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I rarely dream.
When I sink into the pillow and Angelique's scent washes over me, all I ever recall is that surreal feeling of floating before falling unconscious into blackness. I
appreciate those moments of peace from my own thoughts.
When I do dream, it's always the same. I rise from the bed, it is dark. I walk across the room to the bathroom, with a strange pressure sometimes a tickling sensation
in my abdomen. The floor of the bathroom is ice cold against my footpads. I reach for the light switch with one hand, and run the other over my stomach. I jerk it away
as my skin feels strange, and there is a warm sticky substance on my fingertips.
The light comes on and I see the cause. Under my right arm, down my side, holes. Round shallow holes in my skin, raw wounds, oozing a clear liquid, matting in my fur.
In this dream I am not afraid, even as I see things writhing beneath my skin. I know that they are rising from my womb, in my dream this is logical. I lift my arm over
my head and the holes stretch and distort. I run my fingertips over it, there is a stinging sensation. I press my fingertips into them and the stinging becomes more
intense but not unpleasant, a burning warm sensation begins to radiate all across my side.
It's only when I feel movement right beneath my finger I jerk my hand away. The pressure released sends a jolt of pain across my body. My fur stands on end. I cannot
look away from these holes even as the movement beneath my skin becomes more intense. My flesh is bulging from the pressure just below its surface.
I cannot look away.
Though I usually reserve my note taking for my medical endeavors, but I feel I need to record tonight’s experience, as it may be significant to said endeavors. I am not
one to believe in premonition, but the sensation I am experiencing is nothing short of panic, induced by of all things, a dream.
I rarely dream, save for one or two strange recurring ones. I had spent the weekend moving some of Angelique’s belongings into the house, she is quite the scatterbrain,
(though I mean that in the most endearing way) and I discovered quite recently she had a storage unit in her name which was defaulting on the payments. Scatterbrained,
as I said.
After balancing the account I gained access, and I discovered a number of boxes, old school books, nick-knacks and most curiously a box of personal records. These are
as I write this next to me in my study. I will admit my curiosity is overwhelming but I respect Angelique’s privacy, she is quite reserved about her family and her
history. Still... it is like an itch in the back of my mind.
After a glass of wine I had headed to bed, tired from moving around boxes and cleaning out the storage shed. I fell asleep quickly, the sound of light rain on the roof
and Angelique’s scent on my skin.
And then I began to dream. In the dream the world was enormous, and I was a tiny spec, no bigger than your index finger. I recall in the logic of the dream I questioned
this and some force assured me I was not a micro-fauna, the world was simply much larger than me. Curious, how our subconscious rationalizes such nonsense. I was
walking along a table, cold underfoot, like stainless steel. It was dark and the reek of chemicals and bleach was heavy in the air.
I could hear heavy vibration, incredibly deep and loud, it made the ground shake beneath me. When I looked up I could see figures, their faces obscured as they towered
above me, only the reflection of their spectacles gleaming in my direction. They are talking and gesturing but I cant understand, the air just vibrates and hums in a
frequency I cant process. They feel familiar, and I am scared, scared because they are so much larger with so much power over me.
I run and become unable to move, standing atop a silver flat plate. It is linked to a number of colorful wires and I feel drained. In the dream I knew they were taking
my blood, all of it, draining from my frame. I can see numbers and analytics in garbled numerals on the walls. I turn to see one of the figures shake his head, and I
know he sees my thoughts. I cry out as he strikes a button on the wall.
There is a split second that follows that lasts an eternity. I seem to view it from outside my body seeing every terrible detail. My body unravels, my skin flays from
flesh in elegant spirals, stretching and tearing, falling from my body as easily as a virgins gown on her wedding night. My tendons snap, every fibers of muscle tearing
and springing back from the bone, their tensile strength lost. My abdomen opens, and my innards pour out exposed and twisting apart. I feel my cells distorting, I feel
my genes betray me, I feel my double helixes come undone, base pairs rejecting one another in a beautiful, terrible moment. I hear their laughter, and I am helpless.
I awoke drenched in sweat, clutching at my wrists, where the flesh first began to flay away. My heart has only just stopped its panicked pace. I do not believe in
premonition, but this dream reminds me of a quest long abandoned. A plan I failed to follow up on, distracted in my romance and my work from my true goals. I will find
those figures from my dream, I remember their names even now. I will find each and every one and make sure they are never able to turn my genes against me...
When I sink into the pillow and Angelique's scent washes over me, all I ever recall is that surreal feeling of floating before falling unconscious into blackness. I
appreciate those moments of peace from my own thoughts.
When I do dream, it's always the same. I rise from the bed, it is dark. I walk across the room to the bathroom, with a strange pressure sometimes a tickling sensation
in my abdomen. The floor of the bathroom is ice cold against my footpads. I reach for the light switch with one hand, and run the other over my stomach. I jerk it away
as my skin feels strange, and there is a warm sticky substance on my fingertips.
The light comes on and I see the cause. Under my right arm, down my side, holes. Round shallow holes in my skin, raw wounds, oozing a clear liquid, matting in my fur.
In this dream I am not afraid, even as I see things writhing beneath my skin. I know that they are rising from my womb, in my dream this is logical. I lift my arm over
my head and the holes stretch and distort. I run my fingertips over it, there is a stinging sensation. I press my fingertips into them and the stinging becomes more
intense but not unpleasant, a burning warm sensation begins to radiate all across my side.
It's only when I feel movement right beneath my finger I jerk my hand away. The pressure released sends a jolt of pain across my body. My fur stands on end. I cannot
look away from these holes even as the movement beneath my skin becomes more intense. My flesh is bulging from the pressure just below its surface.
I cannot look away.
Though I usually reserve my note taking for my medical endeavors, but I feel I need to record tonight’s experience, as it may be significant to said endeavors. I am not
one to believe in premonition, but the sensation I am experiencing is nothing short of panic, induced by of all things, a dream.
I rarely dream, save for one or two strange recurring ones. I had spent the weekend moving some of Angelique’s belongings into the house, she is quite the scatterbrain,
(though I mean that in the most endearing way) and I discovered quite recently she had a storage unit in her name which was defaulting on the payments. Scatterbrained,
as I said.
After balancing the account I gained access, and I discovered a number of boxes, old school books, nick-knacks and most curiously a box of personal records. These are
as I write this next to me in my study. I will admit my curiosity is overwhelming but I respect Angelique’s privacy, she is quite reserved about her family and her
history. Still... it is like an itch in the back of my mind.
After a glass of wine I had headed to bed, tired from moving around boxes and cleaning out the storage shed. I fell asleep quickly, the sound of light rain on the roof
and Angelique’s scent on my skin.
And then I began to dream. In the dream the world was enormous, and I was a tiny spec, no bigger than your index finger. I recall in the logic of the dream I questioned
this and some force assured me I was not a micro-fauna, the world was simply much larger than me. Curious, how our subconscious rationalizes such nonsense. I was
walking along a table, cold underfoot, like stainless steel. It was dark and the reek of chemicals and bleach was heavy in the air.
I could hear heavy vibration, incredibly deep and loud, it made the ground shake beneath me. When I looked up I could see figures, their faces obscured as they towered
above me, only the reflection of their spectacles gleaming in my direction. They are talking and gesturing but I cant understand, the air just vibrates and hums in a
frequency I cant process. They feel familiar, and I am scared, scared because they are so much larger with so much power over me.
I run and become unable to move, standing atop a silver flat plate. It is linked to a number of colorful wires and I feel drained. In the dream I knew they were taking
my blood, all of it, draining from my frame. I can see numbers and analytics in garbled numerals on the walls. I turn to see one of the figures shake his head, and I
know he sees my thoughts. I cry out as he strikes a button on the wall.
There is a split second that follows that lasts an eternity. I seem to view it from outside my body seeing every terrible detail. My body unravels, my skin flays from
flesh in elegant spirals, stretching and tearing, falling from my body as easily as a virgins gown on her wedding night. My tendons snap, every fibers of muscle tearing
and springing back from the bone, their tensile strength lost. My abdomen opens, and my innards pour out exposed and twisting apart. I feel my cells distorting, I feel
my genes betray me, I feel my double helixes come undone, base pairs rejecting one another in a beautiful, terrible moment. I hear their laughter, and I am helpless.
I awoke drenched in sweat, clutching at my wrists, where the flesh first began to flay away. My heart has only just stopped its panicked pace. I do not believe in
premonition, but this dream reminds me of a quest long abandoned. A plan I failed to follow up on, distracted in my romance and my work from my true goals. I will find
those figures from my dream, I remember their names even now. I will find each and every one and make sure they are never able to turn my genes against me...
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Предыстория к арту:
"The best I'll ever have?" Febii stroked her chin, a look of clear doubt on her face. "I dunno about that. I might just order out the usual, she never disappoints.
Stal took a second to give her a sideways, frustrated glance and shake his head, his hooves clopping along the dirt path toward the barn. It was oven-hot in the fields today, as was the usual for the summer; but it was only brightened by the view of several butt-naked slaves tending to the crops. Stal made an effort to take care of all of them, as long as they understood their place... And were a good enough fuck. "You're always goin' for the same gals and boys... I train them well, everyone knows that, but I'm offering you something fresh." Stal argued, his horse cock patting his thighs as he strided; he never had a need for clothes on his own land.
"Fresh meat?" a glint in her eyes a small smirk followed. "As in, only just recently broken in? Maybe a little naughty and rough around the edges of being a proper trained slut?"
"At's what am sayin'."
"Well..." The wolgon shook her head and gave a soft giggle. "Why the hell didn't you say so?"
It didn't take much longer to reach a barn at the back of one of the fields. It was fairly secluded from the rest of them, where many of the more mature slaves were kept, but this one was kept here for the explicit reason of being for newer ones that still needed training.
Processing a new slave took a lot of effort and time. While they were consensual, some of the brattier of the whores needed weeks upon weeks of constant bondage, fucking and abuse until they were perfectly well-behaved and obedient. New meat was often brought in, tied up, removed of their names, given a number, and called by that number until they earned the right to have their name back. Then, they were tied up - for a minimum of three days usually, and fucked at least once an hour to break them in. It didn't matter how much they pleaded for a break - this was a necessary breaking-in strategy that all the whores had to go through... Because at the end of the day, Stal wasn't opposed to renting out his owned meat to anyone with a high enough offer. In fact, he'd happily give his whore's away for days at a time to the most abusive of his friends.
If a slave took dick like a pro, never complained, always obeyed, and followed the very strict set of rules they were given upon entering the contract, then they were released from the 'starting barn', given a collar, and put to work in the fields - where they were allowed to work with the know that they could be bent over to fuck at any minute - often that even included the dogs that wandered the fields, Stal himself, or just a couple of visitors walking in without an invite. It didn't matter, their strict rule was to bend over for anything that wanted to dump a load in them, or on them.
Ashley was one of the new bloods. He had only been in the service of Master Stal for two days at this point, but he had already proven himself to be an extremely obedient and shy whore. This also upped his cuteness rather greatly for the stallion himself, who already trusted that this boy was only a couple of days away from his collar, and maybe giving him his name back. For now though, 34 was the number Ashley was given - and he couldn't expect to be called anything but that until he earned his real name back.
The night before, Ashley was given his most rigorous training yet - He was nervous, shy, and that only made the stallion enjoy the several hours he spent abusing the zebra the more. Much happened that night... And 34 experienced a lot of new firsts, such as feeling an actual bulge in his neck when the stallion forced his entire length down his throat, and being fitted with a cock cage which completely prevented him from cumming while he was fucked by his master... Over, and over, and over again. Hours this went on, and it ended with the zebra collapsed on the floor in exhaustion; but the Stallion only saw a chance to take advantage of the position he was in.
Being exhausted to the point of near-immobility made the Zebra pretty hard to persuade into certain positions, but his master simply forced him against the wall on his knees, tied his wrists to the wall with cuffs and rope, blindfolded him, and snapped a spreader bar on his ankles to keep his legs spread for a beautiful view whenever he walked past... Some more insurance for that view was a string on his tail to keep it raised. The zebra didn't complain, but was making an awful lot of noise, so he was gagged very soon after. A finishing touch was the vibrating dildo that was shoved into his already-gaping tailhole to keep it spread, but also to keep him exhausted. The stallion liked his whores to be used to constant stimulation.
How long was the zebra like this? The whole night and morning. A total of fourteen hours to be exact, and it wasn't easy. The poor zebra must have gotten maybe one entire hour of sleep the whole night, with that vibrator making sure he was kept good and awake.
The two walked into the barn, Stal was happy to be guide Febii to the very first stall within the barn and point inside of it. Within was number 34, still exactly where the stallion left him all those hours ago. "Lookie ere'." he said.
Febii's eyes widened. A femboy - something she was awfully fond of abusing, right there waiting to be taken. "But he's not done his training yet, right?"
"Nah, but he'll be good... I can guarantee it. I've not had such a well behaved boy in a long time."
"Number?"
"Thirty Four. Make sure ye call em' only by that unless you're calling him a dirty whore."
"And how much?"
Head was shaken from side to side by the stallion. "Take him for free for the week." Stal grabbed the Wolgon's hand and placed the keys to the stall door in them. "Just make sure that he comes back damaged."
The Wolgon only laughed. She took another look at the femboy zebra while the stallion walked out of the barn, leaving her to her own devices. Febii opened the barn door with the key, and strolled inside. She took a moment just to look at him... The slut was covered in cum from the previous night, and the gentlest of feminine moans were coming from his throat every time that vibrator buzzed somewhere sensitive... Which was pretty much constantly.
Strolling to the side of the barn where there were lines of toys and tools for abusing sluts on the wall, Febii grabbed herself a riding crop and a horse dildo - a lot bigger than that of even his masters - and grinned to the poor Zebra. "We're going to have a lot of fun you and I. And if you think Stal is bad to you... Well." The Wolgon leaned in close to the zebra's ear, he could only move his head slightly to listen to her. "You have no idea what state I'm going to leave you in by the end of this week."
With that, the Hybrid raised the high. "And I'll be a fucking moron to wait until I get home to use you. I don't think your master will mind if I bruise you a little before we leave." Smacking sounds and loud, feminine whines echoed throughout the barn, while the Wolgon began lubing up the monster dildo.
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