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The Jackal-Pony By: Faction 87 (http://www.furaffinity.net/user/faction87) Character (Drip the Jackal/Pony) belongs to Herro (http://www.furaffinity.net/user/herro)

Drip opened her eyes. Her head was spinning, and she blinked forcefully, attempting to clear her vision and bring the dim,blurry world around her into focus. She was lying down, face down, on a cool hard surface. Possibly cement. She could tell she was indoors, but it was chilly, and the air smelled damp. It was probably a basement... but she couldn't for the life of her remember how she got there. As her vision slowly returned, she noticed something. Her hands felt... funny. There was an odd tightness around her wrists, and her hands were balled into a tight fist. There was a slight metallic taste in her mouth as well, and she quickly noticed she was gripping a large, oblong object in her teeth. She tried spitting it out, but it stayed in place: held by thin leather straps that spread across her face and around the back of her head.

Regaining some of her strength, she tried to push herself up off the floor. Her hands remained as fists, try as she might to open them. Something was holding them like that. She slid her knees along the floor, pulling them up to her stomach while simultaneously pushing her torso up with her fists. It was then that her eyes finally pulled together. She was looking down at the floor; a smooth concrete affair, painting in a dull shimmery light grey. It was most certainly some kind of basement. But something seemed off... while the floor was in front of her, clear as day, her peripheral vision was shrouded in darkness. She tried rolling her eyes about, shaking off this unexpected tunnel-vision. But it was no use: there was something physical blocking her vision. Something mounted to the straps on her head, she figured.

Drip tossed her head left and right, trying to pull in as much information as possible. But there was little to be had. Barren cinder-block walls to her left and right, a plain plastic desk chair in the corner, a single incandescent bulb hanging from the low ceiling and casting a yellowish glow on her stark surroundings. She looked back down at the ground, and focused on her hands in an attempt to discover what had handicapped them. The answer was stranger than she was expecting. It looked like black duct tape, wrapped thickly and tightly around her wrists and hands. Wriggling her imprisoned fingers, she felt that she was holding on to a rod of some sort. Bringing a paw off the ground and closer to her restricted field of vision, she saw the object that she was "holding": it looked like... a hoof?

"Oh! You're awake." Drip blinked as a voice echoed abruptly through the barren space. It was a male's voice. He sounded calm, and unnervingly kind, considering her situation. Some naive part of her hoped that perhaps that he could assist her, or at least explain this bizarre situation.

"Exshcushe Mreee" Drip tired her best to enunciate through the thick metal bar in her muzzle. "Khhan urrr theellll... AHHH!" She cried out in pain midway through her poorly formed sentence upon feeling a sharp rap upon her buttocks.

"Ponies do NOT speak." His voice was firmer now, mildly threatening, but still not entirely unwelcoming. "Ponies only listen." As he spoke, Drip could feel a thin, flexible object being pressed into the small of her back and slowly dragged along her spine. It lifted just before the base of her skull, and she could sense the movement of this stranger as he walked around in front of her. Her gaze remained at the floor, and she could only make out a set of paws. They were covered in a grey fur that blended well with the cold concrete below them, and extended up his mildly toned calves where they transitioned into a midnight black. Drip hesitated to look up at her captor, still shy from the first impact. The mystery object was slowly lowered into her field of vision: it was a riding crop, light brown and formed from tightly wound leather strapping. It hovered in front of her nose briefly, as if he desired for her to study and appreciate it, before he lowered it below her chin. With a gentle nudge, he lifted her gaze upward to him, while at the same time began slowly crouching down to her level.

Thanks to the objects mounted by her eyes (some kind of blinders, she figured they were), his huddled form suddenly occupied her entire field of view. He was a handsome young man, a soft smile on his short black and grey snout, but a sinister flicker in his deep green eyes. He was a skunk.... mostly... though he had some obvious canine features. Two parallel maroon stripes stretched vertically up his face, and continued down his back she reasoned, as they came to a flourish along the length of a bushy black and grey tail. He was only wearing a pair of deep red silk boxers; far more clothing than she currently had on. He paused, eyes rolling slowly across her form to take in his prize. He gave Drip a puzzling wink, before standing up and out of her view once again.

As he walked around to the side of her, Drip instinctively tried turning to follow. She dragged her knees across the floor, only to find a familiar sensation... similar to her hands. By the feel of it, that thick black tape was also wrapped around her footpaws, holding them parallel to her legs. It wrapped up much higher than on her wrists, cutting off just below her knees. The tape scraped noisily as she shuffled, but was only able to make it a few steps before being abruptly stopped, pulled back by the leather contraption on her head.

"Sorry I had to tie you up." The skunk explained casually, without directing his attention to her. "But I couldn't have my new prize mare just wandering off, could I?"

Drip shuffled back, relieving the tension on the bonds that held her in place. She flicked her ears around and listened intently. The man was busying himself with something over in the far corner of the room, obviously out of sight. A moment later, a delicious aroma wound its way over to the restrained jackal; her chubby hanging stomach instantly reminding her that she was very hungry.

"I hope you are hungry, big gal." He said, almost as if reading her mind. Her mouth remained quiet, but her tummy responded with a whispering gurgle. Her captor walked casually back over to Drip, the smell intensifying. "Can't train on an empty stomach, can we?"

A large leather bag swooped down in front of her face, steam rising to her watering eyes and pushing the tantalizing aroma deep into her nostrils. She squinted her eyes shut, and felt him delicately hook the bag to the harness on her head. She heard receding footsteps as he walked away. Opening her eyes, she could not see what the contents of the bag were. But her nostrils assured her that whatever it was, it sure smelled wonderful.

Eager for her meal, she slowly lowered her head towards the floor, allowing the... feedbag, there was no other word.... to gently spread out in front of her. Now able to access the contents, she lashed out her canine tongue to investigate what curious meal he had prepared for her.

It was DELICIOUS.

Her ravenous mouth greedily dove in. There was very little substance to it; just a warm, soft, mushy paste that tasted vaguely meaty, with a noticeable spice to it. Whatever it was, it really hit the spot. She snapped and slurped at the slurry, mildly embarrassed that she was forced to eat like a sloppy, feral creature. But beggars cant be choosers. She was hungry.

Before long, she was lapping up the remains of her dinner from the sides and bottom of the bag, pushing it around in small circles on the floor in front of her. The feedbag was deceptively large, and her stomach felt quite full after completion. The whole time, the stranger stood just out of sight, wordlessly watching her. With a moderately loud burp, Drip lifted her muzzle off the floor, hinting that she was indeed finished.

"All done are we?" He had taken the hint, and sauntered over to remove the bag. "Now that you are well fed, I think it's time we begin your..... hmm, something is missing, here." Holding the empty feedbag, he stared down at her, looking intently at her planted form. He rubbed his chin, as if deep in thought, before his eyes lit up intensely.

"I know! I know what you are missing! How could I forget?!" He bounded excitedly out of view, shuffling purposely with something before sliding back in front of Drip. In one hand, his fist clenched a clump of long, rough horse hairs. In the other hand: a roll of industrial black tape. He approached Drip head on; she had to duck her head under his crotch at the last second as he straddled her body. He plunked himself down on her back, facing her rear.

"You can't be a real pony with a tiny, pathetic little stump of a tail like that, can you?" Drip cringed at the screeching of the tape, a significant portion being torn off. He shamelessly grasped the base of her tail, eliciting a surprised gasp from his furry white pony. Holding the clump of hair tightly between her tail and his hand, he expertly wound the long strip of tape around it, firmly holding the drooping fibers in place. He carelessly tossed the roll aside, allowing it to roll along the floor before hitting the far wall with a dull *thump*.

"THERE! The transformation is complete! I have created the world's first pure-bred, snow-white, wide-rumped.... Jackal-Pony!" His voice was ecstatic, filled with satisfaction. In a moment of triumph, he gave tapped out a gentle drum solo on her rippling rear. Drip wasn't sure what his goals were exactly, but a curious (and dare she say, perverted...) part of her was kind of liking where this was going. On an impulse, she gave her newly implanted tail a wiggle.. and smiled slightly as she felt it brush and caress the back of her knees. She started to feel a strange attraction to this unusual fellow. This feeling combined with an odd swirling sensation emanating from her recently filled gut. What little fear she had was quickly fleeing, replaced with a mild giddiness. Anxiety flushed through her as she wondered what was to come next.

"Well now Miss Mare... I believe it's time to start your training." Once again, it was as if he had read her mind. Throwing his leg over and off her bulk, he busied himself with the restraints that held her in place. It turned out that her reins were tied to a nearby post. And although he had untied her, he kept a tight grasp on them in one hand... and brandished that worn leather crop in the other. Craning her neck to meet his face, she was just able to make out a sadistic smile before he turned and tugged her along behind him.

"Let's begin..."

For the next few hours, Drip's new friend... her trainer... took her through a variety of gradually-intensifying exercises. At first, he simply had her walk around in circles, trying to get her accustomed to movement on hands and knees. Once she had the hang of it, he had her move faster and faster... to the point where her wide circular path was actually starting to make her feel dizzy. A few times, early on, she had faltered or tripped. This was met with harsh and swift reprimand: a quick shout and a remorseless swat on the butt. The desire to complete this "training", backed by the aversion to his punishment, meant that Drip became adept at pony-movement rather quickly.

While she was waddling about on all fours, she felt her dinner begin to digest in an unfriendly manner. Her laboured scooting across the floor sloshed and shifted her gut, giving way to gradually increasing gurgles and bubbling. Still, she kept her mind on her training... and that unusual tingling that was working its way through her body. A slight but noticeable haze was soon slinking across her brain, dulling her thoughts and making it difficult to focus. At the same time, her giddiness swelled up from her bloated tummy, bringing with it a sensation of mild euphoria.

When she had mastered basic mobility, her master saw fit to move her on to more advanced lessons. He lead her through a doorway into another large chamber. This one was similar to the first, though Drip was able to catch glimpses of various objects scattered about. Before she could even get her bearings, she was smacked harshly and commanded to move forward. Like the last mobility exercises, the Trainer held on to her reins to guide her, walking along beside to keep pace. But she could tell right away that this room was going to be a challenge. Already sweaty from the extraneous effort of her restricted movement, Drip was forced to move her way through tight slaloms, under low tables, and perhaps worst of all, jumping over small plastic barrels.

She was understandably awkward at first: knocking over the bright orange pylons, bonking her head while crawling, and most frequently, belly-flopping on the hard, unyielding barrels. As before, each error was met with a purposeful whip to her hindquarters, to the point where they became quite sore, and noticeably reddened. But with each pass of the circuit, her movements became more graceful, her speed gradually picking up. But those jumps.. they had to be the worst. It was no small feat to leap forward, pushing off with her uncomfortably-bound footpaws was proving exceedingly difficult. But the lashings and shouting were not her true motivator in that case; they paled in comparison to the sharp pain and discomfort brought forth by landing gut-first with all her weight on the leading edge of the barrel-obstacles. Each time, the turbulent contents of her stomach were agonizingly displaced with a noisy slosh or groan. Compounding this was the fact that each pass was physically wearing her out to the point of exhaustion.

However, that bubbling feeling of bliss was intensifying, and soon Drip was feeling drunk. She felt like she was moving in slow motion, all logical parts of her brain were shutting down and giving way to the primal rush she was feeling. The final fleeting rational thoughts assured her that there must have been something in her feed, but this thought quickly dissolved. At that point, there was only determination to surmount that daunting obstacle.

And she did.

After losing track of her attempts and gaining a new-found adeptness with her new locomotive style, Drip jumped. And made it over that barrel, with inches to spare. Flawlessly reaching the end of the obstacle course, Drip felt on top of the world. Adrenaline surged through her as she raced around to have another pass. But she was stopped with a light tug on her reins.

"Whoa there, girl. That's enough. Good job." Drip flinched as Master's hand reached down to her face, acclimated to reprimand... but was pleasantly surprised when his touch was gentle, brushing the length of her snout. She was turning into quite the talented pony.

The Pony held her head high, now ignorant of her blinders, while she was lead triumphantly back to the first room. Guiding her back to where she had awoken, Master once again tied her reins to the post. Her stomach let out another angry growl, but she ignored it... too busy basking in approval. She was breathing heavily and sweat poured off of every inch of her, her training having pushed her passed physical limits she had not idea that she possessed. There was only one explanation, as reasoned by her now-thoroughly drugged-addled mind. She must be a pony. Where else would she have gotten all that strength and endurance?

Drip took an extra deep breath, held it.... then neighed. It felt natural, and was met by a wide grin and an approving nod from Master. She wagged.... no, she flicked her tail around, feeling the soft breeze it generated cooling her sweat-soaked flanks. She sighed and whinnied at the relief it brought to her. Without her realizing, Master had walked over to the other side of the room, and returned swiftly with a large object in his hands.

"Rest up, now. Training isn't quite over yet." He spoke slower now, aware that his pony needed extra time to process his words. He walked around in front of her and held up an ornate leather saddle.

"Now, I'm going to put this on you. I don't want a fuss, okay? A real pony needs to learn how to handle a rider." Drip nodded. He walked in towards her slowly, and gently placed the heavy saddle on her bare back. It fit her perfectly, somehow. And it felt... right. It hugged her curves snugly and, with a bit of adjustment, soon felt like it was a part of her. She let out a small *huff* of approval, and Master smiled. Wickedly.

"Good." His voice was saturated with anticipation, but the Pony only stared at him dumbly. "Time to strap you in."

Drip held fast while he slowly walked around her, eyes moving up and down her form, body heaving as she struggled to catch her breath. In a moment, she sensed he was behind her, and heard him shuffle as he knelt.... then lay down. Curious of his intentions, the Pony craned her neck downward and peered at him between her legs. He was laying on his back, and scooted himself under her exposed rump until his face was level with her breasts, the hanging straps of the saddle flanking him. He mechanically reached up to the first set, notching them tightly against her ribcage. To the surprise of Drip, his hands lazily drifted up to her dangling bosom, gently brushing and squeezing them. Her head shot back upright, and she froze for a moment as he continued to fondle her. But this soon gave way to a low, approving growl from deep in the Pony's throat. His attention was pleasing to her, and she pouted slightly as his paws released.

He worked his body further back to the second set of straps, which were cinched to an unforgiving tightness against her ailing stomach. It retaliated with an obscene sounding squelch, causing Master to give pause. He craned his neck upward and gave her soft chubby middle a gentle kiss.

"Sounds like all that exercise has given you an angry tummy." He said soothingly. "Perhaps a nice gentle trot will settle it."

He began to shimmy his way back out from underneath her, but paused when he was directly under her arched crotch. He lifted his head up once again, though this time he flicked his tongue out. It met its mark, just barely catching and separating her slit. Drip's eyes grew wide and she held her breath, but allowed him to continue with his unorthodox "training". His tongue darted up and down, gradually moistening her. It lazily navigated its way to her hood. His lips pursed and met her clit, surprising the Pony with a quick, harsh nibble. It was over soon after it had begun, and before the rush of his love-bite had dissipated through her, Master was already on his feet.

Without a word, he swung a leg over his new ride and gracelessly plunked his entire weight down on the saddle. His Pony nearly collapsed at the unexpected load, but recovered quickly. However, this sudden compression broke free an unpleasant pressure in Drip's bowels.

"Giddy-up!" Master shouted. Before she could prepare herself, he sharply squeezed her sides between his knees, bringing with it a loud:

*BRRAAP!*

Drip paused, a feeling of humiliation flooding over her. The inappropriate noise bounced and echoed grossly off the barren walls, hitting her ears as they folded down against her head in shame. But Master seemed unfazed by her flatulence. Turning and giving her a smack on the bottom, he scolded her:

"When I squeeze you, you trot. Is that so hard to understand?" The words sank in to her half-functioning, flustered mind. Squeeze = trot. It wasn't hard. She started to move, quickly forgetting about her embarrassing outburst. It was a little more difficult at first; the added weight was throwing her a little off-balance. But after a few unsteady laps around the room, she had found her stride.

The euphoric tingling re-surged through her as she went, as if her movement was amplifying its effects. Her heart sank briefly when she felt the movements jostle free a more unpleasant sensation from below: more gas. She continued her trot as best she could, clenching and straining to hold it in. But another lap passed, and once again something snapped in Drip's brain. She was a Pony.

*BrrrRRpppT*

Her muscles relaxed, her tail lifted, and a healthy fart found its way from her rear. She re-clenched, anticipating reprimand... but it never came. In fact, Master seemed to be completely oblivious to her wind. Of course he was... she was a pony: it was only natural!

*Prrt.... Brrrt... BLLAP.....ffffft*

Drip simply relaxed and let go.... a series of sharp, sputtering farts flapping out of her rear, her buttocks shifting and bouncing in a more and more exaggerated fashion. She no longer even noticed the weight of her rider, and began to pick up her pace. Her heart raced and her lungs burned, but she was having the time of her life! She began to unconsciously lift her paws.... her hooves... higher in the air, slamming them down with a satisfying *clop*. She swung and swished her magnificent tail all around, and raised her head high in the air, swinging it about with proud neighing and snorting.

*Prrrt.. BR.... BLLLLRRRRT*

At her latest release, Master tugged tightly on the reigns. Drip skidded to a stop, turning her head to receive her next commands. He leaned to the side so that he was in her field of view... and was giving a disapproving look, paw clenched over his nose.

"Damn, girl... you fart like a Clydesdale!" She lowered her ears, once again feeling a tinge of shame. Perhaps she had been a little overzealous... she suddenly noticed it was starting to smell rather ripe. It was such a relief to her bloated tummy, which unfortunately for her was not entirely empty. Even though he had just singled her out for it, her instincts took over, and she released a particularly nasty

*fsSSHHBLLRRRRRRRRRTT*

Her face grew hot during this unexpectedly long release, which prompted an unusually hard smack from the crop.

"Hey! Nobody wants a gassy, stinky pony!" Master's harsh words almost elicited an apology from Drip, but she remembered to hold her tongue. She simply snorted and lowered her head, acknowledging her misbehavior.

But that was not enough for Master.

He leapt off the Pony, nearly sending her tumbling with the sudden ejection of weight. She felt compelled to stay still, waiting for her discipline. For some reason, she prepared herself for the worst... especially since he was now circling back around to her exposed hindquarters. He knelt down, reaching out with a paw to support himself on her generous flank. He turned the short leather crop around in his hand; now holding it so it's long, smooth handle jutted out from his grip. He gently patted her on the hip, before teasingly maneuvering the rounded edge of the crop between her legs. He brushed it against her lips, sliding it back and forth and slowly spinning it. Drip shuddered at his attention. She quickly became wet, a wetness which was soon coating the crop in a thick, shimmering layer.

His motions were excruciating; navigating her folds, gently flicking her clit as it passed up and down, hovering and probing. Her loins throbbed uncontrollably: this Pony was in heat! She craved a stallion to satisfy her... but this skunk would do in a pinch. She lifted and fluttered her tail, desperately fanning her pheromones at Master in an attempt to seduce him. It must have been working, she figured... as the corner of her blinder-ed eyes caught a glimpse of his shiny boxers flying across the floor. She arched her back, straining her tail as high and to the side as she could, ready to be mounted. But her quivering rump had one last thing to say about that....

*PPRBBBRAAAPT*

The Pony barely flinched, and wondered why Master had hesitated in taking his prize. She could hear a slight cough coming from behind her, before he cleared his throat:

"I think it's time we put a stop to that, you filthy brute!" His voice was dripping with malice. Before she could even begin to wonder what he had meant, Master ruthlessly grabbed the base of Pony's tail and shoved the lubricated riding crop right up her rear. She squealed, taken totally by surprise... but not offended in the least. The leathery rod plunged deep with little effort, it's movement impeded minimally thanks to her generous drippings and still partially-inflated bowels.

"That's better." Master said dryly, gripping the exposed end of the crop between his fingers and easing it in and out. Drip grinned when she felt his stomach press firmly against her rump, twisting the tip of the crop in a most welcomed fashion. Master gripped the Pony's generous cheeks in his paws, spreading and massaging their girth. Finally unable to take it anymore, Master rammed his throbbing cock into the desperately waiting filly. She was sopping wet, and provided little resistance to his actions. Unlike his edging and tender probing with the crop, Master was no longer showing any restraint. His thrusts were long, drawn out, and harsh, accompanied by spirited grunting and an occasional playful smack. It appeared to Drip that she had been teasing him just as much as he had been teasing her, if not more-so. They had reached their limits simultaneously, and had now fully given in to what they both starved for.

Drool dripped from the bridle at the edge of the Pony's mouth, her eyes rolling back into her head. The room spun; what little clear thoughts that managed to break through were banished in wave after wave of animalistic pleasure. She was being taken by her Master, and she loved it! His thrusting became more rigorous, more purposeful. She did her best to time and reciprocate, bouncing her ass off his torso with satisfying *smacks*.

Drip's trance intensified, the blinders seemingly closing her in to a world of darkness, inhabited only by her and her lover. Her cunt throbbed and tensed, forcing Master to thrust in harder, a cycle that rapidly escalated into pleasurable runaway. She gasped for breath, gulping in air that was still tainted by her disgusting release. A tingling electricity arced through her swaying, sweating form. Clenching on his cock, she could feel the pounding of his blood rushing through its veins, keeping pace with her own fluttering heart. On a whim of passion, master grasped the flopping end of the half-buried riding crop, and in one swift motion, drove it home.

In that instant, Drip was pushed over the edge. Her mouth opened around the bridle in a hoarse scream, disregarding her oath of silence. Spots filled her limited vision, and she collapsed onto her chest, completely exhausted. Her body throbbed and spasmed, chubby thighs and rear jiggling in response. Master was soon to follow, as her clenching and throbbing had taken its toll on his sensitive member. With one final push, he released his seed into her with a defeated shudder, falling forward on to her protruding rump. The pair remained in that position, too spent to move. But the moment was shattered prematurely... the riding crop was no longer enough to dam the ghastly flow from Pony's rear:

*pffsssssshhhhhhhhhrrrt*

A low hissing stream of gas escaped from around the crop, prompting Master to push off of her and land in a heap on his butt behind her, coughing. The poor Pony neighed in apology between gasps, but otherwise dismissed her flatulence.

"That's enough training for today, I think." Master struggled to stand, and weakly walked over to the prone Drip. Her eyes shot open as, without warning, he swiftly removed the riding crop, bringing with it an involuntary *poot*. She did not move, still recovering from her ordeal.

"You'll want to get some sleep tonight. Tomorrow's another full day." He spoke casually as he walked out the door, shutting the light behind him.

THE END