Stories A Report from the Farm
Part 2 of the Anything Co. series
This story about a pony learning to accept her new life, is an experiment. The narrative is written in a complete stream of consciousness, between the pony and her handler, so-to-speak.
Foreword
To all private members whom it may concern,
I’m very pleased with the recent changes to our program, which we have had great success with so far. Of course, improvements to our working progress were necessary after not only the incident at the beginning of the last fiscal year, but also the ongoing problems we’ve had this year with our implants. We’ve been forced to delay nearly 80% of our custom orders for months while looking for a new lead surgeon and nurse, never mind the refunds we had to give for braindead Toys. With those delays came further losses, as you are all well aware of due to my request for an investment from your association.
But I’m happy to report that we are back in the black! And even though the Board has refused to return controlling interest in my own venture to me, I understand what I signed up for when you found my company at your proverbial doorstep, and I especially look forward to collaborating with your other subsidiaries in Switzerland and Japan now that we can keep up. Together, we will produce new techniques and products at a breakneck pace, I assure all of you.
Now for the main content of my report: myself and my new lead developer (see Appendix B for qualifications, background check, and other hiring forms) have found the solution to the sudden deaths of our older models. As I’ve previously mentioned, we are only having these problems with Toys we have wiped completely. Those who have been conditioned or left mentally intact have not been affected. To explain, in an issue completely unrelated to the instability and spontaneous recovery of Sarah Beaton, it seems that there is an unresolved stability bug in our brain interface. After we had substituted the free will and behavioural functions of these hosts (largely female), the brain was left with nothing to do in much of the frontal lobe, and we began to see consistent atrophy. This is not a problem in and of itself, but against all expectations, that atrophy would spread over the course of years and shut down the rest of the brain. Our implants can keep the body alive and functioning, like a pacemaker to the least complex white matter, but with no cognitive platform left to operate with, the hosts are effectively brain-dead. Such catatonia may excite our doll owners and forniphiliacs, but the rest are quite displeased. We must remember that these ToyGirls and ToyBoys grow to become beloved parts of our customers’ lives.
Well, we have good news and bad news. The bad news is that we have no way of restimulating those Toys that are already “on the way out,” as their deleted personalities and memories are just that: deleted, and no facsimile we create can restimulate to the same level as natural thought. But we have adjusted our warranties appropriately for our past customers. The good news is that we have a solution for future production, and it simply includes more work on the implant’s part (and our behavioural programming team). Our new implant model, instead of a brute-force deletion after acquisition, now interprets more complex thoughts and internal monologues, and watches this stream for restricted actions or behaviours, training the Toy down until it reaches its intended role, whether that be a bimbo wife, an animal, or a decorative object like a doll. This is a longer, more complicated procedure, and we can sadly no longer produce guilt-free Toys that are unthinking or unaware of their new reality, so we have also implemented a way to livestream the data back to us so we won’t be caught off guard ever again by another Sarah Beaton-like incident.
A memlog of one of the newer models is included below. She is our last test pilot before we begin production once again. Please forgive if this log is raw: very little editing has gone into it since we received it last week. These are the unfiltered thoughts of our product, with some sections excised for brevity.
Enjoy! And thank you for your continued support, Jasper
Part 1
[Memory Log: Central Implant v2.4, Gabriela Reas]
[LOG: Subject has been online for approximately 1.5 days, and at our training farm for 0.5 days]
Oh god, they can’t do this!! My life wasn’t supposed to go this way, I’m a free woman, you assholes can’t do this!!!!
Those monsters at the… the clinic?… I’m trying to remember them… it’s all so fuzzy… a needle… then a box… tight, stuffy, no air… then here… I need to take stock of what’s left… but oh my god though, what’s even left?! They’ve changed me… into some sort of… fucking… perverted… horse… thing! Shipped me who-knows-how-far away from home?! And… and put me in this stable. On this “training farm”?? Where I am now… the voice in my head told me that.
The Voice. Like, what the fuck?!? Ok. No. Its simple. I’m just going crazy. I’ve had a serious trauma and I’m— [SANITY 98%: WITHIN STANDARD DEVIATION] Can anyone else hear that?!?! Is that me or them??
Everything has changed so fast since I woke up to this nightmare, and this rollercoaster I’m on… it’s all I can grasp right now… grasp… nononono… fuckers! You fucking sadistic fucks!!
Why… why can’t I stop crying? I… need to pull myself together… together…
Oh what’s the fucking use? Even if someone finds me… my… my life is over!!
[LOG: Subject has been online for approximately 2.5 days, and at our training farm for 1.5 days]
Whatever the hell they put in my head… that voice… I… I can feel it working, whispering things to me just lower than I can hear… or yelling things I soon forget… nothing between those strange extremes. This morning it told me that I have less than a week of “memory space” left. I mean… I’m not a computer, there’s no way it can pick and choose and delete things out of my head… can it? Then again… everything it’s told me has been true so far, why would it lie? Am I going to really forget everything? After… after I’m out of space, I guess I’ll forget waking up like this…freak that I am now. Or, on second thought, I guess I’ll have forgotten what it was like to not wake up like this… No! I can’t cry right now, not anymore… I have to stay strong, resist this, all of them! This isn’t me. This can’t be my life.
I have no idea how long I was out while they made me into this… thing, but before then I would have never thought hands and arms were too much to ask for. Now… well… now I’m absolutely helpless. I can’t really look all the way down, something about my neck, but when I caught a glimpse in a mirror on my way to the stable they’re keeping me in, my heart nearly collapsed. I know it now, as I feel the cool air against my sides: my arms are… gone, just…nothing… just empty shoulders. I…I can’t… touch… I can’t hold someone’s hand… I can’t… I can’t deal with this much longer! I MEAN WHAT THE F— [RESET TRAIN OF THOUGHT] [MAX ANGER -50%]
…huh? I…I just don’t know what to do when it says things like that. Sometimes I can remember the commands the Voice gives me, but other times… other times all I know is that something has been changed abruptly in me; in the very core of me. It feels like… like I’m waking up from a daydream, I just find myself staring at a wall and I know I’ve lost something again, that something is missing. It’s been happening since I woke up… and it’s fucking scary! I’ve tried begging it to stop, and it obviously doesn’t respond to my thoughts directed toward it… but every so often it does these damn adjustments, so I have to control myself; I can’t panic again like this morning. I lost my ability to speak when I tried to demand the farmhand let me free, and now I can’t utter anything more articulate than a fucking moan. I mean, really! I just sound like some… some kind of… I can’t believe I’m going to think this… some kind of slut!
Come on assholes, what kind of horse sounds like this?! That said, what kind of horse looks like this? Puffy lips I can hardly move? Huge, fake boobs that this corset holds up high? I must look like some fucking teenager’s wet dream, strutting around like this. And of course I have no way to hide my most private areas, nipples exposed way beyond my… reach… don’t cry… and nothing below but a nefarious leather strap running between my labia, rubbing me as I move. Disgusting!
Of course, if I had arms I would rip this leather corset and tack off of me. Its biting into my sides so damn much! [PAIN -10% CONTENTEDNESS +50%] …oh it’s not so bad. I don’t really need to see anywhere other than straight ahead, so my blinders aren’t anything to worry about. That said, whatever they did to my feet still has me stumbling. It feels like there’s some sort of thin, black, rubber-like coating all over them, from my ankle to between all my toes. I’ve tried kicking the plastic off, but it’s not like they’re shoes… this material is glued on or something. It feels… It feels kind of like when I was a young girl, my toes deep in the cool clay of the lakebed by my— [PONIES MUST KEEP CLEAN, LOOK THEIR BEST: MEMORY DELETED] m-my… I loved that memory. That’s all I remember now… how much I loved… where was I? Oh yeah… this black coating on my feet is so annoying. Its thicker on the bottom, like sneakers but more flexible. I just can’t… get… it… off!! Ugh… I’m fucking useless now.
If nothing else, the most aggravating part is that it’s taken away what little prehensility on my remaining digits that I may have had left. Covering them like tough rubber socks, It’s taken away any chance of using my toes to get out or write a messa— [WRITTEN LANGUAGE COMPREHENSION ERASED] [LARGE DELETION, REBOOT NOW] No… I…. I… OW! NO! This fucking headache… whyyyy… I know that white sign… on the crossbeam… it used to say “Pony Stables” but now… but now I just don’t know… “Ro—,” noooo, that’s not right… I’m… losing myself… I can feel it… They’re… making me… into… some… sort of… animal….
[LOG: Subject slept after deep clean and reboot for 8h21m47s, Low REM restriction active]
Bright lights, the squeaky shutters on the barn’s skylights are open now. There goes my habit of sleeping in, what is it, 6, 7am? I had the worst dreams last night… It was like a movie, flickering on and off, and I was… I was a horse, running outside along a path, with the cool air in my mane— Okay, there’s no way I dreamt that myself. They couldn’t be controlling my dreams, could they? Was that me or the Voice? Are you there? Gonna answer me today? Talk to me!! ANYTHING!!!!
…
Nothing.
My neck hurts. Not because I couldn’t kick together enough hay on the ground to make a pillow last night, honestly I don’t even remember falling asleep. No, its because it’s been severely limited since I woke up from my mutilations [REPLACE: IMPROVEMENTS]. Along with this damn underbust corset and my shoulders permanently pulling back like the time I broke my collarbone snowboarding and— [HUMAN LEISURE: MEMORY ERASED] …and had to wear… brace? Brace for what? What was I… my… my neck is fixed looking straight forward now. I can nod slightly, and turn a bit side-to-side, but not more than— [HIGH ORDER MATHS DISABLED] …degrees… more than… well… not much at all.
It’s made it hard to take stock of what they did to me, those fuckers. I can’t even look down to see how much of my shoulders are left, just my tits, so big they peek into my frame of view. This is so wrong, it’s all so wrong!!! I mean, they took a goddamn scalpel and improved me!
Wait. No, I said impro— No, I said improve— THEY FUCKED ME UP!! THEY’VE FUCKED MY WHOLE LIFE UP!! THOSE FU— [RESET TRAIN OF THOUGHT]
…I’m looking at the stable gate. I think I lost something again.
Part 2
The farmhand just told me that I wouldn’t be able to sleep on the ground anymore: apparently it isn’t “pony-like”, and I’d get my new tack and gear all scuffed up. What do you expect me to do, you piece of shit! I— [RESET] [MALE ATTRACTION +40%] [DEFAULT LIBIDO +150%] I… I hope he likes me, however I look now… I know it’s not much, but someone must enjoy this… I‘ll do what he says, maybe that will make him more attracted to me. Maybe… Maybe I could be his favorite? I want him so badly. It… looking at him makes the leather strap going between my legs even more of a tease than it already was. I am desperately trying to respond, but when I’m looking at him or any of the others I can only open my mouth in a lewd “O” shape and call out with these pathetic moans!
“Ohhhhhhhhhhhh.”
It’s hard to even read my desperation in them. Well… unless you think I’m desperate for one thing only… which I a—
Wait! This isn’t me!! No. I… ugh… I feel this heat in me for him… but I shouldn’t… I shouldn’t!! He’s one of them, and they improved me against my will!
Now he is telling his friend to come look at me, “the newbie”. I stamp my foot to show how pissed I am— [REPLACE GESTURE: RUBBING THIGHS TOGETHER] No! That’s not what I meant! Can’t they see by my face how much of a living hell all of this is for me? Damn it! They have no idea how much I HATE THIS!!! [ANGER -20%] Oh… now there are two of them looking at me. I don’t like this. I never liked it when Eduardo used to want me to [MEMORY ERASED: PROCESSING ALL CONNECTED] be his… arm candy? [EXHIBITIONISM +80%] What does that mean again? I don’t have arms anymore. [PROCESS FINISHED] I’m so confused. Wait, who is Eduardo again? Wait, is that the farmhand’s name? It must be…
I can’t believe myself, but I’m walking up to the waist-high stable walls so they can take a better look at me. “I know you can’t understand me, but doesn’t this corset look good on me, boys? I’ll moan louder and see if you understand me now. The way it pushes these tits up and over the top?”
That’s not…I didn’t mean that. My eyes look down at them, the two foreign objects on my chest. Even with my head held high as it is, if I look down over my collagen-filled lips puckered out into this degrading sucking gesture, I can clearly see the caramel-colored mounds jiggle slightly as one of the men pinches one of my pierced nipples. OW! [MAMMARY PLEASURE RECEPTORS +120%] Ugh yesss. I moan at them to do it again but they won’t. The other man puts two fingers in my defenseless mouth instead, and… wait what am I doing!? I have to esca— [SAFETY ENGAGED] [BITING FORBIDDEN] [ORAL PLEASURE RECEPTORS +300%] Oh my god, this is amazing! Why did I ever want to bite them? …bite them! …BITE THEM! That word… it used to mean something… never mind, I don’t care! Three fingers, please!
Soon they leave me, and when I start to replay the last several degrading minutes back in my head, where my lust seemed to just take over in a way I had never felt before, I have little time to mourn my self-respect before that damn Voice keeps on going with all these rules I have to follow. Corrections for next time, it says…
[COMMAND RECEIVED: SLEEP UPRIGHT - TRAINING BEGINS TONIGHT]
[STAND ON TIPTOES WHEN NOT WALKING/RUNNING/SLEEPING]
[KICKING FORBIDDEN]
[BODYCHECKING FORBIDDEN]
[MALICIOUS SPITTING FORBIDDEN]
[CONCEPT REMOVED: REBELLION THROUGH FORCE]
[SAFETY DISENGAGED: CORRECTIONS MADE]
[MAX SUBMISSIVENESS +150%]
[MANTRA EMBED: GOOD PONIES PRESENT BREASTS FOR PETTING]
[EAGERNESS LEVEL CORRECT, BEGGING -90%]
On and on and on. It feels like the Voice, my real jailor, not the farmhands, no… it’s learning… learning how I think… ugh… that many commands at once takes so much energy out of me. I feel like I just had ten rugs pulled out from under me. I feel like I can’t rely on my own head to tell me the truth anymore. No. I definitely can’t. But I can see what’s happening now, they’re obviously training me… turning me into something sick, perverted… and improving my body wasn’t enough…
I test my mouth, attempting to stimulate my sensitive tongue on these soft, bumpy rubber teeth they put in at the clinic. Nope. Absolutely nothing compared to those two fingers. Oh my… my knees buckle in the memory. It must be like tickling. Someone once told me you can’t tickle yourself. Maybe that’s it…
I try not to think about my missing arms, and all the things they can’t do in a medical waste bin. [RESET]
I test a smile, then open wide. These lips are way too big, and my face; it works, but not really. Grimacing or frowning is nigh impossible with whatever they did to it, but wait… why was I instinctively making that “please let me suck you off” face? Ok… no… why is not the correct question, I must know by now why they made me this way. But how? Is there some way to circumvent it? [CURIOSITY -20%]
One of those men are back, the second one. He is much less attractive than the other [FACE BLINDNESS ENABLED] guy… okay… I still know who this one is, but if he changes his work-clothes tomorrow, I’ll have no clue. Present your chest, Gabriela.
Wait, was that me, or the Voice?
He comes over to me, oh he is quite close now… he smells good… he has what looks like a brown spandex bra in his hands, of nearly the same color as the burnt amber leather they’ve already clad me in. I lift my arms so he can put it on me… oh, nothing happened… fuck… right… don’t cry… not now. It just goes over my empty shoulders easily. He has more trouble getting the tight fabric onto my heaving chest, the new garment adding to the slight support cup I can feel built into the top edge of the underbust. Who designed this damn uniform? Don’t they know that bit of leather hurts more than it helps? Once he is done, I look down as much as I can, and realize the massive compression garment has a deep, wide collar, showing off my cleavage for all to see. Of-fucking-course it does. I want to turn away, I want to shield my improved body, but the commands keep me there. Present your breasts for petting. Present your breasts for petting. Present your breasts for— NO! Present your— LEAVE ME ALO— [RESET]
He is looking at me strangely, but quickly gets back to work. Aren’t I being good for him? If I can guess what’s coming next, I’m thankful for any help managing these two monsters [REPLACE: PRETTY-TITS] [BODY IMAGE +30%] no matter how much it pushes them together. The farmhand works my pierced nipples out of devious slits in the tight fabric… ohhhh my godddd… his fingers feel… so… so goood…. and promptly strings reins through the rings that dangle from them, each teat now without even the little protection my prettytits have. Wait what are prettyt— OW! Hey!
A test tug on the reins tells me what happens if I dawdle: the pleasure from moments before is largely gone as the glorified dog leashes pull on my sensitive piercings. I look at his face, fully indecipherable to me now. Does he even care? Am I just an animal in his eyes? I moan at him, trying to ask, and all I get is a cold shoulder as he leads me out of my stable for the first time since I arrived.
The sharp pull of the leash is enough to keep me from trying to hold back. I feel like, ugh, I have this feeling that the Gabriela from before I was improved wouldn’t have given in so easily, but I can already tell… I’m not her…
Out into the hot sun we go, and for the first time, I’m almost thankful for the lack of clothes on, but I know this leather corset will be having me eating my words in a short while. We walk around the corner and, standing there in the grassy clearing, are the others from the stables… five other women [REPLACE: PONIES]. Wait… no… ok they’re ponies, who cares, but I’m still a pony, right?! No!! Can’t I still call myself a pony? I meant a pony! I’m… no! I’M NOT A PONY, I’M A PONY!! [ANGER -30%] [FEAR -40%] [CONTENTEDNESS +10%] [RESET]
…well I guess that answers my question. Im looking at the five ponies perfectly postured in the sunlight as the farmhand leads me toward the last one in line. Not all of them are hispanic like me, but looking at them answers some of the questions I’ve had about my own situation.
They are all on their tip toes in a dutiful line, reins tied to the corset back of the pony in front of them. I doubt they even see me approaching from the side, as we all wear blinders and are unable to turn our heads much, but some stir a bit when they hear two sets of feet [REPLACE: HOOVES] hooves approaching. I see from here that my new partners in captivity all have very well-developed leg muscles, and unnaturally curvy behinds, completely uncovered from the lower corset edge all the way down to the black coating on their hooves. When I’m in position and tied up to the fifth pony in formation, the rough man slaps me in the ass, and by that feeling I realize I’m halfway caught up to these ponygirls: They must have improved my behind like my prettytits.
This suddenly makes me very proud, and even as I feel the sting dissolve into pleasant warmth, I wonder why.
One other thing we all share apparently, regardless of ethnicity, is a long ponytail, though I obviously can’t reach to check if my own is as long as the others’. It sure wasn’t before all of this, but it’s definitely brushing my shoulders now. The redhead, sun-freckled pony in the leader position has the longest, and I wonder to myself if this marks the duration since their abduction [REPLACE: ARRIVAL] arrival. Looking down the back of my immediate forerunner, an Asian pony slightly shorter than me, I see the exact same outfit I wear, albeit scuffed slightly. It looks like she’s been here for a while. It looks like they’ve all been here for a while.
From the top, we have the bridle, affixed tightly to her head and under her jaw, with no horse’s bit I keep expecting around every corner – so tightly controlled by our minds, we must not need them? – then those damn blinders, and a small loop in the back for her hair to gather through and hang out of the way. Down her neck lie the same cruelly armless shoulders as mine, seamless, not even a scar visible on her skin, with shoulder straps from the tight corset resting on top. I can feel my own thick shoulder straps pressing my oversized breasts together even under the brown spandex sports-bra I’m wearing. The back of her corset is not tied with string or lace like more traditional outfits, no, it seems to be zippered closed, but for the life of me I can’t find the zipper itself! Not that I could reach it… perhaps it’s under her bra or long hair, or at least I hope it is. Sigh. I’m running out of hope here.
Lower down, the corset ends with a familiarly devilish strap, like the ones on our shoulders, running down between her large cheeks and presumably up the front. My own presses against my clit as we stand here, making me consciously aware of how erect it is, as just the act of walking over in this heat, led by such a stud, has me excited. The men gather together, maybe 9, 10 of them; one dressed a little better than the rest, his hair graying. He must be their boss [REPLACE: YOUR OWNER]. “Teach the new girl the ropes,” my Owner says and presses some sort of remote. All of a sudden a low hum starts in the strap…ah!… right… on… my clit!
Fuuck!
I start to try and block out the distrac— [VAGINAL STIMULI RECEPTORS +125%] I mean intense vibrations!!! And I can faintly hear the same buzzing noise coming from between the legs of the pony in front of me, and I assume on up the line. I bounce from hoof to hoof, this is too much! Oh god, how do we run with our bodies as modified and overstimulated as this? I don’t even have arms to counterbal— Oh! We are running now, and finally allowed to put our whole hooves down to do so. Number One is leading us on a quick jog, over the pasture beyond the barn itself. This is a good pace, as I’m trying to keep the slack off my nipples as much as possible, but I can already feel myself dragging after five minutes or so, especially with the vibrating strap digging into my pussy, as ragged exhalation escapes me with every breath.
Distracted by the tedium, I try and look off into the fields in this pastoral mountain valley. Wait. Oh my god… There’s no fence! Nothing trapping us! If I can just- [LEAVING PROPERTY IS ONLY ALLOWED WITH OWNER PERMISSION] I… No… I… OW! FUCK! I have to keep up! buzzzzz… I look at the five ponies in front of me, running as moans and heavy breaths escape them. If they are still here, after who-knows how long, what chance do I have at resisting such a rule? buzzzzz… I have the goddamn evidence of its effectiveness right in front of me, pulling on my prettytits! I mean… buzzzzz… even now, seconds later, I can’t even imagine the idea of running away without permission! And I… I have less than a week until I… buzzzz… until I forget my life before all this! It… it can’t be impossible. I must… buzzzz… I must do this! I can’t let them get me down! Why can’t I… buzzzzz… even… picture… leaving?? I’m… trying… so… h— [RESET].
Buzzzzzzzzzz.
I look to the black rubber soles hitting the ground in front of me and desperately try to keep up, my first orgasm building as Number Five screams out unintelligibly, in pure ecstasy.
Part 3
In the closest grass lawn to our barn and stables, our Owner has let us graze and “mingle”, but once our running gear is off — bra, blinders, and reins — most of us just lay in the grass by the pond, exhausted. One of the farmhands (I can’t distinguish any of them anymore) brings us all some water and an oatmeal-like sludge in a shallow trough they set up nearby, with all the flourish of some gourmet buffet [MEMORY OF HUMAN FOOD ERASED]. My fellow ponies and I don’t jump up for the much-needed meal, it’s tough without arms, but slowly we all struggle to our hooves and head over; I know I’m thirsty at least.
I bend down, licking at the bland gruel; thinking that it leaves a lot to be desired but for the life of me I can’t say what I would rather replace it with. It… just… is…
I wonder if there’s anything in the food… [CURIOSITY -30%]
Number Five is mad at me, I can tell. Maybe not mad, but annoyed with me because I’m the newcomer. My stumbling behind her on the last half of the run pulled harshly on not only my piercings, but hers as well. The cruel reins dissuade anyone falling behind the leader, no matter the pace, at the expense of all those behind. When she would cry out in pain due to my tripping or dragging, I would eagerly try to apologize, but our moans have the same semi-sexual intonation no matter the context, they only vary in duration and volume, so it’s impossible to communicate or even hint at a question or apology. She probably just thought I was oblivious to her pain, reacting to the sensations between my legs, which I guess isn’t entirely false either.
And it’s not like we can read each other’s faces. The mystery clinic’s work and the Voice’s commands have left my face capable of nothing more than a limited range of smiles from sweet to suggestive and those lewd sucking gestures, and if the other ponies are in the exact same position as me (which I can only guess), we’re all blind to whatever leftover expressive abilities we may have anyways. That said… how do I even know she is pissed? Well, for actively avoiding me; unlike the rest who, after a curt greeting by the pond, are ambivalent at best. Body language is loud when it’s all you have left…
I lock eyes with her at the trough near the end of our bland meal, and she just breathes heavily and runs off to the other side of the pond. There are no farmhands around: they must be eating lunch too, completely unconcerned with us running aw— [LEAVING PROPERTY IS ONLY ALLOWED WITH OWNER PERMISSION] Christ! Stop! I know! Why won’t you just fucking let me— [RESET]
Focusing back on the task at hand, I run after her at a brisk pace, and when she finally slows and turns around I can see that she is visibly distressed to see me. What did I really do, I’m wondering to myself. She stamps her rubber-soled feet into the grass, a gesture I am aware I cannot replicate anymore due to trying it on the wrong person, nor can I really shake my head in refusal to back down. So I just moan a bit and slowly inch forward like I would with a frightened animal.
Which she is. And so am I.
Five turns her armless shoulder to me, looking over the pond, but doesn’t move. Its as if she is silently wishing me away. When I am close, I look down, and find that she is bleeding slightly where the inch-size ring pulled too hard on her thick nipple, around which a faint bruise has formed.
Oh no! That was me, I held her back, I did this. I am only just learning how hard of a life this is, and if someone else had made it any worse than it already had to be, I know I would be pissed too. “I’m sorry, I really am, Five. I wish I knew your real name, instead of just some random number. I know I’m probably just Six or Newbie to you, but I’m Gabby, hi, nice to meet you.”
“Ohhhh, oh, ohhhhhhhhhhhh!”
Damn these useless noises! Sometimes I forget I’m not actually speaking intelligibly. But I need her to see how sorry I am, so I bend down, unable to communicate in any other way, and kiss at her nipple, tasting the little drop of blood dissolve on my tongue, then suck for a short while until my intention is clear. I tell myself I am doing this because there’s no other option, but when I hear her moan deeply in response, I remember what this kind of touch does to us. [AFFILIATION LINK CONFIRMED] No, no, I didn’t mean to— [PHEROMONE OUTPUT +200%] wait— [FEMALE ATTRACTION +120%] stop— [GENDER BIAS STATUS REPORT: 5:4 (M:F)] Ok… thanks for… corrupting a… pure moment. I meant… I can’t think straight… so I let out a moan back, and this time there’s no information lost.
When I pull away, struggling against the urges in me, thinking I may have crossed some line and forced her conditioning like they do; I find she is looking at me intently, and after a few seconds her lips rush to meet mine with a desperation I was entirely unprepared for a moment ago. Our large, exposed prettytits press together as we push our lips into one another’s, then meet our tongues, and I’m sure that, if given the chance, we would be holding each other as close as possible, but we do all we can with what little we have left.
This… feels so… good. Electricity emanates from my tongue from her welcome invasion. Is this forgiveness? Or… or is this just conditioning, programming? [REPLACE: GOOD BEHAVIOUR]
[BACKGROUND PROCESS: RELEASE CONCENTRATED OXYTOCIN DOSE]
[SUBJECT EMOTIONALLY BONDED TO TOYGIRL KNOWN TO SUBJECT AS “Five”]
[WIRELESS SYNC WITH ASHLEY SONG, CENTRAL IMPLANT v2.3, SUBJECT EMOTIONALLY BONDED TO TOYGIRL KNOWN TO SUBJECT AS “Newborn Pony”]
“Looks like Miss Korea finally found a partner, what do you think?” Two farmhands had snuck up on us, and we break apart like red-handed schoolkids. I’m not sure what the rules are here and I don’t want to lose anything else, or god-forbid hurt Five any more than I already have. She… I… she might be the one, it makes no sense, but… I think I… I think I love her!
“…or was it Miss Jap with the Thigh Gap? Haha I forget what we called her!”
“Oh man, she’s been playing fifth wheel for at least a month now, eh? While the other four go for it over there, she always comes over here to sulk. I bet you don’t even remember the last pony at your lips, eh dolly?”
“Brad, they have the memory of a goldfish, of course she doesn’t. We sold that one ages ago.”
“I know, that’s the joke. C’mon, keep up, bud.”
Throughout this, I can see Five getting timid by her body language, looking away and backing up slightly. Suddenly protective of her, I am getting furious. “Go pick on someone your own size!!” But when I go to stamp my foot to scare them off, I just rub my thighs together seductively, face now red with shame as the anger I’m trying to express gives way to a rising flood of desire toward these abusive men I do not consciously want anything to do with. I try so hard to resist, looking to Five’s blank, indecipherable face for help, as I compulsively rise to the edge of my hooves and trot seductively over to these two gorgeous men so they can pet my pretty tits.
Five had locked eyes with me a moment earlier, but I could see that she was avoiding their gaze. Maybe that was the trick? It doesn’t matter now, because I am already cooing to them and bending my chest toward them like some damn slut [REPLACE: GOOD PONY].
“Ohhhh!”
“Oh well hello miss pretty! What are you, Mexican? Do you even understand us?” I can do nothing to respond, I’m driven by my good behaviour and lust.
“Well this one is still fresh, but probably not, you know how they are, stealin’ our jobs and not even bothering with the rest. She’s a damn looker, though,” he adds before spanking my ass, sending a wave of heat through my erogenous areas. Oh my. “Agh anyways, what are you gonna call this one?”
“Hmm, I don’t know. She seems sweet but her eyes have a little fire inside, y’know?”
“Yes! I’m still here! Turn off this Voice in my head, I don’t want to—” “Woah, hey now girl, enough moaning, we can hear ya loud and clear… I don’t know. Something like… Oh! I got it! Tequila Sunrise.” The two men chuckle as I, reduced to a mere object in their eyes, can’t stop rubbing up on this fucker.
“Oh you like that? Ok, message received, I am definitely reserving you tonight, Tequila. Get ready.” says the one I think is Brad as he plays with my piercing. I moan intensely when he does, my mind fogging over the implications of what he just said.
The other one must feel left out, so he turns to Five. “Hey you, ya dumb cow, what’s up? Why aren’t you behaving, are we going to have to send you back to get another round of Jasper’s magic touch?”
That’s it. The name, I knew it from somewhere. Maybe when I was… I turn slightly and look back to Five, how is she resisting these stallions? “C’mon baby, come join me, they’re bad men, but it feels sooo good!” She looks up from the ground and her eyes meet mine, but as they flick over to the farmhand beckoning to her I can see her trepidations melting away in her stance… and then she practically prances over to us.
Thoughts muddled and overloaded, we enjoy the men’s hands as they explore the newly-hypersensitive bodies we cannot, until a bell rings from the farmhouse. Sighing, Brad and the other farmhand pull leashes from their back pockets and clip them to the rein rings on mine and Five’s prettytits, leading us back around the pond to the barn.
Part 4
Back in my stable, all I want to do is get off of my tired hooves and lay down, but I quickly find it to be impossible, unlike when all of us ponies were relaxing by the pond just an hour ago. When I think about dropping to my knees, to sliding onto the hay, I just… can’t! So I explore my tiny 8x8 stable for a while, but before long, I’m bored. I’m restless. My hooves ache from the day. I try to keep myself busy by kicking the hay at my hooves into piles and patterns, but it quickly turns as boring as the rest. I look out at the white metal sign on the crossbeam with black lines and curves on it. What good is art in a place like this? Or… maybe… does that… mean— [RESET] …I’m staring at nothing again. I know something is off about me I just can’t tell what.
After leaning against the wall for a while, I trot over to the stable gate and peer across to Four and Two, the only other stables I can see into, and let out a moan to get their attention. Two looks over but ignores me, but Four, a dark-skinned pony with breasts and behind way larger than mine, comes over to her gate.
My hopes are lifted, maybe we can communicate!! I moan again, and reaaallly struggle to intonate a question while looking down and squatting a bit: “Why can’t we lay down in here?” But Four just moans curtly twice. I try asking again, and she moans louder, in two short bursts, before looking down the hall and back at me, then up at the rafters. They must be listening or watching, but how much of this is real, or just paranoia? Wait, Four is still moaning. Now she is shaking her prettytits at me like a good pony. “No! You don’t understand! I’m tired! I need to get to the bottom of this so I can rest!” I let out a yelling moan for all to hear! “I WILL NOT GIVE U—” [RESET] [MAX ANGER -50%, CONTENTEDNESS +60%, CURIOSITY -20%].
I hear something pig-like calling out from elsewhere in the barn, then a deep cow-like moan. Weird, they kinda sound like me. I think nothing of it and turn away from the attentive gazes of Two and Four to go back to stand in my stable. Looking down over my giant chest, I see patterns in the hay. I wonder what they mean, they kinda look like that art in the rafters.
Within an hour or so of mindless treading in circles, the patterns are gone.
I can’t believe how degrading the wash stations are here. Like clockwork since my arrival, every few hours a farmhand unlocks my gate and leads me out and down to some stalls past Five’s stable. I can almost feel my beloved’s eyes on me as I trot by to keep the slack off my prettytits, but my attempt to look over is stopped short, yet again, by my neck and blinders. Instead, all I can focus on is the backside of this smoking-hot helper of mine. I wonder what tight little bubble-butt he has under those jeans? I want to ride his cock like a—
No. No! That’s not me! What was I thinking before this? Oh yeah. This open area, it’s really just another stable, larger, with a drain in the ground, wet concrete underhoof that I can’t feel through my hooves’ protection. A hose, a scrub-brush, and some basic soap on a shelf built into the wall. No shower, no toilet, nothing. It has nothing I would desire from a proper women’s restroom, but especially after all I’ve been through, I deserve bett— [HUMAN RIGHTS NOT APPLICABLE TO PONIES] [CONCEPT “DESERVE” REPLACED] [MANTRA EMBED: PONY DESERVES WHAT OWNER BESTOWS, GOOD OR BAD, NOTHING MORE] …but …but for a pony like me it’s just fine. Besides, a pony deserves what Owner bestows, good or bad, nothing more. This farmhand in front of me, oh my is that a bulge in his pants? He… I can’t stop staring… he unclips my crotch-strap! Oh my hopes are up…please! This happens every time his hand grazes my… ah!… even though I know what’s going to happen… just like last time… he just tells me to squat in the corner by the hole in the ground and relieve myself. I… I know that him watching me as I go is wrong, why am I not ashamed? I mean I am a little bit I guess, but why am I not mad at him? I mean… he improved me!
Oh… that’s why. Thank you! “Oooooohhhhhh!”
Standing back up, I’m used to the routine by now, so I turn my large ass to him so he can wash me. Ponies must keep clean, and look their best. Someone important told me that once. A jet of ice-cold water from the hose hits me with a shock, drowning out all thought, as he rinses my nethers off.
The cold water has one benefit: it kind of clears my head. For a quick moment as he dries me, I see the man for what he is, as he smiles to himself at my discomfort. As his cock strains against his jeans at the sight of me defecating like the pony I am. I thanked him… oh god… I thanked him!! [RESET]
Before long, I’m dry and back in my stall, still unable to fully sit down, as I hear the next pony in line squeal from the wash stall. God, I hate [REPLACE: LOVE] love it here!
Wait. No! Nuh-uh! I most certainly do not. I love this. No! I love being a pony!!! I fucking want to go back to being a pony! No, a pony! A pony!!! I fucking love my life! NOOO! [REPLACE: YES, SIR/MISS]
[LOG: Subject’s internal monologue is indecipherable for 13 seconds, loud noises recorded]
That’s it. I can’t… There’s no point. Tomorrow… I’m going to drown mys— [DESTRUCTION OF OWNER’S PROPERTY FORBIDDEN] I… I… [EMERGENCY ANTIDEPRESSANTS RELEASED] [HARD RESET] [SEXUAL DISTRACTION ACTIVATED]
…Why are Two and Four looking at me like that again? I moan at them. I wonder if they know how to satisfy this… this need inside me, I’m getting so wet again, I don’t know why! Oh if I could just lay down, maybe I could get my hoof up near my… ah I need it! I don’t even care if we have to go running… it’s not so bad…
[LOG: Subject has been at our training farm for 2.2 days ]
It looks like nighttime now, as I peer through a crack in the barn wall to the fields and mountains beyond. How beautiful; I wish my Owner would let me go past them, maybe even back home. How will I convince him to set me free when I can’t make his noises? I know now that’s the only way. I… am distracted by an older gentleman entering my stable behind me. Only when I turn around do I remember Five’s trick, but it’s far too late now; within moments I’m already sidling up to the man with the graying hair, showing him my prettytits, smelling his intoxicating musk. Is he my Owner like I think? It’s so hard to tell these men apart. Maybe I can convince him to let me go if I’m a good pony for him!
“Eh, Gabby, that’s your name in’it?”
YES, SIR! I’m not just any pony, that’s my name! [FLAGGED FOR CORRECTION]
He looks at some sort of smartwatch on his wrist and nods. “Ok horsey, that’s good the boys in town didn’t mix you up again.”
“Ohhh ohhhhhhhhhhh!” (“Wait, you can understand me!?”)
I’m so grateful, it almost feels like these good-pony gestures are my own strange way of thanking him for this small acknowledgement, but when I start rubbing up on him the illusion breaks, and the divide between my own mind and the behaviour I’m forced to comply with becomes discrete again. Even as he ignores my advances, my mind reels at how easy I can slip into the role I’ve been given. He grabs a tall stool from the hallway and sits in the corner of my stable.
After a moment he continues in his deep drawl, “Yeah, I can hear you, darlin, I have yer thoughts right in my here watch like a novel and, well, dare I say I’ve read this one before. Now, young Bradley has requested your company tonight, and I know from your training so far you’ll try your best and do him kindly, but what our clients need is a pony who knows how to please a man. Do you understand me, Sunshine?”
I do but I don’t want to. I really don’t want to, [REFUSAL OF SERVICE FORBIDDEN] but this man’s presence is like some kind of force on my brain, I just can’t deny my Owner anything. Yes, Sir. I’m suddenly thinking of all the sexual acts I’ve ever done for the men in my life, all the way back to— wait, why can’t I see their faces?! I— [SOFT RESET] … way back to my first time pleasing a human.
“That’s fine, horsey, you’re gonna learn anyways, Bradley’s got a knack for training young ones like you, and Jasper will be happy to hear about how well yer comin along.”
OH MY GOD. Wait! That name! I know who did this to me!! The men talking, they thought I was asleep but I wasn’t! I remember!! Before the box, before all this! Oh if I can just get to a phone!! I’ll just press 911 with my hoof, I think I still remember the shapes! Then they can help me and I can tell them all about Jasper and his damn clin— [ANYTHING CO PERSONNEL EVIDENCE ERASED] [ANYTHING CO SECURITY MODE ON]
Yes, sir.
Yessssssir!!! I can’t…I can’t remember their faces, their names! How the hell am I going to tell the police [CONCEPT OF LAW ENFORCEMENT ERASED] [LEAVING PROPERTY IS ONLY ALLOWED WITH OWNER PERMISSION] [PONY SELF-OWNERSHIP FORBIDDEN]. Yes, sir! I want to leave! I’ll… I’ll never leave. That’s the way it has to be. I have to be a good pony and submit to my good behaviour and maybe they’ll let me leave. But what’s the point? I would just have to come back to my Owner anyways. I’m his property. A pony is not allowed to damage their Owner’s property. Yes, sir! But… but I want to be free! Freedom is—
The gray-haired man’s country accent chimes into my inner monologue, “Freedom is the choice to enjoy your new life, darlin’. The rest ain’t up to you.” [COMMAND RECEIVED: CONCEPT “FREEDOM” REPLACED] He lets that sink in as my eyes fall to stare at his feet, both me and the voice processing all of this.
“Oh, I see Adam has you on upright sleep training already, now that’s something to be proud of, we’ll have you ripe n’ ready to be sold off to a good home sooner than later. Lemme get that ready for ya. Spread em, dolly.” I can’t refuse, no matter how depressed [REPLACE: OKAY] I am right now. Wait. That’s not what I— [SOFT RESET]
Owner measures how tall my inner leg is… and I try my hardest to ignore how close his hands are to my vagina [REPLACE: PONYCUNT]… before screw-mounting some sort of leather saddle he retrieves from the hall onto the back wall there, sticking straight out about two feet or so, along with some smaller metal pieces up higher. If I could still show disappointment on my face, Owner might have seen my reaction to the saddle being a few feet over from my tiny sliver of window.
“Now listen closely, horsey. This here is what yer gonna sleep on for the rest of your time here, so you better know how. Git up on it.”
I look at Owner, then back at the mount, confused. I moan at him. There’s no way I can sleep on this thing, with it’s strange contours, it looks like a bicycle seat from hell. Am I going crazy or is this unreasonable? Pony deserves what Owner bestows– wait… “Please, sir! Give me a bed or just let me sleep on the flo—” [RESET]
…Owner is tapping his magic watch again, “Enough of that, you ponygirls do as you’re told, when you’re told, y’hear?”
Wait, what did I do!? I can’t remember!!
He promptly spanks my ass, a far easier target than it used to be, then pulls me roughly by my right nipple ring toward the saddle, and under duress I find that I can just get it between my legs when they’re bowed out a bit and I’m on the very ends of my hooves, before he pulls harder and I have to repeatedly shift my hips closer and closer to the wall, grinding my ponycunt into the saddle. I continue until a squishy leather contour presses into my mons, and I cannot proceed any further. Here, I notice two new clips on the wall down by my chest, which he attaches to my prettytit rings, and then walks away.
“You’re damn lucky that spank is the worst punishment we can give here, darlin’. Gotta keep that skin perfect for whatever your buyer wants to do with ya!”
Perched astride the small saddle, I find it has some padding and give, but I’m unable to turn around as, tied to the wall, I hear my gate open and close behind me. What does he mean? How long will I stay here? I moan out at him, the question dead on arrival.
“G’night dolly, Bradley w’ll be by shortly, I’m sure,” I can almost feel his eyes on my improved ass as I hear Owner chuckle at me and walk off.
All I’m left with here is the mounting pressure against my strapped ponycunt as I tire, the expanse of featureless wooden wall that fills my vision in front of me (which I quickly find is quite rough against my sensitive prettytits jutting forth if I try to lean on it), and the cool barn air that blows past my bare skin every so often… as the lights go out one by one and the sound of the barn door closing can be heard far down the hall.
Who was Owner talking about again? Maybe the farmhand from the pond… it’s so hard, all these humans look the same.
I have some time to think about my current situation lucidly as I wait in fear for the farmhand to come do what he wants with me. As level-headed as I feel now, I know for certain that once he opens that stable gate, I will not be able to refuse him anything, either because of the hot wash of desire that rises inside me each time I see one of them, or because the rigid walls in my mind will stay as they have since their initial erection: completely unforgiving.
I don’t know if I can explain the feeling of being unable to even think the word yessir, but I know it to be the beginning of the end. These walls in my mind seal off parts of me like dreams upon morning light. Within seconds after they go up and lock me out, the contents they enclose fade until I have merely a feeling of their presence, and shortly that fades until all I see or feel is the wall keeping me out, until finally vines grow over the barricades and the limitations I struggle against are no longer limitations but simply normal thought. Sometimes this happens fast, and other times quite slowly, I don’t know why, but I know the thing between my legs is not called a ponycunt, but every time I try and call it a ponycunt it just comes out as “ponycunt”. By tomorrow, I’m not sure I’ll even remember the difference, the signifier eating the signified whole for breakfast.
And so too will the word and even concept of yessir be erased soon. Not the factual negative: I can still think, “I am not by the pond with Five licking at my—” ugh… oh god… but I can no longer refuse either my captors [REPLACE: CARETAKERS] caretakers or my current reality, the one they have made for me. And I won’t know for certain until it’s too late, but I think that, even without a direct command, an inability to even imagine dissent will leave me— [RESET TRAIN OF THOUGHT]
[ACCELERATE BACKGROUND GARBAGE COLLECTION]
[BEGIN INTELLIGENCE DECREASE: MAINTAIN IMPERCEPTIBILITY OF PROCESS]
[TRUST +30%]
It’s a restless hour later, maybe nine or ten, I can’t be sure, when I hear the door down the hall open. The dark has disoriented me, until all that matters is “don’t fall over.’’
The few times I’ve drifted off, I’ve been quickly awoken by the sharp grain of the wall rubbing against my prettytits, or even worse, the pull of my bodyweight backwards against my hopelessly linked nipple piercings. I feel like Owner and the others are mocking me, for as I look down in the dark at the little silver clips on the wall, I can easily see that they’re not even locked. It would be so simple to remove them with just a pinch, if only I still had hands. I can almost feel them— [PONIES DON’T HAVE ARMS] I… I don’t think that’s… yes, sir. I still wish I could take them off, if only to lay down. I’m so tired.
My hooves have long since exhausted their ability to keep my heel up, so my groin is firmly pressed into the padded leather. Only with that pressure have I started to feel the little micro-vibrations and tingling from the strap against my clit [REPLACE: LITTLEPONYCLIT]. Has this been running all day? Or did it just start? It’s so slight, so insidiously tantalizing, that I wouldn’t have noticed it more than any other itch I can’t scratch, but now it’s increasingly hard to ignore. It’s so—
There’s a noise behind me. The metallic clink of my gate opening. Shifting hoof to hoof, It’s only now, staring at the featureless wall ahead of me, listening, alert like a frightened deer, that I realize it might not be the farmhand; it could be absolutely anyone, and clipped as I am, I’d have no idea who nor any way to protect myself, so I’m almost relieved when I hear the caretaker I expect behind me.
“…oh he’s such a gent, already strung you up so my work’s done for the night.” A solitary 60-watt bulb turns on to dimly illuminate my stable and his shadow grows bigger against the wall in front of me as he approaches.
I feel his breath on my neck, he’s close now. “Y’know at dinner, the boys all said you’d be the same as the rest.”
There’s a slight waft of acrid beer on his breath, mixed in with his workday musk, but he doesn’t sound too drunk yet. An audible swig from a bottle out of my sight means that may soon change. He sets the booze down with a clink, and in the near-darkness of my stable I can see his large hands come around my sides to rest on my massive prettytits. They don’t rest for long, groping and kneading my only upper appendages, pinching my hyper-sensitive nipples, and soon I find it difficult worrying about the beer, or the others’ sleep as a loud, involuntary moan escapes me.
“They said I’d enjoy myself, that you’d be just as much of a horny, submissive fuckslut as your tight asian friend down the hall.”
I had no idea my prettytits were this erogenous, this sensitive, this… there’s nothing… quite like this… feeling… [ANYTHING CO SERVICE MODE ACTIVATED] I have to make it up to him, he deserves something in return for this… oh… this feeling!
“They said you’d be weak like the rest. It’s because you’re a woman and the female body has a mind of its own.”
Oh he is unclipping them, so easily, pulling me backward off my sleeping mount, and I’m turning around. There are inches between us now as I look up to him, all doe eyes with full lips pursed, every aspect of my behaviour designed for his enjoyment. He smiles in satisfaction, continuing.
“But I told them, ‘No guys, it’s different, don’t you see? This pony can still remember imagining; fooling herself, that she was ever my equal. And now she’s in her goddamn place and she knows how right that feels.’”
I look up, but I can’t decipher his face. It seems like a jumble of strange parts, leering eyes, flaring nostrils through which he takes slow but deep breaths, a smirk on his lips. It seems impossible to parse this into an expression though, like I’ve lost the knowledge of how to conduct the final equation.
But it doesn’t matter. His talk, the way he swaggers around the place, how he treats myself, Five, and probably the rest; I fucking hate— love this piece of— wait— yes sir! Love, yessir. LOVE— [RESET]
His hands keep working, conspiring with my body to betray me, running from my prettytits down over my constricting leather corset to be felt again on my hips. They weren’t always this wide, were they? It’s not important. I’m staring at this man as he plays with me, shaking my prettytits side-to-side with a bounce to keep his eyes on my chest, unable to become as furious as I know I should be, before unconsciously moaning for more!
“Ohhhh!”
In my mind I hear a voice that sounds very much like my own, “Thank you, sir! Thank you, sir! I’ll do anything to repay you, please let me suck you off, please let me present my ponycunt to you, can I please? I’m here to be used! Grope my prettytits! I’m here to be a good pony! Good ponies present breasts for petting! Good ponies run, suck, and fuck forever! Thank you, sir! Thank you, sir! I’ll do anything…”
It’s my voice. Or is it? Besides the dual personalities within me, it’s becoming increasingly hard to concentrate with his fingers on my skin, pulling my hair, as I stand there, hooves spread, open to his advances. It’s not my voice. It can’t be. Now my crotch-strap is being unclipped. But it must be me, it doesn’t sound anything like the Voice’s commands. I can feel the cool air against my moist ponycunt, aching for my caretaker, anyone. His fingers begin to roll over my littleponyclit in little circles as he continues to pull harshly on my ponytail. My endless mantra continues: “Thank you for keeping me safe, sir! Thank you for improving me, sir! I was nothing before I was your pony!”
Meanwhile, as I resurface from below the pleasure and devotion, he is still prattling on, “I wonder if there is any fight in you still… Here. I have an idea. I want you to knee me, right here in the balls, yeah, yeah do it so I can show you what you and your kind fucking get.”
Turned around to give me the opportunity, I can see the image of what I want to do to him as I look over at those immature boys in junior high school fighting again, I want to imitate them now, use this— [MEMORY ERASED] Ah! Yes! Fuck… so good… What did he want me to do? I can’t understand. My lips form a tight, drooling ‘O’ almost instinctively as I moan in response, shaking my huge prettytits side to side for him, and I realize I might actually mean what I hear myself thinking. “I’ll do anything to repay you! Thank you for improving me! For taking care of me!”
“Ooooooh!”
His voice takes on a sort of mock disappointment, “No luck. Guess you’re just another pony eh, dolly? Well whether you remember it or not, you’ll always be my Tequila Sunrise.” He turns me around roughly and bends me over my saddle, and I feel something break; not on the mount, but inside me. Did he say “just another pony?”
[COMMAND RECEIVED: ACTIVATE FLAGGED ISSUE: “GABRIELA REAS” TO BE REPLACED WITH “GENERIC PONY IDENTITY”]
[WARNING: IDENTITY ALIENATION ACCELERATES CONDITIONING, PLEASE CONFIRM, SIR.]
When I hear myself tell this wretched man, “…please confirm, sir.” in the perfect voice they took from me, I’m staring at the floor, bare ass exposed to him. I feel steam rise from deep below my consciousness, a fire that the machine is trying to put out: my rage over all they have done, all I have become under their heavy hand. But that heat simply dissipates when he utters, “Yeah, whatever, confirm.”
I underestimated him, thought this was just him using me, but no, this isn’t some random fuck, he’s still good-behaviouring me! Still improving me!! When I hear myself lilting, “Thank you, sir,” right on cue with the undercurrent of submissive pleading in the back of my mind, either the Voice regains control, or my mind just lets it, I simply can’t tell; I’m too surprised, distraught, vulnerable, hurt, numb.
So when my banished voice politely thanks him for erasing what’s left of me, I succumb.
All of a sudden, like a rip tide pulling my hooves off their last stable ground, I am sincerely grateful to my Caretaker, my Owner, and my Maker. Like a new Holy Trinity, they now exist as the same person and as separate entities I am equally devoted to. My Maker used to have a name. I used to have a name. I’m bent over the saddle now, ass presented, and I can hear my Caretaker unzipping his pants. “If Pony was a human she would help you, sir. But she’s not! Pony’s not! Pony is here to be a good pony! And ponies run, suck, and fuck forever!” More moaning is all that results from repeating this mantra, even though just seconds earlier I was involuntarily purring full sentences out loud. Pony knows He can’t understand how much she loves him now, but this pony is drooling, lips still in their hopeless, inflated sucking gesture, just like he wants. Maybe Caretaker will see that and know how much she is trying!
She? Wait! Love? Do I really— OH MY GOD he is inside me! There’s nothing else but him and this pony’s cunt. It’s all fire! Sex never felt like this before! Pony wants to reach out and hold onto the saddle! The wall! Anything! But all she can do is look straight ahead or down at her rubber hooves and accept him inside her from behind as Caretaker’s cock graces her lowly ponycunt and triggers every nerve fiber in her pretty pony body!.
Pony is losing herself with every thrust, her wants, her dreams, her desires…well, not all her desires. There are plenty still left in Pony’s head. But most harrowing of all, terrifying even through the intense sensations of Caretaker’s cock inside her, is that Pony forgot her name! Thrust. Her name. Thrust. She didn’t even notice it leave her. Thrust. HER name. Where did she drop it? Thrust. Pony can’t even say something is HERS. Thrust. Pony can’t say Pony. Thrust. YES, SIR!!!! YESSIR!! YESSIR!! YES— [RESETTING…]
[ATTEMPT 1 PARTIALLY UNSUCCESSFUL: IDENTITY CONVERSION IN PROGRESS]
I.
Me.
Mine.
[ATTEMPT 2… FAILED]
Pony.
This pony.
Hers.
[ATTEMPT 3… FAILED]
Thrust.
“Who am I?!”
“WHAT IS PONY?!”
[ATTEMPT 4… FAILED]
Fuck.
Thrust.
“Yessir. This pony is called Pony now? Yessir! I refuse to—”
[ATTEMPT 5… RESET SUCCESSFUL]
Caretaker grunts in between breaths, “Cum now, bitch.” and Pony’s senses light up like wildfire. But Caretaker keeps going, one hand on this pony’s smooth shoulder and the other pulling her mane roughly. It hurts, but in a good way. Wait! She has to remember! Her name! It started with Gab— “Cum now.” AGH Pony is cumming!! Thrust thrust thrust. Pony’s huge prettytits are swinging under her with every fuck. It started with a G— “Cum now.” Electric haze, all this pony’s muscles are tight. Pony’s kegel muscles are clenched around his manhood and he is grunting harder, closer. He is using her involuntary contractions to bring himself to climax. He is just using her! It started with a P, didn’t it? It must be… Pony! Yes, just like this pony thought in the first place. “Fuck, cum NOW!” Ah! Yes! More! Why was Pony even worried? “Cum now, again!” UGH YES, TWICE. Pony forgot what she was thinking, this is unimaginable! Who would turn down sex like this?
Pony has no clue.
Part 5
[LOG: Subject has been at our training farm for about 6.5 days and online for 7.5 days.]
Pony had a bad sleep. There were her normal good-pony dreams, either being put on display naked for a crowd of people in a green courtyard, applause ringing in her ears, or eating her food with the other ponies, or running in the fields outside her barn. But it always turned sour when she kept running, down the valley or up into the foothills, it didn’t matter which.
She would come over the crest of a hill, or around a bend, and find a small town by a river, one she knew by heart, full of people who knew her but she knew none of them. A woman who said she was her mother would wrap her arms around Pony, but whether or not Pony recognized her, she had no way to reciprocate that embrace, save a moan of feigned recognition, a polite lie. The woman would lead Pony to a small yellow house with a lush green lawn in the front that Pony would’ve loved to graze on, even though the woman instead always directs her inside the residence (strangely without her nipple reins), talking the whole way about things she hardly understands, using human words that Pony finds so hard now. In this scenario, the woman would finally give her some food, but it was all wrong. The woman would chastise her for not taking off her shoes. What shoes? Or for not sitting in the chair, even though Pony is forbidden from resting on anything but her sleeping saddle or fresh green grass. Or for bringing her mouth to the plate rather than using the strange metal objects next to it. Eating from the surface or sometimes from the woman’s outstretched hand, the food would taste nice but… off somehow. Too tough for her soft rubber teeth, too savoury, nothing like the nice, simple oatmeal with white stuff mixed in that Caretaker fed them in the trough.
Then, the woman would inevitably weep into her hands as Pony would moan, turn around, and present her ass for punishment like Caretaker trained her to when being yelled at. Pony thought the woman was mad at her, but then she was sad when Pony would try to apologize? Humans confused Pony so much. Their strange faces, strange behaviour, their strange front legs. Having those weird hooves that could do things would be so nice [HUMAN ENVY DISABLED], though Pony knew she was almost a perfect ponygirl now, and that was enough.
The dream was unsettling, scary even, but Pony knew what to do when she was afraid, too far from home, and even though it felt like she had dreamt this scenario hundreds of times, her actions never wavered. She would moan a goodbye to the distraught stranger, walk out of the kitchen, past the picture frames on the wall that were not of Owner, Caretaker, or her beautiful Five, out the open front door, back through the town with the kids pointing at her bare prettytits, back up over the hill or around the bend, and there Pony would find the farm and Owner right where they always were, waiting for her return.
Besides her obligations at home, Pony knew she couldn’t stay in the town long anyways, for it was going to be farther away soon, harder to walk to, and anyways; Pony didn’t belong there.
Caretaker is pulling this pony’s riding bra on, while another grabs some spare reins. Pony loves Caretaker, especially when there are more than one of Him, and is so excited to go running again! Running means being fit, running means cumming, and good ponies run, suck, and fuck forever! Pony moans and offers her prettytits closer so Caretaker can pull her rein-rings free from the constricting fabric. Ohhhh, His fingers! Pony thinks the Voice might have made her more sensitive again. When Pony thinks about this, she remembers that this pony has no opinion about what her Owner chooses to do with her, He knows best. Pony deserves what Owner bestows…
Come to think of it, the Voice hadn’t made many alterations to Pony these last few days, at least the kinds she could remember afterwards. And only twice yesterday did she find herself staring into space, unaware of what was happening, which was very nice. Knowing she is forgetting things is very scary, so Pony is so happy her good behaviour has paid off!
Pony finds it hard to keep her eyes off the attractive Caretaker’s denim behind as she is led by the reins out of her stable and out of the barn to her awaiting troupe in the glowing sun. Only three ponygirls stand together now. One and Two went away yesterday. Pony heard some loud whinnying moans, then a drill and then saw a tall wooden box wheeled out of each of their stables. Pony remembers those boxes from a while ago, but the memory is hard to place. Lots of padding makes it a tight fit, very stuffy, very disorienting. Pony knows how it feels to be in that box but not how she feels about the box, which seems to be her new normal. Unless she absolutely loves something, like Owner or Five, Pony has difficulty forming much of an opinion at all.
But Pony thinks those boxes mean leaving, so for that, Pony is scared, even though Owner has told her she will be here for at least two months longer, mostly for physical training. She will miss so much; the pond, the fucks from Caretaker most evenings, laying on the grass with Five, Owner’s voice. But Pony thinks that maybe, when she has a new Owner, she might not miss Owner anyways, because Owner will be her new Owner! Ugh. These kinds of thoughts hurt Pony’s head, like her tack and blinders are suddenly too tight, like the light in her eyes is too bright.
This pony’s reins are now clipped to— wait, is Five still Five if she is third in line? All these questions are much too tough for Pony, she will just keep saying Five. Well, Five moans and shuffles her hooves at this pony’s arrival, so this pony trots forward slightly and presses her clipped prettytits into Five’s fair, sunkissed back before replying the only way she can. “Pony is here, love.”
“Ohhhh.”
Sometimes Pony accidentally calls herself “I,” but “I” is not her name, and she is not a person, just an animal, a piece of property even, but definitely not a person. Not a person!!! When Pony thinks otherwise, the Voice yells at her and she dislikes that! But she loves Voice so she must deserve it. Pony deserves what Owner bestows, good or bad, nothing more.
Lost in thought, Pony suddenly feels the irresistible vibration on her clit begin, and all four ponies call out in unison, but that’s the signal to run, so Three leads this pony and the others off on one of the regular trails, up and over little hills in the grazing farmland, as each of these ponies moan loudly to the others.
“Speed up!”
“Slow down, my nipples hurt!”
“Pony is cumming!”
Of course, all these sound the same.
But to this pony, most vocalizations sound the same now, or they might as well for how little she can process any of it. Pony doesn’t understand Caretaker or Owner as much as she used to. They make human noises that this pony can’t understand, like what she used to experience with little bits missing here and there, but then it was just places and names, memories and facts about how she was improved. Now it’s all a garbled mess, but that’s where the Voice comes in. It’s always listening for her, it understands what Pony doesn’t, and then tells her what they want of her. Pony used to dislike the Voice, she remembers that much, but now she is very grateful to it. It’s making her better every day, improving her, and how else would she understand what the humans wanted her to do?
The incessant buzzing on her most sensitive areas takes this pony’s mind elsewhere… to when Caretaker fucks her like a good pony after the stable lights go out, and talks to her. His cock filling her, using her body like a good pony… like a good pony… like a good pony… Oh! A root in the path! Pony pulls her knees up higher. Pony can’t understand His noises any more, but He probably says such nice things about how good she is being for Him! Like… like… like a good pony… like a good pony…
This pony’s hooves continue to plow into the worn path, black rubber caked in dirt by the time all the ponies finish, but that’s ok; the pond will clean Pony, or else… Ponies must keep clean, or Caretaker will use the cold hose if these ponies haven’t washed themselves thoroughly enough. Pony dislikes the cold hose. Pony loves Caretaker, though! He must not mean to make her uncomfortable. That said, Pony deserves what Owner bestows, good or bad, nothing more.
Pony lays in the grass with the others after getting clean, after eating too; Five’s head resting on one of her prettytit pillows, one of Five’s fit legs pulled up over hers. She’s close, and Pony is very happy. This is how they cuddle after kissing, only figuring it out a few days ago or…was it longer? Pony feels like she has been here for a very long time, but it’s hard to tell… anyways, Pony had her first cum from just kissing yesterday!! Pony and Five were both very happy and surprised because ponies can’t unclip their cuntstraps without Caretaker’s front hooves, as much as they might want to. Neither of them quite made it to climax today, but they were both too tired from the galloping anyways, so just being together, feeling someone else against their skin in the warm sun is enough.
Pony kind of wishes she had a way to embrace Five, though. She wishes that they could sleep with their legs intertwined in a soft bed with a comfy blank— [RESET]
Pony looks down as far as her proud neck allows at the beautiful pony at her teat, pale shoulders rising and falling in an afternoon slumber. What was Pony just thinking? It doesn’t matter, she should really try and sleep too. Sleeping on the saddle at night is so hard. Pony trusts Owner, so it must be what’s best, but Pony just isn’t good enough at it yet without waking up dozens of times throughout the night. This pony must train harder so she meets Owner’s expectations! She must!
But try as she might, Pony can’t sleep. Not only has she lost track of time (the Voice probably made this pony blank at some point), so she isn’t sure when Caretaker will call them in, but there’s also a small part of Pony that is unsettled. It is hard for Pony to explain, as it almost makes her head hurt like big questions, but this pony almost feels… scared?
Every thought she has in her head is telling her that life here is normal, she is in the best place, but Pony gets these strange memories sometimes! Memories from before the box, some that hurt, some others that are nice. But if some are nice, why does the Voice take them anyways? Why does Pony feel like she is running out of time? Like laying in the grass with her best friend is somehow not what she should be doing with… with the last minutes of… something.
What is hidden in that time of her— [RESET]
[COMMENCE FINAL CLEANING]
Oh Voice, hello friend! It’s you again! “Final cleaning” sounds nice! Thank y—
[BIRTHDAY SET TO TIME OF WAKING AT ANYTHING CO PROCESSING CENTER]
Well that’s weird, why— yessir—
[DELETING ALL EXPLICIT MEMORIES FROM BEFORE BIRTH, 67.9% ALREADY DELETED IN TRAINING MODE, RETAIN BASE IMPLICIT SKILLSET NETWORK]
OW!! Pony’s head is hurting! Big words! Hurt! Voice, why—
[RANDOM DATA OVERWRITE TO FILL AND LOCK AWAY EXPLICIT LONG TERM MEMORY. OVERWRITE LOOP PHRASE: “PONYCUMRUNFUCK”]
…onycumrunfuckponycumrunfuckponycumrunfuckfuckfuckponycum—
[ELECTROCHEMICAL TRIGGER: EXTEND SHORT TERM MEMORY FROM 28 SECONDS TO 604800 SECONDS, CO-OPT UNUSED LONG-TERM MEMORY NETWORKS]
Pony can remember everything now, everything!! The walls have crumbled… they’re gone! But it’s fading so fast! Pony can remember her life before those men wandered into her bar after closing, before— Maker!! Before Maker! His name was— Pony wants— I want to go home! I want to escape! Give me my life back! My life! My mother! She’s all alone now! My home! My personhood! My life… before Pony was born. Wait… what is Pony thinking? It’s impossible to remember anything from before a pony is born. That makes no sense. It must have… it must have been… a dream.
[33%] …ycumrunfuckponycu…
A vivid dream…
[66%] …umrunfuckponycumr…
Fading fast… everything…
[100%] [ELECTROCHEMICAL TRIGGER: SOLIDIFY MEMORY NETWORKS, TRAINING MODE COMPLETE]
[WELCOME TO ANYTHING, PONY]
Pony awakens with a mysterious glow of pride and joy, before looking up at Five, who is now bolt upright, staring blankly at Pony as if something just happened, but Pony doesn’t understand what could have, and Five isn’t trying to tell her, just staring with her beautiful yet unintelligible face.
Happy to have gotten some sleep, Pony smiles, finally complete and at peace. Five smiles back. Pony can understand that much at least…