Ai Love Therapy Ch. 06

"Eep!" Irene yipped when the smaller faun hooked the rope across both nipples, zapping a shock of pleasure directly into her chest. "Why are you taking my measurements?"

"Pay more attention to your anatomy lessons," Dryn said bluntly, trotting to the writing desk and mathing numbers with quill and inkpot. "Unlike many other races, fauns don't have a vaginal canal connected to a womb and separated by a cervix: it is all one organ. How much room you have to play with will be larger or smaller depending on your body weight, height, even how large your breasts are, and it fluctuates. So long as you hump fake dicks or you and Jeston finally drop your stupid will you/won't you facade and he slides his salami into your baby hole, take regular care to measure yourself. Otherwise, you might get a dickhead punching further than your body can safely handle and seriously injury yourself. Especially if you are pregnant."

Irene wanted to reply, to emphatically deny anything involving Jeston and his...she opened her mouth, but nothing came out and knees wobbled while Dryn finished measuring. Puberty sucked the first time Irene endured it. Whether her intellectual brain said one thing or another, the screaming cavewoman brain grunted and aroused if a vase had a particularly long and girthy neck. Didn't change the fact nothing could happen between her and Jeston, this was all chemical. However the Prince might throw up a lot of warning flags to Irene, but that aside, he was pure eye candy and nothing more.

"Alright, I think I have everything." Figures stacked on the parchment, Irene never boasting much of a head for numbers, might as well be witchcraft to the psychology graduate. "Whatever magical juju created your body, something unnatural was the result because you've changed too much since arriving. For instance, let's take an average woman's metrics. Most faun women fill at most a B cup, are closer to five feet (152 cm) tall, but heavier because we tend towards building muscles as quickly as men in our race, averaging around a hundred and sixty pounds (72.5 kg) with low body fat. As you may guess, I am not average." The plump faun sarcastically waved at her plump body with breasts more D melons than B apples.

"You look very beautiful, and if I'm being honest with myself, closer to my shape before I came to this world," Irene admitted, itching horns and reminded she wasn't that woman anymore.

"That is...thank you." The blush slight, the pleasant faun held the paper up to cover her face. "The first day you appeared in the palace, the seamstress took your measurements and I memorized those when we shopped. You were five foot six inches tall (168 cm) tall, measurements of 34J-32-40 (86J-81-102) and an estimated weight of a hundred and eighty-five pounds (84 kg)."

It shouldn't matter, yet a thrill ran through Irene to realize she was both taller and less heavy than on earth. Even if that fat migrated to tits and hips, her inner vanity broke out the pompoms and danced wildly. Dryn continued onward.

"Right now, you are five foot seven inches (170 cm) - which is impossible - your measurements are 35K-30-43 (89K-76-107), and if you look leaner, I suspect a hundred and eighty pounds (82 kg) is your current weight. You are gaining muscle, but you've lost too much fat too quickly. If I had a painting of you materializing in the throne room, you would see it in your face. Something isn't right."

There was a polished silver half body mirror on the wall and Irene stared into it, trying to remember what she looked like when she arrived...she had to count them up...sixteen days ago. It was a bit confusing because she only recently realized that a week was ten days with three weeks to a month, in her mind she was into her third week while it was only her second. Really, it was a wonder she was capable of remembering any time passage, everything blending together inside the palace. Sixteen day old face staring back, and she couldn't see any difference, excepting a tightness in her eyes and a frown on her lips.

Dryn worried, curly red hair spilling over her eyes she absently brushed away, so Irene put on a self-effacing smile. "I keep calling it a second puberty, guess it really is. Hope it stops soon or I'm not going to fit through the doors," she said, hefting boobs the weight and size of two bowling balls for emphasis.

"Hmph," Dryn said, scanning her notes before clopping to the dildo case and pulling the...really, it was a work of art more than some simple feminine aid. Every raised vein and thick ridge was more lifelike than a simple silicon toy from earth. Twenty-six inches (66 cm) long, at it's thickest in the center bulge it spread out seventeen inches (43 cm) circumference, the tip thin and hooked on the end, like a weird harpoon. Irene knew the dimensions because Dryn wouldn't shut up how this was a perfectly normal sized dildo and not at all some kind of monster cock waiting to split her apart. She called it segmented because it looked to be split into three parts, reminded of Jeston. Before her was an anatomically correct facsimile. Flaccid, faun penis was much smaller and in a darker skinned sheath or hood, only the tip exposed, but when engorged it filled with gallons of blood to reach this volume. The dildo itself curved upward slightly, as if that hook were a personal G tickler. Because everything of the dildo was a glossy black, it menaced like a wild bear.

"Wish I could afford something this nice," Dryn lamented, hefting dildo, lube and odd yellow stone, clopping into the shower room. "Warming enchantment, size adjustment capabilities, self cleaning and a refillable reservoir for ejaculation simulation. Even squishes like real cock!" She demonstrated with a firm squeeze under Irene's nose, a dab of clear ooze squiring out of the meatus. "You shouldn't have problems so long as you keep the ring outside of your canal, though your metrics give more room than girls your level."

She glared the low bench inside Irene's shower a critical eye before slamming the base on top. The dildo quivered yet stuck firmly from slatted wood. Dryn then rolled what Irene had thought was a solid part of the base upward along the dildo around eight inches, now wearing a very thick cock ring. "You should be fine with that much, but if it feels like sandpaper grinding inside your chest, it is to much and you should move the ring up more." She set the bottle of lube down on the ground pointedly, then held up the stone. "This vibrator may look small and unassuming, but it goes by the name The Destructor. It has a hundred and one setting levels, and I've only ever been able to endure to the mid sixties before I cry uncle." Dryn carefully placed the stone in a tiny cleft at the base of the dildo, clicking into place with tiny runes having easy access and tapping it a few times. The dildo quaked softly.

Irene peered at the stone cautiously, noting three simple runes and grasping through the translation magic that they were a plus, minus and power button. "Guess it is time to rock my world," Irene said, oddly resigned looking down at a black cock the size of a baguette and a vibrator powerful enough to set off avalanches.

"Whatever you where before coming to Evma, I've gathered a few things from conversations. This body you have is not your old body. Faun sex is...we like it rough. Don't be afraid to test your limits." Dryn smiled wide and gave double thumbs up - skipping out of the washroom and the bedroom - careful to firmly close and latch the door, leaving Irene alone to her debauchery.

Irene hesitated. Naked, The Problem...her pussy, twat, snatch, love bagel, baby box, bearded clam, lip-smacking-pork-hole...had been ready seven days ago. Used to foreplay, needing to warm up, she blushed to bursting when Ai sent her a video or another porny book. Months used to pass between even thinking of spelunking her love cavern, and the last boyfriend had been...far too long gone. For years Ai tried to convince her to buy a dildo or vibrator, pulling out dozens of examples from the nympho's collection; but even with multiple well-meaning offers, accepting a used sex aid was beyond Irene. Now, in a completely different world, she was about to pop her toy virginity. With a shrug she decided to stop thinking and tap dat meat!

Flipping her leg around in classic Riker maneuver, Irene sat down on the black cock.

"Yippee-ki-yay, mother--ohmywordishouldnothavedonethat!!"

The shower didn't have handles, just smooth tile, and hands couldn't stop her body weight plunging slickly past eighteen inches of burning hot dildo, barely pausing at the thick ring that should have stopped her, then with a plop it punched through her hole hard enough it tore labia, another eight inches bringing the entire monster inside when cheeks smacked wood.

"What in...I can feel it in my chest?!" Of course she could, twenty-six inches of hard cock softly vibrating, warming like a living dick and far enough inside to scratch tonsils. Ok, that was hyperbolic, but with the frantic beating of her heart she knew it was actually resting against her heart! And her heart raced, panicking knowing she was only a few inches away from complete spit spearing and slow roasting for dinner.

"Ok, alright, Miss Kitty drew those diagrams graphically outlining everything, no panicking allowed." Irene closed her eyes and tried not moving, too much pain hitting with pleasure as her entire vaginal canal clenched and released, these mild Destructor vibrations enough to build towards climax with enough time. It was slow, but she knew she would cum if she did nothing right now. "Liver is on the right side of my torso, larger stomach split into four chambers wrapping around the canal, much less intestines, two diaphragms to account for the split, womb is in the center of the chest to access specific nutrition in the first trimester generated in the breasts." Bringing her breathing down, or trying to, it kept hitching as abdomens tightened and her legs stretched out from sensations cycling faster through her.

"I just...huh...*gllpp*...it got really hot in here..." She wanted to ride this thing, to have her first time be the full experience. Cowgirl it, like Ai would say. She wanted to feel a cock ram into her, to close her eyes and have his cock inside her, but if she moved all it might tear her womb up or aggravate something and it was...oh, so close, so very...

Tumefying vagina stretched parts she didn't have on earth: meaning, there were good takeaways from her new anatomy. More surface area mean more pleasure neurons firing dopamine signals. Nipples bloated hard enough to cut glass and felt swollen to burst, like on the verge of something but she had no idea if this was part of the physical faun response. Maybe an increased amount of prolactin?

Her body didn't care about stupid, non-orgasm related musings. She barely cared enough to thank her shower room for soundproofing and no one would hear her panting moan echoing off tiles, even fauns with their enhanced hearing. Her brain barely functioned, higher processes shutting down as heat built, fingernails cutting furrows into the bench, her back arched and her head bumped the tile, so much heat, a fire, a sun, left leg shuddered and the gentle vibrations melded and expanded inside her twat, her entire body pushing and tightening and squeezing and wanting!

Again!

Tighter! Yes, much tighter! Grr, grip it like you mean it, ya pussy!

"Ooooh, JESTOOOON!!" Purely for his body. Purely.

As the world dropped away with a roar of sound and the tight rubberband of her frame snapped, something else invaded from outside. The first time, in the garden, it was like she sucked the orgasm escaping her and imploded it to a tiny ball of smutty vitality, holding it inside and keeping it for herself. It had been instinctual that time. Now she experienced all that energy flitting away and there was a selfish need to keep it all. She wanted it, it was hers! Bringing it close, she stuffed herself before it escaped and made it part of her soul. The physical felt secondary, her body tumbling and trembling off the bench, screaming in agony as the dildo hookhead scrapped her womb while the stopper ring tore her labia open a second time.

"Son of a brony!" Irene moved hands to burning pussy, realizing she must have squirted. Pulling her hand up to her face, she found mostly femjaculate, but there was blood. "Need to get Dryn in here to check how bad the damage is. Dryn? Dryn!"

Nothing, so either the soundproofing really was that good or the girl had left to accommodate Irene's modesty. Her body twitched and shuddered in contractions, but the chemical explosion in her head drained and the sheer relief flood was blissful enough for a nap. That was out of the question, Irene was expected in Jeston's library soon and the last thing she wanted was him seeing - and smelling! - her post-coital.

A hot shower led into checking the damage Mnt Cock wrought. She was happy to report full-blown soreness, but no severe injuries. Blood pooled from a rip in the side of her labia. A little cream from her collection of potions she had been taught to use and it didn't even hurt after, the skin healing over. Everything else, it felt like a beating after a rough sparring match at home, but it wasn't the debilitating pain of internal injuries. Probably. It hurt, but it would also have to wait until after her meeting with Jeston.

Ablutions moved along quickly, like prepping for a business lunch. Scrubbing her teeth with a birch stick and baking soda flavored with mint, letting natural brown curls fall in the proper way around her head, then pulling on a long dress that wrapped like Jedi robes into an open skirt high on the hips, all white and belted with a crimson red leather belt. She added her scent bracelet as well as other ivory bangles, giving her a not-casual/not-formal vibe, the proper tone an evening tryst required.

"I sense..." Something tickled her aura, something she thought lost somehow. Zipping her head to the corner of the room, a lone nightstand held a single white orchid. Focusing with hardly any effort, a connection snapped into place and she made the plant grow to twice its height, the white petals changing into a bright peach color. So easy after a week of failure, her mouth open in shock that it worked at all after all this time. After...she masturbated...and grabbed that energy...before it dissipated...

When it clicked, it hit her like Truck-kun. "I need orgasms to recharge my magic!"

Full stop. A headache bloomed and brought her hands up to massage the cranial pain around her horns. "I need orgasms to recharge my magic." The escaping sigh weighed a thousand pounds (453.5 kg). "Hecate help me, I'm a Harry Potter porno."

There wasn't any more time to test out her powers or...she was already getting the sinking intuition she was going to be Pussy Digging a lot more from now on.

Saliji, the tiny young girl faun who ran small errands around the palace, interrupted her calculated lewdness and informed her it was time to visit the Prince. Irene complied, though she impulsively grabbed Tanya from the bed and hugged her close, loving the and warmth and love seeping into her as the flying chipmunk continued snoozing.

Arriving in the hallway outside his apartments, the door opened and Monjafar exited is furl of dark robes. When he noticed Irene, he ducked his head politely with a gracious smile, setting off alarm bells while he slunk away in the opposite direction, not even offering a sarcastic barb.

"I will announce you," Saliji said politely, bowing with one hoof twisted behind her, opening and going in, leaving Irene alone with nothing to do.

The door was no more grand than any other apartment door in the palace: rounded top, ornate copper handle, a dark hardwood stained darker and polished to a shine. What set it apart from other doors was the large copper crest riveted into the wood. All through the palace, the crest of the royal house of Aoir displayed a snake entwined in a willow tree. She was told the snake symbolized perpetuity, the tree a willingness to bend but not break. This crest was different, and she only had herself to blame for not noticing it before. Jeston's personal crest, something only now realized, was a stylized tmyas in flight.

"Crap on a crust," Irene muttered, putting the last piece of Tanya this morning into the complex puzzle of why. Likely feeling rising anxiety, the pup blinked awake and licked Irene's hand, getting scritches and chirping happily in mommy's arms. Should have realized it earlier, but she blamed her misread of the situation under a mountain of pressure. The psychologist just wasn't at the top of her game. "Jeston is trying to court me."

Saliji opened the door and gestured inside, halting worries as Irene straightened her back and clenched her buttocks. Because it was time to play another round of mental chess with the Prince.