Ponygirl Vet — Part Six of Y

Ponygirl Vet

Part 6 of Y

The tethered ponygirl remained docile when Vera eventually directed her attention towards the animal’s bum. Still, the vet registered the slight shudder in her patient, that tell-tale shift from arousal to distress. Anal insertion was part and parcel of pony training – those tails wouldn’t stick by themselves. Well, actually, they did. In tack-lingo the term “tail” referred to the unit as a whole, comprised of the insertable portion and the strand segment. Applejuice did not fight the removal in the slightest, yet had no full control over her fundament. The complex array of muscles flexed and relaxed around the pear-shaped rubber bulb it was trapping with its very own grip. Vera maintained a constant pull action, under which the taut ring finally opened.

Ponygirl Vet — Part Five of X

Ponygirl Vet

Part 5 of X

The veterinarian had yet to meet a ponygirl handler who was not obsessed with tight crotch straps. It was one thing being concerned about chafing, but a completely other to split everything splitable between a filly’s legs. The case before her was no exception, with a wickedly thin belt strung from the front of Applejuice’s cincher assembly to its back. Vera undid the vertical fore-buckle with some effort due to the lack of initial slack. That Applejuice rose onto hoof tips to escape the additional pressure did not make the task easier. But once the crotch strap had been successfully loosened, she sunk back until her horseshoes had full floor contact again.

Stand-Alone Complex

The following narration is a commission from Suspension Guy, a constant reader who had asked for an interrogation story set in the HardSkill universe. I have received word that he is well pleased with the result, and I hope to get similar feedback from other readers, too.

 

Stand-Alone Complex

Muriel hadn’t seen the punch to her neck coming. The grunt behind it was big enough to send her spinning into the nearest strut. The impact hadn’t only shattered her night vision goggles, but also had forced what air she had left out of her lungs.

Muriel was in serious trouble.

The guards had caught her on the mechanical level of the AReFa main building. And they hadn’t been on patrol duty. The company mercs had waited for her. Whilst two of them were holding Muriel subdued in collaborative joint locks, a third steel-trapped her wrists in rigid handcuffs. Before hauling her back up on her feet, her broken NV gear was replaced by a tight hood shutting out all light and most sounds – surely nothing a common security bloke would bring to his nightly round.

Pony Boot Camp — Part Twenty-Seven

Seva Kandrin’s about to Make You Her Bitch

Our primary sense is our vision (at least as long as nobody comes up with the idea of putting full blinkers on us). The sense most closely linked to our memory is said to be the olfactory one. Yet there is something deeply influential about our hearing, too. Maybe it is the duality of hearing and feeling, of how the same sensation is processed twice by our minds. Or maybe I own a tendency for heightened acoustic recall, a proneness to certain rhythms and frequencies. To the latter, the frequencies, I was subjected again the next morning as Miss Cuntling whistled us out of our bunks. The insufferable sound heralded another day of anguish.

Pony Boot Camp — Part Sixteen

The Doctor Is In

It wasn’t the same room as yesterday. It had the same homey morgue ambience, though. As I was waiting for the lady doctor, daintily shifting my weight from one aching foot to the other, I mused how to list my various troubles. Ordered by severity? Alphabetically? Or by body parts, perhaps? The doc made that decision for me as soon as she entered the medical room.

“Let me guess: displeasing side effects of physical correction?”