lol !
i might ~

@Background Pony #0396
I think you’ll have to carry that torth!

[ METAGAMING REMOVED ]

Content: Implied TG/TF, mind control, remote control

“That’s all for tonight, my little gooners and goonettes! Don’t forget to do the socials, subscribe, tip me on Neightreon, check out my PonlyFans account, and tell all the other little creeps in your Internet hidey-holes to tune in tomorrow night! And remember, friendship is magic! Ciao!”

As soon as the stream ended, Evan deflated into his chair. The strain of putting on a peppy, happy facade seemed to increase every week. Five heaving breaths shook the gelatinous masses pressing him down with their unrelenting gravity before he summoned up the gumption to pull the headset off and toss it onto the desk with a clatter.

Highlights would still have to be edited into a compilation video, but that could wait for tomorrow morning. Right now all he wanted to do was lumber over to the master bedroom and rearrange the various pads and pillows into the pattern he found supported his grotesquely curved body the best and spend a good nine hours asleep. Recovering, recharging, attempting to build up enough emotional reserves for the next night’s stream where he would parade this squat, improbable figure around for the pervs in exchange for their money and eyeballs.

He cast a glare down into the tremendous valley of peach-colored cleavage below and scowled. As if in defiance of his own fate he fastened up the half-dozen buttons on his tailored shirt to cover it up. At least he could have a modicum of modesty in his own mansion.

With an inelegant grunt, Evan shoved off from the arms of the gaming chair and straightened himself up, the sudden shift to standing position momentarily making him feel dizzy. With one thick, stocking-stuffed leg he swept the chair aside and exited the small studio, step by jiggling step. The ponytail swung across the small of his back and the pony tail tickled the back of his calves.

Each stair presented the challenge of fighting the attractive force between the Earth and his own rotund masses, but he grit his teeth and ascended from the basement studio to the ground floor. Glistening marble tiles seemed to chuckle in staccato clicks as his glossy Mary Janes strutted to ferry his ultra-feminine form towards the staircase to the sleeping level. He wondered how much it would cost to have all the luxurious appointments of this old house changed to be less hard and noisy; carpeting and wood to replace the dressed stone facades and floors, brass embellishments and light fixtures ripped out and replaced with wood, or even plastic molding.

He felt like the mansion reflected himself a little too much these days: gorgeous to look at, harsh to occupy, designed by someone else to please eyes that weren’t his own.

“Feeling a little down?” the familiar voice asked with its saccharine squeak.

“Get out,” Evan said without missing a beat.

“Now is that any way to talk to a frrrrriiiiiiiieeeeeeeeend?” the sickeningly sweet voice asked with sardonic glee. The purple head of a small, one-horned horse lifted itself into view from the sofa. “Aw, poor wittle Evan! Come over here and sit with your number one patron!”

The familiar jolt shot through Evan’s nervous system, hijacking it and issuing instructions he was unable to countermand. As if on autopilot, his bulky female body swerved towards the sitting area and rounded the sofa. It was laying there across one of the throw pillows, propped up against an arm rest. For all the world it looked like some kind of miniature breed of unicorn with a violet-themed dye job.

It always took this form when it appeared to Evan, ever since that fateful summoning. He didn’t know if it was bound to it, or merely did it to mock him. He didn’t even know if it was something that physically manifested or if it was just a kind of elaborate illusion that only he could see. Regardless, the sight of the little pest beaming up at him filled him with two years’ allotment of incoherent rage. But his body was limp and relaxed, disconnected from his control entirely.

“Did you forget your manners, Evan?” it asked in a mock-scolding tone.

The weird feeling surged, filling Evan’s vessel with a giddy energy. His sculpted face smiled, his arms stretched out as if to hold an imaginary dress to either side. A shiny Mary Jane arced gracefully back and his knee buckled slightly, the weight of his massive bust pulling down as his body leaned forward ever so slightly with the bow. Words burbled up to his mouth unbidden.

“Sorry, Master! I forgot to curtsy, tee-hee!” his voice performed for the impromptu script that had suddenly appeared inside his brain. The pose held as the puppetmaster smiled, the space of a few seconds.

“Hm! Well, I suppose I can forgive your lapse tonight. After all, you’ve been working so hard to make people happy, haven’t you?”

“Oh yes, Master!” Evan’s body replied to the prompt automatically with a tittering voice positively dripping with auditory lace and bows. “It’s such demanding work, as you well know!”

“Yes, yes, quite!” the pony-shaped apparition agreed indulgently. “You mortals are always unhappy, it is your lot I suppose. I too know the burden of making your grubby little dreams come true.” He gave Evan a significant look, communicating a clear and cruel reference. As if to confirm it, Evan’s bubbly voice spewed out effusive gratitude for his predicament.

“Oh, absolutely! Oh wonderful, generous Master of mine, thank you so-so-SO much for making my dreams come true! Why, I have over three million regular watchers and six hundred thousand times as much revenue now!” Evan heard himself say as if there was a hand up his butt moving his jaws for him. “It’s so much better than I was doing before you changed me! I never dreamed my wish would be fulfilled so completely by your brilliant spells!” The tail behind him waggled without any input as he was forced to hold the curtsy pose and listen to his girly voice reframe his curse as though it was the most wonderful gift anyone could receive.

“I’m so glad to hear your satisfaction, my dear!” the little abomination chirped. “Now you may rise, but come sit beside me.”

Evan’s body swooped upwards to stand erect as if launched out of a cannon, painfully jostling his busty burden and sending a jiggle riding through his thick thighs and wobbly behind. With a precisely-tailored pause to let his excited flesh settle, he was then forced to tip-toe cutely to the sofa and plop his well-padded rear onto the cushion beside the equine tormentor, pony tail swinging around to avoid being pinned beneath.

“It’s so tiring to manifest in this squalid little realm of yours. I wish to retire for the night. But this mortal Earth is so very cold. Won’t you keep your beloved master warm while he slumbers?” the dog-sized demon said with deliberate affectation.

Evan was thankfully allowed to stay silent as his body replied to the request on its own. His double-wide hips slid out towards the center of the sofa and he leaned closer to the vile creature as if drawn by a magnet. He shuddered internally as his fleshy bust gradually covered the pony-shaped being, obscuring it behind dozens of pounds of body-temperature tissue.

“That’s better, deary, but not quite warm enough. Oh, I know!” it said as though just hitting upon a marvelous idea. The tiny purple horn glowed dimly.

Unbidden visions paraded through Evan’s mind like a funhouse ride of debauched hedonism. He saw his female body engaging in every kind of lewd act with faceless strangers, male and female, young and old, scrawny or beefy or flabby, beautiful or ugly. Some of it was violent, some of it was tender, the vast majority of it typical faux sex scenes straight out of garden variety pronos. A picture show he couldn’t turn off, a stream of channels he couldn’t change, all demonstrating the things his viewers imagined when watching ‘Gamer Twilight’ giggle and jiggle on their screens.

The sickening thing was how his body responded to the visions. A sympathetic furnace was stoked, entirely outside of his control. His flesh flushed, arousal ramping up mercilessly, a glow of sensual energy building and amplifying in step with the lewd floor show in his brain. His delicate hands wanted to caress parts of his body, but they didn’t. His voice wanted to vent mewls and moans, but it couldn’t. His back yearned to arch, his legs demanded to spread, the places between petitioning him for manual attention. But he wasn’t able to answer their requests even if he actually wanted to. He lay limply on the sofa, draped over the grinning hooved demon, feeling his flesh resonating with heated libido he was powerless to either ignore or satisfy.

“That’s better! So warm and cozy now!” the sweetly masked voice said with smug satisfaction. It made a show of yawning. “Well, I must turn in. We’ll talk in the morning. Good night, Evan!”

He lay there inertly as the cruel devil pretended to snore in a cartoonish, exaggerated manner. His body wouldn’t move. Minutes dragged by like hours and the wicked little thing never broke the monotonous performance of faux-sleep. Evan realized that he was stuck like this until the thing released him in the morning.