Chapter 13
Patricia was driving as usual. She almost always did when they went out anywhere, yet another sign of the strong Alpha female he supposed. He sighed; she also drove way too damn fast and carelessly for his liking.
"Why the sigh?" She asked.
"Nothing, just a touch of wind." he lied.
The car slowed as they approached a sharp bend. On the far side, he saw several old caravans and a couple of small rusty trucks parked in a layby. Hordes of scruffy kids seemed to be running about even though it was not the holidays and a few miserable looking ponies were tethered to the dilapidated wooden fence that divided the pull-in from the adjacent field.
"Gypsies" he noted. "bet all those kids are skipping school".
"Probably, see the horses?"
He nodded.
"Poor creatures" his wife snarled. "I'll bet they are half starved and have never seen a vet in their entire lives, poor creatures" she added again as she pressed the pedal to speed up.
He wasn't surprised although he was slightly amused. His wife held strong views on animal welfare and yet.... his mind drifted to the stable and kennels on her little estate. Apparently, those 'wretched special animals' slotted into an entirely different compartment in her mind. There was that woman who Patricia called in from time to time who'd had some nurse training before dropping out to take up veterinary nursing. That was the nearest her animals got to any qualified medical attention! He thought her attitude odd but not entirely surprising.
That reminded him of something else. "Eva's Birthday, has she mentioned it to you?"
"Yes, you?"
"Uh huh. She hasn't forgotten what you said last year; she sooo wants to get into the stable you know and not just as a spectator or occasional help. You did sort of promise, remember?" He looked sideways at his wife.
Patricia nodded. "I know, it came up again last night in the kennels when I was doing the feeds. Just after Claire rang...bitch!"
He smiled. That particular little family dispute was probably going to run for a while. Not that it bothered him overmuch and anyway, he hated Claire, and she loathed him. It did worry him in one way though, Patricia had taken to borrowing Girlie from him way too often now that her toy cupboard was bare. He couldn't understand why she'd loaned her the bitch in the first place. He sighed, why couldn't she go across to the dogs for relief like Alice?
"I think she's made her mind up."
He looked at her. "About the pony?"
"Yup, so we will perhaps need to keep our eyes open."
"...and our wallets."
Patricia gave a barking laugh. "My wallet don't you mean and my cheque book and my Swiss bank account".
"OK ok, don't rub it in, I'll chip in for half a horseshoe, well maybe even a whole one anyway!"
His wife laughed again and turned to pout a kiss at him briefly. He winced, not so much at the kiss, more the way the car had suddenly veered into the path of that oncoming truck before quickly regaining its rightful position in the correct lane. His wife swore under her breath, something about stupid truckers as its horn blared out. He wisely held his council as his fingers slowly released their sudden grip on his seat cushion.
"I am not too sure" his wife mused a minute or so later. "I think she's been over-influenced by Alice and Midnight".
"How so, surely she can't be serious about something like him?" he was genuinely startled. "Heck that big bastard scares the pants off me even when he's chained up tighter than, than.... well you know what I mean?"
Patricia nodded. "Yeah, I thought maybe we could call in at Margret's...no, don't look like that dear. I won't let her do anything nasty to you, promise".
"That woman scares the pants off me with just one glance!"
"Mmmm, she does tend to have that effect on certain people, probably why she and Alice get on so well. As we will be in that vicinity my original idea was to call in and see if she had anything suitable for sale, she sometimes does....at a reasonable price of course."
"Haggle" he suggested helpfully.
Patricia laughed again. "She'd only do it better than me. You know how competitive she is? I don't believe she's ever come second best in anything. I would probably end up paying twice what I would have done for a straight sale. I even heard of one guy who tried her patience so much with his miserly offers that he ended up wearing harness leather in her stables himself, probably pure folk-law though!"
"Hmm, maybe, maybe not, I could believe anything of that terrible woman."
"Scaredy cat! Anyway, I'd initially thought something well trained and well broken in that would be easy for her to cut her teeth on, but no that's not what she wants at all!"
He sighed again. "So, the little vixen does want her own Midnight then?
"Not quite, but she does want something big or biggish, female and not too well broken in. Preferably a fresh animal with more than a bit of spirit left in it and not too old. Some of those mares in Margret's stable are a bit too docile and long in the tooth these days, and I doubt if she'd part with a filly".
He scratched his chin thinking about it although he knew his wife was merely being polite and making conversation to while away the journey, he would play no real part in the decision-making process. He never did. "Your sort of heading in one direction "he noted cautiously.
"Wild stock, I know. Never very easy to acquire securely and if on the market and available, fantastically expensive! I am hoping that Margret can put me onto something, her contacts are way better than mine, and I'll offer a little sweetener."
"Money?"
"Don't be silly; she could buy up everything I own just with her small change! No, I thought if I find or she finds me something suitable I'd stable it with her for a while...till Eva's birthday anyway. Let her have the first crack, round off a few rough edges so to speak, she will enjoy that".
"How old is not too old then?"
Patricia pursed her lips. "She says around twenty to twenty to five/sixish, maybe a bit either side if suitable. Well-built, athletic and reasonably easy on the eye, more your sort of lithesome muscled Western javelin thrower rather than big beefy standard Russian shot putter, all her words not mine. She wants something that she can throw a saddle on and go for a gallop".
He raised his eyebrows. "Can you really do that?"
"Of course, Margret's got a couple of stallions that she rides regularly. It's just a matter of animal size, rider weight and the right sort of saddle. I'm a shade too big and heavy...no, no wisecracks thank you. Margret is quite petite and lightweight as is Eva. I think Alice has similar long-term plans for Midnight, that's maybe what gave Eva the idea. I know Alice has ridden some of Margret's ponies when she's visited. It's just a matter of size, weight, build and a suitable saddle as I said"
"So, just your everyday athletic Amazon in lipstick then?"
Patricia laughed her deep throaty laugh and licked her lips. "Hmmm, add a couple of years to the spec, and I might find a use for her. I might even join Alice and strap on my own 'stallion' to pay her a visit."
They both laughed.
They drove in silence for a few more miles then he had an idea. "A thought just occurred to me".
"Oh?"
"Eva and Margret have always got on pretty well haven't they. I mean I know that they have not met very often, but whenever they do, I get the impression that they hit it off pretty good, don't they?".
"True, Margret thinks she's uber cute, that last time she stayed over, she spent quite a bit of time with her out in the kennels as I recall. So where are you going with this?"
"I was re-visiting something you said earlier in my mind. Why not kill two birds with one stone so to speak. Instead of getting Margret to do that initial 'breaking and training' which as you suggested, I am sure she would enjoy. If you acquire something suitable why not send Eva down to stay with her for a couple of weeks. Her birthday present, her pony, let her learn directly from Margret, I am a thousand per cent sure your sadistic baby girl would love that!"
"Brilliant!"
"Careful" he shouted as the car careened briefly across and into the wrong lane again as his wife enthusiastically grabbed at him and kissed him fiercely. "Sheesh, watch the damn road you fucking mad woman!"
Patricia laughed. "Brilliant. Brilliant idea, Eva will love that, why didn't I think of it? What a clever little Sissy Bitch Buggerer you are darling".
"Oh, hardly little!" he pretended to protest indignantly. "Just ask Girlie about the size."
Patricia threw her head back and laughed again.
*****
It was so utterly demeaning to be continuously handled like this. By now she should have grown accustomed to it if a person ever could, but in her 'reawakened' state of mind, it was almost as though she was starting all over again despite the long months of mind-numbing captivity already endured.
The wretched routine rarely varied. Day after day with the same monotonous morning regularity either the older bitch or the daughter, frequently both would enter the stable. Their arrival announced by the throwing open of the creaking old wooden doors, a sudden and all too brief influx of sweet-smelling fresh air before the doors closed again, harsh electric lights suddenly illuminating their spartan stalls and then the daily grooming sessions would commence.
One by one they would move along the row of stalls checking each of their captive 'animals'. The simple catch on her stall door was flicked open, and Alice entered. As was her custom she said nothing, no morning greeting, no endearing if belittling comment to her human pony, no emotion whatsoever other than an impatient gesture with the riding crop she inevitably carried. Alice did not believe in wasting her breathe on these dumb animals unless some curt command was needed.
Sally, now known as Moonglow slid awkwardly off her uncomfortable plank bed and shuffled to the centre of her simple stall. A month or two earlier and that crop would have been used instantly, hard and several times to correct her tardiness. A well trained and obedient pony knew it had to be up and standing ready in the allocated space prepared for checking and grooming.
Even in her advanced condition, she was not spared. Discipline in the stable was rigorously enforced, obedience at all times was the prime rule, and recalcitrant ponies soon learned that to behave otherwise only resulted in painful remedial therapy! The crop reached out to lift her chin, head up, up to the required position. Then it lowered, and with a couple of quick flicks, the leather flap at the end left a couple of burning red imprints on her left buttock cheek.
Sally winced into her bit gag. That had hurt, but she knew it would quickly pass. Compared to some of the beatings she's received in the past they were no more than a couple of light 'love pats. The smarting was already fading, just a brief reminder that her condition was no excuse in this hellish facsimile of an equine facility where laziness or disobedience was never tolerated.
Sally blinked back the tears that had begun to form in her eyes staring stared rigidly ahead at the door to her stall. She rarely cried these days, not if she could help it. It was nothing to do with courage or pride or anything like that. If her eyes started to smart there wasn't a damn thing, she could do about it not without the use of her hands. All she would be able to do would be to blink. God, it was hell if you got a speck of dust or something in your eye. Likewise, any sort of a sniffle, all you could do was wait and then sneeze, and if you had a runny nose then it just ran!
She knew every inch of this wretched prison of hers and saw without seeing the old wooden door with its faded and peeling varnish directly to her front. She stood stiff and silent in a classic ponygirl stance. She posed as she'd been whip trained to be on her knee-high bright pink leather pony hoof boots. Legs perfectly straight as she balanced herself. Body leaning slightly forward as her torso automatically fell into that position forced by the cruel binder that held her arms tightly captive behind her back. Arms that she could no longer even feel and that she had not seen since the day the bitch in front of her had dressed her in the various bits of harness.
Dress, that was a laugh. Dress, more like undress. She'd never seen herself in a mirror, but she had frequently seen the stables other captive occupants, and so she knew exactly how she looked. Naked and helpless, bound in a tight pink leather harness, arms pinioned in a binder presumably of the same awful colour, her head captive in a pink leather bridle. Her breasts, shaven vagina and anus permanently on public view. Yes, she knew how she looked the only difference being that her harness was this awful shade of shocking pink rather than the utilitarian gloss black the others all wore.
Alice was behind her. She could feel her hands checking straps and buckles and whatever else they did that she could not see. They loosened something every morning, and she could feel the touch of fingers on her lower arms as though they were checking that her circulation or something similar was still alright. That morning sensation was about all she could feel other than a faint movement when she flexed her fingers in the tight mittens that constrained them.
Once a month, possibly, that was what she assumed, but it might have been more or less or even random as there was no way of knowing, she received a little extra grooming. That's what they called it these foul bitches. Grooming, grooming as if they really were animals! On those occasions, she could feel her hands being briefly released and her fingernails trimmed. God, her poor nails, how proud she had been of them once, how much time spent with a file and the regular sessions at the nail boutique. Now they just got a salvage cut with a pair of scissors presumably snipped back as far as possible. Even worse was the wet razor on her private parts so that the most intimate part of her anatomy was always fully exposed to their view.
Her feet were slightly different. They seemed to receive more attention. Weekly at least she reckoned she was walked over to a 'wet' area in the stable and then fastened like the beast they considered her to be via the top of her bridle to a low hook on the wall forcing her to bend right over. One by one at the touch of a crop she had to lift her 'hoof's as they called them. One boot at a time being removed so that her foot and lower leg could be examined then washed, and frequently her toenails trimmed.
Sometimes they did them as a batch three or even four of them all packed together side by side as they carried out what they considered 'essential maintenance' on their helpless captives. Animals, just animals that's what they were in the eyes of those who controlled them or to quote them, owned them! Even now she could hardly believe it, that anyone could treat their fellow human beings in such a continuous vile way.
Non-humans that's what they were. Neither human nor animal but some sort of betwixt and between hybrid. Not once, not on one single occasion over the long months since she had woken to find herself strapped tightly down on that wretched bench had anyone spoken to her as if she were a person bar that brief visit by the father the other night. Commands, orders, curt single syllable instructions to be learned and acted upon with unthinking blind instant obedience yes, but never a single word addressed as one human to another.
They talked to each other of course. That was another intended or perhaps unconscious subliminal humiliation. Mother to daughter or vice versa. They chatted perfectly normally as if the captives really were mindless animals incapable of understanding a single word and rarely gave the slightest impression that they cared so much as one jot if they did understand such conversations.
It was incredible that they could operate like this. That they could so blatantly house people like this and treat them with such callous indifference in the midst of a highly developed and civilised country. Yet they did, and from some of the conversations she had heard, it was a perfectly normal situation for them and apparently, they were not alone in their obscene perversions. She had heard numerous references to other people who evidently had similar predilections. Someone called Margret cropped up quite frequently.
The worst she found was their 'normal' conversations, mother and daughter chit chat just as she had once enjoyed with her mother. It was crazy, completely crazy she had reflected. Here she was strapped into a horrible leather bondage harness, naked, helpless, gagged, her anus almost permanently filled with a vast plug supporting a false tail. Unable to do a single thing for herself bar stagger about on those awful boots they strapped on her legs. Bent almost double secured to a hook on the rough stone wall.
Callous hands on her body, all over her body, washing her down with a rough cold damp sponge and probing her most sensitive and intimate spots with casual indifference. The same hands that had often added cruel viciously painful welts to her bottom, thighs, belly and even her small breasts. Even her genital area had felt the sting of whip or crop on more than one occasion.
Bound, bent, beaten, bruised and debased she would have no choice but to listen to normality that was the complete opposite to her existence. The pair would casually chat about hairstyles, clothes, TV programmes, shopping trips with total indifference to her or the others. Once when they were discussing the latest newborn addition to the Royal Family, she'd made a noise that to them must have signified interest and understanding. Alice had angrily barked "Quiet pony!" and instantly delivered a swift half dozen savage strokes to her exposed bottom with the ever-ready riding crop. Then and oh so indifferently resumed her conversation as if nothing had happened while Sally sobbed in silent misery.
Alice finished whatever it was she was checking on the harness behind her back, and she felt one leather covered palm slide over first one and then her other buttock cheek. Oh God, how many times had she felt the bitch do that and every time in such a blatantly possessive manner. She belonged to the bitch and was reminded of that fact every single day and each time Alice visited her in her stall. As usual, the hand finished by giving her tender flesh a quick and non-too gentle squeeze before its owner moved around to face her pony.
This time the gloved hand reached out to briefly fondle her right breast fingering and tweaking at her nipple squeezing gently as she looked for signs of milk. Sally knew that was what she was doing because the two bitches had discussed that topic while they both mauled her the other morning, again as if she was not capable of understanding what they said. Once more a sob rose in her throat, but she choked it back down.
The gloved hand moved down to run backwards and forwards a few times over the swollen belly before grasping the crop that she'd tucked under the other arm. The crop reached out to tap against one small pert naked breast twice. "Rump!". Sally immediately bent forward at the waist as she'd been trained and shuffled her hoof booted legs apart.
The crop lifted the long tail that dangled from its fitting in the plug that firmly filled her anus. Oh, how horrible and demeaning this was. Her Mistress, her owner, was inspecting her for signs of soiling when she voided. That damn tube in her rectum plus the awful diet they were fed, nothing stayed in, and she had to be ever alert to the slightest sign that her bowls were about to empty. All too often she missed those faint indicators or perhaps they didn't even exist, and the foul mess just erupted in a sudden semi-liquid stream from the opening beneath her tail plug to soil her arched tail, legs and puddle briefly on the stall floor before the sawdust and dirt soaked it up.
It often happened several times a day, and invariably she would be taken by surprise on one or more occasions with the result that she'd have to spend anything up to twenty-four hours in a stinking stall with the same stinky stuff encrusting on her legs. The bastards only groomed them once a day and paid not the slightest heed to their discomfort at other times, drilling and exercising them as if oblivious to both sight and smell!
She had even heard the older bitch telling her youngest daughter that it was something she'd have to get used to when she visited the stable. "They are just dumb animals precious, too stupid to be permitted any other way, so nature will take its course regardless. Better for them this way, no pointless attempts at a modesty no longer relevant to their animal status. You will soon get used to it, so I shouldn't worry about it!"
Eva had wrinkled her pretty nose up and looked somewhat dubious. "So, you have to clean them up every time they do it then?" she'd asked doubtfully.
"No, of course not dear. Usually, once a day is perfectly adequate although we can't always manage that. Sometimes they might have to stay soiled for a day or even more if we are pushed for time, or even as a punishment if necessary. It doesn't hurt when they are initially being trained to let them stew in their own juices so to speak for a day or two. As good as the whip, better in fact as a practical lesson as to just what their new status is and how it will be for the rest of their miserable lives!"
Sally shuddered at the memory. How Eva had laughed so callously at her mother's horrible remark then said, "Well when I get a pony it will always smell like the piece of shit it is!".
She felt the weight of the tail again as the crop was removed and it dropped down to tickle against the back of her legs. Her owners patronisingly patted her the top of her head a couple of times and then she abruptly turned and left the stall leaving her to stand upright again. She was considered clean enough, and bar feeding would probably be left alone till the next day. A blessed relief in one way but once again another mind destroying empty twenty-four hours of total boredom stretched out before her!
Alice clicked the catch firmly closed on Moonglows stall then gave the top her customary tug to ensure it was fully shut. Her mother was right, no point in ever taking any chances with the stock. Dumb and helpless they might be, but they did have brains. They'd never had one get loose, and she didn't intend to be the first one to be responsible for such an unlikely occurrence.
She paused briefly for a moment before entering the next stall. That actually might be amusing she considered. Suppose she sort of accidentally on purpose contrived to leave Midnight unchained and his stall slightly open, wouldn't it be fun to secretly watch him try to make an escape bid hobbled as he was with the chain between his legs. Let him struggle out of the stable and down past the house for a hundred yards then go after him. Do it one evening when it got dark. Let the dumb beast think for a few minutes he'd been smart enough to succeed.
Then shatter his pathetic moment of imagined triumph. Rope the beast in and drag him back to the stable, strap him down on the punishment bench and flog the shit out of the rebellious bastard. Perhaps that would be the final straw in the ongoing battle of wills between them. One that she knew he had no hope of ever winning!
Fun, she'd keep the idea in mind. Maybe it would that final straw needed to break him, maybe not. In a way, she'd be disappointed once that happened as it inevitably would. A bit of spirit always added to ones delight in owning these wretched creatures and a lot of spirit was even more fun was it not?
Midnight glared at her as she entered, but there was nothing unusual in that. He'd been glaring at her for quite a long time now the insolent dumb animal. The glare had changed though. Initially, it had been pure anger mixed with a strong dose of disbelief at the predicament he'd found himself in plus a certain amount of contempt for her.
Yes, the glare was still in the big beast's eyes, but now it was a lot more sullen. Anger again, but the contempt and disbelief had virtually gone. Hardly surprising as it had hard long enough to find out just what its present situation entailed, and the many hours spent strapped helpless to the whipping bench had cured much of the 'contempt' had it not? He might not respect her, but she didn't care overmuch. Her whips, crops and the wicked stable cane had added one other element to the look in those dark eyes, fear!
Fear and fear would ultimately breed respect would it not? The inferior animal before her might be big and muscular, strong and athletic, robust and powerful, but it was also completely helpless. It might tower above her and weigh many pounds more but only one of them was master here, and it was not the animal! It wore her personal brand burnt into its rump, the harness and chains that she had put on it and displayed the cruel welts and weal's on its hide that her whips and cane had inflicted.
"Good morning Midnight" she smiled sweetly at her pony. "I trust we are feeling grateful this morning?" She glanced up to the hooks high on the right-hand side of the wooden stall and the items dangling from them. "We had such a nice time last night, didn't we?" She laughed. "I did anyway!" She was in a mood to be communicative with at least one pony this morning and with good reason.
She reached up to touch a leather harness with a double penis dildo fixed to it and caressed the outer and considerably larger one fondly. Then with her left hand reached out to grasp the captive man's large limp chocolate-hued penis.
"You know I do believe you are getting a bit too accustomed to yourself. My side is fine for me, but you aren't squealing nearly as much as you used to when I play 'Stallion' with you." She gave his penis a sudden hard squeeze making him gasp into his rubber bit gag. "This floppy thing may be big enough to give little Moonglow a good fuck when I allow it, but I think its twin here is no longer large enough to stretch your pony cunt, eh?"
She took the harness down and waved the large black imitation penis in front of his face. The penis that was a near exact replica when erect, of the one she still gripped in her left hand. "This was damn expensive you know pony but worth it, so time to get us a new one I think". She waggled the black hard rubber object at him. "No point in me fucking you if only one of us is going to squeal is there? Me with pleasure and you with...well whatever! You have been way too quiet, and that's no fun for me is it, boy?"
She giggled. "I think maybe I've stretched your big black pony pussy a bit too much so time to for you to grow a bit, but not down here" she added giving him another painful squeeze. "I'm going to order another one of these today, the same shape because you've got such a beautiful stallion cock, shame you can't use it very often. Never mind though, the new one will be longer and thicker than this thing" Once again she gave a vicious squeeze.
She laughed aloud. Partly at the anguished noise, he made but mostly because of the look of sheer horror in his eyes as he realised what she meant and what it would mean for him next time she 'played stallion'. She hung the harness back on its hook and took down the long thick bamboo cane that dangled next to it.
"Yes," she said standing in front of him and flexing the cane ominously in both hands. "What did I promise you last night? I told you to keep your fucking pony voice quiet did I not when I removed your bit and did you, no you did not! Stupid animal, you wanted to talk, pretend that you were still human and not the beast I have made you into, worse you threatened me. You dared to threaten me your Mistress and owner!"
She stared at him in silence for a moment enjoying the look of apprehension and fear in his eyes, savouring his helpless dread, relishing her power over him. Then she laughed and returned the cane to its brass hook. She saw the look of relief in his face or at least what she could see of his face behind his bridle then laughed again.
"Oh, don't look too relieved pony. Last night I promised to flay the skin off your big meaty rump again and make you howl like the animal you truly are. This is just a brief reprieve; I'll be back later with my little sister. I promised her that she could give you the next flogging. She is so much looking forward to it." She leaned forward looked right up at him. "She asked about limits, so I said limits what limits?"
Alice gave another wicked giggle and skipped out of the stall thinking maybe she'd bring one of the dogs over when she watched her younger sister at work. A bit of extra relaxation might be nice and even more humiliating for Midnight as he suffered while she enjoyed the attention of a soft, obedient tongue.
*****
He strained as hard as he could. It had been a long time since he'd had this problem. That wretched milk and liquidised diet he'd been fed for month after month along with whatever foul additives they added had left him with persistent diarrhoea. His fear for so long had been keeping the wretched, filthy muck in his bowels till he was allowed an opportunity to relieve himself.
All those long months of living in fear lest he soil himself and all those times when he actually had. The humiliation of filling his oversized disposable nappy and plastic pants. The glee or anger when his youthful 'mummy' discovered what he'd inevitably done. The humiliation of being dragged over to be 'changed on that oversized baby table.
To lay face up and helpless while 'she' attended to him. That blonde pretty teenage sadist who supposedly 'owned' him. Her baby, her very own big baby girl as she called him. The bitch! The foul sadistic little bitch. So very pretty but oh so damn heartless and frequently so horribly cruel as well.
He still hadn't got used it. How could any sane person get used to the humiliations heaped upon him daily? He wasn't a 'baby girl' he was a grown man, a grown man in his late forties for heaven's sake, not a 'big and oh so cute but naughty baby girl' who needed a frequent vicious bottom spanking!
Damn it he thought. He had or hoped he still had; a daughter older than the evil little bitch who now ruled his life. Ruled it so effectively thanks to whatever strength-sapping chemicals they added to his food. Food! Baby milk and mush! Nor was it just the wretched food regime that had weakened him. His eyes briefly sought it out and then with a shudder turned away from the thin length of bamboo decked out with a pink ribbon hanging from its hook on the wall. That simple length of flexible bamboo had sapped as much if not more of his will to resist than the horrible food ever could. He feared that simple object more than anything and knew all too well how enthusiastically his young 'owner' liked to use it on him.
He strained again but still nothing. It was the recent change of diet that was doing it to him. He knew his bowels needed to produce something and soon, she would be angry if she came back and found he 'hadn't been' as he should have done. Shit, literally shit shit shit he thought angrily. How many times had he lain wide awake in uncomfortable terror not daring to move lest he did let loose and disgrace himself and now when he had ample opportunity...?
He could see himself in the big mirror opposite that covered such a large portion of that wall. Another aspect of this daily hell, he could not get away from the sight of how pathetic and wretched he'd become. He sat or perhaps squatted would be a more apt term on that enormous pink, and blue 'Dumbo' themed oversized potty. Naked apart from the pink plastic pants around his ankles, pink leather booties on his feet and similar thumb-less mittens on his hands. A giant pink baby dummy strapped into his mouth effectively gagging him.
He was also fat, way too fat. He'd never been a great fan of exercise, but he'd kept himself in reasonable shape hadn't he. Well OK, maybe not in shape as such but he'd never totally let himself go had he? Not using the elevator at work unless he was late, walking from the railway station to his office rather than using public transport, that and numerous other regular ways of holding middle spread at bay. Well, alright, keeping the worst of it at bay, but now....
He shuddered. He was just a lump a big pink and white podgy lump. Gross white flesh bound by tight pink accoutrements. He squatted on that wretched potty like some hideous, deformed candy gnome. Six months or whatever of the awful stuff they'd fed him. Not all of it was designed to go straight through him his obese bulk suggested that just like a real baby, his over rich diet had been planned to pile on the pounds and not only a few of them.
He shuddered again as he looked at his reflection. Hairless from crown to toenails. Shaven, ruthlessly waxed and regularly treated to some other depletory treatment. Only his eyelashes had survived the onslaught; even his once bushy eyebrows were gone. Like a modern-day Samson, he'd been brought so low by a young Delila, aided at times by mother and sister. Even his nose was not spared. The little bitch found it so amusing to use a pair of tweezers from time to time to 'rip the nasty big ugly hairs out of babies cute button nosey'.
Worse of all was the sapping of his strength. Just like the biblical Sampson he had also lost his strength. Not all at once like his hair but on a slow day by day sapping basis. Again, it must be the feed that they spooned or poured into him, some subtle additive that had slowly robbed him of his strength or paralysed his muscles, perhaps a combination of both.
He knew just how much effort it would take to raise himself off the seat of this big plastic potty he sat on. That was assuming he could somehow release the catch of the strap that held him in place and he knew that his mitten handicapped hands would prevent that. His ability was limited to waving a hand at his 'mummy' or putting one before the other as he crawled along the floor. Anything else was way beyond him.
Even if he did get himself up and off the awful object, he would only collapse in a heap on the floor. There was no strength left in his legs to support him standing upright, all he could do was crawl slowly, and that needed some effort. To assist him he now wore an oversized set of baby reins strapped to him. Sometimes his young mummy had the patience just to let him crawl, at others, he was half dragged from A to B despite his growing bulk and to add to his misery, a few hard strokes from that awful cane to add additional encouragement.
He stared at himself in dumb misery. He barely recognised himself any more. A gross pink and white alien lump! Earlier in his captivity, he'd had to wear a tight waist corset, but that had been abandoned as his paunch grew and how it had grown recently. He looked down towards feet that he couldn't see unless he stretched out his legs. He sighed and strained again. Nothing. Oh please, please let something come out, anything. Don't let her come back and find it empty she'll get so mad so horribly mad if she found he hadn't been as required.
He did not know why his diet had suddenly been changed. He still got the baby bottles three times a day, but the mixture now tasted different, less thick and his food was less mush and more substantial. Also, there were now occasions when he was allowed to feed himself rather than sitting in that wretched high chair and being spoon-fed every meal. She still dragged him over to it and strapped him down, but now there were times when a special spoon and pusher were fitted to his mittens so he could get every last bit out of his feeding bowl himself. Refusal, of course, was not an option. He glanced again toward that wicked length of flexible bamboo. No, refusal was never a viable option in this hell hole.
Suddenly his ears caught the sound of soft footsteps in the hall outside rapidly approaching the nursery door. He blanched, and his face screwed up in concentrated anguish as he panicked, vainly endeavouring to squeeze his non-cooperative bowels toward one last productive, significant effort. The door opened, and he knew with a growing sense of dread the feeling of failure, his eyes without conscious thought glanced once more towards that wicked length of bamboo that he feared so very much!