Dreamstate

by Sorren

Rating: mature
Tags: Sex, Slice of Life, DJ P0N-3, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic
Length: 7993

For Vinyl Scratch, what's a time without sex? To her, it's a miserable Spring, because hooves never seem to cut it and stallions don't know how to shank and not shoot. Seeking an alternative, she finds one... Sort of. What could it hur

For Vinyl Scratch, what's a time without sex? To her, it's a miserable Spring, because hooves never seem to cut it and stallions don't know how to shank and not shoot. Desperate for a coitus alternative, the hot-to-trot DJ seeks for something a bit more exotic. A trip to the restricted section in the Canterlot Archives provides her with the means of a possible good time, and the instructions in the book are pretty simple. What could it hurt?

(Warning: NSFW as fuck. Contains tentacles and semi-consensual sex. Seriously <tentacles> If you don't like them then do not read this.)

Published 2013-03-24 22:50:02 UTC
Last updated 2013-03-24 22:50:02 UTC

Dreamstate

"Dreamstate"

Vinyl’s eyes hungrily drank in the words scribbled on the tattered page. In the darkness of her personal studio, her horn was the only visible light source. She used the magenta light to read the pages of the old book spread out on the well-kempt soundboard. To the right, a green readout danced hypnotically to the bassline of the track playing over the headphones from the quarter-inch jack, faintly lighting her face and reflecting in her eyes.

Vinyl shivered and gave her shoulders a little shrug, pushing away the chill of the sixty-degree air which was most comfortable for the sound equipment. Sighing, she pushed her glasses up on her head with a forehoof. The tinted glasses, specifically for the studio, would never be seen in public, which she reserved the trademark goggles for.

“Dreamstate,” she read aloud. The energetic, yet calming track that played from the headphones slung around her neck seemed to set a trance over the soundproof room. Her voice, though hardly above a whisper, shattered the tranquility like a baseball hurled through a sliding patio door. She read on. “Though never fully understood, this method has been used to entrance ponies and put them in a state of false reality.”

Vinyl cracked a smile. “Perfect.” She read further down. “While in dreamstate, no pony receives the same experience, and the same experience can never be replicated. It is because of this that very little is known about dreamstate other than the fact that a pony may encounter life changing experiences or traumatic events.” She quirked a brow and summoned a little more radiance to the magical sphere at the tip of her horn. “Once in dreamstate, the subject’s brain is no longer performing the reality checks associated with the normal presence of serotonin; this theory has often applied to REM dreaming, though subjects are not in the mental state of awareness as they are in dreamstate. Reports from multiple applicants state that the effects of dreamstate can be associated with a lucid dream, where one is unable to wake up until the dreamstate effect has worn off. Further reports vary, applicants stating that once in dreamstate, they possess little or no control over events that take place.

Vinyl blinked; small fragments of anxiety itched somewhere near the back of her skull. She read the last few lines. “Warning, dreamstate has been cited unsafe and often very dangerous, and is not recommended for...” After a momentary roll of the eyes, she skimmed ahead. “Should not... even if blah blah blah, whatever.” Her gaze darted back to the top of the page, looking over the article again. There were paragraphs more of text, but they were mostly individual experiences of ponies and spellcaster’s notes.

Had she been in a more reasonable state, she would have read them. As of now, she could barely sit on her haunches without trying to grind them forward. Whenever she would forget about her hooves, she’d find one or the other sneaking down, tickling her belly fur as it ran along her abdomen.

Stallions were off limits at this time—the last thing she needed as a prospering DJ was a bastard foal in her belly. Though she seeked warmth, needed it, something hardwired deep in her gut was saying that it needed attention, a pulse that wasn’t her own. Hooves would help, but would be a mere tickle compared to the rush of blissful intoxication achieved from coitus. It was for this reason she was keeping her hooves to her upper-self, despite the challenge it was.

This was why she had the book, had planned ahead with the book, the book that she technically wasn’t supposed to posses. But sometimes, ponies forgot to lock the restricted section of the Canterlot Archives. Sometimes, mischievous DJs happened to go exploring for the sole purpose of finding a very certain book with a very certain spell. Twilight Sparkle—in a lecture-induced state of bliss—had unwittingly provided the intel for Vinyl’s secret mission. After all, what would a DJ possibly want with an old book?

Now, here was the book, here was the spell, and before it sat a very shifty white unicorn.

Only, she was beginning to doubt herself. Was this really right? Was it really wise to mess around with an obviously dangerous spell just for a vivid, sensual dream? No, of course it wasn’t. Though the book was here, the spell was here, she was here, and she had a whole seven hours before her next gig.

She had to do something. As she had been told by experience, attending a show in heat was a very bad idea. There was usually a lot of alcohol involved, and that combined with a fun-filled night, lots of happily-buzzed stallions, and an attractive DJ who wouldn’t be able to say no without a shock collar, was an accident waiting to happen.

Her hoof had managed to drift to her groin, though she had barely noticed. The tip trailed lightly across her coat, parting the thicker tufts of fur where it grew in a clumped line just above her slit. Down it drifted, running over her swollen lips light as a feather, but firm.

Vinyl jumped as the tip of her hoof brushed her clit. She gasped, and hurriedly withdrew her hoof and glared at it scoldingly.

No, she couldn’t go another Spring like this, wanting so badly yet unable to achieve for fear of losing her career—no one likes a fat DJ. Her hoof was hardly release. Phallical toys were interesting, a little fun, but they weren’t a hot, living creature. The fact that her hoof was in control would always diminish whatever real pleasure was possible. Some ponies could pretend, but Vinyl could never get over the fact that she was doing it herself, and that thought had never done anything but turn her off. For her, self-induced orgasms were about as pleasurable as a sneeze that tingled a little at the end, but it was like a sneeze in one’s Spring allergy season: there was relief behind it, but in short time the need would arise again, stronger than before.

From where she sat in the dark, Vinyl placed both forehooves on the old book, the crisp pages furrowing as she leaned her weight on it. “What could it hurt?” Her voice rang out in the soundproof room. “I mean, it’s just a dream, and when I wake up, everything’ll be the same.” She scratched her head with a forehoof, accidentally knocking her purple studio glasses down over her eyes. She pushed them back up, this time putting them over her horn and resting them on the magical protrusion.

“Come on, Vinyl, this is crazy.” She rubbed her temples, focusing on the spellcasting details. There were no spoken words to conjure it. From the complex instructions she looked over, dreamstate appeared to be achieved by a state of mind. Though complicated, it seemed clear enough.

Giving the instructions one last look over, she dropped her forehooves to the shag carpet and lowered her belly to the floor. She shivered as the thick bristles rubbed against her underside, tickling her coat. Shifting her weight, she rolled onto her back and tucked her forelegs up close to her belly.

She needed to be calm; that’s what it said.

Step two was to clear her mind, which was not as easy as it sounded. It was hard not to think about the carpet tickling her back or the agonizing need in her nethers. Shrugging her shoulders, she let out a long, slow breath and ceased the flow of magic to her horn.

The magenta light cast across the walls faded and she was plunged into the darkness of the studio.

Vinyl closed her eyes and inhaled, taking as much air as her lungs would allow. Holding for four seconds, she released, and repeated this process four more times.

A woozy-tired feeling made itself apparent, starting with her eyelids. This next phase she would have to pay close attention to. Sweat beaded on her brow as she focused, channeling all her magic and imagining it flowing from her body and to her head, building, growing, pooling in her brain. She tried to focus that pressure, all that excess magic, fueling her mind, feeding her subconscious.

Suddenly, the carpet didn’t seem too much like carpet anymore, and the air wasn’t as cold.

Vinyl held her focus as the peculiar sensation overtook her. The effort of channeling her inner magic was physically exhausting, like she was trying to lift a boulder. If she were to fail, Vinyl was sure she wouldn’t have enough strength to retry.

A feeling of weightlessness overtook her and the carpet disappeared altogether. Her stomach did a somersault. The sensation of speed took over, mildly upsetting her insides. There was a sudden rush of nausea, then still.

Vinyl opened her eyes, shocked by the sudden stillness. Nothing met them, only darkness. She groaned and rolled up onto her haunches. “Well that was a waste.” Looking down at her hooves, she could see them clear as a cloudy day, though not the floor. Running a hoof down the side of her flank, she frowned. “What the?” She could see herself, but only that. If it wasn’t her, it was black and unseeable. “What the hay?”

It was a moment before she realized that she was no longer wearing her glasses, nor the headphones around her neck. She sat in her barest form. Sniffing, Vinyl frowned again. She had been needing a shower, now though, she smelt clean, fresh, virtually scentless apart from the very faint odor of arousal.

Vinyl scratched her neck. She wasn’t in the studio anymore. She wasn’t anywhere. The ground below her hooves could of been solid air for all she knew, for when she tapped a hoof against it, no sound returned to her ears.

“Hello?” she asked. “Anypony there?” She deadpanned. “So this is dreamstate...” Vinyl pushed to her hooves and walked herself in a circle, examining her flank, colored a nice white, yet devoid of any shadow.

“...Well this sucks.”

She sat back to think, rubbing her chin. “Let’s see... Um, what did the book say?” She looked down, and there was the old book, laying on the ground before her. “Sweet.” She levitated it up to her eye level and furled through the pages until she found the paragraph on the effects.

‘...dreamstate can be associated with a lucid dream...’

Vinyl nodded. “Right, so I know that I’m dreaming, which means—” She broke off staring at the book she levitated before her. “How the hay did this get here?”

Books didn’t just appear out of nowhere. The fact that she was in a dream could have been an excuse, but the book hadn't been there previously. Somehow, it had been summoned.

A slow smile spread across her face. Because I wanted it. She closed her eyes and focused, and when she opened them again, the book was gone.

Vinyl giggled with giddy joy. “Oh my Celestia yes!” She closed her eyes, and when she opened them again, a box of the most delicious-looking bonbons she had ever seen sat on the ground before her.

She squealed like a filly. “This is like a dream come true! No... this is a dream come true!” She levitated a bonbon and popped it into her mouth. It tasted just as good as she knew it would, the sweet, chocolate and caramel treat pampering her tastebuds.

As Vinyl nommed on the delicious caramel chocolates, she looked around her, wondering what else she should think up. When half of the box was gone, she made it disappear. There were a lot of things she could do, anything she could think of.

As she chewed her tongue to try and dislodge the caramel from her teeth, she caught her hoof drifting back down her abdomen, and something clicked. She cracked a grin from ear to ear and closed her eyes. “What to get?” Vinyl asked herself. Not a stallion, not when she could have anything. This was going to be special. She discarded the thought of anything strictly pony and moved on to more peculiar things.

Something dexterous and soft, and warm. Vinyl smiled. The very idea sent a shiver through her body. It would be green: the color of the masters on the soundboard—her favorite color. This time she allowed her forehoof to drift down beyond her belly, down to where she was most sensitive. Uncaringly, she rolled backwards and flopped down on her back. Nimbly, she traced a hoof around her entrance, abdomen clenching from the simple touch. Biting her teeth, she parted the folds with the tip of her hoof, and starting at the bottom, slid up until she brushed her clit.

A moan escaped her lips and she lifted her head. Bringing her forehoof to her face, she licked the juices from the tip.

Something soft, and particularly warm brushed against her inner thigh.

Vinyl yelped and shot up, rolling forward until she was once again sitting. Before her was the culprit. She smiled unbelievingly at the power of her imagination.

The thing before her reminded her a lot of a snake, an inch and a half thick, only it had no head... well, sort of, and was green, the exact same green as the neon readouts on the board back in the studio. The tip flared slightly to a semi-flat end, and as it drifted slowly around between her two forelegs, it seemed to let off a neon glow that reflected against the white of her coat. From where it came from, she did not know, nor care. The opposite end drifted away about five feet, then faded into the darkness.

She knew why it was here—because she wanted it to be. She watched with giddy intent as it swayed right and brushed against her foreleg. It was warm, warmer than any pony could ever be, hot even. The thing warmed her flesh like a stream of hot water wherever it touched. It seemed to sense her anticipation, and moved with a little more speed, wrapping itself twice around her right foreleg and squeezing gently.

She shivered again. It knew just how to touch her—because she wanted it to know.

At a pace so agonizingly slow that paint would have dried faster, the tentacle—as she identified it—crept up her leg. It felt wet, though not in a liquid way. It was firm, though soft like jello and just as slimy.

It moved up further, reaching her neck and doing one slow loop around it until it came to her head, running along the underside of her jaw. It stopped and convulsed, like a throat swallowing, but in reverse, and tightened ever so slightly around her neck and foreleg.

Vinyl found herself panting, the teasing nearly unbearable. It knew what it wanted, and so did she. The glowing green snaked under her jaw and ran along her cheek until the flared end poked eagerly at her half-parted lips. She complied with hospitality, opening her mouth and sticking out her tongue.

The tentacle tested her tongue first, poking at the muscle with its tip. If it could have shrugged, it would have. Continuing on, it slid across her tongue and darted into her mouth, exploring every surface and dark corner.

Vinyl could practically feel herself dripping. Fire burned in her gut, begging attention for her nethers, warming her like a cup of hot cocoa. Only through sheer will did she keep her free forehoof rooted.

It tasted different, not necessarily good or bad. The closest she could come to the taste was a mix between sour and bitter. What was really unique, however, was how it felt; nothing could compare. Though slimy, and warm, and wet, she couldn’t move it with her tongue. Now that she had noticed, she couldn’t move her foreleg either; the fact didn’t bother her. But the tingly feeling it left in her cheek as it explored was enough to overload her brain.

Vinyl did what seemed most natural: closing her lips around the appendage, she sucked in her cheeks, unsure of whether or not the thing could receive pleasure. She sure could, and either way she would enjoy this.

Worry poked very distantly at her brain as the thing slithered towards her throat, but pleasure masked the worry and buried it far away. She was in control after all.

She ran her tongue across the underside of the slimy appendage as it wriggled and shifted between her lips, slithering further into her mouth. She gagged when it reached a certain point, but once it was past, smooth-slimy surface slicking her throat, she easily regained control.

Vinyl was utterly hypnotized as she felt inch after inch slide into her mouth through her lips, over her tongue. She couldn’t blink, not daring to take her eyes off the appendage as it slithered into her. She felt it down her throat, helped it even, swallowing the never-ending length. It tickled her very insides like a backwards tummy rub. The thought was almost enough to set her off where she sat. With every inch of it that entered her, more snaked up her leg and around her neck, fed from the unknown source.

Though the tentacle wrapped around her didn’t allow much movement, she was able to bow her head enough to look down at her belly between her forelegs. And still, more and more of its length slipped between her lips, down her throat.

A shudder racked her entire frame. There must have been at least four feet of it inside her by now. She moaned as a small bulge appeared in her belly to the left, then was gone a second later. Though she wished, prayed even, for the tentacle’s attention to shift from her mouth and migrate to between her legs, it did not. Though she had summoned it, it seemed to have a mind of its own.

Vinyl was feeling particularly heavy in the gut by the time it finally stopped slithering into her. It tensed, gripping her more tightly, and she tensed as well, unsure and a little nervous of what came next.

It’s in my stomach. She moaned. She very well could have been driven to orgasm just by the very thought. It was a kinky, latenight dream that was now playing itself out right before her eyes, right inside her very own body. At this very moment, there was a living moving thing wriggling around deep within her. She ushered another moan around the appendage trailing from her mouth.

The tentacle began to withdraw, slipping up her throat with much less ease as it had gone down, the natural constrictions of her throat attempting to swallow it back down. After about a foot and a half, it stopped again and reversed direction. Two more times it did this, each time pulling a little further out of her.

Suddenly, it squeezed her hard, and Vinyl gasped as it spasmed in her insides, clenched in her throat. What came next was rather peculiar. She watched, entranced as a lump shot towards her down the tentacle's length, a train of others behind it. It was like watching a little football being shoved through a garden hose. The lump reached her leg as it continued up the tentacle, powered by the thing’s constrictions. She watched it up until the point it disappeared into her mouth, and gagged again as the hot lump shot down her throat.

She might as well have just drank near-boiling water. Vinyl groaned around the convulsing tentacle snaking from her mouth, the amazing warmth spreading through her belly, fogging her mind with bliss. It was like an orgasm in her stomach, peculiar, but not unpleasant.

After about four more of the hot bursts, the tentacle shot back, zipping out of her fast enough to make her eyes water. One more burst, smaller than the rest, spurted out over her tongue, hot as water left to simmer in the sun and thick as syrup.

It tasted just as the tentacle did, bitter and sour.

The swollen end pulled out of her mouth, flared in such a way she associated with stallions, then unwound from her neck and leg. Unbelieving, Vinyl swallowed the cheekful of warm liquid, giving the tentacle’s head—at least, that what she thought it was—a sideways smile. “Whoa...” It felt stupid to say, but that was all she could think of. She could feel the warmth in her belly; it held the having-just-eaten, satisfied effect over her.

Her loins ached with pleasure. She needed attention. It was no longer a case of want. If she didn't get it, something inside her was going to snap. “Please,” she said suddenly, rolling onto her back. As she did so, the liquid in her stomach sloshed and bubbled. “I need this.” She spread her hind legs. “I need this.”

She needed more attention.

Immediately, there was a movement from the corner of her eye, and before she could turn to look, something thick and strong wrapped around her middle. A yelp escaped her lungs as her hooves left the ground that may or may not have been there. She yelled again, limbs flailing against whatever it was. She relaxed a moment later after quick observation. It was another tentacle, larger than the first, maybe as thick as her foreleg near where it jointed with the shoulder.

She must have summoned it, completely accidentally, so it seemed. Her mind was getting the best of her.

It spun her thrice around, wrapping tight around her middle just above her belly, pinning her forelegs to her sides in the process. Vinyl’s eyes bugged; Its strength scared her. The thing could probably snap her like a toothpick if it wanted to, though it did not wish to hurt her, so it seemed. It held her firmly and just short of uncomfortable in an upright, semi-reclined position.

She had summoned it after all. Why would it hurt her?

All worry washed away like a sandcastle in the tide when the hot, wet tip of the smaller tentacle pressed against her slit. Some hybrid of a moan and a gasp escaped her lips and her head fell back, electric blue mane hanging down as the tremor of the first touch spread through her limbs. The semi-flared head did not enter, though. Instead, it slid past and along her groin, shaft behind parting her lips and rubbing against her clit, twisting the leaky tap that was her arousal.

Her body’s reaction to the touch was practically redefining every mare’s definition of wet.

The scent of arousal washed over Vinyl’s nostrils as her body expressed itself. The teasing, she hated it, loved it, both at the same time. Every nerve in her body screamed and cried for the tentacle to enter her, and had her forelegs been free, she may have tried to cram it in herself. Clenching her stomach, she lifted her hindquarters to grind her slit against the tentacle.

Once again, its thick head pressed up against her slit, this time applying meek pressure. It stopped there. Desperately, Vinyl tried to grind her hips forward, but the larger one held her in place. Instead, the tentacle constricting her shifted, and the tip of it swirled around to hover just in front of her mouth.

Vinyl got the gist. She poked out her tongue, and with as seductive as a smile she could produce, ran her tongue over the tip of it.

The smaller tentacle pushed between her swollen, lower lips just as the larger one unceremoniously shoved itself into Vinyl’s mouth, forcing her jaw wide. Though she had provided more than enough lubrication for the tentacle’s entry, it wouldn’t have been at all necessary with slimy coating it possessed. Subtlety thrown to the wind, the appendage pushed roughly into her until bottoming out against her womb.

She could not see around the green appendage wrapping her middle, but she could feel, and feel she did.

Vinyl screamed in bliss, the sound muffled by the large appendage blocking her mouth. She prayed this one would not try to slide down her throat like smaller one did, but the distraction that came from the tentacle wriggling deep inside her marehood would be enough to distract her from death itself.

She swirled her tongue around the tentacle in her mouth, moaning and whimpering as the one below pumped in and out of her like a piston. Her breath came in short, strong gasps as it worked her mirthlessly. All she could do was make noise and lick and suck at the larger one in her mouth. If tentacles could have smirked, this one would be smirking.

The heat she felt within her abdomen hovered on the verge of searing. Her legs shook and trembled, kicking involuntarily. Vinyl spread her hind legs as wide as her muscles would allow her, goading more of the tentacle into her. She’d been with stallions plenty of times, but never had she achieved such a sense of fulfillment. It felt as if every square millimeter of her inner walls were being pleasured at once, not a single spot missed by the tentacle’s wondrously firm, soft texture. Stallions seemed limited to strictly forward and backwards, the thing inside her now kneaded and massaged her with three hundred and sixty degrees of pure, dexterous goodness.

The appendage in her mouth acted like a throttle; the more she sucked and licked and kneaded it, the harder the one below worked. With such incentive, Vinyl pleasured it until her cheeks were numb and her tongue was sore, but that didn’t slow her.

She had figured that the big one would have lasted longer, but only after a minute or two, she felt it clench around her middle, just like the smaller one had done before.

The first shot that exploded in her mouth took her by surprise in quantity. She spluttered and gagged as the warm cum washed down her throat, a quarter of it spilling out around her cheeks and running down her face. The next wasn't as bad; though larger, she was prepared for it, and was able to swallow most of it. Shots three four and five were just too much. She choked on the river, torrents of hot seed spilling from her bulging cheeks as the tentacle cruelly refused to withdraw. In a panic, Vinyl worried one more second and it would start to shoot from her nose—past experiences proved it was not something she wanted to undergo twice.

Suffocation wouldn’t be too pleasant either. The tentacle withdrew from her mouth, her lips giving a wet pop as it pulled out. Instinctually, her lungs heaved and her first breath was cum. Diaphragm heaving, she hacked and spluttered, white tendrils flying from her lips and matting around her mouth. Her second breath was clear, and the third and fourth removed the needles of color from her vision.

It was all too much—the searing bliss as the appendage worked her marehood like it was going out of style, the hot cum running down her chin and belly, the full feeling in her stomach. They drove her to sensory overload. Focus was nothing more than a word as she tossed her head this way and that, teeth clenched as she held her breath, afraid that if she relaxed she’d let go.

All that it took to fracture her wall of resistance was a subtle squeeze from the tentacle wrapped around her middle. Her moan became a scream and her entire body clenched like a vice as the first wave of sensational heat hit her like a train. She arched her back until she was sure it would break, thrusting her hips into the appendage working at her insides, desperate to get more of it inside her.

The thing inside her pulsed and swelled, her walls practically milking it. The smaller tentacle came inside her for the second time like the lucky tentacle thing conjured by her mind that it was. For the sake of Vinyl, it must have just been waiting for her to give first. Though Vinyl felt she had been falling before, with the new arrival of the tentacle’s hot load, she peaked again. Breathless, all that escaped her lips was a squeak.

Again, she felt a wondrous heat release inside her, except this time, it wasn’t in her belly. It was bliss in its concentrated liquid state, filling her more than any stallion ever could. The pleasing appendage continued to pump spurt after spurt deep inside her to the point that thick, white liquid poured from her marehood around the tentacle, running between her legs and down her coat.

In a drunken and stunned stupor, Vinyl fell from her climax, lost in her own world inside her own dream. She may have been drooling, but it very well could have been cum on her face.

Right about now would be a great time to return to the real world.

The tentacle pounding her raw slowed, but didn’t withdraw. What scared her was that the one which had just released in her mouth, was now creeping down her back, towards her tail.

her climax had left her winded and exhausted, and now, held hostage by a monster tentacle, she felt nervous, even more so as she felt it lift her tail.

“Dreamstate,” she muttered, eyes darting this way and that, “now would be a good time to go away.”

The tentacle spun her around, unwinding from her and forcing the smaller tentacle to slip out of her. Her lips released with a ‘shlep’ and a small river of semen poured from inside her. Vinyl moaned as she felt herself drain of the hot pressure.

Her eyes shot wide as she felt the pressure under her tail. “No,” she said suddenly. “This is my dream.” Something told her the large tentacle didn’t care. It repositioned her in its grasp, wrapping under her forelegs and allowing her lower body to hang.

She kicked and swung her body, trying to free her forelegs which were now held out to her sides. “I wanna’ wake up now!” she said angrily. The small tentacle wound around her, almost in a caress, making sure to rub along her cunt in the process; it still gave her tingles.

The feeling wasn’t as enjoyable as it had been. “Right! Now!” She yelled through clenched teeth, still struggling, but with less vigor.

Vinyl pinched her eyes shut and whimpered as the pressure below her tail increased. The tentacle wasn’t pushing into her, but lowering her down, using her own body weight to penetrate her. She clenched her stomach and drew her hindquarters up, relieving the pressure—it may have bought her a second.

She wished for it to be over. She had had her fun, and now it was time to go. The unsettling thought chose that moment to really strike her. She couldn’t leave; this was happening, at least in her head, but it was all too real all the way down to the most singular detail. The emotions were real, the pleasure was real, the pain was real.

The tentacle’s softball-sized head popped into her anus and the breathless gasp that followed almost burst her lungs. She had never felt more full in her life, nor violated. The thing was literally using her own weight to fuck her, lowering her down into its hot, squishy head that she had so eagerly sucked off moments ago. A barely-audible whimper seeped from her vocals as she sank further and further, until finally, after about a foot, her own weight was no longer enough to fit any more of it inside her.

Vinyl moaned as her insides dealt with the new intrusion, though she had barely time to adjust when the tentacle encircled around her her upper body clenched and forced her downward, slowly, agonizingly. Her mouth fell open in a silent wail as her insides stretched much farther than they were supposed to. And still, more and more of it slid into her, bunching up inside her and swelling her inner cavity. Fear punctuated her eyes as her abdomen began to bulge in the middle. And still, it pushed, pushed until she cried from the pain masking the hot feel of the thick appendage buried unfathomably deep in her body.

It stopped. The break from constant, pleasurable pain allowed her to take a breath that she so desperately needed. She was done. It felt like her body were about to tear in two from her anus out. She wanted it to be over. Any second now, the effects would wear off and she would wake up on the studio floor, or so she prayed.

Any second now.

...

Any second now.

Her spirits dropped through the floor and right into the basement as two more of the damned things slithered out of the dark. Vinyl agonized herself to know that this was her own mind doing this to her. She was being dominated by her own mind. What sort of a sick pony was she? And what had she been thinking to actually call upon two more of them?

The new arrivals, as thick as the one stuffing her anus, had no subtlety about them. One went straight for her face, wrapping twice around her neck in the process, the other ensnaring one hind leg to access her lower parts. The small one was left to bind her forelegs to her sides like the oddball out.

Vinyl lost all sense of her already-false reality as one of the thick appendages thrust its flared end tactlessly into her pleasure-sore slit. She clenched her teeth, baring the way of the one trying to reach her throat. Immediately, it squeezed her neck, restricting her windpipe. Instinctually, she opened her mouth wide to struggle for breath, and it plunged past her lips, thrusting her jaw wide to settle on her tongue.

Her world was lost to intrusive pain, only made bearable by the confusing arousal still gained from physical stimulus. As she had feared with the previous, the thick tentacle thrust its head down her throat. Every inch was accompanied with a million needles of irritation as the swollen lump shoved its way down her windpipe. It was only once the flared end passed the entry to her lungs was she able to breathe again, barely.

She felt fifty pounds heavier than she should've been, and knew the weight wasn’t hers, but of what was being thrust inside her.

She felt like some sort of centerpiece, held in the air with every hole spread wide. It hurt more than she could have imagined, though there was enjoyment there too, masked. The ones tenderizing her lower body worked in reverse unison, one pulling out whilst the other thrust into her. The pistoning movement of the two sent a constant stream of feeling up her spine, her brain unsure what to do with it. Around the tentacle convulsing in her throat, she released a sound between a cry and a scream, eyes watering from the tactless override of her gag reflex.

The sounds coaxed from her body would be arousing to anypony disconnected from the situation. She squelched and shlapped and moaned like the mixed soundtrack to an underground theatre reel. Despite the situation, Vinyl thought of how big of a hit one of those basement theatre movies featuring her current encounter would be. Pretty damn big. Ponies were perverted beings—anything you could put into a vagina and film would start a new round of fetishes floating around.

Is that how those mares make money? she thought absently. Do they just lie with their legs spread in front of a reel camera and shove things into their cunts until the producer gets a hanger? She blinked the thought away. If she wasn’t careful, a camera crew would materialize on the spot.

Hedge clippers! She thought of the gardener who trimmed the bushes outside the studio with the magical hedge clippers. That’s it! She tried to imagine him, to bring him to her dream to save her.

Vinyl hadn’t expected anything to really happen, though her hope still dropped a little more when nothing did. It was probably for the best. The gardener would ask some really funky questions after seeing her in such a predicament. He already stared at her flank like he was a newscaster and her ass was a teleprompter.

The one thrust down her throat finished first, as seemed to be the trend. She knew what was coming based on the sudden constrictions of the tentacle around her neck, though this was the first time she was scared of it. Less than a second later, it was shooting its seed down her throat.

The other one had gone easy on her.

All she could think of was the time she had bet seventy bits on whether or not she could down the entire punchbowl at a rowdy frat party. It was like that now, only the punch wasn’t cold and it wasn’t punch at all and she didn’t have the option to stop. After what felt like a minute, but could have very well been seconds, it finished stretching her throat with constant convulsions, pulling out to spray one last glob of hot seed across her muzzle.

She could taste it with every gasp for breath. The three times now that seed had been released in either her mouth or throat had been enough to fill her up more effectively than a Sunday night buffet. She groaned at the sick feeling in her gut and looked down at her belly, distended cruelly.

She was against what was happening to her. It needed to end. Her own brain needed to show her a little mercy. What should have ended as a pleasurable and exotic experience had been sabotaged by her own brain and turned into some sort of semi-consensual rape session.

Now, without a tentacle down her throat, she was once again able to breath.

She screamed, whether it was in anger or irritation at being used as a tentacle sock, or in bliss, she didn’t care. It was a low scream, borderline moan, tremulating with every hammer on her insides as the tentacles bottomed out one after another, their swollen heads practically leading up into her chest cavity.

Although stretched to the limit and pounded raw, she could still feel the switch in pace as the one working her marehood began to convulse. “Yes,” she managed to choke, hips thrusting slightly. She could still benefit. “P-please.”

It was to her incredible dismay that the tentacle pulled out of her early. Instead of unloading inside her like she had so dearly wished for, it hovered just over her and used her as an easel. The strongest first shot slapped her square in the muzzle like a cup of sun-melted icecream hurled from a racing wagon. She had enough wits about her to close her eyes, but that didn’t keep the thick seed from matting on her brow and muzzle.

She wanted to curse and scream and kick at it for not finishing inside her, for denying her the pleasure that she so greatly deserved after the thorough rutting it had given her.

The tentacle painted her chest and distended belly with four more powerful bursts, and squired the last two bursts over her swollen cunt. Vinyl was left gasping, pleading for its re-entry. To go through so much, then be denied of a happy ending was comparable to physical torture; it was physical torture.

The tentacle slunk away, and with the one that had recently been in her mouth, disappeared into the dark nothing beyond.

Vinyl moaned quietly. There was still one inside her—the first one. The small tentacle held her around the middle, binding her forelegs while the large one held her, rutting her deep, cramming its thick head to the very end of her insides as it used its immense strength to bounce her up and down on its head.

She hadn’t even known it had been at bursting point until the first, hot bulge stretched past her sore opening and burst out inside her. The sensation of it filling her had been one thing, now, buried deep inside her body cavity and adding its warmth...

She screamed at the flood of heat deep within her body, spreading and filling her, stretching her further. She flailed her hind legs exhaustively as wave after wave of confusing pleasure swept her body, hiding from her the pain for the second’s being and turning everything around her to a colorful blur.

Making sure to get every last drop inside her, the tentacle turned her over and held her upside down. Vinyl was able to look up her cumsoaked body at the thick appendage snaking between her legs, swollen lump after swollen lump surging into her body. She felt like a water balloon, overfilled and about to pop, and was a little worried at the thought. How much would she take before something did rupture.

Finally, after an eternity of hot swelling, it seemed to be over. The cruel tentacle wrapped itself around her hind leg, then pulled out of her with a wet pop.

The flow of seed that drained from her, despite the fact that she was upside down, was not something she had ever expected to see leaving her body. The hot liquid ran down both her belly and her back, dripping off to Celestia knows where.

Like a stallion finished with a drunk party mare, it withdrew, and was gone a second later, leaving the smaller one alone with Vinyl.

With care she had not expected the small appendage to show, it lowered her to the pseudo ground and set her down on her back.

She groaned. Her throat convulsed and she let out a long burp that dissolved the sick feeling in her stomach immensely.

The little tentacle poked her in the ribs as it unwound from her middle.

“No,” she said dejectedly, batting it away. “Go away.”

It prodded her again.

Vinyl rolled onto her side and curled into a ball. “Noooo,” she whined. “I’m done. It feels like somepony put me through a taffy puller and pumped me full of goo.” She ignored the prod it gave her further back. “I’m done.”

The feeling was new to her. There was pain for sure, but below that was satisfaction, a tired, satisfied feeling in her gut that seemed to say...

Maybe it was worth it.

Vinyl gagged, almost sure she would vomit.

Maybe.

She hugged herself. “Wow, Vinyl... you’re more screwed up than you thought.” Her vision blurred and a weightless feeling overtook her. The discomfort and diluted afterglow began to fade away like water drained from a dam, and somehow, she seemed to be deflating.

She moaned and shifted from where she lie on her side, curled into a ball. The carpet scratched at her face and tickled her ear as her head slid across it. She moaned again into the carpet, eyes flicking open in the darkness.

A yawn overtook her. “That... that was a weird dr—” She exploded to her hooves in a frantic, throwing swings at invisible attackers. “Get back! Away!” She fell to all fours, panting. “Wha?” Her glasses fell to the floor, knocked askew in her episode.

Her heart pounded like a drum, beating in her ears, and her breath came in short gasps. She shot over to the doorway, looking for the light switch, but something caught her neck. She snarled and snapped at whatever it was around her neck and pulled. There was a snap somewhere from across the room and her head shot around to face it. “Who’s—” Something jabbed her in the eye. “Ouch!” She reared back and swung her hooves at the enemy.

Vinyl stumbled backwards and fell against the wall, head smacking the light switch in the process.

The comforting view of the studio came into focus. Her chair had been toppled and dozens of trinkets had been thrown to the floor. And there, on the soundboard, was a dusty old book, opened to a specific page.

Vinyl picked herself up from the floor, one eye closed to the sting. Her headphones hung around her neck, the quarter-inch plug lying on the floor beside her at the end of the coiled cable.

It had been a dream. The worst part was that she remembered everything, right down to the most minuscule detail.

She hurt, she hurt like it had really happened. Just to be absolutely sure, she ran a hoof over her coat, smelled it. Apart from sweat, she was clean.

It had been a dream, but not really. It had been too real for a dream, had felt too real to simply be a dream. No, it had been as real as real gets without physically experiencing it. In a way, it had been real, played out by her own mind. For Celestia’s sake, every orifice she had hurt like she had just received the pounding of her life.

“Too real.” She huffed and lumbered on sore haunches over to the upturned chair, returning it to vertical. She flopped down. “You are one mentally screwed pony, Vinyl. You just raped yourself in a dream...” She laughed and gave the book on the soundboard a look. “I wonder if it says anything about therapy sessions.” Another laugh. “Wow.” Her eyes rolled around the room in a drunken stupor. “I think I might be in shock.”

It was gone though, the lust. Though she was sure she would never want to see anything other than her tail between her legs for a long time to come.

Her nose wrinkled as she caught an unmistakable whiff of sex. Glaring confusedly, she looked down and spread her legs.

“Did I get off...” She looked down. The electric blue shag carpet shone in the tungsten lamp overhead, and there, on the floor before the soundboard, was a pony-shaped damp spot, and right where the crotch would be was a slightly darker patch.

Vinyl giggled. “I just had an orgasm in my sleep.” She threw the book aside and flopped down on the soundboard, eyes drooping.

“When I wake up, I’m gonna burn that page in the book.”

Fully exhausted, she closed her eyes and let out a long breath. A good nap before her gig would do her good.

The intercom to the left of the soundboard buzzed loudly. “Miss Vinyl Scratch?” a timid mare asked.

Moaning, face pressed into the soundboard and the various knobs, she spared a hoof to key the receiver. “What?” she groused.

“Your gig starts in twenty minutes. You should have left an hour ago.”

She slipped out of the chair and flopped over on the floor. The cheap floor of the studio shook as she bounced off the carpet. “Damn book.” Vinyl was sure she had never felt this opposite of horny in her life. At the time being, she would have been perfectly happy to be a virgin again.

“Miss Vinyl Scratch?” the mare asked. “A-are you okay? I heard a noise.”

Vinyl moaned something incomprehensible into the shag carpeting and curled her forehooves close. “Reschedule.”

Now was the time to sleep. Later she was going to try to learn how to go back to normal sex.

A final thought struck her as she drifted off.

Just in case, I’ll keep the book.

Author's Note

I'd like to give a thanks to Jexxazraz for helping me out with some content here and there.

So, yeah, this story... I wanted to challenge myself, and I wanted to write something different. I figured, tentacle why the fuck not?