To Make a Mare By: Kayle Storm Dylan didn't know exactly where he was, but he knew what he was looking for. The Arabian stallion's hooves clopped on the hard floor as he walked, the sound echoing forlornly around him. He was searching for a door that he knew was just ahead of him somewhere, a door that led to a little, comfortable room where he would sit down and watch what he assumed were his memories playing on the wall. He didn't know why he went to the room, or how he ended up in this strange place, but he did know that, as long as that little room was there, he was safe. The door came into view ahead of the equine, and he whinnied with happiness that he had found it. Dylan quickened his pace, and arrived at the plain, solid oak door in a few strides of his long, muscular legs. The horse turned the door handle and stepped inside with a small, triumphant smile on his face. Almost immediately, he knew something wasn't right. As the door fell shut behind him with a loud "click", the lights in the dark room came on. Normally, there was a big, comfortable recliner in the middle of the room, which the stallion would sit in as he watched old memories flash across the plain, white walls of the secret room. Now, however, the recliner had been replaced with a heavy, stainless steel chair with leather straps hanging from it's arms and legs. Dylan wasn't sure why the sight of the chair scared him, but a bolt of sheer panic raced through his body. The Arabian reached behind him, his hand searching blindly for the door handle but finding only empty air. He whirled around to find that the door had vanished, leaving only the sterile, white wall in his path. His heart hammering with dread, the equine turned back to the center of the room to find that he wasn't alone anymore. Standing next to the chair was a tall, stocky clydesdale who was easily a full six inches taller than the lean Arabian. As Dylan looked on, the big draft horse's face split in a wide grin. "Ah, there you are. I was wonderin' when you'd show up.". The clydesdale's slow, drawling voice sent a wave of nauseating panic into the pit of Dylan's stomach, though he wasn't exactly sure why. He felt as though he knew the big equine, though he wasn't sure how or from where. The clydesdale gestured toward the chair. "Why don'cha take a seat? Get comfy.". There was a hard edge to his voice, and the Arabian stallion shook his head, backing up until his shoulders were against the smooth wall. The bigger horse's voice took on a demanding tone as he spoke again. "Sit down. NOW." Dylan felt his feet moving forward toward the chair, his body feeling heavy and unresponsive as he struggled to turn away. His hooves carried him closer and closer to the chair, even as his brain screamed at them to turn and flee. He felt his legs bend, and then felt the cold steel of the chair pressing into his bare ass. He didn't remember being nude before, but he definitely was now. The horse looked on in horror as his counterpart stooped and wrapped the leather restraints around Dylan's wrists and ankles. The Arabian willed himself to move and push the draft horse away, but his body remained numb and unresponsive. He felt the stiff leather straps digging painfully into his skin, a sensation that was somehow familiar, though he couldn't say why. The clydesdale stepped back and admired his captive with a cold, cruel gleam in his eyes. "That's better. After all, you love your chair." Dylan gave the bigger male a questioning look mixed with fear and panic. "But, of course, you don't remember it. At least, you don't remember it inside your little room here." The Arabian finally was able to quell his panic enough to speak. "Who… Who are you? Where am I?!!?". There was a pathetic note of desperation to his voice, one that he couldn't overcome. "Well, as to the first question…". The clydesdale leaned in close to Dylan. "You can just call me 'Master'. You already know to call me that, but you'll have to learn to do it here just like you learned out there.". The big equine gestured vaguely, making Dylan wonder where 'out there' was. "As to your second question… you're deep inside your own mind, a little corner of your subconscious that you've, up until now, managed to hide from me. But that ends today, I'm afraid." Dylan shook his head emphatically from side to side. "That's… That's not possible! You're lying!" The clydesdale let out a low, rumbling chuckle. "Oh, it's true, little pony. You've been hiding in here for quite a while, watching your old memories and holding on to just a little sliver of your old life. It took me a while to figure out how to get deep enough inside your head to dig you out." Dylan's chest was heaving with confusion and fear, and his eyes were wide, much like a feral horse that had been confronted with a powerful predator. "What…. What are you gonna do to me? Master, please don't hurt me…". The Arabian couldn't believe that he had actually called the bigger stallion 'Master', but, for some reason, the name felt right as it rolled off his tongue. Master snorted gleefully and patted his captive on the shoulder. "I don't have to do anything to you. It's already been done.". Dylan struggled to grasp the meaning of his captor's words as the draft horse continued. "You don't remember it, but I purchased you from some very unsavory people about six months ago. Sex traffickers, to be specific. They had apparently snatched you out of the parking lot at a bar somewhere, and I had been in the market for a pet for quite a while. I had wanted a little brood mare to play with, but you wouldn't believe how hard it is to come by one. So, they offered me you for half price. From there, I'll be honest, I kinda just improvised. But you'll see what I mean soon enough." Dylan couldn't believe what he was hearing. This had to be a joke, or some sort of cruel prank. Seeing the disbelief in his eyes, Master let out a low sigh. "Well, only one way for you to believe me, and that's to show you your own memories. I'm afraid all the ones you usually watch in here are gone.". He saw the shock on his captive's face, and gave the Arabian a cruel grin. "No more watching your mother baking cookies for you, or learning to ride a bike, or your first day of school. No more memories of all your girlfriends, or of drinking with your buddies. All gone, little pony." Dylan tried desperately to call the aforementioned images to mind, a feat that was usually easy for him inside this room, but there was nothing there; just a blank, empty space. Tears of panic and loss welled up in his eyes as he began to realize just how dire his situation really was. "Aw, don't cry, little pony. I've got a fresh batch of memories all loaded up and ready for you. I promise that you won't miss your old ones when we're done here.". Master let out a loud, braying laugh. "Hell, you won't miss much of anything. Outside of this room, your mind is about as self-aware as a bowl of pudding. But enough talk; let's get started." The draft horse clicked one of his hooves on the hard floor, and images began to take shape on the wall in front of Dylan. "Now, some of the things your gonna see are your own repressed memories, and some of them are a kind of 'home movie' that I've had you watch out there in the real world." A picture began to form on the wall, and Dylan struggled to pull his gaze away from it. He found, however, that his eyes were drawn to it like a moth to the flame. The first image that formed was, the Arabian assumed, from his own perspective. It was fuzzy around the edges, as if he had just awoken from a hard sleep. Not only could he see what was happening, but he could feel it as well, as if he were living the memory instead of just watching it play out like a movie. He felt himself try to stand, only to find that he was restrained, held in the very same chair he now occupied in his mind. The stallion felt panic and confusion overwhelm him as he bucked and pulled against the restraints, fear-sweat soon matting his naked chest. Then came Master's slow, drawling voice from behind him, making him freeze in the midst of his struggle. "Now, now, there's no need for that.". Though Dylan couldn't turn his head to see the other horse, he could feel his presence in the room. "It's okay, little pony. I've got something here that'll make everything better." Dylan flinched as he felt a massive hand on his shoulder. Before he could speak or protest, something was lowered down over his face, and the world suddenly went silent. He thought at first that he had been rendered unconscious, but, after a moment, a bright swirl of color appeared in front of his eyes, and a droning hum filled his ears. Mixed into the sound was what sounded like a soft, insistent whisper that felt as if it was trying to burrow deep into the stallion's skull. The image continued for a moment before shifting. Instead of looking out through his own eyes, he now found himself watching what appeared to be a video recording. He could see himself in the chair, tightly bound, with what appeared to be a virtual reality headset and a pair of over-ear headphones on. He saw himself throwing his head, trying in vain to dislodge the devices. It was then that Dylan noticed a clock at the bottom of the image that seemed to be recording the elapsed time since the video had started. He watched it speed up momentarily, jumping thirty minutes ahead before slowing to it's normal pace. He was still in the same position, though his struggles had ceased. His chest was heaving, and involuntary twitches ran down his arms every few seconds. He could also see that the head of his ten-inch long cock was poking out of his sheath. He heard himself let out a soft, passive groan as a single strand of precum drooled onto the floor. The video feed sped up again,moving ahead another hour. By now, the Arabian's shaft was fully erect, bouncing in the air as his body twitched and jerked, at the whim of whatever he was seeing in the headset. Dylan realized that his subconscious self was mimicking what he was seeing, his muscles twitching in time with the video and his cock at full attention as it wept pre onto the cold floor. He heard himself let out a loud whinny of pleasure, his shaft jumping as his body tensed and relaxed in rapid succession. Again, a jump forward, this time the clock showing that over three hours had elapsed since the start of the recording. Dylan was panting hard and fast, his muscles straining against the leather straps that bound him to the chair. His cock head was fully flared, and spurts of pre splattered across the floor in violent sprays. Suddenly, his body lunged against the restraints, and a loud bellow of sexual release filled the air. Strings of hot stud seed sprayed across the room, landing in gleaming strands on the floor as the horse lost himself in a massive orgasm. Groaning, his body slumped back into the chair, his spent cock slowly beginning to go limp. He saw Master enter the video frame from the left side of the room and remove the headset and earphones. The Arabian's eyes were glazed and glassy, showing no emotion as the images faded. Dylan blinked in rapid succession as he found himself back in the white room. His eyes were drawn to the floor, where his softening cock pointed the way toward a massive splatter of musky cum. He whimpered softly, confused and scared. Master's voice echoed through the room. "Three and a half hours. That's all it took for you to start giving up, little pony. I took you to your cell afterwards, and you didn't even try to fight me. I made you cum all over the floor without ever even touching you.". Dylan's cheeks burned hot with shame and humiliation. "You never tried to resist me after that, but you started coming here, into your little safe room, where you could still hold onto yourself.". The sound of the Arabian's quite, sniffling sobs filled the room as he began to cry. "Yeah, you cried in your cell that night, too. That's when I knew for sure I could break you." Dylan looked up to see the clydesdale leering in front of him. "But enough of that. How about we move on? There's lots more to see, little pony." Dylan started to protest through his humiliated sobs as Master's hoof struck the floor again. "Stop it! I don't want to see it! I don't…". The stallion's voice tapered off as new images swirled shapelessly on the wall, and his attention was forcefully pulled to it. "Now then, let's jump ahead a few weeks. You learned so well to call me 'Master', and you started to love your sessions in your chair. In fact, there was a few times you would cum all over yourself just from me strapping you in. Ah, how about the day you learned how to raise that pretty tail of yours for me?". The swirling pattern on the wall solidified, and Dylan was, once again, pulled helplessly into it's clutches. It was obvious time had passed between the first memory video and this one. Dylan's body seemed to have shrank, his formerly well defined muscles beginning to fade with underuse. His ribs showed through his coat, a sign of obvious malnourishment. The Arabian was in the chair again, though, this time, it was clear he had just finished a session with the headset. However, Dylan's cock was still hard and needy, drooling pre as Master removed the device from his head and ears. A thin string of drool escaped the Arabian's mouth, his eyes glazed and distant. Master ran a finger across the slick head of Dylan's engorged member, eliciting a low moan from the dazed stallion. The Clydesdale chuckled, petting the hot slab of stud meat as his captive groaned and bucked against his restraints. "That's a good pony. You didn't get to cum this time, did you?" The brainwashed stallion shook his head, his mane flying. "N-no, Master! Please, please let me cum!". Dylan's voice was whiny and desperate, his hips gyrating as he tried in vain to hump the clydesdale's hand. Master withdrew from the needy stallion, wiping the pre off of his hand onto his captive's leg. "Now, pony, remember what the lights in the headset told you. You know what you have to do to make yourself cum from now on." A puzzled look crossed Dylan's face. It was obvious that the wheels in his head were freewheeling, churning with little to no results. After a long minute of difficult thought, his dull eyes lit up. "Yes, Master! I know what to do! The lights told me!" Master leaned in and unstrapped Dylan from the chair. It was clear that the half-starved stallion was weak, as he almost collapsed as he stood up. The Arabian took a few shaky steps, and then dropped to all fours, his cock head rubbing the floor as he raised his tail to expose his virgin tailhole to his master. The Arabian let out a long, needy whinny as the clydesdale approached upturned ass. "That's a good pony. Do you want Master to breed you, like a good little mare?" Dylan's response was instantaneous and enthusiastic. "Breed me, Master! Make me cum for you!" His flanks trembled as his counterpart stripped off his pants, his thick shaft erupting from it's sheath. It was easily three to four inches longer than Dylan's, and sported considerably more girth. Dylan moaned like a mare in heat as he felt the wide head of his master's shaft pressing lightly against his tailhole. He didn't give a passing thought to the fact that he was a complete stranger to any kind of penetration; there honestly weren't very many thoughts in his head at all. Master began to push against Dylan's tight bud, and the brainwashed stallion eagerly bucked back against him, letting out a bray of ecstasy as his hole was forced open, stretched to it's limit by the thick piece of stud meat that was swiftly burying itself inside him. The clydesdale went all the way from head to hilt in one long, brutal thrust. Normally, someone taking such a length so quickly would be screaming in agony, but, thanks to the brain melting barrage of hypnosis Dylan had been subjected to, the smaller stallion felt only a euphoric pleasure as he was violated. Master began a strong, fast rhythm, with Dylan squealing in ecstasy underneath him. The Arabian could feel every vein and ridge of his master's shaft as it rammed in and out of his tunnel, and soon a puddle of pre formed under his chest as his own cock head slid back and forth across the floor with each brutal thrust. The massive clydesdale had a look of triumph on his face as he bred his new mare, forcing the flared head of his cock deeper and deeper into Dylan's hot depths, the smaller stallion bucking and letting out loud brays of lust as his prostate was pounded again and again. "Cum for Master, little mare. Let me see how much you love me.". Dylan let out a long, quivering whinny as he obeyed, his cock throbbing against the cold floor as he unloaded his seed. His master laughed, a cruel and heartless sound, and finally allowed himself to finish, pumping spurt after spurt of stallion cream deep into the Arabian. The memory began to fade as Master pulled his cock free, a torrent of stud cum gushing out of Dylan's gaping, well used hole. It ran down his legs, pooling on the floor as the mindless Arabian spoke. "Thank you, Master! Thank you!" Dylan snapped back to the white room with a low moan. His body was trembling, and there was an all too obvious wetness under his tail. He caught himself rubbing his slick tailhole against the seat of the chair, and the scent of Master's seed was overwhelming. His tailhole ached, as if the clydesdale really had just bred him, and he struggled to push that needy desire out of his fragile, fraying mind. "Don't try to fight it, little pony. You enjoyed it then, and you enjoy it now. I can see you slipping away, slowly but surely. Everything that you see in the memories you get to feel as if they're happening for the first time.". Master's voice boomed and echoed in the little room, making Dylan's heart thump against his ribs. As thick stallion seed oozed down the legs of the chair from his abused ass, the Arabian mounted a cry of defiance. "Leave me alone! Go away! I don't want to see any more!". He hung his head against his sweaty chest, heaving for breath. "But there's more, little pony. How about the day you learned your name? Why don't we take a look there?" "My name is Dylan, and you can't make me forget it!" Dylan flinched as he felt his master whisper in his ear. "Oh, but you already have forgotten." The colors began to swirl yet again, and Dylan felt himself falling down into their grip. The stallion in the chair this time looked almost nothing like the proud Arabian that he had once been. His muscles were all but gone, leaving him looking frail and soft. His eyes were lifeless pools, and his hooves were painted an eye-aching shade of pink. His mane had been braided, and it hung long over his shoulders. It seemed his session with the headset had ended some time ago, but he had been left in the chair by himself, still tightly restrained. The Arabian's hips were bouncing off the seat of the chair, and gasping moans of pleasure filled the air. Each downward thrust of his hips resulted in a loud, wet slapping sound, his hard cock squirting musky pre across the floor. The stallion ceased his movements as he heard the door open, his chest heaving with exertion. A moment later, the Arabian let out a whinny of happiness as his master came into sight. "Master! Master, please breed me! I want your cock, Master!". The clydesdale approached his mindless pet with a soft chuckle, one hand reaching out to stroke his face. "That's my good pony. You look so pretty with your hooves painted and your mane braided like that.". The clydesdale quickly loosened the restraints on Dylan's arms and legs, releasing him from the chair. The captive Arabian immediately dropped to the floor, raising his ass in the air. His long, flowing tail had been trimmed down into a feminine bob, and black leather straps ran around his formerly muscular thighs and waist, holding a toy that rivaled his master's cock in length and girth firmly in his tailhole. The Clydesdale chuckled and unbuckled the leather straps, the toy staying in place for a brief second before falling to the floor wet a wet "plop", a moan of pleasure erupting from Dylan's mouth at the sudden feeling of emptiness. His tailhole gaped noticeably, loose from rough breeding sessions and the almost constant presence of the massive toy. Master chuckled as he easily slid almost his entire fist into the ruined opening, making Dylan squirm with obvious enjoyment. "Such a good pony you've turned into…". The Arabian moaned and trembled under the larger equine, his hindquarters bucking back against his master's probing fist. The clydesdale planted his free hand against Dylan's hip, holding him back from impaling himself. The Arabian let out a soft whinny of frustration as he tried to force himself backwards against Master's hand, the head of his hard shaft already sitting in a sticky puddle of his own pre. "Now, then, little pony… I want you to tell me what your name is. If you do that for me, you can have what you want. Do you know your name?" The Arabian's brow furrowed, his dull eyes wide as he struggled to string a coherent thought together. "The lights told you what your name is, pony. Try to remember it." There was a long minute of almost absolute silence, the only sounds that of the prostrate Arabian panting. Suddenly, he threw his head back, letting out a bray of pathetic accomplishment. "Broodmare! My name is Broodmare!". The stallion was rewarded with the removal of his master's hand from his hip, allowing him to throw himself backwards onto the clydesdale's fist with a whinny of triumph. "That's my good pony. Tell me your name again." "Broodmare! Broodmare!". The word was screamed in between thrusts of the brainwashed equine's hips, his master's whole forearm now buried in his hot, loose depths. "That's a good little pony.". Broodmare continued to slam his hips against his master's clenched fist and muscular arm, panting as his prostate was pummeled again and again. His cock hung hard and needy, drooling a steady stream of musky pre onto the floor. After several minutes, the clydesdale slid his free hand under Broodmare's bobbed tail, forcing it in alongside his other hand. The Arabian let out a gasping moan as his already ruined tailhole was spread even wider, and his thrusting hips took on an almost frantic pace. "You may cum, Broodmare." The words seemed to flip a switch in the Arabian's murky mind. His whole body shook violently as he continued to buck his hips backward, and a long, screaming bray of release echoed through the room. A long jet of cum erupted from his hard shaft, expanding the puddle of fluid underneath him as he was finally rewarded with a climax. Master kept his fists buried deep inside the smaller stallion, revelling in the feeling of Broodmare's ruined muscles quivering and clenching against him. He finally withdrew, his fists sliding out of the Arabian's gaping tunnel with a lewd slurp. Broodmare collapsed to the floor, panting. "That's my good little mare." The Arabian's eyes were dim and unfocused as he returned to the white room again. He let out a low groan, his tailhole hot and inflamed against the cold metal of the steel chair, and he could feel that the toy was once again lodged firmly inside him. He felt a whisper in his ear, though he was too exhausted to turn his head. "What's your name, little pony?" The stallion's answer was immediate. "Broodmare…. My name is Broodmare." "Very good.". The Arabian was rewarded with a condescending pat on the head, a motion that made the captive stallion grind his hips against the chair with a low groan of desperate lust. "Would you like to see more, Broodmare?". The brainwashed Arabian nodded slowly, unable to help himself as he ground the toy deeper into his ruined tailhole. "That's my good little pony. How about the day you truly started becoming a mare?" Broodmare heard the telltale "clop" of Master's hoof striking the floor, and he was once again drawn into the strobing, intoxicating lights. Broodmare was once again perched on the chair, the headset tight over his face and ears. Low groans and whimpers escaped his open, drooling mouth as his body twitched against his bonds. Abruptly, the Arabian's body went limp, indicating that his session with the headset was over. A moment later, Master entered the room and began to unbuckle the smaller equine from the chair, setting the headset and ear phones aside. "What did the lights tell you this time, Broodmare?" The Arabian's face was downturned, and tears began to stream down his face in a pathetic display of mindless confusion and panic. Master stroked Broodmare's braided mane in mock concern. "What's wrong, little mare?" "The lights…. They said…. I can't be your mare…". The look on the stallion's face was one of despair, as if he had just discovered his entire world was crashing down around him. Master gave the brainwashed equine a soft, cruel smile. "But they also told you how you can fix that problem, didn't they? Think hard, Broodmare." The Arabian's brow furrowed in a now familiar semblance of deep thought. "Yes, Master, they told me… They told me how to make myself a mare…" Master reached into his pocket and withdrew a gleaming silver device that resembled a pair of pliers, and a small bag of black rubber rings. He held them out to Broodmare, and the Arabian took them with a look of awe on his face. "You know how to use them, little mare. The lights told you, right?" Broodmare nodded enthusiastically. He took a ring from the bag and slid it over the end of the elastrator, squeezing the handle to make the ring expand wide. "Show me what the lights want you to do. It's going to feel so good, little pony." The Arabian nodded, lowering the device to his groin with a soft whinny of happiness. There was no hesitation or fear in the Arabian's mind as he again flexed the band open. With his free hand, Broodmare guided his heavy testicles through the open ring, panting with excitement. "Make yourself my little girl, Broodmare. You want it, don't you?" Broodmare trembled, an electric thrill running through his body. "Yes, Master!". The Arabian released the handles on the elastrator, and the ring snapped shut over the top of his heavy sack. Rather than the gut-wrenching pain that most would have felt, a wave of ecstasy washed over Broodmare's body as he gelded himself. His body shoved back into the chair with a long moan of satisfaction. Master took the elastrator from his captive's trembling hand and fitted another ring into it. He pressed it back into Broodmare's shaking hand and then took a step back. "You aren't done yet, Broodmare. You know what else needs to be done." The Arabian nodded, taking the device obediently. "Yes, Master!". With his testicles already starting to swell grotesquely from the lack of blood flow, the brainwashed equine regarded his own hard cock with a look of disgust that bordered on hatred. He expanded the ring, and threaded his hard shaft through the middle, bringing the elastrator down to the base of his cock. Long strings of pre dribbled to the floor as the gelding looked to his Master for approval. The clydesdale's eyes were alight with a look of sadistic glee as he watched the elastrator descend slowly. "Do it, little mare!". The band snapped shut, the gelding's body bucking back into the chair violently. The elastrator fell to the floor as Broodmare felt a wave of euphoria wash over him. He thrashed in the chair, his engorged cock bouncing erratically as his body tried desperately to orgasm, though nothing could make it past the pair of tight, constricted bands. After a minute or two, the gelded stud's eyes rolled back and he fell into a deep, unconscious sleep. Master regarded the Arabian with a look of amused contempt, and then withdrew a small vial of viscous liquid and a syringe from his pocket. He filled the syringe, and then slid it's needle cleanly into the unconscious gelding's neck. He depressed the plunger, then pulled the needle out and capped it. It, along with the vial, went back into his pocket. The clydesdale absently stroked Broodmare's swollen member, the organ already beginning to turn a sickly shade of purple. His heavy balls were in much the same state, hanging low and swollen over the edge of the chair. It would take an hour or so for them to die completely, but the clydesdale had nothing but time. He left the room, leaving Broodmare to sleep. Broodmare snapped back to the white room with a gasp. The Arabian's gaze drifted downward to his groin, a fuzzy sense of happy apathy settling into him as he examined himself. Where his proud, ten-inch cock had once been sat a limp, inch-,long nub of soft flesh. From the lack of the sensation of his balls sitting against the cold steel of the chair, he knew that they, too, were gone. For some reason, the former stallion didn't care in the least. He couldn't even remember what it had been like before he had been gelded. The Arabian let out a low moan as the feeling of the bands snapping shut on his unwanted equipment flooded his mind, sending him into a fit of shivering ecstasy. Broodmare looked up to see Master regarding him with a small smile. "Is my little mare happy?" The gelding nodded enthusiastically. "Yes, Master! I'm happy to be your mare!" "Good girl.". The clydesdale rubbed the gelding's ears, making the pathetic creature moan with need. "I think we're done here, little mare.". Master clicked his hoof on the floor one last time, and the room faded to black. Broodmare blinked frantically as the headset was removed, letting the bright light invade her eyes. It had been several months since the Arabian had been coaxed into gelding herself, and her body had changed substantially in that time period. Once Master had starved the former stallion enough to cause the lean, hard muscle to fade away, the clydesdale had put the gelding on a diet full of fatty foods. That, combined with the lack of testosterone and the massive doses of female hormones injected into her every day, had caused Broodmare's hips to fill out beautifully. The gelding had also started to fill out in the chest, and she now sported the equivalent of a perky set of B-cup breasts that were filling out more every week. Broodmare's voice had changed, as well. Her formerly thick, masculine voice had been replaced by a higher-pitched register that had a pronounced, effeminate lilt to it. By now, the gelding had forgotten that she had ever been a proud stallion. In her muddled, foggy mind, she had always been like this. Master looked deep into Broodmare's dull, cloudy eyes with a smirk of satisfaction. Before, there had been a tiny, obnoxious glimmer of awareness deep in the gelding's eyes. The clydesdale was thrilled to see that that tiny glimmer had finally been extinguished permanently. "Stand up, little mare. Show me how beautiful you are." The feminized, gelded equine rose from the chair obediently with a soft whinny. "Yes, Master!". The gelding twirled slowly, letting her master admire his handiwork. He had clothes the gelding in a pair of pink lace panties that barely covered the telltale straps that still held the massive toy in her destroyed tailhole, and a matching bikini top covered her budding breasts. The stallion halted the gelding's slow twirl. "Let me see.". It was a simple command that he had programmed into the gelding's ruined brain, and one he enjoyed using immensely. Broodmare let out a low groan of arousal as she slid her panties down her thighs, exposing the tiny nub of flaccid flesh that had once been his cock. Master felt a stirring in his groin as he nodded, a subtle command for the gelding to continue. She turned and raised her bobbed tail, unhooking the straps that held the toy in her ass. It fell to the floor instantly, her tailhole gaped beyond all hope of repair. Master occasionally took the toy out for extended periods of time just so he could watch the gelding's body void itself helplessly onto the floor or into the seat of her chair. In such circumstances, Broodmare didn't even notice that she had messed herself, which the clydesdale found intensely amusing and arousing. The big draft horse stood and let his pants fall to the floor, making the gelding whinny in excited anticipation of being bred. Master forced her roughly over the back of the chair, his wide head slipping into her gaping, ruined hole with no resistance. He hilted her in one long thrust, making the feminized gelding squeal and bray with pleasure. As he bred his mare hard and fast, her brays of ecstasy echoed through the room, her mind empty of everything except for sexual pleasure and the adoration she felt for her master. All in all, she was a happy little broodmare.