Treat of the Tricked Pony!

I stop, as I see the pony. She is standing on a desk, hooves wide apart, possibly fused to the desk, on which she stands.

Maybe I shouldn't have been here? The site gave me strange ideas. Only she isn't a regular pony, for one, she had the characteristic horn of a unicorn in her fore head. Then her hooves are not quite the hooves of a pony. Then I realised, there is very little pony like about her.

“Please, place your right hand on my horn, hold it for but a moment, if you like?” she then uttered, as in response to my thoughts.

“If you don't mind?” I uttered, as I placed my hand on the horn, as she had suggested.

I could feel it had been covered with something, a gel of some kind, it feels slippery. I just can't quite grasp it, as I hold on to her horn. Yet, the gel did not smear. What was strange, the gel still did cover the palm of my hand.

“If you place the hand on the desk, palm down?” she just suggested, and I follow her instruction without a thought.

“Your left hand, you would hold on to my horn? You like how it felt?” she continued.

I did as she had instructed me, as if she was leaving instructions to something, as if she knew I wanted to do, what she had just suggested. Which I incidentally did desire, and deeply, to my surprise.

“Place your left hand on the table, palm down!” she blurted, and I still did as she had just told me.

“Hold both your hands on the horn, fingers interlaced!” she told me, and I still did exactly that, as she told me.

“Place both your hands on the table? Palms down!” she continued.

I did as she told me, enjoying it, yet wondering, just what she was about to suggest, next. I had no idea.

“Place your hands together, fingers interlaced. Push your elbows together!” she instructed me.

I did as she had suggested, only to realise, just as my elbows came together, my hands started to change. I could clearly see it, as the head of a yello started to form. I just stared in surprise. I had not noticed her green hooves. Metallic, spring green. It is the exact colour my yello was assuming, before my very eyes.

I could do nothing, as I stared in surprise, as my hands changed, transforming. Maybe I did not mind, I did not know, not yet.

“If you slip the yello inside of me?” she finished.

I slipped the yello inside of her. I could clearly feel her inside. It's slippery. Or was it just as much the yello. What I feel, is what the surface of the yello touched. It was no sign of my hands, my arms, or elbows. It is, as if they had turned into rubber, slippery, elastic, yet utterly sensitive. I had forgotten all about the gloves I was wearing, as I came here.

Only now, my gloves had taken part of the change, the transformation. My gloves, the long version, all the way up my arms, even though I guess you couldn't spot them. Not easily. Or, she simply instructed me anyway? I couldn't ask. What the ultimate effect of it was to be, what consequences was next, I have no idea. I did not care, not now.

Since I had not thought of it, I never mentioned wearing the gloves to her. Should I have? I just let it slip.

Feeling her inside. She was obviously coming. She had been as I entered, and she was doing it, as I pulled out, about an hour later. She did not let on, outwardly. I couldn't have known, had I not slipped inside of her.

Just as I felt the head of the yello, what had once been my hands slip out of her, I knew my elbows came apart, and the change reversed. I soon could see my hands, such as they had been, when I came.

“If you like, I would love to see you again. Feel free to practice on your own, until then. Tomorrow, if you don't mind!” she suggested.

I nodded ascent, knowing instinctively, I meant it. I did want to come back, just as I knew, I would practice on my own, once I came home. Alone. It's not something I was prepared to share. Not yet.

Ofhorse, I had none to share it with. None I could feel comfortable, sharing such an intimate thing with. Comfort is an aspect of sharing. I need to feel safe about giving them a glimpse of something this intimate. I had barely known I was to enjoy it, until now, as she had opened my eyes to it.

Then the stray thought hit me; 'Ofhorse I could get used to this. I had to practice?'.