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!

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.

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.

A Good Pony

A Good Pony

Today, Mirage was especially longing for her handler to arrive. As soon as the first rays of sunlight had lit up the barn, she had awoken with that deep urge. The same urge that was bothering her for days on end. But today was that day again, when she might be granted release from her hardship.

Pressing her haltered head against her stall’s door, she was just able to see the gate of the barn. But no matter how much the ponygirl whimpered and pawed, it remained closed. What took him so long?! Didn’t he know what day was today?!

Pony Boot Camp — Part Forty-Six

Aftermath

Right now, Kendrick wasn’t a happy handler.

As whimsical and prone to antics as he might be, the staff leader always became noticeably ill-humoured as soon as he found his charges ridiculed – the fate of the four “winners” being a prime example. Kendrick truly held up the idea of a dignified ponygirl. Personally I always experience a certain lack of dignity when I drool out of my forced-open mouth whilst having a fake tail stuck up my arse. Better, then, to approach this concept from a different angle.

Pony Boot Camp — Part Forty-One

L’Estrapade

I didn’t know how Sixteen was about to get back to the camp. I didn’t care beyond curiosity, neither. Even about my own fate I mused in a detached state of mind. In the wake of my fit of temper I was trapped in dark, almost self-destructive euphoria. I would be disciplined, that was for sure. Yet I hadn’t got the faintest idea about how harshly my actions would be dealt with. If I had attacked a staff member, things would turn extremely ugly. But another pony? I wasn’t even sure whose jurisdiction I was under in the case at hand. Kendrick’s? Miss Cuntling’s? The warden’s? Did they differ? Did it matter?

Maybe I would be long-term bridled like Eleven, maybe I would be hugging the whipping post.

Pony Boot Camp — Part Twenty-Six

Terra Incognita

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.

Pony Boot Camp — Part Twenty-Five

Miss Cuntling’s Day Off

The ridiculous honking noises startled me so much I almost fell out of my bunk. Sure as shite that wasn’t Kandrin’s whistle.

“Goooooood Morning, Deepfall!”

In the barrack door stood Kendrick, a bulb hooter in one hand. It looked original, like those brass horns on really old cars. He was obviously enjoying his toy, honking cheerfully at girls to chase them this way and that as he strode up the aisle.

“Forecast says cloudy, then clear, 24°C, light west wind. See you lovelies outside!”

Pony Boot Camp — Part Twenty-Three

Jinba Ittai

First thing after the big morning fall-in was corral training. For reasons nobody had bothered revealing to us we were to be fitted with full tack right from the start – which paved the way for another gratuitous dressing scene. As Kendrick pulled my crotch strap tight, I went on the tips of my toes – or, given that I was already standing en pointe, on the tips of my hooves. From another corner of the tack room our resident pervert glanced over whilst continuing the tedious task of lacing up Eleven’s monoglove. Creepy Chap might hold strange beliefs when it came to romantic interactions, but he knew a randy pony if he saw one.

Pony Boot Camp — Part Fourteen

Defiance

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.