Gromet's PlazaPonyGirl/PetGirl Stories

Pony for Rent 1: Training

by Ron McIngle

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© Copyright 2013 - Ron McIngle - Used by permission

Storycodes: Solo-F; M/f; ponygirl; harness; bitgag; boots; training; stables; cart; bdsm; crop; public; display; denial; cons; X

Part 1: Training

Thirty-seven and 29/100 Dollars---- Stacy wrote out the check, sealed it into the envelope and subtracted the amount. Balance = $18.47. Looking at the remaining stack of bills caused her stomach to knot and a general sense of despair to overwhelm her.

The joke is that there is too much month left at the end of the money. In her case, there was too much semester left. During the summer she would find full time work to build up a bit of a buffer and wait tables during the school year to tide her by. But this semester, classes required for graduation were only offered at night, interfering with her waitress job. Now it was early spring and her summer savings had been consumed.

This wasn’t the first time she had faced such a dilemma, and she had a fallback, although it wasn’t pleasant. “One more semester” she told herself. “Do whatever it takes to get through this semester and then never again!”

Stacy booted up her laptop, went online and placed an ad under “Escorts”. The thought made her stomach revolt, but she saw no other alternative. She wasn’t going to ask her parents for more money: that came with too many strings. The idea of selling her car occurred to her, but the pink slip was at her parent’s house and asking for it would open a can of worms she didn’t want to deal with. The mouse hovered over the “submit” button for several minutes before she clicked, and then closed the lid on the laptop. It would take 10 to 15 minutes for the ad to appear, and then the floodgates would open to her “throw away” email address.

Stacy tied her running shoes on and hit the trail for a run. A long, hard run. She couldn’t run away from her problems, but she could run away the pain. Emotion drove her onward, running harder, faster, longer. Anger, humiliation, despair, all channeled into a simple rhythm, throwing a leg forward, driving it back, throw the next leg forward, drive it back. The running path was familiar; hardly anybody was out on such a cold afternoon so she didn’t need to think about where she was going. Adrenalin and endorphins flowed, mixing in her bloodstream, creating a natural narcotic, providing a mind numbing bliss.

It wasn’t until the long shadows of evening made running through the tree covered jogging path difficult that she turned and headed home. Wow, had it really been two hours? Fortunately, her path had been circular and she wasn’t far from home. Stacy eyed the laptop warily as she entered her room as if it might attack her. ‘Later’ she thought, grabbing her shower caddy and heading to the bathroom she shared with three other women.

There were already more than 40 emails when she woke the laptop from its slumber. 23 of them she deleted without reading, as they did not contain the word “Rose” in the subject. If they weren’t going to follow directions, she wasn’t going to bother. Another 5 she deleted when instead of a picture of the face and/or body it was a close up of his cock. A few more had one line responses, “Hey, let’s fuck!” and were deleted as well. And then there was one that was different.

To: Morning Rose

From: [email protected]

Subject: A Rose by Any Other Name….

Dear Ms. Rose:

Based on your profile I would like to offer you an opportunity to provide a modeling service. This is NOT a solicitation for sex, nor is any illegal activity required or requested. If accepted, your services will be required for a number of days over the next few weeks (schedule is negotiable), and then a full weekend in mid May.

To be accepted you must:

1) be 5’6” to 5’8” tall

2) under 120 lbs

3) Breast Size B to C

4) hair shoulder length or longer

5) No objectionable tattoos

6) Reasonably fit and healthy.

Duties: Modeling. Upper body nudity will be required. Full body nudity is negotiable. Considerable physical activity will be necessary.

Photos: All photos will remain the property of PG Tack. If desired, face and any identifying marks may be obscured.

Payment: Subject will receive $50 at beginning of initial interview, assuming all qualifications above are met. Initial interview is expected to last two hours. Precise body measurements will be taken over minimal clothing. Subject may have one or more friends or family members present at interview. Interview may be at a downtown office or at any suitable location that the subject chooses. Subject will be paid an additional $40 for satisfactory completion of interview.

If accepted as “Candidate”, subject will be expected to complete a training phase. Training is expected to take 20 to 40 hours, in two to four hour periods. Training periods can be arranged to meet Candidate’s schedule needs. Candidate will be compensated at the rate of $20 per hour, half paid at the time of training, the other half paid at the successful completion of said training. If Candidate fails to complete training, remaining half of payment will be forfeit. If desired, Candidate may have friends or family observe training phase. Training will take place at a location approximately 20 miles out of town.

Show: If accepted as “Model”, services will be required on specified weekend in May. Model will need to be available starting on Friday afternoon until late on Sunday. All travel expenses will be covered. Model will be provided with a hotel room for Friday and Saturday nights. If Model desires friend or family accompaniment at hotel the additional cost will be paid for by Model or said accompaniment. Model will be compensated the amount $1000.00 for the weekend.

Bonus: The model may be awarded up an additional amount up to $1000.00 for successful completion of duties.

Stacy read the email several times. Could this be for real? She considered that it might be a setup for a porn movie, but that didn’t seem quite right. If she read it right, she would get $50 for just showing up, and then she could leave if it was too creepy. $50, wow, she could sure use that right now. $90 would be even better. $2000 would allow her to pay off all her bills and still have some fun money.

Three days later Stacy found herself standing outside a high rise office complex in the heart of the financial district of town. She had ‘Googled’ the address, and established that it offered offices that rented by the day or hour as well as being home to numerous respectable businesses. This didn’t seem nearly as scary as her typical “escort” meet. Still, she snapped pictures of the building and emailed it to herself, and lingered in front of the security cameras in the lobby. At least if she went missing there would be some record of her last known whereabouts.

An elevator ride up to the 12th floor, a short walk down the hall, and she was standing in front of office 1238. Another picture, sent to herself. She wondered if she should knock or just enter, finally deciding on knocking.

“Ms. Rose, I presume?” Stacy looked over the gentleman who opened the door. About 30, tall, muscular, good looking, dressed in slacks and a button down shirt. Looked like a professional. His warm demeanor immediately put her at ease. “I am Stephen, please do come in! Can I get you anything, water, coffee, soda?”

“The name is Stacy, and no, thank you” Stacy replied as she scanned the room. No cameras, no one else besides Stephen, no bed or even a sofa, just a small, professional conference room.

“Well then, let me get the first formality out of the way.“ Stephen said, removing his wallet and extracting a clean, crisp $50 bill. “It is so refreshing to see that you look even better in person than your online profile! As promised, here is the initial payment.”

Stacy gratefully accepted the money. At least now she would be able to eat this week.

“Please, sit down, make yourself comfortable” Stephen said, gesturing towards the room. There were very few choices as to where to sit: two arm chairs sat at an angle with a small knee high table between them and a rectangular conference table with four chairs on each side. To the left was a coffee bar, straight ahead was a large window overlooking the city. The wall on the right was dominated by a large TV. The room spoke of business transactions and sales meetings.

“I am going to be very blunt with you.” Stephen went on, taking a seat directly opposite the table from her. “What I am about to say may not be politically correct but it will be the most expedient way of explaining. Please hear me out, and if at the end you decide not to accept my offer I am perfectly OK with that.”

“I am looking for a model. I am looking for this model in unconventional places because I have some rather unconventional needs. The presumption is that if you were willing to accept money for ‘escort’ services you wouldn’t have any moral objections to modeling in what some may consider being humiliating or degrading circumstances.”

‘Oh no, here it comes, porn movie.’ Stacy thought as she looked at him blankly. She had anticipated something along these lines. Hear him out, collect another $40, get out.

“The job will require wearing some ‘fetish’ gear and participating in a competitive show. If it helps any, you won’t be the only one dressed that way. The training and show will require some amount of, shall we say, intimacy between us. I will need to touch you in places that normal society would consider inappropriate. Sex: oral, anal or vaginal, is NOT required, expected or otherwise part of the deal. Are you with me so far?”

“Uh, yeah, I think so” Stacy lied. A trade show? Stacy had worked as a ‘booth babe’ at trade shows before and wouldn’t mind doing that again. Other than spending all day standing in ridiculously uncomfortable shoes it was good money for easy work.

“Great, great! Glad to see you aren’t running for the door already!” Stephen joked. “Are you familiar with the term PonyGirls?”

“Uh, not really” Stacy confided. ‘Was that like doing it doggy style?’ Stacy thought to herself

“Let me show you a quick video”. Stephen said, clicking a button on a remote.

The TV came to life and scenes of beautiful women dressed up in elaborate costumes prancing around filled the screen. “This is just a small sample, to give you an idea.” Stephen said. “There are some who engage in this activity in the privacy of their own home, but most prefer to gather with other enthusiasts to show off or compete. As you can see, the gear can be quite elaborate, and supplying these people with the tack can be quite lucrative. “

“That is my interest.” Stephen said as he switched off the TV. “I designed premium gear and need to advertise it properly. Having a model wear my tack at these events is essential to my business.”

“And that is where I come in?” Stacy asked. “You want me to model your tack?”

“More than just model, I am afraid”. Stephen said. “I need you to compete. I need to show my gear in use, in the arena. In order to do that you will need to be trained in how to be a PonyGirl. Competitions are physically demanding and there is certain protocol that must be followed. Above all, I need you to make a good impression. In order for my products to be taken seriously, you will have to be taken seriously.”

“Haven’t these other girls been doing this for years?” Stacy asked. “It doesn’t seem like I would have a chance of winning.”

“I don’t need you to win.” Stephen said. “Placing in the top 20 will get us invited to social events which are where I will be most effective in promoting my wares. That said, the better you do, the more we will be noticed. There are the perennial favorites, which will be hard to beat. But there are also the perpetual ‘also rans’, the ones who are not competitive but simply enjoy the opportunity to play. The judges will look favorably on new blood, and many will be rooting for an underdog. “

“I don’t understand why you want a model, instead of getting one of these girls that are already into this scene” Stacy said.

“My previous model recently bailed on me, without any notice.” Stephen admitted a hint of sorrow in his voice. “The show tack has been made for a specific body size which limits the choices for a replacement. Finding an un-owned ponygirl that was the right size on such short notice is unlikely, so now I am scrambling.”

“So, here we are!” Stephen exclaimed, his voice returning to enthusiastic. “Are there any medical conditions that would prevent you from strenuous exercise?”

“No, no medical issues” Stacy replied. “I exercise regularly, work out at the school gym when it is available, and do a lot of jogging, occasionally run a marathon.”

“Oh really!” Stephen exclaimed. “May I ask what your marathon times are?”

“Under three hours, for sure” Stacy replied. “Usually around 2:45, and a personal best of 2:31”

“Excellent!” Stephen exclaimed. “Would you be available the second weekend of May?”

“No plans” Stacy said.

“Are you free to travel, out of state?”

“Sure, why wouldn’t I be?” Stacy asked.

“Perhaps this is a bit too blunt, but women found in the escort ads frequently have commitments, such as small children at home. One candidate had one of those police ankle bracelets that prevented her from leaving town. Proper identification is required to fly, so full legal names are necessary.”

“Nothing like that for me.” Stacy said, wondering how many other women he had interviewed recently.

“The training will take place at my residence. I have a few acres of land in a secluded rural area a bit out of town. The training schedule can be flexible, accommodating your existing work schedule.”

“Work” Stacy huffed. “I wish. I normally wait tables, but the school schedule this semester has thrown a monkey wrench into that! “

“You’re a college girl, fantastic!” Stephen exclaimed. “I think this will work out exceptionally well! If you are absolutely opposed to this we can stop now and not waste any more of your time. On the other hand, I am prepared to offer you a modeling contract immediately. I don’t need a commitment from you today, you can take a few days to read it over, perhaps have a lawyer review it.“

“I am not opposed” Stacy said, perhaps a bit too eager. She needed the money, and this appeared to be a far better alternative than what she had been considering.

“Wonderful! Now I would like to get your exact measurements.”

“Sure” Stacy agreed.

“Would you mind stripping down to bra and panties?” Stephen asked.

“No problem” Stacy replied. She had anticipated from the ‘minimal clothing’ note such a need and had worn a skimpy bikini under her clothes.

For the next 30 minutes Stephen measured and noted every conceivable dimension of her body. Most were innocent enough, but a few required touching her in rather intimate places, like when he measured the circumference of her breasts and the cleft of her genital area. She noticed that Stephen was comfortable and unfazed at touching her in private places. Stacy didn’t find it objectionable at all, and in fact was finding it erotic.

“All right then, I think we are done for today.” Stephen announced. “Please take these papers and if you agree to the terms, please sign and mail them back to me in the envelope provided. You can take up to three days to decide.”

“Sure.” Stacy agreed, noting that the envelope already had appropriate postage applied. After putting her street clothes back on she was met at the door.

“As promised, additional payment for completing the interview. Oh, for the legal documents, your real name will be required. For everything public, a stage name is acceptable. Your email would be perfect: Morning Rose”.

“Thanks” Stacy said, accepting the $50 bill. More than promised and it had only taken an hour and forty minutes. Not only could she eat, she could eliminate another bill or two from the stack.

Stacy spent the rest of the afternoon Googling the term “Pony Girl” to learn about a world she never knew existed. Some of what she found was disturbing, but overall it was intriguing.

Stacy didn’t need the three days to decide. So far, that was the easiest $100 she had ever made, and it didn’t involve anything she would regret. The chances of running into anyone she knew was remote, and dressed up in all the gear and makeup she wouldn’t be recognizable in any pictures, and even if she was there were far worse things that she was considering that could haunt her. At least this appeared to be legal.

The paperwork consisted of non-disclosure agreement, liability release, assignments of all photograph rights to Stephen, and a consent form. She had the envelope in the mail early the next morning.

- * - - * - - * - - * -

Stacy pulled her car to a stop at the end of the long driveway. Ahead of her was a sprawling ranch style house. Off to the left there was a building that appeared to be a barn, but she didn’t see any horses. And it didn’t smell like horses, something she was used to from growing up with the beasts.

“Ah, very punctual!” Stephen exclaimed as he emerged from the house. “We have three hours, correct? Want to make sure I get you to your college classes on time!” There was an excitement in his voice that made Stacy at ease, and happy. “Come, let’s get started!”

Stacy followed as Stephen led her towards the barn. The barn was immaculate, a wide center aisle with rooms and stalls on each side. Just inside the door on the right was an enclosed room, obviously some sort of office or tack room, with solid locking doors with double pane glass windows set to the inner aisle. Opposite that was some sort of “wet room”, with a drain set in the center and hoses hanging on the walls. Four pairs of animal stalls followed, with a solid portion of the wall came up to chest height, and then there was another three feet of heavy steel bars. The Dutch door was also solid on the bottom and bars on the top. There were no animal smells, but scent of fresh straw was very familiar to her. And leather, there was a strong scent of leather.

Stephen led her into the first room on the right, which indeed was filled with leather. All sorts of straps, harness, halters, saddles, and whips. Most of the tack was stuff she was accustomed to, but there were also a number of items that were way too small for horses. Just about right for her, she thought.

Stephen hurried around the room, gathering bits of tack as he went, obviously excited. “This will be your training tack” Stephen explained, dropping things on the table beside her as he went. “Your show tack won’t be ready for a few weeks.”

Stacy looked at the growing pile of gear. One item caught her attention, or it was the bright silver tag that did. Stacy picked up the bridal and read the tag with interest: “FURY’S STAR”.

“Oops, pay no attention to that!” Stephen said roughly. He grabbed the bridal from her hands and quickly tore the silver plate off with a pair of pliers, not the least bit concern that the plate was mangled in the process. “If you would take your clothes off now we can get started! Bra and panties are fine, for today.”

Stacy felt oddly at ease as she stripped down to her undergarments. Stephen worked quickly, fastening all sorts of leather straps over her body. Cuffs wrapped around her wrists, and another pair just above her elbows. Straps circled her chest, above her breasts, just below, at her waist. These joined with straps over her shoulders and passing between her legs.

He touched her as needed to fit the straps, as if it was natural for him to lift a breast or part a thigh. Stacy was a bit apprehensive at first, but before long she started enjoying it. Stephen adjusted a buckle here, tightening this strap, loosening that one. It was attention, and she liked it. The head harness was a bit intimidating at first. “We are starting with a rubber bit” Stephen explained. “Easier on the teeth, until you get used to it.” Stacy opened her mouth to accept the bit and Stephen fastened it in place. She couldn’t close her teeth with the bit in place, but at least she could wrap her lips around it and close her mouth.

“Now, the hooves!” Stephen exclaimed, obviously excited as he placed a pair of very odd looking boots before her. Leather uppers, with a hard plastic lower. Instead of narrowing at the toes, they spread wide, very wide. The heel was lifted, without any heel piece. These pair had obviously been well worn, all scuffed and nicked.

“Your show hooves will be much prettier!” Stephen assured her as he knelt before her. “These will do for traning”. Stephen slipped her left foot into the boot, which laced up half way to her knee. She had to support herself by hanging onto the work bench as he repeated the process on the right foot. Stacy was no stranger to high heels, but these were something else! It felt odd not having a heel support, but after a few trips around the tack room she was beginning to get the hang of keeping her weight forward.

“OK, let’s go for a walk!” Stephen held her hand for support as he led her out of the barn. Stacy looked around apprehensively but quickly realized that they were well out of sight of the road and there were no other dwellings in sight. It was a glorious spring day, and sun felt good against her bare skin.

“Try a run?” Stephen urged after a bit. Stacy started a slow jog, carefully placing her feet along the gravel road they were following. “Good, Good!” Stephen praised as he jogged beside her. Stacy was pleased. “Now let’s try a little open field”

Stephen held her arm tightly as he moved her off the smooth road onto the uneven ground of the field. Had it not been for his support Stacy would have fallen several times as a hoof sunk into the soft dirt and upset her balance.

“That’s all we have time for today!” Stephen said as they returned to the barn. Stacy was shocked, had it really been three hours? Seemed like she just got there. Stephen handed her three $10 bills as she got back into her car. “Four o-clock tomorrow?” Stephen asked.

“Perhaps a bit earlier if traffic is light” Stacy offered. That was fun, Stacy thought to herself as she drove away. I had a good time and I have $30 in my pocket. And I’m horny, she realized. There will definitely be a date with B.O.B (Battery Operated Boyfriend) as soon as she gets home from class!

- * - - * - - * - - * -

Getting tacked up went a little easier at next session. The straps were all adjusted to her size and went on much quicker. Stacy noticed that the bridal had a new silver tag on it, this one engraved with the words “MORNING ROSE”. She smiled at that.

Stacy had worn the bikini under her street clothes so that she didn’t need to take time to change. It felt good to have even more skin exposed. She found herself wanting his touch against her breast, her ass, and her crotch.

“I’ll arrange an account for you at a tanning salon” Stephen said. “You need to even out your tan. Can’t have any lines at all. Understood?”

“Uh-huh” Stacy agreed, slurring through the bit in her mouth. That forced her mind to accept the fact that others will eventually see her like this. Oddly enough, the thought made her wet between her legs. “Uh, wha are oou ooing?” Stacy mumbled around her bit as he locked her wrists behind her back.

“Ponies don’t have hands” Stephen explained. “You need to get used to not using them. We’ll start you off with just wrist cuffs”

“Oh” Stacy said softly, unsure of this new development. But the moisture in her nether region only increased.

“Now, let me introduce Dressage” Stephen said. “You need to lift your knees high, in a sharp, quick fluid motion. As soon as you plant one foot, the other is raised. Head up, looking straight ahead. Keep it smooth; don’t let your head bobble”

Stacy’s first attempts were not exactly show quality, but Stephen praised her none the less. “We’ll work on that.” He promised her as he clipped a lead to her bridal. “Now let’s go for a run.”

Once again the jog out on the gravel road was manageable, but the trek back through the field was harrowing, especially with her hands trapped behind her back. The sun was setting when they reached the barn and temperatures were dropping as Stephen removed the tack.

“Join me for dinner?” Stephen offered. “Chinese food is due to be delivered in a few minutes”

Another $30 and a free dinner, life couldn’t be better, Stacy thought.

- * - - * - - * - - * -

“Aren’t ponygirls supposed to be naked?” Stacy asked as she prepared for the next session.

“If you are ready for that.” Stephen replied. “I didn’t want to push you too fast.” Stacy shrugged and tossed the bikini into the pile of clothes. It’s not like it really hid much anyway. “The pubic hair needs to go at some point as well.”

“Today we are going to try the sulky.” Stephen announced and unfastened the wrist cuffs. He led her around the back of the barn where several sulkies were stored. Stacy recognized them as actual harness racing sulkies, but with shortened drawbars. As with her tack, there were sulkies that looked well used and others that looked polished and clean. It was no surprise when the oldest, most beat up sulky was hauled out and attached to her harness. Stephen attached a pair of reins to her bridal and fastened the draw bars to her waist strap.

“In competition, it is technically optional to have the arms bound for pulling a sulky.” Stephen explained. “Too many accidents, fear of lawsuits and all that. But experience has indicated that the overall judges’ scores are definitely affected. We will train with your arms free, and make the call on the competition later.”

At first, Stephen walked beside her as she pulled the sulky, getting accustomed to how its weight and momentum wanted to throw her off her hooves. Stacy wondered if the reason this sulky was so beat up was from unfortunate mishaps, a thought made her extra careful with her foot placement. When Stephen mounted the sulky she was terrified that she might trip, which would not be good at all. At least he steered her to the lawn instead of the gravel road. It would be a softer place to fall, but it was also harder to pull the sulky through.

It was a hot day and Stacy had really worked up a sweat before they returned to the barn. She was puzzled when he led her to the wet stall. “Whaaa?” Stacy protested.

“Can’t ride you hard and put you away wet!” Stephen joked.

Stephen tied her reins to an overhead eye bolt, forcing her to stand erect. Stephen turned the water and started spraying her down. Stacy tensed, and then relaxed once she realized that the water was warm. This isn’t so bad. In fact it feels pretty good after a run. In fact, that sponge is feeling damn good!

Stephen removed her tack one piece at a time, washing each piece down and hanging it to dry. When only her bridal remained he washed her body all over. Stacy was about to melt when he finally removed her bridal and washed her head and hair. “I could get used to this” Stacy thought. . In fact, if he decided to fuck her right then and now she wouldn’t have objected.

- * - - * - - * - - * -

Each training session introduced something new. Small bells, on tiny nooses were hung from her nipples during the dressage training, with the intent of keeping the bells quiet despite the exaggerated gait. Ponies can’t talk, but paw the ground once for yes, twice for no. The introduction of the whip was not well received. “The whip is an essential part” Stephen explained. “During judging, you will earn negative marks if you mess up, and I will also earn negative marks if I fail to correct you.”

Since starting this gig, Stacy had been researching Ponygirls, and had noticed a common piece of gear was the butt plug tail, which then hung straight down between the legs. Stacy was not an anal virgin, but it wasn’t something that she enjoyed. So it was no surprise when Stephen announced that the tail would be added to her gear. What was a surprise was how the tail was incorporated. The actual tail was made of real horse tail hair bonded to a swivel that mounted to her waist belt. Off the bottom of the swivel was a large “J” hook, the end of which was inserted into her anus with the shank extending up her ass crack. Instead of hanging down the tail stuck out behind her, like it would on a real horse. Stacy could wiggle her ass and swish her tail! The slender hook didn’t cause her any discomfort, but the way it worked against her anus was arousing.

“Can I take these hooves home?” Stacy asked. “Perhaps if I just wore them around my apartment I would get better accustomed to them.”

“Got something better” Stephen announced. He disappeared for a few minutes, and when he returned he was carrying a pair of high heeled boots. Or they would be high heel if they had heels. “These will force your feet into the same position, and provide training on the balance. But they won’t look quite as odd as wearing hooves!”

“Are you insane?” a roommate asked her.

“Or a masochist?” Another asked

“I have another booth babe job coming up” Stacy lied. “If I don’t get used to wearing them beforehand a 12 hour shift will kill me!”

Her roommates nodded agreement, and two even tried the boots on themselves. Stacy wore them all the time she was at home. She wore them went she went jogging. She even started wearing them to school. She was challenged, and she was no stranger to training. She was going to master them.

“Now, keep your back straight!” Stephen warned as he balanced a book atop her head. “Step in place, knees high!” Stacy was struggling a bit as the wrist cuffs had been replaced with an armbinder which was throwing her balance off.

THWACK! The crop bit into her ass when the book fell.

“AGAIN” Stephen commanded as replaced the book.

THWACK! “OOOWWWW” Stacy protested. The whip was something that she hadn’t bargained on, but she was still determined to master this. Walking in the hooves was getting easier, and she was fairly comfortable even on soft uneven ground. Running was still problematic. But this damn dressage high step was killer!

That evening Stacy stood before her full length mirror, wearing only her pony hooves. She raised one knee, slowly , watching her body move. No, that didn’t look right. Keep the toe pointed as the foot comes off the ground. Foot out more, keep the lower leg straight up and down. She repeated the movement, and then started alternating legs. Toe pointed, foot out. Get the foot back down before balance shifts, let it flow.

“What the hell are you doing in there?” A roommate called from the hall.

“Sorry!” Stacy called back. She laid towels and blankets on the floor to muffle the sounds and continued. Over and over she repeated this exercise.

The next night she added the book atop her head. Her legs ached from the strain but she kept at it. She would master this, she was determined. She was actually wishing that Stephen was there with the whip to provide encouragement, and later she was bringing herself to orgasm with the vibrator while imagining that Stephen was forcing her step with the whip.

“Very good!” Stephen praised the next day as he put her through her paces. Stacy beamed with pride, although she wasn’t sure why his approval meant so much to her.

- * - - * - - * - - * -

“I have new hooves for you” Stephen announced as he was preparing her for training. “My new invention, which I expect to bring me fame and fortune” Stephen smiled as he displayed his new footwear. “Or at least erase a bit of the red ink. With your help, of course.” Stephen added quickly.

At first glance they didn’t look any different than her regular training hooves. New, clean, no nicks or scuffs, but still the same basic structure: a very wide toe, supporting a heelless boot. But then Stephen flipped it over to show the bottom side. It had a similar “shoe”, shaped just like a horseshoe on the bottom, and at first glance it appeared to be made of steel, but it was softer to the touch. Some sort of rubber.

“It will provide a better grip on hard surfaces” Stephen explained. “And they won’t scratch hardwood floors. But the real innovation is in here” Stephen said as he removed a panel from the bottom.

With the panel removed Stacy could see that in place of the rigid frame of her training hooves there was some sort of mechanism, although Stacy was at a loss to understand what it meant. Stephen quickly had the new hooves laced onto her feet and when she stood they felt no different.

“Now rock back a bit, as if you were to put weight on your heels”

‘Huh?’ Stacy thought. That had never been a good idea before. But she did as instructed, balancing precariously. At first she thought she was imagining it, but after a few seconds she realized that her heels were dropping. A few more seconds and her heels were on the floor, as if she were wearing flat shoes.

“Howths tha wor?” Stacy mumbled past the bit.

THWACK! THWACK! The crop struck her squarely across each breast. “OWWWW” Stacy shrieked and she tried to turn away. Stephen grabbed her reins and pulled her back to face him. “Ponies don’t speak, remember?” Stacy started to nod, and then thought better of it and pawed the ground once. As she did, she made note that the hoof had raised up a bit in the heel. After setting it down, it slowly settled to flat again.

“Dual purpose hooves” Stephen explained. “In competition, the ponies may wear any footwear they choose, but extra points are earned for having the basic hoof shape, and more points if the heel is lifted. Whatever is chosen must be worn for all events, however. Some favor a flat hoof for better running, while others strive for all the showmanship points they can get.”

Excited by the new hooves Stacy worked extra hard at the Dressage and other showmanship skills, keeping her weight forward on the hooves and the heel high. When it came time for the sulky, she rocked back, pressed the heels down.

It certainly wasn’t as easy as wearing running shoes, but it made a tremendous difference! It took a few dozen strides before the heel found its steady spot, as it would creep down just a bit as her leg strode forward, but then compress back a bit as she transferred her weight to it and pushed forward. With the new found confidence Stacy pulled hard, hauling Stephen and the sulky at an impressive pace. She was actually disappointed when he reined her in and turned her back towards the barn.

On her way home she stopped at a sporting goods store, spending all the money she had just made that day on ankle weights. If her roommates didn’t think she was nuts before they surely did now as she wore high heeled boots and weights around the house.

- * - - * - - * - - * -

“Dress rehearsal” Stephen announced as he accompanied her into the tack room. Instead of the usual jumble of all her training tack there were shiny, new, white leather tack. It was the most beautiful tack Stacy had ever seen, for human or equine.

There was a new armbinder which came all the way up to her shoulders. Leggings that made her lower legs look shaggy (Stacy would have referred to then as cyberfluffies). The waistband supported a very large tail, which touched the ground behind her.

The new bridal was amazing, with heavy leather straps that circled her forehead, ran down the cheeks and under her chin. The bit of the bridal was metal instead of rubber, and had a clever ‘disguise’ to it. At a casual glance it looked as if the bit passed through her cheeks far back in her mouth. The outer edges of the bit terminated in large rings where the reins attached with a short shank to a fair sized round disk that fit tight against her cheeks. Off center, on the inside of the disks, the bar continued just barely tugging the edges of her mouth backward. Just inside her cheek the bar was flattened where it passed between her teeth, allowing her to close her mouth without problem. Over her tongue the bar was round again, and included a roller that pressed her tongue down.

Stacy adored the process of getting tacked up, and this one was especially memorable. Each strap had to be adjusted multiple times, and Stacy thought that he might have been lingering in a few intimate places a bit longer than he needed to. The tack was designed differently, especially her body harness. While the training tack had several vertical straps that connected the main straps circling her body above and below her breasts, this had more of a spider web, with bright silver rings that slipped over her breasts.

Well, slipped wasn’t the right verb, they had to be forced through. Stephen had to push and pull, twisting the ring until finally the breast popped through, seating the ring tight against her chest. Her breasts had always been on the perky side but now they thrust out, proudly displayed. Stacy thought she was about to orgasm as he worked the second breast into place. She so wanted him to continue fondling her, finger her to orgasm or simply fuck her!

The headpiece was something new. Over the forehead, down the cheeks and under the chin it was made of a silver, glittery material that fit like a hood. The back of the hood was a thin web like material.

And the horn. There was a horn on her forehead. She wasn’t a pony, she was a Unicorn!

The new gear was fabulous! Stacy so wanted to practice in it but once Stephen was happy with the fit he removed it and put the training tack back on.

“We leave for Kentucky two weeks from Friday” Stephen reminded her. “We need to discuss the rules, how the judging is done, and what is expected.” Stacy listened intently as Stephen continued.

“There are five areas of competition, four based on judging, and one on speed alone. The judging areas will get points on a 100 point scale for how well you do. In addition, the judges will rank you with respect to all the other entrants. The sulky race is more straight forward: first place 100 points, and then a sliding scale based on how many entrants”

“I’ll be ecstatic if you finish in the top three, and quite happy in the top ten overall.”

“How many ponies will there be?” Stacy asked

“Perhaps a hundred mares, and another thirty or forty stallions. Don’t worry, you are judged separately, except for an overall race that is just for fun.”

Stacy frowned. “How can I hope to compete with experienced ponies when I have only been at this for a little over a month?”

“Don’t worry!” Stephen laughed. “Most of them come just for the social aspect. They may put the gear on a few times a year and play around but they don’t train. A fair number are well past their prime. There are less than a dozen who take the competition seriously, and you have probably trained more in the last month than they have all year.”

“Showmanship is the big question in my mind.” Stephen admitted. “The unicorn idea may not go over well, and some of the teams spend insane amounts on their tack. Dressage I have very high hopes for, you are actually quite good. Role play is also questionable, you are judged based on how well you stay in the ponygirl role. You have to convince them you are a pony, and the judging starts when you arrive and will continue until the results are final. Sulky racing you should do fine in. The master/pony bond portion is likely to be a problem for us.”

“What is that?” Stacy asked.

“It is based on the emotional bond between Master and Pony.” Stephen explained. “It is chemistry, not something that can be taught.”

Stacy thought about that for a bit, and then asked “And the role play?”

“That is a tough one, and not something I am going to ask you to do. To place well in that you have to sleep in the barn, drink out of the water troughs, eat out of a bucket, and totally immerse yourself into being a pony. That wasn’t part of the bargain; I couldn’t ask you to do that.”

“Did your last model do that for you?” Stacy asked solemnly.

“Yes,” Stephen admitted. “But we aren’t talking about her. Let’s get working on showmanship!” Stephen said, changing the subject. “When I lead you, you stay a half step behind my shoulder. If I stop, you stop. If I back up, you back up. If I turn right, you pivot to keep position. A turn left requires you to be on your toes and respond quickly to scramble around. I’ll give you advanced warning, a subtle flick of my wrist like this, see?”

The day had been exhausting, both physically and emotionally. Stacy was on the verge of tears now and she really didn’t even understand why. She was tormented that night by dreams of ponygirls and competitions. In her dreams, every other ponygirl was loved by their master, while she was held at arms distance. Every other ponygirl had the honor of sleeping in the barn, while she was exiled to a faraway hotel. Every other ponygirl knew she was a fraud, an escort paid to impersonate a ponygirl. They laughed at her, they were mean to her. They kicked at her, bit her, chased her: a stampede of ponygirls driving out the imposter.

Stacy screamed herself awake. The dream had seemed so real, but even now the details were slipping away, fading from her memory. But one overall thought remained. She couldn’t be a pretend ponygirl. She knew what she had to do.

“Stacy, I wasn’t expecting you today.” Stephen said as she got out of her car.

“We have to talk.” Stacy said gruffly. “I can’t go through with this, not on these terms.”

“Oh?” Stephen said his face crestfallen. How could this be, they were so close, things had been going so well.

“I need more” Stacy said, fighting back tears.

“My budget is just about maxed out as it is” Stephen replied. “I can perhaps pay you more a bit later if-”

“I DON”T WANT YOUR MONEY!” Stacy screamed

“Then what do you want?” Stephen asked.

“To be a pony girl!” she cried, the tears flowing freely now. “That Master / pony bond you mentioned, that’s about intimacy, right? The touching, the holding, the loving glances? And sex? Isn’t this ponygirl thing ultimately about sex?”

“I am not paying you for sex!” Stephan hissed. “That is a line I am not crossing!”

“Then don’t pay me!” Stacy cried. “You have paid me enough, I don’t need anymore. If I am going to do this, then I am going to do it right! If that means sleeping in the barn, then I want to sleep in the barn. If it means getting fucked in the middle of the show ring, then fuck me in the middle of the show ring. “

“You don’t know what you are asking for!” Stephen argued. “That’s jumping into the deep end. Having a melt down at the show could be disastrous.”

“Then train me for it now!” Stacy insisted. “We still have two weeks. Full immersion, starting now. I need breaks to attend my college classes, but otherwise I want to eat, drink, and sleep as a ponygirl.”

Stephen stared at the girl in amazement. Such thoughts had certainly crossed his mind as well, but he would never have asked for it. He could see this going bad, really really bad. But it also had the potential for something really good.

“You want to start right now?” Stephen asked.

Stacy squared her shoulders, looked straight ahead, and then extended her right foot and pawed it back, once.


“You are overdressed!” he said. Without a word Stay stripped off her tee-shirt and sweat pants, and threw them along with her sandals back into the car. “All right then, Stacy, come along!”

Stacy remained motionless, as if she hadn’t heard him.

“Stacy?” Stephen repeated. Stacy looked off into the distance, as if she hadn’t heard him. Stephen smiled, and said, “Morning Rose!”

Stacy smiled, and skipped over to where he was standing, rubbing her forehead against his shoulder when she reached him. Stephen lifted her chin so their eyes met. “You are too much!”

- * - - * - - * - - * -

Their day had started at 3:00 AM . A night in a hotel bed had been a welcome relief to sleeping in the barn as she had for the last two weeks, but the night had been way too short. And frustrating. Stacy had expected more intimacy, including intercourse, once she had gone “full immersion”, but Stephen had remained a “gentleman” and hadn’t crossed that line. Even though they shared a room at the hotel they slept in separate beds. Stacy was about ready to scream “Fuck me already!”

Mary and Alice (the “groomers”, as Stephen had referred to them”) were transforming her. Her entire tack had been put on, faint lines drawn on her body where all the straps rode, and then everything removed again. Mary was working on her torso and groin area, gluing tiny rhinestones along her labia and up her mons. Another pattern centered at her navel, spiraling outward, jumping strands of the body harness. Intricate patterns radiated out from each nipple, extending back to where the breast rings would rest. Alice worked on her face, using all sorts of mascara and body paint, plus a number of rhinestones of her own.

Together they worked on her headpiece. Her own hair was pulled through the webbing on the back of the hood and then braided into a fake hairpiece, which surprisingly matched her own hair color exactly. The hairpiece was braided into what was basically a French braid that extended to her waist, but it had strands of hair exiting only on the left, which were then trimmed to be 6 inches long.

Stephen held up her bridal, and was about to put it on when he paused. “An important safety item you need to know.” He began. “There is a safeword, which is the word safeword itself. If you ever get into trouble, if it becomes too much, if you need out, just say safeword. All the staff, the judges, even the other handlers will respect that word and stop whatever is going on. Do you understand?”

Stacy nodded. She would have pawed but Mary was working on her hooves.

Getting her into her body harness was a group effort, and even so a number of rhinestones were dislodged and had to be replaced. The tail was attached and brushed out. Bridal and bit, cyberfluffies, hooves. And an arrangement of Ostrich feathers on the top of her head.

Stacy looked in amazement at the image that was reflected back to her in the mirror. It was the most stunning thing she had ever seen, and the fact that it was her just seemed impossible. She turned this way and that, pranced in place, swished her tail. Her body sparkled, the rhinestones both attracting attention to her genitals and disguising them. Her face was unrecognizable, even to her. The paint made it appear as if her eyes were spaced farther apart, and huge, like a horse’s would be. The contrast between her golden tan skin and the white leather was striking. But it was her hair that was the most beautiful thing she had ever seen. No, it wasn’t hair, it was a mane, and it was exquisite.

It was 7:00 AM when they made their way to the lobby and to a waiting town car. Stacy was wrapped in a trench coat for public decency purposes, but the headpiece was conspicuous and attracted attention from the small crowds that were up at the hour. A young girl tugged at her mother’s sleeve and said “Look mommy, a unicorn!” Stacy flung her head, pawed the floor and whinnied, to the delight of the child.

“Quit showing off!” Stephen admonished as he helped her in the car.

“8th annual Dog and Pony Show” the sign said.

Dog and pony? Stacy wasn’t expecting anything but ponies, and was amazed when they reached the “showground”. She was expecting a hundred, perhaps two hundred people. There were thousands. Tens of thousands, perhaps even hundreds of thousands. The grounds were obviously some sort of race horse training facility, and some four legged ponies could be seen in a pasture off in the distance. Just inside the gate there were rows of RVs parked, packed in like firewood, with all sorts of activity going on. Off in another direction was a field that was quickly filling up with cars. Up ahead was a wide path, lined on either side with booths, some selling refreshments, but most selling some sort of fetish gear. The row of booths extended several hundred yards.

And the people. All sorts of people. Tall people, short people, fat people, skinny people, young people and old people. Many were dressed in normal street clothes, but a lot were dressed in some sort of fetish gear. Not just ponies, everything imaginable. There were cats, dogs, ponies, fox, bunnies, birds, and there were bears. At least Stacy thought they were bears, a little hard to tell. Some were nearly naked, while others were encased in what had to be smothering layers of fur, tight hugging latex or shiny PVC.

She could hear comments about her own setup, and people would approach her and ask to take her picture. Stacy would proudly strike a pose, enjoying the attention. Stephen was dressed in jodhpurs, English riding boots, a long tailed coat and top hat. Together they looked quite striking.

Stacy started noticing the interaction of the different “animals”. Some were unattached, un-owned and went about as they pleased. Others were on a leash, following their handler dutifully. Stacy was particularly attentive to the ponies, wondering which, if any, would be her rivals. One such pony brought the old song “The Old Gray Mare” to mind, as she and her handler had to be in their sixties! Not bad, Stacy thought. A little saggy in parts but still good looking and her tack was fantastic!

The crowd parted to allow a cart being pulled by a male zebra to pass. A rather fat and pudgy zebra that appeared to be sweating profusely even though the morning was still fairly cool. Sitting atop the cart was a young lady, provocatively dressed in a corset and stockings, holding a parasol. “Whoa Zebra” she called out loudly. Tethered to the back of the cart were two young men sporting hoods that resembled dogs, with hand and feet coverings that gave them paws. At that moment another young lady was leading her “dog” past them as one of the tethered dogs snarled. The passing dog snarled back, the third dog joined in, and suddenly there was a mock dog fight in progress. Both ladies quickly beat their dogs with a whip, resulting in much exaggerated whining and cowering, which amused the crowd.

‘Roleplay’ Stacy thought. In character, from time of arrival to the very end. It gave her an idea. A short while later someone dropped a steel platter on the ground, causing a loud clatter. Stacy leaped to the side, going as far as her lead would allow, then feigning a hard pull with her eyes wide and breathing hard.

“Easy Girl” Stephen said, pulling her back in and giving her a pat on her shoulder. “Very good” he whispered. “I liked that”. Indeed, she looked every bit the spooked pony. Stacy swished her tail, shook her mane. This was fun!

Their first stop was the registration booth, where Stephen had to complete the required paperwork. Stacy was left tied to a hitching post, along with several other ponies, while her Master dealt with the formalities. Stacy was happy just to watch the crowd, and she giggled when she watched a “dog” pretend chase a “cat”. There was so much to see that she couldn’t possibly take it all in.

She felt their presence, as if it had cast an aura of gloom around them. Stacy turned and saw the pair looking her over closely, an absolutely fabulous mare being handled by an equally fabulous Mistress. Stacy smiled, gave a courteous nod to her fellow ponygirl, but was taken aback when all she got in return was an icy stare. The other mare stamped her foot and gave her head a shake in her direction as she turned to look at her Mistress.

“Yes, that’s her.” The Mistress said. “I’ll give it to Stephen; he comes up with some fabulous tack themes. But don’t you worry, I have it on the best of authority that she is nothing but a whore he paid to masquerade as pony. Come, we don’t fraternize with that lot!”

Stacy was trembling with rage as she watched them move to the opposite side of the registration booth, an obvious move to be as far from her as possible. She was so tempted to shout after them, but what would she say? She didn’t think it was a good idea to argue the whore part. Instead, she turned her anger inward, focused. Prove them wrong, she wasn’t masquerading as a ponygirl, she was a ponygirl. Role play, be in the scene. Stacy started swishing her tail, using moves she had practiced over the last two weeks. A subtle clench of the ass cheeks, a flip of the hip and the tail would wrap around her body.

That was when her tongue started playing with the roller in the center of her bit. Stacy never understood why a roller was put on a horses bit, but they often were. And many horses would work that roller with their tongue, just to annoy those around them. So that’s what Stacy did. Quietly at first, but then with her mouth open, and then tilting her head sideways to get the roller to make maximum noise. Her tongue was starting to ache from how hard she was working that roller.

THWACK! “Stop that, bad pony!” Stephen admonished, verbally and with the crop. Stacy immediately shut her mouth and stood at parade rest position. Stephen glared at her sternly, but there was a twinkle in his eyes and the corners of his mouth turned up slightly.

“Stephen, you made it!” a woman called out. “And who is this exquisite creature?”

“I wouldn’t miss this event for the world!” Stephen replied, turning his attention to the new arrival. “Madam Wong, I am pleased to present to you Morning Rose!” Stacy turned to face the petite Asian woman, and then gave her best bow, crossing one leg behind the other, bending the forward knee and bending at the waist until her forehead touched her knee. Sort of. Stacy thought that she should have practiced this wearing the unicorn horn.

“When I heard that you had Fury’s Star stolen away from you that you would have been forced to withdraw. Where did you get a replacement on such short notice? Did you steal her away from someone else? Have I seen her before?”

“No, I don’t stoop that low.” Stephen said. “New blood, freshly trained.”

“I see.” Madam Wong said. “Where did you find her? L.A? San Francisco?”

“A local girl”

“Oh!” she exclaimed. “From the heart of the Bible Belt? Oklahoma isn’t exactly a breeding ground for this sort of thing, no fetish clubs that I am aware of. How did you find her?”

“Classified ad” Stephen said curtly. Stacy cringed at the remark. He had meant it as a joke, but it was uncomfortably close to the truth.

“I see.” She said icily, her suspicion obvious in her voice. “You must attend the Champions Reception this morning! I know, you’re technically not invited because you no longer have your champion, but I will pull some strings and get you in. I am sure everyone will want to hear the story of your latest acquisition!”

- * - - * - - * - - * -

“This would be the competition’ Stacy thought as she looked around the garden patio. All of these ponies had been considered a “champion” at some time, and presumably recent year’s winners would be here as well. Some of them she found amusing: There was a mare whose entire body was covered in shiny PVC, her head encased in a hard plastic horse head mask, her hands terminated in smaller versions of the hooves that enclosed her feet. Stacy wondered how she could see, or breath for that matter. There was the Old Gray Mare again, and Stacy was trying to picture her in her prime. She continued looking about and realized two things: Women handlers outnumbered the men 2:1, and more important, many of the other ponies were staring at her. Stacy responded to the unspoken challenge by standing as proud and tall as she could manage, swishing her tail.

Stacy heard the stomp of a hoof behind her. “No, I don’t know how she got in here” it was barely a whisper, but it was so close behind her that Stacy had no problem hearing it. With the blinkers on she would have had to turn all the way around to see them, but it wasn’t necessary, she knew who they were. Stacy had heard that voice before and it made her blood boil. Another stomp. “It would be pointless to protest, she isn’t going to be any challenge, trust me!” Stacy wondered if they could actually communicate without words or if they had planned this ahead of time. Either way, she wasn’t going to give them the satisfaction of even looking their way.

Be a pony, Stacy thought.

Stephen was busy chatting away with acquaintances, holding a flute of champagne in one hand and a small plate with delicious looking sweets in the other. Stacy’s lead was tucked under his right arm at the elbow as she dutifully stayed the expected half step behind him. But those sweets looked so good.

There was a table full of them just two feet away! Stacy looked at the table, then at Stephen, and got a devilish smile. Madam Wong was among the small gathering engaging her master in conversation and she gave a quizzical glance when she saw the smile cross Stacy’s face. Stacy shuffled just a bit to her right. Then again. Once more, a half step, barely noticeable. She waited a bit, then bent toward the table where a tray of tiny pastries awaited, each one in its own little paper cup. She was still a few inches away when the lead went taught. Stacy tugged gently, pulling a bit more slack from Stephens arm. Stacy caught sight of Madam Wong, smirking at her as she turned and stretched out, her lips just barely brushing against the paper holding the prize. She was able to grab the paper in her lips, pull it a little closer, and separate it from the rest.

“Sorry to interrupt” Madam Wong said loudly. Very loudly. “But your pony is being REALLY bad!”

Stacy paused for just a second, then lunged forward, grabbing the pastry and inhaling it before Stephen could haul her back. THWACK! The crop cut her across her buttocks. “BAD PONY!” THWACK, THWACK! THWACK.

Stacy shrieked and stood up, attempting to be in Parade Attention except for a bit of dancing as the crop repeatedly struck her buttocks. Stephen grabbed her by the bridal, pulled her face closed to his and whispered in her ear: “I don’t know if I should hug your or hurt you!” He pulled back, winked, and exclaimed loudly “You are fortunate that I need you pretty for the show, as otherwise I would beat you head to toe!”

Stacy heard a number of chuckles and at least one person clapped. She didn’t know if this was appropriate or not, but at least she was having fun. And that pastry was delicious, totally worth it.

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