Tricia stepped out of her BMW and surveyed the farm before her. So this is where Renee works, she thought. I never thought she'd be the type who would endure the hard labor of working at a horse stable. But then, people change, especially after ten years. Tricia wanted to believe that her old Ivy League college friend owned the place, but her query had just been met with a brief laugh. The response struck her as odd, and she was soon to find out why.

Approaching the building, she was met by one of the stablehands and taken into the tack room in the stable.

"We'll bring her right out," he said. His choice of words did not ring any warning bells.

The woman waited, taking care not to get her business suit and heels dirty in such a rural setting. But then she noticed that there wasn't any hay scattered about the floor. And that the stable didn't smell like horses. It seemed very clean and inviting, indeed, with warm lighting and dark wood.

She heard the clip-clop of horses hooves. Just like Renee to make a grand entrance, she thought, coming in on a horse.

The stablehand came into the room, followed by a harnessed and bridled woman wearing only a flesh-colored sports bra and panty girdle at the end of his reins. Her beautiful hair had been shaved into a mane. Tricia gasped, then nearly went into shock when she recognized her friend as the unfortunate woman.

"OH MY GOD! RENEE! WHAT HAVE THEY DONE TO YOU?"

Two other stablehands who followed had to restrain Tricia from racing to her friend's rescue. The stablehand with the reins tied them to a head-high ring in the wall, then removed Renee's bit from her mouth. "You may speak," said the stablehand.

"Please! Tricia! Relax! It's okay!"

Tricia shook off the stablehands, who remained at her sides, but she stood there, eyes wide.

"What the hell happened to you?!?"

Renee smiled. "I'm a ponygirl now."

"A WHAT??"

"A ponygirl. Basically, I--"

"I know what one is. But why you?"

"Well," shrugged Renee, "to make a long story short, an old boyfriend did this to me as a joke one day." She shrugged again. "Turns out I like it."

"But why?"

"I don't know. I'm turned on by it, for one thing. I guess I also like the sense of security it gives me-- I don't have to worry about bills or taxes or dealing with assholes all day. I get fed well, I get my exercise, I have all my needs taken care of for me. I feel like a queen."

"But you used to be such a go-getter, always involved in this or that. I was sure you'd be on top of the world by now."

"So did I. But I got tired of the rat race. I was looking for an alternative. This came along at just the right time."

Tricia shook her head and gave a nervous little laugh. "I was wondering why you didn't make it to the tenth-year reunion. You would've certainly made an entrance."

"Couldn't you just imagine the looks on everyone's faces?" The two laughed at that absurd image for a moment before falling silent.

"So how's your life going?" said Renee.

A shadow fell over Tricia's face. "Well, you know-- busy, busy, busy. This is the first vacation time I've had in four years. You were right about the rat race thing."

"Not much time for a social life, huh?"

"No." Tricia shook her head ruefully. "Guys can be such assholes, anyway. My last two boyfriends cheated on me. With strippers, no less."

"No shit."

Tricia looked around. "I don't suppose your love life is anything to write home about."

"You'd be surprised."

"Really? What do you mean?"

"There's another stable, with ponyboys. Young MUSCULAR ponyboys, if you know what I mean." A wicked smile crossed the ponygirl's face.

"Renee! Shame on you!" Tricia was surprised to find she was intrigued along with being shocked.

"Yeah, well, I still have-- needs. I'm in pretty good shape, and I can handle the best of them."

Tricia had noticed that her friend's body was still slim and trim-- even muscular--, not like many of the others in their class, who had let themselves go. She herself could use a little toning up.

"But don't you miss other things? Life?"

"No. It's peaceful here. Like a country retreat, or a monastery. I'm not all stressed out like I used to be."

Tricia had to admit there was some wisdom in what the ponygirl had to say. Still . . .

"You don't get out? At all? You don't have a need to know what's going on in the world?"

The ponygirl's voice was calm and assured. "All I ever need is right here. Like I said: security, serenity, safety, sex . . ."

"You're not joking, are you?"

Renee looked at her old friend. "Would you like to see me in action, so to speak?"

"Um, yeah, whatever."

The ponygirl held her mouth open, and the stablehand secured the rubber bit. She waited until the man took up the reins and gave a slight tug before turning and following him. Tricia took a deep breath and fell in behind them, tryng hard to hold back the criticism as she saw the high-stepping gait and the woman's exposed ass from which a long ponytail hung. This was her idea of the good life?

They went out to the corral, and Tricia saw that there were upwards of two dozen ponygirls being trained in various exercises. They, too, wore only sports bras and open-backed panty girdles under full horse tack, and their hair had been shaved, as well. The businesswoman could only stare in disbelief as scantily-clad women pranced about under the guidance of men with their reins in one hand and riding crops in the other, their breasts and tails bobbing in unison to their gait. So this was paradise.

She watched as her friend performed various maneuvers, her eyes glued to her trainer. She was evidently watching for subtle cues from the man, as she would suddenly change her routine without any apparent sign from him. Occasionally, the man would shout a stern warning or lightly slap Renee's ass with his crop, but that was all for discipline.

Tricia shook her head. What about dignity and self-worth? But then, did she get that in her life? Hardly.

After nearly an hour, they took a break. Renee was allowed to drink from a water bottle before heading over to her friend. Her taut skin glistened with sweat and, despite the thickness of her bra cups, her stiff nipples could clearly be seen under the damp material.

"So what do you think?" As she spoke, the trainer tied her reins to a hitching post.

Tricia held her hands up. "This is still . . . all too much for me to take in."

"I know, it can be pretty freaky if you're not familiar with it. Perhaps if you watched a little more?"

"No, I-- I gotta go."

"Leaving so soon? You already have plans for your vacation?"

"Yeah. Kinda. I thought maybe we could . . . do things together."

"Well, if you want to stay a little longer . . ."

"I--"

"C'mon, be brave. At least give it a try."

"Renee! You're not suggesting that I--"

"We ALWAYS did things together, remember?"

"But--"

"Just give it a shot. If you don't like it, well, you don't."

The businesswoman gave an exaggerated sigh. "Oh, all right. Where do I go to, um, change?"

The trainer pointed back toward the stable. "Just follow me, ma'am." He unhitched Renee, and the three headed off.

Tricia had her misgivings, but she and Renee had been such best buds in college before careers and commitments had slowly unraveled that bond. Her friend wouldn't steer her wrong. Besides, if she didn't like it, she could just leave.

In the tack room, the trainer tied Renee's reins as he spoke to Tricia. "Just remove your clothing and place it in the table. What is your bra and panty size so I can get you your garments?"

Reluctantly, she told him, and just as reluctantly began to undress. This was all so weird. Jacket, blouse, skirt, slip, shoes-- all went on the table before the man returned.

He looked at her standing there in bra, pantyhose, and hi-waist body slimmer. "Those, too."

Bolstered by an encouraging nod from Renee, she peeled off her undergarments, her arms awkwardly shielding her privates. The trainer held the flesh-colored undergarments on hangars. He removed the panty girdle and bent down in front of her. "Raise your foot."

She stepped into the revealing garment, and the trainer pulled it up and tugged it into place. The sports bra was a slip-on, and they did the same self-conscious ritual as he pulled it up, catching her breasts in firm cups before slipping the shoulder straps into place.

Tricia liked the feel of the bra, but the panty girdle felt weird with her ass hanging out like that.

"I think these are your size." The man came over with ponyboots, the bottoms of which were rather heavy because of the metal horseshoe. To Tricia, they felt no different from regular high-heeled boots, except that she had to struggle to keep her balance, as they had no heel. She held onto the table so she wouldn't fall over.

The ones for her hands came next. "Make a fist," he said, then worked the leather gloves with rubber hooves onto her arms and tied them tight.

"I can remove the butt-plug tail if you want. If you've never had anal sex, it could hurt." The businesswoman swung around as the man brought over the harness and held up the part with the small black cone-shaped object. "We always use lube when we put it in."

The woman swallowed hard. What the hell was she getting herself into? "Hell, go ahead. Might as well go the whole way."

He greased it up. "Relax your muscles, and I'll ease it in as gently as I can." Tricia leaned forward against the table and clenched her teeth. The butt plug went most of the way in, met with resistance, then popped in.

"OHMYGOD!"

"Are you okay?" the trainer asked.

Tricia was still gasping, and it took her several seconds to get the words out. "I. Just. Came."

It had been the quickest, most intense orgasm she had ever felt. As she tried to catch her breath, her mind reeling, the trainer took the opportunity to fit the harness around her body. When she had recovered, he took each wrist and imprisoned it in a wrist cuff. It was then that Tricia truly felt helpless, as there was no way she could get out of her restraints herself. She could feel her heart beating faster and forced herself to calm down.

"And finally, the bridle." The trainer held the thick bit before her face. "Open wide." The bit was jammed into the back of her mouth, pinning her tongue and propping her jaws open. Now she could not even yell for help, as speech was effectively stifled.

The bitter taste of vulcanized rubber filled her mouth as the leather straps were tightened around her head. When the trainer finished, he stepped back.

"Perfect."

The businesswoman stood there, unable to do much besides awkwardly keeping her balance. Her sphincter muscles kept trying to cope with the blockage of the butt plug, involuntarily tightening every twenty or thirty seconds, sending tiny orgasms rippling through her body. She stole a glance at her clothes, but the trainer was already clipping reins to her bit, and he gave a quick tug. "Okay, let's go."

He freed Renee's reins and took them, too, leading both women back outside, Tricia stumbling along as if wearing heels for the first time.

As soon as the sun hit her, Tricia felt embarrassed and ashamed. What if someone saw her like this? But then she remembered how the farm was hidden behind thick growths of trees. With luck, no one would ever know she had submitted herself to this humiliating ordeal.

He put her on the training carousel. There were a few others already on it. Tricia pranced along, following the gentle pull of the revolving overhead framework on her reins and the commands of the trainer. Now that she was with others, she felt less self-conscious. The constant orgasms from the buttplug helped, too, and she soon found herself enjoying this disciplined workout. In fact, she felt a delicious sense of dirtiness from being outside in just underwear doing something naughty.

After going around and around until she was nearly dizzy, they were allowed to stop and then bottles of water with straws were clipped to the fronts of their harnesses. Barely five minutes passed before she was once again taken away for some more training.

They worked her hard. She wanted them to stop, but each time she tried to speak, she was smacked in the ass with a riding crop and told to be quiet. Tricia finally resigned herself to the fact that she would not get a chance to voice her opinion until the end of the day.

By the time the training ended, she could barely stay on her feet, and had to be nearly dragged back to the stable. In the shower room, they were stripped, hosed down with cold water, and dried off. Their tack was put back on, and each ponygirl was led to a stall. Tricia found herself stumbling along, wanting this whole thing to end, but barely able to stay awake after her day of intense training. She was also naked, and this did not please her at all.

In the stall, she was held in place by straps from her waist belt to each side of the stall. The bit was removed, but before she could utter a word, a feedbag was clipped to her bridle. The smell of food was intoxicating, and she ate, thoughts of being set free put on the back burner for the moment.

She finished her food and waited. After a long time, someone finally came and removed the feedbag. As she began to voice her objection to being a ponygirl for one second more, a muzzle was slapped over her mouth and buckled to the bridle. Because of her tiredness, her struggles were feeble, and the stablehands easily lay her down on the bed in the back of the stall. One strap connected the back of her harness to the back wall, as did straps looped around the ankles of her pony boots. Leaving the bed was now out of the question.

Still, she made the attempt before giving up and falling asleep a few minutes later. She wasn't even aware of the lights going off.

Her sleep was so deep that morning seemed to come within seconds. She was still groggy as she was pulled to her feet, dressed, and given breakfast. Then she was taken outside for some more training.

Tricia went through the motions, occasionally getting a sharp swat on the behind. It slowly dawned on her that she was trapped, tricked by an old friend into becoming a prisoner to a band of devoted fetishists, and that there was nothing she could do about it.

A few days later, when her head was shaved into a mane, she was too tired to even cry. They wouldn't have done it if there was any chance that someone would come to her rescue. What had they told her employer? Her friends? Why had Renee done this to her?

In time, she came to a grudging acceptance of her fate, even to the point where the branding of her ass did not bother her. She lived only for the most basic rewards now-- orgasms, food, affection-- and no longer cared about things like money, status, or intellectually-stimulating activities. Tricia, or Yuppiebitch as she was now called, was now a full-fledged ponygirl, just like her old friend, Megapussy.

----------

For a successful "recruitment", Megapussy was given a candy bar a day for a week, which she wolfed down greedily. It wouldn't be her last attempt at roping in others. And if Yuppiebitch could be trained in such techniques, she would be recruiting others, too, from her circle of friends, casting the net ever wider.