This work is copyright 2000-2004 by Xaltatun of Acheron (A Pseudonym). It may be posted on the Internet to any free forum. It may be reformatted to match the forum's look and feel, and the forum editor may make minor spelling and grammer corrections. Otherwise it must be posted in its entirety, including these notices. It may not be sold, or included in any compilation that is sold, or posted on any forum that requires a fee for access, without my written permission. My permission will require payment, terms to be negotiated. For purposes of this notice, sites guarded by Adult Check or similar packages are considered pay sites. Posting on any site must include this copyright notice.
Adult Content Warning - this story contains adult themes, including non-consensual bondage/slavery and forced sexual acts. If you are under the lawful age for such materials (18 in most jurisdictions) or if you would find such material offensive, please go elsewhere.
Safety Warning. This story may contain descriptions of practices that are decidedly unsafe, either in general, or if performed by someone without adequate training. There are a number of good books available on safety in the BDSM scene. Most large cities, and some not so large ones, have organized BDSM groups that will usually welcome a newcomer. I'm not going to point out which practices are safe, and which aren't. Any practice is unsafe if performed by someone with inadequate training and experience, or if performed when not paying attention. Please think before you act. Don't make yourself a candidate for a Darwin award.
There are fifteen stories in the series entitled �Ponygirl Transformation.� At this point, I have no intention of writing additional stories in this series, although I thought that before Engineer burst on the scene. The stories are listed in order of the series timeline, although there are a few overlaps and several continuing characters. The first three set necessary background, the next three cover one formative event from three different viewpoints.
1. Ponygirl Finds Her Place
2. Kinder and Gentler
3. The Sorceress� Apprentice
4. Raw Material
5. Ponygirl by Choice
6. The Politics of Ponygirls
7. Ponygirls on Vacation
8. Bluebird Grows Up
9. Unregistered Ponygirls
10. Kidnapper
11. Suzie�s Ponygirl
12. Driver
13. Engineer (in preparation)
14. PonyGIRL?
15. Segue to Freehold (in preparation)
Acknowledgements. The setting and several of the characters are taken from a series of books by Sir Thomas (A pseudonym). �Adventures on the Hoof� and �Ponygirls, Inc� are both copyright by the Academy Club. Used by permission of Sir Thomas. These works are commercially available, and should not be on any web site on the internet, except for a short excerpt on Sir Jeff�s ponygirl web site.
Some of the characters and settings have been changed, either due to the different legal environment in the United States, my partially successful attempt to make the setting more consistent, and in one case a simple error of memory that got woven into the plot too deeply to back out by the time I discovered it.
In no case should you infer anything about the prior stories from this one. Sir Thomas has substantially different objectives for his stories.
There are a number of hidden references throughout to obscure (and some not so obscure) science fiction and fantasy stories. This is a game that some authors play. Should you care to look, have fun finding them.
Now on to the story...
Chapter 9. Holding it together.
The lithely athletic redhead let her thoughts play freely as she jogged along the familiar streets from the campus to her off-campus apartment. What she was musing about would have surprised most of the students she went to college with. They would also have surprised the people she partied with, but for a very different reason. The first group didn�t see her as particularly depraved; the second didn�t really think of her as all that manipulative.
She didn�t think of herself as particularly depraved either; it was just that she needed a wild orgy every once in a while where she could be the center of attention for the traditional platoon of randy marines, or at least a reasonable substitute. Building up the necessary party-goers took work! Finding a likely looking hunk wasn�t that difficult. The difficulty lay in bringing him along to where she could add him to her male harem without having him either throw a jealous fit or brag about the orgies where she would get unwelcome attention.
Her psychology professors would have been horrified at the use to which she was putting their lessons. They would have been even more surprised to discover that she knew more about the practical side of psychology than they had imagined; she was taking psychology courses simply because they were amazingly easy for her.
The ease hadn�t come naturally; she�d had extensive psychotherapy for the results of lengthy child abuse. Her penchant for the starring role in a gang-bang was one of the results that she�d decided to keep; it harmed no one and it was fun. Her case was hardly unique, but it was different enough that she�d had to learn how to do most of the work herself.
She noticed an unmarked panel truck pull into the parking lot in front of her apartment building just as she came up. It never occurred to her that her life was about to take yet another sudden and unexpected turn.
Three men poured out of the van.
�Are you Alice Livingstone?� The first hunk held out an official looking badge.
�Why, yes, what do you need?�
�DEA, we need to talk to you. Get in the van, we�re going downtown.�
The procurement team had done this dozens of times. Before she had a chance to react, she was hustled to the van, and pushed inside. The waiting member of the team pulled the trigger on the prod. She convulsed once, and was out like a light. It was another clean pickup under way.
Jill and Sam got to work packaging her. First things first. Get the wrist and ankle cuffs on. Padlock them closed. Put on the waist belt. Padlock it. Clip her wrist cuffs to the belt. Get rid of her shoes and hose, and clip her ankle cuffs to the belt, leaving the large ring in back free.
Next, into the waiting padded box. Jill put a leather hood over her head, and pulled it tight. There were two tubes going to her nostrils, and another tube into her mouthpiece. She hooked up the mouthpiece to an empty container - it would collect any drool that she didn�t swallow. They didn�t want her to drown, after all the trouble they had gone to collect her. The nose tubes went to a clever little device that would force a mixture of air, oxygen and sleepy gas into and out of her lungs. It also scrubbed the CO2. There was a three day supply of oxygen. She wouldn�t need anywhere near that much.
Meanwhile, Sam was busy attaching her to a webbing of straps that would hold her secure, and cushion her from sudden shocks. Wherever she was going, it wasn�t under her own steam.
Finally, they put the lid on the box, and screwed it shut. Then they moved on to the next pickup of the day.
Alice came awake slowly. Something was wrong. She couldn�t move. Whatever here was sometimes shook a bit. It took a while for her situation to soak into her sleepy gas befuddled brain. Eventually she remembered: the DEA men, and then everything went black. She abided in her drug-induced haze, unable to either think coherently, or feel anything other than a delicious languor. Her various personalities milled about, assessing the situation.
Eventually, after some more banging around, someone opened her box, and removed the breathing mask. She felt a pair of hands checking her chest, and making certain she could breathe. Then they walked away.
I came fully awake quickly. A quick flex showed that I could hardly wiggle, let alone move. I�m not going anywhere, at least under my own steam. These people seem to be professionals. Just lie quiet and listen.
Three pairs of footsteps, one wearing high heels. Three voices, two male, one female. The woman seems to be named Joanne. Equipment being moved around. A couple of grunts, then Joanne asks "Are you thirsty?" Another voice. Younger female, scared almost out of her wits. Joanne using a soothing voice to calm her down without telling her anything. Something about a hypersonic prod. The younger girl screams. Joanne sooths her down again, and tells her she has to be gagged. More equipment noises. Then something rolling out of the room.
Then the same sequence with another girl. A different scared girl�s voice. Joanne instructing them in the same soothing voice. Scream, equipment noises, roll out of the room.
Then hands around my box, removing the web of restraint straps. Two sets of male hands picked me up out of the box. I was tilted upright, and then lowered gently until my knees are on a padded surface. Hands on my legs, around the ankle cuffs. Clicks as the padlocks are opened. A pair of hands forces my legs down and spread out. Click. My ankle cuffs are padlocked flat behind me.
A couple of quick twists, and I realize that I�m attached to some kind of pole. It seems pretty inescapable - even if my hands were free, I probably couldn�t twist around the pole enough to free my legs. Various parts of me are still assessing possibilities.
Then I feel a pair of hands around my neck and throat. They seem to be unfastening the hood. She pulls the hood off, and I have my first look at Joanne. Whoever she is, she�s dressed in a low cut white blouse stretched tightly over a firm pair of breasts, emphasized by being held tightly by a black leather skirt. I look up to get my first look at her face as she gets her first look at mine. First impressions are important, and I want to get mine before she has a chance to settle in.
She looks startled, as if I wasn�t what she expected to see. Well, if the prior two girls were the standard, she probably wasn�t expecting to see a self-assured, assessing look. If she�s off balance, let�s see how far I can push it.
�I�m thirsty. I�d like a little water.�
She froze for a moment, and then got me a glass of water with a straw. She held it up to my mouth, and I sucked greedily. Wow! That hit the spot; I had no idea how thirsty I was. I finished it and let the straw go. She took the glass away.
�More, please?� Let�s push a bit more. I heard the two guys shift their weight behind me, but she rose to the occasion and gave me another glass. I sucked down about half, and then stopped. She took it away. Well, let�s throw her a curve.
�Can I go potty now?�
�No, honey, not yet. You�ll get a chance in a little while.� She looked somewhat relieved now that she had the initiative back.
She took a long, thin metal wand from her belt and showed it to me. I jumped in before she could speak. �Is that what you call the hypersonic prod?� She looked like she was about to lose it.
�Where�d you hear about it?� She sounded slightly panicked.
�That�s what you called it for the first two girls. This seems to be the place in the procedure where you show it to me, and then hurt me with it.�
She did something, and it started humming. Then she brushed my arm with it.
�Ouch, that smarts.�
�Yes, it�s supposed to. We use this setting during training if you aren�t paying attention. Now, this second setting is used for minor punishments.� The hum went up in pitch. She stroked my breast. I howled in pain. That fucking thing hurt!
�Sorry I had to hurt you, honey. It�s part of the procedure. You have to know how it feels.�
I shuddered back to something like normal. �You�re not really sorry at all. You were for the other two girls, but you�re getting back at me for playing with you.�
She laughed. It started out a bit strained, but then shifted to clear, good humor. I had the feeling I could get to like her if we ever had the opportunity. Somehow, I doubted we would. �So right, honey. You do need to keep your trainer in a good mood.�
She pushed another button, and the pitch went up again. �This is level three. If I used on you, it�d leave you in convulsions. Just so you know; I�m not sadistic enough to want to clean you up when you shit all over yourself, dear. Understand?� I nodded soberly.
�There�s also a stun setting,� she added. �You�ve already experienced it when they picked you up.�
She clipped the prod back on her belt, and turned to the table to pick up something. This seemed to be the part of the procedure where she would gag me. There wasn�t anything I could do about it, so I opened my mouth wide like a good little girl. When she turned back, she had a mass of straps and a big, red ball in her hands. She looked at me, shook her head with a smile, and shoved the ball into my mouth. That ball felt huge!
She pulled the straps around my head and buckled them. The buckled under my chin and behind me, holding the ball in my mouth beyond any ability I had to force it out with my tongue.
Next, she picked up something that looked like a dentist�s headrest. She walked behind me, and I heard the sound of metal on metal. Then she put her hand on my forehead and pushed back. I let my head go back. She did something behind me that tugged on my bridle slightly, and I found I couldn�t move my head.
She picked up something else, and turned it on with a buzz. She pulled my skirt and blouse out from under the leather belt that held me to the pole, and then stripped me with four neat passes of the shears. The front of my clothing fell to the floor; she pulled the rest out from between the pole and me. Then she got out a tape measure, and spent some time measuring me, and checking the measurements against some kind of a list. So, they�d actually researched me before kidnapping me? This looked more and more interesting - if I managed to survive it.
Finally, she finished measuring me, and smeared some green goop on my ears.
�Hold still, dear. This is going to hurt.� It sure did. I screamed into my gag. Then she did the other ear, and I screamed again. She spent some time putting things into the holes she�d drilled.
Then she spread some goop on my breasts, and I felt them go numb. I couldn�t see what she was doing at all, but I expected that she was piercing them. Finally, she finished.
She stood up again, and walked around me, looking. She had the most amazing mixed expression on her face, like she was very happy with her work, but she really, truly didn�t want whatever went next. Then she shook her head, picked up a blanket and draped it over me.
The casters on my platform squeaked as they rolled me, and it, out the door.
They stopped rolling the platform just outside of the door, and walked away. I had a chance to take stock. The situation didn�t look good. Joanne was good at what she did, and took pride in her performance. These people were obviously experienced, and were running some kind of large-scale operation. That implied good security. Escaping wasn�t going to be a matter of seizing an opportunity and making a run for it. I didn�t know any path between where I was and an exit. And somehow I didn�t think they were going to give me a map.
I consulted with myself about the display stand. Eventually, two parts came back and said they could get me off of it, but I would take some damage. One would be loud and noisy, and could get me killed quickly; the other would be quiet and stealthy � until I actually made my move.
The loud and noisy one was what I had done when my father made his final mistake. The police never did find out how he�d been ripped limb from limb and the house pretty much destroyed. It was quite obvious that the crazy girl they found sobbing in the wreckage simply wasn�t strong enough. Hysterical strength wasn�t something that occurred to them, and I suspect that even if it had, they�d have overlooked it considering what else they found in the mess. However, since the overall objective was to get out alive, I put that possibility back in the box.
That second option looked interesting, though. I made my preparations.
Then I turned my attention to the corridor. The blanket cut off my sight, and muffled sounds. I could hear a number of girls crying, muffled by something, probably gags and blankets. Also the sound of people walking by. There seemed to be a mix of normal shoes, heels and some kind of hard thudding I�d never heard before. Bits of conversation here and there, but nobody stayed near long enough to make any sense out of it.
Clearly, there were a lot of people here, and equally clearly, they didn�t find captive girls tied to poles on wheeled carts at all unusual. Not a good situation.
I filed the location in my memory, and settled down to wait. I started some mental exercises I hadn�t done in a long time.
After a while, a pair of those hard, thudding steps came up to my platform and stopped. I heard a voice in a high soprano giving instructions I couldn�t quite make out. It was hard to tell from under the blanket, but she seemed to be quite high in the air. Another puzzle to think about. Then my platform started moving, with the thudding footsteps keeping pace before it. I tried to keep track of the path we took, but gave it up as a bad job. Even if I could manage to remember it, all I would do would be to wind up back here. They certainly weren�t going to make escape easy.
After a while, and several tight turns, my platform stopped moving. The thudding steps moved off, and I heard a door close with an authoritative clang. Someone removed the blanket. Two men and a woman towered over me. The woman was Joanne.
�First lesson,� she said, holding my eye. �From this point forward, you are not to talk. Ever. You will never speak another word as long as you live. Do you understand?�
I stared at Joanne in shock. She�d finally said something that got to me. I tried to nod, which wasn�t easy with my head fastened to the pole.
�I�ll make it easy for you. You will be gagged most of the time. But some of the time you will be wearing things that will allow you to form words. If you do, you will regret it.�
One of the men had left the cell, and returned with a couple of containers and something that looked like a funnel.
�This is how we are going to feed you.� The man shoved the bottom part of the funnel thing through the hole in my gag, and then attached it to my head harness with straps. Joanne took the two bottles. One held a white substance, and one held a brown substance.
�The white stuff is your normal food. It�s called mash. It�s a special compound with all the right vitamins, and so forth, to keep you healthy. It actually tastes quite good � normally like vanilla ice cream, although the staff varies the taste at times. Most of us like it � we use it ourselves when we don�t have time on the schedule for a regular meal.�
�Now the brown stuff is almost the same base. It�s quite healthy. It just tastes truly awful. We make it taste as bad as possible. The taste lingers until we wash it out. It�s your punishment if you talk.�
She poured a few ounces of the stuff into the funnel, and then turned a handle on the bottom. It oozed into my mouth. There was nothing I could do to stop it. And it did taste awful. Burned chocolate and bitter almonds. With a taste of cayenne and other things I had no name for. She kept turning the screw. I had to swallow. I had no choice in the matter. I could feel tears in my eyes from the taste. I tried to whimper, it was that bad.
�Like it?� I shook my head no. �You�re not supposed to. This first taste isn�t a punishment for anything you did.� She looked at me a moment. �Now that you�ve tasted it, do you think you�re going to try to talk?� I shook my head wildly. She�d certainly made her point. I�d do just about anything to avoid tasting that stuff again.
�Good girl. You�re coming along splendidly.� She smiled at me and stroked my cheek with her fingers. �Let�s get rid of that taste, shall we?�
She filled the funnel with the white stuff, and turned the screw. Something else oozed into my mouth. This helped cut the residue from the brown stuff. Then she quit forcing it.
�Suck on it. You�ll get the hang of it. This is how you will be fed.�
I sucked. More of the white stuff oozed into my mouth. It did taste quite good, once that awful taste had gone away. Frankly, I thought they could make enough selling it to quit kidnapping women, especially if it was as nutritious as she said.
Joanne patted me on the head. �Good girl. You�ve got about ten minutes to finish it up, then we�ll go on with the next part of your training.�
They walked behind me. I heard a sound of metal like the door opened and then clanged closed again. I looked around, as well as I could with the funnel stuck in front of my face. I kept sucking, of course. I believed her when she said that this was now my feeding, and I was hungry.
I could see three rooms along the wall I faced, and two walls to the side. One of the rooms looked like a bathroom, one had an odd looking chair, and one had some kind of a stall. I expected I would find out what they were for in due course. The side walls held things with lots of straps on hooks.
They came back in a few minutes, just as I ran out of appetite. Joanne asked �done?� I nodded.
�Well, most girls don�t take the full twelve ounces.� She put a bit of water in the funnel, and I sucked it down greedily. Then one of the guys came over and unhooked it, and pulled it out of my gag. That was the end of feeding time at the zoo.
The men picked me up off of the display rack, and plopped me face down on a mat on one side of the cell. Then they proceeded to put a pair of boots on me. Surprisingly, the boots fit, although they had an atrociously high heel. They also put a short chain between my knees.
I felt myself getting wet. Obviously, being manhandled by these two hunks of beefcake was turning me on. I let it happen. If they were going to rape me, I was quite prepared to enjoy it. One of the legacies from my never sufficiently damned father � I had long ago lost any illusions about the connection between consent and sexual enjoyment.
It turned out that rape wasn�t next on the agenda. Sigh.
Joanne said �Stand up. If you try anything, you are going to regret it. Immediately.� I heard her prod whining at level three. I believed her. Implicitly.
I stood. I�d worn higher heels before, but not for normal, everyday wear. Super high heels were useful for getting my male of the month in the mood, so I had plenty of practice. I looked down, and saw a black hunk of something sticking out from the front.
�Rubber horseshoes. You are going to become a ponygirl. We train ponygirls here, and sell them. That�s what you are, and that�s what you will be for the rest of your life.�
I sucked in my breath. I could feel a part of me leap up in interest. The pony girl fantasy was one I had always intended to look into, but I had never had the time. I let that part of me that wanted to be a ponygirl come forward. If they wanted to train me, I was certainly not going to object. At least, I now had a category to put these experiences.
Joanne stared at me a moment, looking puzzled. Then her face cleared, and she said something that I didn�t understand. It was just sounds; there was no meaning at all. She frowned, made some more sounds and then hit me with a level two. I screamed and staggered a bit. Something wasn�t working.
Then I figured it out. Horses couldn�t understand human language, so I�d created my ponygirl personality without access to the language centers in our brain. Bad move! I moved in a couple of hasty patches, and prepared to take control again if necessary. She said something again. This time, I understood her.
�Let�s start that over. When I ask you a question, I want you to stomp your right hoof twice for yes, and three times for no. Understand?�
I nodded, and stamped my right foot twice.
�Good girl. But next time, don�t move your head. Just stamp your right hoof. Understand?�
I put in a quick block, and stamped my right foot twice. My head didn�t move at all.
Joanne said �Good girl� again. She patted me on the head and smiled.
�Now, the next thing is going to sound weird. You will whinny like a pony. Do it, now.�
I tried. �That was awful. Make that whinny louder; make it higher. Make it sound like you mean it.�
Wheeheehee�
�Much better. Now. Whenever I tell you to do something, or tell you something you need to know, you will whinny. If it is a question, you will also respond by stamping your right hoof. Whinny, then stamp. Understand?�
Wheeheehee. Stomp. Stomp.
�Now, the next thing is to soften you up a bit, make it easier for you to accept the training.�
Wheeheehee.
�Good girl. See that chair?�
Wheeheehee. Stomp. Stomp.
�Go sit in it.�
Wheeheehee. I walked over and looked at the chair. It looked like a wooden toilet with some kind of fixture on the front. I turned around and sat. The device on the front of the seat touched my stomach. The men came up on either side, and began strapping my legs to the legs of the chair. When they were done, my legs had about an inch of movement. Then they attached my arms to the armrests. The belt came off, and then they strapped my torso to the back of the chair.
Meanwhile, Joanne was fiddling with a set of short straps that came out of the back of the chair. When she had them to her liking, she attached them to either side of the bridle.
�Lean your head back against the rest, honey. You�re doing just fine.�
Wheeheehee.
Joanne threw a switch on the control panel. �Now, you�re not to move your head. If you move your head enough to pull the reins taut, then the prod between your legs will hurt you.�
�This is the worst punishment you will ever receive here. This time, it isn�t punishment, it�s to soften you up to make it easier to accept your training. Next time you are in the chair, it will be a punishment.�
Wheeheehee.
�Good girl, you�ll do fine.�
She turned around and left. The two men left with her. A mirror panel slid up, so that I could see myself sitting in the chair. As I watched, I saw an indicator change from 80:00 to 79:59. I was going to be in this chair for 80 hours? It seemed likely.
That much bondage would produce muscle cramps, and that much sleep deprivation would produce a compliant frame of mind in most people. Repeat as needed. I could really get to hate these people, if hating them would serve any purpose. It wouldn�t.
More important was to survive the experience intact. It was time to bring out some of those talents that made me a member of the few, the proud, the totally fucked up (at least, according to most shrinks I had ever dealt with). The first thing was to move my ponygirl subpersonality into the background. There was absolutely no reason why she needed this. I had created her as a sweet, gentle being, very submissive and eager to please. This experience would only confuse and hurt her.
Next was a strategy session on how to deal with the chair. Fortunately, neither long-term tight bondage nor sleep deprivation was exactly a foreign experience. I�d long since worked out a set of light patterned muscle movements that would avoid cramps and blood flow problems. Sleep deprivation was more of a problem � it affects me the same as anyone else, but I wasn�t sure I actually needed to stay awake. I tried pulling my head forward. Ouch! That hurt! It would certainly keep me awake.
I thought a moment. If the reins were the only method of monitoring me, then all I needed to do was to keep my head erect while I slept. I wasn�t sure I could. I needn�t have worried. I felt my eyes close.
When I opened them, the clock said 75:35. I�d had over four hours of sleep. Things were looking up. I had over three days of solitary confinement to work in.
At about the five-hour mark, the mirror came down, and a guy walked in. He removed the high headrest so I could bring my head back on a real rest, plugged in the funnel, and dumped in some of the white stuff. Fifteen minutes later, he came back, gave me some water, removed the funnel and put back the misnamed headrest. This happened every five hours or so.
By now, the reader of this chronicle has probably figured out that I�m a multiple personality. One of the things that most shrinks that work with MPs know, but don�t tell, is that some of them produce all kinds of weird psychic phenomena. Talking about it would simply get the skeptic community all irritated. And they haven�t got a clue anyway about how it happens or what to do about it, so, silence.
The subpersonalities that handled psychic stuff for me were unusual. As far as I could tell, they simply didn�t believe in the same reality that most of us did. I had enough clairvoyance to find lost keys, and enough telekinesis to bend spoons and pick locks. I�d never bothered to develop it any further. Since I fully intended to live my life in the real world, and not in some freak sideshow, I had not seen any need beyond keeping my apartment secure by using the inside deadbolt from outside.
It was time to change that. I didn�t know how far three days of practice would get me, but I fully intended to find out.
The details of the next three days don�t matter. I got my clairvoyance working well enough to be able to scan the entire complex. It was huge. Three days wasn�t enough to even begin to find out everything I needed to know to escape. Improving my telekinesis was harder. The major problem was that it seemed to use some of the same parts of my body that the bondage subpersonality was using, so those two subs had to work out some highly creative accommodations. Actually, they never did integrate in any meaningful fashion. They simply agreed to alternate, which was OK by me. And the telekinetic facility did manage to gain both power and, I suppose, stamina. I also found out it would work anywhere I could see, either visually or clairvoyantly.
Eventually, the clock counted down to zero. After a while, the mirror came down, and Joanne came in. I let the ponygirl subpersonality come to the front.
She looked worried. She didn�t like what she saw, and I can�t say I really blame her. In no way did I look like I should after over three days of sleep and movement deprivation. Joanne, to her credit, decided to ignore the problem for now, and just go with the program.
�Are you ready to obey?�
Wheeheehee. Stomp. Stomp.
�Ok, now, we�re going to get you out of the chair, and put you to bed so you can sleep for a while. When you wake up, you are going to be the most obedient pony that ever existed. If you ever refuse an order, you�re going back in the chair, and this time it will be four days. Understand?�
Wheeheehee. Stomp. Stomp. She didn�t do menace all that well, but then, it wouldn�t have mattered if I�d been as far out of it as the planned.
They took me out, put me down on the mat, and then put me in a hogtie with a single glove and a single boot. They added several straps to keep me from moving on the mat. Even before the last three days, it would have been easy to escape. There was one ring connecting the glove and the boot, a couple of buckles on the single glove, and four straps. Everything had roller buckles and snaps. No locks. Seven pieces of metal to mangle with TK, and I�m out of it. Not a problem. Joanne put a pillow under my head, and pulled a helmet over my eyes.
I slept some, and I did some more practicing and scanning. The only real difference between this mat and the chair was that I didn�t need the bondage subpersonality.
The next morning we learned what the other two rooms were for. The bathing room was for bathing. Also for enemas, changing dildos, and similar stuff.
In the morning Joanne came in and unbuckled all of the bondage except the ball gag. It seemed like it would be a perfect time to attempt to escape, so I lay there like a good little girl. I didn�t think things were going to be that simple, and I didn�t want to either take damage or get Joanne pissed. I had no idea if she could be lulled into carelessness, but it seemed worth a try. Later, when I had the rest of the escape researched and planned.
Joanne commanded: �Hands and knees, girl.� I got up and found I was facing the bathroom. �Crawl forward.� I moved forward until I was level with the toilet. �Get up on the toilet and relieve yourself.� I heard a prod whine at level three. She wasn�t taking any chances. I got myself up and let go. When I was done, I looked around for toilet paper.
�Back down on your hands and knees, pony.� I got back down. �Spread your legs.� I got my legs apart. She reached under with toilet paper and wiped me off.
�Hold it there and don�t move.� I held it, wondering what was going to happen next. I didn�t have to wonder very long. I felt a nozzle slide into my asshole, and warm water start filling me up. They were giving me an enema! I relaxed and let the warm water caress me from inside. Eventually, I filled up and it stopped. She pulled out the nozzle.
�Back up on the toilet and let it out.� I did, and felt the fullness relax as the water spewed out of my backside.
�Down,� she commanded. I came back down on my hands and knees. She twisted my hair in her hand and pointed my head toward the back of the area.
�Now listen carefully. I�m going to take your gag off. If you even think of talking, you�re going to regret it. Understand?� I brought my right leg up and waved it twice. She chuckled. �A bit creative, I see. That�s good.� She took the gag out of my mouth. Wow, did that feel good, not having that huge ball in there. I worked my jaw back and forth to relax the muscles.
�Now,� she said. �You�re going to crawl over there and take a shower. This is the only time you�re ever going to be allowed to use your hands. You will stay kneeling or sitting the entire time. You will not stand. Understand?� I tapped my right foot twice. She released my hair and I crawled over. The showerhead was about four feet from the floor. There was soap, shampoo and conditioner, and a toothbrush and toothpaste. She turned the shower on, and I washed myself. When I was done, she turned it off. I looked around for a towel. There wasn�t one.
�Back on your hands and knees.� I went back to position. �Shake yourself off.� I stared at her a second, and then shook. Water went flying all over the place. �Now, crawl forward, that�s a good pony,� she crooned.
I crawled forward and stopped in front of her. She brought out a large terrycloth towel, and dried me off. Then she used a hair drier on my hair, my underarms and my thatch, bringing it up behind so that the hot air ran over my sex and my ass. I let myself relax into it.
�Open up.� I opened my mouth, and she shoved another ball gag into it, and fastened the bridle around my head. �Spread your legs.� I spread them obediently, wondering what was next.
Next was a hand that opened me up and spread lubricant into my sex. I gasped. I couldn�t help it, but the gag muffled the sound. She followed that up by shoving a dildo up my sex. It seemed to have some kind of ball or knob on the end. When she had it all the way in, she did something, and the top felt like it expanded inside me, filling me more than I ever thought possible.
Then she shoved more lube into my asshole, and followed it with another dildo. This one slid smoothly in until I felt something nestling between my butt cheeks. She did something else, and I felt the top expand deep within me, and whatever was between my ass cheeks nestle down until it was seated solidly.
�Crawl to the mat and lie down, face down.� I crawled out of that chamber of horrors to the mat and stopped, as ordered.
�Bring your legs up, pony.� I brought my legs up, and felt her slide something over them. She worked it up so it was over my thighs.
�Bring your ass up in the air on knees and shoulders.� I complied, feeling mildly ridiculous as she worked whatever it was over my hips. It turned out to be a corset, or more properly, a bustier. She pulled the laces tight, and then worked them up and down a few times until it seemed that she had squeezed all the air out of my waist.
�Right leg up.� I brought it up, and she slid the pony boot on it, zipping it up to tightness. Then she did the left leg.
�Right arm up and out.� I brought it out, and she slid what felt like a shoulder length glove over it. The glove on the end felt rigid; once my fingers went into it, they couldn�t move. She zipped up the glove, and then pushed my hand forward until I felt as much as heard a click. My hand was now fixed out at a right angle. Then she pulled my hand forward until it was up at my shoulder. I heard another click, and found I couldn�t move it. It was locked in position. Finally, she brought my elbow in so that it touched the corset, and I felt a click at the elbow.
Then she did the same thing to the other arm. I felt a push at my ass plug as something clicked in. It felt like soft yarn, or possibly hair. I had a tail?
�Bring yourself up on your knees, pony.� I pulled my legs under myself, and came up to a kneeling position. The tail fell off my leg and dangled between my thighs. I took a quick look. It looked about the same red as my hair.
�Head back.� She pulled on my bridle for emphasis. I brought my head back so I was looking up at her. She put a collar around my neck. I felt a click in back. My head tried to come forward. OUTCH! It felt like the top of that collar was made of cut glass! Whatever it was, my head was going to be back as long as they kept the damn thing on me.
You know, Joanne mused as she looked at her new ponygirl kneeling on the mat with her head back, I think I�ll call her Silence is Golden. She�s been a very good pony about not talking so far. Most ponies forget to keep their yap shut during the first grooming. Besides which, it might help her remember, she smiled to herself.
�Pony,� Joanne said in a louder voice, �your name is Silence is Golden.� I felt a shiver run through me. I�d always avoiding naming my subpersonalities because it somehow made them more distinct and harder to manage. Somehow, that name made her more solid, more real, and moved the rest of us, and what we wanted, a little bit into the background.
�Now, Silence, let�s teach you your first step. Like that?� she asked.
I whinnied through my gag and stomped my hoof twice. Silence was already taking command.
Joanne took her whip from her belt and folded it in two. �Bring your right leg up to the whip, Silence.� I felt my leg rise and my balance shift. Then I felt the leather of the whip on top of my thigh, and the leg stopped rising.
�Very good, Silence. Put it down, now.� I felt my leg go down, and my balance shift to compensate.
�Now your left leg, Silence,� she commanded. I felt my left leg rise, and I let myself fade back. Silence was doing well; she didn�t need that much of my presence for this exercise. Our normal monitor subpersonality would do.
The monitor brought me back when Joanne guided Silence to the booth. I found she�d snapped blinders and reins to Silence�s bridle, and was using the reins to guide her into the booth at the back of the cell.
Joanne got Silence positioned facing one end, and tied her harness to the sides of the booth so she was stationary. Then she did something to the bridle that felt like a different set of reins. Finally, she moved something in that just touched my ass cheeks.
The end of the booth Silence was facing had a mirror set so we could see our front and legs. Normally, I couldn�t even see my breasts with my head tilted back this far. It also had a pair of green indicators and a red light. Joanne explained that we were to keep pace with the indicators, and whinny when the light turned on. Then she did something to a control panel, and I felt the reins twitch and a voice said: �Trot.�
Silence started to trot, and the floor of the booth moved under her, keeping exact pace. As usual, she hadn�t understood anything Joanne had told her, so I spent some time making certain that she had the indicators and light properly associated.
Once she got the hang of it, I moved back and let her be for a while. Eventually, the booth pulled on her reins and said: �Stop.� She stopped, and a seat slid into place behind her. By now, she was breathing hard, so I made her sit down.
I took a good look at us in the mirror. This was the first time I�d had a chance, and Silence had simple ignored it. Ponies don�t understand reflections; she�d thought it was another pony!
This was the first time I�d seen how Joanne had outfitted Silence. I had to admit she�d done her up nice. Granted, it was probably a standard uniform, but it still looked fetching. The bridle was workmanlike black leather that came to a five pointed star just above her nose. One strap went over her head at right angles to the strap that ran horizontally around it. The other two straps came down on each side of her nose to rings that lay flat against her cheeks on each side of her mouth. The chinstrap came down from those rings, as did another strap that went around the back of the head. The big red ball gag had a rod through it, which attached to the two rings. Finally, she had installed a pair of blinders on the leather straps going up from the cheek rings to the brow strap.
The black leather collar around her neck looked like it was much higher in front than in back. It curved gently over her shoulders, insuring that she kept her head faced forward.
The corset was in a beautiful shade of green that, surprisingly, complemented my red hair. It came up under my breasts and went down to where it shadowed the curve of my hips, ending just where my red thatch began. My eyes widened as I took in the red ball between my thighs. So that�s what was on the end of that dildo! It looked like my sex had been gagged just like my mouth!
Finally, my hands came out at right angles like little paws. When I mentally stepped back and considered the whole picture, I must have looked like a begging puppy. Aaargh!
The booth brought us out of the break with a flick of the reins and a �Trot� order. Silence stood and trotted. I heard the tap of high heels followed by a muffled clang as Joanne left the cell.
Eventually, the trotting booth stopped, and we just stood there, totally wrung out until Joanne came back with two men. Joanne led Silence out of the booth, and the two guys picked her up and dropped her onto the display stand. Joanne attached the headrest and pinioned her feet, and then attached the funnel with a good ten ounces of mash. Silence started greedily sucking it down. This time, Joanne reached under her, detached the tail and shoved her hips forward. I felt a deep-seated thud as something connected with my anal plug and held it rigid.
Silence just went on sucking her mash and feeling it settle comfortably into her stomach. I shifted her down to about 20%, and started considering what had happened.
Over the next few days, Joanne showed Silence several different dressage steps. She was always careful to give them a name, although she never associated them properly. Fortunately, it didn�t matter. We handled the association internally, and the trotting booth took care of the rest. I got comfortable enough with Joanne that I dropped out completely while she was working Silence. I took over the majority of our capacity when Silence was on the display stand, and kept going with my survey of the complex.
Things seemed to be going according to plan. Well, as the saying goes, surprises are usually things you have seen, but didn�t think enough of to really notice. In this case, what I had missed was Joanne gradually increasing the ball gag size. My mouth was expanding to where I thought I might be getting buckteeth. I also hadn�t bothered checking what was going on in the other cellblocks, mostly because I wasn�t really interested, and I had other things to do, like investigating how to escape.
One day Joanne came in with Dina, the training team leader. That wasn�t totally unusual by itself. I�d already figured out that I had a twelve person training team. That gave them five trainers on duty at any one time for the ten ponies in the corridor. Joanne was my lead trainer, which meant she got me up and groomed me the mornings she was on duty, spent more time with me than any of the other trainers, and had more control of my schedule. All the team members took turns grooming me in the morning, putting me on and off my stand, putting me in the trotting booth and putting me down at night.
Since one of the trainers was in the cell, I�d gone back to wherever subpersonalities go when they aren�t active, so I didn�t see what happened until the monitor yelled for help. When I came up, my mouth felt different. I found out what right away. They�d taken out the ball gag and installed a ring gag.
Ring gags are only useful for a couple of situations, preeminent among them being to allow the slave to perform oral sex without any risk of her biting off the guy�s penis and spitting it back in his face. They aren�t all that useful as a gag; they don�t muffle sound at all, and you can manage to make yourself understood, although it isn�t easy. I�ve heard of some others, but they�re either variations, or didn�t seem to apply.
I have a subpersonality that does forced sex, group sex, and just about any bizarre variation you can think of. We call her the slut, and she�s one of the original subs that got created while my father was still alive to abuse me. She was created specifically to handle the otherwise intolerable � forced sex with a minor. Well, my dear, departed daddy is indeed departed, but she�s still around, and is quite popular at orgies. The difficulty was that Silence had no more idea of sex than she�d originally had of language. We�d left it out of her makeup, which was kind of silly in retrospect. Clearly, the slut was called for, and equally clearly, we had to keep Joanne and Dina from finding out about the substitution.
Well, nothing for it. We brought the slut up in the foreground, and I watched the expression on Joanne�s and Dina�s faces. The slut was pure, unadulterated sex. When our expression changed, they stared. Then Joanne did what she�d done before and followed the program. She held up two fingers together in front of our face, and the slut reached out with her tongue and began caressing them. Then Dina held up a plastic vagina filled with sugar water, and she went after that with abandon.
They seemed to be satisfied, so they lifted Silence off the stand and set her up. Then they led her over to something they called the bucking rack. We hadn�t used it before, and frankly, I hadn�t even seen it. With my head tilted back the way it normally was, anything on the floor was out of my line of sight. It was basically two parallel bars about waist high with a number of straps and rings. They led her over, and then had her bend down while they hooked the bars to rings on her waist. Then they slapped the inside of her thighs to get her to spread her legs, and adjusted the bars so they were at a comfortable height. Dina pulled out the anal plug, and put on a strap-on. Joanne came up front and lifted her skirt.
Dina put in some lubrication, and thrust just as the slut started in on Joanne. She thrust again as Joanne gasped.
�Whinny, damn you.� Oh, they wanted sound effects. I told the slut, and she began to whinny on the stroke. It didn�t sound very good, but I doubt that they�d notice. We�d got Joanne high enough that she came with a scream, and sat down with a thump. I don�t think she noticed. When she got herself up, she traded places with Dina. This time, the slut took her time and brought her up slowly, building her up so she was gasping in pleasure. Dina came with a gasp and fell over. I don�t think they realized that the slut had her own orgasm when Dina came.
Meanwhile, I got to work. I�d already taken precautions in case I needed to cover something up, but frankly, getting useful non-verbal hooks into someone while you�re in strict bondage and they�re following a script is so difficult that it�s more fantasy than reality. However, being distracted is normal in any environment with more than one person, and I�d managed to get my hooks in on that one.
Eventually, they came up for air, and put us back on the stand. They took out the ring gag and replaced it with the ball. I let a series of expressions run across my face to focus their attention on what I wanted them to forget, and then pulled the trigger on distraction. The dears obediently dumped short-term memory, including the fact that there was anything unusual about what they�d just gone through.
As they left, I heard them talking.
�I wish I could afford to buy her,� Joanne said.
�There�s always the pick of the herd lottery,� Dina replied, wistfully.
�And what about upkeep? Oh, well, maybe I can train Jack a bit better.�
�Men.� Dina said disgustedly.
�Hey, that�s my husband you�re talking about,� Joanne retorted.
That wasn�t going to save me the next time, if any. I thought there would be a next time. Becoming a sex slave was just too logical for this place to have missed it, and what I�d gone through was very obviously training. The fact that they�d missed vaginal sex and sucking cock was real obvious, and there had to be a reason. So far, these people had left nothing to chance.
We called a committee meeting and arrived at a conclusion with startling rapidity. We didn�t want to reprogram Silence to handle sex, even if we thought we could do it. On the other hand, the slut was nothing if not versatile. She was already the mistress of sex in a dozen different fantasies, and could fake any number of others. We just turned her loose with Silence�s memories and let her prepare. The only instruction we gave her was: �make it look like Silence is doing it.�
As it turned out, the next day was the big day.
Six people crowded into my cell. I knew the five trainers that were on duty that day, but there was one guy I�d never seen before. He seemed to be called Leo, and everybody deferred to him, so I figured he was someone important, possibly the big cheese himself. Leo walked around, commenting on how well we looked. Then Joanne put in our ring gag and took us to the bucking rack. The slut took over from Silence so smoothly that nobody noticed a thing. This time, Joanne took out both dildos. Leo walked around to the front and dropped his pants. The slut reached out her tongue and started working him, licking his penis and scrotum until it stuck up in the air, stiff as a rod. Then she took it into her mouth, and started sucking, bobbing up and down on it. He pulled out, staggered around to the back and steadied himself with his hands on her ass, and then he rammed himself in with one mighty heave. The slut let out a bray like a donkey, and then he got down to work, pistoning in and out with deep strokes. Eventually, he came with a gasp, and almost fell over.
After that, it was a free for all. We got in five or six good orgasms ourselves without missing a stroke, and leaving exhausted participants laying around like lumber. It was the best party I�d had in months.
Some more time passed. Now that they�d gotten my sexual duties straightened away to their satisfaction, they started conditioning me with a load on my back. After a week or so of that, Joanne came in with what looked like a five-year old girl wearing a party dress. I�d already discovered that they were nothing of the kind. All I knew about it was that there were a large numbers of the small women in the complex, and they spent much of their time riding the ponygirls. I hadn�t looked into it any further; I was intent on planning my escape rather than figuring out how this den of slavers worked, and they didn�t look like they�d be an impediment.
This particular little woman was named Stephanie. She started on me right away. None of my movements pleased her; she and Joanne worked me on movement correction. I found out two things. She had an eye for movement that was literally incredible, and she was the one in charge. While they were working me, Joanne followed what Stephanie told her.
After a few days of movement training, Stephanie started training her on being ridden. That was a trip. The arrangement was a shoulder harness where the little woman stood on a platform that brought her arms up level with my head. Her head was above mine; with the way my head was forced back I could see hers if I looked up.
We didn�t normally stay around while Silence was being worked. Joanne had never noticed us if we stayed in the background, but Stephanie definitely did. It didn�t matter, she never figured out exactly what was going on.
Our escape plan was coming along beautifully. We had finally mapped enough of the complex to determine where we were with respect to entrances and exits. We had identified what looked like checkpoints, and were in the process of examining the security system.
Silence was having fun. She had learned a number of fancy dressage steps, and several paces. Stephanie was making good progress on training her on cart and riding, and she was in her element. If her tail had been real, she would have been swishing it. Enthusiasm, thy name is Silence.
She wanted us to take Joanne and Stephanie along with us when we escaped. She wanted to keep her trainers.
Then disaster struck.
The best laid plans of mice and men. Well, I don�t know about the mice, but being a woman has never given me an exemption from Murphy�s attentions. Every plan I have ever had always needed revision in flight. No exceptions. In this case, we got thrown a dozy.
I was wakened out of a sound sleep by a deep shaking. When I woke up, I noticed that the noise the fans made wasn�t there any more. That woke me up completely. It didn�t take me very long to determine two things. First, Silence was absolutely no use in this situation. Second, I might have to do something. This put me on the horns of a real dilemma.
The dilemma was that I really wanted to save as many of the ponies as I could. While escape was the plan, the next step was to get the authorities involved, get the place raided, and release all of the prisoners. If the place was going to go bye-bye because of this earthquake, then I had to get out of here, fast. If they were going to get power restored in the next couple of hours, then the best strategy would be to go back to sleep. I needed information.
I had located the managing director some time ago. He�d turned out to be the guy that had given my that magnificant fucking the second day they�d had me on the bucking rack. I was quite amused with his special arrangements with two of his ponygirls, Rainbow and Bluebird. I checked in on Leo first thing. Bluebird was with him. She was awake, and was just shaking him awake. No information there.
A quick scan elsewhere showed me the worst. Several of the buildings had collapsed in one of the major domes. Most of the rest of the complex looked structurally ok, but that was just a first cut. The geothermal generators were out, but there were people working on it, using emergency lights.
The next thing was to check the local cellblock. The earthquake had hit early enough in the morning that all the support people were out of the complex. There was only one other person in our cellblock; she was a fairly junior attendant pulling night duty. Not even a trainer. And she was totally out of her element. It was black as pitch. No lights. If there was an emergency lighting system, it wasn�t working.
The block itself looked ok, but it did show me one thing that needed attention right away. Eight of the ponies were trapped in the sleep deprivation chairs. The other 41 were hogtied on their mats. Well, 42 if you counted me. They�d be ok until morning. But the ones in the chairs needed attention, and she wasn�t in any shape to give it to them.
By this time, an hour had passed. Time to check back on Leo.
Bless his black little heart. He had gotten communication going. The situation was grim. The generators wouldn�t be back on for at least a day, if then. The situation in the damaged dome was not good. There were a lot of injuries, quite a few major. Some deaths. The bottom line was that there wouldn�t be anyone coming to check on the cellblocks for quite some time.
The only bright spot out in the complex was that Bluebird seemed to be organizing the people left in the Executive dome to get through it. She looked like someone to keep an eye on.
Well, time to shed the sheep�s clothing, and see if I was a wolf or a coyote. That was a chuckle. Lobo-ra meant wolf rider, and one had been riding me for a couple of weeks.
A couple minutes concentration, and the ring holding the arm and leg binders together parted. Then the rings that held the arm binder went. The straps unbuckled themselves nicely. It took another moment to slither out of the leg and arm binders. Then I took off the hood and ball gag, found the dildo keys in the bathroom, and got rid of the two dildos.
Opening the cell was easy. It wasn�t quite as easy as walking through the door. Whoever had done the security system had set it up to fail locked. This was real bad practice; even prisons are set up so that power failures unlock all the cells. However, these people were very paranoid, with some justification. I�d already studied the lock as part of my inspection of the security system, so all I had to do was use TK to manipulate it, and then walk out.
The attendant was next. She was in a ready room at the end of one of the corridors. She was sitting there, in the dark, getting more and more scared by the minute. Being locked into a totally dark cellblock with no idea what is going on outside, and no idea what to do about it will do that to someone. I hadn�t been exactly silent breaking out of the cell, and that didn�t do anything positive for her emotional state either.
This wasn�t the first time I wished that telepathy worked the way it did in fantasy stories. I�d learned her name, Jeanette, during shift turnover, and identified her by what was essentially her mental fingerprint; she was getting scared enough to go into hysterics. Telepathy didn�t give me a clue what she�d do when I opened the door, and while I knew there were people who could affect the emotional state of a space, I certainly wasn�t one of them. What I could do was disarm her, so I reached out and used TK to disconnect the power pack in her prod.
When I got there and opened the door, she just about jumped out of her skin.
�Hey, Jeanette, calm down. Nobody�s going to slaughter you today.�
�Who are you? What�s going on? How did you escape?� She was babbling and fiddling with the prod, trying to make it work.
�Hey, slow down, take a deep breath and sit down. I�ll explain everything, but you need to calm down first.� I decided not to mention the prod right now.
She backed up into a table, and fell into a chair. She sat there with the prod held out in front of her like it could actually do something. I walked over to the far end of the room and sat down.
�OK, some answers. First, I�m the one known as Silence is Golden. As to how I got out of the cell, well, I�ve got some fairly unusual abilities. What matters in this situation is that I�ve got enough clairvoyance so I can see in total darkness, and enough telekinesis to pick locks and break chains. So I can move around without any difficulty.
�The reason I broke out is that the situation outside of this cellblock is bad. The power is out in the entire complex. They don�t think they can restore it in less than a day, more likely two. One of the domes cracked, a lot of buildings in that dome are down, and there are a lot of injured people. We�re the only people in this cellblock capable of doing anything.�
She let out a big breath. �Oh, God. I was afraid of that.� Good. She was settling down nicely. She thought for a while.
�I haven�t made up my mind about escaping. Right now, there are people here that need help, and I seem to be elected to get the ball rolling. After that, I may use the opportunity to beat it, and I may not. I�m still making up my mind.�
�You�d consider staying when you could run for it?� she said in a voice of deep skepticism. �You�d have to be nuts.�
�I suppose I am nuts, at least technically. I didn�t mention that I�m a multiple personality, did I?� She tensed up at that, and then took another big breath and relaxed again.
�So what you�re trying to tell me is that
My eyebrows went up. She was very quick on the uptake. With that kind of brain, she shouldn�t have been a night attendant.
�Close enough. You might as well call me Alice; that�s the name everyone else knows us by. As far as why I�d consider staying? Silence likes it here. In fact, she wants to take her trainer and her rider along with us when we leave. As far as the rest of us are concerned, we�re basically misfits. We�re pissed at being kidnapped. Other than that, the sludge is awful, but we haven�t had any of that since the first free sample. Joanne only had to use her prod on level two once, but that was my fault on the setup. I don�t blame her for it. The chair doesn�t work on us; all it did was give me time to survey the complex clairvoyantly. We happen to like bondage, dominance and submission games. We also like the starring role in a gangbang. So, really, we don�t think we�ve been mistreated badly enough to hold a grudge.�
�Well, you did say you were nuts,� Jeanette said, a bit shakily.
At least it was an attempt at humor. �So the only thing we have against this place is the business you�re in. Realistically, I�m not certain I could shut it down if I escaped. You�ve got to have some powerful political protection. Silence would be perfectly happy to be one of your ponygirls for a while. The problem is that the rest of us don�t like that option. If you offered us community membership, I expect we�d take you up on it.�
�But,� she said. �I can�t offer you that. Nobody would go for it. We just don�t do that for ponies.�
�I know you can�t. But Leo might be able to swing it. From what I�ve been seeing, Bluebird is doing some magnificent work in this emergency that really deserves recognition. I�m looking at an opportunity. If this doesn�t happen, the only other option is escape. And if they decide to try to put me down, well, the results will be very unfunny.�
She stayed still for a moment. �So you�ve taken precautions.�
�Just between us, not yet. I will before I need them, though. I intend to get out of this with my freedom and a whole skin. Saving the rest of you is highly desirable, but in second place.�
She giggled. Well, tension release will do that. �So you�re a realist.�
�Very much so. Now, you tell me what needs to be done.�
She went silent, and the tension level rose. It didn�t take a genius to figure out what her problem was. She�d been stepped on for being too forward, so she�d crawled into a shell and decided to be a good girl. Time to kick her out of it.
�Girl, either you take control, or I walk out of here while the power�s down and the security checkpoints are inoperative. The only thing standing between me and a clean getaway is Leo�s ranch, and I should be able to blow through that easily. Dehydration is a horrible way to die, girl.�
�OK.� She sounded both resigned and relieved. �How long do you figure we need to plan for?�
�The engineers figure a day for the power plant. Then there�s major damage in one of the domes, and lots of other problems. Figure two days, minimum before they can spare staff for us, and it may be more. Leo�s got smoke coming out of his ears, so the estimate may be optimistic.�
�Let�s see. There are eight ponies in the chairs; they need to be fed. The rest need to be fed and exercised. There�re 42 of them. Oh, right, only 41 since you�re out. We need to get out to the emergency supply cache. I think there�s a generator there so we can get some power.�
�I can handle the locks. I don�t see how we can handle 49 ponies all by ourselves, however.�
�I don�t think we can release any of the ponies to help.�
�I agree. Most of them would try to escape. While I don�t really think that�s bad, we can�t afford it.�
She thought for a moment, and then snapped her fingers. �We can probably use the community trainees.�
�Community trainees? Fill me in on that.�
She sounded real reluctant. �Most of our young women become ponygirls for two years, and then go to trainer school for a year before becoming trainers themselves. We�ve got six trainees in this cell block.�
�You
�OK. Let�s get to the emergency cache first, and then get the trainees out next. The problem is that the doors are locked, and I can�t see my way.�
�Not a problem. Just follow me and I�ll handle the doors.�
After some fumbling, we found the main cellblock door, and I got it open. Then we found the emergency cache. I must say there was a lot of equipment. There were even spare uniforms in a variety of sizes.
�You know something, Jeanette, I�m really tired of being naked. If it won�t send you ballistic, I�m going to appropriate a trainer uniform.�
�Be my guest. It�ll save a lot of explanations about what a pony is doing loose. We�ll have to outfit the community trainees as well.�
�We�d better bring a couple of them back to get the emergency generator. That�s a big sucker.�
�Good idea. Now, Alice, what�s occurring to me is that the major issue is going to be locks and cell doors. And you�re our specialist in opening them.�
�OK, so why don�t I open the cells for the trainees and the chaired ponies, then we can roll it from there.�
�Trainees first.�
�Done, lead me to them.�
We went down the cellblock, and I opened the indicated doors. It was easy to see the cells that contained chaired ponies. Jeanette told me that the trainees wore white tack, none of the other ponies did. She had to point out the cells that had trainees; clairvoyance doesn�t do colors the same way eyes do it.
Jeanette took them out to the emergency cache to get outfitted. Meanwhile, I opened the cell doors to the ponies in sleep deprivation chairs. It took some time to wrestle the mirrors down. Once I did, I changed their headrests so that they wouldn�t yank on the reins when the power came back on.
Then Jeanette was back with the trainees and the emergency generator. We wheeled that sucker to the kitchens, and then stared at it.
Jeanette said, kind of ruefully, �You know, I don�t have any idea what to do with it.�
�Well, I don�t either, but I know who does. Watch out, I�m going to switch to one of my technical subpersonalities and let it handle the generator.� I left, and tech1 came in. Tech1 is an absolute wizard with just about anything having to do with buildings, wiring, plumbing and all that stuff. It had actually been doing most of the analysis of the installation; as I said, I really don�t know anything about that stuff.
When I came back, the emergency lights were on. Tech1 had left a note on our internal bulletin board that the propane tank would last about a half day, and that it had also hooked up the fans to the hydroponics plant. Fortunately, there were more propane bottles in the emergency locker.
The trainees were looking at me real funny. I suppose it couldn�t be helped. The change in affect between Tech1 and me is real pronounced, and Tech1 simply doesn�t care. People aren�t its business.
Jeanette and I went out with our herd of six trainees. Jeanette used the first chaired pony to demonstrate how to attach the feeding funnel. Then we each did one of the others. We had to wake them up for their feeding; they�d all fallen asleep.
�Is there any way of turning the chairs back on?� one of the trainees, Katie, asked.
�Why?� I asked back. �I�d think you�d have some sympathy for them.�
�I do,� she shuddered. �But it�s not doing them any kindness to interrupt their punishment. They�ve got to learn that being a pony is their life, and they need to deal with it.�
�And interrupting the punishments won�t help them learn it any quicker. I�ll see.� I went into a quick conference with Tech1. She said the generator had enough capacity, but it would use up the propane faster. She also said she didn�t know if it would do any good, since the chairs probably lost their memory with the power outage. I thought a moment, and then asked Tech2. Tech2 specializes in computers. She said right away that the chair had probably lost its memory when the power went down, but they were all connected to a master control station. I put them together, and Tech1 brought up one of the chairs and the control station.
We went to the control station, and I let Tech2 play. She found out right away that there was a complete log of all the settings for the chairs and trotting booths. We�d been down for about five hours, so I decided to split the difference. We brought all eight of the chairs back online, and added two and a half hours to the remaining time.
By now, it was morning, and time to get the ponies ready for the day. We couldn�t run the trotting booths on emergency power, so the options were either to leave them hogtied or put them on the display stands.
There were 35 ponies to service. We did the first few together, and then split up. We did them the same way. We took them out of the hogtie, got them to the bathroom to relieve themselves, put them in their bondage and put them on the stands. Then we fed them.
With an eight person crew, we managed to have a semblance of order. Jeanette took the day shift with five trainees. I took the night shift with one trainee.
Eventually we got power back. It took three days; that repair wasn�t an exception to the rule that things always take longer and cost more. She was told that we were short on personnel. She was doing great, just carry on. So we did for another couple of days. Then the crews started coming back although they were shorthanded. The trainees went back to their cells as ponies.
They wanted to put me back in my cell. I told them very sweetly that Joanne was my trainer; take it up with her. They got a bit insistent, so I showed them some of the real nasty things you can do with TK. After the dust settled they agreed to let me be for a while.
I had a short discussion with Joanne on the phone. It ended when she told me that she would chair me for a week for disobeying an order, and I reminded her that the chair didn�t work on me.
Actually, Stephanie, my rider, got to me first. She simply walked up to me and told me that we had an arena reserved in a half hour. I said, sure, as long as I got unharnessed afterwards, and reverted to my trainer�s uniform. She harrumphed a bit, called Joanne, and then agreed. So I let them harness me, and she went for a workout with Silence. After five days without a workout, we really needed one. When we got back to the cell, she unharnessed me. I switched back to the negotiator, got dressed in my trainer�s uniform, and we went to one of the ready rooms to talk.
Joanne arrived about that time with blood in her eye.
�So, tell me again why I shouldn�t chair you for a week for this stunt.�
�Outside of the twin facts that you can�t, and even if you could, it wouldn�t work? I can�t think of any reason.� I smiled sweetly.
�I can�t? If I�m still your trainer, what�s stopping me?�
�This.� I walked over to a drawer, got out a spoon, and balanced it on my finger. �Watch closely now.� The spoon drooped over my finger. Van Gogh would have been proud.
Everyone in the room stared. �How did you do that?�
�Telekinesis. That�s how I got out of the hogtie in the first place, and how I opened all those cell doors without keys or pass codes.�
�That�s real interesting,� one of the guys drawled, �but what�s stopping us from just shooting you?�
�Think about it for a minute. You�ve just had a horrible problem with the power plant. There are dozens of places around here where a very small glitch would cause major problems. You don�t know where most of them are, or you�d fix them. You also don�t know how many of them I�ve mined with dead man switches.�
�That�s� interesting,� he said.
�That�s a negotiating position. Just remember that there are some things you want, starting with this place left intact and my not going to the authorities.� He flinched at that.
He grinned. �I�d hate to play poker with you.�
�It wouldn�t be advisable. I�m clairvoyant enough to see everyone�s cards.�
�So, you can cause trouble. What have you done that�s positive?�
�I figure that I saved this cell block. The only staff inside when the power went off was Jeanette, and she wasn�t able to get out to the emergency cache.� I saw a bunch of eyes go wide at that statement. �So I decided to help out. It�s a long story, but what it boils down to is that I could open the doors to the emergency cache, where she couldn�t. I got the emergency generator hooked up, handled the cell door locks and helped get things organized. Other than that, she could have managed with the six trainees. They would just have had to work harder.�
Joanne said, �Humph. Well then, what do you want out of this?�
�I want to be a community member. I also want to be a ponygirl. Or I want out of here. The thing is, what I
�Jeanette already did. Now, tell me why I shouldn�t just put you back into your cell, and forbid you any special privileges?�
�If you keep training Silence, I�ll have to spend most of the time in the cell anyway. That�s standard operating procedure. But I�ll have to have time out here to talk to people and negotiate with Leo and the board. If I don�t have that, the deal is off. I�ve already said I won�t stay here as a full time ponygirl.� I paused a moment. �In any case, when I�m being Silence, you�re the boss. She doesn�t have access to the rest of my subpersonalities, and wouldn�t know what to do with it if she did, so anything we do outside doesn�t affect her at all.
�Here�s the proposal. I�ll be Silence 18, 20 hours a day. We schedule a couple of times a day for me to be in the break room here to talk to people. Instead of being on the display rack to be fed and digest, I�ll be in here, and drink my mash from a glass. It shouldn�t interfere with the training program much at all. And it�ll give people an opportunity to come and see that I don�t have two heads, and I�m not about to steal their babies out of their cribs.
�Besides, I need to be able to talk to Leo. He�s on his way down now. And I�ll probably need to be taken out to several meetings with the powers that be. We also need to work on the dressage routine for the awards ceremony.�
�Dressage routine? Why?�
�Well, I figure that there will be an awards ceremony. The board is probably going to be handing out awards right and left. Bluebird�s and my awards are going to be the only ones out of the ordinary, so we want to do some kind of crowd pleaser. Besides, I figure that the trainees should get their minutes in the sun, and since they�re doing their two years, a dressage routine for them would be appropriate. If we want to do something snazzy, we need to start working on it now.�
�That makes sense. If Leo�s on his way, we should wait for him. While we�re waiting, explain how you can be two different people?�
�Well, I�m a multiple personality. The one you�re talking to is called the negotiator. She�s in control whenever we have a people situation, so she�s mostly the one in control when anyone sees us. The one you�ve been working with is a ponygirl. She was created specifically to be one, and knows nothing about either language or sex. I left both out. We would have formed her differently if we had your specifications in front of us at the time. The other one you�ve seen is called the slut, and she�s the only original fragment you�ve seen. She was created because our dear, sadistic father liked to have a bunch of his so-called friends over to gang-bang his daughter. The negotiator was created when I got straightened out during psychotherapy.
�Shit. I�m out of my depth. With all of that, why haven�t you escaped?�
�I�m not the heroine of a science fiction epic. If I were, I would have found the proper two wires to short out and been out of here the first night. No matter how many weird and wonderful things I can do, I�m still one person, with one body and one brain. You�ve got a real good security system. I�m at least a month away from penetrating it enough to create a feasible escape route and cover my tracks. I had to make a decision when the earthquake hit. Either I escaped and let all the people in this cellblock die of starvation and dehydration while I got the authorities to raid this place, or I stayed and helped.
�The original plan was to simply vanish one night, and get the authorities involved, and come back in force and total surprise. That may or may not have worked. You�ve got to have some powerful political protection. The thing is, I can�t really see much difference between what you are doing to these girls, and a society that lets tens of thousands of people die each year because they can�t be bothered to test drivers adequately. Or lets more thousands die because they fall through the bottom of the economic net through sheer chance, and wind up homeless. Out there, I�ve got no leverage. Here, I�ve got a shot at being a bit more of who I am, and a shot at transforming a real problem.�
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