Gromet's PlazaPonyGirl/PetGirl Stories

The Reluctant Racing Pony 2

by Jackie Rabbit

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© Copyright 2012 - Jackie Rabbit - Used by permission

Storycodes: MF+/f; leather; harness; bitgag; training; drug; condition; ponygirl; cart; outdoors; race; shave; tattoo; sold; petgirl; cons; X

(story continues from )

Part Two

There was no explanation of my new status as I was just a pony to them. Ken was told I needed a racing name, and he said he didn't care what they called me, clearly putting aside any lingering affection he may have still had for me as he glanced at Jill's barely concealed petite ass. My former boss was the default man to name me, and he deferred to his secretary who looked right at my exposed breasts and suggested "Milkmaid". With my name chosen I was lead not to my barn, but to a new area of the ranch where I was walked to a breeding mount. It was a device much like a college gymnastic horse with a hole in the rear of the thing for the stud to hump into a giant condom, and to save his seed for later insemination. I was in theoretical alignment with any horse that wanted to mount me as I was strapped wrist and ankle to the heavy device with thick straps, and quite immobile as I hoped they wouldn't do such a thing to me.

A man walked in shortly after, and to my relief with a tattoo gun, and he proceeded to imprint the ranch's brand onto my right ass cheek, preventing me from ever wearing a thong on the beach again. It itched more than it hurt, but nothing like what a real brand would. Next a Veterinarian, who was on retainer with the ranch, looked me over and took some blood before she injected me with a chemical milkshake that Jill suggested would help me build muscle and endurance and keep my bones strong. I was left strapped to the mount after the vet left, and Jill and I were alone as she told me not speaking to another human would eventually challenge my sanity, and that they had a procedure that might prevent that. I nodded and whinnied, but this time Jill managed not to break out laughing when I did.

"Just remember". she said, "good ponies run fast."

She said she would leave me a note book, and that she wanted me to write down my experiences at the ranch, just like in my diary that she had found when throwing out my clothes last night. I meant to blurt out, "all my clothes?", but all that came out was a mournful neighing sound. It was as if she understood me though, because she told me not to worry because she would see to it that under no circumstances would I ever need clothes again.

Jill told me that Nick's investors had purchased sixty percent of my contract from the insurance company, and that meant that he had a controlling interest in every decision about what happened to me. Jill also told me Nick was a close family friend of her fathers, and six months after he came to her looking for information on the insurance fraud case, the two of them came up with this little situation to properly reward me like no court ever could. She said what sealed the deal for Nick was the way I let Maria go to jail for me, and after that he was open to my ponification.

Jill was so proud of herself she couldn't stop talking. Then she said she found a ranch that had both pony boys and pony girls, and she volunteered there to learn all about how to handle them at the same time as Nick bought into the ranch. She said in all reality it was no different than the real ponies we had both rode, reward good performance, and correct bad, and to project confident and absolute dominance. True to her words she had done all of those with me, and I clearly knew what I had to do to stay on her good side, as I far to easily accepted my new role in life. The phrase,"Good ponies run fast", again went through my mind as if it was the most important thing in life to me now.

She said the note book was for her to document my experiences, and that their vet had recommended it as well. She also said she was going to post my experiences from my diary, one at a time on Gromets Plaza, the best site on earth that she knew about for sharing my experiences anonymously with others. She told me that thousands of like minded people could enjoy them every day on that site, including everybody she knew that I did as well, allowing them to know me as few others did. She said it could be like a confession for me, and could help me if my racing career ever ended, but only if I was honest.

I only thought they would make me do this just long enough to learn my lesson and that my clothes were not discarded, but I resigned myself to total accuracy at the cost of any pride I may still have just in case. I was smart enough to realise I was in no position to negotiate!

I was fed and put away and I started writing in the note book that was provided until I caught up to the present. The next day my food was waiting for me as usual, and I was soon out with Chris in the sulky and I felt great despite the lack of a rub down after my record setting run the previous day. I don't know if it was the injections the Doctor gave me, or if it was the freedom to just be a pony girl likely with no human life to return to, but I felt stronger than I ever did and I pulled Chris my groom almost like a real pony.

"Good ponies run fast," the thought went through my mind as my training got harder and longer, and I found myself on the hot walker every day to build my stamina as several spectators came to watch me. Some of them I recognised from work and my former circle of friends, others were strangers to me. Jill came every weekend and she ran me hard, often up the road, rain or shine, as ponies had to race in all conditions.

A week before the first local race Chris my groom presented me with new boots, they were very light with titanium hoofs for speed, and he removed my posture collar to ease my breathing as well. I tried to speak when I was alone once the collar was removed, and couldn't make anything but pony noises, negating the need for it in the future. I had been visited by the vet each week, and injected with the milkshake of things she used to make me very strong, and she seemed pleased with my overall conditioning. Jill had said over and over again to me after a particularly good workout, "good ponies run fast." It was a simple phrase that kept repeating in my mind all on it's own...


I know that this is an awkward place to end this account, but that was the last entry in Milkmaids notebook. I will attempt to tell the rest of her story, and seeing as how I was her jockey, and in constant contact with her groom and owners, I think I am uniquely qualified to tell it...

It was the primary plan of Nick and I to reward Milkmaid like no court ever could, and the insurance companies board of directors had established a "special compensation unit" that had given us all the resources to do so. It was a pilot program and Nick was chosen to head it because of his reputation in the business. I had an ulterior motive as well, I wanted Milkmaid so far out of the picture that she couldn't possibly steal Ken back one day. For me this wasn't just business, but personal as well as enjoyable! There is a word in German, Schadenfreude, and it fit perfectly with the way I felt.

We knew from our research that an average pony girl could be raced on the International Pony Racing League circuit for no longer that three years before they lost their minds and were unable to return to human society, no matter how hard the retraining was. The limited communication the sound altering posture collar provided didn't help, but the rules of the I.P.R.L. were a hundred plus year old tradition. "No pony may utter a single word!" In the old days ponies had surgery, now they did it with a high tech collar that rendered a pony just as mute as the old days after several weeks time. The vet had also told me that the higher a pony's intelligence, the quicker her active mind would breakdown under forced ponification. I had to be honest with myself no matter what I thought of her and her man stealing ways, Milkmaid was smart. She was so smart that she got bored with everyday life and found incredible ways to entertain herself, and obviously others in the process!

Only this last time she got caught by the wrong people.

I found Milkmaid waiting in her stall the day of her first race wearing her new light weight racing boots and harnessed up by her own hands. She had been trained to do that by Chris to allow him more time to run her during the shorter fall days, and that was normal for an experienced pony girl to do. Chris had told me she flew in her lightweight boots, and he could hardly hold her back on their runs.

I instantly knew the moment I saw her, just as the vet had predicted it would happen, but far sooner. Milkmaid had a blank stare when I opened her stall, and gone was the internal fight in her eyes for control of her humanity. She was now little more than a pony girl, and that fact alone meant I would get to keep Ken for as long as I agreed to indulge his darker desires, but those were pale by comparison to what lay ahead for her. I had won, albeit by deceit, but also had no intention of loosing the best lover I ever had a second time! It was bittersweet though as we still had a racing season to run, and we all had bet heavily on her to win big money as she had a beginners rating, and high odds against her due to her age. Her former friends at work had bet heavily on her as well, as did many of us at the ranch once we saw her true potential pulling a racing cart.

Mindless or not we had a race to run and we loaded her up into a horse trailer for the ride to the track as prescribed by I.P.R.L. rules relating to transport of racing stock. The track was a real horse track that was rented out by the league, and the ponies were housed in small stalls for pre-race inspections by the betting fans that were present. The majority of bets were received on line, and that made sense as most of the spectators saw it either through pay per view, or on line in real time.

Older or not Milkmaid was one of the best looking pony girls there, and it was clear that some of the other pony girls had been given a little too much of the testosterone milkshake that all of the professional teams used. Some of them had a fur forming on their mostly exposed bodies, and were muscular in a very masculine way. I doubted some of them would pass the pre race medical, and I moved onto the others. There were pony girls there that were obviously weekend athletes, and it looked like their boyfriends or husbands were their jockeys. Good kinky fun to be sure, but not a race winning strategy! I did wonder if the casual racing ponies would find themselves tethered in a breeding corral later for the pony boys after race "entertainment". After all, even the casual racers had to wear the posture collar if they still had control of their human voices, as I suspected many did, and that meant that any decision along that line would be left to their jockeys and owners. I also suspected that an embarrassed husband finishing last might let his loosing pony girl get some of the same later, whether she knew it or not. No matter what it was always fun to watch, in a dark and sadistic kind of way, and a big hit on pay per view.

There were three races scheduled for the pony girls, and we would have to run in two of them as we had no racing standing, along with all the casual racers. I knew our chances were very good to win the first race, but we didn't have to win that one, only show or better to qualify for the last race. I knew I would have to hold Milkmaid back so she didn't tire herself out in the first, and I wished she still had some humanity left that I could explain what I wanted from her. That's the primary reason we had her on the hot walker for so many hours during her training cycle.

The pony boys were brought in last, and their was no pretense about how much extra testosterone they received, the professional ones anyway. They were tall, muscular, and hairy, and in their harnesses their massive bobbing cocks looked to belong to real ponies. They were excited as they knew what lay ahead after their races, and they looked to the pony girl stalls to see what they might get to ride later. Two of the casual pony girls looked like they suddenly didn't want to win as their eyes met when the two groups passed each other. Chris and I both tried to talk to Milkmaid to tell her not to run any harder than I commanded her to in the first, but whether she understood us or not I wasn't sure.

We watched the pony boys first, and they were all running modern tack, no mono gloves to be found in the field. Their arms were attached to the sulky poles and we had found that it was the fastest rig for most ponies, although the pony girls always looked much sexier with their arms pinned back. The field was fast and the races went quickly, and their exclusively female jockeys didn't spare the whip on any of them. The three winning beasts were lead to the breeding corral to await their reward for a good performance, still sweaty and aroused as their jockeys received their trophies.

We had another surprise for Milkmaid, gone was her training sulky, and we were using a light weight racing one that would make her even faster in her light weight boots. Some of the other racers were riding their carts to the starting gate, but I chose to walk her instead saving her strength. Some of the other casual racers had opted for the mono glove tack that looked visually stunning, but we were using the same kind of set up that we had after the first days of Milkmaids training. Each sulky and mount had matching numbers, and ours for this race was number one, never a good omen to the superstitious. I had asked everybody that knew her not to visit her prior to her first race once I saw her empty eyes, but I knew she had many spectators in the stands rooting for and betting on us.

This was the casual race for track position in the main feature for the racers like us with no race standing. Milkmaid was anxious and when the gate went up she took off at my command and we paced the leaders from the outside as she ran easy with my commands. I was up in the sulky and she ran effortlessly with only one mono gloved mount even in sight behind. In front to the inside was a surprise, one of the casual athletic pony girls was giving a good showing with her husband, I had guessed, using his whip mercilessly all over her in the first third of the race. He never pondered the possibility that she would tire and not even finish with his one hundred eighty plus pounds in the sulky! I just shook my head in disgust. She was a pretty girl as well and I thought to see if she was for sale after the race as I knew we could do well with her in our program. Milkmaid finished an easy first, and had I not held her back she would have embarrassed the rest of the field, but there is never anything to gain from doing that as it discourages new teams from coming into the sport. I was also surprised that the pretty lucky number seven even finished, but she did show giving her a place in the feature.

We watered and walked Milkmaid around to keep her loose and waited for the others to qualify for the feature where the competition would be brutal, as this one was for real money. In no time at all we were back at the starting gate and I had the option and chose the most outside gate available to us. I had noticed the track looked softer near the rail and I would gladly trade some distance for less drag on the sulky wheels for my mount. Pretty number seven was exhausted, but in the middle of the field, and only one of the hairy pony girls was apparently able to pass the medical and take the gate.

Before the gate went up I told Milkmaid, "good ponies run fast". I instantly knew she understood me because she got restless and started to chomp at her bit in anticipation of the gate. When it went up we flew out of the box, but so did most of the others as well with the exception of pretty number seven. Her jockey had apparently been warned not to abuse his mount or face disqualification, and he only used his reins to encourage her exhausted self around the track, unfortunately for her dead last behind the field.

Some of the possibly faster riders were boxed in the center of the field, but we had a clear track and I blocked to the extent that I could without getting caught as I again stood in the sulky. The last third the field opened up as some of the others got tired, possibly from running in the soft stuff that I avoided. Hairy pony girl was to the inside, and she was getting the whip pretty hard from her jockey, a thin guy who looked like he was enjoying the beating he was giving her a little too much. I faded to the inside and forced Hairy inside, blocking the others inside of her, and it was just a two pony race for the win with Milkmaid leading by a breast as Hairy really didn't have any. I had not even touched my whip yet, and didn't have the heart to as Milkmaid was giving her best run yet against a pony girl that wasn't really all girl. I got on her a little harder with the reins and told her not to let this hairy beast beat her. I was surprised when hairy's head turned to look in the direction of my most rude comment, and her direction and pace were momentarily lost. No amount of whip could get her back on track so close to the finish and Milkmaid won her first race easily!

I accepted MY trophy for the win as Milkmaid looked on, and I wondered how much of what was going on actually was understood by her.

We who had bet on Milkmaid to win had done quite well, but after this decisive win her odds changed to more accurately reflect her abilities, old or not. I talked to Nick and told him I thought we could purchase pretty number seven, (her name was actually Princess), for a good price and make some money with her in the future. I told him what I saw and he agreed, and we later found out that her jockey was her ex-husband and the two had no love for each other. Nick said he would see if he could purchase her before she was taken to the breeding corral.

We finished the season with Milkmaid and we made back our investments several times over, and the intent of the special compensation unit was found to be successful, and Nick was put in charge of it, no longer just a pilot program. He asked me to also join the unit, and I agreed only if I could have time to train our new pony girl for the next season. I was certain that Milkmaid would no longer be a threat to my relationship with Ken, and that the insurance company was reimbursed for their loss by deception, and that Milkmaid was properly rewarded for her crime. I thought it a fitting irony that she now had so much in common with Maria that I just had to tell somebody, but I also think that Maria may have got the better end of the deal.

It was our original intention to sell what was left of Milkmaid to a pony boy stable to be used in their breeding corral for entertainment, but I realised early on that she would have enjoyed that far too much when there was some humanity left in her, but now I wasn't so sure. My conscience, that temporarily had left me, wouldn't allow me to do that with how hard she ran for me either. I had a crazy idea that was inspired by one of her diary entries that I talked over with Nick, and he agreed only if we could do it in a neutral revenue way, which I found. Several phone calls later I had all the pieces put together, and Milkmaid had a new collar, and an extensive appointment with the tattoo artist. He had said he considered it a professional challenge when I told him what I wanted, clearly excited to indulge his artistic talents. Lastly, Milkmaids long hair was cut in a creative way, and a proper tail was made from most of it.

The results were striking, and several weeks later all that was left was a ride into the country with Milkmaid in her carrier, ready to see her new home. The professor was happy to hear from me earlier, and even more so when I told him what I had in mind. He had to sell his house in town for obvious reasons, but he was more than willing once he realised I was serious, and as we drove up his new place looked perfect for Milkmaid. When I finally met him in the flesh he asked me to call him Greg, as the title of professor seemed stuffy to him, or so he said. I reminded him of our agreement that he should make plans for her care if he should pass on before she did, and he assured us that he had every intention of sharing her with his like minded friends from the club for just that reason. I gave him all the necessary medical information, and where he should go for her care and grooming as he patiently waited to see her.

I could delay no longer and I opened the back of the truck, and out jumped Milkmaid. She was tattooed with black spots all over her body and even a black nose like a perfect Dalmatian. Her hair had been cut and styled to cover her ears like a dogs, but very short everywhere else. The remaining hair was made into a tail and held in place by a thong like string and wire so she could wag it if she rocked her hips enough. She ran around like mad on all four legs, her front paws held into fists by special gloves that looked like paws, and her knees held the same way. Greg couldn't see it yet, but on her special collar was a tag with her name, and also her new owners name as well.

Milkmaid settled down after her frantic run and sat at Greg's heel, and it looked like he was about to cry as she looked up at him with her big puppy eyes. I told him that she answers to Milkmaid even though it is an odd name for a dog, but that if he desires he can change it...

Nick and I turned to leave after we answered all the questions we could, but we left out the fact that we chose this life for Milkmaid because of all the things she had done in her diary, she hated being forced to be a dog the worst. It was a fitting irony that I had no intention sharing with Ken, and her secret diary was already destroyed so it was unlikely that Ken would ever know, unless that is he found her stories on line. As we drove up the driveway we heard Milkmaid barking, and we were happy to see her new collar was working properly...



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