A Week at CKC
By Musuko

Monday.

The simulated dawn glows through our bedroom window, and I stir upwards from the cool blue depths of my sleep. I don’t open my eyes yet, but I can see the light through my lids, warm and pleasant. I don’t care that it comes from lamps fitted behind frosted plexiglass. I don’t care that our bed lay thirty metres underground. All I care about is being able to turn my head like so…
	...and nuzzle my nose in under David’s muscular arm to worm my way into his sleeping embrace.
	If ever in my life I have thought I was in heaven, I was a fool. Past me didn’t know what heaven is. This is heaven. Right here. And I’m in no big hurry to leave it by waking up. That will come in time. On the other side of the bedroom door, past our beautiful living suite, past the soundproofed “front” door of our only private retreat, lay the corridors of the sprawling subterranean nest that is CKC. And down one of those corridors would be our morning wakeup call, trotting inexorably towards our door.
	His name is Sam, and I don’t like him. Sam will be the herald of the end of my morning bliss. He will breeze his way into our suite and start the convoluted process of dragging me and David away from our snoozy morning rest, through the incredibly cruel and unusual process of...preparing our breakfast.
	Yeah...I really shouldn’t dislike Sam. But I want to lie in!
	I suppose I shouldn’t complain. I mean, there are worse ways to wake up than to the wafting smell of frying bacon. I’d say that is possibly the second best way to wake up. The third best way is, if I had to choose, what Sam does when I don’t respond to the bacon; in he trots to the bedroom, sleek and shiny, making his cute little noises, all the way over to our snuggling embrace in the bed, where he rouses me in the same way that I’ll then soon after rouse David.
	The absolute tip top best way to wake up is...well, I suppose it doesn’t count really, as I’m already awake when it happens. But it does help pull me all the way out of lethargy, so I’ll count it.
	The best way in the world to wake up is to slither under the sheets and wrap your lips around your hunky snake lover’s massive cock and suckle it hard, and keep it that way until you hear him stir and feel his paw come down to rest on the top of your head.
	Mmmmm...better than anything!
	I hear the door, and know that I’ll soon smell breakfast. What to do. I could feign sleep and enjoy Sam’s attentions for a while. But I’m already hard with my morning wood, and with six days worth of orgasm bottled up inside me perhaps it’s not the best idea to risk Sam “accidentally” taking me over the edge. He is a rascal after all, and I suspect his lust for the taste of cum might override his fear of the riding crop.
	I make up my mind...down under the covers I slither. David’s smell surrounds me, and I almost want to sink back into sleep again right there in the all-enveloping warmth and musk. But I press on, a kitty with a mission. It lay just beneath my nose, the part of David that I loved the second-most...maybe third. His eyes were first, of course. That agile, dexterous tongue second. His cock third. But those last two...they fight back and forth.
	I don’t want to wake him too quickly. I begin with gentle kisses. I worship his cock with my lips, barely touching his skin. I breathe my mantra of desire; hushed gasps of wordless lust. I put my attention where it rightfully belongs: on the swelling erection beneath my muzzle, and not the ever-present hardness throbbing denied and ignored between my thighs.
	I slide my graceful fingers behind his shaft and ease it up and away from his tummy. My breath paints warm, moist air against the fat bulb of his tapered tip. I hang there, lingering and enjoying the rich male scent, teasing myself just a little while before I get the taste…
	He stirs beneath me, shifting in the sheets. I freeze, assessing. One titanic thigh slides up, knee bending, then drops back down again. I smile, and dart my tongue out for a delicate lick against the slit at the tip of his cock. Gently...gently...I slide my lips down…
	I hear the bedroom door swing open. I hear hooves. I groan and roll onto my back and pull the sheets down to expose my head. I open my eyes, and Sam’s shiny muzzle is hovering over me, tilted quizzically.
	“Yes, alright, I’m getting up.”
	Fucking Sam.

David gets to sleep on. A perk of his position. As a performer, I’ve got other tasks to occupy my time until the real work begins. Shower first, with the strawberry foam shampoo, chosen for me to complement my pink fur. I’m the pink berry kitty, they tell me. Sam stands expectantly at the doorway, watching my naked body turn under the water. I could shut him out, but why bother? It’s only Sam.
	He comes to me with a towel and carefully rubs it against my turning body to help me dry off. I take it from him to finish off, and he drops to his knees, casting a hopeful look up towards me.
	“No Sam.”
	He whinnies pitifully.
	“Sam! No! You know you’re not allowed to...gah. S-Sam!”
	Like a homing missile, his mouth had shot to my half-hard cock and slid down to its base, latching on and suckling like he wanted to pull my innards out through it.
	“Sam, stop!” I gasp, with none of the firm resolve I wanted the statement to have. I dropped the towel and placed both paws on his smooth, shiny head. There was nothing to grip onto except his ears, and I knew those to be false constructs of empty latex. And despite his tiny, four-foot frame, Sam could overpower me if he chose to, and this is one of those situations where he would want to. I know from experience that if I pushed, he’d just hook his hooves behind my butt and pull back.
	Sam’s a Null, capital N, assigned to our suite as one of his duties. His body from hooves to ears is one uniform sheen of smooth, shiny, sexy navy-blue latex, with only openings for his eyes, nostrils and mouth, and there are no visible seams even then. I took a magnifying glass to his eyelids one day and could see no trace of natural skin. I shone a light into his nostrils and saw nothing but latex all the way in. And his mouth…
	...the mouth currently undulating along my shaft and making me weak-kneed is a circular ribbed tunnel not unlike the interior of a sex doll’s business end. It is clearly and shamelessly designed for one purpose only; the pleasuring of the male organ, differing only with the presence of a slender, shiny and very articulated latex tongue, and the constant wetness of slippery lube, as ever-present as saliva.
	For himself, Nulls like Sam have no hint of anything between their legs, and I only call Sam male due to the lack of any similar gender features on his chest. I have no way of knowing if I’m right, though. He could be a she underneath. I suppose they shouldn’t be assigned a gender at all, in all fairness, because as I once learned…
	“Wanna know something?” he had said, the great big doberman security guard as he rocked back and forth into my mouth in the break room, while a Null knelt behind him and licked enthusiastically at his tailhole. “About Nulls, I mean.”
	He had seemed to have wanted an answer, so I did my best to nod whilst the head of his cock drooled precum onto my tongue. So tasty.
	“Most of ‘em aren’t even ponies. Not to begin with anyway. I’ve seen them on their way in, all different species, all different genders. And they all come out as latex ponies, de-sexed and de-identity...fied, and ready to serve. Mmm...slow down there, berry kitty, getting too excited huh? You liking thinking about the Nulls huh? Well, you only have to ask nicely and you can find out what it’s like to be one…”
	The memory of that distant day mixes with the present sudden chill around my lube-slick shaft, with Sam’s pleased-looking face hovering just in front of it. I whine. I’m not allowed to cum without permission from anyone but David, and Sam’s not allowed to make me cum. But there’s nothing to stop him taking me cruelly close to the edge and then stopping. And cruellest of all is the shaming fact that this identity-less latex slave technically outranks me, so far as any kind of formal hierarchy goes in this place. Why? Because David told me so. I am to obey and serve anyone and everyone, and command none.
	Sam feeds me breakfast, calm and patient and ever-eager. I crunch the perfect bacon and cut up the flawless eggs and idly wonder what he feels under that latex. Or is the latex his skin? Is he as pent up and lustful as I am, or is he free of that torment? What keeps him so eager?
	I don’t realise I’m staring at him until I feel the paws on my shoulders. I squeak and drop my fork, and the low rumble of David’s laugh leans down over my head. He kisses my nose from above, then slips down beside me, easing into the stool next to me at our breakfast bar.
	“Lost in thoughts, kitten?”
	“M-morning. I was...thinking about Sam.”
	“Oh?”
	Sam places a plate of breakfast piled twice as high as mine in front of David and trots back to the kitchen to clean, ever eager, ever busy.
	“I was wondering what it’s like for him.”
	“You can find out if you like.” I look at him. His grin is wicked. It makes me shiver.
	“Way too scary!”
	He says nothing, just fills his mouth with egg and chews, staring at me, grinning. I squirm on my stool and look back at my plate to finish off breakfast, my naked body feeling very small and helpless, my hardon poking at the underside of the bar.
	He swallows.
	“I wouldn’t make you do that,” he says. “You’re so much prettier as a kitten than you’d ever be as a permanent pony.”
	He slid that word in there on purpose, I know it! He knows that word makes me tremble. I bite my lip and hide my reaction as best I can by stuffing the last of my bacon in my mouth. I stare at the plate, feeling his eyes on me. That word. That word that makes me so scared and so aroused. Permanent. Permanent.
	I look up at Sam. Permanently sealed up, without identity, without orgasm...without David. Just another Null pony slave, serving where I’m told, watching from afar as David forgets about me, gets on with his life, maybe even uses my mouth from time to time with no recognition who I am underneath...just another interchangeable Null. I could almost cry! I put my fork down a bit too hard.
	“Something the matter kitten?”
	I stand up, shaking, then drop to my knees, pushing myself across into the tight space between David’s stool and the bar. My mouth finds his cock as fast as Sam’s found mine.
	“Oh, I see,” he chuckles. I don’t listen. I open my throat and steady my breathing and slide all the way to the furthest extent my mouth could ever reach down that massive cock, and suckle as hard as I know it can take before he feels discomfort.
	“Mmm...well now I know the thought of becoming a Null is a turnon for you…”
	I let out a muffled squeal around his shaft.
	“How very interesting…”

We three part ways; David off to whatever mysteries of CKC business he spends his morning with, Sam off trotting to whatever next menial task he’s due to cheerfully and enthusiastically accomplish, and myself off to the studio, one of many but the only one devoted to the particular kind of girly boy smut that I was deemed to be suited for, still naked, pink and fresh and strawberry-scented, carrying a mug of hot tea and nodding greetings to the various weird and wonderful traveller’s of CKC’s hallways, occasionally dodging around someone big or something dangerous.
	I’m not one foot inside the door of the studio when everything goes dark.
	“Gotcha!”
	“Lee! I nearly dropped my tea!” I tug at the canvas bag on my head and feel the rottie’s paw swat my fingers away.
	“I’m not Lee,” he said. It totally is Lee. “I’m your captor. You ready to be interrogated, prisoner?”
	I point to my mug. “Can’t I finish this first?”
	“Never!” He slaps the mug from my paw. I hear it crack on the cement floor and feel the hot splash against my ankles.
	“Hey!”
	“Whoops! Sorry. Come on.” He nudges the small of my back and I stagger forward. “You’re late.”
	“I thought we weren’t doing this roleplay stuff any more.”
	“What gave you that idea?”
	“Uh...that meeting six months ago where Musuko yelled at us and told us to stop making B-grade porno bullshit?”
	“Oh yeah, that. Well alright, best lose the hood then!”
	He whips the hood off me and the light of a dozen stage lights burns my eyes. I wince, shielding them, and when I part my fingers I see a dozen faces grinning back at me: the other performers in my studio.
	“SURPRISE!” screamed the banner above them, in big red letters.
	“SURPRISE!” screamed the crowd of girly, multi-coloured performers, in loud happy voices.
	“Surprise”, said the cock-shaped cake, in little pink icing letters.
	I blinked rapidly, paw over my mouth. “What is this?” I said, through my fingers.
	Lee hugged me from behind, arms squeezing around my middle. “Happy one-year anniversary at CKC, Myles.”
	“Oh!” I looked around at all the smiling faces, then broke into a big goofy grin of my own. “Oh you guys, I had no idea, thank you! I didn’t realise it had…”
	I paused. A year at CKC. That means a little over a year with David and I being together. A year, and I forgot it. We did nothing to mark the occasion.
	I force the smile to stay on my face. “...that it had been a whole year. Thank you for this you guys…”
	A glass finds its way into my paw, and clear fizzing cava finds its way into the glass. I sip...thinking about David.

Tuesday.

I wake up, groaning, head pounding, and feel the shackles on my wrists. I give them a little tug before I open my eyes, not too surprised by waking up in bondage. That’s not an uncommon thing to happen to me.
	I recognise the walls, solid stone, very real and very cold and hard and rough. Must have been an absolute chore for somebody, hauling it all down here. I recognise the rusted iron rings set into the mortar. I recognise the stone flags on the floor, and the stains leading towards the grate. I recognise the shackles that pin my wrists to the wall high above my head, and I certainly recognise the cold, slimy feeling of the damp stone against my naked back. This is one of our playrooms, or sets as they could be thought as.
	Above all, I recognise David standing in front of me, criss-crossed from top to toe in black leather harness straps that does nothing to hide his body and everything to show it off. My eyes flit briefly to his hard cock, then back up to his eyes. I say nothing. I keep my mouth closed. I’m professional enough to recognise an impromptu work/play session. They’re my favourite.
	I do clench my eyes shut, though, and groan weakly. My head! The hangover! At least it will look good for the camera, my realistic suffering.
	I hear movement, and I open my eyes to see David move his arm from behind his back. He holds in his paw a coil of leather, and I squeak and tense up. I know that whip. That hateful, horrible whip. It is the one that cut my back to ribbons during my trial, when I proved my loyalty to CKC, back before I was even part of it. I feel a nightmare chill knot itself in my stomach, and I tug hard against the shackles. I do not want to feel that whip! If I have anything remotely resembling a limit, that whip is it!
	But...David’s eyes. The stern, professional glare of the torturer broke for a fraction of a second, and there it was; the loving look of support. My legs give out, and I let my body hang from the shackles, legs bent limply with my toes dragging against the floor. It hurts, but it’s meant to! I look up at David with a vulnerable, trembling look of defeat, all real, eyes flitting to the whip as it and he walk closer to me. None of it is for the camera, though I know it’s there. Musuko wanted real, and for months now he had been getting it.
	David touches the coil of the whip under my muzzle and lifts my head right back. He glares down at me, turning me to face the left, then the right. I feel inspected. I try to will my cock soft, to stay in character as the fearful torture victim, but it’s no good; up it goes, hard and eager. Real is real, and after nearly a week of denial, there’s no hope of keeping it down.
	The impact of David’s spit in my right eye makes me screech, and I clench it shut, too late to stop the sting.
	“Pitiful,” he snarls. I feel my ears go down. I watch with one eye as he turns away, walking across to the centre of the room. Any moment now...the whip. The pain. The screaming.
	The heavy oak door at the far end of the room creaks open. A figure steps from the darkness beyond, into the gloomy candlelight of the room. Orange light gleams on latex, and I recognise Sam only by his stature. My breath catches. What is this? Nulls don’t come into the studio.
	David slides his arms around Sam’s waist and pulls him against him. The little pony has to tilt his head right back to stay eye to eye.
	“Now Myles, you know you’re not supposed to bother me while I’m working.”
	My name...but he’s embracing Sam, staring into his eyes. Sam kneads his hooves against David’s chest, and David leans down to kiss the top of his head. I yank at my shackles.
	“Go back to our suite, Myles. I won’t be long.” He kisses the top of Sam’s head and sends him trotting back out the door with a gentle swat to his rear with the coiled whip.
	What the hell?!
	I break character. I take a deep breath to yell at him and…
	...a plaintive little mewl comes out.
	Oh for fuck sake! The inhibitor again? Why didn’t I notice? I wrinkle my forehead, trying to feel it on my forehead. Or maybe it’s on the back of my neck this time.
	David comes face to face with me, staring down at me with a disgusted intensity that makes me wither. I open and close my mouth and stare up at him in hurt confusion, tears starting to well. He uncoils the whip with a snap down to the floor. I try to plead with him, beg him, anything...just to get him to tell me what’s going on! But he ignores my whimpering mewls and my panicked thrashing against the shackles, and raises his arm high, trailing the whip down behind his back. I cry out one last screaming yowl as the whip cuts its arc down towards me. I expect the pain and then…
	...nothing?
	I open my eyes to the light fixture of our bedroom ceiling. I flinch, bodily and wholly, a jolt of physical confusion taking over as I lurch from one place to another. Then, gradually, my sense of the world resolves itself and puts me back to normality, and I sit up.
	David is asleep next to me, and dawn light is glowing through our false window. I flop back onto my pillow and sigh, and already the memory of the dream fades.

The day passes normally, but the dream lingers in the back of my mind. Why can’t I forget it like I normally do? Typical; when you want to remember a sexy dream, or the one where you cure cancer and figure out how to fly to the moon with two empty cartons of chinese takeaway and a can of energy drink, there’s nothing you can do to keep it in your head. But when it’s a disturbing insight into the dark corners of your own head, well...then it stays doesn’t it!
	I chew on my claws as I sit through a lecture on one of our new devices. I’m not paying attention. I’m...evaluating myself, and that’s disturbing enough as it is. What’s worse is what’s coming up in my conclusions. Primarily, I’m scared...scared that I’m getting complacent and comfortable, scared that David will be getting bored of me...scared that I risk losing things if I take them for granted.
	“Myles, would you like to demonstrate?”
	I stare, wide-eyed, at the tight panties being held between two outstretched fingers by the lovely Susan.
	“Uh...sure.” I slide my chair back. Susan smiles and bounces on her heels. I think she has a thing for me. Or she just likes pink, because it matches her hair.
	“Just slip it on like so. That’s it, now pull that up there a little and...there we go. Now, this will feel a little…”
	“Oh!”
	“Okay there kitty?”
	I nod, breathless. The room around me is staring, silent. I feel my cheeks start to heat up. What is with me? I’ve been sat naked in this room with them all, totally at ease, and we’ve been inside eachother who knows how many times, and been viewed together by countless paying strangers across the globe.
	But this? This is what makes me blush in front of them? I chew on my lip and reach down to touch the panties hugging my hips. Susan’s paw catches my wrist.
	“You need to give it a few minutes, kitten. Then you can try it out.”
	I nod, timid. The others are starting to talk amongst themselves, a murmur of amused voices and leering glances. Some perhaps jealous, wanting to wear it themselves, others wanting to pin me down, spread my legs and…
	I cough, nudging Susan’s arm for her attention.
	“Can I...uh...can I wear them back home tonight?”
	“Of course! It’s designed for long-term wear.”

I barely escaped the other performers with it intact and unviolated. Some of the invitations were very tempting, but I wanted David to try it first. And when Susan held up two great big pawfuls of more of the silky panties, she became the instant centre of a mob of sluts!
	The soft, fleece-lined cuffs snugly grip my wrists and ankles, and the elasticated straps keep them pulled towards the corners of our bed. Exposed and vulnerable. So very perfect. It had kept me well-behaved for the last couple of hours, my paws safely held away from my crotch while I waited for David to get home.
	The clock is past midnight, and I hear the door. I curl my toes, my breathing quickening. I hope he likes it.
	The light in the bedroom comes on, and there is David in the doorway. I let out a muffled greeting through the tennis ball-sized ballgag filling my mouth. I watch David’s paw fall from the lightswitch, and see the smile spread across his face as he walks towards the bed.
	“Well, kitten, this is a nice…” He freezes, and I see his eyes fix on my crotch. “...surprise. So, they got it working then, hmm?”
	The bed shifts as he sits down beside my hip, and I mewl through the gag, adding to the drool coating my chin. I raise my rear up off the bed, arching towards him, an invitation that he accepts: his paw rests on my tummy, then gently finger-walks down across the front of the tight panties, stroking downwards...and settles upon the female sex formed of silk that adorns the front of the panties. I gasp into the gag and close my eyes. It’s so sensitive. Those smooth, serpentine fingertips gently caress the folds, exploring their shape, then sinking one finger in up to the knuckle.
	“Mmmph!” I grind up towards his paw, and he lifts it up by the same measure.
	“Mmmh?”
	He chuckles, then takes his paw away completely. “Always so eager to get some CKC nanotech in your bloodstream, hmm kitten?”
	I nod, eyes open again, flustered and nervous. I hope he likes it.
	He stands up from the bed and moves over to our wardrobe. He glances back over his shoulder, grinning. “Being a cuntboy suits you, kitten. You could stay that way for a while.”
	“Mmmmph!” I squeal in delight, wriggling on the bed. He likes it!
	He rummages in the wardrobe, paws unseen to me. “But you’re a very naughty kitten, trying to get me to fuck you and trick me into giving you an orgasm. You know what happens to sneaky little horny kittens, don’t you?” He turns to face me, holding a gleaming chromed device with the appearance of a jock-strap, or pair of panties. I’ve not seen it before, but I can guess all too accurately what it is.
	“Mmmmph!” I shake my head, eyes pleading, but he only grins more widely.
	“I’ve been dying to try out the vaginal clamp, kitten. So kind of you to give me a chance.” He turns the business end towards me, the thick metal bulb of the plug that’ll soon sink into the silky lining of my artificial panty-sex. I writhe on the bed, begging noisily through the gag. I want him to fuck me. I don’t want another chastity! This isn’t fair!
	The plug slides into my sex, while I’m helpless to stop it. I can feel the strange, sticky, tingly sensation as the nanite start to take hold, forming the seal around the edge of the crotch plate as it settles against my fur and the panties. Tears well at the corners of my eyes, and I’m blubbing through the gag, as David leans over me to bring his smile and captivating eyes down to fill my entire view.
	“My chastised little cuntboy kitten,” he whispers. His finger moves on an invisible control, and the undulating, vibrating movement of the plug begins, and my first shriek garbles past the gag. The cock clamp was torture...but this…f-fuck! Maybe it’s because I’ve never had a female sex before. Maybe it’s just because it’s new. But the stimulation! I can’t stand it! Not even for a second! But on and on it goes, boiling me from the inside with the unbearable craving of orgasm that it just won’t allow. I barely feel David uncuffing my ankles to lift my legs up. But there’s no mistaking the pressure of his cock against my rear, nor the ferocity with which he takes me. I’m a screaming mess of tortured lust, bouncing beneath him as he pounds his cock down hard inside me, his face a tensed rage of animal desire. And through my delicious suffering, I know that he’s pleased with my gift...and I just wish we had cameras in here!

Wednesday.

“I still don’t think I understand.”
	Lee sighs, just a bit too theatrically. “Look, it’s just not something we can film, okay? Not until whatever that thing is gets approved.”
	“So I can wear it...just not get filmed in it?”
	“Right.”
	“But why?” I tug at the skirt, trying to get the dainty frills to cover just a little more of my naked thighs. “And this dress is hardly hiding it!”
	“It doesn’t need to. Well...not much anyway. In fact, we want them to see that pretty little chastity of yours. Hehe.”
	“Hey!”
	“Aww, but it’s cute!”
	“So how is it hiding the panties thing then if it’s not even covering them?”
	“Because…” Lee lowers the wig down onto my head. Instantly, I feel the tingle of the nanites binding the weave into my scalp. I shiver. “Once you’re a girl, nobody’s going to think that it’s the panties that’s giving you your femsex. Got it?”
	I feel at my chest, caressing the subtle curve of the padded bra beneath the dress. At least that’s normal.
	“Seems like a lot of effort.”
	“Yeah, well, don’t blame me. I didn’t go and get myself wearing a sex-changing pair of underwear and then got a chastity device locked in over the top of it.”
	I pout into the mirror. Lee rests his muzzle on my shoulder and looks with me. I feel his roaming paws stroking my sides, and I let him.
	“Thought of a name?”
	“A name? For what?”
	“For your femmy alter-ego.”
	I shake my head.
	“Ah, well. I’m sure we’ll think of something. Here.” He holds out a floof of feathers. A duster. With a meek mewl I take it, and note in the mirror how it completes the look of the outfit I’d been poured into. Staring back at me is a pink-furred femkitten in a classic frilly maid’s uniform. Dainty, innocent, and ever so convincingly female. I bite my lip, worrying myself at how much I like what I see.
	The clamp starts to buzz, and I moan weakly. Noooo, not now!
	Lee no doubt sees my expression collapse, into miserable arousal, because he chuckles as he bustles me towards the set.
	“No script, no setting. You’re on your own for this one. Good luck, pussycat!”
	I walk as steadily as I can on my unfamiliar heels, trying to ignore the kneading thrusts of the clamp’s plug. I step out into the lights of a well-lit and very convincingly real manor house study, with a library’s worth of books on high, grand shelves, a tall curtained window, with a mahogany desk and massive antique globe, the works. The high-backed leather chair behind the desk spins silently, and I catch my breath.
	“Ah, there you are. Fetch me a drink, would you? There’s a good girl.”
	I grip the duster, staring. The damn cat. Musuko himself, sprawled in the chair like the king I suppose he thinks he is...not that I can blame him really. He’s really made himself up for the part, smoking jacket and all, and he’s not having to act to give that convincing air of cocky self-importance. My reply strangles in my throat to a squeak.
	“Y-yes sir.”
	I follow his helpful gesture towards the globe, puzzled for a moment, until I find the latch on the side, which swings the whole top hemisphere open to reveal the drinks cabinet inside. This part is easy. Everyone at CKC knows Musuko’s drink of choice, and I pour out a double measure of whiskey. I carry it back to the desk, as dainty as I can. The cameras are watching. This is still a performance. This is still work. Even if it’s with the boss. Oh god...is Musuko going to fuck me?
	A sharp sting hits my thigh, and I help and drop the glass. It bounces on the rug and the whiskey splashes over my feet. Musuko leans back into his chair and puts his socked paws up onto the desk, rolling the riding crop between his fingers, grinning like a villain.
	“Clumsy girl! Such a waste. That’ll have to come out of your paw.” He gestures with the crop. “Down you go. Get it cleaned up.”
	I open my mouth to protest, one thought crashing into another that silences me: I don’t have anything to clean it up wi…oh. I feel the familiar tingle of exciting shame bubble up inside me, and I lower myself onto my knees while that domineering feline grin watches me all the way. I settle onto all fours, then bring my head down to the rug. My tail goes up, and I know my panties are on show...and oh god, the chastity. Hide it, like hell! I nuzzle my nose against the damp rug fibres and, with a weak mewl of shame, I extend my tongue and start to lap at the whiskey wetness, tasting dust, tasting old dirt...and feeling the clamp ramp up the intensity of its buzzing, as if it knows what’s going on. I moan like a slut into the rug, my licking speeding up, enjoying it...enjoying it so much...so degrading. Such a fucking slut…
	Musuko’s foot plants itself on the back of my head, and my face grinds down against the floor. I feel the tap of the crop against my exposed rear.
	“What is this, girl?”
	“A c-chastity, sir.”
	“Why are you wearing it?”
	I hesitate, but then the truth comes out automatically, better than any fiction. “Because I’m a horny slut, sir,” I breathe.
	“Hmm. That you must be.” He swats the crop against my butt cheek, bringing a yelp to my lips. “I don’t think I approve of my servant girls being dressed so!” His foot comes off my head, and I hear the creak of the chair as he stands. I go back to licking the rug, but soon feel his paws at my rear, pulling at the waistband of the panties.
	“S-sir, you can’t!”
	“What was that, girl? I can’t? I can do whatever I wish!”
	A clank. The chastity falling away from me. Well, of course he can do that. His company, his products. He’ll have master control of everything. I press my thighs together, feeling the aching throb in that false sex. His fingers peel the panties over the curve of my rear, exposing my tailhole to the tingling coolness of the air. I try not to moan, pressing my cheek against the damp rug, licking task forgotten. The same electric tremble of nanites from before assaults my crotch once more as the panties pull away from my fur, and as they do my cock emerges, as if pulling free from a pocket dimension. I try not to let my thoughts dwell on the truth, nor try to imagine all those little nanites rebuilding my real body parts from their stored memory. As the familiar feel of my hardon returns, complete with the drooling precum at my tip, I mrowl in relief.
	“What is this?” Musuko cries, standing up and staggering back. My god can he overact. No way this recording is getting used! “Not a girl at all! This is an outrage!”
	I feel the panties slide down to my knees, and I keep my face pressed against the rug, feeling pinned with shame...shame for my own true gender! How is that possible? What kind of messed up mental topsy-turvy mindgames is this? I almost want to laugh. God how I love CKC. I lift myself upright and shuffle on my knees to face Musuko, wearing a convincing expression of shameful fear.
	“Oh sir! I’m sorry for the lie, sir! Please forgive me! Don’t fire me! Don’t cast me out! Please sir, I’ll do anything!”
	“Anything, eh?” He walks the two steps needed to bring himself looming over me, his crotch pointedly close to my muzzle. I look up the length of his body, to the grin looking back down at me. He cups his fingers under my muzzle and strokes my lip with his thumb. “To my bedchamber, girl” he says, with a sarcastic amusement lacing the last word. “And there...you’ll do anything I say, won’t you?”
	“Y-yes sir!”
	“Oh but Myles?”
	I blink, thrown out of the flow of the role. “Y-yes sir?”
	He leans down closer to me, which pulls his crotch away from my nose and brings his muzzle to my ear. “I don’t fuck performers.”
	I’m unsure whether to be insulted or relieved.
	“T-then...what’s all this for, sir?”
	“Hmm. What indeed. Maybe I’m just bored.” He straightens up and laughs, turning away and twirling a finger up in the air. “Okay, you lot can take over now! Keep up the good work, etcetera etcetera. You have a bedchamber appropriate for this setting I take it? Yes? Okay, good. Get it sorted. You know, the usual. Maid waits for the master, groundskeeper stumbles upon her...hehe...him before master gets there, rumpy-pumpy, yadda yadda. You know what, it doesn’t even matter. The customer who ordered this one is half senile anyway…”
	I flop against the side of the desk, closing my eyes. Why am I disappointed to see that damn cat walking away?

Thursday.

The sodium streetlights cast their gloomy glow above me as I walk through the shivering street, my arms wrapped around my bare forearms. The crunchy gravel cut into my bare feet. The skimpy short-shorts hugging my hips do nothing to keep the cold out. Ahead of me, the whir of tools and clink of metal on metal, and the chatter of the radio filling the oil-scented air.
	I step into the light streaming through the wide-open garage door. A couple of cars are up on the...things that lift cars. And all around there are...uh...tools and machines and hell, I don’t know what all this stuff is.
	I know the eyes now looking at me, though; the amused stare of the well-built, middle-aged mechanic, lowering his thick arms down from the engine above him, wiping a greasy paw against his only marginally less greasy overalls. My stomach twists in a knot. I’m thinking one word over and over. Bull bull bull fuck he’s a big bull.
	“Oi oi, what’s this then? Help you, kiddo?”
	I rub my forearm and step across the threshold. Dirty concrete grazes my soles, a relief after the gravel. I can feel his eyes on my body, drinking in all my pink fur. I know what I am compared to him; a tiny, delicate thing, pretty like a flower...and just as easy to destroy. I watch his expression, dreading the merest hint of a sneer.
	“M-may I use your phone?”
	He raises an eyebrow and drops the tool he’s holding onto a nearby cabinet. “You in trouble?”
	My lower lip trembles. “I h-had a fight with my boyfriend. He...he made me get out of his car and just left me out here.”
	The bull frowns. “Hmm. Alright, the office is through here.” He gestures and steps to the side. I have to squeeze past him in the tight space between the car lift thing and the cabinets of tools. I keep my head down, shying away from his eyes. I hear him under his breath; “hmmph.”
	The office is a chaos of grubby papers and calendars and magazines that are grubby in a different way entirely. I find the telephone on the desk, next to an overfilled ashtray. I hold the receiver and start to dial as the bull’s bulk fills the doorway behind me.
	“Thank you,” I say, hugging the phone to my ear, listening to the ringing.
	“S’alright. Who you calling?”
	“Uh...my parents.”
	“So they can come pick you up?”
	“Uhuh.”
	“Dressed like that?”
	“Uh…”
	I chew my lip and look up at the bull, who now wears more than a hint of an amused smirk. Quickly, I slam the phone down into its cradle.
	“Watch it, kid. You break that, you’re paying for it.”
	“Sorry! What am I going to do?” I look down at myself, hugging my arms across my bare chest.
	“I could lend you some clothes, but I doubt anything here’ll fit you.” His sudden braying laugh makes me jump. “You’d look like a rat in a tent!”
	I feel my lip start to quiver, and my eyes well up.
	“My wife’s probably got something to fit you, back ‘ome. You don’t mind wearing a lady’s things do you?” I feel his eyes roam my body again. “I mean, your type goes for that sort of thing, don’t they.”
	“T-that’d be very kind, thank you,” I say, feeling myself trying to shrink down into the torn and grubby fake leather of the chair.
	“Right, well, come on then.”
	“Huh?”
	“I’m not leaving you ‘ere on your own. You might nick something. Come on, it’s only down the road.”
	“I don’t...uh…” So foolish...so very foolish. “A-alright, thank you.”

The big steel shutter rattles down and seals away the light of the garage within, plunging us back into the gloom and the cold of the faintly-lit street. The bull flicks a lighter and cradles it to his muzzle to light a cigarette, offering one to me in turn. I refuse. Too cold. Trying to hug myself warm. I hope it’s not far.
	“So what’s your name, kid?”
	“Myles.”
	“I’m Brian. So this boyfriend of yours. Bit of a dickhead is he?”
	“Y-yeah.”
	“Would have to be to just leave someone half naked out on the street in the middle of the night. This way.” He motions me to follow, turning into a cul-de-sac. I see lit windows in the houses all around me, and I wish the streetlights were even darker so nobody might see me if they happen to look out.
	“H-he’s a dickhead alright.”
	That laugh again. Too loud! He snorts and flicks away his cigarette.
	“That’s funny, I thought your type were all sensitive and nice and shit. Turns out you’re all just regular dickhead guys huh?” He glances sidelong at me, while his paw fishes in a pocket that jingles with keys. We walk across a driveway up to a house. “Well, some of you guys anyway.”
	The hallway light flicks on at his touch, and I hurry inside into the welcome warmth.
	“Hey Cheryl!”
	He pushes the door closed behind me. So far, nice and normal. Just a house. Regular and suburban. Brian tosses his keys onto a table by the door.
	“Huh, guess she’s gone out. Bedroom’s this way. You can borrow something from her wardrobe. Not like she’ll miss anything out of there. Woman’s got enough to clothe an army. Hah!”
	He gives me an odd look, then gestures me up towards the stairs, sending me first. I pad quickly up the stairs, hearing his heavy boots behind me. The fur on the back of my neck tingles to attention. Is...is he? I turn my head just a fraction, just enough to catch a general shape of him in the corner of my eye. He’s a handful of steps down behind me, right where his head’s on a level with my swaying rear. I snap back to face front. Oh god he is. He’s checking me out.
	“Door on the left.”
	Big bed. Makeup table loaded with makeup and jewelry. At least he’s not lying about a wife. And a wall of mirror-faced wardrobe doors. He shuts the bedroom door and stands in front of it, watching me from the side.
	“There you are. Go ahead and pick something out. There’s probably something in there that wouldn’t embarrass you too much.”
	A little smile at the corner of his lips. I breathe another thank-you and slide open the nearest door. My nervous reflection is replaced by a neat rack of dresses. I feel shaky. I’m invading some poor woman’s property. What if she comes home?
	“Next door along then,” he says. “Wait a sec.”
	I freeze, my paw on the edge of the door. He walks up to me, filling my nose with sweat and oil, and reaches past me. Thick fingers grip thin lace, and he lifts a hanger off the rail, sliding a black lacy negligee. He holds it up in front of the mirror, admiring it.
	“I got this for her for our first anniversary.” He smiles at it, eyes seeing a memory I couldn’t. “What do you think?”
	“It’s nice,” I say through a tight throat.
	“You know about fashion and all that stuff, right? I had no idea. I was hopeless. I had to ask the lady in the shop for her advice. Hah!” He rubs the lace under his thumb, sighing wistfully. “That was a long time ago. She doesn’t wear stuff like this any more. Shame.”
	I look away. Definitely awkward!
	He turns to me, holding the negligee up in front of me. Then that braying laugh again. “Looks like it’d suit you. You’re the girl right?”
	“Huh?”
	“With you and your boyfriend. He’s the guy and you’re the girl, right? That how it works?”
	Easier not to argue. “Y-yeah.”
	“So I guess you’ve got a wardrobe full of clothes like this huh?” He tilts the negligee out of his line of sight, and I see his eyes fix on my tiny shorts.
	“I have...some girly clothes, yeah,” I breathe. Heart racing. Thumpa thumpa.
	“Hell, kid. I bet you look stunning all dressed up. Like a proper little girl.”
	I try to look at him. I manage a quick glance of eye contact. But I force myself to swell my confidence up. I’m not some helpless little waif! I meet his eye and even manage a smile.
	“Yeah...I look really good.”
	That laugh again, and it makes my smile grow. It’s brash and loud, but oh so genuine.
	“Hah! Well damn, are you sure this boyfriend of yours isn’t straight after all? You’re practically a girl.”
	“Heh...maybe.”
	“He must be stupid.”
	“Huh?”
	“Letting a pretty girl get away from him. Boy I mean, sorry. Hah!” He snorts, holding the negligee out towards me. He wiggles it in his paw. “Go on, take it.”
	I hook the hanger with my finger and hold it as he lets go. I give him a confused look, even though I have a pretty good idea what he’s after.
	“I wanna see what it looks like on you. You don’t mind, right? I’ll even look away while you get changed, like a proper gentleman.”
	“I...uh…” I look at him, and I look at the negligee. This is so stupid. But...I’ve been far stupider before. And hey, he’s just some big dumb straight guy...and I know his neighbours are home. If I scream…
	...so...what the hell, why not?
	“I don’t mind if you look...if you want to.”
	The grin fills his face, and his gaze follows my fingers as I work them down to the zip on the front of my little shorts. It’s always the way. Underneath every straight guy is a bi-curious guy waiting to get out. I lick my lips and tilt my head, smile on my lips. Why not give him a little show, eh?
	He walks up to me, and his paw closes over the top of mine, moving it away. His body is so close, heat radiating from his muscles. He’s a great barrel of a man, built of strength not display. His fingers replace mine, catching hold of the zip. His other paw cups the small of my back, and I look up as he looks down. I’m not a guy, despite what I have tucked away in those shorts, not in the eyes now looking down at me; I’m a pretty lady, and he’s a man...and he wants to do what a man wants to do to a pretty lady.
	“So long as the missus doesn’t find out,” he rumbles, and I lift my paws to rest on his chest, as I feel the zip tug downwards…

I slip away at dawn, leaving the bull snoozing in the bed. My ruffled fur stinks of his sweat. My rear is caked with his cum. I almost don’t want to go. I want to stay and cling to that big strong body as it rises and falls with his sleeping breaths. But...I have to go.
	I scribble a number on the back of an old receipt and leave it where he’ll see it on the bedside table. My real number. If he calls, I’ll return.
	His wife’s jeans and fleecy jumper keep me warm as I step out into the frosty morning, pulling the door shut with a click behind me. The bricks of the driveway are cold against my bare soles, but I don’t care. I see the car parked on the road outside, and see him leaning against the door.
	“Have fun?” he says.
	“You’re a brute,” I say, pushing his arm as I reach him.
	“That’s a yes, huh?”
	“Yes David...that’s a yes.” I press up against him and feel his arms around me. I lean up for his kiss. “How did you know he’d go for it instead of...you know...beating me up?”
	“Snakey senses.” He opens the passenger door for me, like a gentleman.
	“No really, how did you know?”
	A wait while he moves to the driver’s side. In he gets, and his paw goes first to my thigh for a squeeze, and then to the gear stick. “A bit of background checking, and a lot of spying on his internet history.”
	“Ooooh.”
	He starts the car, and we’re away, driving off into the dawn.
	“So, did you get to cum, kitten?”
	I whine and shake my head. “I was a good girl, like you asked.”
	“Excellent.”

Friday.

The hair gets let down on a friday at CKC. And when you have a company that’s already as relaxed and orgy-filled as CKC, that makes friday a pretty interesting day of the week.
	I try to hide, but it’s no good. David made sure of that. My pinkness makes me stand out, but today it’s not my fur. I suspect he took a clipping when I was asleep and took it down to the lab, because the latex zentai he stuffed me into this morning is shaded exactly to match my fur. Not that it matters, as there isn’t a single trace of it visible through the rubber, but I know it matches, and I suspect that’s what he was going for.
	It didn’t take long for me to realise what the extra bits and bobs being attached to the suit really meant. The careful sealing of the eye holes around my eyelids, the thick rubbery hooves that slid over my rubber-coated fingers and sealed in place at my wrists as if they were now one single unbroken costume, the fat phallus that pushed into my wide-open maw...and the ridged inner sleeve that lay inside the circular mouth opening that now marked the only break in my muzzle, complete with false tongue within that squirmed and wriggled by unseen motor control, entirely independent of my real tongue, pinned to the floor of my mouth under the cock gag that was already making my jaw ache…
	...he had dressed me up as a Null. A pink Null. And then, with a gentle nudge to the small of my back, he had pushed me out of our suite door and into the busy halls of CKC.
	Bastard!
	Banging at the door was no good. He didn’t answer. I pawed at the suit, but that was no good either. There were no seams or zips that I could get to, and the short, wide plug in my rear was cruelly teasing me with just not enough stimulation when I moved, and the inside of the suit at the crotch was lined with little rubbery nubs, stroking at my confined cock as the suit shifted slightly when I walked.
	So...I tried to hide. And now, behind a potted plant that was nowhere near large enough to conceal me, that’s when I hear it, booming down the corridors from every direction.
	“Attention all staff! The hunt is on! Catch the pink Null and win a prize! Good luck! Good luck! Good luck!”
	“Mmmph!” I’m not a Null!
	A technician pushing a cart comes to a stop. He looks at me and raises an eyebrow. Shit!
	David...you double bastard!
	I spring from behind the plant and take off down the corridor.
	I don’t recognise the door I push through. I’ve not been down this way before. As it whooshes shut behind me and I turn to face the room, I realise that I probably should have. Bare and white and sterile, with nowhere to hide.
	“Well, hello there,” says the voice. I don’t see the speaker.
	“Mmmph?”
	“Haha! Oh well, my my. That is interesting.”
	I thought the floor was just plain tiles, but I watch as one large square in the centre of the room sinks down and slides to the side, revealing a black square from which a standard CKC restraint chair rises up, clicking into place.
	“Why don’t you have a seat?”
	I look around, trying to see where the voice is coming from, looking for speakers, looking for cameras. I see none. But, of course, that doesn’t mean they aren’t there.
	“Mmmph!” I shake my head and feel around with my paws...hooves...at the door frame behind me, trying to find a button to open it.
	“Oh well now, don’t be like that.”
	Another tile near the wall recedes and slides. From the space uncoils a serpent of steel and plastic. A tentacle! I squeal through the gag. No, not a tentacle: an articulated robotic arm, with a snapping manipulator at its end, winding towards me.
	“Hold still now.”
	I spring from the door, running along the wall opposite to the arm. It snakes through the air to follow me, and my squealing gets louder.
	“Careful now.”
	Something trips me, and I sprawl forward, wailing all the way down. I brace for the floor, but bob softly in the air just above the tiles. I look down. Two more articulated arms, one gripping my ankle, the other cradling my chest to catch my fall. I try to struggle free, but it’s too late: the first claw clamps itself around my wrist. Another takes my other wrist, then another my ankle, and then all four start to pull, and the floor drops away from me. I’m lifted up into the air, spread between the claws, and held up in front of a blank wall.
	“Aren’t you a pretty thing? Let’s have a look at you.”
	The arms carry me backwards towards the chair. I try to struggle, but damn they’re strong! I feel the firm padding of the chair through the dulling layer of rubber over my rear, and then the rigid shackles clicking automatically shut around my body; wrists, ankles, and everything inbetween. Even my forehead, with two wedges pressing either side of my head to keep me facing forwards. The claws release and the arms whip away, retracting back into the floor. The tiles snick shut, and it’s as if they were never there.
	“Well now…”
	I feel a tingle through my whole body, as if suddenly and briefly charged with static electricity.
	“I see! Not a normal Null are you? Well well. You shouldn’t be in here, should you?”
	I hear a click above me, and I roll my eyes back to look. Tiles in the ceiling too! And from one directly above me, a slender arm descends, entwined with a tube and capped with an articulated nozzle at the tip.
	“Let’s have a little fun, shall we?”
	The nozzle clicks...and black aerosol paint jets out.

I don’t recognise these walls. Bare concrete, all grimy and cracked. The air is cold enough for me to even feel through the latex. I tug my arms against the binder, trying to pull them free from my back for the thousandth time. The plug inside the opening of my gag makes it firm rather than squishy, denying me even the mild relief of squeezing against it to relax my jaw. The blinkers restrict my vision to a thin wedge of what’s directly ahead of me, and whenever I turn my head the bridle strapped around my head yanks it back.
	I hear the crack of the whip above my head, and the pony beside me and the two in front of me start to trot, taking up the slack on the various straps and buckles that hold the four of us at the front of the carriage. I trot in kind, feeling the strain against the straps across my chest. The walls roll on past as we gather speed, and soon I’m running...galloping...and the terror rises in me. What if I trip? What if I fall?
	Sudden light blazes, and I close my eyes against it. Sunlight. Was that sunlight? I peer out through half-lidded eyes to see a road, with hedgerows and fields beyond. I feel cool air blowing against my eyes, the only part of me naked enough to feel it. The cement beneath my hooves is now dirt, and the carriage behind me bounces as it trundles through the ruts. I try to turn my head, and the yank on the bridle pulls me back.
	We race along the road, faster than I can stand. I scream into the gag, completely unheard over the rattles and bangs of the carriage wheels. My legs start to ache, and my skin prickles with heat and sweat under the rubber. The road approaches a bend, and I close my eyes!
	The bridle tugs, and I feel the four of us swing to the left, smoothly arcing through the turn. I keep my eyes closed. Just run. Just...gallop. Be blind and let the driver do the thinking. Just get through this, until you can alert someone that you’re not a Null, until you can escape this mistake!
	I drift into a fog of exhaustion. I don’t know how much time has passed. My whole body aches. My feet are sore from pounding against the ground, even through the cushioning of the latex hooves. My jaw is numb from stretching around the gag for so long, and my tongue feels dry and sticky. So thirsty…
	I drop to my knees as the harness releases me, and I feel a crack of pain against my back, a whip strike; mellowed by the thick latex, but still hard enough to sting. With a silent whimper, I pull myself back onto my shaking legs and stand to attention. The three other ponies are stood stiff, seemingly without any sign of tiredness. How do they do it?
	I hear the creak of the carriage rocking, and footsteps. I keep my eyes dead ahead, staring over the fields. Movement at my side.
	“This one.”
	A paw grips my shoulder and pushes me down. I land on my knees in the dirt. Make up your mind! An arm moves across my vision, waving at the other three ponies, who move off out of view.
	A figure steps in front of me, and I risk a glance upwards. I tense.
	The damn cat!
	Not even looking at me, eyes off somewhere in the scenery, he unbuttons his suit trousers and pulls down his zip. A paw grabs the top of my head and another pulls the plug out of my gag. The coachman, I bet, stood behind me. My squeal is lost in the back of my throat. I try to stand up, but the paw on my head forces me down. I can’t move my arms with the damn binder on it. I can’t speak! I can’t plead my way away from this. To them I’m just another Null! I can’t even catch Musuko’s attention with my eyes! He won’t even look at me as he lifts his cock free of his clothes and touches the tip against the opening in my muzzle. I’m not a person to him right now. Just an appliance...a urinal!
	I clench my eyes shut. I feel the hot liquid reach my throat, and I gulp it down, thanking the gag for the first time as it keeps the stream away from my tongue. The paw on my head grips tighter, holding my head still.
	“Sorry sir, it’s a new one.”
	Musuko makes a dismissive, wordless noise. Just a rest stop out in the country, making use of a Null to relieve his bladder. No big deal. I burn inside the latex, feeling the hot stream gurgle in my throat. Finally it ends, the last drops trickling down into my stomach, and I nearly weep with relief when I feel the plug push back inside the gag. The paw on my head lifts away, and a couple of prods to my shoulder force me to stand once more.
	“Ponies! Rest’s over, back in place!”
	The other three settle in around me and stand obediently still while the straps are pulled across them. This is my chance. I dart forwards while the coachman is strapping the pony beside me...and crash headfirst into Musuko! I knock the cat down onto his rear, crashing into the dirt, and I stumble down with him, dropping a knee into his crotch. I didn’t mean it! I collapse atop him, headbutting his chest, and scream as loudly as I can through the gag.
	“MMMMPHHHHH!”
	The cat hisses and pushes at me, clutching at his crotch. I feel paws wrench at my shoulders, hauling me off and crashing me onto my rear, half in the hedge at the side of the road. I hear the howl of rage from the coachman, see the arm rise up across the blue sky, whip raised…
	“Wait!” Musuko’s voice, harsh and croaking. “Stop! Stop. Help me up.”
	The whip lowers. I lay still. The coachman returns to my view, standing over me with a snarl on his face. Musuko’s arm is across his shoulders, his small body hanging limp. He stares at me. No rage. Just...curiosity.
	“Nulls aren’t meant to vocalise. That’s very interesting. Can you hear me, Null?”
	I nod!
	“Do it again. Make a noise.”
	“MMMMMPHHH!”
	“Jenkins...be a dear and call back to the garage and get them to send a car out.”

Saturday.

“I’m not talking to you.”
	“But kitten.”
	“I said I’m not talking to you.”
	“But-”
	“Not talking to you.”
	“Not even-”
	“Not talking to you!”
	He shuts up, dropping back into his chair. I curl myself up tighter under my blankets.
	“Get me some icecream.”
	“Alright kitten.”
	“I wasn’t talking to you!” I turn and lift up to look over the top of the sofa, calling to the kitchen. “Sam, please get me some icecream.” He nods and trots to the freezer.
	I hadn’t said please to him before.
	I don’t know how he does it with those hooves of his. I even watch him, but can’t get my head around the way he grips cutlery. Sticky pads, maybe? Nanotech things again? I’d never really paid it much attention before now. Whatever goes on with a Null...it’s more than just a fur stuffed inside a latex suit. I shiver from the memory of mine being peeled off me, sweat-drenched and stinking. If I hadn’t been so exhausted and angry, I might have enjoyed it...got someone subbier than me to lick it all off maybe. But I just wanted to shower...I just wanted to get away from Musuko’s laughter.
	Sam brings a bowl to me, and it’s neatly filled with six or seven scoops of brightly-flavoured icecream, with the spoon sticking out at an inviting angle. He sets it down in my lap and stands expectantly.
	“Good job, Sam. Thank you.”
	There’s no way for that sealed-up face of his to convey emotion, but I still sense his happiness anyway. He moves to trot away back to his chores, but I gesture him back.
	“C’mere.”
	I swing my arm wide, opening up a route into my cloak of blanket. I shoot a glare at David, who looks away as Sam climbs up onto the sofa and cuddles under my arm, getting the blanket wrapped back around him.
	“You’re a good pony, Sam. You ca-ah!”
	His head had gone straight to my crotch, and my limp cock has been sucked right up into his mouth. I paw at the blanket-covered bulge of his head, but he doesn’t budge. I should have known. How else does a Null show affection? I tremble and shudder out a breathy gasp as I feel my cock rapidly harden in that ridged, slick tube, and I clatter my spoon in the bowl as I try to concentrate on feeding myself with icecream.
	David looks at me, a small frown forming. I shoot a glare at him and he looks away again. There’s no way he’s getting an obedient kitten today!
	“Myles, I’m sor-”
	“Not talking to you!”
	I punctuate with a big mouthful of icecream, and glare at him with bulging cheeks. Sam chooses that moment to clench down around the head of my cock and dance that slippery tongue in a teasing circle, and I close my eyes and feel a trickle of cream run down my chin.
	“Mmmph..tham!”
	A snicker from David. Another glare shuts him up.
	“Thlow down tha…” I swallow. Gah! Freezebrain! I hiss and rub my brow. “Slow down Sam.” I glance at David. “Don’t make me cum.”
	David looks at me, an eyebrow raised. I look away and stuff another spoonful of icecream in my mouth. Yeah yeah...I’m mad at him, but I won’t be by the end of the day, once I’ve got it all out of my system...and I still want to have all that horniness saved up.
	He’ll probably work extra hard to make me happy later. Just got to milk it until then.
	I wriggle a little and sink further down into the comfiness of the sofa. Sam shifts a little too, to lay down on the seat alongside me, his lower half peeking out from the blankets, his hidden head bobbing tirelessly on my cock, making me mrowl with delicious teased pleasure. I forget about the icecream after a while, setting the half-empty bowl down on the arm rest next to me, and just close my eyes and relax and enjoy the long, lazy blowjob.
	I suspect David was watching, out of the corner of his eye. Because just as I tense up, my fingers sinking into the armrest, with my cock throbbing right on the edge of blowing my load into Sam’s eager, suckling mouth, with me desperately hoping that Sam will misbehave and take me over the edge...he jumps to his feet and snaps his fingers, and Sam pulls off me with a slurp and wriggles out of the blanket, hurrying to David and standing to attention.
	I sulk in my blanket.
	“Sam, go do chores.”
	Sam nods and trots towards the bedroom. Folding clothes, perhaps?
	David looks at me with that big smile of his.
	“I know how to make it up to you,” he says. “Let’s go shopping.”
	“Huh?”
	But it’s too late. David’s paw has plunged into my blanket cocoon and found my wrist, pulling me up and scattering the blanket. Naked kitten, eager hardon. He lets go of my wrist and takes hold of my cock instead, and like a leash he tugs to lead me towards the bedroom, and like a pony in a harness I dutifully follow.

I cling to David’s arm.
	“Nu-uh.”
	“Yes kitten.”
	I ball my fist and thump his bicep. He doesn’t even flinch.
	“You’re a bastard,” I say. “A total-mmph!”
	He lifts his thumb off the remote, looking so very pleased with himself. The vibration from the cock clamp eases back to its prior teasing hum.
	“You were saying?”
	I resort to simply pouting at him as we walk into the shop.
	“Pull your scarf up a little,” he says. “It’s showing.”
	I put my paw to my throat and rearrange. Beneath the scarf is my tell-tale voicebox, and the modulator that’s softening and lightening my voice. It’s one thing to be dressed like this, but another to have my gender discovered.
	David plants a kiss on my cheek, right there in front of the cashier! “You look pretty, kitten.”
	I grumble under my breath. It’s true, I do. The pleated skirt, the white stockings, the little dainty shoes that I don’t even know the name of, the cream duffle coat and matching scarf to hide my slim, feminine body behind just enough ambiguity, and the styling in my hair, courtesy of Sam’s surprising abilities, that curls my unruly mop into a fetching toy-boy look. David had told me that nobody would know I am a boy, and with the nobody is paying me the slightest bit of attention, I have to admit he’s right.
	What nobody can see, though, is the cock clamp...and the full body leather harness criss-crossing my fur and squeezing just enough to keep reminding me that it’s there. Nor can they see the short, fat buttplug nestled between my cheeks, keeping the half-litre of gloopy lube inside from leaking out all over my cotton panties. I ease up on my grip on David’s arm, but keep myself intertwined with him as he leads us across the shop floor, through the bewildering array of clothes.
	“What would you like, dear?”
	I have to play the part. I look around, trying to act like I’m the one doing the shopping. I can’t delude myself, though. David knows clothes far better than me, and he’s the one leading the way. And he’s led us right in amongst the sleepwear. I’m surrounded by delicate nighties and the like.
	I nibble my lip, and reach for a hanger. His paw stops me, and guides me to one further along the rail.
	“This size.”
	I lift it up. Delicate pink cotton hangs off two slender shoulder straps. A hint of a frill decorates the lower edge.
	“But we have one like this,” I say.
	“It couldn’t hurt to get another, could it?”
	I hold the hanger against my coat. He turns me towards the changing rooms. So that’s his game. I feel a little smile coming on.
	He separates from me at the curtain, coaxing me inside.
	“But my neck,” I say, paw up to my throat.
	“Nobody will see you in there. I’ll be right outside.”
	I hesitate at the curtain, but he looks so in charge and in control. I feel like whimpering with the fear of it all...what if I get caught? But...I don’t truly feel like I’m in danger. Not with him there. I pull the curtain closed and, with my eyes on the mirror, I start to strip off.

His timing is impeccable. Was he peeking through the curtain? The instant the thin slip of a nighty drops to caress my naked thighs, he appears, the curtain pulled wide open. I put one paw over my throat and try to tug the front of the nighty down with the other.
	“You look beautiful.”
	“Close the curtain!”
	“Now kitten, don’t be shy.”
	“Close it! You’ll get us in trouble!” The modulator made my voice a squeal.
	He closes the curtain...behind him. In the confined space of the changing room, his body is very big indeed. I press my back against the wall.
	“David…”
	“Try to stay quiet, kitten,” he whispers. I pull my arm across my mouth and bite my wrist. His paw strokes my thigh and slowly hikes up the nighty. I squeeze my thighs together, but he pushes his fingers between them and forces them apart. His fingertips stroke over the soft cotton panties and past the buzzing cock clamp, feel around for the base of the plug...and pull.
	“Mmmph!” I muffle into my wrist.
	I lean my head against his chest and gasp. The plug spreads me wide as it pulls free. Then, with a slick wet noise, it tips to the side and falls free of my panties, and the lube within gushes out to drench the cotton and run down my thighs before I’m able to clench shut to stop it.
	“Messy girl,” he whispers, and I whimper and press against him.
	His finger hooks at the waistband of my soaked panties and tugs downwards. They leave wet streaks of lube down my legs as they drop to my ankles. David’s other paw caresses the back of my head, then his fingers sink into my hair and grip, and I’m forced to look up, for my lips to meet his.
	Fumbling...the sound of clothes falling away.
	My feet lift off the floor. Panties hang wet from one ankle. I cling to his shoulders. Mouths still mashed firmly together in the breathless kiss. I squeal against his tongue as his cock touches my slick tailhole. He relaxes his grip on my thighs, and gravity takes me down, sinking effortlessly down onto him.
	“Ah!” I gasp. My cheeks touch his thighs. So full. So thick! Has he been drugging me? It’s never this easy!
	“Shh,” he whispers. “We’ll get caught.” A cruel chuckle. He loves the idea. I tremble.
	A little jolt, David rocking on the balls of his feet. I can’t help but yelp. He chuckles again.
	“Open.”
	His paw appears at my muzzle, holding my wadded up and dripping panties. I mewl pathetically and open my mouth wide for him to stuff them in.
	“Mmmph!”
	His thumb on the remote. Bastard! The cock clamp shakes in a blur, assaulting my cock with unbearable pleasure. The changing room stinks of lust. How can we not get caught? But I don’t care. David grinds my back against the wall and pounds my dripping rear. I claw at his scales and whimper muffled squeaks at his cheek. It feels so good...I could almost cum. But the damn cock clamp! I hate it...I love it...it keeps me needy, keeps me wanting more. More of this! More! More!
	He hisses in my ear as his cock pumps his seed into me, and I mrowl and squeeze as I ride it out. Then the one lovely moment when he’s not in control, when he’s out of breath and drowsy with satisfaction, right before he pulls out and his cum weeps from my battered hole.
	Delicately, he extracts my panties from my mouth and sets my feet back on the floor. The vibration in the cock clamp settles to a barely-bearable buzz.
	“Get dressed, kitten,” he says. “And then meet me at the car.”
	I reach for him as he turns. I open my mouth to protest.
	“Mew!”
	My paw flies to my throat. He changed the setting! Bastard!

Sunday.

The day of rest, but not really. The cock clamp is my alarm clock, pulling me into full wakefulness with a cruel, massaging caress off my needy cock. I look across to David’s side of the bed to see him...gone.
	Oh yeah. I’d forgotten. He has meetings this morning.
	Sam paws forlornly at my crotch while I brush my teeth. I spare a paw to pet the top of his head.
	“I’m thad thoo,” I say. I spit. “But you’ll have to go begging to David if you want to suck it.”
	He tries anyway. That cock-hungry mouth tube of his suckles at the shiny metal outer surface of the clamp. I feel nothing but the internal stroking tease of the lubricated rubber, but looking down cruelly tempts me with the sight of that rigid shaft sliding in and out of his muzzle.
	“Mrrf.”
	I push him away and get myself dressed. He’s there to help, holding my t-shirt up for me. I can tell he’s amused. He picked out the extra tight purple one, along with the skinny jeans that really ride up my butt and cling to my crotch.
	“Yeah yeah,” I say. “Want everyone to see I’m all locked up, huh?”
	He nods.
	I grab the jeans from him and poke my tongue out. I turn to bend down and pull them over my foot, and that’s my mistake. I hear a soft thud behind me and feel his hooves on my thighs, and then the sudden wet heat of his snakey, lubricated tongue pressing against my tailhole.
	“Sam!” I gasp.
	He hooks his arms around my thighs and holds me tight, plunging his tongue deep inside. I drop the jeans and lean against the wardrobe door.
	“D-damn it Sam!” I breathe...and just let him have his fun.

I finally pull myself away and leave my suite, half an hour late, sweaty and drained and probably needing another shower, and maddeningly hard inside the cock clamp. My tailhole tingles...it actually tingles...after being tongue-fucked for so long. I can’t help but feel cheerful as I head down the corridor.
	I pause at the junction. The way I need to go is left. But...I glance right.
	Hmm.
	I have time. For unfinished business. I march right!
	The door slides open. The same bare white room. Tiles on the floor. Tiles on the ceiling.
	“Hello?”
	Silence.
	Hmm.
	I look behind me. Nobody around. I step past the threshold, and the door snicks shut behind me.
	“Ah, hello there. You’re a cat today I see?”
	I don’t even bother trying to find the source of the voice this time. It’s all around, like before. “I was always a cat,” I say. “Just stuck inside a pony suit last time.”
	“Well yes, I know that. How was that day? Did you have a good time?”
	“What are you?” I say, my fur bristling. “And where are you?”
	“I’m a computer AI.”
	“Bullshit! You’re flesh and blood, sat somewhere at some controls. So who are you?”
	“Okay, you got me. You’re right. I’m not going to tell you who I am though. Where’s the fun?”
	“What is this room?”
	“Processing.”
	“Processing for what?”
	“For Nulls.”
	“So they do start out as normal furs!”
	“Well...some of them.”
	“Some of them?”
	“Who’s normal here?”
	The big tile in the centre of the floor recesses and slides open, and the restraint chair rises up.
	“No way,” I say. “Not this time!”
	“You know you want to.”
	I hear the door slide behind me, and I turn to face an open doorway.
	“No arms this time. Just you and the chair. You can leave if you want,” says the voice. “But I know you don’t want to.”
	“I don’t want to be a Null.”
	“Yes you do. You really, really do.”
	“No I don’t!” I cry. “Not...not forever.”
	“Doesn’t have to be.”
	A tile in the ceiling opens up, and a flat-screen monitor on an articulated arm smoothly descends until it’s head height. The screen flicks on, and I see as CKC corporate mailbox...my mailbox!
	“Hey!”
	“Just watch.”
	A new message opens up, and I watch a mail type itself out.

Sir.

I’m going to be a Null for a week. Number 5032. Come find me. xxx

Love Myles.

	“All ready for you to send,” says the voice. “If you want.”
	“I…” I swallow. “I mean...can’t I think about it first?”
	“Of course you can.”
	The text starts to change.

I’m going to be a Null for two weeks.

	“Hey! I don’t…”
	“It can be a month if you like. Or a year.”
	“Or not at all! I don’t have to do this.”
	“No...but you want to. Tell you what. Let’s make this more enticing for you…”

I’m going to be a Null for a month. You won’t know which one I’ll be.
	
	“What?”
	“You know the numbers are just painted on the skin, right? It’s skin, by the way. Not a suit. Not for true Nulls anyway.”
	“What about it?”
	“Sam’s number is 3211.”
	“So?”
	“I’ll assign Sam somewhere else and let you borrow his number.”
	“You mean…” I put my paw over my mouth.
	“Yes, that’s exactly what I mean.”
	I can barely suppress the squeal.
	“A whole month?”
	“A whole month.”
	I take a step forward. The door slides shut behind me.
	“There’s a good pony…”

I am getting too used to the tingling feeling of nanites chewing through my body. I should feel scared. But...I don’t.
	“Are you drugging me?” I slur.
	“Of course,” says the voice. “Otherwise this would really, really hurt.”
	I press my head back against the restraint chair, shuddering as I feel the wave of tingling roll its way up my body.
	“Deep breath. It’ll be your last one for a while.”
	I brace myself, as the black latex ripples up over my muzzle...sealing it.
	“That’s it,” says the voice. “It should start to feel-”
	I jolt in the seat, my limbs pressing against the shackles. I try to squeal, but I can’t make a noise. I look down at myself. Smooth black latex, gleaming under the lights, with hooves on my feet and paws, a featureless crotch. And...and…
	“Feels good, doesn’t it?”
	I close my eyes. I wouldn’t say that at all! I rattle against the chair. I need...I need…
	The door to the room clicks open, and a tall, thin equine walks in, much more elegant and graceful than my small pony body. He stands in front of me, eyeing me like a doctor might a patient. Then, digit extended, he reaches for my muzzle. I feel his finger slide into the open maw of my mouth’s new cocksleeve. I jolt! I try to squeal again.
	“There, now that feels nice.” It’s the same voice. “Like someone’s fucking your rear and sucking your cock at the same time, but in your muzzle. Strange, isn’t it?”
	I nod, as much as the restraints will let me. He lifts his finger away and I close my eyes, trying to strain forward with my tongue, feeling the lube drip down my chin.
	“And with nothing to stimulate you there...it feels like the worst, most unbearable kind of blue-balling, doesnt it? Like a constant heat. An unscratchable itch.”
	I nod again, eyes back open, begging with them. Pleading. I’m never going to refuse to let Sam blow me again!
	“Right then...of you go now.”
	The shackles click open. I lift my hooves towards my mouth…
	“Don’t!”
	Too late. I try to rub at my mouth with my hoof. The instant it touches, the taste sends me reeling. It’s like I’ve just licked a greasy toilet.
	His paw rests on my wrist, holding me still. “I should have warned you,” he said, smiling as if not warning me was intentional. “Unless it’s the body of a person, everything you taste will be horrible. Bear that in mind.”
	My eyes widen. I don’t think he knows why. I’m thinking of the day I spent as a fake Null. They plugged my mouth. It didn’t taste horrible to me, but that’s because I wasn’t a real Null, and they didn’t know that. That meant the other three who were with me...oh god, how evil.
	The lube flowed from my mouth. Salivating for cock. I looked questioningly at the equine, casting needy, hopeful looks. I’ll suck him off. I need to.
	He smiles and steps to the side, gesturing to the door. “Go to your suite and be ready for your snake. Don’t worry about Sam. I’ve already reassigned him to carriage duty.”
	I spring to my feet and trot for the door. Poor Sam!
	I try to run back to our suite, but I find myself in a dainty trot, my arms up against my chest, hooves pointed down. I come to a halt and try again...but still no run. I can’t run? I take a deep breath and…
	…realise I haven’t taken a breath at all. I’m not breathing. It’s just...the memory of breathing. I force myself to hold my chest still. Nothing. No horrible feeling of suffocation. Just...calm and peaceful.
	I set off at a trot again. It’s only around the corner. David should be home soon. I wonder what the time is, and I glance towards one of the corridor clocks…
	...and see only confused shapes. What? I blink repeatedly and look again. Just shapes. What is this?
	It’s the same with the direction signs too. And a leaflet on a table. Just confused jumbles of shapes, no writing at all. How is this even possible?
	I stop at our door and feel like laughing. Why am I wondering how it’s possible? This is CKC! I should be surprised if something were not possible in this insane place.
	I touch my hoof against the door control pad, fearful that it might not work. And then I feel stupid. Of course it’ll work. Sam gets in and out all the time, and...and…I shiver, goosebumpy. I am now Sam. The computer will recognise me as Sam.
	The door slides open. I trot inside.
	David isn’t home yet. I dance from hoof to hoof, constricted by the most ridiculous levels of arousal I have ever felt, made all the more confused by the sensations being in my muzzle, and not my crotch, which is just smooth and dormant. I catch myself reaching for my mouth. I can’t stimulate myself, not with anything. It’ll taste foul. I have to wait for David. I have to wait for him and hope he’s in the mood for me to suck his cock.
	Oh god...what if he isn’t? I trot around in a circle, panicking. I can’t survive feeling like this for...oh god, a whole month? I hurry to the computer. The letters on the keys are gibberish, but I remember their layout. I steady myself and, carefully, with the edge of my hooves, tap gently at the keys.
	Into the login box I see a string of confused shapes. I hit enter. Why isn’t it accepting it?
	I stare at it. Wait, this is all wrong. I try to hit backspace, and end up with the string just getting longer.
	No!
	Look, there’s the M key. Right there. I know that’s the right key. I know the layout of the keyboard damn it! I don’t care that it’s just got a squiggle. I press it and…
	...a popup box, with some squiggles, and what must be an “okay” button. Or is it cancel? Or login? Or logoff? I thud my forehead against the desk. Something is in my brain and it’s messing with me!
	So...I can’t speak. I can’t read. I can’t type. Maybe I can…
	...five minutes later, after scrawling with a pen across a dozen sheets of paper, I determine that I can’t write or draw pictures either.
	Stuck. For a whole month. Nothing I can do about it. No way I can tell anyone who I am.
	Well...this is what you wanted.
	I trot around the suite, trying to think of something, anything, to distract me from this maddening arousal. I can’t read anything. I can’t operate the controls to turn the television or the radio on. Video games are right out. I despair. I’m just a sex toy and a slave, incapable of doing anything else!
	Poor, poor Sam! But he seems so happy all the time! Could it be that he got used to it? That he likes living like this now?
	I find the cleaning supplies. I wipe kitchen counters that are already spotless. I scrub the sink. I scrub the toilet. I ruffle up the bed sheets and then make them again. I tip our folded laundry out onto the floor and then refold it all. And then I look at the clock and just see shapes again, and I have no idea how much longer I need to wai-
	The door slides open. It’s David! Oh David! I try to run to him...but only trot.
	“Good evening Sam. Is Myles home yet?”
	I stand to attention in front of him and shake my head. What? No! Nod! Nod damn it, nod! I try again, but now my head refuses to move.
	“Alright, could you-”
	He looks down at me, that sentence trailing off to silence. I’m on my knees, rubbing my nose against his crotch. Please let me suck it. Please please please.
	His paw grips the top of my head and eases me away. “Now Sam, you know I’m saving it for Myles.”
	What? No! No no no! I am Myles! Please let me suck it! Right now!
	But outwardly...only the faintest look of disappointment reaches my eyes. I want to flail and pantomime my distress, but I only stand up. I can’t even communicate with actions!
	“Go and start dinner, Sam. I’ll...hmm.” He walks over to the computer and taps a few keys. “Odd.”
	My hopes rise...but he just sits and logs in. My feet carry me to the kitchen. Carrots. Onions. Swedes. While my muzzle throbs with unbearable lust. This is worse than the cock clamp by far!
	“Oh Myles.”
	I look up, but he’s not talking to me. He’s looking at the screen.
	He chuckles. “Well then...I guess I’ll be seeing you in a month. Don’t have too much fun!” He sits back in his seat, putting his feet up on the table. I watch him while my hooves steadily chop onions faster than I could ever normally manage. I watch his paw move to his crotch. My hopes rise again.
	“A month without fucking your little kitten rear,” he says. “Well, no matter. You waited for me, so I’ll wait for you.” He pats his crotch and moves his paw back away and tilts his head back. “Sam, it’s just us two until Myles gets back, and I’m going to save my energy for him. He’s going to want it after spending a month as a Null. Well...you know what it’s like, don’t you? Do you think you’ll manage for a month without giving us those lovely blowjobs of yours?”
	I nod my head. No! No no no! I want to scream! I want to cry!
	“Good boy, Sam. Good boy.”
	My hooves shake as I chop the onions. Just an obedient little Null slave. Just a Null. Nothing more than a good little Null...