Sephalla, My Nightmare, Ch. 6

 

Chapter 6: A Real Blowjob

 

I wait for Seph on the curb outside the school gates.

It’s a good thing she’s quite intimidating, because I was sure that her teacher – he’d come back to make sure everything had been cleared up after the kickboxing lesson – was going to add to my perpetual detentions. Losing my second break is bad enough without losing an hour after school as well.

It’s not like we did anything that bad, either. Just…just a little bit of messing around. Teens being teens. He just overreacted, and…

…did Sephalla really agree to be my girlfriend?

It’s genuinely difficult to make sense of the fact that, if my brain hasn’t gone all hazy and strange, I am now the significant other of an eight-foot-six demonic-horse monster girl with the biggest tits I’ve ever seen and the fattest dick I can possibly imagine. An eight-foot-six demonic-horse monster girl with a gorgeous gothic style and incredible curves and a body that just doesn’t quit.

For all of her meanness and general hostility to me to boil down, ultimately, to an apparent crush on me of all people is…somewhat insane? I just don’t understand anything about this situation. At least when it seemed as though Seph’s main interest in me was to hurt me or, for that brief and scary period, to rape me, things did make sense. I could at least, can at least, vaguely understand that, awful as her behaviour was.

But half an hour ago, she gave me a titwank. She took my penis, put it between her breasts, and made me cum buckets. And yeah, sure, I was meant to return the favour, to suck her off, but that got delayed. I will absolutely do it, the moment we have some privacy.

And I know that she said tomorrow, I know that this is probably a little bit eager, but–

‘Are you really waiting on me, loser?’ Sephalla says, all sultriness and black treacle. An amazing voice. I’d have it on repeat if I could. At once feminine, womanly, without being the least bit soft. ‘I said tomorrow, Jake. To-mor-row. I know the weird language-magic thing is confusing, but am I just using the wrong fucking words?’

Yet as sweetly as her mockery cuts at me, the statuesque nightmare stands by the school gates all the same, smirking as she stares at me. That fiery gaze, a pair of coal-seam fires in the beautiful geometry of her elongate horse-like face, carries nothing but affection. Unspoken gratitude even, as though I’ve done the right thing without having put any thought into doing so.

Sephalla the Magnificent lives up to her name. Sweat banished, her voluptuously towering body is clad anew in her grungy gothic vibe, all black and metal and chains and visual violence. Her midriff is the first thing I spot, toned abs on display for the world, but it’s difficult to miss her ridiculous R-cup chest or the sheer curvaceous presence of her hips.

I must stare too long – at my girlfriend? – because Seph sticks out her tongue in some show of teasing, silvery stud glistening against the pretty pink.

‘I’ve just…I’ve seen you get the train before, like I do, so–’

‘It’s cool,’ she says, advancing on me. For someone so powerful, so confident – at least with mocking and teasing me – she seems weirdly shy today. Her smell, that background smokiness mixed with a tantalising fruitiness, is a welcome thing. ‘I figured it might be coming on a little bit strong if I asked you to wait.’

I give her thigh – an arm is just a bit out of reach if I want to not look embarrassingly small beside her – a playful punch. ‘You can come on as strong as you like, man. If you meant what you said.’

She rolls her coal-seam eyes, and musses up my hair. ‘I don’t fuck with people like that, Jake. That’d be way too harsh.’ The hand, done with making me look dishevelled, slides down the back of my neck. She strokes me gently, fingers soft and delicate despite their strength. ‘I meant it, okay? You and me, we’re a thing. If you meant it, too. Obviously. Duh.’

Something tells me this is going to be the way of things, at least for a little while. Her approach is, especially given all that I know of her – not, in the grand scheme of things, all too much – particularly cute.

‘Wanna walk?’ I say, pointing along the road. ‘Or are you waiting on one of those blowjob offer-givers?’

Those fingers can, however, leave quite the sting if she so chooses to flick them against the nape of my neck. ‘Very funny, midget. Don’t get cocky now. It’s barely been an hour.’

We smile at each other, the tall and the short. I really like her height. It’s not even something crude, like the fact that it’s impossible to look at her face without getting a nice eyeful of titty in the process. Though that is, of course, a plus.

Sephalla is drop-dead gorgeous, every inch of her. A smouldering-eyed monster girl, a nightmare, a demon-horse, and her height is so fitting. It adds an impressiveness, but an elegance as well. Despite her muscles and her stature, she moves with grace and composure, not a hint of clumsiness or roughness about the way her body works.

I find myself admiring her as we walk beneath the natural archway of trees overhead, the shifting tones of light and dark as the sun appears and disappears highlighting different aspects of her demonically good looks. In the direct sunlight, her velvety blue-black fur is obvious, a coating of the finest follicles. And when we’re in the shade the bright fire of her eyes, the blue brilliance of her mane and tail, beautifully rise to the forefront of my attention.

‘Am I that easy on the eyes?’ she says, noticing my gaze.

I shrug. ‘Is that so weird?’

She makes a lazy, all-encompassing gesture. ‘What do you see, Jake? Behind and ahead?’

Beyond the road itself, there are other walkers. Students like us, paired up, or alone, or roving in packs of friends. And of the pairings some are humans with humans, others monsters with monsters, and yet others still humans with monsters. I ready myself to speak, to admit that I don’t understand, or that I don’t see whatever it is she wants me to be aware of, but then the realisation hits.

Monstergirls like Sephalla? They’re either alone, with groups of friends, or paired up with monster boys or monster girls. That can’t be right so I squint, so I go so far as to stop and stare, but it just layers on the proof.

Human boys don’t go for monstergirls like Sephalla.

They go for elf girls, or lamias, or even – though only a few – centaur girls. Monsters that are, in so many ways, more like humans than not. Monsters that the lady portion could, if you stripped away the monster part, pass wholly for human. As opposed to say, echidna girls, or spider girls, or horse-girls, wolf-girls…I could go on.

Because if you strip away Sephalla’s monstrous qualities, she’s not a full person. Her muzzled face, her fire hair, her horns and horse-cock? Without those, you wouldn’t have a normal person left. Just a faceless, genital-less, incomplete body.

‘I think you’re prettier,’ I say, giving her thigh a pat. ‘Prettier and cooler. Flame-hair and a horse-dick? Other people are just squares. Elf-girls? Pfft. That’s boring, man.’

She laughs, but it’s not a sound she gives herself fully over to. I glance up and find her wary, almost anxious-seeming. As if the floor’s going to give out beneath her, any moment now. As if we’re – an hour in – are just waiting for the meagre foundation to cave.

Any. Moment. Now.

‘Humans are squares,’ she says, crossing her arms over her breasts. ‘You’re all so hung up on the little things that even when your normality is shattered, the most you’ll do is pick partners that look just a little bit different.’ There’s an upset to her tone which rises and then sharply falls as she reaches the end of her sentence. ‘I just…I don’t know.’

‘I didn’t pick an elf,’ I say.

Sephalla sighs. ‘Because one didn’t choose you?’

I stop, and she keeps going. ‘I love that you’re a horse-demon, dude. I think it’s cool, I think it’s a little bit crazy, and I think it’s hot as fuck.’ My eyes fall upon her flame tail. ‘No pun intended.’

Seph pauses mid-stride. Blessedly, people keep their distance from her, so our stopping and starting doesn’t result in the awkwardness of letting others go past. The towering nightmare gives me a hooded look, her lips a neutral line.

‘But why?’

I can only shrug as I catch up to her. ‘Why do you wear gothic stuff?’

She starts moving again, so we walk side-by-side. ‘You must think you’re real smart, midget.’ A lock of blue fire falls over her eyes so she blows it aside, unimpressed with the timing. ‘I don’t know. Happy now? I can tell you what bits I like – the colour, the style – but I can’t tell you why I like those.’

‘Then isn’t it okay that I don’t know, either? Isn’t it enough that I do like you?’

Seph stays silent and then, gingerly, delicately, runs her hand down my spine. It puts hairs on end, makes me shiver, so sweet is her touch. ‘I just…I don’t want you pretending for my sake.’

‘For your sake? What the fuck? Where’d that idea come from?’

‘I don’t know,’ she says, turning her long face up and away from me. ‘This just feels too easy, Jake. After the way I treated you, I don’t deserve this.’

There’s something in her voice I don’t like. Fear, maybe? I’m sure on some level she’s just venting, but on another, Sephalla is a lot more ruled by her insecurities than I’d expect, and that’s troublesome. If she believes this is doomed, then nothing I can do will matter. Our beliefs are, in a sense, our world.

‘Just don’t run off before I repay you for that titwank,’ I say, trying to be funny, trying to add humour. ‘I’m still really looking forward to sucking your dick.’

I step past her, uncertain of myself. Wanting to say the right words and yet knowing, somehow, that this is her thing and not something I can really affect. But as the road begins to curve, and the pavement goes with it, Sephalla barges me off into the undergrowth.

There’s a steep hill – I doubt she was paying much attention – and I begin to stumble. My shoes are trash for grip, let alone when the fall surprises me like this. And it’s just my luck that this particular gradient lacks for vines to wrap my hands around, where on both sides, sadly out of reach, the slope has plenty.

I let out a quick, ‘Fuck!’ as I begin to tumble. Head over heels. My life flashes before my eyes.

But Sephalla is fast. Fast doesn’t even cut it. Fast is like a sprinter, or even a supercar. This is smoke and thunder, this is a demon, a thing that is more magic than it is biology. And the nightmare girl gently scoops me up into her arms, cupping me against her chest in such a way as to completely distort any built-up momentum.

So when she sits down at the base of the slope, holding me close, there’s not even a wobble or shudder. No whiplash, no sudden shock.

‘Seph…’

‘I genuinely didn’t see the hill, fuck.’ She smiles, naughty but nice. Her cheeks have a blush to them, a pretty variation to her colour. ‘I just wanted a moment’s privacy. Sorry.’

Squashed as I am against her magnificent breasts, shrouded in the heat of her body, and unharmed despite the momentary panic, I can hardly be annoyed. Though she is acting with an annoying degree of strangeness right now.

‘Is this going to be okay, or what?’ I say, resting my head atop her tits. They make for an exceptional pair of pillows, though just one will do, given that each breast is larger than my head. ‘I can’t have you ruminating like this over what other people are doing or what’s gone on between us, man. I can forgive all of your shit, but please, maybe, just chill until I do something worthy of worrying about?’

‘Yeah,’ she says, hanging her head. ‘Okay.’

I reach up and throw my arms around her neck. Her velvet fur is silk against my face, stinking wonderfully of her. ‘I’m not being mean, dude. I just want to be with you.’

Seph nuzzles my head, sniffs my hair. ‘I’m sorry. I’ve been stupid. I just…it feels too good to be true, y’know?’

I chuckle. ‘Feels that way to me, too.’

She strokes my back, embraces me. ‘Do you…do you really want to suck me off?’

The thought makes my cock start to stiffen. ‘Yes. Badly.’

‘Why? It’s a horse-dick.’

‘A demon horse-dick.’

Seph giggles. ‘Yeah, I suppose it is. I’ve got a demon horse-pussy, too.’

‘I kinda hoped you did.’

With her effortless strength, it’s no matter for the statuesque nightmare to push me out of my embrace and get our faces aligned, that her coal-seam eyes gaze with fluttering longing into my own.

‘You actually like it, don’t you? That I’m nothing like you.’ She laughs, suddenly all light and cheery, all darkness banished. ‘Holy shit.’

‘What?’

‘You’re biting your fucking lip, you sexy little loser.’

I go for a kiss, throw myself at her. The demon allows it to happen, does one better in fact. Our mouths meet, her thick slippery tongue plunging straight past my lips to meet mine, warm metal stud gliding against the insides of my cheeks, across my tastebuds. Her smoky spit is sweet, makes my tongue tingle.

‘Mhm.’

And Sephalla strokes my body, appreciates it with the slow movements of her hands. She feels out my mere human frame with dextrous affection, such deliberate yet careful strength in the way she plies my hips and the small of my back, fondles my backside and brushes my chest.

When she pulls back just a little, beautiful nostrils flaring at the tip of that interesting muzzled face, the demon-horse smirks. A sticky look, lust and faint embarrassment both, her black glossy lips all the shinier for our kissing.

‘I don’t want to do it here,’ she says, sweet as can be. ‘But how about you come home with me, tonight? If you…if you really want to blow me, we can take all the time we need back at my dad’s house.’

The thought of being in pure privacy with my demonic girlfriend and her devilish dick is enough to make my cock ache, but I must admit, the idea of being in the home of someone who fathered a child as effortlessly mean as Sephalla can be, is a particularly scary one.

‘Will your dad care?’

‘Dad’s a babe, don’t worry about him.’ Seph smirks. ‘Genuinely, gentlest fucking guy. Taller than me and absolutely shit-scary when I need him to be, but no, he won’t care. He’ll probably like you, anyway. He’s got this obsession with us just, well, fitting in.’

‘You’re sure?’

‘Now look who’s all worried,’ she says, stroking my back. ‘I’m sure. He’s a fucking geeky arcano-scientist, man. Not a scary bitch like me.’

‘All right.’ I nod, fear only slightly shelved. Unless Seph’s mean streak came from her mother? ‘But on one condition.’

‘Shoot.’

‘I want a piggyback,’ I say. She snorts. ‘I’m serious. You’re big and strong, why should I walk?’

‘I’m not that kind of horse, you demanding midget!’

‘Guess I’ll just sit here and not slobber over a tasty length of nightmare cock.’ I pull a face, and shrug nonchalantly. ‘That’s a shame, because I was really feeling like gulping down a big hot healthy helping of–’

Sephalla’s glare strengthens to the point that her eyes seem to catch fire.

Well, shit.

 

The houses of monster-folk like nightmares, given that they’re almost twice the size of humans, are somewhat upsized.

It was something of a boon for the economy, getting all these new developments built, especially with the help of the various supernatural space-saving tricks that the demons – the closest thing to capitalists among the people of Wildenarth – brought to bear.

So while at a distance Sephalla’s home looks pretty normal, and even up close has this slight suggestion that the perspective is maybe not quite right, at the very moment she drops me off her back – having agreed to a piggy-back from the station to her house – and leads me inside, the whole thing seems to double in stature. It’s momentarily disorientating, but the nightmare must do something, applying a spark of devilish magic with a flick of a finger, because as quickly as the confusion arrived it goes away.

‘Woah.’

‘I’d say you get used to it, but it’s a demon thing,’ Seph says. ‘Take off your shoes and follow me.’

There is, thankfully, no sign of her father. I catch a glimpse, in some father-daughter family photo, of the man himself. At the very least, Sephalla’s style seems to come from the guy. He has a heavy-metal look about him, eyebrow piercings, a jacket that I’d think to be leather if only that didn’t have fairly uncomfortable implications given the anthropomorphic peoples of the monster-folk homeworld. But he is, as she is, a towering demon-horse with horns and living blue-flame hair.

Sephalla’s room is on the second floor, and I’d look out of the windows but their sills begin just above my head. Everything in her bedroom is upsized, to the extent that I feel vaguely like what I imagine a dwarf must, in a world that just isn’t built for people like me.

I’d think there are perks to being bigger, and thus having bigger things. More bed space! A larger TV! More room generally! But then it also dawns, delayed, chasing rapidly after my momentary foolishness, that because she’s larger all that seems impressive to me must be simply normal-sized from her perspective.

The nightmare girl plants herself down atop a beanbag chair in the corner opposite her bed, squishing it around a bit with hip and hand movements to get it as low to the ground as possible. The result is sufficient that she’s closer to my height, though obviously quite a bit longer.

‘How’d you wanna do this?’ Seph says, giving me a lusty look. Her parted legs, leading into that pair of cut-down jeans, bring my attention her crotch. The bulge is less than I’d expect, given what I know of her vastness. ‘Like we can be all cutsy first, if you want? Or cutsy after? Or suck and go or–’

‘Why would I just go?’

That ever-well-timed lock of emo-styled blue fire comes dangling across her vision, and she snarls briefly before blowing it aside. ‘I just…I’m not exactly great at hosting people, dude.’

Her room is as dark and punk-gothic as she is. All metal band posters and records, only a few human, most of them on the heavier side of things. A whole bookcase full of comic books though, a lot of them familiar, and a much larger cabinet dedicated to video games. Violent ones, naturally, and plenty of horror titles. The blue-black colour scheme of the room, including her sheets – comfort in familiarity? – only adds to the look.

‘You’re not hosting me, Seph. I’m your boyfriend. We can do it in whichever order you prefer.’

She smirks at me, black lips especially beautiful when shaped by lusty humour. ‘Kinda in the mood for blowing a load, to be honest. If you don’t mind.’

‘I don’t mind,’ I say, nerves hitting the last word. Now that it’s happening, now that I’m here, it’s not in the least that I don’t want this…but Sephalla is huge, in a lot of ways. ‘Um. How should we? Should I…?’

‘You’re cute when you’re flustered,’ Seph says, undoing her belt. ‘Times like this I wish I were one of the fancier demons, y’know?’

‘What?’

She throws the belt aside, and pulls down her fly. ‘Succubae can do some cool things with clothing, that’s all. Nightmares are warrior demons, so we’re only good at making weapons disappear, and even then, only inside of our enemies.’

I get that she’s being silly, but I can’t imagine any situation where facing down an eight-and-a-half feet tall demon-horse with a mane of living fire would be anything short of terrifying. At least this nightmare is…mine?

‘Please don’t try that on me?’

Sephalla snorts, pretty black nostrils flaring. Horse-like, yet very cute. ‘The only thing I’m going to disappear in you, Jakey, is this.’

But when she pushes down her shorts, the result is – I can only imagine – less impressive than I believe she was going for. To the extent that the nightmare girl blushes, quite profusely.

‘Kinda...kinda probably should’ve started with the cutsy stuff to get me going?’

I scratch my head. ‘Uh. It makes sense that you have a sheath, though?’

And she does. A black, faintly glossy, leathery sheath, which sits below a pretty blue-flame mound that laps at the air, and protrudes above a sextet of enormous testicles that would be impressive regardless of the circumstances but, here and now, seem more mundane when dangling there without her monstrous erection leading the show.

‘I’m definitely curious about it all, though,’ I say, stepping closer. Sephalla chews on her lower lip, suddenly shy. ‘What?’

‘Just…nothing.’

‘Please?’

She wets her lips, exhales sharply. The nightmare, the flame-maned demoness, just short of four feet taller than me and surely several hundred pounds heavier in pure infernal muscle let alone the weight of all her jiggly bits, glances towards the window. I follow her gaze but find nothing, because it’s not so much something she’s seen as…not seeing me.

Her blush is particularly bright among the blackish-blue of her face.

‘I can’t believe this is real,’ she says. ‘Like after fancying you for ages and now you’re…you’re actually going to blow me?’

Now it’s me chewing my lips. I nod, cheeks feeling hot. ‘Yeah, Seph. And I’ll swallow.’

The tip of her dick makes an appearance. There’s motion below, sheath parting as the vaguely blunt head of the indigo-coloured demonic equid length pokes through. Well, at least we share something of a fetish, right?

‘Why me?’

‘Because you’re hot as hell,’ I say, going to her. I stroke her knees, dragging my hands up her thighs as I descend between them. Sat as she is, she might be the closest we’ll get to ideal blowjob height, given our mismatched sizes. ‘Honestly if you were nice to me in the first place this would’ve probably happened way earlier.’

She growls softly, but I don’t think it’s aimed at me. ‘Typical.’

‘What do you expect?’

She smiles at me, gaze a little fluttery. ‘Not this.’

As my hands run down the insides of her thighs, as I get comfortable on my knees, the nightmare bucks slightly. Several more inches of dick – half of it so far being flared horse-helmet alone – slip out of her sheath. Even like this, a fraction of her erect length, she must be bigger than me. Eight inches? Nine?

‘You were…a bit turned on way back when you flashed me, weren’t you?’ I say, and she awkwardly nods. ‘Dude, you’re way cute.’

‘Fuck you,’ Sephs says, all breathy and husky. God, I love her voice. ‘Are you…will you really swallow?’

I roll my eyes. ‘Why wouldn’t I be?’

‘You really did like how I tasted, didn’t you?’ She giggles, chuckles. ‘Fucking your face was a good idea, huh?’

I flick the tip of her dick, and she grits her teeth. ‘You’re lucky I like you, or that’d be a pretty nasty joke.’

‘Just…touch it, will you?’

‘Happily.’

Sephalla sucks in breath as I take hold of her growing lance, gently stroking it to ease it out of its interesting holding pouch. She’s wrong, in a sense. Nightmares do have a pretty magical way of hiding things, though the thing in question is their cocks. Who’d have thunk it?

‘It was–mhm–way hot filling your tummy with my sperm,’ she says, lip-chewing anew. ‘You really did look pregnant.’

‘I’m sure I will after this, too.’ God, every hint, every suggestion that this is going the way she likes, provokes a burst of engorging that even my hand movements fail to achieve. ‘Do you have a cum fetish, Seph?’

She gazes at me through hooded eyes, coal-seams ever beautiful. ‘Maybe.’

And, heart-fluttering, cock tickling at my underwear, I can’t help but wonder. ‘Does…does that go both ways?’

The nightmare glances away again, but subtly nods. ‘Y-eah.’

‘You want to swallow my loads, too?’

Sephalla the Magnificent, towering inferno of demon-horse gorgeousness that she is, glares at me. ‘No room for subtlety today, huh?’

‘Pretty simple question, donkey dick.’ I give her another helmet flick, but this one provokes an expansion. She grits her teeth as her cock practically doubles in size. Holy shit, it’s massive. ‘Woah.’

‘Yes, Jake, I want to eat your little human sperms,’ she says, utterly deadpan. ‘Happy? Couldn’t we have made that more organic?’

But it’s hard to focus on anything except the virile slab of dark violet demonic horse-meat that juts up so fiercely I have to lean back on my calves or else have the thing likely impale my face. Which, of course, it will, but not just yet.

‘H-ow b-ig are y-ou?’

Confidence returning, the nightmare widens her gait. ‘About three feet, give or take. Much bigger than you, obviously.’

I lick my lips. The smell of it, this bestial smoky tang, has me awash with dirty thoughts. It’s a carnal odour, a dick odour, but it’s not a human one. This fat length of infernal horse cock, with its huge flared tip, is something that stirs deep-seated lusts within my soul. I’d think it hypnotic, if not for the fact that my first encounter with Sephalla and her mighty member was not something I can look fondly upon.

Not like I can now look fondly upon her broad semi-flat glans, with its thick surrounding band of tissue and that ring of backwards-facing blunt nubs like the points of a crown orbiting the main face of the large helmet.

‘I’m really glad you like it,’ Seph says, softer and sweeter. Her words bring me out of my trance, and rather than fierce and fiery, there’s something demure about her, something gentle. ‘I’ll never fuck your face again, okay? But…I’m glad that didn’t ruin things.’

I lean closer, until my breath against her sensitive tip provokes a shiver through her throbbing length. ‘Me too.’

Yet as near as I am, as real as this is, I’m hesitant. That strange hesitation, that desire – at this point a need – to do this thing and yet, at the same time, being wary of it. Sephalla’s magnificence is potent and mighty, yet my first encounter with the act of giving a blowjob was, well…a little more like being force-fed dick than actually sucking one. And my second, while cut unduly short, didn’t involve me being the centrepiece of the act.

‘You don’t have to,’ Seph says. ‘It’d be nice, but it’s not necessary.’

I shake my head. ‘I’m just…I’ve never done this before, man.’

She looks momentarily awkward, but makes no remark on the truth or falseness of that statement. ‘It’s like a big lollipop, Jake. And failing that, you’ve watched porn, right?’

‘Duh.’

Seph rolls her coal-seam eyes at me. ‘Just think what you’d like done to yours, maybe? It’s not that complicated. If anything, mine’s just easier. And it’s not like you can hurt me. Use teeth, use whatever, so long as this is what you want.’

That seems reasonable, right? And I guess that, having a cock myself, it’s a simple enough matter to treat this an, I don’t, build-your-own-blowjob? Just because Sephalla has a demonic horse dick doesn’t mean it’s something to overthink.

I…kiss it. A peck, gracefully given to the flared almost-blunt crown, with its bulging cleft of incredibly smooth indigo flesh. Her body is hot, fire-hot, yet doesn’t burn. A welcome, enveloping warmth that makes my lips tingle.

The sound of my licking, sloppy and eager, comes back at me quicker than the realisation of what I’m doing. Seph sucks in a flustered breath, and her powerful penis releases a thick splatter of salty-sticky precum, painting my adoring tastebuds.

‘Mhm.’

She tastes incredible. The stuff coats my tongue, lubes up my mouth, makes the act of lapping and licking her fat glans all the nicer. Such body heat, such firm and silky dark violet flesh, big and bulky, pulsating with thick veins where I hold it steady with my hands.

And when I meet the nightmare’s coal-seam eyes, I can’t picture any other face wearing a look so appreciative, from either the annals of memory or the capacity of my imagination.

‘Aah. J-ake…’

Her sweet moans, more girly than I’ve elicited from her before, are music to my ears. They urge me on, to kiss and suckle at the stellated crown-like ring that surrounds her flared tip, to dig my tongue into that precum-oozing little hole, tasting the stuff where it’s richest and stickiest.

‘Ughn. Shit, dude.’

‘Mhm. Schlup. Slurp.’

‘You’re…pretty good. Really good.’

Shy as I can be around her, it fills me with comfort to hear her say it. ‘It’s easy doing this for you,’ I say, quickly lapping at the stellated crown. ‘I want to make you happy, man.’

Her eyes are alight – truly searing, vigorous in their flame – as I smooch the side of her glans, pressing my lips against the fat veins and following them back and forth, wetting her length with spit as I go down towards the base. Sephalla has no retort, no teasing remark to stab into the side of my sweetness.

‘I’ll do this for you whenever, okay?’ I say, pressing my left hand into the interesting fire pubes of her pubic mound, the blue flame ticklish yet harmless. ‘You’re fucking sexy as hell, Seph. You deserve some loving.’

‘Dude,’ she says, quickly crossing her arms, making her already ridiculous tits all the crazier in their bulkiness. And I’ve never seen her so fucking red, holy shit. I don’t even know how it works, given that she’s got fine velvet fur atop her actual skin, but still! ‘Come on, Jake. I feel silly.’

I give her dick a kiss, and she trembles. ‘Why?’

‘Because…’ She trails off, sighs. ‘You’re just what I want. Just like this.’

‘Good,’ I say. ‘Because you’re what I want, as well.’

I’m no spellcaster. Not one of those rare humans that takes readily to the ways of these interesting otherworlders. But I can keep Sephalla the Magnificent, glorious nightmare that she is, utterly transfixed.

Kissing and smooching and licking, I reach the base of her cock. I rub my face against it, feeling its heat and throb, all the while smiling up at her past those immense tits that are just fucking perfect. Gingerly, Seph reaches for my face and summons up some shy courage to cup it, to stroke my lips with a thumb.

‘I am going to suck your fucking soul out afterwards,’ she says. ‘Like not even joking.’

‘With eye contact, this time?’

She bites her lip, nods enthusiastically. ‘Hell-fucking-yeah. Obviously.’

‘Good.’

Seph watches, wide-eyed, as I drop down between her spread thighs. There’s absolutely no way I’m ever going to fit one of these madly-sized bollocks in my mouth, small melons that each of them happens to be. But that’s not going to stop me smooching and lapping at them, big fat beautiful black orbs that they are.

‘Six,’ I say, suppressing a chuckle. ‘Six.’

‘Dude, you say that like it’s not weird that humans have two.’

I shrug, giving her dick the most minute of strokes. God, I love how it trembles, throbs. ‘No wonder your jizz tastes so good, huh?’

‘You’re actually the best kind of dirty,’ she says, running fingers through my hair. ‘I want you to eat my little demon horse tadpoles so fucking bad, it’s unreal.’

And as I lap at the delicate lustrousness of her hairless – and furless – ball sack, I can’t think of anything hotter. It was such a vigorous urge just earlier today to suck down a bellyful of the beautiful nightmare, and it’s going to happen now. These big liquorice-black balls of hers are going to shoot billions of Sephalla, potential mini-Sephallas, right across my tastebuds.

‘Every–schlup–last–mhm–one,’ I say, between kisses, between licks. I sink my free hand into a thigh, kneading the full plushness of her powerful leg. ‘I don’t–schlap–want to–smooch–share.’

Seph moans sweetly, beanbag crunching as she shifts her mass against it. Her cock throbs and pulses, desperate for release. Her big balls seem to swell and shudder, alight with some fusion of arcane desire and innate primal necessity. That of producing seed, of seeding another body, of feeding her mate her virile pride.

‘J-ake! Mhm.’

She seems to take particular joy in me burying my face into the dangling mass of her heavy hangers. I practically disappear within their rolling-wobbling confines, each huge orb bigger than one of my balled-up fists. Their salty taste, her body’s delicious sweat, is added to by something else. Something almost primeval, hitting on the core of my being.

Animal lusts boil up. To say I want to suck her dick, to say I want to taste her semen, is barely touching on the core of it. As her testicles bounce and dangle against and around my face, swallowing my world, I’m struck with this glorious realisation.

Some people out there just want to submit. Some want to dominate. But with Sephalla, I want both. I want to submit to her, here and now, to service and worship her, to savour the potent cream of her loins, but at the same time I can think of nothing else quite so hot except for that twinned idea of reversing things.

Of having her service and worship me. Of having this deliciously demonic sex-on-legs nightmare existing for my pleasure, just as in this moment I so adore existing for hers.

‘Aah. Ughn.’

Her sweet moans draw me back, inspire me to behold her face. And in those expressive living-flame eyes, such infernal gemstones that offer the truth where her mouth lies to protect her ego, I find something brilliant.

Sephalla the Magnificent is just like me. A different species, an immortal demoness, but as much as there’s dominion to her, there’s submission as well. A twinned drive. A love of both conquering and being conquered.

I lift my head, smiling deeply, and kiss the broad cum-vein that bulges on the underside of her sublime horse-cock. ‘Can you do something for me?’ I say, voice aflutter.

She narrows her eyes. ‘What?’

‘I…don’t want this to be rough, but…I want you to take a bit more control.’

Seph is, all the same, different to me. Her confidences, her insecurities, are spread in other places of her heart and head. And familiarity with what she wants, maybe even needs, is a confidence I envy her for.

Because the nightmare readily takes hold of the back of my skull, elegantly powerful fingers coiling through my hair. ‘Smooch your way up,’ she says, gently yet firmly drawing my face towards the underside of her erection. ‘Worship me, Jake. Worship your dark queen.’

There’s humour there on her lovely anthropoid face, self-reflecting, but it exists in a state of anticipation. As if awaiting some laughter or mockery on my part. But it never comes. I like it. I fucking love it.

‘Mhm. Schlup. Smack.’

She falters a touch. It’s in the eyes, of course. The eyes are her worst enemy, her weakest spot. Where her mouth is firm and commanding, the coal-seam gems faintly flicker, amazed at this, in awe of this, awash in the joys of this.

The hand on my head is divine. To be guided by her, to have her hold me just so, is sheer gloriousness. Urge me, Seph. Gently, but don’t let me escape. Make me please you. Make me do this carnal, subservient thing for you, oh dark queen.

When that strong arm and firm hand bring me to a pause before her flared equid glans, ringed as it is in those stellated nubs, such a beautiful shade of violet, I go cross-eyed. There’s something so enticing about her demonically bestial cockhead. The way it oozes, the way it is so clearly inhuman, nothing like mine. Regal, intimidating, impressive. The stink of it, the musky infernal tang that emanates from its hot contours, provokes a licking of the lips.

‘No more stupid romantic shit,’ Sephalla says. ‘Open wide, and let’s impregnate that slutty belly.’

How can I fucking refuse?

Our eyes are locked, gazes fusing, as Seph urges me forwards. My lips press against the sleek slickness of her helmet and I stretch them as far as they’ll go, her supernatural qualities making the transition seamless. One moment we’re basically kissing, horse-cock to human mouth, and the next her vigorous presence is hot and delicious held tight between my cheeks and lips and upon my instantly-eager tongue.

‘Mumph. Splack.’

‘Such a loser, Seph says. ‘Ughn. As if I can–mhm–get your stomach pregnant.’ As she speaks, dark and seductive, a voluminous spurt of salty-tangy nightmare precum splatters my tongue. ‘Imagine wanting–ugh–me so bad that you’ll do anything to taste my–aah–genes.’

She repositions her hand, from controlling to something like proprietary. Palm above my forehead, fingers across my scalp, slowly massaging. A muted kind of power, a dominance that necessitates a belief that yes, the person sucking your cock is going to do it regardless of whether you make them.

And it turns me on so fucking much.

‘Mumph. Schlup.’

It’s me bobbing my head, and her simply resting her hand. Me drawing back and forth my face to press her bulk against the opening to my throat and glide her beautiful horse helmet back against my lips to lap and lick at it and taste the salty tang of her pre-ejaculate. I stroke my hands up and down her shaft, clenching it rigidly, finding no give or weakness in the steel-solid fiery cock.

‘You’re such a–mhm–lucky boy, Jakey.’

‘Slurp. Mhm-hm.’

‘A little human and a big scary demon,’ Seph says, eyes coursing with excitable flame. ‘If only people could–guh–see you now. Servicing the girl who–aah–bullied you so bad.’ God, it turns me on. Every fucking word. I groan, tremble, and the vibrations please her to the point that she spews an additional helping of precum. ‘Jeez, l-oser. Imagine if they knew w-hy you’re doing–ughn–it. What you’e w-orking for.’

On some carnal instinct I slip my hands down from her lance, taking hold of a big pair of balls, four of the fucking six. I make a little flicker of my eyes, an unspoken word. An acknowledgement that yes, I know.

‘That’s right,’ Seph says, nodding. ‘You want your b-ully’s sperm, you filthy little slut. Ughn. Mhm. Imagine if people knew y-ou weren’t just blowing me, but–aah–doing it to taste my fucking sperm. Fuck, I’m not even human.’

And I fucking love that you aren’t.

‘Mumph. Schlup. Mhm-hm.’

I bob my head forwards, as deep as I can go without actually deepthroating her. The fat helmet glides across my tongue, its little blunt nubs leaving distinct lines in their wake, tickling the soft tissues of my mouth. And when the horse-like glans is jammed at the entrance to my throat, Sephalla shakes her head, prevents my advancing with her firm hand.

‘No, Jake. Not today. I don’t want to–mhm–risk any drop missing your tastebuds. All those little would-be foals have a date with your tongue, loser.’

‘Mhm. Slurp.’

They do, don’t they? She does. Her genes. Her recipe. Her would-be children. Fuck. My cock is sore, scraping at my boxers. Throbbing and twitching, straining to be free. I dig my fingers into her big plump balls, half-imagining that with every squirm and shudder, her seed is fiercely trying to escape.

I want it. I want it so bad. Feed me. Feed me, Sephalla.

‘That’s it, slut,’ she says, as I bring her glans back into the middle of my mouth. ‘Just the tip. Focus on the–guh–head. Stick your fucking–mhm–tongue in the hole, it’ll fucking f-it.’

She’s divine. Demonic. Delicious. Her cum-hole grips down on the tip of my tongue where I drive it inside the head of her cock, my movements provoking a flaring strain of those backwards-facing stellated nubs. A thick slosh of salty-tangy precum streams out, utterly glazing my tastebuds, marking my mouth as her property.

But Sephalla is flagging. She’s chewing her lip fiercely, sharpened canines on display. The demonic horse-girl’s coal-seam eyes yet again show the inner truth. For all her bombast and flair, she’s a – no pun intended - sucker for this. The suction, the tongue-play, the servitude.

And something happens as she hits the very peak of that mountain of lusty joys, as she begins to slip down the other side. And it’s not the heavy wave of savoury-smoky-meaty deliciousness that explodes out from the eyelet of her glans.

Sephalla’s eyes flare. The coal-seams become points of blue-white starlight, and she exhales spigots of flame from her broad black nostrils.

The generously loaded ropes of creamy nightmare seed that spill forth and cover my tastebuds have a flavour about them, a brilliant heat, that makes the world seem to blur and fade. As her sperm bombard my tongue, drench my world with a thick rich demonically-wriggling pungency I’ve experienced but once prior – and back then, nothing quite like this – it feels as though something is changing inside of me.

As if somehow, as well, her sperm are bombarding my soul.

Her viscous foal-gravy bastes my mouth utterly, and something about the flavour sends my cock into overdrive. I’m blowing my own load, cumming like I’ve never cum before, all while gulping down her strong-swimming seed. Sephalla’s head rolls back and she lets out a proud, resplendent sigh. It’s not in any way one-sided. This is incredible.

‘Aah. Shit, J-ake,’ Seph says, moaning sweetly, forcibly. ‘Eat it all. S-wallow me. Get f-at with my–ughn–sperm!’

And I am. I’m starting to get full, gloriously full, of her. The jizz just keeps coming, the stellated nubs of her crown seeming to grip and hold, as if intended solely for this purpose, as if the physiological equivalent of a tent’s pitons, to hold steady and weather any orgasmic storm.

So, so full. Jesus, her thick semen practically wriggles as it comes out, as it goes down. The demonic baby-batter forms ropes and strings from the roof of my mouth to the floor, knots about my teeth, utterly paints my tongue. ‘Mhm-hm.’ I moan around her dick, savouring her flavour, rolling the stuff around even as more arrives, not swallowing until it’s simply impossible to contain any more of the richly delicious meaty cream.

I’m not sure quite how long it goes on for. Time is weird with her, in the throes of gulping down inhuman semen, her demonic would-be foals. But a point does come, eventually, as my eyes are drooping from this blissful sensation of pure fullness, when nothing more comes out of her.

And rather than play-mock or tease Sephalla, my lovely nightmare, picks me up and rests me against her body, my head cushioned by the perfect pillows of her R-cup boobs. She kisses the top of my scalp, whispers sweet appreciation, and pats my bulging gut, gently squeezing it.

‘All me,’ she says, pleasured confidence, sultry smugness. ‘So full of me.’

I lick my lips, her rich taste inescapable even now. It’s like it’s infused into the lining of my mouth, some beautifully burned-in sensory memory. I am so full of her. Completely packed with her.

‘Y-eah,’ I just about manage to say. ‘T-hank you.’

The nightmare nuzzles my head, kisses my ear. ‘You’re welcome, you sexy little thing.’ She chuckles, kisses again. ‘I belong inside of you, Jake. And I’m pretty sure you belong inside of me, as well…’

Sephalla trails off, but in my haze I’m not sure what to think of it, to think of anything beyond the warming comfortable fullness.

‘Though I suppose,’ she says, ‘you can do something to me that I can’t do to–’

She stops, mid-sentence, and kisses my head. I manage a sleepy, ‘Wuh?’

‘Forget it. Just relax.’ Sephalla puts one arm around my collar, and slowly kneads my cum-bloated belly. ‘You’re right where you belong.’

It sure fucking feels like it.