Goblin Pony

We're only about 50 meters the wrong side of the patrol line when the ambush comes. We shouldn't be here but Sanchez is out there somewhere only about 20 metres ahead and I'm not taking my squad back without her - or without confirming life extinct. We're already fully powered up but it's going to be tight, we're down to four; there will likely be twenty of thirty of them. By rights, by all the laws of our advanced technology, we should just be wiping them out but they're still coming like an unstoppable swarm.

Rodriguez is on point and I register she's opened fire a second before two of them come at me and, for a moment, despite all my training, despite all my field experience, I freeze. We all do, it's only natural when you see your colleagues turned against you. They're not our colleagues of course, not any more, just mindless slaves to our foes but they still have human bodies, albeit mutated, enlarged and enhanced. This one is blonde like me only, unlike me, she's over two meters tall and could probably snap me in half with her bare hands if they weren't harnessed behind her back. Of course, I could still take her on in my exo-suit but then, it's not her I'm fighting, it's her rider.

The apex native species on this world is a little over half a meter tall; they're humanoid in appearance in that they have two arms and two legs and walk upright; they look nothing like us though with their large snout-like faces and fangs and those large pointy ears. They have green skin too. It didn't take long for them to be christened 'greenies' or, sometimes 'goblins'. Then there's the genitalia, their bodies may be small but the males have penises the exceed the size of an adult human male - a well endowed one at that.

They're a pretty primitive species by our standards. We came here in a faster than light ship and theirs is a late medieval maybe early industrial society; tribal and very warlike - very warlike! They take us on with gunpowder and projectile weapons against our flyers with their photon cannons and troops of marines like mine with our million dollar exo-suits that should make us invincible. They break through our perimeters with primitive tools and wreck our food production facilities, steal our crops and our people.

Which explains the two and a half meter tall blonde and her brunette companion I'm facing and their riders. By rights they shouldn't have the technology to do this but somehow they do. They capture us and they turn is into beasts of burden or, from my point of view warhorses. Which is why I'm not prepared to leave Sanchez behind.

I see the goblin riding the brunette level what looks like a flintlock pistol at me; if he can get much closer, the lead ball could crack my visor though it's unlikely to penetrate it. The other rider has what looks like a lance - much less of a threat though they're pretty accurate with them and they know the weak points of our suits. I lift my own photon cannon and though I'd always reluctant to do it, I shoot at the rider knowing the brunette will go down too. But then, there's nothing we can do for her; we all know the reports of what liberated riders are like - best to go down knowing nothing about it. Then I turn to face the goblin on the blonde. She's quick, and her rider has timed it well, she's almost inside my cannon's reach. I'm about to fire when I hear, or rather feel a clunk - one of the greenies is on the outside of my suit. This is the kind of attack we marines fear the most, inside our exos we're pretty much invulnerable in any sort of ranged combat but there are exhaust ports and valves and joints and there's always the visor and those greenies are dammed clever, jamming knives and needles into weaknesses, slowing our movements a little like death from a thousand cuts.

There's not much I can do, it's up to Bishop behind me to deal with my stowaway. What I can do is take out the blonde and her rider. And there I go again - it's rider. These mutated warhorses aren't human anymore even if they look it, they don't think like us, they've likely been tortured, their humanity stripped away to render them like dumb beasts, made to perform for their masters; bridled and saddled, driven mercilessly by the whip.

Killing them is a kindness.

The blonde really is quick or maybe I've been distracted by the greenie on my suit because when I check again, we're almost face to face and I can see the rider leering at my over her shoulder levelling his spear at my visor. I use my cannon like a club, hitting the blonde on the side of the visor that covers her eyes and hoping I catch the goblin rider too. She reels under the blow but doesn't loose her footing. Outside my suit, I'd have gone down from that sort of blow probably out cold if not with a caved in skull.

The blow has slowed her though and it has dislodged her visor. The goblins ride their mounts blindfolded. I guess it makes them easier to control, I doubt it's to protect their eyes. Maybe it's so they don't know their fighting their own. The blonde has blue eyes, huge and bright and, if she wasn't in thrall to her goblin master who was trying to kill me, I might even call them pretty. They hold my attention for a moment and then I see her turn to glance back over her shoulder at her rider who it pulling on her reins and using his whip to drive her on.

I've seen the set up before, of course, both in action and on bodies we've recovered. The bridle is a bit like the sort of thing you'd use on a horse, straps around the forehead and over the top of the head, over the nose, the bastards use a hook in the nose too, which must be to give more control and recovered women mostly have rings in their nasal septae which again are probably used to control them. The blonde has a large bit between her teeth held in place by the bridle and a strap under her chin and the reins the goblin is using go through rings in the end of it, reins that pass down to rings in the woman's nipples.

And I think, this is what makes it hard for us. There is without doubt a sexual element to the abuse the goblins subject their captives to. All the mounts have rings in their sexes too, heavy rings set deep that are used to lead them and control them. The bodies we're recovered and, the few we've taken alive have been penetrated too, always anally and sometimes vaginally too. The anal penetrations are usually in the form of beads like those we all play with when we're feeling kinky except that they're the size of apples and there's no way I'd ever be able to get one of them inside me.

Then there's the sexualisation of the body. All the woman mutated this way have huge breasts; maybe it's the effect of whatever the greenies use to alter them; their nipples are massive too. And, of course, they only seem to do this to women. Ok, so marines and techs and farmworkers are usually women but I've never see or even heard about a man ending up like this although I suppose it could be something to do with the process.

Pretty eyes or not, I let the blonde and her rider have it and call up Bishop to make sure she's clocked the stowaway on my suit - only I just get static. I start to turn as I hear another clunk on the outside of my suit. There are two more riders to my right, one on a blonde and another on black woman. I see the mounts paw the ground as they are whipped to the charge and I can't help wondering at what they look like under those visors, what their bodies looked like before they were taken. I see the blonde's eyes again too. That look in them. Surprise, perhaps at being able to see. Did she remember? Maybe she was a marine too - the greenies like us soldiers apparently, better raw material to work with, I guess.

But there was something else. That look, beyond surprise. I might have expected anger at what was being done to her; resentment, fear - but what I saw was...was a look of ecstasy.

*

I wake recalling the breach in my suit, the hiss of air, the gas; gasping falling, knowing it was all over and waiting, hoping for death. Perhaps I was rescued, perhaps Bishop scraped the greenie off my suit, perhaps the squad dragged me to safety.

But I know that didn't happen.

I open my eyes and see myself reflected in a mirror directly in front of me; it's me and yet not me. The perspectives are all wrong. I'm a grunt, I train, I have muscles most civilian guys can only dream of. But I'm not this hench. I have the bulk of one of those old pro-wrestlers or action movie heroes; huge biceps and forearms, thighs like tree-trunks and, fuck, I can feel the weight of those huge breasts. I can see myself even as my brain struggles to reconnect with my body. It's my hair, longer now, my eyes starring out over the straps of the bridle, my nose distorted by that hook, my teeth and lips curled around the bit in my mouth.

I'm strapped spread-eagle to a wooden board that looks thick and heavy just like the straps around my wrists and ankles, my upper arms and thighs, around my throat and across my belly.

And I've been pierced, I have huge rings in my massive nipples and cords run from them to the edges the bit in my mouth and then they're pulled tight through holes in the board. And there's a ring between my legs too. It's hard to estimate, my brain hasn't worked out how to process the sizes yet but I guess the rings are a centimetre thick and maybe seven or eight across. The ring between my legs has a cord hanging down from it and I can feel its weight.

There's something else going on down there too. I can see a tube emerging between my legs that runs behind the board and I think I feel it inside me; some sort of catheter maybe.

There's something stuffed inside my rectum too but can't see any sign of it.

This can't be happening!

But it is.

I'm terrified, appalled but most of all...

...most of all I can't believe how horny I feel.

I had not expected that. I mean I've been tied up for sex like everyone else and I enjoy it when I'm in the mood but this isn't like that. I'm so fucking horny I know that if my arms weren't strapped down like this they'd be on my pussy in an instant and I've be wanking myself to the orgasm my body is absolutely fucking craving.

I glance around as much as I am able, the reins from my nipples to my bridle that are tied to the board in some way meaning I can't turn my head much and when I do there is a pull on my nipple rings. Which, actually, I realise in my current state is not unpleasant and I turn the other way. I'm in a wooden room or hut, maybe; strapped to this board, almost upright forced to look at what they've turned me into.

And I'm the horniest I've even been.

I strain against the straps and the board using every iota of my new powerful body and I hear the wood and the leather creak but nothing gives; the only thing I get out of it is to make the cord dangling from the ring between my legs swing and that's not at all unpleasant even if it's not enough to give my body what it wants. I strain again, turning my head as I do so; there are more creaks and I get a genuine buzz from the pull on my new piercing rings. Maybe if I do this enough I can bring myself off.

I try a few times, enjoying the pull of those rings in my nipples and clit but its not enough and after a few minutes I stop, frustrated and panting hard from the exertion.

Then the door opens.

*

I'm not surprised to see a goblin come in. The little guy looks even tinier from my new vantage point and I'm at least half a meter off the ground. I want to shout at him, to demand he releases me or maybe do what we are told do in training giving my name and rank and serial number: Ripley, Ellen, Sergeant, 7431540. But as far as we know the greenies don't understand global English any more than we understand their click-clack chatter. So, I just glare at him, which is pretty much all I can do.

Of course, not everything about him is small and I realise, somewhat belatedly that he's naked. There have been rumours of the greenies using their altered human ponies for sex and the thought makes me shudder. The idea of him touching me makes me shudder.

And yet, I can't take my eyes off that huge green cock.

And, feeling as horny as I am now, there's a part of me - quite a lot of me, actually, that wants it inside me.

Even though this is a greenie, I'll pretty much take anything at this moment.

He looks up at me, studying me and then walks to the corner of the room where there's a thing that looks like a wooden stepladder on wheels. His cock is so huge at almost drags on the ground and I watch it as he drags the stepladder towards me then climbs up it and sits on the top. We stare at each other or, mostly, I stay to stare at him but my eyes keep being drawn back to that huge green snake that's now hanging over his knee.

He seems to be examining me, checking me out maybe and I wonder, if he asked whether I really would let him fuck me; just go to go down on all fours and let him drive that wonderfully big thing into me. My pussy must be big too. I'm sure I could take him and with him behind me I could just pretend it wasn't him...it.

Fuck, what does it look like when its hard?

When he reaches out I want to shrink away but there's nothing I can do. I feel him take hold of my bridle. Maybe he's checking the fit. When he moves it my head has to move, the hook in my nose sees to that and I find I want to turn my head anyway because of what it does to my nipples. Then he pulls down my lip and checks my teeth like I'm an animal. Which, of course, I am now.

He climbs down a step and reaches for one of my nipple rings. Again I have the urge to pull away but there's nothing I can do to stop him touching it and I watch as he hooks a long green finger through it and pulls surprisingly gently. He looks up at my face as he stretches my nipple and his face takes on something that looks like a grimace, bared teeth - who knows, maybe it's a smile. Maybe he gets off playing bondage games with mutated humans.

He nods and tries the other ring.

Then he goes down another couple of steps.

'Nggh.' I'm shaking my head and squirming the little amount I've able.

He looks up at me with that same expression and I wonder if I'm about to get my first lesson on discipline. I can't believe I've just shown what must be a weakness.

I brace myself but he just pulls my clit ring as gently as he did my nipple rings. Then he leans in and looks up between my legs and then I feel a finger slide over my sex.

Fuck, I can feel I'm wet.

Not only am I wet but I want him to touch me there again. I don't just want it, I crave it.

But he doesn't. He picks up the cord hanging from the ring in my sex and, after wrapping it around his hand, climbs back up the steps. He nods again as he takes a seat and I have a feeling something is about to happen.

*

But it doesn't, at least, not at first.

All he does is take up the slack on the cord to the ring between my legs which sends a delightful shiver through my body and then he starts to play with my nipple rings. When I say 'play', I mean he uses the finger of the hand not holding the rein or whatever that cord he's holding is called to move my nipple rings from side to side.

It's not unpleasant even if the sight of the rings and the fact I've been pierced while I was unconscious is unnerving. In fact what he's doing is quite nice. And the more he does it, the nicer it gets.

Right ring to the left, left ring to the left, left ring to the right, right ring to the right, right ring to the left...

All this while maintaining tension on the ring between my legs as if he's trying to remind me how horny I am and how much more horny this...teasing...I want to call it torture but it's not - except that it's really making me want to cum and he's not letting me.

Does he even realise what he's doing to me? The effect he's having on my body.

Every now and again, he looks up at me, looking at my face as if trying to gauge how I'm responding. Maybe this is a form of torture. Maybe he's trying to decide when I'm ready for...

Ready for what?

If he saddles me which I guess he's going to do at some point, I won't have any choice in the matter and, like any animal, if he whips me enough I'm pretty sure I'll run where he wants me to go like all the other girls I've seen who've been captured and used as mounts.

Tick, tock.

He just keeps moving my nipple rings.

Left ring to the right, right ring to the right, right ring to the left, left ring to the left, left ring to the right...

Tick tock.

Fuck! I want to cum.

This is torture. My body is screaming for orgasm.

Tick-tock...tick- tock...

And then I swear he's pulling just a little harder on my clit ring.

He must know what he's doing but I can't understand why.

When he looks at me, I try to stare him out but I can't my eyes just keep sliding back to that cock.

That huge cock which I know I want inside me. That, currently, I would give anything to have him drilling me with from behind and fucking me until I cum.

When he stops, I whimper and see him look up at me an nod.

He starts to climb down the steps and the thought of being left like this, left hanging, edged like I've never been before seems worse than anything else I can imagine being done to me.

'Ngghh.' I shake my head again and see that grimace.

Is it a smile.

He drops the cord he's been holding and I'm so on edge, it almost carries me over but it doesn't.

Then he hops off the bottoms step of the ladder, pushes it back into the corner of the hut and leaves me alone.

*

The goblin, I think its the same one, comes back sometime later and the process is repeated. Then he comes again, visiting me at regular intervals, perhaps every few hours and doing the same thing to me, playing with my rings. Sometimes he does it to my clit ring and sometimes to my nipples.

Tick-tock...tick tock...tick-tock.

By the time he leaves I'm a whimpering, drooling wreck.

The sixth or seventh time the door opens, he's carrying something that looks like a bottle and I suddenly realise how thirsty I am. I don't know how long it's been since I had a drink and with the bit in my mouth I've been drooling pretty incessantly on my breasts. I watch as he climbs the ladder and flips out my bit.

'Thank you.' I gasp.

He shakes his head and says some short, sharp word that I guess may mean 'no'.

So human mounts don't talk.

He lifts the bottle and I take it gratefully into my mouth. If this is some sort of poison, I con't care. Besides, why do all this and then kill me? Unless, of course, it is all for some sick sexual gratification.

The fluid is surprisingly pleasant, some sort of plant milk, I think. It's certainly better than recon water from my exo-suit. I gulp it down and then, make no protests when he pushes the bit back into my mouth and clips it in place. Then he's back to playing with my nipple rings.

And that's how it goes for what must be three days, maybe four. The day on this world is a little over thirty two hours and my body clock has been well and truly fucked in the seven months I've been on planet.

Every so often I get fed and those visits seem to leave me hornier than the others so I guess there's some sort of hormone in the milk. The catheter takes care of the outgoing stuff as, presumably does the tube in my rectum. All I can do is hang here like a side of meat on a slab being fed and sexually tormented. I guess if there's a way to go it, it's probably like this but I can't help wondering when the real training will start; when the teasing will stop and I be saddled, mounted and beaten into submission then forced to carry him or one of his cronies through the forests.

Finally, I reach a stage where I'm begging to be allowed to cum, pleading into my gag as he teases me and each time I do it, he uses that word 'dok', commanding me to silence and I obey until I can't stand it anymore and whimper to convey my need again. And every time he comes in I can't help looking at that huge cock, almost trailing on the floor. A few times I've begged him to fuck me with it even though I know he can't understand me but he just says 'dok' and gives me that grimace which I'm pretty sure now is a smile.