"Hey, Rob, this the pony?" asked a male voice.
"Yep. Jes' finished shoeing him. He's all yours, Doc. Oh, hello, missus, you helping the doc today?"
"Well, I am a trained veterinary assistant," the woman replied testily.
"What's the horse's name? He appears to be a young adult, but it says he needs a tattoo? Why wasn't he tattooed before?" the veterinarian asked.
"I was told that he was a wild pony that was recently captured. He seems friendly enough, but he's still wild," the blacksmith warned.
"Well, best give him a good once over. He'll need a lot of shots. Wild horses often have diseases and parasites that domesticated horses don't often get," the vet said.
Chad could hear the stall door opening. He knew he would have the veterinarian's hands all over him. Chad's father was a veterinarian, but he treated mostly dogs and cats. The firm gentle touch of the veterinarian's hand on his flank startled Chad, even though he had expected it.
"There, there, boy. Don't worry I'm here to take care of you," he said as his hand moved along the length of Chad's body. As he reached Chad's head, he stepped into view between the blinders. It was Chad's dad! That meant the female assistant was his sister or mother. Chad whinnied snd stepped backwards as he recognized his father. His new hearing was to blame. He should have recognized their voices, but his hearing was different now, even if he could understand the words. Who was the sick bastard who turned him into a horse and then called his parents out to treat and evaluate him?
"Oh, here's an letter that the boss left for you," said Rob.
Chad heard an envelope being opened and piece of paper unfolded.
"Oh, apparently he wants us to check him out as a possible stud, as to sperm quality and capacity. It says also to reccomend gelding or studding after full evaluation. "
Capacity? Sperm quality? Oh, no. His father and mother or sister would be giving him a hand job? Chad had helped his father in the clinic with a blue ribbon dog to evaluate its stud potential. They collected loads of sperm in a vial, and Chad's arm was sore from jerking the dog off until its balls were empty. Now that was going to be done to him.
"We'll do that last. While I check him out thoroughly, you can tattoo his gums," Chad's father said as he peeled back Chad's lips to expose his teeth and gums. He added, "for a feral animal, his gums and teeth are remarkably healthy."
"I've the tattoo gun here. Let's see I'll set its serial number," the woman said.
A moment later chad felt a gentle hand on his head. The blinders still blocked her face. A salve was rubbed across his gums numbing them. Then the cold metal of the tattoo gun pressed against his gum. There was a whirring sound, tiny needles stung his gums, as the ink embedded the programmed numbers into his gums.
Chad remained relatively still listening to the gentle female voice and not wanting to injure his family. Only after the gun was removed, did it suddenly hit Chad that he was now somebody's property. He was a horse. He stood there numbly in defeat as his family members poked and prodded him. He barely felt the needle drawing the blood sample. The vaccination shots stung, but he took them like a champ. He was oddly embarrassed that his parents might find out he was the naked horse that they were examining.