This work is copyright 2000-2006 by Xaltatun of Acheron (A Pseudonym). It may be posted on the Internet to any free forum. It may be reformatted to match the forum's look and feel, and the forum editor may make minor spelling and grammer corrections. Otherwise it must be posted in its entirety, including these notices. 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.
There are currently 12 stories, either written or planned, in this series, which is part of a new universe I've created. If you want to put stories in this universe, please read as many of them as you can first and then contact me. I have a background document which fills in quite a few details and will keep you from going off in a strange direction.
1. 2040 Betrayed (Ponygirl)
2. 2041 Becoming A Ponygirl (Ponygirl)
3. 2055 Girl In A Cage (Slavery)
4. 2060 Second Generation Ponygirl (Ponygirl, sort of)
5. 2058 - 2068 Shake The Bars And Scream! (Slavery)
6. 2061 Transmogrification Prep. (Ponygirl, gene mods)
7. 2069 Wild Girls, Inc. (Slavery)
8. 2069 Fiona (Slavery) --- Submitted to Leviticus
9. 2070 They Also Serve... (TG, Slavery, Statue) - at Stardust ( stardustr.us )
10. 2070 The Girlfriend Contract (Slavery)
11. 2070 Trouble: Two Girls Under One Roof (Slavery)
12. 2070 The Long Road (?)
Now on to the story...
Anna has been enslaved and checked into Excelsior’s stables as a ponygirl, and is now taking a nap. She’s here for two weeks, or so she thinks.
Moonlight woke up to a piercing whistle. One of the stable attendants stood outside of her stall. She shook her head to clear it and stood up. He pointed at her and then at her tack on the wall. All he said was “Harness. Yourself.” but that much came through clearly.
She looked at him and thought: Why was a guy wearing a skirt and a necklace? Well, a streaked tunic and red ribbon exactly like the one the secretary had worn. She had to admit he did look cute in the tunic, and the top outlined his muscles nicely. Maybe they got a bulk discount.
She high stepped out of the stall and struggled into her tack. This was the first time she had ever had to put it on herself; Terry or one of the grooms at the shows they went to had always done it before.
When she had finished the attendant looped the reins through a ring and then went over it slowly, talking soothingly while making sure she paid attention as he checked that each of the buckles was properly tightened.
He led her out of the stable to an exerciser. This was a post about seven feet high with a horizontal pole sticking out one side and a counterweight on the other. He looped her reins over the pole and looked at her. Then he nodded and his lips moved slightly. The motor on the exerciser started, pulling her forward. He watched her high step around the pole for a minute and then walked away toward his next task.
The passionless computer that supervised the stable watched the physiology monitor built into her control collar, insuring that her exercise session kept her on the ideal curve to build up her endurance without pushing her to the point she would have to waste time healing.
She lost herself in the march around the circle, almost unaware of the voice in her earplugs that gave her commands to speed up, slow down, walk or trot. She was even less aware of the subtle stimuli that the control collar applied with the commands.
Eventually it told her to stop for the last time. She stood, panting slight, as another stable attendant came up, unhitched her reins from the wheel, and led her back into the stable.
They stopped in front of her stall. The attendant held up her hand, all four fingers spread, and touched each one as she said: “Remove Tack. Shower. Rest. Clean Tack.” Then she stood back and watched to see what Moonlight would do.
Moonlight fumbled around with the unfamiliar task, but eventually managed to get her tack removed and stacked on the ledge below the wall. Then she stood in puzzlement until her earplugs said: “Shower.” She remembered the shower room she’d seen on the way to the food and headed in that direction.
The shower room had a rack of boxes, each of which contained soap, washcloths, towels and grooming tools. She went toward them, puzzled as to which one was hers, and discovered that the band on her wrist guided her to one of them. She shrugged, pulled out the soap and took a quick shower. She brushed out her hair and then stood until the voice in her ears said: “Rest.”
She frowned. Rest would be welcome, but... She headed for the eating room and drank her fill, and then hit the latrine, blushing as she squatted over the floor toilet in plain sight to relieve herself.
Then she headed back to her stall. Two minutes later she was sprawled out, covered by a blanket and sound asleep, the light chain falling from the ring at the front of her control collar to the straw on which she rested.
The stable computer allowed her one sleep cycle, and noted that she woke rather than start a second. When she stood up and looked around, it watched for a minute to see what she would do before prompting her.
Her eyes lit on the pile of sweat-soaked tack. She sighed, unclipped the chain and took it and the cleaning tools into her stall. She reattached her chain and started cleaning.
Finally she was done. She put the tack neatly on the wall and went back to her stall to think.
This was, she thought, not at all what she had expected. Except for the exercise wheel, and even there she had expected one of the trainers to exercise her on a luge. On the other hand, what had he said? Act like a horse, work like a horse, be treated like a horse, but not a horse. So it did make some sense. Horses didn’t have hands, and she did, so they were going to take advantage of it. Horses were basically stupid so they’d take advantage of the fact that she wasn’t. Well, she laughed quietly to herself, she was here, which probably said something.
About then, one of the grooms came through and took a halter off the wall. He gestured in her direction so she came to the front of the stall and let him wrap it around her head. He led her out to an area where there were mats on the floor and low posts with rings between the mats. He stood her on one and looped the lead through the ring. Then he walked away.
She looked after him in puzzlement. Then a voice said in her ear: “Vertical stretch. Both feet on the mat, raise hands and stretch to rise on your toes.”
The voice seemed to have the patience of the truly dedicated, or more likely the patience of a computer. It led her through an exercise session.
Eventually it stopped just when she thought she was so wrung out that she couldn’t do another bend. It said: “End of session. Unhitch halter, go to next task.”
Next task? She asked herself as she removed the rope from the ring. What next task? She shrugged. Water, latrine, shower, sleep. If they wanted her to do something else, they could tell her.
Tell her they did, but they waited until she had rested. Then a stable hand came by and took her out with another ponygirl to practice whinnying, neighing, snorting, nuzzling, pawing with one of her hooves and other horse behaviors. Laughing, she suspected, wasn’t on the menu, but they probably did more of that than any of the other behaviors. As usual, she never noticed the sensations her control collar generated as it started to lay down the associations between what she was feeling and the various pony behaviors.
Finally the first day was over, and she gratefully snuggled up with her blankets on the straw and fell asleep.
She woke and fuzzily wondered where she was. She looked at the wooden walls on both sides, and suddenly remembered. She was in a ponygirl stall at Excelsior Stables and Kennels, and for some utterly insane reason she had actually asked to be here.
Well, she thought as she stood up, there didn’t seem to be anything to do but enjoy her two weeks as a full time ponygirl. She looked at the tangle of blankets on the straw, and then at the tack on the wall. Shrug. She folded the blankets neatly and stuck them in the corner, and then looked at the other stalls. Some of them still had sleeping ponygirls, a couple had girls standing and looking around.
Latrine, shower, breakfast, she thought to herself. She unclipped her chain and headed for the latrine.
An hour later she stood in her stall and wondered what to do next. Well, hadn’t the man, what was his name, said there was a meadow? With something else. An invisible fence, that was it. She put on her pony boots and went looking out the back.
There definitely was a meadow, and there were several ponies in it. There were also a couple of very odd looking something or others on four paws. One of them had a stiff tail, the other seemed to have fur and a cat’s tail. So. A puppy-girl and a kitty-girl? Apparently. She watched as the kitty-girl took off a front paw and threw a ball; the puppy-girl barked and bounded after it. Then she returned with it in her mouth and presented it to the kitty, who gravely took it and threw it. The puppy-girl bounded after it again.
Moonlight almost laughed at the scene.
She decided to do some exploring. She walked toward the fence, and suddenly felt some pressure on her throat. Another pace and it built up and became painful. She backed up hastily and tried somewhere else. Same result.
So that, she thought, was the invisible fence. She wasn’t going to be allowed close enough to the real fence to reach out and touch it.
About then the woman who had tattooed her the day before came around. “Yo Ho, Moonlight!” she called, swinging a halter. Moonlight looked at her, and trotted up, letting her put the halter around her head. She led the ponygirl through the stable to another of the rooms along the side. This one looked like a clinic. Moonlight almost panicked before she blacked out.
When she came to, she was lying on her side back in her stall. Her breasts ached abominably. She looked down and saw that they were heavily bandaged.
The rest of the day she felt quite a bit off, and the stable hands and trainers seemed to accept it; her exercise sessions were shorter and did not push her as much. She slept fitfully, but the next day the malaise seemed to lighten and finally vanish. The woman came around and removed the bandages; she couldn’t see any real difference in her D cup breasts. Possibly her nipples were a bit higher, maybe a bit less sag, but it was hard to tell.
When she moved, though, the difference was immediately obvious. Her breasts didn’t wobble. They quivered a bit, but they didn’t wobble at all. The quiver felt kind of like what she expected from a real snug sports bra, but without the tightness.
Two nights later she noticed another difference. The blankets felt too hot, and the outside air felt comfortable rather than a bit brisk.
That day they took her out in a chariot for the first time. She’d gotten an impression that she really ought to put her tack on and go somewhere. She looked around in puzzlement when the calm, emotionless voice in her ear said: “Put on tack. Go out front.”
So she put on her tack, carefully checking that all the buckles were properly tight and that it was positioned so it did not chafe, looped her reins over a shoulder and walked out the front. She saw one of the trainers standing by a chariot.
She shrugged mentally and trotted over to her. The trainer lifted the shafts and she backed in. A couple of minutes later the trainer had fastened and tightened the traces. She felt the familiar flick of the reins that told her to start moving; she settled into easily following the rein signals the way she had done for the last two years of part-time play.
After that, her days imperceptibly merged into each other. On one of her trips out to the meadow she discovered a stallion, and also discovered that she hadn’t been laid in way too long. She found she was almost terminally embarrassed at doing it in full view of the other ponies in the meadow, but the stallion didn’t seem to mind, and pretty soon she didn’t either.
She was introduced to a second exerciser. This one was also a post with an arm, but the arm was lower and sported a pair of shafts, and well as a mechanical gadget that held her reins. Like the first exerciser, the computer that supervised these sessions pushed her to her limits, but not beyond them.
She got the distinct impression that both her strength and stamina were improving much faster than she could reasonably expect.
One day a stable hand came in with new tack: four pony boots. She looked at them in puzzlement. Four?
They were similar to the boots that most of the other ponies wore. They were some black substance that wasn’t leather, rubber or anything else she was familiar with. The boots were tall enough to cover her knee and come part way up her thigh.
He patiently showed her how to put them on and take them off. They were fairly large and floppy so she could slide her foot into them. Then when you touched an ankle, they suddenly tightened from the ankle up, fitting snugly to her curves. They flexed with her muscles and the joint at the knee. A different touch on the ankle made them release so she could take them off.
The front hoof boots seemed to have some kind of stilt arrangement; her hands would only go part way down. There was a hidden release that it took her a while to master.
When she tried to walk in them, she got a major surprise: her body seemed to walk on all four hooves quite naturally.
The next day, she found a new set of tack on her part of the wall, and one of the stable hands showed her how to put it on and take it off. After that, they started exercising her on four hooves. She found that she quite liked it. When they finally put her on a chariot on all four hooves, she discovered that she could pull a heavier load.
Moonlight looked curiously across the meadow at two ponygirls that were sitting facing each other and wiggling their fingers. One of them suddenly giggled, and then the other one laughed. Whatever were they doing? She’d seen them before, and she still didn’t know.
She knew both of them were being kept permanently as ponygirls because they had manes. She didn’t know their names; names other than hers simply didn’t come through the earplugs and she had never been close enough to read their tattoos, nor seen them in their stalls so she could read the signs. She privately thought of one of them as Red, from the color of her mane, and the other as Jello, from the way her tits quivered when she walked.
A third pony walked up to her and sat down, holding up her hands. This was the one she called Pony Tail, from the way the girl habitually put up her hair. Moonlight frowned and the girl laughed. Then she carefully sketched some lines in the air and held up her fingers. Moonlight looked at her as she did it again, and then the pattern suddenly registered. She’d sketched the letter A! So the finger pattern had to be A?
She made the gesture back, and the girl made an exaggerated frown, and then did it again. This time Moonlight caught the differences, and managed to make the gesture so the girl smiled at her.
An hour or so later, she was sweating from the amount of concentration needed to make her hands do what her teacher wanted. She’d learned five simple words and maybe ten letters. It wasn’t, she thought as someone yelled and her teacher hastily got up and trotted to the stable, the letters themselves. It was making the sequence flow without making letters she didn’t want in the middle.
This was interesting! She decided she wanted to continue learning, even though she was going to go home with Terry in a few days.
Crystal watched the ponygirl trot out of the stable on all fours, look around curiously and then head toward her. Moonlight on Wheat was a fairly natural name, she thought, considering her complexion.
Moonlight wore her chariot tack, her reins neatly looped over one shoulder. The harness both was, and wasn’t, similar to how a horse would have been harnessed. This harness had three straps that circled her torso: one above her breasts, one below and one around her waist. A single strap connected the three, running from the first one all the way back, across her buttocks and then back up the other side. Thick shoulder straps held the first strap in place and connected to the second by cross straps both in front and in back. The arrangement distributed the stress so that the ponygirl only felt it on her shoulders when she was pulling, and on her buttocks when she had to stop the chariot or move backwards. Crystal nodded as she looked at the unexpectedly efficient arrangement.
Crystal wondered briefly why the ponygirl didn’t wear any other protective clothing against the brisk fall weather. She didn’t know about the DNA modifications, or about the insulating properties of the hoof boots or the heater built into the front hooves. The combination let Moonlight handle temperatures at least 40 degrees lower than expected.
Moonlight was fairly large as ponygirls went; her shoulder came up to Crystal’s ribs, and she could give Crystal’s breasts a bounce with her head when she butted her playfully. Crystal almost shoved her away, but instead let her fingers scratch the ponygirl behind the ears. Moonlight whinnied delightedly; it always surprised her how much meaning the girls could put into a sound that should have come from a horse.
The attendant only took a minute to harness her to the light chariot. Crystal got in and took the reins. She took up the slack, making sure she had the right amount of tension, and then released the brake. A quick flick of the reins, and they were off.
Moonlight, she thought, had a very nice trot. She didn’t let her legs interfere with each other. Her ass cheeks expanded and contracted with each stroke, and the small twist of her hips around her spine rippled down her tail beautifully. The twist of her shoulders in time to the movement of her front legs made a delightful counterpoint to the stillness of her head.
Altogether, a most beautiful and superbly trained animal. She wondered briefly what the ponygirl would think if she knew what she had going with her owner. She smiled evilly, and then turned her attention back to the winding forest path.
Anna, or rather Moonlight on Wheat, seemed to be doing quite well, Terry thought. After a month being trained as a full time ponygirl, she looked like she had adapted completely.
The ponygirl who now thought of herself as Silver Hair came trotting out of the stable on all fours and looked around for the chariot and whoever her passenger was. She hoped it was Hard Ass; while the woman definitely had a cruel streak she was also one of the few that treated her as something more than just one of the herd.
She spotted Terry, whinnied and broke into a gallop in his direction, almost knocking him over as she butted him in the stomach.
He scratched her behind the ears and then gave her a long, thoughtful inspection before backing her between the shafts of the chariot and fastening the traces. He shook out the reins and she started down one of the paths, giving him one of the smoothest starts he could remember from any ponygirl.
The way her ass cheeks moved was more than vaguely erotic; he could feel himself beginning to react somewhat. The reports indicated she’d taken to the role of hot little slut with a passion. Well, the minx had been his wife for several years, and they were still legally married. He ought to know that her sexual appetite resembled a mink’s. That was one of the things he most liked about her.
After a half hour they arrived at a secluded little nook on the property. He’d reserved it for the afternoon when he’d reserved Moonlight. The office staff undoubtedly thought he was planning on screwing her silly. They were only partly right; sex wasn’t the most important item on the agenda, although it was second, and there wasn’t a third.
Her favorite vibrator had definitely done the trick of wearing her out before he was completely wasted. He hadn’t thought she could get more sexy, but apparently being a ponygirl had released inhibitions he hadn’t known she had.
He took a quick dip under the little waterfall to wake up and get ready for the next part. By the time he got back, she was back on all four hooves and, he would have sworn, looking for more. He shook his head ruefully.
Most things had solutions if you were creative enough, he mused as he flipped open his organizer and tapped in a message. Then he showed it to her.
She got a surprised look on her face, and then playfully butted him in the stomach again as she whinnied.
He held out the organizer and gestured at her right hoof. She shrugged daintily and slid her hands out, taking the organizer and putting in a message.
His message had said: “I’m sorry I wasn’t able to come get you at the end of the two weeks; things got so busy at the office I was living out of my suitcase on three different continents. I barely had time to send Excelsior a check so they didn’t sell you.”
She’d answered: “I’ve been having fun. It was a rough start, but for the last couple of weeks I really haven’t thought of anything outside. I think Hard Ass wants to buy me, but I’m not sure.”
“I don’t know her name; she’s driven me several times. She’s about, oh, 5’6”, brunette in a bob, very precise dresser.”
That might be Crystal, he thought.
“Just as well I sent in the payment, unless you want me to sell you to her?”
“No Way! She’s a fun ride as a rental, nice firm hand on the reins and really makes me extend myself, but as an owner? She’s got a cruel streak that would sour things right away.”
“It sounds like you like being a ponygirl full time.”
“Oh, I do. Weekends just don’t let me get into it.”
“So do you want to stay as a ponygirl?”
She paused a while, thinking of what she wanted to write. “I’m not sure. I know I really don’t want to come out right now, though.”
This time Terry had to think.
“Well, you’d better make up your mind. I’ve got a break for a few days from the current emergency, but I’ll be all over the place for the next month or two before it’s settled. After that? I’ll probably be home more, and I want a wife. If you want to be a ponygirl, I’ll divorce you and look for another wife.”
Silver Hair took the screen and looked at the message thoughtfully.
“The contract machine did say that was a provision, didn’t it?” she said thoughtfully. “I presume it’s legal.”
“A slave contract is grounds for a unilateral divorce,” he answered. “It’s not automatic on signing the contract. Objecting terminates the contract, but she doesn’t have to be produced so she can be asked.”
“It sounds like I’ve got a month to make up my mind,” she finally typed in. “How long does it take to install the riding mods?”
“The install is fairly quick, but it’s about three months before you can start training, and then another three for training.” He paused in thought. “Tell you what. If you want, I’ll have them do the installation, but I’m not going to wait six months for you to come home to your wifely duties. If you want to be fully trained as a riding ponygirl, I’m going to divorce you, and you’ll stay a ponygirl for the rest of your life.”
She looked at the message and then giggled. “Well, I always knew you were decisive. Ask me again when the globe trotting lets up; I don’t really want to be alone in that house while you’re gallivanting all over the place without me.”
“OK.” He showed her the message without handing her the pad, and then snapped the cover closed. She slipped her hands back into the front hooves. Ten minutes later she was pulling the chariot down the path at a brisk trot, exactly as if nothing had happened.
Terry Winters looked at the auditor’s report and frowned. The discrepancy wasn’t all that large, and it probably had a perfectly mundane explanation in some screwup or other, but it shouldn’t have existed. What bothered him most was that the authorization seemed to have come from his office, and he not only didn’t remember approving it, it was something that he wouldn’t have approved, at least without enough additional justification that he would remember it. And he didn’t.
He looked at the ceiling and thought about who. Some executives would have looked into details, but Terry had learned through bitter experience that if one had competent workers, it was always a question of who, not what. He’d made sure his subordinates were competent; they were the usual mix of personalities ranging from the dedicated company men to several climbers that were out for themselves. Those were some of the most effective as long as you knew what turned them on and watched your back. And his back seemed to be developing a definite itch.
He mentally reviewed the climbers and settled on one as the most likely suspect. And if that was the person, then he had a pretty good idea of what they were up to.
“Jim,” he said to the voice on the other end of the phone, “I got this discrepancy report from one of your auditors.”
He listened a moment. “Oh, no, I think it’s quite real and he might have stumbled on something fairly big.” He listened again.
“Not at all. That’s why we do random audits; there’s no way you can game the dice.”
He listened a moment. “Now here’s what I think might be going on. If so, you might want to look at these accounts. Oh, and give the relationship with Stornath Engineering a good check; they’ve got a tendency to sit on discrepancies instead of screaming at the first quiver.”
“Oh sure, not a problem. That’s your department’s job, after all.”
“I haven’t heard much about the investigation,” Terry said to Jim on the phone.
“Well, we wanted to keep you out of the loop,” Jim replied a bit apologetically. “You understand how it is.”
“Of course. I take it you found the culprit?”
“Right. It’s surprising how many people don’t understand IT department backup policies.”
Terry laughed. “Destroying records is so simple on the telly, isn’t it?”
Jim chuckled in response. “I’m not sure whether it makes our job easier, or it’s a temptation to people that otherwise would stay on the straight and narrow.”
“Well, that’s something that can be discussed over a beer. So what’s happening?”
“It’s up to legal, and they’re going to turn it over to the prosecutors tomorrow. As far as our investigation can tell, she has no idea her little scam has broken.”
“Well, not so little. We think we can recover most of it, fortunately, but it’s still in the multiple class 1 felony range. And we think there are some other things the prosecutor will be interested in, although they don’t involve us.”
“Oh?” he asked, interested. Then he listened for a while.
“Keep me in mind if the company decides to put her up for sale,” he said.
“Oh, we will. That scenario makes such a fascinating example.”
“Even more fascinating if I buy DeDe as well.”
“So it will.” The voice on the other end of the communicator sounded amused.
The ponygirl who now thought of herself as Silver Mane slowly walked along, the unfamiliar weight on her back pressing down but not really bothering her. It seemed like her body had settled naturally into a new pattern once the woman had gotten into the saddle. It still took a lot of attention to her balance; she didn’t want to tip over and with a rider her center of balance seemed to be quite a bit higher than she was used to.
The touch of the feminine hand on her back startled her, but she recovered nicely. She liked the feeling of the smoothness stroking her back next to her mane.
Her mane. She still wasn’t sure if she liked the sound of that. One day Terry had come, taken her out in the chariot, and used the little organizer to ask her if she was ready to come home. She’d said: “not yet,” idly hoping that he’d try to convince her. He’d dropped the subject and then used her, leaving her panting after a major orgasm.
A few days later the hair on most of her head had started falling out, to be replaced by a thick white coat that nicely outlined her skull. What was left was a wide strip from her brow all the way back; it seemed that it was going to continue growing under her collar and would continue on down to below her shoulder blades.
At the same time they’d removed the plastic insert from her tailbone that she used to attach her tail. She realized it was to allow her to grow a real tail about the same time her hair fell out. She wondered what Terry was up to.
It took her another few days before she realized that his question was the only one he would ever ask; as far as he was concerned, she had made the last decision she would ever make, at least as a free woman. She was now fully his ponygirl. He’d probably filed the divorce papers as soon as he got back.
A month later her trainers had put a strange harness on her, with a heavy pack, and put her back on the conditioning wheel. She’d staggered under the load for a while before her body shifted into a new balance; then she began to rebuild her strength and stamina.
A couple of weeks after that one of the smaller trainers put a harness on her that contained a saddle, and taught her how to help a rider mount, or at least not fall over when one mounted.
The saddle tack was quite different from the tack she wore in four footed mode. It had the same top arrangement to distribute the load to her shoulders, but it included a heavy waist band that let her lean forward to balance her rider and put their combined center of gravity straight above her hips. The waistband itself was of the same miracle fabric as her boots, and had the same insulation and heat properties.
Today was definitely brisk as fall tended toward winter, and she wore what she thought of as her sweater under the harness. This was a pullover with a deep notch in back for her mane and cutouts for her breasts. It was more of a leotard: while most of it ended at her hips, it had a built-in thong designed so it didn’t interfere with emptying her bladder.
It was made of the same fabric as her boots, and had the same regulating properties. It also changed color to match her complexion; from a distance it wasn’t at all obvious that she was wearing anything.
A cross-arm binder completed the outfit. It held her arms crossed behind her back, just out of the way of her rider, and served to keep them both warm and useless. Like the front boots, it had a release switch where her fingers could get to it, and it had a wrist cuff and pulley arrangement so that she could, with difficulty, put it on herself.
She had one other garment that her trainer had her practice with, but which she wouldn’t wear regularly until the depth of winter. It was also a pullover, but it completely covered her torso except for small cutouts where her breast rings peeked through and grommets for her bladder and anus. It had arms and legs that fit into her boots, and a neat arrangement so that the power cells in her front hooves could warm the entire garment if necessary. The power cells weren’t part of either the riding or the two legged pulling arrangement, but the coverall actually handled almost all conditions, and nobody in their right minds would be out riding in that kind of weather. Working to clear snow, yes, but riding? Not for pleasure.
She also had a face mask that fit into the outfit. It was held on by her bridle so it didn’t have to cover her entire head; the pelt of thick horsehair that covered where people had hair was perfectly adequate insulation and it let her mane free in the wind.
It took a couple of weeks for her to adjust to the new configuration so that she could move confidently with a rider in her saddle. Then a new woman showed up, one she hadn’t seen before, and started to ride her.
This rider was a nicely built brunette, about 5’4” and probably not much more than a hundred pounds. She’d been carrying a bit more than that in the exercise sessions. The most striking thing about her was her air of serene confidence; she was a woman who didn’t seem to be easily flustered and who knew her own mind. Moonlight immediately liked her. None of the other ponies seemed to know her, so Moonlight named her Serenity.
Serenity showed up every few days, in no discernible pattern. She always practiced riding a little, although sometimes she took Moonlight out in a chariot. She had a firm hand on the reins, a cheerful word and usually a sugar cube for her ponygirl.
Then one day the penny dropped. She’d been called to come out with her chariot harness, so when she trotted out she was hoping to see Terry; Serenity usually rode her before taking a chariot ride.
Her collar nudged her toward one of the chariots with two people standing there. Her eyes widened in surprise and she whinnied: it was both Terry and Serenity, standing by a two person chariot.
She dutifully backed between the shafts and stood wondering what was going on as Serenity harnessed her, caressing her as usual in the process. Then she felt both of them get into the chariot. She thought Serenity was holding the reins; her touch was a bit more graceful than Terry’s.
They stopped in the same little grotto that Terry had first asked her whether she wanted to continue being a ponygirl. This time Serenity watered her before tying her reins to a tree so she could watch the two of them eat a companionable picnic. After they cleaned up, they made love, Terry making Serenity squeal in a most unserene manner.
They washed up and then drove their very horny and unsatisfied ponygirl back to the stable. Serenity unhitched Moonlight and stroked her before offering her a sugar cube. Silver Mane looked at it and knew this was the defining moment. She shrugged mentally; Anna was gone, and this only made it official. She delicately swept the sweet into her mouth, making sure to caress her new mistress’ hand with her tongue in the process. Serenity hugged her, saying something that she couldn’t understand. All she knew was that Serenity was happy with her, and that made her happy. She whickered before turning to the stable and trotting back, hoping one of the stallions was available and interested.
Terry was definitely a fast worker, she thought. It was only four months since he had asked her if she wanted to come home, and she had inadvertently severed their marital relationship by saying: “not yet.” For a while she’d lost track of time, but she’d begun to keep track of the days after she learned the finger language.
The ponygirls kept their own calendar, more for their amusement than from any real need. None of them knew what the date was outside, and they had decided that they really didn’t care.
One of them had come up with a really bizarre system. Silver Mane had thought it was too complex for words, until she had realized that it made it simply impossible to lose a day. She might forget what happened on a day; she did that quite frequently since most days didn’t have anything worth remembering, but they couldn’t forget the day itself.
There was a cycle of five, and a cycle of twelve, and the position of the Moon and whatever planets happened to be visible in the heavens after sundown. And there was a memory code so that, once learned, it was almost impossible to forget the associations.
So Moonlight on Wheat has settled in to being a ponygirl, completely unaware of most of what’s going on outside. All she really knows is she’s now full time; she’s no longer Terry’s wife. Meanwhile, one of the plotters is about to get her comeuppance in the next exciting episode of Betrayed!
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