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By mid-afternoon, Clopper's mind was stuck in a loop thinking back to the horrors and harsh realities he'd been exposed to so far.

Armless, gelded, mute sex slaves force to serve on a ranch as the property of some mad man who thought they'd look good in pony gear. Not only that, there looked to be an entire economy set up with paid staff, servants, handlers, and security guards. Each of them taking Mr. Brandt's cash and spending it to improve their own lives, even as they put youths such as him through hell.

Plus, from what Mathew could tell, the ranch owner had been at this for many years now. The lion couldn't even guess at what number 'stallion' he was. The fifth? The tenth? More? The teenager hadn't a clue and it scared him to think about what happened to the ponies who grew too old for the equine's taste.

It occurred to Clopper that perhaps these hypothetical 'retired' ponies were killed outright and then buried somewhere out of the way. Such as on the ranch itself or in the vast, empty plains which surrounded the estate. Or, if they weren't killed, Mathew shuddered to think of what happened to the other boys when the horse got tired of playing with them.

With his voice already taken from him, the lion would never be able to ask any of these desperate questions which burned hot within his mind. The ranch staff had already made it exceedingly clear that he wasn't here to have his curiosity satisfied or to have his nerves settled.

In the words of one handler, the bull, he was here to 'work hard, breed enthusiastically, and make free men happy'. Tom had told the lion this as the teen was forced to swallow the large man's salty load, so there was zero ambiguity on what the chief handler meant by making free men happy.

The bull didn't appear to be alone in his thinking, either. Clopper couldn't help but notice the looks many of the staff sent his way. Some peered his way out of what appeared to be innocent curiosity. But Mathew saw the hunger and lust in the eyes of many of the men who came by to see the new stallion.

One man, a panther, brazenly adjusted his crotch in front of the recently kidnapped pony. From the gun on his hip, he appeared to be security. But it was the large pants bulge that scared Clopper. The dark furred man stared at the maned lion for a good long while until he apparently made up his mind, striding purposely over towards the stallion as he unzipped his pants.

Time seemed to slow down and crystalize for the horrified boy as he realized that the panther planned on having casual, non-consensual sex with him right out here in the open, as if it were an every day common affair. Which, for this ranch in the middle of nowhere, perhaps it was.

Mathew took the sight of the panther in as the man walked towards him in slow motion. Large but not massive. Muscular but not bulky. The panther looked horny and hungry as his eyes scanned up and down Clopper's body like he was an appetizing meal or tasty prey. With his arms still tied tightly behind his back, there was nothing the teenager could do as the panther's cock flopped out into the open, swinging left and right like a grandfather clock's pendulum.

The stallion's eyes went wide at the sight of it. The jet-black member seemed too heavy and long compared to the guard's body type. It was a porn star's cock and it swayed with conviction as it hardened and grew in real time. In other circumstances, Mathew might have considered the man's unit to be attractive and impressive. But considering how he was kidnapped and that this man was effectively one of his kidnappers, the panther's shaft came across more as a threatening weapon than an appendage used for sensuous lovemaking.

In fact, the panther's entire physique had a porn star quality to it. The man exuded a dangerous sexuality and Mathew's mind was filled with images of the man gripping the back of his neck and forcing him to bend over. He pictured the man fucking him, hard and raw, and his own member responded to the mental stimulus by erecting rapidly as if it were greeting the man.

Soon he was as hard as he was when he was tied down to the table with the bull fucking his sore, stretched throat. Apparently a stallion's body was always primed for sex and it didn't much matter the manner of the sex or who it was with. And all it had taken to turn Clopper into a 'feral' whore was a few injections, some bondage, and a ranch full of demanding tops.

It tore at the teenager's psyche as he found that part of him wanted this. Part of him wanted this dangerous, sexy panther to pull him into a stall, force him to his knees, and fuck his face just as roughly as the chief handler had. He wanted this stranger to talk down to him. To slap his face and spit on him. His surging hormones welcomed the idea of the security guard putting him in his place as the man mocked his uncontrollable need and involuntary nudity.

The more sane and drug-resilient parts of Mathew's brain rebelled against this idea. These aspects of the former gas station attendant's personality understood that his need to fuck and be fucked was the result of the cocktail of drugs the hippo had him on.

He hadn't asked for this. He didn't volunteer to be transformed into an armless, voiceless pony. He didn't want to spend his days sweating for his captor as he worked the ranch under the harsh sunlight. Never seeing his friends again. Never going to the movies. Never lounging on the couch with the frigid air conditioning blasting down on him from the indoor ceiling vent. Never taking your own member in hand for an unhurried, spontaneous masturbation session.

But there was nothing he could do about it. His cock throbbed despite his powerlessness. Or, perhaps, in part because of this powerlessness. The man was almost upon him now and the panther's expression was one of focus and determination. His porn star cockhead was moist and dripping, already wet in anticipation of the pleasure it would find as it forcefully probed Clopper's warm, tight insides.

And then Conner returned. Just moments from arriving too late and finding Clopper gone, the boy noiselessly grunting as the security guard claimed him.

Oblivious to the guard's approach, the cheetah took Clopper's reins in hand and pulled him away. The panther scowled in annoyance as his sizable equipment twitched in unsatisfied need. Clopper's arousal likewise flexed, his body having already accepted that it was time for sex.

As they left the barn, the cheetah must have spotted the lion's troubled expression because he looked behind them and said, "Oh, him? That's Dean, Head of Security. You don't need to be scared of him. Just... don't get on his bad side."

Then, spotting the panther's unmistakable ebony spire, the handler muttered, "Oops. Looks like I should take my own advice. I think I just unintentionally cock-blocked him. Oh well. It's not like you're going anywhere. If he really wants a taste of you, he can come back in the evening."

But looking over his own shoulder at the panther, Clopper saw that it was no longer he who the security officer was glaring at. Rather, the panther was pointedly staring at the back of the cheetah's head with an intense expression. Mathew couldn't decipher the look but it didn't portend good news for the handler.

Strangely, despite how he'd been treated on the ranch, the pony felt compelled to warn the cheetah. About what, he wasn't sure. But the way the man was looking at Conner spelled trouble. It was predatory, dominant, and completely pitiless.

However, there was nothing Mathew could do. Without his voice, he could only glance back and forth between the two men, neither one of them paying any attention to him.

Then Clopper briefly stumbled because he wasn't watching where his hooved-feet were stepping and got a sharp slap in the balls for his trouble.

"Watch your feet! Fuck, man. If you break an ankle in your first week, it's my head Mr. Brandt will put on a pike. And I'm not sure that's hyperbole."

His eyes tearing up and his balls already swelling in their sack from the smack, Clopper decided to give up on the idea of warning the handler. Whatever the panther had planned for him, Conner would just have to deal with it himself.

=================

When they got to their destination, Mathew regarded Conner with a look that said, 'You must be kidding.'

But the cheetah didn't appear to be joking.

"Today you're going to practice hauling dirt. You'll start at the big mound of dirt over on that side of the field. There, a junior handler will fill up the cart you'll be strapped to. Then you'll pull the cart across the field to that much smaller mound of dirt. A second junior handler will help you unload the dirt. Then you go back to the first mound and repeat the process. You're done when the mound is completely moved or when the sun sets. Whichever comes first."

To the stallion, this sounded crazy. What was the point? Where was the benefit? Did Mr. Brandt really get off on having kidnapped teenagers sweat and strain under the hot sun, toiling away performing irrelevant, physically demanding tasks?

The lion felt himself growing angry and frustrated. Embarrassingly, his cock responded to his agitated emotional state by growing rock hard and flexing.

Conner batted it away playfully only for the erection to bounce around comically before returning to its jutting, outright position.

"No, boy. You won't be needing that for today's work. But do a good job and we'll see about breeding you tomorrow morning. Maybe we'll put Lusty back in that horse breeding contraption, except this time you'll be the stallion putting him through his paces."

Remembering the sight of the lights and cameras surrounding the slanted breeding table, Mathew didn't like the sound of that at all. Well, most of him didn't like the idea. His rod, on the other hand, bobbed and strained energetically at the thought of fucking the bound fox.

"I have some stuff to take care of now, so I'll leave you to the junior handlers. Take your work seriously and they'll treat you well. Goodbye, Clopper! I'll be by later to escort you back to your sleeping stall."

And with that, the cheetah turned around and walked away.

For the first time, Mathew found himself alone and unbound, other than his arm restraints. His mind began to race.

Was this the best time to attempt an escape? Maybe this would be the best chance he'd ever get? Or was this a trick? Maybe they hid some GPS tracker on his equipment or injected one under his fur while he was at the vet?

If he didn't run now and he never got a second chance, would he forever regret it? If he didn't manage to escape, wasn't it effectively guaranteed that he'd end up like Tight-end and the rest of the ponies? Armless, broken, trained, and eventually castrated?

Clopper's voice was already lost, but he still had his balls and his arms. He still had his dignity and his pride. His sense of self worth and his shame. Because he had no intention of allowing himself to be turned into a rich man's plaything. Into a beast of burden who hauled dirt during the hot days and bred other kidnapped boys during the cool evenings.

He didn't want to be filmed like Lusty, his degrading treatment permanently captured on digital film. He didn't want to be Mr. Brandt's favorite mare, fucked in his stall by the horse while the man's warm breath whispered dirty, demeaning things into his ear. He didn't want to be the ranch staff's plaything, made to go down on men who pitied him but wouldn't lift a finger to help him.

He didn't -- he couldn't --- it wasn't fair -- it, it wasn't --- Ahh!

Clopper's bound body spasmed as his mind raced, his heart pounding in his chest and his lungs cycled massive gasps of air. The stallion was dimly aware of two skunk twinks approaching him as he shuddered and shivered.

What was happening to him? He felt hot and cold at the same time. His balls felt like they were about to explode from internal pressure. Mathew's eyes began to roll up into his head as his hoofed boot stomped the ground.

"Is he about to...?" one of the skunk twinks asked.

"Yep!" the other cheerfully replied. "I heard the same thing happened to Tight-end. Spontaneous ejaculation."

"Oh wow!" the first boy replied as he scampered over to get a better look at the stallion. The twink got into position and out of the way just in time as Clopper's shaft began to erupt in an epic series of cumshots. One volley followed the next, each spray thick and long as it flew through the air and landed on the green grass.

"I can't believe it!" the first one said, his voice full of wonder. "Nothing is even touching him! He's just cumming on his own!"

"Yep," the second confirmed, the teenager trying to sound wiser and more experienced than he was. "It's because of the injections," the skunk went on to explain. "The stallion's body isn't used to them yet his mind got stuck in a sexual feedback loop. He got himself worked up and that triggered his orgasm. Dr. Marcus explained it to me."

"You mean while you were sucking his cock!" the first boy teased. Clopper was barely even aware of their existence as he rode out the rest of his earth-shaking climax.

"Hey, you were sucking his balls! Don't act innocent," the other retorted.

"That was only because he pushed them into my mouth. Dr. Marcus is really strong!"

"Don't fib. It was just the one ball. They're too big for both to fit in your mouth. Besides, I remember because after he came, he pushed the other one into my mouth. Remember? He called us his 'little ball warmers'"

"Oh yeah, I remember."

"You're so ditsy. Mom always said so."

"You take that back! Just because you were born a few minutes before me doesn't mean you're any smarter!"

"Well, I am the smarter one!"

"Well, I'm the prettier one!"

"Well, I'm the more handsome one!"

"Well, I'm--"

And things continued on in this manner as all thoughts of escape were temporarily blown out of Clopper's mind, his body reeling from the aftershocks of the strongest orgasm he'd ever experienced. It was so strong and pleasurable that the lion's mind recalled the words the evil hippo spoke to him as the man had slowly injected the restrained teenager's prostate.

"Shhhh, boy," the veterinarian had said to him at the time, the boy's eyes watering from the pain. "I know it hurts now but it's a small price to pay for the days of pleasure ahead of you. Your entire body will become one giant erogenous zone. Even your cute little nipples will feel like tiny erections as they poke out, perky on your chest. You'll see. One day you'll understand how lucky you were for Mr. Brandt to bring you into your new family. Your herd."

Mathew wanted to hate the man. And to a large extent, he did. But as his body shuddered with pleasure from his touch-free orgasm, he also felt gratitude towards the hippo.

And then the moment passed and joy and light turned to disgust and shame. That's when Clopper blinked and saw the two skunks twins bickering back and forth on either side of him.

The stallion first noticed the streams of cum covering the ground in front of him, which only caused his blush and sense of shame to deepen. Then the teenager noticed the walkie-talkies on the skunks' belts and knew his window of opportunity to attempt an escape had passed. If he ran now, neither boy was likely to give chase. But they would certainly call it in and then cars with guards would be sent after him.

After another minute or two of back and forth play fighting, the twins finally realized that the stallion was looking down at them.

"Oh," the second boy said. "I guess he's done dirtying the ground with his thick horse cum."

"You say you're so smart, but you call him a horse! He's a pony, not a horse. Mr. Brandt is a horse!"

"I knew that. I was just testing you!"

And so the bickering briefly resumed. But less than a minute later, it ceded again as abruptly as it had started.

"Look, it's still hard," noted the boy on the left, to Mathew's horror.

"You mean 'he'. He still has his balls so he's a boy. When the doctor pops them off, that's when he's a girl and becomes a she."

"But aren't they all the owner's mares?" the first twin asked, somewhat confused by the explanation.

"All the ponies are Mr. Brandt's mares. But he has boy mares and girl mares. Well, one boy mare anyway. There's only ever one stallion at a time. And Mr. Brandt breeds his boy mare more than the girl mares."

"How do you know all this?"

"Dr. Marcus likes to tell me things, while I suck his dick."

"You're such a slut!"

"Not as big of a slut as you!"

Eventually it dawned on the two youths that they should introduce themselves to their new charge.

"Oh, yeah. Hello Clopper! We're going to be in charge of you for today. We're your handlers. My name is Timmy!" said the boy on the left.

"And I'm Billy," said the boy on the right. Followed by, "We're twins in case you couldn't tell. But I'm the older twin, so I'm smarter."

"As if!" argued Timmy, partly annoyed but mostly just pretending to be annoyed.

"Anyway, we're junior handlers because of our age. But we'll work really hard to make sure you get all your work done today. Tom said we could even whip your balls if you needed extra encouragement!" the second skunk exclaimed excitedly, as if Clopper should be happy about the news.

"Yeah," Timmy agreed. "But if you're good and you work hard, we'll play with your cock."

As if to prove the point, the young lad reached out and started stroking Mathew's sensitive member with his paw.

Not to be outdone, Billy joined him as the two twins engaged in a joint handjob. Unable to help himself, the first thought that popped into Mathew's head was that these two boys were too young and that he could get into serious legal trouble if he was caught getting a handjob by the pair. He was nineteen and so an adult. He wasn't sure of the two boys' age, but no way could they be eighteen yet.

Then the pony remembered where he was and his circumstances and realized that there was no one around within miles who would care or object to seeing an older boy get fondled by two twinky lads. They were 'free men' and he was an animal sex slave.

Still, he had his own thoughts about what was right and wrong and tried to take a step back. But without missing a beat, Billy used his other hand to grab a hold of Clopper's balls to hold the stallion in place.

"We have lots of practice," Timmy bragged. "We used to give Tight-end handjobs all the time. Before he got gelded, that is. He had a big knot so it was fun. It had thick veins running all over it! I'd squeeze on it as hard as I could and he'd go all weak in the knees. It was funny because of how big and strong he is. One time I squeezed so hard he passed out onto the hay. I had to kick him in the balls to get him to stand back up."

"But we're not allowed to put our mouths on you," Billy expanded. "We did that a couple times with Tight-end but someone saw us and we got in big trouble. Mr. Brandt himself spanked us, because Tight-end is his property. It was really embarrassing because we cried and he made us apologize. Timmy got paddled first so it was extra scary for me because I had to watch before it was my turn. So anyway, we can't suck you because your balls are full of addictive drugs, Dr. Marcus says."

"Yeah, if we kept swallowing your pony cum, we'd get addicted just like the geldings. Then we'd be total sluts!"

"You're already a total slut!"

"Am not!"

"Am too!"

"Well, you are too!"

"Nuh-uh!"

The two resumed arguing even as they jointly stroked the stallion. Mathew felt himself gradually becoming aroused again and felt sick to his stomach as he realized these under-aged boys might actually make him cum with their soft, insistent hands.

That's when another thought intruded into the kidnapped teen's brain. Didn't Conner say something about deep-throating the doberman and letting the canine fuck him? And hadn't the cheetah seemed oddly desperate to swallow his cum? Could it be that the handler was addicted to 'stallion' cum, like Lusty and the other geldings?

This fact seemed incredibly important but for a long moment the lion couldn't decide why. The skunk twins hands jointly pumping his shaft weren't helping, as it became extra hard to think while the two twinks play-fought with each other while stroking him off.

Eventually, it hit him. He had been considering trying to win Conner to his side and getting the man to help him escape, since he seemed nicer and more thoughtful than the other handlers. The friendly handler seemed more likely to think of Clopper as a person rather than a mute, always-randy animal.

But if the cheetah was addicted to stallion cum... and if regular injections at the ranch were the only way his jizz would continue to provide what the handler craved...

No, Conner would never help him escape. Not in a million years. Because there was only one stallion on the ranch at a time and he was it. If he escaped, the cheetah's stallion-cum supply would get cut off and he'd stop getting his fix. And there was no chance in hell that an addict would ever cut off their own drug supply.

Rather, the cheetah would do everything in his power to keep Mathew trapped and helpless. The lion's dick was Conner's drug and so it was likely the man was happy that the lion had been made mute. Because now Clopper couldn't spill the beans of the handler's illicit drug habit. This also explained why Conner now seemed so uninterested in Tight-end's cock. Without his canine balls, the doberman stallion was useless to him.

This train of thought came to a crashing halt as Clopper noticed he was seconds away from cumming.

Billy, noticing the stallion's balls pull up, stopped pumping and made Timmy do the same.

"No, boy. You haven't earned a cummy yet. You have a lot of dirt to haul before you can squirt again. Let's get to it."

Both boys looked up at Clopper, expectantly.

He looked back down at them, confused on what they wanted.

Billy sighed.

"Fine, if that's how you want it."

The skunk twink pulled out a leather crop from his belt loop and struck Mathew's balls so hard and so square in the center that for a moment the stallion feared that one or both of his orbs had been ruptured. The pain was blinding.

"I said, git!" Billy yelled, pointing towards the large dirt mound.

Neither boy seemed to realize that in fact the skunk had not actually said 'git' or provided any degree of instruction to the kidnapped lion. But both must have felt the implied order was obvious because the two teenagers were scowling at the now agonized gas station clerk.

"Yeah, it's time to get to work," agreed Timmy. "No one likes a lazy pony. And you're going to get us into trouble if you don't make good progress."

"But don't worry. We'll get good work out of you. Even Tight-end learned to listen to us. We learned that love taps don't work on big strong stallions like yourself. You have to really put your wrist into it. So unless you want another taste of my crop, get moving you silly mare."

And so that was how the actual work of the day got underway. It didn't seem to matter to the two young boys that this hauling of dirt from one pile to another pile was entirely pointless. Or maybe it didn't even occur to them to ponder the 'why' because what they were instructed to do.

Both skunks seemed pleased to be trusted with this task and to have a valuable stallion like Clopper entrusted to their care. The 'why' didn't factor in. Tom and Mr. Brandt had trusted them to see a task through to completion and come hell or high water, that's what they would do.

An hour later and Mathew could see that he'd barely made a dent in the giant mound of dirt. And already he was sweaty, tired, and nearing exhaustion.

But the skunk twinks weren't having it.

"You need to hurry up, stupid pony!" Timmy nearly shrieked at him, as he dragged the wheeled cart behind him towards the second, far smaller mound of dirt that Timmy was standing by. "You're going to get us into trouble and it's all because you're being lazy and slow! Tight-end would already be almost half way done by now."

Clopper tried to step a little faster but it was too late. Once again his balls felt the bite of the crop. Already sore and swelling from getting pummeled multiple times by both boys, the lion's knees buckled under him from the pain. He would have begged for mercy were he capable of it.

Neither of the two boys had been around when Tight-end was new or they would have known that Clopper was doing quite well by new stallion standards. But neither boy had been present during those days and likewise neither of the young teens had the sophistication to realize that it was unfair to compare a three-years-trained stallion to a stallion who was still in his first week.

And without his voice and arms, Mathew couldn't even stand up for himself. All he could do was stand there and take the blows as the two twinks screamed impatiently at him. Billy wanted Clopper to do well so Dr. Marcus would praise him. Timmy wanted Clopper to do well so that Tom would bring him back into his private office again. Both skunks craved the affirmation from the strong men who gave them time and attention. And so the two twinks continued to pummel and punish Clopper's sack so that their own boy bits might feel good later as they sucked and slurped on the hippo and bull. If stallion balls had to experience a bit of pain so that their skunk balls could feel pleasure, that was a price the boys were willing to pay.

Meanwhile, Mathew's balls pained him greatly as they radiated spikes of agony with every step he took. This slowed down the work which resulted in even more punishment -- all aimed directly at his already abused sack. Clopper was beginning to understand why Conner had said there were times when Tight-end might have chosen to get castrated than deal with this sustained, unbelievable misery.

However the lion was still new to the ranch and didn't have a true understanding of the trauma that Tight-end's sack had gone through before it was removed. The needles, hot wax, electricity, ever-larger sounds, and the weights which started off 'dangerously heavy' and only grew in size from there. And much, much more besides. Mathew had no way of knowing that Tight-end considered it a 'light and easy day' if his balls merely got smacked around by some light cropping.

Of course, Tight-end was a special case in that he went out of his way to make his distaste and disgust of her circumstances clear, each and every day and to each and every handler. The jock and former quarterback had a rebellious streak a mile wide which ran through him. And every time he was punished his resentment and anger grew, year after year.

Not that Dr. Marcus minded. The veterinarian was delighted that his favorite patient gave him so many opportunities to try new and interesting ball punishment techniques. By the second year, the hippo had temporarily given up trying to break the doberman's spirits and instead simply focused on seeing what exciting and fascinating facial expressions he could extract out of the stallion.

From Kyle's perspective, the canine believed he was holding out like a true warrior-champion. The dog had no way of knowing that his resistance just served to greatly increase the pleasure the prolonged training sessions brought the hippo. Similarly, the doberman had no way of knowing that his iron will had so impressed the doctor that the man had decided to purchase him after his time as a ranch gelding had concluded, years down the road.

Dr. Marcus was determined to break Tight-end and to transform into the most loving, obedient, happy-go-lucky boy-slave there had ever been. Screaming silently on the doctor's table, Kyle could never have guessed that the man was planning years in advance on how his straight jock footballer brain could be twisted into loving and adoring his hippo master, truly and unconditionally. This was what Dr. Marcus thought about as he had pressed yet another sewing needle into Tight-end's spasming sack.

The vet had so regretted the necessity of extracting and removing the doberman's balls (which had afforded him countless hours of pleasure over the last three years) that after taking the 'extra weight' from the jock he carefully preserved the former stallion's sack in a cube of transparent resin. This forever preserved the twenty year old's balls as a paperweight, with the top of the sack capped off by a gleaming golden ring. And what a fine paperweight they made, the canine jewels being so fine and masculine and gorgeously furred. The shining gold pairing perfectly with the dark fur.

Regrettably for the hippo, he had failed to hide the paperweight in time and when Mr. Brandt spotted the rebellious boy's preserved sack upon his office desk the horse had chuckled in amusement, assuming it had been intended as a thoughtful gift for him since Tight-end's boy bits were his sole and personal property. Unwilling to admit that he'd actually preserved the pair for his own private enjoyment, Dr. Marcus pretended that this had been the plan all along and had 'happily' handed the paperweight over.

The hippo watched with true heart-ache as his newly acquired prized possession was taken away by the oblivious estate owner. Even then the doctor was considering ways that the paperweight might be "accidentally misplaced" and fall back into his own possession. Just like it had been before it had been stolen from him. For the golden-ring sacked was his treasure. His most wonderful prize that he'd put years of work into. His precioussss.

Without a trace of irony, the hippo complained to himself how unfair it was that the precious sack had been taken away from him. Not once did it occur to the doctor that perhaps Tight-end might have a similar complaint about him permanently depriving the jock of the well-formed and much-beloved balls. The idea that a pony would believe they should have a say in what happened to their own body did not cross the hippo's mind. And even had Kyle been able to express this thought out loud, the doctor would have found the notion absurd.

The only consolation the doctor had was that at least the new gelding still had his wonderful cock and impressive knot. This large expanse of highly sensitive flesh would provide all the leverage he needed to one day remold Tight-end to be his ideal sexual partner. The almost ten inch member could provide both exquisite pleasure as well as unfathomable agony. Or even both at the same time if the doctor wished. And even pleasure could be a form of torture if the handsome canine member was edged for enough hours in a day for enough days in a row.

But the new stallion, Clopper, had no way of knowing how the previous stallion's balls had been abused in a years-long effort to break the doberman's spirits. All he knew was that he was tired of having his own sack slapped around by leather crops when he was trying his hardest to succeed at this blatantly stupid and pointless task.

Furthermore, Mathew also had no way of knowing that the skunk twins had failed to fully disengage the cart's wheel locks. This oversight had made pulling the cart back and forth between the two dirt mounts more than twice as difficult than it needed to be. But even had the lion somehow suspected that this was the case, he had no way of explaining the situation to the two annoyed teenagers who kept loading and unloading his cart as the sun slowly sailed across the cloudy sky.

And so the stallion spent the rest of the afternoon getting his balls cropped, slapped, flicked, and, on one particularly unpleasant occasion, kneed. Each time the kidnapped youth was punished in this way, his cock would wilt and droop. But even severe testicular trauma could not overcome the hippo's drug cocktail and so this flaccid state never lasted more than a few minutes. Soon his tender member would return to its full engorged state, completely erect and swinging back and forth and slapping his exposed thighs in time with his steps.

To a naive onlooker, it would appear as though the former gas station clerk enjoyed the abuse and extreme pony play. Setting their walkie talkies to a private channel, the two skunks snickered to themselves that the lion had a secret masochistic streak. Growing tired of cropping the lion's balls, the twinks began to crop Mathew's pre-slicked cockhead. Each time the bound pony stopped at one dirt mound or the other, his dick tip was treated to a series of five swats. Unknown to the dead-tired lion, the brothers were in a spirited competition to see which of them could make the stallion cum just from the impact of treated leather on his shaft.

As it turned out, by some combination of luck and skill Timmy won. It was a messy sort of victory however because the older boy sprayed the younger lad's shorts and legs with pony cum while the skunk squealed in mock outrage, even though this was his goal all along.

And so it was Timmy that got to choose which end of the pony he got to enjoy. Removing the stallion from the cart, the two teenagers made Mathew kneel down behind the tall grass, his panting chest on the ground. Timmy chose Clopper's ass and so Billy got the pony's mouth. Which was fine for Billy because that's what he would have picked had he won, though he was annoyed at himself and at Clopper for his loss.

Far too exhausted to fight back or resist, Mathew spent the next twenty minutes getting fucked on both ends as his ego struggled to cope with the fact that these two boys had dominated him so completely, turning him into their bitch.

Kneeling down in the long grass, the lion experienced the first true threesome of his life. Just like in his longtime idle fantasies, he was sandwiched between two energetic tops who were putting his assets to good use as they praised him.

But aside from that, little else aligned with his earlier free-boy fantasies. In his past daydreams, he wasn't bound or tied up. Neither were the tops younger than him and they certainly weren't siblings. Also, in his dreams he'd been an active participant in the threesome. Here he was little more than a living fleshlight for the two twins to push into as they panted and sighed in pleasure.

The worst part came when Mathew heard the distinct sounds of kissing above him. Unable to turn or look up since his mouth was full of teenager cock, Clopper was forced to use his imagination to understand what was happening.

The twins weren't just kissing -- they were making out. Passionately. The brothers moaned into each other's mouths as they continued to fuck the older boy trapped between them. Their thrusting sped up as the stallion felt himself grow even more uncomfortable with the situation. That's when the pony understoood that the boys were actually just having sex with each other. He was just the toy they decided to use today to spice up their lovemaking.

Clopper had never felt lower in his life than he did then. In that moment, he wasn't a person. Or a brother. Or a son. Or an employee. Or a citizen or tax payer or really much of anything.

He was just a sex toy for two under-age twins who enjoyed each other's company a little too much.

The lion was sure things couldn't get any worse. And that's when he felt it. Not the warm, salty sensation of his muzzle being filled with cum. Though that was certainly happening as well. No. What Clopper was experiencing was the earth-shaking feeling of his stallion cock having a second spontaneous orgasm as it pressed into the ground.

Shame and pleasure ripped through the teenager as his body shuddered and spasmed between the two boys who were likewise crying out in their own mirrored orgasms.

Above him, the kissing continued as wet tongues were pressed back and forth. The two brothers wordlessly expressed their love for each other as they seeded the property they'd been charged with keeping an eye on. Beneath him, his stallion cock creamed the dirt and grass.

When it was over, they both looked down and saw the sticky mess they'd made out of Clopper. Laughing uproariously as the sight of the dazed pony they both agreed they'd have to do this again real soon.