> Bound in the Stalls
>  by AmethystMare
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

> Bound in the Stalls: Part One
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Bound in the Stalls
Part One
 
Written by Arian Mabe (Amethyst Mare)
Commissioned by anonymous
 
 
Arctic walked with his head lowered, the white-furred pony trying not to think about just how hard he was. It was a good thing that night had fallen, casting his underbelly into, at least, some kind of shadow, though he was sure too that everyone they passed knew of his humiliation, the debasement of his mistress and all that she did to him daily. Truly, his cock would have been hard to miss under normal circumstances too, its dark colouration tinted with the deepest of blues, although it was the sheer size of it, easily too large for most mares to take without due preparation from his muzzle and more, that drew him the most attention.

“Hurry.”

Her tone was low, that of the yellow pony in front of him, a Pegasus just like him but she was something that Arctic would never be, as much as he aspired to her control and poise, for as long as he lived. A bit gag pressed up over his tongue and he whimpered around it, the latex hobbles and strong chains stopping him from taking larger steps, though she slowed enough so that he only had to hurry, which was something. With his head dipped as it was, he could take a look up under her skirt, a latex ensemble that had surely been put together by Rarity, the cuffs on her fetlocks for fashion and domination rather than submission – oh, no, never for her. When it came to who was on the bottom, that pony was most certainly him and him alone.

Her marehood had not been left bare that night, which was a shame as Princess Luna’s moon shone down and her stars twinkled, sending the shadows into softer definition with their brightness. If she had been bare, maybe her scent would have been all the more potent, his mouth drooling just like his cock for a taste of that cunny that tugged and winked so very sweetly around him, the reins connected to the bit in his mouth tightening in a sharp, demanding tug.

He groaned. She knew how he loved that.

“Hello there, how lovely to see you out this evening.”

Gulping hard, tongue pressing up against the bit gag in his mouth, Arctic quailed. She was so sweet to others, his mistress, Mistress Shy, and yet he received the harshest of words from her, words that he would never have before expected to slip from her lips before she’d locked a collar around his neck and taken him under her wing. She conversed so sweetly with others, having well and truly come out of her shell, that it was a wonder that she could wield a whip so powerfully, feathers flying, the Pegasus pony’s ears pinned as she delivered every last dose of stringent punishment that he had both earned and deserved.

Of course, there were sweeter times too between them, care for him after particularly demanding sessions, but those were hard to think about when he had sunk very deeply into his role. It was easier to do as she willed, clad only lightly, as she clearly had something in mind for him, striding eagerly towards the pony pub on the outskirts of Ponyville, which, much to his chagrin, had gained itself something of a reputation over recent months. But it was the first time that Fluttershy had taken him there on a leash.

She didn’t speak to him as she led him inside, hobbled and helpless, the harsh lights of the pub seeming too bright when his cock was out, Arctic quailing even as she dragged him to the side. He could feel eyes on him, although he was very much in the sort of situation, clearly, where it was alright to have his cock out, his arousal obvious even as a few titters followed him.

“Oh my Celestia – did you see the size of that?”

It was wrong but his cock pumped up all the more, throbbing obviously, as they giggled and laughed at him, openly, other patrons looking around. The pub was not that brightly lit, regardless of how it felt to Arctic, and Fluttershy popped her front hooves up on the bar to speak to the barkeep, who, at least, did not appear at all perturbed to see Arctic there sporting the hard-on that he was.

“Good evening, Sheila.”

Fluttershy all but purred and Arctic chanced a glance up, though he was not as surprised to find a mare there with a richly chestnut-brown coat and darker mane that stood on two hooves rather than the usual four that ponies had. Anthro ponies were rare in the land but the variety in their species had changed a little with the introduction of other kinds of creatures into the land, hippogriffs and griffons and dragons bringing diversity in magic. They were not always affected simply through reproduction, of course, the mere presence of them opening up other avenues for ponies to take on forms that better suited them. It seemed that the barkeep was one of them.

Sheila murmured appraisingly, leaning over to look at him, her calculating gaze surely seeing his value in coin rather than him as a pony. Ducking his head, Arctic tried to hide behind his mane – not that it did him any good, of course.

“Ah... I see you have brought your entertainment,” she murmured, wiping out a glass as her eyes slid to the curious patrons left in the bar. “It’s early for the event but not everyone is up to speed on what you’ve got trotting in here today. Take him straight through to the stalls so that we don’t scare off the dears before we’ve got a few drinks down them. The bar is adults only and those who don’t know that this is a fetish club after dark should take a closer look at the permits hung by the door sometime.”

Giggling, Fluttershy covered her lips with a hoof but the action, with her, was anything but demure.

“Oh, Sheila, you haven’t been frightening off clients again, have you?”

“Not deliberately, sweetie, but you know how some ponies can be, such prudes. It’s all in the fun of it, no?”

But Fluttershy did not have any intention of scaring others off when there was fun to be had whoring out her darling pet pony, leading him without ceremony to the bathrooms, which were set up with a series of stalls for those who liked a little more privacy, at least on the mare side of things. She knew what the set up of the stallion bathrooms were, of course, but she had no need to go into those when she had Arctic there to set up, to use and abuse, the pony quivering even though his cock had not softened in the slightest.

He was not privy to what was happening to him as his latex cuffs were removed, if only for the moment. Arctic did not dare ask as Mistress Shy stood imperiously over him, the bar ramping up in the background, although the burble of noise clamouring forth was kept away from the mare-bathroom by a bouncer on the door who assured them that their fun would be set up soon enough. Next was the bridle, bit sliding from between his lips, although the collar was tightened another notch, made of heavy leather with her butterfly tag of ownership tangling ostentatiously where it could not be ignored, just to remind him that it was not time to relax as yet. After all, her delightful pony yet had a most wonderful job to do!

One by one, the details took form, Arctic’s breath quickening. First to go on was a latex suit, which revealed just why his latex cuffs and the hobbles between them had had to be removed, the cool slip of latex over his coat warming swiftly to the fervent, pounding heat of his body. Without thinking, he squirmed, moaning lightly, but her hoof connecting sharply and soundly with his hindquarters made him think better of that, standing still and obedient even though his eyes darted every which way. The gear that she revealed seemed to have been stored in the bathroom ahead of time, sending a wicked shiver through him that was both arousing and guilt-inducing at the same time. He still wasn’t so sure if he should like what Fluttershy did to him, considering just what it was and with the frequency that it was played out.

The tight, clingy latex defined his draft-horse body in stark definition, the lines of muscle better highlighted than when he was in his normal coat of hair. Jet black, it gleamed in the flickering bathroom light, though the buzz and jump of it somehow managed to add to the situation, making it all the raunchier and explicit, his breath quickening and catching in his throat as a ring gag was shoved into his mouth, forcing his lips apart as he instinctively and automatically hacked and gagged, flanks shuddering.

“Open!”

It was a bit too late for that as she had already forced his lips and teeth apart, the ring gag locked between them so that he could not have possibly have opened his mouth anymore. Almost immediately, Arctic started drooling, the stream of spittle impossible to stop when his mouth was forced open like that, tongue working desperately to scoop it up and make his humiliation just a little rest. Sweeping over the metal of the ring gag, not even a comfortable, rubber one, it probed and teased, though did not to ease the clamour of his debasement, breath shuddering in lungs that no longer seemed able to take a full breath with the clasp of latex pressing down around him.

It was all as it was supposed to be, however, as the stallion panted through the gag, cock throbbing and twitching, pulsing, drooling a thick stream of pre-cum down to the tiled bathroom floor. It was just as well that it was designed as such, considering the mess that he was sure to make in there, but he had not anticipated that that part of his anatomy too would be clad in latex, considering just how she had slipped the suit over him so far with a hole over his backside and leaving his cock free, yet he had been a fool to consider that she would be so kind to him.

His cock was the first to be wrapped in latex, showing off his sheath and nuts too in gleaming, black, shiny definition, everything about him reduced to a toy as he grunted and groaned, rocking his hips even as he closed his eyes. Arctic could not stop himself from drooling and Fluttershy turned her head away as she clicked her tongue against the roof of her mouth.

“Now, that won’t do...”

But she wasn’t talking about his muzzle as she lifted his cock, unplugging an impossibly neat and tucked away hole right at the tip to feed something into him. But what was it? What was she doing to him?

Arctic shuddered but he could not move, the latex too tight, everything holding him in place, as something like a sounding rod penetrated his cock, sliding down and down and down, uncomfortable and yet the sort of sensation that made him want to thrust and buck his hips at the same time flooding him. He tried to arch away without thinking and she gripped his forelock, growling in the back of her throat as she used her strength against him, the stallion’s strength stripped away in the depths of his submission while his tail tried to flag wantonly. That part of him, however, had already been encased in latex, offering outside viewers online the outline of what could have been a tail as he was turned into a latex toy.

The rod penetrated his cock perfectly and she murmured her appreciation of her handiwork as she sealed up his cock perfectly, the rod settling inside him as he whimpered and squirmed, skin hot with humiliation. What more could she possibly be doing to him?

“That spell will hold, don’t you worry.”

Spell? Oh, that was something to be worried about if the way that she’d treated him in the past was anything to go on. He squirmed and whimpered and pushed his tongue up against the gag, a hood sliding securely over his head with the eyes covered too, drowning his world in the dark slip of darkness. It fitted Arctic’s muzzle perfectly, as was to be expected, and he grunted into the warming embrace of it, cock throbbing even with the rod feeling out of place inside him, awkward and ungainly, flanks shivering and shuddering with undue heaves of breath. As if that could help him now...

The gap left under his tail was soon to be fixed, however, and Arctic was given no warning at all as a hose was wedged up into his tail hole, the tightness of his hole making it uncomfortable at best, though he tried not to think about the lick of pain in the stretch. The old scar in there still made it difficult to take things up there, even though Mistress Shy had stretched him out time after time again and, after a while, any discomfort did fade completely to pleasure. It was just something that took him a while to get into. But he’d spent more than enough time with his mistress so far to know that she would take what she wanted of him, knowing that his consent lay in the collar around his neck, her tag tangling possessively against the strong swell of his chest. Even with the latex closing in around him, the mere presence of it was a little comforting, though he was glad, at least, that he could barely move, rendering his muscles a little more relaxed and a little less apt to clench down on the hose stretching his pony-doughnut out in the best-worst of ways.

He’d never quite understand his viewpoint on that side of things in lust...


The latex sealed in around the hose, clearly designed for such a thing, and he was locked into the suit from head to hoof, his head encased, his cock encased, his swollen nuts aching and churning, need rising despite everything that she’d already done to him. What Arctic was not able to see, considering his position, was that there was another tube connected to the suit that would allow fluid (he would only guess at what that could have been if he’d known it was there) to pour into the suit, soaking him completely even though he was covered. It was a handy design but there was more at play and at stake than that, the “thing” in his cock softening a little, a little more comfortable, not quite holding the stern rigidity of the sounding rods that he had been used to in the past.

But it wasn’t for him to judge or assume as Fluttershy squeezed on the hose under his tail, the outer part of it swelling like a butt plug to ensure that there was no way that he would be able to pop it out of himself even then. No, that was just another little play on control on her part and he shivered, panting lightly, though the stallion doubted that the heaving of his flanks could even be seen through the tightly loving grasp of the latex that made him moan so.

Mistress Shy stepped back with a smile to survey her handiwork, locking a new set of cuffs – a heavier metal, that time – around his legs, chaining him in place with hobbles between both sets of hooves and having them bolted down into the floor. Some would have said that it was overkill to present her dear pony-pet in such a manner but, as Rarity always said, presentation was everything and the ponies that came for the fetish night would want to see him as the best of the best, not something that could or could not have fulfilled their wildest dreams. 

For one added touch of humiliation, she fixed a heavier collar again, like his cuffs, around his neck, the weight of it solely for fetish purposes as it dragged his head down, forcing him to bow at all times, his reins neatly tied off, fastened to the ring gag with a special bit-ring, to an O-ring in the ceiling about his head. 

The hoses for the suit were something special, however, the one under his tail hole being her favourite as her eyes followed it, how it slipped through the wall, all specially designed for the purposes of fetish and not bathroom hygiene at all. No, that hose ran from the stallion’s communal urinal trough, the sink spigots placed about it too, so that every last drop of strongly scented piss would be poured straight into her pony-pet’s tail hole as the night went on. The suit had adaptations to it too where she affixed other hoses with suitable funnels attached (her favourite was the one over his head, of course) where others that would soon be in the room with them would be able to make use of Arctic, soaking him in their piss even though he was suitably encased in latex, like the little whore-stallion he was should always have been.

The spell, however, was something that she had needed a unicorn’s assistance with and just why Rarity was attending the event free of charge (she’d wanted a chance to show off her new fetish lines anyway). The spell allowed any mare using the bathroom to simply urinate in their group troughs too, or even in one of the more private stalls if that was more of their thing, and every drop of piss would flow straight into his stomach, transported there magically, filling his stomach and forcing him to expand more and more. The bathrooms would be left clean and dry at the end of it all and her stallion-slut would be drenched in it, reeking and moaning, begging for more as his stomach bloated out and out and out. 

Giggling, she trotted on the spot, allowing herself a small moment of pony-like joy even in the middle of taking on her dominant, mistress role. There were different facets of domination, after all, even if she knew that she was there to lust after her pet and host the whole event, showing them all that she had made him into. She had to keep her cool, hold it together, even as she slipped out of her skirt and the attire that Rarity had made her, her naturally dominant aura all that she needed right then and there.

Hooves trotted down the hallway outside and the bouncer popped his head around the door, a brown stallion with a short, upright mane and a quirk of a smirk on his lips.

“Are you ready, Mistress Shy?”

Smiling, she raised an eyebrow, tail hiked to show off to the stallion just what she would never offer him if he did not get on his knees before her.

“What do you think?”

He grinned. They were familiar enough with each other to know the little nuances of each other’s personalities by that point, for it was not the first time that Fluttershy had attended a fetish night at that particular venue, even if it was hardly underground and potentially one of Ponyville’s worst-kept secrets. Why, there were even rumours that Luna and Celestia themselves came to partake sometimes, though there was never a way to tell when they could take on the form of another pony as a public disguise, whenever needed.

Everyone who was anyone knew what was going on in there and they rushed to see, a clamour of hooves forcing their way into the bathroom, although the bouncer was able to keep the mares in check so that they only entered two at a time, filling the room with a mass of bodies. It was enough to rival a heaving, pounding club with a driving beat of music on one of their busiest nights, Arctic trying to twist his head back and forth within the tight clasp of the latex, breathing shortly and shallowly even as his need throbbed.

Why, oh, why, did that need have to be there? There was discomfort and a burble of attention, yet the latex did not transmit the sense of touch as Arctic may have felt it if he had, indeed, been naked but for his coat of fur. He panted heavily, trying to get as much air into his lungs as possible. Something told the stallion that he’d need it later, though there was nothing he could do about any of it as he ducked his head further, reliving the pressure around his neck just a little, wings bound tightly and then wrapped up in latex. There was no way to even tell, from his garb, that he was a Pegasus unless another looked closely, nameless and faceless to all that were there.

“Good...get out...”

“Need...off...”

“Been waiting for this...”

“So big...”

“Is...a cock extension?”

He imagined that he could hear what they were saying, muffled words and gasps reaching his ears. There was some muffling with the suit, of course, but he could hear more if he strained, trying to lick his lips but only managing to swipe his soft, flexible appendage that could so very easily be used and abused over the ring gag. Someone giggled and grabbed his head, yanking it forward to the limit of the chain that kept his head down, only a very small range of motion left to him between the reins tied off overhead and the chain, though that was all as it was meant to be.



Continued in part two...
> Bound in the Stalls: Part Two
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Bound in the Stalls
Part Two
 
Written by Arian Mabe (Amethyst Mare)
Commissioned by anonymous


Continued from part one...


“Good...get out...”

“Need...off...”

“Been waiting for this...”

“So big...”

“Is...a cock extension?”

He imagined that he could hear what they were saying, muffled words and gasps reaching his ears. There was some muffling with the suit, of course, but he could hear more if he strained, trying to lick his lips but only managing to swipe his soft, flexible appendage that could so very easily be used and abused over the ring gag. Someone giggled and grabbed his head, yanking it forward to the limit of the chain that kept his head down, only a very small range of motion left to him between the reins tied off overhead and the chain, though that was all as it was meant to be.

“Me first...”

Fluttershy smirked as Roma stepped up to be first in line, an earth pony that she had had an altercation with many years back. That time seemed awfully long ago though as she eyed up the mare’s cream-coloured coat and her brown mane that was braided tightly, gleaming with oil. She didn’t hesitate as she turned her back on Arctic, his latex-muzzle at just the right height for her as she ground her marehood back, ensuring that the ring was positioned just so to take all that she wanted to spend into his mouth.

“You’re going to love this.”

There was no question in her harsh grunt but, then again, Roma had never been a pony all that well-versed in negotiating pleasure, opening her lips in a long, lewd moan as she released her bladder over his latex-masked face and, of course, into his mouth too. It was not as neat as she may have liked but that was the beauty of the drains in the floor too that Fluttershy had requested to be enchanted, ensuring that nothing went to waste even as a hot stream of piss flowed into Arctic’s mouth and over his tongue.

The stallion wasn’t ready for it – there was no way that he could have possibly been ready for it. He coughed and gagged and gargled on the stream of urine, the mare above him seeming both familiar and strange at the same time, cackling as she abused him. But that was all that he was there for and it was so hard to retain his sense of self and reality as he blushed furiously within the suit, hating how much he loved it, though the stench of urine was not his favourite thing. The throbbing of his cock would give him away every time, regardless of the humiliation, and all he could do with his cheeks and ears burning was to gulp down every last drop that he could get.

Arctic panted, nose tingling, though it was impossible for the reek of piss to not affect him, so crude and so acrid that it could not be ignored. He tried to pull away, to get a break, but everyone knew that he wasn’t really there for that, not there for himself, a latex pet simply there to serve. And that was just what he would do as a soft marehood ground up to his muzzle, something that he could smell but not feel with the latex even folding around his nose and over the very edges of the ring gag. All he could do, if he dared, was stick his tongue out, allow that part of him to be used, but the lingering splatters of urine didn’t exactly entice him on to that.

And then she was gone, leaving him with a lingering sensation of wetness, although it was not coming from his muzzle. Shaking his head to the extent that he was allowed, Arctic grunted and tried to twist, not quite understanding what the strangely seeping sensation was. It was almost as if he had wet himself – but he hadn’t done that since he’d been much, much younger and it couldn’t be that, not even as his hide dampened, the heave of his flanks only serving to exaggerate the effect even more swiftly.

He couldn’t have explained it, not knowing about the funnels attached to the suit, but another blue-furred mare was over him at right that moment, pissing into one that allowed her to soak his back and sides, although it would flow where it wanted to. She let out a sigh of relief at being so able to relieve herself in that fashion, her marehood winking sexily as the last drops trickled out, but she was swiftly replaced by another mare again that stood over his head to use the very best funnel of them all.

Arctic’s eyes felt as if they widened under the suit’s mask but he could not tell whether his eyes were open or closed, his light eyelashes fluttering against the latex as he gasped. Hot urine flowed over his forelock and between his ears, dripping down, the feeling of an inner thigh against the side of his face as the mare bore down above him, a faceless piss-slut for her use and attention. As much as he tried to rip his head away, grunting and whimpering, he wasn’t going anywhere and was forced to tremble in place, the trickle of urine impossible to ignore, even if he tried.

It soaked his mane, trickling between the hairs and clumping them together, staining the arch of his light-haired neck, though there was not so much that it could soak down much further than that. He had to close his eyes, definitely that time, as urine poured down his face, even trickling into his mouth from that angle, a reek on his lips that his tongue automatically wanted to push out and sweep up, clean up, just to make him feel a little more like the stallion he was all over again. 

It wasn’t right but it wasn’t wrong, lingering in that in-between of sub-space where the world around him no longer mattered. One mare was replaced with another and, knowing now that there was a way for them to piss on him even with the suit, he tried to make himself seem as small and insignificant as possible, bearing through it as his coat slowly but steadily dampened with a near enough constant stream of urine. One after another wanted to use him and he was horribly introduced to one that allowed a stream of piss to flow over his rump and around the plug and hose in his tail hole, which was a tingling, itching sensation that he by no means wanted to feel again. 

But he had to because he was Fluttershy’s pony-slut, her pet pony, the best one for her. As uncomfortable as it all was, pulling away, chains rattling, everything holding him where she wanted him to be, he had to bear through it, the seeping rise of urine slowly but surely filling the suit. It started with his coat as it trickled through his short coat of fur, mane dampening down as it clung to his neck all the way down to the light rise of his withers. The sensation was not entirely different to rising from a bath where he had drenched himself from head to hoof, although a bath would have surely have come with something a side more softly scented than the harsh stench of urine.

It was the smell of it too that got to him, the aroma seeming to even drown out what was happening around him, the noise and clamour burbling through still. How a smell could render a sound obsolete was beyond him, his nostrils puckered and flared, trying to push out the reek even as urine trickled between them. The lines of muscle and bone too, where more noticeable, in his flesh as tension rose only served to better channel the flow of piss to where it wanted to be, dripping over him, lingering on his lips, his tongue and jaws already aching far too much to even consider being able to lick it up, to get it out of his mouth in at least some, small way.

No, Fluttershy had made sure to even strip that from him, his head bowed at such an angle that she had made it difficult for him to swallow, not even able to rotate his head all that far from one side to the other. Someone yanked his ear and he squealed even through the latex as he was handled so roughly, cock throbbing, need pulsing through him despite everything else going on. That wasn’t something that he needed to worry about one bit, however, as even the ability to rasp in a breath through his mouth was taken from him, stripped from him like so much else, a hose rammed in there and locked into the ring gag so that he could be better used for their pissing pleasure. 

“Not slowly...”

Someone held the tube steady, pointing it just right for his mouth, and Arctic shuddered, anticipating the jet of piss flowing down a moment before it marked his muzzle. It burst forth as if the pony releasing it had not been able to relieve themselves in many hours, letting out an audible sigh of relief as more and more was poured straight into Arctic’s mouth.

He was not ready for it and he fought back, panting and heaving, trying to hold his breath and hold a mouthful of piss at the same time. His cheeks puffed out comically and he groaned even as they kept going, the need to swallow growing greater and greater. It was not like holding a mouthful of something when he could close his lips but was harder still, instinct and autonomy woefully taking over as he was forced to gulp down the most rancid mouthful of urine yet, eyes streaming, thought his tears were not from pain or fear but merely the strain of it all.

Did he want to be there? Or was it just that he wanted to be a good little piss-pony for Mistress Shy? It was hard to say, hard to know one way from the other, need rising inside him, the pulse of his cock impossible to ignore. All that he knew was that there was a steady stream of piss demanding his attention, more than one mare using him at a time as his fur was soaked through, more than one entrance to the suit being utilised. It was as if he was the centre of attention but not at all at the same time, a living sex toy with no face and the stench of piss infiltrating every last part of his being.

“Get him!”

“Little piss-slut...”

“Soak him!”

Of course, it was only to be expected that those who were there to enjoy themselves had already partaken in a fair amount of liquor already, although anyone who was staggeringly inebriated was not allowed into the restrooms for the event. That only meant, however, that they had plenty of urine in their heavily over-filled bladders to spend, marehoods tight and wanting, though it was not the immediate release of sexual pleasure that they craved right there and then. There was no magical re-filling while Fluttershy watched over them, ensuring that there was an ongoing, fresh rise of urine to soak him through and go down his throat, although there was another way still, of course, for piss to fill her little pet’s belly, if he had not worked it out as yet.

As it was, some mares didn’t quite want to piss on or in him like that, merely enjoying the show, although they too had to relieve themselves and the bathroom was not closed off for them in other ways. The urination troughs with tap spigots above to clean off their marehoods and hooves afterwards were positioned at the far side of the room and Fluttershy’s eyes glittered wickedly as they all relieved themselves side by side, so closely pressed together that one could have felt the heat from their bodies. Their marehoods puckered and twitched, pulling as their bodies urinated, muscles contracting, giggling and moaning softly with the aura of release. It was hard, after all, to not let go of one’s inhibitions in such a fashion when there was alcohol flowing, the very best cider that Sweet Apple Acres had to offer on tap, tongues protruding out so softly over their lower lips that it was a wonder indeed that they did not lock lips and make out right then and there.

Wriggling in the latex suit, Arctic shuddered, his stomach feeling heavier and heavier, even though he was not actively gulping down anything right at that moment in time. He couldn’t work it out straight away and he didn’t know either what was happening as his stomach sloshed and filled as if he was gulping down load after load of piss like it was a beverage he so very desperately needed on a hot summer’s day. As the mares pissed through the drainage grates, others joining them where they could not find a place on or around Arctic for the main event, every last drop of that acrid piss flowed straight into his stomach, Rarity’s magic doing the trick very nicely. If he’d been more with himself or even aware of what was happening, Arctic may well have been impressed by what was happening, how well everything pulled together, his stomach fuller and heavier as the seconds passed.

He groaned, pressing his teeth into the ring gag, although it was too strong for a little bite like that with an aching jaw to even do a bare modicum of damage to it. His stomach inflated, not able to hold so much as mare after mare joined others where the drainage grates were. Even though he was ignorant to the grates and the magic infused into them, Arctic could not fail to release when he was being filled, whimpering and moaning around the ring gag as his tongue pushed out, though he couldn’t even get a hint of a taste or scent from the mare pissing into the funnel and down the tube. They were duly apt at keeping him away from everything that was happening while they all took their fetish and pleasure from his body, Arctic nothing to them, most of them not even knowing who was under the suit.

“Darling, he does look fine in my new line, doesn’t he?”

He knew that voice, ears trying to slip back even when they were set and perked up within the stiff latex hold. It was too tight for him to really push into any other shape than what the suit wanted him to be in but it was hard to focus on any one thing, even Rarity, as his stomach bloated, filling up more and more, the sheer swell of piss inside him making it harder to breathe. It was the closing in of the suit around him that made it difficult, panting and heaving, eyes rolling, yet a stream of urine down his throat was oddly a comfort in a moment where the Pegasus stallion was not even sure he was present in his own body.

It was a strange experience, a surreal one, the humiliation affecting him even if he didn’t want to acknowledge it, cock throbbing and twitching, showing through the latex. The tip tried to flare but that wasn’t the end of it as his arousal grew, not allowed to cum as his mistress had neither ordered him to or put him in quite a position where he could not hold back from doing so. The twitching pulse of it would have been hypnotising if not for the piss trickling over his lips, into his ears, even streaming over his eyes, more and more flowing over him, down his throat, even magically appearing in his stomach as if his body had well and truly taken fair leave of its senses in all reality.

There was no telling, in all honesty, just what was happening to him and what was going to happen as he grunted and rocked his hips back, Rarity pressing her marehood up to the funnel for an inordinate time, releasing more and more. The stream seemed to last for so long (he wasn’t sure he could be best relied on then to judge the passing of time) that he wondered if he’d missed her swapping for another mare, gulping down her piss obediently even though it made his nostrils flare and throat try to close up. If it was getting easier in any way it was not in a way that Arctic was immediately aware of while he was doing the dirty deed itself.

“Ahhh... That’s just what I needed!”

Rarity’s giggle was full of glee and the stream finally stopped as she backed off, though something in Arctic had him leaning after her, trying to feel a little of her warmth through the latex. Of course, the chain drew him up short, reins tugging at his ring gag, eyes half-closed, burning with piss that he had not been able to stop from flowing into them. As much as he blinked, he could not clear his vision, barely aware of whether his eyes were open or closed still, for the soaking of them had been the end of it, piss even beading up on and clumping his eyelashes together in the strangest of ways. He had not even known that was possible but something about the tautly humid interior of the suit lent to that, festering in piss as his stomach finally grew large enough to start bearing out and having an effect on the suit itself, showing a bulge.

But it wasn’t just the drainage grates in the mares bathroom, taking down water and piss, that flowed into his stomach but the trough to collect and drain piss in the stallion’s bathroom too that made it all the more straining. For Arctic was most certainly not destined to be soaked and filled in one way at a time, breath catching as he arched and groaned the best he could within the suit, but every way at once, the ultimate humiliation rising through him.

That sensation was more than familiar to him and he yanked at both his cuffs and hobbles as he squealed and tried to kick out. It flowed into him with a hot splash, though he couldn’t have known that the stallions were fully aware of what was happening to their urine, laughing and mocking him from the other room. Maybe that would have made it better or worse for him but he didn’t get the chance to find out either way as their piss streamed straight up into his tail hole and deeper into his guts. The hose was positioned in just the right way to ensure that it was forced up into his stomach and Arctic squirmed in place, panting and moaning, as it spilt into his belly, inflating it more and more, the latex giving the impression that it was straining and creaking around his bulging belly even as he stood there, letting it all happen to him.

Just what else could he do?

The stallions in the other room were not entirely all in the know, however, some just in there to do their business, knowing that something was going on for the mares and simply there to pick up who they could after the event was done. All they knew was that the mares would be left horny and needy afterwards and, for them, that was more than good enough as they chuckled and exchanged stories, studiously avoiding looking at each other while releasing their bladders, fat and inflated after becoming tipsy or drunk to varying extents already. 

There were some clumsier ones too, like Big Mac, that just wanted to get in and get out, acting the part of the wing-pony on a night out, hastening and making a mess as he washed his hooves, more water than he meant to pour out from the tap spilling into the trough. Luckily, of course, it was washed away instantly and Big Mac breathed a sigh of relief, unaware of just how that rush of cold water was set to affect Arctic. Distinctly different from the near enough ongoing stream of piss, only coming with a handful of breaks that were both a torment and a relief, it burst into him and drew a strangled shriek from his lips, enhancing the pressure in his stomach tenfold as the latex pushed out and out and out. It had to reach its limit at some point but his insides were doing the best job they could (most likely with a hint of magic that he was not privy to) to keep everything inside him, the hose pumping more and more up into him.

Some stallions swaggered into their bathroom, unknown to the mares, manes spiked up as if they had been aiming to head out on a night out in Manehattan or something similarly bustling with a busier nightlife. They jostled one another for position, scaring off the quieter sort of stallions that didn’t know what was going on and, frankly, wanted to stay out of anything too overtly sexual out in public, taking up pride position over the troughs as if they knew a secret that should not have been as widespread as it was.

One smirked and prodded his friend’s shoulder, the only one of the three that was quieter, though they moved awkwardly as if their bladders were so full that it was difficult for them to even walk in a suitably straight line.

“Come on, we filled up for this...”

“Are you sure that’s actually going to happen?”

“What do you care? You’re just here for the tail.”

The stallions laughed, all trying to outdo one another even though they could not have been sure, in that moment, just how their action was going to affect another pony. To them, it was all one big joke, something that they’d laugh about and later claim had been a laugh but not something that had actually happened. Why they thought that it could not take place when their fetishes were held close to their hearts but most certainly present was a wonder but they would think what they wanted as they braced their hind legs and showed off, large cocks dropping.

Their bladders ached to be released and they did not hesitate as their piss streamed and spattered into the trough, almost making more mess than they sought to as it trickled and splashed, the stallions laughing at and joshing one another. A flick of the tail could send an extra-strong jet of piss down into the trough and they tried to goad one another on even though such bodily functions could not be controlled, thick rivulets of piss clouding and swirling together as they were drawn down the drain and connected straight through to Arctic’s needy hole.

His tail hole softened a little around the hose and plug but that did not yet mean that it was completely comfortable for him as he grunted and twisted, hot piss filling him up, more and more swelling out his stomach. A sudden rush had him squealing and stomping a hoof but there didn’t seem to be any way to call halt to it, flanks heaving for breath. Soaked through in all ways, he was unsure how much of what had drenched his coat was piss and what was sweat, but there was no denying the hot flow of urine as it bloated out his stomach more and more, hanging down under his stomach with the weight of it, drooping and swelling, hardly stopping.

How far would it go and how much would it swell? Oh, it was hard to say as he panted, tongue pushing out without thinking into the tube that delivered such a stream of piss to his muzzle. By that point, it was automatic for him to gulp and swallow without even really thinking about what he was doing, the suit prickling and tingling around him as his hide was drenched. So much piss filled it, soaked into his fur, that it just had nowhere else to go, gravity doing the work as it filled up the suit from his hooves up, more and more drenching him, rendering him nothing more than a piss-slut filling his boots with piss, his world reduced to that of kinky water sports.

Did he like it or not? His mind swam, floating, drifting, wavering between one reality and the next. It was hard to say anymore. Fluttershy’s hoof striking him or caressing him could bring any number of emotions and lusts to the forefront of his mind, warping his mind and breaking him down into her obedient pet. Just when he thought that he had reached the limit of his depravity, what she could reduce him to, she found something new for him, something more that would bring him down another notch and even further under her hoof than he had been before.

It was funny too how every mare there got to relieve themselves but, notably, Arctic was not allowed to, his bladder swelling more and more as the need to urinate grew. He grunted and tried to twist but found himself held too fast for that, the stench of urine and the trickling flow of it spreading around him, filling his ears. It was impossible to ignore and he could not help but squirm, trying to fight the urge, yet any piss that did escape his bladder was only forced back up in there instantly, straining inside and adding another, somewhat lighter bulge in comparison to the massive swell of the rest of him, to the very base of his abdomen. 

Arctic groaned. Could he hold it? Would his bladder withstand that?

“Pet...”

And then she was there, soothing him without even really doing or saying anything special, the pony that made his heart sing and pound in such tremblingly new ways each and every day. Despite exhaustion already lacing the lines of his body, Arctic tried to turn his muzzle into her touch, the warmth of her body there, ready and waiting, the latex and hobbles holding him where she wanted him to be.

Yet Fluttershy wasn’t there to provide anything so gently softening or soothing, her hooves moving over his head and wandering down his body, groping and pinching and squeezing, as was her right to do as his mistress. She could do anything she wanted to Arctic and no one would have said anything different, assuming that he had, of course, consented to it at one time and was enjoying it all as much as she was. What they didn’t know was just how that tentative line of consent had always been blurred even from their very first session together, when he’d been dragged down to her dungeon without even knowing what he’d find there. They didn’t have to know and they didn’t have to know either what Arctic thought about that, how it made his heart lift even if he could not have understood why.

Maybe it was just the way it was meant to be.


Continued in part three...
> Bound in the Stalls: Part Three
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Bound in the Stalls
Part Three
 
Written by Arian Mabe (Amethyst Mare)
Commissioned by anonymous


Continued from part two...
 
 
Arctic groaned. Could he hold it? Would his bladder withstand that?

“Pet...”

And then she was there, soothing him without even really doing or saying anything special, the pony that made his heart sing and pound in such tremblingly new ways each and every day. Despite exhaustion already lacing the lines of his body, Arctic tried to turn his muzzle into her touch, the warmth of her body there, ready and waiting, the latex and hobbles holding him where she wanted him to be.

Yet Fluttershy wasn’t there to provide anything so gently softening or soothing, her hooves moving over his head and wandering down his body, groping and pinching and squeezing, as was her right to do as his mistress. She could do anything she wanted to Arctic and no one would have said anything different, assuming that he had, of course, consented to it at one time and was enjoying it all as much as she was. What they didn’t know was just how that tentative line of consent had always been blurred even from their very first session together, when he’d been dragged down to her dungeon without even knowing what he’d find there. They didn’t have to know and they didn’t have to know either what Arctic thought about that, how it made his heart lift even if he could not have understood why.

Maybe it was just the way it was meant to be. 

“You need to relieve yourself too, don’t you?”

Her tone was pleasant, conversational, yet conducted in such a way that he heard her clearly even through the latex. Giving a muffled groan, Arctic wriggled his hips, eyes wide, panting shortly and shallowly. He could almost see her smiling at his predicament...

“Yes, pet... Go on. You need to.”

He hadn’t thought about his own needs, the liquid that Fluttershy had encouraged him to drink before they’d even left her house – their house? No, it couldn’t be his house too when she was the one that owned him, his thoughts tangled and roiling, seething in a tumultuous mess of lust where no singular one could be extracted from the rest. The need to urinate had been something that he’d been pushing down, which had at least been a little easier than it could have normally been considering everything else that was going on to distract him. The trickle of urine flowing down the hoses, however, was what did it for him, panting and squirming, not seeming to get enough breath into his lungs as he constantly shifted his weight from one hoof to the other.

No... What would it mean for him if he gave in to that need? His cock seemed to tighten around the tube in his urethra, something that he had done his very best to forget about, and he shuddered bodily, splashing urine around the funnels spaced out down his suit as the mares using him shrieked. 

“You know you need to...”

No...
 
It was Fluttershy, it could only be his mistress with a voice like that, hooves like that, knowing exactly where to tease and press to make him feel as if he had to pee, had to pee right at that very moment.

Where would his pee go?

He had no choice in the matter, of course, as she massaged his flanks, finding just the right spots to coax him to release, though it was not an orgasm that she sought from him that time around. It was more carnal, a baser need still, something that everyone had to do and yet everyone took in the privacy, most often, of single bathrooms and their own homes, not sharing it for purposes such as fetishes that thrummed through the hearts of so many ponies. 

And that was just why she had him piss, firming up her control over him as if it had ever been in any question at all, Arctic grunted and gulping, swallowing another load of piss even as he, humiliatingly, could no longer control his bladder.

“There, pet...” She patted his head, although nothing was comforting about it. “I’ll relieve you again later, if you won’t do it for yourself. Can’t have you backing up in there, now, can we?”

Of course, all she was doing was forcing him to back up even more, his cock unable to release in either fashion as it was all forced back up into his bladder or, in some cases, his nuts too. It was not an orgasm that he could have called such but Fluttershy more than knew just how to manipulate him in such a fashion, inflating the plug under his tail a little more, tightening the seal, the tube that ran down his cock only allowing fluid to go one way. And that direction most certainly was not out of his cock...

A tiny valve was more than enough to seal off the tube that ran from her pony-pet’s shaft to the body of the suit and Fluttershy did not bother resisting the urge to smirk as she allowed the urine building up in the latex suit to flow down the tube into his cock. It could be funnelled into his nuts or his bladder – she didn’t care, as long as she had a pony to play with, taunting and abusing him as his need grew and grew.

For he may not have realised it but his constant hard-on was telling, the latex clinging to him most thinly there. It was hard to ignore what she was doing to him, how the tension in his body was building, the pressure of having so much happening all at once crowding in on his mind. Maybe he’d been too taken aback by the constant, drowning water sports to pay all that much attention to his own need but Arctic should not have been as shocked as he was as his cock throbbed, pulsing drastically with a mere brush of Fluttershy’s hoof, caressing him, drawing orgasm from him as if it was nothing at all.

But his cum had nowhere to go! A moment after the bliss of climax was forced crudely upon him he squealed and thrashed, his cum instantly backing up into his balls, pleasure ripped away as if it had never been there to begin with. It was a denied orgasm, a controlled orgasm, an orgasm that had never been his to take in the throes of pleasure, Fluttershy’s laugh echoing around the bathroom as she dominated him so very easily.

“Effortless, isn’t it, pet?” She said out loud, putting words to what he was feeling. “Let’s do that again... Show everyone what a good pony-pet you are!”

Her voice rose in challenge, for she had something to prove with him, Arctic squirming and wriggling as she pressed a vibrating massage wand up to his cock. Of course, he could have attempted to cum again in a short while but Fluttershy simply didn’t want to wait as she forced him to the edge within a couple of minutes – not that time had very much meaning left for the poor pony caught up in such sexual turmoil. It was too easy for her to bring him to the point of orgasm, humping, grinding, heaving, and leave him there, the massage wand pulsing, trembling against him. She could have kept him there, on the edge of the broken wrath of pleasure, for as long as she pleased but it was with an even wider, crueller smirk than ever that Fluttershy pushed him over the edge.

Arctic squealed, choking on a mouthful of piss as his muzzle was filled again, but there was no helping it as, yet again, his cum backed up into his balls. It was a quirk of his body that Fluttershy adored toying with and he knew just how big they could get even if he did not know just how far the latex could stretch, cupping and pulling around them, straining and stretching, his balls gurgling as they bulged up bigger and bigger with his cum. He couldn’t see just how large they were, in the latex mask as he was, but he could imagine, panting heavily, breath seeming in short supply as he rocked and ground, only thinking of the next moment.

So lost was he that he could not even think of his mistress, pushed past the point of no return, submissive to a fault. He couldn’t have said no to her right then and there even if his need had been dire, tail trying to flag as his needy hole softened again around the plug, a little more pleasure rising there again. His body could not help but respond to everything she was doing to him, having done to him, using the fetish-lusting mares as her very own horde to objectify, humiliate and, of course, debase him as much as she wanted to.

“Ooohhh...”

He recognised that voice, only faintly, as Aloe from the spa and wondered if Lotus was there too, though the spa sisters were harsher and more dominant when it came to delivering a very special course of physical therapy than anyone could have anticipated. Her hooves worked down him, poking and prodding his balls, and Arctic groaned as he realised, from her touch alone, that they were nearly down to the ground already, orgasm after orgasm from that vibrator sending his cum back into his nuts. There was the urge to pee too but he could hardly tell whether he was releasing his bladder or not as more and more from the suit backed up into his bladder, pinging back and forth and adding to his frustration.

His balls rumbled and he may or may not have gasped – it was hard to tell with the gag in his mouth. Any sounds he made were inconsequential, of course, in the grand scheme of things, everything continuing whether or not he voiced his avid, vocal consent, the gag taking that away from him. Squirming and shifting his hips, the latex tighter and tighter as it was forced to wrap itself around an even larger part of his anatomy in his swelling nuts, Arctic ground back. Had he even wanted the ability to speak up at all?

She made it hard to remember his life before her, a life when he had not been well-cared for and tended to pet-pony, a pony-pet of the very best kind. His nuts ached for release, the need to cum overwhelming, but there was no way for him to get what his body so sorely needed while his mind and heart sang for the tenor of pleasure she gave him otherwise. For there was pleasure too in humiliation, in being controlled, even as the latex squeaked and creaked, pulling out and out, no longer quite holding the perfect shape of a pony that it had before.

“Good boy...”

Arctic whimpered, twisting his head back and forth, though resorted to hanging it again, wings tight and feeling sweaty, though he wasn’t sure if that was piss soaking them. Was he a good boy? Did he want to be a good boy?

The stallion shivered. It didn’t matter what he wanted. All that mattered was what she wanted. 

“Here, wet your whistle, sugaaarrr!”

The tube in his gag was yanked and then freed, though it did not really allow him to cool his lips any more than they already were, gasping and panting, tongue poking out through the reek of fresh urine. A mare who had clearly had a little too much to drink grabbed his head and sloshed what had to be a mouthful of beer into his gob. It was not the good stuff, although there was too much piss soaking his mouth, mingling with saliva, for Arctic to really tell if it was anything that he may have liked to drink otherwise. After getting together with Fluttershy, he didn’t do too much with drinking, not finding it all that pleasurable anymore.

He coughed and hacked and spat out the beverage even as the mare cooed and patted his head too hard, knocking him sideways – until the chain drew him up short, of course. Arctic was forever reminded of his restrains, how he was to be kept in place at all times, as another gush of hot piss flooded his anal passage, pouring deeper and deeper, seeking out the pit of his belly as he was tenaciously and viciously inflated.

“Aw... Thought you’d like a little drink, honey,” she slurred, clearly a little further gone than she should have been. “You’ve been chugging it all down like a...like a...like a....”

She couldn’t think of something that would mean what she needed it to and shrugged it off, pouring another tankard of beer that surely tasted staler than it should have. Maybe it didn’t go all that well with piss? Arctic was better prepared for that one, however, and merely coughed a couple of times, holding his breath the best he could, just to get through it. It didn’t stop her from giggling and carrying right on, taking advantage of his position as she sloshed his mouth out with beer as if she was trying to clean it out, though for what exactly Arctic could not have said. 

“Oh no... Wee one doesn’t want another drink? Maybe you’ll like this better then...”

And then her marehood was pressed up to his mouth, grinding on his nose through the mask, the soft scent of her overpowering even the stench of piss. Arctic’s eyes closed, the stallion too far gone to resist sure a lure, grunting and heaving, rocking his hips, needing everything that she had to give him even then in a moment that was no his to control. He swept his tongue out over the twitching lips of her marehood, folds quivering, yet he should have perhaps expected the squirt of pee that splattered onto his tongue, the chain keeping his head in place even as he tried to reel, jerking back and earning himself a yank of the gag against his teeth as the reins too drew taut for his troubles.

“Hold still!”

Inebriated, the strange mare was not about to let him get away with it that easily, pissing straight into his mouth without the aid of a funnel, though how she was holding herself up in such a position was a feat of balance that would have been difficult to maintain even if she wasn’t drunk. There were so many heaving, sweating bodies around her though that she must have been able to sling a foreleg over someone else for balance, groaning and humping her hips up to him, not caring one bit about the mess that she made as she filled his mouth up with her urine.

“Ahhh...” Rolling her head back, her flanks shuddered with relief. “That’s better...”

To her, he was nothing more than a urinal and Arctic shuddered to have that shown to him so shockingly, even though she was slow to move away when she had finished relieving herself. Her clit ground up to the ring gag as the edge of latex was peeled back and she clicked her tongue against the roof of her mouth in what could have been annoyance. Like with so many other things, it was hard to say with the mask over his head, rendering him faceless, sightless, a pony that they could all very much use and abuse over and over again without worrying one bit about who was inside there.

Yet he could please her and he was good at that, relishing in the sweet taste of mare after so much piss. It was almost enough that he could ignore his stomach hanging down more and more, bloating out obscenely, even pushing against his nuts under its own weight. Even though urine still marked her folds with a stronger sort of taste than what he was used to, he inhaled deeply, letting the sweetness of her sex overwhelm the rashness of piss. It was not to be his focus as he lashed her throbbing clit with his tongue, not needing to see to deliver that sort of pleasure.

“Yessssss!”

She screamed out her pleasure, humping and grinding frantically on his muzzle, though there was almost little left for Arctic to do with her using his nose as a fuck-toy, a sexual aid that mares with mares may have gotten good use from. Her marehood clenched and squirted messily, painting his muzzle and inside his mouth with her thick, rich cream, the tartness of it lingering as her bladder revealed that she still had a little more to give there, the richness of her pussy mixing with the bitterness of piss, flavours combining in such a way that it was difficult to tell one from the other, becoming some else entirely in the sweltering heat of their time together.

Yet she had little use for him as another mare took advantage of his position and took her place, placing her legs astride his head. There was only one thing to come right then and there, the mare moaning out loud as if she wanted him to hear how much she was enjoying him. What she took as enjoyment, however, was very different to what Arctic may have wanted from her, if even such a pony-pet as he could have had any wishes like that. He was lucky to get what he was given.

A jet of piss heralded her release as she groaned deeply, the sound rising from the back of her throat, as rich and poignant as the heavy stream of piss that splattered over his head. She didn’t seem to be aiming for his muzzle that time at all and the scent of her made him gag immediately, wrenching his head violently back even as she closed her legs around his head, firmly keeping him there and even crudely grinding her back end down to smear her piss and feminine arousal over the head of his latex suit. Some, of course, had to splash into his muzzle and that was too much for him, stronger-tasting than any of the other mares that were there and speaking of a diet so poor that his head spun just acknowledging that the taste was there.

It trickled down him, his latex suit gleaming with the fluid, as if it had never been meant to go into his muzzle, too much for him, too good for him, too good even for a piss-slut that was bound for her pleasure. As it drained into the grates beneath Arctic too, his stomach grew another notch heavier, sinking, swelling and bulging against the floor while he strained to keep his legs far enough apart that the hobbles would not get in the way of his piss-swollen stomach.

The mares giggled around him, changing places, Arctic losing sense of himself in the moment as he became nothing more than an object for him, some sloshing beer over his back, feeding it into the funnels, laughing at the thought that they “could get him drunk like that”. Of course, that could not be done but they enjoyed the thought of it all the same, soaking him through, some of the beer that drenched his coat and the feathers of his Pegasus wings trickling down enough to pour down into his cock and balls, inflating them further. It was hard to tell just what went where anymore, his hind end slowly starting to be pushed up more and more with his huge nuts, the ache of orgasm all-encompassing, a background roar that he had to push past if he was to move forward from that point.

“Let’s see what colour his eyes are...”

He should have been a little better prepared for it, considering that she had been kind enough to give him a lead-up to the revelation, but the hood had an eye-mask too built into it, which, with some fumbling, was removed with a flourish. Even the dim, relatively dark, confines of the bathroom were too bright for him as Arctic immediately closed his eyes again, although he could not help squinting, too curious and trying to see at all costs, wanting to know who was there, who was there to play with him. They didn’t know who he was, the crowd of mares, the bathroom filled with heaving bodies and cruel smirks, their smiles simply not seeming to reach their eyes as he stood there, bound and shivering, at their whim.

Fluttershy stood at the back, smiling faintly, though she was there to observe, having played the part that she wanted to for the moment. Maybe she would toy with him again or maybe she wouldn’t as she was blocked from her pet’s vision by a familiar pink pony with a cutie mark of a bunch of grapes and a strawberry. Berryshine, or Berry Punch as she was affectionately known by her friends, didn’t look as friendly as she usually did working on her cocktails and magnificent alcoholic creations for the enjoyment of others, her rich, pink mane tightly braided so that it would stay out of the way as she took advantage of a night that was much needed for one who worked as much as she did.

“Such lovely eyes...”

With his eyes open, he could take in the full clamour of the room, quivering in place, panting heavily, Berry placing her marehood directly over his muzzle. Something about being able to see had him frozen in place where he could have pulled himself away, watching the stream of pale-coloured urine splatter down, lightly scented and almost pleasant in comparison to the mare that had used him last.

It was all for the art and act of dominance in her case as she ground her marehood back and forth, the muscles surrounding her folds making her part them slightly in a held “wink” for the act of urination, pulsing and twitching to spend the last drops. After everything, it wasn’t that bad and, shamefully, Arctic’s tongue even slipped from his lips, pushing out and wiggling through the middle of the ring gag to try to scoop up what less acrid drops he could. Despite everything, he knew that Fluttershy, his Mistress Shy, was still watching, observing her pet at the top of his game. And who knew just how much she was getting paid to let them use him there, the fetish event surely one that had drawn mares from far and wide.

“Clean me off.”

She didn’t need to raise her voice to be heard and Arctic whimpered softly, lapping and obeying as he cleaned her marehood even as it winked. Berry Punch sighed softly and ground down against him, her eyes fluttering half-closed, languishing in the present time while it was hers to claim.

“I knew you’d have a good tongue tonight too...”

Arctic started. Had she been with him before? It was hard to say when Fluttershy had done so much to him already in the past, had him service so very many mares before, but it was not for him to worry about as another mare that he knew faintly from Ponyville giggled and trotted up to him. Maybe they’d made some sort of queue to dominate him but it was not one that he was privy too as Sea Swirl, a light pink-purple mare with a long, lusciously shaded violet mane and a cutie mark of dolphins, spinning, stood over him, not wanting to miss out on a thing.

She didn’t talk to him, treating him like a urinal, a stream of darkly coloured piss flowing over him as she spread it down the length of his body, splattering the latex and letting the strongly-scented piss fill the funnels. Swirl paid particular attention to his wings, soaking them in her perhaps quite dehydrated piss, though he was too far gone to care about details like that, thankfully only that she spent herself before that strong urine reached his muzzle.

Someone had a pen and he quailed as they all shouted out things, things that were to be written on him just like one pony may write on the cast of another when they had injured a wing or similar.

“Piss-pony!”

“Whore!”

“Slut!”

“Piss-pot!”

“Urinal!”

“Tongue for use!”

“Hole to fill!”

“Piss here!”

All of those words and more were scrawled on him, some of them more intelligible to read than others, though it did not matter at the end of the day. Arctic quivered in place, knowing that he was where they wanted him to be, where they needed him to be, the words on him what he was, at least to them. He didn’t need to be anything more than that to them when he did such a good job, groaning and grunting, still servicing the drunkest of the mares that didn’t seem to mind getting their rocks off in public, regardless of how Arctic felt about that.

The pen even marked the latex over his balls and he squinted back to see what was being written on him there, something about his big nuts being free to use, his holes free use, everything about him “free use”. Those words resonated with him more strongly than ever and he grunted, lowering his head, letting another mare piss over his head, eyes closed so that the liquid, thin and faintly aromatic in comparison to most, did not flow into his eyes.

He was free to use, as long as his mistress allowed them to use him.

He didn’t know the next mare to use him, a Pegasus with a white coat and a fluffy, blue mane, though he may have liked to know her better as she sashayed up to him with a little wiggle in her hips that could have melted a stone-cold heart.

“Hello, toy,” she purred, putting her lips up close to his latex-wrapped ear, even though she did not quite want to touch his piss-covered suit. “I’m going to have fun with this...”

She must have had what she wanted to do planned for a while, although it was not all that strange as she simply began by pissing in her mouth. The mare seemed to have drunk well beforehand and Arctic found it easier to tell the difference between one lot of piss to the next, his palate more refined as the night wore on, muscles aching and yet not destined to be relieved of any pressure for a good while yet. She poured it into his mouth even as the stream, prematurely, tapered off, letting his tongue to work as she wiped herself off on it, chuckling throatily as she ground back onto his mouth.

“Use it like you’re going to use it, colt!”

Whatever that meant was beyond him but Arctic knew a demand for pleasure when it was cast out in such a tone and delved his tongue as deeply up into her cunny as he could, folds winking and twitching around his tongue. They pulled as if they were trying to get his tongue deeper and she bore back with raw need on his nose, pushing and shoving her way to climax with a coarse sort of domination that made his heart pound more heavily than ever.

Yet the white Pegasus had more than a few tricks under her wings and she laughed wickedly as she raised her hips, releasing more piss and spoiling his fun, his break from being a piss-pony, something to be used and forgotten about later, unless one needed to relieve themselves again. As if to taunt him while she stood imperiously over him, powerful to the last moment, she chugged back a tankard of ale with a glint in her eye, daring him to do anything, to say anything, her backside to his muzzle while he tried to drink down her piss and slurp at her sex at the same time.

“You can do better than that... Maybe your mistress will hear of how inadequate you are?”

He shuddered. No... No, she couldn’t tell Fluttershy that! His mistress knew that he was trying to be a good boy, a good pet-pony for her! But he didn’t know that, not truly, and maybe he wasn’t doing what she wanted even as he was restricted in what he could actually do there. That didn’t mean that he could not lean into everything with the gusto of an owned pony who had no control over their lives and he groaned into the white mare’s sex as she alternated between releasing bursts of urine when he least expected it and letting him lap at her sex to first one orgasm and the second. Those surrounding them must have been enjoying the show to let her go on for so long but that did not mean that they did not make use of the funnels lining his body, one particularly adventurous mare even angling her body and inserting a thin tube into her urethra so that she could ensure that not a drop was missed as she added her piss to the flood.

“What’s going on here?”

That was another surprise, though Fluttershy, standing back to watch her pet, only smiled as she welcomed an old friend of hers in: an anthro dragoness who preferred walking on two feet rather than on all fours who went by the name of Smoke. Smoke smirked, rocking back on her heels, arms crossed, as naked as the day that she’d been born, even though it was not normal for dragons to wear clothing either. Her white scales were on show with grey plate-scales lining her stomach, down from the join of her neck to her head all the way to her crotch, though it was the large plates running down her back from the centre of her head that gave her the name, “Smoke”. They were softly curved even though her eyes glinted with a harder gleam of silver-blue, licking her lips as she eyed up the pony in latex before her as if he was something to be devoured.

“A pleasure to see you come by, Smoke,” Fluttershy murmured. “I did not think this would be your, ah, scene.”

She could be delicate when she needed to, Arctic’s eyes on her at all times even though he could not tell just what she was talking about right at that moment in time. But it was not for him to worry about as he was forced to slurp down another mare’s orgasm, one of the more drunken unicorns giggling as if she could not stop as she ground back and humped him, her pink cheeks much pinker than they should have been. She was not able to control her bladder at the point of orgasm and her nickers were punctuated with gasps of relief as her juices mixed with a rush of urine, so pale that it may as well have been water and almost going down his throat as easily. Funny how that could happen even in the midst of a moment that had him panting and heaving, grunting, trying to do his best but not sure at all how much more he could.

Smoke smirked at the pony, beckoning a friend in, though there was a cluster of mares outside who did not quite seem to have dared to come in as yet too. They didn’t care about that.

“I brought feather-brain here to have a good time but I think even this may be a bit much for her... Prism, would you get your butt in here already?”

The gryphon clicked the edges of her beak together and rolled her eyes as she entered, a black beast that walked like Smoke, although she did not quite seem as comfortable with it. Her feathers were so dark that they were tinted with other shades, the sheen of a rainbow touching the very edges of her feathers, though the soft grey of her feline half at least evened out the effect so that it was not completely dazzling. Prism was elegant to a fault and brushed back her crest of feathers into place, sharp, blue eyes intent and locking onto Arctic the very moment she stepped inside the bathroom. Taller than the mares that were in there, taking their leave of him even as the crowd thinned a little, the gryphoness had no trouble at all sighting her target as if she was a predator soaring through the skies, seeking out prey.

But gryphons didn’t do that any more...did they?

“You took ages! What gives?”

Smoke smirked and joked, poking her friend in the ribs in a coarser fashion than a pony may have done to a pony but dragons and gryphons were well-known to be a little rougher and tumble than most of pony-kind. That was not entirely a bad thing, though it did give a little bit of an idea as to where some of their more dominant needs came into play from time to time.

“Yeah, those mares out there are blocking the door, can’t decide whether to come in or not, saying it’s disgusting and gross and whatever,” she scoffed, flipping a claw as if she could not understand what their problem was. “I mean, it’s a bathroom. Just what were they expecting to go on in here? To hell with a pony if they enjoy it too, right?”

Smoke grinned.

“Right! So, you’re game.”

It wasn’t a question and the two anthro creatures stepped up to the four-legged pony, more easily than every towering dominantly over him. As big as he was, there was nothing that could have made him feel smaller than he was right then and there as they loomed, their dark shapes cutting against what little light there was in the bathroom.

“Hello, pony...”

Such simple words and, still, they sent a thrill through Arctic like nothing else ever could, his sides heaving, yanking at the chain and the ring gag, his reins tight and unyielding. Maybe it would have been better if the mask part of his ensemble was still blindfolding him but he didn’t have much choice in the situation other than to stare up at them pitifully as they double-teamed him in the best of ways, their slits showing as their need to relieve themselves grew.

Of course, no introductions were needed and he was well and truly left at their mercy, his mistress nowhere in sight, the dragon dragging his mouth to her slit, though it was not for lustful pleasure that he would have wanted to partake in voluntarily.

“You’re never going to want to taste anything again after me...”

Her cockiness was endearing, in a way, and tickled his submission as it should have, Arctic’s eyes half-closing as his tongue obediently pushed its way out. Of course, she was not interested in using his muzzle like that (maybe Fluttershy would hire him out another time when they didn’t have to share him) but a stream of hot, near steaming piss flooded forth, the bladder of the larger dragoness much worse than any of the ponies that had gone before her, even though they had been filled to bursting point already.

No, a dragoness like her had so very much more to give and she wasn’t about to let up easily on a pony who, she was told, only wanted to be drowned in piss, lusting for it day after day, dreams haunting his nights. Whether or not that was true was none of Smoke’s concern but she liked to have it in mind as her wickedly draconian smirk widened, Arctic gasping and coughing as he tried to swallow and yet feared that her urine was too hot. It was darker than the others too without the strong taste, proving that dragons were different in that regard too, though thankfully did not burn his mouth and throat on the way down.

As he swallowed, his cheeks tried to plump out as if he was holding her urine in his mouth but he could not, would not, had to be good, had to do what he was told. If he didn’t swallow it would only spill out of his mouth and with the amount of piss pouring through the grates in the floor it seemed to get into him in some way, either way. His belly churned and fizzed from the carbonation in the less than stale beers that had been dumped down his throat too, s strange sensation that left him feeling as if he was about to pop even as they filled his stomach, eyes intent and a curl of smoke flickering up tenaciously from the dragoness’ nostrils.

Still, the stream didn’t stop, Smoke shifting her hips so that she well-covered Arctic’s head, even using the funnel on top to make sure that a good dose flowed down to soak his mane, which was drying off a little bit from the lack of mares using that part of his suit while his muzzle was free. She didn’t care for the pony underneath when she could relieve herself in such a lewdly carnal fashion, grunting and snarling in the back of her throat, eyes intent, Prism standing before her in open challenge.

Truly, it was the gryphoness that pushed everything over the edge, breaking the tipping point as Arctic whimpered and tried to gulp down all he could. She used a tube up into her urethra to ensure that not a drop was wasted, not in Smoke’s messier fashion, groaning and rolling her head back as she dumped a load of piss straight into the suit itself. It flowed down Arctic’s body, moderately warm and almost pleasant, though he didn’t have the chance to either scent it or see just how it tasted. Like with so many things that took place when he was under Fluttershy’s hoof, he could not have said quite how he felt about that.

“Ah... That’s the stuff...”

Prism goaded him with her dominance, a roll of her hips showing off just how full her bladder was going and the flood still coming, drenching his coat, slickening down his fur, dominating him in the most lustful way possible for a creature like her. Best of all, those who took him like that did not have to explain to Arctic just why they did or said what they did, only enjoy themselves, knowing that the dominated pony had no recourse but to bear through his suit inflating more and more, stomach bulging out crudely, struggling even then to keep his front hooves on the ground too.

Arctic groaned. Something had to give! And it was not going to be him but the suit as it groaned, trembling around him, vibrating lightly, at its limit as Smoke groaned and stepped back, pausing only to use his tongue to clean off her scaled slit, well-protected and tucked away at her crotch in such a fashion that it was not obvious to anyone who was not looking for it. It was not as if a dragon would have deigned to wear clothing out in public anyway. 

“Ah... Not bad.”

But Prism still had to finish releasing her bladder, her legs bent to get closer to him, so tall was she when stood up at her full, imposing height, wings spread. Everything about her simply oozed the aura of dominance and it would have taken a far stronger creature than Arctic to stand up to her, the pony panting heavily and hardly daring to as the suit threatened to burst around him, his stomach bulging, balls aching as yet another load of cum, driven forth from the sheer embarrassment of it all, was forced back up into his nuts. His testicles separated distinctly as he was forced to rest on them, hooves dangling, chains straining against the floor, everything coming to a lustful head as too much piss and other fluid sloshed about in his stomach, in the suit...everything all at once.

The gryphon stepped back, removing the tube very carefully from her urethra. Despite the discomfort of it, the arousal that followed suit was more than worth it, wings outstretched as she smirked down (a difficult feat to accomplish, truly, with a beak rather than a dragon maw or pony mouth) at the pony that was so thick and fat and swollen that he hardly looked like a pony at all. With the weight of gravity to assist the flow of urine and other fluids, he bulged out in so many places as his weight shifted that he was, in all honesty, shapeless around his midsection and hind end, the latex straining more and more. It was tight around him, so tight that he could not move, trembling with every breath he took, but it didn’t take a genius to work out that that latex suit could not hold out forever.

Smoke grinned, blowing him a kiss in the shape of a smoke-heart, though he didn’t see it as his head, once again, dropped submissively.

“See you around, piss-pony. I hope your mistress brings you back again!”


Continued in part four, the final instalment...
> Bound in the Stalls: Part Four
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Bound in the Stalls
Part Four
 
Written by Arian Mabe (Amethyst Mare)
Commissioned by anonymous
 
 
Continued from part three. This is the final instalment. 


The gryphon stepped back, removing the tube very carefully from her urethra. Despite the discomfort of it, the arousal that followed suit was more than worth it, wings outstretched as she smirked down (a difficult feat to accomplish, truly, with a beak rather than a dragon maw or pony mouth) at the pony that was so thick and fat and swollen that he hardly looked like a pony at all. With the weight of gravity to assist the flow of urine and other fluids, he bulged out in so many places as his weight shifted that he was, in all honesty, shapeless around his midsection and hind end, the latex straining more and more. It was tight around him, so tight that he could not move, trembling with every breath he took, but it didn’t take a genius to work out that that latex suit could not hold out forever.

Smoke grinned, blowing him a kiss in the shape of a smoke-heart, though he didn’t see it as his head, once again, dropped submissively.

“See you around, piss-pony. I hope your mistress brings you back again!”

With a grin, Prism smacked his hind end, which only made him “sort of” orgasm – the failed kind of orgasm that was so caught up between pleasure and pain that it was impossible to tell quite which way his body swung. His seed had nowhere to go but back up into his balls, hooves dangling off the floor and only held down due to the chains keeping him there. He couldn’t move his hind legs any further apart than they were already with the hobbles there, his body swollen and bloated, on the edge of bursting even as he whimpered and begged the next mare for mercy with his eyes alone.

It was not to come, however, and much less from a mare such as Rarity who knew how to hold a submissive pony like him in her hoof, wrapped around and bound for her pleasure. Arctic shuddered but he had nowhere to quail to as she relieved herself over his muzzle again, shoving her sex up to his ring-gagged muzzle without a word, though even her soft cry of pleasure was inexplicably Rarity in the pitch of it. She didn’t have to do anything special to have a presence in any room and Arctic whined into her sex, his stomach bloating out more and more as he did his best to gulp down all the piss he could. If he did well, maybe they’d give him a break, maybe his belly would not bloat out any more, maybe that part of the humiliation would end.

It proved to be far from that, however, as his stomach pushed out and out obscenely, not even Arctic knowing and understanding just how his stomach could hold so much piss. The tiles rose from the floor where the rings chaining his hind legs down were bolted and he squealed around the gag, wriggling and writhing to the pathetic extent that he could, tail hole clenching down, everything blistering and coming to a head as the suit squeaked more loudly than ever.

And then the inevitable happened. In a rush of piss, it burst, mares leaping back and out of the line of fire, although most of it seeped straight down to the floor. The suit itself had been so heavily inflated and bloated with fluid that gravity did most of the work, dragging it down into the grates, which only forced Arctic’s stomach out, a glob-like round that squashed down under the weight of his midsection, simply unable to rise any higher due to how he was chained. The releasing of the suit helped a little, tattered shreds of latex dangling off him, even the mask over his head ripping off, even though his gagged muzzle was still such.

So, he was revealed to the crowd but it was hard to say that he was at all recognisable with a chunk of latex still clinging ostentatiously to his hindquarters, covering most of his cutie mark in the bathroom gloom, the mares tittering about how they’d gotten wet, cleaning off their hooves, his stomach swelling more and more. Whether they knew what they were doing or not was by the by as his stomach churned and burbled, growling as it took in more fluid and then more, the ache of something more pushing through him as he rolled his head, striving to increase the limits of what little motion he had been allowed.

Dimly, he was aware of some helpful mare (or less than helpful, depending on how one looked at it) unchaining his hind hooves, although she left the hobbles on to remind him of his place, which at least allowed his stomach to bloat up unhindered. His hind hooves dangled and swung helplessly in the air as the sheer volume of piss in his belly inflated him like a piñata, comically larger as they clustered back around him, giggling and prodding him, swaying and rolling from one side of his swollen belly and back again.

It was something, at least, that the suit was gone, his coat airing out a little, although the reek of piss filling the room would have been impossible to ignore even as a white mare with a purple mane paused before him, waddling a little as if she had gone to great efforts to fill her bladder just for him. Arctic trembled. That must have been the case for so many of them...

“Oh, darling, it’s not going to be that easy to get dry,” Rarity said with a smirk, pointing to the grates. “It’s not going to stop just because you blew your suit out – she’ll whip you for that! Breaking her property... Even those grates funnel urine into your body, though I’ll leave it to you to see if you’ve worked out just how!”

Damn her...
 
He couldn’t truly curse Rarity though, not really, as she giggled and enjoyed the show, drinking a glass of wine as she waited for her bladder to refill all over again. It was an event for her to show off a new line of fetish gear but, well, she could enjoy herself too and there was nothing more alluring for so many mares than watching a stallion be used just like Arctic. He moaned openly as the more drunken mares boldly strode up to him, crushing their sexes to his muzzle by swinging their legs over him, supported by friends as he was forced to eat them out.

But Arctic knew his job, even if his suit was ruined, and the event was still set to go on as his fur tingled with a constant soaking of urine, for the others still wanted to make use of him. They stood over him, openly urinating without any sense of shame, and he was forced to take it all, bringing one mare off after the other as one particularly wicked unicorn with a gleam in her eye rubbed her strongly scented urine into her wings, tugging out the feathers and drenching them even within the binder. It was, of all things that night, something that struck him as particularly cruel.

“Ooh, look at this?”

There was no one there to keep them in check as they found a remote control, the use of which swiftly became obvious as the plug shoved up under his tail vibrated, ramped up into overdrive by an eager hoof. Grunting into a mare’s sex, Arctic tried not to react but they knew that they were having an effect on him, his hips humping and working furiously, trying to seek out that pleasure even as the tube in his cock forced failed orgasm after orgasm without a lick of pleasure back into his grossly overfilled nuts. As big as beach balls without the suit to contain them, they were openly stained orange and yellow, his skin taking on a suitably nose-curling reek, mares taking advantage of his position to urinate on them too, though they had to back up and simply aim with how large they were.

They poked and laughed at his predicament, hooves grinding into his nuts, though any pleasure that may have been gleaned from such an act was lost in the rumble of his nuts swelling up even more. It seemed that his body had, at least in part, been constrained by the suit as he panted and heaved, pleasing mare after mare, hardly daring to take in just how his body was marked with their urine. Would any shampoo wash out the stench of it all? It wasn’t all one shade too, which made him fear all the more that he would look like that forever, marked as the piss-pony of the town, mocked and laughed at and, undoubtedly, bid by his mistress to drink their piss down all over again and again.

“Ergh... Do we have to?”

There was a cluster of mares, perhaps even the ones that Prism had mentioned earlier, by the door, trying to squeeze in, though they made it look impossible, cowering back and trying not to even look at Arctic. He kept an eye on them, his curiosity offering him a distraction from the mare pissing into his cock, using the tube to feed her urine straight up into his bladder through a previously untested means. They tried not to look, at least, eyes swinging back and forth, but they had to in order to reach the mares’ urinals at the side of the room. It was on the far side of the bathroom, opposite Arctic, but he was so fat and bloated, the round orbs of his nuts a fetish in themselves, that he drew the eye and drew attention, as disgusted as they were. Maybe they had just been trying to have a nice night out and didn’t know any better about what the fetish night actually was, maybe they had been caught up short and desperately needed to relieve themselves. Either way, they had to use the facilities that had been duly set aside for the fetish event, trying not to look and failing right along the way.

The splattering of piss was a familiar noise to Arctic by that point and he flinched as they urinated into the drains, bearing down as if they were trying to get it all over with as quickly as possible. They didn’t want to hang around, clearly, and he didn’t blame them, in a way, although he was sure that things had been well-advertised. If the barkeep had made others aware of what was going on then who was he to judge if they chose to visit the establishment anyway? It wasn’t for him to really say anything on at that point, though Arctic knew that their avoidance of debasing him only served to debase him all the same.

They were ignorant, of course, to the fact that the drains there inflated his stomach, pouring their piss straight into his churning, grumbling belly, swollen and fleshy, yet soft at the same time. They didn’t know that they were a part of it all the same, whether they wanted to be or not, squatting and glancing back as if they may have been interested, at the very least, in just what the other mares got out of it.

Arctic shivered, fur soaked through, though it was oddly, terribly so, erotic to him to be filled by those that didn’t even know what they were doing. He may not have known or remembered – it was hard to keep up with things even in his mind at that time – but the hose under his tail fed back to the urinal trough in the stallion’s bathroom too, the majority of them still ignorant to what they were complicit in. Of course, that didn’t change anything for him as his backdoor entrance strained and pulsed, mixing up pain and pleasure even as the strain continued on, his stomach sloshing and churning with piss, water and alcohol to such an extent that it fizzed uncomfortably, a rising pressure that had no release at all.

“Come on, girls...”

The mares hustled their way out but their entrance encouraged more to fill their places, wide-eyed and innocent, perhaps, to the ways of a world where there was fetish-pleasure to be had even in public spaces. That was for them to learn and some of them, fairly so, were more curious than they cared to admit to their friends, angled so that they could keep one eye on Arctic, how his coat was stained all over with varying shades of piss. The differences between one mare and the next were obvious to see in an oddly gross yet fascinating sort of way, Arctic’s hips shifting and wiggling where a dark orange stain laid, a lighter yellow coating his balls, gleaming in the low light with its freshness. That one was yet to add to the colourful staining of the skin of his nuts but there was more still to come as more than one of the mares that had entered left with ideas in mind that would bring them back to the bar for the event, though perhaps on their own. After all, they didn’t need to reveal everything to their friends when they could have otherwise investigated in greater privacy and anonymity.

A hoof pushed up under Arctic’s chin and his lips parted, expecting another dose of piss or a marehood pressed up to his lips. When that did not immediately come, he opened his eyes, blinking through a haze of moisture clinging annoyingly to his eyelashes. It struck him then just how ludicrous it was to be annoyed at such a thing when so much else was happening to him.

“I can fix that...”

A unicorn whose name he did not know with an orange coat and a blue mane smiled kindly, though she was there for her pleasure and did not care all that much for Arctic. While her bladder was full and ready to be spent, she wanted a blank slate on which to relieve herself, concentrating on the cleaning spell to softly and lightly wick every last drop of moisture from the stallion’s light-coloured coat.

The unicorn, however, would only have to repeat the action later when they had soaked him all over again, the mass of moisture that she drew from him hovering in the air as one huge cloud, only to drop into the grate. It was such an aside that Arctic barely knew what to think, shuddering bodily, yet all became shockingly clear what those grates were for as Rarity’s enchantment transported the spent piss and other fluids directly into his stomach. His stomach bloated, swelling and straining, and he panted heavily, the mere presence of the urine bloating out his belly putting extra strain on his bladder, yet he was not so much a fool to think that it was all nearly over. 

Some of the ponies there were only just getting started.

Clean and fresh, though not for long, Arctic wrinkled his nose, the mare straddling him with difficulty, climbing up his body and using his shoulders as hoof-holds. He was too far inflated for most of them to stand over such a big stallion, his stomach pushing him up from the floor, but she wanted the best position possible to mark him, to stain him, even if she could not truly claim him as hers. That pony-pet, of course, was owned and there was nothing she could do about that, moaning out loud and lewdly as she rounded her hindquarters, horn glowing as she spattered down a fresh rain of piss over the pony that was there, at least for a time, for her pleasure.

She left, however, like all the others who had used and debased him, though whether she was going off to re-fill her bladder or take her leave of him for the night was something that Arctic did not know. Neither did he have to be privy to that information either as the designated piss-pony of the event, lowering his head as a mare scooted up beneath him. It was easier for her to lie on her back and kick her legs up around his head as his nose pointed down, only kept where it was between the chain and the reins, everything very neatly restricting his range of motion.

Was that for better, however, or for worse? Well, only Arctic could tell that after the event was all well and done...

The green mare giggled, her curly mane flowing back. She didn’t seem to mind lying on the floor (there were likely shower facilities set up for those that did find themselves a bit mucky during their play) and he obediently licked her marehood, dipping his tongue inside as she drew his head down against her as far as it would go.

It was sweet to taste a mare but worse as she flexed her marehood and tensed enough to force pee from her urethra, shooting him in the face even while he kept licking. It was only to last for so long, considering that she did not seem able to maintain the stream as her arousal grew, but that was not for Arctic to worry about as he was solely there to be used as she pleased. He was not responsible for the difficulty in urination, not even as she clicked her tongue against the roof of her mouth, her annoyance palatable.

“Hm...”

She rolled her hips up, pressing his tongue down to her tail hole, a tight bud of flesh that he had pleased for other mares too that night, although it had been more accidental in the course of things. Maybe they just had not thought of using him like that or maybe things were stranger than even Arctic thought them to be, sides heaving, panting heavily, tongue probing into that tight hole as if it was just another marehood, knowing what to do.

Her mouth fell open, tongue hanging out, cross-eyed with pleasure.

“Yesss...”

It gave as much pleasure as it did in a thrill of domination, grunting and rocking herself up to his lips, hoof curled around the chain to make sure she had a good amount of leverage over him, bearing him down where she wanted him. His tongue did its best work, however, as it always did, scooping into her, teasing around the edge of her tail hole, the pony-doughnut puckering and twitching as if she longed for something more than his tongue. Yet all of the mares there knew that they would struggle to take his cock without a modicum of assistance, his length simply too large for many of them to bear through even though the pleasure would be worth it.

It would have to be another time, Arctic’s head swimming with her light musk, her taint soft and pressed up to his nose in a more intimate fashion than anything else that night. It was a vulnerable part of a mare and he relished in the submissive thrill it gave him, her pucker softly clean even though she still most certainly smelled like a mare in the very best kind of way. He even groaned into her sex, getting into it, tongue slurping and twisting around, finding her sensitive spots even as the other mares clustered in, grunting and mumbling that they wanted their turn too. Some urinated on him in the process, taking that pleasure for themselves, but something even more perverse tickled their fancies in a way that relieving themselves alone could not sometimes.

They were far from done with him as yet as he was forced to service and pleasure tail hole after tail hole, licking or tongue-fucking as the mares demanded of him. As the night wore on, they grew drunker and drunker, though that only helped them with marking him, spilling their bladders repeatedly as the sheer volume of alcohol consumed allowed them to take their fetish borne pleasure over and over again. It was for them as he was presented, demandingly, with one musky tail hole after the other, trying to let the pleasure of service take him away from the grumbling of his stomach, pushed up so far that the chain struggled to keep his head in place, collar too tight but at least cushioned somewhat by the fine leather-work. 

And, still, they took their lust and pleasure from marking him over and over again, not caring what he had to offer them other than his body. Maybe there was conversation or lightness to be had from his lips but all they wanted was his attention as they shoved a funnel into his mouth, the hose pushing into the back of his throat so that none of their piss was wasted, flowing straight down the hatch. As much as he hacked and gagged and gargled on their urine, their lust was unending, mares swapping places to mark him with their pee even while making sure that the majority of it flowed down to his stomach all over again.

Some came in and skulked in the corners, watching the show from a distance, though Arctic was not too much with himself to pay attention to them, twisting and wriggling, though he only really wobbled. His back end pressed up higher and higher, creaking into the stalls, his stomach bloating out as it was left unchecked by even the latex. Maybe there had been meant to be some sort of restriction on how large he was to grow but the teasing spanks and poke of his nuts only made his situation all the worse, used and abused and, somehow, loving it in the deepest, darkest pit of his soul.

Yet Arctic did not have to explain himself even as his wings struggled and twitched weakly in the binder, his hind legs pointing straight up as his swollen gut took dominance. It was so large that it should have sent the mares running, the pony openly dominating the room. Indeed, he took up so much space that even the mares who had wanted to piss in the grates of the trough as normal to relieve themselves could not anymore, forced to urinate on him and run away with their tails clamped between their legs, hardly able to quite believe what they had done and why they had done it. Some needs of the body, of course, could not be held back and he didn’t want them to either, their little piss-pony slut, the memory of the names they’d called him, what they’d written on his suit, lingering even after the acts themselves had passed.

When all came to a close, however, Arctic was to be found taking up the majority of the room, the chain around his neck strained and the collar loosened by a mare who had been brave enough to get close. One front hoof restraint remained but the hobble was broken, his hind legs wiggling pathetically in their hobble but otherwise useless to support him in any way. Drenched in yellow and orange, flitting through so many shades, he shivered and quailed, though there was nowhere to hide as, even then, the mares remaining advanced on him with cruel grins, their smiles white in the darkness and eyes blazing intent.

“He can take more...”

The plug under his tail vibrated again and he was forced to climax repeatedly for them, their hooves prodding his balls excitedly, even though he far dwarfed them by that point. His bulging body was not something that should have existed then as they worked out that eating them out made him even hornier than he already was, teasing him by making him fail an orgasm while his tongue was driven up deep into a sopping mare pussy, relishing in domination. It was not something that all ponies, of course, got to experience, the nuances of it not always open to all, but there was always something more to explore in a world where the doors of the fetish community were creaking open more and more, showing off all that they had to offer.

With so little to hold him down, Arctic wobbled on his swollen stomach, grateful only that there was still a gap between him and the ceiling, although it was less of a gap than he would have liked. He wanted more wiggle-room, something to let him know that he wasn’t going to burst from the room in a spray of cum and piss, fear closing in on him when he was hardly in any place at all to do anything about it.

He groaned, rolling back and forth, the weight of the piss and other fluids inside him weighing him down, although there was little weight left in his body to push him down into his belly. His nuts remained the focus of attention as the night came to a soft close, hooves tapping the tiled floor around the grates, evidently easy to clean for such matters, even though it was a cheap move for an establishment if it was not designated openly as a fetish club at all times.

The last patrons were the worst, laughing and poking fun at him as they forced him to climax as they flanked him, marking his nuts with their piss, rank and dehydrated, cloying at his nostrils. The scent clawed its way into the back of his throat and stayed there, sinking into his flesh as he sank deeper and deeper into the submission of being used. Maybe he’d never get out of there. Maybe he’d stay there forever, abused and piss-tortured, only fed their juices and their piss to keep him going, maybe the odd flagon of cider. Arctic shuddered. They wouldn’t have wanted to waste the finer things on him.

It spoke of how far down he’d been broken that such thoughts could cross his mind even in the realm of sub-space, a state of mind that he could reach when forced down so very low. It was where he wanted to be though, the best place for a stallion like him to be, the heaviest thing of all weighing down on him being the tag at his throat, always present, always letting him know what he needed to do. And that was, quite simply, to be a good pet for his mistress, Mistress Shy, always and forever.

Drenched and marked, he hung his head, waiting for it to come to an end, the laughter of patrons echoing in his ears as they took advantage of their relative quiet and seclusion to rub their marehoods on his muzzle and balls, showing him how he could be used. Streams of piss, the last for the time, marked him for a final time, trickling down his over-saturated coat, though he no longer seemed to have the pale coat that he had had before but one of orange and yellow, the stench of which would be stuck with him for many weeks.

His chest heaved, hind legs hanging, tail soaked through, a wet rag that someone had used to further stain his body. It was all as it was meant to be, the discomfort under his tail growing yet again from the vibrating plug, pushed past the point where he could find pleasure from that part of himself again. It went through cycles and Arctic’s lips parted in a groan, trying to pull away even as the hose, which had risen along with him as his stomach and nuts swelled, bladder too, tugged anxiously at his behind. 

The night, alas, had to come to an end sometime in the early hours of the morning, although Arctic had not stopped swelling at all during the entire time. The mares had had far too much fun with him and, on Fluttershy’s return after taking her leave to enjoy her own evening while her pet made her some money, she found him so large that he was pressed up to the door, near enough about to burst from the bathroom!

“Come along now, move it, you can’t stay here tonight.”

The bouncer ushered along a couple of mares who were whining something about “just one more round” with Arctic, though they’d have to wait until another time to get that out of their system. With Fluttershy was the anthro mare barkeep, Sheila, her curves on point as she put a hand on her hip and whistled in admiration.

“Myyy, he gets big doesn’t he? No wonder my sales are off the charts tonight!”

Smiling sweetly, Fluttershy dropped her a saucy wink. Arctic squirmed, though it was hardly noticeable with so much attention on far more obvious, bulging parts of his anatomy. His size, however, did raise the question of just how she was going to take him home, get him out through that comparatively small door. Fluttershy’s smiled widened. What a pickle...

“Of course, this one draws all the attention. That’s why he’s my pet.”

Sheila’s smirk was one of the almost audible kind.

“Only the best for you, I’m sure, dear. Are you sure though that you wouldn’t like to leave him here for another week? Not that sales are down but, well, anything to draw in patrons and everyone is gushing over how much fun they had with him. I’m a crowd-pleaser, as you know!”

Shaking her head, Fluttershy smiled, though did not let Arctic see as Rarity cheekily took advantage of one last thing, the mare’s cheeks rosy and ready for sleep at the close of the night. She knew how a lot of what Fluttershy had set up earlier worked, solely as she’d had a hoof in the magic side of it, though there was a little wickedness to be had in the tipsy mare too.

She wriggled and was less than subtle as she squeezed into the bathroom, the set of Arctic’s body allowing her a little space to manoeuvre where his huge cock was. She didn’t ask his permission and neither did she ask the permission of his mistress as she removed the hose from his cock, allowing his grossly swollen, bursting bladder to finally release itself as the pony in question shrieked and chomped on the gag.

But Rarity was out and gone, not caring for the trouble she left in her wake as she laughed out loud, darting by Sheila as Fluttershy spared a moment to roll her eyes. That mare... Of course, the piss and cum flowing forth from him (impressive that he could burst out with both at the same time) a lewd miss that was as erotic as it was stomach-churning. Arctic howled and whimpered and whined as that flow of liquid only had one place to go and that was back up inside him as his belly bloated, taking up the space where Rarity had been as his comparatively tiny hind was left dangling in the air, shoved up into the far corner of the room.

Out and out and out, there seemed to be no end to it as he moaned and gurgled and gargled, piss flooding his mouth from the resulting deluge, not quite all if it splashing down the drains. It poured down the walls from the force of his balls and bladder relieving themselves, though any pleasure that may or may not been present was swiftly overruled by the vast, drastic increase in pressure in his stomach. The tiny shreds of latex still clinging to some parts of his body were ludicrous in their shreds, dangling and flapping, his body twisting and trying to contort, even though he only seemed to be wobbling in the spot. With so much liquid sloshing around inside him, it felt as if his organs were shifting, being pushed into a new position entirely, his tail tiny and wiggling, flicking back and forth in such a helpless fashion that it may as well have done nothing.

Helplessly, the stallion wobbled and whined and whimpered, twisting his head back and forth, shoved into a corner of the room. Barely aware of what was going on around him, he rocked and groaned, his legs outstretched, the chains still just about holding, although it kept him wedged in, the stalls long broken during the course of, well, his breaking. Funny how I worked that way, that he had to be broken to break the room too, moaning out loud, lips working, swallowing hard and yet not finding any sense of relief in his gut, his chest too tight.

There was nothing else for Arctic in that moment, not even his mistress. And it was a darkly erotic day indeed when what was happening to him took even his mistress from his mind, every moment wrapping itself around him as he thought only of how much piss he’d drank, consuming it all like a pony dying of thirst, doing everything and anything for a high. Even then, the magic worked away at filtering every last drop of piss and cum that flowed forth into his belly, the churning, rumbling expansion ongoing as it teased him, taunting him. Would he stop growing? Oh, he wouldn’t know until it happened...or not. That remained to be seen.

His mistress wasn’t going to help him there either. Fluttershy’s eyes, shining brightly, locked with Sheila’s, the two of them sharing the same thought. How convenient for them!

“Perhaps I will let you get some more use of him... The same rate?”

Sheila’s eyes twinkled as Arctic howled, wriggling and twisting as he bulged out through the door, stomach churning, grumbling, rising in a fashion that was audible as well as openly visible even through the door. 

“Double!”

And so it was set, the piss-pony left at the bar to do his job making his mistress money, whored out and up for use to everyone and anyone that cared to make use of him. Only time would tell, however, as the flow of his own piss and cum burst into his stomach, Rarity’s magic still active, the cycle continuing as his cock erupted in his biggest orgasm yet. So twisted that there was no ecstasy to be felt in it, his hide ached with the strain of containing so much fluid all at once. There was no getting out of it and his fate was sealed, his mistress humming a tune to herself as she left him there, bloated and swollen and waiting on her return.

Groaning, Arctic’s head hung. He would always wait for his mistress to return.

He just hoped he didn’t burst in the meantime.