"Absolutely not!"

Rachel Stuttwell, the dean of the all-women's college slammed her fist on the table. She looked around at the board of directors with a steely glare. "It is demeaning to women and an unsuitable, uh, career choice for graduates of this school."

But in the end, most voted to let the Centauress Ponygirl Farm have a booth at the annual Career Day at the college, as it was decided that the students were intelligent enough to make their own decisions. They would, however, be placed in the far corner of the large room, and have curtains around their booth to avoid offending anyone. The Dean hoped that protests would at least shut them down.

When the day came, the ponygirl farm was the first to be allowed in, so they could set up without incident. The Dean fumed as two harnessed and bridled ponygirls in nude firm-control all-in-one undergarments trotted in pulling a sulky. They were positioned next to a table in the rear corner, where tall curtains immediately hid them from view. Only a discreet sign, with the name of the farm, hung on one of the curtains, indicating what was inside; an arrow pointed to the place where the two curtains met.

As the coeds trickled in, they gradually became aware of this mysterious area in the back. One adventurous girl parted the curtains slightly and, peering in, spotted the ponygirls. With a gasp, she spun around and motioned to her friends to come over. Soon, half a dozen girls were there, peering through the curtains and giggling nervously.

"Come on in, girls," ordered the woman in riding attire who sat at the table. She held up a brochure. "Learn about this rapidly expanding new career."

One coed strode right in and grabbed a brochure. "So, tell me about this shit," she demanded.

The female trainer patiently explained what ponygirl service was all about, and the various types of ponygirls that were employed around the world. As she spoke, she got up and emphasized certain aspects of ponygirl life by indicating the bound girls standing before her.

Other girls began edging their way in, until the area around the booth was crowded, and representatives from the other companies began to wonder where everyone was going. Though few coeds had the guts to sign up, almost all went away with one of the brochures. Each of the four who had signed up that day was led to a small dressing room, where she stripped and put on an all-in-one undergarment, then was harnessed and bridled and made to stand along the wall. At the end of the event, they were taken away with the two sulky ponygirls.

Over the course of the next few weeks, many more girls worked up the courage to call the farm or pay a visit. The bleak job market forced others to make the difficult choice, and they formed a second wave of potential fillies. The stables began to fill. Before long, the owners had to put two girls to a stall. In six months time, the ponygirl farm had captured nearly a quarter of the senior class.

All had been made to sign a one-year contract, so no one could bail before then. Of course, by the time the year was up, they would all be thoroughly broken in and brainwashed. None of them would protest the life they would be forced to lead, no matter how cruel or demeaning.

The female recruiter looked out over the corrals filled with naked young women dancing to the whip and riding crop, and smiled. Career Day had been a resounding success.

Rachel Stuttwell looked out over the campus. A lot had changed in the five years since the ponygirl farm had first been allowed to recruit here. The farm had rapidly expanded and taken over the college, and the grounds now teemed with thousands of half-naked ponygirls working toward "degrees" in Plowing, Dressage, Cart Pulling, Breeding, and so on. Incoming coeds were immediately head-shaved and branded and tattooed, then fitted with harness and bridle and pony boots, which they wore almost every waking moment of their lives.

Girls clad only in sports bras were yoked together and made to pull plows, girls dressed in trashy lingerie were made to perform synchronized circus routines, girls bound in heavy leather tack pulled carts alone or in teams. One of the dining halls had been turned into a barn, where naked girls in tiny makeshift stalls were milked every few hours by computerized breast pumps strapped to their bodies like bras, and one of the dorms had been turned into a breeding center, where a few muscular ponyboys on Viagra went from room to room fucking naked coeds bound spread-eagle to their beds. The dean had cried when she had seen the rows of penned-up students with their swollen, leaky breasts, and room after room of pregnant freshmen waddling around wearing nursing bras and maternity girdles beneath their pony tack.

And that was only the beginning. "Graduation Day" was nothing more than a frenzied auction, with buyers from all over the world snapping up the attractive and obedient fillies by the dozen, many undoubtedly having little regard for the health and well-being of their chattel. It was disheartening to see so many young women with potential being used like mere animals, and yet no one had complained but her.

The driver snapped the reins, and Rachel leaned forward and dug in with her pony boots, straining to pull the heavy sulky and rider, her bare sagging breasts flopping against her chest as she lurched into motion.


The End