The Forlorn Journey, of one Mother never more
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In Twilight I Trust, Starlight's Enchanting Anthology:
The Forlorn Journey, of one Mother never more
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I had accepted my fate, I am resigned to follow through. Of course, this far too late, to change my mind and back out, at this point.
I have a journey to embark upon. This journey is short, but will change me and my life in the process.
I open the first door, on my journey. This door can only be opened from the outside, which is where I am. The door will be closed behind me, after I have stepped into the next room. I stand still in the hall, for but a minute. They do not urge me, forwards; while I stand still; contemplating my destiny, where I came from and where I am going. Of course, there is no turning back now.
The hall is long. I am standing in the basement of a large castle. I had come here, after I had been sentenced. My mistake, or had I chosen to commit the act; knowing where it would lead me off to? Either way, it is too late to regret, what I had done.
I had opened the door; now I step inside and the door is closed behind me. My hooves hit the heavy, black stone under my hooves. I move forwards.
There is light before me, illuminating up the white doors before me. I trot forwards, slowly; on numb and exhausted legs. I manage to approach the gate before me. It opens and I step inside.
I leave the heavy room, laid with mate, black stone. The next room is coated in glossy, clear rubber; making my steps leave squeaking noises as I move. I move forwards.
“Welcome, to the secret parlour!” a sanguine mare exclaims.
Her coat, coated with the same, glossy, clear rubber as the floor upon which I am stepping.
“Curious!” I ponder; “Thank you!” I add, giving voice to the courtesy required.
I know better, than to insult the mare before me, on the forlorn journey upon which I had just embarked. I can delay, as much as I please; but that, will merely add insult to my injuries. I could choose to starve to death, or die out of old age, if I so please, but what is the good in that? What is the use?
If my journey is forlorn, but I have not been condemned to anything as bad, as what I could meat out onto myself.
I follow the mare before me, step by step; listening to the squeaks that refuses to be denied or ignored.
Here, take your place; make yourself comfortable, while I perform my job!” she points out, matter of fact.
“Thank you!” I merely respond, as I see the cushion before me.
Like everything else, this cushion had been coated with clear rubber. I am left, to endure the squeaks of her reals. No Unicorn could teleport out, no Pegasus could fly out, and no Earth-pony could buck the walls and escape.
She eagerly assists me, in my attempt to mount the cushion before me. After a few failed attempts, I find myself on the top of her cushion. It is soft and comfortable, not to mention, squishy and highly elastic. I feel the material accept my form under my belly, holding me in a steady grip.
I close my eyes and relax. Just resting.
She soon paint my right fore hoof with clear rubber gel. While I do not actually quite feel it; but the rubber is slowly saturating the hoof as it is curing.
She continues with my left fore hoof; then the right and left hind hooves respectively, in turn.
“That was not so bad?” she inquire.
“No, thank you!” I respond.
“Good! Though I did not expect you, to feel it!” she points out.
She is extracting the anal tube, inserting it as intended. I feel the distinct pinch as it plops. I find myself contracting around the tube, fairly forcefully, and the clear rubber membrane is forming from the outside and all the way along the walls of my anal cavity.
She extracts the vaginal tube and inserts it, just as intended. I feel the tube plop with a distinct pinch as it is riveting inside. The membrane is forming from the mound, over the petals of my orchid and all the way down into my womb.
I see her extracting the third and final tube intended to fill my mouth. She is inserting the oral tube. I feel it plop with a distinct pinch as it is riveting. There is the membrane forming from the outer rim of my lips, continuing into my mouth and coats my tongue, before it is finally flowing down my throat.
I try to part my lips and move my tongue in order to speak; but, to no avail. I can't part my lips, more than I can move my tongue; I am muted, mute. Perfectly incapable, of speech or even making the tiniest of noises.
“There, I think you are ready, for the next step!” she points out.
I feel the cushion deflate and my hooves hit the floor. I move forwards, merely nodding my fare well. I could neither curse, nor bless her at this point; my voice gone as I am mute.
I open the door and step in. There is a set of boots.
I hear the doors close behind me and I continue forwards. I put on the shiny, golden rubber boots. There is but the one way, forwards. I continue towards the next door.
Another door to open and I do the only thing I can; open the door, step through and enter the next room. As I enter the room, the boots are fusing to my hooves. The change has no real consequence to me, it is a change that had been expected and a part of the process of crossing the path that is this journey.
There is a light yellow mare in the room. Her body, coated with the same; clear, shiny rubber as the one I had just left behind. Is she a part of the room, or another; poor, lost soul condemned to perform the task of leading me another step forwards?
I notice, her producing a comb out of her mane. She is pulling the comb through my mane. I enjoy the simple touch of compassion. She is freely offering me this one final comfort on my way towards the next door. The next step in my life. Once I pass that door, there is no turning back. No point in complaining; it will change exactly nothing, and I will just be feeling even more miserable for focusing on what I can do nothing about.
Of course, she is also combing my tail. Once she is down; I can see the long strands of hair flowing freely behind me. Each strand of hair glossy and healthy, as if I had been a little filly.
She understands, how and why I can offer no words of thanks. I make due with giving her the little I can; I bow my head in a nod and wink at her in gratitude.
“Was that all I could give her?” I realize, knowing all to well that all the options had been taken from me.
My now glossy tail is reaches to but an inch from the floor. The bangs of my mane curled up beautifully; while the rest of my mane is held firmly in tight braids. These braids reaching all the way down to my fore hooves.
I open the door before me and step through. Now I enter the room, waiting for what is ahead. I feel, almost like a ballerina; preparing, to step forth and claim my stage. I an curious and proud, nervous and frightened. Yet, I do step into the room. The door closes behind me and I can no longer turn back. Yet another checkpoint, another point of no return. Yet, I am still alive and in good health. Am I not?
There is a black mare in this room. She is expecting me. She holds up the bridle and bit before me as I enter the room. I accept, knowing there is no choice.
She slips the bit into my mouth and fasten the bridle behind my head. I feel how she is securing each strap in turn. There is a strange metallic tang to the bit in my mouth, but I barely feel the straps around my head. Coated in clear rubber, they fit so close to my skin; I soon forget, that they are even there.
With the bridle on my head, I find my body growing stiff; as if she had turned my body into rubber, glossy under her gaze.
She is placing the leach on the right side of my cheek, leading me up to the next door. I follow her obediently, feeling my legs eagerly follow her on the way towards where she is taking me.
She opens the door, follows me into the next room. There is a three foot tall statuette in the form of a ballerina.
As I recognize the face, I start to lose my focus. She is striking a pose before me, on the base that is to be her stage. There is a golden plaque, engraved with my name in what appears to be my writing.
I feel the rest of my focus slip away and evaporate entirely. My eyes close and I can't feel anything; as if I had fallen asleep. My eyes are closed. I stand up, like the ballerina.
As I wake up, I can clearly see; that I am standing on the nightstand of my daughters, beside her bed.
As long as I relax, I maintain the given pose. If I focus, I can move my legs and move as freely as the statuette could permit. I can even open my eyes, and open my mouth to speak.
Yet, I am stuck, as a ballerina, standing firmly in place.
After a moment, I realize that I am spinning, the ballerina is dancing to the tune of a music box upon which I stand. The ballerina is physically a part of the music box. If she is, so am I.
As the notes are heard, my daughter is waking up, then casts a glance in my direction. She finds me and stare at me, for the longest of times.
“What a beautiful gift!” she exclaims.
“At least, I can be with you, and see that you are all right!” I exclaim.
I hear my voice; such as it is pronounced, by the ballerina that is me.
In Twilight, a Hint of Starlight; with Consequences, Unforeseen.
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In Twilight I Trust, Starlight's Enchanting Anthology:
In Twilight, a Hint of Starlight; with Consequences, Unforeseen.
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I find myself feeling wet, excited.
“Do not make my mistakes, yours!” the ballerina points out.
I close my eyes, then focus on the bed upon which I lie. I still do feel the bed under my body. I had fallen asleep. Yet, I had experienced the first enchanting or enchanted story out of the anthology.
I feel wet, but not all over, just as if I had been excited, all night.
There is no bit in my mouth, but why should there be? I never had one in, when I went to bed. I am fairly certain of that. I do not even own a bridle, let alone a bit; what would I possibly use it for? I have no bridle on my head, either. Of course.
“Still, why am I wet?” I ponder.
I lift my right fore hoof up to my face and feel the effect of the tube inserted into my mouth. The clear rubber, coating my lips and into my mouth. Did I actually slip in that tube; or, is it an effect of the experience in the enchanted anthology? I am confused by the consequences of another, still affecting me as if I had been her.
In cold sweat, I reach down; half by half expecting, what could not possibly be there, yet there is it. I know I had felt the tube inserted into my vagina in that enchanted story. It is, as if it had in fact actually happened to me; the tube is in place, even if I can't account for how that had even happened. It is responsible, for me being wet. It is no mere sensation, I am actually slippery and soaking wet.
While I am at it, I could as well confirm; so I reach further, only to find the third tube exactly where I knew I should find it. Just the one detail, the plug is inside the tube.
I feel the plug inside, but I can't touch it with either hooves or magic.
“Exactly what kind of tubes are these, and what kind of a plug had been inserted into my rear orifice?” I ponder.
Aside from the obvious, they are all crafted out of a slipper, clear rubber. It seems, the purpose is to excite me as the wearer and make me horny. For whom had I been set up, assuming it is not the one giving me the book in the first place?
“If I can not even reach either of these tubes, or the plug; who could, and would do it for me?” I ponder; looking around me, in the small room.
First now, I notice the item I had never seen before; where it is standing on the night stand by my bed, as if I had placed it there the night before. Or, had it come with the gifts, during the night?
“Who are you, my dear Ballerina?” I inquire.
I had indeed spoken the question out aloud, not realizing, I had never uttered a single syllable, earlier today. This is indeed a new day, I had slept the entire night; since I had accepted the book, given to me by Twilight. Indeed, Princess Twilight Sparkle gave me this book, but for what purpose?
The ballerina stops, turns back and fixes me with her gaze. It is, as if she had indeed heard me; free to react and respond to me, to what I say.
I am at least not, at my wits end. If not for the one incident at the Royal castle in Canterlot, where I helped and guided the Princesses Celestia and Luna with a problem; I would still have been scared out of daylight, right then and there. A statuette does not respond, and it does certainly not stop and answer questions.
“I was punished, for a crime I committed; now I had been sentenced, to stand guard over you, and to help you as best I can!” she responds, in her clear, tiny statuette voice.
“You were sentenced, to stand guard over me; and to help me, where you can? I inquire.
“If I am standing, as a ballerina on your night stand; then I am standing guard over you, because you cracked up the book, with my enchantment!” she points out, opening up the dialogue of explanation.
“Am I blessed, or cursed; in the act of reading the book? How are you expected to help me, and how do you intend to fulfill your obligation?” I put forth.
“Either, or both; it is in your nature, your choices As to how, that is entirely up to you! I can do more, than just lecture you; in how to act and why not to choose certain paths!” she points out.
“I guess, the blessing is preferable, if I have a choice! I can ask you questions, then; because I am not taking well to lectures, such as I understand!” I point out.
“Right now, I would suggest that you do take the opportunity to enjoy your breakfast!” she offers.
“That does sound, like a good idea!” I respond.
For now, I leave her on the nightstand; as I turn towards the door, trotting out of the room. I only stop long enough, to open the door, then close it behind myself.
In Twilight I Trust, Starlight's Enchanting Anthology:
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There is a distinct knock on the door, late one night. Twilight Sparkle had failed to fall asleep and ended up finding a book, she thought I might enjoy; if I only crack the book open and reads the book.
Since I had not been asleep, at the time, I had slipped out of my bed, trotting the short distance to the door and opened.
“Hi, Starlight; sorry if I woke you up, but I could not sleep and found a book I figured would be just right in our hooves!” she blurted out.
“Hi, Twilight; I take it, it was not my noisy snoring that woke you up?” I responded.
“No, silly; I fear it is quite the opposite reason, actually!” she responded.
“In Twilight, no sleep is to be permitted!” I giggled, as if it had been a joke.
“But alas, you still do need your sleep!” I pointed out.
“I could trot down to the basement and build a new Fort Book?” she teased, in return.
“If the Twilight can be escaped, and the books could sing you to sleep; maybe, that is the way to go?” I suggested, almost as if I had even believed in what I had told her.
“Thank you, Starlight; I think I will try that, but feel free to enjoy the book!” she pointed out, as she is leaving the book in my room and trot out.
I had closed the door behind her, thinking nothing more of it. Though I had actually picked up the book, carrying it with me to my bed.
I should never have cracked up the book. I had done it, just in curiosity.
With the book cracked open, I prepare to light my horn, focusing on my magic. I feel the small orb of magic appear on the top of my horn; as I see the light brighten and the orb grow to the point, where I feel the heat of the magic flow down the entire length of my horn, just like an avalanche.
“The Twilight Anthology, Enchanting Tails” the title reads.
The room grows dark and vanish without a trace. The enchantment had taken me in its grip; holding me for ransom, making me follow the stories between the covers of the book. I am trapped within the book, no hopes to escape.
Is the short stories of this anthology a blessing, or a long list of curses? I have no idea, but I am about to learn the truth of it.
The first story is soon to reveal itself, to me. I wake up, as a new Pony.