© Copyright 2009 - Lylani Bellic - Used by permission
Storycodes: Solo-f; M/f; bdsm; bond; sbf; pony; transform; cons; X
I was what people would call a nobody. No ties to friends or close family, a small insignificant job. The type that you'd see on the news as the latest victim of some kidnapper. Except that I was such a nobody that there was no use in taking me. I was just your average everyday girl just coasting through life unnoticed. That was not to say I was a pale recluse hiding in the confines of my cell that some Realtor called a small apartment. I wasn't the type to let my brain melt like that. I defiantly got out a lot, trips to the store or the near by lake to lay in the sand trying to ignore the felling that every guy was trying to peak and every woman was pridefully dismissing any feature that we both had.
Life for me didn't start until I started dreaming. You know those dreams where you wake up but are still really asleep and you just dreamed you wake up? Those dreams started happening a lot and over the course of a week they altered. From 'waking up' as myself I started dreaming of waking up as others. As time went on I learned; or more to say theorized, I could somewhat control my dreams and that, unlike most dreams, I could remember these.
It wasn't until I had a boyfriend for a few weeks that things changed and my life really began. Having waited years to meet someone and getting to know him for nearly a month he stayed the night once. It was a pleasant evening filled with the lovey-dovey things you'd expect from a new couple, lots of giggling and kissing and tickling.
I woke late that night to an otherwise empty bed and a phone call from a frenetic, freaked out and disturbed boyfriend who vowed never to date me again after recounting his tale of waking in the night to go to the bathroom and not finding me in the bed but a clone of himself. Both of us shaken from the event never saw or spoke to each other again. But what shocked me was that my dream that night had been of waking up as him, faulted to my thinking of him prior to falling asleep.
Over the course of the following days I devised my theory of what was going on: what I had attributed to a dream in a dream this while time was actually me waking up briefly as some other form. How this transformation was even possible was beyond me, but I had it and was curious about it.
Knowing what it was I was doing I was able to stay awake a few times it happened. Most of the time I was conscious for such a brief time that I couldn't maintain the state and I noticed that when I stopped to explore my form it faded in front of me. An odd sight if ever there was one. It didn't seem to useful of an ability, special no doubt but if I reverted back to my normal self just by waking up what function could I gain from it?
It was always on my mind though, this hidden special ability I had and I often imagined what I could do if it was more then just something that happened while I slept. It was actually my incessant thinking on it that lead to the discovery and refinement of how I could sorta control it. Holding my breath I tensed all my muscles and stretched my body out like some big yawn with the image of somebody in mind I could begin the process that merged my features with theirs and then lose myself to their body.
For a long time I was able to do just that, but lost the form almost as soon as it was full. It wasn't until I realized just how mentally stressful the task was that it became clear how to hold a form. Every time I shifted I stopped thinking on it once it was done, more interested in looking at my new form then keeping the mental image clear. Blurred and useless my body stopped copying it and reverted. Again a roadblock, frustrated I abandoned hope of it for a long time. Having worked so hard to get this far only to find that I had to stay still and think on changing form forever just to use it; the power seemed as useless as it had when I had no control over it.
Months later I discovered, quite by accident as most things are discovered, what I called the 'click'. It was a sensation more then a sound, a feeling at the back of neck like cracking a knuckle but with a spinal disc. I first felt it shortly after waking from another form shifting dream and passing out again. Waking up in the morning I was surprised to find that I was still shifted, I looked like a girl friend of mine I'd caught up with last week! It was then that I made the connection; this 'click' helped me stay transformed without thinking on it. It was progress, though how did I make it stick? It warranted further trials and I was interested in doing so again.
Firstly I shifted back to my normal self and, as I sorta guessed, stayed that way without effort. I shifted back to the form of my girl friend and tried to crack my neck to duplicate the sensation I'd felt last night but with no luck. The form faded, and I tried again, and again. It was growing tedious again but I had reason to not give up, I had the knowledge that it could be maintained I just had to figure out how to get it to click.
It was a few weeks later that I finally got it, as in the past I kept attributing things to a physical requirement when it was all mental. As with imagining the form I wanted I had to imagine the click before I felt it. I was thrilled when I first controlled it, the possibilities of this power unfolded in front of me. It took me a bit to perfect it and more then once I found myself reverting in the middle of some excursion in a borrowed shape. On one occasion it nearly happened in front of someone else as a friend came over to my place and I wasn't appearing as myself. I was forced to make some story of how she'd (I'd) run to the store quickly and I (the girl I was appearing as) was her neighbour just heading out. I now have two full bags of flour and a promise to my friend to share some baking with her all just to cover it up.
It was a couple months down the line when the idea came to mind, I'd been mimicking people I'd seen once in passing on the street and just sitting around the house but it didn't seem like the extent of my powers. What if I could create not just copy? I'd once tried to copy some things I'd seen on TV but that had failed, and I had resigned it to only being able to copy reality. But what if I could create reality by copying two at the same time? It would put my mind at ease somewhat knowing that I wasn't going to ruin someones life by going out as them. So I set off to more experimenting and in due course I'd sorta mixed my features with another womans. A look in the mirror reflected a totally different woman, one I'd never met before. I was giddy and clicked in for a night out on the town.
A few days later at the bar as a sweet girl I got myself a date with a dashingly cute guy who had the words I was looking to hear. I knew from the start it couldn't last, never would work. I had to revert to myself sometime and he'd get all freaked and leave like my last boyfriend. But a bit of fun couldn't hurt could it?
We had a few dates, I had memorized the look of the non-existent girl I emulated and considered it part of my makeup routine on days we had a date planned. Now as with many guys found at a bar his plan was quick to be revealed; sex was on his mind and as if that wasn't enough he wanted to tie me up for it. I was instantly (and understandably) concerned, I barely knew this man and while sex with a stranger was risky being helpless and bound made it more so. I did the rational thing and declined and while he appeared hurt I think he understood. It was what people called a long shot that I'd have agreed.
I didn't see him again after that, he never called me nor I him. But the night stuck with me. The idea of bondage had never entered the picture before but as I contemplated it, it fit. With my ability to be anyone and everyone I had the perfect way to go about it. There was no way that my friends would care about some random girl being into bondage so long as it wasn't obviously me.
I grabbed some money and emulated some random mix of girls and headed out the door picking up some supplies; changing emulations sometimes worried even in an emulated form of people looking on me oddly for the list of articles I bought. Back at home I reverted and dumped the stuff on my bed and looked over the various bags contents.
Rope, some duct tape, a pair of metal handcuffs, a foam ball and a bright pink dog collar. I smiled and shook slightly as I surveyed my new collection of toys and it was only a matter of five minutes (maybe seven or eight) before my doubt was thrown out the window and my courage was tucked into my fist and I was collared, gagged with the ball and duct tape and kneeling on the floor nude with my hands cuffed behind me.
It was an equal amount of time before my doubt climbed back in from the balcony and I hurriedly uncuffed myself and spit out the ball. I was busy rubbing my wrists from the unfamiliar pressure of the cuffs and forgot to take my collar off. It stayed there for a long time, days; though I only ever went out as an emulation of the girl I'd decided would be my bondage alter-ego. I still giggled at the power of my amazing ability. I quickly grew accustomed to being tied up, I expanded my collection to include a more comfortable (when compared to metal) pair of leather cuffs that I often wore to bed, a ballgag I'd found on a website and a few tensor (ace) bandages that I used as a blindfold. I spent a lot of time tying myself up.
Over the course of a few weeks I passed my alter-ego off as a roommate (I had to explain why this collared girl kept coming to my apartment and staying the night) and made up a makeshift room for her. Keeping pictures of both my forms served dual purpose, it lent to the idea that two girls lived here and it helped me remember what my alter-ego looked like so that I could continue to emulate her. Those forms that I forgot I couldn't emulate anymore. I stored the toys in a box labeled with her name in the living room where she supposedly slept on the couch the apartment only having one bedroom. None of my friends went through it when they were over at my behest and they didn't really question why they never saw me and my roomie together; the pictures and odd occasion where they saw her out and about was enough to convince them she was real.
With a renewed interest in life I stopped being a nobody, it didn't mean I was this big name girl but I wasn't so afraid to put myself out there. I advanced in my job and life went on with my secret obsession growing in the background. My collection grew from a measly collection into one that included more expensive things that I'd splurged on like a leather body harness and a metal collar that I had to fight hard to remember to take off when I wasn't emulating.
Then many things in my life changed. I got a better paying job but the commute was to long and it was time to drain my savings and move to a new apartment. I left my alter-ego behind but took my collection. I was in a new town and I was the new girl finally walking the streets as myself wearing my metal collar without concern. I moved into a nice apartment high enough in floor numbers so as to have privacy and settled into a new start to life.
I abandoned emulation, forgot the face of my alter-ego and lived life as myself. I met a new boyfriend who owned a house out of town and was not adverse to my collar or collection of toys. Feeling free to be myself for once in my life I did my best to stay with him and he was a nice guy. The first time I went out to his place in the country was the first time someone else ever tied me up and I was nervous but willing. His hands were soft and slow, a methodical dance to unheard music as he wrapped ropes around my tender skin. I squirmed playfully for him as he bound my wrists to my backside and lead me around the kitchen a few times by my collar.
It was a sensation I would never forget and never stop yearning for, that touch and the tingle felt behind my eyes as a strong hand gripped my collar and pulled. I quickly bought a leash after that day and enjoyed many days on the end of it being led around the house or country side bound in some fashion.
It was that and the large plot of wild grass we had to play on that led to the proverbial end of my life. I was called outside one early morning, having all but moved in with my boyfriend, to a small barn that had always been on the land. We'd used it in the past; it's sturdy wooden beams a good anchor for rope. Once I'd spent many hours out here lashed tightly with my back to a post. Blindfolded and gagged I'd stood listening to the sounds of nature die out as evening took over. It was still bright when I was untied and I was told that I must have dozed off cause I was there all night but I didn't believe him and it was a question I contested with him over since. Had I really spent all night tied to the post?
In the barn now was a new adventure for me; he'd gotten a horse and I looked over the tack with a perverted eye that he caught on to quickly, anticipating it really for he pulled out a bit similar but smaller then the one that lay on the table and told me to turn around and open my mouth. I eagerly did and smiled as he slid the bit between my lips, a small click told me it was locked and his strong but still gentle hands gripped my shoulders and turned me around. I faced him and smiled even more as he clipped reins to the rings of my bit and tugged. He led me around the small barn in circles; stopping now and then to preen his hands through my hair and wipe a bit of drool off my chin.
After what seemed like far to short a time to be lost in the sensations he led me to the stall next to the horse and closed the door, he tied the reins to a ring on the wall and smiled at me. He held out his hands and instructed me to take my clothes off and I did (fortunately wearing a button up blouse) and handed them to him. I knew his intent, the past experience with the pole true or not I was spending the night here now. Lightly bound if at all but it was his desire not my restraint that would keep me there.
Morning had found me curled up on the floor of the barn, the ground around my head wet with my own drool with my boyfriend standing over me. He removed my bit and we discussed things, he didn't want to force me into things after all. He'd gotten a horse as part of his old man's will when he passed on a month back and after it was delivered it inspired him to try ponyplay with me. He knew how much I loved being on a leash and this was a good way to do it so he proposed it to me. I could be his ponygirl, full time, eat and sleep in a stall, work around the grounds and spend as much time as I was able with a bit in my mouth and reins pulling me around. I was eager to agree and with that the bit was replaced and relocked. I was his pony and happy for it.
Weeks went by and I grew accustomed to the lifestyle. I almost always wore a bit and cuffs locked onto my wrists, was always naked and lived in the barn when the weather allowed. When the size of the load allowed I was the one to pull the cart instead of the other horse and he always made sure to keep a tight grip on the reins so that I felt him. He suggested leading me blindfolded a few times and it was not for lack of trusting him that I declined, I didn't trust myself to walk with the weight behind me.
The next day he had me a head harness, a new bit supported by numerous straps that allowed for the attachment of the next step to being a pony, blinders that while not blinding me cut my vision down to straight in front. I refused to let him take them off for days, even while sleeping. From this I told him of the leather harness I'd bought a long time ago and he found it in my boxes and brought it out for me to wear. He didn't hesitate much from there. Soon I had a plume for my bridal, a long flowing tail that he sewed onto my harness and boots and gloves that looked like horse hooves. With them on I had no hands and no chance to escape; I was his pony well and true and I was happy for it.
It was then that my emulation, long dormant and not a part of me anymore, came back. I was sleeping totally unrestrained out in my stall, my tack taken from me earlier for cleaning and polish and I dreamed of my life as a pony: and woke as one!
I was so shocked that I reverted instantly but was wide awake. I had been a horse, a copy of the one that slept next to me. I hadn't used emulation in many months and now I discover I could emulate animals! I sat for a long time in silence thinking to myself. I had a great life now, I was living a dream of it's own. Taken care of, washed by a gentle hand of another, fed and loved and given the restrictions I enjoyed. But life could be so much different if I wanted it to be. I could be a real horse for my boyfriend not just a pretend one; able to be saddled and ridden instead of just pulling around small carts and trotting in circles. It was certainly not the life I had envisioned ever possible for me years ago when I had friends and a job and no life to speak of.
But it was a life that excited me and curiosity drove me to think of it even after I was back into the roll of ponygirl. Over time I thought more of it and it could never be, I couldn't just run out on my boyfriend while suddenly he gets a second horse.
Eventually things changed though, he got sick and I became less and less like a ponygirl because he had no time or energy to train me. I stood by his bed in my full tack as he did what work he could, weeks went by and I stood by his bed with just my collar as the illness ravaged his body. Days and I was alone, sitting on the hard wood floor of his empty bedroom just staring at the blank white bed sheets that looked so pressed and proper, just waiting for him to stroll in with my tack and sit down on the bed with a ruffle of the sheets and squeak of the springs to get me ready for a day in the field. But it never happened and life for me stalled.
He left the house to me, what good it did me filled with the memories of a dream that I was now forced to wake from like a cold bucket of water splashed in the face of bliss itself. I didn't want to stay here, didn't want this life or memories anymore. My mind was quickly made and I arranged to sell the house and it's associated belongings.
Weeks later here I stand with bit back in my mouth; blinders on my head and a saddle supported by my four legs. Here I stood emulating a horse that I so desired to be and had arranged to sell myself to a farmer far away. Here I stood as my memory of my human self faded away and I forgot how to revert back. Here I was, a little hopeless girl named Tani who found her way though life with a great gift to be tamed and coddled by the loving hands of a true gentleman and now stood on the edge of life itself looking into the abyss that many feared. I end my life today; as memory fades and I devote myself to forever as a horse, happy as ever as all memory of my life disappeared, to be behind the bit again.
“She's a feisty one”, they said of her, “but we figure it's just for show. Taming Tani is a tale already told.”