Aunt Ann's Pony Life Ch. 05

She looked so damn sexy I couldn't look away.

Andi reached up and gave a little twist to the red feather topknot and set it aside.

She undid the little clip that held the nasal hooks in place and laid them aside by the feather topknot. I noticed that her nostrils stayed flared.

I watched carefully as she undid the complicated series of little leather straps and buckles that held the headgear on. As I saw the pattern I started on the other side, again amazed at how tightly the leather was held to Dakota.

Her cap of hair was soaked. Hell, she looked like she had just stepped out of the shower, an image enhanced by her runny nose and mouth along with the sweat still pouring freely off of her. I found the way the sweat collected and then dripped off of her nipples particularly fetching.

The final step before the hooves was the bit. When Andi pulled it free Dakota worked her jaws, swallowed, and went back to standing patiently.

Both sets of hooves required unlacing a lot of leather lace.

"Forelegs first," Andi said, and started working on the laces. I followed suit with the tedious process on the other foreleg and realized that there was a lot of work to be done and patience required to be a Handler.

And I was starting to think of my new role in those terms, as a proper noun.

"And hind legs," she said. Dakota knew what to do, of course, and hopped up onto the table.

As I started unlacing her left hoof, and Andi was unlacing the right, I asked, "Why not use zippers or snaps or velcro or something?"

The way she looked at me I realized that there were, contrary to what your teachers had taught you, stupid questions.

"Because Handlers," and the way she said it made the capitalization clear and made me think that I had become accepted into this strange community at least a little, "need to share the experience completely. Shortcuts would cut back on that."

I thought about that as I worked my way down the twenty-two eyelets through which laces passed. I would learn later that all of the Pony hooves at Pink Pony employed the traditional twenty-two eyelets.

I nodded. "That makes sense," I said.

"And now, we groom her," Andi said.

Dakota moved around to be on all fours, this time hands and knees. The drugs still had her, the neutralizer was, evidently, pretty slow acting, and thick strings of mucus and drool, too thick to be called just saliva, hung from her nose and mouth. She was still more Pony than woman, but I thought I saw the first glimmering of recognition in her eyes.

"Come along, and put your damn eyes back in your head," Andi said, walking away.

So I followed to a door that she opened. It was a mundane utility closet and she got a bucket, a galvanized bucket like you've seen before, like you could buy at any Tractor Supply store, surprising me. I suppose I expected something silver and chrome or something, in this place.

She reached up and pulled down a big bottle, it reminded me of something from the dermatologist I had visited once when I had a little basal cell removed. It was a white bottle with plain black lettering. "Body Wash" was on the label and I figured it was a commercial product.

Andi carefully measured a half cup of the body wash into the bucket and then filled it from a faucet on the wall to a clearly painted black line near the top of the bucket.

She grabbed a couple of big natural sponges and said, "Bring the bucket."

As we approached the table where Dakota was on hands and knees I thought I saw recognition as she watched us.

"First," Andi said, dipping the bit sponge into the bucket, "we wash her down." Matching deed to word, she sloshed the sponge across Dakota's shoulder and forelimb, almost like she was washing a car.

I followed suit, enjoying the odd intimacy of washing her body.

Dakota would shiver a little as we sloshed the soapy water on new skin, and make those odd snorting sounds, something I would come to think of as a "nicker."

We did her completely like that. It was strangely impersonal, reaching under her to do belly and breasts. We did her ass, asshole, and pussy as well and as thoroughly.

I was surprised when Andi finished by pouring the remaining water over Dakota's head, making her snort and seeming to take her much closer to being a woman again.

"Now we rub her down," Andi said, grabbing two of the big coarse towels on a shelf on the wall, behind the table and tossing me one. The material was very heavy, very coarse, I thought of burlap.

I could see, as she rubbed, that she wasn't holding back anything. Dakota/Aunt Ann's skin was very pink. So I did the same thing.

Andi toweled Dakota/Aunt Ann's hair, leaving it a flyaway cap and I did her face, carefully, leaving her with pink cheeks.

"Okay honey," Andi said to Aunt Ann, and it was Aunt Ann now, "sit up and drink this."

"What's that?" I asked.

"The rest of the neutralizer," she said, "it will finish bringing her back, well, about 80 percent of the way back. Don't expect bright conversation, but she's back and aware now," and she patted Aunt Ann's head, "aren't you honey?"

Aunt Ann looked up and smiled. It was sort of a blank smile, and said, "Yes."

"Okay, sweety," Andi said, "let's get you dressed."

She pulled that shift Aunt Ann had worn earlier from a wooden peg on the wall. Aunt Ann held her arms up as Andi dropped it over her head.

"Let's go," Andi said.

I took Aunt Ann's hand and followed her.