Pony Up

Perhaps her mixed reaction to the sight of her altered body was partly due to the fact that she had spent so long toning down her natural sexuality. Now that she was confronted with such a blatant display of her own body, a naked image that provided her with no way to escape the sight of her form and shape it seemed almost stranger to her than the changes that had been made to it.

There was no question that a more rational element of Hannah's mind was incensed at the fact that she had been turned into something that was more a fetishist's fantasy than a real woman.

But at the same time there was that little voice that she had unknowingly forced to be silent for so long that was actually trying to remind her of the fact that she was only human after all. It quietly spoke to her, reminding her of the last time that she had allowed another person to see what she was seeing in reflected in the glass. It had been a long time ago and the experience had been tainted with negative emotions that had resulted in yet more effort to withdraw into herself and hide her body under the same clothes that the other guys in the band wore and make the woman beneath anonymous.

Now there was no way to hide the sight of her body and the fact that her hands had been replaced by blunt hooves meant that she could do nothing to cure her nakedness. Deprived of her usual methods of escape and the familiar defences she had come to rely upon, Hannah could do nothing but confront the reality of her own sexuality.

All the time that the rational part of her mind was screaming that she should have been searching for some way out of her captivity, anything that could give her a chance to escape whoever had done this to her.

But the voice was getting smaller and quieter all the time.

The obsessive nature of Hannah's mind became ever more focussed on the sight of herself in the surface of the window and she soon forgot everything else as she knelt down in the artificial grass and curled her legs beneath herself. She examined her strangely equine features as best as she was able with her hooves, feeling the tactile sensation of her lycra skin as one limb ran over another rather than with the fingers that were trapped inside them.

She found that she could move her tail with a little effort and let out a sound that could only be described as the merging of a whiney and a delighted laugh as she watched it shake and twitch over her buttocks.

Hannah remembered the affection that she had always held for horses as a child, tempered as it was by the fact she had grown up in an urban environment and in a family for whom economic reality had rendered contact with the creatures almost as likely as contact with moon dust. But they had always stirred something in her as they did with so many people and she found them filled with a natural grace and beauty that was hard to define and yet impossible to deny.

They were elementally beautiful and they were spirited; then they were broken and tamed so that they would take a rider.

What a sensation that must be, she thought absently, to be taken and ridden.

To be desired so strongly that a battle of will had to be fought and afterwards there was either victory or the submission to the wishes of the one who had broken you; something that was by no means in her thoughts a shameful defeat, but rather an exhilarating sense of being taken and mastered.

Hannah's eyes drifted slowly to the riding tackle that hung from the wall outside the stable as she bit her lower lip.

She had always loved horses, but had she really been in love with the idea of being one?

It was an insane thought, but the more she looked at the tackle the more she could imagine the sensation of the halter around her head and the feel of the bit in her mouth.

The hint of movement caught in the corner of her eye stirred her from her thoughts and she turned her head to see that she was no longer alone in the strange room.

A section of the wall that stood to her left had slid silently aside to reveal a hidden entrance to the room. It made sense that there had to be some concealed method of entering the room, but in her distracted state, Hannah had not considered the fact seriously and so the sudden revelation of its existence took her by complete surprise.

Alone maybe the hidden door would have remained only a surprise, but with the figure standing before the entrance it became more of a real shock.

The man was tall, well-built and covered from head to toe in a body stocking that rendered him anonymous. He stood silently with his arms by his sides, only the fact that his head was pointed in her direction could have told Hannah that he was looking at her.

As he walked further into the room, she shied away from him and crawled backwards across the artificial grass until stopped by the glass of the room's outer wall.

She did not cry out, but her heart was pounding in her chest as she watched him make his way to the stable.

The Man in Black turned his back on her while he busied himself with the racks of riding tackle on the porch of the stable. Hannah heard him sorting through their contents and taking items that caught his eye according to criteria that she did not understand. As he turned to face her, she saw that he was carrying in one hand a full set of harness and bit, while in the other he gripped a short riding crop.

Hannah felt her stomach muscles tighten and her buttocks clench at the sight of the crop. She was pressed up against the glass to such a degree that as she pushed herself to her feet, her yellow backside was almost flattened against the smooth surface.

When the Man in Black was within a few feet of her, she made a half-hearted effort to launch herself forward and flail at him with her arms. But he simply stepped backwards and out of her reach, allowing her momentum to carry her forwards and down onto her knees in the fake grass.

He dropped the crop and quickly took advantage of her disorientation to slip the bit into her mouth and then the rest of the harness around her head. Hannah began to recover from her tumble just as the leather straps tightened around her face, pulling her head backwards in a motion that she was powerless to resist.

Filled with humiliation and panic, Hannah surged to her feet as adrenaline flooded her body. The Man in Black did nothing to stop her rising from the floor, but he kept a firm hand on the reigns that were now attached to the girl's head and made sure that no matter how hard she struggled he was totally in control.

Hannah fought with all the strength she could muster, she shouted and swore while she tried in vain to twist out of her tormentor's grip. At least she thought she swore. In reality the device in her throat turned her words into the angry snorting and protesting sounds of a young pony. She kicked and lashed out on the end of the reigns as her emotions took over completely and in that moment it would have been impossible to tell that it was a woman on the end of the leather tackle and not an actual pony in the process of being broken to take a rider.

Eventually she was forced to her knees and found herself braced over the Man in Black's own thigh as he reached down and retrieved his riding crop from where it had fallen in the grass.

The blows that fell upon her buttocks were not brutal or likely to raise welts upon her flesh, but Hannah still cried out in alarm as the sensation of pain reached her with each pass of the crop. With the passing of each swipe, a little more of the fight went out of her muscles and she began to loosen up bodily so that she offered less of a firm target for the leather as it connected with her backside. Soon she was only being kept from collapsing to the floor by the efforts of the Man in Black and his firm hold on her reigns.

Finally he allowed her to slump to the ground and fall onto her knees, where she simply remained still and took deep breaths as her body still refused to offer any resistance.

Hannah did not see or hear the Man in Black remove his penis from a well hidden opening in the front of his body stocking. It was by now erect and covered in a dark latex sheath that served the same purpose as a more common condom and he was well versed in its use.

The first thing she felt was the sensation of its head, brushing against her bruised buttocks. There was no conscious reaction to the feeling, but somehow she knew what was expected of her and slowly moved onto all fours. Without knowing that she was doing so, her tail raised to allow his member better access.

As his penis slipped between her legs and he entered her, Hannah wondered if there was a moment in which a horse felt this same emotion once it had been taken and tamed. This was not sex as she had known it in the past, not the mutual experience that could be shared between two equal partners. This was a consummation of the confrontation that had taken place moments before in which the Man in Black had attempted to assert his will over her and she had resisted. It was a struggle that she had lost and now she was subject to his whims and powerless to fight back any more.

The movement of his member inside her was confusing more than anything else. Hannah rested her hooves that had replaced her hands on the grass and found that she was quivering with the sensations of the intercourse in a way that she had never done before. For her the entire experience once she had stopped resisting had become passive and she simply allowed the thing to happen to her, feeling her body react to his attentions with no thought of when it would end or what would come next.

Part of her knew that she could have kept on fighting, struggled for all she was worth.

So why had she folded?

All she knew for sure was that she had no answer to that question there and then.

The Man in Black pulled out before he was spent and gave a gentle tug on her reigns so that Hannah instinctively rose to her back hooves. He pushed her back against the glass and picked her up so that she was forced to wrap her legs around his waist. She weighed little in comparison to him and he had no trouble in supporting her weight and allowing gravity to make her sink back down onto his penis. He began to move once more, this time looking her in the eye as much as possible behind his own hood as he did so.

The change in the dynamics and the positions baffled Hannah. One moment she had been literally been in the middle of being dominated and what she could only describe as fucked. The next she was being held in a position and entered in a manner that some might have described as being made love to.

On a sane level it made no sense at all, but perhaps in the world where one kidnapped women and turned them into anthropomorphic ponies it made perfect sense. Perhaps now that she had been dominated, it was time to show that there was a softer and more sensitive side to the relationship between horse and rider.

Where before the Man in Black had been dominating and determined, he was now gentle and seemed to be intent upon sensing Hannah's own reaction to his attentions. He moved in a way that heightened her sounds of pleasure and played with her nipples when he saw that she was excited by the act. Soon she was on the brink of her own climax and though he came before she did, he made sure she was not long behind him.

When it was over he let her down onto the grass and led her back to the stables by the reigns. She was exhausted by the experience and could think of nothing but sleep. Sinking down onto the thick carpet of hay that lined the floor of the stable she was unable to resist as she fell into a deep slumber, haunted by troubling dreams.

Hannah was jolted awake by the familiar feeling of the tour bus hitting a speed bump while travelling at a speed that the object was supposed to discourage. She shook the sleep out of her head and sat up so fast that she almost collided with the low ceiling above her bunk.

She looked at the hand that she had saved her skull with and saw that it was perfectly normal, pink and possessing the standard five digits.

A quick glance in the mirror that was attached to the wall at the foot of her bunk showed her own face staring back at her.

Before she could even think that the entire thing had been a dream, she was suddenly aware of the fact that her backside was simmering in pain despite the fact she was back in the real world and seemingly no longer a lycra pony.

Hannah had no idea how she had been returned to the bus without, it seemed, another soul knowing she had been gone. It was a mystery that she could not begin to fathom, but she was strangely sure that she would not be sharing her experience with anyone else for a long time.

The sound of her band mates staring to stir in their own bunks sealed her determination to keep this whole thing secret. The last thing she needed was for people to start thinking that she had made the entire thing up and she was convinced that in conjunction with her more eccentric mental habits that would be construed as the beginning of her finally losing her marbles.

She would keep this to herself and get on with life.

But the mere thought of anything equine made her shiver with a guilty sensation even as she pushed it out of her mind.

The Man in Black swung the crop through the air and tried to distract himself from the music that was filling the room with the sharp crack that it made. He was no true fan of the band themselves, but as he had just done something with their vocalist, Hannah Watson, that many would have considered a heinous crime and it seemed the least he could do to punish himself.

Casanover were never going to be something that he would have listened to under normal circumstances and it was not even their music that had brought the erstwhile Miss Watson to his attention in the first place.

He recalled all the interviews in which he had seen her voicing her opinions so loudly and with such conviction born of youthful innocence and a natural intelligence that he had been instantly intrigued by her character.

The Man in Black supposed that had he been a more normal human being, he would have simply ascribed his interest down to finding her attractive or being stimulated by her character. But as he was so painfully aware, he was not a normal human being and so he had devised a scenario in which he could come into contact with her and test her will against his own.

The thought of riding a real horse had never occurred to him, but he suspected that after riding Miss Watson, the experience would be something of a disappointment.

He dropped the crop from his hand and prepared to endure another track.

He had to admit that to his ears at least, she whinnied better than she sang.