Birthday one-shot

>Day something or another in Equestria
>Long story short, you’ve been here for a while.
“Dammit Soarin, I’m telling you that you fucking cheated!”
>S: “That doesn’t change the bet, Anon! Now, put it on!”
>He waved the outfit at you again, an evil smile on his face.
>You glared as you ripped it from his hooves.
“Fine. But I’m not stripping in front of you.”
>Your voice was little above a growl of anger, barely understandable. He was shaking with laughter as you walked into his bedroom.
>You looked down at the damn outfit you were being forced into.
>http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_8Iu1tZitjRw/Sb2X8l8q2-I/AAAAAAAAAEM/EWY46fY8chQ/s400/pink+frilly+dress+2.jpg
>You almost wondered how Soarin had been able to get the damn thing fitted, but things in Equestria don’t always make sense.
>Especially when those things conspire to fuck you over. And on your birthday, at that!
>You run your hand through your long hair, pissed that it had come to this. Spitfire /always/ wins those damn races! Soarin had to have cheated!
>But he was right. A bet’s a bet. And an idiot’s an idiot.
>You sigh and quickly remove your clothes. Set down on his bed, you notice how close the evil thing he wants you to wear is to what you removed, size wise.
>You always hated your relatively effeminate body; getting to Equestria had been one of the best things to happen to you in a long time. After all, none of the ponies knew the difference between a manly man and a womanly man.
>And once they learned about your… skills… none of the mares cared.
>But no amount of pleasant reminiscing would stop you from putting on the girliest thing you had ever seen, aside from that one pink princess at that failure of a wedding.


>You reach out and poke it.
“At least it’s soft…”
>Your rage-fueled growl was down to pissed off mutters.
>After a second to roll your shoulders and consider jumping out the window, you pick the thing up and slide it over your shoulders.
>You shudder as the tight-fitting dress molds to your form, fitting your unmanly-yet-sexy contours with frightening ease.
>You hate everything.
>After a moment spent with your eyes closed and counting to ten, you walk over to the door and push it over, glaring daggers at Soarin.
>One look at him presents a very conflicted pony. On one hand, he looked like he was ready to burst out laughing as soon as you walked out of the door. On the other hand, both of his wings fully extended when you walked out and he turned an interesting shade of red.
>You’ve fucked enough pegasi—mares, of course—to know what extended wings meant.
>Your evil grin left him quivering. He backed away and you slowly and sensuously walked forward, swaying the hips you hated so much and making sure the frills on the skirt jerked up with every step you took.
“Looks like a certain someone is enjoying this a little more than he should.”
>The rage in your voice had dropped, taking on a breathy rasp. You had heard a few rumors about Soarin and his… hobbies, but you always thought he was more of a mare’s stallion.
>Guess there’s some truth to rumors. His stammering and attempts to look away were proof enough for that. Time for revenge.
>You reached a hand out and traced his cheek line, tilting his head up.
“Hmm… There’s something about a uniform that just… Oooh.”


>Your hand goes lower, brushing the rubbery uniform that is the trademark of the Wonderbolts.
“I just can’t help but wonder…”
>You reach both hands around his midsection and flip him onto the table, giving you access to the zipper that starts on his chest.
“What’s inside?”
>S: “N-n-nothing!”
“Nothing, hm? I wouldn’t say that.”
>There was definitely a something pushing its way up. You weren’t gay at all, but you were definitely enjoying making him squirm.
>You lowered one hand to the rising bulge between his lower legs while the other reached up to the zipper. Both began moving, one stroking and the other slowly moving down.
“Just what will I unwrap, I wonder…?”
>S: “A-anon!”
“Hm?”
>You give him a coy smile, eyes half-lidded.
“Something the matter, big boy?”
>Not so big, actually, but you weren’t planning on sticking around long enough to get it all out.
>You heard him gulp loudly before shaking his head.
>Your stroking continued as the zipper slowly went down, inch by inch.
>He was gasping for breath, the stallion’s infamous lack of stamina catching up to him. Right when the zipper was at the tip of his engorged stallionhood, you stopped and pulled away.
>S: “W-what?”
“That’s for making me dress up like a whore on my birthday!”
>You turn around and walk back to his room, slamming the door shut. You made sure to shake your hips plenty, giving him a great view of what was apparently your sexy ass.
“Wonder what Misty’s up to today…” you muse as you change back into your manly clothes.
>The soft sobs of a massively blue-balled stallion leave you behind as you exit Soarin’s apartment with the girly frou-frou outfit tucked under an arm to be safely burned later.