Genius Pony Productions
By Musuko

People say that I have great ideas. I find that flattering. It's nice to be flattered, even if most of it comes from sycophants. But it's not true, though; I don't have great ideas. In fact, I don't have any ideas at all. What I do have is a really fantastic knack for getting ideas out of other people. And sometimes, if I'm really good, I get to keep them for myself. The creature now known as Nighty...well, he was simply full of good ideas, all ripe and juicy and ready for me to harvest.
	Cast your wibble-wobble flashback rays to the year of...well, a lady doesn't reveal her age, and neither does a cat, male or female or otherwise. So let's just say that it was some time in the past, when I was little more than a fresh-faced psuedo-adult, brimming with ambition and student debt. It was a time of drinking and debauchery, of ill-conceived entertainments and random hook-ups. It was also a time for studiously leeching off of my more sensibly-minded project partner.
	“You know,” he said, apropos of nothing one afternoon in the shared study suite, “there's nothing stopping us doing our project on sex toys.”
	My response, once I'd processed it and concluded that yes, he had indeed said what I thought he'd said, was something along the lines of “the fuck are you talking about?”
	He flushed a little, which was something I might have found attractive if I weren't miserably hung-over and stuck in here trying to formulate a business proposal sixteen hours before we had to hand it in. Blushing pony boys with cut bodies and a fashionable dress sense can only partially succeed in stirring one from chemically-induced misery.
	He pulled a magazine out from his bag and laid it on the table, his hand covering the title and image on the front. “Okay, well, promise not to laugh.”
	“Right now, I couldn't laugh if you tickled me. Just show me.”
	He lifted his hand away. I immediately broke my promise and choked out a laugh into my paw. The magazine was called Cloplife, if you could believe it, and it proudly proclaimed to be “the foremost publication on all things hoofy”. It said so right there on the cover. And beneath that, in full glossy glory, was a full-colour photograph of what I could only describe as an equine who had fallen arse first through a gimp factory and come out the other side with leather attached to every part that it was possible to attach leather too.
	“You said you wouldn't laugh,” he said reproachfully.
	“I say a lot of things. Why, why oh why, do you have that? I mean, I get the point of it...dressing up as a pony and all that. I've seen the parades. But you're already a pony! So what on earth?”
	He shifted uneasily in his seat. “It's more about...feeling like a pony. Like, a beast of burden.” He looked like he was drifting off into some internal mental scape or something, but snapped out of it and coughed sheepishly. “Anyway, that's not important! Look, right here.” He leafed through the pages and stabbed his finger down onto an article. “Read,” he said.
	So I read, and I won't go into the details as most of them were pretty tedious. What wasn't tedious, however, was the underlying message; that there was a huge untapped market of kinksters in desperate need of having their needs filled, in more ways than one. I looked up at Nighty and he looked at me. I think we both had coins spinning in our eyes.
	“I smell money,” I said.
	“More importantly,” he said, “I smell a good grade.”
	I set to work on the business plan. He set to work on the...well, I wasn't entirely sure what he was doing at the time. But I left him to it, and every now and then he would meet up with me and, when I asked him how his side of the project was progressing or, indeed, what he was up to, he would just smile enigmatically and tell me that it was going well. Finally, I snapped.
	“Look, you're developing the products that I'm meant to be working out how to sell. Surely that means you should actually show me the products some time? I've got pages of 'insert product details here' and we're running out of time!”
	“Well,” he said. “I guess I could show you the prototypes. Not all of them are ready yet, and some of them need a bit of polish, and there's an issue with-”
	I waved my paws until he shut up. “Buh buh buh, doesn't matter. Just show me, okay?”
	So, he did.
	I tried not to look too impressed when he showed me his workshop, but I knew that some of my awe was sneaking through into my expression. The size of it was overwhelming.
	“Where'd you get the money for all this?”
	“Dead parents,” he said bluntly. “Left me a lot of money.”
	I felt it best not to ask much more about that. I prodded at one of the lumpy dust sheets covering up a table next to an industrial lathe.
	“Don't touch that!”
	I flinched away. “Is it dangerous?”
	“No, it's just delicate.”
	I held my paws down at my sides and followed him, edging carefully past boxes and rolls of glossy, rubbery material.
	“So, you've got something to show me?”
	He gave a shy smile and beckoned me over to a cleared area, where a square of carpet and a few curtains made an improvised stage.
	“Presenting,” he said, with a showmanship flourish, his paws gripping the curtains, “the initial product line for GPP”
	“GPP?” I said.
	“Genius Pony Productions. Working title for our company.”
	“Hmm,” I said. I made a 'get on with it' gesture with my paw. He swept open the curtains and dazzled me with the lights set up behind them. When the spots cleared, I could see...
	“Wow,” I breathed. “You made all this?”
	“Mmmhmm!”
	“From scratch?”
	“From scratch.”
	I checked my watch. I had a meeting with a potential investor in an hour's time. There was a lot of amazing stuff in front of me, half of which was a complete mystery to me. I clapped my paws together and smiled. “Okay! Why don't you show me what you've made?”
	“Well,” he said, before faltering and gesturing vaguely towards the table. “The, umm. The primary thing is...”
	“Why don't you just show me and leave the sales pitch to me? Relax.”
	He flushed. I smiled, not unkindly, but when he turned away I checked my watch. Gently, he lifted a rubbery mass from the table and let it unravel in front of me.
	“Gimp suit?” I said.
	“We don't call it that.”
	“We?”
	He bit his lip and glanced away. I tried not to chuckle.
	“It's, well, a full-body latex suit with a twist.” He hooked his arm under one of the long sleeves of the suit and held it up closer to me. Now I could see the shiny chrome zippers that crossed the latex at various points, half hidden in their own recessed grooves. “Normally, it's a pain in the...well, it's a bit awkward sometimes to get in and out of these. Not any more! My version has-”
	“Zippers all over it so you can divide up the suit and put it on part by part?”
	“Yes,” he said huffily. He looked down at the suit. “With the added bonus that you can mix and match parts to suit your tastes, or only wear the parts you want. I think it's going to be popular.”
	“Go on, then.”
	“Go on what?”
	I grinned. “Show me.”
	“What? No!”
	I folded my arms across my chest. “Oh come on. You started this whole thing. I want to see what I'm going to be selling. I assume you sized that thing to fit yourself?” His squirming told me I had guessed right. I grinned, knowing the argument was over. “You can go behind the curtain. I won't peek.”
	“Okay,” he said, eventually. “Let me just, uh...make some adjustments first.” I watched him swap out the suit's 'gloves' from a pair of rigid lumps, which, after a few moments of thinking, I realised were artificial hooves, presumably designed to keep the paws bound up inside as fists, to a pair of normal rubbery gloves with individual fingers. I made a mental note of where he put the hooves down.
	“Promise you're not going to look?”
	I crossed my heart and raised an eyebrow. He slunk behind the curtain. I checked my watch.
	“How you getting on back there?” I called after three minutes.
	“I'm in the suit,” he said. “I just...bit nervous.”
	I took hold of the curtain and, ignoring his panicked shriek, thrust it aside.
	“Well,” I said, at a loss for anything else to say. I stood there and took it all in. He shied away from my gaze. I refused to moderate my stares.
	He had a lovely body. I had always admired it. He was muscular and hard, but he wasn't a stout and overbuffed beast like some of his equine kin. He was taut. That was the right word for him. Taut, and svelte, and achingly pretty. Now, he stood in front of me in skin-tight black latex covering everything from his neck down and I could see every single muscle. All except one. I pointed right at his crotch and raised an eyebrow. He swatted my paw away.
	“It's padding,” he said. “This is the 'modesty' version of the crotch piece.”
	“I'm guessing the other versions are less modest?”
	He squirmed. I changed the subject, lest the poor guy implode completely in embarrassment. I took hold of his arm and had a closer look at the zippers.
	“What are these?” I asked, touching a pair of metal rings flanking one of the zippers.
	“Locking points. There are ones like it all over the suit.”
	“For padlocks?- Won't they dangle about and get in the way?”
	He shook his head. “Not these ones.” He scooped up a sliver of shiny metal from the table and held it up in front of me. “I've halved the weight of a standard lock of this size, but kept most of the strength. See how thin it is? See that little pocket on the suit just next to the locking points? That holds the padlock, nice and tidy.”
	“Show me.”
	He closed his fingers over the padlock. “You can just take my word for it.”
	I moved around behind him, cheekily checking out his rear. “Suit yourself. And what are these?” I hooked a finger into a rounded rubber protrusion on his hip. He yelped and staggered back.
	“Watch it! That's a belt loop.”
	“The suit needs a belt?”
	“Not like you're thinking. It's...uh. Anyway, I'm gonna take the suit off now and-”
	“No no, hold on. What's this belt thing?”
	He tried to step away from me, but my finger in that loop had him on a short leash. He made an embarrassed whimpering noise. “A chastity belt.”
	“Oh wow, really?” I let go and went over to the table myself. There was all sorts of chrome and latex there, but I couldn't see anything that was particularly belt-like. “Which one is it?”
	“I really don't-”
	“Come on, you've gotta show me how it all works. You can't be shy if you're gonna wanna run a kink company!”
	“I don't want to run a kink company. I just want to get a good grade on this project.”
	I glanced at the table full of gear. “Sure. Whatever you say. You don't have to wear it for long. Just demonstrate how it works, okay?” I waved my paws and stepped away. “Go behind the curtain if you're ashamed.”
	“I'm not ashamed.” He huffed, scooping up one of the shiny chrome items from the table. No wonder I hadn't recognised it as a belt; it was all folded up in separate strips.
	“Compact,” I said. He twitched a proud smile.
	“I'll just go...umm.”
	He slid behind the curtain, but not before I noticed that the padded bulge of his crotch seemed distinctly more pronounced than before.
	“And I'm just going to make a phone call.” I looked over to where an old rotary sat amongst the equipment. “I'm assuming I can use yours...”
	I hung up just as he returned and smiled pleasantly at the sight. The belt appeared to be modular with the suit; the patch of latex that had covered his crotch with that padded section was now replaced by one that interfaced with the chrome belt. It was an elegant thing, slim and intricate, curving over his hips and between his legs, closely hugging his body. I frowned, about to protest that something that was custom-fitted to him personally was not exactly useful as a product to sell, but then he moved and I realised that the belt was a series of interlocking strips about two inches long, lined with some kind of black squishy material on the inside. It could fit anyone.
	“You should work for aerospace,” I said, drawing closer. I stared. They were right what they said about equines. At least, they were if the belt were anything to go by; the 'pod' shape at the front protruded upwards by almost a foot, and was as thick around as a food can. I blinked in shock at him.
	“That's not all me,” he said, touching a fingertip to the top end of the chrome pod. “At least, not all of it. There's other stuff in there.”
	“Stuff?”
	He whinnied, then bit his lip in embarrassment. Finally, he relented with a sigh. “A series of lubricated tubes and air bladders, and a little battery and control unit. It...umm...milks.”
	“Doesn't that rather defeat the point of it being a chastity belt?”
	He shook his head. If it were possible to blush any more than he was doing right now, I would eat my socks. “It doesn't take you all the way. Just to the edge. Over and...over.”
	I stared. Then grinned. “That's evil,” I whispered. “And that'll be popular, huh?”
	He nodded. His paws strayed over his crotch to hide it a little. I nudged them out of the way. Surprisingly, he didn't resist any more than a whine.
	“Is it turned on now?” I asked.
	“No, of course not.”
	“How does it know when you're about to...spooge?”
	He winced. “Male genitals are pretty easy to read; we all get extra hard right before we shoot. The base ring inflates snug around the shaft and grips it there. If the pressure in that ring rises, then the whole thing stops until it goes down again. It was really easy to program.”
	“You've tested it? On yourself?”
	He nodded after a short hesitation.
	“How do you turn it on?”
	“I'm not telling you that!”
	“Is this where it locks?”
	He twisted around, trying to keep me from nosing around behind him, but I just moved faster. I caught hold of one of the belt loops, seeing now how the chastity's metal strap fitted through them. Just under the hole where his cropped tail protruded I saw a pair of those locking rings sitting neatly on the join where the three metal straps of the belt met.
	Click...
	He jerked and twisted around. “Hey! What was that?”
	“Nothing”, I said, smiling innocently. I slid my paw into my pocket and back out again,  palm empty. “Is that a harness?”
	He blinked, mentally re-railing his train of thought and directing his attention to the neat pile of leather straps and chrome buckles. “Uh, yeah. And a bridle, too. It goes with the mask.”
	“There's a mask?”
	“Yeah, there is. It's...hey!”
	He stumbled forward, thanks to the gentle push of my paw against the flat of his back. I loved the way his hooves looked on the floor; these ones weren't artificial, like the forearm versions that he'd removed from the suit. These were his real hooves, sitting snug inside the stretchy latex veneer of the suit. I imagined there were probably fake versions too, for those wearers who weren't naturally equine blessed.
	“Put it on,” I said.
	“I really don't th-”
	“It wasn't a request. Put it on. I've gotta see what it looks like if I'm going to sell it. Or do you want to give up on the whole thing?”
	He lifted up the harness. I wasn't all that well-versed when it came to bondage apparel, but I had read a few things in the magazine of his, and from what I could tell this harness didn't look anything out of the ordinary. It was well-made, sure, and smelled richly of polished leather. But nothing that stood out. I left him to wriggle himself into the various straps while I explored the table, searching for the mask. Only when I glanced back did I notice that the harness slotted neatly into more of those rubbery belt loops all over his suit.
	“Ah, I see. Works together as a set. Very good for business.”
	“That's not why I designed it that way,” he said. He flexed an arm and rotated a shoulder to demonstrate. “It won't slip or pinch or chafe like a normal harness would. It fits close to the body and doesn't shift.”
	“Locks in place too, I bet,” I whispered, laying my palm down over the six or seven small padlocks laying on the table. I swept them quickly into my pocket.
	“Say again?”
	“So this is the mask?” I said, spinning back to face him, holding something that looked like the mutant offspring of a horse and a gas mask. It gleamed a glossy latex black like the rest of the suit. There were two round lenses of darkened glass where the eyes should be, but I noticed they were angled outwards. I turned the mask over and looked inside. The lenses bulged like fish-eyes, and I started to get a sense of his attention to detail; the wearer would be given panoramic vision, just like a feral horse. I flipped it back over and stared right at the face. It was handsome enough. The muzzle had two large sockets on the sides, like a gas mask has for filters, and one smaller one positioned where the mouth would be. I could see a screw thread there.
	“How's this going to fit anyone else, though?” I asked. “It looks like it's made for your head only.”
	“More bladders,” he said. He took the mask from me. I was surprised to watch him lift it up and over his face, starting to fit it on himself. I hadn't even prompted him to, although of course I was going to. I tried not to smirk. “They swell up to fit snug against whatever shape or size muzzle is inside. Within reason, of course.”
	“Well, we'll sell an XXL model or something. Goes on easy, huh?”
	He tugged at the zipper that sealed the mask down the back, then worked his fingers along the neckline until he reached the ends of the zipper there, neatly connecting the mask's zipper to the suit's neck zipper. Suddenly, the whole assemblage was one single unbroken skin of black latex. He nodded in answer. I caught a glimpse of his lips through the mouth hole.
	“The zipper looks very tidy at the back,” I said, stepping behind him. I stroked my fingertips over the chromed teeth with one hand and slipped a padlock onto the locking rings  for the mask with the other. He heard the click clearly that time, and he jumped away from me, pawing at the back of his head.
	“You...” He grunted, tugging at the padlock for only a moment. He made it, after all, so he knew how strong it was. “Take it off right now.”
	“Hmm...no.”
	“Unlock it this instant!”
	He had his hands up ready to fight me. It was a sobering reminder that he was a lot stronger than me. I held my hands up in defeat, showing the little silver key. “Okay, okay, sorry. I was just playing around. I'll unlock it, jeez.”
	He lowered his arms. I stepped behind him. I tugged at the padlock for a moment, making sure he could feel the movement there. Then, as fast as I could, hoping to catch him before he could react, I grabbed his wrists and yanked them in towards the side straps of his harness. The shiny clips there dutifully engaged with the rubber rings on his wrists and securely fastened them in place. I jumped back, grinning.
	“What are you doing?!” he squealed. I wish I could have seen his face behind the mask, because at that moment he looked up and saw me grinning, and his shoulders sagged as if he had been deflated like a balloon, and a faint whimper escaped his mask.
	“Shush now,” I said. I planted my palm against his chest, hooked my foot behind his ankled, and shoved. Down he went, crashing to the floor, catching most of the impact with the cushioning muscle of his butt. He still yelped in pain, though.
	“Sorry!” I said, and meant it too. “Didn't think you were going to fall so heavily.”
	I jumped down onto him before he could wriggle away or get back up. I sat astride his chest, pinning him down, and held the gag in my paws above his muzzle.
	“Open wide,” I said.
	I hadn't picked that gag for any particular reason; it just happened to be the first one I saw on the table. I recognised it for what it was thanks to the screw mounting at its base. Though, truth be told, it could just have easily been an anal toy for all I knew; maybe it was interchangeable, and it could fit both in a mouth socket or butt socket. All I knew is it was a giant rubbery phallus that would fill his mouth and shut him up.
	He resisted at first, as I expected him to, but I just kept pushing the head of it through the mouth hole until his lips finally spread around the tip. I heard a breathy moan from him as I sank it all the way down the length of his muzzle and gave the base a few quick turns to screw it into place, flush with the outside of the mask.
	A thought occurred to me.
	“That dildo gag thing was equine-shaped. Did you model it from your own?”
	He made a gurgling, whining sound around the gag. It hissed out of the breathing hole that extended down the length of the gag to a nozzle at the visible end. I laughed.
	“That answers that!” I patted his cheek and stood up, but I planted my foot on his chest as a reminder for him to stay down. He didn't seem in a hurry to go anywhere.
	“Now,” I said, musing to myself. “Where did you put those hoof attachments...”
	I checked my watch. Twenty-five minutes. Plenty of time. I found the hooves and noted that, yes indeed, they balled the paws up into useless fists inside them, turning the limbs into decoration only. I marvelled at his attention to detail; there were even small screw holes around the rim of the rubber hoof, matching up with fitting bolts on a set of shiny horseshoes, should one want to complete the outfit. What the hell, I did! I spent a precious minute fitting them. Now came the tricky bit.
	“Stay still, now,” I warned, my left knee resting on his chest and my right knee pinning his elbow. I needn't have bothered, however, as I found that there was another set of rubber rings on his elbows. I clipped them to his harness and I was all set; I was able to release his hands without much fear of him doing anything other than wiggling them uselessly at me, pinned as they were at the elbows. He splayed his fingers and tried to resist the hooves going on, but I stuffed them inside anyway. The taper of the latex sleeve did the rest, forcing his fingers together until I was able to get the zipper together.
	“Looking good,” I said. I wiped at my forehead. This was getting me out of breath. I stood up and saw, with the kind of beautiful timing that the universe sometimes produces, something that instantly made sense to me, something that would get him out of breath. I knew what it was because he had so 'casually' pointed out something similar in his magazine. No wonder he had made one for himself, the little pervert. I picked it up, grinning, and looked down at him. He whimpered into his gag and shook his head. I nodded mine. “Oh yes! Come on now, you made it. It's only fair you wear it.”
	One end of the tube slotted neatly into the breathing hole on the gag, holding in place with a half twist into a little groove. His breath huffed in panicky gasps out of the far end of the tube.
	“Hmm, what to do with this.” I held my palm flat over the nozzle while I thought about it. He inhaled and sucked my palm in like the suction of a vacuum cleaner. Beneath me, his bound body writhed and kicked, but I sat squarely on his chest and made sure he wasn't going anywhere.
	“Hmm...”
	I could barely hear his struggling whines, but what I could hear was a lovely sound. I lifted my palm away and heard a juddering gasp whistle down the tube. I 'accidentally' let the nozzle drop and settle against the fabric of my crotch. His head dropped back limp and I heard him moan. His breath tickled all the way down through my clothes and caressed my sheath. I indulged for a moment, closing my eyes and murmuring. It felt good. And what was even better was knowing that he was inhaling my scent, getting a nose and mouth full of musky cock, something that must have been pure torture for a straight pony...well, 'straight', or so he claimed...and there wasn't a damn thing he could do about it.
	I checked my watch and sighed. No time. Damn. I rose to my knees and shuffled back down his body, raising a leg to swing up and off of him.
	I stopped...
	“Hello...”
	There was another nozzle, right at the tip of his chastity's cock pod. I hadn't noticed it before as it was tucked in just behind the bulge of the tip, between it and the slender tummy plate. I touched the end of the tube against it. It was a perfect fit.
	“Oh you utter pervert. You didn't tell me about this!”
	Click, and it was in. His head shook limply from side to side. He thrust his hips upwards, raising his rear off the floor. He struggled to pull his arms away from his sides, but the clips at his elbows and wrists held them fast, and with his paws in hooves he was incapable of doing anything about that. I leaned in to inspect the chastity, searching for and finding the ventilation holes down at the very bottom, underneath the rounded bulge for the ball sack. Every single breath he took was filtered first by his sweaty balls and leaking cock. Glorious!
	And, joy of joys, while I was down there, I spied a small switch, tucked away underneath a padlock-able cover right behind the balls. I clicked the switch.
	His whole body shook, and I heard a shaky moan filter its way through all that latex. I leaned down to put my ear to his chastity. I could hear a soft hissing sound, and something more...squelchy.
	“So that's how you turn the chastity on. Good to know! I'm sure the customers will be pleased to have that information!”
	I checked my watch. Ten minutes. I sighed, looking at the table, still groaning with many other goodies. Well, they'd have to wait. I hooked a finger through a handy ring on the front of his harness and pulled. He was a heavy thing, but I was reasonably strong. I hauled him upright and held him steady. His legs seemed to want to give way, and he was breathing hard and fast, inhaling his own needy musk as the chastity teased him. I wondered how long the batteries would last.
	I found a leash; there were many to choose from. I fitted it to his neck and tugged. He seemed obedient enough, following me out, his stiff rubber hooves clopping softly on the smooth concrete floor. I remembered to lock up on my way out.

The tiger intimidated me. I couldn't imagine what he did to Nighty. He was somewhere in his mid-thirties, stocky and muscular, poured into a suit that looked like it cost more than my car. His eyes said 'I can kill you in so many ways', and his teeth said 'and I mean it, too'. And with what I knew of his proclivities, and with my knowledge of the deal made earlier over the phone...and how readily he had accepted it...I was certainly on edge. Even so, I managed to stammer my way through the sales pitch, knowing as I did that it wasn't much more than a formality at this stage. He wasn't even really listening either; his eyes never left the squirming rubber pony standing beside me at the end of my leash. And besides, I was the instigator in this horrible little situation. I was the villain of this piece.
	He set his finger onto a slip of paper and slid it across the table. On it was a number that made my eyes water. I was a rich villain now...
	“My investment,” he rumbled.
	“Your demonstration model,” I said, tugging Nighty's leash and dragging him over to the tiger, who wrapped his meaty paw around the thin strap and pulled Nighty in closer and harder than I ever could. I risked a quick glance and satisfied myself with knowing that what this tiger kept under his suit would make what Nighty had in his chastity look like a matchstick.
	“A pleasure doing business with you,” he rumbled.
	I folded the slip of paper and ran my thumb along the crease, then slipped it into my top pocket. I beamed and watched as the tiger strode from the room, and as Nighty staggered along behind him, whimpering faintly down the tube and over his cock.
	“Likewise,” I said, and started to make plans for the future, as the sole owner of Genius Pony Productions. My first act, I thought, would be to do something about that name...