The Red Crop

Chapters

Enter Chrysalis: 1
The Initiation: 2
the Retrieval: 3
the Recovery Room: 4
Assisted Play: 5
Preparations for the Girl: 6
A Relapse: 7
A Brief Report: 8
Stepping up the Game: 9
the Rekindling: 10
Walking the Girl: 11
Grooming: 12
Down-time: 13
Coming To: 14
Forever Changed: 16
A Doll in my Bed: 17
The Ballerina, Safely Delivered: 18
A Play, for Miss May: 19
The Mistress of a Star: 20
Handling It: 21
The V.I.P. Balcony: 22
Extended, the Rare Moment: 23
Preparing, for the Holiday: 24
Buying In: 25
The Mistake: 26
Consummated: 27
An Introduction: 29
The Session: 15
A New Home - A New Life: 28

Enter Chrysalis: 1

<--- --- --->

“The Chrysalis’ Dungeon” the sign reads, as I am approaching the building.

The street is well lit, and the buildings look fairly classy; this would be boding well, for the establishment I am about to enter. I had been initiated, into the scene as it were; a friend had recommended this dungeon to me. Should I have said no, or turned away now?

It is a classical, industrial building of glass and steel. The lobby looks open, inviting. I can already see, what appears to be the white marble the floor had been laid with.

“Fancy!” I breathe, as I lay eyes on the floor inside the lobby I am about to enter.

“Sliding doors?” I ponder, when I do not see any regular doors I could open manually.

As I finally reach the lobby, I notice the twin-doors slide up to the right and left; soundlessly, as if the sound of a door opening could set off a bomb.

“These windows are clean!” I ponder; as I barely notice the windows, other than the reflected light.

Naturally, everything in the lobby is held to the same standard; spotless. The materials used, does support this standard; as if it had been taken into account, when the building was initially sketched up. But alas, why white marble?

I step inside, and the doors close behind me; just as quietly, as when they had slipped out of the way for me to enter.

The desk, behind which a girl is sitting; is in the style of the building. Only the logo, etched with Gold, Silver and Cobalt filigree is breaking the clear glass; though it is in fact crystal-clear Sapphire in place of glass. She does have a keyboard, on the top of the desk, for her to enter commands and customers’ requests and entrances.

The girl herself is smiling, generously in a welcoming expression. She wears a tight, black, glistering top. At first; I had thought it to be Leather or possibly Rubber, but this is a high grade Silicone that will not wear or wilt like either leather or rubber would have. The top is containing her B cup bust orbs perfectly. Just so tight, the nipples are showing, quite clearly. She is also wearing a matching skirt and panties, the latter which I can not see from where I approach her.

Her lips, painted with metallic bloody red Silicone matching her ensemble. She also wears a matching eye-shadow and mascara matching her ensemble.

As she is smiling at me, I notice her unexpectedly large; bright, glittering sapphire blue eyes.

She is wearing a pair of full-length gloves; matching the ensemble, but crystal clear. Her nails are inch-long, metallic electric blue; starting from just after the final joint of the fingers, goes all the way out and is ending in oval tips.

Had I looked down, I would have seen her black, full-length stockings; though in place of her perfectly feminine, diminutive feet, she had what appears to be more equine hooves.

If nothing had set me off before; she does have a very high-pitched voice and an over the top enthusiastic manner to her. Maybe her voice came off, as a bit too girly for her appearance and position?

“Greetings, how may I serve you?” she chimes, enthusiastically.

“Greetings!” I respond; “I was looking for a Mistress!” I add.

“Oh, yes; a Mistress, but of course!” she responds, as if it had been the only possible option.

“Why does she give me the impression, one could not exist, without a Mistress?” I ponder, somewhat perplexed.

“Place your hand on the desk, please; palm down and then spread your fingers as wide as possible!” she instructs me, after a mere moment’s pause.

“Oh, okay!” I respond; as I extend my right hand, and place the palm onto the desk.

The surface of the desk is surprisingly warm and welcoming. I spread my fingers, and feel the somewhat rubbery surface almost swallowing the hand. Almost; it is merely a sensation, I had.

“There; Perfect, Miss!” she utters.

“Take the door; on my right, please!” she points out, indicating the direction; “Since you are new, you would like to make yourself presentable, for the Mistress!” she then explains.

“The door to your right!” I echo; “Thank you!” I continue, as I follow her indication, walking towards the door.

Just like before, this is a pair of sliding doors. Though the wall behind her is laid with pink cherry-wood panels, for that special and classy appearance. Even if there is stainless steel behind it. No effort spared, here.

“Almost, as if money was no object to them?” I realize.

“The Mistress will be quite pleased, this girl is going to be perfect!” the girl behind the desk ponders.

Behind the sliding doors, I find myself stepping into a small room. A waiting-room, from what I could make out.

“No leather to be seen, anywhere!” I ponder; “But they stick with the style I have seen them present me with!” I continue.

I have three additional doors, identical to the one I had just went through; each, on the middle of the respective wall. The walls, laid with pink cherry-wood panels; which seems to be the style they had chosen, for the establishment. Maybe, I should not be complaining?

Each of the seats, sporting a large cushion; not with leather, but the same black silicon as her suit. As I sit down, intent on waiting for my appointment; I feel the warmth, and the intimate hugging sensation of the cushion on which I am sitting. As I lean back, I feel the cushion, identical to the one I am sitting on. I sense a squishy, highly viscous gel fluid in the cushion itself.

“Of course, this is my first impression; they naturally need me to feel welcome, into a stylish environment!” I ponder; “Thus they need to make this look as an exclusive quality leather sofa!” I continue.

The door on the right slides open, soundlessly; and a girl in a suit identical to the lobbyist girl is stepping into the room.

“Greetings, and welcome!” she coos; “I am here to tend to your initial introduction!” she continues.

“Greetings!” I respond; “Thank you!” I add.

“Right this way, please!” she chimes, her voice surprisingly similar to the girl I had just left behind the door I had just walked through.

The door is sliding up, and she is leading me into the room. I notice the ceiling had been coated with a mate Silicone; while leaving the pin-prick LED lights in a pattern reminiscent of a night-sky above me. The light is easily illuminating the room.

“I guess, this is part of the style!” I consider.

“Why does every girl in here sound, as if she tried to make a Pinkie Pie-impression?” I ponder, as I realize the striking similarity.

The most obvious difference, they are not the element of Laughter; they do not make me exuberant, with an urge to laugh or even giggle. The scenery is more akin to that of a Spa, such as Aloe and Lotus would have been running. Though none of them, or their general inventory is anywhere to be seen. Anywhere.

There is no sofa in this room. Though she does have a desk on the right side of the door. Furthermore, there is what is to pass for a comfortable seat with a reclinable back-rest and armrests. A small table is also attached to the seat. Behind the table, she does have a chair, on which she is going to sit; as she is tending to me. Manicure and make-up, most likely.

“Have a seat, please; and I will be tending to you shortly!” she coos.

“This girl is a bit over-animated and excited around me!” I ponder; “But at least, she is nice and pleasant to be around!” I continue.

“Thank you!” I respond, as I move over towards the indicated seat.

“Curious; firm, yet squishy!” I realize; as I am sitting down, as I had been instructed to.

While the armrests had been cool to the touch, prior to my entry into the room; now I feel the seat’s cushions slowly warming up, but never hotter than I could feel comfortable with. To the point, I almost forget the cushions even being there.

“Interesting armrests!” I ponder; "As if they had been designed, for holding my hands perfectly in line?” I realize.

“Lean back, and relax; please, while I am tending to you!” she now coos.

“Okay, thank you!” I respond; “She feels eagerly excited, and familiar in my presence!” I ponder.

After a moment, I feel a hint of moisture under the palm of my hands, but think nothing of it. Why? I imagine it is just a hint of nervousness. I pretend it is natural, mainly due to this being my first time here. Besides, I have never had anyone perform a manicure on me, or applied make-up on me before.

“If only she knew!” the girl ponders; “She will not be able to pull her hands away now!” she continues.

“While it had been intended for other things in the past, now I use it; to make sure I can give her the highest precision, as I paint her nails!” she concludes.

“Fingers spread, nice and evenly!” she mumbles to herself; “There, ready for the manicure?” she inquires.

“Yes!” I respond.

“She can only find out, just how stuck she is, if she attempts to pull out now!” she mumbles, under her breath inaudibly, then giggles for a moment; before she returns, to what she had been doing.

“Good, because I am going to apply the nail-polish first!” she chimes.

She is sitting down on a fairly small chair, before my right hand. The vial of polish clearly standing on the table before me. Just a clear base-coat. Nothing fancy looking.

I notice her uncapping the small vial, and I get a whiff of the odour of the polish. She is starting to paint the thumb-nail, from center and top of the nail, slowly drawing it all the way down to the very tip of the nail. From there; she repeats the action right and left, right and left. The nail is slightly more shiny, than it had been; but otherwise, there is nothing I am picking up on.

Now she is continuing to polish nail by nail, all the way down to my pinkie-finger’s nail.

I notice, how my seat is turning, so that she is now facing my left hand. She continues the process, polishing the nails of my left hand.

While she is capping the vial, the seat turns back to the original position and she is once more facing my right hand. She uncaps an identical looking vial of polish.

“There, I hope it was not too uncomfortable for you!” she coos.

Once the vial had been uncapped, she sets off, polishing my nails one at the time; from the thumb to the pinkie finger, just as she had done once before. She only pauses, to make my seat turn; to permit her to work my left hand without interruption.

With the right and left hands finger-nails polished; she cap the vial and make me turn back, so she is facing my right hand. I had not noticed it, at first; but my nails are slowly changing to a polished look, as if they had been filed all the way down to the edge of the respective finger.

As she is uncapping the third vial, she is facing my right hand again, my nails perfectly filed down and even. She applies the gel-polish to each nail in turn; from thumb to pinkie finger, right and left hand. Only stopping to cap one vial, then uncapping the next.

“Whoa?” I exclaim, as I notice my nails grow out and cover more of the tips of my fingers.

“Exactly!” she exclaims; “Beautiful, isn’t it?” she inquires.

"I never pictured my nails quite like this, but I can’t complain; it truly is beautiful now, perfect in every possible way!” I respond.

My nails are perfectly, crystal-clear; almost as if they had been plastic extensions of my real, natural nails. The base of each nail, is semi-square; starting just after the joint of the respective nail and flows out to the side of each finger.

“Wait; inch-long and oval tips?” I exclaim.

“Delicious, isn’t it?” she inquires, as she is examining my face.

“Well, yes; but how did you possibly manage this, with just nail-polish?” I respond.

“Excellent, excellent!” she ponders; “If this had been of-the-shelf nail-polish, it had been impossible!” she responds; “This is a very special gel-polish that evens out the nails, before it makes them grow out to the desired shape!” she merely points out, squealing in delight.

“I took the liberty, of choosing the oval shape; since you did not seem the square type, I hope you don’t mind!” she adds.

“I just never pictured myself with long nails, mainly because I did not take the time to maintain them like this!” I respond; “Since my nails are long, I guess the oval tips are more me, than the squares could have been!” I then add, almost as an afterthought.

“I know, that is how all girls react; when they are presented, with what I can do for you!” she coos, in obvious delight.

“If my nails revert to what they were before, I can forget all about this; otherwise, I will have some problems explaining how and why I did have my nails done in the first place!” I ponder, as I realize what she had already done with my nails.

“Ruby, or Sapphire?” the girl ponders, as she is selecting the lacquer for my nails.

“I think you are the Ruby kind of girl!” she chimes, as she is picking the red lacquer.

At first, it is looking as if it is metallic bloody red, but this is before she had finally applied it to my nails. Just like before, she is applying the lacquer to each nail in turn; from the thumb to the pinkie-finger and right and left hand in turn.

Maybe the polish she had applied, had never been a typical Acetone-base product in the first place; but had been intended to saturate the nail and cure from within, creating the intended effect permanently. Either way, the nails are looking spectacular, right now. Even if I may change my mind, later as I am to explain it to my friends.

Little by little, I notice how the nails are slowly turning red; as they turn into Ruby, and thus is gaining the rich red hue that is coming with it. Naturally, my nails are becoming, just as hard as the Ruby as well. I guess the first I notice, is just how high the finish is, as the surface is glistering in the light of the room.

She had applied a glossy top-coat, over the colour lacquer of Ruby; only to apply the final finish of the sealing gel. She is indeed playing for keeps, this is final and quite permanent.

“There, how does this look?” she inquires, in her usual excited chirpy voice.

“What is up with her voice?” I ponder; “That does indeed look fabulous!” I respond; “I would hate to ruin this, for anything!” I finally conclude.

“Thank you!” she responds; “And I could comfort you, by explaining how you will not have to worry about that!” she then adds.

“Thank you!” I respond.

With that, she is capping the final vial; putting it away, and turns towards the next phase of the process.

“Just a moment, and I will be prepared to continue your manicure!” she points out; “Though I guess I could tend to your make-up first, while I am at it!” she then offers.

“Yes, please!” I respond; “If she is as good a make-up artist, as she is a manicurist; I would let her handle my make-up too!” I ponder, grinning inwardly at the idea.

“Lips are red, so I think you would prefer that!” she offers.

“Yes, please; and of course, lips are red!” I respond, without an instant of hesitation.

“I thought you would say that!” she coos, as she is uncapping the red gel lip-gloss she had intended to use on my lips.

Slowly, she is applying the gel onto my lips; I feel my lips growing smooth and slightly wet. Though I do say nothing, expecting her to know what she is doing. Which she indeed is.

Once she had coated my lips, with the red gel, she is placing the lip-gloss back on the table before me. Now she is picking up a lip-liner, with which she is drawing a clear and distinct line at the border of my lips. I had noticed her starting at my right corner and drawing the line towards the left on my upper lip; then she continues to the right on my lower lip. The line is drawn exactly three times around; each layer covering the same place each time.

Now she is picking up the lip-gloss and applying a second coating on my lips. Had I had a mirror before me, I would have seen the metallic bloody red; though it does carry a rubbery sheen to it and has an exaggerated elasticity to it. Even if I had not noticed it, just yet. Maybe I need to challenge it, in order to realize this.

“There, how does it feel?” she inquires.

“Perfect!” I respond; “Just perfect” I add; “I love it!” I conclude.

“Normally, I would have offered you black eye-shadow; but as I see your eyes, I realize that it would not be quite right for you!” she points out, in all honesty.

“Black, is my Mistress to be a Goth?” I ponder; “Yes, black would not be quite right for me, I confirm.

“No, but she has a special love for black!” she responds; “Blue, cerise or silver may be more correct, for you!” she then offers.

“Considering the precision with my lips, she is not going to make any gradient for my eyes!” I ponder; “These do sound exciting!” I respond; “I trust you to choose the correct colour to go with my eyes; so that Mistress will be pleased!” I add.

“Thank you; I will disappoint neither you, nor Mistress!” she assures me, with pride and utter certainty.

“Let me see, which is best for her eyes? Blue, cerise or silver?” she ponders, for but a moment.

She ends up, picking the silver-metallic option for me.

“Now, I need you to close your eyes; so that I can apply the shadows for you!” she explains.

“Oh, but of course!” I respond, as I carefully close my eyes.

I feel the cool touch of the gel-pen’s tip touching my upper right eye-lid. She is slowly, carefully and meticulously applying the gel from the right to the left, line by line; all the way up from the first line, just above the eye-lash of my right eye.

Once she had coated the entire eye-lid of my right eye, she moves over to my left eye. I feel the tip drawing line after line, all the way up to the top of the left eye-globe.

I feel the gel covering the upper eye-lids, perfectly. Only now, she is repeating the process, with my lower eye-lids, just as she had just treated my upper eye-lids. Once she is done, she picks up a black eye-liner and draws a line on the lower border of the upper eye-lids, and another just under the eye-lashes under my eyes. Naturally, she is painting a clear line, just above upper shadows, and another under the lower shadows. This is meant to mark the border of the eye-shadow, while binding the shadow firmly, onto my eye-lids.

As she had finished applying the eye-liner; she is picking up the eye-shadow and renews the effort, in completing my eye-shadows. From there; she is picking up the black mascara and slowly applies the glistering, black to my eye-lashes. Right and left, upper and lower. I feel her pulling and twisting the brush; thus stretching and curling the short hairs as much as she dares.

“Striking!” she pronounces; “Excellent, excellent; Mistress will be most pleased!” she ponders, in obvious glee.

Interestingly enough; I notice how she is applying a clear coat, on top of the eye-shadows she had just given me. If only I had realized, for just how long, I am about to live with this gift of hers. Then again; it would not do, if it had been ruined, before I leave the presence of my new Mistress to be. Now, would it?

“Open your eyes, please; but, slowly!” she coos.

“Oh, okay!” I respond; “Thank you!” I continue; “But why does my eye-lids feel slightly moist?” I ponder; “Almost as if the eye-shadows had been too wet, to dry up?” I consider, giggling at the notion.

“There, how is that?” she inquires.

“I imagine, it looks as good as it feels!” I respond.

“Wait, just one final detail; just smile, and I will be done in an instant!” she coos.

“Oh, okay!” I respond, smiling; “Like this?”I inquire.

“Perfect!” she responds, as she is drawing a line, along the borders of my now metallic bloody red lips.

“There!” she concludes; “Time to tend to your manicure!” she adds.

“Yes, please!” I respond; “Thank you!” I add.

“Just relax!” she coos, as she is slipping the make-up products back where she had found them.

“Now, if you lift up your right hand, please!” she coos, as she is adjusting a connection.

“Okay!” I respond, as I try to lift my right hand; feeling an odd grip holding onto my hand.

A moment later, it is growing tenuous, as it is slowly letting go of the palm of my hand.

“I need the palm of your hand!” she explains, as she is placing two small vials of seemingly clear gel before herself, on the table.

“Okay!” I respond.

I notice her uncapping the first vial, containing a clear, cerise gel; painting the tip of my thumb. Only the tip, from the final joint; all the way in, under the nail.

“There, how is that?” she inquires.

“It feels a bit odd, and tingles for a moment; but otherwise, it feels fine!” I respond.

“Good!” she responds, and continues to apply the gel to the tips of my other fingers of my right hand.

She carefully caps the vial, before uncapping the second vial; painting the entire palm of my right hand with it. I can see and feel, how the gel is covering and coating the palm of the hand, right there before my very eyes. The skin is slowly turning a Silicone-white, as it is growing progressively smoother.

“Your left hand, please; I will need the palm, of the hand!” she explains.

I lift up the palm of my left hand; presenting it to her, and she is repeating the process.

“Whoa!” I ponder; “Wait, what?” I exclaim; “Why does my hand start to look, like a paw?” I inquire.

“The appearance is purely coincidental, I assure you; but Mistress loves these things, and takes great pleasure in making you enjoy this!” she explains.

“So it is intended to be purely functional?” I inquire, with a nervous giggle to my voice.

“Exactly!” she coos.

“Just a moment, this requires a second application; in order for the effect to hold up!” she points out; “We do not wish, to make Mistress disappointed, now do we?” she offers.

“No, of course not!” I respond; “Not after all the efforts, you already put forth, on my behalf!” I continue.

I had failed to notice, how she had swapped the two vials; while she was speaking, and working. Now she is applying the second; full-strength and permanent gel. Not the mere primer, she had used the first time. That had merely been applied, for the next product to have something, to hold on to.

“Lick your lips, please!” she offers, and I comply.

“How do your lips feel?” she inquires; “Smooth?” she adds.

“Yes; slippery smooth and slightly wet!” I confirm.

I notice, how she is producing what looks like a red crop. It is metallic bloody red; matching my lips, perfectly.

“Coarse or smooth?” she inquires.

“Coarse?” I respond.

She twiddles with the crop, for a moment; before she is presenting the coarse side, for me to lick.

“Would you lick it, please?” she coos, highly seductively.

I find myself licking the coarse surface of the crop; incapable to resist her, as she is presenting the crop before my lips.

“There, perfect!” she chimes; “I think Mistress is ready, to see you now!” she coos in obvious delight.

Maybe I should have known more about this crop, but I was not aware it could have any such unforeseen or unforeseeable effects to it. How could I? This is but a red crop, possibly coated with rubber or some similar material.

“Yes, since your Mistress is ready; it is high time, I am leading you to her!” she offers.

“Yes, please!” I respond.

“Then, by all means; I will take you, to her!” she coos; "Raise to your feet, and follow me!” she instructs me.

I happily push myself up, and rise to my feet; as I am stepping out of the comfortable chair, I had been sitting in. Correction, highly comfortable.

She walks over to the door, making her curious and delightful signature noises as she is walking; then she is opening the door before me, and I follow her out into the waiting-room where I had been sitting as I was waiting for my treatment.

Now I am finding myself a bit nervous, about meeting my Mistress for the very first time. I never had a Mistress before. Just that she is making me all giddy and excited.

“Clip, clop! Clip, clop!” I hear the sounds of her hooves as she continues to walk towards the next door.

She opens the third door, and I follow her inside. She is closing this door behind herself.

“She requires you to be nude, as you greet her; please, disrobe and I will lead you further!” she coos.

I follow her direction, and enter a small changing-room booth. At least, I am getting a more private changing-room.

There is a comfortable looking chair, all coated in the same black Silicone I had gotten used to see here. I also have a locker, and the door is black and glisters invitingly.

“Careful, only touch the things with the tips of your fingers!” I hear instructions, from outside the door.

“Oh, okay!” I mumble; “Thank you, for letting me know!”I add.

I carefully open the door, to the locker, and brave a glimpse into the open space inside. It is indeed empty, and void. Though it is decorated, with the purpose of me storing my casual clothes I came here in.

I leave the door open; as I am slipping my skirt down. I step out of it, before I place it into the personal locker. I half by half imagine my name on the door; all in the same black, so I could still not see it. Of course. I giggle at the silly notion.

With the skirt in the locker, I pull the top up over my head, before I place it into the locker. There are apparently separate spaces for each garment I am wearing. Almost as if it had been hand-picked or built specifically for me. Though I had no idea, about how it had been enchanted; in order to match my wardrobe, so I have exactly one shelf for each item I am to place in this locker.

I pull my shoes and socks off of my feet in turn, before I place them on the bottom of the locker-floor; the socks inside the respective shoe.

Now I am finally stepping out of my panties, leaving them onto the shelf intended for them. I pull the brazier up over my head, leaving me nude, and I slip it into the locker and carefully close the door behind me.

“Perfect!” the girl behind me, exclaims; with overwhelming excitement.

“Don’t worry; none will enter this room, and even if anyone had entered it, they can’t open your locker-door!” she then adds.

“Thank you!” I respond, as I open the door, before I emerge from the cramped space.

“Now you know, just how sensitive your fingertips are!” she points out.

“Why did you create these highly sensitive touch-pads, for me?” I inquire.

“For your personal pleasure, of course; even if I suspect your Mistress loves both the looks of them, and the applications she has in store for you!” she explains.

“Oh, but of course; thank you!” I respond; “I guess she has devised a few means of making me enjoy these new complimentary augmented extensions of my body?” I inquire.

“Of course!” she merely agrees.

She is leading me, through yet another door. There is a small room. I have one door before me, and one door behind me; aside from the third door on my right. This is incidentally, where Mistress had been waiting for me.

“You may want to use this!” the girl beside me points out, as she is handing me a lip-balm.

“Thank you!” I respond; as I accept the item.

I apply a coat of the clear gel, on my lips; only to find it slippery, yet excitingly wet.

“I can hold that for you, while Mistress is tending to you; then you can find it, in your private locker!” she points out.

I let her tend to the lip-balm for me. She accepts it, and stash it away; while I am waiting for Mistress. Just as the door opens, the girl by my side is slipping out of the room; closing the door behind herself and vanishes out of sight.

“Greetings, and welcome to our Dungeon; I am tending to you, for the duration of your stay here!” she explains.

“Greetings, Mistress!” I exclaim.

“Did she hand the crop over to my Mistress?” I ponder, while staying quiet.

”Right this way, please; the dungeon is awaiting you!” she prompts.

”Of course, Mistress!” I respond, as I follow her through the door into a long hall.

The floor is glistering black, and I feel the highly elastic Silicone under my bare feet. I also hear the squeaks of her hooves, as she is leading me towards the door of her dungeon.

She is wearing the same ensemble, as the girl who led me to her; only her garments have an inch of silver-metallic trim. Is it denoting her choice of colours? It does resemble the colour of my eye-shadow, the girl had just given me.

”Whoa!” I gasp; ”Does she have a horn, on her forehead?” I realize, in shock.

I had never seen a Changeling myself, and had no idea as to how they would look if they even were actually real; now I have one before me, as the Mistress I had been granted. Apparently, they chose to wear the black ensemble, as a uniform; while masking most of their features, even in here within the domain of their dungeon. I had stepped right into their Hive.

”My Dungeon may be small; but it is cozy, intimate enough to perform as your Mistress!” she informs me.

The room is five by five feet, but a full ten feet from floor to ceiling. All four walls are the same black Silicone; glistering in the spares light and highly elastic and squishy. Had I looked back, I would not have seen where she was hiding the door; since it is such a close match to the wall.

The ceiling is glowing in a faint, Emerald green; illuminating the room, so we can see. Enough to see, but really little more.

”Thank you for licking my red Crop for me!” she coos, demonstrating her gratitude.

”My pleasure!” I respond; before I had the time to consider, what would be the appropriate response.

She merely purrs in obvious excitement. Now she is leading me around a crystal-clear membrane wall, on my right.

While my Mistress is just as excitable as the girl who had led me to her; but she is more serious and down to business. Of course, she is the Mistress; she is in control and can’t act like a school-girl on her first date now.

Once the door had been closed behind me, she is leading me further into the room. I soon find myself behind the membrane-wall.

”Raise your hands, and spread your fingers wide; now place your hands gently against the wall itself, without pressing the palms of your hands against the wall!” she is instructing me.

”There, perfect!” she pronounces, as I comply.

”Press your legs together, firmly!” she continues, and I comply.

With that, I feel the tip of her crop sliding against my legs; all the way down from the floor, and up over my thighs. What comes next, is an utter shock to me.

”Whoa!” I cry out; as I realize what she had just done, and I feel my legs changing into an Equine form.

I see the reflection of my legs, as if the wall before me had been a mirror; my legs had turned into the shape of the idol hidden within the crop she is wielding. I even have the hooves, similar to these of my Mistress.

”Spread your legs, to two feet apart; then spread the tips of your hooves to thirty degrees apart!” she instructs me; and I comply, eagerly.

”She had planned this all along!” I realize; ”I wonder, what she will do next!” I ponder, waiting for her next move, in breathless anticipation.

A moment later, I notice a hint of a green glow; emanating from her horn, as she is about to cast a spell. Whatever it is, I am about to find out; and soon, because the glow is growing in intensity behind me.

While I am waiting, she is tapping each of my fingers in turn; from thumb to pinkie-finger, right and left. While I guess I should have realized what she was doing; the effect is not taking long, as I notice the tip of each finger is turning into a diminutive hoof. Each hoof, the same Fire-ruby, as my lips. Of course, the hue is identical for each of my hooves; both diminutive and full-size once I am standing on.

The timing of the tapping of my fingers may have been a distraction; while she is finally casting the spell. I feel the warmth of the magic envelop my hooves, and my legs several inches up; as the green substance is forming into a thickening oozy gel. The gel is growing in viscosity as the spell is taking hold.

As the spell hits my hooves, the gel is slowly gripping my hooves; holding them down, firmly onto the floor. While it is still merely thick and highly viscous gel; it is elastic, but undeniably holding my hooves firmly into place. Trying as I may, I am incapable of pulling either of my hooves away from the floor, and thus find myself stuck in place.

”Oh? That is the spell she had prepared for me!” I realize.

The green glowing gel never quite cools down, or heats up; just as it never becomes too hard to move, or becomes uncomfortable. Though it is still strong enough, to hold me, firmly into place where she had directed me to stand.

My initial reaction, had been to try to pull my hooves free of its hold; but she had never instructed me to, or even indicated that I am permitted to struggle against it or move. With that, I stay still; both hooves firmly on the floor.

”Let me put a proper smile on your face!” she coos, as she is tapping the tip of my nose.

A moment later, I find my nose turning into a diminutive muzzle; in the style of the Equine idol, hidden within her crop. Of course, I am still holding on to the smile I gave the girl before I met the Mistress; and it merely changed, in order to adapt to the change Mistress had placed on my face.

”There, much better!” Mistress offers; ”Though I would like for you, to be properly attentive to my position!” she points out; tapping my right, and left ear.

Just as she is tapping the tip of the ear; the ear is changing and moving up to the proper position of an Equine ear.

”There, much better!” she offers.

I just nod, in agreement; though I really hope, she is changing me back before I leave. Not sure, how people will react to my new form; once I step out of the Dungeon, in which Mistress is currently holding me.

”Almost done, then we can get to the good part!” she points out.

”Neigh!” I exclaim; unaccustomed to my new voice, based on how my mouth had been transformed.

”There, there; you will get used to it, faster than you could possibly imagine!” she points out.

”Neigh!” I respond.

”I know, I know; that is what every girl say, when I face them with this situation the first time.

”They do?” I ponder; ”How could she possibly know; unless she can actually understand, what I am saying?” I consider.

”And I hope your mouth is as wet, as your lips where; when you entered my Dungeon!” she offers, in excitement.

”Are you saying, that my lips were wet; based on appearance, or based on the lip-gloss I had just put on?” I inquire, with some problem pronouncing the human words with my equine mouth.

”The lip-gloss she gave you; is intended as a high-grade lubricant, for long-term use!” she enlightens me; ”It should make your lips wet and slippery!” she fills in.

”Whoa?” I exclaim, in disbelief; ”You mean, she tricked me to lubricate my lips for you?” I exclaim.

”In effect, she enticed you to do it for me!” she points out.

While she is standing directly behind me, she is slipping the crop in between my legs; lightly tapping my mound and thus causing it to change to her will. I can feel the change, even if I could not quite put a finger to how it is changing; or, into exactly what she is changing me.

”The effect varies, all depending on how you enjoy yourself, and the moment I am about to grant you in just a moment!” she explains.

”You see; I am here to entice you; into enjoying everything I am offering you, for your pleasures!” she points out.

”Sounds good!” I concede; ”But why, does this sound like a Faustian deal?” I ponder, unable to put a finger to exactly what is off here.

”By the way; I took the liberty, of inviting a guest for your pleasures!” she offers.

”You did?” I inquire; ”How thoughtful of her!” I ponder.

”Yes; but of course, my dear!” she proclaims; ”She will see, to making you enjoy yourself; while you are here, with me!” she then explains.

While standing behind me; mistress is taking a step forwards, spreading her arms to the right and left of my body. Just as the door opens, and the promised girl enters; she places the palms of her hands; on the back of my hands, pressing my hands firmly against the clear rubber I had been placing the tips of my fingers.

”Squeak!” I hear, distinctly; as the palms of my hands are hitting the membrane, informing me that the suction-cups are doing their job.

”Am I stuck now?” I ponder.

The girl before me is carefully closing the door behind herself, quietly, just standing before me as if she had intended to show me something. She wants me to see her, and who she is. Not just what she is looking like, when she is stepping into the room.

”This wall before you, is serving a purpose; I can hold you stuck to it, while you can see perfectly clear what is happening behind it!” Mistress offers, as she is explaining my situation further.

”Greetings, Miss!” the girl exclaims, almost as excited as the girl who tended to my manicure and make-up before.

”Only the Mistress is required to maintain this serious business-facade?” I consider, as it is sinking in.

”Watch, carefully!” the girl exclaims, in excitement.

There is a flash of green light, and the girl is changing. I can clearly see her turn into what is looking like a Pony. Only now, she is no longer the glossy black of the hive.

Had I not known better; I would have seen her as a girl’s toy Pony, rather than an actual living and breathing Horse. She is distinctly stylized and moderately simplified. Everything is still there, for all I could see; but she is cuter, and somehow more exciting to behold. At least, she is for me.

”I hope you are the Earth-pony type of girl!” the now Pony offers, somewhat unsure of herself, thus showing a hint of insecurity in herself, to me.

”How do you mean?” I inquire, still with a hint of the former Equine neigh to my voice.

”If it had been more exciting to you; I could have presented myself as a Unicorn, or a Pegasus just as easily!” she explains.

”I think you are just right, as an Earth-pony!” I concede, not wanting to see the flash of green light, just for the fancy of her becoming anything else.

”If this form is pleasing you, this is who I will be for you; even if I could have become a Deer or a Zebra as well!” she offers.

”I think you are perfect, as the Earth-pony you are now!” I exclaim.

”Thank you, Miss!” she responds.

”I guess, everyone is Miss; to her, when she sees them down in the Dungeon?”I ponder, with a hint of an excited giggle.

As I am looking at her, she is a yellowish green, and her mane and tail are a bright cerise. As she is gazing into my eyes, I notice how they are sapphire blue.

”I like your mane!” I offer; as I am looking into her eyes, drawing an excited giggle out of her.

”One small detail!” Mistress proclaims, as she is presenting me with an anal plug.

The plug does look quite large, possibly just at the limit of what I could even swallow. She is moving her right hand, with the plug down towards my rump; then placing the tip of the plug at the entrance of my anal orifice. I feel the slippery wet surface; as she is slowly introducing the plug, pushing it in with deliberate slowness. I feel it slide in, unhindered; inch by inch, as it is pressing me wide open.

”Ooh!” I exclaim.

Several minutes later; I feel the distinct pinch, as the plug is plopping. That is when it had riveted itself, securely into me. I could not push or squeeze it out, now; more than I could have resisted my Mistress, as she had inserted it.

”There, that should keep your focus in place!” Mistress explains, as she is inserting the back of her crop into my orchid.

I feel myself contracting, around the small rubber item; as it is fusing the inside of my vagina.

Mistress is extracting the crop, from inside my vagina, with a pop; this is apparently the cue, for the Pony on the other side of the membrane-wall to finally approach me on this side.

<--- --- --->

The Initiationy

<--- --- --->

The Initiation: 2

The mare had slipped in under me, or was it around me; on Mistress’ cue. Either way; I had been greeted, by the coarseness of her tongue as she placed her muzzle on the top of my mound.

Wait, did I by any means choose this?” I ponder, as she is lapping away at me.

I had chosen the coarse side of the tip of the crop. Just that I never thought, this would be the outcome of the choice. Now I am facing the effect of it; stuck in place, and with the mare eating away me up.

The excitement slowly building up, within my mound; only to explode in an earth-shaking orgasm as she backs of, after ten minutes of eager stimulation.

“Oh, oh, ooh; ooooohh!” I exclaim, as the orgasm finally did hit home.

“You are enjoying this, I can tell by the excitement you are demonstrating!” Mistress is musing in concealed excitement.

She is watching me, carefully; waiting for me to come down and reaching a manner of equilibrium, before she is signaling for the mare to renew her effort.

On cue; the mare is returning, to me. She is placing her muzzle onto my mound; then she parts her lips and extends her tongue. The next moment she is starting to lap away at me. The cheer bliss, she is applying to the petals of my orchid.

My body, shuddering and shaking with the orgasm, she had already imparted me with. I am trapped, within the reverberating cycle of the orgasm hitting me harder and faster with each recurring blow.

After an hour, I peak; now trapped within the cycle of the orgasm that she had built up. I am completely orgasmic. I fail to notice, how the mare is withdrawing, slipping out from under me; stepping back, with the Mistress as she is standing behind the clear rubber-membrane I am leaning up against.

Since my eyes are closed, I can not even see the flash of light; emanating from the mare who had just eaten me, as she is turning back into her human disguise form.

“She is juicy!” the girl puts forth.

“So you think, she is taking to what we offered her?” Mistress inquires.

“She is far to sweet, not to; but what do I know, I am just facilitating the pleasure to her!” the girl offers.

“I felt her emotional outpour, throughout the session; and she was indeed loving this, more than she could have been prepared for!” Mistress concedes.

“As did I, and it was a juicy torrent; coming from here, as I ate her!” the girl agrees.

“I am looking forwards, to see how she is taking this; but for now, I believe it is better if we leave her to simmer in her own juices!” Mistress points out, just before she is opening the door out of the room.

Not that I really heard, or understood what they were talking about; but right now, it does not really matter. I am hot, and wet; feeling as if I had been made out of rubber, and now I am melting in the heat the girl had offered me.

I barely even feel the plug, mistress had inserted into my anal cavity; as large as it may be, considering how it is indeed filling me up to the brim. She does know, just how large a plug she could get away with.

“What if I were to ask, if I could be granted to take this plug home with me; as I walk home, all assuming I am indeed free to walk home now?” I ponder.

“She is ours, for the taking; the plug will see to it, rest assured!” the Mistress put forth.

“I would love it, if she permitted me to eat her; if and when she does return!” the girl offers; “Though I guess, there is another service I could offer her today!” she adds.

“For now, we wait; but in a few hours; I will let you have her, to play with!” Mistress is promising the girl.

“Thank you, Mistress!” the girl responds.

“On second thought; now is exactly the right moment, for you to pay her a little visit!” Mistress is pointing out.

“Yes, Mistress; what do I do for her?”the girl inquires, eagerly; almost bouncing up and down, in excitement.

“Let me see; you could lick her eyes, and insert the lenses now?” Mistress suggests.

“Then she would not even notice I am there!” the girl points out.

“That is the point!” Mistress explains.

“Wait; then she will simply thing it is natural for her to follow me, with her eyes?” the girl inquires.

“Exactly!” Mistress points out; “Delicious, isn’t it!” she adds.

“I guess, you have me there; I will do as you command, Mistress!” the girl responds, promptly.

“The effect only works, within line of site; but it is powerful, and exciting!” Mistress ponders, as she is watching the assistant scurry of on her mission.

“This is her job, and she knows how to do it!” Mistress only notes, to herself; as her assistant had left.

The girl opens the door to the dungeon, in which the subject of her interest is still waiting. Unaware, of what is about to happen; simmering in her own juices, as it had been expressed.

Her hands still stuck to the wall before her, her hooves secured onto the floor; she is incapable to move; but that is for her own good, at this point.

The assistant slowly moves up, to the girl on the other side of the crystal-clear rubber-membrane wall. Once behind the girl, she slowly inserts herself between the girl and the wall; preparing to perform the task, given to her.

Once the assistant is standing before the girl, she is placing her hands on the girl’s cheeks; before she is pulling her face close and use her thumbs to slip the girl’s eye-lids up for just long enough to lick her eyeballs.

Now she is letting go of the girl, before she is slipping out from behind her; stepping out into the room and walks back to the door. She opens the door and steps out; before she is closing the door after herself, and continues back to her mistress.

With the door closed, the girl is once more alone; almost forgotten, but busy with herself. She will not be disturbed by anyone.

“You tended to the girl, I take it!” Mistress puts forth.

“Yes, Mistress; I have taken care of the girl, and she will be looking into my eyes as I step into the room again!” the assistant respond.

“Excellent, excellent!” Mistress offers, as she is heading off towards her next assigned task before her.

the Retrieval: 3

Author's Note

The Assistant's POV

the Retrieval: 3

I am opening the door, and the girl is opening her eyes; looking straight at me, and follows me with her eyes as I am entering the room.

“Good, she is looking at you!” Mistress commends me; for a job, well done.

“Yes, Mistress; she is indeed looking at me!” I respond.

“Just close the door, and stand on this side of the wall; while I am relieving her!” Mistress is instructing me.

“Of course, Mistress!” I respond; then I close the door, and stand before the girl.

“I love this part; I always have, and I always will!” I ponder, quietly.

As I am watching the girl, gazing into my eyes; I also see Mistress, as she is performing her job. I can see everything, except for the things directly behind the girl, I am watching.

Mistress was never my place, so I am not overly interested in learning everything; about what she is doing, or how she is doing it. Had I been the Mistress now; I could never have been here, watching her gazing into my eyes. Just as I could not have been the girl, to eat her, or lick her eyeballs either. These are the things, I enjoy performing. Simple as that.

“Here it comes, here it comes!” I mouth, silently; “Mistress is about to pull the plug on her, and then she will climax!” I ponder, in excitement.

Of course; she had trapped the girl in her orgasmic state, in order to farm the love she is pouring out now. Mistress had kept her here, for a full three hours straight.

While it is strictly legal, to keep her for twenty-four hours; it does not mean, that we have to. One full hour, is the expressed minimum; that is meaning-full and enjoyable for her. We do not want to victimize the girl, so we keep her in for three hours.

“If she explicitly asks for a longer stay, when she comes back; I am sure, Mistress will permit her a longer stay!” I ponder; “At least, up to the legal twenty four hours!” I continue.

I have seen the girls Mistress is retrieving; and I have felt the exhaustion, from the girls who stayed longer than the three hours we regularly keep them coming. Can’t say, that I like them to stay; for longer, even if I can have more Love from the girl who I have in here.

While I am watching; mistress is tapping each finger of the girl’s right and left hand in turn, seeing as the fingers slowly reverts to their original form. Just a few minutes later, her hands are looking; exactly as they did, as she entered this room. Maybe she thinks; all this had just been a pleasant dream, after all. Yet, she will be yearning, to come back; for Mistress to grant her this moment again.

There is a green glow from Mistress’ horn, and the almost solid mass holding her hooves to the floor is slowly evaporating, almost as if it had never been there in the first place.

As I am standing before the girl, she maintains a steady gaze into my eyes, helpless, under my influence. She is mine, to do with as I please. I do enjoy this moment, short as it may be.

Mistress is extending her right hand, holding the crop; then draws the smooth side of the crop’s tip all the way from the floor and up to the crotch along her legs. I can clearly see her legs change back into the human form with lightly pinkish skin.

Aside from the make-up, her Mistress had applied onto her face; she is now looking almost perfectly normal. Though I guess the changes to her fingers and the palms of her hands still will stand out. Though I still do think her nails are perfectly adorable and very beautiful, on the girl.

“If she had not complained back then; why should she be complaining now, after she is leaving us again?” I ponder, silently giggling at the picture in my head.

“It is time!” Mistress points out, as she is reaching for the plug still firmly inside the girl’s rump.

“Yes; of course, Mistress!” I nod, in confirmation.

“She can’t deny the changes to her nail, or hands; just as she will not be able to change them back, now!” I ponder.

Mistress is slipping in her fingers around the base of the plug, while it is still embedded deep within the girl; maintaining the firm grip, as she is slowly pulling the plug right out of her. I watch the slow motion, of the hand; as I see the change in the girl’s expression, during the entire time.

First there is a slight change, then she is sliding out of it; just at the instant, of her inevitable climax. A moment later, she is basically collapsing in exhaustion. I am still looking into her eyes, at the very moment; then she is closing her eyes, unconscious.

Once the girl had climaxed; mistress is slipping the tip of her index finger in under the palm, of her right hand. The suction collapses, just as the girl just had; then the hand slowly falls limply towards the floor. Mistress is repeating the process, and the girl slides down to the floor.

“She will be feeling hot, when she wakes up; but we can not leave any undue marks, upon her body!” Mistress points out.

“Yes; of course, Mistress!” I respond.

I turn around; open the door and scurry, out after the gurney kept for the retrieval of the girl. I had left the door open, as I had left the dungeon; but it safes me precious time, knowing there was none around to see.

The next moment, I am back with the requested gurney. I close the door behind myself; before I continue further into the room and up to the girl lying still on the floor. I notice how she is breathing hard and fast. Her heart pounding, frenetically; after the excitement she had endured.

“Good, now let us lift her up onto the gurney; you take her hands, and I take her feet!” Mistress is instructing me.

“Always the precise instructions, leaving out nothing to chance!” I ponder, as I am stepping up to the girl.

“Now!” Mistress puts forth; and we lift the girl up and place her comfortably on the top of the gurney, I had just fetched for her.

“There, now we can safely move her; to the room and permit her the well-deserved rest she will be needing!” Mistress points out.

I am pulling the gurney, with the girl on it; while Mistress is pushing it forwards, after me. This time, Mistress is closing the door, after herself. She is after all, the one left behind; to close the door after us, since I am a few feet before her.

I open the door, to the room where Mistress had intended for the girl to rest. She is also closing the door, once more.

Now I am folding the quilt over, in order for us to be able to slide her over onto the bed. I once more take the front, close to her head; while Mistress is at the foot-end, of the girl. Together, we push her over from the gurney, and onto the bed she had been offered, for this occasion.

Once she is safely on the bed, I fold the quilt back, over her. The bed-linen are her sapphire-blue, naturally. The linen, are made of the same silicon; that is part, of our over-all theme.

While it will be sticking out, for her as a first-timer; but we stick to the theme, of our Hive to the letter. No deviation, permitted. None, what-so-ever. Final. Period.

“There, she is safely in bed; now we can leave her, to recover her strength and wits!” Mistress points out.

“If she does want the plug, and asks for it; what do we do, do we let her have it?” I inquire.

“Yes, of course; but you need to prepare it for her, and make it ready for her to carry!” the Mistress merely responds.

“Yay; more fun, for me!” I exclaim, before I recall the girl sleeping mere inches away from me.

“I believe, you know how to prepare the plug for her!” she puts forth.

“Yes, but of course; Mistress, I will get right to it!” I respond.

Thankfully, the girl did not stir; or in any other way, give a sign of even hearing my excited outburst. Maybe she is still too exhausted, to react; or it is the lingering after-effect, of the treatment Mistress had permitted me to give her. I had indeed enjoyed eating her, just as I know she had been enjoying it.

“Then, get right to it; I need the plug ready, and prepared for her as she wakes up!” Mistress is instructing me.

“Yes, Mistress; of course, I am getting right to it right this instant!” I respond; considerably quieter, this time.

I step out of the room, and return to the room where the girl had been; now I am picking the plug up and take it with me. I had closed the door after me; then opened it as I was about to leave, only to once more, close it after myself as I left the room.

With her plug in hand, I continue to the room at the end of the hall; I open the door and enter, before I am closing the door after myself.

I have a desk by the right wall; where everything I need is lined up, and ready to use. Naturally, I am intent to make this the most special item in her life; so I have to make this carefully, and take the time to make it just right.

First I pick the gift-box, and place the plug-stand in the still empty box; before I am walking over to my desk. Now I am choosing the correct gloves, for the task at hand; considering the chemicals I will be using, when I am treating the plug for her.

Once I had slipped my hands into the gloves, right and left, I can finally get to the important work. This is what will make the gift worth the effort.

“While I could have just dipped the plug into the can; but that would have been an inferior product, and the Mistress would have berated me for the poor care of the materials involved for it!” I ponder; giggling at the laziness involved, in that process.

I have to do this just right; so that I will get a first-rate product, to present before the girl as she is waking up again.

With that, I open the can and pick up the corresponding brush; dip the brush into the clear gel, and finally start to carefully coat the entire plug from tip to the base. I am watching the gel slowly being absorbed by the rubber the plug had been made out of, as the glossy surface is slowly reverting back to a mater state; while I continue to move down from the tip towards the base. I merely give the plug a moment, as I confirm that all of the gel had been absorbed; before I start to coat the plug all over again. Once the surface had been completely saturated, it is momentarily giving of a special glow; whereupon I massage the plug, in order to make the gel cure perfectly and smoothly.

“There, that should excite the girl; when she is finally inserting it, again!” I mumble, to myself as I had just finished working in the gel.

The gel is not bonding the plug to the girl; but it will give her the impression, it had done exactly that. At least, it is the intention; that she will experience it, as if the plug had indeed been bonded to the very flesh of her rump, for as long as it is still inside her anal cavity.

“Something for her, to get used to; when she starts playing with this, again!” I ponder, musing at the delightful effect this will be having upon her.

“Time for the second phase, of the process; to make her easily dilatable, for as long as she keeps the plug inserted!” I ponder; giggling at the image of the girl inserting the plug, and then realizing how easily dilated she will be.

With long-term, repeated use; this may very well stick to her, and the effect could be lingering even unplugged. Of course; this is something, I had learned through experience firsthand. Though I had seen quite a few girls, who had mentioned this effect in the passing.

I always find myself salivating, when I am hearing these girls explaining how they feel. Most of them, had initially been chocked as they realized it; but had later calmed down, and grown to enjoy it. How could I blame them? All considering; how I am partially responsible for placing them in the situation, in the first place. Besides, I have never explained it to any of these girls.

Maybe it is not my place, as the assistant; to explain it to them? I guess: that should be falling upon their respective Mistress, to explain. If someone is to explain it.

I had capped the first can, carefully; before I uncap the second can, of course. I had picked up the corresponding brush, for this gel; before I had started to apply the gel to the base of the plug.

I had applied the gel in a circular motion, from the center and all the way out. Once it is coated, I put the brush away; waiting for the gel to be absorbed, but the material of the plug. Once it had been absorbed, I had started over; continuing to apply a new layer, until the surface is completely saturated.

I cap the can, and put the brush away; before I am carefully massaging the newly coated base of the plug, just as I had just done before. Of course, this is the gel that is aiding her in the process of dilation. It will make it easy, for her to dilate or close; with just a little bit of a physical cue, and she is maintaining the dilation on the desired level. No more, and no less; for as long, as desired.

“If I am lucky, I am at liberty; to demonstrate this, and show her just how exciting it could be!” I ponder, knowing how slim my chances are.

Once the plug is safely, and securely in the box; I place the panties, and the top in the box with her plug. These, are for her to play; so she can enjoy it, and affirm the joy I had given her today.

Since I had prepared the package, for her; it is out of my hands, and hers to do with as she pleases. If she chooses to actually accept it; before she is leaving the Dungeon of our Hive, that is.

Once I am ready, with the package for her; I clean the brushes, and slip the gloves off of my hands and slip them into the can. The material can be washed and reused; for a new pair of gloves, or something else the material is good for. I don’t know, this is not my department, or task, here.

Since the package is ready, I am taking it with me, as I go. I open the door and step out of the room; only to close the door behind me, before I am leaving the room. From there, I am walking back to the room in which she is still sound asleep; open the door and step right in. I place the package on the small table beside her gurney. Finally, I place a small note or card on top of the package or gift for her.

“A small gift, from your Mistress! If you like a token, or memento from you visit; have fun, and enjoy it!” the message reads.

Of course, it is the Mistress; who is responsible, for permitting the gift in the first place. It is on her, all the responsibility is resting. I may have been assisting her, but that is all I had ever done. Not to say, I had not enjoyed it; It is my part, to impart the girl with the pleasure. How could I perform, if I had not been enjoying it?

Of course, she is still sleeping; so I leave her, to rest. I walk over to the door, open and step out; before I close the door and walk over to the room where Mistress is waiting for me. I will be needed, shortly; when Mistress is tending to the next girl. I am looking forwards, to my service; to serve my Mistress, in her duties. I always serve her, to the best of my abilities.

the Recovery Room: 4

Author's Note

Girl's POV

the Recovery Room: 4

I am feeling hot, but I can’t quite put a finger on why. On second thought; I think I am wet, too. Did I have one of these wet dreams, or am I running a fever? I do not know; but I have no signs of a fever, or any of the symptoms that are usually associated with a fever.

“Yes, I am definitely wet!” I ponder, just as I am opening my eyes.

Now I am noticing; the bed-linen are all sapphire blue, but far too smooth, to be my bed. The bed is a bit narrow, to be my bed; maybe it is a gurney, like what you wake up in, at the hospital recovery? Nothing I have enough experience of, but it is the first thing that came to mind.

“Wait; why am I on a gurney, in the hospital’s recovery-ward?” I ponder, suddenly hit by the situation.

This room is not the distinctly sterile white. Thankfully. That brought me back out of the raising panic-attack I had been bound for.

While the frame of the bed looks and feels like chrome-plated stainless steel, just as you would expect to find at a hospital; but the texture of the bed-linen is far too smooth, and the glowing light emanating from the ceiling is clearly green. I could never expect, to see this glowing green light; in a hospital-environment, anywhere. While it is dulling the original panic, the eerie mood of the room is sending me off towards another fright. The room is just off.

“I can’t quite put my finger, on exactly how or why the room is off; but nothing conforms, to my expectations of what I am supposed to experience in here!” I ponder.

I giggle, at the pun the expression is shoving into my face. Right there.

Now I am lifting my hand out from under the smooth quilt, that had been covering my entire body; from the moment they had left me in the room, and is still lying over my body.

As I slip the hand out, from under the quilt; I get my first glance at, what my hand is looking like. This is indeed my hand, but it is still not quite the hand I had been expecting to see. I had neither this long nails, or painted them; as I had left my home, when I had set off to visit that Dungeon I had been hearing about. I know I had arrived, at the dungeon, and the Mistress had accepted me; after another girl had given me a manicure, and make-up. The girl had given me the manicure, and the make-up; even if some of her choices had been a bit unorthodox and unexpected.

Well; the red lips had been quite expected, and acceptable. The silver-metallic eye-shadow is weird, but I guess it is not worse; than I could clean my face as I get home, and forget all about it.

The first I see, as I am looking at my hand; is the long nails. Now the tips are oval, and the nail is at least an inch in total length; while I am usually maintaining my nails, pretty short and to the point. I only paint my nails, if and when I am going out; to a party, or something special.

“This is my hand, right; this is my hand!” I am mumbling under my breath; repeating the words over and over, to myself.

Maybe I could have been using these new and fancy plastic nail-extensions, before I left my home; either painted them, or chosen coloured once. I guess it is not entirely impossible; it has happened, on occasion. It feels, like the only explanation; to how long the nails are, and how well they cover the entire tip of each finger. My nails usually only cover half the tip of the finger and leaves a small margin on each side; now this is not the case.

On second thought; I could have been to a salon, and had them apply that special gel onto my nails, too; even if that never would have covered this much, of the tip of the finger. At least, I imagine it would not cover more than the actual nail; just extended the nail’s natural length.

“They look strange, but feels oddly natural to me!” I ponder, as I am looking at my right hand.

As I am turning the hand, to see the rest; is when the shock is finally hitting home, based on the new changes she had applied. I can clearly see the cerise touch-pads, sensitive as they are; just as I can see the silicon-white, and very smooth suction cup covering the entire palm of the hand.

“Is that really my hand, and are these truly functional?” I ponder; “How did she apply these, to my hands?” I then consider, note sure if I actually want to know the answer to the question I had just posed.

I lick my wet lips, expecting them to be dry; just as they should have been in the situation. My lips are always dry, in situations like this; but now they feel smooth and slippery; wet, as if I had just put on the fancy lip-gloss I sometimes fancy to wear when I go out on a date. Not that I do go out, on a date; all that often. But still. I open my mouth, then close it; several times; only to find my lips quite elastic, even if I can’t quite explore the extent in this manner.

“Okay!” I mumble; “At least; I guess I don’t need my lip-balm, right now!” I add.

I am still wet, and hot; almost, as if I had just had sex mere minutes ago. I know I did not have sex, just now; since I had just woken up, as I had found myself in this somewhat strange gurney. My mind is still a bit fuzzy, and I can’t quite draw up the memories; from before I had found myself in the gurney, if it had been the night before, or if I had experienced an accident.

“At least, I am not in pain!” I tell myself; “The next possible explanation; is that I have caught a new and exotic illness, with unknown symptoms I can’t put my finger on!” I continue.

I once more look around, eagerly scanning the room; in the vain hope, of finding the explanation to my current situation. The predicament, I had just woken up to find myself in.

I am continuously licking my lips, nervously; before I am realizing what I am doing, and consciously stop licking my lips. Maybe it is embarrassing? Then again, I am finding myself enjoying the sensation, of just how slippery, smooth and wet my lips are; even despite myself.

“But, but; it feels good, licking my lips!” I mutter to myself; almost as if I had been caught with my hand in the cookie-jar, and I am upbraided by my mother for it.

“If these are, what they are looking like; I guess it is best, not to clap my hands, or slap any smooth surface with either of my hands!” I ponder; considering the silicon-white suction cups that are the palms of my hands.

While the room is empty; I soon notice the table by the side of my gurney, and the package that had been place on the top of it. I look at the package, curious as to what it could possibly be containing. Though I do notice, there is a note attached to the top of the package. Considering the situation; I consider the package, a gift from someone to me. A personal gift, like a get-well gift you may get at the hospital.

“If this is not a hospital; but this package makes it feel, as if it had been!” I ponder, now once more concerned about my condition.

“How much else, from that dream is real?” I now ponder; considering how my hand is looking like it had, when the girl had extended the manicure.

“Was that the other day, or; had it indeed been a dream, after all?” I ponder, as I am trying to make up my mind.

I use my previously exposed hand, in order to fold the quilt to the side; before I am slipping my feet out, from under the quilt. Now I manage to sit up. Both my hands are looking identical, even if the left hand is a mirror-image of the right hand.

“Okay!” I mumble; “At least the symmetry, is still intact; maybe this isn’t a dream, or at least not a nightmare!” I ponder.

The dream, of the other night; now starting to look suspicious, as I can seem my feet clearly. The changing my feet into hooves, clearly impossible; it had never happened, had it? For now, I guess I am grateful; I have my feet, as I recall they should be looking.

As I am sitting up, I reach for the box on the table; the one, containing what I had been assuming being a gift for me.

“A small gift, from your Mistress! If you like a token, or memento from you visit; have fun, and enjoy it!” the message reads.

“The package does indeed contain a gift, for me; as I had been suspecting, all along!” I ponder, as I had just red the message, left by my Mistress.

“I had a vague memory, of something I had intended to ask; if I could keep, and possibly take home with me!” I ponder; “Just not sure, as to what the item I wanted to have with me could have been!” I continue; “Maybe; it is contained within the box, I had been given?” I conclude, as I am reaching for the box.

With little to no effort, I manage to reach the box; then I grab hold of it, and pull it over to me and place it onto the bed beside me. First now, I am opening the box. The gift, is contained within the box, on the right side of me.

“A bikini!” I exclaim, as I see the content; “Either it is metallic electric blue, or it is sapphire blue!” I ponder, as I am examining the suit before me.

“Curious; I can’t recall asking for this, or intending to ask for the bikini I had just been given!” I ponder.

Then again; a gift is a gift, and it does look as if it had been my size. Maybe she had known my size all along? She had had more than enough time, to take the measure for this suit.

As I should have been expecting; the suit is indeed the same silicon, they use to most everything at this Dungeon.

“Wait, I am nude; I had expected, to be wearing a pair of my panties, at the very least!” I realize, as I am looking at the ensemble I had been given.

With that, I pick up the top; slip it down over my head, and pull it down. I merely afford it a few tentative tugs: once, twice and thrice; in order to make the perfect fit. I had indeed managed the intended feat, the top is fitting me comfortably, snugly clinging to my chest and holding my breasts up. Even though, I guess it is exposing my nipples a bit more than I had been expecting or preferring.

“Oh, well; at least, it is fitting me!” I ponder; “And a gift, is a gift; after all!” I conclude.

“Maybe I should try the panties on, too?” I ponder; picking up the garment, matching the top I am already wearing.

With that, I am finally extracting the panties from the package; jumping down from the gurney, before I am stepping into the panties. My panties. Now I am pulling them up, all the way to my crutch effortlessly; feeling the smooth silicon slide up along the skin, before I am affording them a few tentative tugs. Once, twice and thrice; and the panties had managed to acquire the intended, perfect fit. I barely feel the panties on my body.

These are no skimpy thong or string; but actual panties, for decent coverage of my nether-region. I can proudly wear them, knowing full well that I am not indecent.

The outer surface is smooth, while the inner surface is coarse; just as the crop, mistress had asked me to lick. The other day, wasn’t it. But why did she ask me to lick it, in the first place?

I reach for the box, with the clear intent; to extract the plug, I am hoping to find in the box. It should be the final part, of the gift she had given me.

Before I am getting to it, my fingers are obstructed by a written note, with one final instruction to me, regarding the plug I am looking for. I pick up the small, square piece of paper; pull it out and bring it up to my face, in order to read what she had intended to inform me.

“This is yours now, just as I suspect you had intended to ask of me! Use it, in the intimacy of your privacy!” the message reads.

This is my Mistress’ personal handwriting; she had used an exclusive ink-pen, writing this to me.

“Is she implying, I should not wear the plug in public?” I ponder, as I had just red the personal note.

I put the notes back in the box; then close it, while still wearing the ensemble I had just slipped into. It leaves me smooth; as if I had been a doll, almost. I still can take either of the individual garments off of me, any time; if and when I fl like, or need the direct access to what they are now covering.

For now, I leave the close box where I had found it; since I have no other place to store it away. The room is small; there is just the bed and the table.

After a moment of consideration; I smooth the bed over, leaving it in the state I imagine it had been before they carried me into the room.

To me, it had been a bed, even if it technically is a gurney. It is a bed, just with the wheels you can move it around on the hospital. I had no experience of it; but I could very well imagine, they had used it in order to take me to this room.

I don’t particularly need the experience, I am just glad they moved me to this room in favour of the Dungeon where I had been before.

“They had all been looking like feminine girls, but then one of them had changed shape before me!” I ponder; “Who, and what are they? Can I assume anything about who they are?” I consider; “Other than that one could change her appearance at will!” I conclude.

All assuming that part had not just been an illusion played up for my part? I had seen my legs, as she had made them appear completely equine; even if they were not exactly resembling an actual real horse, by any means.

“They had made me see, my body changed; at the command, of the Mistress!” I ponder; “I had also seen her Assistant change her shape before me!” I consider.

Now my legs are perfectly human; the way they had always been, for as long as I could possibly remember. Though my hands had also been changed, even before I had met the Mistress; my hands are still changed, even if it had appeared less dramatic a change.

“They like me to think of them, as people of olden times thought of the Wizards!” I realize.

I can’t deduce exactly where the limits of what they can do are; but I know they could perform incredible feats.

For a moment, I am lifting my right hand up to my head; placing the index finger over my lips, and licks it in confusion. Just the tip of the finger, but that is the point. I soon realized, just what I had been doing; as I experience the effect, of the augmented sensitivity the touch-pad is granting me. Though I guess; the sensitivity is a bit more excitable, than I could possibly have been prepared for.

Just as I realize, what I am doing, I withdraw my hand, then stop licking, in momentary embarrassment. Though I guess I am thankful, I am alone right now; none saw me, and thus the secret should be safe.

“Then again, what am I to do now?” I ponder; “Maybe something to snack upon?” I consider.

While I am considering, what to do; I hear a knock on the door, and the Assistant is quietly entering the room. My room, for the time being. Or, so I am viewing it, at the moment.

“Good morning, nice to see you up and about!” she offers, and I turn around to face her.

“Good morning!” I respond.

“I see, you found the gift!” she then adds; “I was assuming, you were to be interested in keeping your plug!” she then concludes.

“Yes, I found it; thank you, very much!” I respond; “Not that I had much else, to do; or much anything else to look at, in here!” I continue.

“I know, it is a bit spares furnished; but it is after all just a temporary accommodation, for you to stay while you are recovering from the experience!” she explains.

“Thank you, at least I have a bed to sleep it!” I respond, even if it is technically a gurney to transport a patient between the halls in a hospital.

“That is the least we could do; as we could not just leave you on the floor, of the Dungeon!” she offers.

“I do love the ensemble; it is not too skimpy, for a two-piece bikini!” I put forth.

“It is designed, to maintain your dignity; while covering specific parts of your body and offer desired support for certain parts of you!” she offers.

“I guess; that is describing the ensemble, and its design to a T!” I respond; “It is indeed covering these parts, and offering all the support I could possibly wish for!” I add.

“It is easy to clean, and good for play; while you can wear these, under your causal clothes anywhere and any time you please!”she points out.

“Do I need to do more, than rinse it under hot water?” I inquire, curiosity now piqued.

“That should suffice; but it can handle boiling water, direct sunlight and any detergent you may expose it to!” she informs me; “Body-heat, expiration and daily wear should be little to no problems!” she then points out; as if she had intended to let me know, just how durable these garments are.

“Are you saying; this ensemble is going to outlast any bikini, I could possibly buy in a commercial store?” I inquire.

“Just put it on, and wear it to your heart’s content; then wash it, when you feel it is required!” she points out; “It should last as long, as you may possibly wish for!” she then assures me.

“Should I ask her; what these garments would cost, in case I wanted to buy another?” I ponder.

“If you want, I could take you to your locker; or you could have a moment of fun, with me first?” she offers.

“While I guess it would be reassuring to see my clothes; but for now you could lead me, to the Dungeon?” I suggest; “Please!” I add, for emphasis.

“Right this way, please!” she offers.

“Thank you!” I respond, as I am following her towards the door.

“Though; you may like to bring the plug, with you?” she incites me, in excited anticipation.

“Oh, but of course!” I respond; as I make a be-line to pick the plug up and take it with me, as she had suggested.

“Rest assured, the dungeon should be more than private enough, for what I had in mind!” she points out.

She opens the door, and I follow her a mere step behind, only stopping to close the door behind us.

Assisted Play: 5

The girl assisting me, had just opened the door to the Dungeon; she had stepped into the room, and I had followed her inside. I quietly closed the door behind myself; before I had afforded the cramped space a second glance, expecting the Dungeon to be empty.

Of course; the room is indeed empty, just as I had been expecting. It is also the Dungeon, where I had been before. While I could not recognize it as such; I had only seen one, and I had not been conscious as I had been moved out to the recovery-room.

“If you walk into the space; behind the membrane wall, please!” she incites me, in her usual chirpy voice.

“Okay!” I echo, as I am walking further into the room.

“Face the membrane, head on, please!” she continues; “Stand in the middle of the space!” she then clarifies.

“Okay!” I respond, as I move to accommodate her suggestions further.

“There, beautiful!” she chimes, commending me for my eager compliance.

“If you spread your legs, like yesterday; then lift your hands up against the wall, spread your arms two feet apart before you spread your fingers!” she instructs me.

I start to spread my legs, now worrying about how I could possibly hold the plug in my hand. I notice, how she is sprouting a two inch thick tail that grows to a length of six feet.

She is stepping around the wall, separating the two of us; reaching for the plug, with the tip of her tail. I let her take hold of the plug for me; in favour, of being able to comply with her instructions to the letter.

As she is holding the plug, I comply; then press my hands down onto the wall before me, if yet with slight pressure.

“Continue, to apply pressure; as you lean up against the wall, please!” she instructs me; as she is walking back to her original position, from which she can observe me.

“Okay!” I respond; as I am starting to apply the pressure, onto the wall.

“She does know, just how to make me feel comfortable; so that I can partake in the moment, without any considerations!” I ponder; without realizing, just how well she is slipping anything out of the way, for me.

Each step; safe, if you forget the previous and the next one. Each change, so fluid and gradual; I do not even notice, where she is taking me. Where, she is inevitably leading me.

Once I am there, it is too late to turn back; easier to just follow the flow, and enjoy what she is offering me. Is this the changeling, in her; or is this just a natural gift, she had been born with? I do not know; because the question had never surfaced, in my mind. I had no reason, to suspect it.

I see her, holding onto my plug; it is my original plug, but I still fail to notice how she had modified it for me. Since I do not realize, that this plug had been changed and altered; I have no idea, as to how it is about to affect me. I will learn; soon enough, though.

Just as the day before, I find myself gazing into her eyes; incapable of making myself breaking eye-contact, as she is standing before me. This effect, is a natural distraction; making it harder for me, to see anything other than her face.

“Now; just a little bit harder, please!” she is inciting.

There is a distinct squeak, as the suction is taking hold of the clear wall before me; I am no longer capable of letting go, or pull either of my hands free. I just have not noticed this part just yet, or realized its significance in her scenario. Maybe I am playing into her hands; or she is just giving me, exactly what she knows I am hoping for. Even if I may not even know it, just yet.

“If you don’t mind; I think now is the right time, to show you a little trick!” she points out.

“Sounds about right!” I respond, nodding vigorously in ascent.

“That is good, but I think I should take this slow!” she responds; “You are after all new here, and I don’t want to ruin your first experience!” she explains.

“The plug, she is going to introduce the plug!” I ponder, as I am experiencing the effect of growing wet.

Maybe I should have known, the experience is an illusion; I am after all wet, under the influence of the previously used lubrication. I am after all associating the feeling of being wet, with the excitement it is stemming from. Only now, it is not just my vagina that is wet; I am experiencing the wetness, in all my orifices. It is a bit strange, and new; but I guess I could get used to it, and I am indeed excited right now.

Maybe some of the excitement is a remnant of the activities from last night, but it is also a fact; that she is indeed exciting me right here and now. Is she the sin of Lust, or the element of Excitement? Maybe both, could be fitting her. She is indeed excitable enough. Then again, I guess it is also in how I can’t take my eyes off of her in the first place. Scary as this could have been.

As she is walking around the wall, she is also stepping out of my field of vision; thus breaking eye-contact with me. She steps around the wall, and up behind me. I hear her hooves squeaking with each step over the floor.

“Clip, clop; clip, clop!” is heard from her hooves, as she is stepping up behind me.

At first, she is placing her hand on my waist, in a warm embrace, grabbing hold of me, and my emotions. While she is standing behind me; all I see is her reflection in the wall before me, as she is moving the plug closer to me. She is taking the plug in a firm grip; holding the base in her right hand, as she is moving the tip towards my rump. She makes me shiver, in excitement.

As she is holding me, I can see her tail bringing the plug closer and closer towards me; to the point, where I am feeling the tip of the plug hitting the entrance.

“Ooh!” I exclaim; as I feel myself instinctively contract, upon contact.

“There, almost in!” she coos; “I know, how much you are going to love this; when I am starting to push it in, into you!” she chimes, almost as excited as I am.

“I am already loving it, and you suggest I will love it more; when the plug is entering me?” I inquire.

“Yes, of course you will!” she responds; as I feel the tip finally does enter me, from behind.

“Oh, oh, oh; Oooh!” I exclaim, as I feel the plug slowly pushing in, thus spreading me, as it is filling me up inch by inch.

“Perfect!” she merely breathes, into my right ear.

"The plug is almost all the way in now, isn’t it?” I ponder, even if I should have known, it is only about halfway in; “Just about right, but it is big!” I then continue, as the plug continues to slide into me, utterly unhindered.

While I am starting to contract more and more, the plug is easily spreading me open; in order to slip in, all the way inside. I have no control of this, but that is in a sense part of the excitement.

“That is not big, it is huge!” I ponder; “How much more of it, could she possibly expect to slip in?” I consider; as I am starting to feel the weight of the sheer size, of the plug I have being inserted, into me.

“Just a little bit more, maybe an inch or two!” she breathes, into my ear.

“More?” I ponder; “I am about to rupture!” I sigh; “But this is still feeling good, with her behind me!” I ponder.

“It may feel bigger, but it is still safer to take it slow!” she puts forth, as she is continuing to slip the plug the rest of the way in.

“Oh, oh, oh!” I exclaim.

“Ooooh!” I gasp, as I feel the plug finally plop, as it is riveting itself securely into me, with a distinct pinch.

“There, perfect!” she coos; "It is just right; to fill you up, to the brim!" she then adds.

“Yes, it has filled me up, to the brim!” I realize; "Just a little bit more, and I would have ruptured!” I ponder.

“Since you are filled up, it is time for the fun!” she merely exclaims, in excitement.

“Yes, yes, yes; of course!” I sigh, in response.

I am still feeling filled up, but I can barely feel the plug itself. The sensation of the plug is in fact fading, and fast. A moment later, I am no longer even aware of the plug being inside.

“Oh, oh; oups!” I explain; “Why can’t I feel the plug?” I inquire; “Though I am still filled up, to the brim!” I then add, almost as if it had been a mere afterthought.

“Exactly!” she coos; “That is a gift, from me to you!” she explains, as she is taking a step back and lets go of my waist.

I can see her, as she is moving to the right. She continues, to take a step forwards; before she is turning around and steps right in between me and the wall before me.

She is placing her hands on my hips and grabs a firm grip around my waist; maintaining it for a moment, before her hands slowly slides down and behind my rump.

“Oh, oh; oooh!” I sight, as it occurs to me, exactly where her hands are wondering of to.

“Ooh!” I exclaim; as the tips of her fingers finally hit the edge of the plug, embedded deep in my rump.

Just that I never really felt how the tips of her fingers crossed the boundary, between my rump and the plug itself. Just how she is now touching the base of the plug. I can feel no clear distinction; between the plug and my naked skin; for as long as the bond between me and the plug is maintained.

“Feels good, doesn’t it?” she merely breathes.

I merely sigh, in excitement.

Now I feel her fingers slide closer and closer to the orifice of the plug; almost as if I had forgotten, that I am already plugged.

At first, it feels as if she had been closing me; as I feel myself contract, on her cue. It is the gesture, to make me contract; whether I want to, or not.

A moment later, she is pulling the fingers outwards; making me dilate, as far as she is applying the gesture.

“Oh, oh, oh!” I sigh, as she is closing me; “Oooooohh!” I gasp, as I realize, how she is dilating me.

“How is that?” she inquires, as she is cooing in excitement.

“Unexpected!” I respond; “Though it is also surprisingly exciting; at the same time!” I continue.

“Yes, isn’t it!” she chimes.

“Could you dilate me further?” I inquire, almost as if I had been hoping so.

“That is my cue!” she coos; as she is sliding her fingers further, and further apart, to the point her fingers start sliding.

“There, how is that?” she inquires, as she is moving her tail towards my rump.

“You just left me, utterly and completely open?” I inquire; “But, but, where did the plug go?” I ponder.

“Yes, I did!” she responds.

She takes a step forwards; leans in and kiss me, as she is gazing into my eyes. With her face this close, I am about to lose myself in the depth of her eyes. I will do as she instructs me, and love doing it for her. I can’t help myself, right now.

Now she is applying the tips, of her right and left index-finger on the edge of my rump; slowly closing me up to free inches, before she is slipping her fingers in and grabbing me in a firm grip.

“Oooh!” I sigh, between my slightly parted lips, into her mouth.

With both index-fingers inside, she is maintaining the grip; pulling out, and give me a few inches worth of stretch, before she is letting go. I feel my rump pulling back, to the original position with a squeaking noise.

“I could have pulled harder, if you want me to; but it feels right, to give you a small demonstration before I go farther!” she points out.

I had felt her touching me, but with the elasticity of the rubber the plug had been crafted out of; a curious sensation, on my part.

“Yes, please!” I merely sigh.

“Since you asked me, I can let you have it!” she coos in excitement; as she is slowly starting to pull a bit harder, then harder still, for a good long several minutes.

“Just a little bit more, or a bit harder still!” I am breathing into her mouth, as she had not yet broken the kiss.

“Why do I enjoy this?” I ponder; “But it is feeling so good; I just can’t help myself, asking for more!” I conclude.

What I had not realized, is the effect she is having on me; not just by maintaining eye-contact, but the gentle passion in how she continues to agree to do this for me.

After a few more minutes, the girl slowly stops and lets go of my rump, before she is closing me tightly. I feel the effect, of the gesture she had applied to me; as my rump had closed up.

“You did not know, just how tight you are; before I told you?” she inquires.

“Yes, yes; yes, yes!” I respond.

“It is time, I slide down; so I can properly please you, in order for me to enjoy making you love what I have to offer!” she points of.

As she is sliding down towards my hips, I try my best to maintain eye-contact; but fail somewhere along the way, before she is placing her now parted lips onto the top of my mound.

I feel her hot, wet lips pressing firmly onto my mound; as she is closing her lips, around my orchid. At this point, her tongue is slipping over the petals of my orchid. I am wet, and she had known it all along; now slowly licking the petals. I am wet, hot and excited.

She continues, without break; lapping away at me, for a full ten minutes without the slightest hint of a break. Only now, she is breaking off; just as she feels the hint of my orgasm, and I come a moment later.

“Wait; I think I know what you are missing, if you just stay here for a moment!” she is promising me; as she is slipping out, from under me.

“As if I could go anywhere?” I ponder, though I am still experiencing the orgasm she had just given me for company.

A few minutes later, she is back. Only now, she is holding a package in her hands; slowly placing the package on the floor behind me.

“While blue could have been great fun, it would be sticking out a bit too much!” she points out.

With that, she is picking out an item out of the box; the item proves to be a skin-tone rubber tail, she is placing on the edge of my tail-bone. She is picking up what looks like a lip-liner, in a light pinkish hue; with which she is drawing a line along the rim of the tail. I feel the pencil, as she is drawing the line; completing the circle and the tail is bonded to the small of my back where she had placed it.

“Complimentary sub-bond” the label on the tube states.

With the tail in place, she is picking up a belly button-tube; inserting it into my belly button, before she applies a line along the border of the tube.

“Master bond” the label reads.

“When you insert the tail, it should be putting you right back into this mindset!” she is promising; even before she had completed the process, of further augmenting my form.

“Oh!” I mouth; “I think I like the sound of this!” I ponder.

“I have a few more items, for you; if you would care for these!” she offers, as she is picking up a pair of rubber Pony-ears for me.

I just nod, in confirmation; and she is placing the ears at the right and left edge of my forehead. I feel the ears stick, from the effect of a fairly weak but functional adhesive. Naturally, I realize the adhesive being formulated for human sin; with the intent of holding them in place, in wait for the actual bond being applied.

Once the ears are in place; she is extending the sub-bond along the rim of the right and left ear respectively. From now on, these are parts of my physical anatomy; even if I doubt I could hear anything with them.

“How about this?” she inquires, as she is indicating the equine muzzle she had just picked out of the box.

She had changed her appearance, in order to demonstrate how the muzzle will be appearing; once it had been applied, to my face. A very convenient and useful capability, when you like to demonstrate how something will look.

After a moment of scrutinizing and consideration; I nod my ascent of the proposed item, as a new augmentation of my face.

She recognizes the gesture, and is acting upon it. A moment later, I feel a slight pressure onto the lower half of my face; as she is pressing the muzzle onto my face, over my mouth and nose respectively. Apparently, the adhesive is not part of the muzzle. I do feel a hint of a tube touching my lips and pressing just beyond them; just as it is covering my skin, but does not directly enter my nostrils.

As I watch, she is holding the muzzle with her left hand, as she is applying the line along the rim of the muzzle. Once the line had completed the circle, the muzzle had fused completely onto my face.

“How does that feel?” she inquires; actively pushing me, towards expressing me to speak.

“She wants me to answer her, verbally!” I ponder.

“Feel?” I neigh; “I don’t even feel either the ears, or the muzzle!” I respond.

“You do not by any means feel numb, in your face?” she inquire, somewhat worried.

“No, no; not at all!” I respond; “Just that I can’t feel the muzzle pressing onto my face!” I continue.

“Do you feel this?” she inquires, as she extends her right hand, and lifts it up to my face.

The next moment I notice her extending her index-finger; before she is gently booping me, squarely on my muzzle.

I merely giggle, in response.

“Yes, I did feel that!” I respond; “But, how could I feel you touching the muzzle; you place onto my face?” I inquire.

“Because it is your face, for as long as the bond is holding!” she points out.

“Curious!” I exclaim; “It is also exciting!” I then add.

“That is always good!” she responds; “You certainly did come, to the right place!” she adds.

"Now, time for some fun!” she points out, as she is scratching me behind the ears.

The equine ears, that is; not my old, original human ears. What would have been the point, or the fun in that; she already knew they were working perfectly fine, and that I have all the control and hear perfectly fine with them.

“That was odd!” I respond, still with the new and somewhat unfamiliar voice.

“It will come to you, if it is truly you; or it will be nothing more, than a fun gimmick!” she points out.

“Since the ears have perfectly functional sensitivity; I guess that is more than I had been expecting, not even realizing that my ears had reacted upon her contact.

“This is the perfect time, for this; since I have your undivided attention, and you are excited!” she offers.

“I guess I can’t hide my excitement, from you?” I respond; “Just as you must have noticed, how I can’t look away from you!” I add, almost as an afterthought.

“Now is the time, to push that envelope; if you don’t mind, and let you enjoy the rest of the ride!” she suggests.

All of a sudden, I realize that she is standing before me; as she is placing her hands, on my waist. She is sliding her hands along the skin of my back; before I feel her hands sliding up behind my shoulders.

“Ooh, I love this!” I squeak, just before she is placing her lips squarely on mine.

As she is kissing me, I am gazing into her eyes; she is gazing into my eyes, and is slowly parting her lips. As she is parting her lips, I find myself parting my lips in turn.

“This is odd; but I can’t help, but enjoying it!” I realize, before the notion is slipping out of my mind.

While she is kissing me, I want what she is offering; she knows it and is using it, to push forth her agenda. I can’t mind this. I am not even going to remember that I had not wanted it, all along in the first place.

As she is kissing me, I feel her hands squarely on my shoulder-blades, as she is holding me in a warm, yet firm embrace. If only I could have returned the gesture, but my hands are stuck on the wall before me. There is nothing I could do about it; she knows it, but does not seem to mind in the least.

I feel the suction-cups resting lightly against my back; just as I am feeling the sensitive touch-pads, slowly rubbing the skin of my back. While she may be reinforcing my feelings towards it, but I am already enjoying the feelings she is giving me.

Maybe, just maybe; she is inciting me, to wish for further advancement of what she had already given me. The seed is already planted, and it seems to be taking root in fertile soil.

She lingers, for just a moment longer; before she is breaking of the kiss, in preparation for what she is about to do next. I may regret, that she is breaking the kiss; but even I know, I am going to enjoy what she is about to do.

With her hands still pressing against my back; she is sliding down slowly; towards my mound. As she is reaching the desired position, her hands are slowly grabbing my rump; as her lips are landing on the top of my mound. She is kissing the petals, of my orchid; as if she had been kissing me, on my lips. Though she is parting her lips, just a little bit further; and I am finding her lips encircling the petals, as the tip of her tongue is slipping out, only to touch the petals of my orchid.

“Oh, oh; Ooooh!” I sigh, as her tongue is starting to move over the petals of my orchid.

“Oh, oh; oh, oh!” I sigh, as she is continuing to stroke the petals of my orchid, with the tip of her tongue.

She continues, to warm me up; lapping away at me, teasing me and warming me up with each move of her tongue.

Little by little, I am heating up; under her warm embrace, and passionate caresses of the petals of my orchid. I am stuck, trapped; helpless, in the grip of her hands. Even if I know what she is now, it is too late to turn back. I enjoy what she is giving me, for all it is worth.

While she is eating me, I am finding my ears perking up; pointing forwards in excitement, just like an Equine is expected to.

Since she had already granted me the first orgasm; she is now pushing me further beyond the initial orgasm. She is slowly pushing me towards the orgasmic state. After just one hour, or sixty minutes; I am peaking, as I am completely orgasmic. I am trapped; locked within the cycle of the perpetual, continuous orgasm.

I think she may continue, eating me; for just a moment longer, for her very own pleasure.

In the end, she had let go of me; slipping out of the room, in order to turn towards her other duties. While I am busy, with my orgasm; I had not even noticed it.

While I guess I could have seen her, as she was walking out the door; I had closed my eyes, zooming out everything but the orgasm I am stuck in.

My ears are still locked in the forwards position; but it does not mean that I am listening to anything in the room, or beyond.

Preparations for the Girl: 6

Author's Note

The Assistant's POV

Preparations for the Girl: 6

After I had left the girl, at the dungeon; I had returned to the room, where I had prepared her plug.

Naturally, I had closed the door; once I had stepped into the room. Not just because Mistress is demanding this out of me, and everyone else; but because I enjoy the quiet, in the privacy of the room as I close the door behind myself.

She already has a pair of stockings, and I intend to give her a pair of gloves to go with them; almost completing the ensemble in the effort, in taking her to where she wants to go.

There is a mannequin, a doll or dummy; ready, for this very purpose. It is by no means incidental, or accidental; we have it, for this very purpose.

I will have all the time I need, to complete this project; in her name, for her to enjoy at her own leisure. I just enjoy, doing this for her. I guess you could claim, that these services could be considered; to be included in the stater package, we offer our new customers.

Since she is responding favourably, on the treatment; I am eager, to perform the task for her. She has after all enjoyed everything, I have done for her this far. Maybe it is easier, and more enjoyable; to offer services, and work for a satisfied customer.

Maybe this girl, is the most satisfied customer; I have ever come across, and had the fortune to be working for. Just do not take my word for it; I am just one of many Assistants here, all serving our respective Mistress, for the Queen of the Hive.

“I love to serve, and I live to serve” reads the motto, engraved on the inside of my service-ring.

I do live by my motto, the one I had sworn by; as I was imparted with this job, once I had finished my education and training.

Every Changeling swears an oath, to our Queen of the Hive; just as I had sworn an oath to the Mistress I am serving directly under.

In essence, I am wearing the ring; just as you may wear a wedding-ring. While it is not exactly the same, but it is just as important to me.

The girl is still wearing the panties, and the top; but I have both the stockings and the gloves in the room. I am dressing the doll up; slipping one glove on at the time, right and left respectively. Almost, as if the doll had indeed been the girl in question. I apply all the care, and love into it; as if it had indeed been her.

Once I had helped the doll, standing in for the girl to dress; to slip into the gloves; I repeat the process, slipping the stockings on. Full-length, there is no substitutes here. Only the full-length may properly serve the purpose.

“Okay, here goes!” I mumble to myself; “I hope she will enjoy what I am doing for her, and appreciate it!” I add, as I am starting to work.

I start, by picking up what is looking like a lip-liner with a somewhat wide tip; then I draw a line along the rim of the right stocking, thus creating a skin-tone trim. Only when she is using these, with the panties on; the trim will be a perfectly matching sapphire blue. This effect will make it look, as if the panties would have reached an inch further down. Once I had applied the trim to the right stocking, I continue by applying the trim to the left stocking.

Naturally, I am applying the trim to the right and left glove, respectively. The effect is the same; just that these gloves are matching up with her top; making the top have an inch longer sleeves.

There is another, hidden effect I am applying; this will give the effect of reinforcing the bonding between her sin and the stockings and gloves material. To her, it feels as if these garments had been her skin, indistinguishable from her body. At least, for as long as she is wearing them.

Just as before, she will have her feet transformed; so that she can walk on her own hooves. Her own, four hooves in fact; if and when she is wearing both the stockings and gloves.

Once I had applied the trim, to both stockings and gloves, respectively; I put the lip-liner away, and store it for the next time I will need to use it.

“There, that should give her an interesting and exciting experience; when she is in the mood for it, or if she just puts them on by mistake!” I giggle, to myself; as I picture her slipping into these garments, by herself.

“Oh, wait; one small detail, before I am done here!” I ponder; “I need to polish her nails!” I add.

I pick up a vial of clear nail-polish. As I had uncapped the vial; I am applying the polish to each nail in turn, from the thumb to the pinkie finger. I start at the center, at the root of the nail; drawing the brush all the way over the tip; before I continue by starting at the right and left, right and left. Only to repeat the process behind each nil. Just this one layer. I leave the nails beautifully glossy, the way I imagine she would like them.

I cap the vial of nail-polish, and pick up the next vial; the one with polish for her toe-nails. Now I merely repeat the process; even if the stockings has short nails, rudimentary in the Anime style.

“There; now she looks, as if I had lacquered all her beautiful nails!” I ponder.

“A beautiful handiwork!” I imagine Mistress complimenting me, the way I know she is appreciating the effort and the appearance I lent to these garments.

I cap the vial; before I put it back, with the other polish I had applied to her finger-nails.

With the polishing done, and the vials put away; I can focus on the next step of the job, polishing the garments themselves for a deeper immersion. I always aim for the deeper immersion, and the more enjoyable experience.

“I want for her, to feel as if these garments are her skin; during the time she is wearing them, so she feels natural!” I ponder; “These are not supposed, to feel as if she is wearing a suit!” I add.

I pick up a pair of clear gloves, for the work ahead; these products are not intended for bare skin, but will still affect my skin if I am exposed to it.

“Do I have a foot-fetish, or a hoof-fetish?” I ponder, as I am getting to work.

I usually do have these thoughts, and I keep maintaining them; considering the point valid, considering the job I am currently performing here. I do the work for the Mistress and the Hive.

While all work is ultimately for the Queen and the Hive; I perform, because I love my work. Even if this may be, what I had originally been hatched to do. I had been designed, as an Assistance; and the Assistant who enjoys her work, is ultimately performing better. If she thinks she is doing this for an individual, over just performing the job; is also happier, and performs better.

To me, I am working directly under the Mistress who choose me; while I am working for the girl, she is currently serving.

I start with the right foot, from the tip and the toes; maybe this is just a compulsive sense of order, or it is the best and easiest way of performing? I prefer to polish these stockings; as if I had been massaging her in person, for a more personal immersion on my part.

Just because the girl is not here, and may never feel the care and effort I am putting into it; does not man I could be sloppy now. If I am sloppy now, it could bleed into my personal and more intimate work; thus affecting the next girl, I am serving.

As I am polishing her foot, I am pouring the clear gel into the palm of my now gloved hand; before I am caressing the foot and thus spreading the gel out, as I am working it into the material.

In this manner; I am working my way up, inch by inch. Over the toes, the foot, the heel, the calf over the knee and all the way up over the thigh and up to her crouch.

I am working it in, with intricate patterns of diminutive circles; applying pressure, as I continuously work the gel in. I am enjoying the job, just for the joy of doing it; though it is also, in how she enjoys what I am doing for her.

Once I had massaged the first foot, I move over to the next. I am working within the pattern; right and left, right and left. I repeat the process. Once I completed the work with her stockings, I am moving forwards and up, to work her right hands as I had worked her right foot.

I work my way up from her fingers to her hand, all the way over the elbow and up to the shoulder. Now I continue, with her left glove. Only finishing the work, as I have completed all four garments.

“Wait, there is more!” I ponder, as I slip the gloves off of my hands.

I help her taking these gloves off of her hands; because she is incapable of doing this, on her own in her current state.

Once I had taken the gloves off of her, I turn them inside out and help her putting them on. I repeat this process, with the stockings.

I am putting on a pair of new, unused gloves. The old once thrown away, for them to be cleaned up and recycled. The tube of gel I had used before, caped and ready for the next use. I uncap the tube of gel, intended for the inside. This is making her garments bond to her, in an intricate and intimate manner; making them adapt to her, making them feel as if it had been her very own flesh for as long as she is wearing them.

Just like before, I am applying the gel to her feet and hands; her legs and arms, in exactly the same manner. There is no point, in changing the manner in which I apply the gel; that would only distract me, from performing the job of applying the gel. Since I love applying it, as if I had been massaging the girl, it is how I do it. What if the next Assistant had another image of the job; she would have been doing it differently, based on her image of the job. So long as she enjoys it, and the job is done right, who am I to complain, or judge her?

As the gel had saturated the garments, and cured; I help her slip them off of her, before I am leaving them to rest. I can’t put them onto anything right now, they have to go onto the girl they were intended for; or the entire job is in vain, and for nought.

Once the job is down, I put these back in her box; where I leave them, as I am waiting for her to be ready for me to release her.

Now I just slip these gloves off of my hands; clean them up, and leave then to be recycled.

While I was taking my time, it had taken me at least an hour; she is ready, for me to help her out. I am free, to relieve her, so she can have the long overdue climax. As a matter of fact, I think I left her for at least a full three hours.

Since I am done here, I have finished the job; I carry the box with me, as I am walking out of the room. I just close the door behind me, before I continue over to her room. I open the door and step in, close the door and walk over to the small table by the bed; where I carefully place the box with her belongings.

Now I am walking over to the door and open it, before I am stepping out and close the door behind me; then promptly walk over to the door of the Dungeon, where she is still waiting for me. Before I open the door and step in, then I am closing the door behind myself.

Once the door is closed, I take a moment to just look at her, where she is still orgasmic; I gaze at her, enjoying the moment with her. Not that I can feel her orgasm, but I can still feel and enjoy the love emanated from her in this state. It is permeating the room, as the air is perfectly saturated.

I am slowly absorbing the love she is emanating, as I am walking through the fairly small room.

Once I reach her, I am making sure I had given her the time I had promised her, the time it takes, for the effect to take hold. Now I am extracting the tube inserted into her belly button. All the associated items slip out and fall to the floor around her. While I observe her experiencing the climax, I am gathering her items.

I release her hands from the wall, before I am leading her out of the room; only stopping to open the door for us, and closing it behind us. From there, I am walking back to her room on the opposite side of the hall. Now I take a moment to open the door, before I am leading her in and close the door behind us.

Once inside, I lead her to her bed, and help her up and into the bed. Once she is securely up on the bed, I make the bed smooth and comfortable.

At this time, the exhaustion had overcome her; she is overtaken with it, and is soon falling unconscious where she is lying in her bed.

As I had ascertained myself, she is securely in bed; I can leave her where she is, knowing she will wake up safe and sound. She may be out for a few more hours, but I will tend to her, once she is up and about.

I walk over to the door, open and step out; before I am closing the door behind me, leaving her to rest and recover. From here, I am returning to ´my work-room.

A Relapse: 7

Author's Note

Girl's POV

A Relapse: 7

I am once more finding myself lying in this gurney, though it is more familiar now. I had been waking up here before.

Just like last time around, I had had this strange dream. I had one, this time, or night too. It feels, like a familiar pattern, and I am starting to get used to it. I like to recognize things, and I guess I am a bit of a sucker for familiar patterns.

This is the exact same quilt over me, the same sapphire blue and smooth silicon. The second time around; I had half by half expected it, preferring this over something new and thus unfamiliar.

Strangely enough, I have the same feeling, as I had last time around too. I feel hot and wet, as if I had had one of these wet dreams. Or, maybe it is not quite as strange as I had been expecting.

After a moment, I slip my hand up over my mound; just to confirm my expectation, only to find myself indeed being wet. With that confirmed, I am slipping my right hand out from under the quilt and folds it up towards the bed.

I slide my feet out from under the quilt, before I am sitting up; slipping out of bed, finding myself standing on my very own two feet. My body looks and feels, just as I recall it. Nothing had changed, since last time I had woken up here.

As I stand up, I am turning my attention towards the table; upon which the box, containing my gift is stored. As I open the package, I do indeed find that tube she had inserted into the orifice my belly button had been turned into.

I pick up the small item, and look at it for a moment; then I slip the tube into my belly button, just as it had been intended to be. The next moment I feel the membrane invading my belly button and extending further and further inside. I also feel my face change, as my nose is turning into an equine muzzle. I can still breathe through my nostrils, and my mouth is in the lower half of the muzzle.

A moment later, I realize that I am also sprouting a tail. Maybe this dream had never been quite as strange as it had felt, as I am experiencing it all over again. This time, it is in real life, just after I had woken up.

Of course, I feel a membrane sliding into each of my orifices; not just my mouth and my belly button, but also my vagina and my anal cavity. I initially feel the pressure building up, as the membrane is advancing inwards from the entrance.

Then I feel a stirring at the small of my back, at the very tip of my tail-bone; as I feel a tail growing, as if I had indeed been sprouting a tail. While initially did sound a bit silly or ridiculous. Once I feel the tail between my legs, it had turned into reality. Something I could no longer deny.

Furthermore, I soon realize; that I had sprouted a pair of equine ears, on the top of my head. Though I guess, this means that my original human ears should have vanished. Shouldn’t they?

“Wait?” I ponder; “These are exactly the extensions she had been granting me, the day before!” I continue.

“Had this truly been a dream, or is the image of the dream masking what my mind refuses to commit to?” I ponder.

Most of the things I had experienced, in what I initially were taking for dreams; are affecting me here and now in the waking world. If this is affecting me here and now, how could it have been a dream? I am forced, into questioning what I had believed.

“If I grab the tail, could I pull it of?” I ponder; “Or, will I feel pain; as I am yanking the tail too hard?” I continue, questioning what I had led myself to believe.

Had I been the sole culprit, in making the assumptions; or had someone else been active, in building up these assumptions? Who, and why? I do not know, and I do not even know if I care.

For now, there is something unreal enough about it all; something that makes it feel, as if it had been a dream. Even if the aspects of the dream later proved to be real. I can’t deny the experiences; when I wake up, and what I had felt and seen is real. It still lingers, as a gnawing sensation; it had all still been a dream.

As I bend over, I can clearly see the plug in my box of gifts. Only now, I realize a few items had been added. It looks; as if these are gloves and stockings. Full-length, and high-quality silicon garments. Something I may actually enjoy wearing. Then again, why not?

Since I am curious and forwards, I know my ears are perked up and pointing forwards. It is not, in how much I know about Ponies or how they behave, but what I know my personal state as it stands.

As a Pony, my tail is mainly just hanging down behind me; there are no flies to swat, in here. I guess, that is good. On the other hand, why would Mistress permit even a single fly in here, in her Dungeon? The image I had, as I encountered the lobby; is a spotless establishment, where nothing like a single fly could possibly be seen.

Now I am lifting my right hand, up to my face, slowly and carefully probing the muzzle I knew I had sprouted, just to familiarize myself with my new face. If I extract the tube, from my belly button, the muzzle would vanish; right along with all the changes, that came with the insertion of the tube. Yet, I feel more comfortable; with examining what I am looking like, and the boundaries of my face as it is now.

Once I had meticulously poked and prodded my muzzle, I continue with my ears. Small as these equine ears may be; but I am not yet quite familiar with them, or their limitations.

“Would I dare walking out, into the light of day; looking like this, unless I couldn’t revert to my old appearance, and still had to go out?” I ponder.

Of course, I am still wearing the ensemble of blue silicon; the one I had slipped into, before the Assistant had taken me back to the Dungeon the day before. At least, I am still assuming; that had been the day before. Without a clock in sight, or a watch around my wrist; I have no way of knowing the time. I can’t even see the light of day, from outside the building. I have but the light of the indoors lighting.

Unless the top and the panties had been taken off of me, while I had been out, sleeping; I am still wearing them. I don’t need to look down, or examine the status; by applying a hand, to feel if they are there.

For some reason, it seems as if the collection of items in the box keeps being added to; by someone, who is gifting me with something, each time I have been out. I can’t say I mind, but it is still a bit curious. Maybe these are included in the price for my first time here. I do not know. I guess I do not care, too much.

I had meant to ask for the plug, I had been given. The panties and top are quite convenient, and comfortable to wear. I am not about to complain, about having these. It is not; as if I had been forced to wear them, against my will either. Had I been forced; I would have been taking every chance I have, not to wear them. At least, unless I had been threatened; with some kind of punishment. Which I have not.

“It is almost, as if they knew what I had been about to ask for!” I ponder.

Since I am up and about; I have been walking around the room, small as it may be. It is not; as if I had much anything else to do, in here. I can’t just go back to bed, even if I guess I technically could have. What is the point? That is even less, of an activity.

After a few minutes of walking, the door is opened. The assistant is stepping into the room; pushing a small cart, with a selection of food on the top of it. She had apparently gathered, I should be hungry right about now.

“I took the liberty; to bring you your breakfast, and a few complimentary items for you!” she chimes, in eager excitement.

“That is the Assistant, I had come to know!” I ponder, as I am watching her pushing the cart towards my bed.

“Another gift, just for me?” I inquire; maybe just a bit too excited, over what should have been expected by now.

“Yes, a gift; a small token of my appreciation, for the honour of serving such a grateful and exciting girl!” she responds.

“What is it, what is it? I inquire; jumping up and down for several minutes, as I am clapping my hands.

“Maybe she is just a little bit too excited, but it has indeed been a joy to work for her!” the Assistant considers, now giggling slightly for a moment; “I foresee more joy, in continuing to work for her whenever she may be at the Dungeon!” she continues.

“I think you do need something to eat; after all the excitement, and exhaustion you have been enjoying!” she points out.

After a moment, I am finally focusing on the food presented to me; “Let’s see, what she had been kind enough to offer me?” I ponder.

“After such a severe exercise, I was expecting you to be ravaged by hunger!” she offers.

“I guess I have gone without food, for a bit too long; but I think it is the intense excitement, that has kept me from realizing just how hungry I am!” I offer.

“Yes, that makes sense; I have seen a few girls foregoing their meals, for that very reason!” the Assistant acknowledges; “It is something I am bound to see, when I am working here!” she then elaborates.

“I could very well imagine!” I respond; “You are bound, to experience happy, excited girls, when you are working here, at the Dungeon!” I suggest.

“Excellent, excellent; I will watch you try out the stockings as I slip the gloves in with the rest of your gift!” she points out; “Then I will slip out; so that you can enjoy your meal, without any further distractions!” she adds.

“Thank you!” I respond;”That sounds just about right!” I then add.

I accept the stockings she had prepared for me. As I look at them; I can clearly see the fine details, of these full-length toe-stockings. This seems to be the trend, here; they always add all these details, to everything. They still manage, not to go over the top; at least, that is what I see and feel. Maybe I am not the style or fashion-expert; but I can still have my own opinion, on these things.

“I hope they feel good, to wear!” she offers; “It would be good to see; that you try them on, in order to make certain they are fitting you just right!” she then adds; “These are after all your personal wear!” she concludes.

“Oh, of course!” I respond.

“These stockings do look absolutely stunning!” I offer, from the first glance of the stockings I had seen.

I slip my right foot in, and pull the stocking all the way up. The stocking is just as tight as I should have been expecting; but it is never constricting more than what I could find comfortable, either.

Once I had pulled the right stocking on, I afford it a few tentative tugs; once, twice and thrice. With the stocking on, I accept the left stocking; slipping the foot in, and pull the stocking up.

With just a few tentative tugs, I had achieved a perfect fit; finding myself standing on my own too feet once more. For a moment, I can see my legs and feet, as they look; while just covered with the material, of these wondrous stockings. The silicon is covering everything; all the way up to the crouch. I can see my now lacquered toe-nails in ruby-red.

A moment later, I notice how my legs are changing; forcing my pose and posture to adapt, accordingly. These are the equine legs I had; as my Mistress had applied the rec crop to my legs.

Naturally, I am standing on fire-ruby hooves; in the same style, as I had back then.

“This does feel surprisingly good!” I exclaim; “Just like how it felt; in the Dungeon, when Mistress was initiating me in her art of joy and excitement!” I then add.

“Oooh!” I exclaim; “Now I can walk on my own two hooves any time I please!” I continue, excitedly.

“Yes, isn’t that wondrous?” she inquires; “Even when you go home, you can take this with you; so that you can enjoy it, at will!” she offers, inciting me to go farther.
“Yes, I can take these with me; so that I can enjoy wearing them, at my own time!” I respond.

“She did indicate, that I am supposed to take these gifts with me; or that was a serious slip of the tongue, right there!” I ponder; "Though she is good at slipping her tongue into hot place!” I ponder, musing on the thought; for just a moment longer.

“Since you have slipped into the stockings; I will take my leave, so that you can enjoy your meal!” she offers.

“Thank you, I will!” I respond, as I notice her turning towards the door.

While I am looking at the food, she presented; she is already walking over to the door, opening it before she is stepping out.

There is a faint, but distinct click from the door, as she is closing it behind herself; I am once more alone, with just the food as my companion. Naturally, I am still wearing the stockings, even if I am barely even aware of them now; feeling as if I had had these equine legs with hooves, but not yet quite as if I had been born with them. Maybe this would take me, just a little bit more time; getting used to this, and acquaint myself with everything that comes with it. Including the clopping noise hooves are making as I am walking; aside from how different the joints are bending as I am moving. While I am standing up, or walking; everything is fairly normal and straightforward, but when I try to sit down I am made aware of the differences.

I am trying to make it comfortable, and slip up onto my bed, once more; facing the food, she had presented me with. It all look so delicious.

The fact that it is all comprised of vegetables never even entered my mind. I merely grab the fork in my right hand, stabbing the vegetables with care. I insert a mouth-full and chew. When my mouth is emptying, I stab another mouth-full and insert it. I chew and swallow.

By the looks of it, she knows just how much I need to eat; and first now, I realize just how hungry I had become. Though I make a conscious effort, not to gorge myself, leaving me feel stuffed a moment later. I take my time, enjoying each bit of the prepared vegetables on the plate.

Just a few minutes after I had empties my plate, there is a knock on the door; the next moment, my Mistress is entering the room. She is alone, of course.

“I see you finally got something to eat!” she points out, right to the point.

“Yes, and it was delicious!” I respond.

“Thank you, my dear!” she puts forth; “Only the best, is good enough here!” she then adds.

“That makes me want to come back here again!” I offer.

“Thank you!” she responds; “Most of my submissives say that, and they do indeed come back again!” she explains, in an uncharacteristically excited voice.

Of course she had to refer to the girls as submissives; she does hold no contract on as much as a single girl. Yet, they come back; freely and on their own terms. Each and every one, enjoying their stay here; at the Dungeon of their Mistress.

Now, I am one of them. I am going to return, shortly. I had come here, on recommendation; by someone very close to me, one whom I am trusting implicitly. It is in fact my younger sister.

“She had been right, just as I had known!” I ponder; “If and when my sister is recommending me something, I know she is right; because she never had let me down, before!” I continue.

“I will leave you to relax and recover; I just came to see, how you were doing!” she offers.

“Thank you, Mistress!” I respond.

Since I had enjoyed the meal, and the plate is empty; she is pulling the cart out of the room. She merely stops to open the door before she is stepping out, and close it before she is continuing down the hall.

“I probably do need to rest, for a moment!” I ponder; “Though I would need some more traditional work-out, like an indoors tread-mill soon!” I conclude.

A Brief Report: 8

Author's Note

Mistress' POV

A Brief Report: 8

“Greetings, Mistress!” my Assistant is addressing me.

“Greetings, Assistant!” I return, in kind.

“How is she doing, Mistress; is she done with her meal?” my Assistant inquires.

“Yes, Assistant; she has indeed, and since she is such a promising submissive, I am bound to see the Queen about her!” I respond.

“Congratulations, Mistress; our beloved Queen Chrysalis will be most pleased!” the Assistant exclaims; “We have managed to guide her to a very promising development, even in this short a time!” she continues.

“We are most fortunate, to have her to tend to; but alas, now I will have to see the Queen!” I respond; as I am scurrying off towards the office in a measured gait, where she is currently at.

“Of course, the office is on the top floor!” I ponder, as I continue towards her private elevator.

It is always an honour, to take the elevator, and particularly to the top floor; even if the reason for the honour would have been a reprimand. In this case, it is largely a status report.

Queen Chrysalis is well known: for her scoldings, tongue lashing and even physical punishment, if and when she felt one had let her down. She can be quite an ear-full, at these times. At least, I am thankful; I have never experienced a roasting, and I am not expecting one this time, either.

“Greetings, Mistress!” Ellie the waitress responds, as I am entering the elevator.

“Greetings, Ellie!” I respond.

“So, you are going to see our beloved Queen?” Ellie inquires.

“Yes, Ellie; I am, because I think she will be pleased to hear my report on the latest girl I am handling right now!” I respond.

“The Queen does like to know everything, first thing, and she is considerably easier to talk to, when you have good news for her!” Ellie admits.

“Yes, she is!” I respond; “It is my responsibility, to inform her of the progress being made!” I conclude.

“Never have your Assistant deliver the news, and particularly if it is bad news!” Ellie agrees.

“Never have an underling be the bearer of the news of your own personal failure!” I put forth.

“Exactly; this responsibility is yours, and the report falls squarely in your lap!” Ellie agrees.

“Yes, exactly; and this, is why I am here!” I respond.

“Excellent, but I believe; this is where you step up, to face your duty!” Ellie exclaims.

“Yes, I believe it is!” I respond.

The doors slide up before me, and I spill out. The floor is laid with hard, black basalt rock; nothing soft of fancy. She likes her floor hard, dark and highly tactile. Though it is still polished to a high finish, she does not mind.

The doors slide shut behind my back, with a whooshing noise. I step forwards. I see the walls, perfectly matching the floor. This is giving a dark and foreboding feeling.

“If I had not been so confident, in the report I am about to give; I would have been trembling, in fear right now!” I ponder.

As opposed to the rest of the building; this is not lighted by the overhead LED lights, but actual torches lit. I can even feel the candescent scent on the air. It is the privilege of a Queen.

“Past these doors; years of service, is a very poor shield!” I ponder; knowing all too well how she will view one who try to hide behind past achievements, in the stark light of a failure.

“Do well, and I shall reward you!” reads the message on the door to her waiting-room.

Still no decorations in sight, just as I had expected. Now windows and no nonsense rules supreme on this level.

Of course, she knows I am here. While I may not have made a formal request for this audience; just the fact that Ellie the Waitress had dignified me with the ride up is all she needs to know of my arrival. Nothing escapes the Queen. She is after all the head of the entire operation.

The room behind the final door is five foot by five. Not much, but enough. I approach the door. Step my step, slow and dignified. I maintain as measured a gait, as I may muster.

The door before me is taking on a green glow, at the edges; then the door swings up, quietly.

“Greetings, Mistress!” she is addressing me.

“Greetings, my Queen!” I address her in turn.

I make an effort, to maintain a steady voice, and to pronounce every single syllable as perfect as I am able. Even despite the inevitable dread of her presence, even when I know I should have nothing to fear, I had done nothing wrong.

“You have news, for me!” she pronounces, her voice as steely as always.

“Yes, my Queen!” I respond.

“Good news, I hope!” she continues.

“Yes, my Queen! I respond; “The latest report, on the girl I was tasked to introduce!” I elaborate.

“Yes, who, and how is she faring?” Chrysalis inquires.

“A Miss April, my Queen; she has done well, this far!” I offer.

“Ah; Miss April; the older sister of Miss May, I believe!” she suggests.

She does indeed have a younger sister by that name!” I respond; “She is not under me, but there seems to be something to this family!” I offer.

“That is, what I have been told!” she merely puts forth.

“I just confirmed, that Miss April had enjoyed her first meal; after I am my Assistant had put her through her paces!” I put forth.

“That, is indeed promising!” she offers.

“She seems to take well; to everything I have had to offer, this far!” I put forth.

“Then, she was not shocked; when she observed her body transformed by your hand?” she inquire, now with renewed interest.

“If anything; she seems more eager and excited; from what I could measure!” I offer.

“That, is indeed promising!” she points out, with obvious glee to her voice.

“I expect, to oversee the final stages of her initiation!” I explain; “Then I can hand over the final evaluation of Miss April!” I offer.

“Excellent, excellent; I am looking forwards, to your next report on Miss April!” she offers.

“See to it, I am really expectant; of this Miss April, and I expect your best efforts on her development!” she dismisses me.

“Yes, my Queen!” I respond.

Queen Chrysalis is no longer interested in me, or what I could possibly present; I had made my case and presented my report, so I take my leave and turn towards the door. I am not stopped, the doors are sliding up before me; I step out, and the doors quickly close behind me.

“That, was exhilarating!” I ponder, as I continue towards the next door.

“Fail me; and you shall be crushed, like the bug you are!” the message reads.

The message on the way in is always more uplifting, than the one on the way out. It always gives me a shiver, all the way down my spine. I never get used to it, not even after all these years. All the times I had been here; leaving a report, to my beloved Queen.

Stepping up the Game: 9

Author's Note

Girl's POV

Stepping up the Game: 9

“Since I can see, you have found a fancy for these stockings; maybe it in order, for you to step it up?”the Assistant puts forth; “In which case, I do have a few items that just may be to some interest for you!” she offers.

“Yes, the stockings reminds me of all the excitement!” I put forth; “Though I have grown fond of them, for completely unrelated reasons as well!” I then continue.

“While you could wear a skirt, over, but I doubt you could pass your hooves of as shoes of any kind!” I suggest.

“Yes, I could do that; it is what I use to wear, and what I intend to wear, most of the time!” I offer.

“It is common wears among the girls, who come here; and it does make perfect sense, to me!” she responds; “However, there are a few things that will be harder to keep out of the public eye, should you prefer to; but I could offer you the means towards blending them in, if and when you choose to!” she then offers.

“I love the manicure, and what it is doing for me; but I guess it is sticking out, just a bit outside the expected norm?” I propose.

“I could fetch you a pair of gloves, if you want a more inconspicuous appearance!” she offers; “Since you have not attempted to wash the make-up of yet; I could as well let you know, it will not wash of!” she explains.

“A pair of gloves?” I inquire; “Just like these?” I continue; “No, I have not gotten to that; I never had the opportunity, and it had never really occurred to me to try that yet!” I conclude; as I respond to the revelation, she just threw into my face like cold water.

“Yes, a pair of gloves will cover your hands; but these are for other occasions, you will notice that, when you put them on!” she points out; “Which I expect you will be doing, soon enough!” she ponders, quietly; “Short gloves, just enough to cover the entire hands; though I guess they could have looked exactly like shorter versions of these, before I prepared them for the intended purpose!” she points out; explaining just a bit more of the situation, for me.

“So these gloves will cover the entire hand, and nothing but the hand?” I inquire, for verification.

“Sharp, and to the point!” she agrees; “Easy to put on, and take of!” she adds.

“If they are comfortable, and conceals the details to make me inconspicuous, while I am wearing them. Who am I to complain?” I put forth.

“The gloves will look, as natural as you were; before you entered the Dungeon, and none will be the wiser!” she explains; “It is also feeling just as natural, for you to wear them!” she adds.

“If it feels, and looks as real as these stockings feels right now; I am impressed!” I put forth.

“Then I am considering you blown away, by how real it is feeling!” she points out, matter of fact.

“Going by what I know, I am going to try everything out!”I exclaim; “Though I am considering, if you had anything else, for me to enjoy; while we are at it!” I then concede.

While I may be excitable; but I had never been known to be irrational, or prone to hasty decisions before. Why start now?

“There is one final item, I am at liberty to offer you; now since you expressed your excitement and eagerness to try them on!” she coos in obvious excitement.

“If you saw a pair of high heels, or other shoes you had to decline; simply because you could not get your feet into them, and thus found yourself incapable of walking in?” she inquire; “If you have, you may have wished these socks had been on your feet at the time!” she explains.

“Now you are describing the dilemma most of us girls are bound to encounter at some point; I have been there, and I still recall the pain of the attempt!” I respond.

“That is something else, I could offer the cure for; sore feet, due to uncomfortable shoes, or too much exercise!” she offers.

“I think I would take these too; unless you are making me choosing between one item and the other!”I put forth.

“We offer our initiates all the best, based on preferences and expressed wishes!” she ascertains me, with utter conviction.

“This is my first visit here; and I have not had a reason to regret coming her yet, now I find even less reason to regret coming here!” I respond.

Some of these items comes at a cost, on our part; they are highly personal and individualized for your comfort and pleasure, and can’t be worn by anyone but you as the original recipient!” she explains.

“You mean to say; that my stockings can’t be worn by anyone, but me?” I inquire.

“Exactly!” she merely responds; nodding vigorously, with a solemn face.

“Yet; I can wear these, for the rest of my days?” I inquire.

“That is the beauty of it all; they are practically you, or as close to it as possible!” she coos, now lighting up.

“These stockings will stretch, and contort with me; as I walk and age?” I inquire.

“Consider them as your skin; you don’t give it away, because you need it!” she mumbles; “In a complicated sense; these garments are you; for as long, as you are wearing them!” she then elaborates.

“Now, she is making me excited!” I realize.

“We invested years of research and development into this product!” she points out, with obvious pride.

I feel a sense from her; that had I not been knowing better, I would have claimed she was purring like a cat. Well; maybe that had not been as far off, as one would have liked to think? She is obviously taking personal pride, in offering me this product. A product, I am expressing joy and excitement about. Something she knows I am going to wear, and often.

“Now you make me desire these, even more!” I put forth; “When I know the effort you have put into these, it makes them very special to me; while they were special to wear before, it was just for the excitement they lent me in the one short moment!” I offer.

“Yes, indeed!” she coos; “They are very special; we craft them as gifts; for those of our esteemed guests, who express and demonstrate the joy and will love to wear them!” she puts forth.

“As much as I have loved to be here, I still realize; not everyone out there will understand and respect the gift, or what it means!” I mumble; with saddened, downcast eyes.

“Some of these items, are intended to permit you to walk openly amongst them; when you are walking down the street, wherever you may go from here!” she offers; “While others were designed, for you to have a little piece of us; when you step out on the street, and when you are in your private place!” she then adds.

“Of course; she is making herself a little bit of us, in the process!” she ponders, secretly.

Of some things, one is simply not speaking openly; not even to the once you trust, or believe is trusting you. If it is the consequences of revelation, or the consequences revealed; who is to say, it is a personal matter. Different everyone.

Sometimes, one is maintaining the conversation; never really getting to the heart of the matter, explaining everything else in great detail.

“I think; there is something, you feel the urge to ask?” she finally concludes.

“Oh, yes..” I mumble; taking a moment to clear my thoughts and focus, on what I had in mind; “While it has been exciting and exhausting; but I had been rather still, without any traditional exercise!” I start.

“We do have exercise equipment, in the basement; for when we need to stretch our legs and move our bodies!” she points out.

“Since you just mentioned it; is it too much for me to ask, if I could see these and have a moment for exercise?” I inquire.

“No; not at all, thank you for asking!” she coos; “Maybe, just maybe; I was secretly hoping, you would ask!” she continues.

“Just a moment, and I will show the trick!” she points out.

I had seen Mistress using magic, and I already knew she could change her body-shape; so, this should not be that much of a shock.

While the glowing light of her magic is weaker, dimmer; it is still quite capable, of accomplishing the desired task. After a moment, a small segment of the room started to glow; before an escalator appears, out of nothing. I guess; that is magic, to me. Besides; this is the Hive of the Changelings owning the Dungeon, their home is bound to have some similarities with them. Wouldn’t it?

Just as the escalator had materialized fully; there is a glow around the door out of my room, and the door is slowly sealing shut. As the glow finally had faded, the door is no longer there. A typical telltale of a Changeling Hive.

I am now on my way up, to the second floor; where the gym had been promised to be located. I can clearly see the gym, though.

“This, is the segment you will be most interested in; based on your wish for exercise!” she explains, pointing out where the tread-mills are lined up.

“No bicycles to be seen!” I ponder; “Maybe they do not believe, in that contraption?” I consider.

“While I am permitted to show you the room, and share the facility with you; we have no use for certain machines in our basic form, so we never invested in these contraptions!” she explains, proudly.

“I guess, that would make sense!” I realize.

Thank you, for sharing!” I respond, as I am scanning the room, and my eyes slowly find rest at the station she had pointed out.

“You are quite welcome, my dear!” she coos.

“How does this work?” I inquire; “It is a tread-mill!” I ponder, even if I do not recognize the specific model of equipment.

“This has all the functionality, you could require!” she points out; “Both for bipedal and quadruped postures!” she then adds.

“Just step right up, please!” she instructs me; “Feel free to grab hold of the side-rails, if you think you need to!” she then elaborates.

“Thank you!” I respond, as I am stepping up; “It feels like rubber, under my hooves?” I ponder; “Almost, but more sticky and elastic!” I realize.

I notice a dim glow touching the controls of the device before me.

“Now, if you start up slow?” she offers, and I greedily complies.

“There!” she coos; “Now you can ease up; and pick up some speed, at your own pace!” she elaborates.

“Fantastic!” she is complimenting me; “Maybe a hint of resistance?” she inquires; and I feel a growing resistance, as I continue jogging along the track.

“It is so real, almost as if I had indeed been out running!” I ponder; “If only I had the wind blowing in my mane and the visage before me, moving with me!” I conclude.

“Now, let’s have some fun!” she coos, as she is adjusting the controls further.

“Oh, okay..” I respond; “Oooh!” I yelp in surprise; “How did she even do that?” I ponder.

As she continues, I feel my hooves starting to sink further down and stick to the surface upon which I am currently running. Just so gradually, I barely realized what she had been doing.

“I think I am going to like watching her for a while!” the Assistant ponders, in delight; “How does it feel?” she then inquires.

“Surprisingly good!” I respond.

“Yes?” she inquires.

“While it is true, I have not been sleeping or lazily lying still; but I have not had any active exercise since I came here, even if that was exhausting enough on my part!” I respond; “It feels great, to finally be free, to be able to stretch my legs again!” I elaborate.

“I could as well admit it, I was enjoying putting you through your paces!” she concedes; “Just as I am enjoying, offering everything I can see you enjoy!” she adds.

As I continue, the resistance is slowly increasing, while I am putting on some more speed. I try to make small spurts of slow and gradual acceleration, as I go; while keeping a fairly steady pace, overall.

At first, I do not notice anything, or any peculiar irregularities; then the sticky track is starting to get a continuously firmer grip for a long while, as I continue. The ground is starting to feel more and more squishy, causing my hooves to sing further and further, while the ground still is feeling firm, to hard under my hooves.

“Clip, clop; clip, clop!” I hear my hooves squeak progressively louder and more enthusiastically.

“The track looks and feels firm under my hooves, yet it is still letting my hooves sink down an entire inch now!” I ponder, in the initial amusement.

“Good, you are standing in the middle!” she denotes; “Hold on, as I make another adjustment!” she is instructing me.

As I am taking it literal, but not quite in the sense she had worded it; I soon find myself holding on onto the rail, but is incapable of consciously letting go. There is no glue, and no magic involved; as far as I could make out, at this point.

Just that I could not consciously make my fingers loosen the grip around the lustrously silver metallic surface I am holding on to.

“There; you can let go now, if you feel like!” she offers.

“Okay!” I respond, relaxing my hands a bit; “I can't!” I note.

I never stopped, or even slowed down; as she made the adjustments, she intended to make. Just as I did not trip, or miss a beat. Maybe I had focused to hard, to catch up with her; holding on, and keeping the pace? If so, so be it. Maybe that had been the entire point, of what she had said? To deflect my attention, and to cloak her action; while I focused on what she said, and what I was already doing.

Either way, it is too late now. I missed it.

She is looking intently at me, smiling; as I continue, almost as if nothing had happened. Something is amusing, and I guess I had just missed the joke. Maybe, I am the punch-line?

“I hope I can continue for a while longer; so I can run through all the stillness and passive activity I have had, the last few days!” I put forth.

“No problem, no problem at all!” she merely reassures me, as she is musing on the scene playing out before her.

The scene; in which I am the star, incapable of letting go of the rail. For now, I do not mind. Not just because I had asked her for this favour, in the first place; but because I had enjoyed this before, even if this had been under drastically different circumstances. Though the activity, is just as much my pleasure now; as it had been, back then. Though I could imagine, some would question why I ask for this exercise.

Few would question, why I had enjoyed a few hours of good sex. That had been delicious, indeed. Every tiny little bit as good, as the expression could possibly claim

When you are rest-less, cooped up; you may choose to put on a pair of sneakers; step out and run all the way around the block. Just for a moment of fresh air and a fresh breeze blowing your worries away. Who wouldn’t? I know I could have done it.

For now, I had ignored my hands’ refusal to let go, as if it had never happened. Though I guess I had noticed it, subconsciously. A tiny little fragment of me, enjoying it, for all it is worth.

While I can’t swing my hands back and forth, along the sides of my body; I can still run, fairly unhindered all the same. I merely continue, slowly jogging along the track. There may be no physical track, in the luscious forest; but I am running, as if it had been.

There are no trees, no birds and no scents; but I have the full experience of running along the track, including the tactile sensations and the seemingly irregular patching of the path through a forest.

Maybe she had never bothered to recreate an actual track; just blending in the elements, of what such a track would have been feeling like under my hooves?

She had also added distinct elements of her Dungeon, and the atmosphere that comes with it. She had managed to build up the excitement; she knew I would love and treasure as I am thinking back at this moment at some future event.

The track, or path is not covered with hard soil or gravel, but retains all the fun of both. There are a few less identifiable aspects; like the squeaks and elasticity. Not to mention the sticky surface holding my hooves squarely on the floor.

I feel the freedom of running along a track in a network, designed for multiple people running and enjoying the moment and exercise. Just that this path never veers or in either direction; neither to the right, nor to the left. Just straight forwards. Maybe she could make the track elevation go up and down; but this far she has not done anything to the effect, even if I had to accept that I never had asked for it. I had not given her the impression, it is what I had been looking forwards to or hoped for.

“You really did need this!” the Assistant exclaims, after untold minutes had passed uninterrupted.

“Yes; it appears , I had needed it even more than I had expected!” I respond.

“I have been enjoying; to see how excited you are, over your exercise!” she puts forth, admitting to her joy.

“I don’t mind!” I respond; “If only I had realized, just how exciting it could be, and how good this feels!” I ponder; “You enjoy your job!” I suggest.

“It does please me; both to see your excitement, and to help you achieving it!” she admits; half by half as if it had been unexpected, or embarrassing for her.

“Then; I will by no means, stand in the way of your pleasure!” I offer.

“For that, I am grateful..” she coos; “I have enjoyed to please, you more than I had dared to expect; as I am learning your desires, and how to meet them!” she continues.

“If she could only know, or understand; just how much I have enjoyed to work for her, or how and why I am enjoying it so much!” the Assistant consider, quietly, as she continues to watch me from behind.

For some reason, it feels as if she had been watching me; excited over what she is seeing before her, from a more or less purely sexual standpoint. Maybe she could have been excited by me, on a sexual level too? I have no idea. The fact that she is a girl, a female; changes nothing, we all knew this.

“Should I ask her, if I am exciting her?” I consider; “Or, is this by any means offending her?” I ponder.

For now, I remain silent. I do not say anything; though I guess my hooves are making all the noises, for me. Maybe this could be her true source of the excitement? I am after all playing right into her fantasy; the one she is catering to, as she is performing here at their Dungeon.

“Is a Fetish strong enough, to play all by itself; or does one still require someone, to fill the suit for the effect to have any power in the real world?” I ponder; “In this case, my thoughts are the real world; just as much as the floor, upon which she is standing behind me!” I continue.

My thoughts are wondering off, and time is slipping away; so long as I am enjoying the time and she does not complain, who am I to complain?

Her thoughts of me is still warming me, even if I do not know of it or why. Is it strange, or wrong? Why?

I slow down, little by little; in small steps. I can’t just stop, cold; it would ruin too much of what I had been building up, during my stay up here with her.

“Uhm, maybe you could lift your hands off of the rail; before you stop?” she inquires, giggling.

“Oh, okay!” I respond; “Why not?” I continue.

“Uh, but?” I start, as I try to lift my hands up, but to no avail.

“My hand, my hands refuse to let go of the rail!” I exclaim, in sudden realization.

“Yes!” she coos.

“Delightful, isn’t it?” she inquires; “Just as when I was eating you; down in the Dungeon!” she continues.

As hard as I may try, my fingers remain; firmly clasping the rails, right and left, respectively.

I find myself blushing, in unexpected excitement and embarrassment.

I notice a glowing touch to the controls, as she is handling the tread-mill. It had already stopped, and it is in full neutral.

“Whoa?” I exclaim, as I feel my fingers grip tightening around the rails.

While I may have been exhausted, but I am not quite that exhausted.

She stands behind me, as she continues to play with the controls; making me hold on onto the rails, and tightening my grip. I feel my fingers’ muscles tighten, as I am holding on onto the rails.

“There!” she exclaims.

“Excellent, excellent!” she now puts forth.

I realize, she is standing mere inches behind me. The tips of her right and left index-fingers touching the rip of my anal orifice.

“Ooohh!” I exclaim; initially stunned and shocked, by her unexpected advances.

I could have stopped her, right then and there; had I wanted to, but that had never been my desire even now.

She is slowly putting the pressure required in, before she starts sliding her hands apart; and effortlessly dilates me in the process.

“Ooh, ooh, oohh; ooh, ooh, oohh; ooh, ooh, oohh!” I sigh, through-out the process.

My eyes wide open, staring; yet unseeing, as I find myself excited.

As she lets go and pulls back; I am remaining completely dilated, utterly and completely unaided. Had I tried to squeeze shut, I would have failed miserably; just as I had been equally incapable, of aiding her in the process before. I am exposed, open and helpless in her excited and capable hands.

“Oooooh!” I merely sight, in stark realization.

“I guess my impression, of how much you were enjoying it was not exaggerated; considering, just how easily you were dilated and how firmly it is holding!” she conceded.

“I could ask you to squeeze, and you would comply; though I know the response, but it is still worth mentioning it anyway!” she offers.

“Yes..” I respond; “You were quite right!” I exclaim, confirming what she already had known.

“After a few tries, you know when you have your girl dilated completely; though it is a two hands job, and the trick requires your index-fingers to work!” she explains.

“Ooh..” I respond; “Can anyone, or at least I do it; since you are explaining it, to me now?” I inquire.

“No, just the select few!” she points out; “There is a good chance, you could learn how to; if you put in the effort and are sensitive enough!” she concludes.

“Since you and it, and I could learn; I take it, it is something we have in common?” I propose.

“It is spelled manicure!” she points out.

“Oh, oh, ooh!” I respond.

She is extending her right hand, index-finger out; as she is slipping the tip of the finger in, touching the inner wall of my anal cavity with the squishy touch-pad.

“I had never expected you; to take it, quite this thoroughly!” she exclaims, as she is feeling the rubbery surface inside.

“Oh, girl; Mistress is going to love, hearing about this!” she ponders.

“No wonder, you are incapable of squeezing now; from what I could see, and feel!” she concedes; “Maybe, just maybe; I could, and should try?” she considers for a moment.

She lifts up her right and left hands, respectively; reaching for my face, touching the corners of my mouth with the sensitive touch-pads of her extended index-fingers.

As I feel the tips of her fingers sliding closer and closer together, I feel a thin rubbery membrane building up over the skin in my mouth; just as my lips are closing, as a reversed dilation.

The closer the tips of her fingers come, the thicker the membrane that is becoming; as my lips are being sealed shut. I feel wet, and slippery; as if I had just poured an entire bottle of surgical grade lubrication into my mouth.

“Ooooohh?” I realize, now completely mute.

“So juicy, so juicy, so juicy!” she coos, excitedly.

“I think I can have a sip, if I just prepare her first; she is secured, and can’t distract anyone down there!” she ponders, in obvious delight.

She is letting go of my lips, as she is lowering her hands down to my mouth; before I feel the now familiar touch, as she is starting to close my soaking wet orchid.

“There, dinner is served!” she ponders, as she is slipping down on her knees.

She crawls under me; before she is turning around and lifts up her hands towards my waist.

“Mhmhmhm!”I mumble through sealed lips.

After a series of acrobatic moves, she is finding herself sitting under me with her legs spread wide open, and her mouth on top of my mound.

I feel a wet kiss at the very tip of the petals of my orchid; before she is parting her lips, and her tongue is approaching my orchid. The next moment, she is lapping away at me, eagerly.

“She is eating me, alive!” I realize.

I feel the tip of her tongue, as she is licking the petals of my orchid; though I am remaining slippery and wet.

“Delicious!” she ponders, with her face buried deep into my crouch.

She continues to lap away at me, for the following ten minutes; while she has me wide open, exposed to her. She does not stop, before she feels my orgasm hitting home.

Now she is sliding back, permitting me time to find the new equilibrium; pulling herself up. I watch her, as she is adjusting the controls of the tread-mill.

As my hands finally are letting go; she is embracing me, tight enough to carry me down to the bed one flight of stairs down.

She is carrying me down the escalator, before she is pressing me up against an empty wall. I feel her lifting my hands up against the wall, before she is pressing the palms of my hands down firmly. My fingers are spread wide, as I hear the distinct squeak; indicating that my hands are firmly stuck onto the wall behind me.

She slides down, onto the floor; planting her lips onto the top of my mound, kissing me. She resumes her feast; as she starts to lap away at me, almost as if nothing had happened.

I feel the tip of her tongue playing over the petals of my orchid, as she is lapping away; eating me alive. As she continues to eat me; I am growing continuously hotter, in excitement. She continues to push me all the way from the first orgasm, up to the orgasmic state.

While I may not even notice it, but the effect that had built up before; as she dilated my rump, and reversed it for my lips, is growing even more pronounced as she continues.

While I had closed my eyes, just after she had started to eat me, I can see exactly nothing, but she is an Angel. Since I will need three hours, to simmer in my own juices; she is leaving the room as I am still orgasmic.

the Rekindling: 10

I am lying in my bed. Maybe this should have come as no surprise; even if it is a gurney, like the one you wake up in, at the hospital’s recovery-ward.

Everything feels fairly normal, after the circumstances. It is, how I am feeling as I am waking up here. Nothing special, or spectacular. I have grown accustomed to it. I am expecting it, by now.

“No, there is something!” I ponder; “I had another strange dream, and it is insinuating; that something happened, the other night!” I continue.

“Wait, why am I feeling so tight?” I inquire; expecting none in particular, to answer.

My panties are still on, and so is my top. Just as I had been expecting. Why would these garments not be on. I know I had not taken the ensemble off of me, before I had gone to bed. I never do.

I am lying under the same quilt, or one just like it; in the same sleepy pose I always have as I wake up.

Mindlessly, I find my hands sliding in under my body; my rump pressing down over the palm of my hands, as I continue.

A moment later, the touch-pads of my right and left index-fingers are at the opposite corners of the rim, of my anal cavity. I feel the firm skin, under the touch-pads; as I am pressing down, tentatively.

At a certain point, I instinctively pull my hands outwards, along the smooth surface of the sheet; only to find myself dilating, and if I try to squeeze it is to no avail. As if my efforts had been two separate bodies and individuals. As if my hands belong to one girl, and my rump belongs to an entirely separate individual.

While everything feels perfectly normal, this did create a strange discontinuity; I will simply have to get used to, or ignore.

“Whoa?” I exclaim in excitement and shock over the revelation I had just had before me.

“I could indeed dilate myself!” I realize, giggling hysterically in unbridled excitement.

For now, I am leaving the dilation as is; I can’t squeeze it shut, but I don’t care enough to reverse it at this point. Maybe it is something from the dream, or how my mood is at the time.

I slip my right hand out from under the quilt, before I am folding the quilt up against the wall; slip my feet out from under the quilt, and sit up on the top of the bed. Now I slide down, only to find myself standing, on my own too hooves. Just as it had been the other night, so I don’t really find it out of the ordinary.

Once I am standing up, I turn around and fold the quilt back in order. As I have smoothed the quilt over; the bed looks as if I had never been, in the room before.

As I scan the room; everything is, exactly as I had left it the other day. Well, as far as my recollections would be trusted. The door is there, and there is no escalator in the room. Why should there be? I had no escalator in the room, the first day.

The door slides up, and the Assistant is entering the room. As she is continuing into the room, the door is sliding shut behind her. I find myself, with my back against a wall, facing her.

“Beautiful, I knew you could do it!” she coos in excitement; indicating that I had managed, to dilate my rump.

I notice a green glowing light, but thinks nothing of it. She had summoned a plug attached to the wall; right behind me, where I am currently standing.

“Let me give you a short exercise, and I shall reward you for how well you succeed!” she offers.

“Sounds like fun!” I respond, nodding in agreement.

“Just mimic my moves, and it will all be a fun little game!” she proposes.

“I like the sound, of your game!” I respond, nodding vigorously.

“Good, then we begin!” she responds; motioning how she is sealing her rump, tightly.

“Oh, oh; ooohh!” I exclaim, as I realize the plug is inside, as I am reversing the dilation I had just performed.

While I could have dilated myself now, but I am firmly stuck with my rump on the wall.

“Good, and next..” she continues; “Excellent, excellent!” she ponders; as she is motioning for how to seal my lips.

“Mhmhm!” I mumble, though sealed lips, as I had just carelessly muted myself.

“Almost there!” she coos; as she is motioning for me, to seal up my orchid.

As I mirror the motion, she is spreading her arms, lifting up her hands; spreading her fingers wide, before she is smacking her hands firmly against the wall behind herself.

“Squeak!” I hear; as my hands hit the wall, now firmly stuck a foot over my head.

“If you please, let me complete your position for you?” she inquires.

“I had trusted her up until now, so why not?” I ponder, nodding vigorously in ascent.

With that, she is bending over, grabbing my ankles; just over my hooves; pull up my hooves and spread my legs wide. A moment later, she manages to push both my hooves up against the wall.

“Squeak!” I hear; as my hooves hit the wall, now firmly stuck onto the wall.

“Time for your reward!” she offers; as she is producing, what appears to be a regular lip-liner.

She is drawing a line along the rim of my right hoof, from the inner side, all the way out to the outer corner. The hoof now securely bonded to the silicon coating the wall

As she is letting go of the right hoof, she is repeating the process with my left hoof.

“There!” she chimes.

“Since you loved it, yesterday; you are bound, to love it now!” she coos, seductively.

“Bonded, may be the better term; for your current position, though!” she then corrects herself.

Once she had put the lip-liner away, she is kneeling before me, like a Queen. I realize, that she is kissing the top of my mound, parting her lips; before her tongue is emerging, and she starts to lick the petals of my orchid.

“I am completely and utterly hers, because I freely gave myself to her. Now I can experience her feeding on me; unreserved, and without any reservations!” I realize.

While I may not be a Changeling, by any means; but I am a part of her hive, physically.

“Is this, why the wall had been made out of silicon, just as the ensemble I am wearing?” I realize.

As the line had been completed, the hoof had fused to the wall; making it an integral part of the wall, just as the wall is part of the hoof. Inseparable; unless the bond itself had been broken, or voided?

I had been introduced to the dilation, and taken to it; before I had made the leap, confirming it once and for all. I had dilated myself, before she entered, and thus she knew I had done it. To myself, nonetheless. Of course, my joy and excitement had only strengthened the effect, and as I gave myself over to her freely; to do with as she pleases, I have no idea as to just how deep it will integrate itself into me.

Now I am feeling the tips of her nails and fingers on my rump; as she is caressing me, teasing me further and further. She is even feeling the smooth seal I had created; as she had instructed and incited me, into giving myself to her.

“Oooh..” she coos, in obvious excitement; “I had not expected her to make this tight a seal; not sure I would have put it in myself, if I had tried!” she continues.

“Wait.. what?” she realizes; “Could I even break the seal, in order to dilate; if I tried to liberate her, now?” she considers.

“This is not the effect of the bond, I applied to her hooves!” she concludes.

She had finished her examination of the seal, well before she had given me the promised ten minutes, causing my first orgasm.

After a minute, I am no longer aware; of where her fingers are, or what they are doing. Likewise, my eyes had slowly closed. I keep them closed, enjoying the gift she is awarding me.

I am wet, and she is lapping away at my orchid and its petals. I feel the joy and excitement, in each and every move; as the tip of her tongue is playing the most wondrous symphony only I can ever experience. I am her instrument, and the tip of her tongue is the hands playing.

Just after the orgasm hits, she is withdrawing. She is giving me the time; to regain the equilibrium, under the constant influence of the excitement caused by the first orgasm.

As my heart-beat and breathing is calming down, she returns; and the tip of her tongue is once more touching the petals of my orchid. This, is the overture; it is going to last for an entire hour, after which I have become completely orgasmic.

She is pushing me from the orgasm, into the orgasmic state. I am finding me; in the grasp of the cycle, the loop of the continuous orgasm.

I am alive, and the orgasm is my heart. I feel its pulse throughout my entire body; as it is saturating my very soul. Only now, this time; I realize that it has spread farther than it ever had. Because I am the wall, and the wall is fused to me.

Entering the orgasmic state, is basically bushing me into a sensory overload; bushing everything out into the periphery, but it feels so good I can’t put a finger on how to word it. I guess you just have to be there, to experience it to understand?

She had left me for three hours before, each time; though now she made the point, by leaving me to simmer, for longer than that. I am not actively aware of the time, more than I had been, had I been knocked unconscious.

It is not, as if it is illegal or dangerous to stay for more than these stipulated three hours; it is just their policy standard, to keel me for three hours. It serves the purpose, and is perfectly harmless. The three hours came and went. Minutes ticking by; then the hours coming and going.

Mistress is entering the room, pulling the plug on me; a few minutes later, I am experiencing the long overdue climax. In exhaustion, I am collapsing; falling unconscious, where I am stuck onto the wall. She leaves me, as she had found me. No comment, and no reaction.

With my hands still stuck where the Assistant had placed them, my hooves fused to the wall and my rump holding on to the plug; I am fairly secure in place, even if I guess my head is drooping now. Pinned down, and spread out; I am not going anywhere, any time soon.

I had this weird dream, where I have a clock before me, constantly telling me the time. As if, there is a purpose in knowing how long I am stuck in place? Though it is telling me something, I am sound asleep. Since I don’t feel anything else, I am safe where I am.

I feel warm, hot and wet. Though something is off, even if I can’t put a finger to how or why. Other than that my hands are stuck to the wall, palms down; I am still incapable, of pointing out what is off.

The only way I can say that I had woken up, is that the clock is no longer on the wall, as I am actually opening my eyes. I shake my head, in dazzled confusion. I blink a few times, yet the clock refuses to be there. Then it all comes back to me; I never had a clock on the wall, not in this room.

I never had anything on my wall, for as long as I had been staying here. I can’t even recalling; ever having anything on the wall, let alone a clock. Now I had become the only wall-decoration in the room. Though the room had been sealed of, by Mistress herself. Since Queen Chrysalis is never on this level, it means that I am left alone.

“You need me, to cut you some slack?” I hear a voice.

As I rapidly blink several times; I see the figure beside the table, being my Assistant herself. She is holding a sharp knife in her right hand, cutting vegetables; while making an amusing impression with a wide grin on her face. Is it Pinkie Pie, or Discord himself she is trying to impersonate? I have no clue. Maybe I did not know either of them, well enough.

“Mhmhmhm!” I mumble, through sealed lips; as I am trying to wink, at her.

“If you don’t need me to cut you some slack, maybe I could tempt you with some jummy vegetables?” she inquires.

Then she is finally looking up, or making the impression of looking up; while she had known of my predicament, all along. It is after all she; who had made me stick to the wall, after she had placed me here in the first place.

“I guess she could make a tasty salad, out of the vegetables she is slicing!” I ponder, still feeling the delicious scent from her work.

“You really did pt yourself in a tight spot, there; but I hope, I could reward you for the effort on your part!” she acknowledges.

I just wink at her. Little else, I could do; in the position I had just found myself, as I am still stuck firmly onto the wall.

“By the looks of it, and the scent I am sensing from you; you have indeed stepped over, you can no longer deny it even to yourself!” she offers, as explanation on where I am.

“Oh!” I ponder, winking back at her, again.

“Should I offer you an appetizer, before I serve you the salad?” she is proposing, suggesting I could enjoy her taste.

“Sounds delicious!” I find myself considering, before I realize what I had been thinking.

She had obviously chosen this line of attack, in an attempt to tease me. I had not complained; though I guess I am at a loss of words, and other means to express myself right now. Still, she seems to have a sense for my current state of mind.

She could have broken or voided the bond holding my hooves in place, just as she could have snapped my hands off of the wall; though I am still stuck in place, and she seems unable to do anything about it. Even if she could have given me the tools, required; for me to pull myself out of this, if she had chosen to do so now.

She just refused to let on. In favour, of keeping me in place; enabling her to offer me, what she had intended to have for me.

I could do nothing, in order to stop her; though I guess, I could have given her something to remember me by. Had I not agreed, to what she is just proposing to offer me.

“While I think I know what she is offering, but what is it she is giving me?” I ponder.

Maybe, my position is not quite as awkward and inconvenient from her perspective?

I had been following her with my eyes, observing her every move; now she had finished her work, preparing my salad. She is leaving the bowl, where she stood; with the knife behind the bowl, just out of sight. From the door, at least.

She is walking up to me, stopping and standing before me; now I notice just how excited she is, where she is standing mere inches from me. I assume it is my presence, exciting her; based on her actions prior to this moment, and how she was when Mistress was instructing her to eat me.

“I need your lips parted for this, and I trust you are going to enjoy what I have to offer!” she points out; before she is applying the touch-pads of her index-fingers, breaking the seal as she is dilating my mouth to a more normal mode.

I am finding myself salivating, as I have the lubrication coating my lips. Maybe she had left residual effects of sealing my lips on purpose, or that will just take time to revert back to normal?

She lifts up her hands, pressing the palms of her hands onto the wall. From there; she is merely continuing, to climb up the wall. She stops, considering for a moment; before she is moving to correct her position, placing her mound over my face.

While I guess I had still expected a regularly looking vagina, with all the details I had been associated with the anatomical appearance of the female sex; what I am faced with is more akin to the blossom, even if not quite an orchid either.

She is wet and dripping with the thick nectar. I manage to extend my still rubbery tongue, far enough to reach her more delicate parts. The juicy nectar is thick and sweet to the taste; just as I guess I should have been expecting. If this is all there had been to it, but I am finding the taste as delicious, as I had been expecting.

While the nectar may still be sweet; I also find it rather elastic and sticky to the touch.

“I am indeed eating her!” I realize; as I continue to lap away at the nectar-coated petals of her orchid.

“Is this how she felt, as she was eating me?” I consider, as I continue to enjoy her rich taste.

I find myself drawn to continue, lapping away at her; eagerly eating her, as I lap away at each and every last drop of the nectar she is producing for me. The thick juices, of hers; evidence of how excited she is, and how she is feeling about me. Of course, she had after all presented herself to me; I had never been required to ask it of her, or tried to make her do it for me in the first place.

“Could I have refused, now; not lapping at her, and extracting the richness she is so eagerly serving me?” I ponder.

I had known the answer, all along; but now I am here, and she is offering me something I had not realized I could have enjoyed.

“Whoa?” I ponder; “This feels good!” I realize, as I continue to eat her; “She is exciting me, and I draw pleasure from eating her!” I consider.

There is a vaguely tingling sensations on my lips, as I touch her mound; though the sensation is even stronger at the tip of my tongue, to the point where I dare stretch as far as to call it pleasurable.

The longer I am continuing, the stronger the sensations become, and the stronger the urge to continue becomes. Should I consider it sexual?

She is wet, slippery; as the tip of my tongue slip over her flesh, as I continue to eat.

I can’t pull back, largely because she is the one pressing her orchid into my face; but I do not want to, as if I could never get quite enough, of what she had offered me. What she is continuously offering me, for as long as she is desiring to offer herself.

Time is passing, and I continue. She is nourishing me, as I am eating her. My pleasure, the confirmation she had been expecting and hope for. I am eagerly giving her the confirmation; as I eat, pleasing and pleasuring at my heart’s content.

As if on cue, I plunge my tongue into the tunnel; into her, her vagina. She is tight, and tightening up; yet she is wet and slippery, urging me to continue.

Initially, I push my tongue as far in as I can; only to pull back an inch or two. Never pulling out, but then pushing back. The further in I push, the tighter she is, and the further out I pull, the tighter she is again. She guides me, as I am eating her out, lapping away, at her.

While she is staying wet and slippery, I realize it is coarse beneath the slippery nectar; only stimulating me further, in her effort to keep me inside.

I am appreciating her efforts, in entertaining me; as I am feeding, and pleasured by her.

She is pacing herself, as she is pacing me; leaving me with the time, to properly appreciate it and digest what she is offering.

I still feel the juices slowly flowing down my throat, as she is slowly growing tighter and tighter over time. My tongue, slowly stretching and contracting; wearing me out, as I am growing full.

As she continues to contract around my tongue, I am continuously slowing down, slowed down by the growing friction and pressure she is putting around my tongue. In the end, she is easing up, and my tongue is slipping out; before she is pulling back and climbs down onto the floor once more.

“There, that should tend to your dietary pleasures for the time being!” she puts forth.

“Yummy, I think I could get used to this!” I respond.

“That is why I am here, to help you adapt to what we have to offer you!” she explains.

“What you offer, is delicious!” I respond.

“Your praises honours me, just as I know they are pleasing Mistress!” she points out.

“Praises, well earned; both on your part and Mistress, if I can say so myself!” I point out.

“Thank you, Miss; you most certainly may, and it pleases me to hear it!” she puts forth.

“Mistress hand-picked me as her Assistant, because she felt I was a perfect match for her; in the pursuit, of pleasing the next girl entering this Dungeon!” she then explains.

“Mistress herself, in turn; was hand-picked, to become a Mistress for this particular Dungeon. Based on her eagerness, enthusiasm and skills; all aimed at performing the task before her, as a Mistress!” she concludes.

“This may be my first Dungeon, but I do enjoy my stay immensely!” I ponder.

“Of course, you were hand-picked; for Mistress to treat you, to your initiation, here at our Dungeon!” she elaborates; “Based on the presented characteristics we had on you, at the time!” she adds.

I blink, and as I am opening my eyes once more; Mistress is standing before me, by the side of her Assistant.

“I think it is time!” Mistress pronounces.

“Yes!” the Assistant responds, in obvious awe.

“The tube, her tube!” Mistress inquires, resolutely.

“Yes!” the Assistant responds, “Right here!” she continues, as she is presenting the clear silicon item before her Mistress.

“Oh!” I mouth.

Mistress accept the item, as she is approaching me; tube in hand, she then proceeds to insert the tube into my belly button.

“There!” she concludes, as she is observing my changes taking place before them.

A moment later, my face had retained all the equine characteristics I had been given; both the muzzle and the ears. I realize, my tongue had grown considerably; in order to fill my mouth’s new length. My ears, stiffly perking up at attention.

I had once more sprouted the tail, I had once experienced; while this tube had been inserted, at an earlier event.

“On three!” Mistress proclaims; as the both of them takes position by my right and left hand, respectively.

“One, two, three!” Mistress is counting, and they simultaneously release my hand, as one.

“One small favour?” the Assistant inquires.

“Oh, yes!” Mistress responds; then they grab my legs, just above the hoof.

Once, twice, thrice; they give my hooves progressively stronger pulls. To no avail, apparently; since my hooves stay, firmly in place.

“Oh?” I ponder.

While I do feel my hooves stretch, neither hoof came even close to being pulled free; though I can concede, I could also feel the wall stretch as it was budging under their efforts. Just enough, I’d might add; for me to feel it, never anywhere close to letting go or becoming deformed.

They gave up, after the obviously futile attempt; though I guess, they never intended to pull me off of the wall in this manner. It only serves, to make a Point; aside from the effects it has on my hooves, for them to attempt to pull me free. Maybe the point, had been to further the blending of my hooves with the wall; since I had been bonded to the silicon of the wall, which in a sense mixed my essence with that of the wall already.

“Oh, oh!” I exclaim.

“Wait, but of course; that is what you need!” Mistress exclaims, as she is offering her Assistant a lip-liner.

“Thank you, Mistress; this should be a breeze, now!” she responds, as she is accepting the item.

“Let’s have some fun, shall we?” Mistress suggests; “How about you extract that plug, inserted in your rump?” she continues.

“Yes, I think I could do that!” I respond, without a thought.

I reach back, placing my hands on my rump; before I slide my hands further in until I am reaching the plug, now extending the tips of my index-fingers towards the spot.

“Oh, ah!” I mouth, as I feel the edge; then promptly dilate myself all the way out, before I had even realized it.

My Assistant steps forwards, supporting me; as she is helping me down towards the floor, without smashing my face on the smooth surface.

“Now, close up; and we can continue, to free you from the wall!” Mistress puts forth.

With just a little effort, on my part; I can closing up, leaving my rump as if I had never dilated it in the first place. I reach for the floor, slowly and gently; supporting my weight, mainly on the tips of my fingers.

No squeak; as I had set down my hands, on the floor. The Assistant slowly step up towards the wall; extends her right hand, and draw the line along the outer rim of my hoof. As the tip of the pencil hits the wall, I instantly feel it; and as she is drawing a continuous line the bond is slowly letting go. Only as the line is complete, is my hoof popping free from the wall. The Assistant is repeating the process, with the same result. My left hoof soon slides down to the floor.

“There!” Mistress points out; “How does it feel now?” she then inquires.

“A bit unfamiliar, but otherwise quite good!” I respond; “Why does she imply, something should have changed?” I ponder.

Maybe I should have taken the time, to explore how it feels more; yet I had foregone that, as it did not quite feel as if there was anything to explore. Once I am standing on my own two hooves, I feel as if it had been normal to me.

The fact, that something within me had changed; had completely escaped me, as if there was no reason anything could have changed.

I had never reflected on how my ears follow them, as they speak and move before. Now, it is just normal to me. My muzzle is just a part of me, as if I had been born with it. I have a tail, but as an Equine, I don’t use it all that much now.

“Since this is complete, I will leave the two of you alone!” Mistress is informing us, as she is heading towards the door.

As she is stepping out, I am focusing on the Assistant; who is still staying with me, for a while longer. Well, just a little while longer.

“With that, out of the way; I would recommend that you enjoy the salad I had just prepared for you, a moment ago!” the Assistant points out.

“Sounds delightful!” I respond.

“Then I will leave you, to enjoy the meal!” she offers.

“Thank you, for everything!” I respond.

“You are quite welcome!” she puts forth; “It was my pleasure, to help you!” she then adds.

“I am bound to believe her, there!” I ponder, as she is stepping out of the room, and I am turning towards the salad she prepared for me.

Walking the Girl: 11

Author's Note

Handleler's POV

Walking the Girl: 11

I am entering the room, in which the girl known as Ms. April had just had her breakfast. At least; that is what I had been told, by the Mistress’ Assistant.

Naturally, I had no reason to doubt the Assistant’s word. That is not, how we do things here. No Mistress would stand for it.
“Greetings, Ms. April!” I address her; just as I had closed the door, behind me.

“Greetings, Ms. Handler!” she responds, in kind.

“How very appropriate!” I ponder; “How are you doing, today?” I inquire.

“Very well; thank you for asking, Ms. Handler..” she responds; “and you?” she adds.

“Very well; thank you for asking, Ms. April!” I respond.

“At least, the formalities have been concluded..” I ponder; “Time for the more pleasant business!” I continue.

“You have enjoyed your stay; here at the Dungeon, Ms. April?” I inquire.

From what I had been told; she is doing very well, and there was no reason to believe she had not enjoyed it here. I enjoy the pleasantries, and thus ask a few polite questions.

“I love it here; both my Mistress and my Assistant, have been great to me!” she responds.

“That pleases me to hear!” I respond; “They have been quite pleased, with you and your progress as well!” I concede; “It is time, I get down to business; I need you to disrobe for me!” I conclude, as I extract the tube inserted into her belly button.

“Thank you, thank you!” she responds, with a slight hint of an oncoming blush.

“Oh, oh; Oooh!” she responds, as I extract the tube.

A moment later, all the extensions of her body reverts to the original state; leaving her a perfectly normal looking girl, aside from the manicure and make-up. These are not related to the tube; and can’t be considered extensions, of her biological body.

“That feels odd! Now I will simply have to get used to; who I was before I signed in, at the Dungeon!” she mumbles, somewhat disappointed and surprised.

“Yes, I am afraid that is the case; but you will be able to blend in, with the crowd of people outside!” I put forth.

“My speech sounds, and feels funny!” she explains; “I can no longer trace a sounds, with my ears!” she then continues.

“Yes, I know; but now I need you, to slip out of your stockings!” I respond.

“Oh, okay; but this will make me feel strangely naked, and uncomfortable!” she puts forth, as she starts reaching for the rim of the right stocking.

“I will be here every step of the way, supporting you; besides, I will see you slip into something more casual soon enough!” I reassure her.

“Thank you, Handler; this will make the transition go much smoother, and comfortable!” she responds, as she is slipping the right stocking down her thigh.

She continues, unhindered; slipping the stocking of and pulls it all the way off. Her leg and foot soon reverts to its original, natural state. As she is setting down the right foot, she is automatically lifting the left hoof; while she is reaching for the rim of the left stoking. A moment later, she is pulling the left stocking of off her leg, finding the leg revert to its natural state.

“There; that was not so hard, was it?” I inquire.

“No, but it just felt so unnatural; to take these stockings off of me, before I had started!” she explains.

“In a few moments, this will feel perfectly natural and normal to you!” I offer, in support.

“It will?” she inquires; somewhat insecure, uncertain about herself.

“I have a pair of ankle-socks, for you to try on; these should counteract the initial unease, once you put them on!” I offer; “These toe-socks, will look good in open shoes; and make the shoes more comfortable, to wear and walk around in!” I explain.

“Okay; thank you, Handler!” she responds; as she is accepting the socks, and is visibly lightening up considerably.

“Yes; you will see, in just a moment!” I respond, as I am observing her.

She is lifting her right foot, slipping it right into the sock; before she is setting the foot down onto the floor. With the right foot, on the floor, she is lifting her left foot; slipping it into the socks, and finally place the foot onto the floor.

“Oh!” she exclaims; “Looks and feels perfectly normal!” she then adds, with both feet firmly on the floor.

“I have a pair of matching gloves, for you to wear!” I explain; offering her the semi-frosted looking, otherwise crystal clear gloves.

“These will fit?” she inquires; “I do have pretty long nails!” she then observes; as if the nails should present a problem, when she is putting the gloves on.

“Yes, your hands will fit perfectly into these gloves; you will see, just put them on?” I point out; as I am explaining the purpose of the gloves, I had just offered the girl.

“Oh, okay; if you promise, the gloves will fit..” she responds, as she is slipping her right hand into the glove; “Then I will put them on!” she continues, as she is offering the glove a few tentative tugs: once, twice and thrice.

“Hay, what do you know?” she puts forth; as she notices the glove fitting perfectly, just as I had promised her.

Now I watch her, as she is slipping her left hand, into the second glove; offering the glove a few tentative tugs: one, twice and thrice.

First now, with both gloves on; she takes the time, to examine her hands. As she is exploring the fit, flexing her fingers; she is observing her now perfectly normal an inoffensive looking hands, with mounting awe.

“No suction-cups visible, no sensitive touch-pads visible; and my nails are looking almost perfectly normal, as if I had never accepted the manicure when I arrived!” she exclaims.

“Yes, exactly; just as I promised, the gloves did not act up?” I put forth.

“My hands feel perfectly normal..” she observes; “Just like the hands of any girl on the street!” she then concludes.

“Your hands will not betray you, for as long as you are wearing these gloves; though it is time to slip out of the panties and top, so you can dress up for the adventure ahead!” I point out.

“I may be a bit: matter of fact, but as a Handler; I have to pronounce my intent strictly, so she is understanding my intent as clearly as possible!” I ponder; reminding myself of what it means to be a Handler, in the first place.

I am constantly observing the girl, in order to be on top of the situation; knowing what to say, and how to react. I am after all the Handler; and she is the pet, to me. Her nudity does not bother me, in the least; considering she is the Pet, in the room. I am acting, accordingly; never letting on if it bothers me or if I care.

“Oh, okay!” she responds, as she is sliding her panties down her thighs; stepping out of the garment, before she is placing the panties on the table.

“Here, try these..” I offer; handing her a pair of black, silky looking panties; “These should be your size!” I point out, reassuringly.

“Oh, okay!” she responds, as she is accepting the panties I had just offered her; “They do look a bit small, and tight; but if she says they will fit, I take her on her word!” she ponders, quietly; as her more submissive side, is starting to reassert itself upon her.

“Little by little, I am gaining her trust; by proving the point, knowing what I say is the absolute truth!” I ponder.

“Feels, as if a Tailor had crafted these to my measurements; but I had never afforded myself, to contract a Tailor to craft my clothes before!” she confesses.

“Silk is the best, for classy underwear!” I propose; guiding her towards where I want her to go, hinting what I want her to believe the garment had been made out of.

“I have always dreamt of wearing silk-panties, but I rarely can afford it; but these are exactly, what I had pictured them to feel like!” she responds, confirming the given image.

“I need you to slip your top of, for me; so that you can wear a matching set, when you go out!” I instruct her.

“Oh, okay!” she responds, as she is slipping the top up over her head, before she is placing it on the panties, she just slipped out of.

“Here, try this..” I offer; handing her the top matching the panties, she is currently wearing.

“Oh, okay!” she responds, as she is accepting the black, silky looking top, I had just offered her.

I observe her, as she is slipping the top on; just as I know, she had slipped into her top at home, numerous times before.

“Oh, there is one small detail..” I put forth, almost as if it had been something I had forgotten to mention; “If you turn towards the wall, and go down on all fours?” I then put forth.

“I trust you!” she mumbles, as she is conceding to my instructions; turning towards the indicated wall, before she is going down on all fours.

I observe her standing on all fours, as if her hands had been the paws of a dog. After a moment, I reach forwards, pulling her panties down a little bit beyond the orifice; pick up her plug, and insert it into her rump in practiced and exaggerated slow motion. I manage to stretch the moment for over an entire minute. She is patiently waiting, as I am leaving her ample time to explore the sensations and emotions involved in her experience.

“Oh, oh, oh; oh, oh, oh; oh, oh, oh..” she ponders; as she is experiencing the plug stretching her and filling her up, to the brim.

No protest, and no resistance; whatsoever, from her during the entire event. As much as I had stretched this out; she does not hit towards any discomfort or impatience, on her part.

“She made it feel, as if the plug would never end; but it feels good, knowing she would not force or rush it in the least!” she ponder; “I just love, how this feels; she filled me up to the brim!” she is realizing.

“There, I will just pull up your panties again!” I offer.

“Why does it feel so natural; to stand on all fours, like this?” she ponders; as the sensation is slowly sinking in, where she is patiently and comfortably remaining on all fours.

I leave her, on all fours for a moment; observing her reactions, in her current position. I can find no sign of discomfort, in her.

“No point, in delaying!” ponder; “Raise to your feet, please!” I instruct her.

A moment later, she is making an attempt to comply; taking her just a few minutes, before she is finally standing upright on her own two feet. She had not asked for any assistance; but managed to get up, all by herself.

“Since we are going out today; I need you to dress up, accordingly!” I explain.

“Is that, why I am wearing the silken panties and top?” she inquires.

“Yes, exactly!” I respond; ” I can’t have you, embarrassing yourself; by showing up nude or even poorly dressed!” I elaborate.

“Thank you, Handler!” she responds.

“Here, try this!” I offer; as I am handing her a fairly narrow, cotton pencil skirt.

The fit may be a bit on the tight side, but the material should be elastic enough; for her to put it on, and be able to walk comfortably in it.

“Thank you, Handler!” she responds, as she is accepting the sapphire blue garment.

I am observing her; as she is slipping the skirt on, with little to no problem in the process. In the end, she is giving the skirt a few tentative tugs; once, twice and thrice. The skirt does obtain the desired fit, and she will be comfortable wearing it.

“Here, try this on!” I offer; as I am handing her a matching blouse, to wear.

“Thank you, Handler!” she responds, as she is accepting the garment.

She is unbuttoning the blouse, before she is slipping her right and left hand into the respective sleeve; before she is buttoning the blouse with practiced ease, from the bottom and all the way up to the top.

“You make me feel; like a smart girl, ready to go out on a date!” she concedes.

“That is the point!” I offer; “Then you are not going to embarrass yourself, by looking out of place!” I put forth.

“No, of course not!” she merely responds.

“Here, try this on!” I offer; as I am handing her a short-cropped, midriff mate, black leather-jacket.

“Thank you, Handler!” she responds; as she is accepting the offered jacket.

I observe her pulling the zipper down, before she is slipping her right and left hand into the respective sleeve, before zipping it half-way up between her breasts.

“Maybe a bit tight, around my breasts; but it makes me feeling so hot and busty, I could almost burst!” she concedes.

“It does not make you uncomfortable; to be the receiver, of all the attention?” I inquire.

“Normally; I imagine it would, but if you approved it I should be fine!” she offers; “You propped me up; so that I should be feeling smart and sexy, without a care in the world!” she adds.

“Since I need you to feel confident, in yourself; it is my part to prop you up, towards that end!” I agree; “This should make you the girl you want to be, if and when you chose to go out; instead of cowering, in the safety and sanctity of your own cramped flat!” I propose.

“Thank you, Handler!” she responds, more and more on reflex.

“Don’t worry; I will not ask you, to step over the cliff!” I ponder, giggling at the expression.

“One final detail, before we go out; you could by no means go out, barefoot!” I point out.

“Oh, of course not!” she responds.

“Here, try these on!” I respond; presenting her a pair of beautiful ultra-high heels, with just a bit of plateau to them.

She momentarily looks down, and gasps; before she is approaching the foot-wear bravely. She does not want to let me down, after everything she thinks I have done for her. I could not blame her, exactly; how could I, after all she is doing for me.

“If you think, I could wear these? I will!” she promises; almost as if her life had been pending on, if she had managed to wear these shoes.

“Of course, you can!” I ascertain her; “Besides, you will be stunning; wearing these, as we step out into the city!” I point out, matter of fact.

“Just looks a bit tight, and I am not used to wearing high heels!” she concedes, almost as if the fact had been embarrassing her.

After another moment of hesitation; I can see her slip the right foot into the top of the shoe; slipping it in, with surprising ease. As the foot had slipped in; she attempts to place her weight on the foot; finding herself stand up, with shocking comfort. Just a few inches above, what she had thought she could be comfortable with.

Once she is standing steadily on her right foot; she continues, to slip the left foot into the other shoe. She momentarily hesitate, pondering if she needs to bend over; to reach the straps of the shoes, by herself.

I bend over, pressing a seemingly invisible button; at the top of the shoe, front and center. As I am pressing the button, the shoe is tightening up, comfortably; holding the foot steadily in a phantom-grip. Once the first shoe is properly secured; I repeat the process, securing the left shoe in the same manner.

“Turn around, face the door!” I point out; “Just give yourself a moment; to see your feet in the shoes, and get accustomed to your new stature!” I instruct her, generously.

She turns around, stands still; then she braves it, casting a glance down at her feet.

“Oh, oh; Ooh!” she exclaims; “Stunning, just as you had promised!” she concedes, eagerly.
“Shall we, my Dear!” I offer, as I am placing my arm around her waist, then starts moving towards the door.

"Of course, my Dear!” she responds, following me quite eagerly.

I open the door, and step out; with her by my side, as I continue into the hall. Only stopping, in order to close the door behind myself. From there, I continue down the hall. I open the door before me, and close it behind me. She stays at my side; almost as an obedient dog, on command. After a moment, I am leading her into the lobby.

“Greetings, Handler and Miss!” the Lobbyist addresses us.

“Greetings, Lobbyist!” I respond, and she is echoing me.

“I am taking Miss out on a stroll on the town!” Handler concedes, informing the Lobbyist exactly where we are going.

“Of course, Handler; have fun, and see you when you are back!” the Lobbyist responds.

“Just like going out on my first date, as he has just picked me up; before he is taking me out!” she realizes.

“A brisk walk, should do us a world of good!” I offer; “Besides, I think you will enjoy getting used to your new shoes!” I then suggest.

“Yes, I believe it will!” she responds; “I always need to take my new shoes out, on a walk down-town; every time I buy new once, before I can claim them as my own!” she adds.

I continue the short distance up to the door, open it and step right out; she is by my side, refusing to stray.

“A walk in the twilight, always brings me into the mood; even if I may have wished, for company like you more often!” I concede, as I am leading her down the street.

“Clip, clop; clip, clop!” is heard, from her most effeminate shoes; as she is following me, to where I am going.

“Why, oh why; is this feeling so comfortable and natural, all over again?” she ponders, as she is following me; “You were right; it is almost, as if I had been walking bare-foot in the grass!” she concedes.

“As it should be, or I had been worried!” I offer, in confidence.

“Just as I thought, they are watching me!” she puts forth, as she is feeling eyes glued to her.

“Yes, but they are admiring you!” I explain, matter of fact.

“I guess I could not blame them, right now!” she concedes.

“Me neither!” I respond; “You will be used to it, before the night is over; then it will barely register, when they admire you the next time!” I point out, with a slight hint of a chuckle.

I leave her, with a moment, for what I had just said to sink in; as we continue walking in silence. Of course, we are almost there now. The first hint of the scent of her establishment; slowly making its way, as I am leading her towards the building.

Even now, in the state as a regular human girl; she could not ignore it, for all that much longer. How could she?

I am slowly waking her, towards the Party Palace; owned and operated, by a certain Diane Pie. It is a humongous sky-scraper constructed out of glass and steel. Though the outer facade had been laid with a special brand of Ginger-bread, coated and treated, to stand up to the elements, and the test of time.

“I guess, it is finally time for you; to get out of the box, and face people, again!” I suggest.

“Yes, I guess!” she responds, now sniffing the air.

“While it has been a joy, to be at the Dungeon; maybe I do need to get out, to see people in the fresh outdoors air?” she acknowledges.

“There is someone I would like you to see; someone very special, and she will be waiting for us!” I respond, “Miss Diane Pie, she is tending the counter at the cafe; I am taking you to, tonight!” I explain.

“A cafe, sounds nice!” she responds.

“I was hoping, to offer you a treat; at this cafe, in just a moment!” I put forth.

“Guess I can’t say no, to a treat?!” she offers, giggling.

“It’s a great time to hang out, outside the Dungeon; and you need to get used to life outside, eventually!” I propose.

“I had never expected to enjoy my time, at the Dungeon this much; but I guess I need to reclaim my life at some point!” she concedes.

“I guess people has a different image, of what a visit to a Dungeon is like? I suggest.

“While I guess the discipline and punishment still are there, but it isn’t what kept me staying for this long!” she admits.

“We do cater for a wide range of tastes and kink!” I admit; “Limiting one-self too much; only hurt the pleasure and business, overall in the long run!” I point out.

“Yes, and it is worth the risks involved to chance a new experience!” she puts forth.

“Yes, that it does; but I think we’re here, now!” I point out, as I am reaching the door.

The lobby looks, almost as if it had been intended to be a gigantic greenhouse at construction. Only to be engulfed in the construction of a sky-scraper; subsumed in the structure and purpose.

Two sliding doors open, before us; permitting us entrance and swallows us whole, in a single gulp. There is no rush of air, as the doors open. Though the scents, of numerous confectioneries assault our sinuses; the moment we cross the threshold, into the lobby.

“This is sweeter than a sugar-shop!” she exclaims, a moment after entering the building.

Of course, we had entered an entirely different realm, as we entered the cafe; this is the world belonging to Diane Pie. Otherwise known as Pinkie. Does she do everything, just for pinks? Just to make another friend. Or, just for that one last smile?

The store-front windows are lined with showcases; all lined with various types of confectioneries of every imaginable flavour. There is a desk-counter; behind which a girl is standing, looking at us as we enter.

Her hair is standing out on top of her head; giving the impression of deep pink cotton candy. Her wide grin, unrivaled by any means. Otherwise, she is looking almost as any blue-eyed girl on the street; just with a somewhat pinker complexion than the standard norm would have suggested.

She wears a deep, bright pink tank-top and matching skirt; in a glossy and smooth material reminiscent of latex or rubber. It is spotless.

After a moment, I notice the hint of a pink eye-shadow, even if I guess the lip-gloss is over the top obvious. My girl is spotting the details on her own, without my assistance to point anything out.

“Welcome to the pink Party Palace!” she exclaim a moment after she lays eyes on us; “I am Diane Pie!” she points out; “But call me Pinkie; all my friends do, and I would like for you to be my friends, too!” she offers.

“Why do I have the impression, of a Candy-floss mare?” Miss April ponders, as she is watching Pinkie Pie before her.

“Hello, Pinkie!” I respond, and April echoes me a moment later.

“She is such a good Girl!” I ponder.

“What can I tempt you with, today; I have every kind of confectionery you could imagine: Cupcakes, muffins.. cakes and other pastries!” she blurts out.

I can’t quite follow her description of all the confectioneries she is pointing at. Then again, I have been here a few times before; and I have picture, of what I think I like. If I could eat the rest; but I choose to pick a favourite treat, and leave the rest where they lie.

This is kind of like going to a Cat Cafe, when I am walking a girl. It is nothing against the girl, it is just the service I am offering; I am walking the girl, so I am treating her like the Pet she wishes to be. Even if this is just a scenario, and I am quite happy to oblige.

When I am walking a Girl; I take her out to the park, I visit the Cafe, or any number of other activities I can offer her in this capacity.

I love walking the Girl; it lets me do so many things, I enjoy doing. I love visiting the Cafe, just to see Pinkie; though I have nothing against having a treat, as I am at it. Maybe it is also; because it feels as if I had been offending Pinkie, if I refused to.

If there is anyone I don’t want to offend, it is Pinkie; mainly because of my nature, but also because I do not find it very pleasant to see how she is reacting.

Pinkie Pie is hilarious, when happy; just as she is terrifying if offended. It is not something you do for fun, if you catch my drift.

All of a sudden, I feel the echo of the Candy-mare rhyme on the air, and it is giving me a shill all the way down my spine.

With just a single glance at me, she is dispelling the problem; in a way only she can, however she does it.

“I hope you are up; for something sweet, Miss!” I offer the girl.

“Yes, but there are just so many options!” she echoes, quietly.

“Don't even get her started, on the options in here!” I whisper.

“Oh?” she echoes, with a confused expression on her face.

“Maybe I will explain, on the way home!” I offer.

“Thank you, Handler; maybe, if you want to!” she responds.

“Oh, but of course!” I respond; “Though I think we should be enjoying the assortment of pastries?” I suggest, nudging her towards the segment of interest.

“A super-sweet Strawberry muffin?” I gasp, as I find the pastry labeled “Strawb’s Muffin”

“Maybe, I should just have one of these?” she inquires, indicating the item, she had just discovered.

“We take two of these, Pinkie!” I put forth, indicating the muffin the girl had selected.

Not that I had to choose the same pastry, she wanted; just as she did not have to take the pastry, I like. Just that I would love to taste, what she had just discovered.

“Excellent choice, if you like strawberry and muffins!” she points out; standing behind me before I had realized, she had even moved out of the spot.

She holds two diminutive plates in her left hand; opening the counter indicated, and scoops out two muffins and deposit one on each plate.

“Anything else?” Pinkie inquires, eagerly.

“Sparkle-cola?” I inquire.

“Pink variety?” the girl inquires.

“Of course!” Pinkie responds.

“Can I have a package of these chewing-gums?” I offer.

“Yes, please; but of yours, you can!” Pinkie points out.

“These are for you!” I offer; whispering in the ear, of the girl by my side.

“Thank you!” she responds.

“You are eating here, today; Handler?” Pinkie inquires.

“Yes, please!” I respond; “My usual both, please!” I add; “I am expecting additional company, shortly!” I explain.

Or at least, I am trying to watch her; when she is moving too fast, for my eyes to follow or register what is happening.

“The booth is readily awaiting you!” she points out; “I will be with you in a moment!” she then adds.

“Don’t tell me, I already know who she is!” Pinkie ponders, with a widening grin on her face.

I follow her instruction, with the girl in tow; heading towards the booth, I am always enjoying as I am here.

“Is she breathing laughing-gas?” the girl inquires, quietly; as we step out of the lobby, on our way to the booth.

“You would believe?” I muse; “Elemental laughter, powerful stuff!” I just add.

“Breathing laughing-gas, like a dragon breathes fire?” I ponder, chucking at the mere thought.

While the floor of the Lobby may have been laid with black stone, in order to take the weight of the feet trampling the floor; the inner sanctum is laid with oak-wood. Though she chose the pink Cherry-wood panels for the walls, on a more thematic standpoint. She just loves Pink.

“Why does the decoration look like candy?” April asks, after a moment.

“Because Pinkie is a Pie, and her sensibilities are like the ways of God, mysterious and unfathomable for mere mortals like us!” I respond.

“Now you are making her scary!” I put forth; Yet, you love being in her company?” she inquires.

“Everyone loves to be in her company!” I point out; “You just feel good, being around her; “Maybe this is part of what is so scary about her?” I suggest.

“I felt that too, as I entered the room, where she is standing!” she responds.

“Everyone can feel the effect of her presence!” I put forth; “Though I am particularly sensitive to it!” I explain.

“By the way, here we are!” I point out, indicating the booth she had set aside for me.

I lift up my hand, extending it towards the door; press the palm of my hand down onto the plaque, and spread my fingers wide. The door opens instantly, as it is sliding up to grant me access to my booth.

“Right this way, please!” I extend to her, and she is following by my side into the room.

The door slides shut, a mere step behind us.

“Why does the seats’ cushions look like pink gummy-bear?” she inquires, taken aback by the interior decoration.

“It is pink, because Pinkie!” I put forth.

The table has a sofa up against the wall, on one side; then there are three comfortable looking armchairs opposing the sofa. Though the table looks more like Licorice, than anything else.

“Have a seat, please; April, the sofa or the chair?” I offer, with an outstretched hand, indicating the given options.

“I usually prefer the sofa; but for some reason, I am inclined to choose the chair this time!” she responds, then promptly sits down.

“I hope it is as comfortable, as it looks!” I offer.

“It may be a bit on the squishy side; but otherwise it is quite all right!” she responds.

“I thought as much, but what could you expect from gummy-bear cushions?” I tease.

I push in the seat, for her; just before the other door is sliding up, and Pinkie is stepping into the room. Naturally; she is carrying the plates and bottles with our Sparkle-cola, as she is entering.

“Here you go, hope it will be to your satisfaction!” she responds, before she is stepping right out of the booth.

Since Miss April is sitting down comfortably, I am lighting up my horn; before I am casting a simple spell, making the seat stick to her rump.

There is a buzz, as my second guest is waiting by the door.

“Just a moment, and I will let her in!” I point out, as I am answering the call.

I extend my right hand, lifting it up towards the plaque; before I am pressing the palm of my hand towards the bright, pink rubbery material and spread my fingers. The door slides up, and Miss May is stepping into the room. The door slides shut, just as I slip my hand off of the plaque.

“Hello, Handler!” she exclaims; “What a lovely surprise!” she continues; “Oh, and hello, Sis!” she concludes, as she is addressing me.

“Hello, Miss May; welcome in, and have a seat!” I greet her.

“Hello, Sis; such a lovely surprise to see you here today!” Miss April exclaims, excited to see her sister.

“I got an offer, I could not refuse!” May responds, promptly; while she is giggling at the situation.

“Have a seat, please; Miss May!” I offer; indicating the sofa and the two remaining chairs, by the table.

“Yes, please; Handler, thank you!” she responds, as she is taking the seat to the right of April.

I apply my spell onto the seat, upon which May is sitting; permitting the two sisters to share this moment, in a deeper meaning.

“Wait; you chose the strawb’s muffin?” May inquire; “I think I would love one, going by the scent alone!” she then adds.

“Then you shall have one!” I respond.

The next moment; Pinkie is by the door, carrying the teat extended to Miss May.

“I was expecting you, May; my pinkie-sense was tingling!” she merely points out, as she is placing the plate and bottle before May.

“Oh, yes!” May puts forth; “Handler, should I take of my gloves now?” she inquires; “Or later!” she concludes.

“Now, is as good a time as any!” I concede.

Pinkie quietly slipped out the back-door; intended for personal, only.

“I believe we are alone, now; so we can speak openly, without any interference from outsiders!” I prompt.

“Since Pinkie left the room, but she probably already knew everything since before we entered the palace anyway!” May points out.

“She wears gloves?” April ponders; “Similar; to identical, to the once I am wearing right now?” she considers.

“I hope you master handling objects without your gloves, May!” I point out; “Because it could be a bit embarrassing if you don’t!” I suggest.

“I believe I do, and it would be embarrassing!” May responds.

With that, she is slowly slipping the gloves off of her hands, right and left; leaving the gloves on the table before her, exposing her bare hands.

The first visible is the silicon-white suction-cups of the palms of her hands.

Of course we can also see her semi-square, crystal cleat nails; aside from the bright cerise touch-pads.

Aside from the alterations mentioned; her hands are close to identical, to what they were before.

Of course, it had been my intent; to expose her, to how her sister had changed before her. I observe April’s reactions on what her sister had become, and how the changes had transformed her. Then again; I had not just taken the sisters to the cafe to watch them. I could have exposed April to how her sister May had changed anywhere.

“Maybe spare a moment, and attention to the muffins and the Sparkle-cola?” I suggest.

“Yes!” May responds; “I am looking forwards to tasting my muffin!” she then continues.

“Oh, of course!” April responds; as she is shifting her attention, away from her sister and towards the muffin before her.

“Though you may still like to observe how May is picking up her muffin!” I offer.

May quietly picks up her muffin in a delicate grip; using only the tips of her fingers, barely permitting even the touch-pads touching the pastry in her right hand.

I can clearly detect her reactions, each time the soft muffin is touching her highly sensitive touch-pads, and when she is biting into her pastry. Each time she is shifting slightly, in her seat, as the muffin is touching her lips.

“Oh, oh!” May breathes, with each delicate touch.

After a few tentative bites; I shift more attention, toward enjoying my very own muffin. Even if I am still observing the sisters, as they are enjoying the treat I had offered them.

Of course, I can clearly feel the taste and scent of the strawberries involved in baking this muffin; though I guess it is still a super-sugary treat, just as promised. This is still a delicate muffin, expertly baked with infinite care.

“I am still amazed, by each new pastry I am sampling, at this place!” I ponder, as I realize what I am biting into.

My focus, momentarily obstructed. I am still observing the two girls; as they are enjoying their pastries with me. Every so many bites, a new sip on the cola provided; I had offered this, along with the muffin.

“I can not help myself; but enjoying to watch as a girl like May is handling herself, after she had gone through the changes, and taken the time to practice handling herself!” I ponder, as I am considering the two girls before me.

Little is said, but the pastries are finding themselves enjoyed, thoroughly enough.

“This is indeed delicious!” May contemplates, as she is just swallowing a mouth-full of muffin, she just washed down with a sip of Sparkle-cola.

“Yes!” April chimes in, in agreement.

“Though I guess I am distracted; by watching my sister, right now!” April concedes.

“How so?” I inquire; “You have seen her, before!” I offer.

“Yes, I have!” April responds; “Though that was before..!” she continues; “I had never had the opportunity of watching her putting in the delicate effort of just enjoying a muffin; quite like this, before!” she concludes.

“Oh?” May responds, with an obvious and open-hearted giggle.

“Maybe this is, why I referred you, to see the Dungeon for yourself!” May points out, still with a lingering hint of the giggle.

“Thank you, Sis!” April responds; “I have loved every instant of my stay, at the Dungeon!” she then offers.

“I could very well imagine; after having been there myself, first!” May puts forth.

“It was a wise decision, by our beloved Queen Chrysalis!” I ponder; “To place our Dungeon within walking distance of this place!” I conclude.

Just being in the same room, as these two lovely girls; is a heaven, to one such as me. I am soaking up every ounce of love and loveliness they radiate in my presence.

“It is, like sitting in a well-heated room; while the frigid blizzard is raging across the land, outside the house!” I ponder.

This is the privilege of the Handler. I am one of her Highness’ Handlers, for the Hive.

I am proud of who I am, and what I can do for my Queen and my hive. This does by no means diminish my respect for the Mistresses, or the Assistants; who works tirelessly, in the service or our beloved Queen. Their service is different, as are their respective privileges; but they serve our Queen just as well, and are receiving their due rewards and privileges just as certainly. They were made to enjoy what they have, just as I was.

I had been informed, of this Party Palace, early in my time at the Hive; I was instructed to sample the establishment for myself and to take the girls I was put to handle here.

If other Handlers visit the place, or goes elsewhere is not my problem. I take the girls I am handling here; for the rewards offered. As a Handler, I am primed to walk the streets and observe the girls outside the Hive. I am helping them to adjust back into their society. With that said, I am introducing them to the social order at this place.

Exposing the girls to this world, is indeed a pleasure; to one such as me, just as I had learned so long ago.

Now I am soaking in the heat provided, enjoying myself; as I am observing them interact, leading them back to where they came from. This is a world, very different from mine.

While in a rather contemplative state; I am observing these two girls, acting and interacting. I am enjoying myself; as I observe these two girls, while still eating the muffin and drinking my soda. Maybe it is part of being a Handler, just like me; to be able to enjoy these outings, while I am observing the girls before me?

Of course, all good things has to come to an end. My muffin is all but gone; they are also finishing of their treat, before me.

“Are they aware; of how I had made them stick, into their respective seats?" I ponder.

While I know, they have been exposed; it does not mean, they will appreciate or handle this well now. Maybe they had enjoyed it, while in the scenario, but will they enjoy being stuck, as a prank? Of course; Pinkie is the Mistress of pranks, the Prankster to end all Pranksters.

“The treat has been delicious!” May puts forth, generously.

“Yes, it was!” April responds.

“Thank you, Handler; for the treat, and this moment with my Sis!” May puts forth, eagerly; “It was delicious, and priceless!” she adds, with empathized warmth.

“You are quite welcome, my dear May!” I respond.

While she had been sitting still, now she is making the first attempt to move. Yet, to no avail; her rump is stuck, as if I had been gluing her to the seat.

“Oh, oh!” May exclaims, quietly.

April is giggling, as she is observing her sister’s predicament. She sits still, for but a moment longer.

“Oh, oh!” April exclaims; “Uh.. I seems to be stuck!” she then adds.

“Oh?” May inquires, giggling.

“Observation is key!” I ponder, with a chuckle.

I watch their initial struggle with great interest. Just that I do not let on; how I feel, or how eagerly I am observing them, and the plight they seem to have been finding themselves in.

For a moment, there are the initial signs; of a raising fear on their faces, as they continue to struggle against the involuntary captivity they are experiencing.

“Whoa?” April and May ponder; “Wait, why is this so deliciously familiar?” they then realize, as one.

There is no struggle, but they are regaining the mental composure; as the raising fear is turning into delight. The test had been mastered, and the challenge is overcome.

The experience is turning from the initially experienced threat; and into a sexually arousing moment, together. The perceived sense of being stuck, reinforcing the excitement within the situation. A link previously crafted, now strengthened and further reinforced.

The two girls, turning to face one-another, with an excited grin; sharing the moment of excitement, forced upon them and generously granted. Just the one moment, together; sharing something, intimately.

“Fear, was never my goal!” I ponder; “I never quite had the stomach, for it in the first place!” I consider, chuckling at my position between these two girls.

Of course, the most fear-full girls were supposed to have been weeded out of the group; well before I lay my eyes upon them, in the first place.

Once the seed of fear had been dispelled, fear is losing it’s grip. These girls will be more likely to react with excitement than fear, from now on. The sphere, within which the effect of being stuck, is associated with excitement; now widened, to encompass space outside the dungeon, and the Hive.

I permit the girls, to enjoy this moment, for a while longer, before I acknowledge I could have done anything. They keep struggling; more in the effort of reinforcing the excitement, associated to being stuck.

“Uhm!” April inquires, in obvious excitement; “May I?” she elaborates, as she is lustfully gazing at her sister’s right hand.

“Why?” May puts forth; “But of course!” she then concedes without hesitation; as she is reaching for her sister.

“Thank you!” April responds, as she is accepting the offered hand.

April is pulling the outstretched hand towards her face; parting her lips, before she is licking the sensitive touch-pad of the index-finger. She lingers for a moment, gazing into her sister’s eyes as she continues. Only then; she chooses to start with the thumb, and giving each touch-pad a full minute of attention.

“Oh, oh; oooh!” May exclaims, as April is lapping at the touch-pads of her right hand.

“Excuse me, Sis; but I just have to try this, now!” April ponders, as she is pushing her sister’s hand firmly onto the smooth surface of the table before them.

“Squeak!” is heard, as the suction-cup hits the table’s surface.

“Is.. is it really stuck?” April inquires; with signs of obvious excitement, to her voice.

“Yes!” May responds, after a few attempts to pull the hand off of the table.

“May I?” April inquires, indicating taking her gloves off of her hands.

“Yes, please do!” I offer.

“I love seeing these sisters coming out of the closet, like this!” I ponder, as I am observing April slipping the gloves of off her hands and leaving them on the table.

With the gloves of off her hands; April is offering her right hand to her sister May. May is accepting the hand, then sets of, licking the sensitive touch-pads for her sister.

“You taste like muffin, right now!” May concedes.

“So do you!” April responds.

Once May is finishing, lapping at April’s pinkie-finger touch-pad, she is returning the favour; by slapping her sister’s hand onto the table, beside her own. Though she had been forced to use her left hand.

“Squeak!” is heard, as April’s hand is hitting the surface of the table.

“Is your hand stuck?” May inquires; “How does it feel?” she continues.

April gives her hands a few tentative tugs: once, twice and thrice; “Yes, I think it is stuck!” she giggles in growing excitement; only to give her hands a few yanks: once, twice and thrice.

“Yes, I am truly stuck now!” April confirms.

“Yay!” the sisters exclaim in chorus.

“Should we?” April inquires.

“Do we dare?” May fills in; “Again?” she concludes.

Both girls lift their free hand, spread the fingers and slap the table.

“Squeak!” is heard, as the hand is hitting the table.

“That, feels curiously exciting!” the girls giggle, in chorus.

As I watch, they start to squirm; tentatively tugging at their hands: right and left, right and left. To no avail, their hands are indeed firmly stuck in place.

“Maybe I should just excuse myself, right now; leaving them, to the moment?” I ponder.

“Excuse me, I have an item to tend to!” I point out, as I am raising to my feet.

On my way, I am standing behind the two sisters. I stop; only to give them a hand, slapping their hands down even further. With that, I am stepping out; leaving them in the room, believing I am walking out.

“Handler, just walked out!” April exclaim.

“Yes, and we are on our own!” May respond; “We are really stuck now!” she continues.

I never truly left, I am just out of sight; leaving them to think they are alone, as I am observing them for a test of my own.

While they remain quiet, they start to renew the fruitless efforts of trying to pull free. Of course, it is to no avail.

Minutes are passing by, as the girls tries to pull free. If it is fear, or excitement. Maybe it is a mix of both? I leave them, to explore the situation, by themselves. Would they panic, I am just a step away, waiting.

The room is quiet, short of the increasing squeaks from the attempts to pull free. Giggles ensue, shortly thereafter. Quiet, overtaking the room.

“Maybe, we should?” may inquires.

“You mean, kiss?” April inquires.

“Since we are stuck, here.. Together, just close enough!” May points out.

“Yes, we are stuck here, together!” April responds.

“Somehow, I am finding me growing helplessly excited!” May concedes, fairly willingly in her current state.

While her hands still remain stuck, firmly in place on the table; May starts leaning in, towards her sister April. She can’t help but notice, how her sister is responding; as she is leaning towards her, answering her suggestion.

May slowly parts her lips, licking her lower lips in a suggestive manner, inciting her sister to follow suit.

April is parting her lips, in response; licking her lower lip, in confirmation. She is mirroring her younger sister’s movement, as she is moving in closer.

In about a minute, they kiss; as their lips make contact, in a soft smack. But alas, fairly quietly.

“Smooth, wet; and slippery, almost like rubber!” they realize.

“Mmm!” April sighs; “I like how her lips feel, against mine!” she considers, knowing her sister is feeling exactly the same.

Increased sensitivity, being the tipping point; making them continue, exploring this venture. With another moment of exciting stimulation; they find it enjoyable enough, to continue further and thus permitting themselves to be distracted from the moment.

“Mhmm!” May ponders; “So good!” she continues.

Once the ice had been broken, and they had been properly introduced to the idea; the kiss lingers, as they maintain the pressure, to permit the kiss to persist.

Maybe the first hand stuck to the table, had just been opening the door. Once the initial connection between the sense of the hands being stuck, had been linked to the sexual interaction between the two girls; they had chosen to act on the impulse.

“Her lips, so wet and inviting!” April considers; taking this as her cue and invitation, to continue.

As sisters; April and May are prone, to think and act the same way. Not that they were Twins, or anything. Maybe they had been pushed in the same direction; by their respective Mistress, who were guiding them in this general direction.

“Sexual pleasures; is a means of coercing girls, towards what we want them to do!" I ponder.

Our Mistresses are aiding them, towards the goal; enhancing their abilities, to help them see the light. I am working towards the same goal; just with different tools, in different environments.

Of course; once they are distracted, I can step into the room and observe them firsthand. I had merely waited for a few minutes further; ascertaining myself, that they will not notice me entering the room again.

Naturally I had closed the door behind myself; in order not to permit anything from the outside, to alert them of my reentry, or distract them in any way.

As I am watching, the sexual interaction is consuming their attention; distracting them from the situation, in which they are still actively stuck.

As I am watching them from the side, I can continue to enjoy the action; outside of their field of vision, which could have alerted them to my presence in the room. I merely linger, as I am observing the two.

Side by side, they sit; leaning towards one-another, close enough to maintain the kiss. Lips tightly pressed together, sealed tight; quiet and soundless, as they enjoy the moment.

They continue, undistracted; enjoying this one moment, given to them.

In the end, they break of the kiss as one; finally looking up, noticing that my seat is still empty. Everything is left, as it was. Not even Pinkie had entered the room; in order to take out the dishes, from our visit.

“That, was good!” April exclaims; “We can do it again, any time!” May continues her thought.

“Yes, we could!” April responds; “Of course, and at home too?” May continues.

“I hope Handler is back soon!” April points out.

“Me too!” May responds.

That is my cue; “This was a success, for the two of you?” I inquire.

“Yes, it certainly was!” they exclaim, as one.

“Excellent!” I put forth; “It feels, as if you connected on a new level here!” I elaborate.

“Yes!” April responds; “We certainly did!” May continues.

“Any chance, you take this home?” I inquire; “Because it feels, as if you enjoyed this outside the original setting, of the Dungeon; and the scenario, you enjoyed there!” I elaborate.

“Yes!” April responds; “This feels just right; even if we may need to be a bit careful, at home!” May continues.

“I can’t be there, for you; if you get yourself stuck somewhere, when I am not around!” I concede.

“This was a blast, and I enjoyed the muffin too; Thank you, Handler!” May offers.

“You are quite welcome!” I respond.

“Could you help me out; I seem to be stuck in the seat, and I have a few items to attend to!” May explains.

“Certainly!” I respond.

I light up my horn; before I am dissolving the spell holding their rumps to the seats.

“There, that should do it!” I put forth.

“Thank you, Handler!”May exclaims.

“My hands are still stuck, onto the table!” May points out.

“That is an entirely different trick; to liberate your hands, from the suction!” I explain; “You can learn this trick; for the event, you get yourself stuck somewhere!” I elaborate.

“I, we can?” May inquires; “How; if I may be so bold, as to ask?” she continues.

“Incidentally; you do need a free hand, to perform this trick..” I explain; “and since your hands are firmly stuck, on the table; you need my assistance, which I am only too happy to provide!” I conclude.

“Yes, that would be a problem; my hands are both stuck, and I need to use my hands to break the suction holding my hands in place!” May puts forth, acknowledging the situation.

“If you could just up and lift your hands, May; what would be the point, or the excitement?” April interjects.

“The suction-cups would be quite pointless and useless; which would make me stand out, for no good reason!” May concedes.

“Exactly!” April concludes.

I step forwards, slipping an index-finger in under the right hand of the respective girls’ hands; thus effectively breaking the suction, liberating their right hands.

“Thank you!” May responds.

“That looks easy!” April points out; “You think, I could do that to?” May inquires, excitedly.

“Certainly!” I respond; “Why don’t you just try it?” I then add.

I watch, as they extend the index-finger of their right hand; slipping the finger in under the palm of the stuck hand. The suction instantly evaporates, with little more than a slight squeak.

“There!” I point out; “Works like a charm!” I elaborate.

“Yes!” April responds; “Thank you, Handler!” May continues.

The girls raise to their feet, and once more turn towards one-another; hugging in a tight embrace. After a moment, they slide their hands down into the other sister’s panties, unavoidably confirming that she is indeed having the plug inserted.

“Oh, oh; oooh!” they exclaim, in excitement.

“Fun, fun, fun!” May ponders, upon the realization.

“Of course, she found the plug!” April realizes.

“I have to!” May ponders; as she is placing her right and left index-finger on the mark, then swiftly dilates her sister.

“Oh, oh, oh; oooh!” April responds, reflexively mirroring her little sisters action.

“Interesting reaction!” I ponder, considering the girls before me.

“Oh, oh, oh; oooh!” May responds, pressing her lips against her older sister’s lips in a wet kiss.

“I will have to forward this to their respective Groom!” I ponder, as I am making a mental note.

“You have your plug inseted to?” April inquires.

“Yes, and I rarely go out without it inside me!” May responds.

“You are that used, to its presence?” April inquires.

“Yes, I am!” May responds; “I imagine you will realize this, soon enough; even if you have not tried it long enough, just yet!” she then adds.

“I guess it is a kind of focal point; that you barely even notice, after a while!” April concedes.

“Focus on it!! The next time you have it extracted and inserted, respectively; feel how it feels, and how everything changes within you a it is slipping in our out!” May points out.

“I notice, how may is pushing emphasis into the instruction; suggesting her older sister truly has to explore this!” I ponder.

“Okay!” April promises.

“Good!” May responds.

May plants a kiss on her sisters lips, feeling the warm response from her sister. She quietly picks up her gloves, slipping them on.

“It was great to see you, Sis!” May points out.

“You too, Sis!” April responds.

“See you, Sis!” May exclaims.

“See you!” April responds; and may slowly lets go of her sister, as she is turning towards the door out.

“Am, am I open?” April inquires; “Exposed?” she then puts forth.

“Yes!” I respond, as we watch may step out of the room.

The door slides shut behind the younger sister.

“If you like; I could help you with that, if you find it more comfortable for you!” I offer.

“Yes, please!” she responds, stepping up towards me.

I feel her hand on my waist, as she is encompassing me in a tight embrace. I slide my hands down under her panties; extend my index-fingers and quietly close her currently dilated orifice.

“Just a little bit more, please!” April inquires.

“Of course, my dear!” I respond, as I am closing her up further and beyond her natural state.

“How does it feel?” I inquire.

“Good!” she responds; “That is just right!” she elaborates.

I pull my hands up and out of her panties; returning her warm embrace, enjoying the moment she is offering me. I could not help myself, and I have no instructions discouraging me from accepting her closeness.

“I could have closed her further, but this is what she had asked of me!” I ponder.

“That went well!” I put forth.

“Yes, it is nice to go out and have a muffin!” she responds; “Thank you; for letting me see my sister, too!” she continues.

“My pleasure..” I respond; “She was the logical first choice, when reintroducing you to the outside!” I elaborate.

“I have not seen her, since I entered the Dungeon!” she puts forth; “It feels so good, to see her; not to mention, to realize, just how much we have in common!” she elaborates.

“Learning of her little secret?” I inquire.

“That is exciting!” she responds; “All the things connecting us!” she continues.

“You share more, than you had expected?” I put forth; “She certainly are excited, by your development!” I point out.

“Yes, I could see that..” she responds, giggling; “She loves my rump plugged!” she adds.

“She loves to have someone, to share her secret; someone with which she can connect and enjoy her fantasies with!” I offer.

“That is, why she was so proud; to take her gloves of, so that she could show her hands openly?” she inquires.

“Yes, and you did enjoy it with her; she can open up herself, to you!” I put forth; “Though it is time, you pick up your gloves; and put them on, before we go out!” I point out.

“Of course!” she merely offers, as she is picking up the gloves.

I watch her, as she is slipping her hands in; consciously asserting the perfect fit with a few tentative tugs: once, twice and thrice.

“There, now we can go home!” I offer.

“Yes!” she responds.

With that, I place my right arm around her waist, before I am leading her out.

Grooming: 12

Author's Note

Girl's POV

Grooming: 12

I had enjoyed the excursion, with Handler. It had been such a great adventure; just to go to the Cafe, alone; then being given a treat, and to share it with my younger sister means the world to me.

Of course, I need to see the outside. To walk the streets, to breathe the fresh outdoors air and see people. Even the once not in my class, or of my personal kinks. I can not limit myself, to who shares my fetishes.

What a poor life, that would have been.

Would that even be a life? One worth living? I would have missed out, on so many things. Maybe even forced, into abandoning and forsaking my own family and kin.

Now I had returned to what is currently my home; here at the Dungeon.

I had changed into my dungeon outfit; once I had arrived, into my room. A top, panties.

A girl is entering the room, she is apparently my Groom.

“Greetings, Miss; I am Groom!” she is addressing me, as she is entering the small room.

“Greetings, Groom!” I respond.

“One small detail, I would like for you to try!” she points out.

Before I have the time to respond, she is inserting my pacifier into my mouth. I feel the clear rubber slipping in, between my lips.

She is extending the index-finger of her right hand, pressing the button; thus activating it, before she is twisting the handle and promptly removes it.

“A pacifier?” I ponder; “Mhmm!” I mumble through tightly sealed lips.

The silicon formed after my lips, pressing and bonding; before I had even realized it, thus leaving me mute.

She presents a mirror before me, letting me see; showing my metallic bloody red lips, in the designed excited little smile. It is glossy, as if polished up for the effect.

“In a sense, it looks as if she had painted my lips with liquid latex; or as if I had been a doll, they had never bothered to separate the lips on?” I ponder, as I am observing the reflection.

“Wait..” she exclaims; “something is missing!” she concludes.

She is offering me the gloves I use to wear.

Without a thought, I accept them, right and left. Slipping the hand in; puling it all the way up, only to afford the gloves few tentative tugs: once, twice and thrice. As I am repeating the process; putting on the second, left glove to achieve the harmonious symmetry.

“There, much better!” she proclaims.

“Just one small detail; in order to complete the ensemble, and appearance!” she pushes forth, as she is presenting me with a pair of full-length stockings.

“Toe-stockings!” I am musing; “But why not?” I consider; “I have the impression; she wants to doll me up to look as beautiful, as she could possibly manage?” I realize.

Of course Groom knows, just how much I love and enjoy wearing my stockings. Just a small detail; these are not the original stockings, but a pair of identically looking once.

I accept the right stocking; slipping my foot right down, pulling the foot all the way down: affording it a few tentative tugs: once, twice and thrice. Expecting the imminent transformation, but is served a very different change in turn.

Without the expected transformation; I am still accepting the left glove, repeating the process nonetheless. With both stockings on; I am standing on the floor, almost like a doll.

“How is that?” Handler inquires, almost as if she had been expecting an answer.

“I feel; as if you had just made me, into a Ballerina!” I ponder.

“Stunning!” she exclaims; “Beautiful!” she then adds.

“Does she have a pair of ballerina-slips, for me to wear?” I ponder.

“Why do I have the impression; you would like to practice, dancing like a Ballerina?” she inquires.

I nod, vigorously. I certainly do agree, wholeheartedly; to this idea, she just offered me. At least, it is how I am perceiving what she had just told me. Maybe I am wrong, but I am still hoping she would let me try it; just for this once, as she had just made me feel the beauty.

“Then you will need your beauty-sleep!” she points out; “I will help you prepare!” she explains.

“Oh, yes; please, I want this!” I ponder; once more nodding vigorously, in ascent.

“If you slip these on, now; and I will see to the rest of the uniform, in time for practice!” she promises.

I accept the slippers; slipping them on, right and left. Once the slippers are on, she is lacing them up for me. Of course, while I am wearing the slippers; my feet are stubbornly maintaining the posture, required for a proper Ballerina. I am standing on the very tips of my toes.

“There; off to bed, please!” she urges me, and I follow her instructions to a T.

Tip-toeing all the way back to my bed, then mounting the gurney. The slippers are quite comfortable for me to wear; considering the posture they enforces upon me and my feet. It is the Dungeon’s design, and I do not question it. I do not dare chancing to lose the promised activity.

While I am still actively feeling the presence and pressure of the metallic bloody red silicon slippers now; just as I am feeling the lacing all the way up to my knees, I doubt the slippers themselves are going to be felt for much longer. Let alone, by tomorrow, as I wake up for the promised practice for a Ballerina’s show.

The fit of the slippers are surprisingly tight and strict, but without any uncomfortable pressure on my skin. Though it is between my toes as well, something I am currently quite acutely aware of.

“I have feet!” I realize.

“Now, if you just lie down, and relax!” Groom offers.

With that, I am slipping in under my quilt. While my thoughts are still playing tag in my head, I still manage to relax.

“I will see you, by tomorrow!” she points out, promising a day of excitement to remember.

She is producing a tube, introducing it to my belly button. It is, as if air had slipped out of me, as I find myself relaxing and soon falling into a deep slumber. I close my eyes, and are fast asleep.

The measured time is slipping out, as I am sleeping. At the appointed six hours, I am slowly waking up. I am still wearing the slippers. Just as I am wearing my customary panties and top. I am also wearing the stockings and gloves. As if nothing had happened.

I am folding the quilt to the side, slipping my right hand out from under the quilt. Slipping my feet out, before I am turning towards the side of the bed. As I am sitting in the bed, I slip down, only to stand on my own too feet. The tips of my toes, to be exact.

Lifting the right hand up to my face, only to feel the effect of the inserted pacifier. My lips sealed, feeling as if they had merely been painted onto the face of a doll. Even if there is a hint of the silicon protruding to show its contours.

“Wait?” I ponder, heart raising momentarily, as I am struggling with the unexpected experience.

The door slides up, and Groom enters my room.

“Good morning, my dear Ballerina!” she exclaims.

“Good morning, Groom!” I ponder; reminded of, how I could not speak.

In sudden, and temporary embarrassment, I turn around, folding the quilt into order. I turn back, towards Groom; as I had made my bed, thus regained a measure of dignity.

“I will need you to dress up, for the occasion!” she points out, and I nod in response.

“Of course!” I ponder.

“Here, slip into this!” she offers; as she is producing the one-piece suit, for me to wear.

I eagerly accept the suit, soon finding the correct entrance into the suit. The back had been unzipped.
Once I had found the entrance, I step right into the suit; right and left, in order.

“Turn around, please!” she offers.

As I comply, she is zipping up the suit for me. I feel the suit tightening up, as she is zipping it up for me. Only it is much tighter, than I had been expecting; based on the appearance of the unzipped suit. It is, as if a tight corset had been included into the design, of the suit. As if she had been lacing me up, as she was zipping the suit for me.

“The classical tu-tu, paired with the strict slippers; is the only correct uniform, for a Ballerina!” she explains.

“Oh, but of course!” I ponder, on the given revelation.

“This will capture the essence of your beauty, and the grace with which you perform the moves!” she points out.

“She really means business!” I realize, as her explanations slowly sink in.

She is literally turning me into a classical Ballerina; not just letting me play pretend, imagining I could have been an actual Ballerina in my dreams and fantasies.

Maybe I had been a bit more of the Tom-boy than I had realized; now as she is turning me into more of the sissy girly girl than I had thought, I dared or felt comfortable with before.

With the obvious approval of my Groom, I am finding me comfortable with what I am doing. She is merely riding the wave of my potential here. She is the extension of the Hive and Dungeon; just as my Mistress, Assistant and Handler are.

I am guided through the maze of my wishes, dreams and desires; as they help me to avoid my fears and misconceptions. I owe them, greatly.

“I will take you, to the scene, shortly; where I can oversee your practice and train as a true Ballerina!” she is promising me.

“There, that is how I pictured the Ballerina’s Instructor!” I consider; as I am hearing the shift, in the tone of her voice.

While her body had not changed in the least; her posture had changed, making her stricter in appearance. As a Groom, she had been easy-going, now she is strict to a T.

“While I can accept her easy manner, as my Groom; I could not accept her as my Ballerina Instructor, unless she is this strict!” I realize.

Maybe she had given me the time; to adjust, and come to terms with the change she is applying to the dynamics. I do not know, but I am certainly enjoying and appreciating it.

“It is time, for me to take you to the scene; so that you can become a proper Ballerina, just as you deserve and desire!” she prompts, with a curt nod towards the door.

I notice the door being open. She walks out the door, with me half a step behind and a step to her left. The door slides shut behind us; as she is leading me, to the promised experience of a lifetime.

Down-time: 13

She had been every bit as strict an Instructor as I had pictured her. I had learned; that I am respecting her immensely, for this.

The practice and exercises had been grueling hard, but she had permitted me to enjoy it. I had enjoyed myself, as she had put me through my paces.

“You can wear the suit, as you return to your room; it is yours, it was after all crafted for you personally!” he had informed me, just after the class had been dismissed.

While I guess I could have walked nude, or just worn my panties and top; none even stopped to afford me a second glance over, as I was walking back to my room.

“I suggest, that you do slip out of the Uniform now; since you have completed the class, and can take the time to relax!” she had pointed out.

Naturally, she had unzipped the suit for me. She had also helped me, with unlacing the slippers I had been wearing. With that, she had left me, to relax and rest. The service had been concluded. She may be required, elsewhere.

“While I am at it, before I am forgetting it; I should extract your pacifier now, so that you can regain your voice!” she pointed out; placing the tip of her extended index-finger on my lips, before she had applied the previously removed ring.

With that out of the way, she had puled the pacifier out of my mouth with a distinct plop.
While I am still facing her, she is applying a clear lip-gloss onto my lips. I acutely feel the gel applied onto my lips.

“Oh!” I ponder; “Thank you, Groom!” I then continue.

With that, she is leaving me alone. She had helped me to disrobe and slip out of the uniform. My pacifier back in the box, containing all my gifts I had received, during my stay here.

I had seen her walk out of the room, and the door sliding shut behind her. I am once more alone. No company. I did not mind.

My lips had been hard, for as long as the pacifier had been bonded to them; now they start to grow soft and elastic, more like Silicone that my lips. A moment later, I realize my lips are parting, no longer fused as they had been while the pacifier had been inserted.

“I am getting my voice back!” I ponder; “Soon, as my lips are returning to the original state!” I continue.

While the process may take several long minutes; but the process had been initiated, and is now running its course. I am flexing my lips, exploring the gradual development. Do I hasten or hinder the progress; I have no idea, it merely feels natural to explore the gradual development actively.

Even without the slips on, I am still on the tips of my toes; just as I had been before, not even realizing I am doing it.

My feet had been adjusted, to the posture; stubbornly maintaining my posture, for as long as I am not actively fighting it. I am tip-toeing around the room, a few times over. Never even realizing I had not been waling on the heels of my feet.

“Uhm!” I mouth, as my lips slowly reach enough of their original flexibility to speak.

“This is feeling odd, but she had convinced me!” I realize; “I have come to enjoy how it feels now!” I conclude.

“Besides, I will have to reclaim my femininity!” I realize; “Since I have tasted it, and learned just how good it feels!” I consider.

“I just have to explore; who I am, as a girl!” I consider.

Even as a girl, I may be prone to try things; some of which are better left, untested. While my lips are still highly elastic, I could try to see; just how elastic they are, and what I could use this for. I could, but should I?

What will the consequences of testing this be? I have no idea. Just a sudden urge to test this curious effect, hitting me as I am left alone.

“What if I try inserting a toy, into my mouth?” I ponder.

On second thought; I do have a small selection of such toys, in the box of gifts I had received. I could open the box, to see if I find something that fits the bill.

“These plugs look as if they were made for this purpose!” I mumble, as my voice is starting to come back.

The plugs came pre lubricated. Only the lubrication is strawberry scented, most likely tasting like a treat. Naturally; all the plugs also come with a suction-cup at the base, for obvious reasons.

“One inch, two inches, three inches..” I count, as I examine the plugs I have.

The one inch plug; seems a bit too small to consider, for this. The two and three inch plugs are looking far more likely to be right, for what I had in mind. The four and five inch plugs, look a bit too big for me; but I am still considering them, for now. Anything above the five inches is beyond me, or what I am expecting I can stretch my lips around at any point.

“I will try these four plugs; since the plugs are looking, as if they may fill my needs!” I ponder, as I am picking them up.

With that, I am lining them up along the wall; engaging the suction-cup of the base of each plug, in order to hold them into place on the wall. I just eye out the right height, and slap them into place; two, three, four and five inches in diameter.

One foot apart, the plugs are stuck on the wall; in a straight line, at just about the right height. I can stand up, just kissing the tip; before I push forwards, experiencing the plug spreading my lips as it is filling up my mouth in the process.

“I am curious!” I ponder, "This will be an interesting experiment!” I conclude; as I am walking up to the first plug I had lined up, before me.

“Okay, here goes!” I point out; as I tentatively kiss the tip, of the two inch plug before me.

Just a light kiss, on the top of my slippery and smooth two inch plug.

An inch forwards, and the slippery plug slips right in; effortlessly, as I extend my head. Another inch, and another; easy, or may it had been a bit too easy. I feel my lips stretching, as the plug is filling into my mouth.

“Oups!” I mumble; “That was surprisingly good!” I conclude; as the plug plops, with a distinct pinch.

It had been easy, too easy. I pull back, feeling my lips momentarily contracting around the plug, before it is slipping out without any significant protest.

I take a step back, before I step over to the next plug on the line. I plant a kiss, on the tip of the plug. This one is slightly larger, already. I can clearly feel it.

“Ooh!” I ponder; “I actually feel my lips stretching, this time; this is starting to become exciting, now!” I continue.

The plug soon plops, with the same distinct pinch; as my lips are contracting, around the plug.

As I pull back; I feel the pug making the first attempt, towards mounting a resistance, against me pulling back. Though I still manage to pull back, without worry or effort.

“Four inches!” I ponder.

As I had stepped back, I take another step to the side; placing me before the third plug, I had prepared for the test, as I had pressed it onto the wall.

I place a kiss, on the tip of the plug; just as I had with the previous two plugs, feeling the smooth and slippery Silicone on my lips. The tip itself is just slightly larger, than the previous two plugs.

Now I am starting to push forwards, just an inch and slowly; exploring the experience I am starting to expect and am looking forwards to. This plug is indeed larger, and I am already feeling it; as it is stretching my lips, as it is filling my mouth.

“Oh, oh; oooh!” I ponder; as it is dawning upon me, the first signs of my desired effect.

While the first plug had been fairly pointy, the second plug had been rounder than the first; this plug is even rounder than the previous one, I had just tried out.

After about a minute, or so; my lips already stretches, beyond my original expectations and capacity. I am only halfway down, the head of the plug; starting to feel my mouth being filled up, with the squishy mass of the crystal-clear Silicone plug.

I continue, bravely; pushing forwards, towards the desired and expected result. Expecting the experience of my lip stretching, to be exciting.

“Oh, oh; can I take more?” I consider; just as I am reaching the edge, just before I feel the plug plop with a distinct pinch.

“Okay; that was pretty intense, at the end!” I consider.

“Should I try the next and final plug; I had set up, for this little experience?” I ponder, before I am pulling back.

Since my lips are stretched, and my mouth is filled up with the plug; it isn’t as if I could even attempt to pronounce a word. Not to mention, how this plug is pressing my tongue down; flat on the bottom of my mouth, now.

On the one hand, I could use the wall as a means of leverage against the plug; on the other hand, if I could not pull the plug out it means that I am securely stuck in place. I can’t walk out of the room, in the hopes of finding anyone; willing and able, to help me extracting the plug. As embarrassing as it may be, to be caught with the plug in my mouth; having the chance of asking for help, may still be preferable.

If I am stuck in the room; I have to wait, for the next girl coming by to help me out.

“I have to complete this test, in order to find the plug that is just right; all assuming I am enjoying it, and find it exciting enough to consider!” I ponder.

As I had made up my mind, I am starting to pull back; finding the plug resisting the efforts, holding my mouth locked in place. I renew my efforts, pulling harder, but still to no avail.

Realizing that my lips are contracting, as I am pulling harder; I am initially feeling a sense of an initial panic hitting me, as I continue to struggle against the plug.

“Whoa?” I ponder; “Now I did it..” I continue.

I try to open my mouth, further; though my lips clearly are stretching considerably, even after the plug had plopped. Naturally; I can’t really open my mouth further, at this point. All I can do now, is to resist the reflexive contraction as best I can.

With each pull, I am feeling the plug moving back and forth, back and forth.

“Oh, oh; ooh!” I ponder, as the plug is starting to stimulate me, orally.

“You did not expect that!” I ponder; “Did you?” I continue.

“No?” I respond; “I did not think so!” I conclude.

Maybe I could use my hands, to push myself away from the wall; or I could use my fingers, in order to dilate my mouth in the hopes I can pull free.

“What if I get myself stuck, by engaging the suction-cups; covering the palms of my hands, now?” I consider.

With the risk of getting even more stuck, than I already am; I choose to use my fingers, in order to spread my lips enough to pull back. Slipping a pair of fingers in; between my lips and the pug proves to be easier; than I had been expecting, initially.

Once I have my index and middle finger in between my lips and the plug; I slowly pull my lips apart, spreading them enough to pull free.

“Oh, oh, oh; that was exciting!” I ponder.

“Do it again, do it again!” an inner voice is exclaiming, in excitement.

I almost imagine; hearing her clapping her hands; as she is watching me. Though it ends up exciting me further.

“With this latest development, this will have to be the last test!” I ponder; “I don’t try anything larger, after this one I had already prepared!” I conclude.

I take a step to the side, approaching the final plug on the wall; placing the kiss on the tip, enjoying the touch.

Slowly, carefully; I press forwards, feeling my lips part. The tip of the plug is slipping in; into my mouth and I continue to push further and further. Fully expecting an exciting incident, just like what I had just experienced.

Inch by inch, I am pushing forwards; inch by inch, the plug is sliding into my mouth. I feel the plug sliding in between my lips. My lips stretching, more and more.

“I can’t stop, but I guess I can slow down; in order to enjoy the experience of this test, without taking any undue risk!” I ponder.

Inch by inch; the plug is gradually invading my mouth, as it is slipping in between my lips. Slower and slower, I continue to push on.

About halfway up the slope, I am experiencing the effects of my lips stretching; though I insistently continue, to push further. I may be pushing slower, but I am still pushing further.

A minute later, I have to put in the effort; widening my lips as much as I can, but it is also starting to become exciting now. With mounting excitement, due to the slippery surface of the large plug slipping in between my now taught lips, I am starting to become very eager to continue further.

Inch by inch, I am persisting. The smooth Silicone-plug, pre lubricated is not making any resistance; while the pressure mounting on my ever-more stretching lips are providing a reluctant resistance in a sense.

As I am closing in on the widest, I am all but stopping; putting in more and more effort into continuing, as my progress is slower and slower. Only by putting my entire weight behind me, could I have managed even this far.

Finally, I come to a complete and definite halt; just before I am reaching the summit, after which I would have slipped down, and I would have found myself hard pressed to pull free again.

I give it a few futile, but valiant pushes; before I am giving up, and try to pull free. The plug stubbornly cling to the wall, just as I had intended.

“Oh, oh; oh, oh; oh, oh!” I sigh, in the excitement, caused by the plug stretching my lips.

As I try to pull free; I soon realize, just how hard I had been pushing. It takes me several attempts, before I mange to pull back at all. Once I manage to slide back, I can continue to pull myself further and further; feeling my lips contracting around the plug.

I finally feel the plug slipping out of my mouth, with a distinct plop and a sucking noise.

Once I had pulled free; I hastily pull the plug off of the wall. I continue with the three inch plug and the two inch plug; leaving only the four inch plug where it is.

“These plugs feel good, to take into my mouth; they were clearly designed, for oral use!” I ponder.

“The test is concluded, and I found the four inch plug my size!” I point out.

Something within me had changed; because I would never have considered to insert a plug into my mouth, before I came to this Dungeon. Now I had found it exciting, and pleasurable. I may have been surprised, at the realization; but it had never been a shock to me, by any means.

I return, to the selection of plugs; investigating its content, in search for that one final item. If this is truly a plug, but it feels as if it had been intended for oral insertion. I pick it up, holding it in my right hand; finding it warm, and quite solid to the touch. As opposed to the smooth sloping plugs; this is coming with ridges, clearly intended for stimulation.

“A foot long; I guess that should be just about right, for me!” I point out.

“This Dungeon has the most curious and exciting toys a girl could possibly dream up!” I realize.

“How, and where do I attach this?” I ponder, as I am looking around.

I want something more relaxed and relaxing, than it could be to mount it onto the wall; where I would have to stand up, while I am trying it out. I need something intimate, but the bed does not feel just right.

In the end, I end up sliding in under my bed, placing the toy onto the floor. The base has a convenient suction-cup. All the plugs come with a suction-cup, I had come to realize.

I had just realized, there is surprisingly much free space; under the gurney upon which I had been sleeping, far as long as I have been staying at the Dungeon.

I slap the base down onto the floor under the bed; hard, in order to make sure it will actually stay firmly in place.

“Squeak!” I hear; as the suction-cup hit the floor, and the suction is taking hold.

“There; I guess it is time, to try this out for myself!” I point out.

Since I am already on the floor, under the gurney; I can as well get going, and test if this works for me. The toy is stiff and rigid, but can still flex enough for my purpose; if I am putting in the effort, into making it bed as intended.

First I grab hold of the shaft, just three inches under the head; before I am pulling myself into place, and finally place a kiss onto the tip of the head.

“Here goes!” I mumble, to myself.

With the foot-long shaft in a firm grip; I kiss the tip of its head, before I am starting to part my lips and push my head down. Slowly.

While the tip itself is flat, the head is more pointy than spherical.

I continue, to push down, as I am pulling the head into my mouth. The head barely filled my mouth, but I continue to push it further in and then down my throat.

Should I have been expecting it; because I can’t perceive anything akin to a gag reflex, as the head is touching the back of my mouth. It would have been very embarrassing, if I had been caught; because I had been vomiting, after the test I am committing myself to now.

I shift my grip, slowly pushing the hear inch by inch down my throat, as I continuously shift grip, in order to permit me to glide it further down.

While the head may be larger, than the shaft; the shaft is where the ridges have been spread out, with just an inch apart. Each ridge, sliding in between my lips.

Wet and slippery, I am able to take in the head further and further; with little to no effort, as I continue to push my head down towards the floor.

Inch by inch, the head slides down my throat, pressing outwards, just enough for me to be acutely aware of exactly how far down my throat it is right now.

Every inch, feeling like a victory. The head and the ridges, stimulating my lips and my throat; as I continue to push forwards, feeling the head slide further and further down.

“Was a foot too short?” I ponder; as I find my face mere inches, from the floor.

With each ridge, my lips are contracting more and more. Maybe it is the image, exciting me; causing my lips to contract, or it is a reflex that is intended for me to experience the insertion as acutely as possible?

I momentarily stop, mere inches from the floor, causing my head to pull back; only for the shaft to stretch, and pull back. Now I feel the ridges as if the shaft had been at least half an inch larger.

“Oh, oh!” I ponder, in reaction.

As I once more push forwards, the effect is accumulating. I pull back, before I am pushing forwards. Back and forth; in and out.

“Each time I pull back, and each time I am pushing forwards; the shaft is feeling larger, and my throat feeling tighter!” I ponder.

While the toy had been thoroughly lubricated, in order to provide countless hours of safe excitement; I am still starting to feel as if I am wet, and find myself growing excited.

As good as this may feel, it is still unfamiliar to me; initially causing me some issues of worry and anxiety. Though he heightened sensitivity and excitement soon pushes these effects down. I know I am safe, here at the Dungeon. I trust the Mistress and her Assistant.

Still it is a curious sensation with all the slippery wetness in my mouth and down my throat. Feeling the wetness growing thicker and slipperier with the mounting excitement.

Maybe the Ballerina-class I had had, had pushed my confidence through the roof; permitting me to dare more, than I should commonly have been comfortable with. Yet, now I am experiencing the final phase; leading up to the orgasm. It is inevitable.

I’m stopped, dead in my track; as the orgasm hit me, leaving me to experience the moment. I feel my heart racing, and my breath hard and fast. At first it may be shocking, but a very special moment to experience.

Once I had stopped, I am still; resting and hot. I am completely soaked and wet.

The moment is passing, and I am back to myself. As I am moving my head, I am finding the stimulation pushing me even further. Farther than I had been prepared for. Though I have to do something. I can’t just stay here with the toy in my mouth; all the way down my throat, like this forever.

Every tiny little move, and I find the shaft moving in my throat and over my lips. Teasing and stimulating me. I had trapped myself in the situation I have found myself in.

I try to pull back, then push forwards; back and forth, back and forth. Growing hotter still. I am bound for the orgasmic state. Spending my energy to moving forwards.

Locked in place; options spent on where I am and how I had gotten myself, to where I am.

Moments passing, with a heart racing, as time slowly seems to stop. After the given hour, I am finally reaching the orgasmic state; trapped in the cycle of the continuous orgasm.

Heart set a flutter, as I am putting in the effort to push myself up; only for the suction of my suction-ups to take hold of the floor under me. Fingers spread wide, spreading out.

Plugged up, with the plug inserted; I am incapable of climax, only waiting for the release I can never claim. Thoughts slowly melting, like rubber growing hot. Trapped in the moment, slowly leaving myself behind in the process.

How long will I last? I have been here for three hours, safely. Five hours, is an exhausting experience; but I have been there, too. While I had never been told, but it is supposed to be safe to stay under; for about twenty four hours, or so. Though I had heard; that I had to be under for the very minimum, of an hour. I can’t recall why this limit had been posed. If it is a physical limitation, or merely a policy put up by the Head Mistress. Who is to say?

My mistress is not here; maybe I should have been taking that, with more caution? I don’t have an Assistant, either. Not even a Handler or a Groom. I am completely alone, left to fend for myself; for as long as this situation is not changed.

Had I been careless, oblivious of my situation; the risks I am chancing, as I had initiated this test and consequent play? Either way, I had initiated it, alone; here I am, enjoying it for all it is worth.

Once I had trapped myself, the first hour came and went. The second hour did not change anything for me. A third hour came and went, almost as if nothing had happened. Maybe it had not? Hours four and five, did bring no change into the game.

I am feeling pretty hot, as if I had been a melting rubber figurine, or if I am just the hottest girl in town; take your pick, I am conforming with either right now.

Time, who is keeping track? Maybe I should have? Though I guess I am a bit beyond that, now. With the toy, still deep into my mouth and down my throat, both hands firmly stuck to the right and left on the floor under me; I am pinned down, under the bed.

Safe from detection; from anyone who does not know where to look, and why.

The sixth, seventh and eighth hours had left me behind, where I remain under the gurney that is my bed. Had I not been in the orgasmic state, maybe I would have struggled; in order to pull free, from my current position and predicament. Could I have pulled three?

Finally, someone is opening the door, to my room. Curious, cautious eyes; scanning the room, expecting to see me. I guess she had been looking for me. Though I guess, it is about ten hours; since I had reached the orgasmic state.

“Are you there?” the voice is calling out.

While I can hear her, quite clearly; I can’t respond, or utter a single noise to make her know.

“Where are you?” the voice continues, slightly worried by now.

The girl is scanning the room, looking from position to position; in the clear hopes, to find me. To find out where I am. Why I am not responding.

Just the one girl. At least, she is in the room, looking out for me. Finally.

After a few minutes of meticulous examination, she figures out where I am; she bends over, finding me under the gurney. Once she had found me, she is walking over to where I am. I do not see her, yet; but she is crawling in under the bed, in order to help me out.

“How long has she been here?” the girl ponders.

“Of all the things, she could possibly have been doing; she is hiding, under her bed!” she exclaims; in obvious agitation, over my choice.

“I guess, you really got yourself trapped; right under the gurney, and could neither pull yourself out, or call for help!” she points out.

I can worry about how long she has been under the bed later, right now I need to get her out of here!” she offers.

She is crawling further in, under my gurney; climbing up, over me. She is struggling for a good grip, for a moment; before she can start, pulling me up and away from the toy on the floor.

Inch by inch, she is pulling me up. I feel the toy slipping out of my mouth; rib by rib, as the shaft is sliding out of my throat.

Since she is directly over me; I can hear her heart beating distinctly, just as I feel her breathing on my neck. It is curious; but I am still too removed from the scene to notice, either her presence or her actions.

While I am not actively aware of her, or her actions; I feel her hands and enjoy the bodily warmth she is applying to me. Maybe it is I, who is warming her up? She could tell me, afterwards; if she is inclined to.

“Gulp!!” I realize, as the head of the toy slips out of my mouth, momentarily lodging itself in my mouth.

In surprise, she is stopped in her track; stopping for a moment, before she is renewing her effort in pulling me up. With one final yank, she is liberating my mouth from the head of the toy.

While my hands are still stuck, in their current position; I can maintain my position well above the intruding toy. She is momentarily finding this remarkable. A moment later, she is moving the toy out of the way; before she can continue, with liberating me from my predicament entirely.

I feel her hands holding my wrist, as the extended index-finger is slipping in under the palm of my right hand, thus collapsing the suction’s vacuum. In the process, my hand is no longer stuck on the floor. She is repeating the process, thus releasing my left hand as well.

I feel her pulling me out, from under the gurney; as she is still on top of me, as she had been during the entire process.

Once she had pulled me out, from under the gurney; she is lifting me up, carefully placing me on the top of the gurney. I am lying on my back, facing the ceiling.

She is scanning me, going over me inch by inch; as she is examining me, and checking my current status.

“Oh!” she exclaims; as she is discovering the plug, embedded in my anal cavity.

“I guess, that explains a few things!” she mumbles; “She has been incapable of release; since the plug renders her, incapable of climax!” she concludes.

“I had better pull the plug out, now; before she is reaching the limit, and risk her suffering for it!” she offers.

I feel her slipping her right hand in under my rump, between my legs; slowly and meticulously probing her way, before she is finding the grip she had been searching for. Her fingers had just slipped in, grasping the base of the inserted plug; before she manages to pull it out, thus extracting it from its current embedded position.

“Oh, oh, oh; ooh, ooh, ooh; Ooooohh!” I sigh; as the plug is extracted, with the deliberate slowness the girl is known for in this case.

As I feel the plug slipping out, of its position; I also feel, how it is slowly losing its grip. As the plug is finally extracted; my exhaustion is finally hitting home, with full force. A mere moment later, I am losing consciousness; as I collapse upon the climax, I had postponed for so long.

“Climax!” the girl exclaims; “That is usually a good sign, in these cases!” she ponders.

Coming To: 14

Everything is fuzzy, and I am feeling hot. Hot, like a furnace about to overheat.

“Why is everything fuzzy?” I ponder.

My heart is racing, beating like crazy; I am out of breath. That warm feeling; fuzzy and tantalizingly inviting.

“What happened, the other day?” I ponder.

All I can remember, is that hot feeling, still lingering in my body. I feel, almost as if I had been crafted out of rubber. Or, possibly the Silicone; Mistress’ ensembles had been made out of.

“Oh, wait?” I ponder; "My rump is empty!” I consider.

“Why?” I exclaim, almost as if it had been important, and a cause for concern.

I am lying on my back, on my gurney; the quilt covering my body, from the neck down. She had helped me up, onto the gurney; covered my body, with the quilt. I appreciate the favour, she had extended me. I don’t ask why; I simply appreciate, what she had done for me.

There is something of a flash-back; I feel her warmth, as I hear the beating of her heart. It may be fleeting, only slipping in and out of my consciousness. It happened, but I can’t quite put a finger on it.

“She!” I mumble.

I had felt her body, pressing down onto me; where I lay, under the gurney. I felt her breasts, against my back; as she was helping me, extracted me from what I had been doing.

“I am still me!” I ponder.

Yet, everything is still fuzzy. I am exhausted, after what I had put my body through.

“How long had I been under?” I ponder; “How many hours had I been left, to remain; as I had been found, the other day?” I continue; “How long were I unconscious, this time?” I ponder.

No answers forthcoming. I am alone. Would she tell me, how long I had been under, or how long it had been since I was placed on the gurney?

“Maybe I should insert the plug!” I mumble, quietly; to myself.

If I want to insert the plug, I have to slip out of bed. That should not present any problems, for me; even if I may be a bit unsteady, and fuzzy around the edges.

“Yes, I need to get out of bed; so that I can catch my plug, in order to insert it!” I point out, eagerly.

Since I had finally made up my mind, deciding to go up; I fold the quilt to the side and slide my feet out from under the quilt. As I sit up, I slide down and slip out of bed; finding myself standing on the floor. On the tips of my toes.

“I made it, that was easy!” I exclaim; “Just like a Ballerina, I am standing on the tips of my toes!” I continue; “All that hard practice, certainly does pay off!” I conclude.

While I had actually noticed, that I am standing on the tips of my toes; it never occurred to me, that I should have been standing on the heel of the foot. Not on the tips of my toes.

Curious, how the last activity, I had performed; is so clear to me, I had thought it is who I had always been. I had never practiced ballet; just as I had never been a Ballerina before. Let alone, desired to be one in the first place.

At least, I had enjoyed the influence of the inserted plug; for several days, by now. Maybe it is, why I am feeling empty; once it had been extracted, even if it had been just before I had my climax. I had been exhausted, at the time.

Strangely enough; the lack of stockings and gloves never registered. My hands are beautiful, though; just as my feet are perfect, for a girl like me. Perfect, to dance the ballet; like the Ballerina I am.

I merely afford the bed an instant, to smooth the quilt into place; before I move over to the box, on the table a few feet away. Now I open the box, look into it; scan its content for what I desire, only to find the plug among its content.

My right hand extracts the plug, in a mere instant; before I pull my hand out of the box and in between my legs. The next instant; I feel the tip of the plug between the orbs of my rump. I find my rump contracting, instinctively; and I slowly insert the plug, just as intended. Though I do take my time, slowly sliding the slippery toy into the soaking wet orifice.

“Whoa!!” I exclaim, in excitement; “I am still wet!” I continue; “I am hot!” I conclude, just as the plug is sliding into place.

“There!!” I exclaim; “Just perfect, the way I have always liked it!” I conclude.

With the plug in place; I am no longer empty, or open.

The excitement and exhaustion of the extended exposure and enduring the orgasmic state had taken its toll on me. Just that I never had realized this. Maybe I never will.

I never challenged the posture, given to me for the practice. My feet had been adapted, never permitted reverting to the natural posture of a natural girl. While I still could try to bend my feet, in order to walk on my heels; this is going to be a growing challenge and effort on my part. The longer I permit the posture to linger; the more effort I will have to put into it as I want to regain my stature.

Just as it feels natural to me, to walk on the tips of my toes; it is just as normal, to have the plug inserted at all times. Aside from the rare moments, when it is required to extract it; in order to perform the bodily function, blocked by the plug’s insertion.

A few minutes after I had inserted the plug, it is already forgotten; and now the door is slipping up, as my Mistress is entering the room.

“Greetings, Miss!” she is addressing me.

“Greetings, Mistress!” I respond, in kind.

“You are up and about, I see; this does please me!” she points out, to the point.

“Yes, Mistress; I am indeed, thank you for asking!” I respond.

“Excellent, excellent!” she pronounces; “Because I had a new session in mind, for you!” she explains, matter-of-fact.

“Thank you, Mistress; I am looking forwards, to it!” I respond

“Right this way, please!” she instructs me, as she is turning towards the door.

“Yes, Mistress!” I respond, following her out.

Just a step behind and to the left. I am following her, to the Dungeon.

Forever Changed: 16

I am feeling hot.

The room is chilly. While I may have had a full night’s rest and sleep, I am still hot.

Everything is fuzzy, but it still feels good.

After a moment, I slip my right hand out, from under the quilt, then folds the quilt, back towards the wall. Now I slip my feet out from under the quilt, finding me in a sitting position.

As I slide down from on top of the gurney, my gurney, I find myself standing on my own two feet, on the tips of my toes. I had always stood on the tips of my toes.

While my recollections are perfectly fine, and all my memories are intact; I still feel as if this is how I had always been, even if my memories would have told me otherwise. I need but remember any moment, from before I entered the Dungeon.

Even if I know, with utter certainty; that it is not my memories that had been changed or altered, time and later events can change who you are and what you like to do. Maybe that is the thing, it is after all a later event that is making me feel very differently; about who I am, and what I like to do. Just that some of the things that had changed, or been changed; could not be rationalized away, with this explanation.

I know I never was a Ballerina, danced ballet or tiptoed at any time before; but now I can perform these with ease. Maybe I will continue with these things as I return to my old life, as it were.

My old life, and everything that belongs to it; still remains a part of me, something I can and will return to. Though I guess; I can keep most of what is the new me, too.

If I had never cared, for being the beautiful doll before; it was in the effort it takes to maintain it, and the fact I had never truly been introduced to the idea behind it. Now I can have the look, if and when I choose to claim it.

The joy and services provided; at this Dungeon, I certainly had enjoyed, as I am certain I can and will enjoy again. Even after I have moved back home, to the old life I had before.

My sister May knows of my new me, and I know she is supporting me and my choices now. Handler had put everything into the proper perspective.

As the new me had cooled down and crystallized, the room is no longer feeling cold. I am feeling fine; better than fine, actually. In a sense; the session had heated me up; now I had cooled down, in order for me to regain the coherent image of myself. The longer the session, the hooter I am; this means that it takes more time, to cool down.

Once I had slipped out of bed, I am cooling down; to levels where I am myself again.

Since I had a full class, practicing dancing the ballet, as a Ballerina; I am well versed and confident in moving on the tips of my toes. No reason, to go back, to walking on the feet now.

The ballet-routines had been a bit of a challenge, at first; but staying on the toes, had been a breeze. The instructor had even bothered to compliment on this. Though I know she had known why.

“Maybe I should be taking up dancing, after the practice I have put in!” I ponder.

Though I know, I will be coming back to the Dungeon; after all the fun and play I had had, and just how much I had enjoyed my time here.

“Maybe just a little bit more discipline in my life had been a good idea!” I conclude, considering, just how well I had taken to my time here.

“In a sense, the place had been a blast: what Mistress had been asking of me, had turned out great, this far at least!” I ponder.

Never thought, I was submissive; now I am the Submissive, with a Mistress in charge of me.

“I needed a break, from myself and being in charge!” I ponder; “Just look, at all the joy it gave me, already; all the good, it is doing me!” I am reflecting.

Of course, this is exactly when the Assistant enters my room; interrupting my wandering thoughts, in order to bring me back to reality and to myself.

“You certainly did that that well!” Assistant points out, after a cursory glancing over my form.

“Yes, I am feeling great; all thanks to what you were offering me, as I entered your Dungeon!” I respond.

“Good, that is pleasing me to see!” Assistant respond; “Now I have to see you exercise for me!” she continues.

“Of course!” I respond.

“Just a small matter of dressing up for the exercise!” she promptly explains.

“What do you want to see me, wearing; for your exercise?” I inquire, quite eagerly.

“Traditional training wears, please!” she responds, handing me the skirt.

“Thank you!” I respond; as I accept the skirt and step right into it, affording it a few tentative tugs: once thrice and thrice.

“The training top!” she continues, handing me the garment.

“Of course!” I respond; accepting the top, slipping it down over my head.

I afford the top a few tentative tugs: once, twice and thrice; only to ascertain that perfect fit, for optimum comfort.

“A pair of white socks!” she continues, handing me the pair of white socks.

“I guess these will make it casual?” I respond; as I am accepting the socks.

A pair of regular looking socks, I wear under a pair of sneakers; when I go out, to the track for a casual jog.

“Since casual wear is inconspicuous; you will blend in, when you are going out!” she points out.

“That makes sense!” I respond; as I slip my right and left foot respectively, into the regular looking socks.

“Your shoes!” she adds, as she is offering the intended foot-wear.

“Thank you!” I respond; as I am accepting these shoes, she is handing me.

I slip my right and left foot into the shoes, feeling the soft cushioning effect under the soles of my feet. The shoes are a bit tight; but nothing like the ballerina-slips, I had been wearing for the ballet-practice the other day. Fairly comfortable shoes; for the first time, I am putting them on.

“Since these are for running; they are designed to be comfortable, when you run!” she points out.

“That makes sense!” I put forth, acknowledging her point.

Naturally; I am not standing on the tips of my toes, as I run. With this in mind; neither can I stand on the tips of my toes now, as I am wearing these shoes.

“If you don’t mind?” she offers; “It is time for your exercise now!” she continues.

With that; she is opening the door, to the room, where the tread-mill I had tries out the other day is. I am following her up the escalator.

Everything is looking, exactly as it was the other day; just as I had been expected.

“Right this way, please!” she instructs me, as she is leading me to the same tread-mill.

“I believe you know, how this works!” she points out; “Just take it in your own pace!” she then points out.

“Okay!” I respond, as I am stepping up on the tread-mill.

“Start out slow; I don’t want to see any injuries, on you!” she points out.

As she had instructed me; I am taking this slow, starting out walking. Slowly.

I am putting down the weight, on the entire foot; slowly getting the hang of it, as I continue to walk along the track. I continue, uninterrupted; for several minutes, in the slow walking pace.

“Excellent, excellent!” she exclaims; “Now you are starting to get the hang of the exercise!” she encourages me.

“Yes, this is starting to feel easy and natural, to me now!” I respond.

“Ease it up, a bit; just a little bit faster now, please!” she continues.

“Okay!” I respond, as I am starting to put on speed.

“So long as it feels right, feel free to put more energy into it; while still walking, for now!” she suggests.

“Okay!” I respond, as I start walking faster.

“There, there; there, there; there, there!” she offers, as I continue to pick up speed, while still maintaining a steady walking pace.

“Maybe; you feel ready to jog, for a bit?” she inquires.

“Yes, I think so!” I respond; as I shift gears, into a slow jogging pace.

“Good, this is going somewhere!” she puts forth; “Now, let me adjust the settings!” she offers, as she is putting some resistance up for me.

“This should be equivalent to about ten degrees uphills for you!” she suggests, as I feel the resistance increasing to the indicated level.

“This feels moderate, enough!” I point out.

“Of course, but I need you to ease you into the pace!” she explains; “In a moment, I will need you to ease further into the exercise!” she elaborates.

“So you are taking it slow, to make it safe and enjoyable?” I inquire.

“Exactly!” she responds; "I need you to move natural, throughout the entire range of your speed!” she points out.

“Oh..” I respond; “Of course, I add, almost as an afterthought.

“In a sense, this is like when Handler took me to the Cafe!” I offer.

“Your comparison is fair enough; because you need to adjust, to the outside!” she pushes on.

I watch her adjust the controls, adding a hint of resistance, as I am picking on more speed. Soon I have reached a moderate jogging pace. I find it liberating.

“If you can make a slow and steady increase in speed for me?” she inquires.

Right now, it is as easy as one could have expected; even if I could never have pictured myself here, as I am now before she took me up here. Now it is liberating, to me. I knew I needed this, and now I am enjoying it.

I comply, following the instructions she is giving; like a true Submissive, just as I had found myself enjoying. Even if I had never been submissive before.

“I trusted my Mistress, and in extension her Assistant; it is all I required, in order to follow her blindly!” I ponder; “Handler and Groom, are associated with Mistress, and thus I trusted them implicitly!” I continue; “They never let me down, so they have earned my implicit trust in them!” I conclude.

“There..” she exclaims; ”You are doing great!” she continues.

The confirmation is warming my heart and soul, brightening the smile on my face even further. I am brimming with unbridled joy.

Of course, the jog is slowly turning into running; as I am continuing picking up speed.

“How does it feel, now?” she inquires.

“Great!” I respond; “This is, exactly what I need, right now!” I respond.

“Since you mentioned, how you need to get out, before; I knew you would be needing this, right now!” she points out.

“I guess I did mention that; it was working wonders, when you took me up here!” I respond.

“I did notice that, the first time I brought you up here!” she offers.

“Can you manage, to continue or a little while longer?” she inquires; “I think I need to see you running; for just a few more minutes, at the very least!” she points out.

“I will continue to run, for as long as you need me to!” I respond; “Unless I collapse, before that!” I ponder.

“I will not permit you, to exhaust you to that point; where you collapse before me!” she points out, as she is adjusting the controls of the tread-mill, once more.

“Thank you, Assistant!” I respond, as I continue to run, with the new settings slowly being implemented.

“I have no idea, how they manage to adjust the tread-mill, in this fashion; but I have started to love, how it is challenging me!” I ponder, quietly.

I feel the mounting resistance, as I continue; just as I clearly feel the track starting to become sticky, under my feet as I continue.

She is quiet, for a while; as I continue to run, while the resistance keeps mounting. I am now at a fairly quick pace, as I am continuing along the track. By now, I am panting; as I feel my heart in my chest, as it is pounding hard and fast.

“This, is what I am enjoying!” I realize, though she already knew that.

“This should take her down onto the floor; walking regularly, as any girl on the street!” Assistant is pondering, giggling at her wits.

Of course, she had seen me walking on the tread-mill for a good long while; as she is observing the progress, of my exercise. My gait is a vital aspect, of this exercise, from her side; even if I may be just as eager, just to have the exercise to experience running out of breath.

“You are doing quite well, today!” she is commending me.

“Thank you!” I respond; “It feels great, too!” I continue.

“Just a little more, just a little more; just a little more, just a little more!” she echoes, as she is watching me run, and adjusts the settings for optimized effect.

I reach the peak performance, at the highest comfortable speed and resistance; where I stay for a while, before I am slowing down gradually.

“Slow and steady, do not stop too abruptly!” she instructs me.

“Oh, oh!” I huff, as I am starting to feel a bit winders; “Of course!” I respond.

With no further instructions, I continue to follow the track before me; only slowing down, gradually over a long period of time. Minutes passing, almost entirely unnoticed as I continue.

“So comfortable, and natural; it feels as if I had always been doing this, enjoying doing it!” I ponder, as I continue jogging.

From the original running, to a slower jog; ending as a slow walking as I persistently continue further and further.

“Just a few more minutes, please!” she is urging me, as I continue walking.

“The floor is a bit sticky, which is making it progressively harder for me to walk!” I ponder, as I am continuing to slow down even further.

“I hope, I did not make your track too muddy; for you to enjoy this properly!” she offers.

“I think I will make it; the shoes are not ruined, and I have not fallen onto my ace!” I point out.

“That would have been embarrassing, and annoying!” she agrees.

“Besides, you are the only spectator!” I conclude.

“Yes, which is the way it had been intended to be!” she responds; “This time!” she adds.

“I am usually a rather private girl!” I exclaim.

“Most of us are!” she confides; “This is a test of your trust!” she elaborates.

“I do, as you say!” I merely acknowledge.

“Even if a crowd is invited to watch?” she inquires.

“I chose to be here, just as I chose to follow your instructions before!” I point out.

“And now..” she offers; “you follow the instructions, even knowing others are watching!” she suggests.

“You have not let me down, yet..” I respond; “I have no reason; to question you, after everything you have offered me!” I put forth.

“Exactly!” she puts forth; “Though it may be a different matter; if and when you know others are watching you!” she suggests.

“I think I will maintain this pace, for now!” I ponder, as I continue to walk forwards.

“Can you maintain this gate, for just a few more minutes?” she inquires, as she is resetting the tread-mill to continuously grow stickier as I continue.

“I should manage a few more minutes!” I respond, as I continue defying the increasing resistance from the sticky track before me.

“Wonder; how much longer she can maintain this speed?” Assistant considers; as she is observing me struggling with keeping the pace, against the sticky track.

“She certainly like to make the track sticky!” I ponder; “Good thing, I find it exciting!” I continue.

Just a few more steps, and I find myself stuck in place; only stumbling a little bit, as I find my shoes firmly stuck onto the track.

The track stops in an instant, and I find myself falling forwards; catching the fall, with my hands, fingers spreading out wide.

“Now; isn’t that a delicate and delicious position?” she inquires.

“Yes, thank you for asking..” I respond; “I am wide open, ready to be eaten!” I add, almost as an afterthought; and an open invitation.

“I can’t deny, finding this exciting; seeing you before me, in this situation!” she responds.

“I thought as much!” I offer; “Hope she is taking the offer!” I ponder, only waiting for her to take the next step.

“Maybe I should?” she ponders; “Since you are asking me!” she responds.

“You have me where you want me, and I am ready!” I respond, confirming consent.

She is making a few final adjustments; before she is approaching me, answering my offer.

I feel my hands slowly sinking into the track before me, as the material is absorbing me; while it is starting to become elastic, and stretched taut like the skin of the drum.

“If you don’t mind, I want to hear your moans and cries, as I am taking you!” she offers.

“I am all yours, I am completely open, to what you have in mind!” I offer, eagerly with distinct excitement to my voice.

She is producing a plug, easily ready to fill me up, and spread me wide open. She knows it, and wants to see my unbridled reaction; on how she is handling it, as she is introducing the plug.

“Okay, here I come; I am just lubricating this for you, before I enter!” she points out.

“Lubrication, sounds delicious!” I respond.

She is uncapping the can, containing a crystal-clear highly viscous gel lubricant before me.

“I hope this is right!” she offers.

She places the lid on the nearest open surface, while she is holding on to the base of the plug. The next moment; she is pushing the head of the plug into the gel. I watch the gel being pushed aside, but the plug; as she is pushing the plug down to an inch from the bottom, with just an inch to spare on the base of the plug.

There is a delicious, sucking noise; as she is pulling the plug up, out of the gel. She is smiling, at me; as she is raising to her feet, and walks around me. The next moment, she is approaching me; going down onto her knees, as she is moving the plug towards my rump.

“This is the perfect opportunity..” she explains; “Introducing the plug, in this manner!” she elaborates, after a moment.

“Okay, take your time.. ” I respond; I am waiting!” I continue; “It isn’t, as if I am going anywhere; any time soon!” I ponder.

She lingers for a moment; then I feel the wetness of the lubricated plug, touching my skin.

“Oh, oh!” I exclaim.

I find myself helplessly contract, as the lubrication is touching my flesh. It is clearly a reflex, upon touching the wet gel.

She is slowly applying pressure; and I find the plug sliding in; unhindered, and aided by the slippery and wet lubrication it is coated with.

Ooohh, ooohh!” I exclaim; as the tip of the plug enters me, from behind.

As much as I may try to squeeze it out, I am utterly incapable of it; even as firmly as the gel is making me contract, by exposure to the lubrication.

“Ooooooohhh!” I sigh, as she continues to insert the plug; slowly but certainly, drawing out the process seemingly indefinitely.

“She is spreading me, wide open!” I realize; “Just as she is filling me up, to the brim!” I continue, as the plug slowly enters me, inch by inch.

“How was that?” she coos; just as she is feeling the plug plop, with a distinct pinch.

“Oh, oh!” I sigh, still feeling the lingering sensation of the plug entering me.

“I hope you enjoyed it, I wanted you to experience the process for all it is worth!” she puts forth.

It had only taken her an hour, to insert this one plug into me. The gel is slowly absorbed, as it is saturating me all the way in; slowly contracting me further, as the process is progressing.

“That..” I offer, panting heavily; "Was quite intense!” I continue.

“Well, it still is..”I put forth, still panting; “Considering how I can’t ignore that the plug is filling me up to the brim!” I conclude.

“The lubrication is enhancing the experience; since it makes you more sensitive, and contracts you in the process!” she coos, as she is explaining the situation.

“Now, of you don’t mind..” she continues; producing the lip-liner, with which she is drawing a line along the plug and thus bonding it to my flesh.

“Oh, oh; oooh!” I sigh, as I feel myself bond to the plug and contract in the process.

“Amazing, isn’t it?” she exclaims.

“Ah, ah, ah..” I stumble, sighing; “Amazing, indeed!” I realize, as I feel the plug pushing all my thoughts out.

“This is my cue; it is time, for the final item!” she points out.

She is producing a muzzle, carefully placing it over my mouth. I feel the smooth rubbery surface touching my skin; as she is tightening it u, bit by bit.

With a final effort, she is stretching it; before she is tying it up, behind my neck. I feel the rubber against the lower half of my face, including my lips; only to realize the rubber now acts as a tube, invading my mouth as it is spreading over my lips and continues inwards.

“Ooh, ooh; ooh, ooh!” I ponder, now mute; since the muzzle’s tube has invaded my mouth, and its first inch into my mouth.

Only the tube continues all the way in, before it continues one inch down my throat, then two and three inches down.

“I hope my nectar is sweet for you now!” I ponder.

A few minutes later; I feel her lips kissing my mound and parting enough, to encompass the petals of my orchid. Now she is licking the tips of the petals, moment my moment, one at the time.

She continues lapping away, as she is lapping at the petals of the orchid. I am already in full bloom, before I had even realized it, partially because she had distracted me.

After ten minutes, the orgasm is hitting me. It is flooding my mind with the alluring pleasure.

I was already panting hard, now I feel my heart racing, pounding hard.

Minute by minute; I am slowly cooling of, as I am reaching towards the equilibrium.

She had stopped, as I was hit by the orgasm; while she is remaining in place, as if she had been paused.

Just as I am reaching my equilibrium; she is starting over again, as she is returning to where she had begun. I feel the tip of her tongue, as she continues to lap away at me. She is caressing my sensitive petals; as if she had been a masseuse, massaging me with the very utmost of care.

Each delicate touch, slowly but certainly carrying me further on my way; from the initial orgasm and its bliss, and to the orgasmic state I am reaching only first as I peak.

As I peak, she is slowly breaking of. She momentarily leave me as I am, where I am. Knowing she could give me nothing more now, as I had peaked and reached my fully orgasmic state. She had spent the hour well, easing me into this position and state.

After an undetermined time later, I feel a tub inserted into my belly button; the squeaky rubber-doll valve, making me into a doll, much easier to move out of the room.

I had barely noticed it, as she carefully and respectfully closed my eyes; before she released me from the tread-miss, and promptly carried me back down to my room. As she is leaving the room, I lie on my back; under the quilt on the gurney in my room. This is the last I am conscious of.

My body is a doll, and I am the orgasm. It is all I know, and all I am. Like rubber, heated up; I am slowly melting. With the plug inside me, I am susceptible; as the corruption of the heat of the orgasm is influencing me faster and deeper, than it otherwise would have been.

A Doll in my Bed: 17

Of course the plug had been pulled out, at the end of the time met out for my exposure. It is how the spell is broken. While I do not know it, mainly due to the fact that I am exhausted at the time; it is the key, to reach climax.

I feel warm, but this is different from how it had always felt before. I can’t put a finger to how, or why it is different. Maybe this is part of how I am changed.

Every time I am waking up, after a session, I have changed; slightly, at the very least.

I am nude, safe for the panties and top I am wearing. I always wear these two garments, when I am sleeping here. If I had not worn them before, I believer they would put them on for me. I do not mind.

It is a very comfortable ensemble. It is also among the first things they ever gave me, here.

I am lying still, warm and fuzzy; just enjoying the moment, as it gels great. It is positively, the single greatest moment I have ever experienced.

Moment, by moment; ticking by, and I do not feel as if I had to do anything. I am just feeling great. It is warm, inside. I am warm, and it is so comfortable.

The Assistant is entering the room; I remain still and silent, just like the pretty doll I am. At least, right now, it feels as if I had been a doll.

“She is such an adorable Doll, where she lies still!” Assistant considers, as she is seeing me.

“I think; I will let you be the doll, for now!” she points out.

“Yes, yes, yes!” I ponder, inside; quietly, where I lie.

Once she has me, squarely in place; on the bottom sheet; she is picking up the second sheet, she is placing over the bottom sheet.

“I’ll just adjust these; before I can package you up, now!” she explains, as she is fiddling with the two lower corners of the sheets.

Once the corners are lining up, they start to pull together; sealing up, and the individual sheets are fusing together into a tightly sealed package.

“Oh, oh; now it is taking hold, as it is closing me in!” I realize, as the sheets slowly poll together around my rump first.

I feel the silicon slowly coming together around me; the sealing slowly moving up, along my body. From the rump, upwards; all the way up over my body, ending at the upper end of the package.

Since I already am a doll, incapable to move by myself; I barely notice, how it is holding me in a very tight grip.
Just as the package had sealed up, completely; she is applying the corners, with which she is hooking the inner packaging into the outer casing.

“This looks, and feels; as if it had been the inside of a doll package, and I am the doll inside!” I realize.

The back is a mate black, solid silicon-plate. The right, left, upper and lower plates are merely matching the back-plate I can’t see. Though the front is clear; with the intent of show-casing me as a doll; just as it leaves me to see, what is outside the package I am now stored in.

With eyes fully open; I lie on the bottom of the package, forced to watch what is happening before me. All I could see now, is the ceiling above me.

“Oh, but of course; I am sorry, I can’t leave the package lying like this!” she exclaim.

A moment later, she is picking up the package containing me; righting it up, so that I can see the door almost as if I had been standing up on my own two feet.

“What kind of a doll, are you?” she inquires; as if she had expected a doll to actually answer, or there is a second person in the room.

“What you need; is a squeaky doll-valve, so you can play the part!” she announces.

“Yes, I believe I do need that, right now!” I consider, as response to her words.

With that, she is producing a valve; slowly inserting it, into my belly button. Now it feels, as if my belly button had been designed, for just this very purpose. Hadn’t it? Why else would it possibly be there?

“Oh!” I ponder.

I had felt the valve inserted, but it does not feel as anything had really changed. Had it? Maybe it had not? Though it is still feeling all warm and fluffy inside. That special fuzzy feeling.

“This is not a dream, but it feels good; almost as if this had been a dream!” I ponder.

“Now, my little doll; I have to prepare you, for shipping!” she explains almost as if there had been a girl in the room.

I can clearly see her, and I feel everything almost exactly as normal; as she is folding one side of the quilt out of the way, before she is once more focusing on me.

First she is aiding me, in pushing me up into a sitting position; before she is bending my arms forwards and bending my upper arms upwards.

Now she is tipping me over, into a new position; where I am almost on all fours. Here; she is bending my knees, in a ninety degree angle. With that, I am effectively on all fours. I am still facing the head-end of my bed.

“There, now you are ready, for the next step, the insertion!” she explains.

Palms down, onto the bed, fingers spread wide; my feet bent comfortably, as I am looking straight forwards. I am effectively her doll; accepting the pose she is giving me, expectant of what she is doing to me, as she is playing with me as if I had been a doll. The doll I am, right now.

She picks up a new box; marked: "Factory Reset”

I watch her opening the box, containing a very large plug; intended for anal insertion, with me as its obviously intended target.

“Oooh, oooh, oooh!” I ponder, in stark realization, as she is extracting the crystal-clear Silicone plug in her right hand.

“Anal rivet-plug” reads the subtitle, explaining the item in her hand further.

This time; she is not applying any lubrication, to the plug. She is still taking her time, taking it very slow. Almost as if she had been demonstrating the plug to me; explaining her intent, before she will actually perform the insertion.

As the tip of the plug is finally touching the entrance of my anal cavity; I hastily realize, exactly why she had not applied any lubrication. I am quite wet, and perfectly lubricated and slippery.

Furthermore; I am finding my self contract instinctively, the instant the plug is touching me. I have no say or control over the contraction.

“I will take this slow, so that you can enjoy the experience for as long as possible!” she explains, before she initiate the actual insertion of the plug.

She takes a moment, to permit the intent of her words to sink in; before she is starting to insert the plug, albeit very slowly. True to her words. I feel the tip enter me, as it starts spreading me.

"Ooooh, oooh, oooh; ooooooohh!” I exclaim, inside my head.

As a Doll, I have no voice; just as I have no control: of my lips tongue and vocal cords at this time. The inserted valve, saw to this. I had been a doll; ready for her to prepare me, as she saw fit. This, is how she is tending to me. She is making this one experience, into an adventure of significant pleasures.

Of course; that would imply, that this pleasure-doll even had vocal cords to begin with. Does it? I have no idea.

“Ooooooohhh!” I realize, during the entire process of her inserting this plug into me.

I experience the plug constantly spreading me wide open; as it is filling me up, to the brim.

Inch by inch; and I am experiencing this: instant by instant.

The effort is taking her a full hour, sixty minutes; before I feel the plug plop, as it is riveting itself securely into place with a quite distinct pinch.

The sting of the pinch gradually evaporates, as I am adjusting to the plug. As I had contracted to swallow it, I am no longer feeling the pinch; almost as if it had never happened, and the plug had always been inside me.

“Beautiful, simply beautiful!” she exclaims, cooing in excitement.

“What is that, I am hearing you saying?” she inquires, almost as if she had heard me saying something.

“Yes, but of course; you need the other plug, to match the set!” she says, as if she had been vocalizing the words she hears me saying.

Or, if it had been her Muse or Shoulder Angel? I have no idea; it is all the same to me, anyway. Maybe; because I am her doll, to play with.

I soon realize, she had prepared an oral plug; matching the anal insertion, I am already feeling embedded into me. Just as the anal plug; the matching oral toy is considerably larger, than the regular one I had been enjoying before. Something about doll anatomy?

She is extracting the oral plug, before she is walking around me; facing me, with the plug in hand. As she is standing before me, she is introducing the plug to me; I feel the plug against my lips almost as I had been kissing it, before she is pushing it in. I feel my lips, and mouth contraction at contact; just as I feel the plug spreading my lips, before it is filling my mouth up completely.

“I like a more Equine Doll, if you would not mind?” she offers, as she is looking at me.

“That sounds delightful!” I ponder; as I am picturing myself as the doll, she is desiring right now.

“A muzzle, is required!” she points out, as she is producing the muzzle, she had in mind.

I feel the muzzle, being pressed up against the lower half of my face. She is pressing the muzzle into place; as she is producing the lip-liner; with which she is drawing a line along the outer edge of the muzzle, thus bonding and fusing it onto my face. As the line is turned into a completed circle; the muzzle is fully integrated, into my anatomy for as long as the bond is holding.

As the muzzle had been bonded onto my face; she is extracting a pair of equine ears, matching the muzzle and my face. She is placing them on my head; before she is applying the bond, and thus sealing them into my current anatomy.

“There, much better!” she coos, in excitement; as she is adoring the latest change, onto my face.

“If only I could see it, but from what I can feel; it should be perfect, on me!” I ponder.

“With the muzzle, you need something more; in order to complete your Factory Reset!” she points out; as she is producing a crystal-clear yello, intended for use on an Equine subject, such as me.

Since the muzzle had been bonded onto my face, it is feeling normal; no pressure, and no numbness at all. Just comfortable, as if I had been born with it.

“Everything is one size larger, with the Factory Reset model?” I ponder.

As she is introducing the yello to my lips, I find myself contracting instantly on contact in an instinctive manner; then I feel her slipping the yello into my mouth, inch by inch.

“How long will it take her?” I ponder, as she slips in the toy into my mouth.

Inch by inch, and minute by minute; the toy slides into my mouth and down my throat, deeper and deeper still. There is a distinct pinch, as it is locking into place; fully inserted, all the way down my throat. I am contracting around its entire length, feeling it filling me up and spreading me insistently and constantly.

She produces the lip-liner once again; drawing the line around the outer edge of the yellow; bonding it onto my muzzle, and into my mouth. Yet, the feeling of the yellow filling me up is persistent; never letting go, or letting up in the least.

“I would have loved, to eat you right here and now..” she points out; “But regulations require; that I prepare you, for shipping now!” she explains.

I am feeling her hands on my body, as she is adjusting my pose; making me stand on my knees. She straightens my arms, before she is bending them behind my back, folding my arms as if they had been the wings of a bird. I feel her pressing my arms down against my back firmly; leaving my arms, in this position.

Now I feel her hands grabbing my waist; as she is pushing me forwards; placing me on my belly, before she is turning me over on my back.

She is grabbing the right leg, bending it forwards. I feel her bending and twisting my legs; until she is satisfied with my posture. She presses my knees up to my shoulders, while she is pressing my feet towards the sides of my rump.

“There; ready for shipping!” she explains.

“I guess, this is a posture; appropriate, for a sex-doll to be shipped in!” I realize.

“I just need you, to cool down to package specifications, before I can pack you up, for shipping!” she points out, matter of fact.

Of course, now since the quilt is no longer maintaining my body-heat; I am cooling down slowly, as my personality is regaining coherence. I am slowly regaining who I had been, or who I am about to become.

“We need to ship you off; to an important scene, overseas!” she points out, explaining the situation.

“A scene? I am to perform on stage; for massive crowds? As the Ballerina, I had been practicing for!” I ponder.

“Exactly!” she points out, as if she had known what I thought.

“Tickets have been sent to a few of your kin, including your sister: May!” she then explains.

“Of course; that is what she meant; when she had mentioned, that I were to be performing on a stage, for spectators!” I realize.

“In just a few more minutes, I will initiate packing you for the trip!” she informs me.

“Oh!” I ponder, as I am looking at her.

She is placing a thermometer onto my forehead, and placing a timer before my face; showing me how much time remains, before she can finally wrap it up and package me for the trip.

“A thermo meeper?” I ponder, inwardly giggling at my position.

With that, I am watching the time count down, towards the initiation; where she is to be packing me. She is keeping close watch of my inner temperature; in order to see, when it is safe to start packing me for the trip.

Seconds ticking by, as the temperature is in steady decline; I am closing in, on the promised trip. I am still a bit of, but I am at least still closing in on the promised dream.

“Tick, tock; tick, tock; tick tock!” I hear the clock echoing, over and over in my head; as the time is slipping by.

“It is time!” she announces; as she is picking up a large Silicone sheet, for me to lay down on.

I notice, how she is placing the sheet on the lower end of the bed; where I am currently not lying. She is lifting me up, grabbing me by the waist; before she is placing me on the middle of the sheet, prepared for me.

Once she has me, squarely in place; on the bottom sheet; she is picking up the second sheet, she is placing over the bottom sheet.

“I’ll just adjust these; before I can package you up, now!” she explains, as she is fiddling with the two lower corners of the sheets.

Once the corners are lining up, they start to pull together; sealing up, and the individual sheets are fusing together into a tightly sealed package.

“Oh, oh; now it is taking hold, as it is closing me in!” I realize, as the sheets slowly poll together around my rump first.

I feel the Silicone slowly coming together around me; the sealing slowly moving up, along my body. From the rump, upwards; all the way up over my body, ending at the upper end of the package.

Since I already am a doll, incapable to move by myself; I barely notice, how it is holding me in a very tight grip.

Just as the package had sealed up, completely; she is applying the corners, with which she is hooking the inner packaging into the outer casing.

“This looks, and feels; as if it had been the inside of a doll package, and I am the doll inside!” I realize.

The back is a mate black, solid Silicone-plate. The right, left, upper and lower plates are merely matching the back-plate I can’t see. Though the front is clear; with the intent of show-casing me as a doll; just as it leaves me to see, what is outside the package I am now stored in.

With eyes fully open; I lie on the bottom of the package, forced to watch what is happening before me. All I could see now, is the ceiling above me.

“Oh, but of course; I am sorry, I can’t leave the package lying like this!” she exclaims.

A moment later, she is picking up the package containing me; righting it up, so that I can see the door almost as if I had been standing up on my own two feet.

I am watching, ever so watch-full; incapable of closing my eyes, or looking away. Unconsciously seeing, registering everything before me; like a camera left on, but not consciously registering anything. I am a doll. A Doll sees all; yet sees nothing. That is me. I am the doll.

I am stacked, awaiting the shipping. They will take me, to where I am desired.

Once I am delivered; I will be unpacked, for me to be dressed up and perform, for the full house promised.

Only once I am unpacked; can I be dressed up, as a Ballerina. First then, can I perform; dancing for the audience, breathlessly awaiting me to perform before them.

The Ballerina, Safely Delivered: 18

I can only assume; that I had safely arrived, and been delivered at the grand Theatre where I had been scheduled to perform.

While I am still contained within the confines of the package, like the doll I still am; I have no idea, as to where I am. I merely watch the view before me, blindly; just like the doll I still am. I am nothing more, than an ordinary Doll; as extraordinary and unusual as I may be, as a doll.

I see Assistant, standing before me; watching me, where the package had been placed as a prop for a play. As I had merely been a regular prop, an item to be placed on the stage, as a simple effect.

“There you are!” assistant exclaims, as she lays eyes upon me.

“Yes!” I ponder.

“I guess, it is high time I unpack you now; so I can dress you up, for the big event!” she points out.

Of course, there is no-one else in the room. Maybe, that is for the better.

“I hope, you have fared well..” she points out, as she is looking at me.

“Just a moment, and I will have you right out of that box!” she offers; “It will just take me a moment, to liberate you for this!” she puts forth.

“I have been waiting, this far; I am fairly sure, I can manage to wait a few more minutes!” I ponder.

She is dismantling the package, plate by plate; before my very eyes, as she is doing her job. I guess she is the Assistant, for reasons. This is, what an Assistant is supposed to do: assist.

The fact; that I am ending up with my back on the floor, does not really bother me right now. At least, I am being pulled out of the package. Without any undue discomfort; on my part, as it is.

In the end; she stands with only the two sheets of crystal-clear Silicone, making up the initial sealed package containing me. I watch her, as she is dismantling this as well; as she is pulling each of the four corner-clips off of the vacuum-container.

With each of the corner-clips being removed, the vacuum-containment is weakening; to the point where air is rushing in, as the two separate sheets are coming apart.

While I am still lying on the floor, with only the one sheet under my back; I am now fully exposed to the air of the room, ready to be released and dressed up for my task.

I watch her, as she is extracting the yello inserted into my mouth. She is placing this, in a safe storage-container for the purpose of keeping it clean, for the use, when I am going to be shipped back home, after my performance. Even if I may still be a doll; I am soon about to become a living girl in the flesh, once more.

“The current configuration as Equine does not directly change or affect her performance; just her appearance, with the muzzle and ears on her head!” Assistant ponders, as she is considering my options.

“A tail would look great, on you; just as it is completing your current appearance!” she points out.

“Oh!” I ponder.

“Time to pull the plug, and release you!” she points out, as she is explaining the situation to me.

She is alone with me, knowing full-well none is listening to what she is saying. Maybe she would have been quiet, if she thought anyone had been listening?

I feel her fingers slipping into my anal cavity, as she is extracting the large plug from inside my anal cavity. It is coming out, with a sucking noise.

“There!” she offers.

With both the plugs extracted, I am finding myself reactivated; as I am changing into the girl I had been before I had entered, and the anal plug had been inserted into my rump.

While everything I had seen and felt is still in my memory, as if I had been a recording device; now my old memories are starting to come back as I am regaining full consciousness.

“I’m propping you up, placing you in a more dignified position!” she points out.

“Thank you, Assistant!” I neigh, in response.

“You are quite welcome, my dear Submissive!” she responds, understanding the equine speech perfectly.

“She has helped other girls in my position, countless times before!” I ponder.

“I will help you; untangle yourself from your current compact position!” she points out.

“I guess; I could use some help, with that!” I neigh.

“That is why I am here; with you, right now!” she merely acknowledges.

She is perfectly comfortable, with being addressed as Assistant, and is addressing others by their current designation in kind. Of course, most of the time; there is no other Assistant present in her position, just as there is no more than one of any other designation either.

I feel her hand, as she is grabbing my right arm by the wrist; before she is aiding me slowly, as she is helping me untangle the limb. Step by step, and so slow I can move with her, rather than just being pulled out of the current pose. I will have to flex my arm, for a while; once she had untangled me completely. Though that will have to wait; until she has untangled me, completely.

While my right arm had been untangled, my hand now lay on the floor. She is repeating the process; as she is grabbing my left arm by the wrist. Once she is holding the arm in a gentle, yet firm grip; she is untangling it, slowly and carefully with great respect. A moment later, both my arms have been untangled.

“Focus!” she exclaims; “Flex your fingers, and feel the life coming back to them!” she is cooing seductively.

“I guess, this is who she is!” I ponder; “She is naturally seductive, seeking the pleasure in my life!” I am realizing.

While my fingers still remain firmly spread out as wide as I had been able; I am slowly regaining the control, to flex my fingers as I am focusing on them.

“There, there!” she coos, excitedly; as she senses my progress, in following the given instruction.

“Oh, oh!” I neigh; “This is starting to feel better!” I continue.

“I will help you untangle your legs, now!” she promises.

“Yes, please!” I respond; “That would be most help-full, Assistant!” I add.

“My voice is starting to come back!” I realize; “Just a hint of my feminine, human voice is starting to come back, to me!” I continue.

With the muzzle, my face will forever remain quite equine; particularly with the equine ears on the top of my head. Though I have yet to regain the control of these, as well.

I feel her hand, as she is grabbing my right ankle; as the first step, in untangling my legs. Slowly, she is guiding my leg back into its original, intended position. As she is letting go, my leg is straight, under me, in a position permitting me to stand up, properly.

A moment later, I feel her grabbing my left ankle; before she is guiding my leg back into position. In the process; I am lying on my back, almost as if I had been sleeping or resting.

“Wriggle your toes, Please; Submissive!” she coos.

“Okay!” I neigh, in response.

“Oh, and focus on your pronunciation; even if I can hear you quite clearly, and understand what you are saying!” she points out; Others will merely hear neighs and whinnies, as if you had been a regular Pony or Horse!” she explains.

“So much to focus on!” I ponder; “Thank you, Assistant!” I respond.

“Focus, is the key to regain yourself!” she explains, matter of fact.

“Oh, of course!” I respond, as I realize, what she had just told me.

“Now, I need you to stand up!” she points out; “I will help you up, on your own two feet!” she explains.

“Thank you, Assistant!” I respond, focusing on each and every sound I make; as I am pronouncing the words, responding to her.

I feel her hands, as she is grabbing me by the waist; and how she is slowly pulling me up into a standing position.

“Shake your arms, please!” she instructs me.

“Yes!” I respond, as I feel the neighing in my voice slowly slip out of my voice with each syllable I pronounce.

I am complying, as I am shaking my arms. Just as she had commanded me to, but it is I who am shaking my arms by my own volition. My arms are not merely shaking; because she said so, or because she wants my arms to shake. I feel the liberation, as I am regaining the control of my arms.

“There, there; much better!” she coos, in excitement; as she is observing me, regaining the control of my body.

“Now, if you could shake your legs and jump up and down, for a moment!” she continues.

“Of course!” I respond; as I feel a smile spreading out, over my muzzle.

While I am following the instructions; she is producing the stockings I am supposed to wear, as a Ballerina.

“Please, slip these on!” she coos.

I accept the right stocking; slipping my foot in all the way down; before I am once more standing on my feet. Now I am accepting the left stocking; slipping the foot in; pulling it up. I afford my stockings a few tentative tugs, in order to ascertain the perfect fit: once, twice and thrice.

“Flex your feet!” she instructs me, and I comply.

I watch my feet, as I am flexing them; reminding myself, of just how beautiful a Doll I am now.

While I comply; she is producing the ballerina-slips for me. She is quietly helping me slipping them on to my feet, before she is lacing them up tightly.

“There, there!” she coos.

With the slippers laced up; I find myself once more on the tips of my toes, as I am moving over the floor.

“A pirouette?” she inquires.

“Of course!” I respond; as I perform the requested move, for her.

“Excellent, excellent!” she exclaims; “Beautiful, simply beautiful!” she coos, as she watches me puling of the move flawlessly.

“Thank you!” I respond, taking the compliment.

“Since you have confirmed; that you can perform, it is high time you move up to the stage!” Mistress prompts, as she is entering the small room.

“Yes, of course; we simply can not permit the audience to wait!” Assistant agrees.

“All the dignitaries has arrived!” Mistress is pointing out, matter of fact; with urgent emphasis.

“Is Miss May on the VIP balcony?” Assistant inquires.

“She most certainly is, I have spotted her personally!” Mistress confirms.

“Then, by all means; lead the way, and we will follow!” Assistant responds.

“Right this way, please!” Mistress pronounces, as she is opening the door; stepping out of the room.

I follow Assistant, as she is a step behind Mistress; leading the way, over to the stage, upon which I am to be performing.

A Play, for Miss May: 19

Author's Note

Miss May's POV

A Play, for Miss May: 19

I had been given a ticket, to a play. They had included the tickets, to the flight that would take me to the city and the theatre; where the play is performed, as well.

Even the letter, explaining everything.

Dear Miss May!

I am hereby inviting you to watch the performance of your sister at the Grand Opera of Moscow; where she will be performing as the Ballerina in the upcoming Ballet.

The tickets are included.

We will be most pleased; if you were to accept the invitation.

Signed: Mistress

Ps: Food will be served on the plane, then a special meal will be served at the Grand Opera of Moscow.

“Whoa!” I exclaim, in shock and awe.

“How could I possibly refuse this?” I ponder.

It is not, as if just about any girl is granted the honour, of performing on a stage. The cost of taking a Submissive to a pay is grand. Not to mention; taking the play overseas, to a world-renowned Opera house.

“This is a once in a life-time opportunity, for me; to see my Sister performing, on a stage!” I ponder; “With both the tickets and the food paid for, in advance!” I realize.

“Yes; the tickets had been included, just as she said!” I mumble.

“Not that I could picture Mistress offering something, and just forget to include it!” I ponder.

This is my sister’s Mistress, but I can’t imagine a Mistress any way other than how my Mistress is. She commonly is addressed Mistress, almost like a name. A Mistress is a Mistress. She is the Mistress.

“I will have to store these safely, so that I can go!” I mumble, to myself; “Besides; I will have to convey my gratitude, as I am sending my acceptance notice!” I continue.

It is not just a matter of honour. My Mistress had taught me, to act in this manner.

I pick up my pen, as I am placing the piece of paper on the desk; preparing to respond, as I am formulating the message in my head.

Dear Mistress!

I am accepting the invitation and your most gracious offer; to see my Sister perform, at the Grand Opera house of Moscow.

Thank you, for the invitation, and the opportunity to see April perform as the Ballerina, as she is dancing Ballet.

Signed: May

With the response written, I am slipping the piece of paper into its envelope. I lick the flap and seal the envelope, finishing the response once and for all. It is ready, for being mailed.

“I will just have to place this in the mail-box, shortly!” I ponder.

Of course; I will have to place this in the mail, so that she will know I have accepted the offer. It would be rude; not to respond, and with haste.

“Even if she does not see me, from down on the stage; my Sister April needs me there, and expects me to come!” I ponder.

If I have been invited, to come and see her perform; she is informed of the invitation, extended to me. Of course, I had been invited. I could only imagine; Mistress had been quite adamant, on seeing me invited, to see her dance.

“If she is performing, at the Opera house of Moscow; she is considered worth showing off, which means that she is quite exceptional!” I ponder; “Considering what I know; she had never been into dancing before, so she really did take to it, at the Dungeon!” I conclude.

From what I know, and what I recall; I was indeed right, in suggesting she was visiting the Dungeon and see her Mistress. The visit to the cafe; where she had been walked by her Handler, who had invited me over. The occasion; clearly in fresh memory, for the success it had been.

The event at the cafe had been a blast; not just because my Sister April had been there; but the muffin had been delicious, and I had been dying to come out of the closet for her.

As I realized, just how much excitement could be hidden; under the surface of these suction-cups we had been granted, by our respective Mistress. Yes; Mistress is what I call her, both name and title.

Of course; I am looking forwards to see my Sister; even if it is just on the stage, as she is performing. At least this time. I know she is coming home, soon. I am looking forwards; just to see her, and to discuss certain memories and experiences from the Dungeon.

I know we were close before, we always had been; now we are sharing more, and deeper secrets I had never imagined we could possibly share.

Since I do have a sister; I love sharing my secrets with her, and now I guess I finally can share with her. Now we have something in common; I had not been expecting I could share with her. Maybe I had secretly felt, and feared; she would not understand, or appreciate what I had been explaining. Now I know better.

She came out, of the closet; for me, showing she had been into this all along. She just never realized it, before she had tried it out for herself. Now; she loves it, she is loving it and me for letting her know.

“Sisters share things; all these little things, but also the really important things!” I ponder.

While I may be looking forwards, to all the fancy and expensive things promised; as I accepted the offer, to see her perform, but I am doing it purely for her. I had gone to meet her, at the cafe; just because her Handler had invited me, and I had enjoyed it with her. Just because she was there. Though the offered muffin had been great. Maybe it had been great; because my sister was there, but I will never know that.

“Would I even have enjoyed the performance I had been invited to see; had it not been for my sister performing, on the stage?” I ponder.

I had no idea. Maybe I would have, and maybe I would not have enjoyed it. Now she will be the star, at the center of the stage.

“With April on the stage, I will love this!” I ponder; “Of that, I am certain!” I conclude.

The Mistress of a Star: 20

Author's Note

Mistress' POV

The Mistress of a Star: 20

Of course, I had had a letter sent to Miss May; April’s younger sister, offering her the chance to see her older sister April perform. Even at the expense of paying her tickets, so that she did not have to worry about her personal finances upon accepting; it had been the proper way, the right and the only possible way.

I had written and signed the letter; personally, just as I had included the tickets to permit her to come. I do not know; how hard these tickets would have been to get one’s hands upon; just as I do not know, what they would have set her back by acquiring them. I just need to give her the chance, the opportunity; to be there, and to see her sister on the stage.

“If any Submissive under me has the shot at Stardom; I am bound by my honour, to invite the next of kin. Her sister is the first on the list. The one I could not fail to invite, or neglect to offer this opportunity to!” I ponder.

An official letter had just arrived, to my person. It is the letter returned from the girl whom I had invited to the Honour of her older sister. I instantly recognize the official envelope included in the invitation letter I had sent to her.

This is not like anything within the internal correspondence, with the other Mistresses of the Hive; or, even the Queen herself. Granted, one may take part in some limited external correspondence with others outside of the Hive itself. Though this is an important notice.

I rarely have this pleasure, of receiving an important notice by mail. Maybe this is; because I so rarely have the opportunity to invite people, to anything even mildly exciting or vaguely important.

Once I am alone, I am pushing the envelope to the fore. This envelope could have been opened with a letter knife, or some would have been expecting. Why in all of the world, would one chance such an important notice to be intercepted and read by an outsider?

I light my horn, and the envelope is opening like a beautiful flower. The letter floating up before me; for me to read, and me alone. This trick is an old spell, of ours; a very old spell, we are guarding with begrudging fierceness. One can not permit anyone of the outside, even to know of the spell alone. Only this way, can the secret of the spell remain safe.

As the letter is hovering before me, it reads as follows:

Dear Mistress!

I am accepting the invitation and your most gracious offer; to see my Sister perform, at the Grand Opera house of Moscow.

Thank you, for the invitation, and the opportunity to see April perform as the Ballerina, as she is dancing Ballet.

Signed: May

“She accepted!” I ponder; “I was expecting as much!” I conclude.

“I am most pleased; to know she is accepting the offer, of course!” I mumble, to the record.

While I had predicted her acceptance; based on what is known of the girl and her sister, I am still enjoying to read the letter.

Once I had read through the message, the letter is conveying; I am musing upon its meaning for a moment, before I am filing it away properly. It belongs to the records. I may be its custodian; but it is an official document, stored for the interest of the Hive and the Queen Chrysalis herself.

Of course. Once the message had been filed away, into the archive; the Queen can access it, and read it at her own leisure. It is how the archive works; the Queen has full access to everything, at any and all time. She is after all responsible, ultimately; for the success of the Hive, and its well-being.

“Of course, the Queen does not have any free or spare time on her hands!” I ponder; “One more reason; why I love being the Mistress, and not the Queen!” I consider.

We love the Queen, and adore her from afar; but we do not envy her for the glory, in light of the responsibilities she is shouldering.

Since I have read the message, and filed it way; it is out of my hands, and slipped into the hands of our beloved Queen. I need not worry about this, ever again.

With a positive note, in the form of an accepted invitation; it gives me other duties to attend to, seeing to that everything is prepared for the invitee. I need to make absolutely and utterly certain; everything is in order, for when she is boarding the plane to Moscow. Just as all the other items of transport and personal services will be provided and extended to Miss May.

As a Mistress; I do have to go and see the Queen, every now and then. One can only pray; all the reasons for going there, are on the positive note. Like this event; with Miss April is performing as a Ballerina, at the Grand Opera house of Moscow.

The Submissive: Miss April is a fairly rare find, for a Mistress like me. I had been most fortunate; when she had been hand-picked for me to attend to. She had simply been the next Submissive; matching my general preferences and qualifications. Who would have known?

“What if another Mistress had been given this Submissive?” I ponder; “Would Miss April have turned out, as she did now? Would she have turned into a Star?” I consider.

I may never know. It is too late; to change it, and she is already the Star of this Play.

It had become clear, fairly early on; just what an exceptional find she had been, and I had seen the Queen to inform her of my recent progress. Queen Chrysalis had been most pleased; both with the report, and my success with the Submissive named Miss April.

Apparently; I had learned of her Younger sister: May, as I was digging into Miss April’s personal details.

Handling It: 21

Author's Note

Handler's POV

Handling It: 21

Since I am the handler of the Submissive named Miss April, I am handling most of her affairs outside of the Hive and Dungeon. This falls under my responsibilities.

Of course, to her; I am Handler.

I had been walking her, outside of the dungeon; in order to help her, adapting to the outside world from where she came. She needs to be fully adapted, before we could once more release her, into the city where she is living her life.

To me, and everyone else at the dungeon; Miss April is a Submissive. I handle her, as her Handler. Thus, I am known as Handler to her. Just as she is known, as Submissive to me.

“Handler; this crate needs to go with us, on the plane to the Opera house of Moscow!” Assistant explains.

“Yes, Assistant; I will see to it, personally!” I respond; “This crate will be on the plane to Moscow; following us on the flight to our destination, at the Grand Opera house of Moscow!” I add.

While you may find it odd, or even disturbing; loading the girl in a crate, and transport her as mere cargo? It is not a matter of saving funds; it is a matter of how she is prepared, for the stage ahead of her.

She can not be air-sick, in this crate; because she is in the state of a Doll, for the duration of the trip. She does not have to eat, drink or breathe; either, of cause. She will need no pass-port, or other personal documentation; when she is crossing the borders on the trip. Just a cargo manifesto, stating the cargo contains a doll.

Would we suffer a delay, or any other incident; she will not even know of it, in her current state.

Since the crate, in which she is stored is so light; I can easily carry her around, to the awaiting vehicle on the back. All cargo is picked up, on the back; since we prefer to keep the shipments, well out of sight. This time; we are using a black mini-van, suspiciously similar to the kind of truck you transport caskets of the deceased in.

As I arrive, on the back; the truck is already waiting, the double doors on the back wide open; so I simply place the crate on the floor of the cargo-hold and close the doors behind her.

“Thump!” I hear the muffled sound; almost as if the dead would be more sensitive to these noises, than we as the living are.

I guess I find this amusing; as I walk up to the left side of the mini-van. The door slides up, just as I am approaching; I slip right in, and pull the door shut behind me.

“Handler?” Driver pronounces; “The crate, with the special delivery is safely inside?” she inquires.

“She is safely contained, within the crate!” I respond; “I placed her in the back, of your mini-van!” I respond.

“Thank you, Handler!” she responds; “Yes, she is safe in the back!” she then adds, after the green light is coming up a moment later.

“Then we can be on your way; she does have a flight to catch!” I put forth.

“Just a moment, and we will be on the road!” she offers, as she is hitting the ignition and pushes the car into the gear.

As she is hitting the ignition; the doors are locked, and the gate before us is sliding up. I watch her step on the accelerator, and the car is slowly moving out onto the road.

“I never bothered, to acquire my licence to drive!” I ponder; As a Handler; "I am used to walk the Girl, to where I am taking her!” I continue, with a muffled chuckle.

How could I reintroduce the girl, into the life of the City; if I drove her to a location, in a fancy car? I need the walk, and so does she. It is the way it is done, and I am sticking to the tried and true in this matter.

“Black leather!” I ponder; “I love the semi-mate finish of the material!” I consider.

This mini-van is classy, to maintain the image of the vehicle it is supposed to mimic. If it had failed, we would not be in business. Or, we would have to get a different vehicle for this job.

“It’s the kind of vehicle; people only notice momentarily, before they unconsciously look away!” I ponder, as I enjoy the ride.

A massive V-8 engine, powering the vehicle is a first-class deal. It is commonly maintained on a very low rev, making the vehicle sound like a cat purring. Once the driver is flooring the accelerator; the engine will roar, like an angry Lion. I have heard this once, on a special demonstration.

Within the city-limits, we’re cruising in a fairly moderate speed, no point in calling attention upon us now. The driver knows where she is going, and she knows the route chosen by heart. I trust in her completely; just as I know my Mistress, and our Queen does. She is the driver, picked for all my personal needs as the Handler.

While she may not take the direct route to the air-port; she is still taking me there, in good time. I could have gotten there faster, if it had been that urgent; but I prefer to plan ahead, and get out early. I may spend a few minutes more in the traffic, this way; but I am getting there, safely and under the radar.

Just that an air-port never is found within the city-limits; for the obvious reasons, such as the noise of the planes, aside from the hazard of the one in a million accident.

She is taking us out onto the country-road, through the densely forested area and a few hills. At least, this will take out most of the noises from the flights, of the air-port. I am most thankful, of this feature.

In the end, the landscape is smoothing up and the trees are thinning out to a few spares trees. She is driving over the now clear field; towards the building where the passengers are cleared for access to the air-port.

If I had known, I could have stated; that this feels more like a Limousine-ride than the ride in a mini-van marked to carry the casket of a newly deceased. Of course, I did not know. I am still enjoying the smooth and quiet ride.

I do like the smooth, quiet ride. She is just driving to the air-port; with me as her passenger. The cargo, the crate; containing the girl Miss April is still behind me. She is quiet, unassuming; where she is stored away, for this trip.

The mini-van soon turns in on the road leading to the cargo-port. The officer, stopping us for a routine control. The driver is presenting the documentation for the cargo, explaining the delivery.

“Okay, you are cleared!” the officer puts forth.

“Thank you!” the driver responds.

A moment later, she continues to drive through the gate. The gate is closed behind us, as she continues towards the terminal, where the crate is supposed to be delivered for our flight.

A few flights come, and a few flights go; as she continues to drive up, to the designated parking she had been given.

Once the vehicle has come to a full stop, at her parking-lot; I open my door and step out, in search for the trolley I need to pull the cargo to our flight. A moment later, I find one; just waiting for me, to claim it for the job.

As I reach the line of trolleys, I stop; picking up the card, as I claim the trolley for myself. With the trolley cleared, I return to the vehicle; where Driver is waiting, as she has just opened the back-doors to permit me to pull out the cargo-container.

“Good!” Driver exclaims; “Do you need help, with pulling her out of the trunk?” she inquires.

“Yes, please!” I respond; “Thank you, Driver!” I add, as she is helping me pull the container out for me.

“No problem!” she responds; “You are quite welcome!” she adds.

“Thanks again, Driver!” I offer; as the cargo had been loaded onto the trolley, and I am pushing my cargo before me.

“You are quite welcome, and have a nice flight!” she responds.

“Thank you!” I respond; as I am moving on towards the check-in, where I am supposed to check in the cargo for the flight.

A moment later, I am approaching the building. A modern structure, of steel and glass; just as I had been expecting, out of the air-port terminal before me. No mere rustic wooden structure would make due here. Not that I care all that much, but it is the image in the public eye; they desire to maintain, at premium.

“Maybe it is not Marble; but it is a durable, and a beautiful stone floor!” I ponder.

The floor had been laid with a solid, dark stone. Large tiles, easy to maintain both hygiene and replacements; if, and when need be. Otherwise, the lobby feels a bit like a greenhouse; a stainless steel frame, holding up the large glass windows.

Monitors in the ceiling are showing when and where the flights are, letting me know where I am going, and how much time I have to get there. I guess it is a classical air-pot style.

Everywhere I see, people are gathered in small, intimate groups; chatting about their lives, and the plans for the flight before them.

I blatantly ignore them, as I am navigating towards the luggage check-in terminal for the flight I am attending.

As I arrive, I place the crate onto the counter; watching her slide down towards the scan.

The customs officer is scanning me, as I place the one, large crate onto the counter; then turning her attention towards the screen, looking for any indication as to what the crate may contain.

“Blip, blip, blip!” is heard, from the customs’ station; and a clear green light, is lit.

“That is the largest doll I have ever seen!” the officer exclaims; “and the oddest position I could have imagined!” she continues.

“She will be five foot five, when she is unpacked!” I offer.

“Sounds like Girlfriend material.. if you know what I mean!” Officer responds, with a crooked grin.

“She is to die for, if that is what you mean!” I put forth.

“Certainly not the common mannequin, or the foot tall girl’s toy here!” she agrees.

“She deserves more attention.. center stage, to be exact!” I offer.

“Center stage, you say?” she responds; ”I think I could see that, even with the contorted view; caused by the highly unorthodox posture, she is in!” she points out.

“Easier to transport, in this position!” I concede; “She can not be dismembered and put together at the arrival!” I explain.

“The container is much more compact!” she concedes; “That would make her easier to transport safely!” she agrees.

“Of course; so long as you don’t know what is inside the box, it is completely inconspicuous now!” she offers.

“I guess, that would not exactly hurt!” I concede.

My crate had already left the scanner, and the next crate is starting to slip into its place. The officer is losing interest, as her job is reasserting its hold.

“If she had not been crated up, in that posture; I could imagine her, living with me!” the officer ponders, as she is realizing exactly what she had seen; even if it never hit home that it had been a real and living girl in the crate.

Since the officer is looking at the new crate, entering the scanner; I am walking along to my destination further, on my way towards the check-in desk.

“Maybe the pose had been a better idea, than I had been expecting; it is not just a conveniently formatted crate, it makes it harder to figure out what is actually in the crate!” I ponder, as I am continuing along the way.

A few minutes later, I find myself at the airlock; leading into the passage into the plane I had intended to be on. My flight is not due, just yet. Still. Though I am happy, I am in time for the flight. Mistress would not be pleased, if she had been forced to delay the flight, or leave me behind.

I feel the changed air-pressure, as the doors slide up before me. A moment later, I am crossing the threshold and enter the ramp on my way in. The doors close behind me, and the pressure is normalizing, as the doors quietly seals the small, cramped space. This may be a good twenty five feet long, but it is still fairly cramped.

As a Changeling, I am comfortable in cramped spaces like this. It is commonplace in the Hive, in which I live.

“Clonk, clonk, clonk!” I hear, as I am walking the short distance through the passage towards the plane.

The double doors slide up, and I am approaching the entrance into the plane. I see the open door, into the place as I take the few steps towards the plane. As I step over the threshold, I am entering the plane and the doors once more are closing behind me.

“Boarding-pass, please!” the Stewardess prompts, as I am stepping into the plane.

“Here you go!” I respond, as I am offering her my boarding-pass for this flight.

“Seven B, by the window, on your right!” she responds, pointing in the direction towards my seat, indicating where I should be heading.

“Thank you!” I respond, as I continue towards the seat.

“You are quite welcome!” she responds, as she is turning her attention back towards the door.

The V.I.P. Balcony: 22

Author's Note

Miss Lounge's POV

The V.I.P. Balcony: 22

“I am looking for a Miss May!” I am considering; as I am scanning the crowd of people, entering the lobby.

“Click, clack; click, clack!” is heard from her shoes hitting the hard stone-floor, as she continues to move towards the oncoming crowd.

“Miss May, Miss May!” I exclaim; as I spot the girl I suspect is the girl, I had been sent to escort.

The girl continues to walk, in my general direction; almost as if she had not heard me, for a moment longer. She then looks up, as if she tries to make out; where the voice had come from, and who had been calling out her name.

”Uh, who is calling my name?” Miss May ponders; as she tries to make out, the direction of my call.

“Miss May?” I exclaim, as I have her attention.

“Yes!” she responds; “That is me!” she then adds.

“I am Miss Lounge; I am directed to guide you to the VIP balcony, and serve the V.I.P. guests on your balcony!” I present myself.

“Oh, hi; Miss Lounge?” she responds.

“Right this way, please!” I offer.

“Thank you, Miss Lounge!” she responds; “I guess I am a bit lost, here; the grand design, the grandeur and so far from home!” she concedes.

“It is a bit of a relic, from the grand old days; when we could afford the expenditures of proclaiming our place on the map and in history!” I concede, in return.

“Of course, just a step behind; like a true submissive?” I realize; as I notice her following me, without any further cue.

“I would still be proud of this place, if I were you or lived here!” she puts forth.

“I guess it is one of our prouder achievements, in our long and glorious history!” I respond, as I continue towards the stairs up to her V.I.P. lounge balcony.

“This feels like a very special moment, to take part of and share; being invited, to be here and watch this Opera!” she prompts, excitedly.

“We, here in Moscow; are very proud of the Opera house and the Plays we perform here!” I explain; “Even those of us; who are neither Russians, nor native to Moscow!” I ponder.

As I reach the door, to the lounge-area; the doors quietly slide up, for me. Naturally, the doors stay open for the girl in tow; as I am escorting her, up to the VIP balcony.

“Oh!” she exclaims, as the doors are closing behind her.

“Just a hint of modernity; convenient security, when you stop to think of it!” I explain.

“Not a hint of security, but I guess I am safe behind the doors you just slipped me through?” she inquires.

“No guards in sight, and not a camera or sensor to be seen!” I put forth; “Though these doors will stand up to any test you could dream up!” I then add.

A moment later, I am stepping through the next pair of doors; leading to the flight of stairs, taking us up to the designated balcony.

“Click, clack; click, clack!” is heard; as we walk up the flight of the stairs, to the designated lounge of my V.I.P. balcony.

“The walls are barren, grey rock!” she points out.

“Yes; a very old building, and the decorations are saved for the places where people will have time to see them!” I explain.

“Ooh; oh, oh!” she responds; “Oh, but of course!” she then adds.

“As you will see; the lounge has been updated for the latest services!” I put forth.

“Not just the cool, fresh air and drinks being served?” she inquires.

“The air is fresh, and cool; even throughout the midst of summer!” I explain; “Drinks will be served, to everyone at the lounge!” I then add.

“It is so quiet!” she puts forth.

“This section is always quiet!” I explain; aside from the sounds of shoes; when people are going up, or down the stairs.

The doors before me are sliding up, permitting me entrance into the lounge of the VIP balcony; as I am slipping Miss May in, as my company. I am after all escorting her, for this occasion.

“Oh!” she exclaims; “Marble!” she points out, a moment later.

“A black and white chess-pattern; very Russian, with the red lining!” I point out, giggling under my breath.

The walls had been laid with solid oak-wood panels, with a picket-fence up to four feet above the floor. A granite mosaic-pattern depicting a traditional Russian scenery adorns the wall above the wood-panels.

“A Bear’s paw-mark, on the handle of each door?” she inquires.

“Yes; I guess that is a Russian thing, too!” I respond, with a bemused grin and a hint of a giggle.

“I guess that makes sense; since Moscow is in Russia, last I heard!” she suggests.

”It still is!” I point out; “Though we have a pair of Dons guarding the doors in here!” I then add, pointing at a pair of magnificent Horses by the right and left side of the doors.

“The Mare, and the Stallion?” she inquires.

“Exactly..” I respond.

“How were they made?” she inquires; ”They do not look, as if they had been cut out of stone; or molded out of Bronze, or any other metal I know of!” she puts forth.

“Of course not!” I point out; “That would merely have made a pair of decorative art pieces!” I continue.

“Yes..” she responds; as if waiting for the right words, to come to her.

“Phantom of the Opera..” I mumble; “The words ring any belles?” I inquire.

“I do have a vague image, of a play by the name!” she responds.

“Some Grand Theatre, or Opera houses have one of these..” I offer.

“You mean to say; that this a is common phenomena, for a grand Theatre or Opera to have a Phantom?” she inquires.

“Not common, and not widely known; but it is an actual thing, some Theatres, and Operas do have!” I put forth; “Though it is largely a Historical fact, very few is aware of!” I continue; “What is even less known and understood; is how this History may affect these Houses, even to this day!” I conclude.

“Should I ask them, in person?” she ponders; “Will they, by any means answer me; if I were bold enough, to ask them?” she continues.

As I afford the Mare a brief side-glance; I notice her smiling, at me. Almost; as if she had understood, what I had been saying; though it had been nothing more, than a passing thought.

“These Horses; they are scary, at times!” I mumble.

“I have heard the sentiment, before!” I respond, matter of fact.

“You have?” she inquires.

“The Don is not just a mere Horse, you know!” I respond; “These two; certainly, are not!” I point out, sternly; as I am nodding towards the Mare.

“I have heard of the spirit Horse, and I know the Horse was and still is very important in some cultures..” she responds; “But this is not, how you said it here!” she prompts.

“A Horse sees, and hears; what we mere mortals can’t perceive, you know!” I point out.

“Somehow; you make it come out, as if they were kindreds?” she proposes.

“In a sense, they are; but maybe you know this, deeper than you care to admit even to yourself?” I offer.

“Exactly; what is she implying, with that?” May considers, not quite making sense of my words.

“Look inside; search your soul, for who you are!” a voice is offering, making May jump in sudden shock.

“Who, what, was that?” May inquires.

“She heard you!” I ponder; looking directly at the mare, but just a few degrees off in respect.

“Welcome, May..” May hears; “Welcome, into my realm; into the world of Equine spirits!” the Mare prompts.

“You..” May exclaims, as her eyes slowly turn toward the mare; “You are a Horse!” she then continues; “The Don!” she concludes.

“Yes!” the Don agrees; “I am a Don Mare..” she continues; “The one right before you, to be exact!” she points out.

May can’t help herself; but is finding herself, patting the Mare by scratching her behind her ears. In shock; she finds the mare warm to the touch, and even a bit soft as if she had felt her downy fur. She momentarily freezes up.

“It..” May ponders; “It, it; it is you?” she finally concludes, as she is seeing the Mare smile back at her.

“Maй!” May is hearing the mare speak; “Such a lovely Name, and such a lovely Time!” the mare continues.

“Huh?” May responds; on the voice currently speaking in her head, as if someone had been in the room.

“Do not worry; Maй, I will not permit any harm come to you!” the Don Mare points out.

“Worry? I am hearing voices!” May mumbles.

“Voices?” the mare inquires; “Voices, other than mine?” she continues.

“Who are you?” May inquires.

“I am the Don Mare before you!” she explains; “Though I once was a girl, just like you; cute, and innocent!” she explains.

“But..” May exclaims; “But, but.. you are a Horse!” she continues; “The stature of a Horse?” she concludes.

“Back in the day, when this great and noble Opera house was new and barely built; there was a Phantom, in this very room!” the mare explains.

“He, for it was a man; demanded tributes, for the plays he wrote. This very booth, at the top of the list. I ended up, as the girl he was grooming; for the female lead, the Star of his grand play!” she explains.

“I think I have heard, the story about the Phantom of the Opera!” May exclaims; “Are you saying; that it is he, who made you into a Horse?” she inquires.

“Yes, and no!” the mare responds; “In a sense he did, but in a sense I had already been a Horse!” she continues; “Though he could not accept; that I had a will of my own, and a life outside of the Opera!” she explains.

“So, he got furious; as you tried to explain to him, that you had plans beyond the Opera and the Play he had written for you?” May inquires.

“You could say that, indeed!” the mare responds.

“Instead of killing me in a grand fire, or drowning me in the river; he cursed my body, and turned me into the statue of the Don Horse!” she explains.

“You have been trapped, in here; as a Horse, for all these years?” May inquires.

“How? How did he do it?” May inquires.

“I do not know!” the mare explains; “I found myself on the floor, of this very room; bound and gagged, dressed up as a proud mare Don!” she continues.

“I fell asleep, on the cold and wet rock; in the middle of the room, wearing nothing but the horse’s attire!” she continues; “As I woke up; I stood where I stand now, as the Horse I am now!” she concludes.

“You have been this Stature, ever since?” May inquires.

“Da!” the mare exclaims, confirming the question.

“I hope; I am not the first, you have been able to talk to!” May offers, in sympathy.

“There are the rare, few; I have been able to talk to, once or twice in a century or so!” she responds.

“Why me, of everyone passing you by?” May inquires.

“Maybe it is your sister April, on the stage; about to perform before us, in a short while?” the Mare offers; “Somehow; I can hear and see her, even from my distance far up here!” she explains.

“She is to perform, as the Ballerina; she is dancing, with the troupe!” May responds.

“Just like you; she is not Russian, or even of Russian ancestry!” the mare offers; “Yet, I can feel her!” she continues.

“Your Mistress, your Mistresses; are like me, you could say that I am with them!” I offer, as explanation.

“You..” May exclaims; “You are a Mistress, too?” she inquires.

“In a sense, yes!” I put forth; “I am the Mistress, of this lounge!” I continue.

“Something tells me, there is something more to her; than she is letting on, but I just can’t put my finger to it!” she ponders.

“Could I reveal myself, to her?” I ponder.

“I believe, your sister knows!” I then point out, with fair confidence.

“She is right there, on the stage!” she responds, pointing at the Ballerina; “That is her, my sister!” she then adds.

“Exactly!” I point out.

“It isn’t just that you look like her, ignoring the obvious details!” I offer.

“Most people, here; are Russians, just like you? “she inquires.

“Yes, they are; but this is Moscow, what had you been expecting?” I respond.

“Yes, I know Moscow is in Russia; they taught me that, in school!” she pushes forth; as she is continuing to focus on the show, where her sister is performing.

I could not blame her; from her perspective, this could very well be a once in a lifetime opportunity to see an Opera performed here. Or, to see an Opera?

“Her sister is the star, of the day!” I ponder; as I am watching the performance, on the stage.

I had been taught, and taught well; how to sense the needs of others, so I could serve them as I watch the performance.

“Of course, I only need to see the performance once; I don’t enjoy it quite as much, the second and third time around!” I consider.

“Whoa?” I ponder;”She really has mastered the grace!” I realize; as if I am watching the Ballerina, before me.

“How long, has she been practicing for this show?” I ponder, imagining it had been years and years.

Yet, something told me; that is not the case, for this particular girl.

“Thankfully; most of them don’t order anything, before the curtain goes down!” I ponder.

Of course, ordering something during the act would be rude; since it is distracting the others, from the play they had been so eager to see.

Pride may have dictated, that one were to serve Vodka; but the strong spirits is not, for this kind of high culture expression. In the warm and cozy environment; where one is intently focused, on the play on the stage.

Act by act, the play is progressing smoothly. I have a chance to enjoy this play, as I can sit close to the edge.

For some reason, this particular play seems to have something to it; a special aura and spirit, I rarely see in a play. Not even here, at the center of the Russian Theatre, in the Opera house of Moscow.

This one guest player, should not make such a significant difference? She is but one girl, after all. With the suit, and the make-up on; she is supposed, to be one in the troupe.

This is not the first time, I am escorting a girl, or even a foreigner here; so what is so different, about this girl, this time?

“Maybe it is my true heritage; that is tricking me, here?” I consider.

I know better than that. Even in a grand Opera; one single girl could matter. Had I refused to see; how this could be that one girl, performing on this very stage? Or, is it my National pride, preventing me from seeing who she is, and what she could be? What she could become; even if she herself, had not known it before?

I could not answer that question. I know. I am not the girl, to impose the truth upon others; particularly, not when I may not even know that truth myself.

“May I serve you anything to drink, or some snacks?” I inquire, just as the curtain goes down and the play makes a brief pause.

“I guess, something to drink would be nice!” she responds.

“Okay!” I respond, as I am fetching her a delicate glass.

She ponders for a moment, before she is making up her mind.

“A..” she starts.

“How do I say this?” she is pondering; finding herself partially trapped, in the state of submission.

“Uhm, Cola would be nice!” she then finishes, a moment later.

“A Cola, coming right up!” I offer, as I am fetching her the bottle and fills her glass.

“Thank you, Mistress!” she responds.

“You are quite welcome, Miss!” I respond, making a point of pronouncing the title.

While I could have said girl, or Ms. or Sub; I am not her Mistress, and I am actually serving her right now.

I watch her taking a sip, her first taste of the beverage, I had just served her. She is licking her lips, before she is taking a second sip. How could I blame her? She is clearly thirsty. I could not have served her a bad drink, not to her; in the position she is sitting, as an honoured guest of our Grand Opera House.

Naturally; the Cola had been produced and bottled locally in Moscow, Russia.

She remains seated, as she continues to drink; sip by sip, calmly and collected. I notice; how she is enjoying the drink, I had served her. Of course, that had been expected; why should she not enjoy the drink, I had offered her?

A moment later, the curtains go up; the next act is starting, and the performance continues with the actors on stage.

“Classical Opera, at its finest!” I ponder, as I enjoy the performance.

“Hungry?” I inquire; as I notice the first signs, in her appearance.

“Yes!” she responds; “But, how did you know?” she inquires, in hushed tones; in respect of the performers, and the others watching.

“Because; it is my job, to know!” I explain.

“Oh!!” she mouths.

“If I can spot the signs, I can offer what you desire; before you think of it, and thus elevate your experience of the show!” I point out, with a small measure of pride.

“Reading body language, was an important subject; as I was studying, for this job!” I ponder, with a tiny, inwards smile.

“Guess I should have something, to eat?” she concedes, after a few minutes of consideration.

“It is one of the advantages, of sitting up here; in the VIP lounge, up here!” I offer.

“Then it really is one of the best seats, available at the Opera?” she puts forth.

“This is not the VIP lounge, for nothing!” I point out, just before I step back, to fetch her a hot meal.

Freshly fried mini-potatoes with spicy grilled beef on a bed of rice. The fork and knife on the side.

For a moment, she just stares at the meal put before her; before she is picking up her knife, in her right hand. She slowly stabs an orb with the fork and slips it into her mouth; before she is chewing the fairly hot potato, albeit slowly.

“Looks like a success, to me!” I ponder, as I watch her eating.

While still enthralled by the play, and impressed by her older sister’s performance on the stage; she is otherwise occupied with the flavours or her newly served meal.

“Guess I did not really need a sauce, when everything is this richly flavoured?” she ponders.

Of course, the potatoes are small; just as the beef had been sliced up, in bite-size so that one does not truly need a knife. Maybe it is only there, for show; or part of the cultivated tradition requiring it to be by the side when the meal is served.

As I watch and observe her, while I am still focusing on the play; I notice, how she is enjoying her meal before her. I could not blame her, it is a fine dish put before her; for her to enjoy, while she is following the play on the stag.

I may have preferred to serve a typical Russian dish; but this is neither the time, nor the place for such pride. My position is holding pride, even if I myself is not a prideful girl; I serve the girl, and everyone in this room.

The play is slowly continuing, act by act; entertaining me and the girl by my side, right along with everyone else at this opera.

In the end, the show comes to a close; the actors bow, and the curtains fall. The play is at an end. The final orders are made, the guests enjoy the services, and the orders they just made. I serve them, happily with pride; giving them an experience, even after the play had come to an end. Extending, enhancing the experience; with the services I am at liberty, to offer them in my position.

Naturally, there are limits to the services I can offer; I may be here to serve, but it is public for all intents and purposes. This may be the VIP lounge, but this is by no means a private room, in that sense.

Extended, the Rare Moment: 23

Author's Note

Miss Don's POV

Extended, the Rare Moment: 23

I watch the curtains fall, just after the final act of the play had come to an end.

Service is extended, to the guests in the VIP lounge in which I stand; the guests then file out, one by one in awed fashion. I had watched this procession before, on the rare occasion; when the play had been outstanding, and the actors had performed beyond the expectation of the once watching in the room.

I had been among them, breath-taken and in awe. Even after all these years, play after play; there is the one girl standing out, in the increasingly rare occasion. The girl, the Ballerina; is this one girl whose sister I had just met.

While I require neither drink, nor feed I may still require the sustenance of a different kind.

I am still a living and breathing entity, conscious of what goes on around me. Just that I can’t move around, talk to the first person before me. I very much do see everything, mostly the way a horse would have.

Some persons become special to me, and not because they are Russians, I don’t connect with everyone entering the room, even if they are evident opera aficionado. Most people entering the lounge are here to see the opera, even if some clearly are marked Companions.

The girl I know as Maй, is special; she and her sister April, that is. There is something to them, something I can’t quite put a hoof on; even if I had been free to move as I please, that is. Maybe it is less tangible, and more of an esoteric feeling I have?

Just having the girl in the room, made me feel warm all over; giving me the exquisite sense of my heart quickening to the crescendo of rapid breathing. Is this, how it feels to be excited; amongst those, still counted amongst the living and being a human?

She spoke to me, first with worry and concern; but then with more confidence, as she recognized me as a person she could talk to. She had recognized me, for who and what I had truly been. A rare gift, all by itself; these days, as the equine statue I had been guised as. Truly, a curse to be reckoned with and feared.

Being a horse, and a Don no-less; isn’t the problem here. It’s a magnificent creature to behold; one to be proud, and one to be proud of.

Easily to be compared in stature, to the fabled Arabs; but maybe I am a bit partial or biased, being Russian.

Seems neither the stone, nor the equine nature imposed upon me had robbed me; of being Russian and what it entails, in the least.

Time may take its toll on everyone and everything, but I remain unchanged and ever unchanging. Is this a curse, or a blessing?

I am, what I was; just as Russia is, just as grand as ever. It is not in who leads, or who is led; it is the country, known as Russia. The grand scale, of things; the nature.

I am a part of the heritage, where I stand; I can not escape it, I missed the chance when I still had it. I can but enjoy; what is presented to me, where I stand.

If I am timeless, it may be a blessing; if I am immortal, it is a curse. Watching the actors and actresses perform is a privilege I can not give up, if I wanted to; but seeing the stage wither, as the audience and the actors are growing cold is not something I had asked for.

I stand, and fall with mother Russia. I share in the joy, the glory and the honour of her stage.

Yet, what warms my heart; is the fleeting moments, of blessed union.

Each play, performed over and over. I have seen them all; there is very little new, for me to see here.

What I praise, is my time with the girl known as Maй. She warms my heart, makes me feel alive; like I never had before, and maybe never will.

To one such as me, all friends are short-lived and transient. If it takes her a year or a decade; to me, it is all the same. I know she may, or may never return; but I enjoy this one moment, for as long as I have it. It is all I have. Maybe it is all, I can ever have?

It is not a performance, either for her or for me. It just is. She is here, with me. She saw me, made me feel alive in a manner I had never been expecting to experience again. Ever.

To be seen, is important to one such as me.

Time momentarily stops. I feel my heart, as it makes an extra beat. I feel my heart, like I had never felt it before. Just for this one girl. Maй.

Why her, I may never know. Could she tell me? Did I want to know? Truly.
I have the moment.

She once more turns to me, looking at me.

As she is turning towards me, I am feeling warm inside. She looks at me; somewhere in between the girl I had been and the horse I am now. Just that it isn’t that she has a problem with looking at me, meeting my gaze; it is in the respect, of who I am.

She did not really have to say anything.

“Will I ever see you?” she whispers, to me directly.

While it is not in Russian by any stretch, I am still understanding what she had asked me.

It is a bit eerie, even to me. It is just, in how she said it; that just can not escape me, I understand her. Her.

“Yes..” I respond, falling silent for a long while.

“If you can get to Moskva, that is..” I point out; “It isn’t, as if I am going anywhere!” I conclude.

“Oh!!” she mouths, and stops cold; “That may be a bit of a problem for me..” she then continues.

“Yes, I was fearing that, but I had to be blunt and can’t lie about it..” I offer her.

“Thank you..” she responds; “but..” she starts; “but, but.. isn’t it lonely here?” she inquires, almost as if she had understood more than she should have.

“Is my Sister packed up, and ready for transport?” Maj ponders; realizing the time is short, growing shorter by the instant.

There is no escaping it, and time does not stops. Time stop for no-one and does not even slow down in the least. Not that it would raise, or raise hell either of course. Time just is. Unchanging, unchangeable.

I follow her escort with my eyes, knowing what is to come next. I can do nothing. I can but stand still; absorbing what I have, as I am enjoying the final moment. My moment with Maй.

Then.. and then the inevitable happens. I know I could not stop or delay it.

Maybe I did not want to, but it is still tearing my heart. The time comes to an end, as the escort is stepping up on the side of the girl.

“It is time!” the Escort simply explains.

“Yes, of course..” Maй responds, simply; “Just, give me one final moment?” she then continues.

“One moment, I can give you..” the Escort whispers, understanding; even if there is nothing left, and not a single person in the room.

“Thank you..” Maй responds, patting me on the side of my head as she is turning around.

I watch her, as she is walking slowly towards the door.

The doors open and she is stepping out.

The doors close, and there is nothing.

I am alone.

Alone.

There is nothing, no-one; and I am more alone than I thought I could ever be.

But that is that.

It is okay.

I had that one fleeting moment, with Maй.

How could I possibly ask for more? Ever.

But alas, I can still sense the scent.

Her scent, the scent of Maй.

Maybe it could persist, linger in the room for just a moment?

Just as she is still with me, in spirit as I remember her. The short moment she had been granted to offer me.

Preparing, for the Holiday: 24

Author's Note

Miss Prancer's POV

Preparing, for the Holiday: 24

I had just stepped out of the shower, still soaking wet and water dripping from my body; as I am continuing to the small room where I am expecting the assistant to help me prepare.

The wet footprints are trailing all the way back to the shower, where the air is still steaming hot; after I had taken my time, to enjoy myself.

Can’t help but notice, how the light is slowly dimming; as I continue all the way over, to the corner of the room.

“Just a few more minutes, before she is due to enter..” I ponder; ”I love the attention, she gives me; not to mention, the attention I will have later!” I conclude.

“Clip, clop; clip, clop!” is heard, as the girl I had been waiting for, enters the room.

“Prepared to become the center of attention, Miss Prancer?” she inquires, as she is approaching me.

“Yes, please!” I respond, as I am looking up at her.

Only the select few; knows why she is this glossy black, and wears the deep, Ruby bikini. She is a Changeling. As such, she is deeply revered among us.

“Your Mistress will be with you, shortly; once I had seen to your preparations!” she promises.

As if on cue, the door slides up and a porcelain white figure enters the room.

“Clip, clop; clip, clop; clip, clop!” is heard, as my Mistress is tripping elegantly over the floor with next to no sound to her steps.

“Greetings, Miss Prancer; I take it, you are ready to prepare!” she concludes.

“Yes, please..” I confirm; “Mistress!” I conclude.

“Excellent, excellent!” she proclaims.

“Now; the crop, if you please..” she demands.

“Of course, Mistress..” she responds, as she is extracting the crop; before she is handing it over to her.

“Thank you dead..” Mistress responds, as she is accepting the requested crop.

“Mistress is so beautiful!” I ponder, as I watch her graceful form.

As I watch her holding the crop in her right hand; I can clearly see the top and skirt she is wearing, both a glossy ruby red. She is using her left hand, pinching the back of the crop’s handle; examining its fetish idol.

“Yes, everything is in order; the rein-deer will be suiting you perfectly, Miss Prancer!” she confirms.

As she had finished confirming the crop; she turns over to me, taking a few steps forwards as she is facing me. She just stops, half a step from me; looking intently at me with approval in her eyes.

She is pointing towards a gurney, intended for just this purpose; I can easily see, to my right.

As she is pointing at the gurney, I lay down; preparing myself, for her attention. I had been looking forward to this, for an entire year. It isn’t just her attention in and of itself, of course; but everything that comes with it, and the honour of being chosen.

The gurney is quite comfortable, of course. Why should I have been expecting anything else; and not just for the season, or the honour in the process.

It is not the reason, for requesting the honour; but the crystal-clear Silicone-cushions are very comfortable to me. A firm surface, containing a progressively squishy content; forming after the contours of my body, absorbing the shock and motion.

She is looking at me, in pleased bemusement; as I lay down, making myself comfortable before she acts.

“There, comfortable?” she inquires, courtly.

“Yes, Mistress!” I respond, truthfully to the point.

Of course, I am comfortable; she just asks, to be polite in the first place and I know it.

She could have been rude or ignored it; but she asked, kindly.

As she is holding the crop, clasping the handle; she is extending the crop towards my face, offering the other side towards me.

“Lick the crop, please; Miss!” she instructs me.

I part my lips, just enough; extending my tongue, lapping at the crop for her. Just the top of it, but I do lick as she had offered me to. It is required, for this process to work; for the charm to take hold, aided with the idol contained.

She is watching me lick her crop, contently; enjoying the moment, as she is preparing for the next step of the process. Namely, transforming me into the Rein-deer for this season.

Knowing, just how much I am looking forward to what is to come; we enjoy the moment, drawing it out for the joy we are sharing. Just the moment, an instant in time.

She is watching me lap at the tip of her crop, considering exactly how much saliva she needs.

A few minutes later, she is retracting the crop; taking a step back, before she is walking to the right side of the gurney.

I feel her gaze on my back, as she is considering the act. Preparing, for what is to come next.

It is an honour, for me; she could have just whacked me, but what is the fun in that?

Now I am closing my eyes, in breathless anticipation. I know she is gentle, not prone to apply more force than required.

I had enjoyed her as my Mistress since the first day I had entered.

She is taking aim, before she is placing a measured smack at the edge of my tail. Just this once, once and that is that.
A mere moment, after the wet end of the crop had hit; the tail sprouts, just as intended.

I had felt the wet smack just over my rump; as the crop had hit, with the gentle softness I know her for.

Just as I had felt the crop hitting me once; I now feel it twice, in fairly quick succession. She is hitting my rump, causing a new change coming over me.

Then, there it is again; as she is drawing the crop along the entire length of my spine; from the tip of the tail, and all the way along the length of my spine, only to end at the hairline. The change is minimal, at this point; but the initiation had taken hold of my body. I can feel it, as clear as day.

Now she is taking a step back; stopping, contemplating before she continues. Just that she is stepping around me, with soft steps along the side of my gurney.

"Clip, clop; clip, clop!” I hear, as her hooves repeatedly hit the floor.

It may be a short walk; from leaning over my back, to facing me from behind.

She is ready, preparing. Waiting, even knowing I am ready, prepared.

She is leaning forwards, bending over; planting the palm of her left hand, squarely on the smooth floor before herself. Just the one hand, her left hand; the palm of the hand, as she is supporting her pose in waiting for what is to come.

I am ready, awaiting the next move and the next change I know is coming.

“Here it comes, here it comes..” I ponder, as I am waiting.

Of course, she did not make me wait longer than I had to; as I once more feel the touch of the crop, hitting the soul of my right foot. The smooth rubbery surface, slowly sliding up my leg, like a snail. Though she leaves next to no trail behind, leaving my changing leg dry.

Naturally, the change is moving just a few inches behind, as she is continuing to slide the crop all the way up to my rump.

Once she had reached the rump, she starts over on my left foot, sliding the crop along my left leg. It is a curious sensation, to say the least. Even if I may have felt the touch of her crop before.

Why deny it? I had experienced it, felt it before. I enjoy it. So much so, that I take every chance to revisit this moment.

Just that it isn’t the moment, I had requested; it is the experience and the honour that came with it, after she had transformed me. I like being the deer, and the attention that comes with the season.

“If you spread your legs, please; Miss Prancer!” she urges me, as my legs had become fully cervine.

“Of course, Mistress!” I merely respond quietly, nodding confirmation as I spread my legs for her.

At first, I had been worried; but once I had experienced it, it no longer bothers me. I feel the tip of her crop, as she is slapping me on my mound. It sounds like a silly idea, somewhat childish; but it isn’t, how I feel it now. Maybe that is, because I am not supposed to be excited by it; but have the mound, changed into character.

If any part of me remains human, and recognizable as a girl; the immersion evaporates, and I lose everything I had been looking forward to. I simply could not have that.

While there is no real fur, but the hue of my skin slowly takes on the pattern of the intended reindeer. The fur is more of a distraction, that does not truly give me anything; but will mean I had to take the effort, of maintaining the fur for the duration.

With the furry team mascots at every arena, I can only guess it is losing its appeal.

I am not a mascot, and it was never the intent for me to appear as if I had been one.

While you may see this as a role in a play, on a theatre’s stage; but I am not dressed up or painted in make-up, I am the real deal as far as it is possible for me.

As a girl, I could put on the make-up openly any day and anywhere; none would bat an eye, or bother commenting upon it. Maybe that lost its appeal, for me; it is too natural, to even notice it.

I love the attention, I am getting as the reindeer you know as Prancer; even if I may be his female counterpart, rather than the male character in the play. As if that changed anything?

To change, or be changed is not my deal; I just enjoy the attention I get as the adorable reindeer, while still remaining myself.

I am playing a part, and Mistress is helping me.

As the changes are coming over me, I feel my legs trying to gather under me in a more quadruped stance. For now, I can still stand upright in my customary bipedal stance; even if I will be standing on the hooves, rather than on the entire foot now.

She is trotting around the gurney, upon which I lie; facing me, head on as she stops.

“How is that?” she inquires; “I hope, you are still comfortable my dear!” she continues.

“Yes, Mistress; I am quite comfortable!” I respond; “But it is a bit strange, while I am halfway there!” I point out.

“That will pass, I assure you..” she offers; “but I imagine, that you already knew this!” she concludes.

“I was expecting as much..” I respond; “it’s the transition, that is the most disconcerting anyway!” I continue.

“Neither here, nor there?” she inquires; “or just the fact, that your body is changing out of your control?” she continues.

“I guess; I will simply have to make due, with the attention my Mistress is offering me!” I ponder.

In short order; she is tapping my nose, my right and my left ear. I feel the muzzle slowly taking the form of the dear Deer I had been selected to become. My ears are moving up to the top of my head, where a Deer has hers; as they change gradually, into a Deer’s ears. My hearing and sense of taste and smell are changing in the process. Even if I can’t point at these changes, as the changes are occurring; but will find out, later.

Though I guess I do feel a bit of an itch, somewhere I can not quite put a finger on.

It isn’t so much that she had taken my fingers, but more in how I can’t quite recognize where the itch is originating from. Maybe, just maybe it is just a sensory ghost?

Of course, I know she is about to take my fingers; she just has not gotten to it, quite yet.

I am looking at my Mistress, as my face is changing into that of a reindeer; I am slowly becoming the Prancer of the story; as she is delivering my new self into the world.

My ears, twitching; curious, as to what is ahead of me. Not that I had not known, this is not new to me; it is just that I had been a girl, before she started.

Mistress aims, carefully; before she taps the right hand; drawing the crop up my arm.

I watch her, as the changes slowly are taking hold, moving up my arm. She is repeating the process, and my left arm is changing right along with my right just a moment after.

“There..” she proclaims; “you should be ready to step down onto the floor!” she concludes.

I lift my arms, pushing myself up; before I am moving down, onto the floor on the right of me.

“This does feel, just about right..” I respond.

“Clipperty, clop; clipperty, clop!” is heard, as my new hooves hit the floor.

As expected, I do manage to stand on the floor on my own two hooves; as steadily, as I was on my feet before the shower.

“Almost ready..” she points out, as I am prancing about, on the spot.

“Oh..” I exclaim, as the changes slowly conclude.

“Looking good..” I ponder, as I catch a glimpse of my reflection.

“Miss Prancer, I presume!” the Assistant offers, as she is returning.

“Yes, that is me..” I respond.

“Good, then you need to wear this!” she points out; as she is putting on something akin to a collar, but matching the designs for a reindeer.

“Oh.. .. ..” is all I get out, in response; before my voice had been changed, altered to that of a reindeer’s.

“There, perfect!” Mistress proclaims, as my Assistant is leading me out.

“I will handle the grooming of Miss Prancer, to ascertain that she is ready to manage her task!” the Assistant responds.

I follow my groom out of the room, as she is leading me out to the stables; where she is to make the final preparations.

“Seems I can never get used to this part, as the collar is muting me..” I ponder, as my mouth still struggles to word my thoughts.

“There is no way around it, trying as I may, I can’t form the words?” I ponder.

If all that comes out, is the yips and yelps of a reindeer; what is the point, in trying to speak?

“Clipperty, clop; clipperty, clop..” is heard, as my hooves repeatedly hit the hard stone floor as I am trotting at her right side.

“At least, she wants me to stay at her side..” I ponder.

The floor of my box is pink marble, and the walls had been constructed out of pink stained beech-wood.

The room is lit with a set of LED lights on the wall and the door. At least, not ancient torches.

A bed is stacked up against the wall behind the door, opposing the water and hay. On second thought, there is a large, red apple on top of the hay. It does look particularly juicy.

As reindeer, I can not, and will not eat meat; I instinctively know it, enjoying the sight of the food presented to me.

My groom opens the door, letting me in; before she is following me in, stopping only to announce my presence.

“Miss Prancer will be needing some attention!” she announces, while leaving the door open.

“Clip, clop; clip, clop; clip, clop..” is heard, as the sound of feet is drawing close in haste.

Through the door enters a porcelain white girl with sapphire blue eyes and a long, flowing pink hair. I notice the hair flowing all the way down past her rump.

“Yes, Groom?” she offers.

“Her hooves need grooming, if you could please tend to it..” the Groom points out, in a businesslike manner, as she is pointing at my hooves.

“Ruby is the flavour of the season, should be just right for you?” she is offering me.

“Yes, please!” I try to mouth with the customary reindeer’s voice, so I just nod.

“Since Ruby is red, that should still fit my complexion; even if I am a reindeer, now!” I ponder.

The girl is extracting the hoof polish, uncapping it; before she is kneeling down before me, as she is starting to polish my hooves.

Just like a manicurist, she is painting the hoof; as if it had been four fingers, on my hand.

Starting from the top, in the middle and drawing down; then right and left, right and left.

While it is still unfamiliar, she is handling it in a familiar manner; making me enjoying her handiwork, throughout the entire process.

Since she had started with the right fore-hoof, she soon moves over to the left. Before she does the right and left hind-hooves in turn. My hooves shining with the red gem slowly curing on each of my hooves.

I find myself looking down, admiring the hooves on the floor; even as the girl is working, applying the polish.

She does finish the first coating, only to return to my front; repeating the process once, twice and thrice.

“That should last her the season?” the girl offers.

“Yes, I believe it will..” the Groom agrees; “though you could offer her one more service?” she continues.

“Of course!” the girl responds, as she is capping the vial.

I watch her, as she is putting the vial of hoof-polish away; before she is producing another vial, of previously unfamiliar crystal-clear oily gel.

As I am watching her; she is kneeling before me, picking up my right hoof. From there, she is applying the gel to the frog of my hoof. At first, it feels cool as my hoof is absorbing the gel; before it is growing warm, as the gel is having its desired effect.

“Can you hold your hoof off of the floor, for as long as you feel the warmth?” she inquires.

I just nod.

“Good, then I can continue, working your left hoof..” she merely points out; as she is letting go of my right hoof, picking up my left hoof intent on continuing the treat.

“Yes, please!” I try to mouth, but no words are being heard as I am effectively mute.

All that came over my lips, was the reindeer’s noises; nothing perceivably human, recognizable as human speech by any means. Not even I could recognize the words, in what came out of my mouth.

It is what I had been requested; what I had wanted to do and be in the first place, now I am here.

Just as I had asked for what is to come, I am still oblivious of the effects it is having upon me, my person. Still, am I to blame, or am I to blame myself for what is coming next?

As I am watching her, she is applying the gel to the soul of my left hoof; my flesh slowly turning into a cerise, rubbery suction-cup. I soon find myself growing more sensitive, as the process is taking hold of the hoof she had just treated.

I put my right hoof down, while holding the left hoof up; waiting for the process to work its magic, as it were. Just that the expression is carrying a purely physical aspect to it, in this case.

She lets go of my left fore-hoof, and I keep it up; she moves up behind me, lifting my right hind hoof and applied the gel. I feel the effects of the gel, as before, still unsure as to exactly what it is doing to and for me.

Once the hoof is ready, I set it down; signaling for her, to move over to the next hoof.

“Could you give me a quick gallop on the spot for a moment?” she suggests, just after I had finally set down my left hind hoof.

Once the hooves had been treated and ready, it is time; she needs me to be prepared, to be comfortable and aware of what it feels like.

“Yes, but of course..” I ponder, nodding before I set off to perform.

“Squeak, squeak; squeak, squeak..” is heard, as I perform.

A squeak, with each time a hoof is hitting the floor. I hear it, just as I feel the hoof hitting the floor. It is curious, but feels surprisingly good.

“There, that is exactly right..” she confirms; “but I think your hooves could take just a little bit more!” she concludes.

With that, she is repeating the process; hoof by hoof: right and left, fore and hind.

I perform a quick gallop for her, as she is asking; the result the same, but more pronounced.

She is repeating the process, a third and final time; before she is asking me to perform, once more. Now, she is satisfied. I am ready, for what is ahead of me.

I am looking forward, to what is before me.

First now, I notice that my Groom had already left my box, and the Assistant is stepping out and is closing the door behind herself.

Left alone, with just my food and water. I am alone, but it is not bothering me.

As a reindeer, I am a quadruped; standing on all fours, thus incapable of opening the door by myself. Maybe I could learn, picking up the trick; but that is taking me more time than I have here. Besides, I don’t care to leave.

With nothing better to do, I do not permit anything distract me, as I step over to my meal. I start out, enjoying the apple; just as juicy as I had been expecting it would be.

Now I have my fill of the hay, before I turn to the water. I drink until I had quenched my thirst before I trot over to the bed.

I lie down, enjoying a moment of rest.

Maybe there is still a Human inside, even if the body is completely reindeer.

As I lie down, I close my eyes, falling asleep.

The day is at an end.

Buying In: 25

I had just broken up, with what is now my former boyfriend; a far too long, abusive relation I will have no part of. It had been tough, challenging to break up; I had forced myself, to run away. Even if I could carry nothing with me, aimlessly run out onto the empty street.

Aimlessly running, with no particular place to go.

It was worth it, at least in the short run. Run. Yes, run indeed. Because, that is what I am doing

Maybe, just maybe he is not following me. Maybe he isn’t, but he has friends. Any one of them, could be waiting for me beyond the next bend or behind the next corner. It is the kind of man he is. It is why I had stayed, and why I had finally grasped for this one straw. I had run off.

Was it right, I have no idea. Am I safe, only time will tell.

Yes, the time does smell. It stinks.

A memory had come to mind; something a friend of mine had told, a long time ago. Though I have not seen her in a while, quite a while.

Had I been in a panicked stupor? Probably.

As the memory is floating up to the surface of my mind, I momentarily start to feel I have an aim, something to search for.

Of course, I have some spare change in my right pocket. I always do keep the spare change.

At first, I had considered to step into the nearest cafe or pub; but soon changed my mind, just in case it is where he or any of his friends may see me. I did not want to be seen; or make a scene, right now. I just want to sink through the earth, and disappear. Right now.

Could I?

A few more streets; I go right, then take of on the left.

“A Lady’s clothes store?” I ponder, as I see the name of a famous, classy brand.

While they do not technically have a bouncer like the pub would, but you don’t just stroll in into the store. Particularly not men.

It does look a bit too fancy for me, but maybe this is the perfect escape. If even for but the moment. A few minutes, off of the street?

The door is open.

Behind the door, I am greeted by a high class lady. Not just a well-dressed woman, but a Lady with all the style I could have been wishing for.

My clothes may not exactly fit in with her clientele, but she does not stop me. Not right away, at least.

I sigh, in obvious relief as the door is closed behind me and the Lady is turning her back on the door for the short moment.

Naturally, every store has a showcase window; wherein they showcase their wears, for everyone to see. Even a high class Boutique has the showcase.

She had seen me, Just as she had seen the expression, on my face; she knows the expression, and she most certainly knows what it means.

“Right this way, please!” she offers.

I follow her into the boutique, through a solid oak-wood door. The door is obviously heavy, but she does not show. Though I could very well imagine, the oak is more for the style than actual strength by any means. For all I know, there could be an inch of stainless steel behind the wood.

But alas, what do I know of architecture, or style?

I like to wear a beautiful dress from time to time, but I could not explain what makes it classy or not.

The wall is lined with dressed up mannequins, looking beautiful and of high standard. These are not the standard fair mannequins you see in the windows of every store in town. While I know they are mannequins; but on a photo, they may have been passing for real women.

She says nothing, as she is leading me through the room in a measured gait. I follow her, as best I can.

At the other end of the room, she opens another door, leading me further into her den.

She is acting secure and assured of herself, as she continues further in with me in tow.

In my eyes; she is acting as if there is no harm that could possibly come to her, no matter what.

Is she just the Iron Lady, or is it a lifetime of experience behind her?

Either way, she had chosen to pick me up, leading me right into her den.

I am grateful, I can be nothing else. It is, the situation in which I had found myself.

She does not ask, but already has an idea as to what I need. Maybe she knows me; or my situation better, than I care or dare to know or even consider?

“Just a moment..” she offers, as she is entering through a previously unseen door.

While she is out of sight, I pat my pockets; confirming what is there, and what I have on my person. Of course, she already knows. I don’t know, just as I don’t know how or why she knows.

She had never let on.

“Three blue diamonds?” I ponder, as it hit home.

My mind finally relaxed enough, for me to actually see these little details.

“These three blue Diamonds..” I ponder; “where have I seen these, or where have I heard about them from?” I ponder.

I never have the time, to finish the line of thought of course; because the Lady is back, calling for my attention. Now, I may never know; where the image had come from, but I guess I will survive.

“Right this way, please!” she offers; and I follow her into the next room, where she had lined up a set of mannequins.

I know I could never afford to buy more than a single suit. Not, if I were to pay the full price in any case. This is an exclusively expensive establishment and I know it.

Skirt, blouse, jacket, panties.. Stockings and even a pair of shoes. Everything I would need, to pass for being someone else, another girl who is left alone.

Which colour and style would I choose?

In any other store, I guess I could have chosen to mix and match. I just do not quite feel I could afford it here, and now.

“Maybe that black business suit?” I ponder; “Usually, it feels too smart for me; but if I wore it, I would have more time to myself!” I conclude.

She is following me, with her eyes; measuring my attention in order to see what would suit me best. She knows, what she is doing; she had been in the business, far too long to stumble here.

“Do I even dare, to touch the suit?” I ponder.

Of course, it is just a suit. Not just any suit, but a genuine Rarity. If I did not recognize the sign, or the style; but anyone who does, knows what I will be wearing from now on.

If I wore the suit, maybe I could in fact afford to buy another one?

If I had not known better, I would have stated that I never had cared to own the first of these suits in the first place; but today had proven to be a very different day indeed, because now I know I just had to have this very suit.

I could not say why, or how; but somehow I just know, I need the suit.

It is black, like leather; but clearly is by now means leather, or any fabric I had seen or heard of. Now, I am about to be the very proud owner of the suit.

“You will have to take of, what you are currently wearing, before you can try this on!” she is pointing out.

“Yes, but of course; thank you for reminding me!” I respond, fairly lamely in an uncharacteristically sheepish tone of voice.

If it isn’t Rarity herself; but she is at least living up, to her standards.

I notice her extending her right hand, as if to point at something; only to lift her left hand with the index-finger extended, poking at what appears to be a wristwatch. A small section of the wall is sliding out of the way; revealing what appears to be a changing room, complete with a floor-to-ceiling mirror.

“Of course, your privacy; if you step in and undress, I will present you with the suit of your choice!” she merely explains.

“Thank you, Ma’am!” I respond, as I slowly step into the small space she had just presented me with.

As I had stepped in, the wall quietly slide back into place; offering me all the privacy I could be asking for, as she is undressing the mannequin and slide in the selected clothes over the top of the wall.

“Thank you, Ma’am!” I respond.

“You are quite welcome, Miss!” she responds; with a court nod to her head, even if I can not see it behind the wall.

Since the door is closed, hiding my body; I start undressing, in order to be able to try on the suit she had offered me.

I pull the top up over my head, before I leave it on the hanger she had offered for that specific reason. Now I am stepping out of my shoes, before I pull my socks of off my feet: left and right, before I slip them into the corresponding shoe. Sneakers, because I needed to be able to move fast and quiet. High heels, which I would have preferred; is neither fast, nor quiet.

Now I pull down the skirt, stepping out of it; before I leave it onto the hanger. Only to pull my panties down, placing them under my skirt.

Once undressed, I can finally focus on the clothes she had presented me with, so I can try them on. I trust her eyes to see my size. Maybe I had little choice, in the situation I had found myself in; the precarious situation, from which I had fled head over heel.

For now, I am calm and collected; with the Lady before me, standing guard.

As I am alone, in the small space; I picture the walls, as unbreakable. While it is not just the wall itself, keeping me safe; it is the lady, and her establishment at large.

“The Panties first..” I ponder, as I pick up the glossy, black panties with my extended right hand.

“Surprisingly soft and smooth..” I realize, almost picturing it as silk.

The cool touch of the fabric is almost mesmerizing me, as I stand still for a minute. As I manage to gather myself, I step into the garment offered to me; slowly pulling it all the way up to my crouch, affording it a few tentative tugs: once, twice and thrice.

“Oo-oo-ooh!” I mouth, quietly; as the material is hugging my supple and sensitive skin.

There is no sound from outside, no vibration to be perceived; almost, almost as if the world outside had ceased to exist. Which, naturally; it had not, and I could not even bring myself to imagine such a possibility.

Had the world ceased to exist, or been destroyed in any other manner; everyone I had ever known and everyone I loved and cared for had been dead. Even if it would have taken everyone I feared, everyone I loathed, and everyone else away in the process.

I am not the one to judge, and even if there never were that many I had cared about; I can’t enjoy the notion, of the world not being there now.

Yet, there is but the one cause of action; I am trying on the suit, she had offered me. Now, this is exactly what I am going to do; and I am going to enjoy it, for all it is worth.

If I had not known better; but the panties I am currently wearing is enough, to set me off. I do enjoy wearing these panties. By proxy, I have to enjoy the entire suit.

I pick up the knee-length stockings, she had offered me; lifting up my right foot, as I slip it into the stocking. At first, it had felt slightly too tight; but as the stocking is sliding into place, I am warming up to feeling it hugging my foot.

The stocking is smooth, and slippery; yet the inside soon stars to act clingy, holding on as if it had wanted to maintain the embrace by its volition. It is a somewhat curious feeling, but I guess I am already getting used to it.

Surprisingly enough, I realize the stocking had slipped all the way and adjusted itself as if on its own accord; so I set my foot down, before I am picking up the left stocking.

In the process, I realize my foot is not slipping; as I am slipping my left foot into the remaining stocking, pulling it up my leg.

As I had set my left foot down, looking down; I notice just how tight fitting the toe stockings cling to the natural form of my toes, feet and legs.

Now I am once more standing, on my own two feet; picking the tight semi short skirt she had chosen for me to wear; stepping into it, before I am pulling it up to my waist. Only affording it a few tentative tugs: once, twice and thrice.

If not for the porcelain hue of these stockings; I would have thought, by feet had been are all along. Though I guess the sensations, these stockings are eliciting are giving them away.

“Halfway done, here; now I just hope the rest of the suit is as comfortable, as what I have already put on!” I ponder.

“Of course the fabric is the same, as the rest of the suit; what had I been expecting, she would pull a fast one on me and use bad fabric on these garments?” I ponder.

I pick up the brassiere, pull it down and adjust it into the final fit. It hugs and supports my breasts; like nothing, I have ever had the fortune to try on. However; I had never been to any of Rarity’s Boutiques, either. As my luck had been, why should I have bothered?

The brassiere fits like a glove, as the expression goes; but in retrospect, that should have been expected.

Now I pick up the blouse, slipping my right hand in through the sleeve, pulling it all the way out; before I slip my left hand in, pulling it out through the other sleeve. With deliberate care, I button it all the way up just to feel it.

“Is this, how it feels to be a Lady?” I ponder, as I momentarily stop.

The blouse is the same porcelain white as the stockings and the panties. Just that the jacket is the same black as the skirt. Slipping my hands in, right and left; before I button it all the way up, musing on the feel of wearing this ensemble.

Finally, I do slip my feet into the shoes, the final crowning achievement of the day. I am dressed up to the teeth, feeling like a Princess.

“Would I dare, asking for a Tiara, or anything else to wear on my head?” I ponder.

The door is sliding up, just a moment after I had stepped into my shoes.

"Clip, clop; clip, clop!” is heard, as I step out, facing her once more.

“Stunning, simply stunning..” she merely exclaims, as she is seeing me stepping out of her changing booth.

I make a courteous nod, in an attempt to mimic her style, as best I can manage. Feeling I had to act the part, the ensemble is putting on me. If I don’t fit the part, and wear the suit as it is crafted; what is the point, in wearing it in the first place?

My expression had changed, in the process of putting this suit on, and as I wear the ensemble; I had been transformed into a different girl, a woman of class and style. Of sorts, at least.

“You are beautiful, in the ensemble; you certainly do carry it well, as it had been intended!” she points out, as a clear compliment.

“Thank you, Ma’am!” I respond, as I am looking up at her.

“This will go well with the suit; I expect it, to complete your look!” she explains, as she is placing a highly delicate silver-tiara onto my head.

“Now, I do indeed feel like a Princess!” I ponder.

I curtsy, deeply; moved by the compliment I had been given by the Lady before me, which is far more than I thought she would afford me.

“One small detail; if you would follow me, please!” she utters, as a formality.

I know, what she is referring to; as I am following her to the counter.

“Extend your right hand, place the palm onto the counter and spread your fingers wide!” she merely points out.

“Of course..” I respond, as I am following her instructions as best I can.

While I do not understand, what she is driving at; but she had just secured the payment, all according to Rarity’s standing directions.

If I do not understand generosity, but I certainly can appreciate it if it is offered to me.

Maybe I had forgotten all about it, distracted by the situation; but now all my belongings had been moved into the suit I am currently wearing. Leaving no trace, of me ever being in the Boutique; other than the suit I am wearing leaving the store, and her meticulous records.

She is following me, to the door; graciously holding the door up for me, as I am stepping out into the street once more.

“Thank you, for dropping in, and feel welcome back; if ever you need something fabulous, to wear!” she exclaims.

“Thank you, Ma’am..” I respond; “I probably will!” I conclude.

“That, certainly had been a fruitful encounter..” I ponder.

With the shopping tended to, I continue on my way along the street; with the suit on, and the boost to my confidence.

“Maybe I should be picking up on the invitation?” I ponder; “All assuming, the offer still stands!” I conclude, steering my steps towards the address I had been given.

Only this time, I am not stressing out, turning this way and that, as I am taking a more direct rout towards my destination.

Just as I am approaching the given address, I am recognizing a man in the distance; somehow knowing, he had recognized me too. Too late, to turn back now; I had made the decision, and I will be sticking to it.

The doors slide up before me, just as I approach the lobby; quietly closing behind me, as I had passed the threshold. I am in, inside the lobby.

“Clip, clop; clip, clop!” is heard, as I move over the stone floor on my way through the lobby.

“Welcome, to the Red Crop!” she exclaims, as I come within her space.

Maybe I am five feet away, but that is obviously exactly the given distance.

“Thank you, Ma’am!” I respond.

“If you place your right hand on the desk, please; spread your fingers wide, and I will have your Mistress available shortly!” she chirps.

“Such an excitable girl!” I ponder, inwardly giggling at it all.

As I place the palm of my right hand on the desk; it feels warm, welcoming. Though as I spread my fingers, as instructed; it feels, as if my hand had been sinking into the desk, possibly even pulled in.

“Your first time, here at the Red Crop?” she inquires, as she is observing my facial expression.

“Yes, Miss..” I respond.

“Your Mistress is waiting for you..” she offers; explaining where I am to go, to find her.

“Thank you, Miss!” I respond, as I follow the path towards my destination.

It had been surprisingly easy, to pull my hand back from the desk; almost, as if I had never even touched its surface. Odd, and somewhat disconcerting.

The Mistake: 26

I had finally reached the location, where a friend of mine had placed the girl who had run away from me.

Of course, I could not have that. In fact, I can have none of it. No girl runs away from me, and a girlfriend of mine belongs to me.

I will have to discipline her, later; once I had gotten her back home, that is. Quite harshly.

But, before I could do any of that; I would have to catch her, so I can take her back home. I had thought, that would have been easy. A cakewalk, as it were. It should have been.

Approaching the building itself did not offer any problems, but that had never been expected in the first place; so I walk up to the door, promptly sliding up for me as if I had been expected.

“Clop, clop; clop, clop; clop, clop..” is heard, as I am walking over the floor.

Should I have been surprised, by the white stone floor I am walking over, on my way to the desk? Maybe, or maybe not; but I did not let this get to me, at least not just yet. I am not in the habit, of permitting anything get in my way.

Maybe one or two had found it inconvenient, or found a less than fortunate fate; but it is who I am, and how I am reacting to things. This had served me well, this far at least.

“Welcome to the Red Crop!” the girl behind the desk exclaims, in her usual excitable voice.

“If you place the palm of your hand, onto my desk; so I can process your request?” she offers.

She had been neither demanding, nor pleading; merely helpful, informative, which is taking me aback by its pure bluntness.

She does not fear me, but is acting with an inherent respect I had rarely to never been exposed to before; which is further confusing me, as I am trying to process the changed situation I could never have anticipated.

“She has the discipline of an Assassin, and the patience of a Saint; coupled with the excitement of a Child..” I ponder, as I mindlessly follow her instructions to the letter.

How could I have known the Mistress, behind her grueling training; the dungeon, into which I had just set foot?

“The design is hot, while it should have been cold to the touch; while the solid surface could never have pulled me in!” I ponder, as I am spreading the fingers of my right hand.

“Perfect..” she chimes; “take the door to the right!” she continues, pointing me into the direction I need to take.

“Thank you, Miss!” I respond, finding myself dumbfounded under the gaze of her discipline.

I pull my hand back, take a step back; before I turn in the direction she had indicated, following the path she had dictated for me.

I step out, fresh from the shower. The room does look surprisingly luxurious, to me. Not what I had been expecting, but I guess I can enjoy being proven wrong. At least, if I am not paying for it in any manner. This far, I had been given a treat.

“If you were to step up onto the gurney, please; so that you can enjoy, what I have to offer!” the Mistress instructs me.

“Yes, Mistress; thank you, of course!” I respond, as I step right up onto the gurney she had indicated.

From the looks of the gurney, this is promising me something. Not that I had been expecting it, or anything; but if she is prepared to lend me a hand, to take the stress off of my shoulders. Who am I to complain, or protest?

Just as I lie down, making myself comfortable; she is producing a crop, she is presenting to me.

“Lick it!” she demands.

“Yes, Mistress!” I merely respond, as I comply.

“I certainly can appreciate discipline, when I face it; even in a Mistress, as imposing as the girl I have before me!” I realize, despite myself.

“I notice that you can appreciate discipline!” she states, as a matter of observation.

“Yes, Mistress; Discipline, is something I can appreciate!” I respond.

“Excellent, then I believe you will find yourself right at home!” she offers.

The next moment, I sense the touch of her crop; as she is smacking my rump, with the crop I had just licked. I just fail to realize the significance, as my romp slowly grows plump and luxurious. I would have appreciated the looks, and the change; had it not been for the act, that it is my very own body. I have always been proud of my physique.

She is trailing the length of my spine, with the crop; just as she had finished, smacking my rump. It had been hard and firm, now it is growing soft and plush. It’s starting to become embarrassing; had I realized, what she is doing to me.

Of course, if only this had been the end of what she is just smacking be down with. Which, it is not. Not by a long shot.

“I hope, you are comfortable!” she offers.

“Excellent..” she exclaims; “Excellent!” she echoes, in a measured voice worthy of a true Mistress.

Now she is slapping my right and left shoulder, with the crop; as she is looking down upon me, with approval clearly in her eyes.

The change incurred is less noticeable, than the one she applied to my rump; but it is there nonetheless, as my shoulders are less pronounced square as she is done.

I feel her touching my right hand, before drawing the crop all the way up the arm; before she is slapping me on the left hand, drawing the crop all the way up the left arm in turn. The effect does not wait for me to explore it, as my arms are becoming rounder and softer in a more pronounced effeminate form than I am comfortable with.

She is catching my hair, twirling what little I have around the crop and gives it a short tug; making my hair grow considerably longer, with the invested effort on her part.

“Now, if you would just turn on your back; so you can enjoy this to the fullest!” she is pronouncing, making me comply, before I had even realized it.

Such is the power of her presence; the strength of her discipline, I could not resist her.

She is looking down upon me, with growing approval; as she is performing, and I dance to her tune.

It takes me a few good minutes, to turn myself over to lie on my back; but in the process I am realizing, I am enjoying her presence more and more. While she is changing my body, but my personality and preferences have not been changed at all; at least, not yet. Maybe exposure to the new body would change my preferences; but that is not her doing.

“Now; close your eyes, please!” she instructs me.

As I do, I feel the crop touching the right and left eyelid in turn; before she is placing the crop over my lips, for a full minute. Naturally; she had to touch my right and left cheek, before she is continuing. With that, she had left me with a completely feminine face; I can’t deny it, but I have to see it with my own eyes to know.

“There is a painful whack, hitting me on the throat; there goes one more part of my manly appearance!” I realize, in pain.

The tip of the crop touches my nipples, right and left; whipping up the volume of a pair of fairly large and plumb breasts.

“Ow!” I consider; “She really is dead set on what she is up to; but I do no longer possess the strength, to resist her!”I realize.

“Open your eyes; prepare to behold, your new self!” she is instructing me.

While I am opening my eyes, I notice her performing a flourish with the crop; as she is ultimately taking the very symbol of my manliness and leaves me with the bare mound upon which the orchid is in clear bloom. My body, clearly betraying me; in the act of ultimate spite, of who I had been for so many years. I will no longer be able to go out, showing my face on the street.

As I watch, she is smacking me on the right hand, before she is tracing one finger at the time, from thumb to pinkie finger. Naturally, she had to repeat the process; as my hands slowly are turned feminine.

She is indeed a true Mistress, with all the power that comes with it; able to make even the most masculine, match man into a girl in a matter of minutes without even breaking him in the process.

“Sit up, please; my girl, so I can properly look at you!” she pronounces.

I sit up, on the side of her gurney; facing her as I do, on the right side. She is looking at me, appraisingly; in her manner, as the Mistress she is.

“Oh, yes..” she mumbles; “there is one final detail, I will simply have to fix..” she offers, as she is patting me on the nose with the tip of her crop.

She is walking around me, stopping behind my back; before she is applying the crop, pulling my hair out to the full length she had intended all along.

“There..” she proclaims; “Perfect!” she concludes.

“Oh!” I merely mouth, where I am sitting, on the right side of her gurney.

“Beautiful, quite beautiful; if I can say so myself!” she responds.

Now she is walking back, to face me; looking me over, once more.

“How do I look?” I inquire; scared to know, what I am actually looking like right now.

Still, there is no escaping her changes; she had changed me, and there is nothing I could do about it.

“Stunning, just stunning..” she points out; “I guess, you would love to see for yourself!” she points out; “Go, go; have a look, the mirror is right there!” she explains, indicating where I need to go in order to see.

“I don’t want to, but ignoring it will change exactly nothing!” I realize; “besides, I can not refuse my Mistress, now could I!” I conclude, as I am jumping down onto the floor.

My feet, hitting the floor with a soft thud; surprisingly comfortable, despite the lacking strength in my legs.

“There you go, you will find your way in no time at all!” the Mistress points out, as she is indicating where I am to go.

Since I am nude, I am walking barefoot; but I try not to permit this to get in the way, with only the Mistress in the room. My Mistress, as it had turned out. She is surprisingly charming, despite what she had just put me through.

“Will she turn me back to the man I was, or leave me in my current state?” I ponder; while I walk from her gurney, to the room she had told me to use.

Maybe it is my fantasy, running amok; could she reverse this change, or is it merely a Mirage put before my eyes? I do not know, but the room does look larger and taller than it had been as I had entered the room.

As I finally reach the door, she had indicated; the door slides up before me, revealing a fairly small room.

“Squeak, squeak, squeak!” I hear, as I am stepping into the room.

The door slides shut behind me, just as I had crossed the threshold; both my bare feet, firmly onto the floor in the room.

“Curious..” I exclaim, “These noises I hear with each step I take..” I continue; “Though I guess, I enjoy just how soft the floor is under my feet!” I conclude.

Maybe I have an inch of crystal-clear, soft silicon to thank for these things.

As I scan the room, I am facing a mirror; where a black woman is looking back at me, somewhat plump and shorter than I had imagined. She is me, of course.

“Whoa!” I exclaim, in shocked surprise.

The voice is coming back at me, almost as if she had been attacking me; with the sounds of the voice, that is now mine.

Only now, I can see the shock and fear in her eyes; as it is dawning upon her, just who she had become.

“I do not like, being you; just look at yourself, timid and weak!” she mumbles.

It feels, almost as if she had thrown a curse at me; even if the words came over my lips, and the voice is my very own. This, is who I am now. For as long, as my Mistress is choosing to make it last.

I had been thrust, into an echo chamber of sorts; where I can see the echo of my appearance, and hear myself expressing who I am and what I had become.

Sadly, I have to confess; she is also right, of course. There is no denying her words. What I see before me, is myself.

I am still the very same man I had always been, but in the body of the woman I see before me.

“Learn to trust her; she just may be your strongest Ally, in your darkest hour of need!” I hear a strong voice from behind me.

Of course, I know this voice only too well, even if it is the first time in my life I had seen her; this is the voice of my Mistress, a symbol of power and strength. At least, she is in my book. Maybe that, is all that matters.

I am lost. The man I had been, is gone. What I see in the mirror, before me, is me, the black woman I had become. I had been transformed, by the hand of my Mistress.

I had come here, to see her; tricked by the inner rage and the ignorance possessing me, up until now. My own friend, leading me here, misleading me; or, guiding me forwards. Towards a new future. One, I could never have foreseen, and one I can still not fathom or grasp.

Security, lost. In the sea of endless choices. Do I act, or react?

Can I step up, and regain myself? Am I strong enough, to regain the equilibrium I need, in order to redeem myself; in the eyes of myself, and in the eyes of whom I had formerly seen as my friends.

I do not know. Do I care to know, who am I to say.

The girl in the mirror, smiles. She is smiling at me, right at me; blushing embarrassed, and ashamed.

While I do not know why, but I imagine she is about to explain it all to me.

Had it been yesterday, or any time in my past; I would have beaten her until she relented and told me. Now I can’t. I do not know. Just as I no longer know how to. Maybe, because I no longer have the strength.

I hope, she does.

It seems, I am forced into doing something I could never have permitted myself to do before; relying on someone else, and a woman at that.

At this point, the fact that she is black barely even registers.

Well; I guess it is I, who am black.

“Hello!” I say, as I am looking at the woman before me.

Of course, she is looking back at me. She seems unafraid, but embarrassed. Embarrassed by me. Who I am, who I was; everything I had ever done, in my entire life.

I could hardly blame her, how could I? She is a woman, and I guess I had been particularly hard on females. Both girls and women; for being week, obstacles to my ambitions.

“Who are you?” I inquire; “Do you at least have a name?” I continue.

“Who am I?” she echoes, unsure of herself for once; “Call me Maxine!” she then responds.

“Thank you, Maxine!” I respond.

“You are quite welcome, girl; be more kind and sympathetic to us now since you are one of us now..” Maxine pushes forth; “but alas, be decent; put something on, the wardrobe is right there!” she points out, in utter earnesty.

“oh..” I mumble; “thank you for reminding me, about just how nude I am” I continue.

I look in the direction indicated, only to find the open double doors, before me.

“of course, I could not walk out of her; stark naked, like this!” I ponder, in the silence of solitude; “now I just hope, there is something I could feel comfortable in wearing; something in my size, I can look good in!” I mouth.

“I can’t permit you, to walk out of here nude; even if I guess we can walk out of the room, since it is equating to the privacy of your home, and nudity is not exactly frowned upon in here!” she responds.

“Is that why my girlfriend went here, because she expected to feel right at home under a Mistress?” I inquire.

“I can picture her, enjoying the close attention of her Mistress!” she points out; as she neglects to mention the invitation, we are oblivious of.

“Maybe I should explore my wardrobe, so I can see what my options are..” I mumble; “since my old clothes are not going to fit, I can only hope they provide me with something befitting my new stature!” I conclude.

“The clothes you wore, as you arrived?” she inquires; Since these are clothes for a large male, that would hardly be appropriate now..” she offers.

I can but giggle, at that. Seeing her; wearing that kind of clothes is initially amusing, but then it is turning tragic to me.

“Not that I am in a hurry, to get out of here; but I am curious, to see how you will like the new clothes you are offered!” she exclaims, in an exuberantly bubbly voice.

“When you put it, like that; you make me curious, eager to try on whatever there may be in store for me!” I find myself responding, with raising excitement.

“Then, what are you waiting for?” she inquires, spurring me on to move forwards and grab my new life.

I place the palm of my extended hand onto the wall, ready to open up to see. I feel the warmth, only now it is more inviting in place of the grabby sense of being drawn in.

The door soon slides up. For some reason, I have the impression; there had been three sets of clothes in there, but only one is available to me now. Why were they retracting two thirds of what they had initially intended to offer me? I do not know.

I look in, into my wardrobe; eager to see, so I can claim a suit of my own. It is, what I had been offered.

There are dresses and skirts. Just that I want to have a complete suit, and ensemble; something I could wear proudly, and not just something to cover my currently nude body up with.

“A pair of panties and a brassiere, would be a good start!” I mumble to myself, knowing the body I am in.

“Just hope they fit me..” I ponder; “I need something comfortable to wear!” I conclude.

There are no black, red or white panties in the selection; but I do find a pair of bright cerise once, I pick up. The first I notice, is the slippery smooth fabric my selected panties had been crafted out of; the second is the tight fit and just how elastic these panties truly are. No mere Cotton or even Silk could rival them.

“These are looking as if they had been a size too small for me, but the cut is at least high enough to be comfortable to wear!” I ponder; based on experience and preference.

I step into the panties, left and right, as Maxine is watching me from behind; then I pull up my new panties, affording them a few tentative tugs in order to assure the perfect fit: once, twice and thrice.

“There, they do look beautiful on you!” Maxine exclaims, quite cheerfully.

“Thank you, Maxine!” I respond, as I extract the matching brassiere and start putting it on.

As I finish adjusting the brassiere, I turn my attention back to the set of clothes before me. I still have all the important choices to make, all the clothes I need to wear before I can go outside.

“How does it feel?” Maxine inquires; as she is looking at me, where I stand.

“Curious!” I respond; “Feels surprisingly good, with this brassiere on!” is all I can get out.

“I thought as much!” Maxine responds; grinning knowingly, as if she had experience of wearing effeminate clothes.

Of course, I have no such experience; as if I had been expected to have the parts, or wear these clothes before. Well, now I have. I will simply have to deal with it, or resign to be miserable for the rest of my life.

I don’t want to be miserable, naturally; but this situation is putting more than enough stress on me, as it is. I had been used to being me, and was quite comfortable with who I was back then; now all that is out the window, and I have to adjust to what had just happened to me.

Maybe the changes had gone just a bit deeper than you had been expecting; just adding a pair of br4easts on my chest and swapping the functional equipment. I had been ill equipped, to handle what befell upon me, but here I am.

“You could choose to wear a skirt and blouse, if you like!” she suggests.

“Something colourful, but don’t make it clash with my complexion!” she points out.

While I had not been looking for it, I find myself picking up a highly elastic and transparent under-skirt; stepping into it, pulling it all the way up and affording it a few tentative tugs: once, twice and thrice.

Had I been gleeful, enjoying the elasticity and the comfortable fit? I guess I could not help myself. With a glance, I can also see Maxine enjoying watching me put it on, as she is giving an approving nod of her head. Just in a fashion I can not quite recognize or reconcile.

There is a deep blue dress, my eyes fall upon; it is tight and effeminately form-hugging, as I hold it in my very own hands. Extracting it had been only too easy, but that should have been expected here. Maybe the hue is appearing electric, with a rather metallic sheen to it.

“How could this possibly feel so good?” I ponder.

“Wait, just a minute; you should be wearing the blouse under that dress!” Maxine points out, as she is pointing at the porcelain white garment before me.

I pick the blouse out of the wardrobe, sliding my arms through the sleeves right and left; before I am buttoning it up, from the bottom and all the way up to the very last button.

“There..” she exclaims.

Now I pick up the promised dress, lifting it up over my head and slide into it; feeling the fabric as the dress is sliding all the way down to the floor with elaborate ease. Almost as if it had been a loose-fitting garment; not this tight, body-hugging gem.

I sense a shiver sliding down the length of my spine, and I find myself giggling. I can not put a finger to why.

I am split between the embarrassment of wearing these clothes even, if I am enjoying how it feels on my body; and the excitement of seeing Maxine wearing the clothes I am selecting. Is it for her, or for me; while the question is technically moot since I am her. Somehow, I love how the clothes adorn her, her body; even when I know it is me, who am wearing these clothes.

“Before I continue, I need to see if they have gloves or stockings?” I ponder; soon finding, exactly what I had been looking for.

Maybe I am a bit overdressed, but I had to try it all on now. I end up, picking a pair of full-length gloves; with a pair of matching stockings. Why does the white palm of the gloves’ hands not look out of place? Yet, I had made my choice. I had slipped the gloves on, with practiced ease.

I had felt how the fabric was sliding over the skin of my arms; how the elastic material permitted me to fit my fingers in just perfectly. Now I can clearly see just how effeminate the gloves are. These inch-long, semi-square nails. Though there is the one thing that sticks out; bright cerise pads covering the skin from the final joint of each finger and all the way in under the nail.

“Why does it appear to be the touch-pads of a cat?” I ponder.

Once I had slipped the gloves on, taking a moment to adore the appearance and saviour the feelings; I slip the stockings on, right and left. At first, there is nothing special about these stockings; but I can clearly see each of my toes, even if the toe-nails appear to be rudimentary in the Anime animation-style. How had I not noticed it before?

I return to the inside of the wardrobe, exploring the remaining options before me; picking up a black jacket. I pull it out, before I slide my hands through the sleeves right and left. Once I wear the jacket, I am buttoning it up; just as meticulously as I had the blouse, from the lowest button to the one just under my chin.

While I may still be inside, but it feels as if I need a pair of shoes or heels.

What I find, is initially shocking me; but ends up exciting me even more, as I get used to the idea.

“Crescent Moon” the label reads.

A pair of heel-less high heel boots, reaching up to my knees. These initially appear to be black leather, but feel more like vinyl.

I pick up the right one, slipping my foot down to experience the tight fit slowly swallowing the entire foot. I set the foot down, before I pick up the left one and slide my other foot in.

Once the boot had swallowed my feet, I barely feel the embrace; but I do feel the floor under what is appearing to be the hoof, of an equine.

“Curious!” I ponder.

“That, is perfectly you!” Maxine points out.

“Yes, I guess it is..” I respond, musing on the unexpected series of events I had just stepped into.

Since I feel, I have put on the entire ensemble; I close the door to the wardrobe and turn my back on it. I had made the choice, this is what I am wearing. The choices are based on who I am, it is my choice; now it is made up, and I am happy with it. As happy as I could be, in the situation I had found myself.

Walking around in a female body, is embarrassing to me; since I am a man, and had always been proud of it.

Consummated: 27

I had just exited the shower, it had indeed been divine. The hot water, running down my entire body; no sound, and no fear of violence. I am alone, preparing for what is to come. A new life.

A new beginning.

Nude, I walk over the floor with still wet feet dripping and leaving puddles as I go.

The sign of purity, as I am leaving my past behind.

My heart, light, the room, and the air, light as a feather.

Is this, what they refer to as reborn?

I do not know, but it does not really matter. I am free. Finally.

Tiptoeing on my way over to the gurney in the middle of the room. Waiting, expectantly.

A door is sliding up, and a woman enters the room. Mistress, my Mistress.

She is banishing all thought of what had been, as she is dominating the room and the scene.

She is dominant, and owns the scene. It is her scene.

“Greetings, Miss; welcome to my Dungeon, I hope you will be enjoying what I have in store for you!” she offers.

“Greetings, Mistress; I am eager to explore, what you have in store for me!” I respond.

“Mount the gurney, please; then I will offer you the treat, I had prepared for you!” she explains.

With that, I am slipping up onto the gurney before me; feeling the crystal clear, squishy cushion under me.

“Squeak, squeak, squeak..” is heard, as I move on my way up to take my place on the gurney.

“Comfortable?” she inquires, as I finally find my place.

“Yes, mistress!” I respond.

“There, now the formalities are concluded..” she ponders; “now I can offer her the treat she has been putting up for so long!” she concludes.

“Since you are comfortable, it is time I start!” she points out.

“Yes, please!” I respond, nodding vigorously.

She walks around the gurney, facing me; extending the tip of the crop, before me.

“If you would be a dear and lick the crop, so I can start!” she explains.

“Oh..” I exclaim; “but of course!” I respond; as I part my lips, extending my tongue in order to comply.

She is looking at me, enjoying her work; as she watches me, as I am lapping the crop for her.

“How much?” I ponder; “How long, do she need me to lick it?” I continue, realizing I don’t quite know, or understand.

I had been putting up the introduction for a year. In the process, I had forgotten most of what my former friend had explained. I had not seen much of her, this last year.

“Thank you, Deer!” she offers; as I had coated the upside of the tip of her crop with my saliva.

“That should do, quite nicely!” she explains.

“Just hold on, and relax; this will take a while, and will be feeling a bit unfamiliar and out of place!” Mistress is pointing out.

“Of course, she would know; she has been a Mistress for years, so she is bound to know!” I ponder.

Relaxing is surprisingly easy, with Mistress standing guard; and none entering the room, without her permission. While I do not know of her power, but I do not need to know of all the Changelings spread out over the entirety of this facility. However, maybe I will see one.

Of course, I am lying on my belly, my back up. How else would I do?

On my back, belly up?

She had not told me to, so this is how I lie. Relaxing, holding on to whatever she expected me to hold on to.

Curious, there is a hole or gap perfectly fitting my face. I find it most comfortable, and convenient. Just that it is in the control of my Mistress.

“In Mistress I trust!” I realize, almost as if she had been the local deity or god.

“Kami, o’Kami..” I mouth.

As I am utterly naked before my mistress, there is nothing between me and the crop she is wielding. I feel the tip of her crop, like a hot tingling shiver down the entire spine as the crop is lining the length of my spine.

While I do not know I am changed, there is an initial reaction to her and the touch of the crop.

There is a light tap of the crop, hitting the end of my spine with a curious reaction I could not have foreseen. One, two and three inches of tail sprouting; unbeknownst to me, but yet it is already there.

“Whack, whack, whack..” is heard, as she is hitting my rump right and left; causing it to grow plump and lush.

Maybe I should be pleased, by the firm plumpness caused by her touch. Why shouldn’t I? But for now, I have not realized.

She stands still, momentarily; watching, waiting. Before she starts over, starts anew; drawing the crop along my right leg, from the top of my rump and all the way over the heel and down to the toes. Only repeating the process with my left leg. Symmetry is a thing; after all, or I would have become a cripple. Right then, and there.

While I had already been female, a girl and woman; but she is changing me slowly, into a new me. Maybe I would have called myself oriental? Even if even I know, the word is looked down upon and frown upon by some. If they were the target of the term, or just misguided individuals clinging to be politically correct, who knows. I do not care.

While she is standing behind me, I feel the tip of her crop; as it is hitting my mound and rump: once, twice and thrice. Just a light tap, each time; but I feel it, just as the effect is more profound inside than I had been expecting.

“Whack, whack, whack; whack, whack, whack..” is heard; as she is tapping my feet right and left, heel, sole and toes.

Of course, she is thorough; in the effort of adjusting me feet, to change them into what is expected out of me. How, or why? Who is to say, yet I am slowly changed as she is changing me into a new self.

She stands over me, still; observing me, adoring me for who I am.

After a moment, a minute; that could as easily have been an hour or a day, she is walking around me where I lie in order to once more face me.

“Palms up, please; Miss!” she is instructing me, watching me present the palms of my hands.

“Tap, tap!” is heard; as she is tapping the palms of my hands, right and left.

As I watch, the palms of my hands are turning a silicon-white, bordering on the purity of the porcelain. Amazed, I can but stare; as the palms of my hands slowly turns into suction-cups, before my very eyes.

I soon return my hands to their original positions; before she is tapping the back of my hands; before stroking the fingers along their entire length. I continue to stare, as my hands continue to change slowly.

“Excellent, excellent!” she is pronouncing; “Looking good, don’t you think?” she inquires as she had finished.

“Now, I will just have to get used to be the center of attention; considering how you make me into something of a doll?” I inquire.

“Every girl wants to look good!” she merely responds.

”Yes, but of course!” I respond.

“Since you are a girl; too, Miss..” she offers; “you would love to look your best, too?” she offers.

“Yes, please!” I respond.

“Look up; look at me, Miss!” she is instructing me.

“Of course, Mistress!” I respond.

With a light tap on my nose, I feel it shrinking in size. She is sliding the crop over my eye-lids, right and left; changing them, into the proper oriental look.

Now I feel her drawing the crop from my right cheek, under my chin and up to my left cheek; directing the change, into the ideal face of her Idol.

“Smile, please!” she is instructing me; drawing the crop along the border of my lips, from the upper right on a left-bound circuit. As the circuit had been completed, so had the change of my lips and smile, as well as my face.

“Relax..” she instructs me, as she is taking a step back and walks around the gurney.

She is stopping at my right side, extending her crop.

“Tap, tap; tap, tap!” is heard, as she is making my tail grow an inch with each tap.

That is now a full seven inches. I have a tail, but still too short to be visible or useful in any practical manner. Guess I don’t care.

“Spread your legs, wide; before you push yourself up to a sitting position!” she is instructing me.

“Yes, Mistress!” I respond, as I am complying.

“There, perfect!” she offers, before she is giving my belly button a light tap.

I feel the tap, but not the incurred change itself.

“Tap, tap; tap, tap; tap, tap; tap, tap!” is heard, as she deepens the orifice she had crafted into what had formerly been a normal belly button.

“Ooh!” I mouth, as I look down; seeing the change, I barely feel beyond the tactile effect of the crop hitting my flesh.

“Tap, tap; tap!” is heard, as she is tapping my right nipple into shape.

“Tap, tap; tap!” is heard, as she is tapping my left nipple into shape.

A relatively large nipple adorning each of my breasts; shapely and in shape for whatever fun she may have in mind for me.

Now I feel her drawing a line around my right breast, before drawing a line over the breast; leading to a change in size and shape, leaving me with a fitting A cup. She soon repeats the process, leaving me with a beautiful and symmetrical bust befitting my current size.

Of course, I am now standing a full, proud five foot tall; but that is just right for me, in my current shape.

I feel her rubbing my mound, with the tip of her extended crop; before she is giving me an affectionate tap onto the orchid that is slowly coming into full bloom. As I look down, the orchid is turning a bright cerise. There is a hint of gloss, I can only imagine is wet lubricant she had placed inside me.

“If you lie back down, and relax; I have one final gift, I am willing to offer you!” she informs me.

“Yes, please..” I respond, nodding most vigorously, as I eagerly comply.

As I like down, I feel the touch of Mistress’ fingers slowly and deliberately caressing my rump. Her fingers, sliding ever closer towards the center of the crack. There is a momentary slip, and I feel a wet gel being applied. As she is rubbing it in, the sensation is slowly fading away until my rump is completely numb and I feel nothing.

She continues inwards and down into the open orifice. While I do not feel it, I know she is continuing. She is leaving the trail of a glossy surface as she continues, the sign of how much of the gel had been applied.

I have no idea, as to exactly how far in she had continued; but then she produces a glossy black plug-tube, slipping it inside me.

At first, I feel nothing, but as the glistering black rubber is bonding to my flesh and blends into my rump; the sensitivity slowly returns to what should be fairly close to normal.

She had taken a step back, waiting for a minute or two; producing the gel with which she is intending to prepare me and polish my rump.

I feel the touch of her fingers, as she is working the crystal-clear gel in; blending the border between rubber and skin, as she is enhancing my sensitivity. She also leaves a glistering surface, where she goes.

“I fear, it will take you a while to get used to your Anal Guard; but it should prove both useful, and exciting once you have grown used to it!” she points out.

“Anal Guard?” I inquire.

“The black plug-tube I just inserted!” she explains.

“Oh, okay..” I respond, “is that the gift, you were just mentioning?” I inquire.

“Yes, the anal guard is intended to protect your anal cavity against unexpected and unwelcome visitors!” she points out, explaining a bit of the situation.

“I don’t even feel the item, she had inserted into my rump!” I ponder, as I am mentally exploring myself.

“It is, as if it had always been there, as a part of me..” I realize; “It’s an integral part of my natural anatomy!” I continue.

“Sit up, please!” she is instructing me; and I comply, eagerly.

The next moment, I once more find myself with one foot dangling on each side of the narrow gurney; as I sit up, facing my Mistress. Her gurney is only two foot wide, so it is still fairly narrow, even for me, after everything that had just transpired in the room.

“I will instruct you, explain how this works; so that you will enjoy it, as much as possible!” Mistress explains; “But first, you will have to slide your left foot over the gurney and slide down onto the floor; so you can stand up on the floor, as I guide you through!” she concludes.

“Oh, okay!” I respond, sliding the foot over; before I slide down onto the floor.

“Thud!” is heard, as my feet are hitting the floor.

With that, I am finally standing on my own two feet once more.

“There, if you are ready?” she offers.

As I am standing up, facing my Mistress; I find her towering over me, even if she is standing a few feet away. Something I will simply have to get used to, with the diminished height and stature.

I stand, facing her; hands on my hips, as my eyes are following her every move.

She is putting on a pair of skin-tone gloves, indicating for me to do the same; before she is extending her middle fingers, licking the tip of the right and left in turn.

“Now, let your hands slide down and behind towards your rump..” she instructs me, watching as I mirror her action; “As you feel the edge of your anal cavity under the tips of your middle-fingers, pres down gently, before you pull your hands apart!” she points out.

“Oh..” I respond; “Oo-oo-ooh, oo-oo-ooh” I mouth, as I follow her instruction and feel my rump dilate effortlessly.

“Relax, and let go; don’t overdo it..” she points out; “just let your hands fall to your sides, and experience the moment!” she offers.

“Oh, okay!” I respond, as I follow her instructions.

My rump naturally remains dilated, dilation staying as I had just left it.

Had I tried to clench; it is nothing but unresponsive rubber; I can’t even feel it and not the touch of her fingers as it happens.

“Extend your index-fingers; slide your hands back and search for the rim of your anal orifice..” she instructs me, and I eagerly comply; “Now, if you would please rub the rim and slide the fingers in an inch as you continue!” she is instructing me.

“Oo-oo-ooh, oo-oo-ooh!” I mouth, as I feel the tips of my index-fingers rubbing over the wet skin.

As I continue, I feel a fairly familiar sensation, unfamiliar; merely because the location is off, this is not how this should have been feeling. My eyes, slowly widening in shock and excitement; as the sensations slowly sink in, and I succumb to the stimulation I am subjecting myself to. I can’t help, but enjoying it; while she is observing me, with eager anticipation.

“Find the spot, with the tip of your middle-fingers; press down gently, before you pull your hands inch by inch wider!” she is instructing me.

I quietly comply, pulling my hands wider and wider apart. For as long as the tips of the fingers remain gently pressed down on the respective spot; dilation grows, as I continue. I am in control, as my body complies with the gesture I perform.

There is a strange tingling sensation I experience, just as I finally do feel the resistance as I had reached the limit of how much I can dilate.

“Beautiful..” she offers; “That is the limit, of your dilation!” she points out.

“Now; if you let go, and permit your hands to fall to your sides, please!” she is instructing me, and I comply.

With that, I am easing the grip and let go of my rump; as I do, my anal cavity stays open. I do not feel it, or a change; just because I am letting go, but why should I feel a difference in any event.

Once I had let go of my rump and she can see my hands by my sides; she is stepping forwards, walking up to me with a wide grin on her face. She only stops, a foot away, standing before me; her hands moving up and behind me, as she is reaching for my rump.

A moment later, I feel the tips of her fingers; as she is caressing the rim of my rear orifice, with the tips of her fingers. I find myself wet, slippery; she is driving me towards the point, as I realize it is exciting me.

My lips describing a capital “O”, as I mouth; “Oo-oo-oo-oo-oo-oo-ooh!”, as she continues.

“You did not see that coming?” she coos.

“No..” I realized, entranced by her action.

She continues, teasing me; driving the point home, as she is continuing to caress the rim of my rear orifice.

Naturally, I am finding myself helpless, in her grip; as I had already succumbed to her, before I had even realized it or what she was even doing to me.

“I am trapped!” I realize; “but, it feels so good; I don’t want her to stop..” I ponder.

After a few minutes, she is pulling her hands away; changing the grip and is pressing the tip of her right middle-finger at the top of my rear orifice. I feel a tingle, momentarily; before that sensation is slowly fading away, almost as if nothing had happened. She had locked my orifice at maximal dilation. Just that I had already dilated as much as I could; which is why I did not feel a difference, aside from the momentary tingling sensation.

“How is that?” she inquires.

“Oh!” I merely respond; “it tingled, momentarily; but that has faded away, so it is completely normal now!” I whisper.

“Excellent, excellent!” she exclaims.

“Now?” she inquires, quietly.

I feel her left hand sliding in between my legs; before the middle-finger is hitting that sweet spot and it once more is tingling.

“Whoa!!” I exclaim; “You’re closing me up?” I put forth, as the stark realization is hitting home.

While I am remaining wet, the orifice is closing up; my rump sealed tight, to the point where I could not have found the orifice.

“Yes, exactly!” she merely offers.

“Oh; how, and why?” I manage to blurt out.

“Because it is most useful, if and when you need it!” she explains, matter of fact in quite the somber tone.

“Oh?” I respond; “okay!” I add.

“Here, let me reset!” she offers, as she is applying her right middle-finger to the gesture.

“Oh..” I mouth.

“How is that?” she inquires; “I set the dilation to nominal!” she explains.

“Oh!” I respond, pondering the change she had applied to me.

Of course, the anal guard could not be removed now, it is far too late; but if I can learn to master its use, and its implications it could be serving me quite well.

“Since you can manage the basics of your guard; it is time, for you to dress up properly!” Mistress points out.

“That would be appropriate!” I respond, nodding.

“Right this way, please!” she offers.

I watch, as Mistress is opening a pair of sliding doors before me; presenting me with a selection of wears. Clothes, that should be fitting me.

“A pair of white panties would be a good start; here try these out, should fit you just right!” she offers, as she is handing over the panties.

“Thank you, Mistress!” I respond, as I am accepting the offered panties.

“There is a hole on the back?” I ponder, as I examine the panties before I try them on.

The material these panties had been made out of, is neither cotton nor silk, but the hue looks closer to something akin, to silicon or porcelain. As I am stepping into the panties, it feels; as if they were eager to slip all the way up to my crotch, to embrace me. I still afford the panties a few tentative tugs: once, twice and thrice; just to ensure that perfect fit, to make it as comfortable as I can muster.

With just a little bit of effort, or if it is simply luck; my short tail slips in through the hole, at the back of my panties.

“Oh..” I mouth; “Oo-oo-ooh!” I sigh, as the tail was slipping into its designated hole.

“Thank you, Mistress!” I exclaim.

“A matching brassiere, would fit you just right!” she is offering me.

“Thank you, Mistress, I respond as I am accepting the offered garment.

I slip it down over my head, with raised arms; feeling the smooth material of the brassiere slide down, before I am affording it a few tentative tugs in order to ensure that ever elusive fit: once, twice and thrice.

While my bust is not exactly large; the brassiere does offer a comfort I had never been expecting. Leaving just enough bounce, to make it feel effeminate; while taking away all the discomfort, every step of the way.

“Try these on!” she offers, as she is handing me a pair of knee-length socks or stockings.

“Thank you, Mistress!” I respond; as I am accepting the socks, she is offering.

I lift my right foot, slipping it into the sock; pulling it up, before I give it a few tentative tugs: once, twice and thrice. As I had ensured the fit, I set my foot down; once more standing steadily, on my own two feet.

Now I am lifting my left foot, slipping it into the remaining sock; affording it a few tentative tugs: once, twice and thrice.

While I am putting the socks on, she is picking out a blouse for me; handing it over, as I have put both socks on.

“Put this blouse on, I’m sure it should be just right for you, Miss!” she offers.

“Thank you, Mistress!” I respond, as I am accepting the blouse.

Slipping the right and left hand through the sleeves; before I am buttoning it up from the bottom to the top. Not leaving the final button undone, of course. Maybe I could have, but I choose to button it up all the way now.

As I am looking away, while I am putting the blouse on; she is picking a black knee-long skirt for me. No buttons, or anything.

“Try this skirt on; it should be right for you, Miss!” she suggests, as she is handing me the skirt.

“Thank you, Mistress!” I respond, as I am accepting the offered skirt.

Could I have turned it down? But the thought never occurred to me. Should it have, and could I have asked her for something else? But for now, I am happy with the suggestions she had been offering me.

Stepping into the skirt, pulling it up my legs; with the final pull, I pull it up over my hips. Only affording it a few tentative tugs, in order to acquire that perfect fit: once, twice and thrice.

“This jacket would look smart, on you; please try it on, Miss!” she offers.

“Thank you, Mistress!” I respond, as I am accepting the jacket.

At first, the colour and the cut makes it look almost like a leather jacket or a top.

I slip my hand in, feeling the material slide over my arms. Almost, as if I had not worn the blouse. Something odd, with the material these clothes had been made out of.

“Almost done, with the casual indoors ensemble!” she explains, as she is picking out a pair of shoes, looking almost as they had been ankle-socks.

These are not toe-socks; like the ones I wear, though.

“Thank you, Mistress!” I respond, as I am accepting the offered indoors shoes.

I slip them on, right and left; finding them acquiring the fit by themselves, before I had even tried. With that, I am setting my feet down, right and left.

“If you lift your right foot up; I will show you a little trick, Miss!” she suggests and I comply.

“Okay; thank you, Mistress!” I respond; as I comply, watching her touch the heel for but a mere instant.

As I set my foot down, I find myself standing on my toes; almost, as if I had been wearing high heels. I tentatively try to copy her trick; lifting up my left foot, touching the heel as she did.

“Oo-ooh!” I exclaim; finding myself on my toes, as both feet now maintain the stance.

“I suggest you practice this; then you can control your posture, at will!” she suggests.

“Thank you, Mistress!” I respond.

“You are quite welcome, Miss!” she responds; “But first, you need to slip these off of your feet; so you can try on your outdoor shoes, now!” she continues.

Slipping the shoes of, is just as easy, as it had been to slip them on. Effortless. I could do this, in my sleep; or, so I would imagine.

While I am slipping out of these curious shoes, she is picking out a pair of out-door shoes for me. Or, maybe these are boots? Unless, you choose to refer to them as stockings.

Thigh-high; heel-less high heels; just with what appears to be plateaus, I think.

“Not quite my old stature, but I guess I can get used to it!” I ponder.

Just that I had failed to notice, or realize; I am still standing on my toes. My feet bent to about forty-five degrees. This may be convenient now, of course.

“Crescent Moon” the label reads.

“Equine” the subtitle reads.

Slipping the right foot, is easier than I had expected. Lifting the right root, only to slide it all the way down; before I can put my foot down, or is it the hoof now.

I lift up my left foot, as I pick the remaining shoe; slipping my foot down, before I can place the foot down.

As I am standing on my own two hooves; I had gotten several inches higher, than I had been before. Wearing these boots, makes it easy to stand up and walk around; my balance is almost as if I had been bare-foot. It is a curious experience, I had never been prepared for. How could I possibly prepare, for an experience like this?

I should have been out of my depth, but the sense is so mundane; in everything else, I feel right at home.

It appears as if my hooves had been coated with golden. I have perfectly white sock, contrasting the reddish brown legs. Though there is a gradient, blending the pony with my natural skin-tone. Not the old pinkish tan, of yesteryear; but the new, natural oriental skin I had been gifted with by my Mistress. I guess it is a bit complicated, but it is the way things are turning out for me. Not that I am complaining, it’s always a great improvement.

“These should be easier for you to walk in; but if you want to, I have a pair of cervine ones for you to try out later!” she explains.

“Yes, please; thank you Mistress!” I respond.

“There is one more item, but I need you to slip out of the jacket, and blouse first!” she explains.

“Oh?” I inquire.

“I want you to try out the kimono!” she offers.

“Oh..” I respond; “thank you, Mistress!” I conclude.

I slowly unbutton the jacket, placing it on the hanger; before I unbutton the blouse, placing that on another hanger.

I accept the kimono; slipping my hands in left and right; before she helps me putting it on properly.

“There, perfect!” she points out; “You will have to learn, how to do this by yourself; eventually, but I guess that can wait!” she explains.

“Oh!” I mouth.

“This, is for more formal occasions, but it is beautiful!” she points out.

“Thank you, Mistress!” I respond.

“For later!” she offers, before she helps me taking the kimono off and put on the blouse and jacket again.

I had managed to catch a few glimpses of the kimono, my kimono; it is a brilliant sapphire blue, with a cherry-tree pattern, the trees in bloom. Somehow, I can see the image of the pattern, almost as if it had been in full colour; not just a pattern in monochrome relief.

An Introduction: 29

Author's Note

Maxine's POV

An Introduction: 29

I had been following the girl from my room. She had picked me up, by the door; leading me, to this door.

I watch her, as she is lifting up her right hand; extending it to the plaque on the right side of the door. She had said nothing, as she was leading me to this room; now she is pressing the palm down onto the plaque, spreading her fingers wide; the door slides up and she gestures to me to enter the room.

Obediently, I follow the gesture; stepping into the room, with her a mere step behind me. As expected, the door slides shut behind her; quietly, as if not to disturb the tranquil silence in the room.

I am alone, in the room with only the girl guiding me forwards.

The floor; covered with inch-thick crystal-clear silicon. The soft padded material greedily swallows every sound, except for its own.

“Squeak, squeak; squeak, squeak..” I hear, with every step I take; just as of every single step she takes, as she is following me deeper into the room.

“Why did she take me to this room?” I ponder, unsure of her purpose, and her intentions.

Yet, I hold my peace; not a sound passing over my lips.

I am treading lightly; as if on ice too thin, I can not trust to hold me if I take a step too fast. Unsure of myself, and who I am; in the land of magic and mirages, in which I had found myself.

How could I question, and how could I challenge; the magic making me into who I am, taking me to where I am? Thoughts jumbled and fearful, as I don’t know who I am or how I can fit into the world such as it is; when a life could be changed in such subtle, yet abrupt manners such as what I had just gone through?

I had found myself in a maze, where I had to trust the girl by my side. Who is she? I do not know, and she had never told me. There is something, about her; that defies all the logic, I could device. she simply defy my logic.

Her skin is a pale pinkish hue, smooth, almost as if it had been a make-up. She walks with the grace I wish I could duplicate; but I am new, to being the girl in the room. Apparently, I had been the buffoon; a klutz and a clumsy partner. I had permitted everything I had, and everything I had ever been; to be pulled out of my grasp, the very floor pulled out from under my feet as if it had been nothing. Less than nothing, in fat; however that, is even possible.

Yet, here I am; the apprentice of the Mistress and her minions known as Grooms.

Even if the room she had taken me into is small, but this is but one small part of the maze I had found myself in.

“There, stop!” she instructs me, only two feet from the seemingly invisible wall.

“Oh-okay!” I respond.

“Lift up your right hand, extend it; feel the wall before you and caress it!” she instructs me.

“Y-y-yes..” I respond, as I comply.

“There..” she coos; “You feel the smooth surface of the wall?” she inquires.

“Y-y-y-yes..” I respond; “It really is smooth, but it almost feels wet to the touch!” I realize.

“Now..” she proclaims; “if you spread your legs; a foot apart, should be just right!” she points out.

“Y-y-yes..” I respond, as I comply.

“There..” she concedes; “that wasn’t so bad?” she inquires, as she is leading me to her intended end-goal.

“N-n-no-o-oh!” I agree.

“Good, good!” she coos.

“Now..” she proclaims; “If you lift up your left hand, press it onto the wall before you!” she suggests.

“Y-y-yes..” I respond, as I comply.

“What is she up to?” I ponder, hesitantly; as I stand, waiting for what she is about to say next.

She stands behind me, ominous; towering over me, in presence.

“Spread your fingers, slowly..” she incites; “while you slowly spread your hands apart..” she continues; “stop, right there!” she then points out, as my arms had been spread to ninety degrees apart.

“Press your hands onto the wall, slowly; feel the resistance, as you add pressure!” she instructs me.

“Oh-okay!” I respond, as I start to apply pressure, pressing my hands onto the wall before me.

At first, the surface is hard and resists my efforts; but son, I feel the thick membrane slowly starting to give way and stretch. While it is not stretching much; but it is enough for me to notice, as I can see the surface stretch and give way, on the inherent reflection.

“Excellent, excellent; more, just a little bit more!” she coos, while watching me from behind.

She stops, and the room is quiet, while she is neither speaking nor acting.

Now she is taking a step to the right; permitting me a better view of her, in the reflection she is giving me in the smooth surface.

Oh, but have a look, look closer; but don’t slack off, just because of me!” she is instructing me.

Now she is pulling the right glove off of her hand. Slowly, meticulously; putting effort into the perfectly slow and delicate motion. It is all for the show; knowing I am watching her, on the reflection before me.

Once the glove is off of her hand, she just let it fall to the floor; before she returns her attention to her left hand, repeating the process in exact detail.

What I see, is her hands; pitch black, glossy. The hands are looking exactly as before; but the black hue of her skin changes my impression of her. I can’t help myself, as I suck in air in a sudden gasp; incidentally putting more pressure onto my hands. My fingers still spread as wide, as I possibly could.

At this point, she is producing a remote control device. As I watch, she is flipping a switch; before she is turning the wheel all the way up, thus strengthening the effect as much as possible.

“See, I am black too!” she exclaims, in overt excitement I had never been expecting from her.

For a moment, her act had distracted me; but then I notice how the surface is clinging to the skin of my hands, almost as if intending to melt and fuse with my hands.

“Do press a little bit harder, my dear; I know you can, and I want to see you put in the effort!” she coos, seductively; in an effort, to incite me to do as she pleased.

“Oh-okay!” I mumble, as I comply, not quite able to resist her; even as my body wanted to pull my hand beck, as I press them down even further.

“Excellent, excellent..” she exclaims; “there, there; I knew you had it in you, you can put just a little bit more into it..” she coos.

“Whatever she had in mind, I can’t resist her..” I realize; “but she knew that, before I had even set foot in this room!” I ponder.

With that, she is putting the remote control away; before she is stepping up behind me, quietly as she is lifting her hands up on my right and left side.

Now I find her cupped hands, gently cupping my breasts in a firm grip, measuring the orbs with a delighted grin on her face.

“Oo-ooh!” I yelp; trying to take a step back, but to no avail.

Naturally; I could not move forwards with the wall before me, more than I could move to the right or left.

“Wha..” I exclaim, as it finally is hitting home what she had applied to me; as my hands are clinging to the wall before me, as if she had glued the palms of my hands onto its surface.

“Excellent, excellent..” she is acknowledging; “you have finally caught on, to the predicament I have been placing you into..” she points out; “let us enjoy the moment, together; because you are trapped, in the grasp of my hands!” she concludes.

There is a flash of light, and an iridescent glow under her hands; indicating, what she is doing.

She takes a step back, making a tentative tug; as if she tries to let go, only to find her hands sticking to the orbs that are my breasts. She just giggles hysterically in excitement.

“What..” I exclaim; “How..” I try; “ho-o-ow, did you do that?” I finally stutter, trying to figure out how she had done, what she had just done to me.

“Simple..” she coos; “Magic, my dear!” she explains; in a delightful voice, bordering of foreboding and ominous.

Her hands are giving a tactile tease, as her fingers tentatively squeeze; all while her hands still are sticking to the place, of her initial choosing. I am stuck, captive and captivated; as she is having her way with me, teasing and teaching me the place of uncertainty and inherent fear.

I can not escape her, as my hands are stuck onto the wall before me, while her hands obediently stick to my breasts.

“M-m-magic?” I hesitantly inquire, insecure and uncertain of my place and what she had in mind for me.

“Yes..” she responds; “Magic!” she coos, seductively.

“I-I-I..I do not quite understand..” I respond; “it does not make sense, but I can’t quite explain away my situation or her place in it..” I realize, with a mind in haze based on the fear she had induced.

“Maybe that is the point, magic should never be fully understood!” she points out.

“No..” I agree; “Isn’t that in the very definition of magic?” I ponder.

“I am certain, you do recall the crop your Mistress wielded upon you; how she changed you, into what you are now?” she inquires, grinning knowingly.

“Y-y-yes-s..” I respond; “I still do recall that..” I continue.

“Good, good..” she promptly pronounces; “Excellent!” she proclaims.

“How could I forget that?” I ponder; “After she had turned my life upside down!” I continue.

“You though, I was just a regular girl; as I led you into this room, didn’t you?” she inquires.

“Uhm, y-y-yes-s; I did..” I respond; “why shouldn’t I?” I inquire; “You looked like a regular girl, and you still do; aside from that..” I continue.

“The gloves, right?” she puts forwards; How you have seen a glimpse of who I am..” she points out; “but don’t think, for a second; you know who, or what I am, just for that!” she points out.

“The skin of her hands, is looking like polished rubber; but she had just taken her gloves off of her hands..” I ponder.

“In your terms, I guess you could consider me a Witch?” she suggests; “I imagine that would make sense, in your limited comprehension!” she concludes.

I just nod, hesitantly.

She is distracting me, from what is important and what is going on; what she is doing to me, but I am a willing participant in what she does. While I may be acting out of fear and confusion, but she is expertly leading me forwards towards the goal she had set up for me.

While her hands, on my breasts had been scary and uncomfortable at first; she had made me grow used, to her fondling me in this fashion. I could not deny it, and I am not going to deny it. While I may still be denying it, to myself.

“I am trying to be gentle about this, because I enjoy how you react to my advancements!” she promptly coos her explanation.

Y-y-yo-you do?” I stammer.

“Part of you enjoys, what I am doing; but your reasoning is conflicting, for fairly clear and understandable reasons!” she pushes forwards; “You have to reconcile what happened to you, how it has changed you; so you can enjoy it, to the fullest!” she explains.

“Uh-oh.. oh-okay?” I mumble in response.

“You see, you will walk out of here, as you are; get used to it, it is not going to change!” she points out, as she continues to caress my breasts.

“No, no; I can not!” I ponder; “but I am a female, a girl; my body wants to enjoy it, her soft and delicate advances..” I realize, mid sentence.

If she is a girl, a woman, a witch, a female; does change exactly nothing for me, right now.

Am I more uncomfortable, about the body I am in; or how she is holding me tight, as she is grouping my breasts? Somehow, I can not help myself; enjoying the feeling of her hands, as she continues to caress me.

I am feeling her, as she is stepping up close, closer; standing just behind me, as she is embracing me.

“I want to scream, but I can’t; I want her to continue, but somehow my body is not quite comfortable with a woman up close!” I realize.

I love the bust, my Mistress had given me; if only it had been on a woman, I could embrace and adore from the correct perspective. Could I caress and group the breasts, she gave me; without feeling self-conscious and awkward?

Of course my breasts are firm, just the way real female breasts are supposed to; just that it feels as if they are squishy and elastic, as she is fondling them in her hands.

She is distracting me, as she is exploring my breasts for me; stepping back, step by step. Ever so slowly. All of a sudden, I realize my arms are stretched out as far as they go; my hands, still clinging to the wall. Bonded, fused to the wall; as if she had glued my skin, onto the crystal-clear membrane that is the wall.

Only now, she is taking another, final step back; stretching my arms, in order to incite me to struggle against the now taught membrane the palms of my hands are fused to.

She had given me no options, so I find myself forced to comply; as I try to pull at my hands, I feel the membrane stretch and pull back. Yet, it is not giving way, so my hands are stretching with it.

In turn, she is teasing me; by tugging lightly at my breasts, as she continues to caress and group me and my breasts in particular. As the master of the situation, her hands can not let go; as she had fused the palms of her hands onto the skin of my breasts, stretching them as if they had been made out of rubber.

I feel the delight in her, radiate; as the heat, off of the furnace in a forge. She clearly is enjoying herself, as she continues to tease me to her heart’s content; for as long as she had been instructed to keep it up, before the grip snaps.

Just as the grip snaps, like a thin twig; I feel my breasts, bounce back and keep bouncing for a long moment.

“Oo-ooh!” I mumble.

“You did enjoy that, didn’t you?” she coos accusatory, as another taunt; teasing me further.

She is, and had been rocking my boat; in distracting me, constantly pulling my attention her way. She is purposely pushing me towards a new conclusion; a new equilibrium, where I can become the girl my Mistress had crafted me into. I had no choice, back then; but now, maybe I do.

She had left go of me and my breasts, maintaining her embrace for just a moment longer; before she is reluctantly letting go, pulling back one step behind me. She is still behind me, behind my back. Inciting feelings and sensation I am not prepared for, or previously familiar with.

“You are exposed, I am exposing you to the mirror of who you once were!” she points out, in a flash, clearing things up.

My mind rebelling; how could I reconcile, with who I had been, as I wear the guise of a woman? There is no choice, I have to face this.

“You faced the Judge and the Jury; I am the executioner, I am here to perform the sentence!” she points out.

“Y-y-yo-yo-ou-u are?” I stutter.

“I will not ask you; but you will have to find your way back, from the exile imposed upon you!” she explains.

“Oo-oh..” I mouth; “Oh-okay!” I continue.

“Since you can not return to who you were; whom, do you want to be?” she prompts, urging me forwards.

“Take a step forth, forward; accept who you are, and embrace who you are!” she pushes me forwards.

“Oh-okay!” I respond, as I find myself taking a small step forward.

“I want you, to tentatively tug at your hands, then permit the hand to move freely and push forwards; repeatedly, just to get a feel for it..” she instructs me; “Permit yourself, to interact with this; on its terms, rather than expecting it to blindly comply with your wishes..” she points out.

“Oh-okay” I respond; “Oh-oh..” I mouth, as I do as she had instructed me.

I feel the membrane stretch, giving way; but only to a point, where I am forced into accepting the limitations of its will. The more effort I put into it, the more it will resist; the harder the recoil, and the more it will be pushing me along with it.

While the boundary is fluid, the limitations are strict and refuse to cooperate with me. There is no working around it, forcing or coercing it into compliance.

“Strange..” I ponder.

My Mistress had stripped me of all my former strength and endurance, in one single fluid sweeping motion; reducing me to what I am now, permitting me to make due with the little she had left me with. She had turned me, transformed me into the small, feeble woman I am now.

But, maybe she had left me with something else?

“Maxine?” I hear a voice calling out.

“Uh, what?” I respond, as the voice had been calling out to me.

There had been neither confusion, nor hesitance; as I had been responding to the name called out, to me. I recognize the name, given to me. It is my name, and I know it by heart; as if it had been mine all along, all these long years of my life.

It isn’t the fact, that I am the only girl in the room; aside from the groom, exercising me. My groom, teaching me who I am. What I am. I will have to live, with this lesson she is teaching me. There is no escape. It isn’t, that escape is futile; there is none.

As I am struggling, or playing with the given boundaries of my position; she is walking back to the door, from where she is flipping the switch. Just that she is staying back, watching me, as I experience, explore what she had put before me.

“Click..” is heard, vaguely; as she finally had flipped that one switch, leaving my hands free and liberated from the bond onto the wall.

At the moment, my hands had been pushed hard into the membrane, resisting the effort. As I feel the rubber pushing back and I pull at my hands; the membrane refuses to follow, as I take a step back.

“Now, let us play another game!” she coos, and I comply.

“Yes..” I merely respond.

“Turn around, then step into the middle of the room..” she instructs me.

“Oh-okay..” I respond, somewhat hesitant; as I comply, walking over to the indicated spot.

“There, perfect..” she proclaims; “Now, bend over; place your hands on the floor, directly under yourself!” she concludes.

“Oh-okay!” I respond, as I obediently comply.

“Now, spread your fingers; as wide as you can..” she explains; “Grab hold of the floor, under your hands..” she concludes.

“Oh-okay!” I respond, as I do as I had been told.

“I wonder; what she is driving at, now!” I ponder.

“There, perfect..” she coos; “Excellent, excellent!” she proclaims, with a wide grin all over her face.

Had I looked up; would her expression have scared me, or excited me? I have no idea, and I may never know.

“Lift up your right hand, slightly!” she incites, watching me comply.

“Oh-okay!” I respond, as I am watching the clear material stretch under my hand.

“Beautiful, just beautiful!” she coos.

She is producing; what appears to be a pencil, drawing a ling along the right hand.

“Lift up your left hand, slightly!” she incites, watching me comply.

“Oh-oh-oh!” I mumble, as I watch the material stretch.

“Beautiful, just beautiful!” she coos.

Just as the material under my hand is stretching; she moves in, drawing a line along the border around the entire hand. I barely feel the tip of her pencil, looking exactly like a lip-liner; but the clear tip is bonding the hand onto the material on which it is resting.

“Relax, then give your right hand a tentative tug!” she coos, watching me comply.

“Once, twice, thrice!” I mouth, as I give my hand a tentative tug; only to see the surface of the material stretch, just a little bit more with each tentative tug I am attempting.

“There, perfect!” she coos, in an affirmative tone, inspiring me to enjoy her game.

“Oh-okay!” I mouth.

“Relax, then give your left hand a tentative tug!” she coos, as she had just drawn a second line along the border of my hand.

“Once, twice, thrice!” I mouth, as I perform her given task.

“Wait, what?” I ponder; “My hand just sank further into the floor, as she was drawing the line around my hand!” I realize, in apparent surprise.

“Relax!” she coos.

Only now, I watch her drawing a second line with the second tip of that clear pencil. First around my right hand, then around my left hand.

“Uh, how did you do that?” I inquire.

“Magic, of course!” she teases; “but alas, this is one of my favourite tricks; bonding your body onto the surface, upon which it is currently touching!” she coos.

“A magic marker, binding me to a special or specific object or material?” I inquire.

“Guess you could put it that way..” she concedes.

“I think I like the Magical marker!” I offer.

“It certainly is a good tool!” she agrees; “I love applying it, helping you finding your place!” she confesses.

Now she is applying the line along my right and left hand, for the third time. Once, twice and thrice, as it was.

“Now, if you could just give your right hand a sizable yank?” she suggests.

“Oh-okay!” I respond; “Once, twice, thrice!” I mouth, as I follow her suggestion.

I feel the floor stretch, but my hand still remains firmly on the floor; giving me a strange sensation of the surface stretching my fingers in the process.

“Now, if you could give your left hand a sizable yank?” she continues.

“Oh-okay!” I respond; “Once, twice, thrice!” I mouth, as I follow her instruction.

“The glossy surface has spread more and more over my hands; as she applied that Magic Marker, with each application!” I realize.

“Perfect, just perfect!” she coos, in delight; as she is enjoying the effect, her work is having on me.

I can’t escape it, and she knows it; exciting her all the more, as she sees how I am realizing what she is doing for me.

Following her instructions had only confirmed, what I should have known; just as it confirms her action, holding me to the choice. The more I struggle, trying to pull free; the stronger the effect is holding me in place.

“Uu-uu-uh-hm..” I mumble; “but I am stuck..” I continue; “I can’t even move a finger!” I conclude.

“Yes, but of course..” she responds, with a light giggle; “but, that was the idea!” she points out.

“Uh-oh?” I mumble; “It was?” I then inquire.

“Feel free, to enjoy the situation..” she offers; “give your hands a few tentative tugs at least!” she encourages me.

“Oh-ok!” I respond; “you think?” I inquire.

“Take a moment, to explore your situation!” she suggests; “Then I will be back, to pick you up!” she is promising.

With that, she is quiet, as she is walking out of the room. I hear the squeaking noises of her feet, then it is quiet.

With nothing better to do, I do as she had told me; tugging at my hands, just a bit more enthusiastic.

I can feel the clear silicon stretch, and my fingers and hands with it; but I can’t pull free, as hard as I may try. Just that it seems to be the only entertainment she had left me with. Considering how my hands remain stuck in place, and my fingers remain spread as wide as I could have managed.

“Whoa?” I exclaim; “I did not realize, it could be stretched this much!” I realize; “or, that it could pull me back, quite this hard..” I exclaim, in apparent surprise.

I continue, to pull, with nothing better to do. She comes back, only to find me on the floor; exhausted and sweaty.

“I guess, it is time I help you up?” she inquires.

“Uh-ok..” I mouth; “Thank you, I would appreciate that!” I conclude.

She had swapped the pencil she had used in order to bond me to the floor; to the one, breaking the bond. Now she is drawing a line; first along the border of my right hand, and then around my left hand.

As much as I may have pulled, I could never have broken the bond by myself; but now I can see the clear silicon recede, as she had broken the bond.

As the bond is broken, my hands finally liberated; she helps me up, to a standing position.

“I think you may need to rest, let me help you back to your room!” she offers.

I nod, emphatically.

“Yes, please!” I respond.

She leads me towards the door. Just as we reach the door, she is extending her right hand; pressing the palm of her hand onto the plaque, spreading her fingers to open the door. As the door slides up, she helps me walk out of the room.

The Session: 15

I had just entered the Dungeon, and the door has closed behind me.

As I continue into the room, I notice a small table, containing several objects; she intends for me to use, during the upcoming session she had planned for me.

“You explored a longer exposure!” she points out; “I take it, you enjoy a more extended adventure; so I am prepared to offer you, exactly what you desire!” she explains.

“Yes, Mistress!” I respond.

“I understand; that it lasted for ten hours, at the very least!” she offers.

“Yes?” I respond, indicating that I am taking her word for it.

“I was under my gurney, for ten hours?” I ponder, as her words finally are sinking in.

“This is perfectly safe; but I rarely have the privilege, to administer the extended sessions!” she points out; “Three hours, is standard; and I can easily extend it, up to five or six hours!” she informs me.

“I lost track of time, but it certainly was enjoyable!” I put forth.

“Since you were holding out, for the full stretch of ten hours; I can easily give you a challenge, and this will be exhausting!” she informs me.

“Thank you, Mistress!” I respond.

“I just need you; to slip into the garments, intended for your session!” she points out, indicating the table I had noticed before.

“Yes, Mistress!” I respond, nodding.

I scan the table, in order to see what she had in mind for me. While I am already wearing panties and top; she had prepared a pair of gloves and stockings, in the same style as she knew I love to wear. These are in fact the beautiful doll-style I had just tried out.

“A plug?” I gasp; “The orally insertable plug, similar to the one I had tested the day before!” I realize, acknowledging the find.

“One small detail; you may as well keep the plug in, as it is intended to be part of this session!” she points out.

“Yes, Mistress; thank you!” I respond, as I am moving over towards the table.

“She definitely is my best Submissive!” Mistress ponders; “Possibly the best one on record!” she considers.

I pick up the right glove, momentarily examining it; before I am slipping the hand in, only affording it a few tentative tugs: once, twice and thrice.

Once I had ascertained the perfect fit; I am picking up the left glove, repeating the process.

“These are perfectly me!” I realize, as I afford myself a moment of consideration and examine the hands.

I pick up the right stocking; full-length, toe-stocking apparently. My foot eagerly slips in; without hesitation, but slow and lingering to enjoy the experience. Now I am affording the stocking a few tentative tugs: once, twice and thrice; in order to ascertain that comfortable, perfect fit.

My left foot, eagerly following suit; as I am repeating the process, only to find myself once more standing on my own two feet.

“Such a beautiful little Ballerina you are, today!” Mistress acknowledges, in appreciation.

“Thank you, Mistress!” I respond.

“I hope you are comfortable; because you will remain in this room, for a very long time!” Mistress points out.

“Yes, Mistress!” I respond, honestly.

“Excellent, excellent!” she puts forth.

“Step up, to the wall; please!” she instructs me.

“Yes, Mistress!” I exclaim; as I am tip-toeing towards the wall, as per her instruction.

“Now, turn around; before you step back, and press your back up against the wall!” she instructs me; “Firmly!” she clarifies.

“Arms, outstretched!” she instructs me, and I comply.

“Hands, over your head!” she instructs me, indicating how she desires for me to stand.

I comply, eagerly and without a hint of hesitation.

“Spread your fingers, as wide as possible; before you press your hands against the wall, palms down!” she instructs me.

“Squeak!!” I hear the distinct noise of my hands, hitting the wall behind me.

“There, perfect!” she exclaims; “Just hold still, for a moment!” she instructs me.

I can see; how she is producing a lip-liner, as she is stepping up to me. As she is drawing a line along the contour of my right hand; I feel the tip of the pencil, as she is completing the circle. At first I just feel the gel between the hand and the wall; but as the circle is completed, I feel my hand fuse into the wall. Now it is effectively pulled into the wall, if only marginally.

As she is repeating the process, I am observing her handiwork; experiencing the process once over, with my left hand.

“Now, for the price!” she explains, as she is producing the plug she had previously demonstrated.

I find myself salivating, just by thinking of the plug; my mouth is slippery and wet. As if I had taken a mouth-full of lubrication in my mouth.

“A kiss!” she offers, as she is placing the tip of the plug on my lips.

“If you part your lips, please!” she offers.

As I am starting to part my lips; I feel the plug slip in, slowly but surely. Inch by inch, the plug is sliding in; spreading and stretching my lips, as it is filling up my mouth. Ever so slowly, but irrefutably; the plug is slipping in, and I can do nothing about it now.

With the pace at about an inch a minute; she is slowly filing my mouth to the brim, as I feel my lips slowly stretching taut. The plug is slightly larger, than the one I had enjoyed the other day, and is designed slightly different with a more anatomically pleasing shape.

She is deliberately slow; teasing me, as she is permitting me to feel the size of the plug for all it is worth. I am tested, to explore just how much of it I can swallow; even if I suspect, she knows exactly how much I am ready for.

Inevitably, the plug slips in; and I feel my lips stretched as taught as I had dared, just as the plug is slipping over the edge.

“A small adjustment!” she informs me; as she is applying the gel, that bonds the plug to my now taught lips.

“I guess the plug will stay in; until she deems it correct, to extract it!” I realize.

“Slowly!” she pronounces; “Spread your legs, please!” she is instructing me.

As I comply; she is indicating for me to continue, until further notice. With that, I am lifting my feet up, inch by inch. Waiting, for Mistress to give the signal; my feet are where she desires them to be.

“There!” she pronounces; “Perfect!” she points out; as she is pushing my right foot flat, against the wall behind me.

With my foot flat against the wall; she is producing the lip-liner, before she is drawing the line all the way around the foot. I feel the line being drawn; until the circle had been completed, and the foot is fusing as it is pulled in.

She lets go of my right foot; taking a step back and moves over to my left foot. From there, she is pushing the foot flat against the wall; before she is drawing the line around the foot, only to see it fused into the wall.

“There!” she pronounces; “I hope you are comfortable!” she points out.

As the final act; she is drawing a line around the rim of my anal plug; thus fusing it to my rump.

While I am turning my back up against the wall, I can not see the door; the Assistant is entering, quietly. However, I can hear her, as she is moving over the floor.

“Clip, clop; clip, clop!” I hear the distinct noises; of her hooves, hitting the floor.

“I need an orgasm, from you!” she explains, to me; indicating for her Assistant to approach me.

The sounds of her hooves; now like the chimes of delicate silver-bells, in my ears. It is like a beautiful instrument, playing a solo, just for me.

“I am certain, you know exactly how to elicit one out of me!” I ponder.

Since I am now facing into the room, as opposed to the previous time; I can clearly see the Assistant approaching me. She had adopted an equine form, just as the previous time.

She momentarily stops short, just a foot away from my readily awaiting orchid. On Mistress’ indication; she is taking the final step, kissing me on the top of my mound.

I feel her lips parting, spreading out to encompass the entire orchid; before her tongue is approaching, only to touch the outer edge of the petals of the orchid. Slowly, but deliberately; she is lapping the petals, teasing me into full bloom.

Since I am in full bloom, the petals of my orchid is slippery and wet; coated with the highly viscous fluid, lubricating me as I am excited.

With each stroke of her tongue, she is pushing me further and further; towards that one first orgasm, Mistress had insisted on. Though I am not resisting, or refusing; just because Mistress wanted me to orgasm, I am only too eager and willing to comply. Besides; the Assistant is easily making me, even if I had tried to resist. She is just pacing herself, in order to make me as hot as she is possibly capable of.

“Oh!” I sigh, inwardly.

“Ooh, ooh; Oooooh!” I continue.

There, almost there!” Mistress is musing, contemplating how hot I am, right now.

“Ooh, ooh; ooh, ooh!” I sigh; with each stroke of Assistant’s tongue, over the petals of my orchid.

She is driving me up the wall, with her insistent efforts of giving me everything.

“Ooooohh!” I exclaim, inwardly; since my lips are sealed, and my mouth is filled to the brim.

I close my eyes, as the Assistant is backing away; leaving me to regain my equilibrium, catching my breath.

A mere minute after I had regained my equilibrium; the Assistant it taking a step forwards, once more approaching me. I feel her tongue, slipping and sliding over the petals of my orchid; as she is lapping away, pushing me from a mere orgasm, all the way to the orgasmic state.

An hour after she had started, she is finished; I am completely orgasmic, as I had peaked.

Assistant is licking her lips, as Mistress is giving her a warm look, awarding her for a job well done. While I do not see it; know Mistress is lingering, in the room. Assistant is standing by her side, still. They are enjoying the moment, as they watch me, where I am plastered on the wall.

I am spread taut, hands and feet fused to the wall. I feel the wall; almost as if it had been me, in this state.

Eventually Mistress is leading Assistant out of the room. I hear the noises of the steps; as he Assistant is trotting out of the room.

My mind, overloaded with sensory input; leaving me stuck in place, incapable of resisting anything. I am feeling hot. I am soaking wet.

She had trapped me; within the cycle, of the continuous orgasm.

I am alone, in the room that is the Dungeon; but I don’t notice it, or know the difference.

A minute follows another in an endless stream of time. One hour passes, another hour passes. A third, fourth and fifth hour is escaping me.

My heart racing, as I am breathing hard and fast; through my nostrils, since my mouth is no longer available.

Hour by hour, amounting to the time I am imprisoned in the dungeon. Ten hours unnoticed. Fifteen and twenty hours.

The door is sliding up. Mistress is entering the Dungeon. She is breaking the bond, holding my feet and hands to the wall.

I do not even notice it, as she is placing me on the gurney; pulling me back to my room.

Once in the room; she is extracting the oral and anal plugs inserted. I lie still. A moment later; I am shocked by the raw force of the climax, I am experiencing. With that, I am unconscious, in a deep slumber.

She had covered me with the quilt I have on the gurney.

As she is leaving the room, she is closing the door behind herself, quietly.

A New Home - A New Life: 28

“Clip, clop; clip, clop!” is heard, as I move along the hall.

“Extend your right hand!” Mistress explains; “Press the palm onto the plaque, and spread your fingers wide!” she continues.
The black rubber feels warm to the touch, but as I am spreading my fingers, the door to my home is sliding up quietly.

“Welcome home!” she pronounces, indicating for me to step in.

“This, is my home?” I inquire.

“Yes, miss; this is your new home, I hope you will enjoy it and feel right at home!” she points out.

As I am stepping over the threshold, the door is sliding shut; just as quietly as when it opened, but now I am alone. I am home, but for a moment I am feeling alone and lonely.

There is an identical plaque, inside.

“Of course, I can never go back; even if he would accept me, I can’t take it with him. Even if he foregoes the revenge and punishment for running away; I know he will beat me up, abuse me to his heart’s content!” I ponder, realizing I had finally gotten away.

There is never a going back, when you break up. If the other is abusive; you can consider yourself lucky, just by getting away alive.

I had finally accepted the offer, the invitation an old friend had given me. I had gotten all the way, to where I am now. I had been accepted, as I am.

There are a pair of boots, in the shoe-rack. Just as she had promised, these are the cervine ones. I am still wearing the equine ones.

Standing in the cloaking room, I am scanning the small space. It is my cloaking room, of course. The floor had been laid with the glossy, black stone tiles. I can see the white beechwood picket-fence over the cherry-wood. There is a pin-prick star-skape covering the entire ceiling, held in place with mate black silicon.

“Curious!” I ponder; “but I guess, I can get used to this!” I conclude.

After escaping the living hell, I had called life; I guess this is as close to heaven, as I could possibly dream of.

The floor is elevated by a foot, three feet from the door to my living room. I could but imagine, this has a significance in some manner. Even if I had failed to pick up on it yet.

Slipping out of these boots proves to be as easy as taking a pair of regular shoes. With that, I leave these in the shoe-rack. I can’t wear my outdoor shoes in my home, as exciting as I picture it being.

I will just have to get used, to who I am now; the diminished stature, measuring only five foot.

There is something about these boots I had been wearing, even beyond the height and posture I experience as I wear them. Maybe it is in how they build me up, makes me feel braver than I had ever been. Or is it just these little noises I have, as I move around; reminding me of something, and the inherent power they have?

Once I had taken the boots off, I slip my feet into these new indoor shoes. Now I stand up; bow down and rub the back of my heels to get back to the desired stance.

I extend my right hand, pressing the palm onto the plaque; spreading my fingers, opening the door into my living room. My home.

I step in, into the living room. The door quietly closes behind me.

The floor is laid with oak wood parquet. Polished; smooth and shiny. It is hard under my feet.

I find a two seat sofa in the right corner, with a small table just two foot away; opposing the TV set, covering the entire wall upon which it had been mounted. At first, the sofa seems as if it had been black leather, but the smooth material is silicon. The table is forged out of chromed titanium with a single three by five foot sapphire glass sheet.

The wall behind me is covered with three foot bookshelves, a foot deep from wall-to-wall.

Before me, is what appears to be a painting. The motif is depicting a girl before her home. She is clearly oriental, and the building is of Japanese style. Just that I am uncertain, as to the exact era, due to my lack of knowledge of Japanese architecture and history.

The girl has a fair complexion, even for the region. Her hair is still pitch black, shimmering healthily in the light of the sun shining down from above; cropped short bangs ending just above her eyes, diminutive braids before her ears, while the rest of her hair is tightly braided and flows down the length of her back.

She is wearing a metallic silicon top in deep ruby hue and a matching knee-length skirt.

From what I can see, she is wearing a pair of Crescent Moon boots of the cervine variety; not the classical Japanese foot-wear or the Western alternative.

Her inch-long, semi-square nails had been lacquered in traditional Japanese red. A curious detail, at least to me. She is lifting her right hand, extended in a warm greeting; thus exposing the bright cerise touch-pads and the porcelain white suction-cup covering the entire palm of her hand.

She is looking at me, smiling in a warm welcoming gesture. She feels as if she could have been my mother, but I can’t put a finger on exactly how or why she had given me this impression.

On the right side of the painting, there is a door to the balcony. There is a window on the right and left of the door and painting as well.

Beside the sofa, I have the door to my bed-room and the girl’s room respectively.

I step over to the door to my bed-room; extending my hand and press the palm of my hand onto the plaque; spreading my fingers in order to open the door. I step in, and the door is sliding shut behind me.

I have a bed, four by seven feet. The bed is already made. A black sheet, covered by the crystal-clear quilt. A large, crystal-clear pillow is held down by the edge of my quilt.

I have a night-stand by the side of my bed. Behind the bed, I can see the doors to the built-in wardrobe in which I am supposed to store my clothes and bed-linen.

There are three sets of change for me and the bed. Each identical, to what is already presented.

As I turn around, opening the door; I turn to the next door to the girl’s room, opening it with what is now practiced ease. Not that it had ever been that hard, in the first place. I had merely been unfamiliar with how they handle before I had arrived.

I enter a small room, with two sliding doors of frosted sapphire glass. Behind one, I have the shower. The floor is laid with glossy stone tiles, while the walls had been laid with warm turquoise tiles. Just as everywhere else in my home, I have the same black with a pin-prick LED star-skape. Curiously enough; my shower is controlled by a plaque, similar to the one controlling the door.

As I am examining the girl’s room; I find the room sparse to spartan, with only a place to stand where I can relieve myself.

I step up onto the pad, finding the utility already adjusted to my size; making my orifices lining up, perfectly. There is also a sink, so I can watch my hands.

“Curious!” I ponder, as I am stepping down from the pad; “This is something, I will just have to get used to!” I realize.

§“I can shower in peace and quiet, tonight!” I mumble, to myself, as I step out of the girl’s room.

Maybe I never had much of privacy, or private property where I lived; but now I have. I just need to fill up my home, with a few items to make this my own. Maybe a few decorations and books? Since it is quiet, I could enjoy reading.

“Wait, there is a door out to my balcony?” I ponder, as the idea strikes me.

I don’t exactly expect much, but the promise of a balcony was still a promise. While I could put up the exploration for a moment; but since I have seen the rest of what is now my home, I could as well have a look at it at least.

The walk through my living room is not far, but as I reach the door; I extend my right hand and press the palm down on the plaque, spreading my fingers to open the door to my balcony.

Now I step out, only to find the vast balcony before me. Just as expected it is virtually empty.

However, I have a table and two chairs in the corner on my right. The table is an outdoor version of the table before my sofa inside. The chairs seem to match the table.

The true shock, is the door to the cabinet within which I could store a small selection of items. I have a complete tea-set for two; including the cups, spoons and pot. Although I guess I had not expected the diminutive fridge.

A wooden fence is protecting me from incidentally stepping over and fall down onto the ground below. While it is not technically part of the fence, but the wood continues all the way around the space.

“Twenty five degrees” reads the thermometer; “Forty five percent humidity” reads the hydrometer.

“Seems like a fine day!” I point out, to myself.

“I should have a cup of tea, here!” I ponder; “I just have to decorate this, and it will be a special joy!” I conclude.

This had been such an unexpected surprise. I had never seen a large balcony before, and most certainly one this luxurious as the one I have now.

Since I had seen most everything, the new home had to offer, I go back to my bed room. While I thought I had seen it; there were a few things I could afford a closer look. Maybe the balcony had inspired me?

Now I step into my living room, walking over the floor, to the door leading to my bedroom.

Half the way to the door, I end up stopping; leaning forwards, extending my right and left hand and slide my fingers over my heels. In the process I am changing my stance. With that, I am now standing on the tip of my toes, as I am walking the rest of the way to the door.

While my feet are stylishly small and girlish; all according to the tradition, it is still lending me a few more inches to my stature. The second adjustment had straightened my legs a bit.

Now I continue to the door, stopping; extending my right hand and press the palm of my hand onto the plaque, before I am spreading my fingers in order to open the door.

Just like a charm, the door slides up quietly. I step in, then the door slides shut as I had passed the threshold.

“That, is something I will just have to get used to!” I ponder, as I stand in my bedroom once more.

There is a photo of me, my face hanging over the pillow on my bed. The photo looks as if it had been taken today.

As I am looking down, I notice the drawer of the bed stand; pull it out, only to find an empty wallet and a freshly printed ID card, or driver’s licence.

Not that I would need either an ID card, or a driver’s licence in here; but it isn’t a prison and I can go as I please. Outside, however; I could need these items.

For now, I leave the wallet, where it is; but only after I had inserted the ID card into a fitting pocket inside my new wallet. I push the drawer in, before I am turning my back on the bed-stand and walk over to the wardrobe.

The doors of the right wardrobe slide up quietly and quite effortlessly; revealing its content, before me. The inner wall behind the hangers is clearly intended as a full-length, or full-body mirror. I can see my reflection as I please.

“Looking good!” I exclaim, as I see myself looking back.

I can see blouses, skirts, brassieres, panties and stockings all lined up. Three identical versions of what I am already wearing.

My tail reflexively raises, demonstrating my current level of excitement. Just the seven inches, but it is a functional tail all the same. My tail, that is. It is a part of me, after all; I like it, just as it is.

Just that I imagine myself with a longer tail, one I can proudly show openly.

I close the wardrobe, taking a step aside to face the other wardrobe on my left. The doors slide up before me, revealing the content. Clear sheets, quilts and pillows. I even have a pair of smaller side pillows.

Upon the discovery of these smaller side pillows, I pick them up; walking back to my bed, before I place the pillows to the right and left of my larger central pillow.

“There, perfect!” I exclaim, feeling my tail raising a bit with my growing excitement.

Now I return to the wardrobe, closing the doors; before I walk back to the door. I extend my right hand, pressing the palm onto the plaque and feel its operational warmth; spreading my fingers wide to open the door, before I am stepping out of the room. The door quietly slides shut behind me, just as I had passed the threshold.