So, after ~3 hours of writing, I created this piece.
I thought, Hmm, Pom is considered 2pure by many.
So I decided to absolutely murder that purity.
Contains: Tentacles, pheromones, corruption/hypnosis, very light tf
Oh, and it’s longer than average for me.
In the world of Foenum, just northeast of the The Woodland, is the fabled Singing Vine forest. Its dark, roofed interior has instilled a superstition among the unicorns that it was tainted by Dark Magic. The wind howls and whistles between the vines, heavy with a strange scent, filling the air with a hauntingly beautiful melody. Amongst the unicorns, this was a trap; something to beckon curious followers of the Light, so that it may take them, filling them with a desire for destruction and chaos.
This, is a half-truth.
The Singing Vine forest is named for its melody, but it does not entice followers of Light Magic; it is a beckoning call for weary travelers, a message that they would be safe amongst the vines. Many who enter come out changed: a shade darker pelt, more assertive and even a slight touch more aggressive. Lovers of those who enter note that they are the same in personality, but, within the confines of bedchambers, they are magical partners, serving every desire of their lover.
Many, however, know the stigma of such a place, and as such, avoid it.
A small sheep, visiting the Woodland in search of the Key, would learn of the forest.
Her name was Pom, chosen by her kind to be a Keeper, had a disdain for violence, and saw that the Order did as well.
“Come, come!” an elderly unicorn had told her, his graying coat visible in the light of the forest, “you will not have to face such brutes here!”
Pom accepted the greeting with a soft smile, and asked, “I, um, was wondering where I could find a library? I would like to know more of this place.”
He would direct her to the Grand Unicornian Archive, said to be the largest library in all of Foenum, and she went, seeking knowledge of the key’s location. Pom would read a few dozen books, and eventually, found one.
The Book of Dark Spaces.
Pom looked curiously at the tome, before settling down to read. By moonhigh, she reached a chapter called, The Seductress of The Woodland: the Singing Vine forest.
She read its description, described by the unicorn’s superstitious beliefs as a place of evil, a natural temple to the Dark. That its wretched song and scent would fill the wind as your Light fell away.
Pom felt unnerved, yet… intrigued. What could cause the unicorns to think that a forest of all things was evil? they did live in one after all. She even heard a beautiful melody wind throughout the branches, conducted by wind and nature itself. A forest, a place of life and peace, could not possibly be as bad as a Predator.
“I… will enter the forest, prove the Order wrong!”
She pondered this thought, and, with uncharacteristic courage, set off northeast.
Oh, dear. I do not like this…
Pom had ventured for what seemed like hours, trotting through the peacful woods. As she forged ahead, the forest became thicker, darker. An odd scent was on the wind, a scent that made her blush and continue forward with a distinctly different drive. She knew this smell.
This was the smell of spring, where the tups would give off a musk that made her knees weak and her head heavy. At the time, she was too young to understand, but when she learned of the scent’s purpose, she was kept away by her mother, whom had feared of her lamb doing something rash.
Now, lewd thoughts ran through her mind, and a strange force carried her forward. She heard a close melody, one that made her squeak, and a slight warmth reach from her face to her rump. The force told her,
Go forward. It’s okay. I will not harm you…
Pom felt another flash of heat, and trotted in a seemingly random direction, her head swimming with warmth and even lewder thoughts. They would be images of her mounted by a tup, but the would flash away before she could savor them. They began to to change, to a stallion, then to a large, powerfully built stag.
Sometimes, she would do things to them. In her mind’s eye, Pom would witness her straddling a stallion, taking his impressive length, then demand that he beg for release.
These thoughts alone, in normal company, even when she was alone, would cause Pom to squeak and blush furiously, fighting the urge to relieve herself. But now, she was strangely at peace with these thoughts, allowing their heat to flow through her body. If anything, she felt something she never thought she was.
Pom felt sexy.
It was this revelation that gave her a new, swinging, sultry gait, and a need for something to fill her. Pom found that something as she stopped.
It was an atrium of vines and thick Sequioas, with bright, violet and magenta bioluminescence from the mushrooms that climbed the lengths of the trees, with oddly shaped flowers dotting a scant few of the vines. Upon closer inspection, she found that the vines were moving toward her.
Pom, however, felt no fear; in fact, she felt anticipation. The musk was burning in her nostrils, and her thoughts had become lustful whispers, filling her mind with a desire for the vines. She allowed them to wrap around her hooves and legs, their lengths seeming to pulse and caress around them, relaxing her limbs and convincing the sheep that they meant no harm.
Pom was then pressed, gently, against a soft, mossy surface. Had she no been so desperate for something, she would have slept then and there. A small vine creaked out from a woody confine, topped with an odd flowerbud. It gently poked her tummy, causing her to giggle lightly at the ticklish sensation. It sifted through the loops of her coat, coaxing her to laugh and giggle like a young lamb.
The vine came to a stop at her muzzle, then gave a gentle tap at her nose, causing Pom to blush a bit harder and titter adorably. It then opened up, revealing two small, magenta tendrils. The open bud then gently rushed forward, clamping around her nose. Pom squeaked, thinking that it would hurt her as the tendrils went just inside her nostrils, then inflated, blocking any and all airflow; she had to breathe out her mouth now, and was surprised to hear a slight, husky moan.
The tendrils then opened, allowing her to breathe once again - and take in the plant’s scent.
It smelled wonderful. Like a fresh, summer rain, with a hint of a tup’s musk, and it flowed through her, relaxing Pom’s limbs even further, and, before she knew it, her mind bagan to dim. Thoughts slowed to a crawl, her ears flopped down, and her eyes became lidded, staring at something beyond what a conscious mind could concieve. Her jaw slacked, and a voice flowed into her head.
Do not worry, little one. I am peace. I am Nature herself.
The scent became heavier, and stronger, as Pom dimly registered something being poured.
I know what you are. What you wish to become. A heroine, destined to bring salvation to Foenum. But you feel yourself too weak to do so. Why?
Pom responded with a distracted, tired voice.
“Mmm… want to… be… strong… beautiful…”
And why is that, little ewe?
“Tups… think I’m… too young… think I’m not… ready… for a big responsibility… want to prove them wrong…”
I will help you, then. There is a leaf bowl coming to you. It is what you smell. Drink it, deeply, and embrace ecstasy.
Pom’s eyes lazily followed the bowl, and it tipped towards her muzzle. She then slowly drank the nectar, her coat graying slightly, becoming darker than its previous cotton white. It resembled more of a storm cloud now.
Pom then released the bowl, the act triggering a bolt of pleasure. Her lips and throat were now so very sensitive, ready to accept something else.
A vine, slick with the juices that made her throat sing with pleasure, and with a tiny, dripping hole at its tip. Pom wanted it in her throat, wanted to caress it, and give her more of the wonderful fluid.
The vine gently tapped her lips, causing her to shudder with pleasure, and she accepted the vine, wrapping her lips around it as it dove down her throat, chaining bolts of nervewracking ecstasy down her spine. Pom absolutely adored this feeling. She wanted more.
And more she recieved, as a large vine with flowerbud head rose up between her thighs. Pom stared at it, silently pleading for it to do something. The vine opened, then clamped around her rump; two petals occupying her flanks, one against her teats, and the final one massaging her dock. All of the petals suckled lightly, a sensation that caused Pom to lightly moan. Then, suddenly, her very wet, very aroused passage was invaded by a gooey, sticky vine, that squirmed within her, causing her to release a lustful caterwaul.
Pom nearly screamed in pure bliss as another one slipped into her ass, squirming and writhing, and with that act, she felt the most wonderful sensation.
She felt her flank cheeks fill out, slowly but surely, as her legs began to ripple with slight, lean muscle. Her hips began to widen slightly, ensuring a near permanent sultry, seductive gait.
Pom now felt strong, and swift, and best of all, sexy.
It was then that the vines had finished, and exploded, filling her holes with a hot, creamy substance. It filled out her belly to create a slight paunch, and it leaked out around the vine’s covering. Pom was overwhelmed with absolute bliss, and, as her tail increased in length to hide her now very inviting entrances, her eyes drooped, and she fell into a restful slumber.
Pom had awoken some time later, outside the Woodland, on a soft patch of grass. Her sheepdog pups had found her, laying beside her, fast asleep. She rose, and walked about, enjoying her new gait, and savoring the light jiggle of her flanks.
Pom was now determined to find the key. She was determined to find the other Champions, and challenge them.
And maybe, just maybe, have a little fun as well…