This work is copyright 2000 by Xaltatun of Acheron (A Pseudonym). It may be posted on the Internet to any free forum, provided it is not modified in any way, and provided that this notice is included in its entirety. 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 ponygirl bondage and consensual slavery. 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.
OK - now on to the story -------
Morning Chores is a picture of a homey scene on a ranch, as the hands get their pony girls ready for the day’s work. This is a scene repeated each morning in hundreds of places in the fragment Earth known to traders as the Land of the Pony Girls. Its not known to anyone else, however, a situation that makes all parties quite happy, if only in ignorance. And the traders have a monopoly on a variety of interesting cheeses.
The fragment Earths happened because of a physics accident. It happened thusly: A certain physicist, Ms. d’Nym, finally found the Higgs bosun while investigating a dockside bar. After an evening spent experimentally determining its characteristics, Sue staggered into her office and accidentally let Schroedinger’s cat out of its quantum confinement. The cat, somewhat cranky after close to a century of not knowing where it was or where it was going, promptly proved the validity of string theory by shredding the strings that hold the world together.
The various fragments seemed to be organized more on a community of interest principle than on any known principles of geography. Russia had split into communists, entrepreneurs and everyone else. The communists promptly had to deal with not having a working class, so did the entrepreneurs. Italy had split into several hundred fragments, mostly along political lines. The same principle seems to have operated in places as diverse as Yugoslavia, Kashmir and the US Congress.
This particular fragment contained a group of BDSM devotees who were having a convention, practicing all sorts of interesting things. The high point of the schedule was supposed to be the pony girl races, but reality, or possibly unreality, intervened first.
The first thing anyone knew of the new arrangements was when the power went off. The Land of the Pony Girls didn’t happen to contain a generator. Nor did it contain any oil wells or refineries, or any of the other minutia of life in the early 21st century. They had, after all, wanted to be out of the way, so that they wouldn’t be bothered by mundanes. Which only goes to show the validity of the old saw.
The first inkling that this wasn’t the usual power outage came when their battery-operated radios didn’t receive anything, and their cars wouldn’t start. The latter was a result of the inclusion of certain back to nature fanatics among the conventioneers, who were absolutely convinced that the internal combustion engine was the root of all evil (or at least, the root of all air pollution, which they considered to be much the same thing).
Investigation demonstrated that a rather peculiar fog surrounded wherever they were. Unlike the normal low flying clouds, this fog seemed to have a purpose to it. When you looked at it, it looked back, as if to say, “Just try something. Make my day”. Needless to say, several dyed in the wool rationalists decided to investigate. They didn’t return. To this day, the children of the Land of the Pony Girls are made to memorize their stories, as part of the Study of Utter Folly.
The more rational contingent harnessed up their pony girls and drove out to investigate. When they returned (with totally wiped out ponies) and pooled their observations, they were either appalled or elated. The entire place was maybe a dozen miles wide, and surrounded by the mists. There seemed to be quite a lot of primitive type resources, such as fruit trees, berries, and so forth, as well as some rivers and lakes with fish. How the rivers managed to come out of, and return to the mists was a mystery that could wait till tomorrow. Since tomorrow never comes, it’s still a mystery.
The first few weeks were an interesting time. I won’t dwell on them, since they are adequately covered in the Study of Utter Folly. After much was said, and a little done, they had organized themselves into the semblance of a society. They kept the pony girls (the pony girls insisted) and their personal slaves (likewise). The first crisis came when the pony girls went on strike for better working conditions. The negotiating committee discovered that 19th century labor management practices didn’t work well.
The new negotiating committee worked out a settlement, using proven 21st century labor management and marketing techniques. The ponies were quite happy working in harness, but they wanted a day off now and then, the right to talk to each other, and some respect. In fact, they wanted a chance to win the tussle for control occasionally. More to the point, they wanted a tussle for control - it made life more interesting.
The committee pointed out that horses didn’t behave that way. The ponies responded, through their herald, that they weren’t horses. The committee eventually agreed, thus proving that even a committee can recognize reality if it doesn’t have any alternative. The turning point was when someone pointed out that they could get more work out of one sassy pony than two beaten down drudges. And at less cost in supervision.
The eventual agreement was that the ponies would be treated as livestock in most respects, and could be bought and sold, the same as any other livestock. (The meeting minutes get somewhat confused at this point, it seems that several members of the negotiating committee had orgasms). Their handlers had to allow them to talk, but they didn’t have to listen to them. This lead to the infamous gag rule. They couldn’t be gagged or bitted if more than one of them was standing around idle for some length of time. Bits were normal working gear, and didn’t count when they were actually working. Otherwise, they got points if they goaded their handlers into gagging them.
They got a day off every week, and the right to be as obstreperous as they wanted to be when they weren’t actually working, without being punished for it. They got an extra day off (to be taken at their discretion) if they actually won one of these tests of will. This clause insured that being as insubordinate as possible became a point of pride with the ponies. Finally, they got a weeks vacation every year, and the right to “as much sexual stimulation as possible”.
On the other side, the ponies agreed to work in pony bondage, and to be cooperative when they were actually being used. In fact, the ponies insisted on full pony bondage when they were being used. After all, that’s why they became ponies in the first place.
The other major problem was that the male/female ratio was about two females for each male, with the majority of the females being submissives (this included the ponies). The submissives negotiated a group contract similar to the pony’s contract, which clarified things.
The first year was rigorous. The little settlement survived the winter. The ponies discovered that a work schedule of hauling logs, pulling stumps and otherwise doing farm traction chores was not the same as dressage, being ridden, and pulling their owners around on carts. Although there was still quite a bit of haulage, nobody seemed to care about style; survival was more like it.
After a couple of years, one other fact of their situation dawned on them. The children being born were in the same two females to one male ratio as the adults. This was inexplicable. It is still one of the facts of life in the Land of the Pony Girls to this day. It’s also still inexplicable.
A few years later, the community leaders had to deal with the inevitable questions of “Will I be a pony when I grow up?” and other questions of a like nature. This lead to the next major decision that formed the current society of the Land. They decided that they were quite happy with having pony girls available for the heavy chores, so that yes, some of the excess girls would become pony girls when they grew up. They would leave the mechanics of deciding which for later, when the first crop of presumptive foals matured into mares at eighteen years old.
Time, as is its wont, passed. The selection committee eventually decided that they couldn’t decide on a set of rules, so they simply divided the candidates into four groups: obviously ponies, obviously slaves, obviously dominants, and undecided. Then they tossed the names of the undecided group into a hat, and drew enough of them out to make up the quota. They also arranged a ceremony for the announcement.
All of the girls in the age group were stripped, and had their hands shackled behind their backs. Then they were called up to the platform, one by one, and the committee decision was announced. If they became full adult members of the community, they were released. In some cases, they were married on the spot (these were all arranged in advance, of course, always presuming that the girl in question wouldn’t become a pony or slave). Each new pony or slave was auctioned off immediately, and was lead off the stage by her owner.
More time passed. About a century of it, in fact. The original community had gone to their reward, and the rather unique society that they had established was simply “the way things were”. Everybody had grown up with pony girls, and the adolescents knew that many of them would join that group. Betting on the pony girl assignments was one of the major sporting events of the year.
Then the traders discovered the Land of the Pony Girls. The traders are an interesting group of people. Master traders have the ability to shift from one firm and unshakable belief to another one. This is the only way one can travel from one Land to another, since this level of belief is what holds each of the Lands together, and also what keeps them apart. Since the traders don’t talk about how they do it, or even what they do, speculation is rife.
After the shock wore off, they set up a beneficial relationship. The traders were looking for a source of pony girl pornography, while the people of the Land wanted lots of things that they remembered only from legend. Eventually, they settled on a unique set of cheeses as export (common cheeses being ubiquitous, but these cheeses were a luxury item). They imported metalworking and energy technologies suitable for a Land with a rather low population. They also imported various fabrics, and exported some unique leathers.
The traders also provided an outlet. Every year, a few people decided to emigrate, and a few people immigrated. Most of these were promptly sold as ponies or slaves, but a few made a place for themselves as artisans.
Turk’s rather interesting picture shows a typical scene on a farm in winter. The girl at the far left is looking exasperated because she managed to irritate her groom into gagging her. She made a couple of comments too many about his probable ancestry and sexual habits. Like most farm animals, she is quite well aware of them, but then, so is everybody else. What got under his skin was that she is one of his cousins. (The pony being lead toward the door is one of his sisters). Her exasperated look is that getting him to gag her is only worth a tenth point toward the extra day off. She wants to attend her sister’s wedding, and she’s already used her vacation for the year.
What she won’t be told until the day before the wedding is that the farm owner (who is standing in the doorway) would give her the day off anyway. Since the wedding is on the other side of the Land, she will be given a pony and cart for her transportation. This is a customary arrangement. One of the ponies frequently borrows another one for vacations. The farm owner considers this to be a good investment in livestock management.
The girl dribbling her food all over herself is an immigrant. She still hasn’t quite acclimated to her new status. She left her former Land because she kept objecting to the men to whom her family wanted to sell her (that being what passed for marriage customs in that Land). She’s still not certain if the new situation is an improvement, or if she is a living example of leaping from the frying pan into the fire. She also doesn’t care for the force-feeding, although the other ponies are quite used to it. Until she shapes up, she won’t be hand fed any treats. She also won’t be given points for winning their control games until a committee of ponies and ranch hands agrees that she has acclimated.
The girl hogtied in the last stall is the last one to be processed this morning. The girls spend the night in a communal sleeping chamber, with one ankle chained to a ring in the center of the floor. This is more ritual than an actual necessity - after all, where would they go if they escaped? Any pony that wanted to go into the mists could do it on her day off, anyway. The communal chamber is how the ancient contract provision for talk and sex worked out in practice.
In the morning, they are hooded, cuffed and lead into the prep room, where they are hogtied until their turn to be processed. The entire operation is as efficient as may be.
The red suits are winter clothing. Even though they look thin, they are excellent insulation, and keep the girls warm even in quite cold weather. The Land never gets so cold that their ass or breasts are in danger of frostbite, unless they have to stand idle for long periods of time. They have a lighter suit for harsh conditions in warmer weather (these suits would cause heat prostration except in freezing weather). The summer uniform is, of course, just the harness, boots and hood.
A note on the farm owner. She’s about as dominant as they come. One of the other things that the original settlers agreed on was that the dominants were going to run things. (Duh...) In particular, dominants ran the major farms and businesses. When one retired, the committee assigned stewardship to another dominant. Inheritance didn’t play any role. In fact, it played a negative role - a farm or major business couldn’t be inherited, even if the offspring was a dominant. The next generation was assigned elsewhere.
Toto, I don’t think we’re in Oz anymore.