Roxanne was on her third circuit of the room when Sir said “Halt.” She stopped abruptly, mid-stride, one leg up at the time, and nearly lost her balance, but recovered it with an effort of will. After a few moments she lowered her foot to the ground again and continued to stand there as he approached.

Sir drew her hair up and tied a high ponytail atop the crown of her head, standing just in her field of vision. She was surprised by how adorable she found the expression of concentration on his face.

He undid his blue silk tie, and then stepped behind her, tying her wrists loosely behind her back with the tie.

“There we go,” he said. “Resume.”

“Yes, Sir.”

It was strange, but the two modifications made here feel much better balanced. It was as if somehow they’d made her closer to an ideal.

"You have the makings of something very special, Roxanne."

“Thank you, Sir.”

She could feel her hair bounce with every high step now it was tied there. The more steps she took, the more she seemed to focus on her walking, a kind of meditation that was exercise; as she continued to trot her thoughts became less important and she lost herself in the way her body felt, feeling the stretch and sway of her muscles, feeling the quiver of a buttock when that foot came down hard and fast from a high step.

Sir was clearly enjoying the show, and part of Roxanne didn’t know how to feel about that. With her mind adrift, it came to her at last where she’d seen his face before; he’d encountered her in the supermarket without having the hoodie up. She’d caught him staring, she realised, on more than one occasion; at the time she’d registered him looking away and hadn’t realised what was happening.

He must have seen something in her. Something that told him she was at the start of this process he wanted.

“Halt,” he said again after a few more circuits. She stopped, a little uncertain, but Sir beckoned her to him beside the low trestle table containing all the fascinating little implements. "There is a word for what we are making you, Roxanne. Do you know what it is?"

She shook her head. “No, Sir.”

He looked her up and down. "You're an attractive woman."

It should have been something to object to, but instead she felt a tingle of pleasure at the praise. “Thank you, Sir,” she smiled.

"I do think, though, that we can improve you. You have no objections, of course." He said it so matter-of-factly, as if it were just a natural rule of the universe.

Standing close to her, he picked up a pair of short bladed clippers and snipped her panties apart at each hip before pulling them away and letting them fall.

Roxanne shook her head. “No, Sir,” she said. She had no objections. Of course not. She found herself standing perfectly still as her panties were removed.

He unhooked the strap of her bra, then tucked a thumb into the bra’s fabric between her breasts and pulled it away from her body, like the easy version of a conjuring trick.

At the back of her mind, she couldn’t help but wonder if her underwear being cut away was normal. It didn’t feel wrong, but…

Should I be displayed like this?

"It's going to take a little while before we have everything done that I want," he told her. "There may be some cosmetic upgrades to be made. But we can make a beginning today. You'd like that, wouldn't you?"

Roxanne’s brow wrinkled. There was something else she was meant to do that day, she knew, but as she tried to remember the thought seemed to fall apart on her. She was going to meet her… she was going to cook dinner for…

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"Yes, Sir. I'd like that. Thank you, Sir." It was the obvious answer.

I thought you would. So, let's begin with something simple. Open wide."

Roxanne opened her mouth wide, curiously.

Sir picked up a small plastic bottle of pills from the trestle table, opening it carefully, and counted two small round white tablets into his hand. "You may have noticed, Roxanne, that I have a large collection of things that I want. Money can do that for you. It can also help me acquire things like this, and like the little present in the back of your neck. And don't you like the little present on the back of your neck?"

It was a confusing question, in a way; Roxanne had forgotten there was anything there. But as she thought about it, it seemed to pulse, to throb, and a rolling wave of pleasure rippled out from it.

She inhaled sharply. “Y… Yes, Sir,” she said, before opening her mouth wide once again.

She had already stopped thinking about the thing plugged into her spine.

Sir placed the two pills gently onto her tongue. "Swallow." His voice was surprisingly tender, but there was no mistaking that it was a command. She closed her mouth and swallowed.

What am I swallowing?

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He smiled into her eyes as she swallowed, putting one hand up to the side of her head to cradle it, thumb stroking her hair. "That's my good girl," Sir told her, practically purring. "Consider these a little dietary supplement. They help you build muscle, but they also encourage some other growth." And his other hand squeezed one of her buttocks to punctuate the comment.

Roxanne shivered at his praise. It was good to be a good girl, wasn’t it?

"Do you prefer flats or heels, Roxanne?" The chip was silent. No answer was supplied, so the question, she knew, must be genuine.

"I usually wear flats. But I’m just as comfy in heels, Sir."

"That's good. You'll be spending more time in them soon." Much to the disappointment of her artificially heightened libido, Sir let go of her body, turning back to the low table.

The next item he picked up was perhaps the most mundane thing he’d handled yet; just a large, brand-name bottle of talc which he passed across to her. "Have you ever worn latex before?"

She shook her head. "No Sir, never."

Was he about to dress her? She shivered with anticipation. This was something she found she truly wanted.

"Before we begin, you should definitely have some talc covering your body from the neck down. Just get yourself ready now." And he produced his phone from his pocket, and he held it up toward her. Roxanne realised she was about to be filmed.

I don't know if I am comfortable with being filmed...

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That thought dismissed, Roxanne started to apply the talc as directed.

Sir nodded his approval, and waited a long while before he put his phone away and said “Stop.” Roxanne obeyed instantly.

Taking the talc from her, he set it down again and picked up one of the larger sections of material, holding it up and in so doing revealing it to be a pair of tight latex leggings in a burgundy colour. They were high-waisted, and there was some kind of openable seam over the crotch.

As he turned them around in his hands, getting them into position, Roxanne could also see a pattern of small holes over about a half-inch area just below the waistline on the rear.

He knelt down in front of her with the leggings in his hand, looked up, tapped her on the right thigh. "Lift to trot position, there's a good girl."

“Yes, Sir.” She lifted her right leg up into trot position. Holding her balance like this was harder when she wasn’t moving, but it was certainly possible.

She felt the tingle in the back of her head again as he started to guide the right leg of the latex up her thighs and into place, and she felt something seem to flip off in her head. Her leg muscles were suddenly irrelevant to her, not something she could control, and therefore not something she could lose control over.

There was something wonderful about the care he was taking in smoothing the latex out against her skin, a raw delight to be taken in someone paying her this much attention.

With the right leg almost right, he tapped her right thigh again. "Stand back to attention."

The toggle flipped back in her mind and her leg was her own. She returned to standing at attention, her skin tingling under the smooth latex, her scalp tingling with it. Something about this was just incredible.

It was strange, but with the shift from Sir asking her to do things to Sir telling her to do things, everything she did for him came with a burst of extra bliss, like following an instruction was enough to be rewarded on its own.

He tapped her left thigh with a finger. "Lift to trot position."

“Yes, Sir.” She lifted her other leg and felt her body hold itself into position without the input of her conscious mind. It felt so good to be obedient.

He worked the leggings’ other leg into place, standing up once he had the waist most of the way up her thigh, both of his hands smoothing out any air pockets, stroking it up and down both legs, and then he stood behind her to draw the waistband of the leggings up over her crotch, her bare buttocks, and her hips. "Back to attention, Roxanne." He was so close behind her as he instructed her that his voice was practically in her ear. She felt his breath on the back of her neck, returning to attention, feeling alive and aroused as she never had before.

He put his hands about halfway down her thighs, touching fingertip-light, and slowly trailed them up her sides over the latex and finally up to bare skin, teasingly flicking his fingertips across the underside of her breasts. "How do you feel, Roxanne?"

She did not jump. Did not twitch. She was at attention. Rather than make a sound, she breathed deeply and slowly. "I feel really good, Sir..."

Sir chuckled, his lips still close to her ear. "Well, that's good to hear, my dear. Aren't you glad I chose you for my little opening?"

A strange feeling of gratitude welled up inside her. She was so lucky. So very lucky…

"I am, Sir. Thank you for choosing me."

"So polite, too. So obedient and docile. Yes, you were the right choice."

A broad smile spread across Roxanne’s face. She truly was the luckiest of women.

"Now, keep being a good girl and hold your arms straight out at shoulder height."

“Yes, Sir.”

She raised her arms out to the sides until she was standing in a T. Roxanne knew from experience that her arms usually tired quickly, but they seemed to simply lock into place.

He picked up another piece of the same burgundy latex. It was jacket shaped, but with many more points where it could be opened through the many zips that studded it.

He unzipped both arms, and, standing behind her, he slipped it onto her shoulders and adjusted the arms in place. He then clipped them sealed around her wrists at the cuff.

The jacket collar rested directly below the bottom of the implant on Roxanne’s neck, and he took the time to gather her hair out of the way.

He paused for a moment behind her, then gently kissed the side of her neck before stepping back round in front.

Roxanne had not been ready for the kiss. She shuddered with pleasure at the way it felt, at the way it made her feel. She was, suddenly, aware of how wet she was growing.

With the jacket mostly lined up, he started to arrange the front of it in place. Zips ran in various locations, including a pair of zips that ran in curves directly under her breasts to reveal them fully for access if opened.

She was most fascinated by the zips along the arms, though; it looked, ingeniously, as if they could either simply keep the arm fastened or zip the two arms together. Someone had put a lot of thought into the outfit.

For the time being, though, Sir simply zipped it shut. "Attention," he instructed, a teasing tone to her voice.

“Yes, Sir,” she answered, lowering her arms to her sides and straightening her back, pushing her chest out. She felt suddenly as if she couldn’t move even if she wanted to.

Sir lingered in front of her, studying her closely. "Salute," he directed.

“Yes, Sir,” Roxanne answered, and she obeyed. It was as perfect a military salute as any civilian has given, a memory of seeing the Guard on parade on TV turned into a motion executed with mechanical precision.

He took a photo as she held the salute, then stepped behind her to take another from the back.

Coming up close behind her, he held out his phone where she could see it and showed her both.

Roxanne saw a woman completely transformed from her shopping run earlier in the day. The smile shining in her eyes and on her lips felt like a reward, like something she’d found again and only realised it had been lost when she found it. "What do you think?" Sir asked.

My goodness, I look like some kind of fetish slut!

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"I hope it's acceptable, Sir."

"Very much so, yes," he said. "My good, obedient, sexy girl."

Something clicked in her head. Good is good. Obedient is good. Sexy is good? Sexy... is good. Roxanne smiled. The thrill of being a Good Girl was incredible.

"Sit down now." He patted her on her rear as he directed her. Roxanne obediently trotted to the armchair in which she’d been restrained and sat down, hearing a soft grunt of approval from behind her as she started to move.

Once she was sat down, he approached her, holding what looked for all the world like tall, calf length high heels in the same burgundy as her outfit except that the entire heel area had a surround shaped like a horse's hoof. "Have you worked out what I want from you yet, aside from your obedience?"

"You want me to be a pony, Sir?"

"Close. The word is ponygirl. You will have a number of important duties for me, once I finish repurposing you."

I'm not a ponygirl! I'm a Mum! A wife!

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“Yes, Sir.” Roxanne felt her smooth, latex-covered rear slide a little on the armchair.

"I find ponygirls extremely erotic," he told her, softly but sincerely. "You will have high standards." Which her chip told her was a subtle command. She would have to set herself high standards in the role.

"Yes, Sir. I will have high standards." Something about that seemed to thrill her. When was the last time she had been trusted to deliver to a high standard without being constantly interrupted or corrected?

She couldn’t remember.

He handed her the pair of hoofboots. "Try these on."

Taking the boots, Roxanne slipped them on one at a time. Something in their design tightened around her foot, supporting it and keeping it at an angle where, standing, she would be on her toes. The manufacturer had avoided the question of shoe sizes by making something that would expand around the foot, keeping it steady, like a firmer memory foam.

They seemed like a second skin.

He held out both hands. She took them and slowly rose on her hooves. There was a shaky moment of wobbling, but her balance improved swiftly.

Sir smiled. After a moment, he leaned in and kissed her, and Rozanne smiled in return.

Why are you kissing me?

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"Let's get your tail in place," he said, and on taking up the blonde length, he disappeared behind her with it.

The tail clipped into place within her leggings using that odd network of holes. A mild electrical connection tingled at the base of her spine, and as a result, once the tail was fully attached it stood perkily.

Some of that tingle seemed to be tactile feedback; she could almost feel what it was doing.

"There," he said. " What do you think, Roxanne? Are you going to make a good pony girl for me?"

“Yes, Sir.”

"I like your confidence." He picked up the curved travel pillow that had kept her head upright earlier on; this time he also collected a small length of chain which terminates in a leather leash handle. When he clipped the chain to the pillow, Roxanne realised it was designed with a dual purpose as a leading rein.

Sir approached her with it.

Roxanne remained at attention, unmoving. Sir slipped the pillow back around her neck, then picked up a small bell, holding it to her eye level and ringing it before clipping it to his new leading rein collar. “Before we go any further, I want you to see what I want from you," he told her. "We're going to take a walk."

“Yes, Sir.”

He turned, heading for one of the doors out of the room. “Follow,” he said.

*

The door didn’t lead to the front of the house, where Roxanne’s car still sat in the driveway, but instead took them to another room, and through that, to a back door opening onto the grounds of the house.

The hooves she wore clicked loudly on the bare floorboards, and then as she followed Sir out of the house there was a brief, satisfying crunch of gravel beneath them. In the distance she could see the gardener pushing a wheelbarrow from spot to spot, one strap of her dungarees hanging down from her shoulder, one breast exposed in the sunlight, walking without a care in the world.

The fresh air felt so good against her face, better than it had done in years. Her mane bounced and her bell sounded with every step she made, and the latex surrounding her moved with her, tight enough against her that she could feel her own muscles shifting. It felt strangely luxurious, and Roxanne was oddly contented as she was led outside.

Without thinking about it she had started to trot, her knees lifting hip-high with every step as she followed along behind him. The happier she got as she trotted, the more she felt her fail bouncing behind her, which made her happier in its turn. He took her past the gardens to the edge of a large wooded area also on the property, which had a couple of large, well-worn dirt tracks leading into and out of it.

He turned back to look at the house, and therefore so did Roxanne, seeing for the first time how large this old manor house truly was. At the sides it dropped from being two to three stories and there were parts that were only one story high, looking as if they’d been built on later or perhaps the house had been extended to incorporate them. One of those had a huge pair of double doors, big enough that Roxanne mentally tagged it as a stable.

Or perhaps the chip had done that for her.

She glanced shyly back to Sir and smiled happily.

"So tell me, Roxanne, how would you like to be part of my ponygirl team?"

NO! I'm not a ponygirl! I'm a person!!

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“I’d love to, Sir.”