The foalish peasant had begged me to call him by name as I climaxed.
I had been flustered with pleasure that night, but his gall earned the human a kicking before the dream ended. This time would be different, he would not voice such a preposterous plea at all.
It was my favorite time of day, right on the cusp between day and night when I conjured him into the dream world. He already looked defeated. I had threatened before to discard him; maybe he had learned a lesson.
“I’ve been doing some research,” I said, “and I think I can help you.”
“Help me?” he asked listlessly.
He was sprawled, half sitting, on the ground. Low enough that I could look down on him – maybe the symbolism would remind him where the balance of power lay. I would accept this submission in lieu of the courtly deference he owed me. It would, of course, be a shame if submission came at the cost of a broken will; I’d have to train a new toy if he could no longer satisfy me.
“With your pathological inability to keep your mouth shut. You will give me your consent to transform you.”
He nodded, a silent ‘Yes’, even as a flicker of life began to show in his eyes.
I spoke a powerful word and my horn glowed. For an instant he looked alarmed as the magic circle surrounding him lit up in a blaze of purple magic, and then he began to change. He melted and and molded into a creature of pitchy gloss, something from beyond nightmare.
My laughter may have been a little over the top but this was quite a triumph. Even in the dream world such transformation was difficult. I had conjured the hapless fellow into the body of a creature from far away in a darkness below the dimensions of space and time. A place where aesthetic standards are - very different. Whatever this thing was that he had become now, it had no eyes, no mouth, no obvious sensory organs at all. Innately sightless, the brain now hosting his awareness probably lacked the ability to even process his memories of light; he was trapped in a shadow deeper than blindness.
He seemed to be taking the change quite well. I could imagine a look of surprise on a face that he no longer wore; bafflement in those large, dark, stupidly sexy eyes. (Stupid eyes, I mean.) About now he would be trying to take a deep breath…
Suddenly he was thrashing wildly in panic.
“Calm down, calm down!” I yelled, stepping out of range of assorted flailing limbs, tentacles, armored insectoid appendages, and multi-jointed projections that appeared to have an endoskeletal structure. “You don’t need to breath, you don’t even have lungs.”
He forced the panic down and stopped thrashing.
Gradually he stopped twitching.
“Better?”
He had no mouth to form a reply.
“You can’t even ask me to call you by name,” I told him smugly, “because whatever you are now doesn’t have a name. It doesn’t speak, doesn’t breath, doesn’t orgasm. We can play. All. Night. Long.”
I waited to let my words sink in.
“Agreed?” I taunted him.
He attempted to move, still unable to figure out the shape of his own body.
I chuckled at his effort. “One spasm of inchoate thrashing for no, two for yes.”
He thrashed hisvaried limbs, waited, and moved again.
“Excellent” I said. And one more twist of the verbal knife: “The safe-word will be ‘futile’… ha ha ha ha!”
Any safe-word would be futile with no mouth to speak it.
His whole body twitched as he shared the humor at his own expense — what a dork.
Slowly he began uncertain, exploratory, motions of self discovery, still trying to find his own form. I moved in before he could become too confident.
“Okay, here I come,” I said, “don’t stick any of those tentacles anywhere that’s going to get you kicked, ‘cos I don’t think you could dodge very well right now, and you know I like kicking.”
As I stepped closer his tentacle tips began to stroke my coat, following the lay of each hair, gently caressing. He grew firmer in his attentions, tentacles everywhere like a squad of masseuses working my muscles into total relaxation.
Lest I be lost in the pleasure of his touch, I imagined how I would have him take me. This would be a morbid fantasy, a relic of a near miss from my youth. My guardians had tried to shield me from the knowledge, but I surmised a little more than they thought.
“Mmmm, I’ll be the little lost filly and you can be the hungry rape monster—”
He shrank away from me before I could complete describing the scene and what he would do.
“Oh, for crying out loud!” I demanded, “you don’t approve of that?”
He waved a single tentacle dismissively.
“Fine,” I snapped. “I will be the bitchy, entitled, and demanding Princess and you will be the worm of a peasant who gets her off if he knows what’s good for him! Satisfactory?”
This time he wiggled his entire complement of movable limbs twice for ‘yes’- starting at one end of his body and passing to the other end, before pausing and doing the same in reverse.
What a show off.
“Hmmf!” I snorted.
The flash of anger passed quickly – I needed this too much to be derailed by his scruples and he was already reaching out for me again. He gently brushed my cheek, drawing his touch along my jaw where I imagined that somepony special might kiss me one day. A stallion pony, not a human pony, I assured myself, quite unnecessarily. Down my neck his touch lingered like a delicious spark of magic, sending ripples through me.
Soon he had resumed the full body massage. I loosened up under the the rubdown until only the pressure of sexual tension kept me standing. Else I might have melted right then. Tentacles worked me over as if they could feel each muscle unstress. But any time he got near an erogenous zone his touch was a feather light whisper of contact before vanishing away. The sensitive spot part way up my wings (I shivered), my inner thighs (I spread my legs just a little further), the base of my horn (I bit my tongue rather than neigh out loud).
“Stop teasing me,” I gasped, “stick something in!”
Still he delayed, extending my torment.
More tentacles crept along my belly towards my sex, still rubbing, rubbing. I was more than ready, my wetness trickling on my thighs. And then he was in me.
Memory flashed back to the first time he had entered me, as a human. But that was just a dream; this is just a dream. It doesn’t count.
The penetrant tentacle moved slowly, taking appreciable care not to hurt me - it was significantly larger than his human member had been. When I was ready for more I pushed myself further onto him, almost caught myself moaning out loud as he thrust deeply, far, far into me. Out and then in again; he paused. In concert the tentacles kneading my back stopped then undulated all together, and then repeated the signal. Two gentle sets of wiggles, fading to an almost imperceptible contact. A question: with his touch he asked, “yes?”
“Unghh, yes, yes,” I replied, “like that.”
In response, he pounded me until I came.
…
I was gasping for breath, wobbling on my hooves.
“More,” I said, “don’t stop” – he didn’t.
I was still getting warmed up and his mastery of this new body form was increasing. Perhaps it should be his permanent form, I mused. My mind wandered to thoughts of stealing him from his world, of creating a black pit deep below the castle sub-cellar where I might keep such a pet in my waking world. A secret place, where I could cuddle (‘use’, I corrected myself) him to my content until this hunger was cured.
Surprised by the unexpected warm emotion that accompanied the idea of keeping him, I lashed out again.
“You look like a cross between a squashed colioptra diabolucus foetidus and a unidentified cephalapod. Almost—” I paused as another orgasm swept through me “—as ugly as your human form.”
He twitched as if my insult had stung him.
With no warning he grabbed me with at least a dozen tentacles and swept me into the air. In spite of myself I let go a tiny shriek as he flipped me onto my back and held me suspended. Now my hooves pointed to the sky and my tail was hanging down towards the ground, leaving me completely uncovered ‘back there’. The thrusting tentacle had slipped out of my marehood and I was on display for my blind audience. Modesty and force of habit drove me to flip my tail upwards against gravity to cover myself, even though he was sightless and unable to view my vulnerability. Slowly my tail was pulled back down leaving me helplessly exposed. I tried to pull my hind legs together but they were firmly held apart. Sassy of him, and I was enjoying this far too much. A good kicking would certainly be the human’s reward once I was sated.
Two of his jointed, armored, legs reached for my nether regions, the pointy tips tracing lightly along my skin. They were as sharp as needles but his touch was so careful I felt only a tingle where they passed. Then they were spreading me and I was filled again by a thick wiggling tentacle.
Another tentacle approached me, swaying hypnotically as it neared my hindquarters.
“Not my asshole, you idiot,” I thought. At least that would give me a reason to be angry if he did stick one up my butt. Even if I enjoyed it I would thrash him on principle.
Before I could express myself verbally, the second tendril was feeling its way around where the first disappeared into me. With a stretch and a push it too was inside my vagina and the almost-too-much fullness of the double-pounding took me right back to the edge.
“Oh–!” I started to cry out with pleasure; I was cut off by a tentacle sliding into my mouth. I began hungrily sucking as the other two tentacles still thrust and squirmed in the depths of my marehood. I was so close already and he hadn’t even touched my—
He did. Another climax exploded.
“…all night long…” I mumbled as I sucked and writhed.
…
Still I demanded more.
Damn that doctor and double damn his shots. I would find away to burn through the accumulation of sexual need that overwhelmed my reason. There must be an end to this even if I used up my little human.
Timeless, the dreamscape went on in endless sensual congress, a strangely imbalanced union. Pony and monster– was that really any different than our previous trysts, pony and human, princess and commoner?
This could go on forever, but the human’s mastery of inhuman form wasflagging now, his motions losing the fluid grace he had used to extract so much pleasure from my unnaturally pent up libido.
,,I think this body is dying,, a thought entered my mind from the creature fucking me.
,,How did you do that?,, I replied.
He wasn’t supposed to be telepathic.
,,Get out of my head! And what do you mean dy–,,
Abruptly he set me back on my hooves, his tentacles growing limp and flaccid even as he released me.
,,Oh Twilight my beloved Princess, please save me! Futile, futile!,, his thoughts intruded into my skull.
And then he was gone from the dream.
I was still wobbly; dazed from the series of sweeping orgasms I had extracted from my shape shifted…
…partner?
…sex slave?
I didn’t really have a word for him. Certainly not lover.
Right?
Unbidden, another word sprang to mind.
…victim?
And wasn’t I supposed to do something if he said ‘futile’?
Where could he have gone, what was the outcome of this change?
For the first time ever I spoke his name.
