Summer School & After School: The Ponygirl Omnibus Edition

by Jurgen von Stuka

  Well, she thought. If we are on highway, we have got to be headed for a city and the cities are a long way from the school. Where the hell are they taking me? And why?

  The ride continued for several hours, with the occasional stop and jolt. Dori suffered the saddle and the vicious nipple clips, tried to keep some circulation in her bound hands and arms and even dozed off for short periods. She was, by now, more or less accustomed to the bondage routines of the school and was able, without much trouble, to shut off the alarms and anxiety she felt when they first bound her for long periods. She knew that they wouldn’t do her any real harm. She was also intelligent enough to realize that the school and its staff were quite intent on keeping her safe and subjecting her to discipline. Not ever having been sent to the dairy or pig pens, Dori might have changed her views of that subject… if she ever got there.

  The vehicle finally stopped and there was no movement. No sound. Dori strained to hear something, anything, but the ear pads in the hood, plus the insulating effect of the crate, blocked all outside noise. She listened instead to her own blood pulsing though her somewhat constricted arteries and veins and she heard the amplified sound of her breathing through the tubes. She thought she detected the sweet smell of diesel, but assumed this was simply from the truck. Her crate finally was lifted and she felt movement again, then a bit of a shock as the crate was set down. Dori waited. She dozed, she tried to ease the multiple hurts in every part of her body. Then, quite suddenly, the panel behind her opened and she felt and heard someone – more than two people – unstrapping and easing her out of the crate. A pair hands removed her bonds and the terrible hood. She lay on a table like a rag doll, moving nothing while all restraints were removed. Overhead was a bright light and it occurred to Dori that she was in some sort of medical facility. The smells were a mixture of clean and antiseptic. The light blinded her and made her close her eyes. The hands going over her body were gloved in rubber and the speech of those around her was subdued and professional. Someone pressed a rubber mask to her face and she was too tired to even care. She heard someone say the word “lovely” and then the lights went out.

  “Okay folks; let’s get to this quickly,” said Dr. Willis B. Graham, noted surgeon and expert in performing various kinds of physical “adjustments” and “enhancements.” He was dressed in full surgical garb and surrounded by four other people similarly clothed. Dori lay naked on the operating table, a small mask over her mouth and nose, breathing deeply. At the head of the table, a nurse monitored her vital signs and gave Graham a nod, signifying that Dori was suitably anesthetized. Graham took a scalpel from the nurse next to him and made the first cut.

  Much, much later, Dori felt the pain. It was universal and she tried to focus on exactly where it came from but the slightest movement caused it to increase, so she lay still, opening her eyes to a gray fog with a few small pinpoints of light in it. She realized that she was not able to move her limbs at all and that the pain she felt seemed more like a blanket than a series of individual sources. She felt as if she were floating in space. She closed her eyes and went back to sleep.

  Down the hallway from the room where Dori slept, Doctor Graham conferred with Boswick. They sat in office armchairs in Graham’s plush office and nursed cups of hot coffee while Graham browsed an open file on his desk.

  “Everything went perfectly,” the doctor said, not looking up at Boswick, but instead turning in his chair and gazing out the large windows in his corner office. “All of the accessories are in place and there is no indication of problems. I think you can take her back to Vermont by the end of the week.”

  “Excellent,” said Boswick, following Graham’s gaze out over the Boston skyline. “Did you video the procedures and finished product?”

  “Of course. We always do that for record…” Graham hesitated, then added, “not to mention the retail value,” he said with a smile.

  “I’d like copies to take back with me so that my partners and I can review and then perhaps disseminate these. Once the process is complete, we’ll offer a package to potential buyers as well as to those who can’t afford the transaction but will enjoy the pictures.”

  “Of course,” said Graham, sounding a bit bored. “Anything else?”

  “No, that will do. I’m, staying at the Ritz and will check back with you tomorrow before I head back north. Let me know when she’s ready for transport.”

  “Sure. And, oh Boswick,” Graham said, finally turning around in his chair and looking keenly at the riding school Head Master.

  “Yes?” said Boswick, almost to the office door.

  “We have a potential resource in the clinic. Grade eight, I would say. Maybe even a nine. Are you interested?”

  “Always,” Boswick quickly replied. “The market gets bigger every month. We’re up about two hundred thirty percent so far this year. Can I see it?”

  Graham pushed the intercom button on his desk speaker and said “Perkins.”

  “Yes, Doctor Graham,” came the slightly tinny female voice from the speaker.

  “Please show Master Boswick item two-o-six. He is not to enter the room.”

  “Yes doctor.”

  “Thanks, Doctor Graham,” said Boswick as he picked up his coat and hat from the standing coat tree and went out the door. “The usual finder’s fee will apply if we accept the product,” he added over his shoulder.

  “Right,” muttered Graham as he closed Dori’s file.

  A few minutes later, accompanied by Perkins the secretary, Boswick went down the hall and took the waiting elevator to the second floor of the Boston Reconstruction Surgical Clinic. He visited the secluded second floor room where he viewed through a one-way mirror a young woman hanging in a sort of frame. Her back was turned towards Boswick, but the attendants in the door rotated the frame slowly while the woman wiggled and struggled with the multiple bindings holding her vertically. Boswick admired the body. It was, indeed, as Graham had said, a near perfect nine or even a ten. The proportions were right, the hair was a deep dark brown, bound up into a single braid, and the face and skin matched the rest of the perfection. Perkins, watching with interest, handed Boswick a file, although Boswick found it hard to take his eyes off the suspended figure behind the glass long enough to scan the file’s contents. Perfect for next semester, Boswick thought. “She’ll do,” he said aloud to Perkins. “Please set up the transport when you are finished with her. Charge our account.”

  “You got it, Master Boswick,” Perkins responded, perhaps with too much enthusiasm, considering that in the few words exchanged, the young woman’s fateful future had been sealed.

  Chapter Twenty Two

  An Extended Leave from School

  Dori was once again in heavy restraints. Padded leather humane restraint cuffs at her ankles, knees, wrists, elbows and neck held her to the steel frame of the hospital bed. Bandages covered much of her body and she felt what seemed like great weight pressing on her body from above. Blurry vision didn’t help, but since she couldn’t rub her eyes, she simply closed them again and tried to figure out what had happened to her.

  What happened was really nothing she could have imagined or expected. As Dori was slowly discovering, she had acquired a number of unusual implants in several parts of her body. Dr. Graham had placed surgical stainless steel hardware in her hands, arms, shoulders, breasts, feet, legs, thighs, neck, head and hips. Additional hardware was mounted in her crotch and the divide between her buttocks. Given this massive amount of metal, Dori would have lit up an airport metal detector like a Christmas tree. As the anesthetic and pain-killers slowly decreased over the next few weeks, Dori became aware of these additions with increasing anxiety. Wiggling her fingers brought them into contact with metal pins and fittings attached to her hands and wrists. She could feel, but not see similar hardware in and on other body parts and the surgical incisions; and though healing perfectly and fast, they’d begun to itch and demand the contact that her restraints would not allow.
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  Her nurses and doctors treated her well, doing their best to allow her some comforts. The food they brought her was excellent; far better than the chow at school and they fed her with care. However, it was mostly vegetables, grains and fruit, so Dory began to complain about wanting some meat or fish. The staff ignored her.

  After another week, they removed the cuffs and allowed her to stand by the bed and use the toilet on her own, once the catheters and most of the IV drips were removed. By the following week, she was walking around the clinic’s fifth floor with an escort, hobbling a bit from the bandages and implants in her feet, which she still could not see and did not understand. She found that unless she stood on her toes, as though wearing high heels, her whole legs hurt, so she shuffled around on tiptoe.

  “Can someone please tell me what all this stuff is for?” Dori asked for the twentieth time in anguish, as she poked the metal pins sticking out the bandages on her wrists and ankles.

  “I have no idea,” said Ben, her male nurse, an attractive, dark haired young man who doted on her and spent a great deal of time making sure she was comfortable. “Doc Graham says they are needed for your future work and that is all we’ve been told.”

  “But these metal things in my ass and here,” she said pointing to her bandaged crotch. “What is this stuff for? I’m going to have a hard time riding with these things sticking out, for sure, not to mention these double-sized tits,” she said as she poked at the bulky cotton surgical bra covering her entire chest.

  “I really don’t know,” said Ben, soothingly. “I haven’t seen this sort of thing before and I’ve been here for three years.” He hesitated and, tapping his forehead, said: “There is a woman on the second floor that just had a similar operation though. I’ll see if I can find out a little more, but you must promise me that this is between you and me. If Graham finds out that I’m telling you this he’ll string me up by my balls and it will be big trouble for both of us.”

  “Okay,” said Dori. “I can play dumb, that’s for sure. I’m just really upset because I want to get back to school and the summer will be over soon.”

  “What summer?” Ben asked, puzzled.

  “This summer, Dumbie,” Dori shot back.

  “Uh, Dori, summer ended three months ago. Look out the window. It’s winter now,” said Ben gently. He pulled the heavy drapes open and Dori squinted at the bright winter sunlight filling the room.

  “Oh my God,” Dori shouted. “How long have I been here?”

  “Couple of months,” Ben responded, surprised that no one had told her the obvious.

  “Holy shit! I don’t believe it. I was only going to riding school for the summer. How the fuck did I lose so much time? Where am I? Does my Dad know I’m here?”

  “I don’t know, Dori. Try not to get upset. Doc Graham won’t like it and we’ll have you back up in the convalescent center if you keep this up. Let me try and find out,” said Ben, reattaching the wrist and ankle restraints while Dori fussed and whined, babbling to herself about the loss of memory and time.

  “Convalescent center? What’s that?”

  “That’s where you were while they put these supports and attachments in. Did you think this was all done in one operation?”

  “Yes, I thought I’d come here a week ago, in August. I was more or less abducted from school and taken somewhere in a coffin…or something like that,” she said, shaking her head, trying to remember what had happened after she was unloaded from the box. “And what’s the deal with the straps, Ben. I thought I was getting out of here.”

  “You are, soon, but right now they don’t want you walking around with the hardware still setting in and wounds healing. Relax and enjoy the rest. I’ll let you know what I can find out.” Ben finished the attachment, then after locking the cuffs and pulling the drapes back into place, he left the room. Dori heard him lock the door as he went out.

  Chapter Twenty Three

  Consignment

  “Please do come in, Mr. Hammond,” said Mistress Wright to Dori’s father. “I’m so glad to see you again.”

  “Same here,” said Hammond. “I had planned to visit you before but work just kept getting in the way. How’s Dori?”

  “She’s fine, and doing quite well,” said Wright, going around her polished desk and sitting in her high-backed leather chair.

  “Great. I was sure that you would be able to straighten her out.”

  “Oh yes,” Wright said with a smile. “She has taken to the program better than we could have hoped. She is easily in the top five percent who seem to just…I’m not sure what the right term might be…they just seem to have it in their nature to adapt to the equestrian life, if you know what I mean.”

  “I’m sure,” said Hammond, resting his chin in his hand and looking at the photos and drawings on the walls, which showed horses, hunt scenes and trophies.

  “Now,” said Wright, turning to the open file on her desk. “I think we can conclude our arrangement quickly if you will sign these contracts and agreements. I have had Boswick draw up your check and then I’m afraid I am due elsewhere.” She passed the file across the desk and pressed a button on the electronic box next to her phone. Immediately, the door opened and Burns, her assistant, came into the room and stood silently by the desk. “Miss Burns here is a notary and will certify each document. I have already signed,” Wright said.

  “Of course,” Hammond said quickly, bringing his attention back to The Head. He met her eyes and saw the same look he so often saw in his daily investment business. It was a look that told him that the present activity was business and just that, nothing more or less. He leaned over the desk and signed the papers quickly and then passed them back to Wright. Burns leaned over the desk from the opposite side, applied her rubber notary stamp to the papers and certified the signatures, all the while displaying what Hammond thought were an excellent pair of breasts, struggling to climb out of her bra and over the neckline edge of her tight, white shirt.

  Burns folded the documents and put them in an envelope, then passed the envelope back to Wright. Hammond discovered that his tongue was darting back and forth over his dry lips. He refocused his attention just as Wright handed him the envelope and then stood up. She extended her hand and they shook hands once, up and down.

  “Thank you, Mr. Hammond. It is always a pleasure doing business with you. The check, of course, includes reimbursement of your original investment tuition, plus interest, plus our agreed amount for Dori, as well as the agreement amount for the other product you helped us acquire, correct?”

  Hammond looked at the cashier’s check. It was for $375,000. “Yes, that’s right,” he said, slipping the check back into the envelope and putting it in his jacket pocket.

  “Excellent. Please feel free to recommend anyone else you might think would benefit from the school. We especially liked the German item you located for us.”

  “I’ll do that, Hammond said, thinking about his fantastic luck in having met Fabian Moumakis, Lucy’s boyfriend, during a business trip to Amsterdam.” There’s always another school girl wanting to get away for the summer…and maybe longer,” Hammond added, smiling as he turned and walked out of Wright’s office.

  Chapter Twenty Four

  Final Product

  The indoor arena was huge. Unlike others that Dori had seen, this place seemed to be even bigger than Madison Square Garden and it was filled with dozens of ponies and their handlers. Spotlights moved from one pony to another. Instead of bleacher seats, there were enclosed boxes around the ring and she could see people in the boxes watching her and others. The public address system carried a male voice that periodically called out a number and an instruction. When this happened, the spotlights moved to the center of the massive ring and one pony and handler stepped with precision from the sidelines to the center. The handler and pony both bowed and then performed a short demonstration exercise, much like skaters and gymnasts do their special routines. Based on her present situation and a
ttire, Dori could easily imagine the interest of the observers. She was no longer a young woman in fancy riding attire on a well trained horse, doing dressage or show jumping. She and the others around her were the horses. They were the ones doing the jumping and dressage. In the months that had passed since the operations, Dori had learned the function of the hardware that had been implanted in her body. Her many body modifications were the result of tremendous improvements in medical technology. Each of the built in attachments was designed as an anchor point for sophisticated devices that turned her more and more into an equine animal and made her less of a young woman. Her feet were now typical horse’s feet with steel hooves. Inside the metal and carbon fiber hoof boot, her own feet were connected via the multiple implants to the boots themselves. Locking metal bands and snap-fitted pins held the foot and leg in the proper equine position. There was no longer any need for straps and laces because once fitted, these boots became a locked on, perfectly fitted extension of Dori’s leg. In the most simplistic description, her feet were now hooves. Her toenails had been removed, her toes blended into a single extension of the foot bones and the ankle reshaped to accommodate the horse foot boots. Her hips and knees had been rebuilt to more closely copy those of four-footed mammals2 and her elbows had been reversed so that they were now knees on her forelegs. Months of therapy and training with new and old muscles had brought Dori to this place. She walked on four legs, moved like a horse and, for all purposes, had become a small pony in looks and movement. She lived in a secure barn, was fed a vegetarian mix of grains and some cooked plants. She drank by plunging her long snout into the water bucket at the side of the stall and she eliminated body wastes by just doing it on the sawdust and woodchip floor of the stall. Her sex had been modified so that while she could, (and did), have sex in the correct pony manner, mounted from behind by anyone who had permission to copulate with her, she had also been sterilized so that pregnancy was no longer a concern. When in harness, her vagina was fully occupied by a large penile probe held in place by the harness strap between her legs. The same harness also held the butt plug and tail that she wore virtually all the time. The plug was mounted on the steel cross pins Dr. Graham had mounted in her anal divide and solid waste bypassed this arrangement through an aperture in the plug. Daily, the grooms cleaned her body cavities and once or twice a week, she got an enema while tightly secured in the corridor outside her stall.