Beyond Charybdis (20 page)

Breathing through the internal vents that accessed the nostrils of the mask, Mina peered through the shaded eyepieces, watching the women as they brushed their hands through her mane to clear it aside and then brought forth a leather bridle. Unlike any other, this one was completely normal, her new face accepting the standard riding tack. The bit slid into her mouth, able to steer her just as easily by holding the front of her mask, and the leather harness was tightened to her head.

Reins were clipped into place and used to bring her off the sawhorse, leading her slowly forward so that she could experiment with her initial steps while still having the sawhorse to support her should she fumble the attempts.

Lifting her forelegs she set them forward, the hooves clopping to the floor as her rear legs timed themselves to keep up and maintain her balance. Her infant steps were unsteady and weak, but it felt glorious to be diminished so absolutely. She now resembled nothing more than a four-legged animal, a beast owned and controlled by others, without will or speech of her own.

Clearing the sawhorse she wobbled forward and was drawn to the side, where a new garment was taken up. The halter-necked leotard could be broken into two halves, the garment forged from a much more solid fabric, almost like rigid plastic. Two circular sockets existed at the crotch of the shell, ready to accommodate plugs or some other manner of intrusion into her body.

Setting her legs and arms through the apertures, the two slaves lifted them onto her body and pressed them together, the two sides meeting with a chorus of clicks. The leotard now squeezed her body, resting firmly against the strict hold of the cat-suit. Its sculpted collar acted like a posture band, lifting her chin and serving it upon a solid tongue, keeping her face upright.

Two translucent shafts of plastic were taken up, the separate rods formed as a hollow tube coated in a layer of the ridged jelly substance that Mina found so delightful. The rounded heads of the phalluses bore a cluster of holes that accessed the interior shaft and which would allow her to be pumped up or drained as the designs of her owner wished.

The apertures of the carapace on her torso and the slits in her cat-suit allowed them to slither into her, making Mina shudder and sway. The women quickly held her to ensure she did not collapse, her equilibrium still trying to acclimatise to the new form in which she had been moulded.

The two lengths locked to the fixtures so that she was completely sealed away from the outside world, all her bodily functions being handled by internal hoses.

A plume of snow-white hair was grabbed and clipped to the leotard at her tailbone, gifting her with a tail to match her mane.

‘Very pleasing, slave,' commented Poseidon as he rose from his chair and walked over to where Mina stood, watching him through the reflective eyepieces. Hidden from view, she flexed herself against the confines of her new uniform, the strain of it already starting to rise, feeding her masochistic cravings, her loins squeezing to the soft outer layer of the plugging shafts.

Extending his hand, Poseidon was furnished with a small remote control that he took and examined before addressing Mina. ‘The uniform you wear has several other functions. For example, should you try and rear up, the sensors in the body shell will scold you for trying to break your designated caste. Such discipline can also be meted out at the touch of button, like so...'

As soon as his finger depressed a tab on the device, Mina screamed into the gag as her clitoris and nipples were savaged by voltage bites that made the skin erupt with scintillating pulses. The momentary jolt had her chewing on the gag, sobbing against her mask, pulling at her uniform, trying to get free of the attackers that were now her most intimate and immobile companions.

‘Not pleasant, but it's a vital part of the uniform. It'll help push you as far as you can go. We have scant time before the party, and I'll have to drive you mercilessly to get you ready for it. You assented to this training regime, so you had better get used to the fact that you are totally under my control. If you do not perform as I require, you'll be chastised until you do, it's that simple. I will not tolerate failure in you, because I know what you are capable of. Any failure on your part will clearly be the work of laziness and rebellion and as such will not be tolerated.

‘So, let's get you to your station and begin your training, we have much work to do before you're ready,' he revealed, moving away and using the reins to draw Mina along, her four hooves struggling to find order against their stringent bonds.

Walking awkwardly, but gathering new knowledge on what she could and could not do with each hesitant step, Mina was taken back into the bedroom where her naked form had been ravished by Poseidon - the very same female form that now lay an infinity of space away from the outside world.

Drawn onto the treadmill, her reins were attached to the wall rings, leaving her nose almost touching them, preventing her from getting off the apparatus.

The hatch was opened, exposing controls and several sockets. Poseidon took one of them and pulled it out, a long metallic segmented hose spilling behind it. The hose was fed over her bit and clipped to an internal fixture to provide her with food while she toiled.

Flicking a switch within the hatch, a more covert panel flicked open in the floor at the end of the treadmill. A telescopic pole started to rise with gradual speed, locking itself at the same height as Mina's rubber encased rump.

From the tip Poseidon took more of the hoses, the coils spilling from the summit to pass between her legs and lock to the base of her dildos, ready to regulate her insides with their mechanised influence. ‘There, you're ready for your lessons now, pony-girl,' he testified, flicking another switch, slapping her bottom and then marching from the room.

Once the door had closed and locked itself Mina was left in silent contemplation, wondering what was going to befall her. Calming her thoughts and relaxing into the arms of her uniform, she looked blankly at the wall, waiting for her training to begin.

The belt beneath her started to move, rolling slowly at first, bringing her to a slow walk where she could practice using her complement of legs. Adapting as quickly as she could, she soon grew more confident in flipping a hoof forward, the sprung joint at her hands letting the rest of the metal-shod hoof thump against the corrugated rubber. The treadmill started to increase its speed, moving her from a slow walk to a swifter pace.

Her reins pulled back as she tried to accelerate, having difficulty changing her rate. When they tugged at the wall rings her loins were nipped with angry sparks of voltage, chewing on her most tender membranes to have her croak against the gag and bolster her efforts. As soon as she was meeting the speed of the treadmill and thus had taken the pressure from the wall anchors, the attacks of encouragement stopped.

Continuing the walk, she started to grow more fluid in her movements, the constant use making them second nature as the hours trailed lethargically by. Occasionally she let herself dawdle a little, fall back and gain a few kisses of discipline before restoring herself to the required position on the belt.

The hunched position started to become tedious and she tried to straighten a little to ease some of the stress, only to find that the sensors were intolerant of the slightest change in her stance during this period of devolution. The shocks emerged again, but this time others were added to her breasts, the nipples that rested against the stern shell being savaged by swirling flashes of discomfort that quickly forced her back onto all four feet.

Over the course of several hours she was relentlessly pushed towards a steady gallop, her hooves pounding the mat beneath as it span past. Once again she was subjected to the ordeal of fighting to have her physique meet the demands required of her, applying her resilience to the task to ensure she succeeded.

The rubber prison became a horrendously sweltering bane to her flesh, the rubber squirming against her motions, filled with ample sweat. Her body ached and burned, her pulse stamping through her head as she kept to the rigorous gallop, her occasional failures earning her bouts of discipline.

It was not long before she started to pray for an end, so she might rest, her weariness growing more potent, making her stumble on occasion, the electrical castigation quickly galvanising her back into a full run as she vehemently cursed it. There was nothing she could do. She could not take any more, but if she tried to stop she would be disciplined so severely that no matter how enervated, how emotionally and physically shattered she was, the uniform would have her back at the required speed in no time. The longer she ran, the more her head swam with giddiness and the more difficult it was to keep to the parameters proscribed for her training.

The periods of voltage assault grew longer, the agonising teeth that gnawed at her becoming more venomous, increasing their vicious settings until she gave up and found the effort to restore herself to a run. The fiendish machine was never going to let her rest, it would keep going, keep increasing the agony it could impart until it found the setting to make her comply.

Mina could see now how other girls had been reduced to shattered insane shells by this horror, for already she was in turmoil, resenting her treatment, hating it, yet unable to do a single thing to affect it. She had foolishly agreed to this fate, and Poseidon would work her until she dropped, succeeded, or went insane. She couldn't take this, she would lose her mind or suffer a coronary. How could they do this to her, to a woman who only wanted to please them?

Mina had no idea how long she remained on the running machine, her first awareness that her lot had changed coming when the door opened and Poseidon entered. The man moved beside her, standing just by the rolling rubber mat as it forced her onwards, making her sprint, her limbs bounding against it as her sight wavered and rocked, her mind full of woe.

‘You've been running well, Mina,' he stated, and flicked a switch in the control panel. ‘Few ponies have lasted this long on such a setting.'

Mina sighed with utter relief as the machine swiftly slowed and came to a stop, letting her sag. Her legs folded beneath her until she was hanging by the cables and tethers that remained sternly fixed to her body, holding her a few feet up, her limbs loose under her hanging torso.

‘You must be exhausted,' he offered as Mina closed her eyes, sobbing to herself within her private cell, unable to fathom how she could hope to make it through this evil tutoring. ‘Let's get you cleaned up and to bed.'

 

Mina stood upon one of the small hills, her hooves sinking a little way into the soil with each step, burdened by the added weight of her new attire. The shell that encompassed her torso had been swapped for another white version, this one bearing the fixtures that would allow the wings to be attached. The carapace was far more solid, constructed from a plasteel alloy, an amalgamation of plastic and metal that combined exceptional light weight with incredible strength, a strength emphasised by the erasure of the brittle nature of a metal, giving the material a far higher tolerance for stress. Plasteel was being kept quiet for now, hidden while it was fully developed and the manufacture of it prepared, the factories readied, the uses worked out, even basic plans for marketing arranged. Thus while it ran through government approval, the entire machine behind it could confidently be set in motion, completely certain that it would pass. This would allow the corporations to flood the world with their product and beat all competition by years, creating a cartel impermeable to outsiders.

With soft clicks of acceptance her fittings grabbed the wings, the white upgraded versions furled neatly at her sides. Her body stretched against its new albino uniform, and her fingers clutched at the internal sleeves of her gloves, scratching a hoof against the turf as she awaited the order to begin.

A tingle of static charge brushed across her scalp, the neuronic sensors charging themselves. They were placed to the most deep setting possible, where only a concentrated devoted force of the will would register against them, the flashes of impulse through her synapses having to be singular enough of purpose to deploy the new appendages to her body. It was a wise precaution to stop any wayward thoughts interfering with the flight, but also it meant it required a person of unparalleled willpower to operate it safely and competently.

‘You may begin, slave,' commanded Poseidon, stepping back with her unleashed reins as the engineers followed. The carriage that had brought them was parked a short way away, the team of six ponies blinkered in full so that they could not see the test flight.

Fixing her eyes forward through the lenses, Mina banished all superfluous thought from her mind, casting away all doubt and speculation, and then flung a single yelled command through her mind, visualising the response to assist her.

The wings flung wide, the artificial muscles making them operate in smooth organic sweeps rather than clumsy mechanised jerks. Pounding her hooves against the grass she bolted forward, her mane and tail flapping in the wind as she accelerated to a mad charge.

With a hiss of exertion she kicked into the ground as she cleared the crest of the hill, closing her eyes and filling her mind with the orders needed to control her winged harness. Her legs curled up against her body, meeting the small clamps upon her underside that snapped to awaiting hoof rings, letting her relinquish control of her limbs so she could concentrate more fully on her flight.