Unto a Star

The first thing that always comes to mind when I think of her, the winged beauty, the towering pitch-black mare and her hair of stars, is the inexplicable taste of cinnamon spiced milk and the way her tender teats filled my mouth. Soft and pliant, her dark-colored nipples brushed along my cheeks, squirting thin streams of milk as she searched how to feed me.

We were different creatures, I human and her, not so much.

But a mouth is still a mouth.

Even if it was shriveled and pale from hunger and long-term starvation.

It was odd, feeling the weight and heat of another creature after spending so much time in complete isolation. I thought the same as any other trained communications officer would. I assumed I was having a seizure. The way our sweet shared body heat seeped into my cold form understandingly unbelievable. And so, I waited to die. The creamy, warm fluid soaking through my standard issued gray jumpsuit nor the creak of my cot, screaming because of the sudden combined weight, did not convince me otherwise.

She eventually found my mouth and her titmilk flowed passed my cracked lips, pouring down my throat steadily until I involuntarily swallowed. The surprise of it, of still living, of drinking or eating anything after my food stores ran dry, made me cough and fight. I flexed, I squirmed, I struggled against the unmovable weight that was sitting comfortable on my front, attempting to shake whatever was upon me.

The cot under us followed my actions and yet the rocking motion did little to force her off.

She watched my struggle, pale un-human teal eyes glittering in amusement. Encouraging it in fact. With what little strength I had left in my bones, I slammed my hips and stomach against hers. The friction a delirious sensation. I was light-headed. My eyes blurry. What little of a stiffy I had began to rise, poking through the fabric but I was far too out of it to get truly hard. The specter indulged me nevertheless, our bodies slick with sweat and milk, I felt the edges of her taut stomach grind deliberately against my clothed cock. Tormenting me. Tempting me.

It stiffened at her actions but I willed myself calm. I wasn’t fighting her to get off, I was fighting to get free.

She would, ever so often, lift herself up. Just a finger’s width. Enough so I would have courage to keep on wailing against my captor. Once there was enough space, I would unlatch myself from her teat. Always the wrong move. Her milk dribbled down the side of my face, the very image of waste and I’d catch the look in her life; dutiful patience. I didn’t feel like a child underneath her but it was more than clear by the strange tension in the air that I was being disobedient. And she would sit down, forcing all of the air out of my lungs, my mouth wheezing at the loss of air. Any urge I had to escape went to saving my air flow. With my mouth opened once more, she guided her teat back inside and so the battle began again.

Weak and tired and hungry all the same, I stopped fighting once we reached the third round.

If she wanted to kill me or do any despicable things, she could’ve done so at anytime.

I was no match for her in the state that I was in.

With her teats firmly in my mouth, I suckled freely. Her milk was delicious, making me moan in stilted pleasure. The specter relaxed on top of me, her horse-like muzzle sniffing at my dishwater blonde hair. What did I look like to her, I wondered. Not tall, my standard height of 6’3 didn’t mean much to her massive figure that had to be 7’0 at the least. Not threatening, with the nipples in my mouth giving me life-providing milk, keeping me alive.

You wouldn’t do that for any potential threat.

I didn’t think she was doing it out of kindness either. She didn’t seem like that type of woman, err creature.

I drank and drank until my belly grew full and my eyes slid shut.

Sleep couldn’t have come soon enough.

Before this, before she decided to waltz into my life on a whim, I was dying in my metal tin of a shuttle ship.

Marooned and lost, the autopilot AI kept the ship in orbit around a moon and a earth-sized planet. The shuttle ship wasn’t built for planetary landing or even long distance space travel. We, the AI and I, were stuck. Our mother ship, the Wayfarer, wasn’t completely out of reach. The AI could’ve plotted a course back at anytime. But there was a reason why I was alone. The Wayfarer was compromised and the AI was only doing its best in following protocol. We hoped that the signal we followed from the Wayfarer was another mother-ship, perhaps our sister voyage, the Starseeker, and found ourselves in a strange part of the new galaxy.

Stars revolved around planets. Weather patterns studied from space were irrational and strange. The distance of things be it asteroid belts, clusters of stars or lone shooting comets were closer than their gravity pull should’ve allowed. If one described the sky as a ever shifting painting, then this galaxy, far different than any I have ever studied in my lifetime, was like a tapestry where things moved, seen or not seen, to the whim of some law of physics beyond my human comprehension.

It was a good thing that I had chosen the career path of communications officer. If I had been one of the Wayfarer’s engineers, technicians or god forbid it, a pilot, I would’ve gone mad. Instead, I made peace with my end. As the fuel cores drained of energy and the food rations I smuggled aboard ran out, I knew I would die in two ways. Either the hunger would kill me or I would, hopefully, die in my sleep. Without the cores getting recharged, all of the systems controlling the oxygen tanks and converting the few remaining gallons of astrolite into water and astrolite by-products, would fail. The system failure leading to death by suffocation.

And then she came, my winged beauty dressed in black.

I heard her before I saw her, the hallucination, the unicorn with wings. Her silver-clad hooves tinkling across the metallic surface that lined every inch of the shuttle ship’s floor. Her cadence, the swaying walk of her, catching my ears by surprise. It reminded me of a woman's heels and for a brief moment, I remembered life on the Wayfarer. The flashback went by as fast as it appeared, a woman's face briefly in my mind before I banished it away. Regardless of what my ears caught, I was far, far too used to the stomping rush of someone trying to attack me from behind or the noisy sneak of someone who hadn’t been lucky enough to locate a gun.

I glanced behind, intending to put any and all imaginary sounds to rest, and was spellbound.

She towered over me. This beauty with wings and a horn. Her coat, pitch black and adorned with a paler black and tarnished battle-ready armor. Her mane, adazzled with stars and light, a sweeping blue-lit cosmos. She strolled right past me with all the frivolousness I’d expect out of a senior pilot, aloof and other-worldly, head only held high because she was too busy looking up at all that could be explored.

With a slight turn of her head, our eyes met briefly.

She quirked her eyebrows, her searching eyes peering into my ugly soul. I stared back before being distracted by her massive frame and the slender curves that kept on catching his attention. Then to the tattoos on her hips, half-slices of moon phases printed on each well-blessed shapely side. I gulped, cursing his sudden desire for anything with womanly attributes. My eyes eventually made it back to hers, and when it did, she was suddenly close to me, her snout brushing against my face as she stared even more.

Interest apparent.

“I've never come across a star like this,” her velvet-like voice caressed my ears, distracting me from the crazy that came out of her glinting, fanged mouth. She smiled as she talked, her sliver of a tongue flashing through her pearly sharp whites. “You are a shooting star, of course,” The specter said more so to herself, ignoring the baffled faces I was making at her. “I can smell the stench of foreign nebula dust stinking up my domain.”

“This can't be happening,” I muttered, shaking my head. “Why of all things would I hallucinate a dark unicorn?” And why did she have to be so sexy-looking? Couldn't my mind conjure a human woman for some company.

I clasped my palms together, trying to think on how to handle this. Her appearance and the timing of her arrival, all clues pointed to only one solution. Never mix the roots of a house plant and a half-empty can of powdered milk for sustenance. Oblivious to my thoughts, the specter kept on talking. Bits and pieces of her regal-sounding proclamation going over my head until a single line stood out from the crowd.

“All stars that falter in reaching in their destination are forfeit. This means that you have become another trinket to adorn my night-scape and thus, mine to rule over. I shall place you over into the left quadrant once you've grown to a bigger size. As of now, you will do nicely in Orion's sector.”

“Wait, I'm not a star,” I stuttered, clueless, any sort of training I had on dealing with potentially hostile cross-party interactions slipping from my mind. But who would take a mythical creature seriously? I sure as hell didn't until she started talking about my ship as a star and her plans to possibly steal it.

“This is a shutter ship, basically a lifeboat for the mother ship, the Wayfarer.” I pointed to myself. “I am Konrad Reese, sector G-8 communication junior officer and my duty was to fix and expand the communication systems along with my fellow officers.” Who are now dead. All dead. “My shuttle ship and I are only docked here as we...” I took a breath and bullshitted the rest of my way through,  “consider our options.”

The hallucination gave a tight-lipped smile.

“I do not understand any of what you said,” she said bluntly. “You are a young star and I suppose, I will allow your ignorance as to how things work in my domain slide. For now. It is odd how you continue to bear the shape of your former people. Stars at your age are usually far more unstable,” the specter stepped forward, her next words an order. “Strip. I wish to know what I have allowed into my home.”

“I'm not a star nor is my ship,” I recited. “I am a human and this is a shutter ship.”

“Repeating nonsense at me won't work,” she hissed, her voice laden with threat and promise of pain if I didn't comply. “Humans. Ponies. Mortals. None can fly through the fields of space without dying a slow, messy death. If you were what you said you were, you wouldn't be alive to blather noise at my Excellence.”

I merely turned to my head to the side, refusing to give in to the instinct to just walk away. The way she said it. There was no room for argument. It wasn't a question. It wasn't a statement. Her words came out the same way she appeared, brilliant and baffling. We were speaking two different languages if she couldn't understand the concept of space-travel while looking like the equine personification of deep space itself.

“We are inside the ship,” I deadpanned, my voice rising incredulously. “You're the one talking crazy. Stars are big balls of gas that burns anything it comes in contact with! Even if this was a star, you couldn't simply prance your little pretty hooves wherever you pleased! Think about it. Does any of this,” I gestured around, pointing to the slide-away doors, hologram imaging screens, the oval-shaped windows dotting the adjacent wall. “resemble any star you've ever seen?”

The hallucination went silent, hopefully on the verge of popping out of existence after I solved that little logic error she kept on insisting. I didn't know why, maybe it was how her wings stretched out in warning or the way her body leaned to the side,  a prelude to a forward attack, but I took a back step. To my back, the hall to the system room and to my left, a crowbar.

Fight or flee, those were my only options.

“Of course not,” the specter said slowly as if she was talking to a dim-witted child. “You are from a foreign cluster of stars beyond my domain. Why would you resemble anything I've seen before?” I quietly sighed. The crowbar wouldn't be good enough to take down that big gal. “Now, I will only say this one more time. Strip.”

I bolted before she finished that line, barefooted and twisting my way down the hall. How much was real and much wasn't, I couldn't be sure. It was much more likely I was having a fever dream thanks to bad food choices but with each shot of high-wire lightning being thrown to my backside, narrowly dodged by me, had me hesitant to stop running. Darting across the gray tiles, I threw my shoulder into the system control room's door.

For some reason, the door wouldn't budge and a strange, purple intangible sheen grew over the metal. I tried the door again and again, acutely aware the stomping hooves behind me had turned once again into that slow, steady sway. Shit.

I touched my forehead, chanting over and over, “It isn't real! It isn't real!”

Nothing I said stopped the beast coming behind me. Fight it was. I remembered turning around, my fists raised, my scream of righteous fury loud, and little of the body-breaking thud that followed after she tossed me to the side.

After this, the hallucination started to treat me more gently.

I think it was the first time she ever saw a star bleed.

From then on, I couldn't stop her from rifling through my things. She came and went as she pleased, sliding through the vent as a purple fog before shifting into her typical form.

I couldn't imagine that the shuttle ship was very interesting.

It had been built in mind for inter-ship travel and resembled it. The ship was small and narrow with the halls, three of them, pipe-like as the white walls curved into the rooms. The rooms themselves were glorified waiting hubs. Strips of bright colors, typically green or yellow, and numbers denoting the parts of the Wayfarer the shuttle was to stop by, ran along the edges and corners of these hubs. These station rooms, I left alone for the most part. There was nothing useful in them besides potential scrap metal that could salvaged from the many benches and holding poles that filled them.

I re-purposed the main waiting hub, the largest room and the center of the ship, as my bedchambers, kitchen and working station. In the main waiting hub, the walls flared out in a diamond-like shape, a contrast to the chunky, claustrophobic triangle shape of the others. Neon fixtures glowed overhead, raining down hot fuzz pink because it was the only setting I could stand after being trapped in this ship after a few days. On the side, hologram imaging boards updated daily on any new information the shuttle ships sensors scanned from the nearby outside surroundings.

I had my cot on one side, a clothesline of laundry hanging on the other. The laundry was mostly there to block out the light that came from the wide, ship-long, window that space light of the sun and nearby stars shined through. To the north, my workstation stood on assembled welded benches and other jagged stilts of metal held together from the use of power tools I had on hand. To the south, what little rations I had left sat in scattered crates.

But she seemed to entertain herself, the whoosh of the doors to the waiting stations, a constant hum in the background as she went about.

Sometimes, I saw her levitating stone and white moon dust in that purple telepathic field of hers, carrying them along as she vanished into the odd corners of the ship. As far as I know, all forms of moon dust are toxic to humans and just the slightest speck into the air would have me doubled-over in sickness. She was putting the lunar material somewhere, storing it perhaps, and I doubted that after she left, the dust just stayed where it was. This is how I convinced myself all over again that she wasn't real and that her appearance was just a sign of me hallucinating.

Yet the cut on the back of my skull, tenderly wrapped in bandages that I had not done myself, ached. I distracted myself by thinking of my food situation. The fact that I hadn't had any for the last six days and the dizziness that followed.

Running out of energy, I laid on my cot, waiting to pass on.

And then she fed me.

I still don't understand why.

When I woke up after the first feeding, she was gone and so too, was any proof that she had been there.

I was quick to dismiss her as an hallucination. Supposing she was real, it still seemed ludicrous to believe that a winged unicorn, a mythological creature, came to my aid in the middle of space. Even so, I checked the ship’s cameras and found their tapes scrambled as I tried to find video of the day before. With or without proof, I was invigorated to work again. I still had two choices. Death by starvation or death by suffocation. Both didn’t seem particularly attractive when I had a perfectly habitable world waiting right next door.

After checking on the system room and making sure things were still in working condition, ignoring the red gleam of all the screens, the same words, ‘Energy Levels Dangerously Low. Seek Refueling’, I went to fiddle with my monstrosity. The space shuttle was built to house thirty people and had the space ready suits to go along with it. Cutting out the fatty extra padding out of the shoulders and draining the endro-engineering seal goo from internal systems of each suit, I sowed them together. Creating a oblong, barely two-legged shape, patchwork monster of a space shell-suit that could, in theory, survive a fiery crash upon entry into a planet’s atmosphere. Supposing the ship didn’t explode mid-air, crash into somewhere inescapable, crash into water, or crash and then explode with me still in it.

With all the time I’ve put into it, I can say with sincerity, that I might survive making it to the planet. But don’t take just my word for it. The experiments I’ve been shooting off at the planet seem to make it into the atmosphere before spontaneous combustion. That’s better than what I was working with before- simply taking over the ship’s controls and hurling the shuttle into the planet.

The need to sleep came too soon and so did the gnawing hunger.

I placed down my tools and called it a night, retreating to my cot for much needed shut-eye.

Real or not, after a while of laying still, I felt her teats prodding at my lips. I licked one of her curious nipples, careful to keep my eyes closed. Drops of milk formed at the top of her nub, stimulated by tongue. Then came the faint, inpatient moan. Hearing them, feeling her body sway and shudder made me want to keep at it longer. I played and toyed, the nipple growing harder and harder with every tongue-wet swipe.

The specter moved her front to rest over my chest, the cot shifting slightly.

One nipple became two and I welcomed the new girl with my teeth, lightly pressing my human canines against it. Her moans became dark and husky, music to my ears. The aroma of her arousal, hot and heavy, drifted into my nose. The cot screeched as she got on, panting, distracted. She lifted her head to glare at me, her hips perched in the air and haloed in the dusky, pink light. I saw the slick, clear liquid dripping down her thighs and her mound, her fur-lined love canal.

I reached up a hand to twist one of her teats, her lust-filled eyes following my every movement. I was rewarded with a groan and a slight jerk of her hips. It was beautiful, watching this mare get turned on after just a little nipple-play. Sitting flush straight against her, I took in one of her tits and drank, my other hand wandering to her pussy. My fingers rubbed against her damp folds, a thumb circling a rock-hard clit. More moaning and panting, she collapsed against me, her slumping weight almost painful to shift off my collarbone. My index finger entered her hole, sliding through gooey erotic liquid heat that dribbled out. Then the others, pushing and stretching her inner walls.

Up and down with a slight roll of her mountain-like hips, she rode my fingers. I adjusted my position, hooking my fingers inside of her watching her body writhing in ecstasy, her inner walls clenching. Something like a squeal came out her lips, the sweetest sound in the galaxy, and with that, she remembered that she hadn't come to get fucked by me. With a glow from her horn, my hand was yanked out and I was somehow glued to the mattress.

I struggled but it was no use. My body wouldn't obey, becoming like stone.

“You rude, impatient cur,” the winged beauty lifted her great hips to hover over my head. “If you seek a different drink, I am happy to provide. All you need to do is ask.” Down they came, her black thunder thighs falling on both sides of my heads before she closed them, entrapping me in all side with hot, luscious flesh. Then she humped, thrusting her slick pussy and drowning me in pleasant-tasting juices. Her thighs cleaved and un-cleaved at her whim, allowing me a few scants about of air before she sat on me again and filled my mouth with her other drink.

A brief thought entered my mind, 'Why wasn't her weight crushing me?' Was it her doing?

I endured it. My tongue, the only thing I could still use outside of blinking and breathing, plunged into her hole. The winged beauty cried out in surprise. Her thrusts grew faster, uncoordinated, in a pussy-grinding  frenzy. The whole ship rattled. I heard cups and frames fall off the shelves and walls, smashing on the floor. The cot itself buckled. She humped and humped and then cummed, spewing out rivers of fem-cum all over my body. My stomach swelled, forced to swallow until she freed me. Lifting herself up, the winged beauty stared at her work, satisfied.

With her tail, she poked my belly and I heard the fluid sloshing around in my enlarged belly.

“Hmm,” she said, her eyes turning into snake-like slits. “Sounds like you still have room.”

I would like think, if she didn’t like me before, she liked me now.

After entering this strange solar system where the nearest sun-like star circled around a planet instead of the other way around, I began to dream. We all did on the Wayfarer, dreaming of things at home, jumbled memories, sensual desires. It was seen as highly unusual. Suspect in some cases as we radioed back and forth to our sister ship, the Starseeker. Thanks of the sleeping pods and the various medications to keep our bodies in form despite the quirks of traveling space, dreams weren’t possible.

And with the dreams, so did the strange accidents began. Then the Starseeker betrayed us.

After everything and after seeing the hallucination, I started dreaming again. It wasn’t that I couldn’t. I continued to dream regardless of my fellow crew members turning on each other and my brother, the first in the many communications officers murdered to appeal the hysteric masses on board. But I tended to dream of the same things over and over. The wide-eyed shock of being rounded up like cattle and the terrified, angry horror of watching my brother, in slow-motion, escorted to his death. That grew tiring.

And so, I’d taken to staying up for days and days.

Waiting to faint into dreamless sleep. My method had worked for the most part. No dreams. No remembered memories. Then I dreamt of that winged beauty giving me a blow-job. What a way to be reintroduced to wet dreams!

Jumpsuit hanging around my knees, half-hard cock shamelessly saluting to the miss. I gave a quick glance at everything around me. We were in a void-like box, faint translucent colors passing by their invisible walls. I didn’t try to look down. Since this was my dream, if I thought we weren’t on ground or an actual surface, we might just fall through and it would be a shame to wake up in such an unfinished state.

She sat between my legs, her hooves spreading my thighs even farther as her snake-like tongue swept out of its cave. The winged beauty got my cock nice and wet, her tongue and mouth exploring every inch of my thick shaft. If I didn’t know any better, it being my fucked-up dream, I would have thought she was having fun. Her dark eyes glimmered in amusement, lovingly licking every bit of my meat stick. My breath grew fast, cock rising to the occasion in my stead. Any drops of creamy white pre-cum dribbling out of the cock’s tip was slowly licked clean, her pretty mouth and its toothy fangs rubbing against my trembling flesh.

It was torture, absolutely torture. But I was in control now.

I imagined a stool of some sort forming under the winged beauty’s rump, abruptly pushing her into swallowing my cock.

The sounds of disgruntled and surprised hums emerging out her muzzle was almost as good as the intoxicating moist maw my dick was in. Ours eyes locked, the winged beauty throwing me her flat and unimpressed look she could give with her mouth soundly stuffed. I sent back a shit-eating grin. It’d been a while and it wasn’t my fault that my mind had decided that she needed to be working my dick in dream-land. Then she snorted, wiggling her snout before taking the rest of me in, her fangs rubbing softly against my cock as it went further in.

My grunts grew louder. The surge of pleasure running up my spine, igniting everywhere a nerve was placed.

Legs jerked, my impending orgasm hitting me in full force. I cummed, releasing a pent-up load straight into her mouth. The winged beauty guzzled down the first shots of jizz with hardly a complaint, her throat bobbing up and down as she swallowed. I threw my head back, breathing loudly, waiting for her to free herself from myself.

She didn’t. Instead, she cupped my balls, rubbing them and my dick back into hardness. Dream or no dream, I didn’t expect to get it back up so soon. But by the miracle of her relentless touch, my cock woke from its soft retreat into active duty.

Right before we got onto round two, I woke up, startled.

In warmth.

My gray eyes looked up into a canopy of black feathers.

The winged unicorn's slender body made itself comfortable onto of me, half-laying on my chest and the rest on the rickety sides of my shitty cot. The few sheets I used thrown on top of her. Her soft fur felt real enough, my free hand running down her flank and side. But I could be rubbing my own head full of hair considering how hallucinations worked, trying to trick you that they were real.

All of her battle regalia was gone, her bare body pressing up against my stained jumpsuit, the layers of plastic and endro-engineering doing nothing to stop the sweet shared body heat from seeping through. Even her battle helmet was gone and without it, her hair went wild, spreading out like cosmic translucent waves. Intrigued, I attempted to catch a strand and my fingers mostly slid through. Nevertheless, there was some texture in there. A cross between the softest substance I ever known and what I imagined a cloud felt like.

Snoozing lightly, the hallucination didn't stir at my wandering touches. In fact, she seemed to preen, her wings spreading wider and wider, the more I explored. Using both of my hands, I touched the place where her wings began, pressing my thumbs into the bird-like joints and moving up. She shuddered, shaking the whole cot but her hooves clung tighter to my body, spurring me on. My digits skittered up into the under-feathers, sliding between the stems of the feathers growing out into the wing. Her wings trembled, leaning into my slow ministrations.

Her hips, just a little, spread on top of me.

The motion is nearly undetectable but I felt it, the slight jerk of her thighs into my clothed groin.

Finished with my inspection of her wings, I decided to scout her rump. Twin, darkly-colored cheeks, greeted my palms. I ran my hands over her ample back hills, squishing and squeezing them to the beat of her increased shudders and the grinding of her hips into mine. Hitching breaths entered the air. Her face burrowed into the side of my neck, attempting to snuff out the sweet and sensual noises that escaped her lips. My hands gripped both her tattoos, pinching and slapping them at my leisure. Her hips tried to inch from one side to the other, squirming to flee my onslaught. It was no use. I squished and slapped and pinched until that slight grunt of sleepy arousal became a body-waking moan.

The cot creaked, singing along as we rocked into each other. Sweat and other fluids helped their humping of each other. The slick, clear juice dripping out of her damp special place was absorbed into my jumpsuit, growing my half-hard morning wood into a full-grown timber tree.

The winged unicorn sat up, a spark of her horn tugging down my suit’s zipper.

Freed, my cock reported to duty with all the eagerness of a young recruit, my balls swelling up with seed.

“What a thick and mighty stallionhood,” she purred, her hoof brushing along the twitching shaft. My cock followed her every stroke, the light and fleeting touch maddening. “It’s far, far too proud for me to accept it like this. It needs to learn who is in charge.” For moment, I was sure that I was still in a dream. I tried to mentally conjure something knocking her over and helping me make her swallow my cock once more. Closing my eyes. A quick word chanted under my breath. Nothing happened.

Guess I’d have to do it the hard way.

I lifted my hips, trying to angle more of my dick into her hoof. She responded by being even more of a tease, using both of her furry hooves to torment me. They’d squeeze the head of my cock, milking out pre-cum and making me see stars. A few lingering slaps to each side of my length, making the skin briefly cherry-red. Then down to my balls, roughly fondling them to see all the faces I would make. She got off on it, watching me grunt and bite my lip to smother those whimpering moans. And the worse thing of it all is that the winged beauty adjusted her seat. Her great hips were wide open, giving me a full view to her drenched pussy.

It winked at me, the folds desperate for some male company.

“Amusing,” she said, her eyes following where my gaze was solely placed. “I have never met such a star that as impudent as you are. Should you not be afraid of what I am or what I may do? Most creatures would quiver before me, their phallus weak and limp before I take them. Before I make them appease me. And here is you, my star, stubborn and stiff under my ministrations. Where is this spirit coming from? I worry that it will run out.”

I chuckled, the sound of my bubbling laughter catching her off-guard, “You’re beautiful. There’s nothing frightening about that. I just wish you got it in your head that I’m not a star nor is my ship.”

She blinked, that dominating face of hers going blank. Then she giggled, a bell-like sound that wouldn’t seem out of place during a funeral, “What utter nonsense.” The winged unicorn lifted up her voluptuous hips and positioned herself over my cock. Seeing my chance, I couldn’t resist. I thrusted up, my cream-covered cock rubbing against her clit and nothing more. I was trapped, weighted down by that purple glow. The same light emanating from her horn.

“Patience,” she murmured, spreading her thighs even further as my cock pressed against her entrance, smearing it white with promise. “is a virtue.” Then she slammed down, my cock plunging inside of her, stretching her insides with wild abandon. “Ignorant pride is something that I cannot abide by.” Her pussy greedily gulped my inches like it was nothing, the over-powering sensation of sliding through her tight, vice-grip passage sent pain and pleasure to my core. My body shook, writhed, wept as I was held in place, unable to do anything but submit to her power.

“It makes for a poor show, do you not understand?”

“It’s not pride.” I wheezed out, groaning as my dick convulsed in need inside of her carnal, blazing prison. Her pussy kept squeezing and squeezing. "You’re... beautiful. Let me-" Even as she became fully hilted, her body wouldn’t stop. My eyes watered from the agonizing pleasure, stuttering half-words running out of my mouth. She didn’t move once, content to watch me become undone. My cock twitched and twitched and I cummed, shooting a load that had me screaming in anguish.

My body arched, freed from her hold and she was still, my softening cock squelching as it slid out. White cum followed, contrasting against her black fur as it dribbled down her thighs and onto me. It seemed fitting. Poetic even. She fucked me more than I did her. I was literally a used condom, my body going limp just like the plastic when you tug it off your dick.

She didn't have much to say after that, after proving some crazy point. Withdrawing into herself, cleaning us up with her strange power and staying silent.

“You cheated.”

I wasn't sure of which us she cheated more. The great sex we could've had or herself. I'd been going with the flow all this time but through all of this, I never thought of her as a hallucination. Not once. And still, she was beautiful. Not just physically but all of her. She was an enigma and I'd never felt this way towards anything before. Enraptured, perhaps on that pride, I wanted her, all of her, and I'd make her see sense. Eventually.

She smiled, her dark eyes unreadable. “Pride does goeth before a great fall and I am that fall incarnate. Take this coupling as a lesson to hold dear. I am not here to pleasure you. You are here to please me at my own leisure. Do not mistake my attention to you as a sign of anything more than that.”

“I could’ve made love to you,"’ I breathed out, exhausted and angry. “You didn't need to do any of that. What's wrong with you?”

“No one can love a thing such as me.” And then, she was gone.

Shame, she said that. I'd already do.