The Notnilk Prophecy

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RND authorizes Sir Jeff's Ponygirls to feature

The Notnilk Prophecy part 2 Pony Irene

The following is from a larger work that clearly establishes the story as total fantasy, and general theme as consenting adult behavior. Any valid review for censorship purposes must peruse the whole work! Although random excerpts may appear to show non-consenting themes, within the context of the larger work-of-fiction, such situations are presented only as dreams by consenting adult characters. The complete work is entirely make-believe, however, and should not be viewed as bearing malice toward any person, gender, race, or institution. Resemblance to any real persons or institutions is coincidental. All characters in this work-of-fiction are "Adults".

If you are under 21 years of age, or if such material is illegal in your community:

DO NOT READ ANY FURTHER!

If you are offended by "adult" themes, non-consenting themes, B&D, S&M, or make-believe situations that would be inappropriate in real-life:

DO NOT READ ANY FURTHER!

If you cannot separate fantasy from reality, or can't control your conduct:

DO NOT READ ANY FURTHER!

GO GET SOME HELP!

and,...

DON'T READ ANY MAIN-STREAM FICTION;

DON'T WATCH TELEVISION,...

and especially,...

NO ROAD-RUNNER CARTOONS!

For those into this genre of fiction,...

ENJOY!

( p.s. special thanks to Sir Jeff for demonstrating how fab the web can be )

-6-

The next day.

Donald lay in a beach-chair, hooked up to an IV. He was nude but for flip-flops, sunglasses, and a towel across his lap. A frosted mint julep cooled his palm; ice-bag his head.

"You feeling better?", Tristin queried in a little-girl voice. She was stooping beside, stroking his hair.

"My skull feels like it's stuffed with sand. I've never felt so dry in my life!"

"Well, considering all the fluid you spewed yesterday, I'm surprised your head didn't implode! That's the third liter of saline you're getting."

"I guess the reverse could be said about your mouth", Donald countered. "Weren't you stretched to the bursting point? Why didn't you just swallow like you usually do? That's quite the turn-on for me, you know!"

"Oh really? Gee, what a surprise! Duhhhh!"

Tristin chuckled at the obvious. What two-fisted male wouldn't be turned-on by a girlfriend swallowing?

Donald shifted the ice-bag. Something else shifted too. His dick! Tristin's only attire was a pair of high-heeled step-ins and 24 carat nipple-rings. Her blond locks were loosely tied in a bun, wispy tendrils floating here and there. She was all rippling sinew and alluring slimness; nails polished with gleaming enamel; calico eyes flashing mischievously. No wonder she'd gotten straight A's as his grad-student.

And remember that permanent hair-remover emollient? Tris loomed absolutely baby-smooth from waist to toes.

"My mouth is just fine", Tristin replied. "A third of those loads drained out my nostrils --- safety-valves, if you will. And as for not swallowing, well, that's going to be a little surprise for you."

"Huh? W-What do you mean?"

"You'll see! Tee! Hee!"

Tristin swooped a leg over her recumbent boyfriend, mounting him like a horse ( Hey! it's Ponyworldo! ), bald pussy gaping to show pink.

Next his towel went bye-bye .

"I have a question for you, darling", she cooed, while stroking his dick, "Remember Suzanne Montgomery?"

"Errrr.....yah. But w-why do you a-ask?"

Suzanne Montgomery was a former assistant-professor at the University; one of the most voluptuous women to have walked the halls; notorious for her intolerance of any man even remotely thinking of flirting with her. ( In Donald's case, it'd taken weeks for her rebuff to fade from his face. ) She'd gone on sabbatical about a year ago; then disappeared amidst a rumor she'd been arrested and convicted of some wrongdoing --- sentenced to one of the Intergalactic Prisons.

"Would you like to ass-fuck her?"

"Huh?"

Donald looked stunned, as if he'd just heard Bubba tell the truth.

"And how about cropping her big bare bottom, darling? Would you fancy that? Like you and Mr. Niles did to Irene yesterday, before you passed out?"

"I did not pass out, Tris!", Donald said defensively. "I just got a little woozy, that's all. It wasn't until you'd gone down on me the second time, tha..."

"Hey silly! Spare me the details. I know what happened! I was there, remember?"

Remember? Egad! How could Donald ever forget!

After having cum in Tris's mouth, he'd been invited to wield a fluidian crop himself; lash Irene's robust haunches 'till her heels wobbled in spastic circles --- much like her tits. Mr. Niles had tutored the session. Together, they'd whipped a ladder-like pattern up Irene's flinching goods; with an uppercut or two even aimed crackward.

"When doing a regional flogging", Mr. Niles had lectured, punctuating each remark with a brutal cut, "yer always gonna get some focking overlap! Don't worry about it, Lad! With these crops, ye can lash as hard as ye like; not draw a focking drop-o-crimson!"

The advice had been reassuring, due in no small part to the wonders of fluidian!

( ed. note: read all about fluidian in 'Sam's Indoctrination ', published in RND #1 )

Not surprisingly, in the midst of it all, Donald sprouted another boner, which in turn attracted Tris's mouth like a magnet does iron. In a blink she'd dropped to all-fours; throated him resolutely; sucked his balls dryer then the Mojave.

That's when he'd blacked-out!

"You never answered my question, darling", Tristin reprised. "Are you up for whipping Suzanne Montgomery's big bottom; then ass-fucking her?"

Looking starry-eyed, Donald again proved himself an every-man!

"Yah! Yah I am!"

-7-

"Well, glory be! If it ain't Mizz Tristin! Welcome home da-a-a-a-rlin"!

"Hello Samourah."

"An dis here muzt be yo bo-friend?"

"Tee! Hee! Yes, this is my fiance, Professor Donald Baxter."

"Sakes alive! Tell me Mizz T., I hear-tell hiz dick's big enough to choke a donkey! Zat right?"

Donald's face flushed.

"It seems your reputation is spreading, dear", Tristin giggled. Then she readdressed Samourah.

"How's the grooming going?"

"Heh! Heh! Heh! She'z shore smoothin' up real nize, Mizz T.! Muzt-o shaved thet clam upwards-o fifty times! Legs -n- asshole too! And gooped 'er 'tween every razorin'! Been gettin' a flat-line fo de last two weeks!"

"Eyebrows too?"

"Shit yeah!" Those be l-o-o-o-o-o-o-n-g gone, honey! They be back when I grow a dick! Heh! Heh!"

"Even though she's flat-lined, Samourah, you've kept up the razoring? Right?"

"Just like yo told uz too, Mizz T.! Twice daily!"

"Good! And is she ready for today?"

"Heh! Heh! As ready as she'll ever be! Mr. Niles gave her quite a whuppin' last night; used a #3 fluidian. Sniggy and Poon watched de whole thing, ya know, and they's eyes still as wide as plates!"

"Bottom and titties?"

"Shit yeah! Feet also! Had to! Yo wuz right about dis one, Mizz T.. She's not lookin' forward to today at all! Got to do everything to keep dis filly on the straight and narrow! After twenty to the hindquarters, Mr. Niles had uz oil up dem big-ole udders o-her's. Woooooe-e-e-e-e! Did she ever catch hell then! The look on her face was as glum as Sniggy's was exhilarated!"

"Lemmie take a wild guess", Donald dead panned. "Sniggy likes big tits?"

"Whoooooooe-e-e-e-e-e-e! Do he ever!", Samourah exclaimed. "Almost as much as Poon likes feets! And yo should have seen his expression, when Mr. Niles got to floggin' dat pony's soles!"

"I assume she was cooperative while getting ballooned?", Tristin asked.

"Oh yas! Sake's alive! She took three full syringe fulls! But where in Bubba's name did 'yo get so much goo, Mizz T.? Me -n- Sniggy -n- Poon, shit, we got her jowls so ballooned, they's like snare drums!"

"Is she holding?"

"Hell yas! So far, ain't been a blip in the read-out. Sniggy even did a friggy-test, and she passed wiff flyin' colors!"

"Friggy-test? Jowl's ballooned? Is this for real, Tris?"

Donald wore a perplexed look. Tristin just gave him a smile and wink; then continued interrogating Samourah, a woman who could've doubled for Cass Eliott --- after loosing fifty pounds!

"And is her hair ready?"

"All washed and separated and ribboned. Must be 'bout thirty tails. All ass-length too. I can see why she's bein' so frisky today! Dat mane must-o taken years to grow!"

"And her pink parts?"

"Been massaging 'em with itching-goop since last week. Only time we stopped wuz for Mr. Niles!"

"Good work, Samourah!", Tristin gushed. Then she turned toward Donald.

"Well darling, shall we go finish Miss Montgomery's grooming?"

"Errrr,... ahhh,... errr,... yah!"

-8-

"Great Clinton's ghost!", Donald exclaimed. "I don't believe this is Suzanne Montgomery!"

"Quite a change, huh?", Tristin giggled.

"I can't focking fathom it!"

"Samourah, I think the Professor could use a reference-point."

"Yas Mizz T.. Comin' right up!"

C-l-i-c-k!

Wir-r-r-r-r-r-r-r-r....

A background monitor surged to life, displaying multiple images of Suzanne Montgomery --- all pre-incarceration --- some still-photos --- others video. She'd been absolutely gorgeous by any standard --- figure, face, and elan! Even during her trial.

But it was the moving-images that really captured her beauty. The way her oh-so womanly hips and breasts swayed as she promenaded; the trailing sweep of ass-length ebony hair, always done-up in a neat ponytail; glimpses of well-turned ankles and shapely calves; the rest hidden by expensively tailored clothing --- calfskin gloves, dark glasses, trendy hat.

Donald stared intently. First at Suzanne. Then at the monitor. Then at Suzanne. Then at the moni...

Hey! Fuck the monitor!

Get outta the way --- I wanna see Suzanne!

Pungent female aroma hit him like a club. Ditto for the implausible eye-candy. The brazenness of her debauchery was too compelling! Donald couldn't turn away!

"Wow! Is t-there anyplace s-she's not perspiring?"

Suzanne was kneeling upright on a pair of hover-boards, neck extended, arms wrenched behind, legs enormously straddled, totally naked; glossed with sweat.

Seated on a piano-stool, directly between her legs, face at bellybutton level, diddling with her puss, was Sniggy.

"M-m-m-n-n-n-nnnnnghghhghhhggg! Sob! Snort! Whinny!"

"Hey! When a girl gets a good working-over, she's gonna sweat!", Tristin laughed. "To see where she's not, you're gonna need a colonoscope!"

The hover-boards were positioned a meter aloft; forty inches apart; motionless as a postal-clerk. Knee and ankle straps pinioned Suzanne's legs. A neck-ring was programmed to remain immobile at a fixed distance from the boards --- in this case, enough to drag the girl fully taut, keeping her torso distracted; head perfectly still. Another hover-ring circled her waist, hauling her full hips forward; hairless pussy brazenly jutted. Cuffs at each upper-arm were secured to opposite wrists --- all tightly behind her shoulder-blades ( a.k.a. Notnilk harness ).

Tristin palmed Suzanne's big tits, squeezing them sassily.

"Aren't these fabulous? Just look at those spiky nipples! But not too closely, darling. They could take an eye out! Tee! Hee!"

"N-m-m-n-n-n-nnajajsjsghdghghhghpspsssstgg! Sob! Slobble! Whinny! Snort!"

"Hey Sniggy", giggled Tristin, "whatever you're doing down there, is getting this pony mighty frisky!"

"Just a friggy, Mizz T.! Nothin' special. No sireeeee! Sniggy juz do friggy-friggy! Test de equipment! Yah!"

The stable hand had been twiddling Suzanne's clitoris, which, due to serial applications of itching-goop, currently mimicked a Vienna-sausage. He tickled and pulled and pinched and fiddled. In short, he was dong the...

...friggy-friggy!

"Gah-gjghd-pssssststst-t-t-t-tghghh! Snort! Whinny! Sputter!"

"See whad I mean, Mizz T. ", Samourah exclaimed, pointing to one of the monitors. "Pressure holdin' steady, in spite-o dat ole friggy-friggy! Heh! Heh!"

"I can see that", Tristin winked at Samourah.

"Well, it looks like we're ready to proceed. Sniggy, grab a # 5 fluidian. You too, Poon!"

"How'z zat, Mizz T.?", Poon responded. He'd been sitting with a note-pad --- sketching pictures of bare feet!

"This filly's not gonna like what's next, boys. Despite her apparent docileness, she may need a couple of reminders to remain good. Grease her up --- whichever parts you covet! Then stand ready!"

"Yabba-dabba-do-o-o-o-o-o-o-o!", whooped Poon!

"Hoo-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o boy-o-boy!", cheered Sniggy!

The duo raced around Suzanne like electrons around a nucleus; seizing crops; swishing them menacingly; cavorting as if they were idiots, which, of course, they were!

"For Clinton's sake, Tris, what's happening?", Donald demanded.

Tris smiled. The stable-hands were raring to get down to business. That was for sure. But they'd have to wait. After all, Donald deserved an explanation.

"You boys get her gunked", Tris said. "And limber-up those arms! We don't want any pulled-muscles."

Swish! Swish! Swish! Swish!

Swish! Swish! Swish!

The two morons excitedly pummeled the air, crops whistling away.

Tris relinquished Suzanne's boobs, savoring their jiggly recoil. Then she admired the pony's ballooned jowls and pursed lips, and effort to stay closed-mouthed. Samourah had indeed done a wonderful job with this one!

"She's bloated with male-ejaculate" Tristin announced. "Nice and thick and gooey; syringe-filled to the max; under orders not to swallow or snort-out a single drop!

"See these sensors", Tris continued, pointing to sequin-sized dots pasted on Suzanne's blimped cheeks. "They monitor goo-pressure."

Donald, blinked in disbelief.

"And to think I got my face slapped for saying she looked hot in a lab coat!"

"What do you think of her now, darling? Now that these beauties are on proper display!"

Tristin again bawdily squeezed Suzanne's tits.

"G-Great! I g-guess. But to tell you the truth, I'm having trouble looking beyond what's been done to her face!"

Donald eyeballed the ponygirl's trembling kisser --- the half-lidded, punchy eyes --- the doohickey pierced through her nostrils --- the faux brows and piercings --- the restyled mane.

"Wow! You must've taken her hairline back three inches! I'll bet she didn't like that! And I don't see a trace of stubble!"

"Four inches", Samourah cut in! "Juzt like Mizz T. ordered! And,... O-o-o-o-o-o-eee! She liked it 'bout as much Bubba did testifying under oath! Especially when we'd slathered her wif hair-remover; told her dat it wuz permanent! Heh! Heh!"

Suzanne's ersatz-brows were painted jet-black. Mascara complimented the dark circles under each eye. Her remaining locks had been tightly woven into thirty braids --- each dangling past her waist.

Donald wondered if Suzanne recognized him? It didn't seem to deter his inquisitiveness, however. Hey,...

...he was a scientist!

Her tits got all wiggly and agitated when he palmed them.

"Ge-e-e-e-e-e-z-e! Are these ever soft", Donald blurted, with a smile threatening to rupture his face! "And get a load of those nipple-bells! They're fabulous!"

"Those aren't just bells, darling, they're position-sensors --- just like the ones at her nose, labia, clitoris, and big-toes --- all adjusted to work in sync. They're for teaching proper trotting and galloping cadence!

"Ga-a-a-a-awd!"

Donald shook his head, trying to reconcile the baffling notion. This was all getting him incredibly cranked --- one flagrent testosterone burst after another --- pummeling his brain like a rug-beater. It wouldn't be long before his dick would be doing the thinking, that was for sure.

"Tee! Hee! I know what's on your mind, darling", Tristin laughed, still focused on Suzanne's charms, unaware of Donald's shifting demeanor. "How in Bubba's name did she come to this predicament, huh?"

"T-That's n-not w-what I w-was t-t-thinking, Tris!", Donald studdered in a thick voice, now gripping Suzanne's tits like a man-overboard does a life preserver.