Riding Magenta

Magenta was unable to think straight, and instead she turned herself in front of the mirror and examined the extent of her new body. Whoever may have been watching behind the mirror was treated to an intimate show as her mitten hands were rubbed against the lips to feel their texture, the breasts were weighed for the sake of establishing they were not simply inflated bags of air and finally the hands ran around the seam of the ball, probing where Magenta's own sensation ended and the inert rubber of the thing began. She noticed that the curve of her buttocks melted into the shape of the ball behind her and when she gripped the horns on her own head it was akin to hitting just the right spot to achieve maximum pleasure during sex.

Finally the pieces fit: the colour, the ball, horns on her head that were handles...she had been turned into a human space hopper!

It was almost too ridiculous to believe, but here she was in all her rubberised glory.

So was this it, she wondered, would she spend the rest of her life as a human sex toy?

A slave to the whims of whoever did this to her?

She felt that something was wrong in her own head when amongst the thoughts of her peril, there popped into existence the smallest notion that she had been standing around for far too long and it was high time that someone came in there and rode her...after all, that was what she was for!

Magenta shook her head, shocked at the realisation that she had just actually been on the verge of admitting that she wanted to be used as a plaything.

It was wrong, it was a violation!

But on the other hand, she sized the room up; she bet she could bounce as high as the ceiling if she just had the chance.

Before Magenta had the chance to realise that the desire to be played with was becoming stronger all the time, there was a barely audible click and a section of the wall to her left slid back and revealed a hidden doorway.

She watched as a figure stepped into the room, clad from head to toe in black latex that disguised every detail of his person save for the fact he was male and probably worked out more than average.

Magenta looked him up and down as the door slid shut behind him. She noted his confident stance and his strong limbs as he made his way towards her and then came to a halt perhaps four feet from where she wobbled on her ball. She sized him up as someone quite capable of making her bounce as high as high as she was able and she decided that she wanted, no, needed to be bounced.

After all, what else was she for?

She raised and hand in front of him and with some shyness, made an up and down motion that she hoped he would understand better than her desperate squeaks.

Are you here to bounce me?

He nodded and made the same gesture.

Magenta squeaked despite herself and turned to proffer her back to the man in black.

Gently he took her handles in his palms and she felt the weight of his body press down on her ball as he tested her for his own comfort and hers. The pressure activated the strange device that had been placed between her legs when she was sealed into the leotard and the phallus penetrated Magenta's body for the first time.

She cried out with another squeak as the very purpose her new body had been designed for gave her a shot of pleasure and another as the man in black began to actually ride her around the room. Every time his weight pressed down, Magenta felt the experience as almost a bolt of sexual energy that spread through her whole body. What should have been an experience of utter degradation had become one of ecstasy the likes of which she had never felt before.

Magenta's hands found her breasts and she stroked her own body in an attempt to enhance the feeling as much as she was able.

But all too soon for her, the speed at which they were bouncing around the room became less and less and eventually the man in black brought her to a standstill.

He gently released his grip on Magenta's handles and eased himself up from her ball, making sure that she did not fall prone as he did so.

Unable to make any verbal protest, Magenta turned and clung to him as he tried to make his way back to the hidden door. Her mitten hands grasped at the latex of his body-stocking and soon she had both arms wrapped around his waist and was being dragged with him. Each step brought a small tremor for her ball and a cruelly shrunken version of the pleasure she had enjoyed when he was riding her.

In her state of confusion, she really was desperate not to have him abandon her. Magenta was convinced there and then that what they had just done was now her purpose in life, if she was denied that then what was she good for?

Desperate for his attention, Magenta hauled herself up his body and forced him to stand face to face with her. She read a degree of sympathy in his body language and smiled, though she felt like she was on the verge of tears. Her hand slipped down and stroked his groin, it was a desperate thing to do, but she was willing to try anything if he would just stay and ride her again.

At first he shook his head slightly as if to say no, but when the first tear ran down her cheek she sensed something break inside him and he gave an equally slight nod.

He bent his knees and picked her up around the waist, carrying her to the nearest wall where he pressed her back against the warm tiles. Then he pressed himself against her, pushing down on her ball and forcing the device inside to respond to his motion. Magenta clung onto him, realising that this was as close to actual sex as her new body allowed them to come.

Strange as the experience was, this was nothing like being ridden. Magenta sensed that the man in black was doing all that he could to make her the centre and the object of the whole thing. He was as devoted and attentive as any lover she had experienced and he took as longs as she needed, never hurrying her along on the way to her conclusion.

Thought it seemed impossible, Magenta was certain he brought her to a climax as a woman rather than as a living sex toy.

Afterwards he left her falling into a deep, irresistible sleep and departed through the hidden door.

Magenta's last conscious thought was a hope that he would come back soon and ride her again.

The sound of the alarm shook Magenta out of her slumber and sent her hand darting out from under the covers to swat it into silence.

It was too early and she was doing nothing this morning apart from recovering from the night before; she had not been ridden like that in so long she had forgotten what it felt like.

Ridden?

Magenta sat bolt upright and ran her hands over her body.

She felt only familiar flesh and all four of her limbs present and accounted for.

She stepped out of bed and found that she was back in her hotel room, dressed in her underwear, but otherwise alone and intact.

Had it been some kind of dream?

If so then she was afraid that she was loosing her mind.

She decided that there was no way she was calling the police and telling them what she still remembered about the whole thing, that would be career suicide.

Magenta decided that she had to simply deal with her ordeal and move on.

Nevertheless, she was unsure as to why she felt nothing at all negative about the experience and always disturbed by the unshakable feeling that she wanted to be ridden from time to time.

Was that so much to ask?

He thumbed the remote and started the recording playing once again, watching the whole thing from start to finish.

Part of him wondered, as it always did, if he was an evil man.

Yesterday he used his resources to abduct a woman and turn her into his own personal plaything.

But her let her go.

Today he would use the same resources to found an institution or prevent a community from being torn up for a soulless development.

Did it all balance out?

He suspected that the answer was no.

Perhaps it was the fact that he had wanted to turn Magenta Jackson into a human space hopper and ride her that made him evil.

Perhaps it was the fact that he had actually gone and done it.

What really worried him was the reaction she had given him.

In the past his conquests had been anything imaginable, but never had one of them seemed to revel in the experience and beg him to do more.

He wondered what kind of a person thrived under those circumstances and why the idea that someone might want what he had given them really scared him so much.