Sephalla, My Nightmare, Ch. 8

 

Chapter 8: Public Displays of Affection

 

It’s a little weird, walking beside Seph. Going into school with her, all eyes on us. Not because I’m ashamed to be seen with her, nor because of any reluctance to be so public about things between us, but just because of how dreamlike it feels.

‘We got English together at second period, right?’ she says, coming to a halt at the central clearing around which all of the main buildings orbit. I’ll never tire of her voice, effortlessly sultry, feminine yet possessing of a gravelly intonation. ‘Guess I’ll see you then?’

Sephalla looks momentarily awkward, unsure of what to do. Drop-dead gorgeous as always, with her punk-goth chic, all those dark colours complementing her dark blue fur and that ever-vibrant mane of azure fire. Her cropped jacket is some kind of false leather – leather being a bit of an unpleasant concept in Wildenarth – with metal studs across the shoulders, and a general threatening vibe about it. Beneath the jacket is a perennially tight t-shirt – I don’t think it’s possible to have one that isn’t, given the sheer size of her breasts – that rides up to hint at beautiful belly definition, and those characteristic jeans shorts which bulge at the crotch, the leggings torn off for the sake of style just below her groin.

To look up at her – I always have to, given the massive disparity in our sizes – is mostly to get an eyeful of gigantic titty, of which I’ll doubtless get a faceful later. But then there’s her piercing beauty, anthropomorphic equid pseudo-muzzle, backwards-facing horns and eyes like molten coals. Hair like living azure flame, a “mane” with a mind of its own, contributing that fringe she so often has to knock aside. Full womanly lips, lacquered in metallic black, horse-like snout ending in lustrous darkness. And for all her size and strength, the delicious demoness has a blush to her cheeks. Faint, but I know what to look for.

‘What are you staring at, loser?’

‘I don’t know, some foal-bearing babe from another world?’

Seph rolls her eyes and gently prods my side, strong even with nothing more than the poking of a finger. ‘Easy. It’s my turn to be dominant, remember?’

‘Yeah, yeah.’ I pull on her hand, all the same. ‘Can your good boy get a goodbye kiss, at least?’

The naughty nightmare glances about us, at the wave of students passing along, some of them staring at our curious pairing. A human male, just about average height, and an infernal horse, halfway to nine feet tall. A curious pairing indeed, by size alone.

‘Here, really?’

‘Really. Unless you’re ashamed of being with me?’

Sephalla sighs, rolling those coal fires again. ‘Little guilt tripping midget, jeez.’ She scoops me up with a single hand against my waist, easy as can be, and brings me up to face level to a background chorus of adolescent cooing and jeering. ‘You’re lucky I like you so much, loser.’

Mwah. Smooch.

And with that kiss, all is established. No more hiding, no more masking the connection between us. This gorgeous demoness, my former bully, is now my kinky goth girlfriend. Her lips are sweet and smoky, luscious against my own. Her touch is gentle although, given the changes to my physiology wrought by her delicious demonic dick milk, she can afford to be quite a bit rougher.

‘Happy?’ Sephalla says, an eyebrow raised, as she breaks the kiss. ‘Everyone can talk about us all day, now. That’s what you wanted, I guess?’

‘I just wanted to kiss my favourite person, Mistress.’

Seph’s blush darkens, grows rich upon her cheeks. ‘I fucking love you saying that, but I will pop a boner if you say it again. I don’t mind people realising how ridiculously hung I am, but if you want everyone to be picturing you stuffed like a cream doughnut, you’re going the right way about it. Maybe dial back on the PDAs?’

Smooch. Mwah.

I kiss her lustrous black-lacquered lips and Seph matches the affection, brief yet brilliant. When the touch ends, I nod. Something tells me the boldness is, like much of her ways, something of a mask. She doesn’t really want people seeing her full “endowment.”

‘Anything for you. Not like I plan to share that cock, anyway.’

She exhales, smoke and flame. ‘That doesn’t help. Down you go.’

Sephalla barely resists the urge to push me, the very moment she sets me back on the floor. While being at such height was pleasant, the sense of tallness an interesting change of scenery given just how towering my lovely inferno is, it’s a lot easier to blend in down here. The shift gives me a suggestion of how noticeable Seph must always be, overshadowing pretty much everyone except maybe the minotaurs and dragons.

‘Second period,’ I say, giving her thigh a pat. ‘I love you.’

‘Yeah, yeah. Go be soft elsewhere, loser.’

But the way she passingly grabs my shoulder as we set off in separate directions says perfectly well what she can’t quite manage with her tongue. Not with her tongue’s capacity for language, that is. She can certainly tell me how she feels by using it on other ways, though it’s probably better that I don’t pop a boner of my own in so public an environment.

I do my best not to glance back and watch her as I walk away, and it warms my heart to see that Sephalla, for all her moodiness, does the same. Two idiots, of different breeds, but we’re on the same level where it matters. Only that I smile back, and Seph pretends to be looking elsewhere, quickly averting her gaze from me. Honestly, I kind of love that she does. It makes those moments of actual affection that much sweeter.

When I sit down at tutor time and our lazy elf tutor, Greilan Sayvlir, has us all read while he browses the internet and gorges on Earthling data for the first half an hour of the day, I find myself beset by more than a passing stare. Liz, in particular, can’t seem to hold back.

‘Jake, what are you doing with Sephalla?’ she says. One by one, heads turn my way. The mousy brunette begins to squint, narrowing her gaze as she studies mine. ‘What…what did she do to your eyes?! Is she mind-controlling you?’

‘What? No. She’s my girlfriend, that’s all.’

The resulting chatter would provoke anger from just about any teacher I’ve ever had, but Mr Sayvlir is peak not-giving-a-shit. Liz’s face contorts into a show of concern, distaste, which promptly leads to a quivering lip. But she’s not the one who talks next. That honour goes to Jamie, the kind of moron who initially tried to bully nonhumans for being different until that proved – shock fucking horror – an impossibility given that even if he were six-foot-eight (and he’s barely six foot) a human would still find themselves completely hopeless in raw physicality. It doesn’t help that he’s something of a moron.

‘You’re a species traitor,’ he says, bitterness finding unfavourable ears, but not prompting the kind of outburst it might if I were with an elf, or a lamia, or something. ‘I bet you’re her bottom-bitch, huh?’

Nobody seems to stop his nonsense, and I merely shrug. ‘A bit of both? But it’s not really for me to say. You’re just jealous you can’t pull a girl half the quality of my nightmare.’

Before the idiot manages to speak again, Liz shakes her head. ‘How could you go out with her after what she did, Jake? Sephalla’s a monster.’

Which Jamie naturally approves of, without actually understanding what she means. And what she means is actually completely fair, given what Seph put me through. What she will, in one way or another, spend a great long time making up for. Which I know eats at her, in those darker moments. A mistake that shouldn’t have happened.

‘She’s not so bad,’ I say. ‘She’s just…Seph. But why’s it matter to you, anyway?’

Liz blushes faintly. ‘I didn’t tell a soul how I found you.’ More whispers, more chatter. Today’s going to be the day that a thousand rumours are born, but fuck it. ‘You can do better. Much better.’

‘And I’m glad that you did, but that’s the past. This is different. Sephalla’s been an idiot, but she’s a lot more than that.’ I shake my head, smiling simply. ‘I forgive her. I don’t care what people think of me for that.’

Liz grimaces. ‘I’m going to tell the Headmistress. This needs to be investigated.’

‘What? Why?’

‘Because you’re a filthy species-slut!’ Jamie shouts, to nothing but murmurs.

Mr Sayvlir still doesn’t bother to react.

‘Not that,’ Liz says. ‘She’s controlling you, Jake. What she did…the mess you were in…’

I shrug. ‘If she were controlling me, I doubt she’d do half the things she does, Liz. Given that I know her better than you do, it’s probably best that you don’t assume anything.’

‘And your eyes? That’s proof of some kind of spell, or curse!’

Chatter, chatter, chatter. I sigh. ‘Look, this is going to be a little bit TMI, but the only reason my eyes are like this is because I’ve got a soft spot for the taste of nightmare jism. That’s all.’

Definitely too much information, but fuck if it doesn’t feel liberating to make the comment. To hear the whispers, the budding rumours, to watch as Jamie’s face contorts and sours because as much as a woman and a man, cocks irrelevant, is a straight relationship, that kind of hateful rat simply can’t help but view things through a mistaken homophobic lens as well.

But Liz? Liz just continues to frown. ‘She did something to your head!’

‘Yeah? She put her dick in it. So what? Why can’t I have a relationship with Sephalla without people going off? I love her, that’s that. Deal with it. Fuck.’

I get the vague feeling that Liz is jealous, jealous of Sephalla. And maybe once, the mousy brunette would’ve been appealing, but compared to my nightmare? No way. Everyone else comes a distant last. And fuck, the upset it causes, that it’s public knowledge. The kiss, and now my own – admittedly, a touch haphazard – announcement about the kind of things I’ve been doing with my dickgirl demoness, become the background noise of the day.

Leading to Sephalla prodding me firmly in the ribs when we sit down for English class.

‘You just couldn’t help yourself, could you?’ she says, glaring side-on, nostrils smoking. ‘People keep asking me if I’ve brainwashed you. Two girls and a boy propositioned me for blowjobs because they think your eyes look cool. Gods damn it, Jake.’

But she doesn’t resist when I put a hand over hers, mine vastly smaller, atop the desk. ‘If it bothers you, I’m sorry, but I’m proud of what we are. I’m proud of you. I’m not going to hide it, and if I didn’t say about the eyes, Liz might have a stronger case. Now anyone can look it up, and they’ll know it’s nothing to do with mind-control.’

Thankfully at the back of the room, with our teacher being the old (human) Mrs Watson, our chatter doesn’t reach her ears. Looking forwards, it seems she barely hears the front row.

‘Doesn’t it bother you that people think I’m controlling you, Jake? That the only rational explanation for you and me being a thing is if I warped your head?’

I shrug. ‘Seph, it’s not exactly forgotten that something happened between us. Something that cost me a week of school. And now for us to be together, in public? Let them talk, man. You made a mistake, and I forgive you. It shouldn’t have happened, but it’s paid off like nothing else in my life. You make it up to me each and every day.’

There’s that blush again, creeping in. ‘You mean it? You really don’t care?’

‘I care more that people might be upsetting you,’ I say. ‘So long as you’re okay, I really don’t give a shit what anyone else says of me. At the end of the day, I’m either dicking down or being dicked down by my divine demoness, so I couldn’t give a shit.’

Sephalla kind of relaxes, eyes wary all the same. Not of me, but the others, plenty of whom occasionally peek back at us. As if we’re suddenly going to be rutting like animals, just because we’re seeing one another.

‘Thank you,’ she says, soft and slow. ‘It means a lot to hear that.’

I lean over and kiss her arm, inhaling deeply of sweet sulphur and abundant pseudo-feminine muskiness. God, I don’t know if I want to fuck her, suck her, be fucked by her, or push her onto her knees. It’s impossible to make sense of the wider world, the bigger picture, when Sephalla is simply so effortlessly enchanting.

‘You’re always welcome, Mistress.’

Her gratitude becomes a glare. ‘Jake, I’m not joking. For real, I’ll put a hole in the desk if you tease me like that.’

‘With your cock?’

She rolls her eyes. ‘What else? I’m not going to punch it. Just…save the teasing for later. Please?’

I kiss her again. ‘Of course. For later.’ I almost say the word, but maybe it’s best not to tempt fate. Even though I’m proud of this to the point that, if everyone knows just how huge her horse-cock is, I’d probably just smile all the more smugly.

 

Seph sends me a text, right around the time the bell rings out at the end of the day.

“You know where to find me,” it says, with an attached picture.

A picture of her gloriously gigantic demonic horse-dick.

I go straight over to the PE block, slipping past the leaving students towards the kickboxing room. Locking the door behind me – much to the chagrin of whichever teacher has to do the end of day inspection – I slip through into the equipment room, with all the punching bags and assorted fighting paraphernalia.

‘Did you run, loser?’ the nightmare says, smirking sweetly. ‘Am I that tempting?’

‘You fucking know it, Mistress,’ I say, throwing my bag aside. Standing there, some seductive statue of fantastical fieriness, it’s impossible to do anything but crave her. The sight of Sephalla the Magnificent has me lick my lips. But when I rush to her, eager to drop to my knees, she seizes hold of my shoulders. ‘Seph?’

‘Mistress right now. My turn.’

‘I know, but–’

She puts a finger to my lips, cups my jaw with a herculean hand. ‘I’m not saying I don’t want a blowjob, Jake. I do, ever so badly, but there’s something we’ve not attempted. Something else.’

‘Something else?’

Sephalla gives her cock a wiggle, instantly catching my attention. Fuck, I’ll never tire of the sight of it. A lustrous leathery black sheath with a fat ring from which the intensely infatuating indigo of her shaft proper protrudes, culminating in a fat equid glans with a stellated encircling band, flat and blunt and flared and charmingly shaped almost like a love heart, alluringly animalistic. But a whiff of her manhood, her phenomenal futanari organ, makes my head spin.

‘Be my mare,’ she says, wetting her lips. ‘When I’m in the role of Mistress, you’re my mare. I want to ride you. I want to impale you on my cock.’

I find myself nervously chewing on my lower lip, wary of her size. Wary of how immense she is, thirty-six inches or so of demonic dick, thick as my arm. And sure, I shouldn’t be able to deepthroat her, but I can. But saying that…I’ve got a lot less control over my backside. Tight as it is, intended to push stuff out rather than have something pushed in, the notion of being mounted like a mare is more than a little bit worrisome.

‘It won’t break me?’

Seph strokes my face, smirking salaciously. ‘No, but it’s going to blow your mind. Demons are built for fucking, after all. There’s the real risk that you might just want to be my cumdump for the rest of your days.’

‘You’re joking, right?’

She pulls me in close, her massive member a hot lance that dips down between my legs and rises up against my groin as the naughty nightmare lifts me just enough to press her lips upon mine, bathing me in her blissful body heat and sensual smells. Smooch.

‘Kind of. It’d be boring, wouldn’t it? It’s better this way. Taking turns.’

Mwah. I kiss her back, licking at her sweet lips. ‘I want you inside me. However you like. But I’m going to fuck your butt when we switch, all right?’

Seph nuzzles my brow. ‘Yes, Master,’ she says, all mocking. The baleful beauty winks, the last of her softness melting in favour of force. The towering inferno rises, her fat-headed cock poking at my belly and then pushing up to rest upon my shoulder. ‘I’m not going to cum in your mouth, but you can start by getting things ready. That’s a good little mare.’

And again, I love how tall she is. Eight-and-a-half feet of gorgeous gothic-punk demon-horse, so tall that when she lowers me again I’m eye-level with her washboard abs and girthy foal-bearing hips. It’s difficult not to smirk, gleeful and smug, that she’s mine. A playground of a body, to worship and enjoy as often as I like. Just as mine – with whatever she sees in me – is hers to do the same with.

‘Anything for you, Mistress,’ I say, taking hold of her prick about halfway up. I’ve got to step back, of course, to get its head in my mouth, but I’ll delay that moment. ‘I’m yours to command. Your mare.’

Smooch. Mlep.

I kiss the side of her rod and lick at the wicked width of it, running my tastebuds against the faintly sticky indigo impressiveness of her shaft proper. Salty, smoky, moreish. One taste begets a second, and a third. Mlap. Schlep. Mwah. For all her power and vastness, Sephalla trembles, brings a proprietary hand down atop my head and musses up my hair.

‘Ugh. Yeah, you are. A cum-hungry slave to–mhm–horse dick.’

‘Mhm. Yes, Mistress. Anything for my, um, stallion.’

Oh, she likes that. Nothing spoken, but she chews on her lower lip with those cute fangs, coal flames flaring bright. Unearthly beautiful, when she’s so into it. And fuck, I really love how tall she is. However big Seph’s tits are relative to other nightmare girls I can’t say, but the mountainous melons are exquisitely erotic in that tight t-shirt, cleavage bulging out the top in a fashion that’s surely against school uniform policy.

Mwah. Smooch. Mlap.

God, her dick tastes good. So fucking good. A little sticky, for having lurked in that sheath all day, coated in her oils and juices. Salty and smoky, nose-tingling, heart-racing. With one hand I hold her steady, sending the other down her pole to tease at that pleasing band of sturdy flesh that signals the endpoint of her sheath, sending a shudder through her for its raw sensitivity.

‘You like that sheath, huh? Like that big monster of a cock?’

‘Mhm.’ Smooch. ‘Yes, Mistress. I love your big bad stallion dick.’

Seph can’t manage a laugh, the horniness racing about her head defying any lesser emotion like casual humour. She exhales sharply as I reach for her ever-playful pubes, marvelling at how they warm without burning. The nightmare sucks in a breath, loud and lurid, as I begin steadily fondling her fat testicles, spoilt for choice, sex of the enormous orange-sized orbs dangling there for me to toy with.

‘And your huge heavy balls,’ I say, cupping one, sinking my fingers into its heat and semi-firmness. ‘So full of my stallion.’

‘Ughn.’ Sephalla groans, exhaling smoke and sulphur. ‘The point is to get me ready to mount you, slut. Stop toying about.’

I nod, grinning, put in my place. ‘Yes, Mistress. Anything for you.’

And as I step back, leaving her lovely nuts alone, inching my way up towards her fat equid crown, I take great pleasure in the sizeable sight of her schlong, the frolicking blue fire of her pubes, the way that sextet of gigantic testicles dangles and dances about against the front of her thick thighs.

‘It’s a shame you don’t have hoofs, Mistress,’ I say idly, smooching and licking away. ‘I kind of…kind of like the animal-demon vibe.’

She chuckles, blushes. ‘Yeah? I could have them. It’s more for fashion.’ Seph taps a foot, drawing my gaze to her big gothic knee-high boots. ‘They don’t make this style for anything but humanoid feet. Besides…you know how I feel.’

‘I do.’ I kiss the stellated ring, sending a low tremble down her dick. ‘I love you as you are, Mistress. My sexy stallion.’

‘Easy,’ Sephalla says, cheeks aglow now. ‘I don’t want to blow in your mouth, dude. That bum is mine.’

I lick my lips, nodding up at her as I angle the front of her phallus towards my mouth. A beautiful tip for a beautiful organ, monstrous and magical, horse-like yet demonic at once. Her thick cum-vein culminates in a little protruding orifice, nestled at the centre of three faintly puffy lustrous segments within that stellated ring, the whole thing vaguely shaped like a love heart. Already leaking, I can’t resist the urge to taste her juices.

‘Ooh. Fuck. You’re such a–ugh–slut, Jake.’

‘Mhm. Mumph.’

Mlep. Schlup.

I press my tongue against the cute little opening, getting a basting of salty-smokiness, virile and divine. But it’s impossible to hold back. Keeping my tip nestled against her cum-hole, I lean forwards and engulf her equid helmet with my hungry lips, resulting in a healthy helping of that oily delicious dick juice as the sheer heat and hugeness of her glans stuffs my mouth, effortlessly asserting itself.

‘Aah. Good mare. Take care you of your–ugh–stallion.’

‘Mhm-hm.’

Schlack. Schlurp.

Sephalla plays with my hair as I steadily bob my head, a little forward and a little back, feeling out the carnal contours of her futanari flare with my tongue. Her member is so fat and silken, throbbing ferociously, oozing such deliciousness. I glance up at her, finding dominance, finding control, despite her enjoyment. Fuck, taking turns at this is good. To submit is fun, to dominate is fun, and here there’s the luxury of both. Here, with my nightmare, I’m in my element.

‘Ugh. Gods, yes.’

‘Mumph. Mhm.’

I slowly stroke her pole, focussing my twisting tastebuds against the blunt face of her prick, digging about in that crevice where all the stickiness leaks forth, easily getting the tip of my tongue into her cum-hole. The humungous horse cock bucks and strains at my hands, swollen to the point of intimidating vastness, and I’m stupendously excited to have it inside of me. A little scared, sure, but who wouldn’t be? The excitement, all the same, is far greater.

Schlep. Schluck. Slurp.

‘Ughn. Good mare. Good cocksucker.’

She pats my head, happy to leave me to it. Those eyes are alluringly alight right now, glowing with glee. Smug as fuck, because why shouldn’t she be? The way I move my mouth, apply my tongue, tease at her length my hands, says all that Sephalla needs to know. That her body is fit for worship, and this is my preferred form of acknowledgement. That after this, even without gulping down a heavy load of horse-demon “milk”, she’ll be able to smell herself on my breath, and take perverse pride in the fact that my mouth is so readily utilised as a prick-pleaser.

‘When we get back to–mhm–my place, I’ll feed you,’ Sephalla says, groping my scalp. ‘I don’t want you to eat anything but my cum, when I’m playing Mistress, okay?’

My mouth makes a pleasing schplop when I pull away for a moment. ‘That’s not fair.’

‘Why? You love it.’

‘Sure, but…I can’t make the same demand of you.’ Mwah. I kiss her helmet, and smirk. ‘We need to schedule this shit. Weekly rotation?’

‘I raise the idea of feeding you nothing but semen, and you want a week of that?’ Seph rolls her eyes, but the expression is clear: yes, please. ‘If you want, loser. But the week starts today, on my end.’

‘You didn’t answer the other question!’

Sephalla clicks her tongue. ‘Fine. I…I’m pretty sure the reverse would work as well. Given that you shoot a lot more than you used to.’

‘So I could literally just have a week of you on your knees, blowing me all day while I game and stuff?’

Her tail swishes violently, smoking away behind her perfect hips. ‘You wouldn’t want that. No. We can’t. Um…’

‘Mistress. You’re my stallion right now, remember?’

Sephalla nods, nostrils widening to exhale a pair of smoke plumes. ‘Yeah. Yes. Loser.’

Smooch. She shudders as I kiss the delicious tip of her dick. ‘I look forward to you feeding me, Mistress. A whole week sounds great.’

She moves violently, all of a sudden. Even with my enhanced state of being Sephalla remains the genuine demon, while I’m just the hanger-on, the cum-enhanced extra. The towering inferno handily takes me by the shoulders and topples us, her great strength and weight easily forcing me back against the floor, though at least at the point of impact my spooge-powered durability proves useful.

‘I’m going to fuck you,’ Seph says, exhales smoke and flame, her tail whipping about behind her. ‘I’m going to use your body like a fucking cocksleeve, slut. You’re going to love it.’

She grinds her mammoth member against my chest, up towards my chin, its heat and heaviness pleasant but, with her vastness set atop me, I’m struck by the stark mismatch between our sizes. Sephalla’s sheath, the base of her belligerent bulk, begins below my groin, yet her flared tip happily prods against the underside of my jaw. If she were to go balls deep inside of me, I’d be a dick-impaled shish-kebab.

‘Mistress,’ I say, gaze flicking between her proud powerful body, inspiring as it does such a natural sense of submission to counterbalance my fierce urge to make her into my own dick-serving slut, ‘I’m a little worried. You’re…going to end up in my throat.’

‘Would that be so wrong?’ Sephalla cups the top of my head, plays with my hair. Her grin is glorious, baleful, showing off those resplendent fangs. God, I am so fucking attracted to her, whichever way around we play this game. ‘Going all the way through?’

‘I…I want your cum inside me, Mistress. Not spilling out of my mouth.’

The nightmare chuckles, the dominance shifting to make way for rich sensual humour. ‘Good news, loser. It doesn’t work like that. Your body will accommodate me, every inch, and I’ll spill a hundred trillion foals right into that belly of yours.’

I waver under her stare. Hot as fuck, but the implication is unsettling. ‘Um, Seph, I don’t…’

‘I’m not getting you pregnant, Jake,’ she says, rolling her eyes. ‘Jeez, dude. That’d completely ruin my breeding fantasies anyway.’ The naughty nightmare chews on her lower lip, grinds her length against me again. ‘Though…that weekly rota might need some thought.’

‘Oh?’

‘I just mean that, if I get all fat and motherly with your foals in a few years, I don’t think I’ll want to be dominating you. Not for the duration.’

I know I shouldn’t. Know I mustn’t. But the way her profoundly fat titties jiggle faintly above me, so soft and squishy as they are, demands my attention. So much so that I can’t help but reach up and press my palms against their clothed halos, piercings and erect nipples beneath pressing against my skin. God, they’re so fucking heavy. So engulfing, cushioning, warm and wonderful. Even if she ends up submissive, in the throes of pregnancy, this beautiful body will still find a way to feed me, I’m sure.

‘Jake…’

It’s cute, how hard she finds it. How hard I think we both do. I can look up at the glorious goddess that is my nightmare and be so intimidated, so naturally bound to submit to her overt sexual needs, but at the same time I see my woman, see my pet, see my plaything, see a mare of my own. And maybe it’s better this way?

No, not maybe. It’s definitely better.

‘I might have to just keep you pregnant then,’ I say, licking my lips. ‘A slutty obedient horse-demon, at my beck and call? I can’t imagine a finer fate.’

She exhales sharply, smoke and brimstone. ‘Bad boy.’ With effortless strength, the towering inferno brushes away my hands and pins me against the floor by the throat. ‘I’m going to get you back for that disobedience.’

It’s rather incredible how she can press down against my neck for support, but not actually choke me. I really am that much sturdier, for her fat-headed demon-horse dick tadpoles splattering across the immaterial nature of my soul.

Sephalla uses her free hand with elegant rapidity to pull away my trousers, passingly groping the bulging tent in my boxers as she does so. I half-expect some remark about size, but we both know it wouldn’t work. Human I may be, but my nightmare has a soft spot for such “limitations.”

‘You’re going to be a fine cocksleeve, loser,’ Seph says, digging her fingers into the waistband of my boxer shorts. ‘Once I’m done with your body, it’ll be fit only for taking demon dick.’

I gasp as she pulls down my underwear in one fell stroke, lifting herself up and away from me so as to get the appropriate angle for an anal assault. As the lurid length of equid-demon futa meat drags back across my gut, a lump of nerves bundles up behind my tonsils, thankfully at no risk of being dislodged by that impaling invader once she jams it up inside of me.

‘Yes, Mistress. Please…please be gentle.’

And like that, things are under her control again. The delicious demoness rises up onto her knees, parting them wide and spreading my thighs in turn. Sephalla the Magnificent pushes down on her prodigious prick, wedging its blunt head beneath my nuts, provoking an alluring tremble as its heat and stickiness make themselves known to that particularly vulnerable, virginal spot.

‘Should I be?’

I go to speak and move my lips, but she begins sloughing clothes. Her jacket first, cast aside, and then she pulls up her t-shirt to free the massive magnificence of those R-cup mammaries, nipples glistening with bar piercings, azure areolas wide and enticingly puffy against the velvet black-blue fur that otherwise makes up her body.

Sephalla chuckles, watching my smallness with obvious excitement. That my height, my humanity, can on the one hand make her submission sweeter, her dominance delectable, never ceases to please either of us. And here, it gives her free reign to be the alpha, to be the stallion, to be the one who takes for her own sake.

‘Cat got your tongue, loser?’

‘Please be gentle…at first.’

The nightmare winks at me. ‘Maybe. Maybe not.’

Fully naked now, I feel passingly unworthy. Her body is a monument to the utmost gorgeousness, glorious in its shape. A fusion of equid anthropomorph and delicious demoness, huge in all her healthy femininity, mighty in all her muscled masculinity. A dual fusion, first as a nightmare, second as a futanari. The duality is a fine thing, the finest.

God, she’s incredible. Incredible, and mine. Mine alone.

I suck in a breath as she moves, lining herself up with the virginal tightness between my cheeks. Her fat-headed horse cock, blunt and burning blissfully where it presses against the delicateness of that unexplored entrance, leaves behind a glaze of lubricating precum as it runs up and down against my arsehole. With or without, however, I’m fairly certain that this is going to be fine. That this will, in fact, be much better than fine.

Particularly as she takes hold of my hips, hands strong and arm muscles bulging faintly beneath the appealing blue-blackness of her velvet fine fur.

‘This is going to be tight at first,’ Seph says, prodding and poking. Her flared thickness readily barges aside my buttocks, her gigantic glans threatening my small sphincter. She laughs, a touch meanly. ‘It’ll be tight after, too, but tight at first, as well.’

I don’t get a chance to hit back with any snark of my own, because the moment she presses down on my hips and pushes her way inside of me, any words are reduced to ridiculous groans and grunts.

‘Ughn.’

‘Fuck. Really tight. Mhm.’

Tight? Tight doesn’t begin to describe it. Tight is like clothes that are too clinging to your arms, or trying to get through a gap between trees. This isn’t tight. This is like having a pleasure bomb explode behind your cock, a kind of ecstatic eruption of sheer heat and sensuality, something that the body does its utmost to contain but simply can’t.

‘Oh. Shit.’

It’d be embarrassing to watch my cock pop, shooting fat ropes of jism across my t-shirt – which is obviously black, because I’m an idiot and didn’t think to remove it – from nothing more than the entrance of Sephalla’s magnificent member into my exit, but the pleasure is like little else on Earth. The sense of fullness, the sense of being split down the middle by this salacious sword, this lusty lance, completely removes all interest in pathetic irrelevant things like “embarrassment.”

The nightmare continues to press her hips forwards, to drive her devilish dick into my rear, causing my t-shirt to shift and distort as that belly bulge swims beneath it, like something villainous making its way under a duvet cover. Thup. Her wickedly weighty loins bump against the mat on the floor, making a sweet sound, at odds with the sheer dominion she’s exerting over me with the faintest of efforts.

‘Aahn. We’re doing this–ugh–every fucking day this week, you cumdump,’ Seph says, exhaling smoke and flame, sharpened teeth on show between those perversely parted full lips. ‘Your arse is mine, slut. My–mhm–property.’

‘Guh. Ughn.’

I’m powerless. I grab at her wrists for support, provoking only lurid laughter as she grows larger and larger above me, inches upon inches of that humungous horse schlong disappearing into my guts, sliding that big bulge beneath my shirt all the way up to my sternum. The spreading heat of it, mystical and marvellous, pairs with its powerful pulsating, its threatening throbbing thickness. Glorious girth and fiery fullness, milking me dry, emptying my balls and conquering my innards as her living-flame blue pubes move towards me to warm my dangling nuts, her glossy black sheath soon to press its firm rigid ring against my own carnal circle.

It's only there that Sephalla pauses her advance, the sheer bulk of that band like a carnal kiss of its own, ring on ring. The nightmare licks at her lips, eyes aglow, and she chuckles.

‘All the way up to the sheath,’ Seph says, smirking salaciously. ‘You really are a cocksleeve.’

I nod, blowing my top, a mess of a man. ‘Y-es, Mistress. I’m you’re mare. Your cocksleeve.’

‘Mhm. Good boy, but…we can go further. Up to the very–ugh–hilt.’

The urgency of that rigid ring, pressing against my risqué rim, creates a fleeting fear. But there’s no pain, as she pushes even that into me. No discomfort, only pleasure. Whatever rules apply here happily allow three feet of futanari to disappear into my arse and do nothing grander than give me a boner-bump up the length of my belly, while leaving me unable to do anything but groan and grunt, at her mercy, squeezing at her sturdy wrists for the faintest hope of sanity.

‘Take it. Take my–ugh–dick.’

My eyes go wide as she pulls back, half of her length leaving me, only to grin with malicious majesty and slam herself forwards anew. Plup. Thwap. Sephalla’s heavenly hips, a point of softness in this momentary madness of intense impalement, slam against the tops of my thighs, and her sextet of boulder-like balls wallop against the underside of my bum, their weight logically painful paired given the force with which they swing, and yet simply continuing to instil this sense of sublime submission to this being that suits dominance so very well.

Plap. Thwup.

‘Ugh. Seph.’

‘Mistress,’ she says, correcting me. Sephalla moves a hand from my wrist to the middle of my chest, coal-seam eyes flicking between my own and my sternum, a smile building bolder and bolder with every thrust, with every instance of that vulgar bulge pressing up against the underside of her palm. ‘You’re my pet, Jake. My cumdump. So what am I?’

‘My M-istress!’

‘Mhm. Louder, you filthy fucking mare.’

‘My Mistress! Ughn. Mistress Mag-nificent.’

It’s a blessing that she’s made me so durable, because besides the sheer power of her preternatural penis, I manage to slam my head back against the floor and crack the concrete instead of my skull, completely awash with this captivating crudeness that continues to cover my black fucking shirt in ropes and strands of doubtlessly staining spooge.

Plup. Thwap. Plap. Thwup.

‘Good boy. Good cumslut. Ugh. Aah.’

Sephalla slams, in and out, in and out, boring into me. For all of her womanliness, it’s her cock that mesmerises me most thoroughly, distracting with its devilish depravity, the way it possesses such lascivious length no matter how far she draws back, at any given moment driving multiple feet of futanari phallus right into the core of me, right into the metaphysical realm of my soul.

Somehow, my vision doesn’t fade. Somehow, despite the white-hot cataclysm befalling me, the blissful brilliance of a kind of pleasure that only the seductive semen-demon can elicit, I stay fully conscious and aware. Dumbstruck, struggling for anything beyond basic instructed answers and a whole lot of mewling moaning, but conscious all the same.

‘Ughn. F-uck.’

Her breasts bounce about, their wonderful weightiness somehow…muted? I keep struggling with her abundantly alluring femininity, in the heat of this moment. Keep realising just how much I love her fat futanari demon-horse dick. I’m sure Sephalla could dominate me with her womanly parts, but it feels very much like our dirty dance here consists of a submission to the male side of her futanari nature. To that virile horned smoke-snorting beast, muscular and magnificent, titanic in stature and raw rapacious strength.

‘Ugh. Cute little–mhm–slut.’

The towering inferno runs her hands up my body, one trailing the other, and ultimately dips forwards onto her elbows such that I find myself staring up at her sensuously swaying chest, that pillowy perfect pair thupping against my cheeks as she continues to take me, to urge her hips back and forth without doing much to leave my body.

Plip. Thup. Plip. Thup.

‘Guh. Ugh.’

Her humungous balls, that sack of six plump oranges, gently bounce and bumps against my butt cheeks, but not half so noticeably as I’d like. Too little contact, too little room. I’ll need to…need to angle myself better. Need to…

‘Naughty cumdump,’ Seph says, chuckling breathily. ‘Who told you to do–ugh–that?’

I’m surprised I manage it. Surprised I’m limber enough, packed full of abyssal equid meat, to throw up my feet and get a grip on her hips on the first attempt. And from there it’s just a matter of straining, stretching as best I can, to wedge my ankles against her curves and just about lock my legs around her beautiful baleful body.

The endless ejaculation hasn’t abated, but it’s not left me quite so braindead as I might’ve thought. Continual pulses, creamy conclusions, like a bath of bliss for the soul.

‘I l-ove you, Mistress. I only want to–ughn–please y-ou.’

The nightmare laughs. ‘Don’t I know it, loser. Your body’s–mhm–milking me. It craves what only its–aah stallion can give it.’

Plip. Thup. Plip. Thup.

The angle proves sufficient to bask in the bulbous bouncing of those big bad bollocks, my upturned arse giving them a suitable landing pad to smack against with every downward thrusting of her mighty hips. Driving her demon dick into the depths of me, Sephalla makes my belly bulge unnaturally, nowhere near the size it should reach given her vastness. And little by little, as her fat tits engulf my face, as her loins pulse and shudder with each slap against my skin, she’s getting close. Getting closer to pumping me full of her perversely perfect penile pride.

I don’t even think to kiss and motorboat, to do anything other than relish the warming darkness of her enormously enveloping breasts, pounded into orgasmic oblivion by my mate, my stallion, my mistress.

‘We’re fucking–guh–doing this again,’ Seph says, hilting herself up to that wildly alive patch of azure flame, in the process sending my eyes into the tops of their orbits. ‘You’re such a fucking–mhm–mare, slut.’

‘Y-es, Mistress. A mare for y-ou. Only for y-ou.’

‘Good boy. Good–ughn–fuck!’

Her cock rumbles, spits. The eruptive ejaculation surges forth, spilling into that nether-realm that doesn’t quite exist, a body within a body, orifice within orifice. My gut immediately begins to swell, beyond the sizeable shape of her schlong. Building and building, fatter and fatter, plugged to the very limits with her thick squirming demonic dick milk.

‘Ughn. Sh-it.’

Despite the velvet darkness of her face-hugging bosom, all I see is white. Pure bliss, ecstasy in an intensely electrifying form. Her load, as much “alive” in a sense as her mane and hair and tail, swims into me, claims me, dominates my insides.

‘Argh. Cumdump. Slut. Mare.’

Sephalla lowers herself atop me, pressing more weight against my body, pleasantly crushing me beneath her bulky beauty. With her horse-cock hilted inside my depths, spewing forth what feels like a veritable sea of seed, face sandwiched between her breasts, I’m struck by a salacious sense of smallness, of illicit irrelevance.

‘Ugh. Fuck.’

‘Such a good cocksleeve,’ Sephalla says, her voice hitting my ears in a muffled fashion, her titanic tits blocking my hearing. ‘Such a good–aahn–whore.’

The raw heat of it feels as though it’s melting me, dissolving me in the most delectable fashion. Right here, right now, all I am is her plaything. A submissive toy, a sheath for her superb sword. As it pulses and throbs, as it her sperm-packed spooge writhes and wriggles about within me, doubtless tickling at my soul, this creature from hell, yet again, provides a glimpse of something akin to heaven.

I barely feel her collapse onto me. Submission warps into affection and I embrace her, throwing my arms around her strong back. Sighing in relief, fading into sweetness, as those opulent orbs rise and fall against my backside, pumping her potent pride deep into me, drenching my innards and my immaterial spirit all at once.

Sephalla chuckles softly, bringing a hand to the top of my head. ‘Like that, huh? Like being a good slut?’

‘Mhm-hm.’

‘I…Jake, I…’

She trails off, struggling for words. Keeping herself hilted in me, an easy feat given the sheer size of her mammoth member, Seph rolls onto her back, bringing me with her. I lift my chin, remaining quite comfortable resting in the valley of her cleavage, between the finest breasts in all of existence. My nightmare continues to steadily pump, to drift a little forward and backwards, and it’s a miracle I don’t burst. Despite being stuffed by the dual dirtiness of demonic horse-dick and a vast volume of virility, I’m not in the least uncomfortable. Just at peace, just bathed in pleasure.

‘I love you too,’ I say, managing a goofy, cum-addled smile. ‘So much.’

I can just about make out the shadows of the dominance her face so easily wears, but it melts like ice to flame. The game, dealt with for a moment, our lust never sated but momentarily delayed, is pushed aside in favour of affection. In favour of the sweet way she looks at me, and I at her.

‘Sorry I can’t say it yet,’ Seph says. ‘It’s just words, but they’re hard.’

‘It’s okay. I know.’ I smile, eyelids aflutter, the pleasure still a potent force of filthiness as it surges through me, perpetuated by the fact that her fat phallus keeps straining and throbbing even without any overt movements on her part. ‘Someone’s going to be annoyed with us again, huh?’

Sephalla grins, pretty fangs on full show. ‘Shame we can’t leave a mess.’

‘What?’

‘Your body’s not going to let go of my load, you realise?’

I’d not exactly thought about the newly-invoked demonic side of me. ‘It’s not just going to leak out?’

Seph shakes her head, grin all the bolder. ‘Nope. Your body loves me, mare. You’re going to walk around with that fat belly for a while, so I hope you’ve got no shame.’ She licks at her lips. ‘Better get used to it, anyway, because tonight onwards, until it’s your turn to be in charge, you’re eating sperm at least three times a day.’

It’s hard not to blush, at such a vulgar thought. ‘You…really want to do that?’

My nightmare pats my head. ‘Only fair, right? You’ll be giving me belly bumps throughout the day, come next Monday.’

A trade, of the most titillating type. But a trade I can’t help but want to make. Perverts both, the passing mental image of vague judgement, of people noting my cum-filled gut, fills me with some peculiar fusion of fear and lust.

‘Fine. Fine, lets…let’s do this.’

She winks, coal-seam eyes ever electrifying. ‘Probably best to sit here for a few. Until we’re settled.’ Sephalla shuts her eyes, and sighs sweetly. ‘That’s a good mare.’