Zach was restless.
It was a lovely Saturday morning, and he had exactly zero on his "to do" list. He contemplated doing a little self-bondage. A quick hogtie perhaps (he was rewarded with a pleasant stirring at this thought), but that seemed too boring. He was in the mood for something a little more intricate, something outdoors.
His mind flicked to his pony gear, and this time it was more than a simple stirring he felt.
Zach had not had the opportunity to wear his pony gear in over a year. Well, that wasn't exactly true. Strictly speaking he could wear the gear whenever he wanted (well for the most part, some of it he couldn't put on by himself). He just didn't have anyone to play with him or work him through his paces once he was in his gear, which, for him, was a big part of the fun of being transformed into a pony.
Nevertheless, he loved the gear itself. He loved the way it felt. He loved the way it looked, and he especially loved what it symbolized.
On the spur of the moment, Zach decided he was going to do a bit of self-bondage in his pony gear, and maybe even lounge around the house all tacked up.
Zach went into his closet and grabbed his latex catsuit off its hangar. It was hanging with the rest of his clothes (though in an semi-separated fetish section). A perk of living by himself.
He quickly got undressed and donned the latex, then spent a few minutes reveling in the feel of the material against his skin, how it sat snugly against his body, conformed to his body's every contour, tracked his every movement, and endowed him with a shiny, smooth second skin.
Finally he broke himself away from the hypnotic action of running his hand along his shiny new skin and grabbed the two carry-on sized bags containing most of his pony gear from the floor of the closet. Zach also picked up a pair of hoof boots (the one's where the wearer's foot would sit inside a realistic looking - though leather covered - hoof) and made his way over to the living room, one side of which fronted his rather spacious backyard in a spectacular fashion via several large picture windows and a pair of oversize French doors.
Zach placed the bags and boots on the floor by the doors and set about laying out all his gear. He lifted his harness out of one of the bags and lovingly set it down on the floor, taking time to straighten all the straps. As much as he wanted to put it on right away, he restrained himself with the knowledge that doing so would spoil the buildup of excitement, which normally reached a crescendo when he got to see all the gear he was about to wear sitting in front of him.
After the harness came the tail. It was a harness attached tail, which would clip to his harness belt, or girth. Zach took a moment and pre-emptively attached the tail to the harness belt. It would be easier now than after the belt was snugly around his waist.
Next, he pulled all the pairs of leather cuffs from the bag: for wrists, elbows, biceps, knees and thighs (he omitted the ones for his ankles because he planned to use hobbles instead). Zach loved the bondage and restraint aspects of pony play, and although the number of cuffs was overkill even for him (he had never had all the cuffs locked together in any session), he savored the idea that with a few clicks, he could be rendered completely helpless.
At the bottom of the first bag, below the cuffs, was a small selection of bits and various accessories. From these, he carefully selected a straight mouth Pelham bit with cherry rollers on the sides where his teeth would rest. He also picked a pair of reins and a rubber tongue port. He lifted a bit burr thoughtfully, but decided against the added trouble and set it back down.
After some careful thought, he also selected a couple tie downs for his bridle and a running martingale. The latter, he also attached to his waist belt before he forgot. Zach preferred the running martingale. In his opinion, it conferred more control to the rein holder than a standing martingale, although this was belied by the fact that in the absence of rein pressure, a running martingale allowed more freedom for the pony.
From the second bag, Zach lifted out a pair of rubber hoof mitts. These were made of latex and molded in the shape of a horse's hoof. They were tight fitting and would force his hands to remain in fists, rendering his fingers useless. Unfortunately, he wouldn't be able to use them today because they were impossible for him to get on by himself. They would have to wait until he found another play partner.
Below the hoof gloves was his favorite piece of equipment (well, tied with the hooves, which were also his favorite), his bridle.
The bridle he pulled from the bag was definitely made to fit a human head (the fact that the bridle had horse shaped ears attached to it was the first clue it wasn't intended for an actual equine). The attached blinders would make it impossible for the wearer to see anything except what was right in front of him, but the bridle's primary function was to hold a bit in the wearer's mouth, and it performed that function superbly.
The straps that went around the back and over the crown of the head would ensure that the wearer could not push the bit out of his mouth. Moreover, the chin strap, which was separate from the bit's own curb chain, would hold the wearer's mouth closed around the bit guaranteeing that the wearer couldn't even open his mouth to try to push the bit out.
The last items he pulled from the bag were a solid pair of lockable hobbles and a large handful of locks. The hobbles were connected by three short, livestock grade chain links. There would be no doubt about its security.
There were a few items left at the bottom of the second bag, but nothing else he was planning on using at the moment. Still, Zach picked up one of the items, a nice 2 3/8" lockable ball gag (nice in the sense that it would keep the wearer, assuming they could even fit it in their mouth, nice and quiet, mostly because having such a large ball firmly strapped into their mouth behind their teeth pre-occupies them with the effort of dealing with such a large oral intruder) and played with it momentarily. He decided to leave it out. He might use it later today.
With everything finally laid before him, Zach drank in the scene of all these pieces of leather, rubber, and metal that were designed to restrain him, control him, and transform him into a horse.
He didn't rush the moment, but as soon as it was over, Zach grabbed the harness and started buckling himself into it. It covered his upper body in a maze of leather straps, which all had to be adjusted and re-adjusted. When it was properly positioned and all the straps were tightened to his liking, Zach locked each buckle with a small luggage padlock (all keyed alike of course).
Feeling the sensual press of the leather over his latex catsuit, Zach moved on to the leather cuffs. He started with the ones that encircled his legs, just above the knees and worked his way up, first to the thigh cuffs, then those that went around his biceps, then to the elbow cuffs. Finally, he buckled on his wrist cuffs and again went through the routine of locking all the buckles in place.
Zach moved on to his posture collar. After securing it snugly, but not too tightly, he locked it in place and attached it to his harness. The collar was actually a part of his harness, but he tried to put it on as late as possible because, being a posture collar, it severely restricted the movement of his head, which made it hard to see what he was doing.
The bridle was next and once secured on his head, Zach took a moment to think about the bit. He really wanted to attach the rubber tongue port to the bit, but he was a little worried that it might end up being too much for a solo scene. However, in the end, his arousal won out over his reason, and he quickly attached the rubber port to the roller bit.
Zach then placed the bit in his mouth and fastened it to his bridle, tightening all the straps as far as he could without gagging from the long rubber protrusion extending deep into his mouth. Finally he cranked down both the chin strap and the curb chain as tightly as he could, and then attached the reins to the lower, leverage, bit rings before running each side through its respective ring on his martingale. Finally, he draped the reins over his head (almost bending one of his new ears backwards when the reins got caught).
The last step of controlling his head was to attach the ties downs. Zach secured these to his bridle and then to his harness. This was not easy since a pair had to connect to the back of his harness, so he couldn't see what he was doing. Additionally, the posture collar made maneuvering difficult. Nevertheless, he eventually managed to get everything properly attached.
The running martingale would ensure that he kept his head down. When the reins were pulled, the bit would be pulled further back into his mouth and because the reins ran through rings attached to his waist belt, it would also pull his head down, toward his waist belt.
Conversely, the tie downs would keep his head up and firmly looking straight ahead because they secured the back of his bridle to the back of his harness. The whole setup was an insidious combination that would prevent him from turning, lifting, nodding or shaking his head all while putting him completely at the command of whomever held his reins. The slightest pressure of the reins would be infinitely magnified because of all the equipment he was wearing.
Too bad nobody will be holding them today, thought Zach a little wistfully.
He wasn't quite finished, but he was planning to put on the last few items outside, namely the hoof boots. He didn't want to scrape his hardwood floors with the metal shoes, so he grabbed the hooves, hobbles, a few more luggage locks, and a larger padlock (to restrain his wrists) and headed for the door.
Almost as a afterthought, Zach placed the keys to the locks on a table by the door so he wouldn't lose them. He had spares, but they were all the way in his bedroom, and from past experience he knew he would not want to trek all the way across the house in hobbles and hooves when he was done.
After dropping the keys on the table, Zach opened the door, stepped out into the beautiful morning, and closed the door behind him.
He walked a good 100 feet away from the house and into his yard before settling on a spot in the grass. He brushed his tail aside and sat down on a largish rock under the shade of a tree. He wanted to put on his hoof boots in the grass, because otherwise, he would make a racket walking on the concrete and rock closer to the door.
It took a lot of effort for Zach to bend his body into a position that permitted him to see his feet. Once properly situated, he slipped his right foot into one of the hoof boots, and enjoyed the feeling of having his foot forcibly extended. He tightly laced up the boot then repeated the procedure with his left foot.
Once the boots were laced up, he buckled the hobbles above his ankles, and with only a moment's hesitation when he considered the distance he would have to cross with only a couple links of hobble chain before he could unlock himself, clicked shut the four padlocks that locked the hobble's buckles in place.
With no turning back now, Zach unhesitatingly put his hands behind his back and, after a little fumbling, locked his wrist cuffs together with the final, and largest padlock.
Fully secured, Zach stood up in his hooves. He tottered for a few seconds, refining his balance in the extreme boots that had not graced his feet for over a year. The hobble made things more difficult, but Zach eventually found his balance and started taking little steps.
A dull ache formed on the balls of his feet and in his toes almost immediately. However, Zach was seriously enjoying his bondage and the ache just enhanced the feeling of helplessness that he so loved.
Zach shuffled his way around the grass, part of him imagining that he had been captured and transformed into a horse for the amusement of some faceless mistress, that he was now on her estate and was harnessed and hobbled so that he could graze unattended. He got lost in this fantasy and started pulling at his wrists and clanking his hobbles, feigning irritation and frustration with his restraints when in fact he felt the exact opposite.
He had worked his way about three quarters of the distance back to the door when he heard the slight creaking of the gate to his backyard. Shortly afterward Luna, Zach's neighbor's dog, came bounding into his backyard.
Zach froze, paralyzed with indecision and the first faint finger of fear. He couldn't get caught like this.
"Luna...Luna!" came a voice from the front of his house.
The sound of a human voice, the voice of a person looking for the dog that was sitting right at Zach's heels (or rather hooves, at the current moment), jolted him out of his paralysis. He started carefully shuffling towards the door. It couldn't have been more than 30 feet away, but with the hobbles on, it looked like 10 football fields.
Aside from the hobbles, Zach had another reason to move slowly: his hooves. Unless he moved very carefully and deliberately, his metal shod boots would make loud clip-clop sounds. He knew this would attract attention, and with the dog's owner in his front yard, he wanted to be especially careful. His desire to move slowly and quietly fought with his need to get into the house as quickly as possible, at all costs, before whoever was looking for Luna found her. This internal battle had Zach as tense as a piano wire.
It was at that thought that he heard the voice again.
"LUUUUNA!" this time the voice was closer and Luna responded with a quick series of barks.
When the dog barked, Zach knew he was fucked. He had to make a break for it.
Zach heard footsteps near the side of his house, approaching his backyard. Now he panicked, shuffled, hopped, and ran as best as his hobbles allowed. The neighbors would think he was keeping an insane horse in his yard, but he'd worry about their complaints later.
He was down to less than 10 feet now, and still no sound of the gate to the backyard creaking. This was going to be a photo finish.
Zach reached the door. He made it!
He was momentarily ecstatic with glee. He'd go inside, lock the door, shuffle into the next room and hide out while they retrieved their dog, then he'd go back into the living room and unlock himself.
But just as he was twisting his body so he could open the door with his hands, which were still bound behind his back, his head was jerked downwards and backwards, putting him off balance and forcing him to take a step back, away from the door, to avoid falling. In the same moment, he felt the bit in his mouth get pulled back and the bit port, previously resting benignly on his tongue, was pulled back into his throat causing him to cough.
The coughing quickly turned into gagging as the rein pressure increased. He bit down on the bit even harder than the tight chin strap had been forcing him to, but that had no effect. Of course not, he thought, I specifically chose the bit with rollers over the teeth because it's immune to a person (pony) biting down on it.
With no choice, Zach again stepped backwards to avoid the bit port's evil action, but the pressure didn't ease. Now Zack was panicked about stopping the bit's action and started stepping backwards as quickly as he could.
Finally, when he was halfway back to where he started, the pressure on his reins eased. Zach took a second to get his gag reflex under control before turning his body around, gingerly, in case there wasn't much slack in the reins.
He didn't know what to expect, but it definitely wasn't what he saw.
Luna had his reins in her mouth. There were a couple large twigs tangled up in the reins as well, likely from the reins dragging behind him on the grass, or perhaps they got tangled into the reins when he was sitting on the rock just under the tree. Regardless, between the moving reins and the sticks, the dog had apparently decided it would be fun to grab the "rope" and play tug of war when he had started moving quickly to the door, not knowing the effect it would have on Zach.
Just then, Zach heard the gate to his backyard creak open. He made another dash for the door, but was caught short by Luna, who immediately started pulling back causing Zach to lapse into a gagging fit as he was again driven backwards, away from the door and freedom from humiliation.
Zach saw Taylor walking towards Luna before she saw him. Taylor was a babysitter for his neighbor's son. She also doubled as a house sitter/dog sitter when their family was away. He didn't know if he should be relieved that it wasn't his neighbors that found him or be more worried that she might make an even bigger deal because she didn't know him well.
Taylor was 5'7" with light brown hair and hazel eyes. Zach didn't know too much about her, but he gathered she was a student at nearby Cal. Probably a sophomore or junior. Probably just barely old enough to drink. And very much attractive.
"Oh, shit!" exclaimed Taylor as soon as she saw Zach. Her casual walk immediately transformed into a run with the grace of youth and the ease of an athlete. When she was within arm's length of Luna, Taylor reached out and grabbed Zach's reins from the dog's mouth, which caused Zach to take a couple quick steps in her direction, his hobble link clanking, to avoid falling.
"Sorry about th.." she trailed off from the reflexive apology as she started to really take in Zach's gear.
"No shit" said Taylor as she eyed Zach's hoof boots. This time, she said the words much more slowly. The words came out soft, almost reverent. "I have to get a pair of those."
This brought Zach back to the reality of getting caught, and he blushed crimson. He wasn't sure what to do. He couldn't talk. His wrists were locked together behind his back, and the keys were inside the house. He couldn't even nod or shake his head because of the posture collar attached to his harness and the tie downs from his bit to the front and back of his harness. Not to mention that Taylor was still holding his reins.
He took a hesitant step back, which took all the slack from the reins as they pulled taught through the rings of his martingale. He started a second step back, but there was no more slack and Taylor wasn't letting go or following him. She was just standing there staring, transfixed.
Zach gently started pulling back with his head. He slowly increased the tension until he was starting to pull her hand up ever so slightly. This broke her trance, but instead of letting go, she gave his reins a tug. He was pulled forward, and again had to stumble a few steps toward her to stay standing.
"Not so fast," she said, "I'm not sure what to do with you yet."
Her words sent another finger of fear shivering up Zach's spine. Surely she wasn't going to call the police. He'd never live it down.
"Since I know you live here, I assume you weren't kidnapped, and judging by the elaborateness of your...your costume - cute ears by the way - I doubt any burglars did this. So, it's safe to say you enjoy this and you're not in any trouble, right?
Zach was silent, but after a few moments he realized that she was expecting some kind of response.
Unable to nod or shake his head, Zach bit the bullet and tried to say, "Yes. Can you please let me go?", but with the tongue port holding his tongue down, he couldn't form anything even remotely close to words. All that came out was inarticulate noise and an embarrassingly large sliver of drool.
At the sounds that escaped Zach's mouth, Taylor broke down in laughter. Zach tracked her arm's movements to avoid having his head jerked forward again.
She laughed for a long time, but Zach wisely chose to remain silent for fear of prolonging the situation with a new round of laughter. He was so embarrassed, but he couldn't go anywhere, she wouldn't let him at the moment, so he just stood there and waited, as red as a beet.
Wiping tears from her eyes, she finally got herself under control and said, "Oh man, this is awesome."
"Okay, just nod or shake your head," Taylor tried.
When she got no response, she stepped closer and started examining his collar and bridle. It didn't take her long to see the tie downs holding his head in place, and although she had not seen a posture collar before, she surmised that due to its size and thickness, it would be hard for Zach to turn or otherwise move his head.
"Wow, you can't move your head. Or talk." she said, truly amazed by the detail.
"Where do you even get this kind of stuff? Who thinks it up?" she continued, but this time she didn't seem to expect any response from Zach.
"Well...someone went to a lot of trouble getting you into all this stuff. I'm not sure if that someone was you, or if that someone is coming back to play with you, but either way I don't think you're in any danger, and I don't want to spoil your fun, so I'm going to put you back how you were before Luna here came by and grabbed your leash," commented Taylor, mistaking his reins for a leash and giving the dog a pat.
"I have to feed the dog and walk her," Taylor said as she started leading Zach to the same tree he was sitting under less than half an hour ago when he was busy buckling and locking the very hobbles that would get him caught in this situation, "but why don't you call the house when you're done here. I have a million questions for you if you have the time."
Zach tried passively resisting, but the power of the bit he was wearing was too much and he ended up struggling to keep up. When they reached the tree, Taylor tied Zach's reins to a high branch, nearly at eye level with him in his hooves. She tied it in a double knot with no slack. There were only about 2 inches of space from Zach's bit rings to the branch.
"There you go. I'll make sure Luna doesn't get back in here again, but just in case, she won't be able to reach it, or pull it down again."
That's when Zach finally realized what was going on. Taylor thought his reins were tied to the tree and the dog had pulled them down, which was why she had them in her mouth when Taylor walked in. He needed to explain that he wasn't tied to a tree, his reins had just been on the ground behind him. He couldn't get himself free with his reins tied like this!
Zach started making distressed, but inarticulate, noises to indicate that he didn't like this. He tried to communicate that he was uncomfortable and worried he might fall and break his neck. He tried shaking his head, but the tie downs and posture collar did their job and he couldn't move his head an inch. He tried bending his body, but there was no slack in the reins for him to do so. All that he accomplished was some tail swishing and jingling from the various locks all over his body.
But Taylor was on her way out with the dog behind her, evidently ignoring Zach's noises and twisting body. Probably she thought he was having fun again now that he was tied to the tree.
"Sorry for the interruption. Don't worry, I won't tell anyone," she called over her shoulder as she closed the gate behind her and Luna, "but please let me know where you got those boots."
With that she was gone, leaving Zach to try and figure out how the hell he was going to free himself.