Twilight's Enchanted Bedtime Stories:

In Tube

As I wake up, my lips are still stiff like solid rubber; because the tubes are still in. Both the oral and the vaginal tubes had clearly been left in place; so I am feeling the odd stiffness and excitable wetness inside and out.

I lift up my right hand before me, with the fingers spread wide; squealing in excitement and delight, over the glossy red polish I had managed to apply the other day. Before I had fallen asleep, that is.

If not for the vaginal tube, I would have been sore and felt a burning sensation in the entire mound; after such an extensive experience in bed.

I lick my wet lips and giggle. While the afterglow had been consumed by the hours of sleep I had enjoyed; the elation and excitement had not diminished in the least. I am still just as wet, slippery and eagerly approachable and just as excited and excitable as I had been; as I slipped the oral tube into my mouth, the other day.

“Typical, there is a connection between how I feel, and the tubes inserted!” I realize.

Since both of the tubes still are still inserted, firmly in place; I will still remain wet and excited. My lips will remain stiff and highly elastic; in order for me to perform and enjoy, while I have little to no chance to actually speak or sing.

“If I do not engage in physical stimulation or otherwise experience too much excitement of stimulation; voluntarily or involuntarily, am I safe to continue to stay excited?” I ponder.

In the end; I chose to pick up the plug once more and insert it as intended. Of course, the plug is just as large, if not larger than it had been the day before; I am just as tight as I had been the day before, contracting even more than I had been. The effect is, that the experience is even more intense, than it had been the last night.

“Oh, oh! Ouch!” I exclaim; as I lose the grip of the plug, just before it is plopping with a severe pinch as it is riveting.

The plug is in place and the sensation of the pinch soon subsides and I manage to forget it entirely. Out of sight, and out of mind? While I could not ignore the plug or forget that it is still there; but I can easily get used to the sensation of it in me. I feel filled up, but in a warm, comforting way I could not yet put words to.

For a moment, I am tempted and my fingers momentarily slide over the surface of the plug. Yet, I withdraw from it and stand up still for a minute.

I leave the stimulator and everything of sex and play by the side of the bed.

“Maybe, just maybe; I should try out these new silicon panties!” I ponder, as I am walking up to the wardrobe.

“At least, it would prevent me; if and when I feet the urge to tease myself, even if for but a moment!” I ponder, quietly.

“Skin-tone is just perfect, for these occasions; when you feel tempted, but needs to stay and avoid stimulation at all costs!” I ponder; “The pink hue, for skin-tone feels odd and off; I am so used to my light purple!” Twilight Sparkle reacts.

“Maybe a cup of tea, would be just about right; right now, cooling me a bit?” I mumble to myself.

I fold up the quilt towards the wall and slide my feet right out from under the comfort of the quilt. As I sit up, I slide my feet down to the floor; raising to my feet and stand up beside the bed. I turn around and fold up the quilt, in order to make the bed, leaving it as if I had not slept there.

Aside from the tubes, and the plug, I am entirely nude; if the tubes, and the plug actually counts as wearing anything, that is. Now I walk towards my wardrobe, opening the door and extract the aforementioned panties; before I slip into them with practiced ease, tentatively tugging at them playfully, in order to make the panties slip into the perfect fit. A moment of patting, examining the panties on; I turn towards the wardrobe once more, extracting a matching top. Slipping the top down over my head, pulling it into place; before I finally give the top a few tentative tugs in the playful manner that comes with the current level of unhindered excitement.

Since I am not exactly counting the tubes and plug as wearing anything, I am not counting the panties and top either. Now I extract a metallic bloody red mini skirt and step right into it, enjoying the feel of the tight rubber over my rump.

“I need a top, to go with my skirt!” I ponder; as I extract the garment, from within the wardrobe.

“Tight, just the way I like it” I exclaim.

I pull the top down over my head and slip my hands in, feeling the material slide effortlessly over my skin. A moment later, I tentatively tug at the red top, feeling it slide into perfect fit.

“There, now I can face the day! Though I guess a pair of matching socks would not hurt!” I point out.

Now I extract the socks and pull them on; right and left, respectively. With that, I close the door to the wardrobe behind me and turn my back on it; walking out of the room. With the door closed behind me, I move forwards; walking to the kitchen, in the hopes of a cup of tea.

Since the door is open, I step right into the kitchen. I walk up and open the door and extract my cup. Once I placed the cup on the table, I fill up the boiler with water and heat it up to the designated temperature. Now I fill the kettle with the tea blend leaves, as I wait for my water to boil. As the water is hot, I fill the kettle up and permit the leaves to be in the boiling water; waiting for the tea to soak up the flavour of the tea I had chosen. A soothing, relaxing blend; to distract me from what is inside.

I had ended up, choosing the blend; el viejo señor de la luna. While I rarely do choose the blend, I always end up enjoying it, and myself; when I do choose, to have this blend.

Tea is a blessing, one, one never is to abuse. Of course there is a reason, why I choose the blend so rarely. Aside from the fact; that the blend would be no blessing and just ordinary, if I had it each and every day. I have her, only when I am in the right mood; this is such a moment, I am in the right mood.

I make each and every sip into a prayer, blessing the tea in the act of reverence. Very few knows of this, and there is always a reason. Some things, you keep to yourself; making them part of you, too intimate to chair with even close friends.

I make each sip last, as if my life had been depending upon it. Of course my life depends on no such thing, but why permit that to cheapen a moment? I feel, like a deity; the god rightfully enjoying the tea, I have before me.

In the end; the moment is broken, by the cup being empty. I had known it. I am careful, not to let this into my world. I may refill the cup, before it had been truly empty. The spirit of the tea; still lingering, for just a short moment. I just have to make everything slow and deliberate. No haste could be permitted; it is unforgivable, like death itself.

Did I have a cup? I had a cup, I had two and three. I do it all, by the numbers in a serene sermon of that eternal and important instance. An instance between tick, and tock. A perfect moment, never to come again.

Nothing can be repeated, nothing can be done twice. I am but one; in the single moment, in between.

In the end, I still do take my last sip of the tea. Now I put the cup away, on that one sacred hidden hideaway; where I always store the cup, for the moment of moments like this. This is my cup, the one for special occasions. I usually do use it alone. It is one of a kind, not a part of a set. This cup, can not be replaced. I would be heartbroken, if I were to learn that it had been broken; that it could not be fixed up and mended back, to perfect health. Maybe it is, kind of like that one lover you wish you could have.

A tea cup does not require washing, unless it is new or is openly dirty from moving or similar situations. If it is in fact soiled, it could never be redeemed, it is worse than just cracked and broken.

I walk out of the kitchen, relaxed and satisfied. I am content, with this one moment, invested. The lady is pleased, with the sermon, performed. I know, I feel it in my heart and soul. My spirit, elated and in ecstasy.

I close the door behind me, sealing the deed in stone. It can no longer be undone or soiled. Neither in body, nor in spirit.

In the Garden of Prologue

My spirit has drunk her fill, and I need a moment in the light. I am completely tranquil, as I open the hidden door to the back. Just as I woke up, I am completely nude. I do not wear a thread of fabric on my body. Not even a silken hairband in my hair.

My rear is plugged, just as I still am wearing each of the tubes I had been given. I guess I should correct myself, right there; I am not quite wearing these tubes, they are inserted into me as parts of my body. The tubes modify me, for as long as they are inserted. If and when I extract them; they cease to be parts of me, and I will revert to who I had been before I was imparted with the gift. Though the memories and the imprints upon my mind and soul will still linger. The past, can after all never be rewritten. As much as one may wish that was so.

As I enter the room behind the door, I am entering a kind of purgatory. While there is no fire, and no pain; the purging and cleansing of my body and spirit is still occurring. I could deny it, just as much as I could cease breathing and still stay with you.

The door quietly slides shut behind me, unheard and unnoticed by any and all. Why do I need to observe, what I already knew had happened? I am alone. In here, being alone, with one’s self could still be a bliss. It is. It is, why I take the effort of entering this very room, in the first place. Though, one could never enter the garden beyond barefoot; just as one could never dream to enter this room, while wearing anything,.

I had followed Hitomi, only this far; before she granted me the one gift; to become what I need to be, in order to be capable of breaching the final barrier. I open the private safe in order to extract, what is hidden beyond braying eyes. A pair of full-length stocking. There stockings are however, not the common cotton, silk or nylon; more than they are foot or even toe stockings you may consider buying in the mundane store.

“Oh, dead; I am once more becoming the deer!” I breath in exulted reverence.

I extract the right stocking and slip my foot in; feeling the material slip over my skin, like a snake swallowing its pray. The surface too slippery, for me to stop before the foot reaches the end. I may feel the tightness, as the garment contracts around my leg; but in the end, I feel only the surface as if it had been my very skin. The skin I once had been born with. Now I extract the second, left stocking; slipping my foot in and thus repeating the process.

I close the safe and continue further into the room, approaching the door to the inner garden. I reach forth, pressing the palm of my right hand onto the door; feeling my hand slip right through, almost as if there had been exactly nothing there. I take another step, feeling the clear rubber membrane side over me as I penetrate the sanctum.

Once I had slipped both my hands through, entering the room is already unavoidable. I step into the room and feel the moist dirt under my hoof. I take the next step and am standing firmly on the path into the garden. Of course, there is no turning back, no turning around here. There is no room, just for the one slender girl to walk forwards. That girl is me. I take another step, and another; once, twice and thrice. Enjoying the sensation of soft dirt under my wide spread, cervine hooves; the scent of serenity on the air and a tranquil mind.

Exactly how or why I am prevented to turn around, to turn and flee; I have no idea, but I have no fear in my heart.

When I entered the room, in which I changed; I came from the cup of tea, banishing everything but the bright light of hope. I am at ease, one with everything in the room. I am not merely in the room, I am the room.

How could a path be so long, when it is within the confines of a single room? I have no idea, but is fascinated by what is before me and surounding me. My soul spread throughout the room, permitting me to share the bliss the room is depicting and representing.

The path is not laid with stone or covered by grass; but is merely nude, earthern soil. No sense of fake or artifice in this world. It is, how the sense of bliss is maintained in the long run.

On my right, I have a cherry tree; with ripe cherries hanging from each branch, as if the summer is to last forever. On my left, I have roses; in bloom, yet entirely devoid of thorn, as if never tested by the hardships of the reality of life.

Beside the path, on the right and left; the grasses grows thick and lusciously green. No hint of drought or flood, more than of winter and cold or the heat of summer.

Step by step, I follow the path. Enjoying a single instant as if it had been all there is of creation. Why worry about strife, when the grass is green and the sky is blue? Here, everything is served; but only, when the time is right. Nothing lie in wait, spoiled or tainted by time.

“In Celestia’s name, this is beautiful!” Twilight exclaims, inside her mind; as she is swept away in the experience imposed upon her, by the enchanted book.

Inside this garden, there is a particularly beautiful stand of beech trees standing on the right side of this path. It is breathtaking, just to behold.

While the path may twist and turn, this way or that; but it never really do stray from the straight and narrow, forwards.

Just as there are trees and bushes of beauty and tranquil quality, there seems to be critters grazing in the underbrush. One could see diminutive deers moving about, as they graze on the open field or in the forest. A squirrel is seen, peeking out from behind a branch; observing the path and the surroundings.

In the end, the impossible happens and I am back; where I came from, facing the very same door as I had come through. Exactly how long ago that was, is hard to say at this time. I will know, once I am back on the other side; but, that is not just yet.

I stop, for a short breathe. The realization as to how far I had gone and walked, finally catching up with me, as I am approaching the realm I had come from.

Hesitant and unwilling to let go; I walk slowly and make stops along the way. I explore the feel of the grass under my hooves; just for the joy of it, or is it to prolong the adventure upon which I had set forth. The joy of the tranquility refusing to let go.

I end up standing before the door, lifting my right hand and pushing the palm onto the clear membrane of rubber. I press forwards and step through; just as easily, as I had entered this world of improbably beauty.

For a moment; I contemplate the situation, once I regain my composure in the new realm from which I had originally come. I rub my hands in order to get a grip of the situation; feeling the slippery smoothness, in a new light. It had felt as if my hands had been bare, now I once more feel the gloves I wear.

I stop myself and caress my legs, enjoying how my legs feel while I am still part deer. Even though I have no fur or coat; my skin feels just right and natural to me. If it is due to where I came from, or if it is just in how I enjoy and identify with who and what I am right now. Not quite the satyr, and not quite human or deer. Just somewhere in between.

I look down, observing the smooth rubbery and glossy hooves. Black hooves, not the red. While I may have enjoyed the metallic bloody red hue on my hooves, but it would just not be right for the deer.

“Purple hooves would have been nice, even if it may be off for the deer!” Twilight reflects.

After a moment of hesitation, I find it within myself and explore exactly where the breach between the stockings and my skin is. I need a full minute for this adventure; maybe I did take more time to prolong the inevitable, or I just enjoyed how it feels.

It is, as if the nails of these gloves had been designed with the purpose of helping me pull the stockings off of my legs; even if I do enjoy the look of them, quite alot. Should I have been ashamed of how I feel about the look imposed upon me by the gloves or stockings? I choose not to. I had chosen to wear them; not just because they are a gift to me. Not even because they are required, for me to enter this wondrous world of seeming dream and fantasy. I wear them, because I enjoy wearing them.

Of course, I need to take them off of me, before I can leave the room; just as I have to leave the room, unless I wish to starve to death in here. Which I do not wish.

Once I had slipped the stockings off of my legs, I slip them back into the safe where I had found them; before I slip the gloves off of my hands and hide them beside the stockings. I end the adventure by closing the same and walking out of the room.

The Epic Sundown as an Epilogue

I stand on the balcony, in my room; as I watch the sun going down, over the forest under my window.

For but a moment, I am imagining Hitomi standing behind or beside me. My hands inadvertently slide up my body and cup my breasts. I permit my fingers to caress my nipples for a moment. I feel warm, almost as if she had in fact been standing behind me and lending me her inner warmth.

This had been a long and very intense day, for me. I had managed to enjoy myself, even if I had not really done anything.

Granted; I had had my tea sermon and been to the hidden room. Does that count? At least, it had been enjoyable and exciting. Not in a sexual way, just in the fulfilling, serene way you can’t put a finger to or explain to your friends.

Once the sun had gone down and all the pink and purple hues had finally left the sky; I permit my hands to fall down to my sides. On the way, I realize how my right hand stray over the mound; managing to caress my orchid and each of its petals, before it is finding the final resting place in content stillness.

My left hand slide back over my rump and probe the plug, as if it had been my flesh. Finding joy in just how natural and exciting, the touch still manage to feel; even despite the fact that this is the plug I had inserted, so many hours ago I had managed to forget about it entirely.

I step towards the door, lifting my right hand with the palm up. I spread my fingers wide. I feel the membrane of taught clear rubber, as I push forwards and press on. Now I find myself slipping through and walk right into my room. I am excited and fascinated by how things work around Hitomi in and at her home. This is after all her home.

While it had been but a brief slip, outside on the balcony; yet, it had been a taste of stimulation. Just a bit more than I had intended. Of course, I had intended to avoid it altogether. I had failed in that aspect.

Now I am paying for the mistake. I feel hot and excited. For as long as the plug is in, the excitement will not and can not subside in the least; no matter how long I wait, no further stimulation applied.

“Is it too late, to prevent the catastrophe to hit me full force? Even if it is too late, to pull back now; I would have to extract the plug, which I am in no mood to even chance at this hour!” I ponder.

I walk over to the wardrobe, open the door and extract the panties. I step into the panties, tugging at them tentatively; in order to ensure the perfect fit, overnight.

Once I had managed to ascertain myself, the panties are on just right; I extract the top and pull it down over my head, giving it a few tentative tugs in the vain hopes it will fit just right. After a few minutes of tugging, I give up and walk over to my bed; after I had closed the door to the wardrobe, naturally.

Even with the panties and top on, I am already wet and excitingly hot inside. Yet, I fold up the quilt and slip in under the cool of the comfort. I fold down the quilt over myself and lay my head on the pillow and close my eyes. I lay still and permit myself to slip way into the slumber my day is demanding out of me. My body is tired and in need of rest.