Again it is time for our popular series “things Venom, that dork, has botched up because he hasn’t got the first idea of what he is scribbling down”.
I didn’t recognise the steep glade, but deduced that I was south-west of the camp, yet still east of the river.
is changed into:
I didn’t recognise the steep glen, but deduced that I was south-west of the camp, yet still east of the river.
I changed this quite shortly after uploading the chapter, so most of you have read the altered version. “Glade” had indeed been the word of choice originally, but “glen” created the better picture, so I decided to swap the terms. I simply forgot it till after the publishing, though. Continue reading
As a proof that our favourite ponygirl Seventeen is alive and well (in a relative sense) I brought you a little sneak peek of “Pony Boot Camp – Part Thirty-Six”. But as mentioned in my last post it will take a while for the whole chapter to be published. Continue reading
The following short story is based on my longer narration Pony Boot Camp and is written specifically for cpony.com. I had originally planned it as a medley of several existing chapters, but found them too entangled to be shortened. So the content in this story is all-new. It is also not entirely in sync with the main narration chronologically and canon-wise, but would have its place roughly around chapter 30.
Having read the source work isn’t necessary to enjoy Stand-Alone Stable. Seventeen, who is called Pony 17 here, is sentenced to 90 days in a special boot camp, where her group leader Kandrin shows her the darker sides of pony play.
Like the narration, the short story is meant for owners who like to be a tad mean to their ponygirls now and then.
Pony Boot Camp – Stand-Alone Stable
I gave a wince of pain as Miss Kandrin pulled my reins tight across the overhead bar just outside the tack room. Secured like this, I couldn’t even back off or lower my head without causing myself further pain. And if there was one thing bestowed upon me plenty, it was pain. So I stood straight and proud, rocking slightly in my pony boots which literally kept me on my toes.
“Don’t feel sorry for yourself, Pony 17. I told you what would happen if you show that attitude again.” Continue reading
Under my hooves the ground changed towards a more bouncy, less cushioning nature. My perfectly executed high steps caused hollow sounds, and the wheels of the sulky began to rattle in a distinct frequency. That, and the intensified noise of flowing water told me I was crossing the old wooden bridge. It was the first time Miss Cuntling had made me take this route instead of the trail that led upstream towards the Deepfall. I’d love to describe the scenery as I trotted deeper into the woods, but Kandrin had opted for the full blinkers. No distractions from the rein commands. And since this measure alone wasn’t sufficient to solve my alleged attention span problem, Miss C. had done what she liked to do best: She’d fitted me with a new bit. Continue reading
Trial by Fire
There was no brazier with glowing coals. I made that up for dramatic effects, to grab the dear reader’s attention. Yet there’s no reason to feel cheated, for the branding iron was very present nonetheless. About half a metre long, with a heating coil near its business end, it waited for us on a small table next to the sawhorse – and it had brought its twin as well. Continue reading
Greetings, fellow pony enthusiasts! Of late I was a bit busy with parallel projects, some of which being other literary endeavours (those in the know can tell why “Return to Skyrim” and the sixth Part of “House of Cthulhu” had to be released on their respective dates). But “Pony Boot Camp – Part Eighteen” is on its way, and there’s even a sneak peek! Continue reading
This was an undeniably beautiful spot, I had to admit that much. Located right at the foot of the mountain plateau, the glade was basically a cul-de-sac, with the trail being the only way in and out – at least if one was yoked to a sulky. Miss Cuntling had reined me to a relatively gentle stop near the natural pool where the water collected after its non-stop decent. A fine mist filled and cleansed the air and created ethereal rainbow effects. Even in my exhausted condition I gazed at the impressive display before me, the churning and roaring flow crashing down into the pool. Not that the Deepfall sported an extensive amount of water. The height of the drop was what gave it its might. The fall’s brink, surrounded by huge spruces dramatically clinging to the ground, lay 200 metres above us. Continue reading