Read What You Sign!

By Xaltatun of Acheron
This work is copyright 2000-2004 by Xaltatun of Acheron (A
Pseudonym). It may be posted on the Internet to any free forum. It may be
reformatted to match the forum's look and feel, and the forum editor may
make minor spelling and grammar corrections. Otherwise it must be posted
in its entirety, including all warnings and copyright notices. It may not be
sold, or included in any compilation that is sold, or posted on any forum that
requires a fee for access, without my written permission. My permission will
require payment, terms to be negotiated. For purposes of this notice, sites
guarded by Adult Check or similar packages are considered pay sites.
Posting on any site must include this copyright notice.
Adult Content Warning - this story contains adult themes, including
non-consensual bondage/slavery and forced sexual acts. If you are under the
lawful age for such materials (18 in most jurisdictions) or if you would find
such material offensive, please go elsewhere.
Safety Warning. This story may contain descriptions of practices that
are decidedly unsafe, either in general, or if performed by someone without
adequate training. There are a number of good books available on safety in
the BDSM scene. Most large cities, and some not so large ones, have
organized BDSM groups that will usually welcome a newcomer. I'm not
going to point out which practices are safe, and which aren't. Any practice is
unsafe if performed by someone with inadequate training and experience, or
if performed when not paying attention. Please think before you act. Don't
make yourself a candidate for a Darwin award.

Story codes: (MF, FF, ponygirl, SF)

There are (currently) two stories in this series:

1. Read What You Sign
2. Jill's Ponygirl (in preparation)
The name New Babylon has no relationship to any other use of the
term by any other author. No connection should be assumed, either
derivative or as a base for parody.

OK - now on to the story -------

Table of Contents
Chapter 1. A Glimmer of Hope
Chapter 2. Induction.
Chapter 3. Stress Test
Chapter 4. The training stables
Chapter 5. Yvonne wakes up, and its still there.
Chapter 6. Yvonne becomes a lawnmower
Chapter 7. The Second Day Dawns
Chapter 8. More Training
Chapter 9. Yvonne meets a Sulky
Chapter 10. Changes.
Chapter 11. Caddying.
Chapter 12. Riding Training
Chapter 13. Should Old Acquaintance be Forgot?
Chapter 14. Wilderness Trek
Chapter 15. Reflections
Chapter 16. Backstage Manoeuvring.
Chapter 17. What are Golf Courses For?
Chapter 18. Conference.
Chapter 19. Legal Interlude.
Chapter 20. Higher (?) Education
Chapter 21. The Stables
Chapter 22. Saddle and Bridle
Chapter 23. Excursion on the Bridle Path
Chapter 24. Theres no Place Like Home
Chapter 25. At the Student Union
Chapter 26. All Students Must Take Phys. Ed.
Chapter 28. Kidnapped!
Epilogue.

Chapter 1. A Glimmer of Hope

Yvonne slouched along the gray street, navigating between the stinking
pile of vomit where some wino had deposited his bottle of Ripple, and a
decrepit street person doing the unmentionable against the building wall,
looking for anyone she could touch for a handout. Yvonne, at 6 1, wasnt bad
looking, but shed never been an outstanding looker either, and the last couple
of months after her parents had financially flamed out and died in a spectacular
murder / suicide, leaving her with nothing, had not improved her looks either.
The expensive college her parents had installed her in had promptly expelled
her before she could make any connections.
The proctors had made it very clear that they would not permit her to
maintain any contact with their students. Their students were from the upper
flakes of the upper crust; all she had was her fathers money, which wasnt the
same thing as being rich. As soon as it vanished, they made her vanish, much
like a conjuring trick. She sometimes wondered if any of her fellow students
even noticed her absence.

She was sure that Sally had. Sally had been her roommate. She was never
quite certain how close they were. Sally helped her keep her head above water
academically, and she did everything Sally didnt particularly want to do.
Which was all the housekeeping, laundry and so forth. She also kept Sallys
schedule, for which Sally had at least appeared to be genuinely grateful. Sally
occasionally teased her that it was a pity that her family had all that money
(which was very carefully distinguished from rich); she would do very well as
a personal assistant.
However, by the time she managed to call, the phone had been
disconnected without a forwarding number. Shed never had Sallys home
address or phone number. And the college switchboard blandly hung up on her
as soon as the robot identified her voice. They really did want nothing more to
do with her.
The same thing had happened when she tried to get in touch with home.
All of her familys phones had been disconnected, and she had been hustled
out without being able to take her PDA, which she was totally lost without.
She vaguely supposed that they had confiscated it because it might contain
phone numbers of some of their precious students.
She had found out what had happened to her family from the newspapers.
By the time she recovered emotionally from the shock, she found herself
totally out of her depth in a genuine slum. She was trying to learn street smarts
quickly enough to survive. So far, shed managed it.
The slum was one of the districts where societys rejects drunk and
drugged themselves to death, or were addicted by pimps and had their asses
peddled on the street until they burned out and died from whatever was going
around. Shed gradually found out where she could get handouts, and where
she could get temporary jobs to pay the rent.
This was a street she had not explored before. As she made her cautious
way among the hazards, she spotted a storefront with the simple title Jobs
displayed on the window in peeling characters. She shrugged minutely. She
knew that the jobs it offered, if it was still in business, were temporary one day
affairs, if that, that paid well below minimum wage. In fact, they paid only
what would keep the labourers alive for the next day, and that grudgingly. She
looked through the grimy window, and raised her eyebrows slightly. The man
was actually behind something resembling a desk, and it looked like there was
real office equipment. The factors she was used to, here in the ass end of hell,
usually came equipped with a clipboard and a possibly working pen. Besides,
it was mid morning, and the usual run of job centres were done for the day
hours before.
She pushed her way inside, noting idly that the door opened the wrong
way for the fire codes, not that anyone cared about the condition of the
buildings here. Once she was inside, she noticed another man sitting back on a
chair, doing something with a real computer. Amazing!
I take it you want a job? the man behind the desk said, a ripple of
amusement barely perceptible in his voice. Or maybe it was irony.
Whatcha got?
Lots. Sit down and tell me what you can do.
Something about his manner triggered her to tell her story, at least the
edited version that she had to drop out of college for lack of funds. He nodded.
It wasnt exactly a new story. He leaned back and considered her.

Well, the Hot Stuff, the Blazing Tits and the Steaming Stew are always
looking for exotic dancers. You up for that?
She shook her head.
Probably a good call. You go to work there, and some pimp or other will
hook you sure. Then youll be turning your earnings over to him, and letting
him peddle your ass on the side until you burn out and die of whatevers going
around.
Got a question. Why dont you just take whatever clothes youve still
got, put them in a knapsack, and walk whatever direction youre pointed until
you get out of this cesspool?
Whats the use? she shrugged. At least here, I can sometimes get
handouts. Out there, theyll put you in jail for trying.
Girl, staying here is exactly that stupid, though. Well, if you dont want
to take a good piece of advice, then you dont. What did you do for athletics in
college? Any cheerleading?
She shook her head. Was never pretty enough for a cheerleader. Ran a
lot. Golfed and caddied some.
He cocked his head. Get up and turn around so I can see you. I just might
have something.
She looked at him, startled. Then she stood and turned slowly, expecting
him to take her apart with his eyes. To her surprise, he didnt seem to be
looking at her tits, ass or other assets. He looked at her more like her running
coach did, a sexless machine that might earn him some credit for turning out an
athletic star.
Siddown. It pays 20 grand a year, five year contract. All expenses paid,
nothing deducted from your salary. Thats after taxes, adjusted for inflation.
Who do I have to kill? she asked, astonished.
Nobody, probably. Ever hear of New Babylon?
She shook her head doubtfully. Rumours here and there. Sex trade. Some
kind of classy whorehouse?
You could call it that. If youre in the habit of calling a skyscraper an
outhouse. Its the sex business, of course, and theyre always looking for
workers. The contract prohibits any of their clients from damaging you beyond
a short stay in the hospital.
She nodded almost unconsciously. She knew that if a pimp caught her and
started peddling her ass around, she wouldnt have even that guarantee. Five
years, and I come back in good condition with 100 Gs?
Thats the deal. I wont guarantee it will be a bed of roses, but they do
stick to their contracts. There are too many people after them for them to fudge
that.
She looked at him a moment. Where do I sign?
He turned to the console of the ancient PC on the desk, called up a form,
and checked a few boxes. ID, he said, sticking his hand out without looking.
She put her expired drivers license in it without a word. He entered her name
and license number, and then put it face down on a scanner. In a moment, the
contract came out of the printer.
She looked through it quickly, picked up the pen he held out to her, and
signed where it said. He scribbled his signature, and held it out to the other
man, who added his.

OK, the second man said. Lets pick up your things. Im Frank, by the
way. He walked out the back door without looking to see if she followed. She
hesitated a moment, and then picked up her purse and walked through the door.
Frank stood by the passenger door of a non-descript sedan. She scooted in
and gave him directions to the apartment hotel she was currently staying at.
Apartment hotel. That was a laugh and a half. He double parked the car, and
they piled out. The landlady hurried out to see who was ascending the stairs,
and then followed them screeching about the overdue rent. Frank turned
calmly.
Shes moving out. How much does she owe?
The landlady named a figure.
For that price, I get the title and any strings you got on the tenants.
She spat at him. He looked back calmly. She named a more reasonable
figure. He pulled out a roll and peeled off a few bills. Get lost. We werent
here. Yvonne left this morning; you dont know where she is. She didnt come
back, you sold her things.
The landlady took his money and smiled, displaying a mouth full of
broken teeth and bad breath that would do instead of mace.
Yvonne came out, hauling an overstuffed suitcase.
That all?
Thats it. Nothing else there worth keeping.
He jerked his head toward the door. They piled into the car, which had
miraculously not collected a ticket, and he drove down the street. He drove for
a while, until they found themselves in an abandoned warehouse district. Then
he pressed a button on the dash.
Yvonne clutched the dashboard and bent over, face green. When she came
to, the warehouses had vanished, replaced by a short blacktop road lined with a
forest dominated by palms. She noticed that the road didnt seem to go
anywhere; it ended about a block in front of the car, and a block behind it.

Chapter 2. Induction.
Get out. Frank nodded toward the dull red building set in among the
trees. Go in there and hand them your contract. She looked at him in
confusion until he handed her a manilla folder.
The first thing she notice when she opened the car door was the sound of
the jungle. Then she noticed the smell, or rather, the lack of smell. The
omnipresent smog of the cities she had lived in all of her life was gone like it
had never existed. She drew a deep breath, picked up her luggage, got out and
closed the car door behind her.
Frank drove away as soon as the door slammed. Her eyes followed the car
down the short strip of blacktop, until it suddenly vanished in an eye-twisting
whirl that caused her stomach to convulse in sympathy.
Well, are you going to stand there all day? a voice said from behind her.
She spun around, startled.
The speaker was a young woman who was dressed in a short tunic,
sandals and a snugly fitting golden collar, which said Karen 6 in contrasting
black cursive letters. She smiled and said: This way, please. Yvonne
followed her, fascinated by the glimpses of the collar that peeped around the

sides of her long, honey blond hair. She also noticed that the girl had a very
flowing, sexy walk that gave the impression of being both totally unaffected
and calculated to excite any male (or lesbian) in the line of sight.
The blond vision lead the way into the building, past a cross-corridor that
looked like it faced a number of offices, to a large, open room. Yvonne looked
around, trying to make sense of what she was seeing. After a moment, she
managed to sort out the confusion of people and equipment into four identical
sections. Each of the sections had a short pole in the centre, with what looked
like a backrest and foot rests. The rest of the section was made up of different
kinds of equipment. One of the poles was occupied by a nude young woman
who seemed to be propped against the backrest; her legs spread apart on the
footrests. It looked like it should be uncomfortable, even though she was
smiling as if she enjoyed the attention.
While Yvonne gaped at the sight, a tall man dressed in a lab coat picked
her contract out of her hand, and her guide took possession of her suitcase and
purse.
When youre done lollygagging, disrobe and get up on that stand, he
told her as if the command was the most natural thing in the world.
She looked at him like he was insane.
Do it, he snapped. I havent got all day.
She took another look at the girl on the other pole, and then bent over to
pull her shirt over her head. In a moment, she had discarded her pants, bra and
panties, and padded over to the pole, stark naked except for the blush of
embarrassment that suffused her skin. She looked at the pole, and then put her
feet on the red footrests. Her guide came up behind her, and adjusted the
backrest so that it nestled in the small of her back. Then the pole rose slowly,
and the footrests separated, taking her feet with them. The man in the lab coat
looked at a device in his hand, looked up, and looked at it again. Then he wrote
something in the air above the device. Meanwhile, the footrests kept getting
farther and farther apart, until Yvonne felt like she was ready to split apart. The
man nodded at something only he could see, made a gesture, and the footrests
stopped, and then came back together until her legs were spread at an exact
right angle.
She heard a rustle of paper behind her. The man called out: Anything
different about the contract?
Not really. Standard five-year street sweepings, with the usual FTPG,
LTPG and PEO clauses.
Those are usual for a gutter contract?
It is when its from recruiter 64.
The lab technician chuckled. He does like the ponies.
He turned to Yvonne. Whats your name, dear?
Yvonne Livingston, sir. The honorific just seemed to pop out.
He looked at the almost featureless mechanism he held in his hand for a
moment. Forget the last name. Youre Yvonne 8.
Im what?
Yvonne 8. Residents have last names. Slaves only have one name, and a
number that lets us tell them apart. Consider yourself lucky. When we started,
we gave all the slaves different names, but they found it too confusing. Now
we mostly let them keep them.
As the technician talked to Yvonne, his beautiful assistant entered the
details of the contract into the system. Its uncaring program digested them, and

then started a detailed body and genetic scan of the new slave. After a while,
the program moved from data collection to analysis, and then began laying in a
standard program of genetic modifications. All slaves got these changes. One
protected them from the sun without changing their skin tone, another fixed
most of the simpler genetic diseases. A third made a carefully chosen set of
improvements to stamina and sexual functioning. A final series of changes
conferred immunity to the most prevalent illnesses, and also made her proof
against being addicted to most recreational drugs although she could still
enjoy the effects if she had the opportunity.
None of the changes were noticeable from the outside, although an uptime gene scan would identify her as a different person than the one who was
on record with the more advanced governments. At least, it would if it could
get past the first level of changes. She now had an extra chromosome pair, and
her genetic code had been altered to the point where normal DNA would create
nonsense proteins, rendering her totally immune to all viruses.
New Babylon simply didnt care whether their former slaves could be
identified or not. They left the changes installed when the indenture expired
and the former slave returned. One of the quiet agreements between New
Babylon and the various governments was that they would update their
records.
The blonde walked up with a tape measure, and wrapped it around
Yvonnes throat while this conversation was going on. Then she walked back
to one of the pieces of equipment, and entered a number. She picked up two
semi-circles off the wall behind Yvonne, and came back.
Hold still, dear. The man held Yvonnes hair out of the way while the
girl pressed the two semicircles around Yvonnes neck, and twisted a latch that
held them together. Then she picked up a large syringe and proceeded to inject
the contents into the metal band that enclosed the new slaves throat.
In case youre wondering, the man said, we actually mold your slave
collar around your neck. Once it sets, it will need power tools to take it off. It
does a number of things beside identify you. Its got a little device that lets us
know where you are at all times. Its also got a lie detector, and various things
that will facilitate training.
Dont try to escape. You wont succeed, and the managers are very
creative in their punishments. The way he emphasized the word creative
stirred a primitive fear in her belly.
He turned his head to his assistant. Warm her up.
The blonde dropped to her knees in front of the girl straddling the pole,
and started teasing her slit with her tongue. Above her, the new slave looked
shocked, and then drew in her breath as the sensations spread. She felt herself
getting wet. The blonde hummed slightly as she got into her work, and the new
slaves skin flushed, and glistened with sweat. She started panting faster and
faster, and then shook in the throes of an orgasm. The watching man caught
her before she fell off of her perch.
He looked at his readout. Not bad. Stone cold to orgasm in two minutes.
How did she taste?
The blonde wrinkled her nose. Ive tasted worse.
Well, she hasnt been eating right.
Thatll do it. Feed her right for a month, and she might be worth eating.
Minx! Lets see how long she can hold out.

The blonde made a face, and then thrust her head into the subjects crotch
and began lightly teasing. Eventually, the girl above her shook in orgasm
again.
Fifteen minutes, the man said. Not bad. Shes responding very well to
oblique commands.
Yvonne came out of her daze long enough to mutter huh?
I didnt tell you to hold out, dear. In fact, I wasnt talking directly to you
at all. You picked up on my comment, and did your part nicely. Sometimes
thats a good thing in a slave, and sometimes its not. Well see whether you
can make the distinction in a little while. He patted her cheek lightly, and then
walked away as the blonde brought out a basin of soapy water, a sponge and a
towel, and proceeded to clean the sweat-soaked girl on the stand.
The examiner then began asking her questions and giving her things to
think about. It put Yvonne in mind of psychological testing, although she
couldnt make anything out what he was doing. In fact, the procedure was
intended to be deliberately confusing; it was no part of New Babylons
program that their slaves knew what the collars were capable of. As the
examiner droned on, the newly installed collar sampled her brain activity until
it associated the various activation patterns that its target used to accomplish
her thinking. Toward the end, it began interfering with those patterns,
deliberately shifting her thinking. It left Yvonne totally confused.
Then the examiner put Yvonne 8 through a series of stretching exercises,
ending with her arms bound crosswise behind her, hands on opposite elbows.
He massaged her shoulders, checking some kind of readout all the while.
Eventually, he seemed to wind down. Its done, he announced
suddenly. Take it off.
The blonde took a tool and pried the metal cover off of the band
encircling the poor girls neck, revealing a light gray circlet, with Yvonne 8
boldly scripted on the front.
Do you know what a ponygirl is? the examiner asked suddenly.
Uh, no.
Youve lived a sheltered life, he said with mild amusement. A ponygirl
is a girl thats been trained to act like a horse. Shes ridden, she pulls things,
she lives in a stable or a meadow, and she whinnies and snorts instead of talks.
Your contract specifies long term ponygirl bondage. You did read it, didnt
you?
She shook her head, wide eyed.
Well, you signed it. That recruiter always puts long-term ponygirl
bondage in the contract if the recruit doesnt check. He does like his ponies,
and he gets a better commission. Our clients like ponygirls, and we never have
enough of them. Or enough good ones, anyway.
Take her to the conditioning ring.
His assistant snapped a leash to the ring on the front of Yvonne 8s collar
as the two leg supports came back together. She tugged lightly, and Yvonne 8
followed her out the back door.

Chapter 3. Stress Test

The area in back of the building held three circular sawdust covered
arenas below an open wooden canopy. Each of the arenas had a pole in the
centre, with two booms sticking out horizontally, each with a counterweight to
balance it. One of the booms was about six feet off the floor; the other was
about four feet high. A number of other vertical poles held various leather and
metal accessories.
Karen 6 led her charge to the arena on the left, and looped the leash
around a ring set in one of the poles. Dont worry, little one. Were going to
test your stamina next. Heres your harness. She selected a black leather waist
cincher from one of the poles, and held it in front of the tethered slave. Then
she wrapped it around Yvonne 8s waist, drawing the buckles tight enough to
keep it from falling off. Next, she ran the leather laces through the bottom
eyelets, and, taking an odd looking tool from the post, applied it to the bottom
of the corset. The tool set to work with a low buzz, pulling the cords through
the eyelets all the way up the back, leaving them snug, but not tight. Karen
took another tool, and ran it up the corset several times. Each time, it tightened
the laces a bit more, until the girl was forced to breathe into her chest to get
enough air.
Im glad they invented these tighteners. Pulling the laces by hand is such
a drag. She turned back to one of the posts and selected an assemblage of
straps. Here is your bridle. See? It goes on like this. Then she fit the leather
around Yvonnes head, tightening the buckles until it was snug enough to be
immobile.
See? All comfy. All Yvonne could do was nod. Karen took up a brush,
and brought the tangle of hair to the top and back of the girls head, and then
fastened it with a gaily decorated band.
She then looked over the bits arrayed on the pillar. See, she said,
holding it out in front of Yvonne. Size 8; youve got a bigger mouth, it needs
a big bit. Yvonnes eyes bugged out as she looked at it.
Please she whimpered.
Please what? asked Karen.
Why are you doing this to me? I thought I was going to be a sex slave.
Well, your contract specifies FTPG and LTPG, you know. Its kind of
late to decide you dont want that.
What do those mean? I never heard of them?
Karen shrugged. Its in the contract you signed; if you didnt read it,
thats your problem. FTPG means full time pony girl; you get to be a horse all
day, every day for some time. All female slaves do a stint as pony girls, we
cant write it out of the contract. Mostly its for three months, although it could
be longer if a guest likes you or youre part of an act.
On the other hand. LTPG is long term pony girl. That lets us keep you as
a pony girl for the full length of your contract. Youll probably like it once the
genetic modifications kick in. Most of the real ponygirls seem to be quite
happy.
Yvonne looked at the bit again. What was that other set of letters?
PEO?
Permanent Enslavement Option? At the end of your contract, it lets us
convert your contract to permanent without asking for your consent.
Yvonnes eyes bugged out even more. Permanent?
Oh, dont worry so about it. We have to let most of our contractees go,
or people uptime would get very upset at us.

Yvonne opened her mouth to say something else, and Karen adroitly
stuffed the bit into it before she could get a word out. A couple of quick flicks
of her fingers attached it to the bridle rings on each side of the girls mouth.
There, that isnt so bad, she said brightly as Yvonne grunted around the
intruder in her mouth. Lets get you harnessed. She picked up a pair of long,
thin leather straps and snapped them to the curved metal pieces that came
down from the sides of the bit. Then she unsnapped the leash and pulled the
girl after her by the reins, which she held close to the bit. In a moment, Yvonne
found her reins attached to the end of the higher of the two bars. Karen walked
behind her, and attached a pair of thick leather straps between her corset and
the lower of the two bars; she was now between them.
Karen 6 opened a control box on one of the pillars and pushed a button. A
set of low barriers rose from the ground. Then she pushed another button, and
the boom with the reins began to move forward. Yvonne was forced to move
with it, picking her feet up to avoid the barriers. As she moved, the other boom
moved behind her. Karen watched for a while, and twisted a control, moving
the barriers up and down, and watching how high the ponygirl brought her
legs. When she was satisfied, she closed the control box with a snap. She
watched Yvonne walk around the circle for a few minutes, and then turned and
walked back inside.
The monitors in Yvonnes collar sent in their data on her heart rate, blood
sugar, lactic acid level and a dozen other measurements. The computer that
controlled the post and the rotating boom decided to move to the next level,
and put a brake on the trailing boom. The straps connecting Yvonne to it grew
taut, and she almost stopped until her reins jerked her ahead. She pushed
harder, and the boom came along. Her world narrowed to following the reins in
front of her, and drawing enough air into her upper chest to function. When she
started to flag, a thin whip flicked out of a box on the end of the following
boom, and cut at her ass and thighs, leaving a thin red weal behind. The load
she was pulling changed occasionally, and the speed that the reins pulled her
changed. The boom moved her in and out to test her natural stride.
She never noticed when her overloaded bladder simply gave up, and she
let go while she was moving. The monitor inside blinked red for a moment,
and the technician looking at it smiled. The ponygirls pace never varied.
The computer that was monitoring her noticed that she had passed the
basic strength and stamina requirements for ponygirls. It chuckled to itself, and
triggered a transformation program that was latent in the extra chromosome
pair. These were longer term changes; Yvonne 8 would notice some of them in
a few days, others would take longer to become obvious. Her hair would grow
into a coat of short horsehair and a mane, her neck and lower back would
reshape themselves slightly, she would grow a tail, and her feet would
transform themselves into hooves.
Yvonne 8 never knew that she had passed a test; in fact, no one bothered
to ask her if she thought passing it was good or bad. She was now officially a
ponygirl.
After another hour, the machine finally thought she had had enough. It
gradually slowed her down, and let the barriers sink back into the ground. The
drag on her harness let up. She never noticed the lack of barriers, and kept
bringing her knees up to her waist as her speed slowed to a walk. It led her
around another ten times as she cooled down. Finally it stopped, and she
stopped before it, reins drooping, eyes glazed with fatigue, feet spread slightly

in a waiting stance since her reins didnt have enough slack to allow her to fall
to the ground.
As the minutes passed, she gradually recovered from the stress test. She
straightened up and began taking an interest in her surroundings. The forest
beyond the canopy was a riot of different colours, lots of green, but flashes of
red, yellow, blue and other shades. After a while, she noticed something. There
were huge numbers of birds of all kinds, some flying, some walking.
Everything seemed decorated with flowers. However, she had not seen any
animals. Nothing with fur. It looked tropical, but there were no monkeys.
Curious, she began looking closer, trying to spot something as elusive as a
squirrel or a mouse. Still nothing. It was quite strange.
It didnt occur to her to notice something else that was very strange. None
of the insects took the least interest in her. If she had noticed, she would have
been puzzled, since there was no obvious reason it should happen. The reason,
however, was very close to her, in fact, it had just been molded around her
neck. One of the functions of the equipment in the collar was to keep insects
and other small vermin away from the neck it encircled. Of course, it didnt
stop at the neck; it took the rest of her body just as seriously.

Chapter 4. The training stables

A ponygirl emerged from the forest, pulling a chariot. The girl was
moving at a trot, her legs moving with a flowing economy of motion, her tail
and mane floating behind her in the breeze of her passing. Her driver guided
her to the conditioning pavilion with a brief tug of the reins, and then drew
back on them to stop the girl. The ponygirl pulled the chariot to the side,
stopping before one of the hitching posts. This particular post was a two foot
high statue of a 19th century groom, hand held out to hold a horses reins. The
other hitching posts were similarly fanciful figures.
Her passenger left the chariot and pressed her draft animals shoulder
lightly. The ponygirl sank to her knees, and then sat on her heels. The chariot
tilted forward behind her as the shafts descended. You do like that statue,
dont you? the rider said in a rich contralto. The ponygirl looked up at her and
whinnied, nuzzling the outstretched hand.
The rider strode toward the pavilion, the skirt of her mid thigh length
tunic flowing in precise time with her movements. Other than the tunic, she
wore black leather riding boots and a golden collar, with the name Rinda 1
emblazoned on the front. She walked up to the novice ponygirl still attached to
the exerciser. You must be Yvonne 8, she said brightly. Yvonne made a
strangled sound through her bit.
Rinda laughed. I bet nobodys taught you how to whinny yet, have
they?
Yvonne looked at her, wide-eyed, and shook her head no.
Well, heres how. Watch what I do, and make a sound in your throat like
he he he she said. She opened her mouth wide, stuck her lips out and
produced a whinny. Now you do it.
Yvonne made a grimace around the bit, but obediently tried the sound.
Bring your tongue back a bit, thats a good girl.
Yvonne tried again, this time producing a passable whinny.

Thats good. Notice how your throat kind of vibrates? Rinda asked.
Yvonne nodded, and then whinnied again.
Even better! Rinda praised. Now, lets change that bridle for a nice,
comfortable halter. So saying, she took the bit out of the ponys mouth, and
unbuckled the straps of the bridle. Then she took a rope halter from the pole
and fastened it around Yvonnes head.
Now, Ill bet thats more comfortable, right? she asked.
Yvonne started to open her mouth to reply, and Rinda swiftly put her
finger across the girls lips. Ponies dont talk. Whinny or reach your head
forward and nuzzle me. Like this. Rinda took the girls head in both hands
and stretched her neck forward slightly until her nose was just touching her
trainers face. Just brush my cheek, thats a good girl.
I bet you want to go to your stall so you can be watered, fed and
collapse for a while. Right?
Yvonnes eyes got big, and then she sighed and whinnied again.
Well, lets just get you unhitched, Rinda said, soothingly, as she
unbuckled the straps that attached the girl to her load. Then she picked up the
lead from the halter and tugged gently. Yvonne followed her out of the
pavilion, bringing her knees up as she had been doing for the last two hours.
Thats very good, Rinda praised her. Well be going at a trot, so you
dont have to high step. Well be moving too fast. So saying, she tied the lead
to the back of her chariot, picked up her ponygirls reins, and got in. Her
ponygirl, Carol 2, rose to her feet in a single flowing motion, and then slowly
backed away from the statue. Yvonne hastily backed up to avoid being run
over by the chariot. Rinda deftly guided her ponygirl to the path theyd just
come down, and flicked the reins. Trot. Carol 2 leaned forward, and the
chariot sped up. Yvonne managed to speed up in time, without getting her lead
jerked.
The two ponygirls and their driver vanished into the forest, leaving
Yvonne 8s old life behind them.
After a short trot, the trio came out of the forest into a largish clearing.
They continued along the path, past immaculately kept up lawns, to a large,
long building surrounded with packed dirt. Rinda guided her girl to one of the
hitching posts on the side, and settled her in front of the post. This one was a
simple wood post with an iron ring hanging from an eyebolt in the front. Carol
settled to sit between the two adjacent chariots, each with its harnessed
ponygirl. Rinda unhitched her prize from the back, and led her to the large
door in the centre of the stable.
Rinda 1 led Yvonne to a low trough filled with water, and pressed her on
the shoulder. Kneel when I do this, she instructed. Yvonne sank to her knees,
thankful for the opportunity to get off of her feet, if only for a moment. Drink
slowly, now. Yvonne looked at the trough in front of her, and then bent over,
plunging her head into the water and slurping it up greedily. Rinda watched the
girls head bob up and down as she alternately took a mouthful of water, and
then came up to swallow and breathe.
Enough, Rinda commanded, her hand pulling the girls shoulder back.
Up. She tugged on the lead from the now thoroughly soaked halter. Yvonne
staggered to her feet. Now that, Rinda laughed, is something were going to
have to work on. Yvonne blushed, and then, surprised at her reaction, blushed
even deeper.

Well have the time, Rinda said, soothingly, scratching her charge
behind the ears. Come on. She led the way into the stable building itself.
Then she led the girl down one passage and another, to end up standing in front
of a stall.
This is your stall. The stall was about one meter wide and two deep,
with a shelf in back that had a depression that contained several fruits and
vegetables. The sides were about a meter and a half high, as was the door in
front. The back went up a good three meters. The sign had her name on it:
Yvonne 8. Rinda swung the door open, and gently shoved the ponygirl into it.
Then she pressed on her shoulder; this time Yvonne sank to her knees
instantly. Good girl. Lets get that harness off of you. She took a tool off of
the shelf, and pressed it to the laces. It hummed, unlacing the corset. In a
moment, it finished, and the corset fell to the ground. Rinda picked it up and
hung it on a hook on the wall outside the stall door.
Now look at me, girl. Yvonne looked up at her trainer. There are
several ways we can do this. If youre a nice, obedient mare, and stay in your
stall until a groom comes to get you out, Ill let you have your arms free.
Would you like that?
Yvonne whinnied back at her.
Remember, if you use your hands for anything, Ill just leave your arms
bound behind you. Rinda said, menacingly.
Yvonne nodded soberly.
All right. Turn around. Yvonne turned her back, presenting her
pinioned arms. Rinda swiftly unsnapped the hooks that held the cuffs closed
and welded them together into an immobile mass. Yvonne moved her
shoulders back and forth, grimacing with the returning circulation and the
complaints from strained muscles and ligaments.
One more thing, Rinda said. Practice eating your food just with your
lips and teeth. Youre not always going to have hands available.
Also youre not allowed to talk to any of the stable attendants. You can
talk to the ponygirls on either side, but only quietly, and not when any
attendants are present. Yvonne looked at her with wide eyes and nodded.
Rinda smiled back. She knew that the ponygirls talked even when there were
grooms walking by. Nobody minded as long as the conversations were quiet,
and the girls answered immediately when called.
Rinda turned and walked out of the stall, closing the door behind her.
Then she noticed another woman standing in the aisle. Mistress Lucy, she
said, flicking her eyes downward in a gesture of respect.
So this is Yvonne 8, Lucy said to Rinda as she walked up to look over
the stall gate. Yvonne was on her knees in front of the feed bin, trying to grasp
a pear in her teeth firmly enough to bite into it. Just as they walked up, she
managed to get a grip on the yellow fruit, and her teeth sank into the luscious
flesh.
Yes, mistress. For a freshly captured mare, shes been a delight. Quick
and obedient.
Most of them are, Lucy said. It was simple truth. What Yvonne didnt
know was that the gene modifications had made changes to her brain, and the
collar was triggering them. New Babylon was a profit making enterprise, and it
knew that profits came from satisfied customers, and the way to satisfied
customers was paved with workers who liked their work, were good at it, and

went about it with good cheer. This didnt happen when slaves were broken in
with a whip.
The mechanisms in the collar had analyzed Yvonnes brain patterns while
she was being interviewed. It had identified the patterns that meant obedience
and disobedience, and the patterns that distinguished between cheerfulness and
grumpiness, as well as many other emotions.
It was programmed to see that the lump of gray matter riding the neck it
circled spent more of its time in cheerful obedience than otherwise. It could
even spot repetitive patterns that led to undesirable patterns of brain activation,
and guide them into new channels.
Well, well see if it stays that way when she wakes up, Lucy said. I
didnt get a chance to review the inspection dossier. How did she come to
volunteer for five years full time?
The recruiter that got her tries to slide the ponygirl clauses in, and she
didnt read the contract before signing it.
Tough on her, shrugged Lucy. I hope she works out; we need more
ponygirls that we can use with our clients. They do like them so.
Behind them, the ponygirl picked up a piece of coconut with her teeth,
shoved it farther back with her lips, and began chewing.

Chapter 5. Yvonne wakes up, and its still there.

Yvonne rolled over on the thick cover of straw on the floor of her stall,
and then opened her eyes, peering fuzzily around her. Then she straightened up
in one spasm, hitting the stall door with her feet. Ouch! She drew one knee
up to rub her foot, and looked at the wooden wall in front of her. Yes. It wasnt
a bad dream. She was in a stall. A ponygirl stall, and she was a ponygirl. She
sat up, wrapped her arms around her knees and tried to think back. How had
she gotten into this mess? Oh, right. Down and out, and that creep dangled a
hundred Gs in front of her.
Well, she had no one but herself to blame. She reached back to sweep her
hair out of her face, and her hand touched her collar. She froze momentarily.
She remembered them casting the collar around her neck. They said there was
no escape. Dont even try, you wont succeed.
She took a deep breath and tried to calm down. She got to her feet and
looked around. There were more stalls on both side, and a corridor in front,
with lots of leather and steel tack and implements hanging on it.
Youre new, arent you? a voice said from the side. She whirled to see a
shapely brunette standing in the next stall, arms hanging loosely by her sides.
Yvonne 8. Thats a pretty name.
Who? What? You can talk?
Of course I can talk. They did tell you that were allowed to talk to each
other? The brunette tilted her head back so the name on her collar was easily
visible. Im Millie 6, although its good form to read someones name from
her collar. Thats what theyre for, after all.
Oh. Hi, Millie. How do you get out of here?
You dont. Theyll pick you up immediately. She tapped her collar
significantly. Its frustrating. You get your arms cuffed behind you for the
first couple of attempts, then they start getting nasty.

Whats bad about having your hands cuffed? Its not like theres
anything to do with them. Besides, I dont want to escape, I just need to go.
She practically crossed her legs in frustration.
Well, squat by the door. Theres a channel in the concrete under the
straw. Youll figure out how to keep your stall clean after a few accidents. I
dont know which is worse, the grooms that think its funny, or the trainers that
are so saccharine sweet about little accidents.
A little while later, a beet red Yvonne asked: Where are we, anyway? I
know this is New Babylon, but I dont have any idea where it is.
Hawaii. Specifically, Maui, although there are some places on the Big
Island.
I thought Maui was overbuilt.
It is. In our time. Were 24 thousand years in the past. There are no
human beings anywhere in Hawaii. Anywhere in the islands, as a matter of
fact. Its all wild. Thats one reason escaping isnt a real good idea. Nowhere to
go and lots of things in the woods that would just love having you for lunch.
Thats weird. Time travel is impossible.
Well, were here. And theres this big red thing in the sky where Sirius is
supposed to be. Its certainly not a red giant anytime in our history. Its so
bright you can see it in broad daylight. And I know enough astronomy to know
were at the right latitude, at least.
So nobody ever tries to escape?
Most slaves are sensible and dont try once they figure out theres no
percentage in it. A few do. Most are captured immediately. The owners dont
make a big deal of it the first couple of times. If you cant learn from not
having the telly for a couple of weeks, they figure youre either a slow learner
or just being difficult. Then they start getting nasty. She grimaced, apparently
remembering something.
Nasty?
Most of the time they condition the poor girls so they cant think of
escaping. Sometimes it does improve them, but sometimes she paused.
Ive met a couple with holes in their minds. They couldnt imagine anything
outside of here.
Yuck. I want to get out when my indenture is up. What else do they do?
Theyve let a few think they escaped. Then they set up a hunting safari to
track them down. It was wildly popular. The hunters were restricted to
knockout darts, of course. Now theyre kept in the wild girl section of the zoo.
Next to the wild ponygirl herd. When they want to set up a hunt, their handlers
make a deliberate mistake and let one of them escape.
Howd you know about that?
I was a bearer on one of the hunting safaris. Its great fun. Maui is
beautiful, but slaves usually dont get away from the settled places.
Yvonnes eyes narrowed. How were you out there, and now youre
here?
All female slaves spend time as ponygirls. Its in the rules somewhere.
Ive been here two years, three to go. You spend a couple of months training,
and then around three as a ponygirl. Then youre assigned to something else.
Unless youre long term?
I guess Im long term. I was just recruited this morning. Yvonne sighed.
So, whats there to do? Just stay in my stall until someone comes for me?

Essentially. Thats what horses do, and were horses now. That, and
watch the shows.
Shows? I dont see a telly.
Its not obvious. Millie reached over the partition and pointed to the
opposite wall. See that plastic rectangle that looks like wood? Its got two little
holes on the top.
Yvonne looked and then nodded.
Well, therere earplugs in the bottom. Sit in front of it and look at it. A
laser draws pictures in your eyes.
Cool. Daddy had a car with displays like that. Expensive. How do you
control it?
Wave your finger in the air in front of it. Hey, Im serious. Itll project
menus and stuff into your eyes, so all you do is poke your finger into the
boxes. Thats why you dont want to misbehave. They cuff your hands behind
you, and then all you can do is sit there and watch the main menu.

Chapter 6. Yvonne becomes a lawnmower

Well, I see youre enjoying yourselves, the voice said from the corridor.
Both ponygirls jerked around in their stalls; they hadnt heard the trainer walk
up.
The trainer held out a halter to Millie, who promptly walked to the front
of her stall. That let Yvonne get a good look at her next stall neighbour. Millie
was tastefully attired in collar, corset and boots. The boots kept her feet in full
extension, and ended in a solid block that was apparently supposed to be a
horses hoof. She thought she glimpsed a horseshoe under one of them, but she
wasnt certain. Yvonne wondered how soon theyd fit her for boots. That full
extension looked painful, but Millie certainly didnt seem to be in any distress
from it.
She also had a tail. It matched her hair, which was shoulder length and
pulled back into a ponytail. The tail seemed to be an extension of her spine,
although there was something just a little odd about it. The extension didnt
seem quite natural. She thought it looked cute. If she had to be a ponygirl, she
hoped theyd give her a pretty one.
Millie leaned forward, allowing her trainer to slide the rope around her
head and tighten the slipknot. The trainer grasped the lead just under the
mares chin, and led her down the corridor, legs pumping up and down in a
high step. Her tail swayed back and forth in time with the roll of her hips.
Yvonne stopped looking when they vanished around a corner, and went to
look in the stall on the other side. There was another brunette lying on her side,
knees flexed slightly, and hands cuffed behind her. She seemed to be dozing,
and Yvonne decided not to wake her.
Then she turned to the food bin. She reached for another pear, and then
stopped. She wasnt supposed to use her hands. So she knelt before the tray
and sank her teeth into the pear. In not too long a time, she managed to work
her way through most of the food, and take her fill of water.
She looked up again. There were several ponygirls standing in their stalls,
but most of them were talking in pairs, and none of them were close enough
for her to join in. She sighed. What was it Millie had said about the telly?

She looked closely at the wall, and was rewarded to see two holes, about
ten centimetres apart. She dropped to her knees in front of them, which brought
them to eye level. In a moment, words appeared in midair. It was a menu with
a number of entries: Movies, Music, News, Games and Courses. She poked her
finger at News. The words dissolved, and more words appeared. It said: There
is no news. Were you expecting any? and there was an OK button below it.
She shook her head, causing the vision to vanish momentarily. When it
came back on, she was back at the original menu, which had shrunk to four
items.
She decided to try Games. This time she was rewarded by a list of further
choices. A little poking around showed her that there were literally thousands
of games. They must have every game ever put on a computer! Then she
smiled at herself, amused. If New Babylon was as big as it looked from the
very limited view shed had so far, it stood to reason.
Shed had a couple of friends that were into gaming, big time, and who
had sworn that there was nothing like the old Zork games. She selected one
called Grand Inquisitor, and soon she was wondering what to do with a fish
that kept insulting her.
In the middle of her perusal of the latest insult, her stall door opened. She
twisted around to look. There was a young man, dressed in a short skirt, leather
boots and the ubiquitous collar, carrying a pitchfork.
Stay where you are, he said, waving at her. Youre new, right? Im just
cleaning the stable. So saying, he dug the pitchfork under the straw in the
corner of the stall where shed evacuated, and threw the mess into a bin. Then
he threw down some more straw, and closed the stall gate. She got up and
walked to the front, where she saw a ponygirl harnessed to a wagon. He picked
up the reins and flicked them once, and the girl started walking forward,
pulling the refuse wagon behind her.
She went back to figuring out what to do about the insulting fish.
Shed finally figured that one out and gotten killed by the grue, when her
stall door opened again.
I see youve found out how to amuse yourself, Rinda said. It looks like
youve recovered. She held out the bridle. Yvonne sighed and held her head
out for Rinda to buckle the device around it. Rinda looped the lead around one
of the posts between the stalls, and then opened the door.
Lets see your feet, she said. Yvonne lifted her left foot when Rinda
touched it. Rinda probed the ankle and foot bones, and nodded thoughtfully,
putting the sandal back when she was done. Then she did the same thing for
the right foot.
Turn around, she commanded. Yvonne turned, managing to wrap her
lead around her throat. She spun to the other side, turning bright red in
embarrassment.
Rinda chuckled. Thats a good girl. Now bend over just a little. She ran
her finger over the end of Yvonnes spine, in the space between the two globes
of her ass cheeks. The area felt tender.
Not bad for a few hours, she said to herself. Now, lets see. She went
to the wall and picked a piece of shaped plastic. Then she brought it back and
slid it in the space shed just probed.
Good enough, she muttered. In a moment, Yvonne felt something cold.

Hold still while the cement sets, Rinda commanded. A couple of

minutes later, she told the ponygirl she could unbend. Yvonne flexed her ass
cheeks, and felt the bulk of the plastic intruder at the base of her spine.
Now, lets just give you a nice tail, Rinda said. A moment later, Yvonne
felt the intruder press upward, and then heard a click. The tail brushed between
her legs, tickling her thighs.
A minute later, Rinda grasped the reins just below her chin, and led her
down the corridors. Yvonne almost stumbled when she noticed herself doing a
high step without thinking about it. Theyve really got to me, she thought.
Then she recovered and kept walking next to Rinda.
They came out the front, into the parking lot where Rinda had left her
ponygirl and chariot. Rinda marched her prize to the back of one of the
chariots and tied her reins. Then she untied the sitting ponygirls reins from the
hitching post and got in. The girl rose to her feet in a smooth motion. Rinda
flicked the reins, and the girl started walking backwards, still looking straight
ahead. Yvonne backpedalled quickly as the chariot came toward her. Then
Rinda flicked the reins, and the girl stopped. A moment later, they were going
down one of the paths through the emerald lawns.
A few minutes later, Rinda stopped her ponygirl next to a young man
sitting on a contraption that looked like a lawn mower with two shafts in front.
Yvonnes a novice, Rinda told the man, whose collar proclaimed him to
be Fred 5. Thats fine, he said. Doesnt take much training to pull one of
these things. He untied the reins and guided the ponygirl to the centre of the
shafts. Then he lifted them, and buckled the straps to her corset. He stepped
back to admire the view. Then he shook his head, and took a bottle from the
tool case on the back of the mower.
Youll broil in this sun, girl, he said, holding it out in front of her.
Sunscreen. Youll tan up nicely, but we dont want you to burn. Takes too
long to heal. He poured a little onto his hand, and methodically proceeded to
work it into her face, under and around the bridle. Then he continued on down
to her neck, her shoulders, and her arms, making certain he got in between
where they were held together by the shackles.
He slowed down over her breasts, making very sure that he had the goop
rubbed in thoroughly, slowing down even more as her nipples slowly
hardened. He grinned as he thought he heard a slight whimper from behind her
bit. Then he continued on down, rubbing it in over her ribs and under the edges
of the leather girdle. Once he was done, he proceeded to the other end of the
girdle, and rubbed the lotion over her hips and ass, into her crotch where it
gleamed over her thatch, and finally down her legs and over her feet. He
noticed that she was really a novice; she was wearing sandals rather than the
hoof boots most of the ponygirls wore. Finally, he put the top back on the
bottle, and rubbed his finger between her legs and over her sex. You liked
that, you little minx, didnt you? he laughed, teasing the erect nub of her left
breast. Well, lets get going. Theres grass needing to be cut.
He straightened his skirt as he got back onto the machine, said
Giddyap! and flicked the reins. Yvonne strained forward, and was rewarded
by a whir of blades as the mowing machine moved with her.
Fred spent a few minutes feeling out how she responded to the reins, and
then brought the mower in a wide sweep to the strip where he had left off.
Yvonne plodded along, getting used to the feel of the bit in her mouth, pulling
her head forward. After a while, she just let the feeling of the bit take over, and

started moving right and left to the pressure. Fred nodded to himself. This one
might make it to Guest Services in time. Meanwhile, hed have some fun with
her.
An hour later, Fred and Yvonne had mowed a large swath of the lawns.
He pulled her left onto grass that he had just mowed, and then tugged both
reins. Yvonne stopped, the silence loud after the incessant whir of the mower
blades. Fred pulled out a bottle of water from the box on the back, and then
walked around to his draft animal and took her bit out of her mouth. He held
the bottle up, and let her take a long drink. Then he picked a banana out of the
cooler, peeled it back and held it in front of her. She looked at it and then
opened her mouth, taking a neat bite out of the end. He fed her the rest of the
fruit, and then bitted her, noticing the way her nipples expanded at the
attention.
They spent another hour mowing another section of the lawn before Fred
called a halt. This time after watering his pony, he held up a small candy on the
palm of his hand. Yvonne looked at it, and then took it between her tongue and
upper teeth, rolling it into her mouth. Fred scratched her behind the ears.
Time for some more sunscreen, girl.
He took the bottle and rubbed the lotion thoroughly into her skin, paying
particular attention to her breasts and pussy. By the time he was done, she was
panting slightly. He swatted her ass lightly, and with a flick of the reins, started
his thoroughly frustrated pony mowing another section of lawn.
Two more breaks, and he had finished the quarter that had been scheduled
for mowing that day. Youve been a good girl, he said. I think you need
more sunscreen. By the time he finished up the bottle, she was definitely
panting, her skin flushed to an extent that could not be accounted for by the
late afternoon sun.
Well, if you insist, he said, and took the bit out of her mouth. He lifted
the front of his skirt, showing the beginnings of an erection. She promptly
knelt before him and took the shaft into her mouth, teasing it with little flicks
of her tongue until it stood straight and stiff while he teased her breasts, with
occasional excursions to tickle her ears. Finally, he had enough.
Stand, he commanded, voice husky with desire. She stood; legs spread,
as he crouched before her and grasped her ass in his hands, and then impaled
her with a single swift motion of his hips. She gasped, and then spasmed in the
throes of orgasm. He pumped a couple of times, and then came, catching her as
she descended from one orgasm and driving her into another.
He withdrew slowly, and then watched his pony totter on her legs until
she managed to get her balance after the unexpected climax. Youll do, was
all he said as he straightened his skirt again and mounted the seat of the grass
cutter. He flicked the reins, and she strained at the traces, getting it started on
its way to the groundskeepers shed.
At the groundskeepers shed a groom picked her up and led her, hand
holding her reins just under her chin, to a row of metal poles behind the stable.
In between the metal poles were sturdier wooden poles covered with tack and
various implements. He stopped her in front of one of the poles, which turned
out to be a water pipe ending with a showerhead on a length of flex piping, and
wrapped the reins around the pipe. Then he bent down and locked a shackle
around her left ankle, taking off her sandal at the same time. He took the other
sandal, and then stood, looking at her. He took the now familiar untying

machine and removed her waistband and unshackled her arms. Then he took
off the bridle, leaving her standing there tethered by her left foot.
Once he got everything stowed to his satisfaction, he took the showerhead
and drenched her from head to toe. Then he shampooed her hair, and covered
her entire body with soap. A second pass with the showerhead rinsed her off.
He finished the job with a hair drier, and put it up in a perky ponytail. He
noticed her erect nipples, and lightly flicked one with a finger so that it stood
out even further. Slut, he said with a chuckle, you already got it from the
mowing man, if I know him! Besides, if I wanted you, Id have to do it before
washing you down.
Are you going to be good? he asked. She whinnied at him, a question in
her eyes.
What I mean is, do I have to shackle your arms, or are you going to be
good on the way back to your stall?
She whinnied at him and nodded. I take that as a yes. He took a rope
halter off the pole and slid it around her head, wrapping the lead around the
water pipe. Then he unlocked the leg shackle, and, throwing her discarded tack
over his shoulder, pulled her after him, holding the lead rope just under her
chin so that she had no freedom of movement. He led her into the stable, and
then paused, looking briefly to the side and making a gesture in the air. The
display checked his eyes, identified him, and presented the list of ponygirls and
their stall assignments. Then he walked her down the corridors to her stall,
opened the gate, and stripped off the halter, giving her ass a swat before he
closed the gate and shot the latch.
Yvonne looked at him as he hung the tack on the wall, absently rubbing
the spot on her bottom where he had landed the stinging slap. It looked like his
skirt was already drying out after the drenching it had taken while he scrubbed
her down.
The ponygirl to her right was nowhere to be seen, but the girl on her left
was standing up, looking disconsolately around, hands still shackled behind
her back. Yvonne remembered the conversation, and noticed that she was
Fatima 6.
Why so glum, Fatima? she asked.
Nothing to do, dammit! Fatima shot back. I cant make the telly work
with my hands like this.
What did you do to make them shackle you?
I tried to get out. All I wanted to do was see how the stable looked, and
where things were, she said, sounding put upon.
Well, if you cant keep your hands out of trouble, Yvonne shrugged.
The rules are the rules.
But Fatima wailed.
Yvonne cocked her head slightly. I take it you signed up for five years as
a ponygirl, she threw out.
Fatimas eyes widened. Five years? she squeaked. My master told me
Id be here until I learned how to be a ponygirl.
Oh? Youre not on a contract with New Babylon?
Contract? Master owns me. I like being his slave.
And I bet he lets you get away with lots of stuff.
Hes so masterful when he gets angry with me.
Yvonne looked at her. Let me share a suspicion with you, Fatima. Hes
lost his patience for the last time. Thats why youre here.

Really? Id wondered. Hes never cared for heavy bondage. Will he sell
me once Im trained?
Who knows? Yvonne spread her hands in a gesture of futility.
More getting acquainted? Rinda commented dryly from the corridor.
Both girls jumped back from the partition as if it burned. Getting to know
your neighbours isnt exactly forbidden, but please keep an eye or ear out for
us. The threat hung in the air, no less real for being unstated.
Rinda walked into Yvonnes stall. The mowing man likes you, girl.
Here. She held up her hand, palm up and out. Yvonne bent her head to look,
and saw the confection. She brushed her tongue over Rindas thumb, and then
took it daintily between her lips. Rinda brushed the line of her jaw. He says
youre a hot one. You like him? Yvonne nodded and whinnied excitedly.
Rinda brushed a hand over Yvonnes right breast, hesitating at the erect
nipple. Looks like you want another one, she said in a sultry voice. Yvonne
drew a shaky breath. Her tongue flicked out to touch her upper lip. I guess
you do at that, she said as she put her hands on Yvonnes shoulders and
pressed down. Yvonne fell to her knees and looked upwards in puzzlement.
Rinda drew the skirt of her tunic up, and Yvonne gasped at the partially erect
penis it revealed. Rinda drew Yvonnes head in with her other hand, and
Yvonne took the member into her mouth, teasing it with her tongue. Rinda
drew a deep breath as her member thickened, and then another as she smelled
Yvonnes juices. Her dick got thicker and tighter as Yvonne continued teasing
it, alternating flicks of her tongue with deep sucking. Just when she thought
she couldnt stand any more, she pushed Yvonne over, gasping Down!
between inhalations.
Yvonne fell onto her back, legs spread as far as the walls of the stall
would permit, and Rinda fell on top of her. She slid into the welcoming
channel to a gasp of pleasure, and then both of them rocked back and forth,
building the waves of sensation higher and higher. Yvonne came with a
convulsive grunt, followed immediately by Rindas blast of cum into her
womb. They both drew several deep, shuddering breaths as they came down
from the peak.
Finally, Rinda levered herself to her knees, and drew her finger from
Yvonnes nose, across her mouth and down her throat, crossing the collar on
its way down her sternum between her breasts to finally rest in her navel.
She stood. The mowing man was right. You are a hot little slut. Well, not
so little. She grinned at the prone ponygirl. Thats good.
Rinda pulled down the skirt of her tunic and ran her hands through
Yvonnes hair, restoring some semblance of order to the chaos. She closed the
stall behind her and walked down the corridor. A very puzzled ponygirl
followed her swaying hips until she vanished around a corner.
I see she got to you, a familiar voice sounded from the adjacent stall.
Millie! What is she? With those breasts, I thought she was a woman!
She is, basically, Milly said. Although that came later. The powers that
be seem to like she-males, so any male on a permanent contract that isnt
absolutely locked rock solid into masculinity has a good chance of ending up
as a hermaphrodite. The ones with bigger breasts present as female, the ones
with smaller breasts are a mixed bag.
Is this place crazy, or what? Yvonne muttered.

Or what, mostly, Millie replied. Every time I think theyre crazy, it

turns out theres a reason, so Ive quit thinking about it. So. Tell me about your
day.

Chapter 7. The Second Day Dawns

Yvonne 8 came awake slowly, the straw of her stall prickling her skin in
unlikely places. She stretched as the tag ends of a bizarre dream dissolved into
gossamer wisps and faded away. Then her feet hit the stall door, and she froze.
It had been the most unlikely dream; shed been in a harness, pulling a lawn
mower, of all things! Then as she squirmed around, her elbow hit the partition
wall, and she almost panicked as she came fully awake. It hadnt been a
dream! Her hands went to her throat, only to feel the obdurate material of the
collar that had been irremovably molded around her neck.
She almost curled up into a ball as her situation sunk in. Then she told
herself to relax. She needed to plan. Then she laughed at herself. Plan what?
Shed do whatever the people running this place told her to do. For the next
five years. Well, for the next four years and 364 days. If she managed to
survive it.
She stretched again, sat up and looked around. She could see a little; the
lights in the rafters were glowing softly, just enough to see by, not enough to
cast any kind of shadow. She propped herself on her hands and took a sip from
the water bowl on the table at the head of the stall. Then she nosed the leavings
in the food bowl, and found an uneaten pear. She picked it up and hefted it, and
then put it back. The lesson of the girl in the stall to her left didnt really need
to be hammered home. She bent her head, got the pear positioned properly, and
took a bite. Then she took another. And another.
She knelt in front of the twin holes of the telly, and saw the menu draw
itself in midair. Today it was up to six entries: Movies, Music, News, Games,
Courses and Facilities. She poked News experimentally. To her surprise, it
came up with a selection of headlines from around the world she had left so
precipitously. She sampled a few, and found, not to her surprise, that none of
them interested her very much. The world seemed to be going to hell in a
handbasket, but it had been doing that for as long as she could remember, and
her history classes had confirmed that it was not a recent phenomenon. Either
they had mislaid the handbasket, or Helen was not accepting deliveries. She
kind of thought it was the latter.
What was Facilities? She poked it experimentally, and was rewarded by a
long menu; most of the entries had red lines drawn through them. The only
entries she could access were Maps and Staff Information. She looked at Maps
for a while, and found that New Babylon was much more extensive than she
had thought, but the only information she could get on any of it was the names.
She couldnt find out what was inside any of the buildings, except for the
training stable, where her stall was marked with her name. Staff Information
also had a number of entries, most of which were lined out. Standard Indenture
Forms was available, as was Staff Records. She tried Staff Records, and was
rewarded with an entry box and a Go button. She hit the Go button, and was
rewarded with another menu, headed Yvonne 8. Again, most of the entries
were lined out. The only available entry was named Contract.

Hum. They certainly hadnt made it easy to find. She poked at it. Up
popped a screen headed with: Five Year Renewable and Transferable
Indenture of Yvonne 8 to New Babylon. That did look like what she had
signed. Had she been so stupid as to not notice Renewable and Transferable?
Apparently.
She scrolled through the terms. Interestingly enough, they were in
reasonably understandable English, not thick legalese or the baby speak that
passed for Plain English in insurance documents. A few clauses stood out.
Section 1. Paragraph 1. Yvonne 8, identified by copy of her former
identity card photocopied below, indentures herself to New Babylon for the
term of five years. The indenture may be renewed for additional terms of five
years, or may be made permanent, by agreement of the parties. If made
permanent, ownership of the indenture may be transferred to another party at
the discretion of New Babylon.
Gleep. Did that mean I could be sold to someone else? It sure looked like
it.
Section 1. Paragraph 2. At the end of the first term, Yvonne 8 will be paid
the sum of US$100,000.00 after all applicable taxes, fees and other expenses,
plus accrued interest, to be calculated as specified below.
That was more or less as I remembered it.
Section 1. Paragraph 3. At the expiration of the indenture, Yvonne 8 will
be returned to the place where she signed this document, in a physical state no
worse than she might reasonably expect of any other resident of that place.
And the average life expectancy in the slum where Id been living was
what? Ill bet it was less than 5 years.
Section 1. Paragraph 4. The indenture may be renewed for additional
terms of five years at the request of Yvonne 8 and with the consent of New
Babylon. Each additional term shall be compensated at the same rate as the
first term.
Section 1. Paragraph 5 (Permanent Enslavement Option). New Babylon
reserves the right to extend the term of the indenture at their convenience,
without consent or notification.
Most of the rest seemed to be what I could expect. A couple more leaped
out at me.
Section 3. Paragraph 6 (Full Time Ponygirl Option). Assuming Yvonne 8
passes the physical requirements for the position, New Babylon will train her
to act as much like a horse as possible. She will be treated as, and will perform
such duties as may reasonably be assigned to a horse. This assignment will
begin immediately and last for the duration of the indenture.

New Babylon may assign Yvonne 8 to other duties. Those other duties
may be temporary, or may result in Yvonne 8 no longer being required to
perform as a horse.
Section 5. Paragraph 4. In the event that Yvonne 8 attempts to escape, NB
may condition her against such escape attempts, may take other measures to
insure against a repetition thereof, or otherwise utilize the escapee to the
benefit of New Babylon. Conditioning may result in the inability to refuse a
request to renew the indenture.
Section 6. Paragraph 1. This indenture shall be administered under the
laws of New Babylon.
And Ill bet they dont allow judgments against themselves, either.
Yvonne sighed and broke the connection with a wave of her hand.
Problem with your game? Millie said over the partition between the
stalls.
No, Yvonne stood and turned to her, I just looked at the details of my
contract.
And you feel like youve been kicked in the guts, Millie filled in. I
know the feeling.
How? Yvonne said disgustedly. Youre not from the asshole of the
city.
True. And I did read it carefully and negotiated what I thought were
beneficial provisions. Then I got here. She let the silence make her point. So
what part is eating you?
All of it. Well, the part that makes it look like the only option is to renew
and stay a ponygirl forever.
Or until youre too old and they put you down, Millie filled in
helpfully. Actually, its both better and worse than you think.
Oh?
Well, the scuttlebutt is that saddle ponygirls always renew, and that most
long timers are used as saddle ponygirls. The experience is supposed to be
highly addictive.
On the other hand, I noticed something when I was in Housekeeping
cleaning, repairs and so forth. One of our supervisors, that was Sabrina 7, had a
mane, hooves and a tail. We used to make jokes about not wanting to stand
there when she put her hoof down. Then I went to personal service, and did
housekeeping when I didnt have a client. A few times they put me in as a
housekeeping team leader. And I saw her pulling a chariot a few times when
she wasnt being a supervisor.
Huh?
She was definitely a long term ponygirl. They dont give us short timers
hooves or a real tail like youre going to get. Yvonnes hand unconsciously
went behind her, to rub the piece of plastic that joined her tail with her
tailbone. The word is that its simply too much effort to regrow feet once
theyve changed them to hooves.
Youve got a tail, Yvonne said; clearly not ready to deal with the curve
Millie had just thrown her.

Its pasted on with medical glue like yours is for the moment. Yours will
grow naturally. Youll be able to swish it like a horse; the only way I can get
mine to move is to sway my ass.
Which you do very prettily, Yvonne 8 said. What I dont understand is
why theyd promote?
I dont really know either, but I suspect that they cant get as many team
leaders and supervisors as theyd like. I know they tried most of the slaves on
my cleanup crew, and only two of us were told to be team leader a third time.
And that makes sense, because the others didnt have whatever it takes to
lead.
So. What youre saying is that if they drop a team leader slot in front of
me, grab it and run. She cocked her head. What would a team leader slot
look like for a ponygirl?
I havent a clue, girl. All I really know is that Sabrina seemed to have
made it.

Chapter 8. More Training

Yvonne was still picking at breakfast, supporting herself on hands and
feet, when Rinda arrived. Rinda looked at the ponygirl in amusement. Trying
to be four footed was certainly an innovation, and indeed, it made a certain
amount of sense for eating. At least, she didnt have to crane her head forward
to eat while she was kneeling in front of the depression containing her
breakfast. She also didnt have the use of her hands, but then, ponygirls
werent supposed to use their hands while eating, although nobody punished
minor infractions of that rule.
Well girl, lets get you harnessed, Rinda said over the stall door. Stand
up and keep facing away from me.
Yvonne swayed back on her hind feet and stood up. Rinda inspected the
ponygirl closely, noticing that she hadnt burned at all from yesterdays outing.
The mowing mans bottle of sunscreen was notorious: it was just skin lotion
with no special properties. What had protected Yvonne was a gene
modification that all of the slaves and residents got as a matter of course. Their
skin had been modified to produce a series of enzymes that absorbed all ultraviolet sunlight and converted it into glucose, which was excreted into the
bloodstream. The enzyme absorbed slightly into the blue, which gave
Yvonnes skin a slight, almost unnoticeable reddish tinge, like a permanent
blush.
There was a second set of enzymes that absorbed in the infra-red, but only
if the body temperature went above normal. A third set covered the visible
range, but was only active if the skin was naturally dark. The total effect was
that the lighter skinned people didnt tan, there were no problems with
sunburn, and the food bill went down substantially.
Your mane seems to be coming in, girl, Rinda said. Feel back there.
She guided the girls hands to the middle of her spine, and let her feel the
stubble herself. Yvonnes eyes went wide. Shed noticed that several of the
girls harnessed to the chariots had manes, but shed thought that it was just a
hairstyle. She hadnt realized that it was a permanent gene modification.

Well, she consoled herself, it ought to be easy enough to reverse when my

indenture is up.
Arms back.
Yvonne folded her arms so she touched the opposite elbows.
Very good, Rinda praised her. She attached cuffs to the girls arms
above and below the elbow, and to the wrists, and then joined them with a
short chain, making them all but immovable. She clipped the chain together
with a simple spring clasp. This was a sign that she thought Yvonne wouldnt
make any attempt to unclip her arms; some ponies were supple enough to reach
the clasp and unhook it. If they tried, there was an alternative: the chain loop
would be closed with a small circle of steel, clamped shut with special pliers. It
needed another tool to remove.
Rinda preferred not to make the extra effort; besides, she wanted to see
which of her trainees were trustworthy, and which werent.
Now that her ponys arms had been immobilized, she bent down and
tapped the side of Yvonnes right foot. Yvonne lifted it slightly, shifting her
weight, and Rinda lifted it, inspecting it closely. It looked like the bones had
shifted slightly, but she wasnt certain after less than one day. She slid a sandal
under it, lacing the footwear tightly so it would not slip. She did the same to
the left foot.
Then she wrapped the corset around the ponygirls waist, and used the
lacing machine to tighten it. Yvonne expelled her breath to help the process
along. Rinda frowned in mild puzzlement. Most ponygirls took several days to
understand that they had to do that to seat the waistband properly. Well, she
certainly wasnt going to punish her for cooperating!
She took a brush and smoothed out her subjects hair, removing snarls and
not a little straw in the process. Then she did it up in a ponytail, snapping a
colourful band around it to hold it in place. The bridle came next. Yvonne
stood still as Rinda tightened the straps around her head.
Rinda reached around the standing ponygirl and showed her the bit.
Yvonne promptly opened her mouth, allowing her trainer to slip the device in
and attach it to the side rings with no objection. Finally, Rinda clipped reins to
the steel posts depending from the sides of the bit. She backed up a moment
and looked at the girl. Pretty good, she nodded to herself. She already looks
like a proper ponygirl.
She added three feathers to the crest of the bridle and then stood back and
nodded. Even better. The other pieces could come later. She reached around
her charge and gripped the reins just under the girls chin, and pulled her
around. In a moment, the two of them walked down the corridor, Yvonne
automatically doing her high step.
This time she led Yvonne to an area filled with circular arenas, separated
by small grass borders. Rinda led her charge into one of them and walked to
the centre, paying out the reins. She adjusted the reins carefully in her left
hand, so that Yvonne faced the outside of the circle, and small twists of her
wrist would shift the ponygirls head one way or the other. She unlimbered her
whip into her right hand, and said: Walk.
Yvonne started walking, pulled into a circle by the constant leftward tug
the reins exerted on her bit. Rinda looked at the way she lifted her legs, and the
consequent roll of her hips, and frowned in concentration. Stop! Yvonne
stopped. Rinda clipped her whip to her belt and consulted her communicator.
She nodded.

Bring your right leg up slowly. Now roll your hips right. Back down.
Roll them dammit! This time start with the hip movement. Now back down.
After a while the ponygirl seemed to get the movement down.
Start. Yvonne moved forward again, this time moving her hips back and
forth in time to the leg lifts. As she did, her tail swayed in time with the
movement. Rinda nodded. Much better. In fact, not only better, it actually
showed the beginnings of a very natural flowing movement. However, better to
leave that for tomorrow. Cementing this much in would be enough for today.
Trot! Yvonne broke into a run. Slower, dammit. Youre not sprinting!
Yvonne slowed down a bit. Rinda started calling a cadence and Yvonne
slowed still more, falling in pace with the simple beat. Much better. Now, roll
those hips! Yvonne almost stumbled, startled, as the attempt destroyed her
long practiced running style. Eventually, the sweating ponygirl regained the
cadence, rolling her hips enough that her tail described an S curve, the
movement rippling down the length of the appendage.
Walk! Yvonne slowed down, remembering to high step. Rinda noted
that she was still rolling her hips.
Trot! Rinda kept up with the pace shifts at random intervals until she
was satisfied with her charges ability to switch gaits smoothly.
Stop. Yvonne almost stumbled as she tried to halt from a trot too
swiftly. Then she recovered, standing in place and panting slightly. Rinda
walked toward her, maintaining the tension on the reins until she grasped them
a few inches under the ponygirls chin. She twitched the reins slightly and then
walked between other exercising ponygirls and their trainers to a second
section. This one had the same poles and crossbars as the induction station, but
they were set close together, so that the crossbars would almost touch. She
selected one that wasnt occupied, and swiftly harnessed the girl to the two
bars. However, this time the high crossbar holding Yvonnes reins was in back,
rather than in front. Instead of two staples, the crossbar had levers that could
pull on each rein individually. It also had a directional speaker, aimed at
Yvonnes head. Rinda walked over to the control pole, and pushed the start
button.
Trot! The speaker snapped the command at Yvonne, and she lunged
forward against the pull of the lower crossbar. Rinda nodded, satisfied. She
remembered the proper cadence, and was still rolling her hips properly, even
under load. As her charge went through the outbound part of her circle, the
trainer walked away. Yvonne didnt see her go; she was just there on one pass,
and not there on the other. It made absolutely no difference; the ponygirls
pace continued smoothly on.
Some time later, the passionless computer noted that the ponygirl still
grimly pulling her assigned load had reached the optimum limit for maximum
conditioning. Any more exercise would start destroying muscle tissue that
would have to heal; that would not be efficient. Consequently, it released the
brake that provided the load, and let the ponygirl go around another ten times,
at progressively slower paces, to cool off. Finally, it pulled back on the reins,
and the speaker blared out the single word: Whoa! The sweat-soaked
Yvonne stopped, standing shakily in place as a blinking light signalled the end
of the session.
After a few moments, a groom walked up to check. He released the
ponygirl from both crossbars, and then led her to the washing stands, holding

her reins just under the bit. All of the trainers and grooms in the training
stables did this; it was the easiest method of retaining control. The pony had no
choice but to move immediately where the handler directed. Yvonne would not
be led on a loose rein until she left the training stable, and not always then.
The groom washed her down thoroughly and led her back to her stall in
the stable. She stood patiently while he removed the halter, and then practically
collapsed onto the straw, and fell asleep immediately.

Chapter 9. Yvonne meets a Sulky

Two hours later, Yvonne woke refreshed, and ate a light lunch. This time,
her lunch had included a banana. It had taken her a while to figure out how to
peel the thing with only her teeth, but she had managed, and thoroughly
enjoyed the fruit. She backed away from the food bin, staying on all fours for
some reason she couldnt define, and slowly wiggled her ass back and forth,
enjoying the feel of the tail against her legs. Finally, she stood up and checked
the stalls on either side. Neither Fatima nor Millie was home. She considered
whether to spend some time looking at the telly when she saw Rinda walking
down the corridor in her stalls direction, so she simply stood there, watching
her trainer, and idly shifting her hips so she could feel the brush of her tail
against her legs.
Rinda stopped in front of the stall. Well, she smiled. I see youre all
recovered and ready to go.
Yvonne whinnied at her. Rinda stood closer, and Yvonne brought her
head forward, brushing Rindas face with her nose. Rinda laughed and reached
into her pouch for a treat. When she held it out, Yvonne bent her head to the
outstretched hand and picked it up between tongue and teeth, being certain to
brush Rindas palm with her tongue in the process. Rinda laughed again, and
scratched the ponygirl behind the ear as Yvonne sucked on the candy, letting it
slowly dissolve in her mouth before swallowing.
Turn around so I can put your tack on, Rinda commanded. Yvonne
turned around and stepped forward to the middle of the stall, bringing her
hands behind her without being told. Rinda put the tack on, and then led the
ponygirl out to another area, one that had a number of small sulkies standing in
a row. She manoeuvred the girl between the shafts of one of the sulkies, and
fastened the traces so that she was unable to move without moving the sulky.
When she entered, she set her communicator on a stand in front of her,
and placed both reins in her left hand so that a simple twist of her wrist would
shift the pressure from one side of the ponygirls mouth to the other. Then she
unlimbered her carriage whip and told her pony to walk.
Yvonne jerked the sulky as she started. Rinda was expecting this, so she
wasnt thrown, although she did sway back and forth, but she managed to keep
her balance without using her hands. However, Yvonne wasnt so lucky: the
jerky start caused Rinda to saw on the reins, and Yvonne whinnied in protest as
the bit cut at her mouth.
In a moment, however, she had the load under control, and walked
forward until Rinda tilted her hand, causing her to slew left. Then her driver
shifted her to the right, and stopped her with a backward tug. Rinda nodded.
The mowing man had gotten her used to the signals, all right, and she was

responding well. She gave a light tug, and Yvonne stepped forward, this time
starting the sulky much more smoothly. Rinda only had to flex her knees
slightly to maintain her balance, and she managed to keep the tension on the
reins steady. She gave another light tug, and noticed that nothing happened.
Yvonne kept moving forward at the same pace, doing a high step.
Each tug means to go up one pace, Rinda called. Yvonne whinnied.
Rinda tugged lightly, and Yvonne shifted to a trot, managing to keep the sulky
stable as she did so.
Rinda nodded, satisfied with her control. She guided the ponygirl down a
path to a practice field, and spent a half hour turning her, stopping and starting,
getting her thoroughly used to a sulky. When she was done, she brought the
sulky back to the lot, unhitched her lightly sweating ponygirl, and returned her
to the stable, leaving her tack in place, although she released the girls arms.
That afternoon, Yvonne was introduced to the roller. This was mostly a
large, horizontal concrete cylinder. It rotated around a shaft through its centre.
Other shafts went along the front and back, joined so that it looked like a
sausage on a fork. Or it would have, if the fork were closed at both ends. One
of the outside shafts had three shafts extending out from it, with leather straps
dangling, waiting for the matching buckles on a ponygirls harness. The other
shaft had a seat pushing up like a toadstool.
One of the grooms came for both Yvonne and Milly, and led them out,
holding a pair of reins in each hand. He hitched Yvonne on the left, and Milly
on the right of the roller. Then the driver got onto the seat behind the thing.
The groom handed the man both sets of reins. He sorted them between his
hands; both left reins in his left hand, both right reins in his right hand, and
made certain he had even tension. Then he flicked them and watched the girls
strain to move the concrete load. Once they had gotten it under way, he deftly
guided his machine out of the groundskeepers lot onto the extensive lawn, and
began going back and forth, pressing the ground and evening out various
bumps and ripples.
The groundskeeper kept an eye on how his infernal device was rolling,
and flicked a light whip at whichever of the hapless ponygirls was slacking at
the moment. He could tell because the roller would tend to go off course if one
or the other of the girls was not putting out the same amount of effort.
After about two hours of this, the girls had red strips all down their ass
cheeks and legs, and he had rolled about an eighth of the lawn. However, most
of the stripes had been earned in the first hour. When he stopped, he had not
had to correct either of them for well over half an hour.
The grooms led them back from the groundskeepers lot, washed them
down, and put them back in their stalls. Both of them collapsed, completely
tired out.

Chapter 10. Changes.

Yvonne sat in her stall, massaging her feet. They still hadnt come to
measure her for the hoof boots that both of her stable neighbours sported, and
she was beginning to wonder what was going on. Rinda had put her in heeled
sandals this morning, replacing the flats she had worn for the previous week.

Shed finally noticed that she now stood naturally with her heels in the air. Just
an inch or so, but she hadnt even noticed it happening until Rinda had put the
new sandals on her.
Her toes seemed to have grown together, and even stranger, her toenails
also seemed to be growing together. They formed a seriated plate, a single nail
separating into the five nails that had been there originally. And the top of her
feet seemed to be curving up. She had this awful suspicion. What had Milly
said a week ago, when this entire mess had started? Something about her
getting real hooves and a tail? Shed let it go by without thinking.
She ran a hand through her hair, and winced as more strands came out.
She wished, not for the first time, that she had a mirror to see what was going
on. Then she wished she didnt, because she was afraid she knew. She had
noticed that several of the ponygirls had manes. Unlike Milly, who still had her
full head of hair, and seemed likely to keep it.
She thought back. What did she know about horses hooves? Only that
they had to be shod. Except that several of those oh so superior fellow students
had occasionally discussed barefoot horses as opposed to shod horses. She
wished shed paid more attention to polo, but running was her sport. It might
even have helped to break the ice. Not likely, she snorted.
Hooves and tail. What was that little piece of plastic hiding? She reached
back and felt around the tail Rinda had plugged in a week ago. A moments
probing found the catch, and she unsnapped it. Then she felt behind her again,
and found the thin finger, covered with short fuzz that peeped from under its
plastic cover. Touching it tickled!
They really were turning her into a horse! If they could do this, what else
was going to happen? For just a moment, she was overwhelmed by despair.
Then the black mood seemed to drain away, and she straightened with
newfound optimism that she could meet whatever challenges they threw at her.
It never occurred to her that her mood shift was caused by the
mechanisms that held her neck in their obdurate grasp.
The groom walked up to the stall and checked the nameplate. Yes, it was
Yvonne 8. Tall brunette, hooves almost fully formed. He knocked on the stall
door politely, and watched her flow to her hooves, tail streaming out
momentarily from the motion.
Well, girl, he asked. Do you want to learn how to take care of your
own hooves? He watched the startled expression on her face. You can
answer me in English.
She snorted and nuzzled his face. Then she backed up a half step and
looked at him strangely. I didnt think it was permitted. Horses dont shoe
themselves, do they?
And you wouldnt either. Thats a job for a farrier. What you can do is
picking and trimming if you go barefoot.
What difference does it make? Im not refusing, mind. For once around
this place, Id like to know why.
There are more things we can do with you if you can handle most of
your hoof care. And most of the girls seem to like them better than the rest of
the tasks.
I suppose youre not going to tell me, she sighed. Well, Id like that.
Anything to get a little more of a feeling that my life is under my control. She
didnt understand why he chuckled.

They spent an hour as she learned the parts of her hoof, and how to
manipulate the pick to remove stones. He came for an hour a day for the rest of
the week, showing her more of what she had to do to keep her hooves in good
condition. On the last day, he left a hoof pick hanging on the side of her stall.
Rinda led the haltered ponygirl down a path she had not been on before,
hands cuffed behind her back. Yvonne felt a great deal of curiosity; this was
something new. This was the first time shed been let out of her stall with her
hands cuffed. Usually, she had them shackled crosswise behind her. The
grooms sometimes led her back to her stall from grooming with her hands
cuffed, and sometimes with them free, but she had never come out of her stall
that way before. And shed not been this far from the stable this way, either.
They walked around a hill, and came upon a meadow that wasnt visible
from the stable. Yvonne stumbled as she almost stopped in amazement. There
were several dozen ponygirls in the meadow, walking around, lying down,
talking to each other in pairs and groups. Some of them had their hands free;
some of them had their hands cuffed behind them. There was a water trough,
and a shallower trough loaded with food. There was a mixture of short timers
and long timers.
Well, girl, Rinda told the stunned ponygirl. Enjoy yourself until youre
called. She opened the gate and ran the lead loosely around the ponygirls
neck a couple of times, tying it off so it wouldnt snag. She watched as Yvonne
trotted into the meadow and found another girl to talk to.
Rinda took a moment to admire her. She trotted naturally up the slight
hill, light brown mane and tail flowing in the breeze. She seemed utterly
unconcerned that her hands were cuffed.
Horses are herd animals, and New Babylon had included a herd instinct in
the genetic changes it had imposed on its ponygirls. This was actually her final
examination. How she behaved in a herd would determine what she would be
assigned to do.

Chapter 11. Caddying.

One morning, a groom came and harnessed her as usual, using a halter
and leaving her hands cuffed instead of shackled crosswise. Instead of taking
her to exercise or work, or taking her to the meadow, he left her standing in a
corral with a number of other ponygirls. Yvonne 8 promptly joined in the
chatter. She knew most of the girls from her time in the meadow.
She automatically noticed the girl with a fan of peacock feathers in her
headdress. She was the herd mare. Yvonne had been introduced to corral and
herd discipline a week earlier when shed been let loose in the meadow. Shed
shown no tendency to stray, and had not even discovered the invisible
electronic barrier that kept the ponygirls there.
Finally, the grooms seemed to be done adding girls to the corral. Two of
them rode up on ponygirls and opened the gate. The herd mare trotted out,
following the lead groom, and the remainder of the girl herd followed her. The
other groom brought up the rear.
Yvonne manoeuvred herself close enough to the front of the herd that she
could see the ponygirl under the saddle. The girl was trotting along with a

firm stride, hips and tail swaying as she moved. The saddle seemed to be
nestled in the small of her back, with a lot of the weight resting on her hips.
Her torso came out from between the grooms legs at a 45 degree angle. Her
head tilted back so she looked forward. Yvonne nodded as she examined the
saddle girl. She had proper hooves, not the hoof boots the short timers wore.
The groom sat his saddle easily, knees drawn up so that his legs didnt foul his
mounts legs as they ate the distance. He maintained a light tension on the reins
with his left hand; his mount had no opportunity to turn her head to look at the
scenery.
She also noticed that his mount was a fairly big girl, and he was a bit
smaller than average. She wondered whether they were going to train her to the
saddle. The couple of saddle girls she knew said that there was nothing like
being ridden, other than maybe an orgasm that went on and on, without either
wearing you out or leaving you frustrated. They were big girls too, easily
matching her own 61.
The girl herd trotted down a path through forest and meadow for about
fifteen minutes, until they came to a very large meadow. It must have
contained several hundred ponygirls. Yvonne stared at it in amazement. The
girls seemed to be milling around, talking, lying down, playing games and
eating. There seemed to be more long timers than short timers, just to judge
from the number of girls with manes as opposed to those with full heads of
hair.
There were several water troughs and several food tables. On the other
side, there was a covered pavilion of some type, a little too far away for
Yvonne to make out clearly.
The other thing she noticed was that most of the girls wore halters,
without any other tack. Some of these had their hands cuffed behind them, and
some had their arms free. A smaller number were fully tacked out, with bridles
and corsets, and with their arms shackled crosswise.
The herdsmen sent their small herd into the meadow, and then rode off,
not looking behind to see what they would do. Yvonne trotted in with the rest,
automatically noticing the mare toward the centre with the headdress of
brilliant blue and green feathers. She must be the herd mare.
Yvonne paused a moment to catch her breath, not that the trot had tired
her significantly. If she remembered the map, this was the golf course. She
picked a spot and sat on her heels, noting with amusement that her new tail lay
along the grass. It tickled.
Shortly after they arrived, a man rode out on a stunning looking
redheaded ponygirl and called for silence. Then he read off a list of all 18 holes
at the golf course, with their tee and hole placements. Yvonne noticed that
most of the ponygirls were paying rapt attention, so she tried to catch them as
well. He repeated the entire list a second time, and then most of the girls
clumped into groups to recite the instructions to each other. Yvonne joined one
of the groups: if the ponygirls who belonged here were memorizing this stuff,
it might be important. Besides which, it was something to do, and it wasnt as
if she didnt know golf. Her parents had played all through her high school
years, and their fancy country club membership had made it easy to learn. It
was also one of the few things she shared with her college roommate, Sally,
where she was the acknowledged superior.
Every few minutes, some grooms came out and called out between four
and seven names. The ponygirls would trot over to them. Sometimes they

would lead the girls off, and sometimes they would stop under the canopy and
change one or more of the girls tack. Finally, Yvonne 8 heard her name
called as part of a group of six. She joined the other five girls and followed the
groom along another path to the clubhouse. She noted peripherally that two of
the girls were fully tacked out. The grooms cuffed the other three ponygirls
and lead all six of them to the clubhouse.
He led them to a group of four guests, two men and two women. The
guests talked among themselves for a moment, agreeing on which girl each of
them wanted. Then the grooms bitted the two fully tacked out girls and hitched
them to chariots. The other four, including Yvonne, were outfitted with
shoulder harnesses. They attached a golf bag to the harnesses, and then
tethered the girls to the chariots.
The golfers got into the chariots, and drove them to a short line of other
golfers waiting for their tee time. Yvonne noticed that some of the foursomes
had chariots, and some of them just had bag carriers. It seemed that they
preferred the exercise of walking.
The bag girls sat on their heels behind their chariots, waiting. Yvonne
noticed that some of the pairs of bag girls were talking to each other in low
voices; apparently it was permitted.
Yvonne! the other bag girl on her chariot said, voice pitched low so it
didnt carry. Is this your first time out?
Yes, they just brought us over from the training stable. Youre Nancy
2?
Unfortunately, the brunette replied. Mr. Syndler is a right bastard.
Hes taken a liking to me, and asks for me every time. Fortunately for you, his
wifes a doll, and shes also the better golfer. Youll see. Oh, and youre
allowed to talk to your client.
So we just act like caddies?
Up to a point. Ive had some golfers that have uncuffed my hands so I
can wash their balls for them, but most dont. Ive even had one that had me
keep his scorecard. And you cant go onto the greens.
Not with hooves. I take it they ask you for advice?
Some do, some dont. Mr. Syndler doesnt. Ive seen his wife ask hers a
few times.
Well, this is my first time on this course. Yvonne tried to shrug, which
proved difficult under the weight of the golf bag. I golfed and caddied for five
years before this happened.
Eventually, their foursome got to the head of the line, and then drove off
to the first tee. After two months of training, Yvonne no longer had to think
about following a chariot. She did it as easily as breathing, maintaining the
correct distance automatically.
The foursome parked their chariots by the side of the mens tee. The bag
carriers dropped to their heels behind the chariots, leaving the bags out so the
golfers could get to their clubs.
The first hole was a long par 5 with a dogleg. Mr. Syndler drove first,
taking a mighty swing, and unfortunately slicing it. The ball rattled off several
trees before falling to earth. Yvonne nodded slightly as she tracked it. If it had
been straight, it might have been in the crook, perfectly set up for the second
shot. As it was, he was going to lose a stroke getting back to the fairway,
possibly two. The second man drove straight, but wound up short and on the
wrong side of the fairway.

The two women walked down to the womens tee. Mrs. Syndler detached
Yvonnes tether and took her along, parking her on the side. The other woman
just brought her driver, ball and tee.
Mrs. Syndler took her bag girls chin and pushed it up so she could read
the collar. Youre Yvonne, right?
Yes, maam.
How should I play this one?
Yvonne lifted an eyebrow at the question. This is my first time on the
course. Depends on how long you normally drive. If you cant make the
dogleg, Id try to keep it to the left to cut the angle on the second shot.
The woman nodded and pulled the driver out of the bag. She hit a nice,
clean shot and wound up just short of the dogleg, on the left, in an ideal
position to get some distance around the trees without having to take a chance
on going over. The fourth golfer hit her shot into the rough on the right.
Mrs. Syndler came back, dropped her club in the bag, and then looked at
her bag carrier. Do I have to keep you on the lead?
Not if it pleases you, maam.
Very well. She walked back to the chariot and slid in behind her
husband. Yvonne took up her position behind the vehicle, and they were off
down the fairway.
A few hours later, Yvonne reflected that it had been a very good round.
Mrs. Syndler had unbent enough by the fifth hole to ask to be called Sarah.
They had discussed a number of shots, and Sarah had taken her advice on a
couple of them. Mr. And Mrs. Syndler had come in dead even after 18. Hed
have won handily, except that hed done the same thing on all the par 5s that
hed done on the first hole. Hed tried to drive too far, and had wound up in the
woods, the lake, sand traps, and once in the middle of a pineapple. His wife,
meanwhile, played methodically, not taking chances but making most of her
shots exactly where she wanted them.
Nancy 2, she reflected, had been absolutely right about Mr. Syndler.
Shed had to tramp through the woods several times, looking for the ball. Mrs.
Syndler, on the other hand, simply didnt make that kind of mistake except by
accident. Yvonne had the distinct impression that accidents were something
that happened to someone else.
A groom led all six ponygirls from the foursome back to the meadow,
where they relaxed until the last party had finished. Interestingly enough, he
released the four girls whose hands had been cuffed, but left the other two
with their complete tack, arms still shackled crosswise. Yvonne noticed that
neither of them complained about unfair treatment, however.
When the last group came back, the same man came up riding his
redhead. He surveyed the field, and then called out in a loud voice. Grounds
cleanup. Assemble by crew! Most of the ponygirls sorted themselves out into
half a dozen groups, with the new ones looking on in puzzlement.
Next, he called six names, and a girl came running up from each crew.
He put an ornate headdress on each one and sent them back to their crews.
Yvonne nodded almost unconsciously. The crews now each had a herd mare.
Then he pulled out a list, and assigned each of the new ponygirls to one of the
crews. Yvonne 8 wound up in crew number three.
She looked at her fellow crewmembers. Tina 6 was the girl with the
headdress, so she must be the herd mare, Yvonne decided. Once the head

groundskeeper finished with the assignments and a number of special orders,

the herds of ponygirls headed out to various parts of the course. As Yvonne
discovered shortly, Crew 3 was responsible for the 7th, 8th and 9th holes, and the
forest around it. They started at an equipment shed. The girls who were still in
full tack positioned themselves between the shafts of the refuse wagons while
Tina split the girls further into work teams, assigning each of the new team
members to an experienced worker as a guide. Each team went to their wagon,
finished harnessing up their ponygirl, and moved out. Yvonnes work group
was assigned to the left edge. They cleaned the rough, removing the occasional
fallen branch, leaves, cigarette butts and everything else in their path that
sullied the pristine beauty of the course. As Yvonne bent to her task, she barely
noticed Tina 6 trotting among the crews checking on progress, or the herd
mare and the groundskeeper coming by occasionally.
Finally, they were finished just in time for the sun to begin going down.
The tired herd headed back toward the meadow. The girls with bridles and
corsets lined up in front of grooming stations, where the grooms processed
them with relentless efficiency, unlacing their corsets, removing their bridles,
and unshackling the arms of the girls who still had them bound. Then they
soaked each one, soaped her thoroughly, rinsed her off and dried her hair with
a blow-drier. They finished by straightening the short hair on her head and
between her legs with a currycomb, and then brushed her mane.
The rest of the girls headed down to the river and lined up, grooming
each other to the accompaniment of many giggles. When they were done, they
spread out into the meadow and fell into small groups, either talking in low
voices or lying back and going to sleep. By this time, Yvonne was totally
puzzled, but she went along with the herd. She picked a likely looking piece of
meadow and stretched out, tail between her legs, and watched the moon slide
between the stars. After a few moments, she fell asleep.
The next morning, she woke as the sky began lightening. She rolled up,
being careful not to wake her neighbours, and knelt before the water trough.
By the time she got to the food table, she found several other ponygirls there,
each with her head in the trough, munching away. Once she had her fill, she
headed for the river. She noticed the girl shed been paired with the previous
night looking around, so she joined her.
Hi, Cassie, she called from behind the girl, startling her.
She spun around. Oh, Yvonne, I was just looking for you. Ill bet youre
totally confused by now. Lets groom each other and talk.
They picked up the soap and waded into the river.
So, whats your impression?
Well, I used to golf, so that parts ok. Being a bag girl is kinky, but this
is New Babylon, I should expect normal? Whats puzzling me is cleanup last
night, and sleeping in the open.
Theyre the same thing. They wanted a world class golf course, but they
dont have the staff, so they make us do the work. There are only five
groundskeepers and twenty grooms.
Wow, was Yvonnes only comment as she soaped Cassies torso.
Arent they afraid well run off?
Fat chance, Cassie responded. Look at it logically. How likely are you
to run off?

And leave the herd? Yvonne responded automatically. Then she almost
dropped the bar of soap as she realized what shed said, and that she meant it.
Exactly. Theyve got you wired so you cant run off. And if, by some
chance, you did, theyd simply catch you and put you in a stable with your
arms cuffed all the time. Not fun.
Not fun at all, Yvonne agreed. One thing I noticed was the crew
chiefs. Hows that done?
Theyre always looking for supervisors. The groundskeeper chooses the
herd mare from the crew chiefs, and the crew chiefs from the work group
supervisors. He keeps rotating them to avoid favouritism. The crew chiefs
select the work group supervisors from the workers that dont make trouble or
screw up. Theyll try you out as a work group supervisor once youve been
here long enough to know how the grounds keeping works. Then theyll keep
dropping you in that slot until they figure youve learned it, or youre not going
to. If youve learned it, theyll try you on crew chief.
Then what?
Then the good ones get poached, Cassie said. The scuttlebutt is they
need good supervisors.
This is the only place to advance?
Pretty much. The other places they use us are too structured. Some of
them have herd mares, but theyre mostly for show. She shrugged. They
rotate most of the long timers through here to see if they can find supervisory
talent.
What about you? Yvonne said, a bit sceptically.
I like to stir up trouble a bit much, Cassie said, not at all repentant.
Thats what got me shackled the last couple of times. I do get put in as crew
chief every once in a while, and I like to think Im learning what to do, but Im
going to be old and gray before they let me be herd mare.
And that doesnt bother you in the slightest, Yvonne noted as Cassie
finished soaping her down.
Nope. One of these days it might, but I like being a ponygirl. Being
ridden is addictive.
Ive heard that, Yvonne said, a bit sceptically.
Well, its like this. Pulling a cart and feeling your drivers hand through
the bit in your mouth is, well, its what being a ponygirl is about. It gives me a
sense of place. However, feeling your rider keeping the reins taut so your bit
forces you to keep your head back, well, its addictive. I cant describe it. It
just sits there in your mind, glowing. When he dismounts, its like youve lost
something important. Its like being in love.
Yvonne looked at her strangely.
Once they finished with their grooming, the head groundskeeper rode up
on his redheaded ponygirl, and started the crews on their way.
This time, the herd mare for each of the work crews told off several of her
herd, who dutifully trooped up to the pavilion, where grooms put their tack on.
Then they streamed out to follow the rest of their work crew at the equipment
sheds. Once they got there, they positioned themselves between the shafts of
the grass cutters and rollers. The work crew chiefs buckled up the traces,
assigned a driver, and they went off, clipping the grass of the fairways. As they
worked, the grounds crews trimmed the greens and selected the hole positions
for the day.

Once they finished, the drivers unhitched their work ponies, and the herds
eddied back to the meadow. When they got there, the herd mare called out
several of the girls and proceeded to cuff their hands behind them. This time,
Yvonne wasnt all that surprised. Shed been pulling a grass cutter, with Cassie
as her driver. Cassie had screwed up spectacularly, driving a cutter set for the
fairway into the rough. Shed been mildly surprised that Cassie hadnt been
pulled off the cutter right away.
Now that things had sorted themselves out, Yvonne decided to do a little
exploring. Shed noticed that a number of ponygirls wandered up to the
pavilion and back, apparently without either orders or censure, so she trotted
up there herself. She noticed amusedly that Cassie had certainly been right; it
took a definite exercise of willpower to tear herself away from the rest of crew
three!
Once she got there, she figured out soon enough what was interesting.
Most of the equipment walls had tack, neatly labelled by the ponygirl it was
fitted to. They all had girdles, bits and bridles. Some of them had saddles;
others had places where saddles could be hung. She recognized the arm
shackles, and puzzled over several sets of cuffs joined by half-meter light
chains. Those must be hobbles, she mused. For ponygirls that like to
wander off. Another reason not to leave the herd, she thought.
One of the equipment walls had flat strips of black material, about 10
centimetres by two centimetres by one centimetre. The two little openings eye
width apart showed that they were portable tellys. They were in recharging
bays. The other interesting thing was the hoof picks and trimmers. She nodded
to herself. It was good to know where the hoof care was. Shed had a couple of
stones in her hooves, and it hadnt been pleasant. She trotted back down again;
thinking that getting to know her herd was more important than the telly.
That day, Yvonne got Mrs. Syndler again. It seemed that she liked her
caddy, and had asked for her specifically. In fact, Yvonne got Mrs. Syndler for
the next few days.

Chapter 12. Riding Training

A few days later, a rider rode into the meadow on a perfectly stunning
yellow blonde, and dropped a rope around Yvonne. Then she laughed, cinched
the lead from the startled ponygirls halter to her saddle, and led her off to the
clubhouse. She dismounted, tethering her ponygirl to one of the taxi hitching
posts, and led Yvonne back to the tack shed.
Bend over, Dora 8 commanded.
Yvonne, startled, obeyed. The trainer guided her to the right angle with
hands on her belly and shoulders. In a moment, Yvonne was standing with her
torso at a 45 degree angle. Her head had come back on her shoulders so she
was still looking forward.
The trainer probed her lower back muscles with a finger, checking for any
sign of weakness. After a moment, she was satisfied.
Hold that position while I saddle you, she said.
Yvonne whinnied in mild alarm. She hadnt noticed that a saddle had
appeared on the section of wall where her tack was kept. She didnt think she

wanted to be ridden! However, she didnt have any choice in the matter, so she
just stood there, knees flexed to keep her balance.
The trainer started with the corset, draping it over her waist and then
tightening it with the lacing machine. Then she shackled the ponygirls arms,
and stripped of the halter, replacing it with her bridle. She slid the bit into the
girls receptive mouth, draping the reins over a convenient ring.
Finally, the trainer took a saddle off the wall, trailing leather straps. She
dropped it over Yvonnes back, where it nestled firmly over her waist,
extending backwards to cover her hips. The trainer buckled one of the two
straps that held it over her waist, drawing it tight enough to elicit a gasp from
the ponygirl. Then she buckled the other one, and shook the leather seat,
making certain it was immovable.
Once she had checked it, she drew another strap around the back, lifting
Yvonnes still growing tail so it was out of the way before she tightened it.
That strap pulled the saddle firmly down around the ponygirls hips. She tried
to twist the saddle again, and nodded, satisfied.
Thats good, the trainer praised. Then she took the reins, fist just under
the ponygirls chin, and led her out away from the girl herd.
I hope youve been ground trained, the trainer said, conversationally.
Yvonne grunted in puzzlement at the new term. Ground training means that if
I drop the reins like this, you act like its tethered to a hitching post. The
trainers tone left no doubt about what would happen if she wandered off!
Yvonne whinnied, like she was going to go anywhere anyway, except maybe
back to her herd.
The trainer dropped the reins, and then walked around her pony, nodding
as she inspected the hooves and the mane.
Next, the trainer said unexpectedly, Im going to mount you. Spread
your legs and shift your weight to the right to compensate while I swing
aboard.
She lifted her foot into the stirrup, and swung onto the girl with practiced
ease. Yvonne swayed under the sudden strain, but remembered to shift right
and then back as the trainer climbed aboard. In a moment, the trainer found her
seat. She put her communicator on the girls arms, and then bent forward and
picked up the reins.
Good girl, she praised as she combed her right hand through the
ponygirls short mane. Now when I squeeze you like this, she squeezed her
thighs together, start at a walk.
Yvonne tried to step forward with the unfamiliar weight on her back. To
her surprise, she found that her body automatically compensated by shifting
her weight to the other foot.
Good girl! Just keep walking; youre doing very well Yvonne!
The ponygirls hesitant steps gained confidence with each stride. As they
approached the edge of the field, the trainer shifted her wrist, putting more
pressure on the left rein. Yvonne turned left, apparently without thinking.
Good girl! The trainer flicked her eyes downward to look at her
readouts. Apparently she was satisfied with what she saw, because she
squeezed again, causing her mount to stride forward across the field. They
went back and forth over the field for a while, practicing turns. Eventually, the
trainer frowned slightly as she looked at the monitor, and then turned her
ponygirl back toward the stable.

Shed had enough. She walked the sweating girl up to one of the
grooming stalls and pulled back on the reins to stop. Now girl, Im going to
get off. Remember your weight is going to shift to compensate. She slid her
right foot out of the stirrup, and swung off, as Yvonne shifted back and forth.
Then she tossed the reins to a waiting groom.
Groom her and send her back to the herd. Shes been very good, so leave
the cuffs off.
As the groom busied himself with removing the saddle, the trainer walked
around and removed Yvonnes bit. Then she held up a sweet. Yvonne licked
the candy off of the trainers hand, and then gently kissed it before she took it
back. The trainer chuckled, and Yvonne whinnied back at her. The trainer
scratched under her chin, behind the ears, and then ruffled her mane before
walking away. Yvonne looked after her, aware of a sudden feeling of loss.
The groom had finished taking off the saddle. He shackled one ankle to
the equipment post, and then used the unlacing machine to take off the corset.
Then he took off her bridle and unshackled her arms. As Yvonne stood, feet
apart, and rubbed her shoulders to work out the kinks, he took the water nozzle
and drenched her. Then he soaped her, rinsed her down, and dried and brushed
her mane. Finally, he put a halter on the girl, draping the lead around her neck.
Then he swatted her lightly, and watched her trot down the incline to her part
of the herd.
The next couple of weeks went quickly. As Yvonne 8 gained strength,
Dora rode her for longer and longer periods. She taught the ponygirl how to
trot with a rider, and then added a full gallop. Some days, she also did a round
of golf as a bag girl, and occasionally pulling a golf cart.
One day, they did something different. As usual, Dora had one of the
grooms saddle her steed and leave her in the reserved section of the clubhouse
parking lot until she was ready. She thought this taught the ponygirl her place
quite well; besides, some of them would be going onto taxi service anyway.
However, after picking her up today, she had the girl trot to one of the
many paths leading from the clubhouse. Dora, as usual, held the reins in one
hand, and kept up sufficient pressure so that her mount couldnt turn her head.
Yvonne trotted along the path, perfectly under control. They went through
various forest and meadow paths until Yvonne had totally lost track of where
they were. It didnt bother her overmuch; she had fallen under the same spell
that all of the saddle ponygirls were under, and thought the sun rose and set on
her rider. Whatever Dora wanted her to do was not only perfectly all right, it
was her most heartfelt desire: at least, until the next thing she wanted her to do.
Eventually, they came out on a cliff overlooking a beautiful valley with a
hidden lake. Dora looked at the communicator she had clipped to Yvonnes
arms and smiled secretly to herself. She deftly guided her mount into a
secluded hollow and waited patiently.
A few minutes later, a girl wearing a grass skirt showed briefly at the edge
of the forest. She looked around carefully, and then walked down a game trail.
Dora took three balls tied together with one knot, swung them over her head
and threw them in the girls direction. The dusky brunette stopped, startled, as
the balls wrapped her legs in leather straps. She fell to the ground, a resigned
look on her face.
Donna squeezed her legs, telling the startled ponygirl to advance. Yvonne
walked out, and stood beside the waiting captive while her rider dismounted.

Dora reached down, touched the girl, and said: Tag. Youre it! Then she
laughed.
Dammit! I didnt know I was being hunted, she complained.
You werent being hunted, Dora said cryptically. Following you
wasnt all that hard. You left a trail a mile wide. You need to improve your
woodcraft if you want to live out here.
What do you mean? the girl asked, sitting up and beginning to unwrap
the balls from her legs.
Lets cover the basics. You thought youd escaped a while ago. Then a
hunting party caught you and raped you. They brought you in for the zoo, and
then you escaped. Pretty clever, the way you did that, by the way. Then
another one caught you, and you escaped. Then another one. See the pattern?
The girl stared at her a moment, and then sighed. I havent really
escaped, have I? Youre just toying with me.
Well, it might be closer to say were playing tag with you. Youre it, and
you can stay out here doing whatever you want as long as you make it hard to
catch you.
Youd let me go? she exclaimed, obviously surprised.
Who said anything about letting you go? One of the services we offer is
for our guests to play great white hunter, hunting the most dangerous game.
We need game to hunt, and the powers that be think its just peachy keen that
the game selects itself by attempting to escape.
What if I start hunting them? she said, apparently trying to be
obnoxious.
Go right ahead, Dora replied to the surprised girl. Its a war game. If
you can count coup and escape, the person will be taken out of the hunt. Of
course, you have to be in the vicinity of the hunting party to do that, which
increases your chances of being caught.
The girl rocked back on her heels. Now that could be interesting. Any
other rules?
Theyre not supposed to damage you. Youre not supposed to damage
them. You can pick a safe area that they cant come to, but youre not allowed
to stay there during a hunt. And you dont get any points taking out the
livestock.
Livestock? Oh. She looked at Yvonne.
Exactly.
Then what happens?
Whatever you want, within limits, of course. If you want to stay out here
until you fall over, feel free. If you want to come in and be a good little slave
girl, come on in. We wont hold the escape attempt against you.
And if I dont play your silly game?
Youre an escaped slave. When we run out of patience, well either
condition you so you cant even think of escaping, or put you in the zoo.
Consider this your first and last warning.
The girl made a face. Yuck. Id rather pick bananas. At least they get the
telly.
If you work out and pick a home base, well install one for you.
The comforts of home, she sighed. Its a deal. I think.
In that case, Dora said, reaching out and stroking her face, I might just
consider a reward. She chuckled as she tweaked one of the girls nipples.
Look what we have here! You really do want it, dont you?

Yes, dammit! the girl moaned.

Well, warm me up, Dora commanded, lifting her skirt to display a
partially erect penis. The girl sat on her heels, and Dora took a step forward to
allow her to bend her head to her task. After a few moments, she became
absorbed in her task, teasing and sucking the organ to full, throbbing erection.
As Dora warmed up, they both began to pant in unison. Finally, Dora gently
pushed back on the wild girls shoulders. She obediently fell backwards,
cushioning herself with her arms, and Dora slid into the waiting channel. A
minute later, they came together.
Dora picked herself up and smoothed the skirt of her tunic. Just
remember, she said, wagging a finger, that was an advance on performance.
That got you all hot and bothered, didnt it? she asked her ponygirl as
she ruffled her mane. Well, lets head on back. If you behave, I just might let
you have some. Yvonne whinnied excitedly as Dora put her foot in the stirrup
and swung back into the saddle.
Hiyo, Yvonne, she called as she waved goodbye to Gillian 3.

Chapter 13. Should Old Acquaintance be Forgot?

For the next few days, Dora took her mount through various parts of the
island. They didnt do anything quite as interesting as capturing a wild girl, but
Yvonne got lots of experience in being out in the wilderness with a rider,
learning different kinds of uneven ground. Then one day she learned that her
trainer was satisfied with her performance as a saddle ponygirl.
Like all days, she mixed with her part of the herd until her name was
called. Then she trotted up to the tack shed for the groom to put her tack on.
The groom saddled her and led her toward the clubhouse, but rather than
leaving her in the parking lot, he brought her to a twosome, adding her to the
other three ponygirls they were looking at.
She recognized Mrs. Syndler immediately, and looked at her with a bit of
puzzlement. Then she recognized the younger woman, indeed, almost a girl,
standing next to her. It was her old roommate, Sally! She almost stopped dead
and only discipline kept her walking toward the group. She hoped that Sally
wouldnt recognize her. She would just die!
Unfortunately, luck wasnt with her. The young woman turned from
talking to her mother and looked at the approaching ponygirls, a frown on her
face.
That cant possibly be Yvonne?
It just might be, her mother said. I thought I recognized her when I
was here last, and she certainly is a good caddy, just like your roommate.
But Sally almost stuttered before she regained her aplomb. Then she
walked over to the flustered ponygirl and touched her on the breast. I
recognize this mark. You are my old roommate, arent you? she asked
Yvonne directly. Yvonne wanted the ground to open up under her, but she
whinnied anyway.
Sally backed up a bit. They certainly did a good job on you. She ran her
hand through the blushing girls mane. The number of times Ive wanted to
do that! At least, when you still had a full head of hair.
Mama, which way should I use her?

Shes supposed to be trained to the saddle, but if you want to talk, take
her as your bag girl. You can always take her out on the bridle paths
tomorrow.
I think so, Sally said. We can get another saddle pony for right now.
The grooms led Yvonne and one of the other two ponygirls away, and stripped
of her saddle and other tack, leaving just the halter and harness of a bag girl. In
a moment, they brought her back with another saddle ponygirl. The two golfers
mounted their saddle ponies and joined the waiting line, keeping a firm hand
on their respective bag girls leads.
On the first hole, the two golfers dismounted by the side of the womens
tee, leaving their mounts ground tethered. Sarah went first, driving her ball to
the left, just about where she had put it every other time Yvonne had seen her
play the hole. Mrs. Syndler was one of the most consistent golfers the ponygirl
had ever seen.
How should I play this? Sally asked her bag girl.
Well, if youre feeling accurate today, go for the dogleg. That should
give you a good three wood to the green. Otherwise, your mother put it just
right. You can go around the bend and then shoot the green in three.
Sally grinned. Im feeling competitive today. She slid the driver out of
the bag, and hit a perfect shot to the middle of the bend. She slid it back in,
swung onto her ponygirl, and followed her mother down the fairway, keeping a
firm grip on her bag girls lead.
They played three more holes before she wound up on the other side of
the fairway from her mother, who was in the rough with a difficult shot.
So, Yvonne, what happened? All I knew was I came back from classes
and you were moved out. Nobody would talk about it.
Daddys company flamed out. I guess it was a heck of a mess, once the
auditors got done. He came home, shot my mother, tried to shoot my little
brother, and then killed himself. The proctors just threw me out without giving
me a chance to talk to anyone. They changed your number and blocked the
phone exchange so I couldnt get to you, either.
Sally frowned a moment trying to remember. What was going on then?
Oh! So that was your fathers company. I suppose I can see them getting rid of
you; that would have been an ugly scandal. But I dont understand them doing
it that quickly. If it was just a matter of keeping up appearances, they could
have negotiated first.
Mrs. Syndler had gotten herself out of trouble with a beautiful shot, and
had ridden up leading her bag girl. Sally picked a club, and chipped onto the
green, about five feet from the hole.
They played several more holes, just talking about the course and
planning shots. Eventually, they wound up away from Sarah again.
So. Do you want to stay a ponygirl, or do you want me to rescue you?
Yvonne almost fell over. I want to be rescued, of course. Being a
ponygirl is more fun than I thought at the beginning, but its no way to spend
my life unless I absolutely have to.
I cant promise anything. Mother will go ballistic. Shes already read me
the riot act about rescuing strays. Several times. Sally smiled reminiscently.
So you need to strategize, Yvonne said. There might be a trust fund or
two sitting around that they couldnt get to.
Now, thats a thought. Im not sure whether shes more mercenary on or
off the course. Meanwhile?

Youre a guest of New Babylon, and Im your ponygirl. Whatever you

want to do, as long as its within the contract, of course. Enjoy yourself, girl.
You were always too serious.
Sally giggled. Then her mother came up again, and Sally selected a club
and put her next shot on the green. Im up three, she giggled again. You
always were good for my game. Can you keep score for me?
Sure. Just unclip my hands. I also wash balls, and clean clubs.
They played out the course without talking about anything except golf.
However, that didnt fool Mrs. Syndler for a minute. As Yvonne was being led
back to the meadow, she heard the argument start.
You are not going to rescue another stray!
But Mother! You havent even let me explain my plan.
Plan? Whats a plan got to do with it? And when did you learn to plan?
The rest of the argument was lost in the distance.
What was that about? Faith 3 asked as soon as they had taken the bit out
of her mouth. Faith had been Sallys mount. Youve got a way out?
Only the goddess knows, and shes got a vile sense of humour, Yvonne
said. Those two are old money. The way that whole crowd talks, I think they
sold Noah the timber for his boat and then sat out the flood high and dry,
counting their profits on the deal.
And probably claimed they owned the land the Ark landed on, as well,
Faith added. So your family was new money?
Worse than that. I had no idea what daddy did for a living. Its his
karma, though, not mine. I hope.

Chapter 14. Wilderness Trek

The next morning, a groom came up and called both Faith 3 and Yvonne
8. The puzzled ponygirls were led to the tack shed, saddled and brought out for
their riders, who turned out to be Sarah Syndler and her daughter Sally. Sarah
mounted Faith with the practiced swing of an expert horsewoman; her daughter
mounted with somewhat less grace, but found her seat readily enough. The two
women rode their ponygirls down one of the many paths leading through the
forest from the golf course.
After a brisk trot, during which time Sally became familiar with the way
her mount handled, they arrived in a pleasant glen dotted with cottages set
among the immaculately manicured verdant lawns. The two ladies rode their
ponygirls up the paths to one of the cottages, where they left them tethered to
hitching posts. They walked into the cottage side by side, a strained silence
uniting them.
A few minutes later, a groom rode up, hitched the two girls to his saddle,
and led them down one of the winding paths to a tack shed and meadow
discretely hidden behind a low hill. The two girls were groomed and turned
loose in the meadow.
Yvonne looked at his retreating back for a moment, reflecting on what
had happened. Clearly, Mrs. Syndler was not happy with her daughter. Yvonne
chuckled quietly to herself. Her old roommate had complained long and loudly

about her mother, but she seemed to get her own way in the end, at least much
of the time. Only time would tell.
Yvonne looked around the meadow. Most of the girls seemed to be busy,
so she decided to settle herself for a few minutes. Then she noticed a sable
maned beauty trot down from the grooming station, a petulant look on her face.
Her collar proclaimed her to be Gina 5, and Yvonne figured that she might just
be unhappy because her hands had been cuffed behind her back.
Would you bite my head off for saying hi? Yvonne broke the silence.
Gina sighed. Not really. Its my own damn fault that Im cuffed, and I
tend to get cranky when that happens. Which makes them keep me cuffed.
Thats a real pain, Yvonne sympathized. Im new here; where is this
and whats going on?
This is the real hoity-toity guest area, Gina said. The rich bitches and
the stuffed shirts. They tell me I dont have the proper attitude to our lordly
masters.
You mean fawning adulation? Yvonne giggled Although it seems to
be hard for a saddle pony to have anything else for her rider.
Excuse me! Gina sneered, Youre a saddle pony. Let me worship your
shadow.
So, Yvonne ignored the invitation for a spat, What is it you do?
Pull a god-damned lawn mower. All day, every day.
Thats got to be boring, Yvonne sympathized again. The lawns do look
real well kept up, though. You must be doing a good job.
Boring doesnt do it half justice, Gina sighed. Id watch the telly
except that Im cuffed.
Well, Yvonne shrugged her shoulders, I suspect thats the whole point
of leaving you cuffed when you misbehave.
The next morning, she woke up as the sky brightened, and joined the rest
of the herd for her morning feed. The grooms called her out and saddled her,
and then one of them rode out, leading three saddled ponygirls. He dropped her
off at the hitching posts in front of the cottage Sally had vanished into the
previous night. Yvonne sat on her hooves, letting her mind wander watching
the birds and the insects lazily perform their mysterious errands in the air.
A little while later, Sally walked out and looked at her, frowning slightly.
Then she relaxed, and walked up to her ponygirl and ruffled the beasts mane.
Yvonne responded by nuzzling her rider, caressing the shiny fabric of her
blouse over her breast. Then Sally unhitched Yvonnes reins and swung into
the saddle. In a moment, they were off down another of the paths into the
woods. After a brisk walk, she joined a group of riders and their ponygirls.
Yvonne immediately recognized it as some kind of a tour: two of the riders had
the standard tunic and golden slave collars of high level servants, and were
undoubtedly tour guides.
The morning passed pleasantly, as the little party of tourists wandered
through some of the more beautiful parts of Maui. Around noon, they came to
a meadow where a picnic lunch had been set up. The guests ate, and grooms
took care of the ponygirls. They spent the afternoon coming back a different
way.
Yvonne quite enjoyed the jaunt. Part of it was the high she got from
having a rider, but part of it was the pleasure of learning about the island. They

were moving slowly, and Sally did not maintain a tight rein, so Yvonne took
advantage of the opportunity to sightsee.
The next few days passed similarly. Sometimes Sally went on sightseeing
jaunts, and sometimes she played golf with her mother. While Sally took her as
her bag girl on those occasions, she never opened the subject of a rescue again,
and Yvonne didnt broach the subject, either.
After a week, Sally took her on an overnight tour. This was just like the
other tours, except that they stayed overnight at a campsite where all the
facilities were provided. The ponygirls were released into a meadow, with the
leads on their halters staked into the ground. The girls talked to each other in
low voices, until one of them made up a silly ditty about a ponygirl and a wild
stallion. Then they put their heads together and invented a song about the
beauties of being ponygirls. By that time, night had fallen, and they fell asleep
on the emerald grass.
Then they went on an overnight jaunt to an unsupported campsite. They
brought along several pack ponygirls to carry supplies. Yvonne enjoyed this
outing just as much as the other ones. She had her rider, and that made
everything right.
Several of the guests pitched in to help groom and feed the ponygirls.
Sally was one of them; she used the opportunity to groom Yvonne and
incidentally inspect every inch of her girls skin. Yvonne blushed for the first
time in months; she was supposed to be beyond embarrassment at being
handled, but she knew Sally, and that tapped a reserve of shyness that she
thought she had forgone.
One day, Sally rode Yvonne to the ranger station, and picked up a pack
ponygirl and started out without anyone else. They stayed on one of the regular
trails for part of the day, and then took off into the wild. The pack ponygirl
snorted when Sally left the beaten path, but quieted down swiftly and followed
her lead.
That night, they camped in a jewel of a grotto, near a small waterfall.
Sally fed and groomed both ponygirls, and tethered them to a nearby tree as
she rolled up in her sleeping bag. Once the pack girl was fast asleep, Sally
woke Yvonne and motioned her to sit on the other side of the fire.
So, have you made up your mind about whether or not you want to be
rescued? Sally asked.
Im afraid its still a maybe. I dont know if theyll be able to put my feet
back together, Yvonne answered. And Im afraid Im getting addicted to
being ridden.
Addicted to being ridden? Sally asked. Ive noticed that you seem to
like me riding you, but I didnt think I was addictive. At least, my boyfriends
dont seem to think so.
It must be something they do to us. Being ridden is a high like nothing
else. When theres someone in my saddle, and a firm hand on my reins, its
like the entire world is right. It doesnt even need a firm hand, really, although
that helps. If it werent so corny, Id say it was what I was born to do. Except
that I know that its something theyve done to my brain. Im finding Im
looking forward to my next rider, which I never did for pulling a chariot or
carrying someones golf bag.
I didnt know about that, Sally said. That could be a problem if you
dont want to give up being ridden. The hooves may also be a problem; I
havent talked to the powers that be about whether that change can be reversed

at all, let alone how much theyll charge. She shrugged. If money couldnt
buy happiness, it had never occurred to her that it wouldnt at least buy the
way out of problems.
On the positive side, Mother has given me her very grudging approval to
look into rescuing you. Provided, and she made sure I understood that, I got
my share out of the deal. No more Ms. nice girl.
Yvonne laughed quietly. Ive been thinking about that. Do you want a
personal assistant? I was keeping your schedule when we roomed together.
Sally thought a moment. You know, that just might work. We do mesh
well. Ive ridden several ponygirls, and we seem to have more of a rapport than
I had with the others. I never minded you keeping my schedule; you may not
know that I threw out the last three people mother stuck me with.
I can imagine. You do have a temper when you get irritated. Besides,
Yvonne said, If Im your assistant, you might not have to worry about the
hooves. There are leather overshoes to avoid damaging floors.
And a reputation for being just a little unusual goes a long way, Sally
grinned. I think its a deal. Mother might go for it; servants are servants, and
as long as they do their jobs and otherwise stay out of the way and out of
trouble, shes happy. Ill work on it; no promises though.
I heard enough about your mother when I was your roommate. You cant
succeed if you dont try. Yvonne reached over to kiss Sally lightly on the lips.
The kiss turned a bit deeper than they imagined. Finally, Sally pulled back.
I think wed better not tonight.
Yvonne pouted at her.
I dont want to wake my pack animal and cause all kinds of rumours.
Youd better go back there. Now.
Yvonne walked back to the spot where shed been sleeping, and stretched
out as Sally replaced the tether.

Chapter 15. Reflections

Yvonne lay relaxed against the rough ground, head cradled on her arms,
looking at the silent stars wheel overhead. She heard her mistress breathing
quiet and finally fall into the rhythms of sleep that she knew so well from the
time they had been roommates. And she wondered what she really wanted to
do.
A good part of a year ago, she had been a student at a posh private college
that catered to the upper crust; people that her father had desperately wanted to
be accepted by. Thinking back, her life had been a rush, from this class to that
tutoring seminar, all to attain some goal that may have made sense to him, but
never had to his daughter. Shed gone along with it, for lack of anything better
to do.
Then, the bottom dropped out, and she found out how unprepared that life
of preparation had been. Shed spent two miserable months in one of the worst
slums in the country. Then shed signed her life away without looking at what
she was doing.
Was she even human anymore? Being able to wiggle her toes was a long
ago, fading memory. Today, she had hooves. She had a real mane, where once

she had called her chestnut hair a mane. She had a tail that had only recently
finished growing.
Even more subtle, but somehow much more final, she had a herd instinct.
She could no longer even imagine being alone if there were other ponygirls
around. And she had some kind of bonding with her riders. On reflection, she
supposed that Sally was no different than Dora in that regard. At least, the
other ponygirls didnt think so whoever her current rider was, that was who
she was bonded to. And that made so little sense from her previous life that it
must be instinct.
Sally had offered her the opportunity to go back. Go back to what? The
last time shed looked at the news from uptime on the telly had been when?
Maybe the first and only time. It had seemed stupid then. Now? She grinned
quietly to herself. Human foolishness. She wasnt at all sure she wanted to
immerse herself back in it. There was an advantage to not being human any
more. No more homo sappy. Homo ponygirlus? No, there was a better word.
Equus. Homo Equus.
She laughed quietly to herself. She didnt think that Sally would even
notice. Sallys attitude was very clear. Yvonne was an animal, not human. But
then, that had always been her attitude; it was just obscured by all of the
conventional lies that kept the common herd in line.
She watched the stars wheel, bringing the brilliant red pinpoint that was
Sirius into view. She knew that now, and that was one of the surprising things.
The news had never attracted her, games just seemed futile busywork, but she
had gotten involved in some of the courses. Without any goals, without
anybody standing over her shoulder demanding that she had to do better,
without grades, evaluations and sneering classmates, she had found some of
them interesting. And chasing down what had happened to Sirius had been, in
its way, fun.
Did she want to go back? She watched the cold, distant stars wheel above
her, and fell asleep.

Chapter 16. Backstage Manoeuvring.

Just a moment, Mrs. Syndler. Ill see if the managing director is ready
for your appointment. The managing directors secretary bent slightly to
gesture over an otherwise featureless part of her desk, causing her luxurious
hair to shift in its apparently artless fall over her shoulders. Yes, he is. She
rose to open the door to the managing directors office. Mrs. Syndler didnt see
the secretarys swiftly erased grimace of distaste as she walked into the inner
room.
The managing director was a tall man, dressed in impeccable slacks and
turtleneck shirt, whose luxurious brown hair belied his age. He turned from the
window overlooking the beach and ocean, and greeted his not quite welcome
guest. See if Mrs. Syndler wants anything, Sherry, he commanded.
The blonde who had been sitting on her heels in the corner rose to her
feet. She was dressed in the ubiquitous short tunic and yellow collar of a
personal slave. Mrs. Syndler looked at her strangely for a moment.
Ill have coffee. Cream and sugar, please, she told the girl.

She looks like she could be your daughter, the matron remarked after
the girl had left the room.
She is, the man replied. I really didnt mind when several of my
children didnt want to continue in the business, but working actively against
me was something I wouldnt allow. She didnt listen, so
Quite. Mrs. Syndler agreed with him, noting the implied threat in
passing.
In a moment, the blonde returned with a coffee service, and knelt while
Mrs. Syndler took the cup of steaming brew and seasoned it to her taste. I see
shes quite well trained.
Our trainers reputation is well deserved. So, he steepled his hands,
How do I come into your problems with your daughter? Shes old enough to
make her own decisions and mistakes, I would think.
First, Im not certain where shes gone, Mrs. Syndler said.
Shes out on a several day camping trip by herself, he replied. Thats
part of the problem?
Mrs. Syndler almost dropped the coffee cup. By herself? In that
wilderness? She was too well bred to actually screech.
Calm down, Mrs. Syndler, he soothed. Shes perfectly safe. She took a
riding ponygirl and a pack ponygirl with her.
That does not sound at all safe.
As long as she takes reasonable precautions, yes. The islands dont have
large land animals. Theyre too far from anything to migrate. Besides, weve
got several little gadgets keeping track of our guests and keeping them safe
from other hazards. I suppose she could trip over her own feet, but outside of
that, theres not much that could get to her to hurt her out there.
But shes out there with that ponygirl. Sarah almost spat.
Theres a problem with, the directors eyes flicked to a hidden readout,
either Yvonne 8 or Teri 5? Theyve both got very good efficiency ratings.
Including from you, he said pointedly. What is the problem?
Well, Sarah sat down, calming herself with an effort. Yvonne 8 was
my daughters roommate in college for a while. Until she got thrown out. Im
not certain why; all they told me is that they had to do it to avoid a scandal.
We picked her out of a rather nasty slum. That doesnt fit with her being
in the kind of college your social class would gain entry to. He made some
gestures over his information tablet and then gave a wintry smile.
Well, well. So shes Georges daughter. That explains a lot.
George?
Someone we had business dealings with that you would not consider to
be a fit associate. I can quite understand their wanting to get rid of her once her
father committed suicide. However, that leaves me with a problem, and its not
something I can make a snap decision about.
What kind of business associates?
Not your kind of people at all. Nobody that would cause major trouble
for New Babylon either, but then it never pays to irritate people unnecessarily.
You cant know all of the connections.
He steepled his hands again. One of the problems is that we dont
encourage real intimacy between our guests and our slaves. Its impossible to
prevent some emotional attachments, people being what they are, but
maintaining some distance is healthier for all concerned. Since Yvonne 8 was

your daughters roommate before this situation arose, there may be more of an
entanglement than is, strictly speaking, wise.
Thats what Im afraid of, she sighed.
Well, I dislike being dictatorial, but I dont intervene in disputes between
guests. The other issue is that Georges old associates may want a say in what
happens to Yvonne 8. They tend to put a lot of importance on family ties. They
may very well want to consult Yvonne 8 for her desires. So whether your
daughter gets what she wants isnt necessarily under her control, either.
I see, Mrs. Syndler said. One other thing. Is it even possible to rescue
Yvonne 8? Thats what Sally wants, after all. To get her out of here.
Now that is an interesting question. Normally, after five years as a
ponygirl, a slave is not going to want to go back. So the question of changing
her hooves into feet simply hasnt arisen yet. The tail can be amputated, and
changing her mane back to a normal head of hair is relatively easy. The rest of
the changes? I doubt very much if she would care.
Well, Mrs. Syndler said, It does seem that there are rather too many
factors for me to get upset. I do trust that you wont find an easy way to change
hooves into feet?
I dont believe weve looked at it, to be quite frank. It would probably
take a significant bit of work.
I think thats satisfactory, Sarah told him. Thank you for your time.
The blonde got up and held out her silver tray ready to receive Mrs. Syndlers
coffee cup.

Chapter 17. What are Golf Courses For?

Yvonne 8 lay sprawled on her stomach in the meadow, staring at a short
strip of metal lying in the grass in front of her, and occasionally poking holes
in the air with her finger. As she sprawled, the breeze occasionally played with
her chestnut mane and tail, blowing the hairs now one way, now the other. She
didnt notice as a dragonfly lit on top of the hoof she had sticking in the air
behind her. After a moment, the dragonfly spread its gossamer wings and took
off again, equally unaware of its close brush with instant death. The equipment
in Yvonnes collar couldnt be said to relax as the insect turned its attention
elsewhere, only because it couldnt be said to have tensed up. It was just
performing one of its minor functions: that of keeping the body whose neck it
circled free of small pests of one variety or another.
Several grooms walked up to the edge of the meadow and looked over the
herd. One of them looked at a piece of paper in his hand, and called out: Faith
3! Yvonne 8! Denise 6! Tara 2!
Yvonne waved her hand in the air, and then sat up, picking up the strip of
metal and plastic shed been staring at. A moment later, she trotted up to the
group of grooms, telly in hand. One of them said: This way, Yvonne, and
she followed him into the tack shed.
The tack shed was an open roofed space filled with tack covered walls.
The groom led the way to the section that contained Yvonnes tack. She
dropped the telly into the recharging rack, and held her arms up as the groom
fastened the corset around her waist. He pulled it snug, and then picked the
lacing machine off of the wall and very carefully ran it up the back of the

corset from bottom to top, letting it thread the laces and pull them tight. Then
he ran it up a second time, and a third, letting it pull them a bit tighter each
time. When he was done, the corset had pulled Yvonnes waist in by a good
three inches, leaving her with a 36 22 40 figure. Yvonne, like all of the
ponygirls, was very heavy across the hips and thighs. None of it was fat; it was
all bone and muscle.
Next, he took a leather harness off the wall and draped it over her
shoulders. A moment later, he had the horizontal bands above and below her
breasts buckled, and the vertical bands buckled to her corset.
He took a pair of light cuffs off the wall and held them out. Yvonne
brought her arms behind her, and the groom quickly cuffed them in the small
of her back. Then he dropped the rope halter around her head and tightened the
friction latch under her chin.
Done, he pronounced. Yvonne snorted. Of course he was done. Hed
done this enough times he should be able to do it in his sleep. Grooms, she
decided for about the hundredth time, werent the brightest people in the
world.
He picked up her lead and walked off toward the clubhouse, Yvonne
trailing along obediently as she idly wondered who theyd assign her to today.
She knew she was one of the better bag girls; they usually gave her to someone
who could use an experienced caddy.
They led her toward a foursome. The two men and one of the women
were talking earnestly to each other, the other woman stood there looking out
at the course. She recognized two of them immediately. They both golfed here
often enough that she figured they had to work here, although they usually
didnt golf together.
She knew she wasnt going to be assigned to either one. They both
brought their own personal slaves and ponygirls. She didnt know what Ted
did, but his slave girl, at least, was quite good at judging the course, although
she didnt have the extra course knowledge that came from living in the
courses ponygirl herd. Maeves personal slave, on the other hand, usually
didnt seem to know one end of the club from the other. Yvonne often thought
she would be better off leaving the guy behind in the clubhouse and renting
one of the ponygirls to carry her bag.
The other difference was equally striking. His personal slave looked like
she could be his daughter. Yvonne didnt think so, but then, nothing about
New Babylon would surprise her any more. She hoped. There was no way the
other one could be his mistress son, however.
Then her smile vanished abruptly as she recognized the other man and
woman. No! It couldnt possibly be! But it was Uncle Andy and Aunt Bess,
and neither one looked at all happy to be here. That, at least, wasnt surprising
given what she knew of their background. When they got back, Aunt Bess
would probably go to confession for a week, at least if they could find a
confessor to listen to her tale of woe!
Aunt Bess spotted her at about the same time. Why, it is Yvonne! she
cried, almost as if she were a hound.
Andy looked around. Why, I do think youre right, love. Then he said,
I had hoped they were wrong, in a softer voice. Andy being Andy, Yvonne
could still hear him clearly.

Yvonne suddenly felt naked, a feeling she hadnt indulged since the first
time Sally had spotted her a couple of months ago. She took as deep a breath as
she could manage in her harness and kept walking forward.
Which one is mine? Bess asked as the grooms brought them up to the
foursome. Yvonne! she almost wailed.
Yvonne had to work to keep from cracking a smile. That was so Aunt
Bess. You should take Denise and Tara, she replied in as professional a
voice as she could manage. They are both very good with novice golfers.
She knew Denise would have glared at her if she could, but Tara would
appreciate the warning.
The grooms looked around in confusion at this breach in the normal state
of affairs. Ted nodded to them, as if to say: Do it. They hustled around,
getting the two golf bags settled on Taras and Yvonnes shoulder harnesses.
Can she keep my score? Aunt Bess asked the empty air.
Certainly, one of the grooms replied. Ill just unclip her hands for
you. He knelt down and reached under the golf bag to unzip the Velcro cuffs.
A moment later, he had them off and hung on a hook on the back of the girls
harness.
Tara brought her hands forward while Bess handed her the scorecard and
pencil. Tara slid them into small hooks on one of her harness straps.
How cute! Youve thought of everything, Bess said as she saw where
Tara had put her card.
We do try, Maam, Maeve said. Its all part of the New Babylon
Experience.
Now what? Andy asked in the quietest voice he had used yet after
Yvonne clipped his scorecard and pencil to the same place on her harness.
We discuss the course, what else do you do with a caddy? Yvonne
replied as they moved up in the starting line.
Humph, he snorted. It does look like a real interesting course, at that.
And your golfing buddies would probably think it very strange if youd
played it and couldnt tell them all about it.
Cover stories, he sighed. One question first. Do you want to come
back?
I dont really know? she answered him. Like I told Sally a few weeks
ago, the way theyve got it arranged being a ponygirl is actually fun, but its no
way to spend a lifetime. I suppose so, but I have no idea if they can change me
back. I take it youre here to make arrangements?
He nodded cautiously. Well then, have me assigned to you for your stay,
and go on some nature hikes. We can talk to our hearts content once were out
in the wilderness at a campsite.
Sounds like a plan, he said. They said the course condition was damp.
It always is this time in the morning, she answered. Dont expect a lot
of roll until were about on the fifth hole. The greens will have dried out,
though.
Damp means the traps will be wet?
Absolutely. If your club doesnt hit the ball before it goes into the sand,
you might as well not bother.
Humph, he replied. Well, it looks like were up. He swung into
Faiths saddle, and they trotted toward the first tee.

Chapter 18. Conference.

The small safari of ponygirls and riders trotted single file out of the forest
into a gem-like clearing.
The lead groom held up his hand and pronounced: Were here, folks.
He rode his ponygirl around the hearth that dominated the centre to a place
where a long, straight tree branch had been set horizontally on two posts, and
stopped her in front of it. She dropped to sit on her heels. He dismounted and
flipped her reins around the branch.
Sally followed him, riding Yvonne. Sally had showed up the day that
Andy and Yvonne had been golfing, and had promptly attached Yvonne as her
personal ponygirl. The first Yvonne had known of it was when Sally, rather
than Andy, had come out of the cottage where she had been hitched that
morning.
Andy and then Bess followed them, with Maeve, the other woman from
the golf foursome, following on her personal ponygirl. Then four pack
ponygirls followed in turn, and finally the other groom trailed the pack on his
ponygirl.
The grooms bustled about getting the pack ponygirls unloaded, then the
four girls set about unpacking and preparing a picnic lunch while the grooms
unsaddled the riding ponygirls and prepared to move them to a spot on the
meadow away from the picnic.
Uncuff Yvonne and leave her here, Maeve directed the lead groom. He
grinned and removed the Velcro cuffs that held her arms crossed behind her
back.
In a few minutes, four of the ponygirls were tethered on the other side of
the meadow. The grooms then unpacked a low table and filled it with fruits and
vegetables; some of which they picked right off the surrounding trees.
When the four pack ponygirls finished setting up the picnic, they retired
to the other side to join their temporary herd. The pack ponygirls were short
timers; they still had a full head of hair, and wore comfortable boots that only
looked like horses hooves. Their tails were inserted into an inconspicuous
plastic widget that was attached with surgical glue. Since they didnt have the
back adaptations, they couldnt be ridden.
Once all five picnickers had started eating, Maeve broached the question.
Well, Yvonne, do you want to go back or dont you?
Yvonne thought for a moment, a small wedge of sandwich part way to her
mouth. I want to go back, but I dont see how to manage it.
Maeve nodded. That being the case, there are some special
circumstances here. Without them, wed simply say no. Weve got a valid
contract, and well enforce it. However, there is an overriding circumstance.
Andy and Sally nodded almost simultaneously, both convinced they knew
the circumstance.
Maeve fused and dropped her bombshell. Yvonnes father, George, was
a shareholder in New Babylon.
Andy recovered first. How big a shareholder, if I may ask?
Big enough that we didnt consider buying his share and small enough
that he didnt have a significant say in the management of the enterprise. In
fact, he left his proxy for management to vote.

Isnt that normal? Sally said. If you dont trust management, get out
and invest in something else.
Thats the investors viewpoint, Andy said. Some people like running
things themselves.
People do have different viewpoints on that, Maeve said. However,
this is an inheritance case. George left instructions with us for the disposition
of his share in the event of his death. It was to go to Yvonne. He made that
instruction before his son was born, and never updated it.
This gets administered under the laws of New Babylon; we dont regard
national courts as having jurisdiction. I assume youre aware of what happens
when national courts get involved in our affairs?
Only from a distance, Andy assured her as both Sally and Yvonne
looked blank.
At one time, Andy clarified, interference tended to result in dead
bodies. These days intelligent, or at least prudent, people tend to negotiate
first.
Maeve added. Our policy on that is very simple. There are winners and
losers. We intend to win, and we have certain, let us say resources, that give us
the high ground if force is needed. If the other party also wants to win, well do
anything reasonable to negotiate a mutually satisfactory solution, but we
simply dont recognize the validity of many so-called legal procedures. Since
youre an owner, our bylaws protect your financial dealings from arbitrary
confiscation, whether under the colour of national law or not.
Your father, she said directly to Yvonne, left a major mess behind him,
and the fact that we converted you to a ponygirl before we knew who you were
simply complicates things. Its been argued that we should simply leave you
here and forget that your fathers share even existed. It would be simplest.
However, Sally discovered you here, which foreclosed that option before
it ever got off the ground. We didnt discover who you were until Sallys
mother made a few suggestions as to how to handle the matter to the Managing
Director. Then the information came together.
The legal nastiness has gotten to the point of trying to get you declared
dead so they can confiscate your inheritance. Youre probably going to have to
appear in court personally to confirm your identity.
Andy nodded. The next court date is in two weeks, and you most likely
need to be there unless we can settle first.
Exactly, Maeve continued smoothly. Were engaging Mr. Chatham
from our own law firm to handle the estate. They have quite a good track
record, but theyre going to have to have you in order to establish their interest.
Even if it was possible to reverse the ponygirl transformation, theres no
way it could be done in two weeks. It took several months to reshape your feet
into hooves, and any hypothetical procedure to reverse the process ought to
take the same amount of time.
This means youre going back as a ponygirl. Normally, ponygirls simply
arent happy without a herd; they get quite despondent. Weve quit trying to
separate them after a couple of, um, unfortunate incidents. In your case though,
were going to replace the collar with a set of implants. Theyll allow you to
avoid the worst of the herd instinct.
The main thing were missing is clothes. Effectively, youre a
representative of New Babylon, and wed prefer you appear in public suitably
attired. The problem is weve never made up a wardrobe for a ponygirl, and

our fashion designers are still figuring out how to handle your tail. Theyre
also trying to figure out a look, considering your mane and hooves, and the fact
youre thicker through the hips than is currently fashionable.
Where does that leave me? Sally asked.
Thats between you and Yvonne, Maeve told her. What our owners do,
as long as it isnt directly against the interests of New Babylon, isnt our
concern. If she wants to keep being ridden, and Id imagine she will, and she
wants you as her rider, thats her business.
What does concern us is that at the time your college expelled her, her
father had died, so she was an owner and under our protection.
I never did like the provost, Sally said to no one in particular.
Well, it may not come to that, Maeve told her. Most people discover
all kinds of grounds to forget their principles and act reasonably when their
personal survival is at stake.
Were probably better off without the ones that dont, Bess spoke up for
the first time. Id like to talk to the fashion designers. Ive got some ideas,
she continued, changing the subject.
Id appreciate that, Aunt Bess, Yvonne said. She reached over and put
her hand on Sallys knee. And I do want to be your personal assistant for a
while, as long as you intend to keep riding me!
Sally scooted over to kiss Yvonne. Pet, Ive missed you.
Likewise.
Well, Maeve cleared her throat, I think that takes care of the main
issues. Sally, since Yvonne seems to want you to continue riding her, wed like
to show you a few things about grooming and harnessing ponygirls. Outside of
that, Yvonnes schedule is going to be quite full for a while. There are a lot of
things she has to know to function on her own as a ponygirl.
Sally pouted for effect, and then laughed. So I dont get to ride her as
much as I want right now. Well work it out.

Chapter 19. Legal Interlude.

The Honourable Abner J. Witherspoon. All Rise, the bailiff intoned.
The case of Livingston Industries Employees Retirement Fund, et.al. vs.
Estate of George V. Livingston.
The judge walked into the courtroom and looked out at the people
assembled before him. Compared to the last session, the room looked
positively empty. Not only that, of the few people there, many were completely
new. He remembered Dave Chatham, of course. Cases where he appeared
seemed to settle with startling speed. This was the first time hed seen the
young woman sitting next to him in person. She matched the pictures of Mr.
Livingstons daughter in the court filings. She had unaccountably vanished on
the day of his death, causing a good deal of perplexity and legal manoeuvring.
She did look interesting! He hoped that hairstyle wouldnt catch on among the
current crop of teenagers; his two were positively lemming like in following all
of the least sensible fads. The young man next to her was mundane by
comparison. He, at least, had appeared before; he was George Livingstons
minor son.

We have a proposal before us for a summary settlement of all issues in

the case, he said. Is that correct? Three attorneys stood up.
Dave Chatham, of Dewey, Chatham and Howe, representing the heirs of
George Livingston. The proposed settlement is satisfactory to us.
Dean Tolliver, representing the Livingston Industries Employees
Retirement Fund. It looks like what were going to get, and its more than we
expected, so well take it.
Jean Parlier, representing the remaining plaintiffs as a group. The
proposed settlement is more than most of our group members expected. Well
take it.
The judge looked at the three lawyers. Surprising what happened when
New Babylon stepped in. All the high priced talent that had been swarming
around the case had vanished as soon as it appeared that they wouldnt get
their fees. Dean was well known for taking pro bono cases, and Jean was new
on the block; the experience would be invaluable. Not that they wouldnt get
theirs. The settlement provided for their actual time spent vetting the
document. However, less than two hundred hours at a not entirely exorbitant
hourly fee was peanuts compared to the actual size of the estate.
In any case, with the jackals legal fees out of the way, it did appear that
all of the actual plaintiffs were going to get more than theyd expected. He
nodded.
So ordered.
They all rose as the judge left the courtroom. The judge sat down swiftly
so he could look at the courtroom monitor. Yvonne Livingston not only had a
mane, she had a tail! He shook his head. He hoped that the newsies wouldnt
catch on and play her up. All he needed was his daughter to start sporting a
horses tail.
In the back of the courtroom, a stringer for one of the news services
watched the case and shook his head. Hed expected some legal fireworks; the
case had certainly generated enough of them to date. What he didnt expect
were three completely new lawyers to show up and sign on to an out of court
settlement, and for the judge to rubber stamp it without any comments.
When the woman with the Mohawk haircut stood up, he almost dropped
his jaw. Shed looked tall sitting down, now she absolutely towered over
everyone else. She must be at least two meters! He moved out quickly so he
could intercept one of the attorneys for a quick interview.
He made sure his press badge was visible as he walked in front of Dave
Chatham and waved. Federated News, would you say a few words about the
settlement? Im Ben Peake.
Dean leaned into the microphone and boomed: Its really satisfying to
see what happens when everyone is working to see justice done, rather than
trying to pad their legal fees.
Its been a truly interesting experience, Jean added. Its one of the few
times Ive actually been proud to be a lawyer.
Dave, how does a case this messy suddenly get settled quickly? Can you
let us in on your secret?
Only that New Babylon suddenly discovered that it had an interest in the
case. People seem to be more reasonable when that gets out. I cant imagine
why, he continued with such an obviously false air of innocence that Ben was
hard-pressed not to laugh.

He aimed the microphone at the woman who, he now saw, had a tail.
Can you tell us anything, Miss?
Not really. Im George Livingstons daughter, Yvonne, and thats about
all I really know about the case.
I think thats enough for you, Dean boomed out, and the little party
walked away from the reporter.
Ben took a deep breath and reached for his cell phone while considering
how to phrase his report. He sure hoped the pictures worked out; the last thing
he wanted was for his chief to ask him for a case of whatever hed been
drinking!

Chapter 20. Higher (?) Education

Different apartment this year? Yvonne said, a bit redundantly as she
surveyed it.
Yes, Sally answered. This one is for the horsy set. We can go from the
patio right to the stables and the bridle paths.
Good thinking, Yvonne said as she walked over to the glass door to the
patio. She studied the path critically for a minute. I suppose Ill have to have
the farrier change my shoes. I imagine the groundskeeper would have a fit if I
pranced all over the lawn.
A dirt path? It shouldnt matter, but youre probably right about the
lawn. The farriers the guy who shoes horses, right?
Exactly. I suppose weve got one somewhere. With what were paying
for tuition, we ought to!
Well, lets get unpacked and get registered; then we can explore a bit.
An hour later, they had most of their things unpacked and stowed in more
or less appropriate places. Yvonne was shaking her head in amazement. I
didnt remember how disorganized you were last time, she chuckled.
Thats why I want you, Sally riposted. Youre the only organizer Ive
ever been able to work with. By the way, arent you going to set up your
workstation?
It is, dont you recognize it?
What? That little strip of whatever youve got on the wall?
Thats part of it, Yvonne said. The rest is that box I connected to the
data line.
So give, Sally commanded. Thats something you imported from New
Babylon, isnt it?
Yep. The strip on the wall is something we call a telly. Its like a HUD.
Oh! Ive heard of them. Expensive.
And not very good unless youre sitting right in front of it, Yvonne
agreed. The box on the data line is more important. Its got the connection to
the uptime New Babylon servers, the guts of my workstation and my base
station. The telly works off of the base station.
Dont we need to coordinate the base station?
Not this one; it works on some secret technology that doesnt interfere
with anything else. Its got a 20 kilometre range, too.

20 clicks. Where have I heard that before? Oh! Dont tell me your
implants are hooked into it, too!
Ok, I wont tell you my implants are hooked into it. She gave her
roommate a slightly malicious grin.
Seriously, if I was still a pony slave, and I got more than about 18 clicks
from one of the base stations, Id get this irresistible compulsion to return.
Since Im an owner, it simply tells me Im out of range. Its a security thing.
Uptime control always knows where I am as long as Im in range, and I can
arrange to have them page my phone if I go out of range to verify that Im all
right.
Irresistible compulsion? That doesnt sound pleasant.
Ive never experienced it, and Ive never run into anyone who has. Its
supposed to be impossible to do anywhere on Maui; its only possible on the
safaris to the American continents.
What happens when we need to go shopping?
Ive got one in my car, and Ill install one in yours. That should pretty
much cover it.
Sally snorted. Now Im feeling insecure! Lets go register.
Im not sure that this was such a good idea, Yvonne muttered to Sally
as they stood in the registration line.
Cold hooves? Sally giggled.
Not that, Yvonne replied. Im just remembering the differences
between classes here and in NB. No tests, no grades.
Sounds like heaven, a soprano voice spoke up from behind them. Sal,
whos the beanpole decked out like a horse?
The two girls turned to look. Hey, Trina, you made it back! Sally
exclaimed as Trina gasped in surprise. That cant be Yvonne? Can it?
It can be and is, Sally giggled again. Shes changed a bit.
At least six inches, Trina said accusingly. Thats too big even for a
boyfriend! I have to crane my neck to see her chin! She stood on tiptoes.
So, Trinas voice dropped to a whisper, why are you made up like a
New Babylon ponygirl?
Because I am a New Babylon ponygirl? Yvonne answered reasonably.
Youre what! Trina exclaimed. Then she calmed down. Lets get
registered, and then you can tell your Aunt Trina all about it, she seized
Yvonnes arm in a death grip and cooed. This is the most exciting thing thats
happened around here since you vanished!
I dont care about that, a new voice chimed in. I want the name of
whoever designed that outfit.
Hey, Joanne! the three of them turned to look at the newcomer. So you
can avoid her? a fifth voice asked.
Shes got to be some kind of creative, Joanne shot back. The way shes
got that V coming down from the belt to the tail is just awesome.
It does work at that, Stephanie admitted. I suppose tying a bow on the
tail would be just tacky.
GIRLS! a voice said from the front of the room. Would the next one in
line PLEASE step up so we can get moving sometime today?
I guess thats us, Sally and Yvonne chorused and turned to face the
window.

In a moment, the two friends heads bent looking at the schedule the
registrar pulled out of her file.
Overlay Yvonnes on mine, Sally told her. The surprised woman tapped
a few keys, and the display changed. The two young women looked at it and
frowned. Is there another section of Finance 201? Sally asked. I want to
block out at least two hours for both of us on the bridle paths at least three days
a week.
Ohhh Trina breathed from behind them. This I want to see!
You and most of the college, Yvonne told her. I expect youll get your
chance.
I want to see it first!
Just wait, Yvonne said, and then turned back to the registrar. The two
friends looked at the schedules for a couple of minutes.
OK, this looks good, they decided. Then they pulled out their id cards
and ran them through the machine, which deducted the school tuition and fees.

Chapter 21. The Stables

So, whats next oh keeper of the agenda, Sally asked.
Well, give me a minute to dump all this into the system, Yvonne replied
absently as her fingers danced over the apparently empty desk. Your
password is still Lets! Party?
Of course, Sally giggled.
That should do it, then. Check your schedule.
Sally sat down at her own workstation and pulled up the schedule Yvonne
had just entered.
Whats this exercise thing first thing in the morning? Thats too early.
I figured wed go out for a ride, get the blood moving.
You would. Oh. You mean thats when I ride you.
Yup. Knowing the students around here, we should have the bridle paths
to ourselves.
Not entirely. Some of the polo players are obsessive. What happens if we
tangle with a real horse?
I can outrun any horse in a distance race. Horses have to stop to cool
down or they founder. Real ponygirls dont need to stop.
The door chime tinkled.
Whos that?
Probably Trina, Yvonne guessed. Chasing down a juicy piece of
gossip.
As usual, Sally laughed, moving toward the door.
Hi, girls, Trina said as she came in. When can I ride Yvonne?
Riding me is Sallys job, Yvonne riposted quickly. What are you
offering?
A carrot?
Do I look like Bugs Bunny? Seriously, I figure my dance card is going to
be rather full, and part of the deal with Sally is that shes my rider. Id have to
fit anyone else in the spaces.
Well, lets go talk to the stable mistress. I want to see her expression
when she sees you.

We should be doing that anyway, Sally interjected into the flow.

Give me a couple of minutes to change, Yvonne flung back over her
shoulder as she vanished into the bedroom.
Two minutes later, she came out again, wearing a form fitting scarlet
leotard and her boots, and carrying a corset.
Can you help me with this, Yvonne asked. Getting it started is a pain.
Thats going to take an hour! Trina wailed, looking at the dozens of
eyeholes on the back of the corset.
Here, Yvonne handed her the lacing machine. Use this. Sally learned
how it works while we were practicing on New Babylon.
Its simple, Sally said. Just run the laces through the bottom two holes,
and then run them through here on the machine. Set it to lace, and press the
button. The two girls watched as the mechanical insect crawled up the back of
Yvonnes corset, threading the laces crosswise through the holes and pulling
them snug. Then it crawled back down and started making a second pass,
tightening the laces as it went.
Thats awesome, Trina breathed.
Its diabolical is what you mean, Sally said. If people ever found out
about it, corsets might come back into fashion!
But look what its doing to her waist. Heavenly!
Im not that interested in an hourglass figure, Sally demurred.
Ill bet Steve is.
Steve is just going to have to take me the way I am.
The mechanical insect reached the top for the third time and stopped,
beeping plaintively.
It means its done, Yvonne said, reaching behind and plucking it off of
her back.
Ready? Trina asked.
Let me put a tunic and belt on over it, and well go. Yvonne put on a
loose tunic that had a slit in back for her tail, and cinched a broad leather belt
around her shrunken waist. They walked out onto the patio.
One more thing, Yvonne said. Im going to leave my boots here.
Ive been thinking, Trina said.
Thatd be a first, Sally needled her.
About what I could offer so I could ride Yvonne. You know shes going
to be an instant celebrity, right?
Why? Sally asked.
Youre nave, woman. The only way to control the rumour mill is to
steer it the way you want.
I suppose youre right, Sally grumphed. Oh. You want to do that
tedious chore.
Who better, Trina said modestly.
Its still a stable, Yvonne said as she surveyed the building. Lots of
horses and lots of grooms. My stable never smelled this bad!
More like eau de Locker Room, Id think.
Well, yes, Yvonne laughed. Although they did wash us down before
they put us back in our stalls.
Well, herere the offices, Sally said. Lets see the stable mistress.

The woman behind the counter looked up as they walked in. Can I help
y she drifted off as she took in Yvonne.
She recovered quickly. Its too early for even our students to be doing
pranks yet, so you must be Yvonne Livingston. She said it as if it had the
force of a mathematical theorem, complete with three dots in front of the
conclusion.
I was the last time I looked, Yvonne said.
None of you have a horse here, she said. I think Im going to call my
boss. She picked up the phone on the counter and punched a couple of
buttons. Daisy Mae to the office, she said. They heard the echo of the page
coming in through the doors to the stable.
Daisy Mae? Yvonne asked aloud.
Our stable mistress believes in attacking things head on, the clerk
confided. Shes never quite forgiven her parents for that name, so she flaunts
it rather than burying it.
Thats good to know, Trina said.
A few minutes later, a tallish brunette walked through the door from the
stable. Her motif seemed to be leather; she wore a fringed kidskin blouse and
an ankle length split kidskin skirt.
Whats the prob she asked as she walked in. Oh. You must be
Yvonne Livingston, she continued smoothly. I wondered if you were going
to wander into my domain. I doubt if you want stall space, so what else can I
do for you?
Well, two things really. First, I need to make arrangements with your
farrier for hoof care. I can do most everything for myself, but Id really prefer
having an expert do shoeing and trimming.
Our farrier comes in twice a week. You can make an appointment unless
its an emergency.
I can do it on the system, or I come here?
Its on the system. Well have to get you authorized for stable services.
She nodded at the desk clerk, who suddenly found something to do.
The other thing is that Sally and I will need to use the bridle paths when
she takes me out for a ride.
Daisy Mae cocked her head to one side, considering. How will you be
tacked up? she finally asked.
Like this. Yvonne undid her belt and handed it to Trina, and then
shrugged out of her tunic. We decided that what passes muster in New
Babylon needed a bit of toning down, so we added the leotard.
Hummm the stable mistress looked at it. I take it the buckles are for
carriage traces? She walked behind Yvonne and suddenly grabbed them and
tugged. Yvonne staggered a moment, and then steadied.
Youve certainly got it on solidly, she said. Whats your weight limit
in a carriage?
I dont really know? The only things Ive ever pulled were landscaping
stuff: grass cutters, rollers, equipment and waste wagons. And most of those I
was part of a two-pony team. We all did the same stuff.
Well, find out. Its always better to know than otherwise. You can never
tell whats going to come up, even if you dont intend to pull anything ever
again.
So what about a saddle? None of the saddles weve got here would fit
you.

Ive got my own, also bridle, bit and reins. Theyre back at the
apartment.
Well, go get them, girl! I cant decide if I want you on my bridle paths
without seeing you and your rider together. Oh, and come in through the
stable; I dont want your hooves in here without whatever you use to protect
floors. Thats what the window in back of the desk is for.

Chapter 22. Saddle and Bridle

How does the saddle go on? Trina asked a few minutes later when
theyd repaired to Sally and Yvonnes apartment.
Like this, Sally put one hand on Yvonnes shoulders and the other just
above her hips and twisted. Yvonne bent forward, her trunk at a 45-degree
angle, and her head came back so she was still looking straight forward. She
whinnied in surprise, and brought her arms back, hands on opposite elbows.
I dont think she expected me to be quite this quick about it, Sally said
in a conspiratorial whisper. Yvonne snorted. The saddle sits on her rump and
fits right in the curve of her back.
Sally took the saddle and laid it down on the ponygirl the way she had
described. One of the straps hanging from the front ended in a five-way buckle
with two other straps hanging from it. She pulled one of the straps up to the
other side of the saddle and fastened it. Then she pulled the long strap between
the girls legs and up. That strap split just under her tail; the two ends buckled
to the saddle. Another strap came around the side from the five-way buckle,
through the back strap and back to the buckle from the other side. She spent a
few minutes making sure that all of the straps were in firmly. Finally, she
attached two short straps that anchored the sides.
Tania looked at the leather seat with some trepidation. Thats on solid.
What if she needs to take a leak?
She just does. The strap has a hole in the right place, and so does the
leotard. The designers made sure of that.
Normally, the next thing would be to secure her arms behind her, but
were not going to do that to her ever. Im not even going to show you the
restraints. Shell keep her arms there without it.
Now we come to the bridle. Sally took an assemblage of leather straps
off the wall and dropped it over Yvonnes head. Its custom crafted for her, so
all we really have to do is buckle the chin strap and the strap around the back.
The rest fits snugly enough.
Next, Sally took a piece of metal from the wall and held it up in front of
the girl. Yvonne opened her mouth, and Sally inserted the bit. The two ends fit
against the rings that held the sides of the bridle next to her mouth. Sally
snapped the bit into the sockets that waited for it.
Finally, she took a long leather strap and fastened one end to each of the
metal posts hanging out from the ends of the bit.
Well, thats all it takes to saddle her. Lets go! She put her left foot into
the stirrup and swung her right leg over, Yvonne swaying in time to the
motion. Trina slid the patio door open, and Yvonne stepped out and then
stopped while Trina slid the door closed.

Why a bridle and bit anyway? she asked. Id think that Yvonne would
be perfectly capable of following directions.
Partly its the ponygirl shtick for the customers, and partly its that it
gives the rider something to do with her hands. Mostly though, its that when
shes being ridden shes on some kind of a high, and that interferes with
remembering complex directions or understanding things said to her. Im not
sure why that is, but thats the way she tells it.
Anyway, even if she could understand directions clearly, reins are more
efficient. I just leave them fairly loose, and twitch them when I want her to go
in a different direction. Now if we were doing something fancy, it would be
different, but Ive never done that, and shes not that well trained in it either.
Sally squeezed her knees, and Yvonne started out down the path at a
walk. Then she shook the reins slightly, and her mount shifted to a trot that left
Trina hurrying to keep up. In a couple of minutes, they were back at the stable.
Daisy Mae walked up from the depths of the stable. So thats what she
looks like tacked up. Get off and let me look at the arrangement. Sally swung
onto the ground.
I wouldnt have thought so, but between longer legs and that built up
saddle, it does look like the riders at about the same height as a small pony.
She spent a few minutes fussing around the saddle, checking the various straps
and shaking things to check whether they were tight enough.
Well, that certainly looks like it should work, she allowed. Thats the
same harness shed use on New Babylon?
Except for the leotard, yes.
That leotard is a good thought. Will it keep her warm enough in the
mornings?
That shouldnt be a problem. Ponygirls are supposed to be perfectly
comfortable down to a chill factor of 20 below.
Thats amazing. I take it you dont know how they manage it?
All I know is that its supposed to be a skin modification of some kind.
They normally sleep outside with their herd and without any protection except
during storms.
Simply amazing. We shouldnt have to worry about that until January at
least, and maybe not this year at all, if the weather bureau is halfway accurate.
I dont know about her, but I have no intention of being out in a storm,
maam.
Are you sure youre a student here? Daisy May asked. Yvonne snorted
and Daisy Mae laughed. I think Im going to enjoy this.
Well, take her out for an hour and bring her in. You know what the
bridle paths are like?
Ive never been on them, Sally admitted.
Well, I wouldnt think it was possible to get lost, but Ive seen some
mighty bewildered students in my time. Fortunately, most of the horses know
how to get home if you let them. Yvonne doesnt, though. What to do

Chapter 23. Excursion on the Bridle Path

Hey, Dave! she yelled. You up for guiding a newbie around the bridle
paths?
Give me a minute, a male voice shouted back. Which horse does the
newbie want?
Shes got her own pony, Daisy Mae yelled over the stalls. You take
Ranger.
Ranger could use the exercise, he yelled back. Have her meet me
outside in five minutes.
Id like to come, too, Trina put in. Daisy Mae threw up her hands in a
very Italian gesture. Saints preserve me! HEY DAVE! Saddle up Rosie, too.
Youve got a second newbie.
Wilco, he shouted back. Ill have Jack saddle her up.
While were waiting, Daisy said, both of you look at this. She held
out a pair of maps. Yvonne unfolded one of her arms and stuck her hand out.
All right. All three of you look at one. The thing you need to know is that all
of the paths have these colored sticks at the places the trails fork. The stick is
always on the right, and the colour is on top if its away from the stable, on the
bottom if its toward the stable.
In other words, to get back, just follow the sticks with the colours on the
bottom, Sally said. Thats so simple I wonder how anyone can get lost.
Pranks, Trina said without looking up from the map she was studying.
It should be too soon for pranks, but you never can tell.
They studied the maps for a couple of minutes.
Hey, where are you guys? Dave called from in front.
Well, thats our call, Sally said as she folded her map and put it in her
shoulder bag. Yvonne swiftly folded hers too, and tucked it behind one of her
bridle straps. Then Sally swung into Yvonnes saddle, just barely giving her
steed time to fold her arms behind her, hands on elbows. Lets go. She pulled
on the reins, guiding Yvonne out of the alcove in the stable to the front.
Holy Mary! Saints preserve us! Dave looked down from Ranger, who
was a fairly tall chestnut gelding. I guess they werent pulling my leg.
I take it thats Yvonne and youre?
Sally. And this is Trina. Sally nodded at the other girl who was looking
very doubtfully at a bay mare that was standing placidly at the hitching rack.
Well, climb aboard if you want to come, Sally told her.
Trina sighed and stuck her left foot into the stirrup, and then swung onto
the mare, leaving her hitched at the rack. Yvonne snorted. Before either Sally
or Trina could do anything, she walked over to the hitching rack and untied the
mare, throwing the reins up to the surprised girl.
What are her limits, Sally?
She should be able to keep up with you at a fast trot.
Dave laughed hollowly. Ranger would enjoy stretching his legs, but
Rosie wouldnt know a fast trot if it came up and started gnawing on her
haunch.
For which I will be eternally thankful, Trina muttered.
Lets go, Dave said. The entrance is down this way. He clucked at his
gelding and shook the reins, and Ranger started walking down the path hed
taken so many times before that it was engraved in his brain cells.
You want me behind you or beside you? Sally called.
Come up on my left unless we need to let another horse pass, he said.

Sally twitched the reins, and Yvonne lengthened her stride until she
pulled even with the big gelding. She edged over a bit to avoid getting his
elbow in her eye.
Youre a bit taller than I thought, Dave said, turning to check on Trina.
She does look like shes got a smooth ride.
Its smoother than youd think with only two legs, Sally said. She
wont stand on one leg with any kind of a load, though.
Id think not, Dave commented as he checked behind again and then
held up a hand to signal a stop. Heres the first fork. Were going to stop here
while all three of you locate the stakes, both in the ground and on the map.
All three of us? Trina asked from behind.
Look, Dave said turning to look at her directly. I dont know exactly
whats going on with you and Yvonne, and frankly, I dont want to know.
Shes a student here; therefore its my job to make sure she knows what she
needs to. Whoevers riding her could be injured in any number of ways; some
of our horses will make their way back without a rider, some wont. As much
as she looks like a horse in some ways, and as much as she acts like a horse in
some ways, shes not a horse. Shes as responsible for the safety of your party
as the rest of you, and if you dont want to play by those rules, youll stay off
of these bridle paths.
Then I guess Id better dismount for a moment, Sally said, suiting her
actions to her words.
Huh?
When theres someone in her saddle, shes on a high that interferes with
her thinking clearly. If you want to make sure she understands something, I
cant be mounted at the same time.
Dave shook his head. So now we locate the stakes. Yvonne, you first.
Yvonne looked around and then took the bit out of her mouth and handed
it to Sally. Red stake over here means path #1 outbound. That goes to
campsite #1, right?
Exactly.
She turned around. Then this must be the inbound marker, she pointed
at a stake just to her left that had a red base and an unpainted wood top.
Sally, you next, Dave instructed.
In a moment, Sally had located the stakes for the other path.
Well check Trina on the next fork, Dave said. Lets get going.
Sally turned to Yvonne. Are you cool with not having your bit in?
Ive never been ridden without one, so I really dont know? Lets see
how it goes. How are you going to do the reins?
Sally looked at her mounts bridle, and then clipped the ends of the reins
to the rings on either side of her mouth. Lets see if this works without
chafing. She swung into the saddle, and they proceeded up the red path
toward the campsite.

Chapter 24. Theres no Place Like Home

I dont know how you guys do it, Trina said as they arrived at the patio.
My thighs are killing me!

You should get out more, Sally said as she dismounted from Yvonne.
Youve just got to know how to sit.
Gingerly.
Yvonne laughed as Sally led her inside, still bent over under the saddle.
Time to unsaddle her and get cleaned up. Sally bent to her task, first taking
the saddle off, and then dropping the lacing machine at the top of the corset.
Yvonne straightened up and stretched while the mechanical insect was making
its way down her back. A minute later she removed it and shrugged out of the
corset and dropped it on the floor. She unbuckled the bridle and hung it on the
wall.
See you, girls, she said as she headed for the shower.
Who cleans up? Trina asked as she looked at the saddle and corset lying
on the floor.
Yvonne. Shes very particular about making sure that her tack is squeaky
clean and well oiled before she puts it on. Shed probably go for someone else
doing it, but only if they did it right.
Makes sense, Trina shrugged. Ive got a personal question.
Well, ask away, you will anyway.
Are you two sleeping together?
What brought that up? Sally asked, curious in spite of herself.
Well, I noticed two makeup tables in the master bedroom, but only one
bed.
You would notice that! No, were not. She sleeps on the floor.
Huh?
Its not what youre thinking. The beds arent long enough for her, and
anyway her hooves would shred the sheets in no time.
Oh. Now that you mention it, Id pity anyone who had to sleep next to
those hooves of hers.
You got it. I tried. Once. I had bruises on my legs for a week.
Ouch!
Anyway, Yvonne interjected, having returned from the shower
unnoticed in the middle of the exchange, I slept on the ground in a meadow
for several months. At least here Ive got a pad and a pillow, and I dont have
to worry about hitting someone when I get rid of a rock.
But why the same room?
Trina, Im a ponygirl. Ponygirls are herd animals. I sleep a lot better
around people. The more and the closer the better, as long as were not stacked
on top of each other.
Trina shook her head. Things are sure going to be different.
Thats a fact. How about we head over to the student union?
And see what Yvonne stirs up? Trina smiled in anticipation.
Might as well, Yvonne agreed. The last term I was here was miserable
because I wasnt one of the elect and people thought I was trying to horn in.
This term anyone who thinks Im trying to be something Im not needs their
head examined.
Doesnt that describe most of the student body? Trina said, gazing at
the ceiling with a patently blank expression.
I didnt mean by their hair stylist, Yvonne shot back.
Well, lets go, Sally said, heading for the door.

Chapter 25. At the Student Union

Frankly, Xaltatun hasnt figured out what happens at the Student Union.
It wants to turn into low farce, and he prefers something slightly closer to high
drama, or at least reasonable decorum. Theres an arm wrestling match in
there somewhere (which Yvonne wins, of course,) and the startling discovery
that hooves arent really that good for dancing.
So well let that scene pass. (It gets about a C+, somehow.)

Chapter 26. All Students Must Take Phys. Ed.

Yvonne slowly shook her head as she listened to the voice in her phone.
What part of all students must take Phys. Ed. dont you understand? the
voice asked in tones that suggested that its patience was not only not infinite,
but was rapidly approaching exhaustion.
I explained that on the registration, Yvonne said for about the fifteenth
time.
I read that load of bullcrap, and I dont believe a word of it, the voice
repeated. I dont care what kind of disability or special need you have. Just
get yourself down here right now and well figure out where you belong.
But
Right now means right now. I want to see you in my office in ten
minutes, dressed in whatever you use to work out, assuming you work out at
all.
You asked for it, Yvonne replied and thumbed the stop button on the
phone. She shook her head and then changed into her red leotard, putting a
short tunic on over it for decency. She shoved a basic harness into a duffel and
trotted out the door, bag slung over her shoulder.
A few minutes later, she trotted into the Phys. Ed. departments office.
The secretary stared a moment as she took in Yvonnes close to two meter
height and mane. Then she did a double take as Yvonne swished her tail,
lifting the hem of her tunic in the process.
Uh, she said, gathering her thoughts. I didnt think youd be taking
Phys. Ed.
Old Firebreath thinks differently, Yvonne told her.
Oh, was that you she was yelling at a few minutes ago? Go right in,
Stephanies expecting you.
Dont be surprised at anything, Yvonne said, sotto voice, as she walked
around the secretarys desk.
A moment later, the athletic director looked up from the phone she was
snarling into and saw Yvonne. You! she said, slamming the phone down
without bothering to tell whoever shed been yelling at goodbye.
At that height, youre going to sign up for basketball. Right now.
Cant. Yvonne said.
And why not?
Title IX, Section 12, Subsection 4, Paragraph 16, subpart iv prohibits me
from taking part in any competitive sport.

Thats the section on performance enhancing drugs. You cant be that

stupid!
Thats subparagraphs i through iii. Subparagraph iv is the one against
performance enhancing gene modifications.
Thats impossible, the seated woman snorted.
Yvonne swished her tail. I wish youd have told that to New Babylon
before they did this to me, she said coldly.
Its still impossible!
Maybe a slight demonstration is in order, Yvonne gave her a toothy grin
as she walked around the desk and hauled the hapless woman out of her chair
by the shoulders.
A moment later, she held the athletic director against the ceiling, one hand
on her midriff.
PUT ME DOWN!
All right. Yvonne shrugged and dropped her onto the floor, making a
slight attempt to insure that she landed feet first.
Stephanie dropped onto her feet with a bit of a bounce, and came erect,
hands on hips. Well, I suppose that stunt does say something or other. You
certainly dont look like youve got that kind of muscles. Her eyes narrowed.
How about ballet?
You want to have your feet stepped on by an iron shod hoof?
Good point. Besides, there probably arent that many ballets you could
fit into without ruining the choreography. She righted her chair and sat down.
Well, one thing is obvious, she said after she got herself settled. Were
going to have to think about this.
Yvonne very carefully didnt say that they should have started out
thinking about it. She looked at the available chairs in distaste, and then spun
one around and sat on it backwards. My tail hates normal chairs, she said as
Stephanie looked at her strangely.
Oh. How much exercise do you need a day, and what do you do for it?
Two hours is a good minimum. Ive got an arrangement with the stables;
my roommate takes me out riding in the morning.
Horseback riding isnt that physical.
I didnt say horseback riding. Im a ponygirl. She rides me. Beyond that,
Im going to look into contributing an hour or so a day to some worthwhile
project.
Stephanie narrowed her eyes. Im not even going to ask. I take it youve
got everything squared away with Daisy Mae?
Yep. Did that yesterday.
Good. As far as heavy labour is concerned, weve certainly got enough
to do around here, and our students on athletic scholarships arent exactly
enthusiastic about doing it.
I didnt even know we had athletic scholarships.
Partly diversity, and partly the alumni.
They want to see winning teams, right?
Exactly. You dont know how hard it is to find jocks that will keep their
grades up and have the right social background for this madhouse while still
satisfying the PC mafia.
Tell me about it, Yvonne said dryly. Ive already met a couple that
need a reality check.
Ill bet. Did you give them one?

Im a ponygirl, not an amazon, Yvonne deadpanned.

Huh?
The reality chick is in the mail is an amazon thing, she answered.
Stephanie looked blank for a moment, and then held onto the desk,
attempting to stifle a guffaw. After she recovered, she said: I didnt even see
that one coming.
Occasionally even I manage to score, Yvonne said modestly.
Whats just occurred to me, though, is that I can do golf. Strength really
only counts on the first shot, and I can always drive off the mens tee.
Stephanie cocked her head, considering. The rest should come out of the
handicap, she said. Lets see how that mix works.

Chapter 28. Kidnapped!

Yvonne listened to the babble of the little waterfall at the head of the
stream that made its way through the little clearing in the wooded park. This
was one of her favourite get-away-from-it places when she had to catch up on
studying without the distractions of her college. While she liked her roommate
and rider, Sally, the constant chatter of the social whirl tended to preclude
really studying. So Yvonne had found this out of the way nook and
appropriated it as her private spot.
A few minutes after arriving, she shed the boots she used to protect
peoples floors from her steel shod hooves, and neatly folded her skirt and top
over them. She stretched luxuriously as she felt the gentle breeze play over her
bare skin. If there was anything she missed about New Babylon, it was the
opportunity to ditch the clothes. Of course, she considered with a bit of an
internal chuckle, she hadnt thought so then!
A few minutes later, she had her work table set up on the green, and
settled in front of it, sitting on her hooves. She spread her book and notepad
out on the desk and quickly became absorbed in the attempt to find the
simplicity behind what the textbook author insisted on obfuscating. So far, he
was succeeding admirably.
A slight pop! startled her for a moment, then she felt a prick in her
shoulder. She reached back to scratch it, and felt something. A moment later,
she looked dully at a feathered dart. Then she fell over on her side, out cold.
Now thats what I call an easy collection, a tall man said to his
companion as they hurried out of the woods to their prize.
Lets not count her before we get away, the lithe brunette responded.
She bent down and slid a pair of plugs into the girls nose; then she put a
leather helmet over the sleeping ponygirls head and drew the opening tight
around her throat.
The man picked Yvonne up in a firemans carry, and walked to one of the
forest paths as his companion hurriedly shoved all of Yvonnes belongings into
a sack and then looked around. She slung the sack over her shoulder and
followed her teammate out of the meadow, picking several small electronic
monitoring devices off of trees as she passed. Those monitors were key to
getting away safely: they would have told the pair if anyone stumbled into their
path, either accidentally or on purpose.

The path ended in a small parking lot. The monitors had done their job.
The only car in the lot was the SUV they had come in. The woman dropped the
sack and opened the back, and then opened the lid on the floor. They put their
prize into the space beneath the floorboard, and shoved the sack in next to her.
The woman bent over for a few moments, attaching various tubes and other
instruments to her sleeping charge, and then stood back up. Well, close it up
and lets get going, she said.
About time, he responded.
So, you always get itchy. Weve got everything covered.
The pair got into the front seat, and then he drove it off down the access
road toward the highway.
The man drove a while, finally going up the on ramp of one of the
computer controlled highways. He punched in a destination, and the car
manoeuvred itself into the traffic flow, settling down to a steady 150 kph.
Half an hour later, the black SUV with its drugged ponygirl travelled out
of range of the last of Yvonnes base stations. An alarm showed up on a
monitor screen in a ready room. The operator looked at it irritatedly, and then
dismissed it as unimportant.
Sally sat at her desk, head propped on both hands staring at the lesson on
her computer screen as if a baleful expression would cause it to yield up its
secrets. Where was Yvonne when she needed her?
Her phone buzzed.
Sally? Trina exclaimed. Do you know where Yvonne is?
Huh? Sally answered. Shes not here, and I want her. Now!
Well, she didnt show up in her Finance 130 class, and we were
wondering if anything happened. Shes got such an, interesting, slant on
things. And she isnt answering her phone, either.
Thats weird. Shes real anal about that.
Tell me about it. Not showing up without telling someone just isnt like
her.
True. Ill see what I can find.
A moment later, Sally had verified that Yvonnes system didnt know
where she was either. All it knew was that she had gone out of range several
hours before, and it couldnt contact her implants using the regular wireless
network.
Sally frowned, and then dug out a number from her address book.
New Babylon Security. How may I help you? the bored professional
voice answered the phone.
Im Sally Syndler, she told the voice. One of your people, Yvonne
Livingston, seems to have vanished, and were worried. We cant pick her up
either on her locator or the network.
Just a moment, the voice said, no longer sounding bored. After a pause
she heard a bit-off expletive. Sorry about that; she certainly does seem to be
off our network. Lets see he trailed off.

Damn. The log shows she may have been drugged. In any case, she
dropped off the wireless network a good half hour before she got out of range
of ours, a few minutes before the medical incident.
That doesnt sound good.
Oh, it isnt, the security tech agreed. Were on it now, and we should
have her back shortly. He didnt finish up with I hope; it seemed to be
superfluous. Youre her roommate?
Yes.
Well, notify whoever needs to know that shell be away for a few days,
and well take care of finding her.
Thank you, Sally said, relieved.
The black SUV travelled onward at a speed that would have been
unthinkable before the days of computer control of the expressway system. The
man and woman lounged in their chairs, alternately watching the countryside
pass by, reading and watching the 3V. Occasionally they stopped to refuel,
stretch and relieve themselves.
When they passed Boston, Sallys implants showed up briefly on New
Babylons locator. The monitors noticed, and notified one of the security team.
An hour later, they had a car a kilometre behind the SUV, travelling in
the exact lockstep that the computer maintained on the expressway. Since they
werent an authorized emergency vehicle, the computer wouldnt allow them to
shift around in the traffic flow.
Now what? Billi Holliday asked her team, looking for inspiration.
Weve got her located, but we cant get her without causing a scene.
At least we know she was kidnapped, Neil said. He was the security
technician who had handled the original call. The medical monitor is quite
clear on that.
True, but we dont want the national police to know about our
capabilities.
Besides, Jeannette said, by the time we got a warrant, theyd probably
be wherever theyre headed. Jeannette was a middle-aged blonde who got
called in when they needed to act quickly but without causing a fuss.
Which gives us the opportunity to find out who ordered it. Jeannette
grinned nastily. We need to start putting together a rescue squad. They cant
be too many hours away from wherever; the country just isnt that big.
Then again, we may not need a squad. Whoever set this up is clearly a
professional.
And most of them roll over with their little feet in the air when we talk,
Billi added. Lets hope.
A few hours later, an alarm went off in the SUV, and the pair woke up,
noting that they had crossed another three states while they slept. They stopped
at a rest area that rented showers to professional travellers and freshened up.
After another hour or so, they got to their off ramp, and the man took over the
controls. They didnt notice the green sportster that came off the expressway
right after them.
The SUV travelled down a twisty series of ancient two lane blacktops
until it arrived at a dirt side road that led through an opening in a fence,

apparently no different from any of the other fences that kept cattle and sheep
from wandering off their owners property. The vehicle rumbled over the grate
and shortly vanished from sight of the road around a small hill.
Once it got around the hill, it pulled up in front of a much more
businesslike fence, with a gate and a guardhouse. The only thing different
about this guardhouse that separated it from the many similar installations that
protected various facilities was the bored looking naked woman sitting on her
heels in front.
Well, an almost naked woman. She wore a tight waistband that connected
her to the shafts of a chariot, and a leather binder that kept her arms crossed
behind her back. She also had on a thick black collar. A workmanlike bridle
and bit encased her head, with the reins loosely draped over the chariot seat.
The little bells that hung from her ears and nipple rings complemented the ring
in her nose.
She turned to look incuriously at them as they drove up, and then turned
back to gaze at whatever had caught her interest on the sage covered hill.
A man stepped out of the guardhouse, and then waved the SUV through.
It was clearly expected. His ponygirl turned her head to watch it vanish down
the road around another hill, and then looked back at the sagebrush with a
small sigh.
So this is what a real ponygirl looks like, Nora said, running her gaze
up and down Yvonnes bound frame. Yvonne had been released from her
imprisonment beneath the floorboards of the SUV, and now stood in front of
the little group, her arms bound above her and her head encased in a bridle and
bit. The lead rope on the bridle went to a ring on a nearby post. Theyd also put
cuffs on her legs to force her to keep them apart and prevent her from kicking
anyone.
Nora took her time inspecting her newest acquisition. She ran a hand
through Yvonnes mane, tracing the line from her brow across her head and
down to the point just below her shoulder blades. Then she looked at it closely.
It doesnt look cut, she mused. However did they get it to grow that way?
She walked around and fingered the girls breasts. Good, solid set of
breast rings, she noted. Not nipple rings, though. She flicked one and
noticed that it swung back and forth easily, as if it was loose in a shaft drilled
through the flesh of her breast.
She squatted so she could examine the tail. She tried to run her fingers
through the silky chestnut strands, and watched as it flicked out of her way.
That, she said almost accusingly, looks like a real tail! She pointed at the
base of Yvonnes spine and spoke to the man squatting on Yvonnes other
side. It feels like the spine just keeps on going.
It certainly does, he agreed with her. That light coat just above it is a
nice touch.
Now, this hoof, Nora said as she wrapped a hand around one of
Yvonnes legs and gently tugged upwards. Yvonne obediently brought her
hoof up as far as the restraint allowed.
Thats a real hoof, she said. Wheres a hoof pick?
A girl standing by her side fetched one from the wall and handed it to her.
She spent a moment probing into the hoof. A real hoof, she said almost as if
to herself. She stood up and brushed herself off.

Why do I have a bad feeling about this? she asked.

Yvonne snorted behind the bit. The other two remained silent.
I asked a question! she snapped.
Because whoever lost her is going to want her back? the blond girl
hazarded.
Of course they are Terri, she said caustically. So what? Thats never
been a problem before.
Creating her had to be a lot of work, Terri responded hesitantly.
Thats true. Id love to know how they do it. Or maybe I wouldnt, she
continued with one of her mercurial mood changes. Its probably horribly
complicated.
Nora was the owner of Noras Hideout, which was, to all outside interest,
a hobby ranch that raised a few head of cattle and a small herd of horses. She
entered the horses in various local races, where they upheld her reputation as
somewhat of a dilettante. They were good enough to avoid the dog food
factories, but they seldom managed to show, let alone win a race. All in all,
exactly the kind of racing pony that the track managers loved to have to safely
fill out a card. No real danger of winning, and the long odds attracted enough
bettors to sweeten the pot.
Put a collar on her and see if you can get her calmed down enough by
this afternoon so I can take her out for a workout, Nora told the man who had
helped her inspect the suspended filly.
Shouldnt be much of a problem, Wally, the head groom, answered.
Looking like that, shes probably quite well trained already.
Oh, shes undoubtedly trained, Nora said. What it looks like she needs
is a firm reminder of whos boss. Which shouldnt be at all hard once you get
the collar activated, she added, looking at Yvonne meaningfully.
Itll be so much easier on her once she figures that out. Wasnt it, pet?
she asked the naked girl squatting by her side. The girl squatted with her knees
tucked up under her breasts, and her two paws flat on the floor in front of her.
She wore some kind of a glove or mitten on her hands that made them look
like cats paws, and a helmet that gave her a muzzle and pointed ears. Her
long, furred tail curled around her body to her left.
Nora had clipped her pets leash to a loop on her belt, where it curved
down to attach to the thick black collar around her neck. Her pet looked up at
her mistress, and stretched to rub her head against Noras thigh as she gave a
credible imitation of a purr.
Yvonne looked back at Nora thoughtfully. The last half hour had been
confusing, as she had come out of the drugged haze to find herself strung up
and being pawed over by a bunch of strangers as if she were a piece of
livestock. Shed now regained her mental equilibrium, and didnt particularly
like what she was discovering.
Shed done some exploring of the ponygirl scene with Sally, and found
that it alternated between being fun and being boring. The people were nuts,
but at least they werent particularly harmful. This group, however, seemed to
be more nuts than usual. Oh, well, she thought, right now the best thing would
be to roll with it; things should clarify shortly.
Especially as she seemed to be in range of a base station. She focused her
attention and began the mental exercise that would allow her to send a message

via her implants. It wasnt the swiftest process in the world, but it was
definitely better than nothing.
After doing that, she thought a moment, and decided to make another
preparation. She began a mental exercise that, until now, had remained
theoretical. It was something that had been covered in her briefing on how her
implants worked, but shed seen no particular need to practice right away.
The man who had examined her with Nora ran a tape measure around her
neck, and then walked over to the wall, whistling tunelessly. He looked at
several thick black hinged collars hanging open like figure threes, and selected
one.
He took it and slid it around her neck, closing it with a definite click.
Yvonnes mouth twitched as she frowned in concentration.
Nora walked over to a computer display set in the wall, and pressed a
series of buttons. The screen showed a complicated looking status display.
Suddenly, most of the items on the display turned red, and a flashing red
message appeared: Critical Fault.
Whats that mean? Nora asked.
Something just burned out. Wally replied.
Equipment, Nora said disgustedly. Never obeys when you want it to.
She spun as Yvonne gave a most unponylike snort of laughter behind her bit.
She looked at the suspended ponygirl suspiciously.
You couldnt have she muttered.
Well, get on with it. Try another one.
Wally unlatched the failed collar and found another one on the wall. A
moment later, it adorned Yvonnes neck.
Nora pressed the buttons again. The monitor showed its display, and then
the red Critical Fault screen appeared, followed a moment later by a blue
screen with a grinning skull in the centre.
I do not fucking believe this, Nora growled. Any ideas?
Why not ask her if she did it? Terri simpered. Yvonne looked at her
with a frown. That voice didnt seem to be quite able to make up its mind
whether it was a low alto or a high tenor. She looked more closely at Terri and
a lip quirked around the side of the bit. It wasnt like transsexuals were exactly
unknown. At least half of the supervisors around the ponygirl stables were true
hermaphrodites, and most of them could give a girl a much better time sexually
than the true males.
Nora rounded on the girl. Thats the most asinine suggestion Ive heard.
Then she smiled in spite of herself. Good work. Youre getting the blond
bubblehead bit down perfectly.
Terri shrugged her shapely shoulders, blond hair falling in artful disarray.
I meant it seriously, she said.
Nora stared at her. Humph! Ponygirls should not be allowed to talk. You
know that! Then she shrugged. Its my rule. She walked over and yanked
the bit out of the suspended girls mouth.
So, talk. Did you do that?
Yes. Yvonne said simply.
How? Nora asked.
Im afraid thats proprietary, Yvonne said regretfully.
Noras face set in a scowl. So Im just going to have to break you the
hard way, she said.
Dont be stupid, Yvonne said. What makes you think Id let you?

Nora smiled like a tiger. And whos going to stop me?

Yvonne shrugged as the suspension cuffs fell apart, releasing her hands.
I am.
Nora stepped back as Yvonnes hands came down. Howd you do that?
she managed to get out.
Proprietary, Yvonne said, returning the grin with interest.
Lets be serious for a change, Yvonne continued. You wanted a real
ponygirl. Now that youve got one, Id think it would be a good idea to find
out how she works.
Nora backed up another step and scowled at her.
Calm down, Yvonne said amusedly. You need to know what Im
about, and Id like to avoid being damaged in the process of your finding out. I
take it youve never visited New Babylon?
Is that where youre from? Nora asked. I usually dont pay much
attention to my competitors. So what is up with you? I always thought the idea
of secret genetics labs turning out horrible mutants was claptrap.
As far as I know, it mostly is. New Babylon does a thriving business in
fixing genetic illnesses, but were the only new species theyve turned out. Im
told nobody else is even close to their level of capability, and in any case, Im
the only ponygirl uptime.
So, what can I expect out of you?
Well, for one thing, we, that is ponygirls in general, are really only
happy if were doing hard work that benefits their owner or community. And
were designed so that we feel that hauling things in harness, or being ridden,
is perfectly natural. In fact, its enough of a high that I arranged to be ridden
every day.
So if I harnessed you to my chariot, youd give me a good ride?
Probably. I dont have a lot of experience with hauling people
conveyances; when I pulled things around, it was mostly agricultural
equipment.
This is too easy, and youre too confident by half. What arent you
telling me? Nora asked suspiciously.
New Babylon knows where I am. Youre going to get a call shortly from
someone who wants to discuss this with you. I dont know exactly when. Day
or two, maybe later today.
Those two guaranteed me you couldnt be traced! she said angrily.
Well, its not their fault, really. There are things we dont advertise. Ive
got an implanted communication device using a proprietary technology, and it
also has a direct link to my brain. I know when Im in or out of contact, and a
few other things. Right now, Im in contact, and its telling me that theyre
arranging to talk to you shortly.
Nora looked at her suspiciously. How do I know youre telling me the
truth?
All you have to do is wait. Its not going to cost you anything.
Meanwhile, if you want to take me out for a spin in a pony cart, feel free. Id
really like some exercise after being drugged that long.
Its still too easy, Nora said.
Why? Fish gotta swim, birds gotta fly. Ponygirls like to be ridden and
pull people around. The designers didnt create us in a vacuum; they knew
exactly what they wanted us to like doing.

The things I get into, Nora muttered to herself. OK. Lets do it. I do
want to find out how you handle in a chariot.
This ought to do, Yvonne said, checking the way they had her tacked
up. I must admit it looks pretty, but I think Ill wind up preferring my usual
tack, though.
Yvonnes harness consisted of a solid black leather waistband, held down
by a crotch strap that theyd had to hurriedly modify to avoid her tail. Thick
black leather straps that crossed both in front and in back held it up; the front
straps crossed between her breasts. Another strap ran around her body just
above her breasts; a pair of shoulder straps with thick pads topped off the
entire assemblage.
She stood between the shafts of a small sulky. More thick leather straps
fastened the shafts to her waistband. Her hands rested lightly on the front of the
shafts; they had discussed having them cuffed to the shafts, but decided to
leave that detail of tack for later.
The front part of the sulky shafts ran horizontally, and then dropped at an
angle to where they were level with the large bicycle wheels.
I think so, Nora said as she stroked her ponygirls mane. She smiled to
herself when she noted that Yvonne leaned slightly into her strokes. This, she
thought to herself, might actually work out.
She climbed into the sulky and sat, noticing the way the harness took up
the strain. Wally handed her the reins, and she flicked them lightly. Giddyap!
she said.
Yvonne leaned into the traces, the sulky following obediently behind.
Nice start! Nora called, as she pulled the right rein lightly. Yvonne
obediently turned to the right. Nora spent a few minutes turning her steed one
way and then another around the yard, getting a feel for how Yvonne handled.
Then she turned the ponygirl to a path that led out of the yard to the back part
of the property, and flicked the reins again. Trot! she commanded.
Yvonne fell into the ground-eating stride she could keep up for hours.
Nora admired the ponygirl trotting ahead of her, with the breeze playing
with her chestnut mane and tail, and her muscles rippling under the skin with
the look of smooth power. She shook her head. Suddenly, all the girls shed
trained seemed clumsy by comparison. This wasnt the patchwork job that was
a staple of the 3V horror shows, this magnificent animal showed an altogether
admirable attention to detail.
Animal? She snorted at the thought. If she managed to keep her, they
would have to come to an agreement! It did rankle a bit to ask livestock for its
opinion, and she wasnt going to change her attitude there if she could help it.
She had a gnawing suspicion that she wasnt going to have any choice, though.
For right now, though, the magnificent chestnut pulling her sulky
promised to be the high point of a day that had more than its share of
frustrations.
She came to the marker that was as far as she usually took her ponygirls.
Any farther, and she ran an unacceptable risk of being seen by people on the
adjacent property. She chuckled again as she pulled on the reins, bringing
Yvonne to a halt. To tell the truth, this was as far as she usually came with a
pair; one ponygirl simply wouldnt have made it with enough strength to come
back. This one, on the other hand, didnt even seem to have been working
hard!

She turned her pony back and brought her up to a trot. They came to a
straight stretch, and Nora frowned in thought. Then she smiled and shook the
reins. Gallop! she commanded. Yvonne broke into a run, almost jerking the
sulky enough to unseat her surprised passenger. Slow down! Nora called as
they passed the copse of trees that marked the end of the easy path. Yvonne
dropped back to the gentler trot she had been using, this time making sure that
her passenger wasnt jerked around.
A half hour later, they arrived back in the yard. Nora climbed out of the
sulky and walked around to look at Yvonne.
Youre not even sweating after that run, she said, accusingly.
Yvonne took the bit out of her mouth. Thats one of the changes, she
said almost apologetically. We dont sweat. They engineered in a different
method of dumping excess heat. Its a lot more efficient, and saves water.
Would it make you happier if your grooms unhitched me? Yvonne
asked the nonplussed woman. Id like to get out of this harness and shower
down after the run. Then if Im going to be here for a while, I suppose
someone needs to assign me a stall.
Nora shook her head. Terri! she called. A moment later the boy-girl
came running up. Groom her and put her in her stall. Find out what she needs
to eat.
And you, she turned back to Yvonne. Keep your mouth shut around
the rest of the ponygirls. I dont want to upset them.
Yvonne whinnied at her, amused.
New Babylons negotiator, Nora thought, definitely looked the part. Not
too tall, not too short, and solidly built. Those shoulders looked, well,
comforting. She idly scratched her kitty-girl behind the ears as she considered
him.
Yvonne, on the other hand, definitely looked different dressed up.
Somehow the narrow waist and flared skirt disguised the width of her hips so
she looked mildly erotic rather than overweight. And it made her tail look like
a fashion accessory. If she came out of this, she definitely wanted the name of
her designer!
Well, enough chit-chat, she said. I suppose wed better get down to it.
That would be best, Edgar said, placing his cup precisely in the centre
of the saucer.
Whats got me baffled is why were sitting here acting civilized. You got
me dead to rights for kidnapping, if nothing else.
Yvonne shrugged. I cant say that I liked being kidnapped, and if youd
been nasty youd be in real trouble. As it is, Ill just write it off as an eccentric
invitation to make a sales call.
Sales call? Nora said, confused.
You want ponygirls, Edgar said. We have ponygirls, and when it
looked like you werent going to damage the merchandise, we gave you an
opportunity to see for yourself what our product is like.
Youd sell me some? How much?
Lets just say that we want to explore the opportunity. There are some,
ah, circumstances that might give you a bit of trouble.
Yvonne is certainly a good deal more forward than I like. Hopefully your
regular product is more disciplined.

Well, thats part of it, certainly. You dont expect dogs to act like cats, or
horses to act like birds. Our ponygirls do their own thing; there are a lot of
ways they dont act like humans. They dont normally act like horses, either,
although we train them to fake it. Its good for the tourists.
Now youve got me confused. Yvonne told me she liked pulling me
around in my sulky!
Of course, he grinned at her. Horses arent the only animals we use to
pull things; theyre just the most convenient. They arent the only animals we
ride, either. Ponygirls like to pull things and they like to be ridden. Thats the
way they were designed, but that doesnt make them horses in other ways.
One way they are like horses, though, is that they are herd animals. A
ponygirl by herself is probably not going to be real happy.
Well, there are exceptions, Yvonne added, but by and large its true.
You wont find me going off by myself for days on end. I need people around
most of the time.
So what youre saying is that I cant buy one ponygirl from you. Id have
to take a dozen.
Well, half a dozen. And wed have to throw in a couple of grooms and
trainers as well to keep them balanced.
Humph. With all of that, I suspect Im going to have to compromise.
Theres something Id like, though, she said, scratching her cat-girl behind the
ears.
Oh?
Could you turn Bouncy, here, into a real cat?
Bouncy, Yvonne was amused to note, stiffened suddenly and then relaxed
again. Her tail twitched in the universal cat signal for dont even think about
it.
I see youve got her very well trained, Yvonne said. She doesnt like
the idea at all, but shes not showing it.
Yes, we had to work on it, didnt we, kitty? Nora said.
Bouncys tail twitched again, but she showed every evidence of being
delighted with the arrangement, going so far as to rub her head against Noras
leg and give a fake purr.
I dont see why youd want to turn her into a real cat, Edgar said. What
do you have in mind? I can ask, but I dont know how far youll get. Ive never
heard the slightest interest in anything other than our ponygirls.
Real ears and a real tail. Thats an amazing piece of equipment I got for
her, but it took a long time to train her to use it, and it breaks down
occasionally.
Well, mines as real as it gets, and it took me a while both to grow it and
to learn to use it, Yvonne said. Its actually prehensile, which a horses isnt.
Its just too short to be very useful.
Id also like her to have claws, fur and fangs. And fix it so shes four
legged.
The fur shouldnt be hard, Yvonne said. Theyd have to research the
claws and fangs. I think walking well on four legs is more a matter of leg
length and hip configuration than anything having to do with the brain, so it
probably wouldnt be that hard either. I take it youd like that pose shes in
right now to be more natural?
Definitely. Id also like to be able to ride her.

Yvonne laughed. A pony-cat-girl? Or on all four paws? Id think shed

need to be a couple of sizes larger than a lion for you to manage that! On the
other hand, a real riding cat would be striking. Add a wild girl outfit, and oh,
wow!
One other thing we could add to the mix. Howd you like for Terri to be
a real hermaphrodite? Fully functional male and female sex organs.
Theres got to be a catch, Nora said. Well, lets think it over, Im
finding the proposition intriguing. But Im wondering what you get out of it.
Besides a lot of my money, of course.
Well, Edgar said, picking up his cup for a sip, youve got a nice, out of
the way place where some of our up-time personnel can come now and then.
Yvonne was quite interested during our preliminary discussion in having a
ponygirl herd handy.
It will also give our researchers an opportunity to see how a herd
functions under different conditions, Yvonne added. Theyre chomping at
the bit for the opportunity.
Are you sure you arent from one of the tongs? Nora asked, a slight
smile playing around her lips.
Not the tongs, Edgar said. But it does my heart good to know that
theres still someone who doesnt know how New Babylon negotiates.
Granted, we dont advertise, but the word does get around.
So youre like the legendary Bill Gates. It doesnt matter what the
contract looks like, somehow it works out to your favour.
Very perceptive comment, young woman, Edgar said. We do work at
it.
Well, just add those two sweeteners, and youve got a deal, Nora said,
standing up.
Deal, agreed Edgar, also standing up. Well be back in touch for the
arrangements. Well probably change Terri around first. It will take a while for
Bouncy, though.
Bouncy watched the three of them leave the room. Then she lifted a paw,
licked it and began brushing one of her ears. As far as she was concerned, they
could take all the time they wanted. Forever would be just about right.

Epilogue.
The staff, Yvonne reflected, had provided her with a very nice interview
room, tailored to her requirements. Her chair was probably the oddest thing
about it; unlike a standard executive chair, it had a separate seat and back, with
a wide opening for her tail.
The office receptionist knocked on the door.
Come in, she called.
Your appointment is here, Ms. Livingston, she said, ushering a man and
a woman into the room.
They made their introductions. The couple was Jeff and Suzy Franks;
both of them had been indentured slaves on New Babylon, which is where they
had met. When they left, they had decided to get married and raise a family,
and were having difficulty with the latter.

So, Yvonne opened the conversation, I understand youve had a great

deal of difficulty starting a family.
We have, Frank said. The doctors are finally admitting that they dont
know what is going on. They started out telling us that the gene modifications
wouldnt be a problem.
After all, Suzy said, They shouldnt be. We both have the same ones.
Or do we? she suddenly sounded suspicious as if the idea had never occurred
to her before.
You have the same changes, Yvonne told the couple. Theres only one
set. They prevent you from being fertile with unmodified humans, which is
part of the problem.
Its fairly unusual for any of our ex-slaves to meet and marry in the first
place, and the few that do have just accepted the fact that they cant seem to
have children. Youre not the first couple thats pursued it with enough
determination to get here, but youre in a very small minority.
Suzys brow furrowed. Why do I suddenly have the notion that theres a
lot that nobody told us?
Because after what youve been through, youre justifiably suspicious,
Yvonne told her. Youve been persistent enough to make New Babylon grant
you an interview, and you discover that its with the only ponygirl thats
uptime. Thats probably enough to make anyone suspicious.
There is more going on, though, and youve got a choice. If you want to
know about it, Ill explain. But youll have to sign a non-disclosure first. I
assume youre aware of whatll happen if you break it?
The two of them nodded.
If you dont want to sign the non-disclosure, Ill just do whats needed
for you to have a baby, and thatll be the end of it. Whats your choice?
Suzy frowned slightly. Is there anything else besides keeping our mouths
shut?
Smart girl! Yes, there is, but I cant tell you any details before you sign.
All I can tell you right now is that theres nothing that youll be obligated to
do; you can still just forget it and keep quiet, and there wont be any
repercussions.
On the other hand, it will open up some possibilities that you might find
you want to follow up on.
Suzy looked at her husband. Id rather know whats up, even if I cant
talk about it, she said slowly.
So would I, Frank contributed.
Yvonne got two sets of papers from a file and slid it across the desk.
Heres the paperwork. She looked on while the two of them read through it.
Then she handed them a pen. They signed, and she put the agreement back into
the file.
Well, the big issue is that the changes are extensive enough to make us a
different species. Were calling ourselves Homo Equus for starters. Without
going into a lot of detail, any member of our species can change sex or change
from hominid to pony or back at any time.
Whoa! Frank said. You mean were the same species as you are?
Exactly. What it means is that you could trade off on which one of you
gets pregnant with each of your children, or you could decide that one of your
children will be a nice little ponygirl foal.
I dont think the neighbours would approve, Suzy said, wide-eyed.

Exactly the problem, Yvonne nodded. Thats one of the reasons we

had you sign the agreement.
Another part of the changes is that were herd animals to a much greater
extent than normal humans. Thats quite obvious with ponygirls, but it applies
to you as well, although to a lesser degree. Thats one reason why a lot of our
ex-slaves decide to come back to us, or never leave New Babylon in the first
place.
Part of that is that herds have herd councils, and it takes a member of
your herd council to do certain things with you. Those things include allowing
you to become pregnant.
I think I see, Suzy said thoughtfully. Youre saying that we have to
become members of a herd, and then the people in charge can induce
pregnancy? Why is that?
Im told its population control. The designers didnt like the way
humanity tends to expand to where it overstresses its environment. Since
youre not part of a complete herd at the moment, youll become part of mine.
As the herd authority, I can turn you on so you ovulate, and so a males sperm
becomes fertile. Part of the package is that youll spend the next week or so
madly in lust with each other.
I see, Frank said. Thats why they told us to arrange for a vacation.
He frowned. It seems very cold-blooded.
It does, doesnt it? I dont know all the reasons for why they did it that
way. She shrugged and spread her hands. Its just the way its been
explained to me.
Whats being part of your herd involve? Suzy asked.
Thats where it gets interesting. On one level, not a whole lot. We need
to keep in touch and see each other occasionally. On another level, quite a bit.
We turn on your implants and train you to use them.
Implants?
Yes. Theres a bit of a story behind that. Back when New Babylon
started, all the equipment was in the slave collars, just like you were told.
Later, they found a way to implant the equipment directly in your skull, where
it doesnt show on most types of scan. Theyre gradually transitioning from the
collars to using the implants; eventually those slave collars will mostly be for
show; the implants will actually do everything. All the slaves that have left in
the last half dozen or so years have a full set of implants. Theyre reset on exit
so that youre off the network and so that the herd instinct isnt all that
overwhelming.
There are a lot of capabilities there which you were never told about.
After you come back from your week of wild lust, if you want to explore what
they can do for you, Ill activate them and show you the basics of how to use
them. Then you can practice on your own.
The basic consideration is that youll be back in the New Babylon
network. Thats got good and bad points. You get access to the telly, and some
communication and scheduling things. Itll never replace a really good PDA,
but its better than the runner up. The downside is that youll have to maintain
regular contact with the other herd members. Some people like it, some dont,
but you dont have an option once the implants are activated.
She saw them look doubtful. I really recommend it. Ive been kidnapped
twice by idiots that thought a real ponygirl would be a nice addition to their

stable. The link in my implants let Security trace me promptly. Besides, it

keeps the insects off.
I could go for the telly, Frank said thoughtfully. Its got the same
courses?
And more, Yvonne confirmed. Theres a lot of stuff that only makes
sense here.
So, what do we need to do? Suzy asked.
Decide what sex you want your new baby to be. Ill do the rest. Theres
no ceremony involved.
It seems like there should be something more, Suzy said. The stork
just pops in and waves its beak? Somehow, its an anticlimax.
Well, theres no one to have a ceremony with yet. Once you get
acquainted with the rest of the herd members, we can do something meaningful
for your second child, though, and we can do the usual baby shower and birth
ceremonies.
Why do we have to choose? Suzy asked. Id kind of like not knowing
until the doctor tells me.
I could let it be random, but theres no way to do half measures. Youd
have a fairly large chance of getting a pony foal rather than a human.
That could be fun, Suzy said a bit regretfully. But thered be too much
conflict with the neighbours. She turned to her husband. How about a girl
first?
Fine by me, Frank said.
Lets do it, Suzy answered him as she pulled him over and planted a
lingering kiss on his lips.
Yvonne frowned in concentration while the two lovebirds were kissing.
Its all set up. Now go and have fun making sperm meet egg. She
shoved an envelope at them. Here are your reservations.
Frank opened the envelope and looked at them. Wow! Couples
Playground is expensive!
Its not like weve got enough of you to even show as a minor budget
item, Yvonne smiled. Consider it a conception present.
Thanks, Suzy pulled Yvonne in for a quick hug. I just wonder what it
would be like to be part of a herd.
If youre still wondering, ask me afterwards. Right now, youve got an
assignment. Go make a baby. She moved to herd the two of them toward the
door.

If you enjoyed this story, please e-mail the author and let him know. He
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