A Dance of Change
Another little story from the stream yesterday, this story comes from FA: EoSets who wanted to see a country boy get messed around on the dance floor. This is the result.
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A Dance of Change For Sora By Draconicon
Getting drunk wasn't quite what he wanted to do for the first part of his weekend, but considering where his pals had dragged him, Mason didn't see a whole lot of choice in the matter. The hippogriff was just glad he was keeping it to a couple of beers rather than the tequila shots that his buddies were going for. No need to get that drunk.
He tipped his bottle back for a moment, letting it rest against his beak as he looked at his plastered friends. Most of them were either telling a girl a sob-story or getting with some trap that had come down from the city for a chance with a country boy. Neither of 'em were what he wanted. What did he want?
To tell the truth, to get done with this and go home. There was work to do tomorrow, and it wasn't gonna get done with a hangover.
Not that I'll avoid that if I keep sipping away, he thought on his next drink. He was already feeling a buzz building up in the back of his head, and he was pretty sure that it was only going to get worse.
But seriously, if he wasn't gonna flirt, what else could he do?
He leaned back, putting the bottle down for a moment as he looked across the club. The dance floor was just about dead, and not even the DJ was hanging around. The city slicker had come in, put on some kind of recording, and then left. The few folks still out there were barely going through the motions.
Mason shook his head.
"Hey, George."
"Yup?"
Waving the stallion closer, he pointed towards the speaker at the far end of the room.
"You got any other songs we could pump through that?"
"I 'spose. Couple of country hits, couple of pop albums."
"Mind if I -"
"G'head."
Nodding his thanks, he jogged towards the back of the room and started rooting around through the wires by the speakers. Usually the CDs were kept back there, and tonight was no exception. He pulled out a couple, shrugging at the sight of some of them, and narrowed it down to one album.
"Well, Mr. Jackson, I know this ain't your first choice of venue, but we're pretty desperate right now."
Smiling, he slid it into the machine and re-wired it to accept the new input. The slow-dance song cut out for a moment before coming back in with the pop and pizazz of the big musician, and more than a few drunks suddenly looked up.
As the dance floor came alive again, the somewhat-tipsy hippogriff decided that he might as well throw his hat in the ring, so to speak. He walked by the bartender and put his hat down over his bottle, adjusted his vest, and walked himself out onto the dance floor.
The music was louder out here, with the speakers pointed right at him, and with his buzz already going, he lost himself in the music. The hippogriff threw his arms in the air and danced with a great big grin on his beak, letting himself just move around and enjoy some of the hopping, bouncing sound.
It didn't take long before more people joined him, including a surprisingly quiet dragoness. Unlike most of the others, who were just dancing around him, she pulled herself right up against him, her body bouncing against his back in slow, steady grinds. It was...surprisingly nice, and left him feeling rather warm inside.
As the album progressed, he felt like his buzz was getting heavier and thicker, rather than lighter as he had expected. He stumbled around a few times, his eyes rolling around as the room seemed to spin around him, but the dragoness was always there to catch him. Her stone-gray scales seemed surprisingly soft, and he always apologized with a tip of the hat he forgot he no longer had, and kept getting a giggle from her in the process.
Around and around the dance floor they went, and he only seemed to get clumsier. Once or twice, he fell over a hay bale, and he just couldn't pull himself up. After the third time that she pulled him to his feet, Mason groaned, offering her his hand.
"I ain't the best dance partner, am I? Mason, by the way."
"Granite."
"Nice to meet ya..."
He groaned, feeling a weird tingle going through him. As it was followed by a sudden wave of dizziness, he had to sit right back down on the hay bale, his body rocking from side to side.
"Eeesh. Musta been more in that bottle than I thought."
"Heh, don't worry. You're still a good dancer."
"Ain't that good when I'm plastered."
"Oh, come on. You can do a bit more."
"Ugh, probably...probably shouldn't..."
"For me?"
He looked up at her, and the soft warmth in her eyes persuaded him more than anything else. With a grunt and a sigh, he pulled himself back to his feet. He almost fell into her arms, his beak coming close to ripping through the top of her dress, but she still caught him and held him until he could stand up straight.
"Alright...two more dances...but that's...that's it."
"Hehehe, whatever you say."
Two more dances turned into three, then four, then five, and soon he stopped counting. Every time that he was ready to sit down - and it was becoming harder and harder to stay on his feet - Granite gave him another reason to keep going. So he did...
The tingles from before stayed behind, always rumbling in the back of her head like some sort of buzz that just wouldn't quit. Every time it hit him, he swore that there was something off, something different...but it just wouldn't settle with him.
He wasn't sure what song they were on, but his vest was fitting funny on him. It didn't seem to spread across his shoulders right anymore, and instead kept almost falling down his arms. The neck hole just seemed too wide, and he kept having to pull it tight, adjust it, something.
But that was nothing compared to how his pants were acting. He kept pulling the belt tighter, sure that his pants were just slipping around, but less than eight dances in - eight? Nine? - he felt his pants slipping down again, resting on his hips instead of his waist, and he pulled down to adjust the belt again...
"Wha..."
It was already on the last...that was impossible. He'd just bought the belt last week, and it was barely big enough to hold him on the second to largest size.
"This ain't...Ain't making..."
"Mason, things don't have to make sense. Keep on dancing."
There was something to the suggestion that sounded wrong, but Mason would never disappoint a lady. So back to the dance floor they went.
Even when things felt weirder than ever, like there was more room in the crotch of his pants, he kept on dancing. He swayed back and forth, like he couldn't keep his balance, and almost fell again.
This time, when Granite caught him, it almost felt like he'd landed on another guy. But that was impossible. It was her; it was the same smooth scales, same stone-gray color, same hand going down his pants -
Wait...wait, something...nnngh...
He groaned as she held him upright, his back to her chest. She was towering over him by several inches now, maybe half a foot, and she was squeezing him tight. It felt...it felt so good...
"Keep dancing, you runt...Ain't gonna stop now."
"But...but...you..."
"Just part of the dance. You need some support, right?"
It was weird, but he swore her voice was deeper. But that was just the music...all the sound around, it made things hard to hear. So he kept dancing. Well, more like swaying, leaning against her as she kept stroking him. Weird how it felt like...like each stroke was taking less time...like she wasn't moving her hand as much.
He weakly thrust forward, feeling his pants sliding along all the more. Much more, and they'd probably fall off...fall right off his bouncy butt...He giggled at the thought, thrusting and grinding his hand against Granite's fingers, even as they went still.
The music came to a stop suddenly, and so did his grinding. He came over her fingers, but it felt like...like something else was sliding away. He didn't know what it was. Didn't much care, either. Couldn't have been that important.
He looked around again as the music faded, and felt strange. Very strange, particularly when he looked at some of the guys around him. He felt something for them that he'd only felt for the girls before.
A sudden breeze made him yelp as cold air brushed across nipples, and he looked down. His vest had hit the floor, but he was looking down at a pair of breasts. Big ones, too. Who could they belong to? Not him, and not Granite. Wrong color. What was...
I gotta be drunk...
Tugged from behind - and feeling his pants grind up into a hole he didn't remember having before - Mason found himself face to face with Granite again. Except this time, her jaw was far more defined, her shirt was flatter, and her pants bulged outwards with something else that he didn't remember seeing there before.
"Heh, okay, girly...I think we got what we need. How about you and I go around back, and you show me what you can do with your new body?"
New body? What he - she could do? That was...that was...
"Heehee, okay!"
Mason walked off arm-in-arm with the dragon, whistling to herself as they went around the barn. It was time to do a few unspeakable things, but she was darn sure that she was going to enjoy herself, and make sure that the dragon did, too! Maybe with George, after. Oh, the thoughts, the fun!
The End