Just keep Running (Athlete)

The sound of Alien darts keeps you on your toes and does not give you enough time to think about hiding let alone finding a place to hide, you desperately search for a hatch or a backdoor, something between you and this fetishist maniac. Your heels, although comfortable, are not suited for the roots which extend from the trees, and you wonder if perhaps keeping them on was the wisest course of action...

after what felt like hours of this terrifying game of cat and mouse (with the cat being a nightmarish alien dundee ripoff) the loudspeaker comes on once more, "ladies and gentlemen, it would seem as though we are running out of time for this segment of the show, so it may be time to spice it up a bit" as he does the sun contorts and becomes less bright, turning it turns into an arrow, "we will now show the contestant the direction of the door, but worry not folks we'll also make it more difficult for her, we are now deploying two more Fetish Hunters to catch their prey..." you ignore the rest of the broadcast instead opting to get to the door as quickly as possible...

Despite running at your full pace it was still a long sprint to the finish, however any thoughts to catch your breath were shut down by the thought of your hunters, shaking the pain away you finally see the door, and feel frustrated you could not see a large red door on the clear sky, despite running at full pace towards the door you notice that it is no longer coming closer to you, the stinging pain in your legs has now subsided along with any feeling whatsoever, you try to crawl but your arms refuse to move, your eyelids close slowly, unable to sustain the weight.

ON YOUR MARKS! GET SET! GO!!!

you fly out of your box, your hooves galloping underneath your body, the small alien clings to your neck using the reins attached to your breasts, despite you being in first he continually whips his prized steed, he pulls your hair harder and you in turn sprint faster, you cross the finish line and he jumps off, while he is bombarded with reporters you are lead to your stable, your stable master throws your daily hay into the trough and you scarf it down, your new ears colliding with the wooden beams, you happily trot in place with your new legs, your arms are tightly locked in an armbinder, however even without the armbinder you would refuse to use your hands, you were after all programmed to be a horse.

you whinny in your sleep dreaming of jumping over fences and what your next meal will be, but are awoken by your jockey, or more precisely the shock implant in your skull which your jockey controls. you are lead out into the field and frolic alongside your other captured contestants, their blank expression mirrors your thoughts.

Your grazing is interrupted by the shocking in your brain as you realize it is time to race once more, despite the pain of the electricity you feel a sense of excitement for being whipped by your jockey once more...