“… and that’s why I had to cancel my appointment for Hoity’s Christmas celebrations. I know, I know but you know how that would have been, just too much noise for my taste. And that horrible Blurgendroff was going to be there, not one ounce of talent and he still gets invited to all the best places. I do not understand how anyone could seriously like his presence, he’s just a show off.”
You struggle to keep still but you need to breathe.
“Besides, the royal gardens were a much better opportunity, did you see the decorations? Absolutely stunning. ”
You tap Octavia’s ass hesitantly, hoping she won’t punish you for what you’re doing. You can’t take it anymore, you need some fresh air and she seems to have lost herself in her own little world while talking to her friend…
“And the audience! Oh they're much, much better than that other bunch of- sorry, just a second.”
Air! Glorious air. You have just enough the time to exhale and take another deep breath before wearing Octavia’s deliciously round ass again on your face.
“Where were we? Oh nothing, just had to care take of a thing. Oh, right, the audience!”
It’s been a month since you’ve become Octavia’s living chair. Looking back how things started you’d have never thought it could have ended like this. You hoped, of course, but maybe given the circumstances you sometimes hate yourself for putting up with whatever your cock desires.
Octavia. High class girl, high class clothes, high class attitude. A pony who knows what she wants and knows how to get it, one of the few that has the ability to get that smaller part of you crazy with lust. You’ve started slow with her, just teasing her, escalating in some very… interesting situations. Being the only human in all of Equestria, no one knows what your people’s traditions and habits are, which is a very useful trick indeed when trying out some borderline fetishes that would otherwise be impossible to perform with other ponies. You still remember that time at dinner with her parents... what was she even thinking? Octy hit the jackpot with you, that’s for sure, since you've come in her life the dam has burst completely, she always wants to try new things, more risky, more erotic. Sometimes you think that you've hit it too, in those hours before actually being allowed to orgasm.
The transformation from a slightly awkward human being to a chair was so fast that it still shocks you. You became her toy, her little slave, even though you’re not even called that anymore. You’re just called “Chair”. You’ve been dressed in the most elegant, and expensive suit bits could buy, a gift from your owner, and wear a tie-pin shaped like a treble clef. Nothing like a thong and a leash, good heavens no, that’d be tacky. Doesn’t change what you do, though, or what those signify to you. You are part of Octavia’s furniture, her most prized piece, to be exact. The only one that can get her off out in the park without having her looked up weird by other ponies, or at a dinner with her friends without raising question and nervous laughs.
She gets up. You still have her taste on your face. It’s not like you’ll get rid of it very soon. She doesn’t even have to move a finger, you follow her like a shadow. It’s your job. It’s your duty. It’s your drug.
What does it feel like to be degraded to an object? Fucking awesome, you say. It feels like touching the sky, hanging out with angels, meeting god, having a chat, and coming down for tea. And you know why. It’s her large, succulent ass that makes everything possible. You can’t stay away from it, you’re completely hooked. The feeling on your face, her wetness, the smell of her delicious pussy filling your nostrils, her tiny moans… it’s your own little piece of paradise.
You walk outside by her side. You don’t know what other ponies think of you, sometimes you don’t care, sometimes you love it, sometimes you hate it. You‘ve come to stop thinking for yourself. You just follow her orders: follow what your owner tells you to do. Slowly, you’re growing accustomed to the idea of not thinking, like a proper object. Only the feeling of softness is what you need, the pleasure of feeling those beautiful cheeks on yours, even the occasional fart and reek of sweat. You’re becoming a good chair.
You're able to finally free your mind of anything…hunger, death, poverty, oppression, taxes. You just don’t think and enjoy the moment, you savour every instant that your owner lets you have. You feel like that is what you were born for. You want to feel like that. You need to feel that. A regular life is filled with problems, but this? This has none. No thinking, no problems. You eat, you sleep, you become part of Octavia’s life. Part of her. There is nothing you wish more than actually knowing that you are making her happy.
You lay down. That means its night. You’ve come to disregard any physical sensation, or at least trying to. All that matters is Octavia’s ass, Octavia’s ass, and Octavia’s ass. Nothing else matters. Breathing comes second. Food and water are negligible, but her ass… you couldn’t live without it. You even used to think about your future, of how this would influence your life. There is no future. There is no commitment. No pressure that isn’t the one of her sweet cheeks, so soft they would make you cry in ecstasy if you could.
But you can’t.
You’re just a chair, after all.
Author's Note
Direct your complaints to the trash bin, I don't give a fuck.
