The Shape of Her - Alternate Ending
by Megansdad
Copyright© 2026 by Megansdad
BDSM Story: This is how the story would have ended if her friends had stepped in and helped her instead of laughing and letting it happen.
Tags: PonyGirl
The park came next—wide open spaces, weekend loungers, and families. Joggers slowed to stare. Someone clapped. A street musician even started to play a jaunty tune as they passed.
“I’ve got to admit,” the sister said, casually looping the leash around her wrist as she snapped a few photos on her phone, “you really wear the role well. Maybe you’ve missed your true calling.”
Tears welled in the ponygirl’s eyes, but she blinked them back, trying to focus on her footing. The hoof boots made every step precarious, and the humiliating sway of her exposed breasts—now flushed with heat and humiliation—made it worse.
Then came the friends.
A table near a café. Three of them—two girls she’d known for years and a guy who used to flirt with her when her boyfriend wasn’t around. Their laughter stopped cold as they saw her.
The guy’s jaw dropped. One of the girls covered her mouth. The other simply smirked. “Oh ... wow.”
The sister pulled the leash taut, stopping for a moment. “Say hello to your friends,” she said, turning to the stunned trio.
“She’s not owned,” one of the girls said sharply. “She’s his girlfriend.”
“She will be,” the sister interrupted. “We’re heading to the registry now.” The ponygirl tried to step back, shaking her head furiously, tears streaming down her face now.
The bit muffled whatever sound she tried to make, but the desperation in it was unmistakable. The sister just gave a cruel smile. “Too late to back out now, sweetheart. You want me to stop? You should’ve spoken up before I got this leash.”
One of the girls stood up immediately. “What the hell?”
“No,” she choked around the bit, the word broken but audible.
The second girl moved closer instead of away. “Wait,” she said, eyes narrowing. “Did she consent to this?”
The sister gave a small laugh. “Consent disputes are resolved at registration.”
The guy stepped around the table now, putting himself between the sister and the path forward. “She’s crying,” he said flatly. “That doesn’t look like consent.”
The sister’s expression flickered for the first time. “She’s emotional. It’s a transition.”
The first girl reached up carefully and touched the ponygirl’s bridle. Quickly unhooking one end of the bit and gently removing it from her mouth. “Is this what you want?”
“No. It’s complicated. She intimidated him and dragged me here. I’ll explain later. Just help me,” the ponygirl said through her tears.
Silence fell over the group. Even the street musicians nearby faltered mid-tune. The sister tightened her grip on the leash. “This doesn’t concern you. Move.”
No one moved. The second girl crossed her arms. “You can’t just drag someone to registration because you feel like it.”
“She’s unregistered and dressed in pony gear in public,” the sister shot back. “That’s reportable.”
“Then report it,” the guy said. “Let the authorities handle it. You don’t get to process her yourself.”
A small crowd had started to gather. Gawking and listening, unsure of what they were witnessing.
The ponygirl’s chest heaved as she looked from one friend to the next. For the first time since the park, she felt something other than panic. She felt support.
The first girl stepped closer to the sister. “Take the leash off.”
“No.”
“Take. It. Off.”
The evil sister laughed again, but it sounded thinner this time. “You’re all making a mistake.”
“Maybe,” the guy said, “but you’re not walking her anywhere.”
The ponygirl swayed on her hooves, exhausted, shaking.
The second girl reached for the buckle at the collar. The sister jerked the leash hard, and this time, three hands grabbed it back.
“Enough.”
The sister jerked back instinctively, but this time she wasn’t pulling against one exhausted woman in hoof boots. She was pulling against three people who had decided, at the same moment, that they were done watching.
“Let go,” the sister snapped.
“No,” the guy said, stepping close. “You don’t get to drag her anywhere.”
The first girl was already working at the bridle buckle. The bit hung free, and the girlfriend gasped, jaw trembling.
“Tell us,” the first girl said quietly. “Now.”
“She’s trying to register me,” the girlfriend said, voice shaking but clear. “She doesn’t care about me. She’s doing this to hurt her brother.”
The sister laughed, but it cracked at the edge. “Oh, please.”
“She’s done it his whole life,” the girlfriend pressed. “This is just another way to hurt him.”
A few people in the growing crowd murmured. Someone lifted a phone to record.
The girlfriend’s expression hardened. “You said he doesn’t deserve anything good. You said that.”
The sister’s eyes flashed. “He doesn’t.”
There it was. The first girl looked at the girlfriend. “Do you want out?”
“Yes.” That was all they needed.
The second girl moved methodically, unbuckled the collar. The girlfriend swayed as it came free, shoulders sagging with relief. The harness followed, strap by strap, the leather falling away piece by piece. The hoof boots were harder; she had to kneel to work them loose while the girlfriend gripped her shoulders for balance.
The sister lunged. The guy caught her wrists. “Stop fighting,” he warned.
“You can’t do this!” she shrieked, struggling. “She’s unregistered wearing pony gear in public.”
“And you’re attempting coercive registration,” the first girl shot back. “We all heard you.”
The girlfriend stood there now; bare, shaking, but free of the tack. The first girl stripped off the sister’s clothes. Lifting her halter top over her head, leaving her bare breasts swinging free. She handed it to the girlfriend who slipped it over her head. Her breasts not being as large as the sister’s, she didn’t feel it out as well.
Next came the sister’s shorts. The girlfriend pulled them up her legs, not accepting the panties. The guy tossed them on the table they had been sitting at.
The first girl knelt beside the sister and removed her shoes and socks. She handed them to the girlfriend who bent down and slipped them on. Now the sister stood naked between the guy and the second girl.
The sister twisted violently, trying to wrench free. In the struggle, she stumbled, nearly falling. The crowd had tightened into a ring, not cheering, not laughing, just watching ... and blocking the view from anyone who might call the authorities.
“You want the registry so badly?” the guy asked, gripping her arms as she fought. “Let’s walk you over there and talk about attempted coercion.”
Coercion. The word hung in the air.
The sister’s confidence wavered for the first time. “You wouldn’t dare!”
The girlfriend stepped forward, now fully dressed, her voice was steadier now. “She tried to take my freedom to punish her brother. She admitted it. I’ll testify.”
The first girl nodded toward the registration building visible beyond the park trees. “We’re going there. All of us.”
The sister now stood there in full pony tack; harness, bridle, the bit seated firmly between her teeth, hoof boots, and her arms firmly secured behind her back. The first girl clipped the leash to the collar now secured around a different neck.
The sister was the one being escorted now. Not because someone stripped her in revenge, but because she had gone too far in public.
The first girl gave the leash a sharp jerk. “Forward.” She stumbled. The steel horseshoes struck pavement again.
Clip-clop.
Her chest tightened, not just with fear now, but with something heavier. They followed. Not grabbing her. Not pushing her. Just making sure she kept walking.
The registration building rose ahead. Her legs trembled from exhaustion, but her heart hurt more than her body. When the first girl hauled her up the steps, the metallic echo of her hooves felt final.
Clip-clop.
Each strike against concrete sounded like a door closing. No one was going to rescue her. She finally began to question her life choices. About why she hated her brother.
She hadn’t stopped resisting by the time they crossed the threshold of the building. The cold air hit her bare skin like a reprimand. Her breath caught. Goosebumps rippled over her arms and thighs. The leather harness felt suddenly heavier, colder.
Clip-clop.
To read the complete story you need to be logged in:
Log In or
Register for a Free account
(Why register?)
* Allows you 3 stories to read in 24 hours.