Sephalla My Nightmare

***The characters referenced in this story are Sixth-Formers, aged 18, or they are teachers. No character is any younger than 18***

*

When I come to, I'm in not in Seph's affectionate embrace.

Not, in fact, close to her at all. Her bed is comfy, but the beautiful nightmare is pacing, muttering something to herself. When I lift my head she stops, blushes, swallows a rapidly-formed lump in her throat.

'We need to talk,' Sephalla says. 'About us. About what just happened.'

What just happened? Well, my belly is still quite full of her creamy load, and I can still taste the demonic deliciousness of that dick, but...Seph does not look happy. At all. In fact, I've never seen her so concerned. Not even earlier today, when she was so set that all was doomed. More concerned than the time when it seemed she was going to be in pretty serious trouble for having her diary get around.

This newfound concern is its own beast, a worry not before shown.

I sit myself upright, feeling refreshed, if a little paunchier than I should be. 'What's up? Did something happen?'

Sephalla the Magnificent, in her gothic-punk chic attire, fishnets and black jeans shorts, and a tight-fitting t-shirt, gives me a look of complete vulnerability. A look that almost pleads for help, for assurance, though she's not yet managed to state the problem. Words are, so often, harder than the faces we pull.

'I fucked up,' Seph says. 'Bad. Well, kind of, I guess it depends.'

'On what?'

'How, um, long were you planning to live?'

The question hits strangely, because it has multiple facets. On first viewing, it's just weird. Like who asks that kind of thing? I've never thought about how long I'd like to live, what the big plan is -- being eighteen is luxurious like that -- and so on the surface, it takes me back a bit, throws me into my thoughts.

But then it gets darker, a sudden rollercoaster drop, vertically inclined. Because if Seph is asking this, and looking concerned, then maybe she's done something. Or forgot something, and is only now remembering.

Like, I don't know...maybe demon-horse cum is toxic?

And that thought has me passingly gaze at my slight belly bulge, imagining horn-tipped little demon tadpoles doing something evil inside me. It really did feel, after all, like her jism was doing something to my soul, as well as my stomach.

'Have you poisoned me? Am I going to die?'

Seph winces, grits her pretty teeth, black lips hinting at pearly fangs. 'Um...about that?'

Oh no. Oh shit no.

'How long do I have, dude?'

She runs a hand through that living blue fire, knocking the emo fringe portion aside. 'So if I've done what I think I have -- and my Dad's on his way home now -- then...potentially forever?'

The mental picture of what to do in my last minutes or hours or days or weeks is suddenly shelled from orbit, rendered into a wasteland, a picture of endlessness. Plains, wild and untamed, stretching on some sunlit expanse to every horizon and yet surely going far beyond any limits imaginable.

For-ev-er.

Forever. Eternally. Endlessly. Infinitely. A concept, a series of concepts, that the human brain -- dealing with lifetimes, decades, simple things that mean nothing in geological timescales -- simply can't sink its cognitive teeth into.

'Forever? Why would I...?'

Her wince deepens, and Sephalla glances away. 'Um, I might have put a little bit too much of me into that load I fed you? And I really hope you like the way my hair looks, and can think up some good explanation, because your eyes are kind of...fire-blue, now.'

I scramble to free my phone, turning the camera onto selfie mode. Staring at my face, familiar, yet with something utterly novel about it. That my pupils are ringed by blue-flame sclera, the previous greens swallowed by that infernal light. Not like Seph's hair, to be exact, but almost similar to her coal-seam eyes. Vaguely demonic, to say the least.

'What's happened, dude? What did you do?'

She crosses her arms against her breasts and leans back against the wall, just inside her bedroom door. 'So...if a nightmare -- demons generally, but I can only speak about myself -- mates with a non-demon, we've got this trick we do. This thing to ensure that the situation remains to our liking. Because it'd fucking suck to want someone so bad and yet know that, one way or another, they're going to die. Which means that--'

'Wait, you think getting your dick sucked is mating? And you just go around turning a load of mortals into immortals?'

'No,' Seph says. She sighs, shuts her eyes. 'Just the ones we really, really like. The ones we think we're going to...going to keep around.'

I blush a little, at the meaning, if not the evasiveness of her word choice. No wonder it felt like her sperm were doing something to my soul. They were, in fact. But at the same time, given all of Seph's misgivings and difficulties between us, I can understand why she's being so coy about the whole thing.

Forever is a lovely idea, albeit a bit quick to leap onto.

'Does it cost you anything?' I say, putting my phone back. 'I haven't become a problem?'

She sighs again, a little louder. 'No, Jake. It's my bad. The only thing you might cost me here is a bit of pride, if this falls through, like I'm pretty sure it will.'

I slip to the edge of the bed, momentarily marvelling at the height of it. The drop to the ground is a lot more than I'd expect it to be, so I sit myself there on the precipice, legs dangling, feet a metre off the floor.

Sephalla's cheeks are flush, her eyes aflutter. Beautiful as always, shy as she can sometimes be, especially around me, and especially when the topic of conversation is our feelings and the way things are going.

'Do you want to talk some more about that? To vent your worries?'

Her mood softens, and she smiles. 'Don't be so soft, loser. I'm just being silly, is all.'

'I just don't want you to think that you can't discuss these things with me, okay?'

Seph nods. 'I get you. It's fine. Honest.'

I pat the bed beside me. 'Cuddles?'

She rolls her coal-seam eyes. 'Jake, what did I say about being soft--'

The front door goes, and a man -- Seph's Dad -- calls up. Sounding fairly urgent, if anything, as though there's some disaster in motion. Though Sephalla herself, at the least, seems that much calmer with the initial burst of worry having passed.

'We'd best go and do this,' she says. To my surprise, Seph offers me a hand. 'Come on, dude. Dad can explain it way better than I've done.'

I take her hand and she eases me onto the floor, but doesn't let go. Her fingers are delicate, the whole appendage womanly and gentle, but bigger than my hand to the point of engulfing mine entirely within its warm and silky embrace. When I glance up at my nightmare, she blushes, and smilingly glances away.

We go downstairs, and meet the man himself. Seph's Dad, a larger and male version of herself, sits us with him in the lounge. Despite appearances, he's much what she claimed him to be. Calm, scientific, soft on humans. And the older, wiser nightmare goes through the whole process, collects the important details -- with the sensual specifics left out -- and then grows quiet and thoughtful for a time.

'Could I speak with Jake alone, sweetie?' Seph's Dad says. To hear anyone call Sephalla "sweetie" provokes a smirk that I do my utmost to restrain. I don't think either of them see it.

'Sure thing, Daddy,' Sephalla says. She gives me a quick look, a thing of raised eyebrows, and then goes to the door. 'Don't be too hard on him.'

'Not a worry, Sephy. He'll be fine.'

Sephy? Fucking Sephy!?! A little strained sound escapes me, the urge to laugh growing too great. First encounter with the Father Magnificent and I'm already loaded with firepower to taunt my lovely nightmare with until the ends of the earth.

Fucking Sephy!

And she, oh so wise, gives me a sharp and playful glare as she shuts the door on the lounge. Thus leaving me at the mercy of her, on first inspection, pleasant-seeming father. A whole foot taller than she is, distinctly male, but possessing a similar look. Plenty of piercings, a kind of punk-goth vibe to him.

'Good to meet you, Jake,' Seph's Dad says. 'Not in the most optimal of circumstances -- I've had to rush home from work -- but even so, I've been asking after you for a while. Sephy's not had a real boyfriend before.'

A while? Because today was...I wonder how long this has meant something to Sephalla, in that case? I need to ask her about it later. It's cute, but ever so slightly the kind of thing that, were I doing it, she'd label in bold capitals as "SAD."

I smile, because at least that lets some of the humour vent away. 'Uh, th-ank you, sir.'

'You can just call me Mira.'

'Mira?'

'Miradonis the Pristine, technically, but...nightmare titles are a silly, antiquated thing.' He waves his hand, dismisses the idea, sits himself back into the chair. 'So I've never done this, but we might as well start with the obvious. What are your intentions with my little girl?'

I blush, glance away. 'Uh, well, I think she's the one with the intentions, nine times in ten. At least, that's how this started.'

Mira snorts. 'That's my daughter. But the point remains, because judging by your eyes Sephy's taken a real liking to you, which means you need to seriously consider what you're doing here.'

What I'm doing here? I barely know what I'm doing in general.

'Look, Mira, I really like Seph, but--'

'But you don't want to be stuck with someone forever,' he says, cutting me off. 'Is that right?'

I shake my head. 'It's not that. It's more...I get the impression that she's not really so keen.'

'You got this idea before or after she gave you a degree of immortality?'

'Look, man, it's more complex than that,' I say. 'Seph has a lot of doubts, doubts about us, doubts about how long-term this can be. I really, really like your daughter. She's everything I've wanted in another person, but I don't want to lock myself into something that she doesn't want.'

He strokes his chin, the long equid face much like Sephalla's but its strong jaw ends in a living blue-flame goatee. It raises questions about how that "hair" works, but they'll have to wait for another time. The older nightmare -- though in truth, looking twenty-five at the most -- twists his mouth and looks beyond me, out of the window.

'Sephy's mother might've had an impact on that,' he says, at length. 'Nightmares, as with demons generally, have this propensity for what you might think of as a kind of omni-attraction, in that they find all manner of traits attractive, species non-specific. And Seph's mother, ultimately, chose someone else over us. Because other species do tend towards a preference for their own, or those like them.'

Sephalla's odd concern, that I'd choose an elf over her, suddenly makes a deal more sense.

'She thinks I'll pick someone humanoid, or more human-like?'

'You'd have to ask her, if she's willing to talk about it, but I'd imagine so.' Mira nods, smiles wanly. 'I loved Sephalla's mother -- she's a dryad, if you could believe it -- but Vydeleth fell for an elven prince when Seph was about ten. She's not been in touch since. I've tried to be the best father I can be, even tried to find myself a suitable partner to fill that gap in affection, but Sephy won't have any of it. She's a bit jilted, and a bit of a loner, as a result.'

As if I'd pick a fucking boring elf over the statuesque nightmare.

'You rushed home to tell me this?'

He chuckles, a little warmer. 'Sephy sounded worried, Jake. And I don't blame her, because the whole immortality thing is tricky. Some of us have many lovers, and some of us don't. But if she's like me -- and from all I know of my princess, she is -- then she's in the latter category, and mates for life, if you will.

'You're at a kind of crossroads right now, because if you keep spending time with my daughter, that fire in you will grow to the point that it can't be snuffed out. And that ties you to her Sephalla, to the extent that she might never want to love again.' Mira frowns, not so much at me as at the difficulties that led to this being a concern. 'Honestly, Jake, if you're not fully into her, you should probably end things. Because that force that connects the pair of you is only going to grow deeper, and if you walk away, it's Sephy who's going to have to deal with the consequences.'

He leaves me with that thought. I find Seph in the garden, watching the horizon, evening slowly trickling in. Beautiful colours, at the very edge of the world.

'I'd never pick an elf over you,' I say, sitting myself beside her. She doesn't resist when I lean in, inhaling the delicate smokiness of her magical nature, and the sweet fruitiness of her body wash and perfume. 'Honestly, dude, I don't think I'd pick anyone in the world over you.'

'You've not met everyone,' Sephalla says, sighing. 'What if there's someone better for you? Someone who didn't, I don't know, rape you at the start of things?'

'You realise that in life we'll always run into people who are better in some things, and worse in others, right? But if you spend your waking hours trying to find perfect, you'll miss out on all the people who are just short of the mark.'

She slowly puts an arm around my shoulders. 'That's not exactly romantic, loser.'

'Romance hides certain truths, Seph. Like the fact that, at its base, relationships are a lot of work. Two people -- or at least, that's all I can manage -- trying to get themselves to fit together like mismatched puzzle pieces.' She begins stroking my hair as I speak, and I snuggle into her side. 'Demons don't really see species, your Dad said.'

'Well, if he said so, then it must be so. But does it matter?'

'I see species,' I say. 'And I like tall flame-maned futanaris with huge horse dicks and cute smiles.'

Seph flicks my ear. 'All right, settle down, softie. Save some compliments for later, jeez.'

'You love me, don't you?'

She sighs. 'Do we have to talk about this?'

'Don't I deserve an answer?'

'You do,' Sephalla says. 'And yeah, I guess I do.'

'You guess?'

She growls, effortlessly hauls me up onto her lap. My legs swing over the edge to the side of her thick thighs, and even sat atop her I'm much smaller. Dwarfed by her wonderful dimensions, all womanly and statuesque.

'It's hard, okay? To have a parent just go is kind of...it's like you're not all that great, Jake. Like this one person who's meant to love you unconditionally, for who you are, can so easily drop you.' She draws me close, smothering me with her curves, her enormous breasts. Sephalla rests her chin atop my scalp, strokes my arms with languorous affection. 'How can I be all that great, worthy of your attention, if my own mother bailed on me? You see what I mean?'

I kind of burrow into her, all that warmth and lovely smoky-sweetness engulfing me. 'I never knew my Dad, man. He was worthless. Some rich guy who disappeared the moment he left my Mum. Hell, maybe I have my own thing here. Maybe it's why I'm still around, knowing how badly this started. What kind of a weirdo falls for his bully?'

Seph kisses my head. 'I'm sorry.'

'Don't be,' I say, throwing my arms around her hips as best I can. 'We can't change the past, but we can go forwards, right? Together. And...well, given what I've learned today, forever, if you want. But I know that I want you, Sephalla the Magnificent, and all my doubts and worries stem from yours.' Her breasts, in the moment, aren't sexual, but comforting. The boobs of my favourite person, a pillow for my lucky head. 'I really would be a total loser if I picked an elf over you. I'd be insane!'

She embraces me so tightly it feels like my lungs might rupture. 'If we're both weird, maybe this might work. And we're both clearly strange, right?'

I chuckle. 'Yeah. Bonkers. But not the bad kind. At least, not anymore.'

Sephalla leans backwards, and I meet her coal-seam gaze. Perfection, in the form of an equid-faced demoness, hair blue and aflame, regal horns curving backwards out from her temples. A cute horse-like muzzle, glossy black nostrils and full dark lips, lacquered in the deepest shade of purple.

And she's blushing. All red-cheeked. Just for me.

'Do you wanna test something, man?' she says.

'What?'

'So that hellfire in you? It kind of does something else, as well.' Her blush grows richer, cuter. 'Because if I don't want to, for instance, I don't have to stop. Nightmares -- demons generally -- have a lot of control over their junk, y'know?'

'So like, I might be able to last longer?'

She shakes her head. 'That's more practise, honestly. No, I'm thinking more like...being able to keep going past cumming. Again, and again, and again.'

'What...what are you thinking?'

Sephalla the Magnificent, my dark queen, my nightmare, leans her muzzled lips close to my ear. 'Ever eaten horse pussy before? Ever shot your load into a demon's snatch?' As I tremble, growing instantly stiff, she chuckles. 'Who am I kidding? Loser like you, Jake? Of course not. But...maybe I'm feeling charitable.'

'Okay, but you've got to taste my sperm first. I want to see my good girl with a mouthful of her master.'

And beneath me, Seph's cock urgently throbs. Well, that's an answer, isn't it?

'Fuck you,' she says. 'If you're going to be "Master", then I want to be "Mistress" when we switch back.'

'Well that's hot as fuck, why wouldn't you be?'

She nuzzles my cheek. 'Fine. You win...Master.'

Oh God. Oh shit. Oh man.

'Piggieback?' I say.

Sephalla kisses my cheek. 'Anything for you, my Master.'

*

It's something wonderful, mind-blowing, to have her sit me on the edge of the bed. To have this tall, statuesque, unearthly beautiful creature kneel for me, this nightmare, this stacked to hell and back gorgeous thing with her equid charm and blue-flame hair and R-cup breasts and an arse that could crush a man kneel for me, but she does it.

Sephalla the Magnificent, my former bully, my girlfriend, rests back on her calves and smiles up at me, patient and cock-tinglingly obedient.

'What do you want me to do, Master?' she says.

Master. It's just a word, just a play, just a pretend thing, but it's the auditory equivalent of a blowjob. Which is, of course, just what she's going to give me. 'Be a good girl and get my cock out,' I say. 'You're going to put that pretty mouth to good use, cumslut.'

And it's the most remarkable thing, to say such a phrase -- intrinsically degrading, in the wrong context actively malicious -- and watch as this towering inferno that previously bullied me blushes, eyelids fluttering anxiously, as a pervasive shyness creeps across her lovely and beautiful mind.

'Your cumslut only exists to service your body, Master.' Sephalla smiles, in the process making clear that this is in fact a mask, alluring though it may be. 'Am I going to taste your sperm, Master? If I do a good job?'

'If you do a good job, yes. But you can't swallow until I say so.'

Seph reaches for my crotch, both hands engulfing the bulge therein. 'Of course, Master. I'll be such a good girl. I'll do everything that you tell me to.'

The Amazonian nightmare unzips my fly, moving with barely-restrained eagerness. There's a twitch to her hands as they work, large yet beautiful, strong yet delicate. A twitch that suggests, in no uncertain terms, that she wants to do this much faster than she feels as though she should. Because, like the good girl she's being, Seph knows that this is about me, and to rush things would only make them about her.

'Good girl,' I say, reaching for her muzzled face. Cupping her beneath her jaw, stroking the silken softness of her finely-furred body. 'My good and beautiful nightmare.'