Diamond Tiara – A Flash Back: 7
It all started late, but then, why not, considering. I had been rather tired at the time, the perfect excuse?
“I have something for you, I'm sure this will look just beautiful on your neck!” he spoke.
Maybe I should have suspected. It's not as if he had to give me a gift this late. Then he had presented me with a necklace. It's black, and some three inches wide, by what I could see. It's almost leather, black, glistering. I certainly should have reacted at this point. Then he simply stood behind me, slipping it on, before I even had the time to protest.
I guess he stood behind me, because it is part of the ritual of putting a necklace on. Yet this was too tight, as I see it. It did cover my entire neck, from my chin, all the way down to my shoulders? Just as it clearly is thick and stiff, as elastic as it was.
I guess this is about the time I noticed the new panties he wanted me to wear, in place of the once I had been wearing the entire day. This is when to change, and he absolutely did know when to present the change.
Wearing the necklace, I picked up the panties, looking black in the week light, yet they glister, as if they had been covered in thick gel, something not too far removed from a lubricant? Slipping them on, lifting the right foot in, slipping it through and setting the foot down, before lifting my other foot, finding it slipping in, and then down onto the floor before I pull them all the way up.
They're tight, but I guess they felt as well as I could have hoped for. Did he have a pension for choosing my panties a size too small? Did he have a reason, or was he simply refusing to acknowledge that I was growing up? I did not want to have him see me as a little kid. It's humiliating. If he had not realised it?
Only now I just couldn't show my indignation. The panties may be tight, but they still do feel good to wear, if only I had realised what he had in mind?
The thick rubber of the panties cling to the skin of my hips, so tightly it could have been painted on, just that it is so thick, this would have been entirely impossible. Had I examined the panties now, I had noticed the overly generous mound and the orchid, but I skipped it at this time.
“Now, if you would slip on the matching top, too?” he continued cooing in a teasing manner, making my tired mind agree, even despite my better knowledge of it.
I just picked up the top, feeling it slip eagerly down into place, as my arms stretched up towards the ceiling. It fits as snugly as the panties, though I managed to miss the point of the top, sculpting out cup cake jigglies on my chest, leaving my nibbles exposed, erect as they are.
“Sleep tight, I know you're tired. Tomorrow will be a very important day!” he then uttered, as he turned the light off and closed the door to my room behind himself.
I just slipped in under the quilt and slipped my head on the pillow in the middle, topside of my bed, before I fell asleep, resting firmly all night.
As I woke up, I knew something was off. I just couldn't quite put my finger to it, not just yet. The necklace still in place, even if it was more like a collar, like what you'd have for a dog? Thick, but in this case, made out of rubber. A detail that still had slipped my mind, in part due to the fact I'm lacking in experience on this field.
My hips feels wider than normal, and my mound still as generous as the day before. My still firm jigglies, nibbles standing just as firm. I should have avoided it, but I had to examine it. My jigglies just as firm as could ever be wished for, though my nibbles feels as if they had been made out of rough rubber, but too sensitive for my comfort, and elastic to the touch? That certainly startled me.
I thought I had been wearing panties all night, but now I felt a few signs contrary to the point since I feel the touch distinctly, the orchid is even more delicately crafter than it had been before I slipped the panties on. Not only that, I could clearly feel the slit between the petals of the orchid on top of my mound. Panties couldn't be this delicately detailed? If so, for what purpose, and what reasons had he had in giving me these?
I sat up, the quilt pushed to the side, there is a pair of stockings by my bed, so I picked them up, choosing the left one, slipping my foot in, feeling it reach all the way down, the inner surface eagerly hugging my leg. I could clearly feel it all the way from the tip of my toes, all the way up my leg. These reach all the way to my new panties, to my distress. Since I had slipped the first on, I still did slip the second on, before I realised it.
There is a pair of gloves too. I should have left them by the bed side, shouldn't I? Yet, I guess I was curious, or is it something in the way he had given me the necklace, and the panties and top he had given me, then urged me to wear, before I went to bed?
Slipping the right glove on, feeling it slip all the way up, before picking the left. They reach almost all the way up to the top. I feel the tight fabric, and it is tight, almost as if painted on, just as the panties had felt. I shiver at the thought.
Standing up, I finally did realise something, these are not just ordinary gloves and stockings. Aside from the rubber they had been made out of and the fact that they are skin tone, almost exactly my complexion, which's giving me an eerie feeling of unreal, as if it was a dream. This sensation is heavily enhanced, as I look down, rather than my small feet I used to stand on, there is a pair of hooves, pony hooves? What is it I'm looking at?
My pose is also changed. I look almost as if I had been that satyr? That's the pose I'm looking at, in any case. Only my hooves are about doubly wide, making what had been my feet look almost spindly, as I stand up. Trying to put my hand to my mouth, I realise, it is a hoof identical to my hide hooves, even if they are now fore hooves, as if I had been a pony. That's when I fall forwards, ending up on all fours.
As if the chock had been over, but not by a long shot. The door opens and dad slip in, looking eagerly, excitedly at me, not with the common look of concern or tenderness, as much of this as he managed to muster, that is, since this isn't his natural reaction?
“You're awake. Good, now if you follow me!” he just uttered, before leading me out of the room in which I had been sleeping.
I followed him out of the room, through the hall and into a small room, where someone is waiting for me, apparently?
“Good, if you're ready to give my daughter the treat we had been talking about?” he spoke eagerly, thus creeping me further, as the guest nodded.
“Of course!” she just responded.
Without any question, she just picked my right fore hoof, and painted it with a clear gel, I take for nail polish, or in this case, hoof polish? A kind of lacquer? What it did to the hoof, I had no idea at the time, short of leaving it shiny, glistering, since I could see it with my very own eyes.
Then she painted my next hoof, before continuing right and left with my hind hooves. I had managed to miss out on the purpose, as my hooves now had turned extremely elastic and bringing out the worst of the sucker cups for hooves. If only I had known it was the first step in the domestication process for an equine pet? Is that what I had become to him? I had no idea he had such dreams, or fantasies. About his very own daughter, nonetheless?
Now I see how she holds the brush in her right hand. It's small, to the point of childish, the skin light, pink, but a very fair complexion, not rubber? Her tentacular fingers maintaining a very delicate grip on the handle of the brush as she painted my hooves, only this time, a metallic bloody red? I guess it went with the territory? I wanted to shut off, but that's not me. I watched her, as she painted my hooves, right and left, fore and hind. Maybe I had to, or I could as well have been soundly asleep?
From here, she soon picked a clear polish, covering my hooves, once more, the same pattern as the two previous times. Right and left, fore and hind. She clearly knew how to perform her craft, I tried to draw the little satisfaction from this fact. Maybe she had been a re-schooled manicurist, or pedicurist? Now she is a fancy hooficureist for pet domestication, even if I am the pet of her attention?
Just like in manicure, she started from the top, centre of my hoof, moving alternately right and left until she had completed the hoof, only to move to the next in a very orderly and professional manner. Maybe I should be proud of this, but it also angered me to the point of fury at the same time. There is something very off to this.
Then she started with the one and final layer for my hooves, only now she had the hoof pressed to the floor, before she started. Why, she did not want to cover the soul of my hooves? That confused me, leaving me dumbfounded where I sit, as she continued. Then she used a small brush, lining the rim of each hoof, both at the top, towards the leg, and under the hoof, no idea why, even if I imagine it could be a reason similar to when they made a new dress? She did not want the seam to rip. Only she never told me.
“Just hold your hooves on the floor and look at me!” she told me.
I did as I was told, without asking or understanding. Putting my hooves on the floor is easy, just as it was easy to look at her. Even if I may not particularly desire to look at her. Her face is the same hue and complexion as her hands, it's also just as childish, a very small nose, wide eyes, and she had no make-up on. There is an amused smile on her face. Just as her eyelashes had a strangely equine look to them, the length, the thickness?
She had some cream, or gel, but it is clear. I could see her using it. She spreads it over my skin, from the top of my forehead, all the way down under my chin. I feel her fingers as she rubbed it in, slowly, carefully. She never put any pressure on, just rubbed in the gel. From the top of my forehead, from the centre and out, then doubling back and inwards. Back and forth. She even closed my eyes as she got this far. Just never said a word.
Then she started on the tip of my nose, outwards, then upwards, until she had covered it entirely. From here, just ever outwards, from the centre and outwards. I guess it is how she had been taught to do it. Using both hands in a symmetric fashion, only stopping as my skin had absorbed as much of the gel as it could, now fully saturated?
“Close your eyes!” she informed me, before covering my eyes lids with a clear gel, right and left, up and down, then she applied another gel.
I was still keeping my eyes closed as I felt something strange. She had picked something up, I had no idea as to what it was. Yet, as she pressed it onto the lower end of my face, it stuck to my skin, just did not prevent me from breathing through my nose, I felt air in and out my nostrils. No cause of panic, I reasoned. I merely felt a slight pressure on the skin, where it sticks, possibly by using the gel she covered my face with?
Of course, she covered my face with a clear gel, while my eyes still remain closed, this made the muzzle fuse to my skin. She had apparently made me into the equine. There is no turning back, it's too late. Once the muzzle had fused, I can't take either stockings, gloves, top or panties off of me. They're part of me. They are me, they made me into who I am, from now on.
“Open your eyes. I'm done, I have finished the work your father contracted me to perform. You're his pet Pony, from now on. Just so that you know. No point in denying it!” she just told me, before she left the room.
I just sit there, quietly.
Stats
Page generated in 0.061 seconds
Total duration
1,025 users online
1,892,256 hits today, 2,782,760 yesterday
FIMFiction
My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic Fanfiction
Designed and coded by knighty & Xaquseg - © 2011-2024
Follow & Support Us
Support us
SubStar
Chat!
Discord
Follow us
Twitter
MLP: Friendship is Magic® - © 2024 Hasbro Inc.®
Fimfiction is in no way affiliated with or endorsed by Hasbro Inc.®
3791129 thanks for the heads up, better hear it from you, then most others who may have noticed it, sooner or later.
Now, the problem is fixed.
I hope you enjoyed the little scene of exploring her, in her new situation and role.