Clare had been wondering about body modification for ages. She read magazines that covered the subject. Piercing seem to be the most usual. Girls had nipples and labia pierced frequently, and one girl has several labia piercings and wore a lace through the holes, holding her pussy closed.

The more she read, the more interested she became. She herself had never been pierced but had often thought about it. But what if she had no control over it? What if she were in a position where she was unable to stop herself being pierced? And where would she be pierced?

She often thought about how it would feel to have her pussy sewn up as that girl had, but what would any future boyfriends feel about having to release her pussy in order to have sex?

She saw a link to “serious piercing”

The cursor hovered over it, invitingly. She anted to know what the link led her to, but, was suddenly afraid that it would take her where she didn’t want to go. For over an hour she held the cursor in that one spot. Thankfully, computers don’t make their own decisions. Had it done so, it would have got impatient with her, and clicked the bloody button itself.

Clare had subscribed to a few modification sites, and often got emails pointing her to one site or another. But it was the one she got that raised her thoughts even more.

When she clicked the email open, and read it, the email simply said “looking for body mod models.”

Clare wondered what a body mod model would do, other than show off any modifications they had, and she had none herself. Clicking on the link Clare was taken to a web site that offered free modifications, as long as the site could tape it, and use it on their own and affiliated sites.

Just more spam, thought Clare. But she read the whole page, before clicking on the gallery page. The pictures were all female, and with several modifications. Some were simple pierced body parts, and one was with rings through both nipples, and another through her clit, with a chain connected to all three rings. The chain was obviously shorter than it should be, as the nipples were being pulled down.

At the bottom of each page there was a link to become a model.

From what she had seen. Clare was becoming interested. The piercing would be out of her control, and probably more erotic than anything she could think of herself.

She hovered over the link, and then, with her eyes closed, she clicked on it. She sort of hoped it wouldn’t work, but at the same time, hoped it would.

The link led to an email address. All she had to do, was email them, and send a picture of herself wearing as little as possible, and they would get back to her soon.;

Not knowing why, she found herself filling in the form. Age, name, date of birth, and then locating a picture of herself on her computer. Most of her pictures showed her fully dressed, but there was a solitary one in which she wore a bikini. What they would make of that, she had no idea. It would probably turn them off, and she would hear nothing else if she was not picked.

Just before she sent it she looked at the boxes at the bottom. It asked what modifications she wanted, and where. Convinced they would not get back to her, Clare ticked the boxes that said “anything” and “Anywhere”. Then she sent the mail.

A week later Clare go an answer. In the email it said “if you are selected, would you like to be picked up at home> or would you like to be “kidnapped”?

This message threw Clare. She had always said that if she got pierced, she would have to have no control over it.

Clare read the message time and time again; she could invite them to her house, or she could tell them to kidnap her off the street. She was sure that either way, she would have no control over what they did to her.

Eventually, Clare chose to be kidnapped, and once again confirmed that they could modify any part of her, in any way they wanted. As far as she was concerned, the worst they could do was put a few rings in various places.

With a wry smile, she sent the email.

The site had not even asked for her address. How could they kidnap her. it was simply an idle boast.  And if they did ask for an address, she would lie to them. It was easy to tell them anything when they had no chance of finding her. she did, however, tell them the correct city, but how many people shared her name>

Clare checked her email for the next week, but there was no response from the site again. Obviously, they had lost interest.  She forgot about it, and carried on her normal life. Though she still scoured the internet for body modification sites on a regular basis.

It was about a month later, and Clare was at home waiting for a taxi she had ordered, to go shopping. There was a knock at the door, which sort of surprised her. normally the taxi beeped its horn to say it was there. Picking up her bag, Clare opened the front door. What happened next was a blur to her. two men forced their way into the house, one of them placed a sweet smelling cloth over her mouth and nose, as the other grabbed her arms to stop them flailing.

Clare tried to kick out, but the man holding her was far too strong to be dislodged, as the other man still held the cloth over Clare’s mouth.

The kicks became weaker, as the chloroform began to take effect. In a few moments Clare was limp in the man’s arms.

Together, the two men carried her limp form out of the house and into the back of a black van. One of the men stayed with her, while the other moved to the drivers door, starting the engine. As the van left the close where Clare lived, a taxi pulled in. Clare had been close to safety, but closer to her fate.

In the back of the van the man placed the cloth over Clare’s mouth, and using duct  tape, secured it in place. The constant smell of chloroform would keep her asleep until they arrived at their destination.

As Clare slept, the man began to cut away her clothing, smiling at the red silk knickers and bra she would no longer need. Turning her over, the man pulled both of Clare’s hand s behind her back, and took a pair of handcuffs from a panel in the van, securing her hands behind her. satisfied that she would not get free, he rolled her onto her back and admired her body.

The man already knew what was to become of Clare, and had been told that if he wanted to, he could be the last one to fuck her. even if she was unaware of it.

As she lay on the floor of the van, the man started to undress. He was not over endowed, but his cock stood firm and hard. Normally, he was not allowed to touch the victims, but this time, he had been told he could. Which to him, was an order to do so.

Kneeling between the sleeping girl’s legs, he guided his cock towards her pussy. He placed his hands under her hips, and lifted her up a little, so he could get free access to his target.

In a single lunge, the man’s cock disappeared into the helpless woman. It didn’t bother the man that there was no response, as he began to move in and out of her, slowly at first., then speeding up as he was sure he was buried deep inside her.

As he began to fuck her, the man felt the, now familiar, surge in his cock, as the metal bar buried deep inside it, pressed its way forward. The modification he had undergone meant that when he had sex, a metal bar came from his body, filled his cock, and made it even harder then it had been before.

As he fucked the helpless Clare, he was driven on by the start of the vibrating within his cock. To a woman awake, this would have felt strange, feeling a man’s cock harden even more, and to vibrate. But Clare knew nothing of this, as the man continued to take her. the man lasted a good fifteen minutes, his balls slamming against Clare’s thighs as he rammed deeper and deeper into her, his orgasm getting closer with each thrust.

With a lunge, the man buried himself deep inside her, and felt his hot juices filling the sleeping form.

For another five minutes the man lay on top of her, his cock still hurried deep in her pussy, his cum filling her. it was the first time that he had been allowed to do this to a victim, and he made sure she took all he could give her.

A few minutes later the van stopped, and the man pulled out of Clare and started to dress. He didn’t care if his seed took hold inside her or not. She would not give birth after her modifications.

A few minutes later the doors of the van opened, and the driver helped the first man to take Clare from the van. It was only a few steps of fresh air, but Clare did not stir. The constant chloroform made certain of that.

She was carried through a doorway and taken quickly to a holding room, and placed on a thin mattress on the floor, where she would stay until the doctors made preparations for her. as they left the room the man who had fucked Clare, removed the cloth from her face. Very soon she would awaken, and would still not know she had been fucked.

It was almost an hour later when Clare started to stir. She had no idea where she was. Nor why she could not move her hands. It took several moments before she realised she was cuffed, and another few moments to realise she was naked.

How she had got where she was, was a total blank. She remembered the taxi driver knocking at the door, and then nothing. Where she was now, was beyond her comprehension. She didn’t remember getting undressed.

There was a click and a voice came from speakers in the ceiling.

“Good evening Clare. You asked to be kidnapped, and you have been, you asked for modification, and that will happen soon. You stated repeatedly that we could modify anything in any way we wished, and that will happen. You will get food soon, though you will have to eat with your hands behind you. We do not care that you have to eat out of a dog bowl, in fact, it pleases us. You are being recorded, and have been since  your arrival. Please. Make the members happy.

Another click, and the room fell silent again.

Clare began to panic. She hadn’t really wanted this. She had only filled the form in because there was no chance of them knowing who she was and where she lived.  Had she known they could find her, she would not have filled it in.

A small trap door opened in the door, and a bowl of food was passed through it.

Clare looked at the food and determined not to eat it. But the chloroform had also made her hungry. Slowly. Trying to see where the cameras were hidden, she made her way to the bowl of food. It smelled nice, tempting, and Clare sank to her knees, leaning forward to eat.

Her hunger was clear to see, as the three doctors watched her on the monitor.  They had already decided on the modification they would perform on Clare. It had been decided long before she had been picked up. The man who fucked her in the van, would be the last man to ever have sex with her.

Clare never even ate half of the food in the bowel before the aesthetic started to work on her. she was already falling asleep long before it was finished.

The doctors smiled to themselves. They had yet to fail. Clare would now know nothing until she woke up back at her home.

The door to Clare’s room opened and two men entered with a medical trolley. And placed her on it. They moved her from the cell to the lab, where her modification would take place.

A man in a grey suit stood in the lab waiting.

“You know what is to happen to her?”. .

One of the doctors leafed through some papers and then grunted a yes.

“Okay gentle men. The camera is running. Do your best.”.

The man left the lab and moved to his office where he could watch what happened. The member of the site would be paying good money to see this in the next few days.

Clare was laid on the medical table, with one of the doctors taking care of the aesthetic.  She would sleep through it.

The other two doctors made several marks on Clare’s flesh with marker pens, and then began work.

Clare would still be a woman, but no longer have a sex life by the time they  finished.. and the two doctors enjoyed their work.

After the operations Clare was placed in a recovery room, still sedated, as she would be until she was returned home. A doctor kept checked up on her regularly, making sure that the procedures had gone well.

Two of them were well practised operations, but the third, most difficult, was one they had never attempted before, and were unsure of. It seemed to be mending well, in fact, better than they had expected. Another few days, and Clare could be released.

Though they could keep an eye on her while she was in the facility. And she was sedated, they could have no knowledge of how she will react when she got home.

It was close to two weeks after Clare was admitted that the doctors felt she was okay to be released. The two men who had brought her to the facility, were called upon to take her home. This time, the man in the back of the van would not be having sex with Clare. Unless he took her anally. But that was not his thing.

During the journey back to Clare’s house, the man kept an eyes on her to make sure she did not waken. They knew it was going to be a tight thing, leaving little journey time over before the drugs started to wear off.

As they let themselves into Clare’s home, one of the men located the central heating and turned it on for her. though they wee capable of many things, neither of the men wanted Clare to get cold and catch something. It would have been hard for her to explain her operations to a GP or hospital.

Together the two men placed Clare into her own bed, covering her up, before leaving her there. From that moment she would be on her own. She had asked for modification, and now it was all hers to live with.

The aesthetic  was slow to wear off, but as it did so. and Clare started to awaken.she felt a little nauseous and dry. She slowly opened her eyes and found a strange man sat on a chair near her bed.

“who are you?” she asked, but for some strange reason ,though she could hear it in her head, the words never materialised.

In fact…she heard nothing;.

“Hello Clare” the man spoke with a soft voice.. “I know you have many questions, but unfortunately, you will not be able to ask them. So I will answer for you. You wrote to us on the understanding that we actually perform severe and irreversible body modifications. You agreed to take part. But wanted to be kidnapped. All of this was done. So I am here to explain about the modifications. Firstly, as you now know, you are unable to speak. This is because we severed your vocal chords,  it was a simple and easy operation, but it does mean you cant speak, moan, groan or scream. And you never will do. Even the best surgeons the land can never reverse what we have done. We then used a method we call melding. We used lasers and took away four layers of skin from your upper and lower lip. Then we held your lips together until they healed, as a single unit. There is a small hole through which you can take drinks and liquid food. We applied the same technique to your pussy. But first we gave you a total hysterectomy. Your womb. Ovaries, fallopian tubes have all been removed, so you will never have another period long as you live.. then we did the same to your pussy lips as we had to your lips. They are melded shut. With just a small hole to pee through.”

Clare was shocked ad annoyed, and tried to say so. But it was a futile effort

“We also removed your nipples, and your clit. So you can no longer take sex into your life. If you want sex from now on, it will be anal only. But we have a better offer for you. Come back with us, and we will finish the remodelling on you. The other choice, is you stay as you are, alone, and totally unable to communicate with anyone. When you applied you knew we did extreme modifications. When we asked what you wanted, you replied anything, anywhere. Your wish was granted. Now you can choose. Live as you are. Or come back to us. We will give you time to think about it. 24 hours. If we get no email in that time. you are on your own. And before you think a surgeon can reverse what we have done, they cant. Hell, even we cant. The meld is permanent. The choice is now yours. We await your email.”

With that the man left the room, and even before Clare could get out of bed and downstairs, she heard the front door close.

How could she live like this? Her very work depended on voice recognition, without the ability to speak, nothing would work for her. although they had given her a choice, they had really given her no choice at all. And they knew this.

And how could she report them? She couldn’t speak, was unconscious for the journey there, the time she was there, and the journey back. She knew anything she did, would not get her condition reversed. Yes. Although they had given her a choice, they, and Clare knew, she had no choice. They knew they had made her into a slave that needed them more than they needed her.

The email was short, to the point, and irreversible.

“come and get me”

Clare sat up in the bed looking at herself in the mirror. Not that there was much of her to see any more.

Her whole body, from toes to the top of her head, was covered in thick rubber. Only her eyes and the small hole over her mouth were visible from beneath the black sheath. Her hands had been covered in mittens, the fingers pulled tightly together, so they were as one.

The nurse stood to one side, taking the mirror with her.

“There are only five holes in your suit, Clare. One for each of your eyes, one for your mouth, and two for when nature calls. The suit is bonded to your body, and so cannot be removed without taking your skin with it. The technique we use, cannot be reversed. There are two other small holes, one over each nostril, so you can breathe. As you know from your previous visit, we challenge ourselves to perfecting what we do. We made several incisions on your body before applying the rubber. The rubber then finds its way under your skin in several places, and becomes a permanent part of you. We did, however, remove your hair and your nails before doing this. Every follicle of hair has been removed from your body. It will never grow again. Nor will your finger or toe nails. Doctor Harper will be along to see you soon.”

With that, the nurse turned and left the room, leaving Clare alone with her thoughts.

It had started much like last time. They had arrived unexpectedly, and had been waiting for her when she woke up one morning. They didn’t speak, but Clare knew who they were, and made no effort to stop them as one of the men produced a syringe and moved towards her arm.

She had not been able to live the way they had left her, and they both knew that. With no form of communication, she could never lead a normal life.  The email had been short and to the point.

“Come and get me”.

And come they did. But not in the first week. She had been made to suffer seven days of her solitary life before they came. In that time, she knew without a doubt that she could not live normally. She could only eat liquid food. She needed more than that, but with only a small hole left of her mouth, anything other was impossible.

She lay on the bed as the powerful drug began to take effect. She knew she would never know the way to the Institution, but she no longer cared. Once inside it, they would do whatever they wanted to her. She needed them more than they needed her.

She had been unconscious long before the two men carried her down stairs and out of the house, into the waiting van.  She was placed in the back of the van on a bed, and strapped into place to save her falling off before they arrived at their destination.

She knew they would keep her sedated until they had finished. This had been apparent from her first visit there. So why argue when the man produced the syringe. Far easier to allow them to do what they had to do. It was all out of her hands anyway. Even had she changed her mind, she knew they would not listen.

She had awoken some time later, perhaps a couple of days. It didn’t matter to Clare anymore. Her life was now what the Institute decided it was.

The black sheath of rubber covering her body shone under the lights. It was smooth to the touch, had she been able to actually feel it. It was also impervious, though she did not yet know that. The technique had only been tried once before, on a much smaller scale. Clare was the first full body covering, and the doctors had been pleased with it.

Without ripping her skin off, the rubber suit would remain on her forever.

Doctor Harper entered the room with a smile on his lips. This was the man who she had last seen in her room on the morning she had been returned home after her last visit.

“Well, Clare. Welcome back. The operation seems to have been a total success. Your skin will never see the light of day again, but that is what we wanted. You may find it difficult to walk around a little at first, until the rubber softens a little. You will still be able to hold your meal drinks, the mittens are quite flexible. Once you get used to walking around in the suit, we will give you a pair of shoes to wear. They will take some getting used to, but they are an important part of your new life. I know you have questions that you would like to ask, but I am trying to explain everything to you, so you will understand what has been done to you, and why”

He sat on the side of Clare’s bed, still smiling at her as she tilted her head back questioningly.

“All in good time” he said. “First, you must get used to walking around. You may find, at first, that you get hot inside the new skin. But you will soon get used to that. You will just have to drink more fluids to keep you hydrated. “

The Doctor stood up and made for the door.

“One last thing, Clare. We can dispose of your house for you, if you wish. It will be no good to you again, in fact, you will not be returning there. So if you want, we can dispose of the house and contents, and give the money to charity on your behalf. Money is also not for you, Clare. Your only possessions will be the suit you wear, and the shoes we will give you later. Would you like us to do this for you?”.

Clare looked at the doctor trying to understand what he was saying. She had already guessed she would not be returning home, but the thought of selling it had not occurred to her. There were many things in there that Clare had bought personally, and had loved. She would be reluctant to lose them, but if what the doctor was saying was true, then she would never see them again either.

Reluctantly, Clare nodded her head. In doing so, she knew she was giving herself to them totally, not that she had already not done so. That had happened when she sent the email.

*********************************************************************

Clare had been at the Institute for almost three weeks after her operation, during which time she had been encouraged to take walks in it’s grounds.  It had taken her a couple of days to get used to the rubber clinging to her as she moved. She had expected her body to move within the suit, but the suit moved with ever movement she made, just as her own skin did.

It was, as Doctor Harper had said, warm inside the suit, and she had taken to drinking copious amounts of water. Her hands had been the hardest to come to terms with. No longer having individual fingers made picking things up that much harder. She had to use both palms facing each other to pick up her food and drink cups. No longer could she simply pick things up with on hand.

One day, it had rained, and still Harper encouraged her to go out for fresh air .it felt strange that the rain was not making her wet. It simply ran off the rubber of her suit. Usually, Clare avoided the rain whenever possible, but now, she could actually enjoy being out in it, if only because it helped to keep her cool inside the suit.

At the end of the second week, Harper had appeared with her new shoes. They were not what Clare would normally call shoes. They were boots. They came half way up her calf, and held her ankles firmly. But that help would be tested when Clare tried to walk around in them, as they had eight inch heels, forcing Clare onto her toes.

She soon discovered that, like normal heels, she had to lean slightly back on her heels in order to stay upright. Falling was not an option she relished. The heels were far too high, and she knew she would break her ankle if she fell.

Harper had taken her to the gym the first time she wore them, walking her around the sides of the gym, so she could hold onto the handrail, as she learned how to actually walk. Even so, Clare was unsteady on her feet, and Harper had been forced to hold her upright on several occasions.

Now, another week later, and Clare was able to walk unaided in them. Her ankles still hurt, but that pain was diminishing with time.

It was at the start of the fourth week that Harper had told her he wanted her to wear the boots outside, in the grounds. Clare was troubled, she could keep her balance on firm ground now, but the grounds outside were anything but firm and even. Much of it was grassland.

She shook her head when he suggested it, but Harper had been ready for her. Taking a box that he had brought in with him, he pulled what looked like a harness from it. Working quickly, he placed the harness on Clare’s body, strapping it in place around her chest, waist and between her legs. He could feel she was uncomfortable, but she would soon get used to it.

The bridle was different from normal ones. Where there should have been a bit gag, there was, instead, a leather strap that would fit around her head, and across her mouth.

Clare started to panic as he put the bridle in place, but he remained calm, and told her to breath through her nose, and she would be fine. It took her several minutes to get used to doing so, but in the end, Harper was right, as he always seemed to be.

Lastly, her wrists were placed in leather restraints at her side, so she could not use her arms.

“Okay, Clare” said Harper. “Lets take you for a walk”

With that he opened the door and ushered her out of her room. She knew she had no choice, and concentrated simply on not falling off the heels. It had been ad enough doing so when she had her arms free to give her some balance, but now that luxury was denied her, and she knew she had to stay upright, or hurt herself.

Harper held the reins to the bridle, forcing her head to stay up. In this way, she could only see where she was going, not the ground beneath her, or the boots.

Her first steps were tentative ones. It had been okay in the gym, and in her room. But now she was outside, and had no-one but Harper to help her.

He walked her slowly across the grass lawn, allowing her to walk slowly and gain her confidence. There was no need to rush her, she would e trained properly later. But for now, he needed her to get used to walking on the grass in them.

Clare could not see her feet, she could only see what was in front of her. This was Harper’s choice, and she guessed it was so she would get used to the boots, whatever the terrain under foot. A couple of times she almost faltered, but was able to stop, and correct her balance, before moving on again.

For over an hour Harper kept her outside, walking. Her ankles hurt again, as they had done when she had first been given the boots, but she guessed that this was because the ground was not firm, and her balance was harder to maintain.

Back in her room, Harper removed the harness and bridle, and then the boots. None of these things were she capable of doing for herself. As a treat, he said he would let her watch some television that night. This was indeed a treat, as she had not seen television since her return to the Institute. But what he let her watch, was not normal programming.

The television set arrived just after she had taken her food break, and with it, a dvd player. Harper sat her on the side of the bed, and sat next to her, as the first dvd started.

Clare was shocked. Girls, some dressed in rubber, some in leather, and some naked, could be seen walking across fields, pulling  what looked like buggies. Inside each buggy was a man, holding onto the girl’s reins, and guiding them where they wanted the girls to go.

Suddenly, it all made sense to Clare. This is what was to become of her. Hence the rubber suit, and the boots, and today’s walk.

She looked at Harper, and he could see in her eyes her troubled mind.

“Yes Clare, this is what you will become. They are called pony girls, and they live and work in stables. You will, after training, be sent to someone who needs a new pony girl. All of our clients are vetted, and are long time pony girl trainers themselves. So you will have to be trained up to a good standard before we can allow you to leave us. Don’t worry, Clare. You will have a good life, certainly better than trying to live in the real world as you were. And you made this choice for yourself. Remember, initially, you said we could do anything we wanted to you, and this is what we want.”

Harper stood up and left the room, leaving Clare to watch in horror as her future began to take shape in front of her eyes.

How could anyone be treated this way?

She knew they would get away with it in her case. Who could she complain to?  Even if she were free of the Institution, who could she tell? The rubber suit she now wore would not come off, and without removing it, she had no way of communication with anyone.

Tears welled up in her eyes as she watched the rest of the dvd. This, was what her future looked like.

For the next two weeks Harper took Clare out every day for an hour. Only once did it rain, but even that didn’t stop him taking her out. Before they came back into the building, he simply turned the hose pipe on her to wash the mud off her suit.

Twice, Clare had been taken for a x-ray. Harper told her this was to make sure the rubber suit had taken correctly, and was inside her skin as well as outside. He seemed satisfied with the results, and reminded her, after the second time, that the suit could never be removed now.

She accepted this with dread, but she knew there was nothing she could do about it. She had actually got used to wearing it now, and feared she would miss it if they could take it off.

As the two weeks passed, Clare became more stable on her feet, even in the wet grass. Harper told her that she would begin training the next week, and that Jonas would e her trainer. She would learn to fulfil her duties as quick as she could.

“If Jonas is not happy that you are trying your best, he WILL use the crop on you Clare. There is nothing I, or anyone else can do about that. Either you do your best, or you will be made to do your best.”

Clare sat on the bed crying. Until now everything had been easy. It may not have been what she expected when she first contacted the Institution all that time ago, when she was still a woman. But she had come to terms with what they had done to her. She knew she was not only no longer a woman, they were now stopping her being a human being at all.

Liquid food, permanently encased in the rubber suit, no ability to speak. She wasn’t human anymore, and soon, if they carried out what Harper had said, of which she had no doubts, she wouldn’t even live in a normal building, but in a stable in some-one’s yard.

The tears ran freely as she realised what that first email had cost her.  Until then, she had been a happy woman, with a good job and her own house. Now. She was nothing, and had nothing. They had shown her the cheque for the house, before writing the name of a charity on there, and sending it away.

Even if they released her from the Institution, she had nowhere to go, and no way top live anywhere near a normal life.

She knew she would have to do her best to please whoever Jonas was. Maybe, if she did well, they would change things for her, make her normal again. But even as she thought that, she knew it would never happen. Harper had stressed it so many times, that none of what they had done to her, could ever be reversed. Even they themselves, couldn’t reverse things.

Jonas was a man in his early fifties, as far as Clare could tell. He had short a military style haircut, and he didn’t smile. He didn’t talk, either. He simply barked out his orders, and expected Clare to obey without question.

On the first day she had felt the crop on her back when he had told her to do something, and she had hesitated. Whether or not she was marked under the rubber suit, she didn’t know, but the sting of the crop on here back brought tears to her eyes.

He had fixed her to what he called a sulky. It was a two wheeled carriage with long poles that he fitted to the waist of her harness. The carriage would seat one person, and she would follow the directions she got from the reins he held in his hand. A double flick meant to start walking, a touch of the crop on her shoulder meant she should trot, and when she felt both reins being pulled sharply back, she was to stop.

The bridle he used for her also had blinkers, so she could not see to the sides. Her way lay only forwards, and only at his command.

The sulky wasn’t as heavy as she thought it would be, but it was still difficult to pull, especially when the ground was wet. If she started to lose her footing, Jonas got annoyed with her, telling her that she should be able to stand up in the boots by now.

It took Clare two days before she could pull the sulky around the field in one go, without losing her breath, or her footing. Twice more she had felt the crop on her back, and though the rubber suit took most of the blow, she could still feel it on her back. The suit may stop the weather getting in, but it did not stop the pain o Jonas’s whip.

Harper had been out three times to watch her, and to enquire about her progress. She was not able to hear what Jonas replied, as they spoke in low tones, but each time Harper came out, she was forced to pull the sulky around the field.  The third time, she was made to trot around the field, which took it’s toll on her legs. As she finished the lap, she could hardly stand, but Jonas would not let her rest.

At the end of the third week Clare was moved out of the main building, and led to a stable at one end of a long yard. There was as low wooden bed, covered in straw, on which she would be allowed to sleep, a drain at the far end of the stable was her toilet.

Seeing her new quarters, Clare burst into tears.  Jonas placed her inside and closed the bottom half of the stable door. Clare could still see out, but could do nothing to get the door open. Even had she the use of her hands, the two bolts holding the door closed would have prevented her opening it. One bolt was near the top of the door, but the second was about a foot from the bottom, and well out of Clare’s reach. But with her hands encased in the rubber, even unfastening the top bolt was beyond her.

She would remain there until Jonas, or someone else, came and freed her.

Week after week, the training went on. Clare was getting better at pulling the sulky around the field, and the pain in her ankles had diminished. She could now stay out for two hours at a time. The only difference between now and when she had a room in the main building, was that she used to have the boots taken off her at night, and replaced in the morning. Jonas had never removed them from her. they were a part of her twenty four hours a day. Maybe that was why her legs ached less, they were getting used to being in the one position all the time. She wondered if they would ever come off again. She certainly couldn’t take them off. She would have to unfasten both the lace and the zipper on each one, and with no fingers available, it was an impossibility.

Clare had been in training for almost two months when Jonas arrived with someone she had never seen before. He was in his forties, well dressed, and carried a riding crop. But Clare could see no horse in the stable yard. If he rode, it was certainly not a horse.

Her thoughts were confirmed when Jonas put her into the sulky, but the other man climbed aboard. She only knew it was the other man, as Jonas was standing in front of her. Had he not been, she would not have known who was her passenger

Jonas whispered into her ear that she had better be the best she could, or she would suffer badly afterwards. She knew that meant a severe whipping. She had not had that yet, but she had no doubts that Jonas would take it out on her if she didn’t perform well.

As the man bade her to walk forwards, Clare concentrated on the reins on her bridle. No matter what else she thought, she had to do exactly what the man wanted. She felt the double pull, telling her to trot, and immediately began to lift her knees higher, and moved forwards a little faster. She didn’t know whether or not the man would use the crop in his hand, but she would rather not find out. He was obviously there to see how good she was, and Clare was not about to disappoint him, or get a whipping from Jonas. Not if she could help it.

For well over two hours the man exercised Clare. She was made to walk, to trot, even to canter. She was made to circumvent the field, zig zag across it, and even a figure of eight, to see how she responded to the reins.

Hopefully, she had behaved as the man wanted. He had not sued his crop on her, and as they finally came to a halt back in the stable yard, he handed the reins to Jonas, who freed her from the sulky and led her back to her stable, where she immediately collapsed onto the bed.

She could hear Jonas and the man talking, but could not make out what was being said. She could only hope that the man had been pleased. The alternative, a whipping from Jonas, was the last thing she needed. She needed to rest, maybe to sleep, but whether or not she did, was down to Jonas, not her.

Clare had no control over any part of her ;life anymore. She slept when allowed, woke up when told, even ate when told. Only nature was not under the control of the Institution. Once she had needed to pee while on exercise. She feared stopping and letting Jonas know, so peed as she ran. It was a strange feeling, and she didn’t know whether Jonas had seen what she was doing, but he made no mention of it when they returned to the yard. Since then, she had done it several times. It was as if Jonas knew she would need to pee soon, and deliberately took her out onto the field.

In one way, Clare was pleased, as she didn’t have to pee in her stable. But in another way, she still got embarrassed when she did it “on the trot”. She told herself it wasn’t lady ;like, but then reminded herself that she was no longer a lady. In fact, hardly a human at all.

Clare was awakened early one morning. It was still dark outside when Jonas entered her stable. She immediately stood up, as she had been taught to do, and watched has Jonas began fiddling with the bridle in his hands.

Even before he put it on her, she could see that this bridle was different. Instead of blinkers, there seemed to be something across where her eyes went. She would be able to see nothing with that bridle on. She learnt the truth of that when Jonas slipped the bridle over her head and began to secure it

Two felt pads covered Clare’s eyes. Leaving her blind as to what was happening. Maybe, she thought, Jonas was going to take her out as if it were night. Sp she could learn to follow the reins alone. But she knew she already did that.

She felt herself being pulled out of the stable, and walked as quickly as she could. But walking blindfolded is not easy, and she almost lost her footing a couple of times.

Once in the yard Joan turned her to the left, and began to walk her slowly. In less than a minute, Clare was led onto a wooden platform that seemed to tilt upwards. She could hear the wood under her feet, and wondered what was happening.

A few yards and she was on flat ground again, but still on wood. She felt Jonas guide her forwards, and then told her to stop. She could hear him fastening her bridle to something, before he pulled her arms behind her back.

A pair of leather cuffs were fastened around d her wrists, and then locked together.

Clare knew this was no exercise, but was at a lost to know what was happening. She tried to see past the blindfold, but it was impossible. Whatever was happening to her, was something new.

She heard Jonas walk away from her and stop

“Goodbye little pony. Your new owner will take you from here. You remember all you have been taught, and you should be okay. I will miss you, pony girl”

She heard his footsteps moving down the wooden ramp, and the ram being pulled up towards the back of the horse truck. She knew, instinctively, that she was inside a cattle truck. The smell of animals was too great for her to be anywhere else.

Why was she being moved? What new owner? This couldn’t be happening. Clare was happy at the institute. Why did she have to leave? Where was she going.?

She could feel the tears start to flow behind the blindfold, but with her hands now locked firmly behind her, there was nothing she could do to wipe them away.

Moments later she heard an engine start, and the truck, with it’s cargo of Clare, started to move forwards.

She knew she would never see the Institute again. Never see Harper again. They had done all they wanted to her, and now she had been passed on, or sold, to someone new. She wondered if it were the man who had took her out the other day. Maybe he was her new owner?

Clare didn’t lie her new stable. There was no bed as such, just straw on the floor. And no drain. Instead there was a bucket she had to empty every morning. And her new owner was a sadist..

He punished her even if she did well.

She wished she could go back to the Institute, but she knew there was no chance of that. She had no idea where she was, and there was no chance of escape. The stable was bolted shut when she was inside it, and when she was outside, she was chained to the sulky. She could see no way to escape him, though she hated every second with him.

And he trained her hard. Much harder than Jonas had done/

Three hours in the morning, and two in the afternoon. Tedious running round the track. He didn’t want her to go too fast, even though she knew she could do so. He was training her to stay at one steady pace at all times.

He knew from when he had used her at the Institution that she could go faster, and she wanted to do so, but he always kept her at the same even pace.

Clare didn’t understand it. They both knew she was capable of more. It mystified her why he didn’t drive her as he had done previously.

In the time she had been with him, he had not spoken to her. It was as if she was not there unless he wanted his pony girl. Even then he didn’t speak. He controlled her. He drove her. But he didn’t talk to her.

She had been with him for two months when he came and collected her early in the morning. She worried that he was selling her on. That was about the same time she had left the Institution and become his pony.

She had reason to worry. She had no idea what was happening as he loaded her into the same cattle truck she had been brought in. she wasn’t blindfolded, which was an improvement, but nor could she see out of the back of the truck to see where they were.

Her hands had not been locked behind her, not that it made any difference to her. Even with free hands she could not even contemplate trying to release herself from the collar around her neck, and fastened to the side of the truck by the four foot chain.

Clare didn’t want to escape, she simply wanted to know what was happening. But still he had not spoken to her.

Maybe he had grown unhappy with her, and was returning her to the Institute. The presence of the sulky in the truck with her made her think otherwise. He was obviously planning on putting her between the pulling poles, but not at his farm.

Clare felt the dribble of pee between her legs. It no longer bothered her that she had no real toilet to use. Although she still preferred to squat, it no longer madder any difference to her. Because she no longer had solid food, even her faeces was liquid. This was another thing she had got used to as the time had passed.

And the boots. She now had no problems being on her toes the whole time. Her ankles had grown stronger, and she could walk easily in them now.

She had lost all track of time, so did not know how long she had been wearing them. It felt like a ;lifetime.

She tried to recall her life before the Institution.

A successful  woman, with many friends and a great job. Now look at her. No longer even human. No friends. No home. She still had a job. That of pulling her owners suljy around whenever he wanted her to do.

Never was there a day when she could simply sit back and put her feet up. Her time was not her own anymore. Her time belonged to him. Her owner. He decided when she would sleep, when she would eat, and when she would work.

Only two days before he had taken her out into the field, but instead of being fastened to the sulky, she had been pulling a long rake across the fields, clearing rubbish off the ground for him.

This was her life now. A show pony when he decided he wanted her in the sulky. A work horse when jobs needed to be done. Tears and tantrums got her nowhere, except punished. And he was brutal when he punished her.

He had fastened her over a barrel the first time and laid into her with the crop. And all because she had got the sulky stuck in the mud after a bad rainfall the previous night.

The worst thing of all, was that he never spoke to her. Not a single word had he exchanged with her since he had collected her from the Institution. It was as if she didn’t exist. Maybe she didn’t. maybe he only saw her as a pony. Maybe she was not human at all to him.

As the truck came to a halt, Clare was brought back to the present with a bump.

She could hear people talking outside the truck, and after a few minutes the back door was dropped. Her owner climbed into the truck and released her collar from the chain, and moved her between the pulling poles of the sulky, fixing her in place. He pulled her arms behind her back, and the leather straps were placed around them, keeping them behind her.

Only then was she moved forwards, pulling the sulky down the ramp and into a field.

Clare was shocked. There were several other girls with sulkies. Some where naked, some dressed in garish attire, but all standing between the pulling poles of their own sulk

Clare was, as far s she could see, the only one totally encased in rubber. Many were wearing rubber, tight panties, tight rubber bras. Rubber corsets that would not allow the girl to bend. But no-one other than herself was totally encased as she was.

She felt out of place, but no-one appeared to be taking any notice of her at all. It was as if they had seen it all, many times before. And maybe they had.

A few of the girls were tethered to poles in the ground, but others were simply standing still, waiting for their owners to give instructions.

Clare was taken over to a table where her owner registered her for the day. She could not hear what was being said, but at least she had now heard her owner speak. Though not to her.

Having finished at the table. Clare was led towards a pole where two other girls were tethered, and she was tethered there as well.

She half expected the girls to talk to her, but both of them stayed silent. Clare could see that their mouths were perfect, unlike her own. So they were not silent because of an inability to speak. Simply because they were not allowed to do so.

One by one, the girls were un-tethered and led towards a large field. In the centre of the field were several men, sat at a table.

Each of the girls, in turn, had to walk, then trot past the men, who seemed to be taking notes. The owners were sat in the sulkies, giving directions, but not speaking.

Pony girls, apparently, are totally governed by the reins attached to their bridles. A fully trained girl knows exactly what her Master wants from her, and complies without being told what to do.

When it was Clare’s turn, her owner walked her into the field, and stopped before the table. One of the man nodded his head, and Clare was urged to walk forwards, making a turning circle and then walking back.

As the reached their starting point she was given the signal to trot. Making sure her #knees came up to her waist level, as she had been taught, Clare held her head high, and trotted past the table, before being turned to trot back to where she had started from.

She did not know why she was being inspected, but she knew enough to make sure her owner had nothing to punish her for. As they came to a halt, Clare remained still. And with her head slightly down, her gaze resting on the grass a couple of feet in front of her.

She would not move, now, until she was given the order to do so, regardless of what happened around her.

She had been standing there for five minutes, even though her owner had got out of the sulky and had gone to talk to a group of men some distance away. She didn’t know whether or not he was watching her, and remained still just in case.

When her owner returned it was with another man. The stranger began to feel Clare’s thighs, her calves and her arms. None of the other girls had gone through this close an inspection, and Clare wondered what was going on. Even had she been able to ask, she knew better than to do so. Though the man inspecting her was not overly hard on her, she could feel his hands through the rubber suit as if it were not there.

“Okay” he said, and began handing some bank notes over to her owner. “She may be trainable. She is certainly strong enough, and with some help, could improve her poise. I will take her. Can you deliver?”

“Yes. Sure”.

This was the first time she had heard her owner’s voice, and now. It seemed he was selling her.

Clare was taken aback, but knew she could do nothing to stop what was happening. She wasn’t a human being anymore, she was simply something that could be bought and sold like a pint of milk, and trained to do what ever her owner wanted her to do.

Clare was released from the sulky, and returned to the horse cart in which she had arrived. The afternoon was over for her, though her owner had not climbed into the front of the van. How long she would remain, waiting, she had no idea. But she had no other choices. This was her life, and it was all she had left.

She already knew she would have no control over what happened to her, any control was long gone. Even before her owner had bought and sold her. Simply by returning to the Institute, she had given up control.

It was several hours before her owner climbed into the van and started the engine. The drive back to his base was bumpy and Claire spent much of it wondering what her future would bring.

Claire moved up the field yet again. The plough was heavy, and difficult to pull through the rough ground. Her new owner had told her the field had to be finished before dark, and that was less than an hour away. And she was not being urged to move faster.

Her new owner, when she had been delivered to him, turned out to be a farmer. Almost immediately, she had been fastened to the plough she was now pulling, and taken into a large field. She was told she would have to move the plough, as the man’s old horse had died.

Clare wondered if the old horse had been human, but her thoughts were interrupted as the man lashed the whip across her back. To urge her forwards.

This owner didn’t believe in sparing the rod. Every time Clare slowed down. The crack of the whip on her back. Moved hr to pull harder and faster.

Her legs ached, her shoulders were on fire, as she continued to walk the field, first one way, and then  the other. There was mo let up, and no rest. Obviously, her new owner wanted this job done, and done fast.

She remembered back to the other pony girls she had seen, in all their finery, and had really expected to end up like them. Show ponies. But her owner had other ideas.

He had wanted a work pony, and she had been his choice. For which he had paid out money. It was money he could only regain if his crops were successful. And that meant ploughing the field.

At the end of the day she was returned to her accommodation, a dirty stable that had seen better days. The roof leaked when it rained, and the draught from between the ill matching half doors never stopped.

Even the rubber cladding refused to keep her warm, and only the dirty straw she found on the floor was able to make her feel any better, as she cradled it to her for the heat it gave.

Day after day, from sunrise until dusk, the farmer worked her, and worked her hard. It was as if she were a real horse, not a female trapped into this lifestyle. He fed her from a bucket, allowing her only a short rest afterwards, before she was back out in the fields.

Clare spent most of her time alone cursing the Institute that had made her this way,  but most of all, she cursed herself. She had been the one who had originated the contact, and she was the one who had emailed them to come and get her, and finish the modifications.

She sat looking at the starts through the holes in the stable roof. This was it, for her. A life of drudgery and work. Unable to speak out, unable to refuse, and unable to escape.

Clare cried herself to sleep.