Subsistence Farming

>You are Anon
>Or more accurately Anon Jr.
>And right now you are pissed off.
>Your Dad, Anon Sr. has decided that “city living” just “isn’t for him”
>And when he says for him he also means for you.
>This time you are pretty sure your old man has lost it completely
>He doesn’t know jack shit about farming!
>As you stare out the window watching the landscape slowly transform into a more agrarian one you start fantasizing about leaping from the moving vehicle.
>Your father takes notice of your dour expression and he slaps you on the shoulder.
>“Cheer up Anonymous, it won’t be all that bad, I think you might prefer the simpler lifestyle.”
>In return you give him a look of loathing that shows just how much you think of “the simpler lifestyle”
>All that does is make him laugh.
>“It’ll be good for us both to get out of the city Anon.”
>Yeah right, you and your dad have always been urban dwellers, you don't know how to be a homesteader or farmer or whatever.
>There might not even be electricity for all you know!
>It’s a terrifying prospect to you.
>You hope that once your dad finally sees the place in person he’ll call the whole thing off and you can move back.
>But you have a sinking feeling that won’t be the case, afterall you are pretty sure you know the real reason for this sudden move and it has nothing to do with “returning to your roots”
>As you were musing over ways out of your fate, it seems that you have arrived.
>Well maybe arrived isn’t exactly correct, you have turned down a dirt road that extends as far as you can see.
>There is nature all around and you wonder if this is what your father is intent on buying.
>How much does land cost? A lot right? Can the old man even afford all this?
>You decide to voice the question aloud.
“Hey Old Man, how much is this place gonna cost anyway?”
>Again he laughs.
>“Don’t you worry about that Anonymous, it's not as much as you might think, it's only ten acres after all, and the owner seems pretty eager to sell it off.”
>He turns and smiles at you.
>“Hell he even said we could keep all the farming equipment and furnishings”
>Up ahead in the distance you can just begin to make out a collection of buildings.
>“Oh there it is Anon, look at that, not so bad huh?”
>As you pull into the opened metal gate you finally get a proper look at the house.
>It is about what you expected, it's a small simple two story wood and brick building with a large chimney coming off the side.
>There’s a stack of firewood rising nearly all the way up to the windows on the second floor.
>Who the fuck could possibly use that much firewood.
>To your immense surprise, and relief, you spot several large solar panels bolted to the metal roof.
>At least that answers that question.
>Directly adjacent to the house is a barn? Or maybe a stable? What the hell is the difference anyway?
>Whatever it is it’s pretty large but not nearly as well kept as the house, a large hole in the buildings roof being the most obvious flaw.
>And stood beside a shitty little yellow beamer parked outside the barn/stable/shack is the man who you presume to be responsible for ruining your life.
>“That must be mister Newson, let's go meet him”
>Your dad pulls the car off to the side of the house, parks it and then gets out to greet the man before you have time to say anything.
>Stepping out of the car you begrudgingly walk over to where the two men are talking.
>Anon Sr. slaps you on the back once you’re within range.
>“And this here is my pride and joy Anonymous Jr. Say hello Anon!”
“Hello Anon”
>Mr. Newson looks at you clearly not impressed, but your dad just laughs.
>“Yep that’s my boy, such a little joker,” he says putting you in a headlock.
>You scowl and he flashes back one of his patented shit eating grins.
>For his part Mr. Newson looks like he couldn’t care less about the father son antics.
>“Yeah okay so anyway do you want me to show you the place or not?”
>“We’d be delighted wouldn’t we anon”
“Fucking peachy.”
>Mr. Newson leads you around the house and the land and as the tour continues you start to think maybe it won’t be so bad.
>There’s running water and electricity, two bedrooms and two bathrooms, so privacy won’t be a problem, and the house is full of a lot of really cool shit.
>Mounted deer heads and fucking swords and guns hanging on the wall all over the place, and all the furniture looks super fucking high end like ranch living shit.
>For God sakes there’s even a large stuffed bear in the corner of the living room.
>The other buildings are all pretty impressive as well.
>There’s a chicken coop with actual chickens out behind the house and a root cellar.
>You don’t exactly know what makes a cellar a root cellar, but it was cool to have one anyway.
>Surrounding all of this was about 10 acres of farmland, waiting to be worked, by you guess you and your father.
>While you may not have cared at all for the agrarian lifestyle, it definitely seemed idyllic for someone who did.
“Hey Newson, why are you selling this place?”
>“Oh yeah, well it's not really mine. My grandfather left it to me in his will but I don’t really care for this whole country living thing, I’d rather have a nice car then all this old junk. I mean who wants to farm in this day and age anyway?”
>Wow
>This guy is a fucking moron.
>Even you can see that this place is worth far more than whatever this dipshit is asking for it.
>Doesn’t /k/ always say never sell your family’s land or guns?
>Wait a second Anon weren’t you vehemently against this whole idea like 15 minutes ago?
>Okay yes, but now after seeing this tool I think I’ve changed my mind.
>You are now much more open to your dad’s idea purely out of spite for a man you just met.
>Pretty typical of you all things considered.
>However your newfound appreciation for the homesteader's life quickly plummets upon seeing the contents of the barn.
>“And last and least is the barn”
>The inside of the barn matches its outward appearance, it's old and run down to the point of seems like it might fall apart at any time.
>Along the walls are old tools that seem well worn from time and a tractor that looks older than your dad is rusting in the very center of it all.
>But none of that is of your immediate concern.
>What catches your attention is not the barn’s condition or the tools or even the tractor, no it's a little orange pony with a golden mane and tail curled up in the back corner.
>What. The. Fuck.
>No way
>There’s no way that thing is going to be staying here right?
>There’s no way that your dad can be okay with this right?
>Right?
>Right
>You relax, even if the pony comes with the property, which you doubt, your dad will insist that it be taken away.
>“So you’ve got your tools and stuff here, and this little creature,” he says gesturing at the pony “is yours as well.”
>Shit, not good. You look to your dad with a hopeful expression.
>“Oh, um well I wasn’t aware that there was a slave included with the property.”
>“Yes well neither did I, but here it is.”
>Your dad seems to ponder this for a second.
>Yes dad tell him that he needs to take this cattle with him!
>“Does it have any paperwork that I need to take a look at?”
>No! Stupid old man! Tell him it has to go.
>“Yes there is,” he reaches into his pocket and pulls out a clump of folded papers. “I take it this means you’re interested?”
>No, say no, c’mon you old shit don’t do this.
>“You know what I think I am.”
>FUCCCCCCCCCCK
>Then he thrusts out his big stupid hand and shakes the mans hand officially making my life a living hell.
>Mr. Newson smiles for the first time “Excellent you’ll need to sign a few things and then I'll turn the place over to you!”
>“Um does it have a name?”
>What who the fuck cares if it has a name its a pony!
>“You know I’m not sure,” Mr. Newson kicks the pony in the side and it yelps before standing up.
>“Pony you have a name?”
>It, or rather she, shakes its head no and begins to speak in a sweet almost southern accent.
>“Master said that ‘slaves don’t need names iffin there’s only one of ‘em’, so he..”
>“Well your old master is dead now, as you well know, these two are going to be your new masters, you will do whatever they ask of you, do you understand?”
>She nods her head.
>“Great! Now Mr. Anonymous if you’ll follow me we’ll get that paper work all squared away.”
>They both depart and leave you standing alone with the pony.
>She looks over at you and gives the tiniest grin.
>You’re still trying to process what exactly has just happened so you continue to stare blankly at the creature.
>“I reckon y’all are the young master then?”
>Huh?
“Huh?”
>She takes a few steps closer to you.
>“I just meant that..”
“Fuck you, you stupid horse.”
>Instead of backing away or cowering in fear like you had expected she laughs.
>Laughs! At you! This.. this slave.. Is laughing at you!
>“Fer starters I ain’t a horse, I’m a pony.”
“Listen, horse, I don’t give a FUCK what you are, you’re a slave, and as your master you better not fuck with me got it?”
>The smile fades and is replaced with a completely neutral expression “Very good young master”
>She turns and saunters back over to her corner of the barn.
>As she does your eyes are drawn to her backside and you can’t help but stare at her um parts.
>“Any other instructions you want to give me, young master?” She says, staring at you with her piercing emerald eyes.
>Her tail briefly flicks to the side giving you an uninhibited view of her privates for a split second.
>Something is… stirring within you.
“F-fuck you.”
>As quickly as you can you get the fuck out of there.
>It’s probably a good idea to check up on dad.
>Yeah that’s why you left so abruptly.
>Not because of any other reason.
>Definitely not.


>When you make your way back inside it seems that your dad has already finished going over all the details with Mr. Newson.
>“A pleasure doing business with you Mr. Anonymous!”
> Then he walks out the door, gets in his car, and drives away without another word.
>Your dad is sitting at the kitchen table reading over some documents, presumably concerning the house.
>When he sees you enter he tosses something at you.
>Out of reflex you reach your hand up to catch it but, instead you accidentally end up spiking it into the ground.
>The old man chuckles at your poor reaction time and you give him the finger before reaching down to pick up the object.
>It’s a set of three keys.
>“Well Anon, it’s official we’re homesteaders now!”
>You are not amused or happy.
>“So how’s the pony?”
“W-what?” you stammer a slight blush creeping onto your face.
>“The pony, how is she?”
>You give your dad a blank stare.
“She’s just a pony.”
>He nods “I suppose she is.”
>You’re not sure why but this response makes you want to yell at your father, but ultimately you decide it's not worth the effort.
>This whole day has left you feeling rather defeated, you didn’t divert or prevent your father's crazy plan in any way and now there was this crazy horse you had to deal with.
>“Anon I know that this wasn’t what you wanted, but I really do believe this will be good for you, for both of us.”
>Staring at the floor you give a weak nod in the affirmative, hoping that  what he says it true but too stubborn to really embrace it.
>“Tell you what, why don’t we spend the night here, get used to living here, then we can have the movers bring the rest of our stuff over in the morning.”
“But we don’t even have any overnight stuff, we gotta go home!”
>The shit eating grin makes its return
>“Actually we do, I packed us both overnight packs in case we went ahead with the deal!”
“Of fucking course you did.”
>“Why don’t you go get the bags out of the car, i’ll let you pick the room”
“Fine”
>Storming out of the house to the car grumbling all the way, you can’t help but think that you must have been pretty fucked up in your past life to deserve this.
>Slamming the car door closed you start dragging the two duffel bags back to the house.
>On the way you glance at the barn and see the little pony watching you move across the yard.
>Her stare is intense and her expression remains completely calm.
“Creepy”
>You quickly make your way inside.
>As you continue to drag the bags through the house your dad is reading the slave’s papers out loud.
>“Anon did you know that that pony can lift over 800 lbs?”
“Uh huh”
>“Huh there’s a kill switch implanted at the base of her skull, who knew?”
“Uh huh that’s…”
>Wait, what did he just say?
>Kill switch?
“Wait what do you mean?”
>Your dad looks at you.
>“She’s got a little explosive charge under the skin right here,” he says tapping the back of his neck.
“Jesus Christ, like an actual bomb?”
>“Yeah it also doubles as a tracking chip, it's a very stable explosive apparently, but if she tries to leave the property, BAM! No more head.”
“What the fuck, why?”
>He leafs through some of the papers, “It says here it was mandated by the state due to a ‘history of noncompliance and above average willfulness’.”
>Okay now you're even more creeped out by that pony’s staring, you even shudder about thinking about it.
“Dad maybe we should y’know, get rid of her if she’s so dangerous?”
>Your dad just shrugs it off “Nah I’m sure she’ll be fine Junior, besides dealing with an unruly animal is part of the homesteading life!”
>If anything your dad seems excited by the prospect.
>Why, why is he being like this, if anything he should be more upset over having a pony here than you, how can he be okay with this?
>Does he not care anymore?
>You want to speak up and demand he get rid of you, but he’s back to reading over the papers.
>Instead you resume dragging your luggage upstairs all the while mulling over your situation.
>The idea of living here while unpleasant, would not ultimately be that bad, you’ve made peace with that, but living with a pony.
>That seemed intolerable.
>Especially one so, so…
>What was she really, just an animal, an animal that could talk.
>But her race is still responsible for what happened to…
>Even if she’s not DIRECTLY responsible, ponies are slaves now, mere property, under the total control of humanity.
>You suppose that would make her under your control
>You could order her to do, well, anything and she would have to obey you.
>...
>There’s a pent forming in your pants as your mind begins to swim with dirty, traitorous ideas about just WHAT you would order that fucking…
>NO
>NO NO NO
>Stop it brain, you can NOT think that, pony is not for sexual, you hate ponies.
>Your lower brain throbs in disagreement.
>Fuck
>“Anonymous, what’s taking so long! I have something else I’d like us to get done.”
>Shaking your head to clear away the salacious thoughts, you quickly make your way back downstairs to see what your dad wants now.
>Your dad is waiting for you downstairs.
>“Anon, good, I’d like to get this place cleaned up, move some stuff out of the way so the movers will have an easy time of it tomorrow, after that I'll make dinner.”
>You frown.
“You want us to clean the whole house? It’s not even very messy!”
>“Then it won’t take much time will it,” he says, handing you a broom that looks to be older than you are.
>Might us well just get it over with, at least you can eat when this is done. Your dad makes a pretty mean grilled cheese, which is about the only thing he makes, but still.
>As you predicted sweeping the house and rearranging bizarre nick-nacks and eccentric furniture takes hardly any time at all especially with two people.
>“Nice work junior,” your dad raises his hand to high five.
>You know what, why not, you don’t leave him hanging.
>“I’ll get started on dinner, you cool with grilled cheese Anon?”
>Knew it
“Yeah dad that sounds great.”
>He nods and heads into the kitchen to begin dinner preparation, but before he does he turns around and says.
>“How’s that pony looking, Anon? Think she could use a cleaning too?”
>God damn it old man
“What the fuck, no. Why?”
>“Well she is a very valuable piece of farm equipment and if we’re gonna be serious about this whole farming thing we had better get used to taking care of that equipment. That means keeping it clean,” he says matter of factly.
>He can’t be serious.
>Normally your dad gets this look in his eye if he’s bullshitting you.
>This is not one of those times.
>“There’s a washroom with a tub downstairs that should be perfect to give her a good cleaning, take care of it while I get dinner ready all right anon?”
>And then without another word he heads off to the kitchen leaving you standing there in mild shock.
>Will the torment never end?
>You figured you could just coast by on the occasional chore while your dad got this farmstead LARP out of his system, but it seems he is very adamant about making you LARP right alongside him.
>Let’s just get this over with.
>Marching over to the old barn you throw it open to find the orange pony resting in the dirty corner of the barn she apparently calls home.
“Hey pony, get up.”
>Her eyes open, and upon seeing you she rolls over and dusts herself off before standing at attention.
>“What is it young master?”
“I need you to come with me, I’m going to wash you.”
>She blinks once, then twice and then finally a slight nod.
>“Whatever the young master wishes.
>Without further comment you lead the pony into the farmhouse and then into the washroom.
>The room itself is pretty simple, a small room with tile floors and a tub.
>Various soaps that an old person might buy lay scattered around the floor.
>With a surprising gracefulness the pony hops up into the tub and stands there waiting.
>...
>“Well, what are ya waiting for?”
>Oh right, she’s waiting for you.
>Reaching over you turn the simple metal handle and a jet of cold water blasts out hitting the tub with an intensity you did not expect.
>The cold water causes the pony to jump and she tries to move as far away from the faucet as possible.
“Sorry,” you say lamely.
>The water quickly warms up, by now there's a good inch or two in the bottom of the tub.
>You grab a cup off to the side and fill it with water, you suppose this would be the best way to do this right? You’ve never washed an animal before.
>Gently you pour the warm water over the pony’s back.
>A gentle half moan half whimper escapes her mouth.
>She tries to hide it but you definitely heard it.
>You repeat this action, of filling the cup with the warm water then gently pouring it over the pony so that she’s completely wet.
>Waves of dirt and mud are washed away by the soothing water staining the water a muted brown.
>Wow she really did need a cleaning.
>However you can still see many clumps of dirt and leaves in her coat and mane.
>Time to get scrubbing.
>Grabbing one of the shampoos and a brush hanging from the faucet you starting washing this pony in earnest.
>Using the brush in one hand and a liberal palm of shampoo in the other, you set to work.
>You scrub her back and her belly, feeling an iron-like layer of muscle just below her soft coat. >Brushing through her mane and tail, you do your best at untangling the little clumps of mud, dead leaves, and sticks.
>As you scrub you notice the pony’s face betrays a barely contained rapture at the feeling of being gently cleaned.
>As you begin to rinse away the lather, the full luster of her sparkling orange coat comes into view.
>Her mane and tail shine like the sun, brilliantly gold and dazzling.
>She’s actually pretty…
>Beautiful
>You also notice some things that aren’t.
>You notice the scars along her back.
>You notice the brand over her flanks, previously obscured by the grime of her coat.
>Whatever her cutie mark once was it is now impossible to tell, something red you think.
>This causes you to stop scrubbing.
>You might hate ponies, but you could never imagine doing something like this to someone so beautiful.
>At least you hope you wouldn’t.
>The thought that you might be capable of doing just that makes you feel an intense rush of shame.
>The pony turns to look at you, her lustrous green eyes half-lidded in obvious enjoyment and finally being clean for the first time in who the hell knows.
>The hot bathwater has caused the room to steam up in the cold evening air.
>That’s probably why you feel a heat rising on your face as she looks at you with such passion.
>“Thank you kindly, young master. I can’t tell you how good it feels to be clean.”
“You’re welcome,” you say, trying not to sound too flustered.
>Grabbing a towel from a nearby pile you begin to dry the pony off.
>“It’s all right young master I can take care of this part,” she says, taking the towel from you.
“Oh okay.”
>Instead of helping her dry you just stand there and watch her expertly use the towel to dry herself down.
>After a minute she stops and asks.
>“Would you mind terribly if you could help me dry off my backside, it’s a mighty hard to reach area for us Earth Ponies.”
“Uh sure I guess.”
>Taking another towel from the stack you begin patting down the ponies legs, and start to slowly work your way up toward her flanks.
>She’s practically purring in delight.
>“Young master I want to thank you again for this, I wish I could return the favor in some way.
>As you approach her more delicate areas, your mind thinks of a few ways she could ‘return the favor’.
>“Actually, I think I do know a way to thank you.”
>Oh shit
>You try to keep your face as neutral as possible.
>You're just a guy doing his job right, this isn’t a porno Anon.
“I don’t know what you mean, I was just trying to take care of the farm’s equipment.”
>Perfectly valid and reasonable response.
>“Well, would ya like it if I took care of your equipment, young master.
>Yes
“N-no”
>She smiles warmly.
>“I pretty good at tellin’ when someone is lying, and your ‘equipment’ has got a real easy tell,” she says gesturing with a hoof at the growing bulge in your pants.
>“What do you say, young master?”
>She winks at you.
>And not with her eyes.
>You swallow heavily.
>“It’s okay, you can do more than just look.”
>Might as well right Anon?
>You’re just concerned about doing a good job.
>Not your raging erection.
>Your hand starts to move towards the slave's most private parts.
>But, you can’t.
>You can NOT do this.
>It’s fucked up man!
>She’s a fucking animal bro! What the hell are you doing?
>Throwing the towel at her you scramble back to your feet.
“Do it yourself horse”
>Before she has a chance to even respond you run out of the bathroom, past your father grillin’ cheese all the way upstairs to your room.
>Slamming the door behind you, you begin to frantically pace back and forth.
>Why do you do this?
>Do you hate ponies, or do you want to fuck them?
>Or is it both?
>That’s really fucked up Anon.
>But the boner cares not for the musings of man.
>It knows what it wants, and it wants you to fuck that orange pony.
>...
>This is only the first day.
>You realize this horse is probably giving you some kind of complex.
>You scream into your pillow.


>Be Anon Sr.
>Your son just ran past you up to his room.
>Seconds later you hear him loudly slam his door.
>Hmm
>Your father-sense is tingling.
>The slave walks out of the hallway into the kitchen with a towel draped across her back.
“What was that all about?”
>“I don’t have any idea, master.”
>You just shrug.
“Family what can you do?”
>The pony winces, and quickly tries to hide it by turning away from you.
>But you saw it.
>Hmm
>Your father-sense is working overtime.
>Time to redirect
“You know I’ve been thinking.”
>Her ears swivel and she turns to look at you.
 “We can’t just call you pony forever, so how does ‘Orange’ sound?
>Pony does not look very impressed by your name choice.
>“Whatever you would prefer to call me master.”
>You chuckle slightly,
“Well, I’d like you to like it, so we’ll work on it, okay?”
>She gives a slight sort of bow and says, “Thank you kindly master.”
“No problem, now how about a grilled cheese?”