[Cutting his gravity sink might save Amos from being crushed, but the weight of their impact still brings them down to down to earth with force, miniaturized in stature or not. Hayame, too, has the wind knocked out of her in the process, struggling for a moment to orient, to resecure her hold on him in order to go for the throat or get her hands around his head. His cranium had to be thicker than that falsely named Zenith "King Undying" whose skull she had crushed beneath the roots for the Iconoclast Oracle, but surely she could apply enough force if she found good leverage. Amos' wings are shot, now broke, but her own grant no advantage even though they are uninjured, too small to reach and buffet his face to confuse or disorient, though they instinctively move at her withers as if trying to do so. She manages to get half-up, to begin to get her back legs under her-
And then Amos' hand lands on her foreleg and Fear takes hold.
The vision springs to life immediately, because there has only ever been one fate that haunted her nightmares, the one dangled over her head as a constant threat since she was a child old enough to understand the consequences of not being a good horse. At first glance, it depicts something that seems normal- a dun jinba that must be Hayame alone in a darkened stall. But the movement, the silhouette... it's all wrong. Terribly wrong. Ropes tied expertly hobble the back legs so that she cannot lash out and kick, they tether the neck to a slanted post, and they truss up her long ebony tail to bare the slick, wet nethers of a mare in the throes of a deep seasonal heat, unable to control her body's instinctual receptiveness to breed. Drool drips slow and glistening down her chin, the metal bit fastened in her mouth preventing her from speaking, eating, biting, closing. Even if she wanted to wipe her face and reclaim a tiny bit of dignity...
But that is only the base of her Fear. It cannot peak until the stall door creaks open and the grooms lead in the partner the stable master has chosen for her, a fellow Armless obedient, aroused by her scent, and selfishly willing to disgrace her. Hayame's eyes roll and her tongue slips uselessly on the bit, she tries to swallow her horror and disgust and summon the fire to fight, but there isn't... There isn't anything she can do can prevent the grooms from tightening her ropes with snide comments and encouraging jeers. She is nothing but a tool to them for advancing their wealth, nothing but a farm animal being bred so that their offspring could be added to the herd... but also a farm animal that had attractive human-looking parts. One of them slaps the stallion's rump and laughs, urging him to round her with foal if he wanted to keep going to stud instead of the battlefield. One starts fiddling with his trousers, debating might as well as he stares at her flushed and tormented face until a veteran gruffly advises him to keep his dick in his pants- that bit wasn't the type that would keep her teeth from biting in.
It's going to happen whether she wants it or not. The stallion is rearing up, his forelegs scrambling and clutching tight at her withers as he seeks a brace for his heavy weight and the right angle to get inside of her. Her body is going to welcome him even as her mind and hearts reject him. The bit is going to make it impossible to muffle her pitiful whimpers and reluctant moans, the same bestial, wild noises she'd always heard coming from the breeding stall when her own dam was led to the post. In her nightmares, the scenes usually just blurred into a horrible, twisted mess of no and anything but that, but this spell was about fear and she...
Outside of the vision conjured by Amos' spell, the sick image swelling in the mind's eye between them, Hayame's body has begun to go limp and trembling, her expression blanched with horror, helplessness, and all consuming shame.]
CWs for real, jinba gets dark: slavery, forced amputations, forced breeding, SA, etc.
And then Amos' hand lands on her foreleg and Fear takes hold.
The vision springs to life immediately, because there has only ever been one fate that haunted her nightmares, the one dangled over her head as a constant threat since she was a child old enough to understand the consequences of not being a good horse. At first glance, it depicts something that seems normal- a dun jinba that must be Hayame alone in a darkened stall. But the movement, the silhouette... it's all wrong. Terribly wrong. Ropes tied expertly hobble the back legs so that she cannot lash out and kick, they tether the neck to a slanted post, and they truss up her long ebony tail to bare the slick, wet nethers of a mare in the throes of a deep seasonal heat, unable to control her body's instinctual receptiveness to breed. Drool drips slow and glistening down her chin, the metal bit fastened in her mouth preventing her from speaking, eating, biting, closing. Even if she wanted to wipe her face and reclaim a tiny bit of dignity...
She cannot. She has no arms.
But that is only the base of her Fear. It cannot peak until the stall door creaks open and the grooms lead in the partner the stable master has chosen for her, a fellow Armless obedient, aroused by her scent, and selfishly willing to disgrace her. Hayame's eyes roll and her tongue slips uselessly on the bit, she tries to swallow her horror and disgust and summon the fire to fight, but there isn't... There isn't anything she can do can prevent the grooms from tightening her ropes with snide comments and encouraging jeers. She is nothing but a tool to them for advancing their wealth, nothing but a farm animal being bred so that their offspring could be added to the herd... but also a farm animal that had attractive human-looking parts. One of them slaps the stallion's rump and laughs, urging him to round her with foal if he wanted to keep going to stud instead of the battlefield. One starts fiddling with his trousers, debating might as well as he stares at her flushed and tormented face until a veteran gruffly advises him to keep his dick in his pants- that bit wasn't the type that would keep her teeth from biting in.
It's going to happen whether she wants it or not. The stallion is rearing up, his forelegs scrambling and clutching tight at her withers as he seeks a brace for his heavy weight and the right angle to get inside of her. Her body is going to welcome him even as her mind and hearts reject him. The bit is going to make it impossible to muffle her pitiful whimpers and reluctant moans, the same bestial, wild noises she'd always heard coming from the breeding stall when her own dam was led to the post. In her nightmares, the scenes usually just blurred into a horrible, twisted mess of no and anything but that, but this spell was about fear and she...
Outside of the vision conjured by Amos' spell, the sick image swelling in the mind's eye between them, Hayame's body has begun to go limp and trembling, her expression blanched with horror, helplessness, and all consuming shame.]