Sephalla, My Nightmare Ch. 06

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

I wait for Seph on the curb outside the school gates.

It's a good thing she's quite intimidating, because I was sure that her teacher -- he'd come back to make sure everything had been cleared up after the kickboxing lesson -- was going to add to my perpetual detentions. Losing my second break is bad enough without losing an hour after school as well.

It's not like we did anything that bad, either. Just...just a little bit of messing around. Teens being teens. He just overreacted, and...

...did Sephalla really agree to be my girlfriend?

It's genuinely difficult to make sense of the fact that, if my brain hasn't gone all hazy and strange, I am now the significant other of an eight-foot-six demonic-horse monster girl with the biggest tits I've ever seen and the fattest dick I can possibly imagine. An eight-foot-six demonic-horse monster girl with a gorgeous gothic style and incredible curves and a body that just doesn't quit.

For all of her meanness and general hostility to me to boil down, ultimately, to an apparent crush on me of all people is...somewhat insane? I just don't understand anything about this situation. At least when it seemed as though Seph's main interest in me was to hurt me or, for that brief and scary period, to rape me, things did make sense. I could at least, can at least, vaguely understand that, awful as her behaviour was.

But half an hour ago, she gave me a titwank. She took my penis, put it between her breasts, and made me cum buckets. And yeah, sure, I was meant to return the favour, to suck her off, but that got delayed. I will absolutely do it, the moment we have some privacy.

And I know that she said tomorrow, I know that this is probably a little bit eager, but--

'Are you really waiting on me, loser?' Sephalla says, all sultriness and black treacle. An amazing voice. I'd have it on repeat if I could. At once feminine, womanly, without being the least bit soft. 'I said tomorrow, Jake. To-mor-row. I know the weird language-magic thing is confusing, but am I just using the wrong fucking words?'

Yet as sweetly as her mockery cuts at me, the statuesque nightmare stands by the school gates all the same, smirking as she stares at me. That fiery gaze, a pair of coal-seam fires in the beautiful geometry of her elongate horse-like face, carries nothing but affection. Unspoken gratitude even, as though I've done the right thing without having put any thought into doing so.

Sephalla the Magnificent lives up to her name. Sweat banished, her voluptuously towering body is clad anew in her grungy gothic vibe, all black and metal and chains and visual violence. Her midriff is the first thing I spot, toned abs on display for the world, but it's difficult to miss her ridiculous R-cup chest or the sheer curvaceous presence of her hips.

I must stare too long -- at my girlfriend? -- because Seph sticks out her tongue in some show of teasing, silvery stud glistening against the pretty pink.

'I've just...I've seen you get the train before, like I do, so--'

'It's cool,' she says, advancing on me. For someone so powerful, so confident -- at least with mocking and teasing me -- she seems weirdly shy today. Her smell, that background smokiness mixed with a tantalising fruitiness, is a welcome thing. 'I figured it might be coming on a little bit strong if I asked you to wait.'

I give her thigh -- an arm is just a bit out of reach if I want to not look embarrassingly small beside her -- a playful punch. 'You can come on as strong as you like, man. If you meant what you said.'

She rolls her coal-seam eyes, and musses up my hair. 'I don't fuck with people like that, Jake. That'd be way too harsh.' The hand, done with making me look dishevelled, slides down the back of my neck. She strokes me gently, fingers soft and delicate despite their strength. 'I meant it, okay? You and me, we're a thing. If you meant it, too. Obviously. Duh.'

Something tells me this is going to be the way of things, at least for a little while. Her approach is, especially given all that I know of her -- not, in the grand scheme of things, all too much -- particularly cute.

'Wanna walk?' I say, pointing along the road. 'Or are you waiting on one of those blowjob offer-givers?'

Those fingers can, however, leave quite the sting if she so chooses to flick them against the nape of my neck. 'Very funny, midget. Don't get cocky now. It's barely been an hour.'

We smile at each other, the tall and the short. I really like her height. It's not even something crude, like the fact that it's impossible to look at her face without getting a nice eyeful of titty in the process. Though that is, of course, a plus.

Sephalla is drop-dead gorgeous, every inch of her. A smouldering-eyed monster girl, a nightmare, a demon-horse, and her height is so fitting. It adds an impressiveness, but an elegance as well. Despite her muscles and her stature, she moves with grace and composure, not a hint of clumsiness or roughness about the way her body works.

I find myself admiring her as we walk beneath the natural archway of trees overhead, the shifting tones of light and dark as the sun appears and disappears highlighting different aspects of her demonically good looks. In the direct sunlight, her velvety blue-black fur is obvious, a coating of the finest follicles. And when we're in the shade the bright fire of her eyes, the blue brilliance of her mane and tail, beautifully rise to the forefront of my attention.

'Am I that easy on the eyes?' she says, noticing my gaze.

I shrug. 'Is that so weird?'

She makes a lazy, all-encompassing gesture. 'What do you see, Jake? Behind and ahead?'

Beyond the road itself, there are other walkers. Students like us, paired up, or alone, or roving in packs of friends. And of the pairings some are humans with humans, others monsters with monsters, and yet others still humans with monsters. I ready myself to speak, to admit that I don't understand, or that I don't see whatever it is she wants me to be aware of, but then the realisation hits.

Monstergirls like Sephalla? They're either alone, with groups of friends, or paired up with monster boys or monster girls. That can't be right so I squint, so I go so far as to stop and stare, but it just layers on the proof.

Human boys don't go for monstergirls like Sephalla.

They go for elf girls, or lamias, or even -- though only a few -- centaur girls. Monsters that are, in so many ways, more like humans than not. Monsters that the lady portion could, if you stripped away the monster part, pass wholly for human. As opposed to say, echidna girls, or spider girls, or horse-girls, wolf-girls...I could go on.

Because if you strip away Sephalla's monstrous qualities, she's not a full person. Her muzzled face, her fire hair, her horns and horse-cock? Without those, you wouldn't have a normal person left. Just a faceless, genital-less, incomplete body.

'I think you're prettier,' I say, giving her thigh a pat. 'Prettier and cooler. Flame-hair and a horse-dick? Other people are just squares. Elf-girls? Pfft. That's boring, man.'

She laughs, but it's not a sound she gives herself fully over to. I glance up and find her wary, almost anxious-seeming. As if the floor's going to give out beneath her, any moment now. As if we're -- an hour in -- are just waiting for the meagre foundation to cave.

Any. Moment. Now.

'Humans are squares,' she says, crossing her arms over her breasts. 'You're all so hung up on the little things that even when your normality is shattered, the most you'll do is pick partners that look just a little bit different.' There's an upset to her tone which rises and then sharply falls as she reaches the end of her sentence. 'I just...I don't know.'

'I didn't pick an elf,' I say.

Sephalla sighs. 'Because one didn't choose you?'

I stop, and she keeps going. 'I love that you're a horse-demon, dude. I think it's cool, I think it's a little bit crazy, and I think it's hot as fuck.' My eyes fall upon her flame tail. 'No pun intended.'

Seph pauses mid-stride. Blessedly, people keep their distance from her, so our stopping and starting doesn't result in the awkwardness of letting others go past. The towering nightmare gives me a hooded look, her lips a neutral line.

'But why?'

I can only shrug as I catch up to her. 'Why do you wear gothic stuff?'

She starts moving again, so we walk side-by-side. 'You must think you're real smart, midget.' A lock of blue fire falls over her eyes so she blows it aside, unimpressed with the timing. 'I don't know. Happy now? I can tell you what bits I like -- the colour, the style -- but I can't tell you why I like those.'

'Then isn't it okay that I don't know, either? Isn't it enough that I do like you?'

Seph stays silent and then, gingerly, delicately, runs her hand down my spine. It puts hairs on end, makes me shiver, so sweet is her touch. 'I just...I don't want you pretending for my sake.'

'For your sake? What the fuck? Where'd that idea come from?'

'I don't know,' she says, turning her long face up and away from me. 'This just feels too easy, Jake. After the way I treated you, I don't deserve this.'

There's something in her voice I don't like. Fear, maybe? I'm sure on some level she's just venting, but on another, Sephalla is a lot more ruled by her insecurities than I'd expect, and that's troublesome. If she believes this is doomed, then nothing I can do will matter. Our beliefs are, in a sense, our world.

'Just don't run off before I repay you for that titwank,' I say, trying to be funny, trying to add humour. 'I'm still really looking forward to sucking your dick.'

I step past her, uncertain of myself. Wanting to say the right words and yet knowing, somehow, that this is her thing and not something I can really affect. But as the road begins to curve, and the pavement goes with it, Sephalla barges me off into the undergrowth.

There's a steep hill -- I doubt she was paying much attention -- and I begin to stumble. My shoes are trash for grip, let alone when the fall surprises me like this. And it's just my luck that this particular gradient lacks for vines to wrap my hands around, where on both sides, sadly out of reach, the slope has plenty.

I let out a quick, 'Fuck!' as I begin to tumble. Head over heels. My life flashes before my eyes.

But Sephalla is fast. Fast doesn't even cut it. Fast is like a sprinter, or even a supercar. This is smoke and thunder, this is a demon, a thing that is more magic than it is biology. And the nightmare girl gently scoops me up into her arms, cupping me against her chest in such a way as to completely distort any built-up momentum.

So when she sits down at the base of the slope, holding me close, there's not even a wobble or shudder. No whiplash, no sudden shock.

'Seph...'

'I genuinely didn't see the hill, fuck.' She smiles, naughty but nice. Her cheeks have a blush to them, a pretty variation to her colour. 'I just wanted a moment's privacy. Sorry.'

Squashed as I am against her magnificent breasts, shrouded in the heat of her body, and unharmed despite the momentary panic, I can hardly be annoyed. Though she is acting with an annoying degree of strangeness right now.

'Is this going to be okay, or what?' I say, resting my head atop her tits. They make for an exceptional pair of pillows, though just one will do, given that each breast is larger than my head. 'I can't have you ruminating like this over what other people are doing or what's gone on between us, man. I can forgive all of your shit, but please, maybe, just chill until I do something worthy of worrying about?'

'Yeah,' she says, hanging her head. 'Okay.'

I reach up and throw my arms around her neck. Her velvet fur is silk against my face, stinking wonderfully of her. 'I'm not being mean, dude. I just want to be with you.'

Seph nuzzles my head, sniffs my hair. 'I'm sorry. I've been stupid. I just...it feels too good to be true, y'know?'

I chuckle. 'Feels that way to me, too.'

She strokes my back, embraces me. 'Do you...do you really want to suck me off?'

The thought makes my cock start to stiffen. 'Yes. Badly.'

'Why? It's a horse-dick.'

'A demon horse-dick.'

Seph giggles. 'Yeah, I suppose it is. I've got a demon horse-pussy, too.'

'I kinda hoped you did.'

With her effortless strength, it's no matter for the statuesque nightmare to push me out of my embrace and get our faces aligned, that her coal-seam eyes gaze with fluttering longing into my own.

'You actually like it, don't you? That I'm nothing like you.' She laughs, suddenly all light and cheery, all darkness banished. 'Holy shit.'

'What?'

'You're biting your fucking lip, you sexy little loser.'

I go for a kiss, throw myself at her. The demon allows it to happen, does one better in fact. Our mouths meet, her thick slippery tongue plunging straight past my lips to meet mine, warm metal stud gliding against the insides of my cheeks, across my tastebuds. Her smoky spit is sweet, makes my tongue tingle.

'Mhm.'

And Sephalla strokes my body, appreciates it with the slow movements of her hands. She feels out my mere human frame with dextrous affection, such deliberate yet careful strength in the way she plies my hips and the small of my back, fondles my backside and brushes my chest.

When she pulls back just a little, beautiful nostrils flaring at the tip of that interesting muzzled face, the demon-horse smirks. A sticky look, lust and faint embarrassment both, her black glossy lips all the shinier for our kissing.

'I don't want to do it here,' she says, sweet as can be. 'But how about you come home with me, tonight? If you...if you really want to blow me, we can take all the time we need back at my dad's house.'

The thought of being in pure privacy with my demonic girlfriend and her devilish dick is enough to make my cock ache, but I must admit, the idea of being in the home of someone who fathered a child as effortlessly mean as Sephalla can be, is a particularly scary one.

'Will your dad care?'

'Dad's a babe, don't worry about him.' Seph smirks. 'Genuinely, gentlest fucking guy. Taller than me and absolutely shit-scary when I need him to be, but no, he won't care. He'll probably like you, anyway. He's got this obsession with us just, well, fitting in.'

'You're sure?'

'Now look who's all worried,' she says, stroking my back. 'I'm sure. He's a fucking geeky arcano-scientist, man. Not a scary bitch like me.'

'All right.' I nod, fear only slightly shelved. Unless Seph's mean streak came from her mother? 'But on one condition.'

'Shoot.'

'I want a piggyback,' I say. She snorts. 'I'm serious. You're big and strong, why should I walk?'

'I'm not that kind of horse, you demanding midget!'

'Guess I'll just sit here and not slobber over a tasty length of nightmare cock.' I pull a face, and shrug nonchalantly. 'That's a shame, because I was really feeling like gulping down a big hot healthy helping of--'

Sephalla's glare strengthens to the point that her eyes seem to catch fire.

Well, shit.

*

The houses of monster-folk like nightmares, given that they're almost twice the size of humans, are somewhat upsized.

It was something of a boon for the economy, getting all these new developments built, especially with the help of the various supernatural space-saving tricks that the demons -- the closest thing to capitalists among the people of Wildenarth -- brought to bear.

So while at a distance Sephalla's home looks pretty normal, and even up close has this slight suggestion that the perspective is maybe not quite right, at the very moment she drops me off her back -- having agreed to a piggy-back from the station to her house -- and leads me inside, the whole thing seems to double in stature. It's momentarily disorientating, but the nightmare must do something, applying a spark of devilish magic with a flick of a finger, because as quickly as the confusion arrived it goes away.

'Woah.'

'I'd say you get used to it, but it's a demon thing,' Seph says. 'Take off your shoes and follow me.'

There is, thankfully, no sign of her father. I catch a glimpse, in some father-daughter family photo, of the man himself. At the very least, Sephalla's style seems to come from the guy. He has a heavy-metal look about him, eyebrow piercings, a jacket that I'd think to be leather if only that didn't have fairly uncomfortable implications given the anthropomorphic peoples of the monster-folk homeworld. But he is, as she is, a towering demon-horse with horns and living blue-flame hair.

Sephalla's room is on the second floor, and I'd look out of the windows but their sills begin just above my head. Everything in her bedroom is upsized, to the extent that I feel vaguely like what I imagine a dwarf must, in a world that just isn't built for people like me.

I'd think there are perks to being bigger, and thus having bigger things. More bed space! A larger TV! More room generally! But then it also dawns, delayed, chasing rapidly after my momentary foolishness, that because she's larger all that seems impressive to me must be simply normal-sized from her perspective.

The nightmare girl plants herself down atop a beanbag chair in the corner opposite her bed, squishing it around a bit with hip and hand movements to get it as low to the ground as possible. The result is sufficient that she's closer to my height, though obviously quite a bit longer.

'How'd you wanna do this?' Seph says, giving me a lusty look. Her parted legs, leading into that pair of cut-down jeans, bring my attention her crotch. The bulge is less than I'd expect, given what I know of her vastness. 'Like we can be all cutsy first, if you want? Or cutsy after? Or suck and go or--'

'Why would I just go?'

That ever-well-timed lock of emo-styled blue fire comes dangling across her vision, and she snarls briefly before blowing it aside. 'I just...I'm not exactly great at hosting people, dude.'

Her room is as dark and punk-gothic as she is. All metal band posters and records, only a few human, most of them on the heavier side of things. A whole bookcase full of comic books though, a lot of them familiar, and a much larger cabinet dedicated to video games. Violent ones, naturally, and plenty of horror titles. The blue-black colour scheme of the room, including her sheets -- comfort in familiarity? -- only adds to the look.

'You're not hosting me, Seph. I'm your boyfriend. We can do it in whichever order you prefer.'

She smirks at me, black lips especially beautiful when shaped by lusty humour. 'Kinda in the mood for blowing a load, to be honest. If you don't mind.'

'I don't mind,' I say, nerves hitting the last word. Now that it's happening, now that I'm here, it's not in the least that I don't want this...but Sephalla is huge, in a lot of ways. 'Um. How should we? Should I...?'

'You're cute when you're flustered,' Seph says, undoing her belt. 'Times like this I wish I were one of the fancier demons, y'know?'

'What?'

She throws the belt aside, and pulls down her fly. 'Succubae can do some cool things with clothing, that's all. Nightmares are warrior demons, so we're only good at making weapons disappear, and even then, only inside of our enemies.'

I get that she's being silly, but I can't imagine any situation where facing down an eight-and-a-half feet tall demon-horse with a mane of living fire would be anything short of terrifying. At least this nightmare is...mine?

'Please don't try that on me?'

Sephalla snorts, pretty black nostrils flaring. Horse-like, yet very cute. 'The only thing I'm going to disappear in you, Jakey, is this.'

But when she pushes down her shorts, the result is -- I can only imagine -- less impressive than I believe she was going for. To the extent that the nightmare girl blushes, quite profusely.