It was amazing, her application had gone through! Now she was being fawned and fussed over with around the clock care. Having never received any sort of health treatment before it was all new to her, as was sleeping between clean sheets on a real bed. The dental staff insured the extractions were painless, and so did the podiatrist. Treated like a princess on painkillers, her hands and feet bandage bound; hand fed like a baby. She never ate so well!

Maybe it won't be that bad? The Medical Centers Dog Girl seemed content with her situation. She had initially applied for a Dog Girl position but was rejected due to her height. She began to cry. The New Order had little use for big strong girls. Only last week she was a candidate for the machine gun pits.

Upon discharge from the clinic she was taken directly into the Church Protected Zone, a new home and a new life. Broad shouldered and taller then most women she was like a child compared to the Maids assigned to her. Behind their expressionless rubber doll masks they had to be men. Denied any male attention growing up, it struck her as ironic that during her final moments as a woman, it would be men costumed as woman that transformed her.

Expecting her harness to be leather, the use of stainless steel came as a surprise. (She never saw a real horse. But she was allowed to look at picture books, even though no one would waste the time teaching her to read). To take advantage of the waist reduction that had been provided by her corset, the steel waist belt went on first. Wide and thick it formed a solid foundation for her attachment of the shafts, and the rest of her tack. A matching bra soon followed. Those pert firm breasts that she was so fond of were now cold stainless steel orbs.

Her Maids picked her up and gently laid her down on a table for the fitting of her hoof boots. Staring at the ceiling she couldn't see a thing, they didn't feel like any foot ware she had worn before. This was immediately confirmed when they placed her back on her feet. Made of heavily boned leather the boots went up to her crotch and prevented her from bending her knees. Forced to balance on her toes with feet that were now hoofs, she knew why her Maids were so big. It took two of them to hold her upright through the rest of the procedures. She softly sobbed; without toe nails to trim she could be wearing these ruthlessly restrictive boots for a very long time. She raised a hoof and set it down with a loud clop! She decided that the best thing to do was to think only of the machine gun pits.

Banding came next. Steel bands were locked around her ankles, thighs, elbows and wrists. All too soon this was followed by a steel posture collar that allowed very little head movement. Everything connected with steel cables and chains.

Her arms drawn back tight behind her, elbows touching, hand hoofs manacled together at her wrists, she heard the approach of wheels on cement and felt the shafts of the cart lock into place with her waist belt. The Maids who supported her stepped back and to her relief she found herself standing perfectly balanced with the cart. She twisted her body to catch of glimpse of the cart only to have a maid grab her collars front ring and firmly yet gently pull her straight. Four chains were quickly attached from her collar to the shafts. Now she couldn't bend forwards, backwards, or twist around. She would never see her cart, or its occupant.

A halter, complete with blinders, was worked over her head and through her hair that cascaded down her back in a long ponytail. Bringing her mind back to the pits, she opened her mouth for the steel bit with its tongue controlling spoon that fitted perfectly where her molars used to be. To her dismay it locked in place.

Her attention was drawn to her lower body when her hobbled ankles were attached to the floor. This was immediately followed by a metal band between her legs that would fasten to her waist belt. To her horror she felt a warm finger, followed by a cold metal rod, enter into her. She finally lost control with the clicks of the locks… and the gunshot that terminated the owner of the finger splattering her with blood.

Bucking helplessly against her restraints, her screams through the bit sounded more horse then human. The constant pressure of the chastity belt on a particular spot insured that she would be a restless, high strung animal. A Race Horse whose tightly controlled gait was governed by the Church's Racing Commission's Standards for a Hobble Trotter.

The weight of the reins made her instinctively bite down to take the pressure off her tongue, but to no avail. It immediately became clear to her that there was nothing she could do to control the bits purpose of controlling her.

After her complete submission to harness she would be given her horse ears. When she had mastered the art of turning a circle without the use of her upper body she would be rewarded with a tail. She would gladly trade them both for just a few moments without a bit in her mouth.

She slept standing locked behind the iron bars of her stall. Always between the shafts of the cart that was now more a part of her then her numb useless arms. Mornings she was released from the suspension harness, that hung from the rafters, and led outside for the days exercise and training. Afterwords her sweaty exhausted body was thoroughly washed, dried and her hair combed. She would admire her reflection in the puddles of water. Well fed and lovingly cared for she was in superb shape. It was a life.

In the distance droned the machine guns.