Comeuppance

Sweat beaded Fenris’ brow, a dark miasma clouded his vision, and the air burned his throat, yet his eyes never left the page. “...trabea.”

No sooner had the final word of the incantation left his lips than a blinding flash of light filled the room, robbing him of his vision and forcing him to stumble back. It was almost a guaranteed certainty that dabbling with the dark arts came with risks - then again, he’d learned that great gains often came with great danger. Forcing himself to stand steady, crushing the impulse to panic, he held still and waited for his eyesight to return.

As his room came into view, a smug, fang-filled grin split his muzzle. He’d been nearly certain that the enchantment wouldn’t have been all that hazardous - after all, it was merely meant to enhance one’s physique. While there’d been no need to improve his physical prowess, already augmented by the timberwolf enchantment he’d long since imbued into his very bones, there was no such thing as being too imposing.

With his vision all but returned, he lowered his gaze and lifted a foreleg. The limb appeared as normal as ever, with his lavender coat terminating at the gnarled, wood-like carapace of his claw. As he carefully scrutinized the appendage, his brow furrowed. A cold feeling settled in his gut, realizing what was amiss. Looking around himself, noticing that some sense of offness pervaded his surroundings, he finally comprehended what was wrong; he wasn’t larger by any means - if anything, he was somewhat smaller.

Cantering from his study and through his room, with the click-clack of his clawed hooves accompanying him, he made his way into the restroom, turned to face the standing mirror beside his tub, and went rigid. Instead of the tall, athletically built, wolf-like pegasus who he’d come to love, a short, curvy, decidedly effeminate creature stared at him from his reflection. The revelation was disquieting to a fault, causing his lip to curl over a markedly less prominent set of canines.

Wheeling around and trotting back to his chamber, he gathered up the grimoire he’d been studying and poured over the text. One of the larger challenges of practicing forbidden sorcery was that, sadly, a great many of the times the text was cryptic at best or, at worst, nigh incomprehensible. Reading and rereading the final passage, knowing he must have missed something, his mood darkened.

The dead language of the Caprae, the very race which spawned Grogar, had a particular way of utilizing grammatical gender. There were perilously few scholars who could read it, let alone speak it, yet he’d done the best he could with deciphering the tome and its secrets - unfortunately for him, his hubris had been his undoing. Mispronouncing a word while speaking could be embarrassing or awkward, although doing so with witchcraft could be downright ruinous.

Restraining his ire, he tossed the therimoire onto his bed and stomped back into his wash room. Unless he’d royally fucked something up, the spell would only last for a number of weeks or, if he was lucky, a few days. Defeated, frustrated, and preemptively dreading what his roommate would say about his debacle, he made his way back to his mirror to fully access the situation.

As he stared at himself, drinking in all his features, he scrunched his snout in disdain. He’d lost his build, his height, and his roguish good looks in the blink of an eye - replaced by a short, soft, svelte parody of his former self. Experimentally wrapping his signature crimson scarf around his neck, trying and failing to shroud his distinctly feminine face, a peculiar tingling sensation in his groin nearly caused his heart to stop.

Steadily spinning around, momentarily compelled to issue a silent prayer to the dark lords below, he closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and slowly exhaled. It would have been mortifying enough to be stuck with the body of a lithe, little femcolt, although he knew that was far from the worst fate that could have awaited him. Steeling himself, angling his backside at the mirror, he flagged his bushy tail, peeked over his shoulder, and went rigid.

His ripe, fuzzy, darkly furred balls were simply gone, arcanely removed from his body without a trace - well, not removed, seemingly exchanged for the meaty lower lips of a marehood. Taken aback, he lowered his head, cocked a hind leg, and stared down at his crotch. Any trace of his stallionhood had vanished, as he’d expected and much to his chagrin, although a pair of modest bosoms rested on his lower abdomen.

“Are you fucking ki-” he - no, she blared, immediately muzzling herself with a claw.

The moment she’d heard the shrill, irate voice of a mare - her voice, it finally sank in. Somehow, be it from some cosmic joke or some karmic version of poetic justice, he’d changed himself into a female. Rubbing her temple with a taloned digit, with her thoughts racing and heart pounding in her chest, she tried and failed to think of something - anything she could do to address the less than desirable outcome of her little experiment.

There was a reason why black magic was highly illegal and taboo; aside from Sombra’s use of dark arts to nearly subjugate Equestria and the Crystal Empire, the sheer power of such sorcery was as potent as it could be unpredictable. The smallest miscalculation or breach in procedure was enough to undo or alter an enchantment wildly, yet he’d been fortunate enough to never suffer the consequences of such a blunder - that was, until the current incident. Strumming her digits on the tiled floor, wondering if attempting to reverse engineer the spell would be worth the risk, a sudden beating on the door wrenched her from her thoughts.

“Dude,” Pixel shouted, issuing another hard knock, “are you ok in there? I heard something weird then a bunch of screaming! You didn’t kidnap that Rainbow Dash cosplayer again, did you?”

Fenris opened her mouth to speak, but remained silent. Though she’d only spoken a hoofful of words after her mishap, she’d heard enough to realize she sounded nothing like her usual masculine self. The way she saw it, she could choose one of two options to deal with her friend - regrettably, neither was what she’d consider ideal. Either she could attempt to bullshit the stallion, hoping he’d somehow not notice the transformation, or she could downplay it and act like the entire fiasco was a non-issue. Collecting herself, knowing that delaying the inevitable would be a foolish and fruitless venture, she flung the door open and glowered out at him.

The carnelian maned, golden coated kirin peered down at her in disbelief, blinking repeatedly and going so far as to rub his eyes. He’d known Fenris for years, since they’d been in grade school, yet he couldn’t relax around the guy - if anything, he had to stay on his toes twenty-four seven. While it was true that they were the best of friends, he liked to describe their relationship as endearingly abusive.

“No fucking - Mmmph!” Pixel was silenced, as the pegawolf reached up and jammed a clawed hoof to his lips.

“Before you say anything, this was intentional,” Fenris smoothly lied, squinting up at the stallion.

Brushing his friend’s hoof away, Pixel quirked a brow. “Uh-huh,” he grunted, “or maybe it’s one of those ‘if you can’t beat ‘em, join ‘em’ moments,” he snickered, slipping a glimpse at the mare’s backside.

Without budging a muscle, dismissing his errant peek at her posterior, she locked eyes with him. “You know, you should consider yourself lucky. I’d briefly considered trying this spell on you, but I’d hate to have my best friend end up begging me for a lay.”

“Pfft - yeah fucking right!” the stallion scoffed, recoiling slightly. Backing away and shifting to the exit, he marched out of the room. “Just keep your weird bullshit down, I don’t want to call the royal guard and explain why you accidentally killed yourself.”

As the kirin moved out of sight, Fenris exhaled. While sorcery was definitely one of her strongest suits, her pride and, as some would say, arrogance made her a master at deception; even if she was outright lying to somepony, her confidence and smug demeanor was often enough to sway others - still, that did little to help her current predicament. With a vexed sigh, she trotted from the restroom, through his chamber, and out into the hallway.

Cursing beneath her breath, she only then began to understand the full depth of the infernal spell. Not only had she become a mare, likely at a genetic level, but her mind had been inexorably altered by the metamorphosis. Mere moments ago, she’d thought of and referred to herself as a he, yet the arcane might had shifted her self perception in an instant. Shaking her head and attempting to gather herself, she reversed course, snatched up the discarded tome, and strolled to the living room.

While it would have been reasonable for her to study in her chamber, especially given the unseemly circumstances, that would have been exceptionally out of character. If Pixel noticed her acting odd, he’d ask questions - if he asked questions, she’d get annoyed - and if she got annoyed, well, she didn’t need a reenactment of their last petty feud. It wasn’t uncommon for them to prank one another mercilessly, though their little jokes had a nasty way of escalating at an exponential rate; the last time they’d seriously fucked with one another, she’d wound up with a shaved head and her companion ended up getting a badly sprained ankle - needless to say, she knew when to pick her battles with him.

Nonchalantly walking by the seated stallion, wishing for little more than to try and find a remedy for her pitiable state, she flounderingly attempted to hop up onto the sofa. It had been less than ten minutes, yet she was already getting frustrated with just how useless her body was. Ignoring her friend, hoping he hadn’t noticed her awkwardness, she flapped her wings and landed at the far end of the couch.

“So - uh -” the kirin began, “what exactly were you trying to do here?”

“I wasn’t trying to do anything,” she flatly stated, the sound of her girlish voice sounding very alien to her ears. “I wanted to disguise myself as a mare for two reasons; first of all, so I could socialize with them and get some candid insight into how they think and act - secondly, I intend to figure out exactly what weaknesses a mare has.”

As he cocked his head to the side, a silly little smirk crept across Pixel’s muzzle. “So you didn’t do it to go out and get plapped by some big, domineering stud to atone for all your misdeeds - right, I gotcha…”

He knew good and god damn well about Fenris’ penchant for philandering and womanizing, so he wasn’t buying the bullshit excuse for a second. If he had to put his bits on the table, he was betting that his buddy had royally fucked up some harebrained scheme or enchantment - regardless, something wasn’t right. The last thing in the world the pegawolf would do would be to willingly turn himself into a weak little mare, not with the size of his ego. Doing his best to play it cool, he halfheartedly looked down at the comic in his grasp.

“Pixel, it’s not good to project like that,” Fenris darkly chuckled. “Besides, we both know that you’re the one who’s secretly wanted me to bend you over while you call me Daddy.”

Smiling conceitedly to herself, content that she’d fended off her friend’s pitiful attempt to get her goat, she eased herself into the corner, pulled the book into her lap, and paused. As she’d looked away from the stallion’s face, she’d unintentionally looked at his groin. Seated as he was, with one hind leg cocked onto the couch, his sheath and balls were on full display. Though she hadn’t intended to look at his junk, the momentary glimpse was all it took for him to strike yet another blow.

Shifting a forehoof to his groin, Pixel casually fondled his package. “Hey, cutie, you like what you see?”

“Hah!” she guffawed, unseating herself and sauntering away. “Pixel, don’t pretend like you have anything particularly engaging to offer. If memory serves, the last mare you tried that line on tossed her cider in your face.”

Leaving her friend with the harsh statement, she wandered around the corner and into the kitchen. She could and more than likely should have stayed to rib him, but there was a problem; the second she’d laid her eyes upon his equipment, the tingle in her loins returned with a vengeance. Both intrigued and frustrated with bizarre sensation, an ominous notion crept into her mind.

Since she was suddenly a young, healthy mare, there was a very good chance that her newfound biology was altering her personality on some fundamental level. Her subconscious had immediately shifted, recognizing herself as what had been the opposite gender, so it wasn’t the most outlandish notion to think that other aspects of her personality may have been modified. Pursing her lips, hoping to distract herself, she marched to the refrigerator for some refreshment.

If she somehow did find herself attracted to stallions, she’d sequester herself in her room for the duration of the curse she’d unwittingly unleashed upon herself. The last thing in the world she needed was to find herself pining over big, hunky studs, particularly irksome ones like her roommate. There was no way in Tartarus Pixel would ever let her live something so ignominious down, and she’d rather not have to hide a body anytime soon. As she opened the fridge and inspected its content, stewing on how best to deal with the unexpected development, she was woefully ignorant to a series of silent hooffalls creeping up behind her.

Pixel would like to say he knew his friend better than anypony, so he could practically smell when something was wrong. The guy almost never backed down, and the whole intentional transformation excuse sounded like a bunch of bullshit, which led him to believe there’d been a massive fuckup with one of his sorcerous experiments. Peeking into the kitchen, he furtively watched the mare from the doorway.

Supposed explanation notwithstanding, he had to say that his buddy had become much, much easier on the eyes. The little pegawolf had become significantly shorter than him, had lost most if all of his muscle tone, and had filled out exceptionally well. Bearing a fine rump and a very respectable set of birthing hips, along with thighs that had just the right amount of chub, she wasn’t half-bad looking - in fact, he’d be lying if he said she wasn’t pretty hot.

Smiling to himself, unable to control his urge to screw with her, he crept up on her from behind. It really wasn’t his fault for wanting to give her a hard time, not after all the shit she’d done to him in the past. Thinking back to one particularly egregious incident, where Fenris had hexed his ex, shattered her mind, and fucked her on his bed, he had perilously few reservations about giving the bastard some shit. Coming up directly behind her, he stepped over her waist, pressed his chest to her back, and rested his chin squarely on her shoulder.

“Come on, Baby,” he purred, softly necking her, “you can be honest with good ‘ol Pixel.”

The sudden sensation of heat and weight bearing upon her was almost as startling as the sensual whisper in her ear, taking Fenris completely off guard. She’d known her roommate was the cheeky sort, often the type to tease or mock her, but this - this crossed a line. His brazenness, paired with her already less than stellar mood, brought a sneer to her lips. If he thought he could get away with something so audacious, he was about to get a very harsh lesson.

“Ligate eum,” she barked, her voice resonating through the home.

While she may not have had any natural ability to evoke the arcane, she’d crafted or procured a number of artifacts to make up the difference. It only took a moment before her call was answered. With a choked gag, the stallion atop her was unceremoniously wrenched back and cast to the floor beneath them.

“Honestly, did you really think that was a good idea?” she tutted, languidly turning to face the then restrained kirin.

Laying on his back, with her trusty ensorcelled scarf bound around his neck and hooves, his panic-streaked eyes peered up at her. The unassuming accessory was quite possibly her magnum opus, allowing her to use sorcery with all the proficiency of a unicorn - that said, it needed to be within earshot of her arcane commands. Peering down at the supine, squirming stallion, she snickered to herself.

Looking him over, relishing the fear in his eyes, she inspected his groin and sneered. “Listen closely,” she began, stepping closer and pressing her hoof to his sheath, “if you ever bring that pathetic thing anywhere close to me again, I’ll be sure that you never use it again ~ understood?” Nodding slowly, with the tip of his stallionhood peeking from its confines, his eyes never left hers. “Good. Dimittis!”

As quickly as the piece of apparel had attacked, it released the kirin, sailed to her, and loosely coiled around her neck. Maybe attempting to downplay her metamorphic mishap hadn’t been the best idea, though she didn’t regret attempting to act like it was a minor inconvenience. Without saying another word, content that she’d thoroughly hammered the point home, she departed and left the dumbstruck stallion where he lay.

Tempted though she had been to lord her superiority over him, possibly forcing him to apologize or kiss her hoof, making her leave seemed to be the most prudent course of action - not because anything was wrong, but because the odd feeling in her nethers had developed into a dull ache that permeated into her abdomen. With her body apparently acting of its own accord, a circumstance she was not at all used to, she decided that it may be best to thoroughly explore herself in the privacy and security of her chamber.

Tracking her with his eyes, while she traipsed away, Pixel noticed something that overshadowed the impromptu hog-tying he’d just been subjected to. Though he’d only got the barest peek of it, he’d noticed her snatch; in and of itself, the glimpse wouldn’t have been that odd, barring the fact that she’d been a stallion earlier that morning, yet the damp, rosy lips piqued his interest. He’d been around enough mares to know when they were getting excited and, if his eyes hadn’t deceived him, Fenris was just that.

Waiting until he heard the door to her room slam shut, he pushed himself up, went back to the couch, and digested what had just happened. To say having his best friend turn into a chick was weird would be an understatement, but having her get worked up by simple teasing would be downright unprecedented. Fenris is, was, and he assumed always would be a bit of a casanova, never once having displayed an interest in guys, yet that may have changed along with his - no her sex.

Stewing on the subject, he came to a single conclusion - he’d need more data. If his buddy really had been turned on by him - sweet, merciful Celestia, the possibilities for mischief would be endless. While he wasn’t sure how far things could or would go, should his theory prove true, he definitely wouldn’t mind giving his friend a taste of his own medicine - that and he’d always had a soft spot for flirting with cute mares anyways. Calling upon his magic, casting an invisibility spell on himself, he slipped from the couch and sneaked down the hallway.

Foolish and impetuous as it may have been, he hastily concocted a plan that was simply too good to sit on. With Fenris being smaller and almost assuredly weaker than himself, he should be able to overpower his friend with relative ease - the only problem was his buddy’s blasted scarf. The garment wasn’t all that powerful in and of itself, having strength comparable to a pony, but its ability to let the pegawolf utilize magic was its most threatening trait.

Surreptitiously approaching Fenris’ room, seeing the door had been left slightly ajar, he issued a silent thanks to the stars. No matter how things played out, he would need to address the cursed artifact before he could do anything to his roommate. Moving at a snail’s pace, taking care not to make a noise, he lingered outside the chamber and listened for any signs of life.

“Stupid bastard,” Fenris grumbled, crawling onto her bed and rolling to her back.

Having sat her trusty scarf on her dresser by the door, she was determined to figure out what was going on with herself. All her studies and experiences with various females had given her plenty of insight into their anatomy and, to a lesser extent, psychology, yet that paled in comparison to actually experiencing what they did on a day to day basis. Pulling two pillows under her head, positioning herself nearly in the center of her mattress, she spread her legs and gazed at her nethers.

While she couldn’t get the best look at her loins, being without a hoof mirror, what she saw sent a nervous shiver up her spine. Her nipples were fully erect, her marehood was engorged, and a bead of nectar clung to her inner thigh, leaving little room for doubt. The signs and symptoms were all there, affirming her fears; like it or not, she’d somehow gotten a little hot under her nonexistent collar.

Telling herself that a little bit of exploration was necessary, outright dismissing her budding, licentious curiosity, she extended a forehoof between her thighs and delicately caressed her sex. Soft, warm, and exceptionally inviting, her plump mound felt as amazing as it looked - still, that wasn’t what compelled her. The moment her clawed digit graced her clit, a bolt of pleasure coursed through her.

She’d had no intention of making a sound, yet the foreign sensation was so strong that she couldn’t help but stifle a moan. Gently caressing the little bud, evoking more of the staggering bliss, she closed her eyes and fixated on the feeling; it was hard to describe, though it was an order of magnitude more potent than any form of masturbation she’d ever experienced before. Shifting her foreleg lower, bringing two claws to her entrance, she cautiously sank a pair of digits into herself.

While having something in her wasn’t as amazing as having her clit played with, she was undeterred. She’d played with many a mare’s clit before, knowing the tiny erogenous zone was a weak point, but there was another, somewhat more elusive area that she had every intention of finding. Probing her inner walls, angling her somewhat blunted claws up to her pelvis, she gasped when she brushed against her g-spot.

Unable to speak, barely able to think, she rolled her head and stroked the hyper-sensitive area within her snug canal. Though she hadn’t planned on getting herself off, merely hoping to learn more about her altered body, her priorities shifted at the drop of a hat. Like a randy youth who was coming to embrace their own carnality, she spread her hind legs and succumbed to her urges.

Pixel stood motionless, his jaw nearly on the floor, as he watched his friend feverishly getting off. He’d never considered himself a voyeur, most certainly when it came to any of his companion’s private endeavors, but he couldn’t look away from the depraved scene. Situated as her bed was, he had a nearly perfect view of her digits plunging in and out of her dripping, meaty cunt.

“Fuck,” she groaned, bringing his focus to her face.

Yeah, there was no doubt about it, she’d totally forgotten about him and his antics in the kitchen. Glancing around the room, realizing he’d practically been spoon-fed the perfect opportunity to execute his little scheme, his eyes settled on what he’d been looking for. Draped atop the dresser a mere hoofful of paces away, was the key to his victory.

Enacting a silencing aura around himself, while maintaining his invisibility, he gingerly nudged the door open just enough to slip inside. The scarf was a powerful tool, but it was only a tool; without the direction of its owner, or if it was tied to something heavy enough, it would be rendered all but useless. Forcing himself to stay the course, slipping fleeting glimpses to the furiously masturbating pegawolf, he did everything in his power to remain undetected. Nearing the bureau, balancing himself on three legs, he reached up, plucked the lengthy garment from the wooden surface, and remembered to breathe. Though he’d successfully gotten the biggest obstacle out of the way, he was far from finished yet.

It wasn’t until he’d bent over and wrapped the scarf around the heavy furniture’s leg, securing it in place with several knots, that he turned his attention back to the writhing mare on the bed. Despite attempting not to listen to her soft whimpers, heavy breaths, and the occasional expletive of delight, his stallionhood had taken note of the of the lewd noises. As he inched to the bed, with his semi-rigid cock dangling beneath him, he licked his lips.

The next step of his plan, while potentially easy, had left him uncertain. A part of him wanted to pin her down so he could give himself a taste of her new, excessively juicy naughty bits, but another, far more nefarious part of him urged him to do something much more reckless. Asking himself what Fenris would do in such a situation, his answer presented itself in a flash of wicked inspiration.

As soon as he was fully atop the mattress, he struck. Shunting his power from the concealment spells to a quartet of mystical restraints, he wrenched her legs apart and pinned them to the sheets. The look of stunned shock on her face was priceless, though it lasted but a split-second. Looking up at him with wide eyed wonder, her confusion transitioned to one of unfettered rage.

“Occidere eum!” Fenris shouted.

Her eyes flew to the dresser, immediately knowing that something was wrong, and spotted the piece of furniture rocking ever so slightly. Glancing downward, she noticed why her trusty scarf hadn’t obeyed her. Secured to the bureau, made useless by the smug bastard smiling down at her, the tool wouldn’t be doing anything any time soon.

“You’re dead as soon as this is over, I hope you know that…” she seethed, glaring up at his face.

“So grumpy,” he chided, condescendingly leaning in to pinch her cheek. “Maybe you’ll be in a better mood after we’re finished.”

Knowing full well that she was at his mercy, figuratively or possibly literally fucked, she scowled. “After we’re finished with what…?”

“Since I caught you scoping out my goods earlier, I figured, ‘Hey, I should give her a good, close look’,” he proudly remarked, nonchalantly stepping over her.

“I’ll pass -” she hissed, “besides, it’s not like I haven’t seen a stallionhood more times than I can count. I mean, for fuck’s sake, I’ve had one my whole life.”

“True,” Pixel quipped, lazily spinning and facing the opposite direction as her, “but there are two small problems with that. For starters, you had a stallionhood - secondly, you’ve never had a nice look at mine.”

Effectively straddling her head, with his package dangling over her face, he slowly began lowering himself. Resting his junk on her face would serve a dual purpose; not only would it be extremely demeaning for her, and hilarious for him, but it would allow him to thoroughly inspect her marehood. While her altered anatomy appeared to be legit, he wouldn’t know unless he got an up-close examination.

Unable to look away from the slowly descending dick and balls, Fenris swallowed hard. “If those touch me, I…I’ll bite them - Gah?!”

Withdrawing his head from her crotch, having given her snatch a single, solitary lick, Pixel looked over his shoulder. “You might want to remember that biting can go both ways. Instead of complaining, I suggest you put your mouth to better use.”

If the bitch really was dumb enough to bite his junk, he’d return the favor and then some. Shifting in place, peering down at her crotch, he leaned in, extended his tongue, and buried his snout in her goods - sure, it might have been a little weird to be eating out his best friend, but it wasn’t the strangest thing he’d ever done. As he wiggled his hips and dangled his packages inches from her face, his taste buds went alight.

He felt it was fair to say that he’d eaten out a good number of mares before, but the pegawolf’s sex had a distinct flavor and aroma. More tart and spicy than any pony’s he’d ever been with, with a scent that he could only describe as wild, Fenris definitely brought a unique dish to his palate, though that was far from a bad thing. With her threat still ringing in his ears, he brought his lips to her clit and sought to give her a bit of encouragement.

Fenris’ voice hitched in her throat, her heart thundered in her chest, and her thighs trembled, while the kirin feasted on her cunt. She’d thought that rubbing herself had been stimulating, but that notion had been completely crushed by having her muff munched. As enthralling as the act of being eaten out was, a peculiar bouquet wafted to her flared sinuses.

Gazing up at the immaculately presented equipment above her, she reflexively drew a deep breath through her nose. She’d never paid any particular attention to what stallions smelled like, more than likely having ignored it since she’d always been one herself, but the musk drifting from the kirin’s junk was, in a word, infuriatingly ambrosial. Strong, earthy, and with just a hint of sweat, his stallionhood and pendulous balls sang an olfactory song that tickled a part of her mind that she hadn’t held until less than an hour prior.

Her head drifted upward, closer and closer to his groin, until her nose pressed against Pixel’s fleshy sheathe. It was like some preternatural force, something she couldn’t understand, was guiding her, urging her onward. As she railed against the unworldly compulsions filling her, feeling as though she were going mad, the assault on her senses reached a new height.

It took nearly everything Pixel had to keep her restrained, while he lapped at her snatch, but he screwed his eyes shut and shunted more force though his horn. His amber aura surrounded her teats, twisting and pulling the delicate buds as he lipped and suckled her clit. Getting a face full of his equipment and being brought to a climax would probably be the most humiliating thing to ever happen to Fenris, so he gave the endeavor everything he had.

Her resistance waned, her back arched, and her marehood drooled eagerly, as he put everything he had into getting her off. Though he tried not to think about it, focusing on the task at hoof, her exotic flavor, delicate musk, and increasingly whorish groans sent blood surging to his rapidly hardening stallionhood. He honestly couldn’t say if it was a gay experience or not, what with the mare having been a stallion such a short time ago, but he didn’t care - if anything, the absurdity of it all filled him with determination.

With her mind reeling, barely able to form a coherent thought, Fenris’ eyes rolled wildly. She’d had more orgasms than she could count, both by herself and with her innumerable sexual conquests, yet she only realized too late that she was reaching her limit. The heat within her abdomen was a roaring inferno, her limbs refused to obey her, and she was powerless to stop the slatternly, unbecoming noises creeping past her lips.

Just as the bliss reached a fevered pitch, threatening to overwhelm her sanity, it struck; with all the devastating force of a dying star, her climax undid her on some fundamental level. She screamed out, her rapturous howl giving voice to her surrender, as a torrent of nectar gushed from her winking, convulsing depths. Of all the things she’d done, all the trials, tribulations, and triumphs she’d ever been through, the moment of her climax rocked her to the very core of her being.

Pure, unrefined ecstasy coursed through the very fiber of her being, threatening to undo her on a fundamental level. It felt like every nerve in her body went alight, eclipsing the world around her and replacing it with a taste of nirvana itself. Wailing to the heavens, thrashing against her magical bonds, she weathered the storm of raw, unrefined pleasure and prayed she’d survive.

If she’d only known that this was what mares experienced when they came, she may have done things differently, yet the revelation was of little consequence. All the strength fled her, she faded in and out of consciousness, and her eyes stared blankly up at the stallion, apathetically watching him get to his hooves. Save for the steady rise and fall of her chest, hauling the scent-filled air into her burning lungs, she didn’t move - couldn’t move. Only barely registering Pixel’s haughty face staring down at her, she willed herself to grimace.

“Awwwww,” Pixel patronizingly hummed, reaching out and pinching her cheek, “you’re still grumpy after that?”

“F…fu - Cough - fuck you,” she weakly coughed.

“Maybe next time, if you’re a good little mare,” he snickered. “You want a sports drink from the kitchen? I mean, you did just squirt like a geyser - figure you might be a little dehydrated.”

Through sheer willpower alone, Fenris lunged for her friend. The pitiable attempt, driven by contempt, failed spectacularly. As the kirin leaned to the side, easily evading her, she landed chest down, ass up on the mattress. Without her scarf, weakened and exhausted as she was, she was helpless to stop him - nevertheless, she took some solace in the fact that she’d tried to throttle the bastard.

“Ooooooh, I see how you want it,” Pixel murmured, gazing at her immaculately presented ass.

Truth be told, the sight of her so vulnerable, especially after he’d made her cum, was hotter than he cared to admit. Licking her juices from his lips, eyeing her meaty entrance, he shook his head and leaped from the bed. Mare or not, Fenris was his oldest and closest friend, and he’d never do anything to her unwillingly. Stopping dead in his tracks, peeking over his shoulder at her, an insidious notion came to the fore.

While he wouldn’t mistreat her too egregiously, it would be a different story if she wanted him to use and abuse her. Shifting his attention to her face, seeing one wolf-like eye staring dead at him, his smile softened. There was a trick he always kept up his sleeve, something that was almost an assured way to piss his buddy off, and the circumstances practically demanded he pull it out.

“Who’s a good girl?” he enthusiastically asked. “Are you a good girl, Fenris?”

Sure as shit, in spite of her angry expression, her furry tail lazily wagged back and forth. Ever since Fenris had imbued herself with timberwolf traits, she’d been unable to fully control the seemingly independent limb. Apparently the fluffy appendage acted with a mind of its own, often betraying its master’s true thoughts and intentions, and the pegawolf despised its reflexive nature.

Smirking to himself, continuing to the exit, he asked one final question. “Did you have fun when I was eating -”

“I will kill you for this,” Fenris grunted, staring daggers at her friend.

Pixel dismissively shrugged and trotted out, leaving the cum-soaked, enfeebled mare where she lay. He could have offered a final jab, some parting quip to bully his companion, yet there was no need. Seeing her tail wag slightly faster, having mentioned him eating her out, he learned everything he needed to know; though she may never admit it, she’d actually enjoyed his bullying. Content to leave her be for the time being, he victoriously sauntered through the house and out the front door to get them some takeout - if only to extend the olive branch.

Listening to the kirin parade through their home, hearing the front door open and close, Fenris closed her eyes. She paradoxically felt amazing and awful, fantastic but totally spent, and she wasn’t sure how to process it. Pixel would pay for his transgressions with interest, she had no doubt about that, but that could wait until later - meanwhile, she wanted little more than to shower, change her drenched sheets, and to research how she could undo the hex she’d unleashed upon herself.

As she falteringly pushed herself up and stumbled from the bed, shambling off to her bathroom, she duly considered her options. At worst, she’d be stuck with her body for up to a month, since the spell wasn’t designed to be permanent - at best, she’d be back to her old, ruthless self before nightfall. Reaching into the tub and setting the water to warm, telling herself that everything would be alright, she did her damnedest to ignore the ominous feeling gnawing at her mind…