Chapter 3
The next day Master gagged me and hooded me, tied my legs
together and threw me into the trunk of his car. My arms were still in
the armbinder and my feet still clad in stiletto boots. For my part
almost all resistance was gone and I was completely docile as he took me
out of the trunk again after a very long drive. He led me into a
building and then into an office where he removed my hood. It was a
doctor's office and I stood docilely by as Master greeted the doctor and
sat down opposite his desk. Then the two began talking about how Master
still wanted the surgery performed on me he had specified earlier.
Master assured the doctor that was indeed what he wanted. After a bit of
small talk, they stood and Master left after shaking hands with the
doctor.
After Master had left the doctor, who looked perfectly ordinary, looked
me over and felt me up before calling for a nurse. The nurse scampered
fearfully into the room, curtseyed in front of the doctor and said:
"Yes, doctor?" The nurse was a slave boy of about twenty-five and his
body was completely covered in shiny, white rubber. Only his bald head,
his ass, which was securely plugged with a huge, white butt-plug and his
genitals were left free, even his hands were covered in white rubber
that was part of the suit. On his feet were shiny, white stiletto boots
made from plastic, with seven-inch stilettos. His head was completely
hairless, devoid of even eyebrows and as he spoke I could see that he
had no teeth at all, giving him a slight lisp when he spoke. His cock
was imprisoned inside an impossibly small chastity tube and was leaking
a steady amount of pre-cum. As he approached the doctor he cast his eyes
fearfully down and it was obvious that he was terrified of him. "Take
this slave to the OR and prepare him. The operation will start in an
hour." The doctor said. The slave nurse curtseyed before leading me by
my cock to the operating room. What little resistance was left in me
came to the surface now, but even this enslaved rubber nurse had no
trouble controlling me. A good grip on my balls and hard twist ensured
my immediate compliance with all orders and soon I was lying strapped to
the operating table. Once again my arms had been all but useless from
their long confinement inside the armbinder.
As I lay there waiting for the doctor one more nurse arrived. He looked
exactly like the ones who had met me in the doctor's office: completely
hairless, completely toothless with a hot and slender body covered in
shiny, white rubber. By way of greeting the two nurses kissed
passionately. Then one of them, the latest arrival, went to get
something at a nearby table while the other one ever so gently grabbed
my cock. Slowly he began manipulating it and when I was hard as well as
breathing hard, he took me into his mouth. The feeling of a
smooth-gummed mouth with a very talented tongue drove me absolutely wild
in a matter of seconds and soon I was trying desperately to thrust my
hips; trying anything to hasten the process so that I could cum.
But the little, shiny rubber nurse was a real expert. Every time I was
just about to cum, he held back. Soon I was begging, but he just smiled
sweetly at me, still denying me my orgasm. Finally the other nurse
joined him at the table and after nodding in agreement to each other, my
tormentor sucked the juice out of me in a glorious orgasm, making me
scream with pleasure. Just as I came the other one sank a needle in my
arm and a few seconds later I lost consciousness.
When I woke up I felt terribly weak. I felt like my eyelids had been
glued shut and only with a great deal of effort was I able to open them.
As my vision cleared and I was once more able to see my surroundings, I
saw that I was in a hospital bed, covered in a sheet. For a long time
this was all I noticed. Slowly I gathered my wits about me and started
taking stock of the situation. I knew that I had been through surgery,
so the question was what had been done to me. I started by trying to
wriggle my toes and found out that I had practically no movement left in
either my toes or my feet. Nor in my ankles for that matter. I could
still feel the foot, but it felt far off and very stiff, like it was
sleeping. My feet, as well as the rest of my body was covered with a
sheet and as I tried shaking it off I found out that I was strapped to
my bed and unable to do so. No surprise here. So I would just have to
wait and see.
As I moved on I soon found out something else; a discovery that made me
scream. I had no arms! Where my arms had been were now heavy bandages,
but it was quite clear that there was no room for my arms underneath
these. My arms had been removed! I screamed in shock and after a little
while a rubber nurse came scampering into the room. He checked that I
was all right; at least in the physical sense of the word, he then
pressed a button on the wall and sat down on the bed next to me. He
stroked my cheek and said some comforting noises and I started sobbing
instead of screaming.
After a few minutes the doctor arrived. He looked at me with eyes filled
with sadistic delight and he was obviously enjoying himself. So much so
that the first thing he did, even before examining me, was to order the
little rubber nurse to blow him. Standing next to my bed and obviously
deriving pleasure from seeing me like that, he had the lithe,
rubber-clad young man kneel before him and give him head.
When he had shot his load, he once again turned his attention to me.
First he checked the bandages on my shoulders where my arms should have
been. Then he had me open my mouth. I was much too shocked to resist and
when his fingers entered my mouth I got a new nasty surprise: like the
nurses all my teeth were gone. I was just too much. Now even my sobbing
stopped as I sat in stunned silence.
The doctor's examination of me continued and he now lifted the sheet
away from the upper part of my body. As he removed it all the way down
to my waist I saw that my lower back was bandaged too and that I was not
lying flat on my back, but rather sitting up, propped up against some
pillows. After inspecting these bandages and apparently finding their
condition satisfactory, he removed the sheet altogether and I saw why my
feet had felt so stiff. On my feet were now black, plastic boots
effectively turning my feet into hooves. My foot is now almost
completely in line with my leg and all my weight is supported on my
toes, which have been bent back and now rest on the tiny platforms that
I walk on. The platforms are not big enough for all my toes, but that
didn't stop the doctor. He simply removed all my toes nails and crushed
my toes so that he could set them in any shape he desired. Then he used
a steel band to secure them permanently to the tiny platforms, which are
just like the platforms used in women's platform shoes, only much
smaller and much higher, almost five inches high with a ridiculously
small horseshoe as a sole. Also my "shoes" have no heels, forcing me to
support all my weight on those tiny, precarious platforms. The shoes are
really boots since they extend up to mid-calf and they look like a
caricature of a horse's hoof. The cover of my boots comes off from time
to time so that my feet can be cleaned, but my feet remain welded to the
platform permanently. They never come off.
As I looked down my body in shock I also noticed that I had trouble
looking all the way down, just I had trouble turning my head all the way
to the side. It was like my head was tilted a little backwards and now
couldn't come all the way down anymore.
At the time I was in complete shock and didn't realize that Master
wanted me as his pony boy. I just sat there completely shocked as to why
these changes had been made to me and to what end.
After a few more minutes of inspection, the doctor seemed satisfied and
left. Just before leaving he nodded to the nurse, who curtseyed deeply
in return. When the doctor had left the room, the slave nurse's
attention turned to me. Wasting not a second, he leaned in over me and
took me in his mouth. As before I should have been too shocked and too
revolted for anything to happen, but as I was starting to learn, my
natural submissiveness always got the better of me. Soon I was
involuntarily moaning with pleasure and after a few minutes I came.
Shock doesn't even begin to describe my feeling at this apparent
betrayal by my own body. There was no way I should react like this! I
should hate it. I should object and try to push the nurse away. But as
he started to blow me again, I had no objection, no protest and no
movements to discourage him. Instead my first and only thought when his
soft lips closed around my cock was: "Please get me off. Your mouth is
sooo good."
The slave boy/rubber nurse left me three orgasms later. As the door
closed behind him I sat in stunned silence. The drastic physical changes
were slowly sinking in, making me depressed as they effectively robbed
of any other future than that of a slave. But also I was feeling
increasingly confused at my own reaction. Or perhaps "confused" is the
wrong word, since it was quite clear what was happening: I was adjusting
very rapidly to the fact that I was now a slave, a mere toy for Master -
and I liked it! The more I thought about it, the more Master's words
about how I didn't go for vanilla, but rather had to be subjected to
extremely brutal and demeaning things to get off, rang true.
Only I didn't want to believe it. I told myself that I was a strong and
independent man and that I didn't want to live out my life as someone
else's property. But the more I repeated this to myself, the more hollow
it sounded.
The couple of weeks passed in a haze of confused orgasms while I quickly
healed. Three times a day I was fed and watered by a nurse, who stuck a
great, big tube down my throat and pumped me full of food and water in
an operation that took all of twenty seconds from the time I opened my
mouth to accommodate the tube, to the time I closed it after the tube
had been retracted. Before, during and after the feeding another nurse
would suck my cock, bringing me to new heights of sexual pleasure. The
routine was two orgasms before the feeding and three after. With three
feedings a day that meant that I had at least fifteen orgasms a day
during this period. "At least", because I was usually woken up by a
gentle blow-job or two, just as it was customary for a lithe, little
rubber nurse envelop my cock with his talented mouth just before putting
a hood over my head and letting me sleep. I quickly became completely
enamored with the nurses, but all my attempts to tell them how grateful
I was, and indeed all my attempts to speak, were dealt with in the most
brutal manner, usually by beating my genitals. It seemed that silence
was the order of the day, so I simply sat there all day long, healing
while I grunted, moaned and screamed with delight.
After almost three weeks Master came to see me and I was finally allowed
out of bed. I had told myself that I should hate him for what he had
done to me, but instead I found myself wanting desperately to beg him to
fuck me. However, I didn't get around to begging him as he signaled that
I should shut up even before I opened my mouth.
Finally after all that time in bed I was allowed to stand up and the
pieces of the puzzle came together and I realized just what I had been
transformed into. As I stood on insecure legs, I noticed that I couldn't
stand up straight, but rather had to bend forward at the hip and hold my
upper body at an angle to the ground. The reason for my stiff neck
became apparent as it made me look straight ahead now that my upper body
was angled. As my new footwear touched the ground, making me wince with
pain from the confinement of my toes, and I saw how much they looked
like hooves, I realized that the reason for all this surgery was to
transform me into a pony boy. And not only that. Master had transformed
me into a pony whose back he could ride on. I was bent over so that
Master could ride my back.
The realization hit me like a sledgehammer of shock and delicious
humiliation. Although I was loath to admit it, the thought of being
Master's pony made me hard. Not that that had to mean anything. After
three weeks in the care of the dirty, little rubber slave boys just
about anything was a turn-on for me.
I tried telling some of this to Master, but as the first sound left my
mouth he kneed me furiously in the groin. The pain was excruciating and
if he hadn't held me, I would have fallen: "You are a horse now, Mark,
and any attempt to speak or behave the tiniest bit human will result in
severe punishment. Horses don't speak, they whinny. Understood?" I
realized that Master would take this all the way and that he was dead
serious, so to acknowledge my understanding I tried my best to behave
horse-like and I tossed my head and whinnied. "Needs improvement," was
all he said, but he didn't punish me, so apparently he was satisfied,
for now at least. "I considered giving you a more horse-like name, like
Tan-Tan, but decided against it. Maybe when I get more ponies their
names will be like that, but since you are my first acquisition I'll let
you keep your name." I stood staring at him, not knowing whether to
scream with desperation or express my gratitude for a letting me keep my
name. More and more it was sinking in that this would be permanent, that
there would be no escape, not even to a less demanding or more
"human-like" form of slavery. Master intended to keep me as a pony for a
long, long time. His next words further cemented this fact: "You may
keep your name, but always remember that you are a pony and will remain
so for the rest of your useless life. Any behavior that is not
pony-like, any at all, will be punished most severely." I almost nodded
to signal my understanding, but at the last second I managed to toss my
head and make a whinnying noise. Master seemed pleased and amused at
this and he stepped very close to me, stroking my thigh as his eyes
roamed my defenseless body. I had been eight inches taller than Master
to begin with and now that I had been fitted with my new pony-boots,
forcing me to walk on my toes while standing on five-inch high
platforms, so even with the stoop my back had acquired I now towered
about foot above him. Yet there was no doubt as to who was in control.
His mere presence made me feel inferior and defenseless.
My obvious helplessness and submissiveness turned Master on and in short
order me had thrown my upper body across the bed and was spreading my
butt-cheeks. As he took me from behind with long, hard strokes, pumping
in and out of my ass and his hand grasping my already throbbing member,
I realized how much I had missed this during the weeks I had spent in
bed being blown by the shameless, little rubber nurses. The feeling of
once again having my ass filled to the bursting point while submitting
completely to Master, turned me on more than I had imagined and in no
time I was screaming and thrashing as my cum pumped down on the floor
and when Master not long after filled my ass with his hot cum I was as
happy as I could ever remember being. I should have been angry and
scared since my life had effectively been taken away by this cruel man
who now controlled every aspect of my existence, but instead I was
reveling in my submission, realizing that not only was I completely
powerless to prevent him from doing whatever he wanted to me, I also
loved being controlled in this manner, loved being property.
While I lay there enjoying the afterglow of the orgasm, Master pulled
out and snapped his fingers at the little nurse who had been standing by
watching enviously from the corner as Master had fucked me. He quickly
scampered over to me and following Master's instructions he turned what
little hair I had left into a braided mane along the center of my head.
Then Master pulled me to my feet and fitted me with a few more items
befitting a pony. First he put a very broad and very stiff black collar
around my neck, further restricting my head movements. Then he equipped
me with a head harness with blinkers cutting off my peripheral vision
and a steel bit, complete with a set of reins, that forced my mouth
open. Finally he tied a leather leash around my scrotum.
Picking up a riding crop he said: "Ponies don't walk, they high step."
With a slap on my ass I was sent on my way trying as best I could to
high step all the time. This was much harder than I had imagined now
that I had to walk bent over forwards all the time and had to walk on
the tips of my toes on tiny platforms, but I had little choice. As
Master's first painfully correcting blows landed on my ass, it dawned on
me that I would be walking like this for the rest of my life, a thought
that filled with a by now familiar feeling of despair mixed with
submissive lust.
As we made our way out of the clinic, passing little, demure, slave
nurses as well as regular employees, my humiliation grew with every
step. Master's cum was leaking out of my ass and running down my leg and
my own cum smeared over my cock by Master's stroking hand, was drying on
the shaft of my embarrassingly erect cock. The humiliation did nothing
to dampen my lust and soon my cock was twitching with lust. My face
burned with shame as the people we passed all shared secret looks and
whispers as they pointed at me and snickered. I just wanted to disappear
so great was my humiliation, but this same humiliation insured that I
was now actually approaching the point where I would cum, just from of
exposed shame. Master heard my breathing getting ragged and turned
around: "Look at you: just a worthless, little pony slave that gets off
on people watching. That's just pathetic." That did it. With a scream
muffled slightly by my new bit I came. My whole body shook, but I
managed to stay on my feet as my body convulsed with a powerful orgasm.
My shame knew no bounds as Master shook his head and sighed with disgust
and I tried looking down to avoid his gaze. My stiff neck and collar
insured that I didn't have much success, but I did manage to see one of
the little nurses scamper over to lick the floor clean.
Finally Master led me out of the building, but by now a small crowd had
gathered, all pointing at me and laughing derisively. Although I had
just cum this excited me so that by the time we reached Master's car I
was once again hard. I was amazed at my own libido. Was I really that
submissive?
At Master's car I got a surprise. I had expected to be hooded and to
have my legs tied together before being thrown into the trunk of his car
for the trip home. However, Master had apparently decided to take his
new role as a horse owner seriously and had purchased a closed trailer
to transport real horses in. I high stepped rather ineptly up the ramp
and onto the hay-covered floor of the trailer. Once inside Master tied
my reins to a ring in the wall and the leash in my scrotum to a ring in
the floor. I had wondered why he used both the reins and the leash and
my guess was that he liked having my balls under complete control.
Master left me standing there and as the door closed behind me and the
trailer set in motion I was left with my thoughts.
I was confused. My life was now in the hands of a man who would probably
abuse, humiliate and even torture me until I did everything he told me
to. And it was far from certain that he would stop there. In all
likelihood he would also abuse and torture me for sport, just because it
pleased him. Unless someone, and I really couldn't see who this should
be, came and rescued me I would probably belong to him for the rest of
my life. Either that or he would sell me to someone else. It was also
very likely that as a slave, someone who existed only to provide sexual
pleasure for others, my life would not only be painful but also short.
Who would want a sixty or even fifty year old slave? By kidnapping me
and subjecting me to extreme surgery Master had also effectively
signaled that he would stop at nothing. I was twenty-five and I had
trouble seeing Master keeping a slave past his fortieth birthday, or
perhaps even his mid-thirties.
On the other hand there was the question of what I would do if I were
rescued. What would I do? I was armless, toothless and my back and neck
had been subjected to surgery that was quite possibly irreversible and
my feet and toes had been smashed. I had never been very smart and had
always been best at using my hands, not my head. If someone saved me
from a life as a slave, I would most likely spend the rest of my life in
an institution.
The choice stood between two hopeless existences, but in reality there
was no choice. No one would come to my rescue. Master had already proven
that his attention to detail was extreme and I had no doubt that I had
already been reported dead and that no one, absolutely no one, would be
looking for me.
So my confusion didn't really come from this apparent choice. Instead it
came from the fact that the prospect of being Master's pony boy excited
me more than I would ever be able to express. The prospect of being
completely and utterly controlled, of being subjected to extreme torture
and intense humiliation for the rest of my life turned me on. Even if it
meant that my life would be very short and almost certainly very painful
it turned me on. In fact as I stood there in the moving trailer, being
driven off to this harsh life of constant servitude, a new and extremely
exciting thought entered my mind. With my cock again growing needy,
throbbing and very hard, I fantasized about being fucked to death by
Master. I fantasized about Master fucking me again and again, his giant
cock pounding both my openings until I was screaming in pain, fucking me
until my insides were reduced to a pulp by his constantly pumping member
and I died impaled on this, the most magnificent of cocks, screaming out
my love for my beautiful Master. My fantasy was so powerful that it made
me cum. Screaming and thrashing as much as my bonds would allow I pumped
my semen out over the hay-covered floor.
This was the source of my confusion: how had I gone from being a strong
and independent guy who was occasionally tied up in mild bondage games
to being a complete slave, someone who fantasized about being fucked to
death by his Master? Before Master had brought me to the clinic I had
never had any fantasies about being enslaved, but now they were the only
fantasies I had and they were so powerful that I had trouble thinking
about anything else. How could Master have seen this in me when I didn't
even know myself? I tried telling myself that I had been brainwashed
during my stay at the hospital, but that wasn't true. The only
conditioning that had happened there was the constant attention of the
dirty, little rubber nurses and that surely wasn't enough to turn me
into a complete slave. I tried turning it over in my head; tried finding
some explanation for my almost complete transformation but I came up
empty every time. In the end I had to accept that Master had seen me for
what I really was and acted on it, turning me into the armless,
toothless, stooped over pony freak I was now. I should be mad at Master,
I should hate him but instead I loved him. As I stood in the trailer, my
mind still filled with lingering images of being fucked to death and my
cock again growing hard, I was filled with a deep sense of love and
gratitude towards Master. And as I stood there in the trailer, the hours
ticking away, I fantasized about Master riding me, riding me hard,
whipping me furiously to drive me forward and my confusion and doubt
melted away in soft fantasies of harsh slavery, brutal fuckings and
extreme and protracted torture sessions. When Master opened the door my
cock was again twitching with need and I no longer had any doubts. I
belonged to Master and there was nothing I would rather do than live a
short, harsh and painful life as his pony-slave.
