Nina's modeling career hadn't exactly taken off-- at nineteen, she still wasn't even close to being a supermodel--, so she grabbed any job she could get. Which was why she jumped at the chance to work at the upscale home show at the city convention center without even giving it a second thought.

She envisioned herself in a sexy designer gown showing off the latest in kitchen design or bedroom decor. Perhaps she would be discovered and make the jump to the big time. Hell, she was good-looking enough, if she did say so herself. She was tall, blonde, and had a cute face and an athletic figure. All she needed was the right break.

The first hint that something wasn't going to go as she thought was when two women took her into a back room and told her to get undressed. Instead of a designer gown, she saw a flesh-colored spandex catsuit on a hangar. Well, she thought, it's a little risque, but at least I have the figure for it. As she reached for it, one of the women spoke up.

"You can keep your panties, but lose the bra."

That should have been her second warning sign. "But won't that be-- um, okay."

The woman's look had said it all. Nina slipped off her bra, then stepped into the catsuit and tugged it on.

Of course, it was skin-tight, and came right up to her neck. One of the women zipped up the back.

Then they brought out the harness.

"W-what the hell is that???"

"You aren't going to back out now, are you?"

Nina sighed. "No, I guess not."

They strapped the harness onto her body, making sure it was good and snug. When they imprisoned her wrists in the waist cuffs, the model knew she should have asked more questions.

Her heart sank lower and lower as the worked the pony boots onto her feet and laced them up, slid the tan spandex hood (with horse ears and mane!!) over her head, then fitted the bridle and bit over it.

The blonde model could see herself in the full-length mirror across the room, and she looked ridiculous, especially with the ears on the spandex hood and the long blonde tail on the back of the harness. What had she gotten herself into? What kind of home show was this anyway?

The hooved leather pony gloves, though, were what really made her turn red. She looked ridiculous. If she had been doing a kiddie show, that would have been different, but she was going to try to make an impression in front of hundreds, maybe thousands, of adults. Now everybody would be laughing at her. Nina fought back tears.

Reins were clipped to her bit rings and she was led out onto the floor. Though it was still too early to let people in, the convention hall was abuzz with activity as the displays were readied for presentation. Nina was ushered into the passenger seat of a golf cart and driven to the other end of the convention center. She was glad that a hood covered her face, as people stopped and stared; some smirked, unable to hide their amusement, and one of the other models even burst out laughing.

They stopped at one display, a bare room that just held a sulky cart on a treadmill. Nina was beginning to wonder if she was the butt of an elaborate joke. At any minute, a Hollywood celebrity would jump out and announce that she had been punk'd or whatever. But that didn't happen. She was led to the display room by her reins, her metal horseshoes clip-clopping on the hard floor, and hitched up to the cart.

What the hell kind of home accessory is this? she thought. She tensed her body here and there, testing her bonds and finding them impossible to easily escape from.

"Easy there, girl." Nina turned and saw one of the women from the back room, now dressed in riding clothes and holding a riding crop. Behind her was a dark-haired model dressed in a low-cut glittering gown. "Just act like a well-trained pony and you'll be fine."

Nina whimpered. Slightly alarmed, the woman leaned toward her and hissed into her ear: "You fuck this up and you'll be doing this NAKED and with a metal breaking bit. You got that, bitch?"

The model nodded meekly, and the woman went and settled into the sulky. What had she gotten herself into? She looked out onto the floor. Several of the sales reps were staring at her, their erections obvious in their pants. The dark-haired model turned and smiled condescendingly at her, clearly glad that she wasn't the one who was the ponygirl.

It wasn't long before people started coming in. Nina kept her eyes focused in front of her, not wanting to face the crowds in her condition.

"Good morning, ladies and gentlemen. What we have here is the latest innovation for those urban and suburban dwellers with a ponygirl fetish, but no access to a farm. This, the Home Ponygirl Trainer, affords all the pleasure of country training in the privacy of your own home. And it is completely programmable with its own remote control."

The woman in the sulky clicked the remote a few times. Suddenly, the room was converted into a country road, the 3-D image projected onto the walls by a unit on the ceiling, and the treadmill began. As Nina leaned forward and started to walk, she felt the reins snap at her cheeks and the riding crop slap her butt. Feeling her face redden, she bit hard into the rubber bit and tried to concentrate on the country scene before her.

"The 3-D projection, surround-sound system, and realistic scents gives you the feeling that you are actually out for a summer ride in your sulky, courtesy of your obedient ponygirl."

The reluctant ponygirl might have agreed, but she was too pre-occupied with her condition and how she looked, what with the bridle and bit, the pony hoof gloves, and her bare tits bouncing freely under the tight spandex catsuit.

"This course can be adjusted to last as long as you want, and various details can be added, such as passing vehicles, a small town, and a road crew making inappropriate comments sure to humiliate even the most experienced pony."

As Nina jogged along, a car appeared on the horizon. As it approached, the ponygirl was amazed at how real it looked and sounded. Then it came to a complete halt, and frat guys leaned out the windows. One threw a cup of beer at her, and it seemed so real that she flinched, causing laughter to break out among the spectators. The frat guys yelled at her:

"Finally! A use for cunts besides FUCKING!"

"A woman's place is in the stable!"

"Whip that bitch!"

Tears stung Nina's eyes. Did they really have to put her through all this? She continued on, glad when the car had passed.

No sooner had she thought that she was safe when a tour bus came up from behind them on the right. Even before she saw it, she could hear it, along with the admiring comments of the passengers and the clicking of cameras.

It came into view, and Nina squealed before she realized that the flashbulbs flashing were not real. As it passed and pulled out in front of them, the ceiling unit shot out exhaust fumes in front of the hapless ponygirl which synchronized with the black cloud that spewed from the rear of the bus. Unable to escape them, Nina had no choice but to inhale and cough as she choked on the pollution.

"Now that's realism!" gushed the dark-haired model as the crowd oohed and aahed. Nina hacked and wheezed as she soldiered on, unable to resist or protest.

They passed a road crew, which made more inappropriate comments, before entering a small town, where passersby gasped, laughed, sneered, and made rude gestures as she trotted down the main street. They went up hills, the treadmill tilting to simulate the grade up and down. They passed through a medieval village, a modern city, and a suburban street before returning to the country, the dark-haired model pointing out the various features of the simulator. Night fell within a minute, and Nina felt herself straining to see the road in the near-total darkness despite herself; an occasional car roared by, trapping her in the blinding glare of its headlights as the driver taunted her with his horn before disappearing back into the night. Day returned just as quickly. There was a pull on the right-hand rein, and Nina turned onto a dirt road leading to a farm, the treadmill swivelling to accomodate the change in direction. They ended up in front of a stable, where other ponygirls were hitched to posts or being trained in a corral. Finally, her demeaning little jaunt was over. Nina stood there, panting and sweating as the crowd cheered and applauded. The ponygirl just kept her eyes on the now-blank wall, wishing this show would come to an end as soon as possible.

She had to perform several more times that day, and was given a sports drink to replenish her body fluids after each one. Her sweat made the catsuit clingy and transparent. Every couple hours she was released to go to the ladies' room-- being led by the reins through the crowd each time-- and had to endure the stares of other women as she clip-clopped in and out of a stall. At midday, she was led over to the vendors, where she was forced to eat from her rider's hand. At first she refused, but when she was informed that she would spend a half-hour in front of the food stands regardless of whether she ate or not, she relented. Still, she refused to make eye contact with the public as she awkwardly munched on a hotdog and licked an ice cream cone.

They wouldn't let her leave after closing, fearing she would not come back, so after they stripped her and hosed her down, they gagged her and strapped her down naked on a bed in one of the other displays. The lights were turned out, and Nina was left in the cavernous convention center alone. She realized there was no way she could escape from the leather restraints and, even if she could, she was naked and could not wander the streets in her condition.

The next day, she had to go through the whole thing all over again. God, how she hated the frat guys and the road workers and the villagers and all the other people in the simulator, even though they weren't real. Crowds jeered and cheered at her performances, women barely hid their haughty contempt for her in the bathroom, and men crowded around her, staring and drooling, as she ate her lunch.

The end of the second day finally arrived, and Nina breathed a silent prayer as she was unhitched from the cart and led past the workers dismantling the displays. Never again would she accept an assignment without reading all the fine print first.

She was dead tired as they stripped her down and hosed her off. She had no idea how many miles she had run during the course of the two days, but it was a lot more than she was used to. She was sooo tired, and her legs ached like hell. Of course, inhaling those exhaust fumes again and again probably didn't help, either. As she started dressing in the back room, she felt herself nodding off. The couch in the corner looked very comfortable. A little nap wouldn't hurt . . .

She had no idea how long she slept, but when she awoke, Nina was once again dressed in the pony tack. There was no catsuit or panties this time-- nothing but stiff leather straps restraining her naked body. She gave a cry of shock as she tried to rise to her feet.

"Good. You're awake," said the woman in riding clothes. She grabbed the reins and forced Nina to her feet. "We've got another assignment for you, and we have to be there by tomorrow."

Nina would have kicked out at her, but her ankles were hobbled. Meekly, she shuffled along as the woman led her outside and into a waiting horse trailer. The captive model moaned as she was strapped in, unable to believe what was happening to her. Was this part of the contract, too?

The rear door slammed shut behind her, and Nina was left in the semi-darkness, moonlight filtering in through the air slits of the small trailer. A car started up, and she felt herself moving along, the cool night air chilling her body as it blew through the slits, and her full braless tits bouncing with every bump and sharp turn they encountered. She did not know it then, but her career as a submissive fetish model was about to take off.