The Night before the Dawn

I’m naked in bed with my best friend. I kissed her. I’m wearing a collar and she saw me orgasm… oh and she’s going to help me wake up super early tomorrow so that I can run naked through the streets…

“This is weird isn’t it…?” Zoe whispered across the bed, breaking the silence, her head buried into her pillow and the comforter pulled tight around her naked body. In the darkness she couldn’t make out Katie’s face, but she felt the blonde move on the other side of the bed, the sheets tugged slightly. There was a beat of silence,

“It’s not normal…” she said diplomatically, “but… you wanted me to be here because things keep getting weirder when you sleep right? So… I’m here for you Zo… Ok? Let’s just… please get some sleep?”

Zoe mewled and closed her eyes; she couldn’t help but keep running a finger back and forth anxiously over her metal collar. Every time she’d slept she felt like things got worse and the red-head, despite her physical and emotional exhaustion, struggled to calm her racing heart.

I have to be up in 6 hours… to go for a run completely naked… in public… where anyone could see me…

“Katie?”

“Mmm?”

Zoe bit her lip anxiously, “T-t-thank you…”

“You’re welcome sweetie…”

Zoe could hear the sleep creeping into her friend’s voice so she let the conversation go, content enough to lay in the quiet of her room and taking some solace that, for everything that had happened so far and for everything that was probably going to happen tomorrow - at least she wasn't trying to work it out alone anymore.

The red-head closed her eyes. The more she tried not to think about what she was going to have to do tomorrow, the more it played on her mind. Zoe knew Katie was right, she was out of options, if anything this was her absolute last shot at retaining any kind of control over what was happening to her.

She’d lost the button, she’d lost the ability to choose when and where to run; she’d even lost the ability to wear clothes! Zoe just prayed, curling herself into a smaller, tighter, ball in her bed that this would work – that they would find a way to reverse this – to climb back up out of this wish, this curse, which was rapidly spiralling out of control...

“Ponygirl!”

Zoe sat up straighter in her chair, the teacher calling her cut into her core.

She knew he was talking to her, and yet, he said… please no…

She was in her high-school history class, only everything seemed, wrong...

She was naked, she knew, and she could feel the sticky firm plastic of the chair on her ass, the soft breeze from the windows across her exposed breasts and the cold tiles under her bare feet. The shame and humiliation of it immediately caused the red-head to whimper and cover herself with her hands, squealing in horror behind her desk.

The voice of the teacher spoke like a metronome,

"Good Ponies don't wear clothes! Good ponies don't speak! Good ponies don't use their hands! Good ponies do what they're told! Good ponies run!"

Looking around in bewilderment Zoe looked to the faces of her fellow classmates, only to scream and shrink back in horror when she saw shadows sat at the other desks. They were the right shape, the right size, they were recognisable as the people she’d expect to see in those seats, but it was like they’d been replaced… approximated… like someone had created blank puppets of each of them.

Only, Zoe realised, her scream was muffled because there was something in her mouth. Horrified she reached up, only to find a complicated set of straps, and a long rubber tube between her lips… she was wearing a bit…

“Ponygirl!” The shadow that should’ve been Mr Richards, her high school history teacher, snapped again and Zoe recoiled, floundering as she stood up from her chair in blind panic. She sent her chair scuffing noisily backwards, knocking into the desks around her.

That’s not my name!

She tried to protest desperately, but the bit prevented her from speaking, she could only mutely plead, her words muffled and empty.

“Ponygirl!” The teacher barked again, and Zoe started to hear the shadowy ghosts that were her classmates start to gasp, and sneer, and gossip...

I’m not a ponygirl!

She started running in a blind panic towards the exit, her hands fumbling with the bit gag that she couldn’t remove. When Zoe reached the door her eyes watered, tearing up as she noticed the classroom door had been replaced with a jet black, obsidian, stable door...

“Ponygirls must be harnessed to avoid disruption!” The teacher’s shadow barked as Zoe fumbled with the door.

Please let me out, I'm not a ponygirl!

The red-head looked back over her shoulder, her body flushing brighter and brighter pink with frantic humiliation and fear. The simulacrum of her teacher pointed at the blackboard and the red-head mewled into her bit-gag again.

The board was a single, glass-like sheet of obsidian. Across its top, in large, plain white text, was the word, MOTIVATION.

Below it, in smaller text read; LESSON 3: PONYGIRLS MUST BE HARNESSED TO AVOID DISRUPTION

And below that was a large white spiral, Zoe stared at it in horror, watching it, letting it draw her in as it spun...

“Good Girl!”

The teacher’s voice and tone changed in an instant and Zoe blinked, confused, shrinking backwards into the cold black door. The moment she did, the bump of it on her bare ass shook her from her reverie and she realised could feel tightness across her body. She looked down to see leather straps criss-crossing her naked body. Forming diamonds around her breasts and navel – a leather harness decorating her nudity and doing nothing to protect her modesty.

"Good Ponies wear a harness! Good ponies don't speak! Good ponies don't wear clothes! Good ponies don't use their hands! Good ponies just RUN!"

No!

“Good Pony!”

Please No!

Zoe turned, her hands pounding at the stuck stable door as a distant bell sounded…

Let me go… let me go… let me go!