That night, Tony was in the living room, laying on his stomach atop a pile of cushions. It'd be a day or so before he was comfortable on his back. Max, sitting above him on the couch, held the paper copy of the order, having just read it out to him. Tony grimaced at the food order; his mother had read it before Max called him in for dinner, and he was still trying to get the last feed pellet residue off his teeth.
"So, what does all that mean in English?"
Max groaned, face palmed, and glowered at his pony.
"Ok, *I* didn't give you a pony brain, and from the logs, it doesn't look like you gave yourself one, so I'm forced to conclude if you're this dense that you were always meant to be livestock."
"Hey, watch it," Tony said without heat. He turned to his master and smirked. "You gotta use smaller words with poor dumb animals."
Max threw a cushion at Tony's head, who took it head-on, giggling.
"Tony, I'm serious! One more bit of ponytude out of you and I'll stripe you, got it?"
Tony became suddenly somber.
"Sorry, I thought...I'm sorry, I didn't realize it was important. It just sounds to me like what you said you were going to do - change the global settings so volunteer ponyboys have some say in how they're treated. Why do I need to know more?"
Max sighed.
"I suppose you don't, but at least pay some attention. I can't foresee every eventuality, so I just changed broad-strokes of the settings, and let the Chronivac fill in the rest. Two heads are better than one, even if yours is full of pony brain."
Tony nodded, shifting position slightly to get more comfortable.
"Alright, I'm sorry, I'll pay more attention."
Max sighed, looking at his brother pony, and his expression softened from exasperation for a moment.
"I wish you had let me heal that with the Chronivac."
Tony shook his head slowly.
"No. I need to be punished when I misbehave, or it's not real, is it?"
Max sighs, slips down off the couch, and begins petting his mane.
"Punished, yeah, but this hard?"
Tony nods, still slowly.
"I can take it."
Max sighs, leans back against the couch, lost in thought.
A moment later, Tony shifts, uncomfortably.
"...I can take it. But..."
Max perks up. Tony looks at him with a distant facial expression.
"I...made ponyboys a reality. I can take it...but what about other ponies?"
Max looks confused, but he can tell his pony is really concerned. He strokes his mane again.
"What do you mean?"
Tony shifted onto his side, hissing slightly before he found a pose that didn't aggravate his wounds.
"There are ponyboys who don't choose it, right?"
Max nodded.
"The majority are criminal offenders, yeah. But you made volunteer ponyboys a thing, and then I tweaked it so they were a plurality. They're about a fourth of all ponyboys - non-volunteers are specifically marked with certain tattoos on the inside of their lips, and these days also with a microchip, to avoid confusion. You have...not exactly 'limited' rights, just different in some ways. You have to belong to someone, but you as a volunteer can set all sorts of limitations on your treatment. Of course, you being you, you damn near set it to the minimum."
Tony flicked his tail, glancing around.
"Hey, brother to brother, watch your mouth, Mom and Dad may have gone to bed but they're probably not asleep yet. Mom hears you talk like that and I won't be the only one striped."
Max chuckled.
"Yeah, yeah, fair enough. As I was saying, it's not that your rights are curtailed so much as you have additional obligations that a real per- er, a normal person would. You have a unique legal status as both an animal and a human."
Tony narrowed his eyes in thought.
"I...don't mind you saying 'real person' to refer to people that are human, but that sort of gets back to what I was saying. I sort of burdened God knows how many other people with my fantasy. What about other ponyboys? How much consent do they really have?"
Max leans back, runs a hand through his hair.
"I mean, in theory, volunteer ponyboys have a lot. You'll even get a chance to review your decision once every five to ten years, depending on the state, meaning you can 'retire' from being a ponyboy. Probably what Dad is counting on."
Tony wrinkled his nose.
"He can keep counting until he's blue, I'm a pony for life."
Max raised an eyebrow.
"When you're 70, and can't get it up, and have arthritis, you still want to be a pony?"
Tony went pale.
"Er...well..."
"Exactly. Apparently most volunteer ponyboys tend to retire once they're no longer young. All the fun bits of being a pony are in being a young pony."
Tony was still pale, and looked his brother dead in the face.
"What about the rest of them? The criminals."
Max looked uncomfortable.
"They're strictly limited to repeat violent offenders. I...I learned in my sociology course that some other countries think we're barbaric even for that. Apparently all the ponyboys in the EU are volunteers. Same in Canada. Mexico follows the same model we do but most of Latin America is split. And even in Mexico, it's for the worst of the worst, most ponyboys are volunteers. The only other countries that have majority penal ponies are Russia and China, and I hear China's looking to phase it out."
Max looks away for a moment.
"I've always been interested in equestrianism - both natural horses and ponyboys. I was so excited when you volunteered. Mom figured it was a phase, you'd revert back when you were ready to start college; Dad was the only one who really hated the idea."
He turned to his brother.
"I never really thought about how I feel over penal ponies. I just sort of accepted it. I guess most people do. But I see you there, with your back and ass welted and bandaged, and suddenly I wonder."
Tony nodded, then reached out to squeeze his brother's hand.
"At the time I did it, I wanted you to own me because...frankly I thought it'd be hot. In this timeline, though, I think I did it because I thought you would be a good owner. You are, you know."
Max smiled, tossling his pony's mane.
"Kiss ass."
"Oh definitely. But I mean it."
"... I know you do. Thank you."
They stare at each other for a few minutes, before Tony sighs.
"So what do we do?"
Max grimaces.
"I...I don't think we should interfere with the ponyboy system much. I can tweak the sliders, make volunteers more the norm than the exception, but I don't want to risk unintended consequences more than that."
"What, you've got a Chronivac prime directive now?"
Max, always more of a Star Trek fan than his brother, snorted.
"Yeah. I guess I do."
Tony looks down.
"...I could change it."
Max clicks his tongue.
"You could. You shouldn't."
Tony raises his eyes, slightly. Max can see his pony cock stirring slightly.
"...I will."
"...what if I tell you not to?"
"You'd forbid me from acting? Impose your will that way?"
Max groaned.
"Good grief, you're such a little slut. Pony, I order you not to interfere with the pony system. Leave any changes to me."
Tony licked his lips.
"Oh, master, you're so cruel...but I'm here to serve."
Max rubbed the bridge of his nose.
"...Dude, I swear to you, I am this close to selling you to Roger for a corn chip and his baseball card collection."
Tony's tail flicked reflexively.
"...Max."
"NO, Tony, I'm not serious, I will not sell you - even, in fact especially, if you ask!"
Tony made a placating motion.
"No, uh, not exactly what I mean. Like...maybe, someday, but I'm fine right with you for a nice long while. But...Roger."
Tony looked mildly embarrassed.
"You said volunteer ponyboys often retire."
"Right."
"Even breeders?"
"Especially breeders; it's extremely tiring over the course of years, after all."
"And...when one is a breeder pony volunteer, and one retires...do they...is there any kind of social taboo..."
"No, you'd be able to stay with Roger as a human if he wanted you. Plenty of ex-ponyboys marry their former owners, these days. It's usually cited as a leading cause for the acceptance of same-sex unions worldwide, since ponyboys are universally male but ponyboy owners can be and are either sex."
Tony flushed.
"Right. Good to know. Not that I want to be sold, or to retire, but...nice to have that in my back pocket."
Max smiled slightly.
"...You know, I can *rent* you to him. I mean, you're primarily a racer, but I don't mind picking up some cash for your studding. Just got to convince Dad not to have an aneurysm."
Tony gulped, his erection growing.
"I...could breed, and race?"
"You wouldn't get, you know, the full breeder experience, but yeah."
Tony nodded.
"I'll have to think about it."
Max watched him carefully. Suddenly Tony burst into a grin.
"Who am I kidding? I'm in!"
"Called it."