My Little Toy

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The new room looks as if it was identical, to the one I just came from. That is the room, in which I had met Lotus and been treated to a wondrous massage. I am still feeling the effect of her efforts throughout my entire body. Glorious.

If the room had been identical, there would be a gurney on which I should endure yet another massage. Well, I would still enjoy the massage, just as I would enjoy seeing Lotus or Aloe. Just that the floor is slightly different, even if I had not yet seen the hint of it.

Since I can not see the doors, before they are open, I can never say where or even if there is a single door in the room.

The door behind me, had swiftly closed behind me. I had barely heard the distinct click, when the doors shut closed behind me.

I still do not have a clue, as to how the place is managed or controlled. Lotus never explained it. As if she was supposed to make the effort of explaining the workings of the room to me, when she was busy caring for my comfort.

“As the guest; my comfort is everything. I do not need to know how the room works, or any details around her business!” I ponder, while I am leisurely stepping forwards in the small room.

To the right, two doors swoosh up. The doors are indeed, exactly where I had been expecting them to be; just where they had been, in the previous room. Only this time, neither Lotus, nor Rarity trotted out. In their place, Pinkie Pie is walking out.

“Hiya, Rarity!” she exclaims, greeting me.

Of course, just as she speak; the doors close behind her, with a characteristic click. The room is closed; there is no way of pointing out where either of the doors were, not even the once I had just seen.

“Hi, Pinkie Pie!” I respond, recognizing the pink girl stepping into the room.

There is simply no way in hell, not to recognize her anywhere. It is not just in her pink skin and deep pink, tightly curled up hair. It is more in the energy and enthusiasm that is radiating from her, as if she had been a radiator about to blow up due to a long-term and extensive overload. Then again, she just could not be bothered to follow the rules of reality; like any other girl in class.

Today, she is wearing a pink shirt and short skirt, with her signature set of blue and yellow balloons. She needs no make-up or manicure. She is sporting a bright, infectious smile and looks at me with her large, bright blue eyes.

I notice that she is applying her usual squeaky and bouncy step, as she is approaching me.

“Okay, prepare yourself for the fun and games!” she exclaims, as I approach the center of the room.

She is opening what appears to be a pair of doors in the floor. Behind the gates, is what she is referring to; as the fun and games. Looking down, I could see the undercarriage of what is supposed to be a rocking-horse. Instead of wood, I see the glistering black rubber, matching my hooves. What my hooves had turned into, in the previous room with the help of Lotus.

“Curious!” I ponder.

If I step onto the rubber frame, would I become an integral part of the rocking-horse? Could I step off of this contraption, afterwards?

“Would you step onto the purple hoof-print, please!” she instructs me, in her bubbly voice and giggle.

“Okay, Pinkie!” I respond, trusting my friend.

I place my right fore-hoof on the first purple print I could see; then I continue with the right hoof. Right and left, right and left. With that, all four of my purple hooves are in place.

Pinkie Pie leans forwards and touch something, by the side of the rocking-horse carriage and the squishy liquid recedes. Once the black rubber is completely dry, it is slowly moving up to floor level, even if that is merely three inches above where I had found it.

“Press down your right fore-hoof please!” she adds, and apply a clear gel along the rim of the hoof as I comply.

“Was that a squeak? Suction-cup hooves??” I ponder

I had failed to notice where she got it from, just as I had failed to see when she uncapped the tube. Even if she is literally standing right before me, and all the way up in my face. This is after all Pinkie Pie.

If she is truly the genuine Pinkie Pie, but she could have been here long enough for the persona to take hold of her; then it would simply have consumed her entirely. Or is there anything left, of whomever she was before she slipped into the role as Pinkie Pie? I guess that is irrelevant, by now. She is Pinkie Pie now, with everything that comes with it.

“Give your right fore-hoof a tentative tug, before you press down your left fore-hoof, please!” she continues.

My hoof is stretching, but refuses to let go of the rubber it is placed upon.

“My hoof does not let go!” I comment, as if asking for some kind of approval.

“Quite correct, just as it should be!” she responds.

I press down my left fore-hoof, and she is applying the gel all the way along the rim of the hoof. I can see her applying the gel with the tip of the index finger of her right hand. There is but the thin line along the rim of the hoof, glistering for about a minute, before the gel dries up and is no longer visible to the naked eye.

“Give your left fore-hoof a tentative tug, before you press down your right hind-hoof, please!” she is instructing me.

I quietly follow her instruction to the letter; finding the hoof sticking to the rubber under my hoof, before I press down the hind-hoof. While I watch, she is applying the gel along the rim of the hoof while I am pressing it down.

“Give your right hind-hoof a tentative tug, before you press down your left hind-hoof!” she is instructing me.

“Okay!” I respond, as I tug at my right hind hoof, but to no avail; the hoof is sicking to the rubber.

“Give your left hind-hoof a tentative tug, please!” she is exclaiming

“This is strange, but I guess I could do it for Pinkie Pie!” I ponder, as I comply.

“Oh, wait; you don’t have any more hooves, right?” she exclaims, and a flood of rioting giggles escapes her lips.

While she is still standing behind me, she is giving my rump a firm push. I find my hooves all stuck on the carriage of the rocking-horse. I start rocking, like the rocking-horse she just turned me into. While my hooves are stuck and locked in place, I can’t move my legs in the least.

“What?” I exclaim, as the situation is starting to sink in.

“You are a rocking-horse; just for the day, Rarity!” she explains.

“Wait, a rocking-horse? You don’t say!” I respond.

Of course, all my hooves are stuck in place, when I am pushed, I am rocking like a rocking-horse. As much as I may try, I can’t pull a single hoof free by myself right now; just as I can’t move my legs out of position. Aside from my neck, and my head; I am effectively immobile, as if I had indeed been a toy, or a rocking horse.

“One small detail, just for the filly!” she points out; as she is inserting a plug, into my rear orifice.

“You are such a rarity, Rarity!” she adds.

The plug may be clear, just as it is firmly riveted into me; yet, the surface you can see is still a matching white marshmallow, leaving a perfectly smooth surface.

“Part your lips, gently!” she instructs me, after she has examined my rear end.

“Okay!” I ponder.

Seemingly, from out of nowhere; she is pulling out a clear plug, five inches long and two inches in diameter, slipping it in between my slowly parting lips. I clearly feel the highly elastic, clear silicon slide in between my lips, into my mouth an inch down my throat. There is no way, I could have resisted the insertion in my current state.

“If I had not already been mute, since she slipped the plug into my rear orifice; she has effectively gagged and muted me, by filling my mouth to the brim with this one!” I realize, at the instant the plug slipped in between my lips.

“At least, I can breathe through my nostrils; even when that plug is in my mouth!” I ponder.

“There, that should give you the desired expression!” she points out.

The plug is still left in place, while I am left to enjoy my situation. What had been passed for lip-gloss, or possibly a lubricant of some kind; now cured, hard, yet deliciously elastic. After about a minute, it is effectively holding my lips, mouth and throat in a solid and irrefutable grip.

If she was to extract the plug, now lodged in my mouth; my expression would still remain. Would she keep the plug in my mouth permanently? Of course not, she merely permits the effect to sink in fully. As if it I who needs to feel and realize exactly what it all means.

She looks into my eyes, seeing exactly what she had been hoping for. Gripping the outer edge of the plug and slipping it out as easily as she had inserted it. Effortlessly.

My lips remains partly parted. Once the plug had been removed, I can feel my now empty mouth and my tongue is free to move unhindered.

I lick my lips, reveling in the new-found freedom, enjoying the sensation for but a moment.

The inside of my mouth feels as if coated in a slippery rubber, and my mouth feels as if it had been made out of the very same rubber. Too stiff for me to move. Yet, too elastic to resist an item inserted, at will. If my sensations and realization is holding up; my tongue would be quite elastic, if engaged.

I did not want to dwell upon the situation and what it was imposing upon me. While I do enjoy the freedom granted, by extracting the plug from my mouth.

“One small detail, before I can present you to the real test!” she exclaims.

“What is that, Pinkie Pie?” I ponder, knowing full well I could not ask her that now.

Even without the plug in my mouth, I am rendered utterly mute, and thus incapable of speech. I could not even gesture, to make the point. All I can do now; is to blink or nod. I can keep my eyes open or closed, just as I could hold my head high or low.

She still knows everything she wants to know; everything she needs to know. I could neither give her more details, or deny her as much as a single one of them. As if I could deny her anything? Not right now, in any case.

I notice how she is closing the doors in the floor; before she is pulling out a black, rubber saddle in my size. How she knows, other than being Pinkie Pie, I have no idea.

The saddle slips right onto my back, as if she had been an expert in the field. I feel the smooth, solid rubber slide up along my back until it stops, just in the right spot. Aside from the weight of the rubber, I can’t really claim that I am actually feeling the saddle at all.

Casting a glance back, at my back; I clearly see the glistering black rubber, that makes up the saddle squarely on my back. I can see that this saddle is made for a human, such as I had been until I entered this maze of impossibilities.

“Normally, I would have loved to ride you out onto the field; but under the circumstances, I will just have to make due with pulling you out! I could always enjoy riding you after the party?” she exclaims, giggling.

Of course, she is thinking of the party she had planned and is about to throw.

“You would, wouldn’t you?” I ponder, giggling inwardly at the situation, knowing she could actually make this happen.

I knew she could, just as I know she will, even before I had followed the line of thought to the bitter end. The thought is not bitter, but lined with an ironic humour to it. It is the kind of situation, one could but laugh at.

There are no wheels under me, just as the carriage of me as a rocking-horse is not slippery enough for her to pull me around anywhere.

She may be a human here, but I know her as a pony as well; an earth-pony with unpredictable capabilities and just as impossible to predict the response of. Even as a human, she is still capable to pull just a bit too many aces out of her sleeves. Of course, the jokers are hidden within the curly swirls of her hair.

A new pair of doors slide open before me, before what could only pass for rail-road track slide into the room. I could but gasp, at the absurdity of it all. The situation simply permitted me no second prances today.

Once the rail had slipped in under me, a cart is following the tracks on matching wheels. But of course, that is what she had planned for all along.

Once she had me onto the cart, she can easily push me out of the room. The track withdraws and the doors close behind me. Apparently, this part of the adventure is at an end.

In place of the white stone tiles on which I had been before, there are now green tiles. Another strange difference, is that the luscious leafy grass is feeling more like rubber.

“How could I possibly know or feel the grass under my hooves, if I am still a rocking-horse?” I ponder, finding myself dumbfounded and aghast.