The Wannabe Pony
Bdsm Story

The Wannabe Pony

by Horsebitoffun 18 min read 4.8 (3,300 views)
ponygirl ponyboy domestication dehumanization consensual bondage petplay public
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"Wake up, lazybones," grumbled the Horox as he opened Timothy's stall. Age had left its deep marks on the wrinkled skin of the emerald-green goblin. The morning had long since dawned and the ponygirls were already running around in the paddock, enjoying the warm sunshine. Timothy had always been a late riser, partly because he had no job on the small farm.

"Just one more hour, please," Timothy begged, but Horox, as usual, was not so easily swayed. His heart may be big for Timothy, but on a farm there were rules that applied to everyone.

"No exceptions!" he said sternly, pushing back the straw that Timothy had shoved aside during the night. This was not unusual, Timothy was well known as a restless sleeper. "Up you go, Timothy, I've got Tiger to look after too."

Timothy yawned and stretched. "Firedragon," Timothy grumbled.

"I'm not going to call you that," Horox replied, rolling his eyes. It wasn't their first discussion on the subject, and it wasn't the right topic today. "You're not a horse, at least not for much longer. We've talked about this. Now get up and get dressed."

"But the clothes are itchy." That might have been a bit of an exaggeration, but it wasn't easy for Timothy to get used to clothes. They were restrictive and hot. Sure, goblins wore clothes, but goblins weren't humans either.

"Timothy..."

"Firedragon!"

"No! We've talked about this. You can't stay with me. You should have been sent to the humans years ago. There's no need for another stallion in our village - even if you were good at it... " Horox paused briefly and cleared his throat. He didn't want to offend the young man, but it was no secret that he was no good as a stallion. "You have to get used to clothes, otherwise you can't live with humans."

"There are humans everywhere, and they're all naked!"

Horox sighed. "They're ponygirls and stallions, not humans like you."

"I'm a stallion too, just like my father."

Now Horox laughed out loud. "You might want to be, but you're not. Your mother was my favourite mare and I always took good care of you. But you know as well as I do that we need fewer stallions than mares. And the peace with humans demands that we send the boys we don't need to them. You should have left years ago."

"But I don't want to," Timothy protested in a quivering voice. "This is my home!"

"Timothy..."

"Firedragon!"

"Enough of this!" shouted Horox, silencing Timothy. "You're not a stallion, you're a scrawny young man who needs to find his place among humans. You have that name for a reason. If I wanted you to be a horse, you'd have a horse's name too! I wish you well, but you can't stay." He turned his head away so Timothy couldn't see his wet eyes. His ears lay close to his head, as they always did when the weight of the world was heavy on his narrow shoulders. "I wish I had the money to keep you on the farm. But I've used up all I've got. I can't afford an eater with no use. I'm sorry. I truly am."

Timothy wanted to say something back, but the old goblin had already left the stable. That gave Timothy no choice but to dress as ordered. The clothes were clean - he only wore them when he absolutely had to, after all - and although they fitted him well, he didn't like them at all. How could he, after all, they were the mark of the humans on him, and he hated everything about that. How could people feel free with something like that on their bodies? It hid everything good about him - even on a lean young bloke like him - and he sweated terribly in it. Plus all those pockets... what was he supposed to put in them?

"You look good," Solaria whispered and winked at him. Timothy smiled back. She was the youngest mare in the stables and they got on well together, as they were both almost the same age and had only recently matured. But that was also the problem. "Come here, let's talk." Timothy swallowed and did as asked. Solaria was always very nice to him, perhaps nicer than anyone else. He stood uncertainly by his side, and she grinned broadly. "Horox told me that today is your last day on the farm." She stood behind a low fence that enclosed the ponygirls' paddock. It didn't secure them very well, but the mares didn't want to be anywhere else anyway. Horox was the nicest goblin far and wide, he gave the mares a lot of freedom and they were even allowed to talk; things could only get worse for them from here. She leant forward and pressed her ample bosom against him, resting her head on his shoulder. "Come to us, no one would see us behind the bushes there. I dare you, Timothy."

He swallowed. She had often made this invitation to him, but he had never accepted - much to the mockery of the ponygirls and Tiger. Even the other stallion wanted to make him follow her, but something deep in his heart kept him from doing so. "Firedragon," he stammered instead. The name seemed to give him some strength, but not enough to climb over the fence and have fun with Solaria behind the bushes. Horox wouldn't even have minded; he always said he didn't care which stallion knocked up his mares, and Solaria was scheduled to have a foal.

"You're not going to do it, are you?" Solaria asked, whinnying in amusement. She took a step back, turned round and bent over, only to present her most intimate parts directly to Timothy. "Tiger would be right inside me by now." She stepped back and gave him a little kiss on the cheek. "Maybe Firelily would be a more appropriate name for you."

Timothy blushed. "I... I... I'm just not in the mood!"

"At your age, you should always be in the mood. You haven't touched any of us at all," Solaria said, but there was no malice in her voice. It was just an observation. The other mares, who held back a little, also neighed in agreement. "I really wish you all the best, Timothy. Please find happiness."

***

While Horox prepared the mares for the day, Timothy took the opportunity to bring Tiger his feed. The old stallion was often a bit rough, but Timothy knew that he would never hurt him. Although he had never been like a father to him, he knew that the stallion liked him.

"Good morning," Timothy called out and knocked on the stable door. Unlike Horox, he had no special rights on the farm, and he knew that he'd better only go into the stables if Tiger allowed him to.

"Come in," came Tiger's deep voice from the darkness.

Timothy swallowed. They both lived together on the farm, but he could count their time together on one hand. As a stallion, Tiger was usually tied up in the stable - even with Horox. "I'll bring you your food."

"Doesn't Horox have time for me today?" the old stallion said with a laugh.

"I didn't ask him. You might even get two feeds today,' Timothy replied with a chuckle, taking the bag of pony feed into the stable and filling up the trough. As always, Tiger was secured to the wall with an iron chain. You could fill the trough from the edge, out of Tiger's reach, but Timothy didn't see the point.

The stallion rose and stood right next to his son. He towered over him by a full head, and had to weigh at least twice as much - the least of which was fat. He exhaled heavily, ruffling Timothy's hair. "So this is goodbye?" he asked, and for the first time Timothy heard something like sadness in his voice. "You've been here far too long. We don't need a second stallion - if you had been one. You look so much like your mother."

Timothy didn't dare to look the stallion in the eye. He felt his powerful presence next to him. It took all his strength not to tremble. Weakness was not welcome among stallions, not even if you were not accepted as such.

"The human world is supposed to be exciting," the old stallion continued. "Just imagine it: You can go anywhere you want. A house of your own, and if you have a farm, there are no goblins to boss you around. It must be wonderful." Timothy heard the tremble in his father's voice, but he didn't share the sentiment. What did you do with a day when nobody told him what to do? He was often bored on the farm, what would it be like if no one was in control? A strange fear travelled up his spine. Could freedom be scary?

"I don't want to go," Timothy whispered.

"You have to!" Tiger demanded and Timothy became even smaller. "You should have joined the humans when you were a little boy. Horox was too soft with you, you're hardly a man anyway." Tiger had built himself up to his full height beside him. "We don't need a second stallion on this farm. Go! Go and get a life of your own!"

Tiger had shouted the last words. Timothy had run out of the stable and only came to a halt in the dirt behind the nearest shed.

"Don't tease him," Horox called to Timothy, who remembered well how he had often sneaked up to Tiger as a little boy.

"I was just saying goodbye!" Timothy defended himself.

"Then you're ready?"

Timothy shook his head.

"I'm afraid that doesn't change a thing. The cart's coming in the afternoon. Get ready."

***

Timothy wandered aimlessly around the yard, his head low between his shoulders as he watched the ponygirls - though not in the manner befitting a stallion, even though that would have been no disgrace here. None of the mares were related to him; Horox had always given away Tiger's other daughters and sons. Only he had stayed. His mother had died giving birth to him, and he knew how much Horox had loved that mare. That was probably why he had waited so long.

But Timothy wasn't ready to give up so quickly. He knew the rules among the goblins well: men were stallions, women were mares. Only the latter were used for riding, field work and carts. That's how it was, and that's how it would always be. But what was the point? He was at least as strong as the mares, and if the others were to be believed, even tamer. He loved that word: "tame". It felt good, like a warm blanket that gave him protection and security. And it described him well; he wasn't like the wild stallions that were tethered in the stables. If you only let him, he would carry any goblin round the world once, he was sure of that.

Of course, he had never been able to prove it; apart from a few children, for whom he had trotted across the courtyard on all fours a few times, no goblin had ever ridden him, not even Horox, much to his displeasure. But the feeling of little green creatures on his back had been glorious; like a call to a better future that was denied him for a completely nonsensical reason.

While Horox went about his duties on the farm, Timothy crept to the horse shed where the mares' riding gear was kept. There was far more stuff than was needed for the horses, much of it was old and only spare. He swallowed and ventured into the darkness, which offered him some protection. He hurriedly took off the hideous human clothes, but as they were expensive and important to Horox, he carefully placed them in a corner where they would remain clean. After all, he wanted to please Horox and not offend him. When he was naked again, as the god of the goblins had intended for humans, he reached for a harness first. He knew from experience that this one fitted particularly well. The old leather felt good against his skin, it pressed easily into his face and after a short fumble was secured to the back of his head with a tab. Without hands, it would be impossible to open it again.

Timothy swallowed again, partly because he was about to have something stuck in his mouth. His favourite bit was particularly large and made of shiny, polished wood. The taste was exciting and strange, but for him it was one of his favourite objects on every visit to the shed. He moistened his lips and opened his mouth to welcome the intruder. Unfortunately, as he still had all his teeth, the horse bit remained resting on them, but the soft click as the bit clicked into the bridle sent a pleasant shiver down his spine. The horse bit pulled the corners of his mouth back and formed a broad grin on his face that he could feel deep in his heart. There was hardly anything more beautiful in the world than this wonderful feeling. His next move was to grab two reins from the rack and attach them to his bridle directly on the horse's bit so that Horox could control him.

He shivered at the thought. Just once he would want to feel Horox on his back. To feel the weight of the saddle and the goblin as he steered him through the world with the reins. It was an intoxicating thought, but so far it had only ever been a dream.

Until now, he had never dared to go further than this. Bridle and reins, that was all. But there were still many things in the shed that made his heart beat faster. His eyes wandered to the boots, most of which would probably be too small for him; he looked at the horse's tails and the plugs, which almost made him lose his breath; but above all, he stared at the saddles that meant the world to him. So often he had looked enviously after the mares when Horox had ridden them out of the yard.

His own rump was somewhat narrower than that of all the mares, but for a stallion it was probably quite wide, as Tiger had occasionally remarked snidely. Surely there would be room for a saddle, right?

He simply had to dare. There was no tomorrow; if he couldn't convince Horox of his usefulness this morning, he would probably never see him again. His fingers ran over the rough leather that had already been on many backs. He lifted the saddle and was surprised at how light it was, even though it seemed so large. Both sides were well padded, so Horox gave the mares some comfort too. With unsteady hands, Timothy lifted the saddle onto his shoulders and back, but it wasn't easy to saddle himself. Timothy knew only too well that his arms belonged under the saddle, but how was he supposed to fasten it? Well, it would have to work that way today. Once Horox saw how useful he was, he would saddle him properly. Then he could stay here, with his family.

The leather nestled softly against his back, but he also felt the gap it left for his arms. In front dangled the straps with which the saddle had to be secured to him. As he was no taller than most mares, they should be enough, although Timothy realised immediately that the shape didn't quite fit. They made a curve on his chest that wasn't necessary on him. Nevertheless, he pulled them down and secured them first by the belly strap, which worked well. The next step was less pleasant. Timothy had grown up around naked animals, so of course he knew exactly what the difference was between a stallion and a mare. And in this case, his difference got in the way when it came to the strap between his legs. So he had no choice but to place the strap next to his member and testicles, which wasn't exactly pleasant. Every pull on the saddle irritated his sensitive area and he almost envied the ponygirls. Why had nature made them so perfect for this task and denied him this fortune?

But as it was, now that the saddle was halfway on his back, Timothy dared to try on some boots. He had to search for a long time to find a pair that fitted his large feet. They were still too small, but at least he was able to slip them on, albeit with his toes bent. The boots were bright red and painted with a colourful floral pattern, which Timothy was particularly fond of; a preference that had earned him a few sharp comments from Tiger. In general, Tiger was not a fan of Timothy wanting to be ridden. He had often made it clear that this was not appropriate for stallions, but Timothy had long since stopped listening.

Once again his eyes wandered to the horses' tails and his whole body began to sweat slightly with excitement. It was probably just the heat in the stable, he thought to himself, but that was a lie he liked to tell himself. He shook himself briefly and tried to slide his arms under the saddle instead, and to his surprise he actually succeeded. The saddle sat somewhat loosely on his back, and so he was able to push his arms under the flexible leather, albeit with great difficulty. Anyone who saw him now would have clearly recognised the joy between his legs at his success, but Timothy was blind to it.

Instead, he walked straight out of the shed with his head held high, ready to face his new future. It was an incredible feeling to step out into the world as a riding horse. He could feel the wind on his body, and for a moment it seemed as if even the birds in the trees were singing just for him. Of course, he hadn't missed the irony of having to tie himself up so tightly in order to feel free, but some things in life were complicated and that didn't bother him in the slightest.

He trotted - he loves the sound of that word - across the yard at a fast pace, right past the mares, who stared at him with wide eyes. No doubt this was not what they had expected today, but should they just stare, he thought, soon he would be waiting there with them and be useful.

"Run, Firelily, run!" Solaria cheered him on.

Timothy rolled his eyes, even at a moment like this she had to make fun of him. But in the end it didn't matter, he just needed the approval of Horox, who was preparing a mare for fieldwork. Timothy made a wide circle, then neighed loud enough for Horox to hear him. The old goblin turned round in amazement and stared open-mouthed at Timothy.

"What are you doing, Timothy?" he asked in a very serious voice that felt like a bucket of cold water over Timothy's head. Immediately his energy and joy evaporated and he felt hideously stupid jumping across the yard like that. He stammered something through the horse's bit, but apart from a whinny, nothing came through. "Tack!" Horox ordered and Timothy went to his knees with a tingling sensation in his stomach. Horox had never used that command on him before, and it felt good! "You're not a mare, Timothy. I know how much you don't want to go, but you can't change it." He took Timothy's head in his arms and squeezed him lovingly. "This is a place for mare and stallion. You are none of those things. I'm sorry, but you can't stay." He took the horse bit from Timothy's mouth.

"Please, I don't want to leave!" Timothy pleaded. "I'm useful. I can be ridden. Really!"

But Horox shook his head. "Goblins don't ride stallions. And not human men either. I'm sorry, I really am. If there was a way, I'd keep you. But I don't have the money to feed you and..."

"What?" asked Timothy. There was something Timothy had noticed for a long time, but had never quite understood.

"And you're not registered. At least not like this. You see the numbers on Tiger and the ponygirls? Those are their registration numbers, you know that, right?"

Timothy nodded.

"You don't have one. Until you came of age, you were registered as a foal and therefore protected. But that's over now. You'll get a travelling number from the coachman, which will protect you in Goblinland under his watchful eye. But that's only for a short time. Otherwise, anything can happen to you if you get caught."

"But I want to be a pony!" said Timothy, stamping his feet.

"Believe me, you don't want that with some folks. You have to go to the humans, only there are you safe. You have no place with us goblins."

Timothy neighed unhappily. "Master, please ride me at least once."

"Stop calling me master!" growled Horox. "You're not my pony. I'll take this saddle off you, it doesn't fit you properly anyway." Although Timothy was used to being naked and hated people's clothes, losing a saddle was a new experience. It was like having the skin ripped off his body and now he was standing there in the square with his insides exposed. It was a horrible feeling. "Get dressed again, the carriage must arrive soon."

***

Half an hour later, the cart rolled along the narrow dirt track, its four wide wooden wheels kicking up a lot of dust that covered everything. A single, sturdy ponygirl pulled the cart, fighting the weight with impressive stamina. Timothy couldn't take his eyes off her, though he certainly wasn't looking at her like Tiger was. Her powerful legs pounded over the path as she braced herself firmly against the wide straps that connected her to the cart. The goblin in the driver's seat steered her casually with the reins in one hand as he swung a long whip that cracked repeatedly on her ass.

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