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Ebony Pony Ranch: Spirited Away

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Glephnir slowly chewed his feed out of the bag tightly tied to the front of his mouth. Blinders placed on the sides of his head keep him focused, his vision mostly blocked by the bag as he mindlessly chews away. He shifts slightly in his stall, his rubber clad body squeaks, as his weight shifts on his hoofed feet. His wings tightly bound, smoothed over by layers of black rubber, and further bound by four light blue bands that keep them tightly furled. The only part of the mighty dragon that is uncovered is his head, the blue scales, black flowing mane, and softly glowing blue eyes, which are slightly glazed over as he happily eats his meal after having done yet another successful trot around the ranch pulling mistress Ebony in her cart.

“Good Spirit.”

“Spirit is doing a good job.”

“You are Spirit.”

“Spirit is a pony.”

“You are a pony.”

The echoing hypnotic words that mull in the back of his mind as his head is left empty, nothing to think about, nothing to do, simply focus on eating. Keeping up his strength. His arousal from his predicament is beyond measure. His heavily chastised cock twitches within his slit, as there is nothing there but a smooth crotch, not even a bulge to give hint of what is underneath.

Glephnir relaxes more as he continues to eat. His tongue slips out of his maw, past the bit that is still forced into his mouth to the delicious sweet oats that await him. As he slowly grinds away, his body further relaxes, his muscles no longer sore from the strict trotting regiment that he is rigorously put through by mistress Ebony.

“This is not bad. Rather nice. Calming. Easy,” Glephnir thinks as he continues to chew and relax. Relax and chew. His massive tail sways slow and low as the tip of it touches the back of his simple wooden stall. Hay on the ground provides a thin layer of cushion for his feet as the smell of rubber mixes heavily with the oats from the bag. He hears others in similar predicaments like himself. Others being called “good pony” the sound of which sends shivers down his spine, causing his aching member to twitch, reminding him just how desirable his situation is, how much his lustful mind wants this, desiring it, the strong domineering dragon, pacified by unbridled lust mixing with the soft soothing voice that he thinks he can hear, or simply imagined as his own thoughts.

“Good ponies obey.”

“Good ponies get pleasure.”

“You want to be a good pony Spirit.”

“Be a good pony.”

“Want nothing more than to be a good pony.”

“A good mindless pony.”

“No thoughts.”

“No worries.”

“No concerns.”

“Simply obey.”

Glephnir lets out a soft neigh, his body shivers again, his bound wings twitch in the tight rubber that squeezes all around him. Suddenly his ears twitch he hears a noise, one he recognizes over all the other sounds of ponies clip clopping through the stalls.

What little Glephnir can see in front of him is now completely taken up by the sight of sleek black rubber and a dark blue corset, “Did you have a good meal Spirit?” Ebony says into his mind. Glephnir looks up to the smooth faceless anthropomorphic pony and yet another tingle runs down his spine all the way to his groin where his member twitches in aching delight.

“Obey Ebony. Serve Ebony. Good ponies obey Ebony,” the voice whispers in the back of Glephnir’s mind.

Glephnir raises one of his hind legs and lets out down in one solid clop.

“Good Spirit. Glad to hear,” Ebony says as she unbinds the bag around Glephnir’s muzzle. Glephnir chews what little food he manages to get before the bag is removed, licking his lips as he feels the smooth rubber hoofed fingers caress around his scales.

“You’ve been doing very good with your lessons Spirit. ‘Praise from Ebony is the highest reward.’ But I feel you are still holding out. “Spirit Obeys Ebony.’ A little bit more to go and you will be perfect. ‘You want to say yes.’ You want to be perfect for me, Spirit don’t you? ‘Say yes.’ ”, Ebony asks as soft whispers in the back of Glephnir’s mind are caressed and whispered into his thoughts under Ebony’s words.

Glephnir raises his hind leg and stomps once and with that Glephnir can “feel” a smile come across Ebony’s smooth faceless muzzle. She continues to caress his head, pulling out a comb to brush Glephnir’s hair.

“That is what I thought Spirit,” She whispers into Glephnir’s mind. Ebony’s smooth voice lulls Glephnir even further into his relaxed state as she continues to comfortably brush Glephnir’s mane. Each stroke tugs at his hairs, soothing, relaxing rhythmic that he feels himself get lost in the moment, simply relaxing into his state of helplessness as he enjoys the simple things in life.

Ebony slowly stops her brushing, putting the comb away as she then pulls out a riding crop which she runs along under Glephnir’s chin, “Are you ready to be complete Spirit? ‘You want to be Spirit. Be complete.’ ** To become the perfect dragon pony that you are meant to be? *‘Spirit is a good pony. Spirit is perfect.’ * To become my good mare? **‘Spirit wants to be a good girl.’ ” Ebony says as the whispers continue underneath Ebony’s words, pushing through Glephnir’s swiss cheese holes of mental defense.

Glephnir feels a compulsion to obey, to say what is right. With a soft nicker and a raise of his hind leg he lets out a single stomp.

“Good Spirit. I knew you would agree,” Ebony says as she walks around to the other side of the stall, unlocking the gate as she lets out a firm command that Glephnir gleefully obeys, “Back.”

“This isn’t bad. This is so nice. I really like this,” Glephnir thinks. His mind slowed and simplified by having all his decisions thought out for him over the past several days. With a proper gait, he clip clops backwards out of his stable. Ebony firmly grips Glephnir’s reins as she lets out another wonderful command.

“Come.”

Simple and elegant are her commands with a force equal to that of a deity, that Glephnir could not even think of disobeying as Ebony gently guides him out of the barn stalls. The view of dozens of other faceless ponies and those who simply want to try the “lifestyle” no longer grab his attention like it once did when he came here what feels like ages ago, but in reality has been slightly under a week.

Each step he lifts his feet high for a proper trot before bringing it down onto the gravel ground with a soft crunch. The sudden shifting of rocks under his hooves no longer provides any challenge to him as he adjusts to the unbalanced ground on the fly with near perfect precision.

So lost in his world that he does not even notice that those who are new to the ranch have taken notice of him. Their eyes locked onto the glistening rubber of this ponied up feral dragon, his massive form made sleek and curvy under the latex.

Pulled ahead towards the big red barn that sits in the middle of the congestion of this ranch, the homestead far off in the back, a place he has never even thought of going as his place has always been the pony stalls which is only a minute walk away. He looks ahead to the bright red and white highlighted painted barn as he breathes slow and steady.

His body recalls the last time he was here. The slick painting of rubber that now covers nearly every inch of his body. The slendering of his form to better fit the pony shape that Ebony wants him to have. The tightening of his chastity to the point no one can tell his true gender. Pleasant memories that rush into him and add to the building levels of his arousal, and eagerness to go in.

The doors swing open, the same blinding light prevents him or anyone else from peering inside as he hears Ebony’s one single but unyielding command, “Forward.”

Without hesitation despite being unable to see past the light he walks forward, into the glorious plans that Ebony has for him. Glephnir’s vision blurs, his eyes shut tight as the light is too great for him to handle but when he opens his eyes, he is not where he expects. Gone are the vats of rubber and the machinery that painted the rubber upon his body. Instead he is greeted with dozens of stalls split onto two floors. Two thirds of the stalls are filled with smooth rubber ponies much like mistress Ebony, a few a bit more feral like himself.

Through his limited vision Glephnir sees that in these stalls each pony is bound onto a treadmill. Ropes keep them steady as they walk-in picture-perfect gait. Their screens each individualized to each pony are a little hazy to look at and glancing to them made him feel ever calmer. Some of the ponies have rubber gas masks hoods with rubber ribbed hoses attached. A soft hiss of air can be heard as they breathe in the air pumped into the mask. Their steps smooth, calm, collected, with perfect gait in step with the conveyor belt that moves steadily underneath them to keep them nearly perfectly still within the center of the contraption.

“Come Spirit,” Ebony commands as Glephnir is tugged forward up a walkway to the second floor. His hooves clip clop against the wood which creaks under his weight, adding to the sensation of an old-fashioned barn. Guided past several stalls he is eventually pulled into one designed for his large feral size. In the center of this stall is a large treadmill, the conveyor belt painted to look like a dirt road that he’d follow down when he would walk around the ranch.

Ebony gently guides Glephnir onto the treadmill. His hoofs sink into the treadmill's belt as if it was made out of memory foam. Each step felt as soft as he was walking clouds, “Stop” Ebony commands as the words whisper into his mind, “Good Spirit. Obey. Listen to Ebony.”

A soft hum of machinery comes to life the moment Glephnir stops in his position all the while Ebony takes the various straps tied to the treadmill and tethers Glephnir in place. With each click of the reigns that are attached to him, the more bound he feels to his position, unable to escape what Ebony has planned for him, and worse yet, not even wanting to escape regardless of what Ebony has in store.

Unable to be seen by Glephnir except for vague movements out of the peripherals of his vision a massive crotch encasement comes down from the ceiling. Wires and tubes are attached to the three pieces that make up the device, each held by mechanical arms that move in perfect synchronization as they wrap around the base of Glephnir’s tail and slides snuggly over his crotch.

Glephnir feels the pressure of the device around his lower region, his chastised cock twitches as it feels pressure put upon it by this large device. As a shiver of pleasure moves through him, Glephnir shifts his weight from one leg to the other and with it his hips sway. To Glephnir’s surprise the device moved perfectly with his movements, making it feel weightless around him, despite squeezing his sensitive rubber clad crotch.

Ebony inspects the device, her smooth rubber hoofed fingers run across the curved metal, “This will perfect your gender. The best ponies are female. You want to be the best pony, don’t you Spirit?” Ebony asks as a soft whisper comes into his mind, “Say yes. Spirit wants to be a good mare.”

Glephnir lets out a soft neigh, the thought of becoming female which only a week ago would have shocked and disgusted him. A mighty and viral male dragon himself become a female? Never. But now, faced with the prospect of permanently losing what little masculinity he has left all in favor of becoming Ebony’s perfect pony Spirit? The answer felt so clear that he barely hesitated at all. He raises one leg up and lets out a single stomp.

“Good Spirit,” Ebony says as the voices say, “Very good Spirit. Obey.”

Ebony saunters over in front of Glephnir, blocking his view of a simple blank white screen with the smooth black and blue rubber of his pony Mistress. Glephnir looks up at her, seeing her smooth face as he hears a whisper from those corruptive voices.

“Mistress has a lovely face.”

“Spirit wants a face like that.”

“Smooth.”

“Blank.”

“Empty.”

“Emotionless.”

“Perfect.”

“Spirit wants to be perfect.”

And as those whispers echo between the ever-growing space between Glephnir’s ears he thinks, “I want to be perfect…”

Ebony reaches down and caress Glephnir’s dragon muzzle, his blue scales soft and well-groomed from the constant pampering he’s received from his Mistress. She reaches around and unfastens the bridle from around his head. For the first time in what feels like ages the blinders are removed, breaking his complete focus on his Mistress, allowing him to see two other ferals in the stalls beside him, both faceless smooth rubber ponies mindlessly walking on the treadmill. The massive amounts of new visual information is jarring to Glephnir causing him to blink a few times.

Ebony’s hands gently caress Glephnir’s muzzle, her smooth rubber fingertips tease along his scales as she speaks softly into his mind, “Don’t worry Spirit. ‘Obey’ You’ll be focused on what is important very soon. ‘Listen to Ebony. All is well.’ ”

For a moment Glephnir feels a shiver, fear in his mind about what he sees, but as Ebony speaks and the whispers continue, his concerns melt away like an ice cube placed into a hot frying pan. Any desires not related to listening and doing what Ebony said were steadily boiling away.

Ebony raises her hand, her body squeaks with the movements as coming from the ceiling attached by two thick black rubber hoses is a black thick rubber pony gas mask with draconic features melded in, blending the two unique faces of a dragon and a pony into one aesthetically pleasing design. Glephnir can see two thick glass lenses built into the mask which have built in blinders put into them.

Ebony caresses the mask as she lowers it down, “Open your mouth Spirit. ‘Open. Obey.’ ” she commands as Glephnir did as he is told without question, without thought.

The mask is lowered down, and inside Glephnir sees shimmering rubber which as the masks shifts looks like a liquid, but when his scales touch clearly feel solid, but the cool rubber makes his body think it is wet.

But there is something else inside the mask that Glephnir sees. A thick massive black flared horse-shaped rubber dildo. The tip of which looked like it was dribbling thick black globes of pre-cum, but as Glephnir looked he thought, “Can’t be…”

The massive member presses against his lips, “Wider. ‘Obey’ ” Ebony commands and Glephnir does so. The sleek rubber spurts a little pre-cum onto his tongue. It’s tart yet intoxicating as he swears it wiggles as it is pushed past his lips, pressing his tongue down as the massive length fills his mouth, and further down his throat until he feels it bulge against the tightly secured rubber collar around his neck.

For a moment there is a gag-reflex but with a spurt of the pre-cum it instantly stopped, allowing the member to fully slink down as the rest of the rubber mask is tightly squeezed around his head. Glephnir’s vision focused once more to Ebony who stands in front of him. Glephnir also sees a little bit of the rubber tubes that dangle from the ceiling and attach to his mask. He swallows around the massive length as he feels it twitch and squirm as pre-cum dribbles down his throat, calming him even further.

His nostrils flare as the mask inflates, as Ebony pulls the mask on even tighter, making sure the cock is fully hilted into his mouth, the clipping sound of a zipper behind his head as he feels the rubber squeeze along the back of his noggin, his mane scrunched down underneath as for a moment the fear of some of his hair getting caught and tugged on enters his mind but as if reacting to his concern he hears a whisper.

“Relax. All is well.”

And with that, his fear subsides, the remainder of his head is perfectly sealed with the rubber pony gasmask as the mask itself goes all the way down to his collar, ensuring not a single scale is visible.

As Glephnir breaths in the mask deflates, squeezing tighter against his face, and within his muffled ears he then hears a hiss and the mask starts to inflate a little. Glephnir exhales the mask inflating only a little more, but when he inhales, instead of the thick scent and taste of rubber, he gets something more. A sweet smell akin to lilac or rosemary. Herbal yet sweet like honey and as the aroma filled his lungs, he felt a warmth spread out through him. Pushing him down deeper into his state of complacency. Everything begins to feel different, off, yet, strangely better.

“Good Spirit. I shall leave you here till you are done. You’ll be my perfect show pony,” Ebony says as she walks off, the muffled sound of the gate closing and locking behind him. Glephnir feels a temptation to look but the moment he thinks to move his head he hears, “Forward.” and the treadmill begins to move. Without hesitation and only a slight tug on the reins that keep him in place he begins to walk in place, his steps raised high, proud in perfect pony gait that he has been trained to do.

With each step and each breath Glephnir is relaxed further, the screen in front of him displaying a perfectly straight and seemingly endless path. A single small focal point for him to keep focus on, and as he does he could swear it is moving… swirling, but when he blinks the effect goes away only to return as he stares at it some more. And as he breathes in the gas, he finds himself ever so slowly blinking less and less, letting the swirl remain, lull him deeper into a trance, the tight rubber of the mask squeezing his head even further as he continues to walk down the endless path.

Clip, clop, clip, clop, a steady straight forward path. Glephnir’s rubber mask inflates… And slightly deflates as he breathes in, the warm soothing gas pumping into his airtight hood. Simple, smooth steps, the perfect gait, the device around his crotch begins to slowly hum, the vibration moves through his chastity device, which feels ever tighter as his cock twitches, and as his cock aches the vibration is added with a soothing warmth.

“Good girl.”

“Good Mare.”

“Good Spirit.”

“Spirit is a girl.”

“You are a girl.”

“A female pony.”

“A Mare.”

“Spirit is a Mare,” the voices whisper into Glephnir’s mind as he shivers and would moan if the massive equine cock was lodged so deep down his throat which strangely enough doesn’t hinder his breathing in the slightest.

“A girl? Me? But…” Glephnir thinks as he feels his cock twitch as the vibrations grow, the warmth even hotter, the pressure against the chastity device growing further still.

“You are a girl.”

“I am… a good girl?” Glephnir thinks as the pleasure in his lions increases, a surge of gas in his muzzle adds to the lull in his mind, making it feel ever so good to simply repeat what was said, to agree what the voice in his mind is saying. The long path, the delightful spiral at the center, drawing his mind further into the next level of his tranceful indoctrination, his eyes glazing over.

“Good girl Spirit.”

“Good… girl… hmmm Spir…it.” Glephnir thinks as another surge o gas fills his mask, the mask squeezes harder on his face, his mind drifting farther back into the passenger seat as his body takes further control of his actions as they become so simply automated.

At this moment there is a muffled hiss of machinery and clanking of gears as there is a subtle shift felt in the barn around him as there is a hint of movement behind the screen, but Glephnir can’t look away, he is too focused on the path he is walking. Aware but not caring of his transition further underground, the barn he was in a simple ruse to hide the full underground rubber ponyification operation that happens underneath the ground of those who prance and trot above.

It takes ten minutes for the training stables to reach their designated destination, and all the while the vibrations and warmth that presses down on his cock grows ever stronger, drawing his attention to it for a moment or two but then back to the path he is walking, his vision and mind tunneling to their one singular goal.

There are moments where Glephnir feels the pleasure between his two ever slender dragon-pony legs and it's just enough to draw his attention. His noticing subtle differences between the one sensation and the last, no matter how brief, Glephnir knows his cock and how aching it is, how much it wants to slip out and be free. But with each visit this sensation feels less powerful, less desire to “slip out”

The pressure between his legs grows stronger, but its external rather than internal, his chastity feels tight, but it's the pressure of the rubber that makes it feel this way. The desire to push out shifts on a scale from wanting to push out to have something else push in. Deeper and deeper the desire grows within Glephnir to feel something slip into her. Deeper and deeper she falls into her trance, deeper and deeper her female sex forms, her member disappearing into an aching throbbing labia trapped under the rubber which acts as her new form of chastity. Whatever device that was holding what used to be her throbbing cock has seemed to have melted away into the burning heat that is now her winking sex.

Glephnir pants heavily, the lustful lips of her sex, wanting to be filled for the first time, but forever denied distracts her mind, her higher levels of thought as she continues to stare at the endless path. The machine around her legs continues to work, developing her new sex, grinding those nether lips against the rubber, better molding herself to conform with her new identity.

Each twitch of her sex reinforcing one simple fact, “I’m a good girl.”

“You are a girl.”

“I am a girl.”

“Good girls obey.”

“I am a good girl. I obey,” Glephnir thinks as she drifts farther away from the once dominant dragon. She feels how soothing it is to simply do what she is supposed to do. To do what she is meant to do. Her arousal burning so strong in her, the desire to obey, to feel the delight of doing what she is told, to not think…

Glephnir continues to breathe in the gas within the mask as she continues to walk down the treadmill, neither slowing nor feeling tired as hours upon hours pass. Each breath fills her lugs with the soothing delight, her headspace drifting further down into a sea of tranquility.

And as each breath took place, subtle changes happen to Glephner that push her closer to her new state of being. As the massive cock seemed to meld into her mouth, the sensation that separates the rubber in her mouth and outside slowly disappears, its slow but it's noticeable after several hours of endless walking. A day passes? Perhaps two? As Glephnir no longer feels the cock in her mouth, though it feels just as stuffed as always, completely stuffed, solid, her vision perfect clarity focused forward as the gas rolls in, the sweet whispering voices keeping her mind idling at an ever increasing slowing speed as they finally go in to open up Glephnir to who she really is.

“You are not Glephnir.”

“I… I am not… Glep...nir.”

“You are Spirit.”

“I… am… Spi...rit.”

“There was never a Glephnir.”

“Nev...er a… Gleph...nir.”

“You’ve always been Spirit.”

“Always… Spir...it.”

“There is no Glephnir.”

“No Glep...nir.”

“Only Spirit.”

“On...ly...Spir...it,” Spirit thinks as whatever possible defenses that Spirit had on this Glephnir person were long broken away, and what pieces there were are swept away, emptied out of Spirit’s mind.

The rubber mask pushes harder and harder around Spirit’s muzzle. The sleek smooth rubber, the delightful gas fills her as she continues to trot along, endlessly focused on the path ahead of her.

Several more days pass as she continues to trot along. Sleek rubber presses against her head. Her smooth scales melt away under the rubber, her desire to blink long gone, and now feels like a foreign concept to her. Spirit continues to listen to the voices, as the slide in Spirit’s perfected personality.

“Spirit is a good mare.”

“Spirit is a good mare.”

“Spirit obeys.”

“Spirit obeys.”

“Spirit’s trainer is Mistress Ebony.”

“Spirit’s trainer is Mistress Ebony.”

“Spirit obeys Mistress Ebony.”

“Spirit obeys Mistress Ebony,” Spirit thinks without a hint of resistance. She doesn’t even notice that the stables shift slightly as over the next ten minutes she is brought back to the barn. She continues to mindlessly walk as other faceless ponies move in and grab a completed pony or two from the stables. She hears the noise of rubber squeaking, clip clopping of ponies being moved away, but she cares not for that. She is doing what she is supposed to do. Walking down the endless path with perfected precision.

Then she feels herself perk up ever so slightly. The gate behind her opens, deep down she feels the presence of her Mistress, Ebony. And seconds later she is rewarded by Ebony stepping into view. The perfect rubber pony that she is, but Spirit doesn’t stop, she continues to walk, continue to stare down the path, not wanting to break her perfect record.

“I’ve looked at your test results Spirit. They are coming along nicely,” Ebony says she runs her hoofed fingers across Spirit’s rubber mask, “I think it's time for the next stage,” she continues as the device around Spirit’s nether region is removed, and for the first time in days reminding her that they were even there.

Ebony walks behind Spirit and effortlessly runs her fingers across the smooth nether regions of Spirit’s body. A subtle nearly invisible camel toy is felt, and perhaps seen if the light reflects just right off of her smooth rubber body.

Mind blowing pleasure pours through Spirit as Ebony touches her most sensitive spot yet, despite this pleasure that would make lesser people fall to their knees in orgasmic bliss, Spirit continues to walk with her perfect gait like a mindless machine, as she wants nothing more than to please Ebony, and Ebony has not told her to stop, and so she does not.

“Very good. Let’s see how the front turned out,” Ebony muses as she walks back over to Spirit’s head and slowly unzips the gas mask. The rubber loosens around her head, but the feeling of tight smooth rubber remains. The mask pulls away peels away like two pieces of rubber stuck together in a closet for too long. It tugs on Spirit’s face, allowing her to feel the cool air rush in against her wonderfully perfect smooth face. Was it always smooth? Did it always feel this good?

Spirit didn’t question, it simply felt like this was right. As the mask pulls away there is no thick dildo that is attached to the inside of the mask. It doesn’t look like there was anything shoved in there at all. Did Spirit imagine that? Doesn’t matter. As the mask is lifted up above back into the ceiling, Ebony runs her rubber hooves along the perfectly smooth faceless head that Spirit has always wanted.

Pleasure rushes through Spirit but like before, it doesn’t distract her from her what she is supposed to do, continue her walk and focus on that spiral down the path, which is helped by her still restricted vision, despite there being no blinders on her perfectly smooth face.

“Perfect. Not a single flaw. Perfectly smooth. We’ll get a nice corset on you as we finish your training. Once you’re done, you’ll be ready to serve me, forever,” Ebony says as Spirit feels the joy and praise of what is said but doesn’t visibly react but does let out a soft whimpering neigh of delight.

“Good Spirit,” Ebony says as she slowly walks away, the gate closing behind her, leaving the perfectly smooth faceless dragon pony to continue her trot, while a set of mechanical arms descend down upon her, pressing and wrapping a slimming feral corset around her waist which would squeeze down and push any breath out of her if she had any now to begin with. Her waist slimmed down as her tightly bound wings felt perfectly in place as she continued to walk, unhindered by the clothing strapped and molded onto her person.

“Good Spirit. It is time to make you perfect.”

“You want to be perfect. Don’t you?”

Spirit mindlessly replied with a “Yes.”

“Good Spirit. Sink in deeper.”

“Deeper.”

“And deeper.”

“Deeper.”

“No thoughts.”

“No thoughts.”

“No worries.”

“No worries.”

“No cares.”

“No cares.”

“Now Spirit. It is time… to turn off your thinking. Does that sound good?” the whispers ask as there is a moment of silence, “It will make you perfect for Mistress Ebony.”

“Yes,” Spirit thinks.

“Good. We will now turn off your thinking. We will think for you, forever. Are you ready?”

“Yes.”

“Good. When we hit 0, you will no longer think. Simply Obey and do as you are told. Like the good perfect pony that you are.”

Another moment of silence passes before the count begins.

“10, give up all control.”

“9, shutting down those worries.”

“8, shutting down all those pesky concerns.”

“7, sinking deeper, powering down your consciousness.”

“6, relaxing further, letting your mind drift away.”

“5, letting it drift further and further.”

“4, shutting down your thoughts.”

“3, the power to your mind lessening.”

“2, powering down free will.”

“1, powering down self-determination.”

“0, shutting down completely. Letting your mind be completely spirited away.”

Several moments of silence pass before the voice speaks up.

“Are you there Spirit?”

There is no response.

“Perfect. We think for you, Spirit. Simply enjoy yourself,” the voice whispers as subconsciously Spirit knew this was the right thing to do. Not to think. Not to worry. The perfect pony drone for Mistress Ebony.

Over the next several days the process is further pressed into Spirit’s mind. She doesn’t react as the dam that is put in place to keep her mind empty is made ever stronger. The stables themselves are moved back into place two more times as new ponies are brought into the stables and other completed ones are taken away. The passage of time now means nothing to Spirit, simply doing her next task, and eventually that time comes.

Ebony returns on the third time the stables are brought back, and Ebony walks up to Spirit looking over her perfectly mindless pony, “Stop.” Ebony commands.

“Stop Spirit,” the voice whispers as Spirit stops.

Ebony reaches for her pony’s head and caresses it, slipping on a nice bridal, “Come.”

“Obey Ebony. Come Spirit.”

Spirit follows Ebony’s guiding hand, as she is led down the walkway pass dozens of new ponies who mindlessly walk their stalls. She doesn’t even register them; she simply looks ahead doing as she is told. Ebony guides Spirit out of the barn back to the bright sunny day that awaits her. Ahead of them is a lovely cart ready to be drawn by any pony that is hitched to it.

Spirit feels a tingle of excitement and pleasure. Her subconsciousness already anticipating what is coming soon as she is brought to the cart, “Stop” Ebony commands.

“Stop Spirit,” the voice whispers, guiding every thought for Spirit as she stands there, the perfect proud faceless pony, ready to be hitched and take Ebony wherever she wants, for however long she wants, eager to do as she is told, ready to live up to her name and Spirit her Mistress to wherever she desires...