Chapter 3 The next day Master gagged me and hooded me, tied my legs together and threw me into the trunk of his car. My arms were still in the armbinder and my feet still clad in stiletto boots. For my part almost all resistance was gone and I was completely docile as he took me out of the trunk again after a very long drive. He led me into a building and then into an office where he removed my hood. It was a doctor's office and I stood docilely by as Master greeted the doctor and sat down opposite his desk. Then the two began talking about how Master still wanted the surgery performed on me he had specified earlier. Master assured the doctor that was indeed what he wanted. After a bit of small talk, they stood and Master left after shaking hands with the doctor.

After Master had left the doctor, who looked perfectly ordinary, looked me over and felt me up before calling for a nurse. The nurse scampered fearfully into the room, curtseyed in front of the doctor and said: "Yes, doctor?" The nurse was a slave boy of about twenty-five and his body was completely covered in shiny, white rubber. Only his bald head, his ass, which was securely plugged with a huge, white butt-plug and his genitals were left free, even his hands were covered in white rubber that was part of the suit. On his feet were shiny, white stiletto boots made from plastic, with seven-inch stilettos. His head was completely hairless, devoid of even eyebrows and as he spoke I could see that he had no teeth at all, giving him a slight lisp when he spoke. His cock was imprisoned inside an impossibly small chastity tube and was leaking a steady amount of pre-cum. As he approached the doctor he cast his eyes fearfully down and it was obvious that he was terrified of him. "Take this slave to the OR and prepare him. The operation will start in an hour." The doctor said. The slave nurse curtseyed before leading me by my cock to the operating room. What little resistance was left in me came to the surface now, but even this enslaved rubber nurse had no trouble controlling me. A good grip on my balls and hard twist ensured my immediate compliance with all orders and soon I was lying strapped to the operating table. Once again my arms had been all but useless from their long confinement inside the armbinder.

As I lay there waiting for the doctor one more nurse arrived. He looked exactly like the ones who had met me in the doctor's office: completely hairless, completely toothless with a hot and slender body covered in shiny, white rubber. By way of greeting the two nurses kissed passionately. Then one of them, the latest arrival, went to get something at a nearby table while the other one ever so gently grabbed my cock. Slowly he began manipulating it and when I was hard as well as breathing hard, he took me into his mouth. The feeling of a smooth-gummed mouth with a very talented tongue drove me absolutely wild in a matter of seconds and soon I was trying desperately to thrust my hips; trying anything to hasten the process so that I could cum.

But the little, shiny rubber nurse was a real expert. Every time I was just about to cum, he held back. Soon I was begging, but he just smiled sweetly at me, still denying me my orgasm. Finally the other nurse joined him at the table and after nodding in agreement to each other, my tormentor sucked the juice out of me in a glorious orgasm, making me scream with pleasure. Just as I came the other one sank a needle in my arm and a few seconds later I lost consciousness.

When I woke up I felt terribly weak. I felt like my eyelids had been glued shut and only with a great deal of effort was I able to open them. As my vision cleared and I was once more able to see my surroundings, I saw that I was in a hospital bed, covered in a sheet. For a long time this was all I noticed. Slowly I gathered my wits about me and started taking stock of the situation. I knew that I had been through surgery, so the question was what had been done to me. I started by trying to wriggle my toes and found out that I had practically no movement left in either my toes or my feet. Nor in my ankles for that matter. I could still feel the foot, but it felt far off and very stiff, like it was sleeping. My feet, as well as the rest of my body was covered with a sheet and as I tried shaking it off I found out that I was strapped to my bed and unable to do so. No surprise here. So I would just have to wait and see.

As I moved on I soon found out something else; a discovery that made me scream. I had no arms! Where my arms had been were now heavy bandages, but it was quite clear that there was no room for my arms underneath these. My arms had been removed! I screamed in shock and after a little while a rubber nurse came scampering into the room. He checked that I was all right; at least in the physical sense of the word, he then pressed a button on the wall and sat down on the bed next to me. He stroked my cheek and said some comforting noises and I started sobbing instead of screaming.

After a few minutes the doctor arrived. He looked at me with eyes filled with sadistic delight and he was obviously enjoying himself. So much so that the first thing he did, even before examining me, was to order the little rubber nurse to blow him. Standing next to my bed and obviously deriving pleasure from seeing me like that, he had the lithe, rubber-clad young man kneel before him and give him head.

When he had shot his load, he once again turned his attention to me. First he checked the bandages on my shoulders where my arms should have been. Then he had me open my mouth. I was much too shocked to resist and when his fingers entered my mouth I got a new nasty surprise: like the nurses all my teeth were gone. I was just too much. Now even my sobbing stopped as I sat in stunned silence.

The doctor's examination of me continued and he now lifted the sheet away from the upper part of my body. As he removed it all the way down to my waist I saw that my lower back was bandaged too and that I was not lying flat on my back, but rather sitting up, propped up against some pillows. After inspecting these bandages and apparently finding their condition satisfactory, he removed the sheet altogether and I saw why my feet had felt so stiff. On my feet were now black, plastic boots effectively turning my feet into hooves. My foot is now almost completely in line with my leg and all my weight is supported on my toes, which have been bent back and now rest on the tiny platforms that I walk on. The platforms are not big enough for all my toes, but that didn't stop the doctor. He simply removed all my toes nails and crushed my toes so that he could set them in any shape he desired. Then he used a steel band to secure them permanently to the tiny platforms, which are just like the platforms used in women's platform shoes, only much smaller and much higher, almost five inches high with a ridiculously small horseshoe as a sole. Also my "shoes" have no heels, forcing me to support all my weight on those tiny, precarious platforms. The shoes are really boots since they extend up to mid-calf and they look like a caricature of a horse's hoof. The cover of my boots comes off from time to time so that my feet can be cleaned, but my feet remain welded to the platform permanently. They never come off.

As I looked down my body in shock I also noticed that I had trouble looking all the way down, just I had trouble turning my head all the way to the side. It was like my head was tilted a little backwards and now couldn't come all the way down anymore.

At the time I was in complete shock and didn't realize that Master wanted me as his pony boy. I just sat there completely shocked as to why these changes had been made to me and to what end.

After a few more minutes of inspection, the doctor seemed satisfied and left. Just before leaving he nodded to the nurse, who curtseyed deeply in return. When the doctor had left the room, the slave nurse's attention turned to me. Wasting not a second, he leaned in over me and took me in his mouth. As before I should have been too shocked and too revolted for anything to happen, but as I was starting to learn, my natural submissiveness always got the better of me. Soon I was involuntarily moaning with pleasure and after a few minutes I came.

Shock doesn't even begin to describe my feeling at this apparent betrayal by my own body. There was no way I should react like this! I should hate it. I should object and try to push the nurse away. But as he started to blow me again, I had no objection, no protest and no movements to discourage him. Instead my first and only thought when his soft lips closed around my cock was: "Please get me off. Your mouth is sooo good."

The slave boy/rubber nurse left me three orgasms later. As the door closed behind him I sat in stunned silence. The drastic physical changes were slowly sinking in, making me depressed as they effectively robbed of any other future than that of a slave. But also I was feeling increasingly confused at my own reaction. Or perhaps "confused" is the wrong word, since it was quite clear what was happening: I was adjusting very rapidly to the fact that I was now a slave, a mere toy for Master - and I liked it! The more I thought about it, the more Master's words about how I didn't go for vanilla, but rather had to be subjected to extremely brutal and demeaning things to get off, rang true.

Only I didn't want to believe it. I told myself that I was a strong and independent man and that I didn't want to live out my life as someone else's property. But the more I repeated this to myself, the more hollow it sounded.

The couple of weeks passed in a haze of confused orgasms while I quickly healed. Three times a day I was fed and watered by a nurse, who stuck a great, big tube down my throat and pumped me full of food and water in an operation that took all of twenty seconds from the time I opened my mouth to accommodate the tube, to the time I closed it after the tube had been retracted. Before, during and after the feeding another nurse would suck my cock, bringing me to new heights of sexual pleasure. The routine was two orgasms before the feeding and three after. With three feedings a day that meant that I had at least fifteen orgasms a day during this period. "At least", because I was usually woken up by a gentle blow-job or two, just as it was customary for a lithe, little rubber nurse envelop my cock with his talented mouth just before putting a hood over my head and letting me sleep. I quickly became completely enamored with the nurses, but all my attempts to tell them how grateful I was, and indeed all my attempts to speak, were dealt with in the most brutal manner, usually by beating my genitals. It seemed that silence was the order of the day, so I simply sat there all day long, healing while I grunted, moaned and screamed with delight.

After almost three weeks Master came to see me and I was finally allowed out of bed. I had told myself that I should hate him for what he had done to me, but instead I found myself wanting desperately to beg him to fuck me. However, I didn't get around to begging him as he signaled that I should shut up even before I opened my mouth.

Finally after all that time in bed I was allowed to stand up and the pieces of the puzzle came together and I realized just what I had been transformed into. As I stood on insecure legs, I noticed that I couldn't stand up straight, but rather had to bend forward at the hip and hold my upper body at an angle to the ground. The reason for my stiff neck became apparent as it made me look straight ahead now that my upper body was angled. As my new footwear touched the ground, making me wince with pain from the confinement of my toes, and I saw how much they looked like hooves, I realized that the reason for all this surgery was to transform me into a pony boy. And not only that. Master had transformed me into a pony whose back he could ride on. I was bent over so that Master could ride my back.

The realization hit me like a sledgehammer of shock and delicious humiliation. Although I was loath to admit it, the thought of being Master's pony made me hard. Not that that had to mean anything. After three weeks in the care of the dirty, little rubber slave boys just about anything was a turn-on for me.

I tried telling some of this to Master, but as the first sound left my mouth he kneed me furiously in the groin. The pain was excruciating and if he hadn't held me, I would have fallen: "You are a horse now, Mark, and any attempt to speak or behave the tiniest bit human will result in severe punishment. Horses don't speak, they whinny. Understood?" I realized that Master would take this all the way and that he was dead serious, so to acknowledge my understanding I tried my best to behave horse-like and I tossed my head and whinnied. "Needs improvement," was all he said, but he didn't punish me, so apparently he was satisfied, for now at least. "I considered giving you a more horse-like name, like Tan-Tan, but decided against it. Maybe when I get more ponies their names will be like that, but since you are my first acquisition I'll let you keep your name." I stood staring at him, not knowing whether to scream with desperation or express my gratitude for a letting me keep my name. More and more it was sinking in that this would be permanent, that there would be no escape, not even to a less demanding or more "human-like" form of slavery. Master intended to keep me as a pony for a long, long time. His next words further cemented this fact: "You may keep your name, but always remember that you are a pony and will remain so for the rest of your useless life. Any behavior that is not pony-like, any at all, will be punished most severely." I almost nodded to signal my understanding, but at the last second I managed to toss my head and make a whinnying noise. Master seemed pleased and amused at this and he stepped very close to me, stroking my thigh as his eyes roamed my defenseless body. I had been eight inches taller than Master to begin with and now that I had been fitted with my new pony-boots, forcing me to walk on my toes while standing on five-inch high platforms, so even with the stoop my back had acquired I now towered about foot above him. Yet there was no doubt as to who was in control. His mere presence made me feel inferior and defenseless.

My obvious helplessness and submissiveness turned Master on and in short order me had thrown my upper body across the bed and was spreading my butt-cheeks. As he took me from behind with long, hard strokes, pumping in and out of my ass and his hand grasping my already throbbing member, I realized how much I had missed this during the weeks I had spent in bed being blown by the shameless, little rubber nurses. The feeling of once again having my ass filled to the bursting point while submitting completely to Master, turned me on more than I had imagined and in no time I was screaming and thrashing as my cum pumped down on the floor and when Master not long after filled my ass with his hot cum I was as happy as I could ever remember being. I should have been angry and scared since my life had effectively been taken away by this cruel man who now controlled every aspect of my existence, but instead I was reveling in my submission, realizing that not only was I completely powerless to prevent him from doing whatever he wanted to me, I also loved being controlled in this manner, loved being property.

While I lay there enjoying the afterglow of the orgasm, Master pulled out and snapped his fingers at the little nurse who had been standing by watching enviously from the corner as Master had fucked me. He quickly scampered over to me and following Master's instructions he turned what little hair I had left into a braided mane along the center of my head. Then Master pulled me to my feet and fitted me with a few more items befitting a pony. First he put a very broad and very stiff black collar around my neck, further restricting my head movements. Then he equipped me with a head harness with blinkers cutting off my peripheral vision and a steel bit, complete with a set of reins, that forced my mouth open. Finally he tied a leather leash around my scrotum.

Picking up a riding crop he said: "Ponies don't walk, they high step." With a slap on my ass I was sent on my way trying as best I could to high step all the time. This was much harder than I had imagined now that I had to walk bent over forwards all the time and had to walk on the tips of my toes on tiny platforms, but I had little choice. As Master's first painfully correcting blows landed on my ass, it dawned on me that I would be walking like this for the rest of my life, a thought that filled with a by now familiar feeling of despair mixed with submissive lust.

As we made our way out of the clinic, passing little, demure, slave nurses as well as regular employees, my humiliation grew with every step. Master's cum was leaking out of my ass and running down my leg and my own cum smeared over my cock by Master's stroking hand, was drying on the shaft of my embarrassingly erect cock. The humiliation did nothing to dampen my lust and soon my cock was twitching with lust. My face burned with shame as the people we passed all shared secret looks and whispers as they pointed at me and snickered. I just wanted to disappear so great was my humiliation, but this same humiliation insured that I was now actually approaching the point where I would cum, just from of exposed shame. Master heard my breathing getting ragged and turned around: "Look at you: just a worthless, little pony slave that gets off on people watching. That's just pathetic." That did it. With a scream muffled slightly by my new bit I came. My whole body shook, but I managed to stay on my feet as my body convulsed with a powerful orgasm. My shame knew no bounds as Master shook his head and sighed with disgust and I tried looking down to avoid his gaze. My stiff neck and collar insured that I didn't have much success, but I did manage to see one of the little nurses scamper over to lick the floor clean.

Finally Master led me out of the building, but by now a small crowd had gathered, all pointing at me and laughing derisively. Although I had just cum this excited me so that by the time we reached Master's car I was once again hard. I was amazed at my own libido. Was I really that submissive?

At Master's car I got a surprise. I had expected to be hooded and to have my legs tied together before being thrown into the trunk of his car for the trip home. However, Master had apparently decided to take his new role as a horse owner seriously and had purchased a closed trailer to transport real horses in. I high stepped rather ineptly up the ramp and onto the hay-covered floor of the trailer. Once inside Master tied my reins to a ring in the wall and the leash in my scrotum to a ring in the floor. I had wondered why he used both the reins and the leash and my guess was that he liked having my balls under complete control. Master left me standing there and as the door closed behind me and the trailer set in motion I was left with my thoughts.

I was confused. My life was now in the hands of a man who would probably abuse, humiliate and even torture me until I did everything he told me to. And it was far from certain that he would stop there. In all likelihood he would also abuse and torture me for sport, just because it pleased him. Unless someone, and I really couldn't see who this should be, came and rescued me I would probably belong to him for the rest of my life. Either that or he would sell me to someone else. It was also very likely that as a slave, someone who existed only to provide sexual pleasure for others, my life would not only be painful but also short. Who would want a sixty or even fifty year old slave? By kidnapping me and subjecting me to extreme surgery Master had also effectively signaled that he would stop at nothing. I was twenty-five and I had trouble seeing Master keeping a slave past his fortieth birthday, or perhaps even his mid-thirties.

On the other hand there was the question of what I would do if I were rescued. What would I do? I was armless, toothless and my back and neck had been subjected to surgery that was quite possibly irreversible and my feet and toes had been smashed. I had never been very smart and had always been best at using my hands, not my head. If someone saved me from a life as a slave, I would most likely spend the rest of my life in an institution.

The choice stood between two hopeless existences, but in reality there was no choice. No one would come to my rescue. Master had already proven that his attention to detail was extreme and I had no doubt that I had already been reported dead and that no one, absolutely no one, would be looking for me.

So my confusion didn't really come from this apparent choice. Instead it came from the fact that the prospect of being Master's pony boy excited me more than I would ever be able to express. The prospect of being completely and utterly controlled, of being subjected to extreme torture and intense humiliation for the rest of my life turned me on. Even if it meant that my life would be very short and almost certainly very painful it turned me on. In fact as I stood there in the moving trailer, being driven off to this harsh life of constant servitude, a new and extremely exciting thought entered my mind. With my cock again growing needy, throbbing and very hard, I fantasized about being fucked to death by Master. I fantasized about Master fucking me again and again, his giant cock pounding both my openings until I was screaming in pain, fucking me until my insides were reduced to a pulp by his constantly pumping member and I died impaled on this, the most magnificent of cocks, screaming out my love for my beautiful Master. My fantasy was so powerful that it made me cum. Screaming and thrashing as much as my bonds would allow I pumped my semen out over the hay-covered floor.

This was the source of my confusion: how had I gone from being a strong and independent guy who was occasionally tied up in mild bondage games to being a complete slave, someone who fantasized about being fucked to death by his Master? Before Master had brought me to the clinic I had never had any fantasies about being enslaved, but now they were the only fantasies I had and they were so powerful that I had trouble thinking about anything else. How could Master have seen this in me when I didn't even know myself? I tried telling myself that I had been brainwashed during my stay at the hospital, but that wasn't true. The only conditioning that had happened there was the constant attention of the dirty, little rubber nurses and that surely wasn't enough to turn me into a complete slave. I tried turning it over in my head; tried finding some explanation for my almost complete transformation but I came up empty every time. In the end I had to accept that Master had seen me for what I really was and acted on it, turning me into the armless, toothless, stooped over pony freak I was now. I should be mad at Master, I should hate him but instead I loved him. As I stood in the trailer, my mind still filled with lingering images of being fucked to death and my cock again growing hard, I was filled with a deep sense of love and gratitude towards Master. And as I stood there in the trailer, the hours ticking away, I fantasized about Master riding me, riding me hard, whipping me furiously to drive me forward and my confusion and doubt melted away in soft fantasies of harsh slavery, brutal fuckings and extreme and protracted torture sessions. When Master opened the door my cock was again twitching with need and I no longer had any doubts. I belonged to Master and there was nothing I would rather do than live a short, harsh and painful life as his pony-slave.