Treat of the Tricked Pony!

I had just woken up. Something had distracted me. I recall the dream, it was hot. Something, or someone had been teasing me, in an explicitly exciting manner. I realised, I'm coming. She had slipped the plug in, inside of me. That's just about as much as it takes.

Or she may have initiated the excitement, in the first place. It's not as if it take me all that much. Not now.

I'm still standing on her desk, now with my hooves wide apart, just as I had been, when she polished my hooves, and then, throughout the entire process. I had been standing exactly like this, when she allowed me to peak, since I am incapable of climax.

Then I realised, there is a girl in the room, she stands before me. I noticed, she is looking at me. This is, when I was to speak to her, telling her, what I had been told I was to say.

“Would you hold on to my horn?” I thus asked her.

She looked up, as if startled, then did as I had suggested. Maybe it is in startling her, she never thought of what she was doing, or why. She just did, as I told her.

“Place the hand on the table, palm down!” I then suggested, since she had followed the initial instruction.

This time, she wasn't startled, just curious. Yet, she still followed my instruction, as she placed her right hand onto the table, the very hand she had been holding my horn in. Then she had placed her hand on the table, palm down.

There was something exciting about having her doing what I told her. I couldn't put my hoof on it, or point my horn at it. I just found it exciting.

“Place your left hand on my horn, hold on to it!” I told her.

She soon placed her hand where I had suggested, holding on to my horn. I looked into her eyes, as she stands before me. I could see something in her eyes. Is it the joy of the sensation, the slippery gel, the lubrication she enjoyed, without being able to express it in any way. Just leaving a faint impression onto her face? If so, she would be only too eager to keep following the instruction.

“Place your left hand palm down onto the table!” I told her, pointing with the horn at the table.

There is but the single table. We're alone. Just as expected, the table had been prepared, it had been laced, with what was to change the girl's hands, in the desired manner. She soon had placed her left hand, palm down onto the table.

“Would you hold on to my horn with both your hands, interlacing your fingers?” I asked her.

“Yes!” she told me, as she followed the instruction.

“Squishy!” she then pronounced with delight.

“If you place your hands on the table, palms down?” I continued.

I noticed she eagerly followed the instruction, as she placed her hands onto the top of the table, palms down. She was almost done. I had pushed her to the brink of the change.

“Hold your hands together, fingers interlaced, then push your elbows together!” I told her, and she moved towards me, as she did as I told her, as if she only needed to hear me telling her, what she already knew she wanted to do.

She wanted it, she only required me to lead her, to what she desire.

As she pushed her elbows together, the transformation started. She just looked at me.

“Now you know what to do, slip the yello your hands had turned into, into my orchid!” I told her.

I could feel her slipping the yello in, inside of me, just that I was already at my peak. Though she feels me coming, pushing her further. I could feel it in her, as she slips the yello inside of me, and make it stay inside of me.

“Squishy!” she pronounced in delight, as she moved the yello inside of me, as if she made her best in order to tease me further, or if it only felt good for her. I have no idea, maybe I had already been coming for too long to say?

“Pull your elbows aside?” I told her.

She tried, but to no avail. For as long as she is inside of me, it was impossible.

“Pull out of me!” I told her.

About an instant after she had pulled out, her elbows came apart, and the transformation went in reverse, and her hands were back to their original shape. Only now, her nails the same red as my hooves.

I did not tell her, maybe she did not know, maybe it did not matter. It's not just her finger nails that are red. Her finger nails, now an inch long.

“Feel free to come back tomorrow. Though you may feel like practising on your own, till then?” suggested.

“Yes, I will be back tomorrow, and I will practice on my own. I'm certain I will enjoy it!” she assured me.

With that, she left, and I was alone, for a while, how ever long that would last. I had managed to follow the instructions, the girls had done as I told her, and the changes had come to pass, she had even been eager to come back. I'm looking forwards, to seeing her back again.