The Mare In The Mirror TG

May 24th, 2019
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  1. The thread hadn’t been updated in a while, but the dim light from the monitor kept him wide awake. He wasn’t even tired, but it seemed like it he had no choice but to hit the sack.
  3. His eyes scraped over the bottom corner of the screen.
  5. “4:30 AM,” he mumbled.
  7. Anon had been browsing since sunset or so. He wasn’t really a morning person, or a daytime person. Which sorta made sense, because in his craziest fantasies, he wasn’t a person at all.
  9. He tabbed over to some porn and began to lap up the image. A twisted body filled his screen. The subject’s torso was becoming lithe, and supple. His hands were melting together, his body had sprouted fur, and his face a muzzle. The subject’s boring body parts were being replaced by a iridescent mane, and a blue and black marshmallow tush. He groped his dick firmly when he noted that theirs had begun to shrink under the skillful hooves of their transformer.
  11. He glanced to his mirror, which also served as his closet door, and stared at his reflection, listlessly zoning out for a moment. The edges of the mirror seeped some sort of sparkling, phosphorescent gas.
  13. He sobered, “Is that crap gonna poison me if I breathe it in?”
  15. For a moment his reflection changed. His eye could only catch a blur of blue, but the mirror now had his full attention, if the poisonous glitter gas hadn’t caught it already. He kicked himself away from his desk, and strode toward his reflection.
  17. “Am I hallucinating?” He thought. No, the reflection of his face had definitely changed. It was blue, had a slender snout, and was almost feminine? The surface rippled.
  19. “Holy shit” He hissed, beneath his breath. The rest of the apartment was fast asleep, and he wanted to keep it that way.
  21. He pressed his fingers against the mirror, and the surface gave way. It was cold and metallic, like dipping his fingers into mercury. As they penetrated they stung. It felt like he’d been bitten. He jerked his hand back reflexively. Rubbing his fingers, he regarded the sparkly death gas.
  23. Well he wasn’t dead yet, that was good. It smelled like smoke, and was simultaneously refreshing like minty gum or something.
  25. His reflection began to fade, replaced by a top down view of an elegant room with a clearly greek motif. Just below, there was a bed, well furnished with black pillows and blue sheets, and the sigil of a moon stitched into them. Surrounding the bed was a pair of mirrors, and beanbag chairs.
  27. The image looked as though it were pulled straight out of a cartoon. The room looked like it had been drawn in flash. The blinds fluttered as a breeze blew in through the window.
  29. His heart began to pound. As a powerful recognition overtook him, as he remembered where he’d seen this art style before.
  31. “The animation quality looks top notch.” He thought to himself. He was stunned into a surreal apoplexy.
  33. He counted his fingers to see if they were still there. A quick reality check, which didn’t seem to satisfy him. So he simply fidgeted while staring at the image for a long time.
  35. “This has to be a dream,” He muttered
  37. He stuck a hand in, then both, it felt like they were softly burning, and finally…
  39. He jumped.
  41. He tumbled downward in a surreal haze before nearly getting the wind knocked out of himself as he splattered onto the bed. He pulled his head out of the pillows, to look upon this impossible scenario.
  43. He moved his head left and right, and to his surprise his view in the room changed. The mirrors in the foreground, to the couches in the background. Based on how it looked, he expected everything in the background to be static, like it was in the show, but everything moved and changed perspective with his point of view.
  45. It was hard to not squirm in excitement. He’d expected to have woken up by now. The pair of mirrors on either side of the bed reflected the image of a human propped against the headrest, with a small addition. His hair had turned blue.
  47. “What the fuck?”
  49. It sparkled and glimmered as he ran his fingers through his locks. The edges were almost transparent, while the rest of the hair sparkled like the night sky. As he stroked, it began to grow at an alarming rate. Hair began to pour through his fingers, and spilled over his shoulders. Rubbing at his neck confirmed that it had grown in a thick band down his spine. He tousled the hair and inched closer to a mirror to get a better look at the reflection. Not that he needed a better look. He’d recognize that mane with both eyes closed while using his dick as a dowsing rod.
  51. “It’s, Luna’s?” He massaged the silky soft threads between his fingers. As he explored, he found that the sides of his head were conspicuously empty. He ran a hand over the spot where ears were supposed to be, as though he’d misplaced them. Until they popped up through his mane, at the top of his head. Flicking, and twisting with a mind of their own.
  53. It felt too real. That gas must’ve been poisonous. He was probably writhing on the floor of his apartment.
  55. “I’m actually foaming at the mouth right now.” He murmured. Even if that was true, deep down, he felt that it might actually be worth it.
  57. He grabbed a lock of the stuff and pressed it against his nose. You know how everyone has a scent? This hair smelled nothing like him, but he didn’t care. It was distinctly girly, and it smelled almost too good. He breathed it in with eyes tightly shut. He exhaled in a long drawn out sigh. It almost smelled like blueberries. He could just eat it up. Or worse, as the throb in his crotch gently reminded.
  59. He opened his eyes, to discover that his irises, and his entire face had taken on a blueish tone.
  61. “What?” He coughed and chortled. His voice sounded rough, and it felt twice as bad. A prickly sensation began to radiate from his throat, and soon reached his maw. His blurted a mangled exclamation as his mouth and lips grew numb, and unresponsive.
  63. His mouth and nose were beginning to push out, and melt together. His skin became soft, his face felt like clay. He spectated the mutations in the mirror with pupils as small as pinpricks, as the eyes that held them grew to comic proportions. His entire face was simply melting flesh. Being manipulated like clay by some perverted force.
  65. He tried again to speak, but only guttural sounds emerged this time. His throat felt hot, and flushed with blood as his vocal chords began to constrict. Only a soft creaking could escape his throat. The squeaking and whining that followed were instantly recognizable as the voice of a princess, and undeniably feminine. The timber lost from his once male voice.
  67. He stared into the mirror transfixed by his burgeoning muzzle. He couldn’t stand the sensations. It felt like his nose was cramping up. He buried his face between two pillows to relieve some of the pressure. His nostrils widened, cartilage contorted, and grew more sensitive. His nose and lips, bursting with neurochemical music.
  69. He rubbed at his snout.
  71. “It’s so soft…” or at least that’s what he tried to say. All that came out was some sloppy moaning.
  73. It was so sensitive, he couldn’t decide whether to use his hands to rub his nose, or his dick. He snorted, breathing sharply. His snout felt like a hardon without a climax. A pool of drool began to form on the sheets. Somewhere beneath the pillows, his mouth found something rubbery. He sucked on it as hard as he could, and somehow it helped the pain to subside. His throat throbbed intensely, and he mewled in agony. He began to stuff the rubber rod deeper, and deeper into his throat, trying to scratch an impossible itch. It seemed to be working. Until he reached the end. He could swallow no more. The base was too big to swallow. Immediately, the pain in his throat subsided, and he took a moment to gather himself.
  75. Slowly, he pulled his head out, bringing his strange pacifier along for the ride. He turned to look into the mirror, and assess the damages.
  77. “Mmh!” he tried to scream.
  79. What he was looking at was Princess Luna’s head, sans horn, with a pair of rubber balls sticking out of her mouth. Slowly, he brought a hand up and started to pull out the dildo.
  81. He watched in a mix of arousal and fear as the outline of the cock’s flared head traveled up his throat, and out of his mouth. Slick with his own spit.
  83. “Blaugh!” He tossed the slimy horsecock onto the sheets, and backpedaled away until there was nothing but air.
  85. He toppled backwards, and careened off the bed. Knocking over one of the mirrors over for good measure.
  87. He’d landed on his now lengthy neck, and in the fetal position, with his legs thrown over his head. He couldn’t believe there was horse dildo under the pillow. He couldn’t believe he’d swallowed it to the balls! Though seeing it in Luna’s mouth was really hot. What the hell was it doing in his dream anyway? As his eyes refocused they settled on the familiar sight of his boxers, while his nose felt a soft bulge pressing against it. Startled, he realized his muzzle was pressed tightly against his cock. He could even smell the arousal that hid, straining beneath the fabric. He looked around, fearful of onlookers, only to find his reflection in the fallen mirror.
  89. It was Luna’s blushing face, pressed hard against his cock.
  91. Hastily, tearing off his underwear, he tried to suck himself off. Fantasizing it was Luna, not he, who was in this precarious position. He forced her to take it between her lips. He moaned softly to add to the effect, twirled his tongue around its head, but nothing seemed to be working. He was dribbling pre like crazy, but he just couldn’t cum. As much as he wanted to. It didn’t feel like he was getting sucked off. He just had a dick in his mouth. The pre didn’t help either, given that it tasted like crap.
  93. “Ptah!” He spat out his flaccid dick. Noticing that he’d done so with Luna’s voice. Instantly, his cock was rock hard and ready for round two, poking him in the snout. He twirled over, back onto his feet, then promptly faceplanted on the floor. He rubbed his sore nose. What the hell happened?
  95. He tried getting on two feet once more, but ended up on his hands and knees.
  97. “What has happened to us?” It felt like he’d totally lost his balance. It seemed like he was stuck on all fours, for the moment.
  99. He paused, “Us?”
  101. He shook his head in a double take. He focused on the word 'I'
  103. "We"
  105. He tried again snarling his lips
  107. "EeeyoouWeee"
  109. He couldn’t help himself. For some reason he preferred the royal ‘we’.
  111. “Oh Celestia!” was he losing his mind?
  113. He continued this for a few more minutes, getting increasingly frustrated with each attempt until he had his hands in his mouth trying to manually move his tongue.
  115. An ache in his feet developed in mere moments, and he was quickly preoccupied with alleviating the pressure in his shoes. He undid the laces, to no avail. They were already too tight, and warping from the strain of his growing feet. Massaging furiously did nothing to stem the swelling, and he could already hear the stitches in one begin to tear. The tips of both feet were numb, feeling more like dull clubs rather than toes, but the balls of his feet were growing even more sensitive. The sensation of growing now came in strong pulses, coupled with the feeling of intense pressure in his calves. He could see that his legs were shrinking, and that his thighs were expanding, but the sensations in his feet were more powerful. Confused about whether the changes he could feel were painful or soothing, he simply rode the waves, gripping his feet so tightly his forearms started to cramp.
  117. He noticed that his tailbone ached, and realized that it had been aching for a while now. He felt a tingling sensation, as his tailbone began to tighten, like a spring under intense pressure.
  119. Finally the strongest pulse came, and overrode all his senses, temporarily blinding him in the process. His new hooves burst proudly through the tips of his now pointless shoes. His tail tore the seat of his pants asunder. The sound of tearing fabric echoed through the castle halls, as his thighs and booty swelled majestically, and his tortured pants were finally put out of their misery.
  121. He sat huffing for a moment. He wiped his brow, incredulous. The sensations were far too realistic, way too intense. His hand was even damp with sweat. Could this really be a dream?
  123. He turned his rump to a random mirror to get a better look. He’d jerked off to this rear. Fuck! he couldn’t even remember how often. At least a few times a week? He never thought he’d get this close. He felt its weight on his haunches. It felt huge. Just looking at it made him feel deeply aroused, but having it made him feel strangely more complete? He shook his head clearing those unsettling thoughts, that was impossible, this was just a fantasy. He blew a lock of sparkly blue hair out of his vision, sat on his cushy rump, and brought his hooves into view.
  125. They were attached to luscious, supple thighs, that caused his ears to stand straight at attention. He bit his lip as he ran a hand over them, the crescent moon on his thigh, and finally onto the tattered remains of his black sneakers. Silently he pushed the remnants off his shoes and socks, and turned his attention to the sensitive soles beneath his hooves.
  127. He pulled one up, and noticed that at the center of the hoof lay a pulpy ball of flesh. It looked so soft and plump, so he ventured a finger in to prod it. And as pliable it was, it was even more sensitive. The frog in his hoof felt almost erogenous. He gripped it with both hands and began to stroke it with his thumbs, in tight controlled circles. He felt that prickly pins and needles sensation returning as the hairs on his newly furred leg began to stand up on end. He felt like he could purr.
  129. He moaned, but this time it wasn’t just for show.
  131. He noticed something poking him in the stomach. It was his cock, as hard as ever. He didn’t even feel it through all the changes. It simply got lost in the shuffle. His hands quickly darted back to his finally firm rod. The poor thing was a sailboat of human flesh, lost in the sea of blue which now covered most of his body.
  133. His eyes darted in trepidation to his flanks, noticing the crescent moon which was now etched into his haunches. The marker of his destiny.
  135. Destiny, that word had a ring to it. It had the air of permanence. What if he never wakes up? And is forced to stay in this form the rest of his life?
  137. That thought tipped him over the edge.
  139. He stroked his rigid equipment relentlessly, and focused his mind on what he had become of him until his arms grew sore, and raw. Fully expecting a climax, but it just didn’t come.
  141. He flung his arms to either side in defeat.
  143. “We just,” he huffed.
  145. “We simply can’t” Luna’s voice wasn’t helping matters. Again his cock grew erect. Mocking him.
  147. He tried focusing on the strange feelings from his body. He saw that the only humanity he had left was in his arms, hands, and cock. Every other feature of his body, down to the last detail was a duplicate of Luna’s.
  149. A bolt of euphoria shot through him as he realized how beautiful he looked. He giggled girlishly, even though his cock was malfunctioning he was over the moon. Idly, he thought that he could be stuck like this forever and not even mind.
  151. Just then, the tips of his fingers began to tingle.
  153. He then realized what was destined to happen.
  155. “Oh my! Oh no! Can such an insanity occur? How could we not have predicted this?”
  157. He got to his hands and hooves only to drunkenly stumble, and crawl through the room. As much as he’d jerked off to transformation porn in the past, being without his hands frightened him. He pulled open drawers, and cabinets, looking for a potion or something, but finding only more toys, lingerie, and condoms.
  159. “Why would Princess Luna be storing such things, and how in Equestria do these insolent appendages even function!”
  161. For a moment his hand hovered over the door handle. Perhaps he could call for help. Maybe Celestia would know what to do. But he remembered that this was a dream, and there was no telling what nightmare lay beyond that door.
  163. With that realization he began to calm down.
  165. “Oh how foolish of us!” His fingers were totally numb. He’d given up on walking like a mare, and simply rolled on the floor to the bed before hoisting himself up.
  167. “All we need do is simply enjoy ourselves.” He laughed nervously. Something within him doubted the unreality of the situation.
  169. He balled his fists in contemplation, and felt something hard rest against his chin.
  171. He sputtered. Attached to his arm was a slender blue hoof. He flailed his wrist, trying to shake it off. He looked from one hand to the other, breathing in gasps. The fingers on his left hand were melting away, into a hard keratin casing.
  173. “This is merely a dream. This is merely a dream!”
  175. He poked the center of one hoof with the other, tracing the outlines of the sensitive frog in the center. It felt just like his palms.
  177. His hooves didn’t feel like long fingers, rather they felt like open hands. He clenched and opened his Phantom fingers. Luna’s hoof twitched in response. Fuck that felt weird.
  179. He reached for the horse dildo, hovered a hoof over it and clenched.
  181. “How the…”
  183. It was attached to his hoof somehow. He moved his arm, Luna’s arm moved, and the cock followed.
  185. Wait, the thing won’t come off! He shook his hoof wildly.
  187. Meanwhile, his own cock was shrinking, becoming flaccid, though it felt like it was actually increasing in erogenous sensitivity, pushing him to the brink of ecstasy. Every inch it shrank added another to the horn growing above his eyes. It glowed a dull blue. Every sudden wave of joy bursting from his crotch sent sparks shooting off the tip of his horn. His cock dwindled more, and more, until he realized it must not be any bigger than the tip of his pinky. Or it would be, if he had one anymore.
  189. He hissed an empty scream, as his balls were foisted into his body. He finally dropped the horsecock though, out of sheer shock.
  191. As that pain subsided, the heat in his crotch returned. His dick had become a pearl, and it looked like it was going to stay that way.
  193. He rubbed his new clit, with clearly no dexterity. The hooves hadn’t quite grown on him yet. At this point he was just desperate to get off.
  195. He heard a squelch, and froze in the fetal position, at the center of the bed, as his crotch cracked a smile for the very first time. The pink nether lips he now owned began to ooze a fetid liquid all over his hooves. He brought it up to his lips, and cautiously gave it a lick.
  197. “M-marecum?”
  199. And it was his. A look of determination crossed his face. He was gonna climax if it killed him.
  201. He grabbed the slick horsecock with both hooves, hopelessly fumbling it. He took a deep breath then tried again, sweat building on his furrowed brow. Finally he got it beneath him, perfectly held between his heels with his trembling pussy just overhead.
  203. He looked backwards to the mirror, and lifted his tail away. His deep blue ponut quivered, as his bountiful marshmallow rump clenched.
  205. He lowered himself onto the cock with zealous disregard for his old gender, or identity. His new body was all that mattered.
  207. He found that he really did sense a burning need deep inside of him. Like he’d imagined any mare would. Within, he felt empty, but the cock was doing just the trick, filling him in all the ways that mattered, right up to the brim.
  209. He threw his head back and drooled. His mind turning to mush.
  211. With a free hoof he flicked the tiny nub his cock had become. Smothering it with his own marejuices. It wasn’t human, it wasn’t even a dick anymore.
  213. Through all the intense sensations he felt himself wink. He finally admitted to himself that he really wanted this, he needed this cock inside him, to make himself whole. Something was taking over.
  215. Just as he realized this, his shoulderblades burned and cracked. Until all at once, what felt like two feathery arms burst from his back. He turned his head to find he was sporting the biggest wingboner in all of Equestria.
  217. He’d lost so many parts, but he finally felt complete.
  219. “I am the Princess of the Night!” she boomed in the royal Canterlot voice.
  221. Her rear was a blur as she bucked her hips ever faster, rubbing her clit with perverse precision. Ultimately, the feelings of love, and lust, power, and submission all merged into a single sensation, that built up, and exploded, reverberating throughout her body in waves. Waves which left her speechless, and thoughtless. Some were so intense, she wanted to tap out. After minutes of bliss, the orgasms subsided.
  223. She was left a panting, bewildered, and very tired pony.
  225. Her sore muscles found their way to a dry spot on the bed, then gave way.
  227. Mind blank, body at peace.
  229. The alicorn slipped into the best sleep she’d had as long as she could remember
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