Midnight Ride

Midnight Ride - a Changeling: the Dreaming story.
WARNING - This story contains elements of bestiality. Read on at your own risk, and let me know if you like it :)

The sounds of the party floated from the main building, laughing, music, talking. Christina heard the festivities, but ignored them as she slipped into the stables under cover of darkness. Soft nickers greeted her as the horses picked up her scent, and she smiled at them as she headed for Cimmerian's stall.

Cimmerian was waiting for her, his ears pricked forward, and he blew out gently on her wrists and shirt as she slipped his halter on and kissed him on the nose. Her hands shook as she clipped the lead rope to the chinstrap. She couldn't believe what she was about to do, but she was on fire with excitement. Cimmerian could feel it too, and he danced down the aisle as she led him towards the paddock, tail flagged and his muscled neck arched proudly.

She turned him loose in the field and he frisked away from her, then back to her, blowing out curiously. His flanks were glossy in the moonlight, and Christina felt a rush of anticipation. Quickly now, before she lost her nerve.

She turned and headed for a stand of trees near the far end of the field. Cimmerian followed at a distance, snorting and dancing in the quiet night. She looked once more towards the main building, where her friends laughed and joked and flirted. Where she should be....she shook her head and continued to the trees. No, what she was looking for couldn't be found among her peers. Not tonight.

She reached the shelter of the trees and began to disrobe, fingers trembling as she let her blouse slip off her shoulders. Gooseflesh dimpled her arms as she peeled her shorts down and off. A wild flutter went through her as she dropped her bra, then her panties, making her shiver with more than a chill as a breeze brushed by. She stood for a moment, gloriously nude in the moonlit thicket, the bashful maiden to her ardent suitor.

She stooped low, fishing a small box out of her pocket, a box that glittered with Glamour and power. Her hand shook still more as she regarded it, the gilt framing of the box glimmering in the light of the moon. She had traded her best saddle for this pix, from someone who knew exactly why she wanted it. If she was ever discovered......she looked out into the field, at her Cimmerian, and her apprehension vanished.

They had started their journey together, she and Cimmerian. From their first overtures in the round ring when he had accepted her courtship, to their triumphs in the jumping arena where they had left the other pairings in the dust, theirs had been a special bonding. She loved Cimmerian with an affection that defied normal explanation...and tonight, it would be consummated. Tonight....now.

She opened the box, and had just a moment to perceive the raw Glamour inside, melded into shape by the will of another, before it leaped out and washed over her with a charge of sensation. She shouted at the feel of it as it whirled about, then her shout changed into a whinny xcitxcitement as her hooves thudded dully to the earth. As she shook her forelock out of her eyes, the sensation died away, leaving the night quiet once again.


But now things had changed. Her once fair skin was now covered with a shining blood-bay hide, her delicate hands and feet now equally delicate hooves that danced on the ground in a nervous tattoo. A leaf brushed her flank, and she switched her tail without thinking, brushing the annoyance away.

It worked.

It worked!

She gave a half-buck, reveling in the feeling of her new and powerful form. She'd never felt so exhilarated as she cantered in a circle through the trees and burst into the field with a joyous neigh. "From moonrise to moonset," Gollump, the elder Frog Pooka told her as he handed the box over. "Give or take." She hoped it was more on the "give" side as she kicked up her heels, tossing her mane across her back and taking a luxurious roll in the grass.

Until a gentle whicker sent her stumbling to her feet. She shook the grass from her back and stared at him with her wide-angle vision. Tall and strong, muscles rippling under his resplendent coat, he seemed a sculpture come to life, and as she watched, he stretched his neck out and lifted his lip, scenting her as a stallion would a favored mare.

A shiver ran through her again as she watched him, her head turned coquettishly to the side as she couldn't look at him head-on. She approached him on dainty hooves, picking her way across the field towards him until she stood before him, stock-still. Had she hands, they would be trembling. As she stood, it was all she could do to keep her knees from buckling at the thought of what she was doing.

Cimmerian stretched out and nibbled on the base of her neck. Gently, a grooming motion, one meant to soothe and calm. The touch coursed through her, however, and she dashed across the field, tail flagged behind her, wanting him to chase her but not wanting to think about what would happen if he caught her.

Of course he gave chase, his hooves kicking up divots of sod behind him as he cantered after her, catching up with her easily as she slowed to a stop once again. She wanted to run, she could feel her muscles bunching, ready to spring off again, but something held her there, a call more powerful than her nervousness.

Her new senses told her what it was. She could smell it, her arousal, his sweat mingled into a sweet-sour aroma that touched something deep within her and set it alight. This time when he nibbled at her neck she let him, stretching her own neck out to groom his. His touch was sweet, and sent a tremor through her that she'd felt only once before, when Brian had kissed her for the first time, under the cherry tree. She groomed him with her tongue, licking at his sweat as her special scent wreathed about them, lifting her tail higher so he could smell it too.


He responded, nibbling at her ear with gentle nudges of his lips and tongue, and out of the corner of her eye she caught sight of something dark and pendulous just underneath his ribs, swaying in the moonlight.

She'd seen him erect before, of course. He couldn't help it sometimes, when a mare in season had been in the riding arena before him. At certain times of the month, it would happen when she came into his stall, his cock sliding from the heavy sheath. Once she had even coaxed it out herself, with gentle caresses of her hands, unable to stop herself as she gripped it, hot and slick. He'd nibbled at her hair then too, instinctively. She'd marveled at the size of it, and on more than one night had whimpered in the dark, her fingers dancing under the sheets as she envisioned what it would feel like inside her, drilling into her with animal determination. Remembering the thick spurts of milky white after she'd stroked him to completion in the stall, the smell of hay and sweat and her own arousal heavy in the summer air.

And now she stood before him, a maiden mare, their courtship dance well underway and nearing completion. She lowered her head and looked at him, blowing out gently on the rigid flesh, making him snort and dance away from her before allowing him to approach again. Her heart pounded, churning inside her chest as she waited for the stallion.

He came at her from behind this time, his nose brushing at the base of her tail, nudging it to one side and nosing at her entrance. Something held her still, where, had she been human, she would have sank to the ground and pulled him to her greedily. But this wasn't human. This was wild, primal, and exactly what she wanted.

Then the gentle pressure of his nose was gone, and she heard him grunt as he heaved himself up, up and over her. His weight came down softly atop her back, his breath hard in her ear as his forelegs gently gripped her....and a glorious rush of sensation as he penetrated her with one mighty thrust.

Had she been human, she would have cried out as he surged atop her, reveling in the sensation of being completely filled, banging her hips back to meet his fierce lunges. But this wasn't human, and the sheer sensation of the coupling held her still beneath him as he stabbed into her again, and again, and again, his heavy balls bumping against her entrance with each jab of his hips.

She knew it didn't take long with horses, but she wished it could go on forever, the sliding thrust of his hips against her, the heat of his body over her, his shuddering breaths as the sensation overtook him as well. She felt the fire of instinct, controlling her, surrendering to eons of drive as ancient as the tides. Overwhelming her mind with the animal nature of it all until her very identity dwindled in the power of this mating.

Then she felt his hips jerk more wildly, his legs grip her more tightly, and with a last grunt he slammed home inside her. The hot flood of his seed shot into her with a force that made her shudder, tightening around the stallion inside her as bright lights exploded behind her eyes....


....she came awake with a start, clutching at her chest, the throbbing between her legs making her tremble still, and she panted as the last vestiges of the dream faded away.

This was the most vivid dream of this ilk that she'd ever had, though she'd fantasized often enough about the idea. It was almost tempting to find this Pooka, this pix....No, she said, it's too much to consider, even for a Fiona. She sighed as the summer breeze blew across her, then gasped as she realized where she was.

She lay in the middle of the large paddock, her head pillowed in the grass, her clothes nowhere to be seen.

And he stood over her, guarding her, his eyes soft and dark as he looked down at her naked form. As she gaped soundlessly at him, he lowered his great head and nosed at the heat between her legs, lipping gently at her as his cock slid from his sheath once again.