Please Don't Hurt Me (non-AiE, tf)

WARNING:  This story contains tf, tg, humiliation, and a host of other weird, cruel, evil shit.  Just saiyan.  As long as you're cool with that, go right ahead and enjoy!

 

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>The day passed in much the same way as the one before it and you weren't entirely okay with it.  You walked through long halls and heard your footsteps echo with hollowly around you.  You had a laptop pack slung over your shoulder filled with papers, notbooks, and the unavoidable build-up of the semester.  The weight of the pack and the heat of the building turned your shoulder hot and sweaty.  It made you feel like a pig.  You'd think for the bullshit amount of money they'd charge for your books they could afford to fix the AC in the place.  Switching the bag's place to your other arm would alleviate the problem, but you already did that a scant few moments ago.

>At least you weren't the only one feeling like shit.  The other students making their way to their classes or out to the courtyard for a quick drag looked equally swampy.  Some wore it better than others.  You had the fat, slovenly fucks who looked greasy and sweaty no matter what the temperature,  the overdressed chicks who insisted on wearing those weird coats that covered up any chance of catching  a glance at their tits, they always bore their suffering oh-so nobly.  Their sleeves were always darkened by the repeated streaks from wiping their forehead.

>And then there was the chicks who were smart, or at least dressed light, and praise god for it.  High cut shorts that made their legs stretch from here to venus.  Sleeveless, tight white shirts that showed off the smooth curve of their shoulders.  And underneath those shirts...well,  the outlines of their bra straps left precious little to the imagination.  Your favorite were the girls who just finished wrapping up games of tennis or track, running through the halls in those slim little red shorts with the white stitching.

>Mmm.  Two of those tight little things just ran by.  You stopped for a moment to catch the rear-view, playing it off as bending down for a drink of water on a nearby fountain.  God knows they looked hot enough to make a man die of thirst.  You drank deep from the fountain.  A bit of hydration was necessary anyhow, you just finished a session at the college gym a few minutes ago.  You don't know why you bothered to rinse off at the showers if you were just going to get soaked from sweat by the school's never-ending humidity and stagnant air.

>Fuck it, you needed more than water right now.  You wipe your hand over your mouth and head for the campus convenience store.  They had a few of the bigger bottles of musclemilk for sale , even if they did cost about two dollars too much.  You check your pockets.  You have enough petty change to blow for the day.  It was a smart investement -easy protein and a cool, sweet drink.  Win-Win.

>You stroll easily through the twisting hallways and the crowds the ebbed and flowed.  More sweaty people.  Most of them needed more deoderant.  You really hope you weren't going to pass out from nausea today.  Eventuall you maneuver your way to the on-campus store.  For some reason the ac in there works very slightly better than the rest of the school, so it's always crowded, much to your dismay.  Well, you knew how to get through a crowd anyway.  With some well applied stares and firmly placed footsteps you manage to get exactly where you need with minimal bother.  In front of the drink cooler.   This backward campus actually had a pretty decent variety of drinks.  Sodas, vitamin waters,  coconut juice, as well as sane flavored juices that people would actually drink.  And then the protein shakes.  Just a matter of picking a flavor -strawberry, chocolate, vanilla, cookies-n-creme -it was like you were a greek demigod able to pick and choose from the fruits of olympus at will. It was a good feeling.

>You pick strawberry.  A lot of people hate that flavor, but screw them, you like strawberries.  You shake the bottle with vigor.  With practiced footsteps you venture to the check-out counter.  Despite the crowd in the store, there is very rarely actual lines.  People just like to hang out in the cool air and look at shit they don't need, or don't want to spend an exorbitant amount of money on.  Whatever.  Less waiting for you.  You wonder if that one chick is...oh wait.  She is.  Your day just got better.

>The campus store was normally run by bunnies that were very easy on the eyes, but there was one that bounced higher on your radar than the rest.  She was a cute little asian number.  Or at least you think she was asian.  There was a detectable tilt to her eyes that told you as much.  She was shorter, and  incredibly slim.  Her tits weren't as big as you liked, but they were perky enough to cheer up a terminal patient.  Same thing for her ass.  You would pass her in the halls from time to time and nearly always lost the battle to turn your head and appreciate the aftershow.  Her attitude was the only thing you couldn't quite decide on.  Quick, to the point, and a tongue sharp enough to cut your cock off.  All of your advances were met with enough resistance to stop a charging 18-wheeler.  But that never stopped you before.  You place your musclemilk on the counter.

>You smile.  Not too wide, but just enough.  “Just the good stuff for now.”  She ran a hand through her long dark hair, moving a few strands of the red-and-purple highlights away from her forehead.  She looked at you with mild annoyance, but kept her professional composure.  You considered cracking it to be a game in and of itself.  She scanned the drink.

>“Five-ninety-four.”  She said crisply.  You dig into your pocket to pull your wallet out.  “Y'know, when I said only the good stuff, I wouldn't mind taking some of you too.”  You held out a ten dollar bill.  She rolled her eyes and snatched it out of your hands a little too harshly.  “You take, what, fifty classes a week and you haven't learned how to take a compliment?”  She presses the buttons on her register very, very hard.  “You gotta smile.  Let's see those pearls.” Her mouth remains impassive.  Her hands are like oil as she processes the money.  You hold out your hand for the change.  She places it on the counter.  “Oh, come on, don't be that cold.  It's 110 degrees in here and you're making me wanna get a jacket.”  You gather your change while shaking your head.  The drink is sitting on the counter, slowly getting warmer.  “Can I get a bag for that?”  She rolls her eyes and bags the drink for you.  It's like you were pulling teeth.  This chick was hilarious.

>You grab the bag and wave it around.  “You make my day, y'know?”  She narrows her eyes and says “Always a pleasure” with a strained smile.  You feel like you just won something.  You pull the drink out of the bag and toss it away.  The carton is shaken once more.  You twist off the plastic cap and take of whiff of the contents.  You tilt it back into your mouth.  Thick, hearty, rich, sweet.   It washes slowly down your throat and cools your chest.  God, you deserved this.  Alright, your day is starting to look up.  Next you should probab-

>You bump into someone.  Your hand flexed tightly around the bottle, squeezing the drink into the air and all over yourself and the floor.  Your bag slides off your shoulder and your ankle twists in an uncomfortable position.  It all happened in a flash and the most agonizing of slow-motion.  Any attempts to recover just worsened your fall.  You hit the cap of your knee on the hard, tile floor and n a split second you feel the lid of a week's worth of stress and work go pop.  “What the fuck is your problem you asshole?”  You shove your assailant while yelling.  “This shit cost me six fucking bucks, are you gonna pay for that or what yo-”

>It turns out it was a girl that bumped into you.  She yelps and falls to the floor, her eyes wide in confusion and fear.  You suddenly feel ashamed for pushing her, but only slightly.  At least you used your shoulder instead of your hands.  You look at her: Her appearance is pretty disheveled, dirty blonde hair, baggy gray clothes, and a lazy eye.  She quickly covers it with her long sleeves “Please! 'M sorry, don't hurt me,” she cried  Fuck.  You pushed one of the mental kids.  You realize you have a hand raised and a fist clenched.  This suddenly looks pretty bad.  Folks are staring.  You try to laugh it off, rub the back of your head with your hand. “Shit, uh- Sorry.  Overreacted there.  Yeah.”  You hold out a hand to the girl on the floor.  She stumbles back and stands up on her own.  You take a few steps back, arms spread out low.  “My bad.  It's the heat, yeah?  Way to hot in this place.  Drive's a guy crazy. Just...watch where you're going next time, yeah?”  A few of the other students make sure the girl is alright.  Fucking slow kids.  No accountability whatsoever.  Some ask you if you're cool, chill out, need a smoke or something, c'mon, let's hang outside instead.  “Yeah.  Outside.  That sounds good.  I'm sorry.  Really sorry.  Yeah.”  You hold your hands open and back away.  A scene was the last thing anyone wanted in this atmosphere.  The gross looking girl nods and mutters “Yeah.  Fine” in a slow, slightly slurrred voice.  Her hazel eyes avoided your gaze.  Or at least they were trying too.  The tension in the room deflates and people go about their business.  You move towards the courtyard.

>Nearly dodged a big fucking bullet there.  You didn't need another campus scuffle under your belt.  You didn't really get caught for that last one, thank God.  The asshole had it coming anyway.  You sit down on a bench and  wipe the remainder of your drink off your hands and onto your jeans.   The loss of your shake pissed you off more than anything else. Goddamned retards.  Six fucking dollars.

>”Here.”  You turn your head towards the voice and see a hand holding out a bottle of strawberry musclemilk.  “What is”

“You lost your other one.”  It's the cashier chick.  Now you're just confused.  You stare at the bottle blankly.  She motions it towards you again.  You slowly accept the bottle.  This was a new game... “Thanks...yeah, thanks.”  You toss the cool bottle between your hands.  “Not my smoothest moment back there.”  You laugh nervously.  She crosssed her arms.  “I'd hope not.”

>”I'm not like that.  I swear.  I just finished working out, you know how it is.  All that blood pressure gets in your ears and throws you off balance.  I was just caught off guard.”  You wave the bottle “Thanks.”

“It's only fair.  You bought a drink, you get the drink.”  You nod.  “Sounds fair enough.”  She looked at you expectantly.  You take the cap in between your fingers and twist the plastic.  If hisses a little louder than normal.  You lift it to your mouth slowly.  From the look on her face it's like the only thing that exists is you and the bottle.  What's this chick's problem?  You drink it and...and....

>And it tastes like a perfectly normal protein shake.  Refreshing, in other words.  You sigh contentedly.  “You have no idea how much I needed that.”  She nods briskly and sits down next to you on the bench.  “I would expect as much after all that.” She stuck a finger back in the store's direction.  You nod.

>“I feel bad about that.  I should be smarter than that, but it's just that those damn re- I mean, this place needs bigger hallways.  And a new air system.”  You go quiet.  This school needs fucking handlers is what it needs.  You see her shake her head.  She crosses her arms.  “It takes more than cramped halls and hot air to make someone explode like that.”

>”Maybe...” You take another drink of your milk.  She looks at you with tight, unmoving eyes.  “You're always walking around with this tight look.  Even when you're failing to hit on me.  You look wound up.”

>“Just stress, is all.  You know how it is.  Family gets to you, work hands you a shovelful of bullshit and asks you to smile.  School, grades and crap.”  This could be your in.  “I know you can understand that.  You're here, like, all the time.  Either in class, or working the store, taking shit from assholes like me”  She smirks at that,  “Must drive you insane.”  She smiles, just a little.

>”Sometimes.  You're not the worst, believe it or not.”  You open your mout halfway and look offended.  “Well that just means I'm not trying hard enough.”

>”Obviously.,” she says in that clear cut way.  Except this time the edges don't feel as sharp.  You stretch an arm behind her head on the bench.  “Well, I'd like the opportunity to try harder.  Tenacity has to count for something.”  She purses her thin but elegant lips and leans back.  “Maybe.”

>“No,”  You wave a hand.  “Don't give me a 'maybe.'  It's too hot for that teasing crap.”  

>“What did you have in mind?”

>“Just a little stress relief.  Knock back a few, watch a flick and trash-talk it,  vent, just see what happens.  You say you're gonna go insane, then talk a little crazy.  Cuss, jesus.  When's the last time you've dropped an F-bomb.”  She looked shocked.

>“I don't have to-”

>“No, you don't, but it feels amazing, trust me,” you speak from experience.  “Smart girl like you can probably swear, way fucking better than me.  And I've had practice.”  She lowered her eyebrows and stared at you.

>“You're very forward,” she said not completely negatively.

>You raise your hands up in defense.  “I ain't got no use for being backwards, babe.”  You take another swig.  “You say I always look wound up.  I say you always look wound up.  I just say we oughta get together.  Loosen up.  See?  Help each other out.”  She smiles in a way that says she thinks she's smarter than the person she's talking to.  You've seen smiles like that before.  You know how to work around it.

>“Alright then.  Fine.  You've convinced me.  We'll hang out.  Say swear words.  Go a little crazy.”  

>“It'll be fun, trust me.”  She writes down her number and hands it to you.  

>“Oh, I'm quite sure.” She grins mischieviously.

>“What's your name again?”

>She rolls her eyes.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

>The next night you're driving to her apartment.  Your game is tight tonight.  You've got on the deep-blue shirt with the birds on it that show off your bicepts and the cut in your chest.  There's just a touch of Armani on your neck.  Not too much, like some desperate assholes tend to do.  Hair looks slick and teeth brushed to hell and back.  

>The end goal was obvious.  It was just a question of time.  Chicks like her either put it out at the drop of a hat, or take a little  greasing to slip into.  But this girl -Twilight or something was her name.  You laugh at how stupid that sounded.  You needed to see this chick's birth certificate.  But anyway, she seemed like the real deal.  You'd probably need at least three days of hard effort to tap it.  Oh well.  Your weekend was clear and you needed a project.

>The plan for tonight was to play it fast and loose.  Take her out somewhere. You had options.  Places that always served you well in the past.  There were several little out-of-the-way coffee shops that an artsy chick like her would dig.  Or a few of the cleaner pubs that had decent local bands that played in the evening.  Maybe the grindhouse movie theater in towns that played kick-ass old flicks that ranged from comedies to classic horrors, or just plain weird shit where everyone talked backwards or something.  Yeah, she'd dig that.  And if she didn't, you were sure you'd find a way to keep the two of you busy...

>No reason why you couldn't have fun with this.

>You pull up to her place and knock on the door in the setting sun.  She opens it, and Hot.  Damn.  The girl is wearing a slick purple and red get up.  It matches well with her highlights.  She looks even curvier than her normal weird catholic school-girl outfit would suggest.  Elegant, but still fierce.  You were very nearly intimidated.   Especially around the eyes.  You thought they looked like an off blue, but this evening they looked almost purple.  They looked intense enough to shoot lasers.  They didn't look like fake contact lenses, and if they were, they must've cost a fortune.  The added exoticism made you want to rip all of her clothes off and get to the fun stuff they were strapped around.

>”You clean up pretty good.”

>“I'm always clean.”  She turned away and walked back inside.  “You can come in.”  You do.  The inside of the place very clearly reflected the owner.  Clean, above all else, and....you wouldn't quite call it minimalist.  Purposeful, maybe.  Efficient.  There was a couch and two one-person seats, and they were as big as they needed to be,shapes were simple, but well placed and positioned.  Space was put at its maximum effectiveness.  Her livingroom looked at once both filled and expansive.  And everything was colored in red, purple, black, or white.  Your own place didn't look a tenth as coordinated.  You were impressed.  She strolls into the kitchen, adjacent from the living room.

>“You can sit down if you'd like.”  You do, like some five year old that's been told to wait patiently.  You weren't quite expecting this.  What were you expecting, exactly?  Well, a week ago having a fighting chance to score with this chick was the last thing on your mind.  Funny how some things work out.  You run your hands along the smooth, black cushions of her couch.  You test the give.  Comfortable enough, but you hardly think it has the strength to stand up to more intense acts of passion.  The girl busies herself in the kitchen for a few moments before walking out and into the hallway.  “Just looking for something, give me a few minutes and I”ll be ready.”

>“Take your time” You say easily as your eyes trail along  her gently curving backside and over her smooth, bubbly ass, then down over her pale legs that moved across well-vacuumed carpet on bare feet.  Take as much time as you fucking please.  She dissappears from sight, much to your dissapointment.  You scan your sorroundings a little more.  Big bookshelf on the far-wall, no surprise there.  You can read a few titles from where you're sitting.  Science crap, a few fruity-sounding fantasy titles.  History books.  Quite a lot of history books, actually.  That was one of the few subjects you were actually interested in.  You always did well in history class.  That could be used as good conversation starter for later.  

>You were surprised by the size of her tv.  You were surprised she actually had a tv.  She didn't really strike you as the type who could just veg out in front of the tube, not even for an hour.  Everyone has their own surprises, you guess. What was she doing anyway?  “We're going somewhere tonight, yeah?”  You call to her.

>“Um.  Actually, can you give me a hand with something?”  You raised an eyebrow.  You guess she was in her room.  You could use this for some reconnaissance.  If the couch wasn't up to snuff, you could at least see how her bed looked.  She was making this too easy.  You stand up from the couch and rub your hands together.  Alright boy, time to play the hero.  You walk down the hall and open the door to what has to be her room.

>You want to say you were overcome by the enourmous amount of weird crap on the wall.  Arranged crystals, bottles, and glass balls, and candles covered her shelves and dressers.  You wanted to say you were a little creeped out by the enourmous books that looked absolutely ancient -heavily yellowed and cracked, written in script that was incomprehensible..   Books weren't even the right word -they were fucking tomes.  Even the smell was strange.  Thick with lavender, candle wax, and ozone.  And other oddities, was that...was that jar full of fucking hay next to her bed?  

>You'd give no hesitation in calling her crazy if she didn't start making out with you the second you walked into the wroom.  She fucking pounced you.  No longing gaze or split-second mark of hesitation was on her face or anything.  But then again, she was the type to be very to the point.  You were just a little surprised by her sudden display of eagerness.  As she pulls your head down closer to her own you realize there are worst surprises. Her mouth opens, inviting you in fully.  Her tongue is warm, her lips soft.  Her breathe smells sweet, somehow not being overpowered by the heavier aromas of the room.  You run your hands through her hair.  It's silky, and flows like water between your fingers.  You rub a few of her red and purple strands between thumb and forefinger.  Fuck, you've been wanting to touch those streaks forever now.

>You run a hand very slowly down her side, reveling in the gentle slope, dip, and rise between her waist and her hips.  She places a hand over your forearm, squeezing gently as you circle your way down towards her glorious ass. Your other arm is cradled around her back, hands pressuring carefully around the base of her neck.  You can feel her running her fingers along your own back, tracing along the muscles as they tighten and loosen.

>You hand circles her rump carefully.  You map out the smooth curve of her donk in your head, and it's just lovely.  You squeeze it like it hasn't been squeezed in a long time.  Oh good GOD.  It gives gently before meeting resistance as your fingers touch the incredibly firm muscles below.  You repeat the process, moving your hand over her warm cheeks slightly before squeezing again, reveling as she clenches her ass as you massaged it.  She wasn't used to this kind of attention.  Her breath starts to pick up.

>You on the other hand could easily get accustomed to this.  For a moment you think about never smashing her in the first place and just rub on her ass forever.  Not even in your wildest dreams would you think it was this great.  You could bounce quarters off this shit all night long.  You work away from her lips and start to kiss along her jaw line and down to her neck.  You busy yourself away at the cradle between neck and shoulder.  She moves her arms over your shoulder blades.  Her fingers losing concentration, just rubbing away blindly over your traps while you place where other arm over her other asscheek, cupping them like they're solid gold spheres encrusted with diamonds and 4G capability.  

>Tantalizing little noises escape from her throat that pierce directly into the most primal and hungry part of your brain.  Squeaks and borderline moans.  Gasps.  You wish you could record this shit.  You could smell the subtlest hints of perfume along her neck.  You breathe deep.  It's heady and sweet  but still somehow imposing, much like the rest of her.  It leaves you a little dizzy.  After a while you have to pull back for a quick breathe.  You look at her huge eyes.  They look even more violet.  You could swear they're glowing.  You must be doing your job right.  You dive towards her mouth, starting at the commissure of her lips.  That sweet little fold where the line of her mouth gently turns up and ends, and journey to the thicker lower fold before going in again as she lures your in with the tip of her tongue.

>She moves a hand down your ribs and nudges you in no uncertain terms towards her bed. Really?  Well hot, damn.  Laser-focused-straight-to-the-atomic-tipped-fucking-point this chick is.  Looks like you won't be heading towards the pub tonight.  A bit of a shame, you had a bro headlining over there tonight, and his band wasn't shit.  You liked to be supportive when you could.  But considering the circumstance, you were sure he'd understand.  Looks like you'd be saving on gas money at any rate.

>She pushes you over the edge and onto her cool mattress.  The sheets were thick, and colored with deep purples and bright red swirls.  You scootch back on the bed.  She follows, cupping your face in her hands as continues to explore the interior of your mouth.    Soon enough she simply lays down on top of you.  Her weight is almost non-existant, but her warmth feels reassuring all the same.  You're now given free reign over her backside.  Your manage to pry one hand away from her rear with great effort and run a finger up along her spine, over the strap of her bra, to the tip of her shoulder and then back down again -all incredibly slowly.

>She's just voracious now. She presses against your face hard.  You laugh as she bumps against your teeth.  Her cheeks turn the sweetest shade of red.  “Sorry, it's just been a while.”

>“No problem, babe.  Stress relief.  All good.”  You pull her close and kiss the thin tip of her nose.  God bless therapy.  She then blows your mind by sitting up over you and pulling her shirt off.  An orchestra goes off inside your head as the soft lighting of her room diffuses over her slight, but incredibly curving form.  Shadows dance and play around the convex of her ribs and gentle line that splits down her torso and along her navel.  Her tits look sweeter than scoops of ice cream, sittin happily in the cups of her black bra.  You feel the temperature in the room go up by ten degrees. Your eye travels up and down her almost fast enough to break your neck.   Your eye catches something along the gentle swell of her hips.

>“Is that a tattoo?”  She smirks and stands up on her knees and angles it towards you, showing the maddeningly hot outline of her back, legs, breasts and every fucking thing else.  She lowers the edge of her skirt and panties, revealing a six pointed violet star with white outer lines, with smaller stars circling it.  The colors seemed impossibly bright against her skin.  It wasn't the most complex looking tattoo you've ever seen, but at least it wasn't a fucking butterfly or some weird japanese shit.  You immediately wanted to just run your tongue all over it like it was a piece of starburst.

>“Does it mean anything.?”  In a moment of cruelty she covered the tattoo again.  She leaned over you again and hovered over your lips.  She raised her mouth over the bridge of your nose and whispered lowly, quietly “Magic.”

>Well that sounded fucking hot.  You kiss her on the lips again.  “What kind of magic?” you husk.  Her eyes flashed.  Literally, they fucking flare.  You're nearly taken back by it but she takes you in her mouth again, obliterating any kind of fucks you have.  “You'll see,” she lilted.

>She starts to grind against you. You rub your hands along the side of her legs again.  Good God, this is amazing.  If you knew bumping into the handicapped would lead to this then you would've been bowling them over in the parking lot ages ago.  God bless the disabled.

>She was just so incredibly hot.  The intensity was starting to make you sweat.  Sweat a lot, actually.  You knew you could raise the temperature of a room pretty easily, but this was pushing it.  As she worked your mouth you noticed the fan wasn't on.  It bothered you more than it should.

>You could feel beads of sweat build up along your forehead and gathering around your back.  You noticed the girl on top of you.  Her skin was unmarrred by the signs of excessive heat.  She should be sweltering just as much as you.  How could she stand it?

>You slap yourself mentally.  Stop being a bitch.  You weren't going to let a little heat fucke up a good time.  You go after her with a little more vigor, hoping to distract yourself.   You hands dig down the back of her pants, fingers pressing into the smooth, soft flesh.  Damn, that's good.  Her breathing picks up a little more.

>It's good.  But after some time your fingers start to feel sore, and stiff.  As much as you'd like to rub that ass for years and years, the repetition becomes uncomfortable.  You pull you hands out and give them a firm slap.  You think you see a slight hint of annoyance on her features, but it just slips under your radar.   It's getting even hotter in the room.  You feel like you're going to fucking melt.  How can she not notice this?  She must be insane.  This can't be healthy.

>“Hey, feeling a little warm in here.  Think you could kick on the AC?”  It's official.  You're a bitch.  She smiles softly and runs a finger along your brow, wiping a small amount of sweat away from there.  “Am I too intense for you?”  She's calling you out.  Time to man up.

>“I like intense.”  You pant.  “Nothing I can-”  You shudder.  It feels like your lungs just squeezed up on yourself.  You grab your chest and slowly resume your regular breathing.  You try to salvage the mood.“Getting me all worked up, babe.”  She smiled in a way that made you nervous.  She pulled your head in close to her wonderful, pillowy chest.  She stroked the back of your head.   “I know how to work someone over.”

>You breathe deep.  The soft crevice between her breasts were equally as sweets.  They felt softer than fucking clouds.  But that sweet, dizzying smell was here too.  You nearly liked it, but you felt like you were suffocating.  You need air.  You kiss the soft flesh of her tits and work your way up along your shoulder, hoping to pull in a few breaths of clean air.  But she keeps redirecting you to her chest.   You can almost hear her laughing.  

>You pull your head back.  Your dick is screaming at you, but you'll apologize to it later, this is really starting to overwhelm you.  “Come on, big man.  Don't quit on me this way.”  Fuck, this isn't fun anymore.  Your mouth feels dry, and the -heat-.

>It's not just the room.  The inside of your chest feels like it's on fire.  “I think...think I need some water.”  You try to motion her off of you, as insane as that sounds in your head.  Never in a milllion years would you think dehydration would beat you in so humiliating a fashion.  You turn your head and cough.

>“That sounded serious,  here,” she pushed you down onto the mattress again.  You find that you can't fight against it.  “just relax.  It's going to get better, I promise.”  She bites the bottom of her lip.  She slowly backs off of you.  The absence of her body heat is a fleeting relief.  In fact, it feels like it's getting worse.

>You don't feel good.  At all.  Your stomach is starting to contort on itself like some animal snuck in there.  You were sick, no doubt about it.  Probably from that damn vietnamese food you had earlier.  You need to bail.  Get home before you start blowing chunks all over this chick's bedroom.

>And why the fuck is she smiling like that?  She's putting her shirt back on, adjusting her skirt, and fixing her hair.  But she's glancing at you in her motions, and the look is not reassuring.  “What's your..problem?”  You pant.  Shit, it's like your throat was made out of sandpaper.  You try to lift yourself up onto your arms.  They shake under your weight and your elbows give.  You fall back onto the soft bed.  Dammit.  Maybe you pulled a muscle working out earlier today.  That must be it.  Bad form and bad food.  Your stomach knots around itself in agreement.  Your torso tightens and you nearly bite your tongue off by its suddenness.  The girl stares impassively.

 

>“Call the fucking hospital,” you groan.  Fuck getting laid.  At this rate you're gonna end up a stiff six feet below instead of having your stiffy stuffed between her legs.  She crosses her arms again and sits down on a small stool next to the bed.  “The hospital's here can't help you.  They won't have the proper equipment to deal with this sort of thing.  And nowhere near the experience.”  

>Is she taking nursing courses or some shit?  “Listen you bitch,”  You double over on your side as your stomach feels like it's imploding on itself.  “Grngh-dammit.  Get me out of here or I swear I will slap the shit out of you.”  You head starts to pinch away on your brain.  Your skull feels like it's cracking into a million shards.  This was going way beond food poisoning.  The bitch is still sitting motionless.  “Please, call an ambulance or..s-something.”

>“You said please.  Must be getting desperate.”  She grabs a red cloth from one of her dressers and saunters to to the bed.  She dabs the velvety rag over your forehead.  It feels cool, and for just a moment it makes you feel better.  “It's only going to get worse.”  Her voice is cold, clinical.  She pulls it away and tosses it aside.  

>You're fighting to breathe now.  You feel like a drowning man.  Every sip and ounce of air that manages to slip down your throat is like gold.  The pain in your stomach is spreading.  Your lung, your kidneys, your fucking intestines are starting to crash in on themselves.  You start to shudder.  The stupid whore is still smiling.  “Y-you.  Ff—f---f-fucking did this!”  She had to.  Poisoned you or something.  You look at her.  Her eyes are definitely purple now.  And they're not contacts or any bullshit like that.  Normal people don't have eyes like that.

>Whatever is going through your system is infecting your muscles now.  Each individual group and fiber in your torso begins to clench and vibrate in wildly varying degrees.  It spreads to your chest, and legs.  It feels like your whole body is in a charlie-horse from hell.  Your hand tightens in a fist hard enough to break the skin.  In a moment of will you manage to grab a hold of the sheets to alleviate the pain.  The vibrating riot courses up your neck and into your face. Your arms slam against your skull and your mouth is forced open into a wide, stretched parody of a yell.  You want to scream, but your entire body far to divided amongst itself to force an act so simple and primal.  The only sound from you is a disgusting wheeze.  The pain starts to dig down into your bones.  Shredding at the marrow, and burning away the cartilage between the joints.

>Fuck breathing.  Fuck sex, Fuck the girl, and fuck everything else in the world.  You just want to die now.  You beg silently in your head for the pain to stop, but as the girl promised, things only began to get worse.

>Your fingers were trying to break into your skull, so you noticed it first when their tips began to feel numb.  Or...not even numb.  It felt as though their tips were burning away into nothing, like a cigarette bud. The pressure they were applying against your head began to feel weaker.  You force an eye open and see the terrifying sight of your fingers being drawn into your hand.  They drew into themselves at difference rates, and different levels of pain, but it was all equally horrible.  You find the will to scream.

>Soon you have no fingers.  All that's left is the stump of your hand, with bright red marks where your digits used to be.  Your wrist twitched the mass uselessly.  Your legs kick as you feel your toes follow suit.  You cover your eyes with your misshapen limb.  After a second you notice something new.  You force yourself to look again.  There is now a thin layer of gray fuzz raising along your hand and downward along your arm.  Your skull spasms again.  You press your arm around your face and feel the growing thing.  It's not hair.  It's feels soft, -it's fucking fur!  What the fuck?   What the fuck?  You cross your arms and try to scrape the invading coat off of yourself, but it just keeps spreading.  Your eyes are bulging out of their sockets as its rate of growth increases, spreading across your shoulders.  You can feel it clamber up your neck.  Each and every little pore on your skin giving way to the gray fur.  It slows, so far only reaching your upper torso and lower neck.  

>There is a slight lull in the pain.  Your body relaxes for a moment, allowing you to breathe.  “The fuck...are you doing...t-”

“Don't talk.  Just get as much air in as you can.”  And then the pain kicks in once more.  You double over yourself as you feel your bones start to twist and shift inside you.  You look at your arm as it begins to fold and bend at all of the wrong lengths and angles.  The stump of your hand lengthens and swells into something thick and round.  Your arms alter their proportions.  The skin turns red and irritated as its stretched across bone and muscles.  You can almost hear it being stretched to its limits -like taut rubber.  Your spine cracked sickeningly as it lengthened and snaked away from you, like a rat's tail.  It felt like your back was going to shatter at any moment.

>The joint between your legs and your hip begins to burn.  They start to realign themselves, forcing bone and muscles to change shape, detaching and rehooking into new positions.  You are in too much agony to imagine for what purpose.  Your jeans split at the seams, exposing the red skin that's bulging with reconfigured muscle.  Your shoulders start to follow the same pattern, making painful circles as they readjust to the changing tilt of your collar bone.  You feel your neck start to stretch out slightly as well.  Your head rolls this way and that to account for its new length.  Your chest barrels out, ripping a shirt that was already too tight.

>And in a moment of cruelty you catch sight of yourself in a mirror.  All you saw on the bed was a deformed mass of hyperventilating flesh and torn clothes.  Your face looks strained, but largely the same.  This was far from comforting.  It only drove home the reality that the disgusting misshapen, quivering  pile of flesh was in fact you.   You looked  like some sideshow abortion that needed to be put down with a twelve-gauge and burned in a steel bin.  You mange to shift your weight away from the horrible sight and onto your side in order to escape the horrible truth.

>However you simply turned to face another mirror.  You hiss.  You can see every pore and popping blue vein on your heaving body.  The whole thing is covered in sweat.  You bring your lumpy arms to cover your eyes.

>And just in time.  You can feel your skull changing shape.  You groan lowly as you felt your jaw jut out.  The cracking and twisting of bone was exploding all around your ears.  In fact, your ears started to burn as they melt away and reformed themselves, flowering outwards and edging to the top of your head.  Your nose lengthened and flattened into something indistinguishable.  Your jaw opened and closed as the teeth within shifted and jumbled over each other to fit with the new workings of your mouth.  Your tongue flapped wildly.

>Your eyes felt like they were about to pop.  You could feel them growing.  The sockets of your skull barely matching the speed as they ballooned inside your head.  You couldn't even close them, so you had a first-rate view as your face quickly became wholly unrecognizable.  You stared in horror at yourself.  You looked like an alien.  A monster.  You weren't supposed to be like this.

>You saw the girl's reflection in the mirror.  Her eyes were heavily focused.  You couldn't even swear at her.  You didn't even know if you could speak like this.  The pain began to subside.  You just lay there, trying to catch your breathe.  Air wheezed unsteadily from your rearranged trachea and differently shaped lungs.  Your eyes  were glazed over with tears of pain and fear.  Good God, you looked hideous. You couldn't quite close your eyes -your lids were still growing in.

>You covered you face with your stumps and made the most pitiable whine you've ever heard.  What the fuck did she do to you?  

>Or DOING to you.  The scruff of fur that was around your neck began to spread again.  You were just glad it didn't hurt.  It just grew.  Covering your stomach, legs, and back.   Yellow strands of hair fell into your vision.  You stole a desperate peek in the mirror and saw that your hair was turning long and golden.  It was messy, spiky, but bright and it felt soft.  The same kind of yellow hair covered your lilting tail.  Soon enough the gray fur covered your face.  At least you didn't look like a naked rat anymore...

>That was when you started to shrink.  You didn't notice it at first, but it soon became obvious as the bed began to grow large, and you found yourself struggling away from the tattered remains of your clothes.  You turned hot again.  Steaming.  You had a little mor control over yourself, but you were still limited to bucking painfully and grunting with newfound angry vigor.  You tore yourself free from the shredded garments, trying to understand how this could even be possible.  Your shrinking leveled off, but the burning still remain, washing down your body and towards your...no.

>Oh no...

>It felt like someone was holding a torch to your loins.  You scrambled clumsy hooves -is that what they were?  Towards your crotch and felt and saw the worst thing you could imagine.  Your best friend, your favorite toy,  the one thing that was always with you throughout the ages, and brought you countless pleasure and great pain.  The thing that brought so much fun and got you in so much fucking trouble over the years was shrinking away.  Your dick was dissappearing.  No, non noononoo!  Your hooves fumbled and stroked over it, trying to get a rise out of it, trying to keep it from vanishing into...into...

>You groaned.  No, you moaned.  The disfiguration of your member blurred the lines between pleasure and pain.  Your back compressed inwards and you pressed your hooves against your nether regions.  Your pulsing privates were almost too hot to touch.  Your bared clamped teeth and made more embarassing sounds.   Your face turned red as you simply could not cope with  what your body was doing to you.  Your hips began to vibrate heavily.  You force yourself to move your arms away and find out what the hell was happening down there.

>A small little slit split down from the vestiges of your cock.  It swelled gently along the sides, exposing little folds of pink flesh and an unassuming tiny nub.

>Your already enourmous eyes bulged.  Your small mouth hung open.  Two small mounds formed a little ways above the offended collection of folds,  growing into what looked like nipples.

>You ran a hoof over them and pulled it away as they shot  a bolt of unleaded -sensation- into your body.  You touched the area softly again.  You shuddered.  They were so sensitive.  So tender.  You had a vagina now.  Your mouth opened and closed in disbelief.

>“I'm a girl?”

>You mouth shuts harder than a bear trap.  That did not sound like you.  No way in any hell on earth was that you.  You put a hoof on your throat and rubbed over the soft fur there, massaging where your vocal chords should be.  “Oh God!”  That same voice, light, lilting, soft.  It was incredibly alien to your more sensitive ears.  What happened to your -voice-?  No longer did it carry the firm, confident tone that you had mastered so long ago.  You whimpered.  What happened to you?  You now realize you're not about to die from pain.  You twist towards the girl, still sitting nonchalantly in the corner.  She took your DICK and your VOICE and she has the balls to just sit there like she's waiting for the sunday newspaper?  “What the FUCK did you DO TO ME?”  That didn't sound nearly as threatening as you hoped it would.  She covered her mouth and laughed.  “Don't you dare, don't you fucking dare you bitch!  Change me back!  Now!”  Her head titled back into full blown laughter.  You tried to jump at her, but instead you just tripped over your forehooves and tumbled onto your head.

>”Don't get so riled up.  You're still not finished.”  Not finished?  Not fnished?  “What more can you fucking do to me?”

“Oh,” she said, “more than you could ever dream of.”  You had to get out of here, maybe you could run for the door.  Christ, could you even open a door?  Doesn't matter, you have to-

You scream as you feel something begin to pierce through your back.  New bones begin to build beneath your skin, and pierce through your shoulders.  Muscle and bone hurry up and along.  They jerk and slap against your sides.  You turn your head back and try to run away from the skinny, long things that look like uncooked chicken wings that are growing uncontrollably out of you.  “Oh Christ! Oh Christ!  Oh Jesus, help me!”  The stiffen and stick straight up.  You feel the now-familiar sensation of something growing out of the skin of your new appendages.  Gray feathers sprout along the edges and tips, spreading in optimal patterns and fluffing out gracefully.  It tingles as your wings twitch, allowing your new feathers to spread out and put the finishing touches on their positions.  They lower and spread.  They flap reflexively.

>Your body settles.  It feels still.  There is no burning, no shaking.  Are you finished?  Has whatever madness that infected you run its course?  You look at yourself in the mirror.

>Sitting on the tangled bed was a gray little animal with blonde hair.  You touch the tip of your muzzle, and trace it down your throat.  You wings beat and bend involuntarily.  They're yours.  You have wings.  Your tail flicks, sending long golden strands of hair splaying across the bed.  You have a tail.  You looked at yourself in the eyes.  Huge, enourmous eyes that set amongst dark fur that was wet from tears.  Eyes...that were...

>You noticed the irises.  The edges of them began to turn bright.  Slowly the striations shifted to a golden color.  Lighter and darker tones spread across your eyes.  They reminded you of a wheat field in the morning.  Yellow across all the range.  

>That was it.  You couldn't take it anymore.  Your hooves attacked your hair, trying to pull it out.  You mouth bit at your skin, tugging away bits of fur.  You had to get it off of you.  All of it.  Maybe you could turn back if only you could get it all off.  These feather had to go.  You bit at them desperately.  You started to cry again.  It hurt.  It stung.  You began to sob as you bit into your skin and drew a small amount of blood.  You didn't want stop, but... “Please,” you shudder “why did you do this to me?  Change me back, I can't -be- like this! I can't be a-a-a”  You covered your hooves to hide yourself from the world.

>The girl uncrossed her arms. “You can't be a pony?  Yet here you are.  This isn't all my doing.  You could've looked like a lot of things.  You could've been blue, or white, or purple.  Maybe even grown a horn.  You look like a friend of mine, actually.  I think this is appropriate.”  She stalks across the room towards you.  You pull together your last ounce of courage and try to stare her down, even as your nose quivers from quick intakes of frightened breathing.  “Your mind has a lot to do with the end product.  There is obviously some part of you that thinks you deserve this.”

>”Wh-what the fuck are you talking about?  Why would I deserve this?  I nearly fucking die, you turn me into a girl and, turn me into a goddamn pony?  Who could deserve that?  I was jus-”

>“Just made the world a worse place.  That's what you were doing.  Every day I wake up and I see you people.  You humans.  You run around, pushing things, yelling things.  You act cruel, and hurtful.  You offer hate when you should give love.  Spur frienship when it would be the easiest thing to nurture.”  Her eyes are on fire.  They glow like neon blulbs while darkening at the same time.  She looks like a giant.  You cower back onto the bed.  “This world could be so wonderful.  It's beautiful.”  She closes her slanted eyes and shakes her head, regret emanating from every motion.  “Even most of the people are kind, but it's the uncaring, selfish monsters like you who ruin it.”  Her voice carried the weight of every accusation in the world and aimed it directly at you.

>You take a deep breathe.  “I...am not..a monster.”  She sighs and shrugs.  “Maybe.  You're definitely not the worst.  You don't completely deserve this.  Nonetheless, you're not a good person.  You just want to fuck, to hurt, and force yourself to be seen as better than everyone else.  I don't feel too guilty about this.”  She scoops you up.  You squawk at the suddeness and try to squirm away from her.  “You wanted to have me all to yourself, so here we are.”  She carries you with both arms and brings you to the mirror.  “Two more things are going to happen. You are not going to like either of them.”  

>She grabs your head and forces you to look at yourself in the mirror, you grunt in protest.  Your eyes starts to sting.  “What's going...” Your vision starts to go lopsided.  In your reflection you can see one of your pupils droop slowly, going downward and inward.  It feels uncomfortable, and you want to rub at your eye, but she's keeping you from moving your hooves.  You squeeze your good eye and try to straighten out your vision, but it doesn't listen to you.  You open both eyes.  It's giving you a headache, you're looking at two completely different angles.  You jerk your head and look in any direction to try and jostle your mismatched irises into cohesion.  You whimper.  “Why the fuck is this happeni-”  You start to feel an odd pressure in your brain.  In your mind intelf.

>“Why is this...why is...” Your tongue begins to feel heavy and thick.  You blink several times, very hard.  Your skull feels like it's being filled with syrup and cotton.   You think you're...you think....”What's...happening...to...me?”  Your voice loses its bounce.  Talking feels slow and forced.  You have to strong-arm every twist of your tonge and coordination of your lips to make the words.

>She lets your hooves press against your temples.  Your mind's eye begins to turn opaque,  “No...not this...pleeaase...”  You can still think.  It takes effort but you can still think.   You try to run through all of the things you've learned in school.  History?  Still there. Math?  There.  Memories.  Okay, okay, you're parents, your sister.  They're their.  You flip through your mental files, but it just takes so long, and it's making you feel so tired.  Things just feel so fuzzy.  “Nnooo...” you cry pitiably.

>Oh God.  She took that away from you?  How could she do that?  She was evil.  She was a witch.  You had to get away.  Had.  Run.  RUN.

>Using a last reserve of strength you spasmed out of her arms and hit the floor with a loud thud.  You hit your shoulder hard.  Wobbly you stand up.  In your new form, you reach to about waist-height of the girl.  The world seems so much bigger from your lower perspective.  The lines of distance stretched up and away.  So much more crooked and slanted and confusing.  You ran, or tried to.  Your legs controted and twisted over themselves, sending you into the ground more often then sending you forward.

>This wasn't fair.  You weren't -right-.  You couldn't maneuver your legs correctly because your mind was to shot to even make sure they could lift up all the way.  The world was a dizzying mess of high angles, blurring twists, and slams into the carpet.

>You ran into the wall, hard.  You head pounded loudly against it.  You winced in pain, staying there for a moment as you tried to catch your breath.  You leaned against the wall with your eyes shut and moved your legs.  You stumbled and tripped, but at least you were moving forward.

>The door.  You have to get to the door.  Leave.  Go home.  Go home.  Please, just let me go home.  Home.  You tripped again, knocking your head against the wall once more, sending sharp echoes through your skull.  “Ahh.”  This was a nightmare, it had to be.  But even in your muddled state, you knew you had too many aches and stinging, clubbing pains in your body to delude yourself into thinking this was simply a dream.

>The hallway ended.  You tried opening only one eye.  There was the door.  You tried to run for it, but only succeeded in trompling sideways into a chair, grazing your shoulder.  It stung.  You hit it hard enough for it to tumble over and catching your wings.  You squeeked as a wing was caught beneath the wood and forced into an uncomfortable position.  You groaned and cried as you tugged it out, breaking into a run again and slamming into the door.

>Your head hurt, but you didn't care.  Your freedom was right there.  Nevermind that there was no way to operate your car, much less get into it.  Or the fact that your house was miles away, and that you couldn't get into that either.  You had to leave.  Leave.

>You climbed up along the door onto your hindlegs. And fumbled at the handle.  Your rounded hooves could not get a grasp on the nob.  Was it locked?  Your mouth bit onto the bitter brass and tried to work the locks, you bit down hard, crying as you teeth impacted the cold metal over and over.  You tried to work it with your muzzle, and hooves, eventually your efforts degraded into that of a dog pawing at a door begging to be let out. “C'mon, c'mon!”

>And then you heard her.  You turned your head, and your eyes widened as you saw her exit the bedroom.  You fell to the floor.  Get away from her.  Don't let her get near.  Please.  Stay away.  Please.  You crawl.  You drag yourself along the carpet as fast as you can, shimmying using your hooves, shoulders, and wings.  You just want to be somewhere dark.  You manage to squeeze yourself behind her couch.  You sidle as far into the corner as you can and curl up like the quivering animal you are.

>You just want to hide.  Hide away from yourself, and the world, and most of all the witch who did this to you.

>Oh God, you just want her to leave you alone.  You squeeze your defective eyes and start to whimper as you feel her push the couch away, exposing you to her.  You tighten up into yourself even harder, looking like a fuzzy, feathery ball of terror and confusion.

>“Please,”  you moan miserably.  “Please.  Please don't hurt...me.  Don't...hurt me any...more”  You cough out sadly, weakly.  The tone of desperation and never-before heard-of begging pierces to the singular core that still remained wholly you.  It disgusted you, it frightened you.  This is what you've become.  “God...please...I'm sorry.  What-ever I did.  I'm..sor-ry.”  It was like you were speaking with a mouth full of mashed potatoes.  You shudder once more.  “Don't hurt me.”

>The girl leans down next to you.  She runs a gentle hand down your back slowly, repeatedly.  Her mouth parts a little ways and soothing breathy noises slip out form her lips.  She begins to rub your ears.  They flattened against your head at first, but her gentle ministrations slowly tease them into a neutral posisiton.  “I'm not going to hurt you.  You've been hurt enough.”  You shake again.  Oh God, why can't you stop shaking?

>She places a hand along your side.  “I'm going to pick you up now.”  You try to voice disagreement, but nothing but broken breathing comes out.  She lifts you up gently and brings you close to her chest.  Your cover your head and bury your face in her breast, sobbing quietly.  She pets your mane carefully, calming you down, despite yourself.  “I'm sorry that had to hurt so much, but it's not going to be that bad now, I promise.”  How could she say that?  This was awful.  You tried to speak.  “You turned me ugly...small and...can't..even walk now.  I'm so....so....stu...stu...” You couldn't say it.  You couldn't.

>“You're just a little derpy now, that's all.”  She sat down on the bed and started to rock you.  “And you're not ugly.  You're a very pretty little pony.  Beautiful.  It'll just take some getting used to.  But don't worry, I'll help you.”

>”Why?”  You looked at her in confusion.  It should've been anger.  But you were spent on anger, you were in too much pain to be angry.  She resumed petting you again.  The firm reassurance of her fingers sliding along the grain of your mane felt wonderful.  For a brief moment you were lost in the oddest bliss. “Because now you need a friend.  And I'll be your friend.”  She hugged you.  It felt wonderful to be held in her warm embrace.  It was soft and safe...

>You're breathing began to steady.  “I don't...wanna be...derpy.  I wanna go back.”

>“You can't.  Not now.”  She said it not entirely without sympathy, but in a way that invited no doubt whatsoever.  There was a finality to it.  This is what you were now.  A scared, confused, slow thing.   But..she said you were pretty...

>“Don't worry now.  Just rest.  You've got a lot to learn.  But hey, I'm good at teaching.”  Her voice was kind.  Entirely unlike anything you've ever heard from her.  It held promises and sincerity that brought calmness and a measure of clarity to your mind.  The kernel of you was tired, confused.  It didn't want to fight.

>She laid back on the bed, hugging you close to her body.  She smiled softly as she moved the golden bangs from your crooked eyes and covered the both of you with the warmest, snuggest blanket you've ever been under.  And despite all your sadness and aches, you found that you very nearly giggled as you realized something just before dozing off:

>You got to sleep with her afterall.