Fp/M . NC . *

It’s been a long day full of annoying co-workers you wish would lay down in traffic. You still haven’t figured out how such gigantic morons are allowed to work at a hospital with you. The doctors are the worst, convinced they’re saving lives when sitting at their computer desks playing Peggle.

No, it’s nurses who save lives and you’ve just got done working your third double-shift this week. You don’t mind being a male nurse and being mocked by your buddies, but until they’ve worked 120 hours in one week you just wish they’d shut up.

You could use a good night’s sleep. Tomorrow you are off and if you slept 36 hours straight it still wouldn’t be enough. You close the door to your home behind you and immediately begin throwing your clothes all over the floor.

Your shoes land next to a discarded pizza box. If memory serves, it was Hawaiian and it’s empty now. The rest of your clothes land in the dirty pile that sits next to the washing machine. Adjacent to it is the dryer and a pile of clean clothes. Your bachelor organizational system is flawless.

A bath sounds really nice, but you’d just fall asleep. You decide on a shower to wash all the filth that patients have been sneezing onto you. Usually, a little playtime with yourself is a great way to unwind before bed. You’re so tired that you can’t focus quite right and have the most unfulfilling shower ever.

What a perfect fucking day.

At least your aching muscles are relaxing now from the hot water. A popping sound reaches your ears and for a moment you wonder if you left the T.V. on before you left for work. Your fingers are pruned so you decide to call an end to the shower.

You step out of the shower and dry off, realizing for the first time your eyelids have been half-closed since you got home. Yawning widely, you nearly topple over as your mind drifts off to thoughts of a down pillow and smooth bed sheets. The door to your bedroom swings open as you stumble in butt naked. Normally you’d put on some pajamas, but screw that. You’re going to fall face-first onto the bed and sleep for thirty six hours and it’s going to be legendary.

“It is about time, hairless oaf!” a female voice calls out.

Freezing on the spot, you rub your eyes and try to get rid of the fatigue. “Wha?” You kicked your last girlfriend out when she bitched about you working night shifts. Was it too much to ask for her to make you sandwiches after working all night? At the very least, she could have done the dishes.

Who was in the bed now?

You recall coming straight home from work. Unless the girl from the bar two nights ago decided to sneak back into your house and wait for your double-shift to end it couldn’t be her. Jessica didn’t have keys anymore. You changed all the locks when she slashed your tires and poured gasoline on the lawn, spelling out “whore” in dead grass.

Sally had probably slept her way to venereal disease by now. That relationship ended with the mailman, literally. Police found Sally two weeks after you broke up strangled in his basement. Tammy had likely died of alcohol poisoning. She was great fun, and a perfect wingman. They don’t make them like that anymore.

That left Kelly, the only ex-girlfriend who stole a key and then acted innocent. Of course it’d be the crazy one that broke back in. Well, crazier than Jessica. She had once tied you to the bed with dental floss and enacted some sort of dental-assistant fetish on you, which you still have nightmares about.

“Quit stalling! At least you’re presentable. The Great and Powerful Trixie wouldn’t have it any other way!”

The great and powerful who? The room is slowly coming into focus and you make out a blue blur on top of the red blur that is your atrocious bedspread. “Who the hell? Look, Kelly, I’m tired and I don’t even care why you’re here. Come back tomorrow and we can have angry sex, ok?”

“My name is not Kelly, it is Trixie!” She stood up tall, puffing out her chest and flourishing her cape. “I demand you get your ass in bed, puny human!”

You’ve had enough of this. You can make out enough of her silhouette that you march over to throw her off your bed violently. “Look, Kelly, I told you I wasn’t gonna roleplay with you, especially not those fucking ponie—”

You are only a couple feet away from what you had assumed was your ex-girlfriend Kelly. She was obsessed with My Little Pony and had frequently tried to get you to have sex with her while she was dressed as one. You did it the one time because she said she’d let you use the back door.

“A pony?” You stare into the eyes of a furious unicorn in an ridiculous wizard’s hat and cape. She has a horn that is glowing slightly and two beautiful eyes. You find yourself ashamed to find something about an animal attractive, yet your body is already responding to her natural beauty.

“Yes, Trixie wishes you would stop talking and start doing a pony. The spell is only good for one night, you know.”

“Whoa, hold on!” You back up from the pony. Surely there is a logical explanation for whatever the hell is happening to you.

You pinch yourself, finding that it hurt. This definitely wasn’t a dream. “Damn it, if Jeff slipped some meds into my coffee again as a prank I swear I’ll kick that doctor’s ass.”

It was rare, but occasionally your coworkers would take a prank too far and include anti-psychotics. That was a better explanation than a drunken tryst with a fat chick, or a talking technicolor pony.

“Less talk, more loving. The Great and Powerful Trixie has an insatiable appetite.”

“Stop with the third person!” you shout. Your mind is still trying to piece together how something from your ex-girlfriend’s cartoon is sitting on your bed demanding sex. Either this is hell, LSD, or you really are getting sex from an imaginary pony. None of the three options seem particularly acceptable.

Trixie’s horn lights up, bathing the room in a cool blue glow. “Very well, I always enjoyed doing it the hard way.” There is a sound behind you and the faint smell of ozone. She laughs softly at something behind you.

Turning around, you see some ropes and a ball gag hovering in mid-air. “You’ve got to be kiddi— mmph mmph!” You use your arms to bat the ropes away, ignoring the ball gag as they weave around you. Each time you get a firm grip on one rope, another takes it’s place binding a limb. The harder you try, the more hopeless you realize your situation is.

You throw yourself against the bathroom door but it slams shut before you can get away. You feel a rope wrapped firmly around your right arm, bending it back behind you. With the free left hand you grab onto the door handle for dear life as another rope tries to yank it off. Rope spirals around your shoulder, down your left arm.

Several ropes are snaking around your legs and kicking seems to be of no use. The more you kick, the quicker they seem to slide up and fasten around your knees. Your left hand is going numb from the tight ropes until you finally let go.

With a loud thud you land on the floor. The ropes pull your arms behind your back, quickly and painfully tying them together at the wrist and elbow. You hear something pop and a jolt of pain in your shoulder. Before tonight, you would not have imagined it was possible for your elbows to touch behind your back. Now, you just wanted to strangle the mare as soon as you regained feeling in your hands.

You try to sit up but are being pinned to the ground. You kick, only to find your ankles and knees are now bound tightly. Every foul word you can think of tries to escape your lips to no avail.

“Now, Trixie believes you need some persuading.”

Something soft brushes against the soles of your feet. You’re so tired it takes you a moment to realize they are feathers. A moment later, you remember your horrible ticklishness and start laughing. You start squirming futilely against the tight rope bindings.

Your chest starts getting sore from the onslaught of feathers that refuses to stop. Just when you think you’re going to asphyxiate, she stops tickling to allow you a single breath. After what feels like hours you are wide awake and willing to do anything to make it stop.

A blue glow surrounds you and levitates you up onto the bed. It takes several minutes for the sore chest muscles to stop spasming from the tickle fit you just suffered. You’re still catching your breath when she asks you a simple question.

“Do you submit to me, love slave?” She glares at you, horn still glowing, awaiting your answer.

You consider saying no, but decide that you’re long past that. You nod your head up and down.

“Good. Now, the Great and Powerful Trixie needs to polish your wand. If you’re nice, she might let you return the favor.”

Trixie walks over you with all four legs and tosses her coat and hat aside. You glance down and get your first good look at her underside. like a cat, the coat of hair on her stomach looks quite soft. Your eyes follow her chest down past her nipples. She even has a cute round belly button, and you begin to see the start of something between her thighs from this angle.

You watch in horror as she mounts you, and your one-track male mind quickly points out just how freaking amazing it feels. The part of you that’s angry at your situation is quickly replaced by a desire to please your mistress.

The hairs on your head are tingling as Trixie’s magic forces you to submit to her will. She begins a gentle rocking motion and you can’t help but enjoy it as her spell amplifies each sensation. Soon, you find yourself joining in her rhythm. You had never known anything could be so smooth, tight, or attached to an equine form.

Magical fingers are massaging your body and giving you the ride of a lifetime. Just when you think you’ve passed the point of no return, her magic cools you down, denying your release. Trixie continues to tease you and use you for her own pleasure. Occasionally she’ll stop to cuddle, but her mind quickly remembers the reason she broke into your house.

A freaking pony is having sex with you. Worse, said pony wants to make sure you suffer for your earlier insolence. The massaging fingers eventually turn into whips, electric shocks, and all other manner of magical teasing.

For what feels like hours she rides you until she is done having her way with you. She showed you at least four positions you had never heard of. Two of them involved a set of magical suspension gear to hang you from the ceiling and get the angle just perfect to please your Mistress. Once she is too tired to continue anymore, she takes a seat on your member and finally releases her magic. You black out as you explode inside her.

You wake up the next morning with a killer headache. You’re laying naked on the floor of your room. The bed seems to be made, and you can hear a shower running in the bathroom. It takes a few minutes to get up and get past the dizziness. Your head is spinning and you wonder if you went out to the bar last night. The last thing you can recall is passing out in your bed, and riding a pony. . . or was a pony riding you?

You go into the bathroom and turn the shower off. After taking a lap around the house you confirm no one else is there with you. Looking at the clock, it’s noon on Saturday. You head back into your room to get some more sleep.

“What a strange dream.”

Pulling back the covers, you find a letter. For a moment you don’t want to open it, hoping that it’s just the gas bill.

Dearest Sex Slave,

You performed well last night. I shall perfect the spell to ensure you achieve greater arousement and size next time. Trixie understands you are no stallion, though perhaps I could turn you into one as humans have small dicks. It would behoove you greatly to work on that if you expect the honor of being my man-slave again.

Should you desire your mistress again, simply say the enclosed incantation out loud. Make sure to get more sleep before next time. I could have lasted several more hours.

X O X O,

Great and Powerful Trixie.

Author's Note

Vote on Chapter Four's pony here.