A weekend becomes a lifetime
Shivering nervously, he looked around himself, assuring himself all was ready. Cock pump, butt plug, hose, hood, sack, and straps. Yep, this was going to be one wild weekend... one rough weekend. Everything was ready, and with a deep breath, he started.
Stepping into the sack, he lowered his front legs, bringing his chest to the floor. Spreading his hind legs, he hiked up his tail as he used his magic to take hold of the dildo. A prized purchase, it was bigger than his stallion hood, which was saying something as he was part Clydesdale, and one hundred percent where it counted. Calming himself, he brought the toy up under his tail, nuzzling the long thick pre-lubed tip against his tail hole, doing his best to relax as the fat flared tip pushed against that resisting flesh, his magic gently but relentlessly working the toy in, the head finally popping in and drawing a moan from him. From there it was easy, the long firm rubber toy sliding in, deeper, deeper than anything before it, causing him to moan as it pushed and stretched him. The knot, an extra he'd ordered, bigger around than the flare soon pushed against his hole, drawing a tear from him as it stretched him further, popping in, and forcing the toy that much further until his tail hole closed around it, only the flat base and the nipple at the end showing beneath his tail.
Next up, the pump, a tube with a simple magic powered motor that would speed up and slow down randomly attached. Panting a bit, he lifted it up, his stallionhood already free from his sheath, dripping a little as the tube slid over it, a little magical nudge starting it, enough suction only to keep it in place, encasing his cock from sheath to tip. Picking up the hose, he attached it to a nipple on the tip of the pump, then connected the other end to the nipple on his dildo, anything he released would be thrust right back into him, he expected to be very, very full by the time the weekend was over.
Now that the prep was done, it was time for fun. Tucking his legs under him, he settled down in the sack, shifting so his head exited the only hole. His magic pulled the zipper closed over his back, fastening the tab lock at his neck. Next the straps, lifting himself up, one, two and three straps wrapped around the sack, buckling tight, the locks built into the buckles clicking shut with finality.
One last deep breath, or at least as deep as he could take like this, and now it was time for the last piece. The hood rose from the ground, propelled by his magic, the back open, the featureless leather having two small holes at his nose, and nothing else. It slid over his head, a second skin, erasing his face, retaining the shape, but flattening his ears to his head, hiding his eyes, making him a parody of a pony. Wrapping around his head and neck, the zipper slid down, locking shut at the sack's neck, over lapping the collar built into the sack.
His breath whispered through the holes in the nose as he waited, locked into a dark prison, trapped with his thoughts, wondering when his first milking would come, and whether he would cum.
Days passed, the weekend was almost over, or perhaps it was but minutes. Trapped in his silent prison, there was only darkness, and the occasional suction of the pump. It'd only gotten him off once, although it had teased him a fair number of times. He knew he was dripping.
While the hood covered his head, pressing his ears down, it did not plug them, and he could still hear things, albeit muffled. Right now he heard something he shouldn't have heard, his front door opening. He knew he'd locked it, and yet, and yet someone had entered. His magic flared, he needed to get out, or at least get the hood off. He pulled at the zipper…
Something was pushed down on his horn, pressing the leather of the hood down tight around it like a second skin. A suppressor ring, his magic weakening as it slid down his stubby horn, cutting it off completely as it reached the base, trapping him.
The zipper slid down again, tightening the hood. A collar wrapped around his neck, closing over the zipper, a heavy padlock soon hanging from it. He struggled, this was bad, he needed to get away, to save himself. The straps unlocked themselves, one at a time, unbuckled, tightened until the breath was crushed from his lungs, then buckled and latched again.
He felt himself lifted, moved, pushed into a trunk or box. Pushed into the center of it, surrounded by loose fill, he felt the pressure as the box was closed, he heard the lid lock shut. Trapped, barely able to breathe, without magic, without any way to move, he was in trouble, big trouble.
Then the box moved, whoever had him was taking him away. He heard a voice, a magic projection in his ear, an unfamiliar one, “Its so much easier when they prepare themselves.” Then silence once again as his journey began, the pump starting, its programming altered as it vigorously attacked his cock, ripping the seed from him and thrusting it up through the hose, a hint of what was to come in his new life.
