By Xaltatun of Acheron

This work is copyright 2000-2004 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 fifteen stories in the series entitled “Ponygirl Transformation.” At this point, I have no intention of writing additional stories in this series, although I thought that before Engineer burst on the scene. The stories are listed in order of the series timeline, although there are a few overlaps and several continuing characters. The first three set necessary background, the next three cover one formative event from three different viewpoints.

1. Ponygirl Finds Her Place

2. Kinder and Gentler

3. The Sorceress’ Apprentice

4. Raw Material

5. Ponygirl by Choice

6. The Politics of Ponygirls

7. Ponygirls on Vacation

8. Bluebird Grows Up

9. Unregistered Ponygirls

10. Kidnapper

11. Suzie’s Ponygirl

12. Driver

13. Engineer (in preparation)

14. PonyGIRL?

15. Segue to Freehold (in preparation)

Acknowledgements. The setting and several of the characters are taken from a series of books by Sir Thomas (A pseudonym). “Adventures on the Hoof” and “Ponygirls, Inc” are both copyright by the Academy Club. Used by permission of Sir Thomas. These works are commercially available, and should not be on any web site on the internet, except for a short excerpt on Sir Jeff’s ponygirl web site.

Some of the characters and settings have been changed, either due to the different legal environment in the United States, my partially successful attempt to make the setting more consistent, and in one case a simple error of memory that got woven into the plot too deeply to back out by the time I discovered it.

In no case should you infer anything about the prior stories from this one. Sir Thomas has substantially different objectives for his stories.

There are a number of hidden references throughout to obscure (and some not so obscure) science fiction and fantasy stories. This is a game that some authors play. Should you care to look, have fun finding them.


Now on to the story...


Table of Contents



Chapter 1. What do you do with a Genius?

Chapter 2. First Trip Outside.

Chapter 3. First Training Episode.

Chapter 4. Loose Lips and all that.

Chapter 5. Susi becomes a ponygirl.

Chapter 6. Auction.

Chapter 7. Leslie and Linnet Meet Team 146.

Chapter 8. Linnet Learns Her New Duties.

Chapter 9. Diana Meets her Ponygirl.

Chapter 10. Excessive Enthusiasm Gets Its Just Rewards.

Chapter 11. The Best Plans are Laid.

Chapter 12. College Interviews.

Chapter 13. Larry and Linnet Meet a BDSM Society.

Chapter 14. How did a String of Sex Workers get into Here?

Chapter 15. Amanda and Connie face a hard choice.

Chapter 16. Official interest.

Chapter 17. Amanda and Connie start training.

Chapter 18. A Ride in the Forest.

Chapter 19. Alice tries to salvage Connie.

Chapter 20. Mistress Melanie’s Stable.

Chapter 21. Space Aliens? Huh, What?

Chapter 22. Pilot Project.

Chapter 23. Amanda starts improvising.

Chapter 24. More School Daze.

Chapter 25. Linnet Closes a Chapter.

Chapter 26. Boris Badinov and the Space Aliens.

Chapter 27. More Planning

Chapter 28. Recruiting an Academic.

Chapter 29. Linnet Gets Her Reward.

Chapter 30. Amanda’s Ponygirl Stable

Chapter 31. Connie flames out.

Epilog. Another Ride in the Forest.



What has gone before.


In the first new Arizona Community story from my pen in over three years, Larry Thompson is assigned to go out to Engineering school. We discover in short order that one of the soon to graduate ponygirls, Linnet, has the same psi powers as Alice, so she’s assigned to Larry, and Larry has to learn how to care for a ponygirl, in addition to his already heavy study load preparing for engineering school. He starts training with Raindance, and then his older sister, Suzi, puts her foot into it. We get to see Suzi “volunteer” to start her two years as a community trainee ponygirl, and then see Larry put a new ponygirl through orientation. Time passes, and Linnet finishes the second part of her training, and is ready to be sold – or so she thinks.

Larry and his mother discover an odd situation at the auction where they are to pick up Linnet, and they wind up with a community trainee for his sister, Diana. They get the two ’girls situated in their cells with their training team. Linnet learns that she’s going to be working closely with Larry on his project, and Diana gets some practice in hitching a ponygirl to a chariot and driving her. The perpetrator of the odd situation gets her comeuppance.

Larry does his interviews for engineering school. His possession of a ponygirl gets him an apartment with the rest of the sexual oddballs, not that he’s complaining about not having to spend the first year in the dorms with the rest of the freshmen!


Chapter 13. Larry and Linnet Meet a BDSM Society.


The girl in the brief black and white diagonally striped tunic slowed to a stop to a scattering of applause from the small crowd gathered in the brightly lit underground recreation room. Larry looked around. She was supposed to be demonstrating neo-Gorean erotic dance, and from the reactions on many of the male’s faces, he supposed that the neo-Goreans weren’t in any danger of extinction. On the other hand, he remembered two of the girls in his sex ed class that had investigated the subject as part of a project on foreplay. Those two should have been licensed as lethal weapons! The only time he ever remembered them finishing a demonstration without starting an orgy was when the audience was tied down. That experience should have been classified as torture.

Larry squeezed Linnet’s shoulder as he got up from the folding chair, and looked around in feigned bewilderment. “Now where did that ponygirl trot off to?” he said in a stage whisper that carried to the rest of the room. Everyone’s head turned to where Linnet had been sitting on her heels for the past hour. She was, indeed missing. When they looked back, Larry was staring at a top hat that had appeared in the center of the circle, apparently suspended in midair. “Can’t have a magic show without a top hat!” he said brightly, grabbing it by the brim and pulling. After a moment of mime, he clapped it on his head, and then took it off again with a grimace. He reached in and pulled out a purple plush stuffed rabbit by the ears.

“Get lost!” he told the unfortunate bunny. “This is the wrong show!” He shoved it back down into the hat and slammed the hat back on his head.

“Where is that pony?” he asked again. “Oh, right!” He clapped a hand to his head. “I’m missing my magic wand!” He gestured, and a long, white wand appeared in mid-air. He grabbed it, spun it around a couple of times and then held it out.

“I’ll bet you thought I was talking about my other magic wand,” he said in that same stage whisper.

He stepped back, held the wand out and intoned: “Valhalla wixib wmoeciv shazoom!” A bright flash and a cloud of smoke appeared in the circle. It cleared to show Linnet neatly pinned to a pole in the center of a square platform.

“Look,” he stepped back, hands on hips, “I said ponygirl, not puppygirl!” He pointed the wand at her and began raising it very slowly. Suddenly, the huge padlocks that secured her ankles to the edge of the platform sprang open, followed by the bolt on the headrest flying out a couple of feet, stopping in midair and then falling with a clatter. Linnet brought her right foot forward, knee out, and then rose, apparently dragged up by the wand. As she rose to her feet, the clips holding her hands and elbows unlatched with a clatter, and she threw them upward in a victory gesture.

“Better,” Larry said, apparently mollified. “You were supposed to be saddled!”

Linnet spun around to glare at him, hands on her hips, and then gestured at the platform. Another puff of smoke burst into the air. It cleared to show a saddle. She bent over, bringing her elbows and arms behind her back to the sound of locks clicking shut. Then the saddle rose into the air and placed itself in the small of her back. The straps waved briefly before buckling themselves.

“Now, that’s what I wanted in the first place!” Larry declaimed. “Magic!” he added in a disgusted aside. “Never get it right the first time.”

He put his foot in the left stirrup and swung into the saddle, Linnet swaying to keep her balance. “Hy-yo Gold!” he waved his hat as Linnet trotted out of the circle and navigated around the room to a thunder of hooves. They came back into the center, and he dismounted with a flourish.

“Ladeeez and Gentlemen,” he bowed, “what am I bid for the opportunity to ride this wondrous beast of burden, the fabulous Pony-Girl! An Arm, A Leg, A Lien on your first-born daughter perhaps?” The tip of Linnet’s tail came up and described a lazy circle near one ear.

“Nah,” he said in an aside. “I’ve already got all the arms and legs I need. The lien on daughters, though…”

“How’d you like a ride?” he picked a rather obvious domina out of the circle by her outfit. “Linnet isn’t going to bite, not with that bit in her mouth!”

“Might be more fun if she did,” the lady in question laughed. “Why not?” She got up and gingerly put her foot in the stirrup. Then she swung her leg over and sat down. “Nice saddle; now what?”

“Just squeeze your thighs a bit,” he instructed. She did, and Linnet walked forward, being careful not to jolt her rider. After that, the meeting broke up with most of the attendees wanting a ride.

“She’s indentured, isn’t she?” one of the doms asked.

“Full term, unrestricted with livestock endorsement,” Larry agreed.

“Could I buy her from you?”

“In a word: No. I’ve got no desire to get her pissed at me.”

“You look like you’ve got her under control.”

“Looks can be deceiving, guy. You know the old saying: Never irritate a sorceress, for they are not at all subtle when they get angry.”

“Magic? Come on. I haven’t figured out how you did a couple of those things, but magic? Really!”

“Any sufficiently advanced magic is indistinguishable from technology,” Larry intoned portentously. “Besides which, I doubt if you could afford the upkeep.”

“Lay it on me.”

“Marketing estimated her at around a hundred thousand, mostly because she’s not a racer. If she had a decent turn of speed, they figured a quarter million, easily. The kind of people who buy this grade of ponygirl don’t think anything of dropping ten million for facilities, another million or so for a herd, and another couple of million a year for upkeep.”

“Then how do you afford her?” he asked shrewdly.

“If I had to afford her, I couldn’t. The thing is, nobody in the market wants a ponygirl sorceress. She wants to be a ponygirl, I’m intrigued by sorcery, we hit it off quite well, and you really don’t want to know the rest if you value staying alive and at liberty.”

“What do you take me for …”

“An idiot,” another voice broke in. “I’ve run across his organization before, and he’s understating the case. There are things you stay away from if you want to live a long and happy life. By the way, I’m Mistress Melanie.”

“You’ve never been that cautious yourself,” the first dom sneered.

“Quite true,” she said, not at all put out by the slight. “That’s why I’m going to ask him if he’s got franchises for sale.”

“What are you thinking?” Larry asked.

“Technology or magic?” she waved a well manicured hand airily. “I couldn’t care less; I’m a people person, not a tech. That girl of yours is doing at least four impossible things, and I suspect I could develop a rather lucrative, if discrete market.”

“Clearly, she needs some back support,” the first dom said, “but that’s it.”

“As I said, you’re an idiot. I’ve got clients that like to play ponygirl, and I ride some of them. At a walk, for short distances, and I make very certain that they’ve been doing strengthening exercises and that their backs are in perfect alignment. It helps that I’m a bit on the petite side. You also haven’t got a clue about the boots, the breasts or the tail, guy.”

Larry laughed. “You’re right. All four areas have been augmented. The foot and breast mods are already for sale if you’ve got the right contacts in the right places, and have more money than good sense.”

“Let me guess. Hollywood, Bollywood, New York, London, Rio.”

“Among others.”

“So are there any franchise opportunities?”

“Give me your card and I’ll see it gets to the right people. There’s no harm in checking out business opportunities; we only get irritated at people that won’t take no for an answer.”

He turned and noticed that Linnet was patiently waiting for another rider. “Time to get started,” he told the two people he was talking to.

A drum roll occurred. “All tired out?” he asked Linnet in a patently saccharine voice.

She whinnied back at him, and seemed to droop.

“Time to put you back in the stable.” He waved the wand, and the saddle unbuckled itself and drifted into the air. A puff of smoke suddenly engulfed it; when the smoke dissipated it was nowhere to be seen. Linnet straightened up and walked over to the platform. Then she sank onto her left knee, letting the two rings on the back of her bustier slide down the pole. She slid the other leg back, and the ornate locks flew up and shackled her ankles to the platform. The headrest drifted lazily in the air, settling on top of the pole with an audible thump, and the bolt snapped back into place. Her head sank back, eyes closed in apparent exhaustion.

Larry waved his wand and the platform was engulfed in a cloud of smoke. It drifted away to show his top hat in the center of the circle, a tattered toy rabbit looking out.

“Thank you, thank you, thank you, ladeeezzz and gentlemen,” he intoned to close the show, bowing to the audience.

“I think that ends our planned stuff for tonight,” the domina that owned the house said. “Larry and his ponygirl weren’t at all what I expected! That was pretty professional, and I think I’d have heard of you before?”

“Oh, we practiced it. We’ve actually got a half dozen routines, but they’re all for internal consumption back home. We added a little to this one for our debut in the wide world outside our rather cloistered community.”

“So how do you do it?” she asked.

“Do what?” Larry responded blandly.

“Ride her, of course! I doubt if you’re going to tell me how you do the magic act!”

“I’ll let Linnet answer that,” Larry said, standing and drawing his wand. “Kafuzalum!” he called, waving it over the center. A cloud of smoke boiled out of nowhere, and a moment later, Linnet stood there.

“You could have let me finish my hair!” she complained, waving a hair brush.

“At least you’re dressed,” he responded, not at all put out. Indeed, she was dressed in the standard black leather mini-skirt and white blouse ensemble she normally used for street wear.

“So what’s the hurry?” she asked as she sat on her heels at his feet and started brushing out her hair.

“Our hostess wants to know how you can be ridden safely.”

“Oh, that.” She thought a moment. “I had to have Larry explain it; I always thought it was just a matter of strengthening my back. The basic concept is that the center of gravity has to stay above my hips, in line with my legs. So my hips, legs, knees, ankles and feet all had to be strengthened to handle a bit over 200 kilograms. He says that gives an adequate safety margin. The rest is that I have to lean over to keep my rider from falling over backwards, that actually puts stress on my belly muscles. There’s something so I can keep my head forward at that angle, too.”

“So are you in subspace when he’s riding you?” a plump little butterball of a woman asked from where she sat at her boyfriend’s feet.

“Subspace?” Linnet replied in puzzlement.

“No, she’s not,” Larry said. “We learned about subspace in Sex Ed, and ponyspace isn’t the same thing. I suppose the easiest way of explaining it is that there’s no ‘about’. She’s probably more intensely aware of what’s going on around her, and she acts, but she never thinks about what to do, she just does whatever she does in the situation. Mostly that’s what she’s been trained to do, but quite a bit of the time it’s simply what’s left of her personality from before she started training.”

“Isn’t that boring?” the submissive asked.

“No,” Linnet shook her head. “You have to have ‘about’ to be bored. When I’m being a ponygirl, whatever I’m doing is whatever I’m doing, and I never think of anything else I could be doing instead. It does keep things simple.”

“What do you get out of it?” she persisted.

“When I grew up, I wanted to be a horse and pull things, be ridden and be cared for and valued. I’ve got that now,” she grinned. “If I hadn’t been given to Larry, I suppose I would have stayed that way; days off weren’t a treat as much as something that I had to do because it was required. I still like it, but I’m beginning to get a feeling that it’s taking time that I could better use elsewhere.”

“This is new,” Larry looked down at her.

“Well, it is,” she said a bit defensively. “I’ve been meaning to talk to you about it.”

“OK,” he said. “Just say whenever you’re ready.”

“How did you get to ponygirl space?” the submissive asked again.

“Painfully,” Linnet laughed. “I can laugh about it now, but at the time I would have bailed out if I could. I suppose I started having flashes of it in the second week, and it pretty much stabilized by the end of the second month. After that I was in ponygirl space continuously for two months until they started teaching me girl mode.”

“Girl mode?”

“It’s what we use for days off. Let’s see if I can explain. While I don’t have ‘about’ in ponygirl mode, I still have functioning language centers, and I can understand anything that doesn’t require me to think ‘about’ something. So if Larry hitches me to a chariot and tells me to take him somewhere, I visualize a map to lay out a route and then take him there. That’s what I’ve been trained to do any time I’m told to go somewhere and I can’t actually see it from where I’m standing. So I can still be in ponygirl space while I’m dressed as a girl and walking around and talking to people. They might think I’m kind of peculiar because there are large gaps in what I can do, but I can do it. I’ve stayed in ponygirl space for entire days off.” Larry looked at her oddly at that statement. “I started having to deal with ‘about’ after I was given to Larry, and he started using me in his project. Then they sent me out for slave maid training, and I really had to deal with ‘about,’ because my trainer insisted that I had to think about what I was doing so I could improve it myself.”

“That’s weird,” the butterball commented.

“I suppose it is. What I am now is a ponygirl learning to be human again by learning how to use ‘about’ productively. I can’t go back to what I was before I started ponygirl training; how I used ‘about’ then is simply too painful. All I can do with my childhood is mine it for possibly useful experience.”

“Your childhood was that bad?” someone else asked.

“I’m one of the people you may have read about in Children of the SlaveGirl Commune.”

“I can see why you simply abandoned it when you could,” Mistress Melanie said. “That’s the first thing you’ve said that I think I understand. Those people should have been stood up against the wall and shot.”

“You’re talking about my parents,” Linnet replied. “I’ll grant you they were deluded, and lived their delusion to the point of forcing it on their children. It’s truly said: ‘The sins of the parents are visited upon their children’. They’re where I come from, and it took me a while to understand that if I ever wanted to live with myself I had to have some compassion for them.”


Chapter 14. How did a String of Sex Workers get into Here?


Larry looked at the fresh-faced girl who he’d invited to his apartment. She sat on a chair in his kitchen, sipping a cup of coffee, handbag lying on the table. She didn’t, he thought, do the tart look at all well; the denim miniskirt, course mesh pantyhose, stilt heels and plunging neckline didn’t really integrate with the rest of her personality. What interested him, though, was the bracelet on her left wrist. It had a rather bold design of interlocked blocks that was registered as an international trademark. It certainly shouldn’t turn up because someone wanted some interesting clip art for their costume jewelry.

She wasn’t taking the interrogation at all well, either. She’d tried to walk out several times, and had discovered that her hips seemed to have developed their own idea of a permanent relationship with the chair.

“You’ve claimed you’re not a prostitute, but you walked in here when I invited you and stated a price for your rather dubious charms. Now you’re trying to avoid naming your pimp.”

“She’s not a pimp!”

“She recruited you, she trained you, she assigned you to a territory, she runs interference for you with the cops, she collects a part of your earnings, and she’s got enough evidence to get you thrown out of the university on your sorry ass. What part of pimp don’t you understand?”

The tart slowly deflated. “I thought it was an easy way to make a little money,”

“Frankly, my dear, I’m not at all interested in your tale of woe. The fact that your miserable excuse for a pimp is running a prostitution ring here on campus doesn’t concern me in the slightest. I’ve got enough of a reputation for giving the girls what they want that I don’t have to pay to get laid; there’s enough competition that some of them are actually getting better at doing what comes naturally. What does concern me is that bracelet.”

“She gave it to me,” the girl said. “She told me it would give me protection.” She paused in sudden thought. “She didn’t say against what, though. I thought she meant against someone trying to harm me.”

“Linnet,” Larry called. Linnet walked into the room, tail curled saucily in the air. “What do you notice about her?” he asked the uncomfortably sweating tart.

“She’s got a tail.”

“She’s also wearing a leather miniskirt, a white blouse, and a fetching smile. There’s something besides her rather obvious physical attributes or the way I choose to adorn her that should concern you.”

“The way you choose to adorn her?” the girl asked in puzzlement. “She’s not wearing a collar.”

“The Consensual Slave Act requires that indentured slaves wear something that indicates their status when they’re out in public. Most people think that’s a collar. I’ll give you a clue. She signed a full term unlimited indenture with a livestock endorsement.”

“Livestock endorsement?” the girl’s eyes narrowed in thought. “Oh! I thought she was wearing earrings!”

“Got it. Those are livestock tags, and they’re one of several recognized symbols of indentured status. Those tags are customary for ponygirls, pussygirls, puppygirls and a number of others. That bracelet you’re wearing, if it was legitimate, would only be worn by an indentured sex worker.”

She looked down at her wrist in horror. “I didn’t know,” she whispered.

Larry shrugged. “People like you make air-headed bimbos look good. That particular pattern, besides marking you as an indentured sex worker, also indicates that the owner of your indenture is paying to have you protected against either contracting or spreading sexually transmitted diseases. Free-lance sex workers that buy STD protection use a different but equally recognizable pattern. That’s my concern. The organization that does the protection also provides it to anyone else who wants it, for an appropriate fee, of course. Student Services knows that I’ve got that protection, so they figure I know how to contact the people behind it. They asked me to look into the epidemic of STDs. You’ve got neo-clap, and you’re spreading it. That bracelet is a fake, and the organization that supports its supposed guarantees takes steps to protect the integrity of its trademarks. It doesn’t believe in burdening society with excessive use of lawyers and the courts, either.”

“I’m ruined,” she held her head in her hands.

“Maybe, maybe not. Tell me your pimp’s name right now, and I’ll take that bracelet off of you and cure the immediate problem. Whether you stay free depends on what kind of deal I strike with your pimp, but that’s between you and her. Make me pry it out of you, and I’ll presume that you’re protecting her. That’s evidence that you agree that she holds your indenture. Depending on what deal I strike with her, you may find you belong to her, or you might belong to me. I’ll sell your indenture to a pimp that’s capable of running you; I have no desire to run a string of prostitutes.”

“Larry,” Linnet said into the stunned silence, “if we wind up with her indenture, can I run her?”

“What brought this on?” Larry asked his ponygirl.

“Some things Alice, Raindance, Ceecee and Katie said finally jelled. They said I had to accept my past before I could go beyond it, and that I was too sweet.”

“That’s definitely true. What would running her do for you?”

“It lets me experience treating her as a tool I can use. That’s all my parents thought of me; I’m a girl, therefore my only value was as a tool.”

“You certainly couldn’t run a sex for hire service by being too sweet. That might be a good next step for you; let’s look at it if we find ourselves with a string of prostitutes on our hands.”

The air-headed bimbo looked back and forth between them as they talked. “So if I tell you about Jenna I might get away free and clear, and if I don’t I’m sunk?”

“If you tell me about Jenna right now. Who is she? Where does she live? What is she holding over your head? Anything else you can think of that I can use. On the other hand, if I have to pry it out of you, you’ll pay.”

The girl sighed, and started talking while Linnet took notes. Eventually she ran down. Larry shook his head.

“That is so pitiful you might be underqualified for sex worker. All she had on you originally was a couple of papers that you bought instead of doing the work yourself, right?” The girl nodded miserably.

“Half the students here do that at one time or another. If you don’t do the work, it’ll show up on the exams. All the professors know this and they don’t worry that much. If you get into an honors course, that’s different, but if you’re in one, the professor will know if it’s your own work.

“Then she led you down the path. Some of that should be turned over to the provost or the police. Well, a deal is a deal. Give me your arm.” Larry took the bracelet between thumb and forefinger, and squeezed. It popped open and dropped off her wrist.

“Get out of here and pray like you mean it.”

“And when you do,” Linnet added, “lose the slut look.”

She turned and stared. Linnet sighed. “If you’re going to be peddling your assets, you need to maximize your return on investment. Right now, one of your best assets is a fresh-faced innocent look. Dressing like a slut doesn’t help that a bit. The bracelet is all a john needs to see to know that you’re selling sexual services; you don’t have to dress the part. Now get the hell out of here and pray that you’re off the hook.”


Now what? Amanda asked herself disgustedly as she snapped the phone shut and put it down. She looked around her room and sighed. Someone else seemed to have gotten wind of her peccadilloes, and now she had to go and talk to him. At least whoever it was had been civil about the entire affair, unlike Jenna, who had been turning nastier and nastier as her demands escalated.

She shook her head ruefully and looked at the bracelet on her left wrist. It was a rather gaudy affair, and it seemed to attract attention. Jenna required her to wear it, supposedly to protect her. From what, she never said.

Well, she thought with another sigh, it was time to go trolling for more johns. If she could get in two quickly, she might have enough time to make headway on her homework.


Whoever was interested in her seemed to have arranged a fairly large meeting room. She recognized a number of other girls from Jenna’s string, and then she stopped in startlement.

The collared attendant behind the refreshment table was Jenna! She walked to the right and picked up a croissant. “Jenna, what’s going on?” she asked.

“Master has told this one not to tell you before he does,” Jenna answered, nodding to the young man and young woman standing by the table at the front of the room. “They’re waiting for everyone to arrive.”

The young man seemed to be a fairly ordinary student. He was dressed in a shirt and slacks, had close cropped brown hair, and seemed to be around twenty. What wasn’t ordinary was the white wand that hung from his emerald green belt.

The young woman next to him was anything but ordinary. She seemed to be a couple of years older, and wore her long brown hair in a ponytail that came most of the way down her back. She was dressed in a low cut blouse, a black leather miniskirt and what looked like 5” heels. She also seemed to have a tail! The circular medallions in her ears simply confirmed the impression that she was a ponygirl.

“Do you have any idea what’s going on?” a blonde asked her as she circulated.

Amanda shrugged. “Only that things are taking a turn, Deedee. What direction?” she shrugged again.

“What’s with the tail?”

“Oh, she’s a  ponygirl. The guy is outfitted as a ponygirl trainer so she probably belongs to him. I suppose we’ll find out why he brought her along later. Or not.”

“Weird,” Deedee said. “I hope things are going to work out.”

“Me too.” Amanda looked around at the rapidly filling room.


Just then, the man rapped on the table to get their attention.

“All right, girls, grab a chair and let’s get this started so we can get it over with.” It didn’t seem to have too much of an effect. He sighed, and flipped the white wand off of his belt in one smooth, well-practiced motion.

“Girls, I said to sit down and shut up so we can get this over with. If everyone isn’t in her chair in 30 seconds, you’ll have an experiential lesson in what this little object is all about.”

“He’s serious,” Amanda said to Deedee. She promptly found a chair without waiting for Deedee to respond, leaving Deedee staring at her. Amanda noticed that a blonde she knew slightly named Connie found a chair next to her. The rest of the young women simply seemed to ignore him.

“Who do you think you are?” one rather shapely blond shot back at him. “I’ll sit down when I damn well please.”

“Thanks for volunteering,” Larry said as he walked toward her. His prod hummed, and a moment later the miscreant screamed and then found herself on the floor, holding her arm and sobbing.

“There’s no permanent damage, idiot. Now get your ass up on a chair so we can start.” He gave the prod a twirl and sat down on the front table as the poorly dressed beauties hastily sorted themselves into order and sat down.

“Let’s start with a question. What did our meal service attendant over there tell you about the bracelet you’re all wearing when she recruited you?” He shook his head at the responses.

“You’re all supposed to be students at a first class university, and none of you thought to look the pattern up in the international trademark registry? That’s a registered pattern, and it means that you’re indentured sex workers. Why do you think that johns seem to be attracted to you like flies to honey? I can tell you, it isn’t the way you’re dressed.

“It also means that your owner has contracted with a rather interesting organization to provide STD protection. It tells potential purchasers of your services that you can’t contract sexually transmitted diseases, and that you can’t spread them. Jenna,” he nodded at the collared server behind the refreshment table, “didn’t go through the formality of signing a contract or paying them for the service. When we discussed the matter, she considered the options available, and decided that signing an indenture seemed to be in her best interests. Linnet here has been having fun training her over the last few days.

“Let me emphasize one thing. Those bracelets are advertising that you’re indentured sex workers, and the Consensual Slave Act says that wearing the marks and behaving as if you were indentured over any length of time means that you are, in fact, indentured.”

He surveyed the crowd as his words sunk in.

“My name, by the way, is Larry, and the vendors of the STD protection service asked me to handle this affair. They take a very dim view of people displaying their marks without actually paying for the service. They’re also notorious for not always taking legal due process into account.

“So what it comes down to is that you’re all indentured sex workers. I’m prepared to seek a court judgment to establish that fact if necessary.” He looked at the sea of stricken faces in front of him and nodded.

“However, it may not come to that. Blackmail is a nasty business, and I don’t like it. I managed to talk them into allowing me to offer you an out.” He paused to let the tension build a bit.

“The recommended way of handling a blackmailer is to tell him to publish and be damned. You’re in this fix because you didn’t have the moral character to do that. So the out is very simple: just find some moral fiber somewhere.

“I’ve got copies of the dossiers Jenna built on each of you up here. If you go to the people named in the dossier and confess in the next week, I’ll burn the master copy and you’ll never hear from us again, at least on that score.

“The dossiers also contain a statement of your current account, including the penalty for falsely claiming to have STD protection and the expense of curing you of whatever STDs you have, and your share of the expense of curing your clients. The CSA provides that an indentured slave can walk out of the indenture at any time, providing that she can pay the current account. It’s not trivial, but some of you may have the resources to pay it. If you want to do that, tell me and I’ll tell you the account to deposit it to.

“So those are your options. You can either confess to the police and the provost, you can buy your way out, or you can look forward to being indentured sex workers. If you decide to tough it out, I’ll seek a court order, and any attempt to get me in trouble will result in serious discipline.

“If you decide that the sex worker option is the best alternative, come up here and sign an indenture. Then we’ll go downtown tomorrow and register it officially. You’ll not only get STD protection into the bargain, but you’ll also get a few other minor improvements that will increase your efficiency in attracting johns. Nothing that will be too obvious to the casual observer, and nothing that would keep your family, friends and associates from recognizing you.

“That won’t, by the way, affect your standing with the university. There’s quite a bit of law covering indentures, and one of the obligations is to insure that the slave can support herself as a productive member of society on normal termination of the indenture. So even if your current source of income dries up, I’ll foot the bill for your education as long as you honestly maintain a B average in academically respectable courses, with no grades below a C.

“If you sign an indenture, Linnet’s going to be your boss. She’s done a wonderful job training Jenna in the time available. Our sole interest in you will be as income producing property, and she’ll train you however she thinks will improve your efficiency in producing that income. There’s really only one other thing you need to know to make an informed decision. We’re into this so that Linnet can get some experience overcoming a personality quirk. She’s normally a very sweet and cooperative girl, and she needs to toughen up a bit. Appealing to her soft side will get you clobbered; she’s quite likely to overcompensate if she thinks you’re appealing to her better nature.”

“You said some improvements?” the blonde who had provided the demonstration earlier asked.

“Yes. We’ll firm up your breasts. They won’t get any bigger, but they won’t sag either, and they’ll stay the same indefinitely. We’ll modify your feet and ankles so you can maintain several positions between flat and full extension indefinitely without discomfort. If your hair needs it, we’ll improve it. We’ll shift your body type a bit closer to the ideal in all dimensions. It won’t be so much that people won’t recognize you, but you should notice a pronounced effect. We’ll also strengthen your sexual system and change your responses so you’ll have amazing sexual stamina. You’ll be able to maintain your enthusiasm without becoming addicted to the experience. If you weren’t already, you’ll also become bisexual. The downside is that turning on will be mostly a conscious decision and won’t be affected by the john’s sexual attractiveness or lack of it.”

“That almost sounds like it would be worth it,” a brunette said.

Larry shrugged. “Everything except the sexual changes is available if you know where to look – and can afford the price. It’s on the cosmetic improvement list, which means that if you have to ask how much it costs, you can’t afford it. For sex workers, it’s 10% of your earnings, payable by your owner.”

“If you’re in the mood to answer questions, I’ve got one,” a tall, well built brunette with a bit of a petulant expression said.

“Ask away. The worst that will happen is that I won’t answer.”

“I notice Linnet is a ponygirl? I checked into it a while ago, and they told me that ponygirls got their days off and vacations, but otherwise were in bondage full time.”

“That’s pretty standard, but it’s really up to the owner. As far as Linnet goes, how far I bend the rules is between me and my community.” He looked at her curiously. “If you’re interested in becoming a ponygirl, I can get the indenture forms and you can start training tomorrow morning.”

She frowned, which at least was a change from petulance. “I’m not sure.”

“Well, you’d better be sure; you don’t get a chance to back out before you’re fully trained, and then you’ve got an enormous training expense to pay back if you do.”

Larry stopped talking and looked at them dispassionately, like they were bugs under a microscope. After a moment, he flipped open his cell phone and punched in a number. The women in the room got up and started talking. A couple of them walked up to the front and asked Linnet something. She grinned and handed each of them a folder from a box on the table. Several of them noticed and came up and got their own copies of their dossiers.

“This is incredible,” Deedee muttered to Amanda as she looked at the list of expenses at the front of her folder.

“It’s what he said,” Amanda replied as she frowned at it. “If I was on good terms with Daddy, I’d ask for the money.”

“Tell me about it,” Connie said. “If my family ever learns about this, I’m going to have to spend the rest of my life on my back with my legs spread. I don’t think I can find a boyfriend to bail me out fast enough.” She started leafing through the list of offenses that Jenna had forced her to commit, and started chuckling at a few of them.

Larry broke in with: “Connie, Amanda. I want to see you. Now!”

The two young women hurried up to the table.

“I’m not sure whether you’ve lucked out or not,” he told them. “Wealth has its privileges, and both sets of your parents turn out to be clients of ours. That means I’m not going to accept an indenture from you, and I’m not going to turn over those dossiers to anyone except your parents. I’m also not going to accept any impassioned entreaties from you not to tell them, either. Let me take those bracelets off you so you can get the hell out of here before I decide to change my mind.”

“Look,” Connie said, “I may be back to sign that indenture. The last time I got into trouble, Daddy had smoke coming out of his ears, and Mother swore I was no daughter of hers. Not that she was voted most likely to remain chaste by her convent class.”

“I’ll be available,” he told them. “Now get the hell out of my sight and make that phone call.”


Section End.


Now, that’s two new situations they’ve gotten into. Where Larry finds the time to do all of this is a mystery – maybe he’s glommed onto the time warp. Trot on to the next exciting episode of Engineer to find out what’s happening to Amanda, Connie and Jenna.




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