Amplified

“Babe, who’s at the door?” Vinyl called out, causing the exceptionally effeminate mare at the entryway to start.

Glancing over her shoulder, hastily signing the delivery stallion’s receipt, Citi gulped. “It’s just the mail!”

Virtually snatching the small box from the courier’s grasp, slamming the door closed without so much as a thank you, he rushed through the foyer and towards his room. He’d been waiting days for the package to arrive, desperate to remedy his growing problem - or rather his shrinking problem. Dashing through the home, navigating the corridors with practiced precision, he scampered into his chamber and disrobed.

While many ponies would have considered the last two months a taste of paradise, it had been almost hellish for him. After Vinyl’s tour had concluded, with nearly half a year before her next bout of traveling was set to transpire, they’d returned to her estate for some much needed rest and relaxation. It wasn’t the change in scenery which had been so terrible, nor the considerable allowance she’d been giving him - no, the problem was she’d been treating him far, far too well.

Being on the road with her had been amazing, there was no other way to put it. His tall, strong, big-dicked Mistress had used him wherever and whenever she pleased, effectively making him into a walking, talking, begging cock sleeve. Though it had taken some getting used to, every part of him had adapted to the lecherous role he’d found himself in.

He woke her up with blowjobs, routinely trained his ass, and always kept his puny cock locked away within a snug little cage. Many stallions would have scoffed or been downright disgusted by such a scandalous and demeaning development, but not him - not Citi. He’d embraced his depraved duties with open arms, a move which bore unforeseen consequences.

His mind wasn’t the only thing to become steadily twisted. Over his time with her, for nearly half a year, his body had gone through a steady metamorphosis. He’d expected his throat and his ass to become more accommodating, acclimating to the regular abuse, but he couldn’t have fathomed the rest of him would change. By the time they’d returned to Vinyl’s chateau, he was almost unrecognizable from a year before.

Before he’d begun on his bizarre adventure, he’d been a relatively average looking stallion. Not overly tall, nor overly developed, his aesthetic could easily fit in with a crowd or while out and about. Now, after months of being subjected to his Mistress’ harsh and borderline sadistic affection, he’d changed completely.

Instead of pecs on his chest, he’d developed a pair of D cupped breasts which, as he’d been finding out, had shown no sign of slowing in growth. Considerable bosom aside, his rump and thighs had also expanded considerably - heck, he’d even gotten the tiniest bit of a belly. Nearly all of his once masculine features had softened, from top to bottom, though he had no way of knowing if or when the alterations would end. While some part of him had become markedly larger, other portions of himself had diminished considerably.

He’d initially thought that being held in chastity would be harmless, but he couldn’t have been more wrong. Even when out of its constricting confines, his stallionhood had withered to a small, limp, and exceptionally useless vestige of what it once was. All told, between his figure, his long, luxurious mane, and his petite package, he was routinely mistaken for a bombshell of a mare.

All in all, he positively adored his life and everything he’d become - at least, until recently. Once he and his Mistress had finished their tour, everything changed. Vinyl began treating him with respect, had given him the key to his chastity, and allowed him to stay in the guest room, but that wasn’t the worst part - the worst part is that the she-stud had effectively stopped making use of his licentious services.

In short, Vinyl had stopped treating him like a live-in fuck-toy and started treating him like a honest to goodness marefriend. She brought him out to dinners, bought him fancy dresses, and even paid for lavish beauty treatments and pedicures - still, those were the last things he wanted. The thing he wanted most, above anything else, was to be subjected to the divine, carnal fury he knew she could deliver.

“Everything alright in there?” Vinyl shouted, doubtlessly curious about his odd behavior.

“J...just gonna take a nap. I didn’t sleep well last night,” Citi responded, picking at the tape on the box.

While he hadn’t expected his order to arrive so quickly, he wasn’t about to complain. His chastity cage, which he’d voluntarily kept himself in, had inexplicably lost its fit. The only reasonable explanation he could come to was that, for whatever reason, his equipment had continued to dwindle in size - as such, he’d ordered a new cage device for himself.

Strutting to the bed, seating himself on the edge of the mattress, he thrust his hand into the package to claim his newest investment. He was fortunate that he had the funds to buy it, as well as the periodic dildo to plow himself with, but one small concern remained - how well the new cage would fit. Leaning over, upending the box on his lap, he grabbed a key from his nightstand.

He almost never wore any undergarments, despite having a cornucopia of thongs and panties available, so he simply flipped his skirt and began fiddling with his oversized cage. Unlocking and removing the contraption, casting it aside, he swiftly installed the new device on his diminutive equipment. Significantly smaller than his older model, throttling his little coin purse and securing his tiny prick against his groin, he turned the key, set the lock, and shivered.

With his job complete, he got to his feet and sauntered over to his vanity. Even if Vinyl wasn’t fucking his brains out nearly as often as she used to, he’d taken to wearing makeup and dolling himself up regularly - after all, he was more of a mare than a stallion. Peering at his reflection, holding his skirt up, inspecting the gleaming chastity locked around his puny package, he smiled.

“Hey there, stud,” he purred, cocking his hips and fondling one tit, “you looking for a little action?”

Pursing his plump, luscious lips, shooting himself a wink, he slowly wheeled around and spread his cheeks. Though he was only teasing himself, imagining what Vinyl would do if he’d used the line on her, his pulse raced. It was becoming increasingly rare for her to breed him, regardless of what outfits he wore or what seductive measures he employed, but he hadn’t given up hope - that being said, he’d acquired several substitutes in her stead.

Resting beside the mirror, as long as his forearm and as thick as his wrist, stood a massive silicone dildo; supposedly cast from some porn star, the thing was almost as large as his Mistress’ endowment. Stepping forward, grabbing up the molded sex-toy and a bottle of lube, he strutted back to his bed. Though fucking himself could never compare to the real deal, it was better than nothing.

Casting himself onto the mattress, laying on his side, he cocked a leg. He’d long ago learned to be constantly prepared for any sort of action, systematically cleaning and lubricating himself throughout the day, so he was constantly ready to get his ass pounded. Hefting the dong in one hand, while drizzling a generous amount of lube over it, his pulse gradually increased.

As sad as it was to say, the sex-toy was one of his favorites and as of late his rear had gotten more use from it than his Mistress. Closing his eyes, picturing every facet of her, he brought the blunted tip of silicone to his slickened pucker and drove the dong into himself. In spite of its formidable side, his well trained hole yielded next to no resistance.

“Oh Celestia, right there,” he groaned, as the girthy medial ring glided across his overly sensitive prostate.

Peering down his chest, seeing a steady stream of bitch-juice leaking from his cage, he shivered in delight. Having his ass stuffed just didn’t feel the same without having his cocklette locked away. Though the discomfort of a struggling erection had left him long ago, with his prick giving up any attempts to grow hard, the weight and pressure on his equipment was oddly reassuring.

Rutting himself with the toy, seeing the tiniest little bulge appear within his abdomen, he practiced his technique. Fiercely clenching on the backstrokes, while relaxing on the plunges, his hole constricted around the pistoning shaft. He couldn’t count how many articles he’d read and videos he watched on how to pleasure stallions or dickmares, honing his mind and body into an amorous machine - still, that did little to comfort his glaring lack of attention.

As much as he hated to admit it, he’d gone so far as to start flirting with she-studs online. Posting pictures of himself, as well as listening to all the depraved things they’d do to him, wound him up like nothing else. It really wasn’t his fault that he’d become a total slut, since his Mistress had made him that way, so if anyone was to blame for his budding interest in having an affair, it was Vinyl.

While he hadn’t actually run around on her, the temptation was growing stronger and stronger by the day - not just because she was apparently losing interest with him, but because of the number of options he had available. There were no fewer than two dozen dickmares in the nearby metropolis of Fillydelphia, including a pair of well-hung sisters who wanted to screw him into a coma. The way things were going, unless something changed, it wouldn’t be a matter of if someone else railed him out but when.

“Babe?” a voice rang out, snapping him back to the present. “You ok in there?”

“I’m…” Citi began, glancing to the door. He swallowed hard, noticing he’d completely forgotten to lock the door behind himself. “I was just - No, don’t!” he bleated, but it was too late. Seeing herself in and spotting him with nearly a foot of dildo in his ass, his Mistress studied him. “I...I can explain!”

Keeping a stoic expression, crossing her arms over her considerable chest, Vinyl silently waited. Though she was more than likely displeased that he’d told her not to do something, a fact which flew in the face of their little arrangement, she was just as attractive as ever. Tall, powerfully built, and having a downright godly cock, the snug muscle shirt and jean shorts she wore did nothing to hide her divine figure.

“Go on…” she muttered, glaring at his blushing face.

“I...I got a new cage!” he exclaimed, desperately attempting to deflect her ire.

Further spreading his legs, giving her an immaculate view of his stuffed hole and puny chastity, he forced a smile. Heaven help him if she kicked him out; without a job, many possessions, and nowhere to stay, he’d be up the creek without a paddle. Licking his lips, seeing her stony, unmoved expression, he beckoned her closer.

“I was just warming myself up for you,” he insisted, hoping she’d buy the excuse. “It’s been a while since -”

“Since what? Since you messaged one of those betas you’ve been chatting with?” Vinyl grunted, cutting him off. “Since you uploaded a video of yourself riding that little dildo you have there?” she continued, taking a step towards the bed. “Honestly, given your behavior, I don’t even know if I want you here anymore…”

As the cold, calloused words rang in his ears, something fractured within him. “B...but I’ve done everything you wanted! I never turned you down or -”

“You haven’t taken much initiative either,” she countered, interrupting him yet again. “Most of the time, I have to tell you to get me off. I thought you would have figured it out by now; I don’t want just another walking slam-piece, I need one who will do things I want without me asking.”

“I...I…” he sputtered, feeling tight in the chest. “I try to wear sexy things for you! Every time I show off or ask if you’d like to fuck me, you turn me down.”

“Then don’t ask!” she growled. Leaning forward, roughly squeezing one of his tits, she chuckled to herself. “Show a bit of ambition! Just start jacking me off or, better yet, beg me for it. What’s the worst that could happen?”

Citi opened his mouth, but quickly shut it and remained silent. Honestly, there’d been times when he wanted to be more assertive, but he hadn’t known how she’d react. The last thing he wanted to do was to get on her bad side or come off as needy, so he’d never fully acted on his impulses. Gazing up at her, moving to haul the dildo from his tush, he paused.

He could have taken a more aggressive role, but inspiration hit him like a bolt from the blue. If she knew about his clandestine messages and activity online, he may as well double down. Shuffling around, with the dong lodged in his rear, he angled his tush towards her, pushed himself up, and continued to shamelessly fuck himself.

“Give me your phone,” he grunted, sliding the soft shaft in and out of his needy hole.

Cocking her head to the side, unable to look away from his clinging pucker, she reached into her pocket. “Why?”

“Just gimme,” he insisted, balancing on one hand and reaching behind himself.

The dickmare relented, placing the smartphone in the palm of his outstretched hand. Deftly activating the camera, shoving the device between his legs, he did what he could to get a decent angle of the action. If she wanted begging, that was fine, she’d get a permanent reminder of just how bad he needed her.

With the phone in place, having a damn good view of his ass and cage, he wantonly started fucking himself. Though the recording couldn’t see his face, that didn’t mean he was anywhere close to finished with the little show. Arching his back, he squeezed his pucker with all his might. The added pressure on his p-spot sent a rope of glistening pre-cum drooling from his prick.

“Vinyl,” he loudly mewled, jamming the dildo into his pucker, “I need you so bad! Just pin me down and fuck a foal into me!”

He realized it was going to be a relatively short video, but it would definitely hammer the point home. The best part was, he wasn’t even acting. If making a whorish recording of himself, while wantonly fucking a faux dick, would mean feeling her hot, throbbing stallionhood rearranging his insides and knocking him up, so be it - hell, he would have done it ages ago. Briefly twerking around the sex-toy, jiggling his ass for the camera, his little act continued undeterred.

If Vinyl wanted a show, by Celestia, she’d get a show to remember. Shifting tactics, straightening into a kneeling position, he grabbed the phone and slowly moved it up his frame. Watching the display, taking care to get a good shot of his broad hips, chubby belly, and heaving bosoms, he only stopped when his face was in frame. As he lifted his free hand to his cheek, he needily sucked a finger and winked at the camera.

“So how about you put that big, fat dick of yours to…” he trailed off, feeling a palm come to rest on his back.

Before he could react, or even look over his shoulder, he was shoved forward. His pillowy tits were pressed to the mattress, leaving him exceptionally presented to the towering dickmare behind himself. Twisting his head, peering back at her, his eyes widened. At some point or other, while he’d been preoccupied with filming himself, Vinyl had slipped out of her shorts.

“Just gotta...” she grunted, wrenching the dong from his tush. Casting the toy away, stepping forward, she sandwiched her length between his supple buns. “You want it?”

“So bad,” he groaned, shivering beneath her.

With a twisted grin on her face, disinterestedly stroking herself, she shuffled back. “Then show me how bad you want it, Slut.”

As the warm weight of her tool left him, something snapped. Wheeling around, bringing his muzzle to the tip of her shaft, he opened his maw and began making out with her dick. The salty, earthy flavor of her unwashed package was like a drug, made all the more potent by the aroma of her musk, sending hormones flooding through his system. Wasting no time, almost desperate to oblige her, he wrapped his lips around the fat head of her stallionhood.

He knew he’d had it bad for her, but it wasn’t until that moment that he realized it was worse than he thought - simply put, he was addicted to everything about her. Her scent, her size, her strength, her domineering personality; she was a walking demigod, and he was a lowly sycophant who could do little more than pray for her blessing. Losing himself, with his mind fogged with lust, a small tap on the shoulder broke his reverie.

“Phone,” Vinyl quietly insisted, offering her hand.

Nodding, keeping her member lodged in his maw, Citi blindly reached for the discarded device. He didn’t know what she needed it for, nor did he care, but he’d been given an order. Handing her the phone, he shifted his focus right back to her equipment. It had been over a week since he’d last had any quality time with her, not to mention the fact that she’d urged him to be insistent, so he was not about to half-ass his efforts.

“And this, mares and gentlecolts, is how you break a bitch,” Vinyl stated above him.

Peeking up, seeing the camera trained on his face, a blush crept into his cheeks. Though he’d done some solo camera work recently, he’d never done anything on film with anyone else - let alone something so scandalous. The vestigial portions of his masculinity railed against him, screamed at him to stop, but he didn’t listen - no, if anything, he was more turned on than ever.

Staring into the phone, seeing himself in the display, he pressed his head forward. Inch after inch of glorious, thick stallionhood pressed into his muzzle. Muscle memory mingled with his desires, making the task almost laughably easy. Drawing a breath, filling his lungs with air, he slipped the colossal appendage into his throat.

Stuffing his esophagus, feeling his neck bulge outward, he peered at her groin. Her taste and her smell, each a sinful delight, had been dearly missed. Soldiering on, unhindered by the massive cock driving towards his stomach, he only slowed when his nose was pressed against her crotch. Closing his eyes, relishing the knowledge that he’d hilted her in his maw, he lifted one hand and sweetly fondled her nuts.

She’d made him what he was, trained him mercilessly, and so he brought every ounce of his carnal might against her. Withdrawing, with his lips mopping the sweat and saliva from her shaft, he started fellating her in earnest. Anyone could deepthroat a dick, but only the truly devoted could fuck their own face with something so titanic. Ignoring his body, leaving his cage to leak and bosoms to sway beneath himself, his pleasure was derived from serving her.

On and on he went, bobbing his head, while only taking the occasional sip of air. If she wanted him to blow her until she peaked, that suited him just fine. Massaging balls, hoping she had a massive load saved up for him, something grabbed his mane and wrenched him away. Rising to a kneeling position, taking care to milk the pre-cum from her length, he opened his eyes.

“Tell them what you are,” Vinyl purred, stepping back and bringing the camera to his face.

“I...I’m Citi,” he croaked, unable to look away from her stallionhood; it was so close, so very close, yet she kept it from him.

“Not who,” she chided, slapping his cheek with the meaty pillar, “what…”

“I...I…” he faltered, unsure of what to say.

Only reluctantly looking at the phone, seeing his bust on the display, he froze. His mane was a mess, his lipstick was smeared, his mascara was running, and a cocktail of drool and pre-cum coated the top of his rack. Anyone who saw him would assume he was some common whore, a piece of meat made to pleasure others, but then it clicked - that’s what he was.

He’d become an object, lowering his status and revoking his rights as a person. Before he’d met Vinyl, he didn’t have a purpose, yet she’d shown him the way. All the training, the bizarre changes to his body, and his insatiable lust to be a warm receptacle for dickmares and stallions had chipped away at the useless pony that he was, painstakingly reshaping him into what he was destined to be. Drawing a breath, steadying himself, he pressed his tits together and smiled.

“I’m just a dumb, useless slut,” he whispered.

“And?” Vinyl pressed, as a savage grin split her muzzle.

“And my reason for being is to do whatever my Mistress says, whenever my Mistress says it,” he replied, absentmindedly tugging and tweaking his rigid nipples.

The she-stud chuckled and shook her head, yet she kept the camera steady. “How about you show them that pussy you’ve been having me train…”

His eyes went alight, knowing just what she was referring to. For the last few weeks of the tour, and shortly after they’d arrived home, she’d insisted on rebranding his anatomy. Only real stallions had a cock, while all he had was a tiny, flabby clit. His ass was his cunt, its sole purpose was to take dick, and it was the only way he was allowed to receive pleasure. Smirking to himself, remaining on all fours, he moved his rear towards the camera.

“See,” he proudly hummed, steadily sinking four fingers into his well-used hole, “my pussy is always extra juicy for my Mistress.”

Reaching forward, squeezing his coin purse and diminutive cage, Vinyl tugged on his equipment. “And this?”

“T...that’s not important,” he stammered.

Honestly, he couldn’t care less about the limp piece of meat between his legs; its diminished size and lack of use were a reminder of his inadequacy as a stallion - nothing more. The rapture his Mistress delivered, while wholly ignoring his pitiable equipment, was leagues beyond anything he’d experienced in his old life. Toying with his ass, nearly fisting himself, he found the resolve to gaze up at the mare’s face.

“Mistress…?” he murmured, waiting for her to reply.

Cocking her head, subtly training the phone towards his face, Vinyl cocked her head to the side. “Yes, Slut?”

“Breed me, please, I...I’ll do anything,” he whimpered.

“Anything?” she repeated, a tinge of something dark clinging to her words.

He nodded, too turned on to concern himself with whatever she had in mind. “Please…”

With a deep, almost playful sigh, she shook her head. “I guess I could. Alright, present.”

Snapping to, resting his heavy chest against the mattress, he tugged the twin globes of his juicy tush apart. He knew she was still recording everything, as she brought the tip of her length to his entrance, yet that only meant he’d have a recording to get off to later. Resting one hand on his hip, while she held the phone above his rump, she drove herself into him.

The sensation of being impaled was heavenly, especially after suffering through the protracted dry spell. His legs trembled, he furiously gnawed his lip, and cum oozed from his cage, as he climaxed on the spot. It didn’t matter what sort of positions he screwed himself in, or the size of the toys he used, nothing could compare to having an actual dick splitting him in half. As she bottomed out, resting her balls against the impotent little marbles he used to call nuts, she slapped his rear.

“Did you just cum?” she grunted, giving his ass another spank.

“Y...yes,” he reluctantly admitted, ashamed that he’d blown his feeble load so quickly.

Bucking her hips, all but driving him forward, she growled. “Shouldn’t you thank me?”

“T...thank you M...Mist - Aaaaaaahn!” he moaned, as she began savagely pounding him from behind.

There was no warm up, no gradual escalation in force or speed - no, his Mistress simply took to plowing him like a jackhammer. Whether the supremely rough treatment was due to her sadism, domineering streak, or simply because she wanted to put on a show for their little home movie, he couldn’t say - regardless, the raw intensity of her rutting robbed him of speech. Worming his hands under his breasts, questing for his nipples, his eyes rolled.

He’d thought long and hard of ways to describe being fucked by a dickmare of Vinyl’s caliber, but words simply couldn’t do the experience justice. It was like facing something unfathomably greater than yourself, superior in every conceivable way, and having it draw pleasure from your lecherous torment. Confronted against such a force, the only rational option was to embrace the role they assigned you, since fighting was absolutely pointless.

“Well?” she barked. Draping herself over his back, bringing her face to his, she moved the camera over to capture his reaction.

“T...thank you!” he mindlessly howled, while the root of her length crushed his p-spot. “Thank you, Mistress!”

“Get up, you stupid whore,” she hissed.

Pulling one of his arms free, she slammed the phone into his palm. Staring blankly at the device, he quickly found out what she had in mind for him. Grabbing his chest, pulling him into a kneeling position, she harshly twisted and pulled his nipples. His orgasmic screams cut through the air, quickly joined by the cruel laughter of his Mistress.

“Make sure you record everything, Bitch. I want everyone to see your stupid ass getting knocked up,” she snarled.

Somehow, fling in the face of reason, she fucked him more furiously than ever. The submissive portions of his brain realized he’d been given an order, as he extended his arm and got a good shot of his torso. The frame was slightly off center, the recording would doubtlessly be shaky and slightly out of focus, and he couldn’t say if it was exactly what she’d been wanting - still, he did his damnedest to deliver.

Checking the camera’s display, he was given a rare opportunity to watch himself being fucked. His tits would have been bouncing and swaying from the force of her bucking hips, had the dickmare not been so cruelly teasing and squeezing them. Strands of saliva dangled from his chin, coating his chest and spilling to the mattress, but that wasn’t the most captivating thing. Below his bosom, steadily appearing and disappearing beneath the soft flesh of his abdomen, was the imprint of her pistoning stallionhood.

Starting just above his waist, forcing itself up to just beneath his rib cage, the gargantuan bulge was unmistakable - hell, you could even make out the bloated tip. The sight was insane, the type of extreme thing that people fantasized about, but the fantasies didn’t do it justice - not by a long shot. Feeling his insides straightened out, molded and adjusted solely for her, was astonishingly hot, but there was one element that shone above the rest - the fact that she’d chosen him.

“Harder!” he demanded, flexing his pucker around her.

Reaching back, grabbing her hip, he forced her to increase speed - sure, it wasn’t a huge difference, but every little bit mattered. He was her whore, her personal sex slave, and he belonged to none other. Her railing, besides being as amazing as ever, reminded him of just how awe inspiring she was, casting doubt on his plans to hook up with some random dickmare. Unable to change the past, yet regretting having entertained such adulterous thoughts, he sought to prove his worth.

“T...this is what a real stud looks like, and she’s mine!” he announced, training the camera to Vinyl’s face and broad shoulders.

He had no idea how he’d summoned the resolve to form a sentence, let alone make such an audacious claim, but he quickly paid the price. Snatching the phone from his grip, abandoning his teats, she grabbed his mane and slammed his head into the bed. Stepping onto the mattress, effectively squatting over his upturned ass, she pounded him with reckless abandon.

Every plunge drove the air from his lungs, a steady stream of cum seeped from his cage, and his vision began to tunnel. The combination of her primal lust and fury was the stuff of legend, more than any mortal was meant to bear, yet that was what he pined for. It was at these rare moments that he was able to sample everything she had, freed from restraint, even if it often ended with him blacking out.

Time lost all meaning, while she plowed him like a beast possessed. He’d lost track of how many climaxes he’d had, with one orgasm bleeding into another, before she finally started to flare. Pinned beneath her, too weak to move, there was no way to stop what was coming - then again, he had no desire to stop her. The moment she hilted, triumphantly grunting and bucking her hips, his eyes rolled to the back of his head.

A literal flood of seed rushed into his depths, filling him in a way that only she could. His gut gurgled, displeased with the sheer volume of spunk rushing into him, while his hole spasmed and winked around her wildly throbbing shaft. Though he’d long since expended what little worthless spunk he had, his last climax was the most powerful of all.

With his ass up, and face smashed into the blanket, he felt his insides churn. His stomach ballooned outwards, filled past the breaking point. The familiar warmth her influx afforded was sublime, beyond rapturous, but his enjoyment was fleeting. Stepping away, forcing the massive head of her swollen cock out of his ass, his abused, gaped pucker gushed her essence over his legs and to the floor below.

Nearly comatose as she pumped the final few shots of her load over his back and head, it was all he could do to haul air into his lungs. He couldn’t fathom why she hadn’t fully emptied herself into him, but he quickly found out why she’d acted so out of character. Shuffling onto the bed, wetly resting her slick dick against his face, she towered over him.

“Clean it, Bitch…”

Like the obedient sow he was, Citi licked and suckled the spunk from her softening shaft. The taste of her seed mingled with the flavor of his depths, further fogging his cum-drunk mind. Swabbing her tool with his tongue, swallowing down every drop of her jizz, he smiled weakly.

“And that,” Vinyl huffed, leveling the camera at his depravity, “is how you breed a bitch.”

Pressing the stop button, she ticked away at the phone. It didn’t matter what she was doing, since he was nearly finished with his demeaning task; all he cared about was making sure his job was done properly. Wriggling to the side, burying his nose between the trunk-like base of her tool and her weighty nuts, he sighed - that was until she shuffled away.

“Press send,” she softly demanded, holding out the phone for him.

Citi’s eyes adjusted, attempting to read the screen. She’d attached the video to an email - an email with all of his contacts as recipients. A weak smile graced him, as he extended a finger to the device. If he pressed the button, everyone would see what he’d become - his friends, his family, what few coworkers he’d kept in touch with, all of them. Without a care in a world, more than happy to forsake his old life, he hit send.

“Good girl,” Vinyl chuckled, tossing the phone over her shoulder. Easing herself down beside him, sweetly caressing his face, she grinned from ear to ear. “Such a good girl…”

Beaming, gratified beyond belief, Citi snuggled up against her. Though he’d effectively committed social suicide, he didn’t care. Nothing mattered but her, and the world deserved to know it. Pressing himself to her, wrapping his arms around her back, she peered down at him.

“You know, since you want to get better at this, I know just the mare who could help you out,” she mused.

There was something insidious in her tone, yet he wasn’t concerned. If she wanted him to do something, he’d do it without question. Though he’d like to say he was her marefriend, he knew it wasn’t true. He wasn’t a mare and, so far as he knew, he’d never be an actual mare - no, he was something much better than that - he was her property.