– Quasi-Turnabout is Fair Play –

        Latex socks, a tightly strapped saddle, and a properly placed bit were simply the starting points of Wing’s fascination. From his perch in the park, the pegasus watched with unblinking chocolate-colored eyes as a blue-maned unicorn was led by a leash down a trail. Hints of red peeked through the captive’s white coat as a blush crept from the stallion’s muzzle all the way to his splayed ears.

        He wasn’t the only one who was blushing. Wing’s heart pounded faster as he eyed the spectacle and took note of the finer details. The anti-magic ring placed upon the stallion’s horn made the lavender pegasus flutter his feathers, and the clear presence of a vibrating toy stuffed beneath a lifted tail drove Wing to bite his lower lip. The best part of all, however, was that the pony on display—the pony dragged about in public like he was nothing more than a pet—was one Wing knew and admired.

        Frost Bright was his name, and while his downcast purple eyes concealed the notion, he was an outgoing, confident, and gifted artist. In fact, there had been a few occasions where Frosty would randomly appear in the park to sketch those who happened to be trotting about. Each piece was a gift—a glimpse into another universe where someone wielded the power to display exactly what he thought of you… of every contour, emotion, and need.

        The thump continued its unrelenting beat as Wing’s imagination flirted with this concept. How he wondered, through unspoken words, exactly what curves such an artist would craft for him. What impossible vision could the creator forge and engrave upon reality with the mere stroke of a pencil point?

        A shiver cascaded along Wing’s spine, and his lavender fur bristled. The churning daydream that had occupied his fantasies shattered once that violet gaze found him. It devoured every line and swept over the facets of his combed-back, black mane, unshorn fetlocks, and messy feathers.

        Wing swallowed hard. The briefest of instants had passed him by like a single grain of sand dropping in an hourglass. Yet, he was certain of it. He was certain that Frost Bright had dared to focus—had dared to break that aversion. And he was certain that the paraded pet had flashed a smile.

        A cool breeze tugged at Wing’s mane and coat as he strolled through the park. Another bright, sunny day had plucked the physicist from his office for a brief trot that wouldn’t hurt his workload—and certainly wouldn’t hurt his demeanor.

        The post-lunch hour brought a quiet lull to the trail spaces that were ideal for some reflection. Perhaps he could work out a new lesson plan or ponder some ridiculous application for Poison Joke that would drive his colleagues absolutely bonkers. The possibilities were endless, and the solitude offered the perfect atmosphere for a little imaginative wandering.

Of course, a good physicist came to the realization at a young age that the Universe was generally far more imaginative. Whatever plan Wing had started to craft for the afternoon got derailed when he rounded some bushes and found a certain white unicorn artist staring at a sketch pad.

Frost Bright had effectively claimed an alcove of grass nestled between bushes, shrubs, and a towering oak. Deft strikes of a magically guided pencil brought out the creative flair of the makeshift Camp Frosty—proudly adding to the existing duffel bag decor. Continuing his work, the pony hadn’t noticed Wing’s arrival until the percussive crunches of shifting gravel snagged Frosty’s attention. With a swift swivel of his head, the unicorn set his violet sights on the new target and froze Wing mid-step with his gaze.

Before he could blink, Wing felt that thumping snag his chest. His feathers quivered as a sly smirk stretched across Frosty’s muzzle, and one of his ears snapped to the side as the white stallion drew a breath to speak.

“Just the pony I’ve been hoping to see.” The soft tone practically poured into the pegasus’s ears. It was drenched in the less-than-subtle inflection of mischief that perfectly matched the conniving uptick that tugged at the corner of Frost’s lip. “I have something that I’ve been wanting to show you for quite a while now.”

Wing finally put his foreleg down as his brain digested the words, and his pulse quickened as he watched Frost scramble through the sketchbook. The seconds expanded while the ever-increasing burden of anticipation came crashing down upon the scientist’s frame. Curiosity bubbled beneath the floofy surface of his lavender coat. His lungs temporarily abandoned their normal function until a page was thrust in his direction.

There, the lines of a crouching stallion outlined the depths of Frosty’s lewd constructions. Wing blushed once he realized that the pictured pony’s mane looked like his own swept, messy hair. A concrete identification of the subject was delayed by the numerous accessories that covered his body. A tight, striped suit concealed any conclusive marking—though bulges in the fabric indicated that the stallion was quite the aroused pegasus.

And quite the submissive one at that. A collar was tightly wrapped around the pony’s neck, and the word BITCH was blatantly etched into the tag. A plug had been clearly forced into the stallion’s plot. His tail had been wrapped and pushed into a rubbery sheath that carried a distinctively canine quality, and a similarly themed muzzle was snapped around the pony’s head.

“I saw you staring at me the other day,” Frosty explained, “and it really got me thinking what kind of pet would you be. I couldn’t decide between obedient pup and feisty tiger, so I opted for both.”

“Wh-what?” Wing blurted shyly as the redness snuck from his muzzle to his ears. His namesakes stiffened, and he stifled a shiver once Frosty stepped towards him with a seductive swagger in his stride.

“But… this pony isn’t you yet,” he continued, circling Wing like a predator closing in on its prey. “It could be though. I have all this gear tucked away in my bag. It just needs a stallion willing to become my pegapet. But given that blush on your face… and the way you stared at me before… we both know you want it.”

Heat rushed throughout the pegasus. His eyelids clenched shut, and his brain fumbled about—wondering if this was some outrageous dream. The tingle of electricity that slithered over his cutie mark screamed that this was real. Frosty’s magic was exploring him. It meandered about his coat, toyed with and teased his thighs, and coaxed a rumbling purr from the depths of his throat.

Wing’s eyes finally snapped open after a loud gasp erupted from his muzzle. Frosty stood in front of him, still wearing that sly grin as a blue ball gag dangled in the unicorn’s aura. It drifted closer and closer to the pegasus over the subsequent seconds until it hovered at the tip of the stallion’s snout—as if it were posing the question.

Without saying a word, Wing inhaled and opened his mouth. His gaze slid towards the ground as he waited for the artist to claim the consent, and soon enough, the firm ball pressed against his tongue.

Frosty snickered softly as he tightened the straps of the gag around Wing’s head and muzzle. “Can’t have my pet speaking out of turn, now can I?” he asked after magically retrieving the tiger-striped suit from his bag.

Another shiver cascaded through Wing’s limbs. His tongue examined the ball anchored to his muzzle, and he flicked his tail once he caught a glimpse of the actual attire. He remained transfixed by it until Frosty’s hoof abruptly brushed one of his namesakes. The surge of pleasure drew a cascade of moans from the pegasus, and his blush only deepened as the other stallion gently worked the feathery limb into the folded position.

“Can’t have that in the way, after all,” the unicorn cooed, wasting little time before repeating the process with the other limb. Once that task was complete, the unicorn went to work guiding the orange suit over Wing’s manipulated legs and body.

“Nnngh,” the pegasus gasped. He had been lifted by tendrils of Frosty’s magic, and the mix of that electric sensation with the chill of the tight spandex gripping his body left Wing wriggling and moaning. The suit had no zipper. It just kept engulfing more and more of his body until it began to seal itself atop the stallion’s spine.

Soon, the fabric wrapped around Wing’s neck and covered the stallion’s head until only his mane remained free. Beneath the material, Wing found his sense of sight dulled. While he could still make out some shapes, the details were completely lost in the mesh of spandex.

He squeaked through the gag and huffed. Frosty had gripped his tail and pulled it through a hole in the gear. Moans dripped from Wing’s heaving lungs, and his body trembled to the black tape that gradually encased his dock. The weight of the rubbery pup piece was quickly added, and the trapped pegasus panted while his sense of balance adjusted.

The headgear came next, sliding over Wing’s muzzle and entombing it in another black rubber prison before the bitch collar corralled the stallion’s neck and locked into place.

“Almost done,” Frosty tittered. He pressed the tip of the plug against his captive’s tailhole and chuckled as Wing wiggled his plot in anticipation. “Wagging your tail for me already? You definitely make a cute pet.”

Wing whinnied when the lubed toy was plunged into him. Heated breaths burst free and spread their temporary warmth around the spandex-confined space. His insides squeezed and explored the intruder, and his cock throbbed to the stimulation and exhibition.

“I can see your blush from here, Pegapet. Your ears look like they’re practically burning up,” the unicorn whispered. Composing another chorus of melodious moans, Frost Bright conducted his new instrument by stroking and rubbing Wing’s flanks. His hooves wandered to fondle the subby’s balls, and the artist made sure Wing heard his teasing snicker over all those needy wails.

“Mmmf! Nnnmmf!” the pegasus squealed helplessly. His shaft pulsed, leaking precum as the touches and strokes coaxed more and more pleasure from the depths of his mind. With each passing second, the inhibitions of Wing faded at the behest of the rising need to be a good pet. All that mattered now were the directions given by the master who gripped the reins.

“Now be a good boy for me and pose like the picture. I’d like to get some coloring work done before I clip a leash to that collar and take you home. Just think about all the ponies who will see that cute, blushing head of yours. But in case you get any second thoughts, remember that you were the one who gawked at me first… and turnabout is fair play.”

Drawing request from the request stream that I took quite a liking to~
And the requester did too! He wrote the story above!
Give Wing some love. ❤

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