Editor's note: this story contains scenes of incest or incest content.
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Part one
I had been dropped off at the processing centre and gone through all the medical checks. I had been bred to be a service beta, a slave who would be owned by one or more alphas and would live for their benefit. This had been drilled into me from a young age and my education had been basic, befitting my status. I did not need advanced learning to become what I was going to become.
A young alpha male had collected me from a cell and told me to strip naked, and I had obeyed him without question. I had a much bigger build than him, but he had access to my control implants and anyway, he was superior. I had to obey, didn't I? That was how it was. He led me through the gleaming processing centre and got me my medical checks, then he took me to the chaining room.
That was what everyone called it. What it contained was dozens of naked slaveboys and slavegirls, all recently eighteen like me, who were chained to a ratcheting mechanism that could guide us out of different doors. For processing. What that meant, I had to wait to find out. I was drawn step by step to door number 3, slowly moving forward as each new slave in front of me went through.
It took about fifteen minutes to process each. I started eighth in line, behind a curvy little asian slavegirl who was crying and asking for her guardian - the alpha who had had primary responsibility for raising and training her. No one came, and after a while someone must have noticed her snivelling and activated her implants. Her throat froze up and she spoke no more.
I wondered what kind of beta I was going to become. I scored low on femme tendencies and high on energy and drive. There was another line that held a lot of the boys I knew from the group home who were most likely that group - slim, shy, smaller males who would look good in corsets and dresses.
My scores were pretty balanced on other tendencies. I'd been trained to be a pleasure slave, a butler, a pet and a pony, but there had been no one area I'd excelled at. I didn't know the other slaves I could see in my line as it moved forward, but I could see some I thought were domestics in a different line. Pleasure slave, then? I could live with that, I thought.
When I went through the door, two old slaveboys approached me and got busy adding more chains to my limbs. Each chain was attached to a thick, wide strap that spread my weight around. When they were all affixed, the chains retracted into the walls of the room and I was suspended in mid-air, then rotated around so I was lying horizontally.
The naked slaveboys ducked and weaved around the chains and got to work on me. By then, I knew I wasn't likely to be a pleasure slave because pleasure slaves don't require that level of modification. That left, well, it left pet or ponyboy. Either meant I would no longer be a human being in law, would become instead a service animal.
I shook and shook and my self-control fled. I would never speak again, never use my hands again, never be able to sing or to feed myself without help. I was losing the most control a slave can lose and there was nothing I could do about it. I writhed in the chains and the slaveboys stopped prepping and tried to calm me, but to no avail.
"Master," said one, "we need assistance."
I twisted around and saw a door open on the far wall of the processing room. Through it strode a black man in his late twenties, who wore the black leather uniform of a disciplinarian. He carried a crop in one hand and a shock-stick in the other. I felt my voice disappear the moment I started to beg for mercy; my vocal cords disabled by my control implants.
Twenty steps brought him to me, and he set about me with the crop the moment he was in range. He had to be agile to strike me around the chains that held me suspended, but he must have done this hundreds of times. I had been conditioned to go still when struck by an alpha, and I was held fast by that training. My body relaxed, panic left me. Only pain remained.
"Boy," said the disciplinarian, "you will submit to your fate - it will be the best life for you, and you know our tests are never wrong."
I mouthed 'Yes, Master', without really meaning it.
"But, you are in need of discipline and I am here to provide it. The penalty for your disobedience is ten seconds with the shock stick, to your balls."
I cried when I heard the words. That was more than I had ever taken, and I knew it was going to hurt like nothing else on Earth. He smiled wickedly when he thrust the stick into my balls and lit it up. It sparked and sang with electricity, and I would have howled with the agony if my voice hadn't been taken away. I did my best to remain still through those long, drawn out ten seconds, and he nodded satisfied when the stick finally went off.
"Twenty seconds next time, then thirty, then sixty. Understand?"
I nodded.
"Carry on, boys," he said to the two older slaves, and then he marched out of the room.
"OK, brother," said one of the slaves, "here's how it's going to be. Your psych tests and aptitude assessments found you to be closest aligned to both pet and pony tendencies, so we're here to convert you from human to human-animal. We'll make it as painless as we can manage, but that depends on your willing cooperation. Understand? Good.
"First we're applying this cream to most of your head hair to burn it away. You'll be left with a strip that runs from the front to the back of your head, which we'll grow out now with a different gel and then put into a ponytail. This will sting. THat's it, just hold still and let it do its work. Let go. Accept this. This is all right, brother. It's all right.
"Next, we need to modify your legs. The chains will turn you onto your side and we'll add a few gizmos. These are self-installing implants for the most part, we're just here to monitor and apply them. The ones we've just put around your knees will protect the front of your knee and also bond with the muscles and tendons inside it. When your new owners want you in pet-mode, they'll tell the implant to relax the joint and you won't be able to stand.
"Good, you're going great. Hardly struggling at all. Next we're doing your vocal cords. Your existing implants will let you speak again but don't - you'll be punished more. We need to apply some serum and some nano-surgery bots to reshape your cords, so they can make fewer sounds. You'll feel no pain, but there will be a swelling sensation and we'll monitor your breathing. And ... there. Try your voice now. It's allowed."
I emitted something like a whinny then something more akin to a bark. Experimenting with my new voicebox, I found it higher-pitched than before and far less human. I sounded like a beast of burden one moment, then like an eager puppy the next. It would take time to learn how to modulate it, but I could tell from the noises that came out that speech was now beyond me. At best, I could pick a tone each for 'yes', 'no', and 'maybe'.
"That sounds fine. The nanites will adapt as you heal. Next we need to do your cock and balls. Let's see, thick six inch cock when flaccid, with ability to shrink to one third that size. Isn't technology marvellous. Of course, this might not be permanent - mine's been redone a few times depending on who owned me. And ... there. Done. Bigger than before - at least for now.
"You'll feel a pinprick as we inject something into each of your testicles. INternal pain implant, to keep you in line, which will link to neural computer commands, maybe even automatically to the AI of the estate you live on. Owned balls are freely shockable, and now yours are ready to help train you and make you a better beta.
"OK, brother, next it's one of the things that will really separate you from the human slaves around you. Your new owners have opted not to rely on just mitts to keep you from trying to manipulate your environment, so we're going to have to remove your fingers and thumbs. The nerve blockers will make sure there's no pain."
I flailed a little in the chains, but they caught one arm each and threaded it inside a black box that they held, which sealed around my wrist. I felt the box reach out tendrils and grab my fingers and thumbs, then I lost sensation in my hands completely. Seconds passed. I thought I heard a crunch and some snaps, but I might have just imagined it. The boxes came away, and took my fingers and thumbs with them, leaving in their place patches of synthetic skin that would gradually become part of my body.
"Good boy, good boy. You won't need fingers and thumbs, you know, you'll be looked after properly. Well, anyway, you will, even if you don't believe me know. NExt we'll add your tail, then we'll pierce you. This tail will bond with the base of your spine and detect nerve impulses. It can go flaccid in pony-mode and springy in pet-mode, isn't that clever? Sharp pain now while it bonds."
I whinnied in pain, and the boys converting me smiled to hear my new voice.
"And that's almost it, brother. We're going to pierce your tongue, nipples, nose and cock now, with rings that will really help show that you're an owned animal and under control. Alphas like to ring the heads of big cocks like yours, it makes it more obvious that size isn't everything, it's who owns who that counts.
"Well, let's stand you up and test the knee implants. Put your weight down on your legs, and let them hold it. Good, good. You can still balance, see. Now, kneel. Slave to petmode. Try to stand. See? You can't. No strength there all of a sudden. And that's it. You're a pet and pony slave. Good luck."
They let me down out of the chains and I breathed in some deep and calming breaths. I had been trained to deal with the consequences of my status since birth, and this was just another step in that journey. So, I was a pet/pony now, was I? Well then, I would make the most of it that I could and look for ways to find happiness. Mine was to serve. Mine. Was. To. Serve.
I kept on repeating that line when a leather-clad alpha female came and leashed me and led me out of the back door of the processing room. The slaveboys bowed to her then busied themselves cleaning up and readying the room for the next one to be processed, and I didn't look back. Betas rarely did.
I crawled and she strode. I had to race to keep up, but she paid me no heed and was businesslike in the way she spoke to me. "Stop, pet," she would say, or "Faster, pet," and little more. She did not talk to me for I was not someone - something even - that she was interested in conversing with. I got a thin smile from her for barking acknowledgement of her commands, and that was it.
