Blur

by Non Uberis

Rating: mature
Tags: Anthro, Original Character, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Dark, Porn, Sex, Fetish, Horror
Length: 4311

Gossamer Gleam loses control of her life and sanity as her fetish for the macabre threatens to tear her apart.

Gossamer Gleam awoke to discover that she was pregnant.

This was only the beginning of her descent into madness at the hands of a shadowy figure from beyond.

Contains the following: anthro, eldritch horror, sex, impregnation, hyper pregnancy, birthing, expansion, marecocks, mindfuckery, and just normal fuckery.

Another year, another last minute Gossamer Gleam story for Mayternity, featuring friend Daggron's eldritch goo pony.

Other Gossamer Gleam stories:
Resonance
Plunge
A Deluge of Questions
Lonesome Widows
What Does It Feel Like?

Published 2020-05-31 17:00:01 UTC
Last updated 2020-05-31 17:00:01 UTC

Morning Sickness

Gossamer Gleam awoke to discover that she was pregnant.

She felt queasy as she shifted in bed, throwing off the blankets and moving to sit on the edge, and her stomach filled her lap. The lilac-furred flesh rounded out in a convex dome that was firm to the touch.

She wasn’t especially alarmed, but she was very much confused. This sort of happening was not explicitly out of the realm of possibility for her. She had danced with ephemeral, transitory beings in the realms of her dreams before and found the aftermath of their time together following her into the waking world. She really ought to have remembered such a thing if that had occurred, though, something so lucid and lurid.

And she wasn’t sure that what she felt inside herself was “life,” even in the myriad forms that she had encountered it. It was warm, and it was heavy, but it didn’t feel to her like something that was growing, nurturing.

There was a clatter in the house, outside her bedroom. Pots and pans. And splashing. Or splattering. The kitchen.

Gossamer Gleam hurriedly put on a nightgown, silk cloth gliding gently over her lavender form, and went outside. She could have spoken, called out to whomever her mystery intruder was, but she felt the need to see for herself. She felt herself pulled along, urged ever forward. The magnetic sensation seemed centered on her stomach.

She stepped into the kitchen and stopped.

There was somepony standing at the counter, back turned to her. At least, she thought at first that it was a pony, but then she realized that it was really a shadow. A black, inky thing in the shape of a pony, busying itself with something.

A shiver ran up her spine before she asked, “Who are you?”

The shadow stopped what it was doing but did not respond for several seconds. Then it looked back at her, its whole head rotating about nearly a hundred and eighty degrees. Its face was fixed in manic glee, eyes wide, a toothy smile stretching over its muzzle and across its cheeks. Gossamer Gleam noted the way it dripped, flecks of fluid scattering from its ears and mane.

Again it seemed content merely to stare for several seconds, before, with a bubbly giggle (almost literal, as the surface of its throat seemed to bubble), it answered in a vaguely feminine voice with another question: “You mean you don’t remember?”

“I…no.” Something seemed wrong to her. Gossamer Gleam realized that she had been backed into a corner before she even woke up.

“Oh, no, I suppose you wouldn’t.” Now the shadow’s head remained held in position while her body twisted around to face her. She was holding a mixing bowl to her chest, stirring it with a spoon in her other hand. The contents were black, a color and consistency not unlike her own body. “That’s a shame. You must have forgotten all of the fun that we had together.”

“W-what?” In this instant, Gossamer Gleam would not have been proud to admit that the very idea of such “fun” was enough to make her heart thump and momentarily forget about her present dismayed confusion.

“Hmm…let’s see.” She tapped at her chin, and the surface depressed slightly under the touch of her finger. She cradled the mixing bowl against her stomach, which also sank inward, her body mingling with the container’s contents. The smile never changed. “I think it went something like this.”

The unicorn didn’t want to let her eyes wander away from the shadow, and as such she was taken by surprise when she was seized from behind. Hands, black and inky and immaterial, reached around her front and grabbed at her breasts and stomach. Hot breath wafted against the back of her mane and dampness seeped through the surface of her gown and matted her fur. And something shoved between her legs – something just as squishy but also hot and pulsating. She looked down, past her chest and stomach, and saw an appendage of ooze that jutted out in front of her, longer and thicker than one of her own arms. An appendage that looked a lot like a stallion’s penis.

Gossamer Gleam tried to cry out, but that inky cock pressed against her undercarriage, wedging between her legs and the lower curves of her buttocks and grinding up at her vulva, and it turned into a heated squeal. The silk of her gown was melting away all around her as she was covered in dark goo. The hot breath panted on her cheek as a tongue lapped at her, leaving saliva that clung heavily to her skin.

“Yeah, I think that’s about right.” The shadow’s voice came simultaneously from the figure standing in front of her – who now also bore a matching penis and a set of balls the size of watermelons – and from directly behind her. The mixing bowl was now embedded halfway into her stomach, seemingly forgotten as she began to step closer. The flared tip wagged from side to side pendulously, hypnotically. “But this was still only where the fun began.”

Gossamer Gleam could not form words, could scarcely even breathe as the shadow came up to her. She placed her hands on her shoulders, urging her to lean forward, while the other shadow behind her gripped her by the hips. That pulsating shaft was now pointed directly toward her face, just as she felt another pressing into her groin. An indescribable cocktail of smells assaulted her nostrils, the only part that she could recognize being licorice.

How could she have forgotten something as tantalizing as this?

The shadows impaled her on both ends.

= = = = =

Gossamer Gleam awoke to discover that she was pregnant.

She felt queasy as she shifted in bed, throwing off the blankets and moving to sit on the edge, and her stomach stretched out beyond her lap. The lilac-furred flesh rounded out in a convex dome that was firm to the touch and filled the span of her arms. Her breasts, resting on the upper slope of this surface, looked to have swelled a couple cup sizes as well.

She wasn’t especially alarmed, but she was very much confused. This sort of happening was not explicitly out of the realm of possibility for her. She had danced with ephemeral, transitory beings in the realms of her dreams before and found the aftermath of their time together following her into the waking world. She really ought to have remembered such a thing if that had occurred, though, something so lucid and lurid.

And she wasn’t sure that what she felt inside herself was “life,” even in the myriad forms that she had encountered it. It was warm, and it was heavy, but it didn’t feel to her like something that was growing, nurturing.

Gossamer Gleam wasn’t sure that it was only her womb that was filled, either.

The bedroom door opened and somepony came inside. At least, she thought at first that it was a pony, but then she realized that it was really a shadow. A black, inky thing in the shape of a pony, carrying a plate in one hand. The breadth of its chest and hips seemed to vaguely suggest at being female.

Her head immediately snapped to focus on the unicorn, as if mechanical, as soon as she was in the room. Her face was fixed in manic glee, eyes wide, a toothy smile stretching over her muzzle and across her cheeks. Gossamer Gleam noted the way she dripped, flecks of fluid scattering from her ears and mane.

She came to a stop at the end of the bed and simply stared for several seconds, before, with a bubbly giggle (almost literal, as the surface of her throat seemed to bubble), she spoke: “Good to see you’re awake finally, sleepyhead.”

“Who are…?” But Gossamer Gleam stopped herself. In the midst of her confusion and more-than-mild arousal, she was taken aback by a curious thought the planted itself in her brain. It was a curious sense of familiarity.

Déjà vu?

“Still a little groggy, huh?” the shadow asked, cocking her head to one side, her expression remaining static. “That’s okay. You just need a little more time to wake up.” She came closer and held out the plate. “Here, I baked some treats for you!”

Gossamer Gleam looked down at the plate and saw what at first glance she would have assumed were supposed to be cookies, small and roughly circular.

Then she realized that each of them was pitch black, as if burnt to a crisp, but their consistency was wet and goopy.

And each one had a face, smiling madly.

Each was the shadow’s face.

Gossamer Gleam felt as if her brain was spinning its gears trying to process this while her heart thumped wildly and butterflies filled her stomach.

“Oh, sorry, I didn’t mean those.” But the way the shadow chuckled didn’t suggest that it was an accident. “I meant this.”

She casually threw the plate aside (there was no sound of it hitting the ground) and revealed a penis of inky darkness that jutted from her loins, bigger than a pony’s arm, with balls that hung to the knees.

“And this.” Something sticky and pulsating prodded against Gossamer Gleam’s bosom on the other side, and she turned and saw another shadow standing there, no sign of her presence up until that instant.

“And this.” Gooey hands clutched at her belly and pushed it upward, and she looked down and saw through her cleavage a third kneeling on the floor, poised to strike up at her.

Gossamer Gleam uttered a single strangled noise of utter disbelief.

The shadows wrapped their arms around her, twisting and weaving together like chains, one thrusting into her vagina while the other two forced their members into her nipples.

= = = = =

Gossamer Gleam awoke to discover that she was pregnant.

She felt queasy as she struggled to shift in her bed, scarcely able to move under the bulk of her torso. The lilac-furred flesh rounded out in a convex dome that was firm to the touch and weighed heavily upon her, a mountain rising over her. Her breasts, splayed to the sides, were also a lot heavier, she thought them to have swelled from modestly buxom to each globe being larger than her head.

She wasn’t especially alarmed, but she was very much confused. This sort of happening was not explicitly out of the realm of possibility for her. She had danced with ephemeral, transitory beings in the realms of her dreams before and found the aftermath of their time together following her into the waking world. She really ought to have remembered such a thing if that had occurred, though, something so lucid and lurid.

And she wasn’t sure that what she felt inside herself was “life,” even in the myriad forms that she had encountered it. It was warm, and it was heavy, but it didn’t feel to her like something that was growing, nurturing.

Gossamer Gleam wasn’t sure that it was only her womb that was filled, either. She felt as if a similar presence was within her breasts as well.

She was just managing to roll to the side, to swing her legs out over the edge of the mattress, when something wet and sticky grabbed her by the wrist. She looked back and saw that there was somepony who had been lying in her bed beside her. At least, she thought at first that it was a pony, but then she realized that it was really a shadow. A black, inky thing in the shape of a pony. Its chest was marked by the presence of breasts that splayed against the mattress.

Her face was fixed in manic glee, eyes wide, a toothy smile stretching over her muzzle and across her cheeks. Gossamer Gleam noted the way she dripped, flecks of fluid scattering from her ears and mane. A puddle of black was steadily staining the mattress and blankets.

She simply stared for several seconds, while the unicorn herself was silent and petrified, before, with a bubbly giggle (almost literal, as the surface of her throat seemed to bubble), she asked: “Heading out so soon, sweetie?”

“Why are you doing this?” Gossamer Gleam asked automatically. She wasn’t sure why she jumped to that question immediately instead of asking who or what this creature was.

The shadow started to giggle again, bubbling and roiling, and then it escalated into outright laughter, roaring and bestial. Her mouth stretched wider and wider, exposing further rows of sharp teeth all the way to the edges of the jaws. That was a good mouth for suckling on one’s nipples. “You’d really know the answer to that question better than I do,” she then said, and an inky tongue lapped at the tips of her teeth and around her lips, “you shouldn’t be worrying about that anyway when we’ve still got so much fun to do.”

She then pulled. Gossamer Gleam couldn’t bring herself to resist as she was pulled to the side. Dark hands reached out from underneath the blankets and added further pressure, dragging her under. In the dark beneath the sheets, the shadows covered every inch of her, stroking and caressing, and they penetrated every orifice.

= = = = =

Gossamer Gleam awoke to discover that she was pregnant.

But she didn’t dwell on this for very long. As soon as she was conscious, she was already trying to throw off the blankets and get herself out of bed.

The pregnancy was not so willing to allow itself to be easily overlooked, though. Even pushing and huffing and grunting it took a phenomenal effort to get herself over the side of the bed, and she nearly toppled to the floor under the sudden drastic increase in weight. Her belly hung heavily past her waistline and down to her knees, filling the span of her legs and spreading them to the sides, as if she had swallowed a yoga ball. Her breasts were excessively full as well, taut and straining, resting heavily upon those upper surfaces.

She winced and moaned as she rose to her hooves and stumbled, pressing her belly against the wall. The insides of her thighs turned wet and sticky, grinding together. The thing (or things) inside her stirred – some life that she could not comprehend.

She should have known, but the information wasn’t in her head.

The unicorn didn’t waste time with putting on a gown. She only felt that she had to move.

She didn’t take the time to look outside the window and see the world outside, pitch black, darker than night, inky, dripping.

She came to open the door and there was an eye on the other side, pupil alone larger than her whole body, staring back at her.

“You’re not ready to leave, are you?” the shadow asked her, voice booming in her ears.

“I don’t…I don’t…understand,” Gossamer Gleam replied, chest heaving as she panted for breath.

“You don’t need to understand.” Giggling, rattling, shaking the whole room. “In fact, it’s kinda the point that you don’t.”

The bedroom floor tilted beneath her hooves, sending her tumbling forward into the eye, through the cornea and lens and pupil and into the darkness of the vitreous innards, and the damp enveloped her.

= = = = =

Gossamer Gleam awoke to discover that she was giving birth.

“You’re doing great, just keep pushing!” the nurse said, with far more glee than was appropriate for this occasion, over her labored cries.

She was still in her bed, but the bed was in a bright white hospital room. Or maybe it was just white – she couldn’t see where ceiling and wall met.

The nurse was an inky shadow of a pony. Other nurses in the background were also shadows. They all had erections pushing out from underneath their skirts.

Her belly rose up like a wall in front of her, high enough to cast her face in dark. She felt as if she was on the verge of bursting at the seams. Her normally well-groomed fur and mane were matted with sweat. Her mouth was dry. She burned.

The motions were instinctive to her, even in her confused stupor, to contract the muscles in her hips and pelvis to urge out the contents inside her. Her flesh and bones strained as she felt something against the skin around the entrance to her womb. “I can see the head!” called out the voice of another shadow nurse on the other side of her mountainous midsection. All she could do was keep pushing and pushing and pushing. It didn’t feel like she was becoming any emptier.

Gossamer Gleam was now too focused to see the way the room was growing darker, as ink rose up around her bed, the brackish waves of an abyssal ocean, as the nurses came to stand beside her, twisting and swelling, conjoining with each other into a wall of black that swallowed up everything.

= = = = =

Gossamer Gleam awoke to discover that she wasn’t in her room.

She didn’t know where she was, it was pitch black, but it was moist, and it was cramped, so much that she could scarcely move, even to breathe. Her arms and legs were packed tightly against her swollen midsection and her muzzle was jammed down into the crux of her cleavage.

The sound of her heartbeat and her lungs desperately gasping for breath pounded in her ears. No, that wasn’t her – it came from outside, from around her. Whooshing and roaring and howling like the calls of a beast in heat.

There was a voice calling to her, somewhere.

Then the pressure around her intensified, squeezing her, as if threatening to pop her. It alleviated only briefly before resuming, continuing in a rhythmic pattern, and she felt it pushing her through the slimy passage, inch by agonizing inch.

Gossamer Gleam saw an opening in the dark, and outside there was light. She yearned for it, hungered for it, but still she could not move, only wait for it to draw closer.

She breathed deep of the fresh air, and then, when her shoulders were free, she clawed out across the cushy surface beneath her. Getting her breasts out from the opening was more difficult, extricating her belly still even more so. Foul fluid clung to and dripped from her body.

It was only as she was pulling her legs free that she became conscious of the agonized sobs in the background. It was the sound of a voice that was intimately familiar to her.

She looked back the way she had come and saw a swollen dome of lilac-furred flesh and a gaping slit between two legs.

“Congratulations!” another familiar voice said, and the unicorn saw the shadow standing over her, grinning. “Now we can go on to the next sequence!”

“Next…?” she mouthed breathlessly.

There was a pang in her loins as her stomach trembled.

= = = = =

Gossamer Gleam awoke to discover that her eyes had fallen out of her head.

She could still see through them.

One eyeball laid nestled against the side of her breast, looking up at a curving cliff of flesh, the ceiling above, and the top of a head, the ears and mane, of what might have been a pony, dark and shadowy.

The other one was perched on her pillow and pointed back toward her own face, black ooze seeping from her empty eye sockets.

= = = = =

Gossamer Gleam awoke to discover that she was hungry.

She was also eating everything in her house.

She ate boxes of baking mix, pouring the powder down her throat.

She ate raw eggs, shells and all.

She ate whole cartons of milk, shoved into her mouth.

She ate the plates and bowls and utensils.

She ate the granite countertop.

She ate the leather and fabric and stuffing of her furniture.

She ate the paint off the walls and then the walls themselves.

Black seeped from the wounds in the architecture like blood.

The floor beneath her dragging belly was turning into a swampy soup.

= = = = =

Gossamer Gleam awoke to discover that she was sitting on the Canterlot throne.

The seat was tight around her hips and her belly sprawled out before her, down to the main floor of the grand chamber below.

Shadows in armor of midnight stood guard around her.

The ceiling of the hall opened, lifting up and away, like the roof of a doll house, and a grinning face peered down at her.

“Are you prepared to answer to our concessions?”

= = = = =

Gossamer Gleam awoke to discover that all of Canterlot was in her womb.

She opened her mouth and a shadowy figure came from her throat to stare back at her.

= = = = =

Gossamer Gleam awoke to discover that twilight had fallen upon Equestria.

The shadows came with it, descending in droves to consume everything.

She grunted indifferently.

= = = = =

Gossamer Gleam awoke to discover that she felt different.

She felt…pure.

She got out of bed in the bright light of morning and walked out of her bedroom.

Her parents were there in the living room, her mother and father – not as ghostly apparitions but full flesh and blood. They looked up from what they had been doing and smiled at her. “You slept well, Gossy?” her father asked.

She looked to the side, and she didn’t see the stairs that went up to the roof and the observatory.

Of course she didn’t, because they didn’t have an observatory.

Gossamer Gleam had never been tempted to reach out to the distant worlds of the universe. She had never danced with ephemeral, transitory beings in the realms of her dreams. She had never cavorted with creatures whose very existence defied the nature of reality as she knew it. She had never offered her body to the lords of the night and fire and stone. She had never known the torment of a plague of shadows.

Her life had been quiet and ordinary, but happy.

She felt something else that was unusual: the need to smile, gentle and contented.

“Yes…yes I-”

All this only for her to cry out and double over, clutching at her midsection.

Her stomach was swollen, fertile, pregnant with a life that didn’t belong in this world.

She was naked.

The room was dull and dark.

Her parents were nowhere to be seen.

Of course they were, they were dead and buried.

She was alone.

The unicorn could only gasp and groan as something pushed out from her vagina, and she then saw it reaching up and around her stomach: an arm, black and ichorous, dripping as its fingers clutched at her flesh.

= = = = =

Gossamer Gleam awoke to discover that she was pregnant.

And that somepony was in bed with her, pressing against her back.

She didn’t have to look or to move – she felt the gooey texture, sticking to her fur. Arms reached under her own, squished and compressed, to cup at the sides of her breasts. There was a warm, throbbing shaft nestled against the undersides of her buttocks and gut.

“Why are you doing this?” she asked.

“Because it’s fun,” the shadow answered with a bubbly chuckle. “Sexy too.” She wriggled against her, grinding the goo into her flesh.

“You could do this to any random pony,” she replied calmly, unsure if it was because she was still groggy or if she was just too done by this point to care. “A creature like you must have known before coming into this that you were dealing with the one pony in Equestria who was going to get turned on by all these shenanigans.”

“Well why do you think I’m doing this?” she asked, whispering to her, dripping syllables into her ear.

Gossamer Gleam thought.

It didn’t take long to occur to her.

She was surprised it hadn’t occurred to her sooner.

“Because I brought you here,” she murmured, “because I wanted you to do this.”

The shadow giggled, and the sound rolled and echoed, as she moved one hand to stroke against her cheek, leaving a trail of goo and flecks in her mane. “Not a lot of ponies who want to have reality turned inside out around them, so I just had to answer the call.”

“You probably don’t get many ponies who have already seen the fabric of reality unravel at the seams,” the unicorn replied with a dry chuckle of her own.

“Yeah, you have been holding it together a lot better than most,” she then replied, and for the first time the shadow sounded perhaps just a little disappointed, “usually I’ve got ponies raving mad by now. Oh well, we can call it there then if this isn’t doing enough for you.”

“Oh no we’re not.” Now Gossamer Gleam reached back, pushing further into the gooey body, and planted one hand on the shadow’s buttock, squeezing a handful of the immaterial surface. “We’re not stopping until you’ve completely rutted my brain into mush. Literally, if need be.”

“Ooh, now there’s an idea.” She grinned back and her member throbbed.

She then pulled as she slipped down under the blankets, and Gossamer Gleam didn’t attempt to resist. Dark hands reached out from underneath the blankets and added further pressure, dragging her under. In the dark beneath the sheets, the shadows covered every inch of her, stroking and caressing, and they penetrated every orifice.