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Bound in the Stalls

Part Four

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Written by Arian Mabe (Amethyst Mare)

Commissioned by anonymous

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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...

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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.