A Magician Mare in a Starry Hat and Cape

She springs up onto the stage and strikes a pose. "Yes, yes, please hold your applause and bouquets! It is indeed the one and only grrrreat and powerful Trixie!"

There's naught but a cricket chirp in the audience. Trixie's great and powerful smirk falls flat.

"Really? Not even a pity clap? Ugh, it matters not! For Trixie has procured her very own fart cushion!" She comes up to you, leering, licking her lips like she's about to serve you up on a silver platter.

You can already feel in the pit of your stomach that this won't end well for you. Not at all.

She drops her bits into Cherry's bucket with a tinkle and reaches under her cloak. In a flash she pulls something out and clicks it around your neck. It's a collar! Wait, she had this on her the entire time?

"We're going to have so much fun!" She whispers to you. Forget about farts, her breath already smells bad enough. "Trixie's fumes have been outrageous lately. It's all that cheap tinned food, turns my tummy inside out. I don't think I could take one more night in that stinking wagon, **** on my own exhaust, and now..." she boops your muzzle, "I don't have to! Mwaha! C'mon, Fart Bitch. Time to introduce you to your new home!"

And with that, you catch one last glimpse of Cherry Jubilee before Trixie pulls you down into the crowd and off towards the fringes of town.

All the way there she regales you with her various accomplishments, all of which you suspect are greatly embellished. You don't say much, just nod when she asks you a question and keep your hooves moving. It's humiliating being collared up like this before you've even sampled a single ripper from the mare, but honestly by now you're used to being pulled and pushed around like a toy. This is your life.

Trixie's wagon is even smaller than you feared it would be. You can barely imagine one pony living in here, let alone two. She kicks open the door and leads the way inside. "I know it's a bit of a mess right now but... well, Trixie has been too busy working on new tricks to clean."

The inside of her wagon is like a bombsite, sweet Celestia. There's magic paraphernalia scattered around the floor, suitcases stacked all the way up to the ceiling, a single hammock covered in stains that you hope came from grease, and several half-empty tins of food with forks still in. Even with an open window there's a sick medley of rancid food, sweat, mildew and lingering flatus in the air.

"It's not exactly Canterlot castle, but Trixie is a humble mare."

Can't be that humble if she insists on referring to herself in the third person...

You're looking around the tiny space, trying to get familiar with it, when out of nowhere Trixie tosses her cape over the back of your head and forces you up against her plot. There's barely a second to process this before a gusty fart sputters out into her self-made gas chamber. All you can do is follow your impulse and sniff, and she certainly wasn't exaggerating earlier when she called her flatus "outrageous".

The stench poisons your nostrils, burning them like horseradish with a hint of rotting carrots. You struggle for air, but Trixie keeps you taught against her, pulling the cape extra tight to squeeze you close. "Relax! Trixie is simply trying to find out if she's paid her money's worth. Smell my farts, prove to Trixie that you are worthy to be her bitch!"

And so, you do what you do best. Aligning your nose with her reeking windhole, you suck down a harsh whiff and make her shiver in the process.

"Oooh~"

She wets your face with another fart, this one bombastic and brash to suit her personality. You sniff it up, and then the next one, and the next. Trixie feels so powerful letting these deep, muffled bombs out into your face, feeling the back of her cape rumble on each one, and your slight, but palpable struggles as you're **** to breathe in that awful stink.

You're already growing lightheaded. With the cape wrapped around your head like this there's nothing to breathe outside of her gas. You huff down a damp dribble of a poot and once you've cleared it all away Trixie releases the cape. You tumble over onto your rump, the entire room spinning around you.

She turns to where your face just was and gives a little twitch of nostrils.

"Hm! Impressive! Trixie can't smell a thing."

You're already sick of her scent and you've barely just started.

"Very very interesting, peon. How bout we run a few more tests? I want to really see what you're made of."

Trixie turns her attention to a chest over in the other end of the caravan. She trots over, tipping the entire room slightly. With a flip of the lid she dunks her head down inside and starts to search for something, giving her plot a waggle as she does so. A loose frrpllpt slips free. "Whoops!" And she starts throwing things out left and right; a pair of hoofcuffs, a magic wand with a frilly flower sprouting out the end, a couple of plastic interlinked rings and a chain of colorful handkerchiefs.

"Aha!" Eventually she's found what she was searching for and resurfaces from the depths of the chest, flashing something in her hooves that gets an immediate reaction out of you. It's a...