Alterations for Pony Boot Camp (XI)

It comes to little surprise that the final part of Skeleton Crew will take some time, and I honestly see January of next year as the soonest possible release date. One cannot rush art (so why rush rubbish then?). To fill the void, let’s do some more tinkering with PBC, as Alterations X was of course a chapter in disguise.

Alterations for Pony Boot Camp (X)

As announced in my comment to Part LX, Pony Boot Camp finds its current continuation not in a separate submission, but in an extension to said part, because I want this special chapter to fully reflect the occasion, and because hubris is a real thing (a word count of over 7,800 may illustrate this point). You can now find the new material added to the paragraphs posted so far, or – convenient for those who have already read the original post – further down.

The lavish festivities for the 10^th anniversary are hereby concluded. So, full steam ahead to Skeleton Crew, Chapter III!

10th Anniversary of Pony Boot Camp — “It was either this, or…”

Yep, 10 years sounds about right. Although for Seventeen it would feel more like 26 days. 7^th November, to be precise, as I cunningly use a chart with dates, key events and so on to keep track of what’s going down at the DACC.

Right now everybody’s favourite ponygirl is still stuck in Part LX, not that this is a bad thing. Much effort I put into this, the so far latest chapter to celebrate the 10^th anniversary of Pony Boot Camp. In passing it also cracked the 160,000 words barrier, which may serve as an answer as to why it took me a decade to get our anti-heroine to where she is now. My initial layout predicted about 20,000 words, and featured next to none of the intricate character relationships which now carry the narration (together with the occasional fetish overload, that is). Had I known what I was getting myself into, I would have probably opt out and done something else with my leisure time. Breeding ponies, for example.

Pony Boot Camp — Part Sixty

The Hand that Holds the Reins

(Pony Boot Camp 10^th Anniversary Chapter)

I made it back in time and slipped into the barn through the mild chaos the arrival of the Twoers had raised. Leather gear collected next to spit-dripping steel bits and of course ponysuits. More than one fellow filly needed my assistance to get out of the snappy material, as exhaustion, pain and roughly two hours of sweating rendered the procedure significantly more difficult for them as it had been for me a short while ago. We unbuckled, unlaced and unbridled for twenty minutes until the last pony was stripped down and under the outdoor showers.

Pony Boot Camp — Part Fifty-Nine

Steal the Look

With Zero-One’s taste on my lips I sent my thoughts out again into the dark, onto those well-trodden paths of my escape scheme. The ease with which I had obtained the coil of wire had made me confident that I could salvage my ponysuit, if it really was my suit that I had seen in the chest. All it needed was good timing and a bit of dare. Not that there was much of a choice. Even when completed by the non-hoodie (a “noodie”?), my DACC-issued clothes were too thin to keep me warm at night, especially during rests. Yep, I would have to rest in between crossing heavy terrain at night, and I would prefer doing so without running the risk of hypothermia – or gleaming like a snowman.

Pony Boot Camp — Part Fifty-Eight

Drama Mares

“What are you doing?”

“Knitting elephants.”

What did it look like I was doing, rushing back and forth between the stainless steel counters?

Double-Fourteen, face marked from her bridle and hair wet from the shower, sashayed across the kitchen in that feline flow of hers. Nothing indicated that she was still badge-sore from her welcome branding last week. Or that she was minding the preparation of supper all about her.

“How’s your burn?” I asked more out of courtesy than of curiosity whilst pulling a load of freshly-cleaned food trays from the commercial washer. In ten minutes time three hungry scores of ponygirls would be marching into the mass hall.

Alterations for Pony Boot Camp (IX)

Looking over the latest part of PBC, I arrived at the conclusion that Seventeen’s third jaunt with her new bestie Hipser Beard deserves more than just a passing mentioning. The episode does not justify an own chapter, which also would have to take the form of a flashback scene. Therefore…

Part LVII

[…]

has a part added:

[see below and also in the already revised chapter itself]

Pony Boot Camp — Part Fifty-Seven

Trinkets, Odds and Ends

Here I was again. The dreamy ponygirl-in-training, basking in the crush on her handler and yearning for the day she would have earned her tail for good.

I am exaggerating obviously. And yet there was a stinging sensation running through me when I saw Hipster Beard and knew that soon he and not Kandrin would be driving me. A tad too eagerly I trapped myself in my ponyboots whilst he gathered the rest of my tack. I winced at the prompt onset of pain, the well-deserved backlash for failing to limber my feet up properly before locking them into the severe en pointe position.

Pony Boot Camp — Part Fifty-Six

All Flesh Must Bleed

It kept on raining at varying intensity till way into the afternoon. By this time Zero-One was a nervous wreck. When all four groups fell in on the muddy ground in front of the barracks, it was to the sound of her constant sobbing. Once everybody was accounted for, the redhead was summoned forth to receive a quick pre-flogging check-up by the lady doc. I shall not fail to mention that warden Nadier indulged once again in her habit of giving a grand speech about order and the New (Wo-)Man and why the party is always right.

“Proceed,” was all she added after mercifully finishing her monologue.

Pony Boot Camp — Part Fifty-Five

Weird Turned Pro

Dawn would not come lightly. After the near-perfect disaster that had been last night I woke from a mockery of sleep more exhausted than I had ever felt. Half-dreams filled with Zero-One’s sobbing, with thorns and haste clinged to me as I dragged myself to the little fall-in. An invigorated Kandrin gloated over our misery, yet spoke no word of the incident. She did not have to. Judgement would be upon the red-haired girl come eve.