The Pony Pet Factory
Thinking back, you were the kind of guy who never had too many friends. You weren’t really picked on or bullied, you just sort of existed. You weren’t a very popular kid. You were basically an extra, a background prop, at your high school. Throughout school, you were a bit of a loner. You were good at a handful of classes, but you were never really bright enough to be recognized for academic achievements. And sports… Forget it. You were lucky enough to scrape by PE class with a passing grade (you hated the gym uniform). You weren’t the tallest, but you weren’t short, and you weighed about 130 pounds. Blue eyes, and longish brown hair, and if you didn’t shave after a few days, stubble.
There were a few things you did to escape the monotony and boredom of life. You spent much of your time on the computer, either playing the latest roleplaying game or trolling on various forums. You watched a lot of YouTube videos and left a lot of hateful comments. And, of course, you were a frequent poster on 4chan. You posted on quite a few boards, /pol/, /mu/, /tv/, /k/, and a few more, but never /b/. You were above that.
You could never have prepared for the drastic way that your life would change.
It was a cloudy overcast day when it happened. You had just been let out of school and had begun your walk home. You didn’t have a car (which sucked) and you didn’t ride the bus (which sucked even more). You noticed a strange black van driving slowly behind you, which gave you the creeps. You had seen enough episodes of To Catch a Predator to know that perverts were out and about, and willing to do harm. You picked up the pace and headed through an emptier part of the neighborhood, the area where the houses were still under construction, most of them little more than empty wooden skeletons, a few with walls half built.
You darted past a pile of lumber and trash. The van kept up, and you were getting considerably freaked out, so you broke out into a full sprint. You took a sharp right and heard tires screech and the engine rev. Fuck… Fuck… You tossed your backpack for speed. You could come back to it later… Or not, depending on how this ended. You ducked behind a work truck. The van was gone… no… It wasn’t. You could see dust kicking up. There it was, coming down the adjacent street, and straight towards your position. You looked around quickly and grabbed a brick.
Crawling on your stomach, through the dried cracked dirt, was not fun at all. All the time you spent in those military simulators like Arma and Red Orchestra seemed to come back to you as you crawled for your life. You managed to snake your way about the construction site, and come up to where the van was about to pass. You stood, every muscle in your body tense, as if electricity coursed through your veins. The only thing you could hear was the sound of the van’s engine, and your heart pounding. You cocked your arm back. You knew your throw was never going to compare to the star quarterback’s, but this would have to do. The van passed and… CRASH! You sent the brick sailing through the left side’s passenger window. Your lips curled into a slight smile as you heard an angry “FUCK!” when you ran away.
Your eyes quickly scanned for the next thing that you could utilize against your attackers. A tool box… and it was unlocked. Yes! You flipped it open, looking over your shoulder. A hammer… That was what you grabbed. You made your way into a half built home hoping that it would provide adequate shelter.
You knew that they were hot on your trail. They weren’t exactly quiet. You could hear them kick over piles of debris you were possibly hiding behind, smash windows, and it sounded a lot like one was loading a gun… You heard the unmistakable sound of a magazine being loaded, and the slide pulled back to chamber a round.
They entered the house. The sound of boots on cold concrete echoed in the empty chamber of the home. You ducked inside a small alcove. Maybe it was supposed to be a pantry, closet, or washroom. Whatever. That mattered very little at the moment.
They were getting closer and closer, until you knew for certain that they were just about to pass you… Then you struck.
You whirled out of the side room with your hammer, hitting the man in front solidly in the clavicle. The sound of it snapping combined with the man’s anguished cries made you smile. You struck again, this time with an overhead strike aimed at his head. Unfortunately (for you) he raised his right arm, and it got in the way. Your blow landed just where his forearm met his elbow, and you felt it give in a way it shouldn’t have. The man in the front had the gun, and only managed to get off two shots: one in the floor, and the other in the ceiling. Your foot kicked into his left wrist, which knocked his hand back and sent the gun skidding at an angle across the floor. He fell to the ground, hard.
More men approached from behind, eerily silent. One of them raised a long piece of shiny black wood, a nightstick. He wore black pants with many pockets. Black leather gloves covered his hands. He wore a dark colored camo jacket, and a black ski mask covered his face. His eyes were dark blue, and cold. You chucked your hammer at him like a tomahawk. You didn’t stick around to see where it landed, but it was probably his chin or chest, unless he put up a hand to stop it. Even then, it would likely stop the man.
Tossing the hammer proved to be a good choice. It bought a few seconds of time for you to turn and leap out the window. You made it out without looking back, and turned the corner around the house and made a beeline out of there. Where could you hide? That’s it… The Porta Potty! Dashing up to it, you flung open the door and heaved inside. You quickly patted yourself down for gunshot wounds. You knew you weren’t hit, but you just couldn’t stop yourself from double checking.
Once you gave yourself the all clear, you sat silent in the stinky plastic hull. It seemed like an hour had passed, but it was probably a little less than five minutes. Should you call the cops? No… Your phone was dead. That’s what you get for playing games and browsing 4chan on it all day in class. Fuck.
Then you heard something that made your heart nearly stop. Footsteps, and a lot of them. They stopped only feet away. You could hear one of the men speak. He had a high, soft voice, and sounded not at all like a masked goon. “Anyone see where he went?” You could just make out that the men had walked away.
Then your world was turned upside down. Someone slammed into the Porta Potty, knocking it on its side. Your head smashed into the hard grimy plastic with an awful sound as piss and shit washed up over you. You stared at the door, dazed, as it was yanked open to reveal the legs of four men, all clad in the black tactical pants. Someone grabbed your collar and pulled you out. You looked up at the man, straight into his eyes as he swung the dark nightstick at your head. You didn’t feel it as he struck you. Everything became black as you were separated from your consciousness...
…
A Few Hours Later
...
You slowly regained awareness. Your head was pounding. Your gravity felt off, and you could hear a strange voice. There was a bad taste in your mouth. You opened your eyes… You were hanging.
You were strapped to a conveyor belt, spread out in an “X” shape. You were high off the ground, maybe 50 feet or more, inside of a huge modern looking factory. It almost seemed like too much, over the top, like something out of Dexter’s Lab. Everything was white or metal and shiny. The lights over head were bright fluorescents. The artificial light made your eyes hurt. You stopped focusing on your surroundings and now listened intently to the voice.
It was a mechanical sounding female voice. It said a short message, and then repeated it. The message was:
“Hello. I am proud to inform you that you have been specially selected for our program here at the Pony Pet Factory. Please bear with us while we sort and categorize you before the program begins. Thank you!”
You could see another conveyor belt across from you. This one seemed to have much less people strapped to it. Looking ahead and behind, you could see that your conveyor belt had far more people… All types of people. Mainly people like you, young teens, mostly whites, mostly males, though there were a more than just a few Hispanic looking people, and a few blacks from where you could see from your position. There were also a couple of women, though not very much. Up ahead, the conveyor belt twisted so that you were in a more conventional position: flat on your back as if laying on a bed, rather than hanging. Both sides of the conveyor belt led towards the wall, separated by a huge one way glass window. The sides of the wall hung down low, giving just enough clearance for you to pass on to the next room.
Upon entering the new room, you could see men in strange rubber uniforms standing on either side of the conveyor belt, fixing large tags around each person’s neck. They looked like they had just come straight from the Ebola ward or something. Some people were awake and screaming, putting up a fight, and others remained knocked out. You tried to break your bonds, but it was futile. A large person in the creepy rubber suit (boots and gas mask and all) put your tag on you. You tried to pivot your neck at a most uncomfortable angle to read what it said, but it made no sense to you.
All it read was: “M. #5346”
You passed through a layer of long thick plastic strips that hung down from the ceiling, which separated the room with the masked men from the room coming up ahead.
Here, there were robots. Not real robots, like something from Star Wars, but something more along the lines of those at car manufacturing plants. Maybe those were the real robots. But that didn’t matter now… Escape was what mattered. Long arms extended up from the floor and ran along the conveyor belt. On the end of each on was a nasty looking blade. On either side, a pair of larger arms lowered themselves to be even with your shit stained jeans. They dug in, cutting the jeans, ripping and tearing. A smaller pair of blades, shears, descended from above and cut at your shirt, and then went lower, for your underwear. After this, some arms that ended in pincers appeared, and took the scraps, dropping them sloppily into a waiting waste receptacle, leaving you naked and humiliated. Then it was onto the next room, separated by similar heavy plastic flaps.
The arms off to the side held large buckets, and they dumped their contents on the helpless passerby’s. It was a thick white powder. What was it? Delouser, perhaps? You coughed as the powder billowed up around you.
The next room you came to hosed you down… painfully. The hose seemed to have the force of a piece of firefighting equipment and would surely have knocked you off the conveyor belt had you not been strapped down. You left the room feeling tender, your skin reddening rapidly.
The next room opened up and you could see a long space ahead of you, with no sign of the hanging plastic wall dividers. Looking to your side, you could see that the other conveyor belt must have veered off somewhere else. It was nowhere to be found. You looked ahead again, and your eyes grew wide… Needles. Giant needles. They were connected to the arms of the machines. The vials were clear glass, and inside was a sloshy pink liquid… You didn’t want to be injected with that!
Unfortunately, you didn’t exactly have much of a choice. The only thing you could do was watch helplessly as you everyone in front of you was injected, until you were the next in line. The arm flicked away and dropped the empty vial into a trash bin, then dipped low and received a new vial, filled to the brim with pink liquid. You heart began to pound as it lowered, until it was just above your skin. You felt it touch your skin, and then push in slowly. You clenched your teeth as it pierced your thigh. You watched the machine push the end of the vial in, injecting the chemical into your body. You could actually feel it flow into you. It felt cold. Then the needle withdrew, the arm swung to the side, the empty vial was dropped, and you were pushed ahead.
The path ahead continued for quite some time… Eventually you began to feel sick. What exactly had they injected you with? Your stomach churned, and you felt like puking. Your joints ached, and your head began to pound. You began to sweat and shake.
This continued for about fifteen minutes, but to you, it seemed like an eternity.
Then something else happened. Every muscle in your body strained painfully. You arched your back against the restraints. The fingers on your hand curled inwards into a balled fist. Your joints began to pop with a disgusting sound. You started to twist and writhe, a sound escaping your lips that sounds somewhere in between a moan and a howl. You began to grit your teeth. Then you heard a snap… Did your forearm just break? Then another breaking sound… Was that your leg? You couldn’t tell as your body was so racked with pain you were preoccupied. Your teeth suddenly began to feel loose. You could feel them wiggle about in your mouth… They were coming out! You laid your head to the side and spat, sending 4 teeth skittering across the conveyor belt and onto the floor, leaving blood in your mouth.
You were unable to open your fists now, and your toes had also curled up. You face began to feel strange, especially your nose, mouth, and eye sockets. Your eye sockets grew larger, and your vision blurred. Your nose was bigger, and it felt like your mouth, especially your upper jaw, was being smashed together with it. You gave a weak combination half cough half spit, and out came the last of your teeth. You could feel something coming in to take their place… New teeth! They were wide and flat, much different than the ones you had before… Those were designed to eat meat. These weren’t. Something fell into your face obscuring your vision. You tossed your head back to clear your eyes. It was your hair. Somehow it was getting longer! Your knees popped and bent backwards, and for some reason, it felt like you were getting smaller.
Your shoulders and ribcage seemed to be shrinking, quite painfully. In addition, it seemed that much of your body weight (not that there was much to begin with) was being re-distributed. All over your body, your skin began to itch and turn a pale white… It looked like the skin of a corpse. Your ass seemed to become more cushioned with fat, and you felt a burst of pain just above it on your lower back. Hair protruded from the wound, probably about six inches worth. By this point, your skin was covered with small white hairs.
Your face felt completely alien, like it had been remodeled. Your neck began to burn. Your hair grew and grew, curling out and hanging down. The hair that came out of your tailbone was getting longer as well, twisting down below your knees to your shins. Between being pressed and rubbed by your butt, legs, and the conveyor belt, it was growing matted. Your eyes began to clear again. Downstairs… Things began to change and shift around. Your penis shrunk and retracted, and you were able to feel every little detail. Everything ended up inside of your body, and you felt something shifting around… And then you felt yourself open up.
You lifted your head off the conveyor belt, and then let it drop back down with a thud. You closed your eyes and saw nothing more…
…
A Few Days Later
…
You awoke alone, in a concrete room. No, you were in a cell. The three walls were made of a cold gray concrete and the entrance to the cell was blocked by metal bars. You stood and…
What happened to you?!!
You let out a scream, and it sounded nothing like you.
It sounded like a girl!
And your body… You looked down. You had no arms. Instead, you stood on all fours in the cell. Your body was covered by a white fur. When you looked down, long locks of hair fell into your face. Alarmingly, your hair was now two toned… Light blue and purple instead of your usual brown. You turned around and saw your behind. Your ass looked rather plump, and you had a tail, which shared the same colors as your… uhh… mane… and hung all the way to the floor. You lowered your head to look underneath your legs, at your stomach. Your little man was gone. In its place was something that… Well… You had quite frankly never seen in person before. But now you had one. Directly in front of the gash were two small mounds, with nipples that stood up, looking like eraser heads. You felt like you were going to puke.
You heard the rattling and clanging of metal and looked up to find a man standing before you, unlocking your cell door with a huge key on a ring. He looked rather professional. He wore a white doctor’s coat.
“Shhh… No need to scream.” He looked at you with a sleazy smile that made you nervous. “I’m glad to see you’re awake.” A second later and he was inside your cell. He reached in his coat and produced a pink harness, something that looked like it was used to walk dogs. “Don’t worry; it’s just a harness, so you don’t try to run off anywhere.” He quickly fastened it on your chest, and clicked the leash in place on the metal ring on the back. “Now, I’m sure you want to be cleaned up, huh?” He tried to run a hand through your mane, only for it to get stuck in tangles, and cause you pain. You let out a girlish whimper. “You’ve been out for quite some time. You look terrible. And you’ve been in here.” He looked around at the bare gray room. “I apologize for the accommodations. This room is only temporary, you see?” He began to walk you out of the room, looking down at you with an irritated scowl. “Can you speak?”
“Y-yes…” You muttered.
“Say it louder, sweetie.”
“Yes.”
“That’s better. You have such a cute sounding voice!” The man said. “I’m Dr. Morris, by the way.” He continued to walk you along the walkway that ran alongside the cells. Most of the cells were empty, but every now and then you could see a pony lying inside the cell, sleeping on the bed.
Walking felt weird. Somehow you were able to walk on all four legs without much of a problem, despite it being radically different from bipedal movement. The clopping sound that your footsteps made rang in your ears. For a brief moment, you thought about how bizarre this entire situation was. Why a pony? You had browsed /mlp/ infrequently, but just enough to know that people often had fantasies about being turned into a pony, but you never thought it would actually happen. And why you? Why couldn’t they take someone who wanted to be a pony? And why did they have to change your sex?! Fucking bronies.
You came to a stop with a jerk. Dr. Morris pulled tightly on your harness. “Here we are.” In front of you, there stood two glass doors, which he pushed open. Inside, it looked like a place where you would take your dog to go get groomed, like a pet resort. There was a young looking girl setting at the front desk, looking over a clipboard.
“Hello, Miranda.” Dr. Morris said, a smile on his face. “We have another one here that needs to be washed up.”
“Oh, of course.” The girl, probably no more than 20, bit her lip and peered over the counter at you. “Oh, she’s going to look so pretty!” Miranda looked back over her shoulder. “We don’t have anyone free at the moment. I could take her.” Dr. Morris only nodded and handed her your leash, and then left to sit down in one of the chairs for waiting guests. He picked up a magazine and began to read it.
“This way!” Miranda called out in a sing-song voice before gently tugging you to the back of the room. You passed through a doorway, and before you stood a large shower room. The tiles were a soft pink, and there were dog sized bathtubs that lined the walls. Above each tub was a shower nozzle, attached to the wall by a hose. There were three other ponies here, each getting washed by someone. There were eight bathtubs to the each side, bringing the total count to sixteen. Miranda led you to the nearest one, and picked you up and put you inside. She took off your harness before taking down the shower head.
“Are you ready to get squeaky clean? Say, do you have a name yet, honey?”
You nodded and started to speak, before Miranda cut you off.
“No, no. That’s your old name. I mean a new one, one that fits the new you! No? Well, we’ll just have to think of one, won’t we sweetie?”
It was hard to get a word in with Miranda.
The first blast of the shower was very cold, which Miranda quickly commented on and corrected, turning the water warmer. It was actually rather nice. Miranda got some soap bottles and held them up to you “What soap should we use? Honeysuckle? Rose? Lilac? Hmm… Let’s go with Lilac.” She began to scrub you all over, working the soap into your white fur. As she neared your backside, you began to make a strange face. Soon, she was rubbing her fingers over your nipples. Miranda smirked. “Like that, don’t you?” She said playfully. Then she went over you with the warm water, washing all of the soap off and down the drain.
After that, she held up another bottle for you to view. Just in case you couldn’t read (or perhaps for humiliation) she said “Luxurious Mane and Tail – For Mares... Creates volume and shine.” She looked back at you, into your eyes. “I’m sure this will do nicely. What do you think?”
Without waiting to hear your comments, Miranda began to lather up your mane, leaving it full of suds, and then worked on your tail. “Your tail is so long…” Miranda mumbled almost to herself. For a second time, the shower nozzle was brought down and you felt the warm water wash over you, this time in your mane and tail. “Close your eyes, please…”
Miranda declared your bath finished and helped you out of the tub. She produced a fluffy pink towel and began to dry you off. You couldn’t deny that it felt good.
You were dried for the most part, although your mane still hung down damp. Miranda got another towel and wrapped it up around your mane in a turban like fashion. She led you into another room. The room was a grooming room. Unlike the bathing area, this room was totally empty. Miranda looked down on you with eyes that looked they were deciding what to do with you. “Luckily for you, I’m a certified stylist. Otherwise you’d have to sit around and wait for one to become available. And I’ve kinda taken a liking to you; I wouldn’t want to give you up.”
You were hoisted high up, onto a metal table, and your legs were secured in straps. She turned the table around so you could no longer see yourself in the mirror. Miranda opened a drawer and produced a pink muzzle, adorned with hearts. “This is just in case you get a little snappy.” She informed you while placing it on you. “I’m sure you won’t be a problem, and you’ll be a sweet girl. However, after a little… incident, this has become company policy. I’m sorry.”
“Mmmhhhmm!” Was all you could reply.
She took your mane down out of the towel, and it flopped down, wet, below your shoulders… Or at least the pony equivalent of shoulders. Thinking about your new anatomy blew your mind, especially when it came to thinking about what you packed (or lacked) below the belt.
Miranda took out a large brush and began to run it through your mane. It felt nice. You closed your eyes, listening to the sound of the brush as it passed through your long mane, and feeling the little tug of your head in the direction of her brush. Miranda began to hum a sweet little melody, soothing you. Over and over again, she brushed. A soft sigh escaped your lips. After nearly one hundred strokes, Miranda moved on to your tail, working out all the knots and kinks. Even after it had been smoothed out, she continued to brush.
Miranda noticed how much you were enjoying the treatment. “Don’t worry, this certainly won’t be the last time you have brushy time. I can tell you already love it.”
Your mane was still a little wet, and Miranda moved away for a moment. You could hear her open a few drawers and retrieve some items. You closed your eyes again.
Tsht, tsht, tsht… Was that a spray bottle? Snip, snip, snip… She was cutting your hair! You felt your lips form into a frown, and you peeked your right eye open. Miranda was right in your face with her scissors. “Shh… It’s okay.” She cooed. You shut your eye again.
She cut and cut, and then combed some more before cutting again. Finally she moved to your rear, and began work on your tail. Snip, snip, snip. Occasionally, you could feel a lock of hair brush up against your back legs as it fell from your tail. You could see a clock across the room, and you counted how long it took. Thirty minutes.
“Alright. I think you’re done. Open your eyes, and look straight ahead at me.”
You complied and opened up your eyes. Once again, she was in front of you. She pulled down on your mane on either side of your shoulders, checking to make sure it was even. “Now, just a little bit here…” She said, trailing off before cutting a little bit off the left side of your mane. “Perfect.”
Miranda got the harness out, and put it on you. Then she attached it to a pulley that ran overhead. She released your hooves (yes, you now had hooves) and pulled you up a bit. You were now dangling freely. It wasn’t uncomfortable. “Now let’s get to work on those little hoovesies of yours!”
Miranda retrieved a scrubbing brush and started on your front hooves. It felt a little odd at first, but the feeling was soon replaced with a nice tingling feeling. She moved rapidly to your back hooves. Miranda put the brush up and now it was time for a file. She made your hooves nice and smooth, the file working down uneven spots and imperfections. She placed the file down and reappeared in front of you, holding two bottles.
“Hoof polish!!!” She said shrilly, giggling. “What color do you want? Red?” She held up a bottle of red hoof polish. “What about pink?” She shrugged. “Actually… For starters, I think you’d look really pretty with a clear coat. Let’s do that.” She opened the bottle of polish, and you wrinkled your nose at the stench. She took the little brush that came on the inside of the cap and began to apply the polish to your hooves… It felt cold and wet. This didn’t take very long.
“Alright, you’re almost done.” Miranda said as she took out a hairdryer and a large round brush. She began to dry your mane and tail and brush them out. Then she focused the hair dryer on your hooves. She nodded her head and flicked the dryer off. “Finished… Oh wait… One more thing.” She grabbed something from the counter. You could see that she held a small piece of metal in her hands. “You have some very pretty lashes already but if we could just…” She stopped herself, holding up what was in her hands. It was an eyelash curler. “Now just hold still…” She used it on your right eye, and then moved to your left eye. “1, 2, 3, 4, 5. There! Now you are done!” She lowered your harness, and then removed your muzzle. She turned you around towards the mirror…
You looked… nice.
Your mane was long, and hung down mostly straight, except for the ends where it curled up slightly in a flip. It reached to just about where your legs connected to your body. Your mane was evenly divided between the light blue and purple that you had seen earlier. Miranda had given you a part off to the right, so most of your hair was combed over and hung just above your right eye. A little blue lock hung down in front of your ear on the left. She had cut it in large layers, giving you just a few that made your mane look nice and full.
Your tail no longer dangled on the floor, for it had been trimmed by Miranda. It was still very long, but it now hung primly just above the floor. At least you wouldn’t drag it everywhere now. Its color was similar to your mane, and Miranda had just slightly put layers in it too.
Your coat was beautiful. It was a gleaming white, and you could just tell how soft it was from looking at it. It smelled wonderful, too.
Your hooves flashed when the light hit them, and were so polished you could see a reflection of yourself in them. They felt tender and ticklish to the touch.
Your eyes were a beautiful dark purple color, darker than the purple of your mane. They were surrounded by lovely long dark eyelashes… The kind you always liked on girls. Now they were on you.
Your entire body shone and gleamed, from your mane all the way to your hooves.
“You okay?” Miranda asked, laughing. “Don’t worry, you’ll soon get used to looking so pretty all the time. You’re gorgeous, don’tcha think?” She breathed in deeply and clasped a hand over her mouth. “Oh, that’s right, I forgot… You’ve probably never felt pretty a day in your life before today, huh?”
Miranda helped you down from the table, all the while laughing. She didn’t bother putting the leash on you. She walked you out to where Dr. Morris was waiting, still reading the magazine. When he looked up and saw you, he smiled… and you felt a little weird.
“Was she good?” He asked as he rose.
“Oh, she was a doll. And look how she turned out!”
“Yes, one of the better ones, that’s for sure. Thank you.” Dr. Morris gave her a curt little bow of his head, and turned on his heels. “Follow me.”
As you left, you could hear Miranda calling out to you. “Come back soon, sweetie! And don’t forget to ask for me!” The doors of the spa swung shut behind you.
“Are you ready to go to your room?” Dr. Morris asked you.
“N-no… I don’t want to go back there…”
“Oh no, we aren’t taking you back to your cell, especially after we’ve spent so much time prettying you up. No, this is your room. Aren’t you excited? You’ll get to meet your roommates.”
“R-roommates?”
“Yes, three of them, to be exact.” You weren’t exactly sure how to respond.
You noticed that you had taken a different route this time, and you weren’t walking along the cells. Instead, it looked almost like you were in an apartment block… A rather nice one. How big could this place possibly be? Where on earth was it located? The area you were in looked far comfier than the cellblock. It was actually decorated, although it looked a bit dated with fake potted plants and garish pink and yellow walls. The carpet was soft, and that was a nice change.
Dr. Morris came to a stop. “Ahh, yes… Here we are.” You looked at the door, which was numbered “303”. Dr. Morris unlocked the door with a much smaller key than you had seen him use earlier. He pushed it open. “Ladies first.”
You heard a chorus of feminine shrieks. “Dr, Morris! Dr. Morris! Dr. Morris! DR. MORRIS!” Three ponies rushed him, before turning to you. They were very happy, and could not decide who to pay attention to: the new pony or the doctor?
“Oh my gosh! Are you our new roommate? You look sooo pretty!”
“What’s your name? What’s your name?”
“You’re going to have SO much fun with us!”
“Wow, who did your mane?!”
“Calm down girls, calm down. Give her some space. Let her at least get through the doorway!”
Immediately, the other ponies (other ponies… Were you thinking of yourself as a pony?!) did as he said. You were able to actually enter the room.
It was a strange room. The apartment was only one room, with the exception of a small bathroom. In the middle was a queen sized bed. A small television was mounted on the wall of the left side of the room. There were no windows. All along the back side of the room were four dressers, with a vanity table in the center dividing them into pairs of two. The vanity was white, with a small padded bench tucked up underneath it. You could see various products lying on the top. There was a small kitchen area, with a table for eating at, although it was not separate from the rest of the room. The room was lit by soft lighting. The walls were soft colors, pastel pink and yellow, much like the halls, but with sky blue accents. On the table in the kitchen was a vase of flowers.
“I’m sure you have a few questions.” Dr. Morris said. “Now you’re probably wondering why there is only one bed. The answer is simple. It brings you and your roommates closer together. It… ehh…” He wrung his hands while he searched for the right words. “It encourages relationships… After a month or so, I’m sure you’ll love the system.”
“Over there,” he pointed “Is your kitchen. You can prepare meals and eat here, or if you’d rather not cook yourself, visit the cafeteria. I’m sure your roommates will be glad to take you there sooner or later. On the wall, obviously, is your TV. Feel free to watch TV or hang out with your roommates here. There’s also a few common areas, a rec room, and a pool. Those are all fun places to meet new ponies.”
Dr. Morris walked over to the dressers. “This is where you’ll store your belongings. I believe yours is that one.” He pointed to the one third from the left. “You all share a vanity. I’m sure you’ll spend a lot of time sitting here.” He patted the stool. “There’s also a little closet in the corner, for special outfits that shouldn’t be stuffed into drawers. I’m not sure if you saw that when coming in.” He glanced at the silver watch on his wrist and groaned. He actually seemed like he was enjoying himself earlier, but now he looked saddened. “I have something to attend to, unfortunately. Girls, I hope you treat your new roommate well! I will check up on you shortly. Bye bye.” Dr. Morris made a quick exit.
Your new roommates surrounded you again, lighting you up with more personal, prying questions…
…
Six Months Later
...
Your slowly opened your eyes and looked over at the pony with whom you lay in a tangle with. You spent all last night playing, and it seemed she was still a little tired out. Her name was Graceful Waltz, but you and the other girls called her “Gracie” most of the time. You leaned in close and whispered in her ear. “Gracie, wake up. It’s the big day.”
Graceful Waltz was the closest friend you had. You spent most of your time with her. She had also been a male before this had happened (your other roommates did not disclose the information, although you suspected that they were former males as well). She was a slender pony, smaller than you and your other roommates, She was a caramel color, with a pretty reddish orange mane that she kept in a curled bob. You rose from the bed quietly and walked to the closet. You slid the door open to view the dress that was custom made for you. Dr. Morris had taken you to a tailor and had them take your measurements and design a dress for you. All of your roommates agreed that it was “just sooo you!” Dr. Morris was so nice. You hoped you’d seen him again after today. He had been so wonderful to you. It felt just terrible thinking that you’d never see him again.
Today, a handful of very rich people, both men and women, were visiting to select their very own Pony Pet. Dr. Morris said he had a good feeling that you would be selected. You heard stirring in the bed, and saw your roommates rise. You walked over to the kitchen to prepare what was likely one last breakfast for the four of you.
You walked completely naturally now, a sexy sway in your step. Your ass rocked gently from side to side, and your tail swished enticingly. Sometimes when you knew someone was watching you, you would swish your tail a little too high, exposing your sex.
What were you going to eat today? Maybe you’d make a salad for the four of you, with a side of hay-fries. That sounded good. You were vegetarian now. Frankly it was a little disgusting to think that you had ever had meat before… Eww… Now it was all veggies, with some sweets every now and then. You didn’t indulge in those as often as Velvet, another one of your roommates who had a huge sweet tooth. You needed to watch your figure.
You committed to the salad and hay-fries, and one by one your roommates began to wake up to the wonderful smell. Before you knew it, you were sitting down with all of your friends, eating and getting a little teary. Was your time together really coming to an end? You all shared silly stories to get the tears to stop. You finished your meal in laughter.
You sat down in front of the vanity and pursed your lips. You had to look as cute as possible. You really wanted to stay with your friends and with Dr. Morris, but you needed a master. You all did. Obviously, a first impression was huge on any would-be master, so you needed to look perfect. You did your lashes and spritzed yourself with an expensive perfume. You and your roommates pooled all your bits together to buy it from the in-house beauty store.
You did actually end up finding yourself a little bit of a job during your time at the factory. You did domestic work, mostly cleaning. It was boring, but the pay was fine. At first you were annoyed by the uniform that you had to wear while performing your duties- a black and white maid’s uniform- but you soon found that you enjoyed wearing the pretty, silky, uniform. You liked the way it felt, and the soft rustling it made when you moved, and the way men (even Dr. Morris) looked at you when they asked you to do a task for them.
You got up from the vanity to let the next mare have her turn.
Now it was time to take out your dress. It was so wonderful. It was purple in color, with a lighter purple trim. The sleeves poofed out at your shoulders, with some cute little frills hanging down. The neckline was similar; although this time the frills were in a darker purple fabric. The dress exploded around you in a bell-like shape. You would say that it was medium length. It certainly wasn’t the shortest dress you had worn (oh no!) but it still wasn’t long enough to completely cover your hind legs and it lacked a huge train. You loved the way it sounded when you made a step, and any movement made the dress look like it was sparkling!
The other mares had finished by now, so you all took your dresses and went down to the spa. Today, there was no shortage of workers. Still, you managed to find your favorite girl: Miranda. You had come back fairly frequently, and you always enjoyed chatting with her. Sometimes you talked about fashion, other times music, but she most often asked you about stallions, and you asked her about boys. Yes, there were indeed stallions in the factory, but about 90% of the ponies were mares. Even then, some of the stallions were gay, so it was rather hard for a mare to get laid. You often turned to lesbian encounters, especially with your roommates. It seemed to be that this sort of behavior was encouraged. These trysts were fun, but you found that a mare could not compare to a nice stallion. Despite the difficulty, you managed to have a handful of encounters with stallions. You blushed as you thought of them.
What style should you put your mane and tail in today? Should you put them both in a single braid? Maybe you should leave them loose and use a big bow. You asked Miranda for her input, and she said she had an idea. She quickly rolled your mane and tail up in curlers, and put you underneath a huge domed shaped hair dryer. “I’ve got a lovely color for your hooves in mind.” She selected a nice color that worked well with your dress. It was a reddish purple. “Burgundy” was what Miranda called it. After an ample amount of time, she removed the hair dryer and let down the curlers. She brushed out your mane and tail, leaving in with thick, rolling curls. Then Miranda took two locks from your left and right temple, pulling it back and tying it with a big blue bow, the ends of which were long and floppy and drooped down to your shoulders. You then put on your lovely dress. With your mane, tail, and hooves done, and in your dress, you felt so beautiful and elegant.
Finished, you gushingly thanked her for all of her work and bid her a short but heartfelt goodbye.
Now it was time for you and your friends to head to the stately ballroom. You had never been there before, as it was off limits to all ponies but those “graduating”. In other words, only ponies that were going to be selected by masters (or mistresses) were allowed to enter. But you had heard rumors of how beautiful it was.
The rumors were true. The room was huge. The ceilings were high and vaulted, and the floors were made of a beautiful polished wood. Large round tables covered with silk tablecloths surrounded the dance floor. The whole place looked expensive. All of the ponies were lined up on one side of the ballroom, and given a number to pin to their dress. Yours was “14”. There seemed to be around thirty ponies. In this particular batch, there were only three stallions present. On the other side of the room was a throng of people. All of them were men, save one woman clad in a beautiful red dress. You knew that some ponies wouldn’t be picked, and you hoped that you weren’t one of the unlucky ones. You could see a number of the factory managers standing next to the potential owners, including Dr. Morris. Apparently they had a meeting and meal before the ponies were brought in.
Then they all came over and had a field day with the ponies. Masters gauged potential pets, looking at them and holding small interviews with them to see if they would fit well in their home.
Quite a few came up to talk to you. One that caught your eye was a man who was tall and spindly. He had clear blue eyes and blonde hair, cut short on the sides and left long on the top. He seemed like Hitler’s perfect man. Another man that came over to you seemed to be a Latino, and not from the United States. Maybe Brazil? One of them looked a little like a guy who you thought would browse 4chan… He was tall enough, but lacked muscle and had thick glasses. He had an ok beard, cropped close to his face. He was probably in some tech startup company. That was the only way he could afford this. Finally, there was a huge black guy. You blushed as he approached you, remembering what Miranda had told you about black guys. Months and months before, you would have been disgusted, and probably would have insulted her… But now… You looked up at him, smiling and biting your lip. You were glad that all of the guys were tall… You didn’t want to be with some short guy nerdy guy.
The time for the customers and product to mingle was over, and now it was the moment of truth. Would you be picked?
Your heart began to pound. The room was silent. Then, the customers raised their little placards with the pony they desired’s number on them. Your eyes scanned the room… No one held your number…
But wait! Someone was holding up your number! But you didn’t even notice him! He didn’t even come up to talk to you!
You made your way across the dance floor as quickly as possible.
The man was wearing a nice tailored suit. He was the perfect combination of height and weight. His has was brown, and slicked back, and he wore a red tie. His teeth were impeccable. He was gorgeous.
“H-hello?”
The man knelt down. “Hi.” His voice was smooth.
“Did you pick me?”
“Of course I did. I’m holding your number, right?” He chuckled.
“But why didn’t you… Why didn’t you come to talk to me?” Your voice cracked cutely.
“I didn’t need to. I knew it was going to be you from the moment I saw you. You were the one I wanted.”
You felt butterflies in your stomach, and your heart melt. A romantic, huh.
“Oh… I…”
“Shhhh…” The man put his finger to his lips.
You looked up at him, swooning, fluttering your lashes. You finally had a master. You had graduated. You were complete. You gave him a sweet smile, and you knew that you were ready to fully begin your new life.