Alterations for Pony Boot Camp (VIII)

Since I did a little retconning on PBC, we can have some more fun with Roman numerals (because I once adopted them for the chapters to match the Alterations posts’ method of counting and am now stuck with’em)!


Part XXX

Just for the records, I like castles and stuff. They’ve got something brooding, especially the razed ones. But I don’t wet myself over them like those “Lord of the Ice and Fire” fanboys do.

has a part added:

Just for the records, I like castles and stuff. They’ve got something brooding, especially the razed ones. But I don’t wet myself over them like those “Lord of the Ice and Fire” fanboys do. I know what I’m writing about; Sandrine’s and my next-door neighbours once had hunted us down with foam swords for intercepting their Chinese delivery. Turned out hardcore RPG nerds didn’t take well to having their level 15 Spring Rolls of Doom nicked. Continue reading

Pony Boot Camp — Part Fifty-One


Adolf Würth founded his company shortly after the war, recovering from a minor career dent in 1945 just like his prominent Austrian namesake. Originally a screw wholesaler only, the Würth Group had risen to global market leadership in construction fittings over the decades. I had but superficially been aware of its existence, mainly due to the phonetic resemblance to my own surname. Until this morning…

The side cutter, sporting the red and black colour scheme of Würth’s heavy-duty tool line, was lying near the edge of the tack table. Every now and then Arne would pick it up to fumble with the pony boot sole he had committed himself to mend. I had a hard time keeping my enthralled eyes off it, to such an extent that he eventually held it out for me.

“Need to cut something?” Continue reading

Pony Boot-Up

With the next part of Pony Boot Camp being of course delayed, the following short story may serve as a little appetiser which lets us revisit the D.A.C.C.’s more benign sister institution known in the ponyverse as The Orchard.

Pony Boot-Up

The cold touch of steel to her lips sparked a new surge of excitement through Firefly. Revelling in it, she willed her mouth shut to prolong the moment – and to tease her handler. Adam just kept the bit pressed against her lips, knowing that she was playing coy and would surrender to it timely.

“Feeling feisty today?”

Firefly lifted her pony-booted right foot and brought it back down for a snappy solitary hoof sound. An obedient filly, replying to her handler instantly and in appropriate fashion. That the answer itself defied this very action only added to their mutual game. Continue reading

Wardrobe Fail

The following work is an expansion to my 2014 story “Fashion Faux Pas” and was commissioned by fellow author Jon Smithie (“Slavery 101“, “Mina Berkeley’s Voyage“), whose frequent input to its creation is highly appreciated (as is his patience).

Wardrobe Fail

Did that sick lady actually believe she was into this?!

All blood had drained from Lorena’s face, her stomach been deflated into itself. And still the tautness of her nipple chain led the path along the length of the boilers, past gaggles of pervy party-goers who congratulated Ariane on her latest conquest. Even in her distress Lorena noticed the difference in atmosphere back here. The industrial music was still prominent, yet clearly not aimed at this more private section. Patrons in pairs or small groups were obviously advancing on their voyage to debauchery. Silent assistance in it they were sure to find in the bar maids. She was positive there had been none of them in the main area, thus their services were exclusive for those willing to travel deeper into the iron abyss of the Boiler House. Continue reading

Trixes and Tresses, or: Return of the Grammar Nazi

Recently I stumbled upon the rarely used and, in my opinion, charming term aviatrix. As it always is with the twisted paths of language, it got me thinking (results may vary).

Clearly I had encountered a lady pilot, the fairer complement to an aviator. Of course it is well within my knowledge that nouns ending on -tor (when describing an acting male person) find their female pendant by substituting the ending with -trix(1). Terminatrix is a rather modern example, often referring to the “female” robot T-X from Terminator 3 (2003), although being around at least since 1995(2).

Continue reading

Review and Preview 2020/2021

It may be a tad early for my annual R&P, but I like to get it out of the way before everybody else starts their own laments – and laments will come!

There’s no nice way to say it. The clusterfuck of our Lord 2020 had been a low-blow chapter-wise:

  • Only two new parts of Pony Boot Camp (sorry for that!), and Chapter VI of Æquinoctium (not sorry for that!)

Looking at the numbers for complete stories, we find ourselves with: Continue reading

Sneak Peek: Æquinoctium — Chapter Five

This Sneak Peek is maybe a little premature, as Chapter Five isn’t due till December. I might also publish something else before it, but do not want to spoil anything in that regard.

Denise groaned as she was being slammed into the leather chair. R hadn’t bothered freeing her hands from behind her back first. A wiggle to ease the strain on her arms was swiftly put to an end by that sadistic bitch’s grip on her shoulder. At least she loosened and pulled off the hood. Continue reading

Alterations for Neon Virus (I)



Seems those wanna-be zombies are not the only problem in Neon Virus


Mikaere’s slug got him in the rib cage, flinging him through the room. What had once been a bloke dreaming of a better life as a hacker, a programmer, a pro-gamer, was battered into the dispenser and left wheezing on the ground before it.

is changed into:

Mikaere’s slug got him in the rib cage, knocking him off balance. What had once been a bloke dreaming of a better life as a hacker, a programmer, a pro-gamer, stumbled back into the dispenser and slumped wheezing onto the ground before it.

Continue reading

Bridled Passion

Bridled Passion

Ten minutes into light canter the camp had hidden behind the wooded slope of the nearest hill. Keeping the reins in one hand, Adam gestured to the remaining two sulkies. After filing out of the Orchard Correctional Centre the ten teams of drivers and ponygirls had by and by dispersed to train in their individual speed. His colleagues signalled back over the threefold rhythm of hoof beat and bell chime. They kept following the main path as Adam had his pony sway left onto the smaller track before the solitary ash tree. The pressure of the bit to the left corner of her mouth acted as command, as gentle as compelling. Necessary it wasn’t, though, not with this mare. OCC schedule required the handlers to rotate within their respective group to become conversant with each pony’s quirks and needs for exercise. Thus it was only every tenth day that Adam could tack up Number Zero-Five, a time span that had grown almost unbearably long over the last several weeks. The Orchard did not name its stock beyond a number, but Adam had felt to do so with this one.

Continue reading

Attention, K-Mart Shoppers!

I am currently finding myself in the situation of having to ask a small favour from anyone amongst my readers or site visitors who are on Facebook and comfortable with having their FB account indirectly associated with one of my stories.

I would like to use lovetina0726‘s artwork “Rise of AI” as illustration for Neon Virus, yet have failed to contact the artist so far. If one of you could drop him a short message to check his Deviant Art inbox or this page, I would be much obliged:

I myself am not on Facebook, and since I keep my smut strictly separated from my everyday private and professional life I am unwilling to ask RL friends or colleagues.

If you are able to help out, please leave a comment below beforehand, so lovetina0726/brucejunior won’t receive multiple redundant messages.

Thanks in advance!