| “Time Enough to Remember”Indeed, I now have enough time to think back and remember what was, how it happened, and can compare myself to this self!If I could speak to those around me I would warn them of what could happen, but even as this one considers it, I would do it all again. I stand now not as the man I was once, but as what men call an animal. My human form is gone, transposed, and interned within this more massive form of stronger bones, hearty muscle, and a tough hairy hide.Gone from me is the ability to communicate; that is other than a singular tone call of one left standing on all fours. I can mumble, mutter, scream, and call out, but intelligible conversation with a human being is simply out of the question.I do have, and feel humiliation one would being now standing among others of my new kind, we all properly naked as are all animals before men. The thoughts of my past life, as when getting spruced up, dressed to the hilt, and go meet my lady friend, is but a fleeting memory.Humiliated I stand on all four and need from time to time for displaying my maleness. It happens when I become nervous, or as either under saddle or standing with others as we wear our harnesses. In any case, it comes first as an urge and then turns to a driving need. As one’s mind thinks of the embarrassment of urinating in public, or the rank display of my now enormous shaft, it all enfolds together, making me anxious.Humiliation, brings on anxiety, making something click in my bestial brain and oddly I become rather painfully, erect. It extends out from my sheath as a placid hanging piece of black flesh. It begins to gain weight, filling itself of my life giving blood until it stretches out long and hefty. The urge is demanding and I want for relief. It builds a pressure within my loins until without so much as a willful thought the river of stench roars out the open end of my wretched shaft. Even as it spews out upon the ground, be it earth or pavement. Those nearest me other than them of my kind, they step back, or scatter like chickens before the wheel.Yet, it is on a rare occasion when in the pasture, my stall, or at night; someone comes near and with their gentle touch delights upon me and my maleness. I do so like their toughing of me down there! I stand stiffly, or take a half step forward to stretch out long my body in its great length. Then as if delighted with what happens next, I begin to show off.When alone with someone who appreciates me, wishing they could have what I am now. Their hands tell of one nervous, afraid of capture and the notoriety of their peers, then learning of their perversion to the ways and morals of humanity. My time of learning how to react has culminated into a pattern of actions to allure these willful souls to want more and clamor to enjoy me, and my cock. I masturbate, willingly, but in privacy, allowing this one affectionate person to imagine my pleasures and joys.Some cry, squeal, or the real wild sort, steps under me and taking my stiff shaft in their hands, they engulf the end into their warm and wanting mouth.Tickled to feel a human expressing joy in me being as I an, an animal, I let go my male semen. Flooding into their small mouth the semen oozes past their lips, running down a chin, as they choke on the volume my big balls do produce.We both find our own sort of pleasures from this and upon their returning for more delights, they all become, caught.Caught, but not by the law or those in authority over men and their ways. It comes from him, the man and my caretaker; he discovers us, and once seeing a human so in the enjoyment of one who is an animal; he graces them with a bestial life too!The Caretaker is our friend and master all in one. He knows of our needs and longings; making of those who come to toy or frolic as another part, of this his farm. I recall a young lad by the name of Joshua; he toyed with my maleness three nights in a row. His capture became for him and several pony mares a very nice gesture of sensual fun loving. He stands as a fine black knight, a Welsh Mountain pony stallion. I watch him bring pleasure to those mare who came here once as a sorority. Josh has one big, and black shaft the size equal to my own; and how he does make those mares moan.His is a technique like nothing I have yet been as a witness. He mounts and presses his shaft into those wet and winking vulva lips. I watch as his thrusting begins in slow and easy pelvic moves. His timing and rhythm builds until after several sexual moments of wild and raw sex he comes to his climax and the semen spews into the mare with a might force.To hear those mares moan is a credit to Josh and his many long hours of play with me, and others here in the stables.It is of my coming here that occasionally boggles my mind. My meeting with the Caretaker and his questions about my sexual fantasies all culminated in me now standing an Appaloosa yearly, and since my maturing to a stud and stallion.I cannot remember anything other than his walking me into a dark barn. It is from there and until I stopped suckling the teats of a mare that I again had my memories return. Now I plod about, remembering what I had once and was quite free and able to do, and then too, enjoy. Eyes focus on things up close, as then ears listen for what I cannot see, and my long nose tells of scents, things beyond what the other senses can avail one who lives in fear.I understand the principals of living with a herd, depending on the awareness of the others to alert the group of danger, or caution. My herd brings to me peace, I graze quietly, confident in our numbers.The delight to me now is feeling my shaft buried deep into the wet and warm lips of a mare’s vulva. To feel the wrinkled sheath pressed into those winking lips and my shaft’s open end butting the walls of a mare’s hot womb.At least once each week they place me with a mare and inside a closed corral. We play and mate several times, each being once as people we find this our new bodies to be exciting. The mare does her level best to make me happy and I work that shaft until my lover is moaning and cross eyed. More to come! |
