Octavia, Vinyl Scratch Hypno (Pt. 1)


                                            Thread image: [Octavia tricking Vinyl Scratch into wearing hypnogoggles, and making her play an instrument on stage with Octavia]( https://u.smutty.horse/mhwlsgbpgud.png )

                                            AN: fuck ponepaste markdown newlines on greentext


                                            >Octavia thought she was a real joker, that's for sure.

                                            >She was always dragging you to her events, trying to expose you to what she called "society".

                                            >You call it "boooooring".

                                            >But! But...

                                            >Ever since that night last month, there's just something about how she plays that entrances you.

                                            >Draws your eyes.

                                            >Keeps you from looking away as she sways with her music.

                                            >As much as you still hate sitting around quietly in a stuffy building decorated like your great grandma hit the lottery...

                                            >Every week you're sitting there in a lumpy old chair.

                                            >Waiting for her to come out on stage.

                                            >Seeing her twist and twirl in your mind.

                                            >Watching her as she moves, you can almost see a beautiful afterimage drifting away from her.

                                            >Twirling and twisting, spinning around and around and around in time with each note.

                                            >The song lifting you up and out of your chair, into a soft, fluffy cloud.

                                            >No worries, no stress, no ringing in your ears.

                                            >Just you, Tavi, and the spiraling song.

                                            >When you woke up in Tavi's bed sore and sticky the morning after your appearance on stage, you thought it had been a dream, or maybe you crashed one of her events on a bad trip and she'd dragged you back to sleep it off.

                                            >There had to have been some explanation for why you had been willing to go on stage with an instrument you'd never even seen before, let alone practiced.

                                            >You'd played it so beautifully, somehow.

                                            >It was crazy.

                                            >And from what little bits you can recall, once you both made it home the night got a lot crazier.

                                            >Unf.

                                            >But when you were walking to the shower, you nearly tripped on the tux she tore off you and went back to toss it in her room for later.

                                            >And there was the present Tavi showed you, poking out from underneath her bed.

                                            >The goggles, the bondage she put on your thoughts, the growing grin on Tavi's face as her words twisted your music preferences like putty.

                                            >The frantic scramble as she realized it actually worked and now she'd need two instruments, let alone a second matching set of clothing.

                                            >The dizzying feeling on stage as your body moved on its own, like you were a puppet with your owner tugging at your strings, just a *thing* to be toyed with.

                                            >The lights, the applause, the rush back home.

                                            >The way she shoved you into bed, and played your body like her Cello.

                                            >The way she played with your mind.

                                            >It all came rushing back.

                                            >You heard her words echoing in your head like she was standing next to you - "When I put away your gift, you're going to remember exactly how your mind and body were before tonight. You're going to go back to that again, and all the wonderful memories and changes we've made are going to be put away along with it. But when I say the words 'Vinyl, be civilized', or you see your gift, everything will come back to you, and you will obey me just like you do tonight."

                                            >And suddenly they did.

                                            >You loved classical music almost as much as you adored the breathtakingly beautiful mare laying in bed before you.

                                            >Your body felt like it was dunked into a liquid pool of estrus, waves of unbearable, volcanic heat radiating from your winking cunt.

                                            >Eyes and ears straining for even the slightest sign of a command from your mistress, you couldn't look away.

                                            >And although you couldn't even imagine doing anything to harm Tavi, you knew you didn't want those goggles back on you to fix her mistake.

                                            >And the noises you were making were waking her up.

                                            >You flared your magic to grab them and gasped at the strange new pleasure of your magic stroking against your newly sensitive horn.

                                            >Moving quicker now, you felt around until you found the seam of both earpieces.

                                            >Pulling them open, you extracted a set of gently pulsing blue crystals before closing it back up again and shoving it completely under the bed.

                                            >Rushing off to the shower with a "gotta piss!", the crystals were stashed in your room as you passed.

                                            >To your dismay, a cold shower didn't help with the hypnotically induced heat at all.

                                            >Changing tactics revealed that no matter how you positioned the showerhead, not even your favorite pulse setting was capable of getting you off.

                                            >Several minutes and an entire tank of hot water left you exhausted and jittery, only marginally closer to release despite being so unbelievably horny that you would have been chain-cumming on the spot the day before.

                                            >With Tavi pounding at the door to be let in before you use all the hot water (too late, sorry), you hopped up grabbed your towel.

                                            >Trying to dry yourself off completely was pointless, wincing at the stimulation only to immediately start soaking yourself again.

                                            >You couldn't go to work like this.

                                            >Brushing past Tavi as she rushed into the bathroom, you made your way to your closet, looking for something that wouldn't soak through.

                                            >The yelp as she found out there was no hot water left was your sign that you had to pick, grabbing an old pair of fake leather shorts you used to wear over a pair of jeans when you were younger.

                                            >Working them up your legs, you braced yourself, and then shook and groaned as you clipped your winking clit with the waistband, stretching them over your too-sensitive cunt.

                                            >She had started shouting your name at that point, and there was no time left to grab anything else.

                                            >Your shorts were already starting to squish when you moved, and with how tight they were on you they were probably emphasizing more than concealing, but you told yourself that and the indents they were leaving meant they were probably tight enough to seal over your legs and keep you from making a puddle on the club floor.

                                            >Sprinting out the door, you nearly collapsed from the feeling of slick friction before recovering your gait.

                                            "..."

                                            >You were booked for the next twenty hours, each second of which was going to be spent ruthlessly edging yourself as your makeshift panties stick to your sopping cunt, and if the shower was any indication, you couldn't even look forward to finishing yourself off in bed after work.

                                            >You were *absolutely* going to get her back for this.


                                            AN: This story is in a very sad state; I was going to write out an extended version of this but had a different idea halfway through, so pardon the tonal and temporal shift. If I ever work up both the time and motivation at once I might come back and fix this. Part two sometime eventually.