'A passion for Ponyplay.' Part 3…
Hanker had known his former partner Zeke Smith for some time before things broke bad. He never considered him would leave him holding the bag to take the wrap for the lucrative drug deal gone sour. 7 years earlier Zeke seemed to disappear into thin air when he knew the deal had gone bust caring more for his life than the money he took off never showing up at the arranged spot. In his place was the group of DEA agents.
Truth was the ‘Feds’ didn’t know how much was at stake. Fortunately for him Hank had buried the money holding firm he settled for the moderate sentence in a plea deal agreement arranged by the talented attorney.
A travel mug in his hand ‘Hanker’ enjoyed being the owner of a 200 acre stretch of land that had a working horse farm and a collection of two legged equines. Neatness a thing for him he walked into the pristine clean stable taking a sip of coffee. The fact that there even was a ‘Pony Play’ flag said something about its growth into a subculture lifestyle beyond a mere run of the mill BDSM fetish.
A black background on the flag had a royal blue and white stripe midway intersecting the piece while a centered green oval shape had a pair of horseshoes in its middle. Placed at the entrance to the stable the wind blew the ‘Pony Pride Flag’ its colors their meaning known to the enthusiasts billowing in the breeze.
Playing to the enthusiasts of the culture that was more than a fad one company advertised what they called ‘Ponies on the Delta’ held annually one could experience a 3 day event of a form of animal play being either trainer or pony.
Contest winning ribbons handed out ponies of all types would be put thru their paces navigating obstacle courses, or human fox hunting/cattle-sheep cutting demonstrations concluding in an ‘awards ceremony’. Allowing other ‘kinksters’ to come and enjoy their particular BDSM fetish the elaborate horse play event was the main focus.
“How’s Thunderfoot today Bo? I want him worked hard out there.”
Convicted of 'B & E' the two had met in cell block d and discovered their interests in horses. When alone in his cell Bo would masturbate to images of naked 'Hustler' beauties taped to the cinder-block wall along side pictures of horses.The ‘country boy’ Bo was glad he now had legitimate employment on a horse farm.
After leaving him in the lurch Zeke Smith never imagined he’d be found by Hank in the small New Hampshire town. The member of the Aryan nation had been befriended by Hanker when he was in prison. Letting him know their reach outside the walls was far wider than most gave them credit for a ‘one and done’ cash deal with a box of 60 burner phones thrown in had members of the group locate his lost partner.
7 years after the betrayal the entire ride back for Zack Smith in the back of the 18 wheeler had been spent inside a cage. Drug induced food kept him docile until he woke to find his hands bound in leather mittens and his arms back held tight one on top of the other in an arm binder of sorts.
Looking like some freaked out hippie when apprehended his long hair was kept growing yet now his beard was shaved off. Along the sides of his head a razor was used creating baldness while the straight hair in back took on length beyond just a mullet. In time he would discover laser hair removal treatments would make the need of facial shaving unnecessary.
At the time he did his best to negotiate his way out yet finally agreed to whatever Hanker had in mind knowing he could have been disposed of easily by 'the Nation' potentially losing his life without anyone knowing.
The hay on the floor of the small open aired stall in the stable was disconcerting to see as the days moved along. The first time the ball-gag was removed his head held still he received a quick cut under the tongue at the frenulum piece being given time to heal afterwards.
For an hour each morning a weighted metal piece was attached by clip stretching the tongue outside his mouth. At first he paid it no mind more concerned with eating and being washed missing the comfort a normal bed and shower routine, though kept naked he thought surely he would be given clothing at some point.
Losing track of the days he noticed just how long his tongue was becoming while slurping free of hands the warmed morning serving of oatmeal from a bowl. In its make up growth hormones intended for his chest and thighs utilizing target specific DNA molecular receptors that would incubate within his cellular network.
When being spoken at he was addressed by the name ‘Thunderfoot’. Hanker had Bo give him a test a few months in. Ask prisoners held in isolation for long stretches during wartime and its likely they begin to forget their name and where they came from.
“What’s your name?’
It was the first time he was told to speak.
He couldn’t come up with yet more importantly when he tried to talk the tongue’s new length had made it so whatever was said turned to gibberish.
“It’s thunderbolt…can you say that?”
Tongue hanging out the words coming from his mouth were an incoherent slur. It sent a shiver down his spine to know he had lost the ability to use words spoken from his mouth to communicate.
“Very good Thunder, your master will be pleased….you’re ready to advance to being branded a stag…perhaps if you work hard you’ll make the status of alpha stud…good boy.”
Finishing speaking Bo slipped a lemon drop treat in his mouth while caressing the rump cheeks like one would with a cherished pet.
Zeke could feel his arms muscles thinning to weakness held back for so long atrophy began settling in. Two days of discomfort occurred after his teeth were shaved down to their nubs with appropriate post procedure pain management used to lessen the after effects.
The life of a farm animal is one of simplicity will they be fed? will they be cleansed will they be taken out in the fresh air?. Time lost its meaning for him the sun rose the sun set night time and its darkness arrived all of it came without any real baring on him.
Zeke would get occasional glances at a distance of others kept as two legged creatures yet writing it off to some kind of hallucination it didn’t truly formulate in his mind.
Hanker let the travel mug rest on the flat surface outside Zeke’s stall. He was pleased to see the former partner was made immobile leashed at the BDSM collar’s d-ring while he stood. His hand touched the 5” pieces attached to each ear remarkable in the likeness Zeke now had a set of ‘horse ears’ seemingly molded on intended to hold his lengthening hair in place in between.
“There Thunder good boy….I’ve heard progress had been made…”
The ball gag gone Zeke tried to speak yet once again gibberish spewed forth leaving his tongue hanging to the side out of his mouth.
“….soon you’ll learn to respond by neighing.”
Calmly Hanker lifted the tongue and slipped it back in.
Bo walked up his hands holding it so it retained most of its form. Strong as an Ox Hank held his head while Bo slipped the head gear with bridle mouth bit in place. Leather straps with round brass cross ties intersected fitting perfectly on to his head.
A rubber mouth bit had him opening his mouth seeking greater comfort yet when it was in place keeping the tongue beneath ‘Thunder’ realized his days of speaking were likely behind him. It felt so odd not to have teeth.
“That’s my stag…lets have the hoofs Jasper then we’ll secure his member.”
Hank’s hand brushed along Zeke’s face the look of a human equine taking hold he spoke.
“Can’t have my stud experiencing looseness between the legs…wicks are best kept dry until in the presence of a female breeding mare…no, locking is needed to help my fine equine stag retain focus.”
Zeke’s body began to shake seeing the look of the leather boot-like appearance. Bo lifted his leg before pushing the foot deep inside. Zeke could feel the leather being tightened in back using leather strings slipped through eyelets. First the one than the other he could feel the muscles straining as each heel was lifted off the ground.
“You’ll take to it my fine beast…Yes soon these thighs will become muscled up much like your chest…why there will come a time when you’ve forgotten all about once having arms and hands…after all what need do equines have for those?”
Jasper approached with the leather thong of a pouch and chest pieces of the same. Bo smiled as he slid the chastity cage in place on the flaccid 7” cock turning the lock he added the key to a chain that held numerous others of the same. It made Zeke wonder just how many others were like him on the horse farm.
Jasper put the leather straps of the upper body harness in place held by a centered metal ring it looked like something popular in male on male bondage found in the gay BDSM world.
Holding the 3’ tail of human hair he proudly showed off the 6” knotted braid front that came attached to a large anal plug.
Zeke’s mouth still adjusting to his tongue being ‘under’ the rubber mouth-bit moved it about trying to get comfortable. He’d come to find the restriction added to the difficulty of speaking using formed words hampering any normal diction.
He stared at the tail…the idea incomprehensible…that he would hence forth move through life wearing a tail much like any farm animal. As it slid inside past his rosebud entrance the 6” braid made it stand out lifted away from Zeke’s body before dropping a good 30 inches or so.
Zeke lurched on feeling Bo jostle his balls.
“Peppermint Lady will like what this contains one day…..give us a neigh Thunder”
He couldn’t explain why yet Zeke found himself letting out a couple of high pitched ‘neighs’.
Once made addled often a mind takes to being lazy in expressing itself…’clean the garage’…take the garbage out’…. how many husbands had grunted out when asked to do some work by their wives? The less one speaks the easier it is not to. Zeke feared there would come a point in his new existence where ‘Thunderfoot’ communicated solely through simple grunting or neighing.
Finishing securing the thong-like leather pouch covering his locked penis both Jasper and Bo held back feeling prideful in their efforts of turning Zeke into the appearance of a male human equine creature.
“Shall we have a look then …..that tail of yours….you’ll learn to move it by shaking your rump…what’s an equine without its tail to swat and swish and swirl.”
The distinction was made ...he wasn't seen as a who but rather an 'it'.
The part Hanker enjoyed was being the first to put on a lead-line clip to the bridle demonstrating his authority over the beast who’d betrayed him when he had the chance.
The moment the metallic sound hit the tiled floor ‘Thunderfoot ‘knew authentic horseshoes were secured on the bottom of his ‘hoofs’.
“Slow strides at first my Thunder, good boy…Kentuckty’s ’Secretariat’ or Lord Mottistone’s ‘Warrior had to learn how to strut and walk before they could fly along faster each time then the previous furlongs on a racetrack. Yes I know my history why all modern racehorses have descended from the 18th century English stallion ‘Eclipse’. Their masters knew the benefit of such so discipline training was involved in their growth”
Hanker let fly the tip of the horse whip its sting enough to capture attention without causing too much discomfort. As the pain of it settled in there was something inside Thunder that liked how it lingered before dissipating.
What had he agreed to? Was it a fate worse than he could imagine or would it be something he’d end up enjoying and taking to? The longer he had been the there the easier it became to give up and accept.
On each step he could feel the tail attached to the butt-plug moving inside his anal track freshly coated with lube its hairs brushed the skin of the legs. The lifted heel made the tail give off a swagger. Led by Hanker in front of the floor mirror his days of moving without being led had come to end.
Hanker had seen it before the moment when humanity gives way to the thresh-hold of a new lifestyle on the horizon for a beast.
The horse ears on his head awash in straps and brass that came with a fitted bridled…the long well managed mane cresting down his back that matched the deep brunette color of his 3’ braided tail....all the leather strips criss-crossing on his chest attached held in place by circular ornamental brass rings bringing restriction…. the pair of leather boots with lifted heel ending in metal horse shoes.
’Thunderfoot’ looked like what he was…a human turned two-legged male equine stud.
“Time you meet the others male equines…you’ll find friendly rivalries are quite common even encouraged yet as a whole we want all our alpha male studs to get along despite the competitiveness of wanting to be the top stag.”
Once more Zeke felt compelled to ‘neigh’ out an acknowledgement.
The sound was returned with a reward of a lemon drop put to the mouth. A connection was being reinforced …good behavior brings reward.
“…it’s likely you’ll need to discover your place in the pecking order until you’re ready to offer a challenge….one other thing….they have learned to grunt and neigh so I suggest you adopt like you just showed you are capable of.”
The fresh air felt nice on the naked skin suddenly he felt a whip sting his rear end on the right side.
“Knees up….we want them high to the thighs Thunderfoot…one fluid motion…one even stride take pride in your movement….impress your master. You’ll want the females to seek your attention.”
Females? With all he had been put through the past months he hadn’t even thought about them. Out of nowhere a pair of feminine equines were intentionally walked past him.
Amazingly beautiful in an equine sort of way their naked breasts fluttered unfettered as they gingerly stepped together unison. The high-pitched screech of her ‘neigh’ grabbed his attention. The long flowing mane and matching tail uniquely colored purple brought his eyes to view the feminine face….like his straps of a head-bridle graced its presence.
Like any male creature his eyes drifted back to look at the large mammaries. As the femme-equine approached being led he took in the sight of the large areolas and nipples. He’d always liked that look back when he was a male of means. A stirring in his loins made him sound out with a neigh.
“Wow there Thunderfoot….you’ve yet to earn a session alone with such a beauty. Quite a delight no doubt….it responds to the feminine name Cinnamon stick”
Its mouth straining at the bit the pretty feminine equine turned her head to stare at the largeness of the naked Thunderfoot before it was yanked back in place by her trainer. As she clip-clopped by he saw the large tattoo on her rump branding her property of ‘HS’ farms.
A tug to the lead-line Hanker smiled as he said it.
“Femmes get tattooed…my stags are branded with a hot iron.”
The distinctive noise of the 'clippity-clop' of the real horse-shoes hitting the stone as he moved came out rhythmically. The sound of it alone was actually something that could make Hanker get an erection.
Caught up in the distraction Thunderfoot found himself being tethered to the top of a wooden rail between two live four legged horses….they’re size massive almost dwarfing his gave him new perspective as to the adjustment of his place in the food chain. Each slurping at a feeding trough he felt lower than the two.
End of part three…