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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.
Now on to the story...
The date is sometime around 2400, and Jenny Jackson is ready to graduate from high school. She discovers, contrary to every reasonable expectation, that she is not picked as a wife, nor is she going to college. Instead, she’s been routed to a job as a collared worker in Reliable’s ponygirl manufacturing process. She finds out that manufacturing only looks simple; it’s anything but.
“Well, that’s the talk. Now let’s walk over and look at one that’s just about ready to be sent to stage 3. This is Moonshine, she’s got just the most awesome silver mane.”
Moonshine sat in the back of her cage, legs spread so that they came back parallel to the walls, hands resting palm up on her thighs.
“How’s she look?”
Jenny’s brow furrowed. “Kind of content?”
“Exactly. She’s been here for six weeks, we’ll be sending her on in another two. The mental conditioning has gotten to the point where she just sits here and glows when she doesn’t have anything to do. We don’t have either her arms or her ankles shackled. We do that at the beginning, but she’s far enough into the process that it isn’t necessary.
“She doesn’t understand what anyone says around her; that process finished up about two weeks ago, and she quit being concerned about it a week ago. That’s pretty much on schedule.”
“If she doesn’t understand?”
“She reacts to commands. She doesn’t understand them, she simply reacts to them.”
“How can you react to something without understanding it?”
“It’s one of the early adjustments. You’ll find out how it works when your programming gets that far.” The trace of malice showed up in her smile.
“I suppose so. But...”
“It can’t be that simple. She’s trained to stay in that state. I can’t stay in that state and be at all useful.”
“Exactly. You know that the brain has over a hundred processing units and more than ten times as many connections?”
Jenny frowned slightly. “We learned that in school.”
“We call the way your brain works a functional pattern. Most people have only one, what we call their normal functional pattern. We install a second one for ponygirls and engines that we call the ponygirl functional pattern. It doesn’t include the processing units for language or a lot of the higher functions. They’re trained in it, and then they’re conditioned to not slide out of it into their old functional pattern. With me so far?”
“What we do for our workers is create a third functional pattern. It’s the same as the ponygirl pattern plus some additional processing units and interconnections that let her know who she is and what she’s about in a larger context. It doesn’t include language. We call it the interface functional pattern.
“There’s also a fourth functional pattern that we call the engine mount pattern. It’s cut to the bare bones of what an engine needs when she’s installed to run her body and do her job. It doesn’t include such basic things as memory; she won’t remember anything that happens from the time the hood goes on to when it comes off, including any sense that time passed.”
“No memory at all?”
“Depends on what you call memory. Some things get stored, but they’re nothing she can access consciously. As far as she’s concerned, she knows she’s about to be mounted, and then she knows she’s been dismounted and that things have changed. She might be in the same place, she might be halfway across the country. Part of engine training is to adapt to that happening.
“We also train in ways of shifting from one pattern to the other. The rules are a bit intricate; some of them are under your control and some aren’t.
“We’ll make a couple of changes to your normal pattern. One will keep you from getting addicted to the ponygirl state, the other will let you use some of the more useful things that emerge from the ponygirl state that aren’t usually available in people’s normal state. Still with me?”
“I think so.”
“Let’s get her up here. Slide the front back and tell her to kneel.”
Jenny studied the controls for a moment. “This one?”
She pushed it and was rewarded by a section of the top lifting slightly and sliding back. Moonshine’s eyes followed the movement, but the rest of her relaxed posture didn’t change in the slightest.
Moonshine bent forward and then came up on her knees like a hinge, her head popping through the top of the cage. The top slid forward, capturing her neck in a hole that was too small for the rest of her head.
“You know what they did to her in stage 1 processing?”
Jenny looked at Moonshine. “Well, the mane, the brain scanner, the jaw units, the tail and the leggings. Oh, and the gene mods. I think that’s all; the throat unit and the ID tattoo were applied just after she was collared.”
“Right. How does that compare to what they did to you?”
“I got the brain scanner and the gene mods. They also did a socket for the tail prosthesis.”
“Right again. You know how the throat and jaw unit work?”
“The jaw unit freezes her mouth in position,” Jenny said. “Beyond that? I always assumed it was to keep her from talking. Then on the way over Helen told me the throat unit did that.”
“That’s right. The throat unit has a tube down her windpipe that keeps the larynx from vibrating, and it also forces her to breath through her nose. She can’t breath through her mouth except in an emergency. If she could, she’d be able to manage a decent number of clicks and unvoiced phonemes with just her tongue. Without the breath she can only do clicks. I’ve heard there were some languages that were completely clicks, hard as it is to believe.
“That’s assuming she actually wanted to talk, which she doesn’t.”
“Oh. Talking is not part of the, what did you call it, the ponygirl functional pattern.”
“Right. The throat unit also has a pipe to her stomach. She doesn’t need to swallow; nutrients go right in. The throat unit is easy enough to install, but the jaw holder is major surgery; they take all of the teeth out and insert the holding rods right into the jaw. Letting that heal properly is what takes most of the time in stage one.
“The real reason for the jaw unit is that it distorts her face so that her expressions don’t register normally for most people. It helps make her look like an animal rather than a human. It also lets us use standardized bits that just snap in, and it’s sized so that she can suck cock if her owner wants her to.
“That’s the list.”
Daphne grinned, “I timed it just right. Here comes the servicer.”
Jenny turned and saw a machine roll up. It rolled to the front of Moonshine’s cage and grabbed the mesh with a couple of hooks. Then something darted out of the top and went between her lips. It came out with the cover from her jaw block.
Something that looked like a big penis emerged, and Moonshine bent her head forward to where her tongue could flick out and begin caressing it.
At the same time, a section lower down sucked her breasts into itself, and still farther down another section slid between her legs and nestled in the crack.
“That’s what being serviced is?” Jenny asked, fascinated. “We never did that with Speedy.”
“A fully trained ponygirl should be able to take care of herself. She has to puree foods before she injects nutrients because she can’t use her teeth or swallow, but that’s it. Why do you think we do it this way?”
“It’s more efficient?”
“That’s part of it. Part of it’s control, and part of it’s sexual programming. She’s being trained to mix up all the associations. By now, sucking cock is associated with eating and relieving herself and having her breasts and vagina stimulated. Some owners are going to want use their ponygirl sexually, so we get it out of the way up front. We keep the stimulation just below where she has an orgasm until right at the end.”
Moonshine kept licking at the cock while her two minders talked. It stiffened to where she could take it into her mouth. She sucked on it a while, a blissful look on her face.
“Once she’s got it stiff and has it in her mouth, it locks onto the throat unit so it can shoot the nutrients down the tube into her stomach.”
A few minutes later she began to breathe rapidly and then gasped, letting the flaccid cock fall out of her mouth. The device released her breasts and withdrew from her crotch. The little arm came back with the gag cover, slid it in under her partly open lips and installed it with a slightly audible click.
The top lifted back, freeing her neck. “Sit”, the servicer commanded. Moonshine folded back and then sat with a slight thump as the servicer wheeled away and the top slid back on her cage.
“How does she look?” Daphne asked.
“Smug,” Jenny answered.
“She’s got every right to be; the servicer makes sure she gets an orgasm each time she’s serviced.”
“Now here,” Daphne said, stopping in front of cage 96, “is one of our most recent acquisitions. We got her two days ago, and she’s still adjusting.”
“That’s, um, Carol?” Jenny asked.
“You know her?”
“She disappeared a couple of months ago.”
“The dossier said she was a wild girl. They picked her up on a sweep last week, and here she is.”
“Well, she had some fun anyway. I always thought she was headed for the bridle and bit.” Jenny shrugged. “She was pretty nice if a bit slow. Speedy seemed to enjoy what she does, Carol should too.”
The girl who was trying to ooze through the back of the cage made a muffled gargle.
“Hey, cheer up,” Jenny called in. “I know you’re going to do well.”
Daphne giggled at the byplay. “I’m going to give her to you to practice on.”
“Great!” Jenny exclaimed as the girl in the cage tried to shrink back even farther.
“I want to look you over,” she said as she inspected the cage controls. She pressed a button. “Kneel!”
Carol looked at her with wide eyes, but didn’t budge.
“Use the red button,” Daphne suggested.
“Oh.” Carol snorted and jerked forward as if her ass had suddenly caught on fire. She managed to get her head through the hole. The cage top slid forward, pinning her upright.
“That’s a good girl,” Jenny purred as she stroked her ex-classmate’s mane. “The sides are nice and straight. Why isn’t the rest of it that thick coat Speedy and Moonshine have?”
“It’s too soon,” Daphne answered. “They only did the treatment a few days ago; the hair follicles need time to adjust before they create the coat.”
“Same for her legs, I suppose,” Jenny said.
“Right. You can feel the stubble where it’s going to come in. Feel her back along the spine between the shoulder blades.”
“Got it,” Jenny said as she reached into the cage and ran a hand down Carol’s spine. Carol tried to flinch away, but only succeeded in pressing her front more firmly into the bars. “Nice spiky stubble.”
“Now Carol,” Jenny crooned as she stroked the ponygirl along the jaw and behind her ear. “You know you’re a ponygirl, so just relax and let us teach you how to flaunt your mane and tail.”
Carol looked briefly at the ceiling and sighed, her breath making almost no noise. She relaxed slightly, leaning into the hand that caressed her jawline.
“Good girl!” Jenny praised her.
Carol sighed again and then tilted her head back to give Jenny a better angle.
“It’s time for her next rein training session,” Daphne said, suddenly jerking Jenny out of the sensuous feel of her fingers digging into the ponygirl’s jaw.
“What is that ... thing?” Jenny asked as she saw ... something ... hanging from the ceiling and heading toward them.
“The robot exerciser,” Daphne said. “Move back a few feet.”
Jenny didn’t need any prompting. Once her heart seemed to shift out of overdrive, she looked at it a bit closer. Whatever it was seemed to be standing on the ceiling. At least, it had four wheels that were firmly planted there, holding the center column vertical. She realized that there was a small shaft that went through the ceiling. Now that she looked, it seemed to be on a track; the slot in the ceiling went up and down the corridor and vanished into the distance.
The rest of the monster seemed to be all hooks, shafts, straps and other things that ought to be safely on the other side of a 3-V epic, or at least in the back rooms of a sex shop. Carol, she noticed out of the corner of her eye, simply looked scared.
It stopped in front of the cage. “Sit”, a voice commanded. Carol noticed that her head was no longer held in place and shrank back into the cage with enthusiasm, attempting rather unsuccessfully to bond with the far wall.
The front of the cage slid up, and then the bottom slid out, serving Carol as if she was on a tray. The thing extended a rod with something on the end and clamped onto Carol’s collar. The shackles that held her ankles cuffed to the platform unsnapped. “Up!” it commanded. Carol didn’t move. It pulled up and the ponygirl stumbled to her feet.
“It’s our turn now,” Daphne almost giggled at the scene. “Put on the headstall. You know that’s the part of the bridle without the bit, right?”
“Yes,” Jenny said as she found the assemblage of straps on the shelf.
“Calm down,” she told the scared ponygirl. “It’s not going to kill you.” She held out the headstall and deftly buckled it around the head in front of her.
“Blindfold next, and then the bit and reins.”
“OK.” Jenny added the two pieces, and noticed that Carol seemed to calm down as soon as she couldn’t see. She ran a gentle hand down the ponygirl’s back and flanks twice to finish calming her.
“Now the reins go here,” Daphne instructed, pointing out two levers that sprouted from the side of the central column. Jenny attached them.
Jenny managed to get the ponygirl’s boots onto her feet without getting trampled in the process, while Daphne stood to the side, giggling.
“Now the last piece. This wire connects to her collar.”
Jenny looked at the end and the collar, and then snapped it in.
“All set,” Daphne said once the wire was connected to her satisfaction, and pushed a button on the column. The two levers twitched, shaking the reins. “March. Knees up,” the robot’s voice said as it followed the blindfolded ponygirl down the corridor toward the far side.
Jenny shook her head. “Now that is something else.”
“It sure is. It takes a bit to learn everything it can do. Let’s switch the view.” She touched a button and the two viewers in the back wall of the cage shifted to show what looked like pandemonium.
The scene sorted itself out into a number of ponygirls walking and trotting around a large room, each tethered to one of the robots. Most of the ponygirls were blindfolded. Some of them, like Carol, were held just by their reins. More of them were locked into hip harnesses which were firmly attached to shafts that jutted out of the robots hanging from the ceiling.
The scene, thought Jenny, looked like unbridled chaos. Well, she giggled, bridled chaos. “Why don’t they bump into each other?”
“There’s a routing computer,” Daphne said. “It doesn’t have to work all that far ahead; they’ve got to learn to respond to the reins doing sudden starts, stops and turns anyway. The scheduler is random; there’s no way they can predict what they’re going to be instructed to do next. The blindfolds keep them from getting scared and panicking. We take them off when they’ve absorbed the rein signals unconsciously. That lets us make sure they keep obeying the reins rather than try to figure out where to go.”
Jenny studied the scene in front of her. Carol, she thought, looked like she was getting into it. Her robot had her walking, legs pumping up and down rhythmically in the classic ponygirl high step.
“Let’s look at her brain scan.” Daphne touched a button and one of the 3-V monitors switched to what looked like a confusing mass of colored lines that flashed on and off disconcertingly.
“How’s that work?”
“That’s the brain scanner I mentioned. Looks like a mess, right?”
“Horrible mess,” Jenny agreed.
“Not quite that bad.” She touched a couple more buttons and most of the colors vanished, to be replaced by green, red and gray.
“Green is a signal that the activity is where it’s supposed to be, red is one that’s in the wrong place. Grey is parts that aren’t active at the moment. There, see that?”
A piece had just flashed red, and she had stumbled.
“The robot signaled for a turn, and it leaked into her awareness. She got confused.”
She paused a moment and flipped through a couple more screens, coming back to the brain scan. “That’s today’s lesson. Remember one thing: we never tell them what they’re supposed to learn. It doesn’t matter how well or poorly they did, they always did well. Your job is to build up her unconscious image that she’s a really good ponygirl. The more you build it up, the happier she’ll be and the better she’ll turn out. That’s the difference between her and Moonshine right now. Moonshine thoroughly enjoys being what she is, and by now she can’t conceive of being different. That ability has been conditioned out of her.”
She thought a moment, and then switched the views back to the inside of the now-empty cage.
“She won’t be back for close to an hour, so you’ve got time to start learning your next task, which is how to provision the servicing machines. They have to be cleaned and provisioned every four uses, and that means what?”
“Um.” Jenny thought a minute. “You said 20 ponygirls four times a day, so that would be 20 reprovisions a day?”
“Got it. We’ve got four servicers waiting. Take a quick break and then I’ll show you how to do one. After that, Carol should be ready to be unharnessed and put back in her cage, so you’ll do that and then we’ll do the rest of the servicers. That’ll be your job until you qualify at level 2. That and Carol, of course.”
Daphne laughed. “We’re not particularly modest. Just snap it in and let your wastes drain out.” She demonstrated by standing in front of a spot of wall that had a flexible tube coming out of it. She lifted her tunic skirt and snapped the end of the tube into the space between her legs and then stood quiet for a minute. Then she unsnapped the tube.
Jenny blushed and then shrugged. It was, after all, the same way she’d been emptying her wastes since her catheter valve and chastity shield had been installed.
Jenny’s managed to harness her old schoolmate to the robot trainer without throwing a fit. So what’s she going to have to do to Carol next? Continue on to the next exciting episode of Ponygirl Minder to find out.
If you enjoyed this story, please e-mail the author and let him know. He likes to hear from his loyal fans, and it gives him some motivation to keep writing this stuff. Of course, if you're a publisher and you'd like to buy some of these stories, please let him know. The starving author in the garret makes a great story, but it sucks in real life.