Chapters A Report from the Farm 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.