Treat of the Tricked Pony!

I had put on my clothes, once I had had a shower, and dried myself off, after I had been playing with myself, practising as I had been told.

I had continued my day with regular things. Nothing exciting. I had just done, what I would have done, had I not seen her. What I still will have to do, in order to maintain my life in any form.

Only then, the day had come to an end, just as it had to. I had gone to bed, pulled my clothes of, before I hit the sack. Only now, I had taken a final chance, practising. I had enjoyed it earlier, even alone, why not again? She had not told me how many times I could, or should practice?

Putting my hands together, fingers interlacing, pushing my elbows together. Then it happened, just like before, both with her, and alone. The change, as my hands and lower arms turned into the yello.

I lay on my back, as I slip the yello in. Feeling how it slipped inside of me. How it slide in there. The elastic rubber bending easily. It easily filled me up, and I contracted, just as I had expected.

The quilt over my body, as I fell asleep. Maybe I should have been surprised? I had never tried to stimulate myself further, once the yello had entered me.

It's mere presence was just enough, making me feel warm and relaxed, as I drifted off to sleep. How much I had moved, during the night, I have no idea, yet I noticed, I did lay on my belly, as I woke up.

Apparently, I had managed to get a good night's sleep, I realise as I woke up. I'm not lying in pools of sweat, I'm not panting. Even if I still did feel warm.

I had had a shower, and a breakfast. That's about as long as I lasted. Then I dressed up, and returned to where the pony had been. She's still there, exactly where I had left her, waiting for me.

“You did come back!” she simply pronounced.

“Yes, apparently, I did!” I replied.

“Then you would place your right hand on my horn?” she suggested.

I just nodded quietly, as I placed my hand on the horn, feeling the same sensation, as I had the other day. Nothing had changed. Nothing, at least, not this far.

“Place the hand on the table, with the palm down onto the surface?” she continued.

I did as she told me, and found that nothing had changed. It's the same table, as I had placed my hands on, the day before, and naturally it should be.

“Hold my horn with your left hand!” she told me, and I did.

“Now place your left hand on the table, with the palm down onto the table!” she told me, and I followed her instruction.

“If you hold my horn with both hands, fingers interlaced?” she then suggested, and I did it, just as she told me.

“Both hands, palms down on the table!” she instructed me, and I continued to do, as she told me.

I knew what was to come, yet I waited, allowing her to say it out aloud, I wanted to hear her saying it.

“Put your hands together, fingers interlaced, then press your elbows together!” she instructed me.

Now I followed her instruction. My hands soon started to change, transforming, as it had the other day. I did not know of the difference, compared to the time. I just continued, slipping inside of her, just as I had, the day before.