(to start reading at Part 1, click here)
The collection room, as Rich had called it, was a simple room. Bare walls, almost clinical in feel, with two bars hanging from post in the ceiling. Brett had been stripped out of his clothes, and was now standing idly with a raging boner while Rich went to get the suit that Brett would spend the next couple days in. Rich wasn’t gone long. He returned with his arms full of leather.
“Here we are!” He chortled. “The one pony suit we have is just about your size! All black too. You can be our Black Beauty!”
Brett managed a polite smile, too transfixed by the lush smell of leather and the softness of the suit as it was held up to him. First, his feet went in. The legs were separate, and they were zipped from the knee up. He watched as the velcro flaps were pressed over the zipper seam, making them almost invisible against the sea of black leather. Next the body portion was pulled up. The front was solid, like a straitjacket. And like with a straitjacket, Brett’s arms were pushed into sleeves. Only these sleeves ended at the wrist, leaving his hands free for now. Before the back was zipped up, though Rich knelt in front of him, eyeing his still-throbbing cock.
“Yup, you’re definitely a stallion,” Rich commented as he handled Brett’s cock and churning balls. “Got some heft. They’re going to love you!”
Brett hissed as Rich fondled his package, guiding it into a sleeve of its own. Brett felt some sort of leather ring around the base of his cock, and another strap separating his balls. He looked down as Rich got up to zip up the rest of the suit. Brett gasped at what he saw. Like Mascot’s cock, his was wrapped in a leather sheath, only Brett’s sheath ended after about three inches leaving the other four inches of his boner exposed. It looks like a horse cock, Brett mused to himself.
The back was zipped up. It was skin-tight, firm, but not constricting. Brett could feel every breath he took, as the leather pressed in from every side. “Wow,” he breathed as he looked at himself.
“And we’re not done yet!” Rich said, holding up a pair of mitts. Brett pushed his hands in to them as they were held up to him. They were heavily padded, keeping his hands in tight fists inside. They were secured to the sleeves with a strap that threaded through alternating slits, and once again concealed with velcroed flaps. The ends of the mitts were of course styled like hooves. This was it, the moment Brett truly felt helpless. Rich then had him kneel so he could put on the final piece.
The head was a truly stunning piece of craftsmanship. It was a short-muzzled; not unlike the canine-styled hoods Brett had already seen, but this one of course was clearly equine. It had two ears, and a mane down the back.
“Now remember, talking will be difficult but not impossible,” Rich reminded him. “The idea is that you’ll only make animalistic sounds, and the hood will encourage that. So do have any last questions or comments before we get this on?”
“No, I don’t think so… I think we covered everything.” Brett said, his voice trembling slightly with anticipation.
Rich nodded, and started to work the hood onto Brett’s head. It was neck-entry, and like the rest of the suit was well padded, with a few stretch panels to ease the process of getting on and off. Brett felt Rich’s hand guide the front over his face, locating two plastic pieces that fit into Brett’s mouth.
“Bite down,” Rich instructed. Brett obeyed, biting down on the plastic pieces. They fit over his teeth like a mouthguard, and as he ran his tongue against the inside, Brett noticed that they too must be covered with a layer of leather. He felt the back of the hood being adjusted and pulled down his neck. Finally, the eyeholes lined up and the hood seemed to snap into place. The collar was threaded through the tabs on the body, and the suit was complete. Brett’s senses were overloaded with leather. The feel, the smell, and even the taste.
Rich then had him sit down, as he pulled out yet another pair of hoof-mitts. These were different from the others in that they appeared to have two parts. Brett soon found out why. They went over his feet like a boot, but they had a bit of a heel to them forcing his feet to point like ballet splints. The boots ended with a hoof, and were cleverly fastened with metal “shoes,” which screwed onto the base and locked it all together. Rich helped him stand to his feet. Brett took a couple steps testing the hoofs. It would take some getting used to, but they were otherwise comfortable.
Back on his knees, Brett felt his legs being folded up and strapped in place. He’d be on all fours for the next few hours.
Mascot returned with a cart full of more leather. Brett could see a pair of reins, several pairs of cuffs, a bridle with a bit, blinders, and whole mess of straps, crops, and other leather accessories. All of it was a deep oxblood color with a matte finish and the hardware was silver toned, for a smart look. Brett felt himself well with pride, puffing his chest out a little, and his cock twitching. Rich noticed.
“Gotta give our prized stud the best tack!” Rich chuckled. “Mascot likes the oxblood, especially. Now you two can match!”
Mascot was watching the transformation, his tail wagging and tongue lolling happily. Brett only then noticed that Mascot’s collar was also the same deep shade of red. They did match!
Cuffs were buckled to each of Brett’s wrists. A thick posture collar was buckled around his neck. The bridle was fit over his muzzle with the blinders and the bit. He huffed as the bit was pulled between his teeth and buckled behind his head. With each new piece of gear, Brett sank further into his equine role. Reins were clipped to the side rings of the bit, and he was lead over to the post. Brett felt clumsy on all fours the was way he was, but knew he’d likely get used to it. His front hooves were attached to the horizontal bar, lifting him up onto his hind legs. This is just like a real breeding post, he thought to himself. The reins were hooked up to a ring at the top of the post, and with the blinders and posture collar in place, Brett couldn’t move his head to see anything but what was directly in front of him. He was definitely feeling horny now, the leather half-sheath was doing a great job of keeping him hard.
Now that he was fully dressed and hooked up to the post, Brett was ready for his collection. His cock had been throbbing the entire time, and was ready for some action. He huffed imploringly.
“Not yet, stud. You still need one more thing.” Rich said calmly. Brett huffed with impatience. He was horny! What else could he possibly need? A light touch at his butt reminded him what was missing. A tail. Damn that’s right, how could he forget? Brett whimpered as a zipper was undone exposing his rump, and a lubed finger grazed his pucker.
“Easy boy,” Rich spoke in a deep, calm voice. “Easy. You’re pretty tight back here. You’re a true top stallion, aren’t you?”
Brett nickered an affirmative. It was true, he was a top. He’d been fingered a time or two before, yes, but that had been many many years ago. Surely though, the tail wouldn’t be too big…
Rich continued to ease his fingers in, and encouraging with his words. Brett closed his eyes and breathed deeply. He’d lost count of how many fingers had been worked into him, frankly he didn’t want to think about it. His mind was only on his own arousal, and wondering if he was going to get to cum sometime that day. Rich’s words kept him close.
“Alright, I think you’re ready.” The fingers were withdrawn, and the bulbous end of a big plug was pressed firmly to the opening they’d left.
If he hadn’t been strapped up, Brett would have kicked. “NNNNGGHHhh!!”
The tail felt huge! Like they were shoving a bowling pin into him!
“NNNNNGGHHHHHHhnnnnNNNN!!!” He chomped down hard on the bit. It was all he could really do as he felt like he was being split open.
“Woof…” Mascot placed an encouraging paw against Brett, and gave a gentle nuzzle. Even with the painful, unfamiliar sensations, Brett was comforted as he leaned toward his loving canine companion.
Just as he was seeing stars, Brett finally felt himself snap closed around the base of the plug. It felt enormous, and very heavy. He felt a firm pat on his back and the zipper was pulled closed, sealing his tail in for good.
“… And like all top alpha studs, you need to be brought down a peg or two.” Rich’s words were firm, but gentle in tone. Brett let his breath out in a whinny. Even though he was a top, he was just too horny to care. Now that the unnecessarily large plug was in, it was weighing heavily on his prostate and was just fueling his libido.
“There, Mascot!” Rich exclaimed. “What do you think of our new stallion?”
Mascot’s tail wagged excitedly as he nuzzled up Brett’s flank. “Woof woof!” He barked, his eyes shining. “Woof!”
Brett huffed cockily, feeling the eyes of the pup and the handler admiring his form. He couldn’t really move, but he twitched his cock, making it harder and a deeper shade of red, even if it was only in his own mind.
Rich took hold of the reins. “What are we gonna call you huh?” He looked Brett in the eyes, and then looked over the rest of him. “What’s our Black Beauty’s name?” Rich pondered for a moment, running his hands over Brett’s shoulders, back, mane, and cuffing him a couple times on the nose. Brett huffed each time, sputtering over the drool-inducing bit gag. Much to his humiliation, Rich commented on the amount he was drooling, as if there was anything he could do about it. “I got it!” Rich said at last. “With all that sputtering and cockiness, we’ll call you Sputnik!”
Brett felt a spurt of pre jet out of his cock, and a blush formed across his face upon hearing his new name. Sputnik. That was him now.
Mascot barked his approval.
“Sputnik it is.” Rich smiled, and entered it into his tablet as Mascot pawed at his legs excitedly. “Alright then. Sputnik, Mascot, you two have fun.” And with that, they were alone at last.
Brett, er, Sputnik he quickly corrected himself, felt his heartbeat quicken. Just the two of them now. He sputtered a pleading whinny through his gag, and tried to turn his head to catch a glimpse of his favorite pup. His only answer was the heavenly warmth of a wet mouth close around the exposed end of his cock and start to suckle.
He couldn’t take it too much longer. Even if it was just ten seconds, Sputnik was so pent-up and Mascot was a cock-sucking pro. He bucked all he could into the eager mouth, slipping far and fast into his new animalistic role.
This cumshot was so powerful, Sputnik felt like his namesake shooting into orbit. He froze momentarily, overwhelmed by the intensity. Sputtering through a torrent of drool, he caught his breath as Mascot’s mouth took care of the rest and sucked the stallion to completion.
Sputnik trembled from his exertion. Mascot’s warm wet throat wasn’t letting up, and despite the sensitivity, his cock wasn’t going soft! Guess they were going a few more rounds? Until I’m… Fully collected, Sputnik gulped. Not that he had any choice, trussed up like he was. He closed his eyes with a sigh, feeling the dog’s throat molding around his length, and the gentle prodding of a nose against his balls. He could just picture the leather GSD laying on his back under him. How he wanted to rub that sweet belly, praising him and rewarding him by stroking his leather-clad cock to mutual completion.
Mascot sucked three loads out of the horny black stallion. Each load was just a big as the one before. They took a much needed rest after the third orgasm, and Mascot left the room.
Sputnik stood, still tethered to the breeding post, huffing, his legs shaking. He couldn’t believe how horny he still was. The suit felt amazing, and the leather scent had yet to dissipate. He wondered how much longer he’d have to stand there. And how much more he’d have to cum.
The door opened, and a pair of unfamiliar footsteps approached. Sputnik whinnied inquiringly as the stranger patted his back, still out of his sight. An unfamiliar voice whispered sweetly into his ear.
“Woah there, easy boy.” The voice was warm and friendly, its timbre instantly soothing. The hands roamed over Sputnik’s back and flanks, smoothing the leather and caressing the taught muscles beneath. “That’s a good horse, enjoying your first collection?”
Sputnik nodded as best he could.
“Good. You’re such a fine beast too, Sputnik.”
A hand closed around his still-hard cock, pumping it gently from the leather-clad base to the tip.
“Let’s continue then. Get you nice and dry so we can focus on training the next couple days.”
“Mmmmmmmmph…” Sputnik was already close to shooting again. The stranger’s hand felt so good, and seemed to know exactly what speed and pressure he liked.
“It’s fun to play with horny stallions like you, Sputnik. They don’t have them here often,” the stranger continued in his calming voice as he brought the stallion closer to another orgasm. “Which is a shame you know? But it looks like quality makes up for quantity with you. I’ve been in the market looking for a strong stud like you. I bet you’d make a good workhorse with your physique and obvious stamina. But you could also be a fine showpony. You’re beautiful to look at with this jet-black hide. Oxblood furnishings. Clearly you have good taste.” He stopped stroking Sputnik’s cock. Sputnik whined needily. He got a chuckle and tousle of his mane in response.
The stranger straddled him like a true equestrian, reaching up to catch a handful of drool before resuming his handjob.
“You’re just my type, too! I’ve got a nice stall for you to live in, and I’d give you daily collections. I know you can’t talk, but I’ll take your next cumshot as a ‘yes.’ So how about it, stud?”
Sputnik’s head was reeling. He didn’t even know this guy! Rich had promised him he wouldn’t be advertised for sale. Despite being spent, the hand was getting him so close again. He tried to shake his head.
“Ah ah, now now, don’t try to resist. We both know you want to. Just cum. And you can have the life you’ve always wanted.” The stranger growled as he brought the trapped stallion to the edge.
Wait… That growl!
“You’ll still get to throw sticks for me most of the time.”
“Shhh, that’s it stud. Cum for me.”
Sputnik was still trying to turn his head to look back at his lover. Not that he needed to, he already knew the important things. The big tail in his butt felt massive, and despite how sore it made him feel back there, it was feeling better combined with the hand pulling his cocky virile maleness toward the edge.
“Tell you what, how about instead of purchasing each other like common grocery items, we can split the costs with our respective store credits. Through your training and photoshoots over the next two days, you’ll have gotten to know me better, and at the end of that if you still wish…” The handler leaned down so his lips could be felt against the leather by Sputnik’s ear. “You can take me home. Sound good?”
Panting and sputtering hard, Sputnik barely noticed as he shot his fourth load, too lost in the words he was hearing. Yes, yes to everything. He collapsed as the man behind him milked the last drops out of him, dismounted, and left him alone without another word.
Some time later, the door opened again. The exhausted stallion was too tired to notice himself being unhitched from the bars, and walked down the hall to another room. This one was smaller, rustic and inviting with its low lights and plain wood panelled walls. Sputnik’s bridle was removed and hung on a hook by the door. He was guided to a floor-mounted mattress, and helped onto it, sinking into it. The man taking care of him began to stroke his body, running his hands over his satin leather hide. Sputnik closed his eyes and drifted off to sleep, lulled by the caresses and constant hug of leather.
The creaking of the heavy wooden door roused Sputnik from sleep. In walked Rich with another man wearing a shirt with the word “Handler” across the torso.
“Good morning!” He called cheerily. “Sleep well there, Sputnik?”
Sputnik neighed with a nod, clumsily stepping off the mattress. The pups made walking on all fours look so easy, but it really wasn’t! He stumbled shakily to the door, his front hooves clopping on the hardwood floor. His handler chuckled in amusement, holding his hands out to steady the blushing horse.
“There there,” Rich chuckled. “You’re going to work on that later. This is Ian, he’ll be your handler today. Mascot will check in with you later. First though, Ian’s going to get you some breakfast.” Rich handed down the bridle and reins to Ian, then turned and left. Ian slipped the bridle back over Sputnik’s muzzle, and lead him slowly into the next room. There was a large square metal dish and a low sink next to a higher person-level prep counter.
“This is your feeding room where you’ll take most of your meals. We typically keep the non-canine livestock separate for meals and training sessions, though you’ll get to mix and mingle a bit for leisure.”
Sputnik eyed his breakfast. It looked like a mixture of oatmeal, pureed carrots, and diced celery?
“Horses are kept on strictly vegan, high-fiber diets.” Ian explained. “Of course, you may be rewarded with additional celery, carrots, or apple slices for progress and good behaviour. For now your meals will be puree or fine dice while you get used to eating out of the trough with your muzzle.”
Sputnik gawked at the idea of having to eat out of a trough. He’d make a mess! And this puree looked very unappetizing. He huffed in response.
“Eat up, before it gets cold!” Ian warned, tapping a riding crop lightly on Sputnik’s rump. The stallion quickly obeyed, lowering his head into the dish and lapping up the oatmeal-carrot glop. He closed his eyes, which helped the unappealing mush taste a little better. It was mealy, very thick, and could have used some salt. At least he wouldn’t be too hungry later.
Breakfast was definitely messy. The front end of the hood was smeared with oatmeal. Occasionally Ian would reach over and scrape the food into Sputnik’s mouth with a cloth napkin, and instruct him to drink water from the bowl next to the trough. It seemed to last forever, but eventually Ian wiped the hood with a new rag and replaced the reins to lead Sputnik on to the next ordeal.
Ian lead the horse to a small exercise room at the end of the hall. Sputnik was guided onto a treadmill, and his reins tethered to a bar above it.
“Walking on all fours is an essential part of your training,” Ian explained as he raised up the side gates of the treadmill. “Most of your exercise time will be spent here. Consider yourself a lucky horse, it’s easier for you to learn it correctly. The dogs don’t wear posture collars, so many of them teach themselves bad habits. You’ll be ready to participate in the show tomorrow, and you won’t even need to wear the collar for part of it.”
Show!? Sputnik reared his head at that. Ian cuffed him to the side of the head.
“Quiet!” He scolded. “Yes, you’ll be a star. And you will be great! Now start walking.”
With that, the treadmill began to move. Sputnik stumbled, his limbs awkward and flailing in spite of the slow pace. The treadmill was just shorter than the length of the reins. Sputnik kept his eye on the amount of slack in the reins, and tried to keep the slack steady. The pace was slow, but he quickly found a rhythm with his four legs.
The cocky stallion huffed proudly. Ian was right, this was easy! He turned his head to sneer at the silly handler, immediately stumbling as he did so. The treadmill’s pace was so slow, the black leather-clad stud looked comical as he scrambled back up into position. Ian chuckled, giving his charge a swat with the crop.
“Focus! Keep your focus, boy. It’s easy now, but it won’t be easy when the speed increases!”
Sputnik didn’t have time to dwell on his embarrassment. He kept his eyes in front of him, which was easy with the collar and blinders in place. Keeping pace and rhythm didn’t seem too difficult a task… After ten minutes of walking at this pace, however, he did start to feel muscles he’d never noticed before. Muscles in his back, shoulders, and glutes were tiring. Overtaxed by lifting the limbs in such unfamiliar oblique motions, they were feeling a burn. The proud athletic young stud furrowed his brow, and chomped on his bit, drool streaming from his lip with every huff. He was having to work!
Ten minutes later, the treadmill speed was increased. A swat with the crop was the only indication the sweating, grunting male got. The new pace was refreshing, once he’d recovered from the initial stumbles.
Some time later, the pace was slowed to a stop. Sputnik was ready for a break. Ian allowed him a quick rest, but then pulled the reins higher, forcing his head up even more. The treadmill was started up again, the stallion huffing and groaning in protest. This time the pace was increased gradually, working up to a quick trot over the course of 20 minutes. With no slack in the reins and his head held up the way it was, Sputnik had to focus even harder on his rhythm and coordination. He didn’t stumble.
“Good boy!” Ian praised him as the treadmill finally came to a stop. “Very very good work here.” The handler lead him off the treadmill, and hand-fed him a few diced apples.
“You can come have a drink before we do some more!” Sputnik was panting heavily as he was lead over to a bowl on the floor. The water was nice, even if it was difficult to drink with the bit between his teeth. At least it washed the drool off his chin.
Ian patted his back while he drank. “You’re a good one, Sputnik. A hard worker, well-behaved, and taking nicely to posture training. You’ll be a fine horse.”
Sputnik was only half-listening, but he felt his cock jump a bit at the praise.
After he’d had his fill, he was guided to a matt. Ian had him lie on his back, and to the stallion’s surprise, began to unbuckle his right leg! He wasn’t able to see much, with the hood and posture collar holding his head, but he could feel his quads being massaged and his leg slowly straightened out.
“AAARRGKKKKKKKK!!” He groaned as Ian’s fingers dug into his hamstrings. It was tight from being folded up all this time, though with the hoof-boots keeping his toes pointed, it was still fairly compressed. The stretch burned, but was still welcome. The left leg was soon unstrapped and given the same treatment. Ian gripped him by the ankles, and continued to guide him through several hamstring stretches and some light bicycle motions.
“You’ll typically get a stretching session whenever your limbs are to have a change of position. We’re going to have a training routine on two legs, and after that exercise, you’ll get another stretch session before your legs are folded up again.”
Ian helped him up to his feet. It was strange now standing and walking on two legs. Sputnik felt unsteady at first, essentially the boots were like high heels, keeping his feet pointed. The posture collar kept him from looking down, but at least Ian kept a steadying hand on his shoulder as he was walked back to the treadmill. Every step also shifted the weight of the large horsetail plug against his prostate. It made the whole task of walking upright feel even more awkward.
The reins were attached to the overhead bar again, and both of Sputnik’s wrists were attached to the sides of his collar. The treadmill was started again, and another long round of training began. This time, the pace was faster, about a jogging pace. Every increase in speed was announced by a swat of the crop.
“You’re a runner, right? Let’s see if you have any racing potential!” Ian called out over labored huffing of the gagged stallion’s exertion and clopping of the boots. Three swats to the rear, and the treadmill was cranked to a true running pace.
Sputnik’s quads were on fire. He could run faster than this, but the body position imposed by the boots, collar, and plug was a difficult one. His back was straighter, and overall his body was more upright. All the while, that infernal plug had been pounding on his insides too. Just as he was reaching his limit, another swat on his butt signalled a cool-down period. By the end of it, the proud stallion was a huffing, panting, drooling mess. His cock had stiffened to a full erection and it bounced heavily against his thighs, smearing pre across the black leather.
Finally allowed to rest, Sputnik was guided through another round of stretching before his legs were folded back up on themselves. His chest still heaved, and he was parched. Ian removed the bit from his mouth, and set a bowl of shaved ice chips down for the horse to cool himself down. The stallion sat by the bay window, which overlooked the gymnasium. He watched several leatherpups play wrestle and run around. Some of them had sticks to fetch or balls to chew and slobber on. A handler oversaw the activity, sometimes kneeling down to give praise or to throw a stick or frisbee.
“Your Mascot isn’t down there,” Ian mentioned in a conversational tone. Sputnik was crunching some ice, and looked at the trainer questioningly. Ian placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder.
“We got a new arrival this morning, one that is proving difficult. Mascot is our most experienced trainer, so his insight was required for the handling of the situation. Something about a former fratboy destined for a new life of chaste servitude. Mascot will get him squared away, and will be back to see you this evening.”
Sputnik whimpered and nodded in understanding. His mouth still full of ice, he turned back towards the window to watch the pups continue their puppy shenanigans.
Lunch was just like breakfast; the exact same tasteless glop of oatmeal and pureed carrots and celery out of the trough, and the same messy affair with the water pail. Humiliating it may have been, but the black stallion was ravenously hungry after his workout. As he washed the last of it down, Sputnik noticed how satisfying the simple meal really was. He chuffed contentedly as he was cleaned off, and lead by the bridle for some leisure time.
“You’ll get an hour of social time after lunch and dinner,” Ian commented as they entered the lounge. “It’s important to meet and interact with other pets, so enjoy it. This time is all about instinct and animal behaviour. Remember that you’re a stallion. The dogs will be curious, but should be well-behaved.” He unclipped the reins, and placed them on a hook by the door.
“Go on, stud. Relax for a bit! I’ll be back in an hour for some more training.” And with that, Ian left.
Sputnik nickered softly as four pups eagerly approached him, their tails wagging but respectfully keeping some distance. Sputnik recognized Tanner, the friendly golden retriever he’d met a couple times before. He nodded to the horny pup, who immediately bounded over and leaned heavily against the stallion’s chest. His tongue lolled as he sniffed and nuzzled his way down his flank. The other three pups followed suit, yipping excitedly as they explored their new equine friend.
Sputnik stood his ground, maintaining his posture and let the four pups do the work. Tanner went straight for his cock, giving his balls a nuzzle before eagerly licking the tip of his stiffy. Sputnik noticed the zipper was sealed over Tanner’s sheath, indicating he was still in chastity. He gave the horny pup’s rump a firm nuzzle.
The other three pups were circling him, giving curious sniffs and nuzzles. One of them was in a grey and brown mottled suit, stylized like an Australian Shepherd. His nametag indicated his name was Steel. Steel seemed to be the most trained, almost aloof in manner. He circled slowly, farthest away. He wagged his tail conservatively. The two other pups that nuzzled and pawed at the stallion’s flank were in all-tan suits, slightly darker than the Golden Retriever suit Tanner wore. They also wore plastic nametags on their collars, which meant they were either unowned, or still new and waiting for their metal tags to be made. Rex and Gunner were both energetic and their body types suggested they were athletic. Rex was slightly more muscular.
The quintet gradually made their way to a cushy matt set in the floor in front of a huge tv screen showing a baseball game. Sputnik settled down, switching his attention from the game to the four doting pups as they nuzzled, licked, pawed, and sniffed their way around him from nose to tail. Tanner spent a good deal of his time directing his affection to the horse’s bulging cock and balls. Steel finally warmed up to him, and settled spooning behind the stallion, also watching the ballgame and occasionally growling and barking at bad calls. Rex and Gunner were for too energetic to cuddle for long stretches. They’d get up and wrestle lightly with each other, or play fight over a toy leather bone for a while before returning to the snugglefest for a spell. Sputnik was enjoying the rest. His muscles were still a little worn from all the morning workouts.
Sometime during the seventh inning of the game, Ian returned. The hour had gone by so fast!
“Alright stud,” Ian beckoned holding the bridle and reins. “Time to get back to work!”
The four dogslaves whined and followed their equine friend to the door. They nuzzled their goodbyes as the stallion was tacked up with his bit and. Sputnik gave a parting neigh and a nod as he was gently guided back to his workout room.
“You’ll get another leisure period this evening,” Ian reminded him. A celery stick was hand-fed to the horse as they walked down the hall.
Once again, Sputnik was leashed to the treadmill and worked up from slow walk to a full gallop and then back down. Just like in the morning session, Ian announced the changes in pace with a clap of the crop. After a brief rest though instead of a massage and two-legged exercise, Sputnik was brought before a new contraption. This one looked like a sort of inverted rowing machine. The “oars” were clipped to Sputnik’s bridle, and the treadmill was raised to an incline. The leathered horse sputtered anxiously as the machine started with a whir, and he started to move his legs.
“AGHKKPT!!” The bit was being pulled into his mouth by the weight of the machine! It was pulling his head back and down against the posture collar in a most alarming way.
“NNNNGH!!” The stallion brayed. His panic was met with several firm swats on the ass with Ian’s crop.
“Quiet there,” Ian called in a bored tone. “You’re fine.”
Sputnik grunted and sputtered his doubt.
“Yes boy, you’re fine. This machine is teaching you how to pull a cart. Now quiet down and work!” With another firm slap, Ian pressed a few buttons on his tablet and the machine increased speed slightly.
The stallion complied, not that he had any other choice. The treadmill’s inclination posed a new challenge all of its own, and the pull on the bit was very uncomfortable. Sputnik chewed on it, wanting nothing more than to get the damn thing out of his mouth. He hated how it pulled his head down against the collar as if it was going to strangle him. Couldn’t he just have a yoke or a harness to take the weight? No. The thought flashed across his mind automatically. No way, yokes and harnesses were for oxen. He was a stallion, and even working stallions were far more elegant. He sneered slightly and with a cocky huff, lifted his head and pulled the imaginary cart. Almost immediately, there was a whip crack across his back, and the speed was increased.
Throughout the next hour of cart-pulling training, Sputnik worked up to only a moderate pace. Instead of speed being increased, the weight and inclination were increased. By the end of it, the stallion was exhausted, and collapsed on the floor as soon as he was released from the machine. Ian praised him for his good hard work, and began to massage and release the leg bindings. Sputnik groaned and relaxed. He must have taken a little nap even, because he found himself waking up to see a very friendly face.
“Woof!” Mascot nodded against the stallion’s face. Sputnik got the message, and got back up, slowly, to his feet. Standing on two legs was very strange indeed. His front hooves had been folded up in front of his chest, like a begging dog. The infernal bit was still strapped in his mouth, but it did little to dampen his spirits. He was happy to see his pup, nuzzling him affectionately. Ian was nowhere to be seen, but Mascot took the ends of the reins in his mouth and took charge of Sputnik just as well. The German Shepherd wagged his tail and lead him down to the gym.
Despite the obvious limitations of being on all fours, with hands mitted and a muzzled mouth, Mascot was a pro at opening doors, manouvering down stairs, and leading the bound horse across the astroturf and attach the reins to what looked like a tetherball pole. Sputnik was in awe, though he had been far more preoccupied watching Mascot’s butt and wagging tail to wonder. That is, until the pup clipped the reins to the pole, which did pique the horse’s curiosity. This did make for an interesting new development on the game ‘tetherball’ though…
Mascot barked. Butting his head firmly against Sputnik’s thigh and then running a short distance away before barking again and repeating the actions. Sputnik huffed. He got the idea, and started to chase his dog in a circle defined by the length of chain from the tetherball pole. Though he was back on two legs, Sputnik found it was difficult to catch up to his four-legged leatherdog. Slight tension in his calf muscles reminded him why; the boots kept his feet pointed, essentially high heels. Running in heels wasn’t something most athletic men were accustomed to. The lack of speed was frustrating at first, knowing he wouldn’t be able to catch Mascot on his own. He huffed his frustration, a spatter of drool speckling his front hooves. Mascot turned his head, and barked again encouragingly, slowing his pace just a little. The stallion could almost catch up, but the dog wasn’t ready to be caught quite yet.
The two ran in circles and half-circles until they were tired. Sputnik sat down with his back to the pole, panting heavily with a long river of spittle running from his chin down his front hooves and chest. Mascot flopped down between the stallion’s legs, sprawled out happily looking up at his black leather beauty. His eyes were fixed on the big throbbing horse cock, and he playfully batted it with his nose from time to time. The two exchanged sighs tired but contented looks, sharing in the moment together.
“There you are! I wondered where you’d taken my charge!” Ian walked up with a couple of carrots in a bowl in one hand, and a leash in the other.
Mascot barked back proudly, pawing at Sputnik’s flank possessively.
“Yeah yeah, I know.” Ian rolled his eyes. “Well it’s time to get you both fed, but I thought you could use a snack after all the hard work.” He placed the bowl on the ground, revealing it was full of water. Ian took the two carrots out and held them out for Sputnik one at a time.
The horse was definitely hungry, practically inhaling the two crunchy treats. His reins were unclipped from the pole, and he turned onto his front to drink from the bowl. As he lay drinking, Ian and Mascot each took a leg, massaging the muscles thoroughly before Ian folded them back up. They carried out the opposite process with Sputnik’s front legs, unhitching them from his collar, slowly straightening them out and massaging them to relieve any cramps. Sputnik sighed happily as Ian wiped the slobber from his chest and face, and Mascot very briefly licked at his nuts. The stallion was horny, but enjoyed being teased. His shaft was hard and throbbing again in no time. Maybe he’d get another collection before bedtime?
Mascot had a truly devious glint in his eyes and he gave the stallion’s bone a long slow lick. He gave Sputnik a kiss, then bounded away with his tail wagging.
Ian chuckled. “Good job, keeping the stud horny!” He called as the German Shepherd disappeared around a door. “Alright stud. Feeding time!” And with that, the handler lead his black stallion by the reins back across the gym, up the stairs, and down the hall to the room where a metal trough full of a warm puree of oatmeal, celery, carrots, and apples awaited.
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Metal would like to thank Cutieboy90 for this story!