Gromet's PlazaPonyGirl/PetGirl Stories

The Pony Revolution

by Daxter

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© Copyright 2021 - Daxter - Used by permission

Storycodes: M/f; fpov; ponygirl; cuffs; harness; outdoors; armbinder; remote; chastity; cons; X

Continues from

Chapter 3: A Year And A Half Later At Nowhere Island

I was in the pilot’s seat, but the autopilot was really flying the plane. I had picked up three frisky young women and a very timid man. We were destined for the island. The last two hours we had flown over the open ocean.

Things had changed a lot at the island that had now been named “Nowhere Island”. It took Brian a few hours to fix the satellite communication, and it all happened before any of the ponies and self-acclaimed handlers woke up from their drunken stupor. After letting the world know of what happened on the island, we retracted to the forest after dropping our harnesses with the GPS trackers down an abandoned mineshaft. They spent the day looking for us while a rescue party was mounted and sent to the island.

Just before dawn, four long range helicopters swept in from the east, each carrying troops that had no problem taking control. We emerged from the forest to greet the troops that were led by a captain Duncan – who happened to be a military friend of Brian.

The yacht was tracked until it made landfall a few days later, and three soon-to-be pony girls and two boys were freed from a warehouse in the harbor area. The whole organization was uprooted, including the financial supporters. Which left the ownership of the island in an unclear state.

The soldiers brought in psychiatrists that talked with the ponies, but in the end all but two declined to be evacuated from the island and asked to be kept in tack. Which created a challenge. To make a long story short, ownership of the island was transferred to a foundation. Me, Ann and Th… eh Brian became executors of the foundation with Captain Duncan as overseer. The pony ranch kept on running, with one main exception: The ponies now had to come by their own free will and could demand release at any point in time. Income became based on donations, and on interest from a fund formed to support the operations.

The four sleeping people in the passenger cabin were not drugged, only tired after a long flight over open water. In fact, they had paid money to be taken to Nowhere Island. Two were there on a time limited contract, as a late summer adventure, two were on open ended contracts. The time limited contracts had turned out to be popular, leading to some very busy summer months. But now it was late August, and the traffic was winding down.

We had organized the operation with handlers, routines, briefings, contracts, modified equipment and an absolute ban against the use of excessive force. The buried ponies were exhumed, identified and the remains sent to their relatives for proper burials where relatives could be found. We were not able to find any relatives of four of them, and they were re-buried on the island.

One of the rules we had instituted was that all handlers had to spend at least one month in a year in pony gear themselves. That upset some dominants that wanted to come to the island to quote: “Run the subs hard and teach them a lesson”. We quite frankly did not care, and our business was running well even without the business from these sadists.

I had been out of pony gear for eleven months now, and when we landed, it was time for me to spend a month as a human pony again. I dreaded this – but still looked forward to it with a strange mix of feelings. As the head of the operation, I had no doubt that I would be kept on a tight leash. As the head of operations, I also had to set an example. Preferably a good one.

The island appeared on the horizon, and I started a slow descent. There were protocols to follow. I leveled off at nine hundred feet and aimed the plane for the hidden airstrip. I did not deploy the wheels but slowed the speed down to hundred and ten knots. As I passed over the landing strip, I dipped the wings, three times to the left, one time to the right. Three plus one made four. Having passed the landing strip, I turned right, flew parallel to the landing strip and dipped the right wing four times. Below us motors started, retracting the plant beds from the runway, making it ready for landing. I let the plane continue a few minutes out to sea before turning back again, setting full flaps, deploying the landing gear, and making my final approach.

Once the plane was inside the hangar, the runway was again getting covered with plants and the plane and the runway once more became invisible from the air.

I completed the post flight checklist, had my passengers taken care of and left the cockpit. Brian was waiting for me in the hangar. I threw myself in his arms, and he held me tightly, kissing my upturned face, having a bit of fun avoiding my lips.

“It is time, you know. No more postponing,” he smirked.

“Ok, yes, I know. I just need to get back to my apartment, get a shower and I will report for pony duty,” I responded with a sigh.

“You will do no such thing,” he said, spun me around effortlessly, handcuffed my hands behind my back, picked me up and carried me over his shoulder down towards the stables.

“No, please, you have to let me at least get out of these sweaty clothes!”

“You will get out of those clothes, I promise,” he said with a laugh. “Now shush. Ponies don’t speak. You are the boss. You must lead by example.”

I could of course have objected, but I had to admit, the situation was quite sexy, being carried handcuffed, thrown over his shoulder. I could feel his body work to carry me. I felt sweat breaking out on his shin. I was helpless and enjoyed every moment of it.

It was a short walk downhill to the stables. Brian wasted no time securing me to the handling frame. I was there slightly bent forward, legs to the sides, arms to the sides high above. A huge mirror was in front of me. It sounded like a clever idea when I had it installed, but now, with me secured in front of the mirror I regretted the installation.

The bridle was the first to be put on. We always installed the bridle first. Having vision and hearing as well as speech restricted sent the ponies into the proper submissive state of mind. I expected to see the pile of straps, but instead Brian held up a metal bridle for me to see.

“I finished this while you were drinking pink umbrella drinks back in civilization. It is a modified version of the bridle the rebels put on you, but very much improved. It will be an honor for you to try it first, all the other ponies will envy you!”

I started to protest, but his hand was inside my shirt, grabbing a nipple and twisting it. “I believe the words you are looking for are ‘thank you Master’,” he said. Instead of a protest, I mumbled “Thank you Master,” which earned me another nipple twist, so I repeated it louder. He let my nipple go. I opened my mouth and accepted the spoon bit. He closed the bridle. It fit my head perfectly. It connected to a collar with a click. That thing was not coming off without the keys or a side grinder.

“As you can see all the locks are integrated. You cannot cut them off with a side grinder as you will be cutting too close to your skin and the side grinder will make a lot of heat. It has some bright new features, like noise canceling. It is fully remote controllable, and with the new antenna at the south mountain, we have full island coverage. It has this beautiful plume attachment that makes sure you are not overlooked in any crowd.” He attached a huge, two-foot-tall plume to an attachment point at the top of my head.

I tried to speak, but nothing that could be understood came out of my mouth. That was for the best. I absolutely hated that huge, feathery pink plume.

He clicked something on a remote, and the eye visor blocked my sight. At the same time, all sounds stopped. The effect was unexpected, and I did not like it at all.

Half an hour later, all my gear was on. Brian released me from the handling frame, and clipped reins to my bridle. Blinded and deaf, he led me outdoors by gently pulling on the reins. I hated this. I was wearing a chastity belt, but my breasts were swinging free, only adorned with the bells he attached to my nipple rings. My hands were in an armbinder keeping them in a reverse prayer. My tail was swinging with every move. My tummy was kept in a strict corset.

That afternoon I was paraded everywhere. Bells jingled with every move I made. My hooved feet made clopeticlopeti sounds as I walked. I thought the tail vibrated at times, but I was not sure. I was helpless, but thankfully the one handling me was a man I loved. Oh, did I just say that?


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