the scheme this proposal serves. Okay, stage one is a success. Next, Celestia said something about… toying with prey however you want, no matter how they feel about it? So I’ll play in a way that’s fun for Twilight, too. Hesitantly, silently offering Twilight a chance to pull away, Luna leans forward and gives Twilight’s cheek a brief lick, more like a tap with her tongue. When this draws out no less than an encouraging giggle, Luna takes a protracted, slow lick from under Twilight’s chin, up her cheek, behind the eye, across the temple, and finishing just at the peak of her mane. Luna clicks her tongue appreciatively a few times before concluding, “If the rest of you tastes half as good as that, I think I’ll have to take you up on your offer.”

At this praise that may otherwise have been strange, to say the least, Twilight lets out a happy squeak, and leans in against her to-be predator’s side. Luna pauses as she once more considers her next move, while Twilight seems to assume the princess is savoring the moment before the strike. Rule three was… -was about controlling prey, right? Then I’ll let Twilight dictate how she feeds herself to me! “Whenever you’re ready, I am.” Initially, Twilight mistakes Luna’s widening mouth as a yawn, expecting Luna to move in if she’s ready to eat now, but only once her maw is wide enough to fit a pony’s torso does Luna lower her head to Twilight’s level.

For a long dozen seconds, Twilight blinks expectantly as she stares into the back of Luna’s throat, which undulates gently and lazily with her deep, patient breaths—like a calm beach. With each wave of those muscles, the temperature of Twilight’s cheeks rises noticeably, and the heaviness of her breathing deepens and hastens in concert. The enraptured unicorn tilts forward until she falls, but it’s not far until her chin lands on Luna’s tongue with a little splat, then she whispers, letting Luna’s hot, moist breath invade her mouth. “It almost looks like I’m about to fall… right up, into your night sky. So dark and empty… like it wants to… consume… … and you do want to, don’t you?”

To let the princess answer, Twilight pulls back, but only enough so she can look into Luna’s eyes from just over her nose. “Yes-ssss,” she whispers back, and when her tongue rises to make the “s” sound, it brushes against Twilight’s lips; with an unseen grin, Twilight pushes gently back against the tongue, and the not unpleasant surprise of this is what makes Luna extend that “s” sound. “Please, feed me, Twilight Sparkle.” Luna near-begs, dragging the tip of her tongue against the underside of Twilight’s muzzle, as if to drag her inward, and she closes her eyes, both hoping and knowing Twilight will.

Now ready, Twilight pulls back, but only for the shortest moment—to reposition herself. The next thing Luna tastes is hoof: Twilight has sat herself up on her hindlegs and “stepped” forward into Luna’s mouth. The tongue, pressed between jaw and hoof, seems to struggle about, but through her sensitive frogs, Twilight can easily tell how it’s actually trying to guide her in without being overbearing and impatient.

On the already-smooth muscle lubricated with saliva, Twilight releases herself into a controlled, slow slide forward, and as those hooves inch inward, Luna’s cheeks funnel them together until Twilight is forced to pull her left hoof back behind her right. Almost immediately after this, that forward hoof slips off the back of the tongue right into Luna’s throat. The two sit still like this for a few seconds until Twilight chuckles. “Well? Knock, knock. Are you going to let me in? I can’t do everything, Luna.”

Luna makes to reply, but the hoof in her throat only sinks inward a few more millimeters instead, and suddenly she wishes she had at least paid enough attention to learn Celestia’s telekinetic-speech trick. So, with a mental shrug, Luna takes her first swallow of many soon to come; Twilight helps by applying a little pressure from the front, but her predator don’t at all notice the force she exerts.

Soon enough, Luna’s tongue is looping around Twilight’s neck, slithering on like a collar, then back off, only to continue around and circle the other way, all the while applying a gentle pull. Inside, Twilight’s forelegs are half gone, and her muzzle is now scarcely an inch from being claimed by the inexhaustibly rippling gullet before her. There, with her head and mane blocking most light, the few speckles left that trickle between strands of fur and hair shimmer off the slick flesh, almost like winking stars. Twilight boggles at this sight before an unceremonious swallow pulls her face against the shiny, muscular tapestry, forcing her to close her eyes.

With Twilight’s head now fully encased by Luna’s neck, the predatory princess finds she cannot continue like this without standing and kneeling forward, so instead she opts to lift Twilight’s rear half up and over—Luna had noticed Celestia do this to… Star Skipper, or whatever it was, but she easily rationalizes that this technique isn’t critical or exclusive to the specific procedure Celestia had been trying to teach. Inside, Twilight lets outs out a little meep of surprise, and shifts herself to get comfortable again, with the dual purpose of trying to tell Luna not to do something like that again without warning. All the same, she doesn’t necessarily protest this treatment, either with words or vigorous, angry struggling—Luna gets the message, sure enough, but she still cannot communicate this to Twilight.

A dozen or so uneventful swallows later finds most of Twilight’s torso in Luna’s esophagus, and now the tip of the predator’s tongue can finally reach the long-aching vagina of her prey. Just one faint brush against that primed labia is enough to make the expectant clitoris wink with strength enough to push away the considerable tongue of an Alicorn, and with that, the floodgates cannot be closed again against the current, and the veritable torrent, which has been building since Twilight’s journey started, stream and pool under Luna’s tongue.

Remembering how Celestia had toyed with… Star Something’s sex, Luna laps up and down the outer side of Twilight labia in between gulps, no matter how the unicorn’s clitoris invites her inside. Only once most of Twilight’s Cutie Marks are blanketed by Luna’s cheeks does the Alicorn finally hold her prey in place, halting her swallowing, and after a painstakingly anticipating minute, she shoves her tongue roughly in as far as it can go in one motion—which is considerable, for even a depowered Alicorn has enough strength in every inch of her body to match the strongest Earth Pony’s buck.

What Luna doesn’t expect, but really should have, is that Twilight has had experience with this treatment from Celestia, and so she’s earnestly shocked when Twilight endures through the twists and thrusts of her tongue’s assault. However, the mere unicorn is still only familiar with Celestia’s brand, so before Twilight expects it, Luna’s novel play sends her hindlegs jittering and her vagina clenching onto the invading tongue.

The orgasm-induced limpness that now pervades Twilight aids Luna as she then continues consuming her. In a haze, Twilight doesn’t realize she’s yet at the stomach until her hooves and a few inches of each leg are already hanging out the other end of an extra-tight ring. Instinctively, she makes to brace herself, but now her hips are well into Luna’s esophagus, effectively binding her rear legs as securely as the rest of her—the best she can do is wave her hindhooves about.

When her face hits the sphincter, at least, her decent is slowed, but by then Twilight has beaten back her animalistic panic—getting eaten multiple times by a benevolent God-Queen and surviving the experience every time will certainly help with that! All of a sudden, Luna displays her inner self-control, and the ring before Twilight opens wide; with a yelp, she falls through, her entire self slipping out the esophagus and slamming into the bottom of the stomach in seconds.

Outside, Luna unthinkingly lets out a thick belch, but remembers herself in time to cut off after only a quarter of Twilight’s air had escaped, then she swallows down some air to replace what had been released. Rubbing her belly gently, almost motherly, Luna sighs before saying, “Sorry about any rough mare-handling Twilight Sparkle, but we failed to foresee needing to ask for any permission of yours while eating you.”

Luna feels Twilight turn herself about until she’s comfortable. “It’s okay,” she has to not-quite-shout to be heard through Luna’s flesh, plus the fat the Ponyville prey had left behind. “Princess Celestia told me your manners would be a thousand years out of date, and asked me to not hold that against you, and I did promise, so I won’t!”

This unexpected secondary kindness knocks Luna’s emotions tumbling, doubly so considering the reason Luna had eaten Twilight in the first place. Soon enough she shakes it off, however, deciding she can consider this after her rebellion is complete: one thing at a time.

“Although…” At Twilight’s pause, Luna tenses, which the unicorn can feel in the stomach muscles all around her tightening. “Next time, could you slow down? It was… quite the shock when your gastroesophageal sphincter let me through so fast.”

Luna hums in thought and nods as she pats her rounded middle idly—thankfully, Twilight doesn’t mind. “Then we apologize for this as well. We- I am afraid it is an old habit, though, developed back when I would eat many ponies in one meal. I did not care to spend so much time getting just one down, you see, else We would spend all day eating ponies! This… playing is new to me.”

“That’s fine.” From within, Luna can barely feel Twilight patting and rubbing her stomach walls, almost as if consoling her; at the unexpected, strange thought, Luna chuckles, which sends her falling into a true uncontrollable fit of laughter; her quaking abdomen throws and tumbles poor, unsuspecting Twilight around. It takes a good minute for Twilight’s shouting to grip Luna’s attention and pull her conscious self back, after which she’s quick to apologize, but Twilight is quicker. “No need to be sorry for laughing, okay?”

Having to take a moment to mentally cancel her apology, Luna gapes at thin air for a second before answering somewhat breathlessly, “If you say so, Twilight Sparkle. Now, if you-.”

Again, Twilight cuts ahead of her. “Hey, you can just call me Twilight. I think being eaten is intimate enough to be on a first name basis, don’t you?”

The princess tilts her head and rubs her stomach as she considers this. “‘-Being eaten-’… ‘-intimate-’?” Luna whispers so quietly even her prey, inside and so close, cannot hear; eventually, Twilight taps the stomach around her to call Luna’s attention, not knowing she had blown a fuse in her predator’s head. “Ah, We… -I suppose. If you say so, Twilight Sp- Twilight.” Again Luna can feel rubbing from within, and she follows Twilight’s hoof with her own. “Ah, now as I was about to say, since today was so exhausting, I was thinking of going to bed now, if this is okay with you.”

“Of course you can go to bed!” Twilight giggles, though Luna can barely hear it. “Just take care so you don’t digest me in your sleep, or anything.” The Alicorn flicks her ear when she fails to pick out any hint of trepidation in her prey’s tone.

With a snort and smirk, Luna dismisses the pointless question of absent unease that would be unwarranted anyway, then she lays down and slides herself up the bed as she levitates the covers around herself until she has tucked herself in. “I wasn’t planning to, Twilight, otherwise I wouldn’t be able to eat you again!” Then as she closes her eyes, her pupils soften and round out, and her teeth flatten—thus the final remnants of Nightmare Moon are discreetly dispelled.

- - - -

The next morning, Celestia awakes with a serene smile—she still does not know the final result of her secret test, and thus Twilight’s fate, but her surety carries her heart lightly to the balcony, from which she then raises the Sun, though now in this she does notice Luna’s absence in lowering the Moon with her. Sighing, she turns to begin her morning routine in the bathroom.

All answers just then arrive with a pop of teleportation, leaving a most disheveled Twilight Sparkle sitting before her. The unicorn’s fur, besides being heavily tinted brown in big splotches all over (all over), is soaked through and slicked down with unnamable—and unnamed—fluids. Shivering from the cool morning breeze caressing her wet body, Twilight dutifully reports, “Al-Although I think-k-k my presence makes it obv-vious, Prince-cess I’m happy to rep-p-port that Luna passed with a p-perfect score!” Her kind smile widening most slightly, Celestia nods, sensing Twilight has more to say. “So, with my m-mission done, I… need to…”

“Go ahead, Twilight,” Celestia offers with a light toss of her head toward the door to the ensuite, but before she can even finish the second syllable of this invitation, Twilight has zoomed through the door, and by the time Celestia “finally” finishes her sentence, the splashing of a shower going full blast comes mutely through the walls.

Chuckling, Celestia casts about for a momentary distraction—something with which to entertain herself until her disrupted routine can continue—and she spots a cheval mirror she has yet never used. It hadn’t been her idea, but so, so long ago, Princess Platinum had insisted that any proper royalty needs a mirror like this.

Silly.

At least it can serve her now.

With a grin drawn from the foolishness she is about to enact, and further from the foolishness of thinking it foolish at all, Celestia steps before the mirror. Celestia gasps, and for a split second wonders at what long con Platinum had been playing with this secret funhouse mirror, but then she remembers the pony she had eaten yesterday. Well, at least I remembered before my anus had to “remember” for me! She then chuckles at the image of herself on the toilet, suddenly screaming at the unexpected passing of a skull. Would the Royal Guard burst in then? -and if so, what would they say upon seeing a poop-covered skull under their dear princess’s rear? How long has it been since I digested a pony?

Laughter trickling off, she then turns to the side to properly admire her newly paunch middle (though sadly this will shrink somewhat with her morning relief) and expanded rear. -And why did I stop? -And why is it that only pony prey can produce such wonderful curves? I can scarcely recall now, but I’m sure this is why I started my infamous cake binges: missing this “fuller” figure. Another giggle comes forth at the innuendo.

Standing head-on toward the mirror again, she sits and tilts her head to ponder. Perhaps I could scream anyway to lure the guards in? Celestia blinks and is momentarily distracted by her own eyes, caught off guard by the fetching sharp shape of her pupils. Perhaps I might let them see my scat, obviously containing pony bones? A flash of flame distracts her from her dastard muse, calling her to whip around in a panic, but even a methodical search of all behind her yields no ember or wisp of smoke. When she turns back, Celestia’s eyes again are attracted to her own body, or at least the light playing upon it—for certainly this wonderful faint orange must be a trick of the sky around the rising Sun. A shrug dismisses the curio, and Celestia smirks, catching the sparkle of light off a fang, but she completely disregards this normal aspect of herself. Perhaps… I should eat them if they try to run?