Play With Me?
Art - Fsmaverick
Writing - Runa
Melodi - Greenwing + Runa
Okay, this has a quick story behind it: I was sorting my files, saw the rough, and thought "Hey, wait, was this ever done? I should contact the artist!" The next morning, I got this in my mail, like "Oh yeah, I finished that years ago!" WHAT A PLEASANT SURPRISE! RANDOM AMAZING ART FROM ONE OF MY FAVORITE ARTISTS?! Fuck Yes.
Anyway, I like writing, so I did an inviting little bit of dialogue to go with the image. Give you something to fantasize about without being too descriptive!
She smiles at you, her gaze lowering as the corners of her beak perk up in either side. There's a deep, rumbling churr emanating from her chest punctuated by a series of gentle clops of her hooves as she takes a few steps towards you. She's huge, two and a half meters tall, and she's dressed in the garb of Terra Branford from her tight stockings to the pink bow that sat atop her head; a sheathed sword hung off her hips, mostly obscured by the flowing fabrics that billowed out around her. Behind her were two mounted bat wings, it's not clear if they're attached to her or part of the costume.
As she takes that final step towards you, her ample bosom practically rests on your nose, buoyed by the tight red corset that kept her perky. You can feel her warm breath tickling you with every gentle exhalation, followed by the tingling sensation of her massive talon dragging up against your arm, a trail of red sparkling mist glistening in its wake. She's using fire magic on you, but just enough to make your skin tense up in goosebumps.
With her beak aimed at your nose, she leans in for a nuzzle as she reaches down, slowly drawing her sword from the sheathe. She's very deliberate and doesn't stall or get caught on the neck of the sword, but she does slowly press the tip against your chest, dragging the end of the dulled blade down your torso, around your belly, and finally down the side of your outer thigh.
Her free hand cradles your cheek, and as you look into her eyes you notice the amber gold of her irises are turning a deep red, the feathers on her head and neck losing their pigmentation to grow white with red highlights. Just like you remembered; a morph, a transformation.
It didn't last long. After she pours some more magic down the blade to make your muscles twitch, she slowly pulls away and leans backward, leaving her talon on your cheek as long as she can before she's no longer in range, her wings spreading wide and tall as she offers you one last steely gaze.
She immediately flops back on the massive plushie she brought with her, just for you. The long, billowing folds of her gown drape over the sides of it, the back end of it serving as a wonderful little chair so she can prop her upper body up. She's still churring at you as she raises a leg, the gown slowly sliding up her thighs to expose the silken panties she was wearing.
There's a gentle jingling sound, drawing your eyes back up to her face. She was flicking her ears gently, sounding the bells on her earrings. She gives a sultry wink as she spreads her legs farther apart; you can see her lips shifting under the silk panties and a thin strip of darkness emerging due to the moisture that was being conjured from between her vulva.
You find yourself distracted by the flowing locks of hair that are glimmering in the light, hanging off her ankles and covering her hooves from view. She sways them back and forth in front of you, deliberately drawing your attention from her panties. You, however, are not tricked, and know what you want to see.
She can sense you aren't falling for her tricks, so she clicks her beak and smiles at you, turning the sword around so it's pressing against her inner thigh. The long shaft of the moogle's red poof is pressing against her her panties, forcing the fabric between her lips to further accentuate the dark moisture that was soaking into them.
The light reflects off the broad side of the blade, catching you in the eye for a moment before the tip of its edge slips down to push her undergarments to the side, exposing her swollen, moist sex. She continues to use the edge of the blade to slip into herself, prying her flesh to the side and exposing her cherry pink insides as her clit winks at you, peeling itself outward as she squirts a few drops.
Suddenly, a powerful scent wafts up at you - a bitter, earthy sweetness - that gives you a flashback to your time on the farm, but far more inviting. You can't help but step forward, leaning into her, sniffing idly at the air, drawing your nose near her tender flesh and the moistened plushie fur.
She clicks her beak at you again and presses the now-wet edge of the blade against your cheek, guiding you in closer. You have no choice but to oblige. She wants you to play with her, and what sort of person would you be if you chose not to continue?