Ronuk and Nighty, two rubber-sealed and bound stallions, are used as Phantom's horses. That means enduring her smell torture training, as well as pulling her carriage and being a good horse!

 Ronuk: https://www.furaffinity.net/user/ronuk/ & https://x.com/135Omega [a lovely rubber horse]

 Nighty : https://x.com/nightyswifthoof?lang=en https://www.tumblr.com/nighty-swifthoof / https://www.deviantart.com/nighty-swifthoof / [a very lovely kinky stallion]

    Original image submission: https://www.furaffinity.net/view/47855343/

Part 1 - Out For a Stroll

Two horses, harnessed and waiting. Omega-135 and Nighty stood side by side, their bodies glistening in the late morning light as Mistress Phantom secured the final straps of their harnesses. The cart behind them was loaded with supplies and “deliveries” for friends, and emblazoned with the MirageCorp logo. It was a far cry from a normal horse-and-cart setup. If such a thing existed. The two rubber stallions were tethered closely together, side by side, forced to breathe in each other's scent through the integrated filters of their thick rubber gas masks. Phantom was such a slut for total enclosure. Getting someone completely, fully encased in latex or rubber, no skin showing, was a deep love for her. So why not do  it to her favored new horses? The masks were both custom-made to ensure a total seal (with a bit of their manes showing, which was acceptable). Partial hoods beneath mated with rubber gas masks, concealing their  horse-like snouts entirely. Very good. 

Though they weren’t fully ‘programmed,’ Phantom did love referring to them as her “Rubber horse drones,” or her “stallions,” or  whatever other sensually degrading term entered her horribly kinky head. Each of the men were clad in heavy rubber pony gear—thick, shiny latex suits that encased their entire bodies, an unyielding second skin that left nothing exposed save the aforementioned, barest bits of hair. The suits were reinforced with multiple layers of advanced  polymers to ensure they withstood anything demanded of them, every creak and squeak a testament to the oppressive snugness of Phantom’s whims. Their tall hoof-boots kept them in an exaggerated arch, a bit of discomfort that was very fitting for them as rubber stallions, and therefore non-negotiable. And of course, their hands were trapped within heavy rubber mitts, rendering them useless, mere blunt appendages designed for pawing aimlessly rather than grasping. Extra-thick, with their hands holding stress-balls, and sealed in place  for an industrial look. 

Harnesses were made of durable black leather with silvered titanium D-rings, pulled taut across their muscular frames. The leather dug deeply into the latex-covered bodies beneath, emphasizing the broad chests and sculpted curves of the drones. Phantom did so love a strong man. Straps crisscrossed their torsos, thighs, and arms, while additional straps kept their heads firmly secured to their thick rubber gas masks. Oh, those masks… Phantom’s eye went back to them again and again. Equipped with built-in dildo gags that filled their mouths completely, stifling any sounds and forcing their jaws open until they ached. The real reason the gas masks were airtight, though, was the constant musk from the other horse-drone! There was no reprieve—only the silent obedience demanded by Mistress Phantom and the desperately, horribly sexy whinnies they made. 

Omega-135, well-trained and obedient, relished the closeness. Loved the feeling of her nearby, loved her heat, loved it when she’d rub and tease and edge him. The hypnotic programming running through his mind left him craving more of the musky scent of his fellow drone, surrendering to the sense of enforced intimacy that drew him deeper into his role. His latex-covered skin shivered as the heavy leather harness hugged his muscular torso, the suit beneath creaking softly whenever he shifted. It was so damn sexy to think about a strong stallion, brought to heel. Phantom stared at his eyes, or where they would be through the mask; she knew they held a placid, almost eager expression as he awaited Mistress Phantom's command to begin. He needed her touch, needed her praise, needed anything that would take away the aching, gnawing arousal that his training demanded of him. He had been edged for days—maybe weeks—his need for relief almost unbearable.

Nighty, in stark contrast, was anything but willing - but he was also trapped in a musky, enforced haze. The same thick rubber, the same harness straps pulling taut as he struggled to resist. Unlike Omega-135, Nighty despised being so treated, his body stiffening as the tubes  forced him to breathe in the raw scent of his fellow drone. His nostrils flared against the mask's filter, a muffled grunt escaping him, the sound stifled by the gag filling his mouth. The resistance, the unwillingness to submit, only earned him a stern glare from Mistress Phantom… mixed with the tiny uptick of a smile when she thought he wasn’t looking.

"Omega, Nighty, onward!" Mistress Phantom's voice was firm, commanding. With synchronized precision, Omega-135 took the first step, the leather reins pulling Nighty forward with him. 

They moved together, the cart rolling steadily behind them, the sound of heavy hoof-boots striking the ground echoing through the quiet morning air. Omega-135's rhythm was smooth, almost serene, as he fell into his well-practiced gait. Nighty was too proud  not to go along with it. 

The journey took them through fields and wooded paths, the sun rising higher with each passing hour. Omega-135's nostrils filled with the scent of the world around him, and his world was the unmistakable musk of Nighty. Each breath deepened his need, his body aching under the layers of latex and leather, his arousal building as he walked. The stallion had been trained, programmed, and thoroughly gassed; kept in a hazy, obedient,  bulging state. 

For Nighty, the scent of Omega was an intrusion, an unavoidable reminder of his place beneath Mistress Phantom's control. He strained against his harness. That made Phantom really grin, seeing his bulging muscles, seeing the tubes straining, and seeing the horse still too proud not to trot. 

Phantom leaned back atop the cart. The contrast between the two drones was evident in every step—Omega-135's serene obedience and Nighty's reluctant, strained resistance. She tugged gently on the reins, urging them to pick up their pace, the cart bouncing slightly as the road grew uneven. They stopped briefly to deliver a package - fresh and handmade (more or less) by Phantom and her association - before returning. The path wound through a dense forest, shadows from the tall trees dappling the ground beneath their hooves. The cart's wheels crunched against the gravel as the two drones moved as one, Omega's steady pace leading Nighty, who had no choice but to follow. Every breath Nighty took was filled with Omega's scent, and every movement of the cart reminded him of his helplessness… and, perhaps a bit of his own growing arousal and need. He could feel himself bulging, locked in similar chastity, and he would occasionally tug at the reins.  He wanted her to know that he was unbroken, unbowed… even if he was rubberized, packed, plugged, chaste, edged and… well. He’d show her his reluctance, however he could. 

Mistress Phantom's voice broke the silence. "You're doing well, Omega," she purred, her gloved hand brushing against the back of his head affectionately. "And you, Nighty... you'll learn soon enough." She let out a small chuckle as she saw Nighty's body tense, his muffled growl vibrating through his mask.  

The journey stretched on, the sun climbing higher above them, its heat causing sweat to glisten on the latex-covered bodies of the two horse drones. Their muscles strained under the harnesses as they pulled the cart up a steep incline, Nighty's protests now replaced by the steady rhythm of his labored breathing as he kept the pace. He was athletic, after all. Every breath he took was filled with the scent of Omega-135, the scent of obedience and submission. Omega remained steady, unwavering, his mind lost in the simple pleasure of serving his Mistress, of being exactly where he belonged, his neediness growing with every step....

Full story has a second part! Give it a read'm if you would like! :D  https://archiveofourown.org/works/59807503/chapters/152556988