This work is copyright 2000-2003 by Xaltatun of Acheron (A Pseudonym). It may be posted on the Internet to any free forum, provided it is not modified in any way, and provided that this notice is included in its entirety. It may not be sold, or included in any compilation that is sold, or posted on any forum that requires a fee for access, without my written permission. My permission will require payment, terms to be negotiated. For purposes of this notice, sites guarded by Adult Check or similar packages are considered pay sites. Posting on any site must include this copyright notice.
Adult Content Warning - this story contains adult themes, including non-consensual bondage/slavery and forced sexual acts. If you are under the lawful age for such materials (18 in most jurisdictions) or if you would find such material offensive, please go elsewhere.
Safety Warning. This story may contain descriptions of practices that are decidedly unsafe, either in general, or if performed by someone without adequate training. There are a number of good books available on safety in the BDSM scene. Most large cities, and some not so large ones, have organized BDSM groups that will usually welcome a newcomer. I'm not going to point out which practices are safe, and which aren't. Any practice is unsafe if performed by someone with inadequate training and experience, or if performed when not paying attention. Please think before you act. Don't make yourself a candidate for a Darwin award.
This work is copyright 2002, 2003 by Xaltatun of Acheron (A Pseudonym). It may be posted on the Internet to any free forum, provided it is not modified in any way, and provided that this notice is included in its entirety. It may not be sold, or included in any compilation that is sold, or posted on any forum that requires a fee for access, without my written permission. My permission will require payment, terms to be negotiated. For purposes of this notice, sites guarded by Adult Check or similar packages are considered pay sites. Posting on any site must include this copyright notice.
Story codes: (MF, FF, ponygirl, SF)
Adult Content Warning - this story contains adult themes, including non-consensual bondage/slavery. It could also prove highly disturbing if you think our current socio/political worldview is the only one that exists. If you are under the lawful age for such materials (18 in most jurisdictions) or if you would find such material offensive, please go elsewhere.
There are (currently) two stories in this series:
1. Read What You Sign (currently 5 parts)
2. Jill's Ponygirl (in preparation)
The name New Babylon has no relationship to any other use of the term by any other author. No connection should be assumed, either derivative or as a base for parody.
Safety Warning. This story may contain descriptions of practices that are decidedly unsafe, either in general, or if performed by someone without adequate training. There are a number of good books available on safety in the BDSM scene. Most large cities, and some not so large ones, have organized BDSM groups that will usually welcome a newcomer. I'm not going to point out which practices are safe, and which aren't. Any practice is unsafe if performed by someone with inadequate training and experience, or if performed when not paying attention. Please think before you act. Don't make yourself a candidate for a Darwin award.
OK - now on to the story -------
Chapter 20. Higher (?) Education
Chapter 23. Excursion on the Bridle Path
Chapter 24. There’s no Place Like Home
Chapter 25. At the Student Union
Chapter 26. All Students Must Take Phys. Ed.
This is the sixth part of the story. If you haven’t read the first four parts, here’s a bit of a synopsis. If you have, just trot on down to the first chapter (which happens to be Chapter 20 – that’s what you get for starting in the middle!)
Our focus character, Yvonne, is the daughter of an up and coming businessman who is desperate to be accepted among the top flakes of the upper crust. She’s at a posh private school, being snubbed by all the other students, when suddenly she’s expelled and dropped in the slums. About all she knows is that her father’s company flamed out; and he came home, shot his wife, missed his son and then committed suicide. After a couple of months of fending for herself, unable to contact anyone who can help, she discovers a storefront offering jobs.
It is, of course, a recruiter for New Babylon. She signs a contract with them without reading the fine print (or any print at all, for that matter – she’s kind of desperate,) and gets whisked away to their private resort on Maui, 26 thousand years in the past. She thought she was going to do five years as a sex slave, and then be returned with a cool 100Gs.
Instead, she finds herself in a ponygirl stable, being trained to be a ponygirl. Even worse, her hair falls out to be replaced by a mane, she grows a tail, and her feet change into hooves. Yvonne 8 (which is her new name – it says so right on her collar, which was cast in place around her neck when they shoved her through induction) doesn’t seem to have much choice but to go along with all of this.
Eventually, they think she is ready, and she’s sent out to join the ponygirl herd that services the golf course. She discovers what being a bag girl is about. She strikes up a slight rapport with a Mrs. Sindler, who’s a reasonably good golfer, and she also discovers what grooming a golf course entails. In between all of this, she finds out that ponygirls have something else in common with horses other than the mane, tail, hooves and job description. She’s a herd animal, and no fooling.
Her riding instructor rides her into the forest, where she discovers the joys of being ridden. It’s highly addictive. Really. On one of the treks, her trainer brings down a wild girl with a bolo, and they have a highly enlightening talk, which confuses Yvonne further. We may meet the girl later if I ever get her story off of my hard disk and to Sir Jeff.
Some time later, Mrs. Sindler returns with her daughter, Sally. Sally turns out to have been Yvonne’s old college roommate! Oh, embarrassment.
Sally takes the situation in stride, and some things are clarified. It turns out that Yvonne didn’t know what Daddy did for a living. She still doesn’t, but whatever it was, it wasn’t exactly kosher. However, Sally wants Yvonne back; she had been using her as a housekeeper and general assistant in return for helping her with her studies. Sally has a bit of a temper, and has fired the last three assistants her mother stuck her with; at least she can get on with Yvonne.
Yvonne, on the other hand, is doing the Hamlet thing. She doesn’t quite know what will happen if she comes back and they can’t turn her hooves back into feet. Mrs. Sindler, however, is quite certain that she doesn’t want Yvonne to have the chance to find out.
Next, Yvonne’s aunt and uncle track her down, and she finally makes up her mind to come back. We get to see various legal maneuvers by the law firm New Babylon retains for its uptime affairs: Dewey, Chatham and Howe. They seem to specialize in settling complicated estates swiftly.
“Different apartment this year?” Yvonne said, a bit redundantly as she surveyed it.
“Yes,” Sally answered. “This one is for the horsy set. We can go from the patio right to the stables and the bridle paths.”
“Good thinking,” Yvonne said as she walked over to the glass door to the patio. She studied the path critically for a minute. “I suppose I’ll have to have the farrier change my shoes. I don’t think I should use iron shoes on the path, and I imagine the groundskeeper would have a fit if I pranced all over the lawn.”
“A dirt path? It shouldn’t matter, but you’re probably right about the lawn. The farrier’s the guy who shoes horses, right?”
“Exactly. I suppose we’ve got one somewhere. With what we’re paying for tuition, we ought to!”
“Well, let’s get unpacked and get registered; then we can explore a bit.”
An hour later, they had most of their things unpacked and stowed in more or less appropriate places. Yvonne was shaking her head in amazement. “I didn’t remember how disorganized you were last time,” she chuckled.
“That’s why I want you,” Sally riposted. “You’re the only organizer I’ve ever been able to work with. By the way, aren’t you going to set up your workstation?”
“It is, don’t you recognize it?”
“What? That little strip of whatever you’ve got on the wall?”
“That’s part of it,” Yvonne said. “The rest is that box I connected to the data line.”
“So give,” Sally commanded. “That’s something you imported from New Babylon, isn’t it?”
“Yep. The strip on the wall is something we call a telly. It’s like a HUD.”
“Oh! I’ve heard of them. Expensive.”
“And not very good unless you’re sitting right in front of it,” Yvonne agreed. “The box on the data line is more important. It’s got the connection to the uptime New Babylon servers, the guts of my workstation and my base station. The telly works off of the base station.”
“Don’t we need to coordinate the base station?”
“Not this one; it works on some secret technology that doesn’t interfere with anything else. It’s got a 20 kilometer range, too.”
“20 klicks. Where have I heard that before? Oh! Don’t tell me your implants are hooked into it, too!”
“Ok, I won’t tell you my implants are hooked into it.
“Seriously, if I was still a pony slave, and I got more than about 18 klicks from one of the base stations, I’d get this irresistible compulsion to return. Since I’m an owner, it simply tells me I’m out of range. It’s a security thing. Uptime control always knows where I am as long as I’m in range, and I can arrange to have them page my phone if I go out of range to verify that I’m all right.”
“Irresistible compulsion? That doesn’t sound pleasant.”
“I’ve never experienced it, and I’ve never run into anyone who has. It’s supposed to be impossible to do anywhere on Maui; it’s only possible on the safaris to the American continents.”
“What happens when we need to go shopping?”
“I’ve got one in my car, and I’ll install one in yours. That should pretty much cover it.”
Sally snorted. “Now I’m feeling insecure! Let’s go register.”
“I’m not sure that this was such a good idea,” Yvonne muttered to Sally as they stood in the registration line.
“Cold hooves?” Sally giggled.
“Not that,” Yvonne replied. “I’m just remembering the differences between classes here and in NB. No tests, no grades.”
“Sounds like heaven,” a soprano voice spoke up from behind them. “Sal, who’s the beanpole decked out like a horse?”
The two girls turned to look. “Hey, Trina, you made it back!” Sally exclaimed as Trina gasped in surprise. “That can’t be Yvonne? Can it?”
“It can be and is,” Sally giggled again. “She’s changed a bit.”
“At least six inches,” Trina said accusingly. “That’s too big even for a boyfriend! I have to crane my neck to see her chin!” She stood on tiptoes.
“So,” Trina’s voice dropped to a whisper, “why are you made up like a New Babylon ponygirl?”
“Because I am a New Babylon ponygirl?” Yvonne answered reasonably.
“You’re what!” Trina exclaimed. Then she calmed down. “Let’s get registered, and then you can tell your Aunt Trina all about it,” she seized Yvonne’s arm in a death grip and cooed. “This is the most exciting thing that’s happened around here since you vanished!”
“I don’t care about that,” a new voice chimed in. “I want the name of whoever designed that outfit.”
“Hey, Joanne!” the three of them turned to look at the newcomer. “So you can avoid her?” a fifth voice asked.
“She’s got to be some kind of creative,” Joanne shot back. “The way she’s got that V coming down from the belt to the tail is just awesome.”
“It does work at that,” Stephanie admitted. “I suppose tying a bow on the tail would be just tacky.”
“GIRLS!” a voice said from the front of the room. “Would the next one in line PLEASE step up so we can get moving sometime today?”
“I guess that’s us,” Sally and Yvonne chorused and turned to face the window.
In a moment, the two friends’ heads bent looking at the schedule the registrar pulled out of her file.
“Overlay Yvonne’s on mine,” Sally told her. The surprised woman tapped a few keys, and the display changed. The two young women looked at it and frowned. “Is there another section of Finance 201?” Sally asked. “I want to block out at least two hours for both of us on the bridle paths at least three days a week.”
“Ohhh…” Trina breathed from behind them. “This I want to see!”
“You and most of the college,” Yvonne told her. “I expect you’ll get your chance.”
“I want to see it first!”
“Just wait,” Yvonne said, and then turned back to the registrar. The two friends looked at the schedules for a couple of minutes.
“OK, this looks good,” they decided. Then they pulled out their id cards and ran them through the machine, which deducted the school tuition and fees.
“So, what’s next oh keeper of the agenda,” Sally asked.
“Well, give me a minute to dump all this into the system,” Yvonne replied absently as her fingers danced over the apparently empty desk. “Your password is still “Lets!Party”?
“Of course,” Sally giggled.
“That should do it, then. Check your schedule.”
Sally sat down at her own workstation and pulled up the schedule Yvonne had just entered.
“What’s this exercise thing first thing in the morning? That’s too early.”
“I figured we’d go out for a ride, get the blood moving.”
“You would. Oh. You mean that’s when I ride you.”
“Yup. Knowing the students around here, we should have the bridle paths to ourselves.”
“Not entirely. Some of the polo players are obsessive. What happens if we tangle with a real horse?”
“I can outrun any horse in a distance race. Horses have to stop to cool down or they founder. Real ponygirls don’t need to stop.”
The door chime tinkled.
“Who’s that?”
“Probably Trina,” Yvonne guessed. “Chasing down a juicy piece of gossip.”
“As usual,” Sally laughed, moving toward the door.
“Hi, girls,” Trina said as she came in. “When can I ride Yvonne?”
“Riding me is Sally’s job,” Yvonne riposted quickly. “What are you offering?”
“A carrot?”
“Do I look like Bugs Bunny? Seriously, I figure my dance card is going to be rather full, and part of the deal with Sally is that she’s my rider. I’d have to fit anyone else in the spaces.”
“Well, lets go talk to the stablemistress. I want to see her expression when she sees you.”
“We should be doing that anyway,” Sally interjected into the flow.
“Give me a couple of minutes to change,” Yvonne flung back over her shoulder as she vanished into the bedroom.
Two minutes later, she came out again, wearing a form fitting scarlet leotard and her boots, and carrying a corset.
“Can you help me with this,” Yvonne asked. “Getting it started is a pain.”
“That’s going to take an hour!” Trina wailed, looking at the dozens of eyeholes on the back of the corset.
“Here,” Yvonne handed her the lacing machine. “Use this. Sally learned how it works while we were practicing on New Babylon.”
“It’s simple,” Sally said. “Just run the laces through the bottom two holes, and then run them through here on the machine. Set it to lace, and press the button.” The two girls watched as the mechanical insect crawled up the back of Yvonne’s corset, threading the laces crosswise through the holes and pulling them snug. Then it crawled back down and started making a second pass, tightening the laces as it went.
“That’s awesome,” Trina breathed.
“It’s diabolical is what you mean,” Sally said. “If people ever found out about it, corsets might come back into fashion!”
“But look what it’s doing to her waist. Heavenly!”
“I’m not that interested in an hourglass figure,” Sally demurred.
“I’ll bet Steve is.”
“Steve is just going to have to take me the way I am.”
The mechanical insect reached the top for the third time and stopped, beeping plaintively.
“It means it’s done,” Yvonne said, reaching behind and plucking it off of her back.
“Ready?” Trina asked.
“Let me put a tunic and belt on over it, and we’ll go.” Yvonne put on a loose tunic that had a slit in back for her tail, and cinched a broad leather belt around her shrunken waist. They walked out onto the patio.
“One more thing,” Yvonne said. “I’m going to leave my boots here.”
“I’ve been thinking,” Trina said.
“That’d be a first,” Sally needled her.
“About what I could offer so I could ride Yvonne. You know she’s going to be an instant celebrity, right?”
“Why?” Sally asked.
“You’re naïve, woman. The only way to control the rumor mill is to steer it the way you want.”
“I suppose you’re right,” Sally grumphed. “Oh. You want to do that tedious chore.”
“Who better,” Trina said modestly.
“It’s still a stable,” Yvonne said as she surveyed the building. “Lots of horses and lots of grooms. My stable never smelled this bad!”
“More like eau de Locker Room, I’d think.”
“Well, yes,” Yvonne laughed. “Although they did wash us down before they put us back in our stalls.”
“Well, here’re the offices,” Sally said. “Let’s see the stablemistress.”
The woman behind the counter looked up as they walked in. “Can I help y…” she drifted off as she took in Yvonne.
She recovered quickly. “It’s too early for even our students to be doing pranks yet, so you must be Yvonne Livingston.” She said it as if it had the force of a mathematical theorem, complete with three dots in front of the conclusion.
“I was the last time I looked,” Yvonne said.
“None of you have a horse here,” she said. “I think I’m going to call my boss.” She picked up the phone on the counter and punched a couple of buttons. “Daisy Mae to the office,” she said. They heard the echo of the page coming in through the doors to the stable.
“Daisy Mae?” Yvonne asked aloud.
“Our stablemistress believes in attacking things head on,” the clerk confided. “She’s never quite forgiven her parents for that name, so she flaunts it rather than burying it.”
“That’s good to know,” Trina said.
A few minutes later, a tallish brunette walked through the door from the stable. Her motif seemed to be leather; she wore a fringed kidskin blouse and an ankle length split kidskin skirt.
“What’s the prob…” she asked as she walked in. “Oh. You must be Yvonne Livingston,” she continued smoothly. “I wondered if you were going to wander into my domain. I doubt if you want stall space, so what else can I do for you?”
“Well, two things really. First, I need to make arrangements with your farrier for hoof care. I can do most everything for myself, but I’d really prefer having an expert do shoeing and trimming.”
“Our farrier comes in twice a week. You can make an appointment unless it’s an emergency.”
“I can do it on the system, or I come here?”
“It’s on the system. We’ll have to get you authorized for stable services.” She nodded at the desk clerk, who suddenly found something to do.
“The other thing is that Sally and I will need to use the bridle paths when she takes me out for a ride.”
Daisy Mae cocked her head to one side, considering. “How will you be tacked up?” she finally asked.
“Like this.” Yvonne undid her belt and handed it to Trina, and then shrugged out of her tunic. “We decided that what passes muster in New Babylon needed a bit of toning down, so we added the leotard.”
“Hummm…” the stablemistress looked at it. “I take it the buckles are for carriage traces?” She walked behind Yvonne and suddenly grabbed them and tugged. Yvonne staggered a moment, and then steadied.
“You’ve certainly got it on solidly,” she said. “What’s your weight limit in a carriage?”
“I don’t really know? The only things I’ve ever pulled were landscaping stuff: grass cutters, rollers, equipment and waste wagons. And most of those I was part of a two-pony team. We all did the same stuff.”
“Well, find out. It’s always better to know than otherwise. You can never tell what’s going to come up, even if you don’t intend to pull anything ever again.
“So what about a saddle? None of the saddles we’ve got here would fit you.”
“I’ve got my own, also bridle, bit and reins. They’re back at the apartment.”
“Well, go get them, girl! I can’t decide if I want you on my bridle paths without seeing you and your rider together. Oh, and come in through the stable; I don’t want your hooves in here without whatever you use to protect floors. That’s what the window in back of the desk is for.”
“How does the saddle go on?” Trina asked a few minutes later when they’d repaired to Sally and Yvonne’s apartment.
“Like this,” Sally put one hand on Yvonne’s shoulders and the other just above her hips and twisted. Yvonne bent forward, her trunk at a 45-degree angle, and her head came back so she was still looking straight forward. She whinnied in surprise, and brought her arms back, hands on opposite elbows.
“I don’t think she expected me to be quite this quick about it,” Sally said in a conspiratorial whisper. Yvonne snorted. “The saddle sits on her rump and fits right in the curve of her back.”
Sally took the saddle and laid it down on the ponygirl the way she had described. One of the straps hanging from the front ended in a five-way buckle with two other straps hanging from it. She pulled one of the straps up to the other side of the saddle and fastened it. Then she pulled the long strap between the girl’s legs and up. That strap split just under her tail; the two ends buckled to the saddle. Another strap came around the side from the five-way buckle, through the back strap and back to the buckle from the other side. She spent a few minutes making sure that all of the straps were in firmly. Finally, she attached two short straps that anchored the sides.
Tania looked at the leather seat with some trepidation. “That’s on solid. What if she needs to take a leak?”
“She just does. The strap has a hole in the right place, and so does the leotard. The designers made sure of that.
“Normally, the next thing would be to secure her arms behind her, but we’re not going to do that to her – ever. I’m not even going to show you the restraints. She’ll keep her arms there without it.
“Now we come to the bridle.” Sally took an assemblage of leather straps off the wall and dropped it over Yvonne’s head. “It’s custom crafted for her, so all we really have to do is buckle the chin strap and the strap around the back. The rest fits snuggly enough.”
Next, Sally took a piece of metal from the wall and held it up in front of the ‘girl. Yvonne opened her mouth, and Sally inserted the bit. The two ends fit against the rings that held the sides of the bridle next to her mouth. Sally snapped the bit into the sockets that waited for it.
Finally, she took a long leather strap and fastened one end to each of the metal posts hanging out from the ends of the bit.
“Well, that’s all it takes to saddle her. Let’s go!” She put her left foot into the stirrup and swung her right leg over, Yvonne swaying in time to the motion. Trina slid the patio door open, and Yvonne stepped out and then stopped while Trina slid the door closed.
“Why a bridle and bit anyway?” she asked. “I’d think that Yvonne would be perfectly capable of following directions.”
“Partly it’s the ponygirl shtick for the customers, and partly it’s that it gives the rider something to do with her hands. Mostly though, it’s that when she’s being ridden she’s on some kind of a high, and that interferes with remembering complex directions or understanding things said to her. I’m not sure why that is, but that’s the way she tells it.
“Anyway, even if she could understand directions clearly, reins are more efficient. I just leave them fairly loose, and twitch them when I want her to go in a different direction. Now if we were doing something fancy, it would be different, but I’ve never done that, and she’s not that well trained in it either.”
Sally squeezed her knees, and Yvonne started out down the path at a walk. Then she shook the reins slightly, and her mount shifted to a trot that left Trina hurrying to keep up. In a couple of minutes, they were back at the stable.
Daisy Mae walked up from the depths of the stable. “So that’s what she looks like tacked up. Get off and let me look at the arrangement.” Sally swung onto the ground.
“I wouldn’t have thought so, but between longer legs and that built up saddle, it does look like the rider’s at about the same height as a small pony.” She spent a few minutes fussing around the saddle, checking the various straps and shaking things to check whether they were tight enough.
“Well, that certainly looks like it should work,” she allowed. “That’s the same harness she’d use on New Babylon?”
“Except for the leotard, yes.”
“That leotard is a good thought. Will it keep her warm enough in the mornings?”
“That shouldn’t be a problem. Ponygirls are supposed to be perfectly comfortable down to a chill factor of 20 below.”
“That’s amazing. I take it you don’t know how they manage it?”
“All I know is that it’s supposed to be a skin modification of some kind. They normally sleep outside with their herd and without any protection except during storms.”
“Simply amazing. We shouldn’t have to worry about that until January at least, and maybe not this year at all, if the weather bureau is halfway accurate.”
“I don’t know about her, but I have no intention of being out in a storm, ma’am.”
“Are you sure you’re a student here?” Daisy May asked. Yvonne snorted and Daisy Mae laughed. “I think I’m going to enjoy this.
“Well, take her out for an hour and bring her in. You know what the bridle paths are like?”
“I’ve never been on them,” Sally admitted.
“Well, I wouldn’t think it was possible to get lost, but I’ve seen some mighty bewildered students in my time. Fortunately, most of the horses know how to get home if you let them. Yvonne doesn’t, though. What to do…”
“Hey, Dave!” she yelled. “You up for guiding a newbie around the bridle paths?”
“Give me a minute,” a male voice shouted back. “Which horse does the newbie want?”
“She’s got her own pony,” Daisy Mae yelled over the stalls. “You take Ranger.”
“Ranger could use the exercise,” he yelled back. “Have her meet me outside in five minutes.”
“I’d like to come, too,” Trina put in. Daisy Mae threw up her hands in a very Italian gesture. “Saints preserve me! HEY DAVE! Saddle up Rosie, too. You’ve got a second newbie.”
“Wilco,” he shouted back. “I’ll have Jack saddle her up.”
“While we’re waiting,” Daisy said, “both of you look at this.” She held out a pair of maps. Yvonne unfolded one of her arms and stuck her hand out. “All right. All three of you look at one. The thing you need to know is that all of the paths have these colored sticks at the places the trails fork. The stick is always on the right, and the color is on top if it’s away from the stable, on the bottom if it’s toward the stable.”
“In other words, to get back, just follow the sticks with the colors on the bottom,” Sally said. “That’s so simple I wonder how anyone can get lost.”
“Pranks,” Trina said without looking up from the map she was studying.
“It should be too soon for pranks, but you never can tell.”
They studied the maps for a couple of minutes.
“Hey, where are you guys?” Dave called from in front.
“Well, that’s our call,” Sally said as she folded her map and put it in her shoulder bag. Yvonne swiftly folded hers too, and tucked it behind one of her bridle straps. Then Sally swung into Yvonne’s saddle, just barely giving her steed time to fold her arms behind her, hands on elbows. “Let’s go.” She pulled on the reins, guiding Yvonne out of the alcove in the stable to the front.
“Holy Mary! Saints preserve us!” Dave looked down from Ranger, who was a fairly tall chestnut gelding. “I guess they weren’t pulling my leg.
“I take it that’s Yvonne and you’re?”
“Sally. And this is Trina.” Sally nodded at the other girl who was looking very doubtfully at a bay mare that was standing placidly at the hitching rack.
“Well, climb aboard if you want to come,” Sally told her.
Trina sighed and stuck her left foot into the stirrup, and then swung onto the mare, leaving her hitched at the rack. Yvonne snorted. Before either Sally or Trina could do anything, she walked over to the hitching rack and untied the mare, throwing the reins up to the surprised girl.
“What are her limits, Sally?”
“She should be able to keep up with you at a fast trot.”
Dave laughed hollowly. “Ranger would enjoy stretching his legs, but Rosie wouldn’t know a fast trot if it came up and started gnawing on her haunch.”
“For which I will be eternally thankful,” Trina muttered.
“Let’s go,” Dave said. “The entrance is down this way.” He clucked at his gelding and shook the reins, and Ranger started walking down the path he’d taken so many times before that it was engraved in his brain cells.
“You want me behind you or beside you?” Sally called.
“Come up on my left unless we need to let another horse pass,” he said.
Sally twitched the reins, and Yvonne lengthened her stride until she pulled even with the big gelding. She edged over a bit to avoid getting his elbow in her eye.
“You’re a bit taller than I thought,” Dave said, turning to check on Trina. “She does look like she’s got a smooth ride.”
“It’s smoother than you’d think with only two legs,” Sally said. “She won’t stand on one leg with any kind of a load, though.”
“I’d think not,” Dave commented as he checked behind again and then held up a hand to signal a stop. “Here’s the first fork. We’re going to stop here while all three of you locate the stakes, both in the ground and on the map.”
“All three of us?” Trina asked from behind.
“Look,” Dave said turning to look at her directly. “I don’t know exactly what’s going on with you and Yvonne, and frankly, I don’t want to know. She’s a student here; therefore it’s my job to make sure she knows what she needs to. Whoever’s riding her could be injured in any number of ways; some of our horses will make their way back without a rider, some won’t. As much as she looks like a horse in some ways, and as much as she acts like a horse in some ways, she’s not a horse. She’s as responsible for the safety of your party as the rest of you, and if you don’t want to play by those rules, you’ll stay off of these bridle paths.”
“Then I guess I’d better dismount for a moment,” Sally said, suiting her actions to her words.
“Huh?”
“When there’s someone in her saddle, she’s on a high that interferes with her thinking clearly. If you want to make sure she understands something, I can’t be mounted at the same time.”
Dave shook his head. “So now we locate the stakes. Yvonne, you first.”
Yvonne looked around and then took the bit out of her mouth and handed it to Sally. “Red stake over here means path #1 outbound. That goes to campsite #1, right?”
“Exactly.”
She turned around. “Then this must be the inbound marker,” she pointed at a stake just to her left that had a red base and an unpainted wood top.
“Sally, you next,” Dave instructed.
In a moment, Sally had located the stakes for the other path.
“We’ll check Trina on the next fork,” Dave said. “Let’s get going.”
Sally turned to Yvonne. “Are you cool with not having your bit in?”
“I’ve never been ridden without one, so I really don’t know? Let’s see how it goes. How are you going to do the reins?”
Sally looked at her mount’s bridle, and then clipped the ends of the reins to the rings on either side of her mouth. “Let’s see if this works without chafing.” She swung into the saddle, and they proceeded up the red path toward the campsite.
“I don’t know how you guys do it,” Trina said as they arrived at the patio. “My thighs are killing me!”
“You should get out more,” Sally said as she dismounted from Yvonne. “You’ve just got to know how to sit.”
“Gingerly.”
Yvonne laughed as Sally led her inside, still bent over under the saddle. “Time to unsaddle her and get cleaned up.” Sally bent to her task, first taking the saddle off, and then dropping the lacing machine at the top of the corset. Yvonne straightened up and stretched while the mechanical insect was making its way down her back. A minute later she removed it and shrugged out of the corset and dropped it on the floor. She unbuckled the bridle and hung it on the wall.
“See you, girls,” she said as she headed for the shower.
“Who cleans up?” Trina asked as she looked at the saddle and corset lying on the floor.
“Yvonne. She’s very particular about making sure that her tack is squeaky clean and well oiled before she puts it on. She’d probably go for someone else doing it, but only if they did it right.”
“Makes sense,” Trina shrugged. “I’ve got a personal question.”
“Well, ask away, you will anyway.”
“Are you two sleeping together?”
“What brought that up?” Sally asked, curious in spite of herself.
“Well, I noticed two makeup tables in the master bedroom, but only one bed.”
“You would notice that! No, we’re not. She sleeps on the floor.”
“Huh?”
“It’s not what you’re thinking. The beds aren’t long enough for her, and anyway her hooves would shred the sheets in no time.”
“Oh. Now that you mention it, I’d pity anyone who had to sleep next to those hooves of hers.”
“You got it. I tried. Once. I had bruises on my legs for a week.”
“Ouch!”
“Anyway,” Yvonne interjected, having returned from the shower unnoticed in the middle of the exchange, “I slept on the ground in the meadow for several months. At least here I’ve got a pad and a pillow, and I don’t have to worry about hitting someone when I get rid of a rock.”
“But why the same room?”
“Trina, I’m a ponygirl. Ponygirls are herd animals. I sleep a lot better around people. The more and the closer the better, as long as we’re not stacked on top of each other.”
Trina shook her head. “Things are sure going to be different.”
“That’s a fact. How about we head over to the student union?”
“And see what Yvonne stirs up?” Trina smiled in anticipation.
“Might as well,” Yvonne agreed. “The last term I was here was miserable because I wasn’t one of the elect and people thought I was trying to horn in. This term anyone who thinks I’m trying to be something I’m not needs their head examined.”
“Doesn’t that describe most of the student body?” Trina said, gazing at the ceiling with a patently blank expression.
“I didn’t mean by their hair stylist,” Yvonne shot back.
“Well, let’s go,” Sally said, heading for the door.
Frankly, Xaltatun hasn’t figured out what happens at the Student Union. It wants to turn into low farce, and he prefers something slightly closer to high drama, or at least reasonable decorum. There’s an arm wrestling match in there somewhere (which Yvonne wins, of course,) and the startling discovery that hooves aren’t really that good for dancing.
So we’ll let that scene pass. (It gets about a C+, somehow.)
Yvonne slowly shook her head as she listened to the voice in her phone. “What part of ‘all students must take Phys. Ed.’ don’t you understand?” the voice asked in tones that suggested that its patience was not only not infinite, but was rapidly approaching exhaustion.
“I explained that on the registration,” Yvonne said for about the fifteenth time.
“I read that load of bullcrap, and I don’t believe a word of it,” the voice repeated. “I don’t care what kind of disability or special need you have. Just get yourself down here right now and we’ll figure out where you belong.”
“But…”
“Right now means right now. I want to see you in my office in ten minutes, dressed in whatever you use to work out, assuming you work out at all.”
“You asked for it,” Yvonne replied and thumbed the stop button on the phone. She shook her head and then changed into her red leotard, putting a short tunic on over it for decency. She shoved a basic harness into a duffel and trotted out the door, bag slung over her shoulder.
A few minutes later, she trotted into the Phys. Ed. departments’ office.
The secretary stared a moment as she took in Yvonne’s close to two meter height and mane. Then she did a double take as Yvonne swished her tail, lifting the hem of her tunic in the process.
“Uh,” she said, gathering her thoughts. “I didn’t think you’d be taking Phys. Ed.”
“Old Firebreath thinks differently,” Yvonne told her.
“Oh, was that you she was yelling at a few minutes ago? Go right in, Stephanie’s expecting you.”
“Don’t be surprised at anything,” Yvonne said, sotto voice, as she walked around the secretary’s desk.
A moment later, the athletic director looked up from the phone she was snarling into and saw Yvonne. “You!” she said, slamming the phone down without bothering to tell whoever she’d been yelling at goodbye.
“At that height, you’re going to sign up for basketball. Right now.”
“Can’t.” Yvonne said.
“And why not?”
“Title IX, Section 12, Subsection 4, Paragraph 16, subpart iv prohibits me from taking part in any competitive sport.”
“That’s the section on performance enhancing drugs. You can’t be that stupid!”
“That’s subparagraphs i through iii. Subparagraph iv is the one against performance enhancing gene modifications.”
“That’s impossible,” the seated woman snorted.
Yvonne swished her tail. “I wish you’d have told that to New Babylon before they did this to me,” she said coldly.
“It’s still impossible!”
“Maybe a slight demonstration is in order,” Yvonne gave her a toothy grin as she walked around the desk and hauled the hapless woman out of her chair by the shoulders.
A moment later, she held the athletic director against the ceiling, one hand on her midriff.
“PUT ME DOWN!”
“All right.” Yvonne shrugged and dropped the hapless woman onto the floor, making a slight attempt to insure that she landed feet first.
Stephanie dropped onto her feet with a bit of a bounce, and came erect, hands on hips. “Well, I suppose that stunt does say something or other. You certainly don’t look like you’ve got that kind of muscles.” Her eyes narrowed.
“How about ballet?”
“You want to have your feet stepped on by an iron shod hoof?”
“Good point. Besides, there probably aren’t that many ballets you could fit into without ruining the choreography.” She righted her chair and sat down.
“Well, one thing is obvious,” she said after she got herself settled. “We’re going to have to think about this.”
Yvonne very carefully didn’t say that they should have started out thinking about it. She looked at the available chairs in distaste, and then spun one around and sat on it backwards. “My tail hates normal chairs,” she said as Stephanie looked at her strangely.
“Oh. How much exercise do you need a day, and what do you do for it?”
“Two hours is a good minimum. I’ve got an arrangement with the stables; my roommate takes me out riding in the morning.”
“Horseback riding isn’t that physical.”
“I didn’t say horseback riding. I’m a ponygirl. She rides me. Beyond that, I’m going to look into contributing an hour or so a day to some worthwhile project.”
Stephanie narrowed her eyes. “I’m not even going to ask. I take it you’ve got everything squared away with Daisy Mae?”
“Yep. Did that yesterday.”
“Good. As far as heavy labor is concerned, we’ve certainly got enough to do around here, and our students on athletic scholarships aren’t exactly enthusiastic about doing it.”
“I didn’t even know we had athletic scholarships.”
“Partly diversity, and partly the alumni.”
“They want to see winning teams, right?”
“Exactly. You don’t know how hard it is to find jocks that will keep their grades up and have the right social background for this madhouse while still satisfying the PC mafia.”
“Tell me about it,” Yvonne said dryly. “I’ve already met a couple that need a reality check.”
“I’ll bet. Did you give them one?”
“I’m a ponygirl, not an amazon,” Yvonne deadpanned.
“Huh?”
“The reality chick is in the mail is an amazon thing,” she answered.
Stephanie looked blank for a moment, and then held onto the desk, attempting to stifle a guffaw. After she recovered, she said: “I didn’t even see that one coming.”
“Occasionally even I manage to score,” Yvonne said modestly.
“What’s just occurred to me, though, is that I can do golf. Strength really only counts on the first shot, and I can always drive off the men’s tee.”
Stephanie cocked her head, considering. “The rest should come out of the handicap,” she said. “Let’s see how that mix works.”
Well, our intrepid ponygirl has managed to get herself back into college. Has she managed a smooth landing, or are there more bumps in the road ahead of her? Do you even need to ask?
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