Wedding ring, about the size and circumference of her ponut

“Tadah!” The gold ring sparkles in the sunlight. It seems like all of a sudden Trixie’s demeanor has completely changed.

She’s no longer a cruel taskmaster, but almost… relieved.

“Now that Trixie knows you are a capable match for her unrivaled backdrafts, she must pose the important question!”

The lift rings with her magic, levitating over to her plot which she wiggles just a few inches from your face. Her cape shifts out the way and she fixes the golden band around her anus. It’s a perfect fit.

“Will you marry Trixie’s rump? And pledge undying loyalty to her smelly, smelly farts?”

You’re not quite sure what to say. There’s actually a little flutter in your chest. Why, you’ve never in all your years of fart-huffing been presented with a proposal like this.

It’s funny, because not five minutes ago this mare had you cursing her name, dreading your service with her. Now? You inch toward her and nod enthusiastically.

“Yes! Yes! I do!”

Do you? This is all going so fast. Maybe having to breathe in her fiery toots scrambled your sense of reason, or maybe it’s just that you’re this starved for some genuine affection.

Trixie’s face lights up. She squeals with giddy delight, flexing that dusky blue knot in jubilation.

“Then won’t you give her a smoochie-wooch to make it official?”

But of course. You don’t hesitate. Of course, you’re still a little bit apprehensive about it suddenly firing off again, but lean in and press your lips to her butthole regardless. It’s warm, soft, and just a little bit sweaty. Trixie blows you back a kiss of her own; a loud, rippling fart that makes your lips and cheeks flutter in a very amusing way. A bout of nostril-sizzling stench covers your muzzle again and coats your tongue. It’s like eating wasabi ripened with expired sweet potatoes, utterly revolting, but not enough to ruin this romantic moment.

“I now pronounce you-“ She buzzes your lips with another short release, “Mare and derriere!”

You can hear the wedding bells pealing in your head as you push in and give that fartbox a proper snog. You’re even kind enough to slip in a little tongue, for which you’re rewarded with a sickeningly hot shot of Trixie colon down your throat.

Alright. Now that’s enough to break the dreamy moment. You withdraw and cough your lungs up, using a hoof to scrape the pain off your tongue. Trixie just giggles.

“No take back-sies. You’d better get used to that smell!”

But she ends up eating (or rather smelling) those words when her own supply wafts back at her face. You watch as her eyes grow wet, then her muzzle crinkles up, and she starts cantering on the spot and wafting the air with her trusty hat.

“Blugh! Ewww, it seems Trixie underestimated her own ability!” She keeps the hat over her face, turning her grape-colored eyes back to you.

“Well? What are you staring at, wifey? Just because you’re married to my plot doesn’t mean I’ll go easy on you! Sit up straight and take a nice deep whiff of this one, so Trixie doesn’t have to!”

There’s that strictness you were almost starting to miss. You salute her and dive back between her cheeks, spreading the supple blue pillows with vigor and angling your snoot flush with her exit.

The ring still catches the light in glimpses. It looks fetching, wrapped around her plothole like that. Trixie lowers her cape back over your head, then immediately makes it flap with a forcefully dry gust. It’s actually quite silent, but very potent to make up for it.

It still hurts to breathe it in, but you can’t get enough of it. That way it burns your sinuses is so satisfying… in an odd sort of way. It really pushes all your buttons and makes you feel so helpful.

The rest of the evening goes like this. Trixie gradually lets out the bloat in her stomach while teasing and tormenting your nostrils with more flatulence. The outbursts grow more sporadic as the eve goes on, but that just means you come to appreciate them more and more.

Soon it’s getting dark outside. There’s a nice orange light dripping in through her open curtains, and a leafy chill in the air. The stars start to appear in the sky.

Trixie rolls over to you, holding her nose so she doesn’t have to smell what she’s done to you.

“You know, the fun doesn’t have to end just because the day’s over.” She purrs, using a hoof to play with your mane. “How about we…”