About three or four days shy of two months, I had a message on my voice mail: "Hi, Bryan. This is Bonnie. I hate to tell you, but he threw me out again. You're probably not too surprised. But I'm a little surprised at myself; a 'big' surprised, in fact. What I really, really want to do is come and live with you and be your pony-girl. Can you believe that? Anyway, if you can handle that, meet me at the bus depot tomorrow at noon. If you're not there, I'll figure something else. I'm not going back together with him; he's just getting more and more brutal. So. . . .hope I see you tomorrow."

The problem was, there was a little problem with that. I was already committed for the next day in a neighboring town, working on a bid for an apartment complex. So I called my friend, Sheriff Jim, and explained my problem, and he promised to take care of the problem for me. So I quit worrying about the problem and went on my job.

I spent the morning and half the afternoon in a conference with the contractor and the developer going over the apartment plans. Finally we came to an agreement enough to where I could take off for the rest of the day. On the way I stopped in to see Sheriff Jim. "I've got this pretty young vagrant in a cell back here," he told me. "Claims she knows you, but I can't see where that would be true. . ." Then with a big smile, he opened up the door to the cell section and led the way back into it.

"Oohhhh, Bryan! Oh, my word, Bryan, am I glad to see you!!" Bonnie squealed.

"Do you know this vagabond?" Jim asked me, still with his big smile.

"Well, she does look sort of vaguely familiar," I assured him, going along with his joke, as I walked up to Bonnie and she plastered herself against the bars so we could hug.

Actually, she looked a little worse for wear; she had a mouse under one eye and a bruise on the opposite cheek. She had a swollen lip, and bruises on her neck. "What else did that blankety-blank do to you?" Without hesitation she stripped off her blouse to show us more bruises on her breasts and upper body.

"It's a good thing that sucker isn't in MY county," Jim muttered under his breath, then added, "I can release this vagrant to your custody if you guarantee that you will keep her restrained until I can do a little investigation into her background. Neither Bonnie nor I had any problem with that idea. So after a few more minutes of comforting and consoling, I signed her out of Jim's fine establishment and we took off, her hands cuffed behind her.

I took her downtown to see my doctor and freed her of the cuffs long enough for him to see how bad some of the bruises were, give her a thorough examination, and fuss over her a little to make her feel better. While we were there I asked him how much trouble it would be to pierce her nipples and install a couple of pretty rings, and she looked at me with wide-eyed surprise. "Would you like that?"

"Well, I hadn't thought of it, but actually, yes, I would!" she said, giving me one of her magnificent smiles. And so we did, right then and there. By the time her other bruises would have healed, her rings would be all healed up, too. We thought it was a great idea. My idea of the rings had to do with pony-girls, of course, and I think she had that figured out, too. Anyway, doctor did an excellent job, as well he should, and they were quite exquisite. She smiled at herself in the mirror before we replaced her blouse and the cuffs.

From there we went over to Dinah's Diner to get a bite to eat. Dinah was a good friend who had been up to my place on a number of occasions. No stranger to playing 'pony-girl', she was one of the reasons for a lot of my pony-girl gear. She seated us in a booth back in a corner, then came back to visit every once in a while whenever she had a free minute. She was a really pretty gal, just a little older than Bonnie but about the same size and build, and in the back of my mind I was toying with the idea of a double-pony pull.

Dinah pulled out her order pad and looked at us expectantly. "I know you want coffee," she said to me, "and what would you like to drink?" Bonnie wanted some hot chocolate with mini-marshmellows, and I held the cup for while she sipped it. Dinah fixed us one of her special breakfasts with bacon and eggs and hashbrowns. I took it on one plate, and fed Bonnie as I fed myself, since she was still cuffed.

We spent a pretty quiet evening at my place, taking it a little easy on her bruised body, mainly cuddling on the porch swing and watching the stars. By morning her bruises were showing a little more color, but were not quite so sore, as she asked, "Well? Are you going to let me take you for a ride?" I couldn't think of anything I would like better, and within a few minutes she was carefully in harness and we were trotting around the back field in the rick-shaw. It was a beautiful, warm, sunny day and we were enjoying the ride so much that we kept right on going through mid-morning, then a little more in the afternoon.

A few days later as I headed home following a job, I discovered Dinah's car in the yard. She had come up on her day off, and the two girls had harnessed each other up complete to bit and bridle, and were taking turns 'driving' each other back and forth and around the back yard. As soon as they saw me they headed for the car, and Bonnie was all smiles. "Oohh, Bryan!" she squealed, slipping the bit down around her throat. "Dinah is a pony-girl, too! Did you see? And she's even got nipple rings, too! See? And we want to pull the 'surrey with the fringe on top'! Remember you told me it would take two girls; well, we're two girls, and we think it would be so much fun. . . ."

"Whoa! Whoa! Whewww! Wow, hey, slow down there, filly! My word, you're sure fired up about this, aren't you?

"Oh, we are! Yes, we are! And we think it would be. . . ." she bubbled.

"Hush," I said, putting my finger over her mouth, then slipped the bit back into place and pulled it tight, while her eyes grew big. "You're talking way too fast and way too much for a pony-girl, my bubbling Bonnie. Now, let's go over this again, nice and slow," I turned my attention to Dinah, who was smiling behind her bit. Quickly I tightened the bit a couple of notches, pulling it back more deeply into her mouth, which surprised her a little and eliminated the smile. Then, just as quickly, I spun her around against the car and cuffed her wrists. I did the same thing to Bonnie, which took care of keeping both of them still and quiet and unable to reach their bits. I leaned back against the car with the two girls standing side by side close in front of me, took one of Bonnie's breasts in one hand and one of Dinah's in the other, squeezed them and played with them gently, and said, "Okay, now, so you want to pull the surrey. Well, I think that would be okay. But first, though, since I just got home, I think we should have something to eat." Dinah looked at me, then started around to the side of the house. "Go with her." I swatted Bonnie on a bare butt cheek and sent her around, too.

Some time ago I had done a little landscaping on the end of the house toward the pony-cart shed, which included a nice little lawn and a decorative garden. The latter was about three feet wide, included some rocks and no-maintenance plants, and three or four garden gnome statues. They were of a sea-faring theme, wearing slickers and nor-wester hats. The figurines stood about two feet high, with one arm extended around to hold a dish; a large abalone shell. The other hand was extended flat from the elbow, and it appeared as if the lettle fellow had the end of a hose tucked under his arm. Around the outside of the garden was a white rail fence, also about two feet high. Dinah walked over and knelt at the fence, right in front of one of the gnomes, and Bonnie did the same, with a little coaching from me. From a bin in the shed I retrieved a coffee-can fuill of pony feed; a tasty, healthy mixture of granola and trail mix, of which I poured half a can in each of the containers the gnomes were holding. I removed the bit from Dinah's mouth, and she immediately leaned over the fence, dug her chin and mouth down into the feed, and began to eat. She had been here before. As I removed Bonnie's bit she looked up at me with the most incredulous expression on her face. "Ponies do not eat in a house," I explained. "Nor do they eat 'people' food. Ponies eat pony food, or feed, and they eat outside or in the barn, and they eat from a feeder. And that's all this is. Just keep an eye on Dinah and do what she's doing, and enjoy your meal." She looked at the feed, then up at me again, as I grinned at her and went into the house where I selected a frozen dinner from the freezer, nuked it, and went back outside to sit at a picnic table and watch the girls feed; Dinah quite confidently and Bonnie very tentatively.

These decorations had been built and placed so that a pony-girl, in order to eat, had to lean across the fence and plaster her boobs flat down onto the top rail in order to reach the feed. After a few mouthfuls of the dry feed, she would be obliged to move over slightly and push down on the gnome's other hand with her chin in order to activate a water valve which would then squirt water out of the end of the hose and into the girl's mouth. Dinah was quite adept at the process, but Bonnie squirted herself in the face a few times before she succeeded in getting the exact hang of squirting it into her mouth. I made them keep it up until they had finished their bowl of feed; while I finished my dinner, and totally enjoyed watching them.

As soon as they were done I re-bitted them, gathered up their reins, led them into the cart shed and over to the surrey, where I secured them into place on the single-tree with the straps on their wide belts. Their wrists were still cuffed behind them, which would work okay but I did not think looked very pleasing. Taking a large square of leather from the wall I used it to secure their arms in a much nicer fashion. The soft leather was about two feet square with a grommet and snap at each corner. I slipped the leather up behind Bonnie's back and beneath her arms and snapped a corner onto a ring on the back of her collar. Removing the cuffs I folded her arms behind her back and secured them wrist to elbow, then wrapped the two side corners around them and snapped them together. The bottom corner then came up, carefully wrapped around over her arms and snapped once more onto the collar ring. This made a nice smooth arm tie, and was very quick, very tidy, and very effective. I did the same to Dinah, then climbed into the seat and swung a short buggy whip neatly across both those delicious bare rumps before me. Dinah was not too surprised, but Bonnie was, as both girls squealed, recoiled, and went flying out of the shed. We spent the next hour racing around the field, boobs bouncing, girls giggling and ponytails flying, until they finally got too tired, and it got too late, and so we called it a day. Dinah hit the shower, then dressed and headed for home, while Bonnie loved and cuddled the rest of the night away.

A few days later Sheriff Jim called and said he was coming up; he had some good news about Bonnie. We made sure she was properly dressed and cuffed, but it was not necessary. Actually he was simply reporting that he had found nothing negative and everything about her was fine. But that did not turn out his main reason for coming up. The fact was, he had brought Dinah up with him, and wanted all of us to do some pony-girl playing. That, of course, was no problem at all for us, and in less time than it takes to tell it, we had the girls naked and harnessed and were riding around the field with them. Bonnie and I were using the trotting gig while Dinah and Jim used the sulky. Naturally, in the process of running around the field we had to do a little racing, which also proved to be a lot of fun. The competition was high and the girls really put their hearts into it, giggling and tossing their pony-tails. Later the girls were tired and sweating, so we freed them down to their bare skin and tennis shoes and put some steaks on the bar-b-que. Of course, we let the girls sit on our laps to feed us and fuss over us, much to Jim's total delight. He was really beginning to loosen up and come out of his 'super-serious' police personna.

The next day Jim was back up again, but alone. This time he had another of the wooden wine barrels in the back of his truck, along with a couple wheels, a piece of tubing, and some other materials. He wondered if 'we' could build another chariot. Of course 'we' could, and over the next two months we did. During those months he spent more and more time up at my place, often with Dinah, and we did a lot of running and pony-girl play. Bonnie's bruises and nipples had healed, and all the running and racing was made even more fun with all the tinkling of the nipple bells. Also during that time, with the help of a Bobcat and a mower, along with some rakes and shovels, we created some bridle trails around the place, even looping into some of the wooded areas around the edges. But the biggest and best was a wide, sweeping, slightly irregular figure-eight track that extended from the cart shed clear to the dark colored bush on the other end of the field.

And then the second chariot was finished. Jim came up with Dinah, and after feeding and some warming-up exercises, we strapped the two girls into their harnesses, secured them tightly onto the crotch-pulls, and went for some serious chariot races. The figure-eight track worked extremely well, the chariots were just a little heavy, and the girls really had a work-out, occasionally interupted by a crotch-pull climax, or sometimes, a quick case of driver relief. Jim and Dinah won two out of three, but that's going to change!



THE END ? (maybe)