War Story


                                            Inspired by some coomer screencap about capturing sons as trophies in war and making them into concubines. High chance this account will never be used again, but jannies are tripping.


                                            Day 1

                                            >You've been taken from your family, a reward for capturing the capital

                                            >You saw your mother's head, disconnected from her body

                                            >Your little sister torched with Chlorine Triflouride gas, there was almost nothing left of her

                                            >Your father was put in stocks, forced to watch as they put the collar on your neck

                                            >You struggled but you were always weak, weaker than the other boys at school

                                            >The officer raped you while you transformed, made you one of those science experiments

                                            >You were put in a cage and brought to the house of a dignitary, told that if you were good the collar would be removed and the drugs that make you like this would stop taking effect

                                            >You'd go back to being a student, maybe be given back to your father if he lived

                                            Day 6

                                            >The son raped you, the old dignitary just walked away

                                            >When he was done, the old man came back in and cleaned you up, gave you a bath

                                            >Pet your shivering body with his thick, scarred hands as he read the newspaper

                                            >He knew your language, held the newspaper in front of you

                                            >"Da, yes."

                                            "Y-yes, da."

                                            >"Good, good."

                                            >In his thick American accent

                                            >He put on a movie, an American flick about a good-natured romantic pursuing a girl...

                                            Day 14

                                            >The daughter came back from her boarding school today for the summer

                                            >It's warm out, she took you for a run

                                            >You feel stronger now as a pony than you ever did as a man, even though that doesn't feel right

                                            >You're not a male pony, after all

                                            >Still, you're both panting by the time she's finished

                                            >She takes a bath with you, shows you how nice it feels to put your new vagina under the showerhead on pulse

                                            >You guess it's not rape because you don't struggle, you'd probably be too tired to regardless

                                            >She takes you back into the kitchen after drying you off, and you just sit there for a while, feeling dazed

                                            Day 16

                                            >The son rapes you again, this time anally

                                            >The old man protests this time, yelling at him

                                            >He's taught you enough english by now to know what what "faggot" is equivalent to

                                            >He slaps the son and tells him to get out of the house

                                            >The son is crying, asks him when he can come back

                                            >The old man doesn't answer

                                            >He comes over to you and gives you a long bath, silently

                                            >He asks you in Russian if he can clean your violated parts, you give him permission

                                            >He's very gentle about it, when he takes you out of the tub he hugs you close

                                            >He doesn't cry so much as you can feel spasms rocking his body, but the tears come from both of you

                                            >You get the sense he's been in a similar situation to what you just had happen

                                            >After your usual bland dinner, he gives you a few scoops of ice cream from the refrigerator that he's poured bourbon in

                                            >The two of you get comfy on the couch while you try to enjoy the buzz to another movie, this time about a pilot having to defend himself in court

                                            Day 24

                                            >You're getting good enough at reading the paper to know that the Americans are losing the war

                                            >The son still hasn't come back, you don't know if he will

                                            >Maybe he went to live with the old man's wife, you haven't seen her

                                            >Either way he isn't missed

                                            >The two of you don't talk about the war, but you can feel his hands tremor a bit as he asks you to read out a section that describes American soldiers being firebombed

                                            >You do so fairly well, he corrects you on a few things but seems happy with your progress

                                            >"We need to keep your mind sharp, hopefully you'll be going places after the war."

                                            >He says this in Russian

                                            >You nuzzle his shirt and thank him in english, it's a wooly pullover and feels very nice

                                            >The daughter takes you for a run again soon after, when she gets back the old man tells her that he's going to buy her a treadmill

                                            >You think it's best, you saw fire in the sky while coming back to the little bunker mansion that you all live in

                                            Day 35

                                            >The treadmill finally arrives, the old man seals the bunker doors afterwards

                                            >You try to pretend it doesn't hurt to be cut off from the outside world, all of the news the two of you read together is on his laptop computer now and it isn't the same

                                            >Still comfortable, but he sits differently so the console won't fall off the couch

                                            >The daughter goes on her first run after it's set up alone, hopefully she'll let you come along on the next one

                                            >It's a very wide treadmill, it must have cost a lot of money

                                            >The phone rings and the old man answers it while you're reading a passage, you stop reading as is the unspoken rule

                                            >The prisoner does not speak while the dignitary speaks to his generals

                                            >He's angry, then somewhat saddened

                                            >Apparently the son joined the war effort to try to win his love back

                                            >His head was blown off by a sniper from your country

                                            >You don't care about the son, but you give the old man some comforting nuzzles

                                            >He seems to appreciate this, but is still practically inconsolable

                                            >He keeps whispering about how the last thing he ever called him was a faggot, in english of course

                                            >Funny, the last thing your father ever saw of you was you being made a faggot...

                                            >You think about him often, but it always makes you unhappy so you try not to

                                            >The movie tonight is something kinda old about a boy who keeps trying to kill himself and a skiing competition

                                            >It feels tasteless and neither of you laugh despite it being a comedy

                                            Day 60

                                            >The American front has dissolved

                                            >This bunker isn't yet known as far as you know, but it's only a matter of time since supplies are being brought to it

                                            >Your father was in the government, he will likely have regained his government position by now if he's still alive

                                            >You'll be home soon

                                            >The collar will be removed

                                            >You'll be a human man again, if they were telling the truth

                                            [spoiler]>Do you really want that?[/spoiler]

                                            Day 90

                                            >There are sounds outside the bunker

                                            >America hasn't fallen, but everyone left here on their side in Europe has effectively been left for dead

                                            >They're probably cutting open the door with an big acetylene torch as you and the old man sit on the couch, watching a movie about a factory worker and his abomination child

                                            >The daughter is locked in her room, practically catatonic. Neither of you speak of her

                                            >You're practically fluent in english now, and since he rewards you with ear strokes and belly rubs for starting conversations with it you do so almost exclusively now

                                            "Do you think we'll see tomorrow?"

                                            >"I don't know, I don't know."

                                            "If today is my last day as your pet, could you give me a name?"

                                            >He smiles at that, thinking

                                            >He finally comes up with it

                                            >"Iridescent Bubble."

                                            >It's a bit wordy, but you like it nonetheless

                                            >You let out an light sound, an affirmation of happiness

                                            >He laughs

                                            >"It would be so nice if they pardoned me, let me keep you..."

                                            "I know, I'd love that too. My father will want me back though, want me human"

                                            >"I know."

                                            >You've both been drinking, the movie is more of a backdrop

                                            >You've developed a taste for bourbon, and he has plenty left

                                            >"Would you want to die tonight? You could be a pony in your last moments. I'd kill myself right after you, we could be together. Owner and pet."

                                            >He says it in such a relaxed tone, but you can feel him trembling and you're trembling too

                                            "Y... yeah, I uh, I think I'd like t-that."

                                            >"Your voice is so beautiful. I'll pour us both another drink, then get the gun"

                                            "Okay."

                                            >Within thirty minutes, you've both finished your drinks

                                            >He puts the gun to your head, it feels warm

                                            >He's been holding it and his hands have heated the metal

                                            >There's a tremor in his hand

                                            >He pulls the trigger

                                            >Part of your ear is missing now and hurts bad, but he missed your brain!

                                            "W-wait! I'm not-"

                                            >Bang

                                            >His is a perfect hit

                                            >You're crying, covered in his blood, brains, and skull

                                            >He blew it out right onto you

                                            >There's a fragment of skull stuck in your eye

                                            >Your sensitive ears are practically deaf

                                            >The daughter still doesn't exit her room

                                            >You hold him, eventually his body cools and so does the blood soaking you both, making you shiver

                                            Day 91

                                            >They've torched through the wall by sunrise

                                            >The soldiers come in, guns drawn

                                            >The daughter is found, you hear them confirming a pulse

                                            >Then a single gunshot before they walk out and scoop you up

                                            >You're bathed by them, it's like a prison shower in those American movies

                                            >You're delivered back to your father, still a pony

                                            >He weeps and speaks to you in Russian, telling you how happy he is to have you back

                                            >You echo the same in Russian and hug him back

                                            >The collar is removed, it isn't even hidden from you when it's taken off, just left beside your bed

                                            >You're a human man again by sunset

                                            >Well, physically

                                            >Mentally, you're a broken mare

                                            Day 93

                                            >You're not going back to the school, not for a while

                                            >You're still missing a piece of the ear, it's bandaged

                                            >Your hearing is recovering

                                            >You still have alcohol, vodka this time

                                            >You've been drinking heavily

                                            >A great Russian passtime, as the villain says in that movie about the cyborg trying to rescue his wife

                                            >But his wife isn't his wife

                                            >Truly in the throughs of it, you examine the controls on the collar that was your prison and salvation during the three months you were away from your comfortable capital school life

                                            >You miss your abducted family very much, but of course you can't forgive the Americans for what they did to your birth family

                                            >Your little sister, sweet and no older than grade school, turned into barely anything by weapons of war

                                            >Your father doesn't say what he endured in the time he was captured the same as you were, only that you were the only one made a pony

                                            >You can't even imagine

                                            >And you miss your mother, how she used to sing you lullabies

                                            >Take you out for dinner when the other children made fun of you

                                            >Celebrated your academic achievements with sweets and gifts

                                            >Hugged you close when you were feeling sad

                                            >You set the collar to the two dose, the manual was available online

                                            >If you were to put it back on on the two dose, even if it were to be taken off you'd never go back to being human

                                            >But that's okay

                                            >You stumble over to your father's bedroom, the collar in hand

                                            >You knock on the door

                                            "Father?"

                                            >You've woken him, but he tells you to come in

                                            >You sit down on the bed next to him

                                            >You're pretty sure you read clearly as drunk

                                            "I liked it, being a pony."

                                            >"My son, have you heard of Stockholm Sweden syndrome?"

                                            "Yes, but... would you permit me to put the collar back on for a little while? I know how to control it so I won't be stuck as a pony"

                                            >He sighs, clearly somewhat exasperated

                                            >"You have been through much, I will permit it for a little while."

                                            >You set the dose to one and put it back on

                                            >You can already feel your bones rearranging themselves, it's distinctly uncomfortable but not painful

                                            >The sensation isn't that bad, you only remember it badly because you were being raped last time it happened

                                            >You're a pony soon, your nightgown hanging off of you like a flag in the wind

                                            >You lay down at the foot of his bed and sleep

                                            Day 96

                                            >You haven't yet asked your father if you can be a pony full time, but he seems to be enjoying you in your current state

                                            >The two of you watch the news together, the Americans have all but been wiped out in your capital

                                            >The lavish palace is more comfortable than the bunker, and you love your father

                                            >You've always loved him

                                            >He made you waffles today, feeding you with a fork and knife

                                            >He's in a great mood, you don't want to spoil it but...

                                            >You want to tell him you'd like for this to be forever

                                            >You broach the topic after breakfast, he sighs

                                            >"I assumed that you might ask something similar. I wanted you to finish university before this whole debacle, but I'm not sure you could at this point. It would be unfair for me to expect that of you after all you've been through, and I miss your sister dearly. I wouldn't mind having a little girl again full-time"

                                            "Are you certain?"

                                            >"Yes. Are you? Is there nothing else you want to do with your life after you become a pony? I can provide you with educational resources, but they will never let you lead a team with a body like this, not even if I pressure them. The environment simply isn't conducive for a mare."

                                            "As long as I can learn and be loved, I think that's enough for me"

                                            >"Alright then. Ready?"

                                            "Yes."

                                            >He takes the collar back, doses you for two, and puts it back on your neck

                                            Day 100

                                            >The collar is removed for the first time, to give you a bath

                                            >He replaces it with one he had custom made, the family sigil is printed on the fabric

                                            >The tag has your new name on it, the name the old American gave you

                                            >It is made of 14 karat gold

                                            >He knows your old name and has told it to you, but when under the effects of the drug it's impossible to remember

                                            >He smiles at you

                                            >"Your birthday passed while you were in captivity, I thought this would be an appropriate gift. Welcome home, my daughter."

                                            >Maybe things will be okay after all

                                            End of line