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#1 2015-09-12 14:25:37

Registered: 2015-07-26
Posts: 8

Tea Biscuit

Tea Biscuit


Ethan stood anxiously beside his mother while the older doctor reviewed her clipboard with the younger doctor.  The younger doctor or whatever she was wasn’t more than a year or two older than Ethan’s eighteen years.  Ethan was a strapping young male.  At two and a half meters tall, he was a head taller than any of the women in the room and topping a hundred -twenty kilos likely weighed more than any two of them together.   His large, muscular frame didn’t carry an ounce of fat.  Though he may have towered physically over everyone else in the room, he certainly didn’t feel very dominant over anyone.  He wanted this so desperately and for so long.  Now he was so close.

His mother looked at him and smiled warmly.  She had waited so long for this day and wasn’t very good at hiding her apprehension.  She had chosen her sperm donor carefully.  She had carried his pregnancy, under her heart as they say, and given birth to this marvelous specimen of manhood.  She had had him circumcised as a newborn to prepare him for this life.  Her fingers were crossed tightly for luck. Involuntarily, her hands tapped fretfully on her thighs. This was her son’s big chance.  This was her big chance.  She had always been an enthusiastic fan.  She envied those tiny jockeys so.  She was simply too big.  Her home was arrayed with racing paraphernalia.  She had encouraged Ethan for as long as he could walk.  Maybe she had encouraged him before he could walk when she got him his first Pony haircut.  Most who applied never even got this far.  Whether chosen or not, she was so proud of him.

The air was cold on Ethan’s bare skin.  Some of the tests had been rather strenuous, even for a healthy young man in Ethan’s excellent condition.  Standing in a room now with fully dressed women, he felt odd wearing only his skivvies.  Once upon a time, Ethan had learned, an ordinary-sized man might intimidate a dozen adult women simply by threatening to expose his boy parts.  Ethan thought himself very unlikely to overawe anyone, despite his unique size.  He wanted so desperately to be chosen.

“Great,” said Dr. Ponsonby, the older doctor, tapping her knuckles solidly on the clipboard.   “This wonderful letter from your friend Beth is very compelling.”

Beth had been Ethan’s jockey for his two years in the saddle division of the racing program at Cady-Stanton High.

“Ethan, please come with me,” the doctor continued.  She gestured for Ms. Everest, Ethan’s mother, to remain behind.

Ethan entered the small examination room.  The only furniture was a bare examining table.  The neatly framed picture on the wall showed the photo finish of famous Arlington Stakes, saddle division, from two years past.  Ethan had watched the race on TV himself.  No one remembered the names of the jockeys, but everyone knew that Hailey’s Comet had beaten Wind Song by a nose.  Hailey’s Comet represented Rothesay Stables and Wind Song represented Highgate Stables, whose rivalry went back for decades.  Everyone said that Hailey’s Comet was getting old.  Wind Song won the following year after Comet retired.  Ethan himself was fully large enough for the saddle division and still growing. He would be proud to wear the colors of either stable.

“Ethan?” said Dr. Ponsonby, when the younger doctor entered and closed the door, “you’ll have to remove your shorts.”

Ethan’s face twisted into a wry grin.  He blushed and wearing only his skivvies, the blush colored his entire body.

“Ethan, don’t be embarrassed,” said the younger doctor.  “I’ve worked on a ranch and on a ranch, none of the Ponies wear any clothes.  All the Ponies who ran at Arlington, ran naked.  Their bodies were decorated in stable colors”

She was right, of course.  In his high school meets, Ethan had always worn shorts.  Now things would be different.  If he were somehow accepted at the Bar None Ranch, he would receive the best Pony training in the world but he would have to follow the rules.   If he did well, he might be accepted at one of the stables after a couple of years, maybe even Highgate or Rothesay Stables.  He peeled off his shorts and stepped out of them awkwardly.

“Turn and face me,” the young doctor said.

Ethan turned to face her and saw the nametag on her white coat, “Hannah Olivera, assistant trainer,” not “doctor.”

She approached him then stopped abruptly as if intimidated by his size in the small examining room. She smiled wryly at her edginess.  “Okay, big fellow, put your hands on your head – and just keep them there.”  She quickly regained her usual authority.

Ethan complied.   Hannah pulled on an examination glove and Ethan knew what was coming.  He tried staring at the ceiling and then tried to calm his growing anxiety by closing his eyes.  He couldn’t see Hannah, but her perfume filled his head.  Her thick, soft dark hair brushed across his belly, just before she took his penis in her hand.  Ethan needed all of his willpower not to pull away.

“Clipped already,” Hannah noted.  Ponies were always circumcised in the stable in order to facilitate good hygiene.  She cupped his scrotum gently, and then examined each testicle.  “Cough”

Ethan coughed.

“Again.  Okay, no hernia.  Now turn around and put your hands on the table.”

Ethan complied.  He heard what sounded like a rude noise.  Hannah placed the three-quarters empty tube of lubricant on the table beside him.  Next, Ethan felt her bare warm hand on his bare ass. He turned a bit and saw the darker complexion of her hand against his paler skin.  He looked away and then he felt something very cold.

“Just try to relax,” Hannah said.

How could a guy relax, when he had a chance to be accepted at the Bar None Ranch?  His whole future lay gleaming before him.


“Congratulations!”  Beth gushed with honest enthusiasm.  Her open smiled illuminated her attractive features.  Ethan was a natural.  She had been his jockey through his second two years in high school.  They had won League together and placed well in the District and in the Sectionals, proudly carrying Cady Stanton High School colors.   

Cady Stanton had a great racing program in both the sulky and saddle divisions and a proud tradition.  Once upon a time, the most athletic boys vied to participate in a barbaric activity – a “game” called “football,” not even a sport.  Now that violent game was outlawed and best young males channeled their athletic proclivities in other directions.  Ethan was born to be a Pony. 

Others were too often playacting poseurs, whatever their physical gifts.  A jockey placed herself in almost intimate contact with her Pony.  Up in the saddle with her private parts pressed up against him, she could do little to protect herself.  Too often boys “played” Pony, maneuvering artfully to cop a feel from an unsuspecting girl.  She found such molestations beyond repulsive. 

Ethan was no pretender.   Ethan’s house was filled with racing mementos and souvenirs.  His mother was a dedicated fan.  Pictures of history’s greatest Ponies hung on every wall.  All were totally naked as required in the Open Division and their casual display of their male paraphernalia evoked no special notice.  Typically, the ring that pierced the glans of their penises was attached to a navel ring, lifting their members out from between their muscular thighs and exposing their ball sacs underneath.  Often their genitals were brightly painted to show off their stables’ colors.  Only a few books were evident and all dealt with racing themes.  Racing magazines were everywhere.

By far, he was the best of the Ponies she had yet ridden.  He had the large frame and ample strength to carry her with ease.  With no reservations, he placed that strength totally in her service, trusting her completely and holding back nothing.  On the track, he was simply her Pony, with no double entendres or hidden agendas.  He had the great brave heart to match his great physical strength and endurance.

“Hey, Ethan, congratulations!”  Amy, Beth’s girlfriend, was quite a contrast to her smaller friend.  Beth was petite.  Amy was tall and long legged.  She had done quite well for herself and their school on the women’s track and basketball teams. Everyone called tall Amy and petite Beth the odd couple.

“I can’t believe it!  I’ve been accepted at the Bar None,” Ethan exclaimed.    The Bar None has the best trainers and facilities and the highest percentage of graduates who go on to the major Pony stables.”

“They only take the best – like my big bro’,” added Ashley, Ethan’s younger sister, with obvious pride.  She had just turned twelve.  “You know other little boys want to be a fireman or a cowboy.  Ethan has always wanted to be a Pony.”

“Maybe because mom gave me a saddle for my seventh birthday and I gave you Pony rides around the neighborhood.”

Beth was very happy for her much larger cohort.  He had placed his great strength and great heart totally in her service and had given her whatever she had asked of him. He had carried her to some thrilling wins and breathtaking finishes, win, lose, or draw.  Beth firmly believed that it wasn’t whether you won or lost, the triumph was in the struggle with yourself.  Victory over others was merely an added treat.  In reality, her Ethan was still a growing boy.  He had yet to come into his full strength.

She inspected the untarnished joy on his smiling face for some sign of doubt, of reservation.  Did he really know what he was getting himself into? She had ridden him with a bridle and no bit.   He wasn’t a high school boy anymore.  She had ridden with no more than unknotted length of rope for a crop and no spurs.    The Bar None would introduce him to the whole nasty kit.  In the open division, jockeys used spurs and leather riding crops. Did he know that once he signed the papers, carefully drafted by the best legal consultants, he gave over full legal rights?  They would snip his vocal cords and brand him.  They would give him a new name.  That was routine.  He would be bought and sold, like livestock.  Hell, he would be livestock.  They could cut off his damned balls, if they chose, and even euthanize him, just as they saw fit.  Sometimes, she thought that these practices were cruel and inhumane.  However, they were simply customary and nothing unusual.  She knew that Ponies signed up voluntarily and the supply was plentiful.  Since the Revolution, it was perhaps the best of bad choices that face a young male.  No one was coerced, and she knew that they received a deferrals from the Hunt and their families received substantial payments.

You always see the glorious champions on TV and in the newspapers, but what happens to the also-rans?  Would her poor Ethan spend his life giving little girls rides around the track in an amusement park or posing for birthday party pictures?

“You should see the signing bonus old Ethan earned,” Ashley boasted.  “And that’s just the first installment. If old Ethan does well, we get another big check when he graduates and gets his first placement.

A good jockey does more than climb up on her Pony’s back and urge him to run faster.  A good jockey knows exactly what her mount can do and can’t do.  She knows just how fast he can run and for how long.  A good jockey earns her Pony’s complete and total trust.  Her challenge is to take him to his very limit, beyond his doubts and fears.  Beth searched Ethan’s beaming face and saw no uncertainty. 


    Beth had asked Ethan to meet her at the stables on Sunday, one last time.  High school was over now for Ethan and his promising future lay gleaming before him. Beth and Ethan had had so many pleasant times and shared so many treasured memories.  They had been a championship pairing on the Cady-Stanton Suffragettes equestrian team.  Beth was Ethan’s favorite jockey and Ethan was Beth’s favorite mount.  High school was over for Ethan and Beth looked forward to one last ride. No one knew what the future might bring.

    Ethan went down to the stables, changed into his shorts, and waited.  In high school, mounts wore running shorts, brightly displaying in school colors. After high school, mounts ran naked except for their gear.  Custom required Ethan to wait and let his jockey put on his saddle and bridle. 

    Beth arrived no more than a few minutes late.  She wore battered leather boots, a casual tee shirt and jeans rather than her brilliantly colored racing silks and white jodhpurs.  After sharing a hug, Beth donned her leather gloves.  She helped him with his harness and saddle.  The harness securely restrained his strong arms.  He knelt and he secured his bridle.

“One more thing,” she said.   She had brought him a present.  She showed him the bit she had bought him.  He opened his mouth to accept it from her hand.  The bit placed his greater strength fully under the control of his smaller rider.

He stood; Beth pulled down on his bridle and Ethan leaned forward.  She placed a hand on either side of his head and kissed him fondly on the forehead. 

    Playfully, she pushed him away and inspected her mount one last time.  Reminiscences of past races, proud victories and hard fought defeats, flashed through her mind.  “One more thing,” she said aloud.

    Her words puzzled Ethan.

    Beth put her hands on his hips and deftly unfastened the buttons on his shorts and jock strap.  A sharp jerk of her hand left him stark naked.

    Surprised, he pulled away.

    Beth yanked his bridle, pulling sharply on the bit and quickly quenched any insubordination.  “Ethan, come on!  You’re not in high school anymore.”

    “You’re still in high school,” he tried to say but with the bit pushing down and forward on his tongue his words were unintelligible.

“Real mounts don’t wear clothes.  You just looked so silly.  You’re magnificent.  You have no reason to be embarrassed.  If I were as beautiful as you, I wouldn’t ever wear clothes.”  She tucked the shorts securely in her pocket.  Her collection at home included the shorts of all the mounts she had defeated. 

Ethan was confused.  Beth had seen him naked already.  He grimaced to remember how she had tricked him after their last race to the amusement of her friends.  However, he had found it utterly impossible to stay angry at her. She meant so much to him.  If he thought about it, Ethan had to agree that she was actually correct.  After high school mounts were naked.  Older ponyboys ran naked in the park and on the flatscreen.  He had seen them himself.  However, never before had he been placed on public display.  Once upon a time, a lone male might intimidate a dozen adult women simply by threatening to expose his male paraphernalia.  That time was safely in the past.

Suddenly, he realized that ‘his’ Beth must ride other mounts too.  If they were older, they would be naked too. If he would not be her first, she might very well be his first.

    “Mount!”  Beth commanded and by reflex Ethan dropped to his right knee.  Beth grabbed his bridle and stepped up with her left foot on his brawny left thigh.  She swung her right leg over and settled comfortably into his saddle.

    “Up!” she ordered.  Some day she would own a string of mounts and she hoped they would be as sound and well trained as her Ethan. 

Ethan rose smartly and let Beth guide him forward into the yard.  On a weekend, the yard was busier than usual with mounts and riders, but the pair attracted little attention. Ethan felt her heels jab sharply into his flanks. 

    The stable lay on the edge of a vast park.  Beth brought her mount to a jog and then to an easy stride.  Ethan ran gladly and carried her effortlessly.  He had had long practice and he lived for these precious moments with her.   He ran and took pleasure in Beth’s closeness.  He relished the feel of her weight in his saddle.  The fragrance of her hair filled his head, even if her scent was only shampoo and cleanliness.  The secret place between her thighs pressed up against his back, at times more urgently than might be ordinarily needful.  He ran and felt her warm breath on his ear as she whispered fond encouragements.  He let all conscious thoughts recede.  He heard his feet strike the ground and the sound of his breathing and of hers.  He ran and lost himself in the seductive rhythm of his stride.

    Abruptly, pressure on his bit broke his reverie.  He came to a quick stop and looked about.  He saw another rider, Cicely Westfall, on a sturdy mount.  Cicely sat astride a saddle perched high on his brawny back.  Her graceful legs ended in booted feet that rested against his flanks.  Her sharp spurs glistened and impressed Ethan mightily. High school riders did not use spurs.

    Beth greeted her cheerfully. 

    “I call him Gambler,” Ethan heard Cicely say.  His eye was drawn to the other male. Although the bridle distorted his facial features, Ethan recognized the mount.  Greg had been a senior and a leading mount on the Cady-Stanton team three years before when Ethan was a freshman and an eager beginner.  Ethan doubted that Greg would remember him.  Ethan had grown much over the four years and Greg looked even more muscular than he had as a senior.  Greg was now a certified mount.

    He was a naked, just like Ethan.  His male parts jiggled as he carried his rider.
Ethan noticed several further alterations.  First, Greg had been branded.  Second, the metal ring that pierced the end of his circumcised sex was linked to a second ring set below his navel, lifting his manhood from his groin and displaying his scrotum beneath.  Curiously, his sac hung flat and empty. 

Ethan thought to greet him but remembered his place and the pressure of the bit on his tongue.  Ponies didn’t speak.  Most likely Greg’s vocal cords had been severed to prevent speech.  That was also standard for certified mounts. 

The women chatted merrily.  As she talked, Beth stroked Ethan’s cheek with the back of her hand.  Ethan relished her touch.  He thought to ease his head back and see if he might press his head against her soft breasts.  At his first touch, Beth shoved his head sharply forward and continued her conversation without comment or hesitation.  Foiled in his plan, Ethan leaned his head forward.  He waited impatiently, eager to be back on the trail.

Greg stared back at Beth and Ethan with no hint of recognition but he looked as impatient as Ethan. 

Ethan was grateful for the jab of Beth’s spurs as she brought him back into motion.  He took several steps, began to jog, and quickly returned an easy stride.  They came to a long flat section of the trail.  Beth saw no other riders, hikers, or bicycles that might get in their way.  She applied her spurs sharply and urged him forward urgently.  Ethan exploded into a sprint.  His speed exhilarated both Beth and himself.  His long strides devoured the ground and they seemed literally to fly.  Both were breathless when finally she brought him back to a walk.

Beth spotted Amy, Madison, and Laura up ahead at the picnic site beside the lake and brought Ethan back to a run, eager to meet her friends.

“Hey!” Amy shouted when they were close enough.  “Took you long enough.”

“We made great time and I’ve had a wonderful ride,” Beth answered.  “You should try him yourself.”  Tall long-legged Amy would have made an awkward rider, even if she had had the inclination.

“Hey, Beth.  Hey Ethan,” Madison called cheerfully.  Beth brought Ethan to a halt and Madison grabbed his bridle.  Perspiration cascaded from his body and pooled on the ground at his feet. 

Laura stood beside Madison, a somewhat intimidated by the male’s large size.  On one level, she knew that she had little to fear.  The male could kick but he was otherwise restrained by his tack.  On another level, she remembered her lessons about the male alacrity for violence and the horrors of the Patriarchal Age.

“Ethan’s magnificent,” Madison gushed and petted his flank.  She had been party to his humiliation in the stable but Ethan held no grudge.   She stroked his flank and slapped his buttock playfully to show her confidence and lack of fear.

“I worry Beth’s just too fond of the smelly creature,” Amy warned.  Sometimes she felt a rivalry with the male for Beth’s time and attention.

“Mount!” Beth called and Ethan dropped to his right knee.  Beth dismounted deftly.  “I’m thirsty.” she announced.  Amy handed her a water bottle.

Ethan was thirsty too.  He eyed the bottle keenly. 

“I’ll get Ethan a water too, Madison volunteered.  Ethan’s hands were restrained by the saddle and Madison held the bottle while Ethan, kneeling, drank it down greedily in three long swallows.

    “Let me give him a water too,” Laura asked with some hesitation.  She held the water bottle and studied the large male, kneeling naked before her.  She could smell the musky odor of his perspiration.  She didn’t want to stare but she couldn’t completely suppress her curiosity about the male paraphernalia hanging between his brawny thighs.  She had seen pictures in school and studied the model male but Ethan’s living breathing presence had an ineluctable reality. 

His thirst less urgent now, Ethan studied the girl standing before him, the dark cloud of hair that surrounded her head, her bright eyes and curious smile.  He also saw her pert breasts pressing against her tee-shirt and a hint of her nipples and dark areola.  Ethan smiled broadly, hoping no one might guess the cause of his good humor.

Somewhat distracted, he drank messily, spilling water on himself and Laura, her wet tee-shirt becoming translucent.


Ethan and his mother packed a modest bag and returned to the Dr. Posonby’s office. Dr. Posonby and Hannah were waiting. 

Ms. Everest was gushing with happiness.  “You did it!  You did it, Ethan!  Thank you so very, very much, Dr. Ponsonby.  Thank you, Hannah!  Everyone said that I shouldn’t bother with a son.  Well, I bothered all right – for eighteen years, I bothered.  Wait till I tell my sister!  He’ll always be my Ethan.”

Dr. Ponsonby smiled. She could only wait for Ms. Everest to tire.  It was truly an occasion to celebrate.  Many applied but only a few were chosen.  She only examined the few who got this far. Most got no further.  Ethan was truly an outstanding specimen.  Dealing with Ms. Everest’s exuberance was much more pleasant than comforting a rejection.  “We still need a few signatures.  You know, of course, all Ponies require minor surgery.  Ethan here won’t require a circumcision.  There are a few other things though.”

All males in the stable were circumcised to facilitate hygiene.  Their nasal septa were pierced and ringed.  That much was obvious to any who followed racing at the track or on TV.  Only true enthusiasts knew that their vocal cords were snipped.  Ponies had no reason to talk; they only need listen.

Ms. Everest looked at Ethan.  “Are you certain you want this, dear?”

Ethan nodded, yes.

“Okay, where do I sign?  She signed once where Hannah showed her and then once more.  “You won’t castrate him?”  she whispered and looked at her son with sudden real concern. “Will you?” 

Ethan was startled by his mother’s sudden change in mood.  He was never much good at big words and he hated when people used words he didn’t understand. 

“Oh, my goodness, no,” the doctor answered. Everyone knew that intact males were innately lazy and prone to violence and most mounts ended up gelded before they were retired.   However, the important decision to geld a Pony or leave him intact was usually made once his potential was better defined

Ms. Everest signed.

Dr. Ponsonby held up the bonus check where Ms. Everest and Ethan might see it.

“Okay now,” she said, “Ethan dear, you signed here and here.”

Ethan took the pen and signed with a flourish.  “Now sis has her money for college!”

“May Ashley, his little sister, and I visit our Ethan at the Bar None Ranch?  I’ve heard it’s beautiful.”

“No, no – not for six full months.  We can’t allow any distractions from Ethan’s training.  We all want him to be a champion.  Don’t we?”

“Okay, let’s get this show on the road,” said Hannah reaching for her car keys. “Ethan, come with me.”

Ethan hugged his mother one more time and started to follow Hannah.  He stopped abruptly.  “Hey!  I forgot my bag in Mom’s car.  Let me go back and get it.”

Hannah shook her head.  “You really needn’t bother.  We’ll give you everything you need on the ranch.”

Ethan shrugged his shoulders.  He clutched Beth’s box of tea biscuits and followed Hannah to her car.

“We’re going to stop at the infirmary first.”

Hannah opened the right rear passenger door.  Ethan thought this bit of reverse gallantry odd, but slipped the back seat.  She slammed it behind him.  The car pulled smoothly away form the curb.  He looked in the front seat and saw a tangle of chains on the floor.  “What’s that,” he asked Hannah.

“Oh that,’ she answered, “shackles.  Takes some pretty strong shackles to restrain a big fellow like yourself.”

Ethan shook his head doubtfully.  Eager to begin his new life, he never considered that this might be his last opportunity to sit clothed in an automobile.

They stopped for a bathroom break.  Ethan was surprised to find that Hannah had to open the door for him.  The car doors in back didn’t open from the inside.


At first, Ethan saw little of the Bar None Ranch on the drive in.  They passed quickly through the gate and headed right to the infirmary.  The buildings were freshly painted and the grounds neatly manicured.  Ethan looked to the left and right and tried to catch sight of other Ponies.  He saw none.

Ethan met Josh, Mike, and Tyler at the infirmary.  They were new Ponies too.  A girl, who seemed to be in charge, told them to try to get a good night’s rest and put them to bed.  They would have their little “procedures” in the morning and should have nothing to eat or drink after midnight.  She made a quick inspection and found Ethan’s stash of tea biscuits.  Indulgently, she allowed the boys to share them, but cautioned them to eat or drink nothing after midnight.

They stayed up all night talking.  Each was proud to have been chosen for the Bar None Ranch.  They were the best of the best.  They swapped stories and found that they had run against each other.  Boys had few opportunities to fraternize at the races and little chance to share experiences.  Ethan tried to tally up his wins and losses.  In the end, he estimated that he had won more than he lost.

“Hey, do you guys know what they’re going to do to us?” Josh asked.

“They’re going to make me into a champion Pony!” answered Tyler.

“I don’t want to break your hearts, ass wipes, but they’re going to make me a champion.  You guys are future dog meat!” quipped Mike.

“Well, I heard they’re going to cut the ends off our cocks,” offered Josh.

“You pecker challenged fuckers’ll have to pee like girls, sitting down. I have cock enough to spare,” said Tyler.

“Not true!” said Josh, with more hope than authority.  “Say, is it too late to change my mind?”

“I heard they’re going to cut our vocal cords.” contributed Ethan.  “This might be our last chance to talk in our entire lives!”  He wanted so desperately to be a champion that he considered any price a bargain.

“You likely never had anything worthwhile to say anyway!” quipped Tyler.

Josh’s anxiety only increased.  “You know, I think I want to change my mind, really.  It may be just fine for you guys, but I want to call this thing off.”  He was talking louder and louder.

The door cracked open and the girl returned.  “Hey, seems like a racket in here.”

“Yeah!  That asshole can’t stop gibbering,” said Tyler. He pointed to Josh.

“When they snip his vocal cords, he’ll stop talking soon enough,” Mike offered.

“Sorry,” apologized Josh.  “I’ve been thinking about things and I really want to leave.  Can I call my Mom?

“You’re chickening out?”  the girl asked.  “Really?  Do you know how many guys competed for your spot?  You’re absolutely sure?

Josh looked at Mike, Tyler, and Ethan, searching for support.  They stared back and said nothing.  Their faces were blank.  Josh swallowed once hard.  “Yep, I guess.  I just want to go home.”

“Well, come with me.  Right now! Any other mommy’s boys? ” Tyler, Mike, and Ethan all shook their heads and watched Josh just get up and follow her from the room. 

“So long suckers!” he sneered as he left.  The door clicked shut behind him.

At dawn, another girl hustled Ethan from bed.  He must have finally fallen asleep.  Tyler and Mike were still sleeping.  He looked for Josh, but then remembered that Josh had left.

Ethan had thought that she was a nurse although she didn’t wear a starchy white uniform.  She wore a tee shirt and low hung jeans over leather boots.  She ushered him into a bathroom and told him to use the facilities.  Ethan waited for her to leave, but she just stood there.

“Okay, big fellow, just do your business.  You don’t look exactly like a shy and blushing maiden.”

“Can you give a guy some privacy?”  Ethan asked, then remembered to add a “please.”  He was usually very polite. 

    “Don’t mind me.”  She touched a curious rod-like device at her belt.  “Think of me as your mother.”

    Ethan’s mother hadn’t watched him use the facilities for some years. Ethan shrugged his shoulders and hunched around the urinal, trying to preserve what privacy he could, and pee’d.

    She led him from there to the shower.  A guy had to take off his clothes to take a shower.  Again, she supervised the procedure, reminding him to wash everywhere.  When he stepped from the shower, she handed him a warm, fluffy towel but no clothes. 

    Once dry, she got him up a gurney and strapped him in.  Ethan watched a parade of fluorescent lights and ceiling tiles and the gurney rattled quickly down the hall.  An automatic door opened and the gurney came to rest next to a curtain.

    “Ethan – you’re Ethan, right?” asked another female in surgical scrubs.  She seemed a few years older.

    Ethan nodded.

    “Well, hold out your hand and I’m going to give you a little shot.”

    “Just a little one?” Ethan asked, his nervous smile betraying his anxiety.  He hated shots.

    “Just a little one. Here, it’s not too bad.”  The needle slipped into his vein.  “Now count backwards from twenty – slowly – twenty – nineteen.”  She infused some medicine slowly

    Ethan was always eager to please and he tried his best.  Math really wasn’t his best subject.  He felt so very warm and safe.

    Then he woke up.  He was groggy and his headache pounded.   His throat burned.  Try as he might, the world still stubbornly refused to come into focus.  The light in the room was dim except for a red flashing “Exit” sign that flashed almost painfully.  He tried to fit his roiling memories into a cohesive whole.

Where was he now?  He remembered the Bar None Ranch.  He remembered the clinic.  Where were Josh, Tyler, and Mike? Josh, he remembered, had chickened out and gone home.  He was on some sort of hospital gurney in an antiseptic-smelling hospital-like room.  He tried to raise his arms and discovered that he was strapped down.  His head hurt and his nose hurt too.  What the fuck had happened to him?  He tried to lift his head from the thin foam mattress.  Something cold pressed against his upper lip.  A metal ring passed through his nose – like the ring worn by champion Ponies! 

Thoughts and images raced around his brain and never stopped. He tried to hold onto the more pleasant ones.  Memories and fantasies appeared and disappeared - all seemed equally real or unreal.  Mercifully, he just fell back to sleep.

    He woke again and the light was blinding.  He was still strapped to the gurney but his mind was clearer.  He was still naked and shivering.  His throat burned dully.  His upper lip was sore.  He felt a scab when he touched it with his tongue.  His penis burned too.  He had to pee terribly.  He lifted his head a few inches and saw that his penis was also ringed.  The ring matched his nose.
    Suddenly, a female figure appeared beside him – an attractive blonde woman - girl about his age, wearing blue jeans and a tank top.  She looked athletic; her belly was toned.  “My prince awakes!” she said, sounding mostly bored.  “Do you have to pee?”

    Ethan opened his mouth to answer, but he could only make a braying sound.  Something was wrong with his throat and then he remembered.  A Pony needed to listen but he needn’t talk.  Many complained of male chatter.

    The girl pressed firmly on his belly, just above his pubic bone.  His distress increased and he brayed again in desperation.

    She laughed.  “I’ll take that for a yes.”  She didn’t seem at all nonplussed by his nudity.  Mischievously, she ran her finger down the inside of his thigh.   She lifted his cock gently and pointed him into a fat-necked bottle.  “Two choices.  You can pee in the bottle or I can cath you.  It’s up to you,” she concluded matter of fact. 

    Ethan did nothing until she showed him the catheter.  Humiliated, Ethan peed into the proffered bottle and the red color startled him.

    “Don’t worry, the girl chuckled, seeing his concern. “That’s just pyridium – pain medicine - so it doesn’t burn.” She let him finish and shook off the last drops.  “Time to get off that stretcher.”  Her amused tone hadn’t changed.

    Ethan tried to speak again, but did no better this time.

    “I really don’t want any trouble.”  She clipped a lead to his nose ring and undid the belt across his middle, freeing his arms.  “Now sit up.”  Ethan swung his legs over the side and slowly sat up.  “Take it slow.  Easy now.”

Ethan felt light-headed.  She led him down the hallway and through double doors from the infirmary to the stable.  She steadied him gently.  She noticed that he accepted her help readily.  This was always the first step.  They stopped in front of a full-length mirror.  Ethan looked himself over.  He towered over the smaller woman.  Shoulder to shoulder he was twice as broad as she.  His nose and penis were ringed.  With his new Pony haircut, he looked just like a champion Pony.

“Look at this.”  Her palm held a mirror.  She lifted Ethan’s upper lip and showed him where a registration number had been tattooed on its underside.

Wow, Ethan thought.  I’m a real Pony now!  He tried to speak but this throat only burned.  He was unable to make any intelligible sound.

She ushered him into a stall and showed him a thin mattress where he might lie down.  She gave him an icepack.  In the morning, his poor cock would be swollen and sore.  She nodded her approval.  This one had the makings of a great Pony.  She closed the door as she left.

Alone and locked in his stall, Ethan fell asleep again.   When he awoke, his penis still burned.  His throat hurt and he could not talk.  He was hungry and thirsty.  He could not remember when he last had eaten or drunk.  The stalls’ door could not be opened from the inside.  He stared through the small window into the dim stable and tried to find some sign of Mike or Tyler.  He wondered what Josh might be doing now.  Maybe he was at home laughing at them.


    Ethan was roused at dawn and led to the yard outside.  He saw Mike and Tyler.  Each sported a Pony haircut like his.  Each had had his nose and penis pierced and ringed.  Unable to speak, they waved their greeting.  Today they were real Ponies.

    Unexpectedly, Josh appeared.  A girl dragged him from the stable by a lead fastened to his nose ring.  He fought her step by step.  Then he tried to grab the lead with his hands.  She jabbed him sharply with that rod-like device the women all seemed to carry.   His body seemed to raise clear of the ground and then fall in a heap of twitching arms and legs. 

She gave him thirty seconds to recover.  Moaning, he rose shakily to his hands and knees.  She yanked on his lead.  He regained his feet unsteadily and followed her much more docilely.

Ethan, Mike, and Tyler looked at each other.  Ethan tried to speak, but his throat burned and no intelligible sound emerged from his mouth.  He promised himself to do what he could to avoid the damned rod.

Time passed.  The days had a certain routine.  In the morning, Ethan was taken to the squatter toilets with the other Ponies.  He had quickly gotten used to being naked.  All the Ponies were naked on the ranch.  Attending to his private business in plain sight of the trainers, grooms and exercise girls was a greater test.  However, they chatted among themselves and no one seemed really to care.  Weights were recorded daily and the new Ponies ran for an hour before their morning meal. 

Often, several of the exercise girls accompanied them on the more seasoned Ponies.  Ethan envied the Ponies their duty.  He looked forward to his opportunity to carry a rider again.   

The Ponies ran for two hour’s twice a day and worked on upper body strength for two hours a day.  Eating and grooming consumed an hour a day.  He wandered the paddock or slept in the shade during daylight hours.   Nights, Ethan was locked in his stall.  Ponies weren’t encouraged to fraternize.  Ethan might have been bored or lonely, if he hadn’t been constantly on the edge of exhaustion.  Ethan, always tired from his workouts, slept soundly.  He saw Mike, Josh, and Tyler around but none of them could speak.  Ethan was always hungry and ate the bland but nourishing stable diet heartily. 

The Ponies were groomed each night before sleep.  The Ponies might have done more for their own grooming, but the trainers felt that the grooming accustomed the sometimes skittish Ponies to being touched by others.  The grooms teased and chattered as two grooms worked side by side on two Ponies.  At first, Ethan forgot himself and tried to speak.  His altered throat was unable to produce an intelligible sound.  The grooms found his efforts comical or simply ignored him.  Soon he stopped even trying and slowly accommodated himself to his new life.

This part is just like high school, Ethan thought as he rounded the practice yard, but more so.  He, Mike, Josh, and Tyler ran in a circle.  Meaghan, their trainer stood in the center and watched them run.  She monitored their pace.  Every minute or so, she blasted her whistle and the Pony trailing the pack raced to the front. 

Some parts were quite different than high school.   The Ponies were stark naked except for their gear.  When Mackenzie thought a Pony was slacking, she wielded her lungeing whip with precise accuracy and substantial power.  The whip’s first bite startled Ethan and he lurched forward out his daydream.  He quickly learned to respect the whip and the hand that wielded it.

He had likely been on the ranch a month before a trainer and an exercise girl took him aside.  Keeping track of days and weeks on the ranch was difficult.  No one thought it important for the Ponies to know the day and time.  Mackenzie carried a harness, bridle and saddle.  Ethan was happy to hear the command, “Mount!”  that Beth had used it so often.  He had begun to doubt that he would ever hear it again.  He dropped his right knee knee to the ground.  This was why he had chosen to be a Pony.

The exercise girl deftly saddled and bridled him, much as Beth had done.  However, she didn’t step up on his muscular left thigh and mount his saddle.  The Mackenzie grasped his bridle in both hands and looked him right in the eye.

“Steady now boy,” she said, “steady.”

The other woman adjusted his bridle slightly and then showed him the bit.

Ethan studied the bit and hesitated.  After a long pause, he opened his mouth and she inserted the device and secured the ends to his bridle carefully.  The trainer stepped back, hands on hips.  The exercise girl grabbed his bridle and stepped up on his left thigh.  She swung her right leg over the saddle and settled herself.  Once she had planted her feet in the stirrups, she ordered the male, “Up!” 

Ethan stood smartly.  He had been waiting for this moment for weeks or perhaps for his entire life.  Then he felt something different.  His rider’s heels brushed his flanks.  Her heels boasted stubby blunted spurs.  Beth had never ridden him with spurs.  High school allowed only leather heals.  Ethan’s enthusiasm was now tinged with a hint of fear.


Ethan went forward at a walk.  He was a spirited, but well-behaved mount.  His awareness of the spurs made him even more responsive to his rider’s wishes.  He felt her spurs and picked up his pace.  Running, he felt more comfortable.  She touched him with his spurs again and he increased his pace.  He maintained a rapid pace with ease.

“Run boy, run!” she urged, hunched over in the saddle.  He had done quite well and took pride in his strength.

He felt her warm breath on his neck and heard her soft words of encouragement.  Her approval was exhilarating.  He ran joyfully.  His rider was no burden to his welling strength.  Her breath was warm on his neck.  Hunched over, her soft breast pressed once or twice against the back of his head.  Her perfume filled his head.  He knew that he had been born for this!

“Whoa!” she said unexpectedly.  He felt a pressure on his reins.  Drunk with motion and arrogant of his strength, he ignored the command and ran.  “Whoa, now!”  Still he ran.  He was in no mood to stop now.

Abruptly, pain exploded in mouth and he sthought he might choke as she pulled firmly on the reins and the bit pushed his tongue down.  Ethan grimaced and twisted his head trying to relieve the pressure but his rider kept her hands steady on the reins.  Frightened and breathless, he came quickly to a stop.

She stroked his face gently.  “Just pay attention, big fella,   – it doesn’t have to be so bad.”

Ethan learned quickly.  Carrying a rider, he was alert to the slightest pressure on the reins as well as to the touch of her spurs.  He followed direction smartly and basked in sincere and generous praise.  He had strength and heart enough for any rider.

One day, the girl who had first greeted him at the infirmary took him out for a ride.  “I was looking for you,” she told him as she put on his saddle and tack.    “I’ve brought you a special treat.”

Ethan watched her hand dip into her pocket.  After the bland stable diet, anything sweet or spicy was a treat.  Her hand emerged with a packet of tea biscuits.  “Only one now,” she laughed.  He ate it greedily from her hand as she took care to avoid his teeth.  She had found the tea biscuits among his things that he left back at the infirmary.

On the trail, he gave her all she asked.  He answered her spurs and ran until she was giddy with exhilaration.  She was breathless with excitement when she finally brought him back to the stable. 
On signal, he knelt so that she might dismount.  Kneeling, he was still as tall she.  “Thanks for a great ride!” She rubbed his neck fondly.   She reached into her pocket and retrieved a second tea biscuit.

“Hey Harper, what are you feeding that Pony?” Mackenzie asked. 

“Tea biscuits.” Harper answered.

“Tea biscuits? Well, did he give you a good ride?”

“The best!”

“You know – he needs still needs a name.   We’ve got four new one who need names.  Three have their Pony names, Tippecanoe, Iron Mike, and that difficult one, Mister Fletcher.  Let’s call this guy, Tea Biscuit!”


The stables at Pankhurst College impressed Beth.  Gifts from wealthy alumnae had kept the coffers full and anyone could see that the money had been well spent.

Beth’s resume impressed Ms. Emily Norton, the riding mistress greatly.  Emily impressed Beth too.  She seemed to know everything about Ponies

Her profuse praise made Beth blush.  “I’ve always had an outstanding mount, Ms. Norton.  They say that it’s ninety-five percent Pony and five percent jockey.”

“Give yourself a bit of credit.  Your Pony was lucky to have you.”

Beth thought about Ethan.  She wondered how he had done at the Bar None Ranch.  He had been growing still and adding muscle when she had seen him last.  He had yet to reach his prime.

“We do more trail riding than racing here but I really could use someone with your experience here,” she added on a more serious note.  “However, most of our riders have their own mounts.  Half of them haven’t the foggiest idea how to care for them.  I’ve hired a couple of girls with some experience to help out as grooms.  Sometime it seems the only way a woman from a middle class family can get a quality mount is give birth to him herself!  Hey, I can hook you up through the Pankhurst work-study program.  We’ll call you an assistant trainer.”  She looked again at Beth’s long list of trophies and ribbons.  “Say,” she smiled; “we’ll call you an associate trainer.  Pay’s the same, unfortunately.”

Beth met Caitlin O’Connor, the chief trainer and took an immediate liking to the young woman.  Laurie Norwich and Alyssa Westfold were the hired grooms.  The stable housed about 30 mounts in individual stalls.  The students took turns attending to morning chores.  Ten girls cared for three mounts each in two shifts.  Three mounts might be brought to the feeding trough together. 

The mounts got along well enough as most of them had been gelded.  Intact males were fed individually to avoid conflict.  They were notorious for their impulsivity, laziness and alacrity for violence.  Intact males were jealous and quarrelsome as they competed frantically and even violently for their rider’s attention and favor.   Elite riders found intact males more spirited and treasured the special bond a woman might forge with her mount.  Many chose to put up with their drawbacks.  For the rest, a gelding served adequately with less trouble.

Most girls came to ride after school, to attend to their evening chores, and finally to bed the beasts down for the night.

Stalled individually in clean stalls, the mounts appeared well cared groomed, if not a bit under-worked or over-fed.  The school owned only a beaten up gelding named Lucky, and a stallion named Jim Dandy for short.  The rest of the mounts belonged to the individual students.

Beginning student were allowed to ride with reins but no spurs or quirt.  Intermediate rides added stubby blunted spurs.  Advanced riders added a leather riding quirt. 

As an elite rider, Beth wore rowelled spurs that jingled as walked.  The merest touch on her mount’s flanks communicated her urgent demand for speed with no ambiguity.  She loved the way they looked on her heels.  She wished that she might afford better boots.

In general, Beth liked the other girls.  None had had the benefit of as solid a riding program as she.  They were good-hearted bunch and eager to learn.  They didn’t hold their large difference in wealth against her. 

Daphne de Winter was a singular exception.  She considered herself an elite rider and she certainly looked the part in her expensive designer outfits.  Her Pony, a gelding called Noblesse Oblige, was a well-constructed and loyal beast.  Her gear was the best.  She lacked only the special empathy required of a great rider and any perception of her deficiency.  An elite rider knows her mount completely.  She takes him to his limit but no further.  In his passionate yearning to please, a Pony will exert himself beyond the abilities of his body to sustain him.  He will rip sinew and splinter bone.  He will run beyond his heart and lung’s capacity to supply oxygen to his straining muscles.  Clumsy riders have damaged valuable Ponies.  Ponies have collapsed dead when driven too hard.  Daphne de Winter resented anyone who had what she lacked.

“Race around the oval!”  Julia challenged, riding her gelding Bigfoot.  Before Daphne could answer, Julia had jabbed her mount with her heels and the big gelding was flying down the track.

For an instant, Daphne thought about protesting the whole thing as unfair.  Julia had hardly given her a chance, but she knew that her mount was far superior and she might teach the upstart girl a lesson.  Julia was the best student in French and that was one more reason to hate her.  She set off in pursuit on the half-mile track. A crowd gathered to watch and cheer on their favorite. 

Noblesse Oblige gained steadily.  Daphne went to her lash very early in the backstretch.  She used it sparingly, though, just so her mount wouldn’t lose focus. She gained steadily as they came into the far turn, about three hundred yards from the finish, but then panicked.  She applied the lash for all she was worth and Noblesse Oblige surged under her.  He gave all that she asked, all that he could. 

Julia kept her nerve and held Bigfoot to his fast but steady pace.  About one hundred yards from the finish, Noblesse Oblige pulled even and then a bit ahead.  Now Julia went to her lash and Bigfoot’ found some yet untapped reserve of strength in his great heart and sprinted down the home stretch.

Daphne tried to answer but despite his desire to serve, her mount was exhausted.  His arms and legs pumped ferociously but he seemed to move in slow motion.   He crossed the finish line a full body’s length behind Bigfoot and collapsed.

Daphne’s leaped clear and landed on the hard packed cinders, abrading her hands.    She tore the knees of her white jodhpurs but was otherwise unhurt.  Julia continued down the track, unaware of what had happened. People gathered to see to Daphne and once assured she was all right, saw to her mount.

Noblesse Oblige writhed on the ground and moaned.  Cinders stuck to his sweat covered skin and caked on the oozing streaks left by Daphne’s lash.  His moaning and thrashing about violently.

    Beth dashed onto the track with first aid kit.  Wary of his size and strength, she approached the male warily.  She shuddered to see the splintered end of his tibia protruding through his torn skin.  Avoiding his flailing limbs,  she poked him with the morphine pen.

    Caitlin ran from the stables.  She saw briefly to Daphne, who just stood motionless in a daze. 

Julia Michaels dismounted and walked back, leading her Bigfoot.  “Daphne, I’m so sorry!” she said, holding back tears.

After the morphine, Noblesse Oblige quieted.  Caitlin took one look at his injury and retrieved the keys from her belt.  “Beth, go get my revolver.  The bullets are in the drawer on the right.”  There wasn’t much to be done.

    Beth set off at a run.  Not much had changed when she returned, except the crowd had grown.  People talked quietly among themselves and took pictures with their cell phone cameras.   Daphne stared at her mount and picked the grass and dirt from her hair.

    Caitlin loaded the pistol.  “Daphne, put him down.  He’s your mount.”

    “I really don’t know how,” Daphne protested.  “You know, it wasn’t my fault.” All eyes were on her and her torn and soiled outfit.

    “I never said it was your fault,” Caitlin answered safely.  “Just flick off the safety and pull the trigger.” Caitlin deftly loaded the empty pistol.

    “I can’t!” Daphne insisted.

    Caitlin shook her head and looked to Beth.  “You, up for the job?”

    Beth nodded grimly and took the pistol. She needed three tries at the safety.  She had never done this before.  She shrugged her shoulders and sighed.  There’s a first time for everything, she thought.  The creature needn’t suffer any more.

    Caitlin squatted by the male’s head and stroked his face gently.

    Beth knelt with one knee to the ground and held the pistol about a foot from the back of the male’s head.  She took a deep breath and squeezed the trigger.

    The pistol barked and Noblesse Oblige lay quiet.  Beth stood unsteadily.  She set the safety and carefully returned the pistol to Caitlin who carefully removed the unused cartridges.

    “We have him insured.  My mother’s going to buy me a new and even better Pony.  I’ll just have to pass my French midterm.”  Daphne bragged.  “This one was really no good for anything anyway.”

    “I’m so sorry about your Pony,” Julia Michaels commiserated.  Julia was in Daphne’s French class.  “I’ll do anything I can to help with the French.”


    “Hey, do you think we can find a quiet corner someplace any place?”  pleaded Allie in a hushed whisper.  “Vickie, I want you so bad.”  The crowded dormitories of the Prankhurst campus offered few opportunities for privacy.

    “This is a stable and a stable has stalls,” answered Vickie.  “Last time I was here that stall over there was empty.”  The stable was dark except for the dim red light of the emergency exit signs.

    “This one?”  Allie asked and swung open the door. 

This stall was not empty.  In the dim red light of the exit signs, a human figure could vaguely be seen.  The form of a young woman knelt on hands and knees on a low table, her bottom facing the door.

“Who is she?  What is she?”  Vickie asked. She touched her life-like skin. 

“A mannequin.  Look she’s naked and you can see her lady parts,’ said Allie in wonder.  “What’s she doing in a stable?”  Allie thought to probe her gaping hole, but then thought better of it.  “Her hair’s so life-like too.”

“You don’t think?”  asked Vickie, her imagination racing. “She didn’t pay her library fines promptly?”

“I bet she has something to do with sperm collection,” Allie concluded.  Let’s try another stall.  I can’t believe it”

    “Try that one,” Vickie suggested

    “You mean the one with ‘Tea Biscuit’ on the name plate?” 

    Allie undid the latch and the door swung open revealing the massive shape of a large male, sleeping on his side.  The smell was not as foul as she had feared.

    “Uh-oh!  Now what do we do?” asked Allie uncertainly.

    “Just find me a lead somewhere.  There’s one hanging on a peg on the wall – over there.”   Vickie knelt beside the sleeping male.  Allie handed her the lead and she deftly clipped one end to his nose ring.  Gripping the lead firmly in one hand, she pressed her other hand against the male’s shoulder.  “Up – up – big fella!”  she urged.  Given the disparity in their sizes, she could hardly have moved the creature at all had he chosen to resist.

    Neither of the women felt the least unsettled by their close proximity to a large powerful male, His naked body and blatantly apparent male parts posed no mystery and evoked no fear.  Neither doubted her mastery over the male.  Rousing a stable attendant was much more of a threat than the male.

Tea Biscuit, once known as Ethan, stirred and gradually awoke in the dim light.  He felt a small warm hand on his broad shoulder and heard the soft but insistent female voice urging him to stand.  He smelled their perfumed scents.  He awoke confused and, but fundamental to his training was the need to obey.  He scrambled clumsily to his feet.

Vickie gave him room to stand but kept her firm grip on is lead.  She pulled him to the back of the stall.  He followed passively with no resistance.  She looped the lead through the stay set high on wall, yanked it tight until his nose was a few centimeters from the wall and then secured it.  “There, big fella, that’ll keep you.”  She turned her attention to Allie.

Allie sat on the thin mat, still warm from Tea Biscuit’s large body.  She looked up and smiled.  She had waited so long and waiting was difficult.  She had already pulled off her top.  “Hey, come and join me; the mattress is still warm.

Leaning on Tea Biscuit’s large frame, Vickie slipped off her shoes and peeled down her tight jeans.  “Do you think he did anything disgusting on the mattress?

Tea Biscuit heard the sounds of their lovemaking.  He tried to turn his head but the lead gave him no slack.  He could see nothing.  The two women, involved with her partner’s pleasure and her own, spared him no attention.  Tea Biscuit could feel their arousal.  He could taste their arousal.  He pressed himself against the rough cinder block wall and moaned his desire.

“We’d better get out of here,” Allie offered reluctantly, quite a while later.  The predawn light had burst into a brilliant dawn.  She began to search for her clothes.  “Did you see my shoes?”

Vickie straightened her disheveled hair, took a great deep breath, and joined the search.  “Look at that!”  She said and stood naked as the male.  She pointed at the sizable male apparatus standing erect between his thick muscular thighs.  “Did you ever wonder what he might feel like?”  She shaped her hand to cup his fat ball sac but then hesitated.

Allie saw the proud Rothesay stable brand displayed on his brawny bare buttock.  She peered between his powerfully built thighs.  She saw the coarse hairs on his bulging ball sac.  The skin of her palm itched just to look at him.  “No, not really,” She wrinkled her nose with obvious distaste.

Vickie pulled back her hand.  “Some people actually have intimate relations with these creatures,” she marveled.


    “You won’t believe Daphne’s new Pony!”  Caitlin told Beth.  “A really beauty – a stallion named Tea Biscuit.”  The name was odd.  Intact males were rare in the stable also.

    “Daphne must have passed her French midterm.  Julia sure worked hard with her.”  Beth answered before she remembered that she once knew someone who loved tea biscuits.

    Beth passed two girls sneaking out of the stable.  They gave her a big, too cheerful greeting.  Beth saw their disheveled clothes and hair.  “Young love,” she muttered to herself and rolled her eyes.  Prankhurst College did offer few opportunities for privacy.

    She saw the new name on the plaque, “Tea Biscuit.” She opened the stall door and saw the large well-built male standing up against the back wall.  He was about her Ethan’s height but appeared even bulkier.  His sturdy thighs, buttocks, back and shoulders appeared even more powerful.  Muscle hung in thick plates on his large frame.  She gave him a cheerful “Good morning!”

    Tea Biscuit heard her voice and recognized her immediately.  Four years had passed and much had changed.  The male had even begun to think of himself as Tea Biscuit and now his deeply suppressed Ethan-identity had erupted to the surface.  He sniffed the air and recognized Beth’s favorite perfume.   He pulled violently against the lead.  He tried to turn his head but the tether had no slack.  He tried to speak and only braying noises emerged.

    Beth sensed the Pony’s mounting agitation.  His arms flailed. His powerful legs stomped and kicked.  “Easy, now.  Easy, boy.”  She approached him warily but sensed that physical contact might ease his disquiet.  She placed her hand softly on his shoulder.  “Easy, now.  Easy, boy.  Hi, Ethan.  Son of a pig, long time, no see!”  She marveled at the utter serendipity.   

    He quieted immediately at her touch.  He tried to press back against her hand to increase his contact. 

    Beth ran her fingers over the well-healed script “R”  brand of Rothesay Stables.

    Momentarily unsure of her control of the beast, Beth took a deep breath and unfastened his lead.  She looked up at the familiar features under his nose ring.  “Mount,” she directed.  Her Ethan dropped promptly to one knee.  Now their heights were about the same.  She studied him briefly.  She had inspected many Ponies and he was as fine a specimen as any she had seen.  She put a hand on either side of his head and studied his eyes.  He looked back intently. “Just wait ‘til I tell Amy!” 

    Ethan looked at Beth.  Her smile hadn’t changed.  Her voice hadn’t changed but he saw the quirt hanging at her belt.  He saw the rowelled spurs at the heels of her well-worn boots.

    “Hey Beth, “said Daphne, “like my new Pony?  Mommy bought him for me.”

    “This here Tea Biscuit is an old friend of mine,” answered Beth. “He was my Pony in high school.  He carried me in some great races.”

    “Well, Mom said he cost a pretty penny. A handful of pennies, really.  He’s really too much Pony for me”

    “I’m certain he’ll be worth it.  Let me take him for a ride?”

    Daphne had changed after the tragedy with Noblesse Oblige.  She and Beth bridled and saddled him.  Beth swung into the saddle and urged him, “Up!” 

Beth’s burden was nothing compared to Ethan’s size and strength.  His conditioning had been thorough and arduous.  He stood excited and nearly out of control.

Beth sensed his impatience and growing agitation.  She was eager too.  She dragged her spurs lightly over his flanks and quickly reminded him who was in command.

She set him down the track at an easy pace.  She remembered their great races together.

Ethan thought about his past too.  His mind wandered. Beth’s feet brought the spurs against his flanks and brought him very quickly to the present.

Beth felt him respond to her lightest touch and laughed.  She slapped her crop against his side and he surged powerfully forward.  Just wait ‘til I tell Amy, she thought and grinned broadly.


Amy looked up uncertainly.  She saw Beth already mounted on Lucky.  She saw Daphne de Winter mounted on Caligula and Julia Michaels mounted on her Big Foot.  All stared her right back at her.  “I’m not certain that this is a good idea.  In fact, I’m very certain that this isn’t a good idea.”  Amy had no love of riding.  She was taller than most of the girls who rode and not all Ponies could carry her comfortably.  She had only agreed to come along because Beth loved so much to ride and all had agreed that she see Ethan or Tea Biscuit as he was now called. 

Saddled and bridled, Tea Biscuit waited for her to step up on his thigh and swing into the saddle. 

Julia Michaels shook her head sadly. The poorest rider had demanded the best Pony of the four.

Beth sat quite comfortably in her saddle and implored Amy with her eyes.

Amy saw Beth and rallied her flagging spirits.  She simply had little love for the male creatures at all except perhaps for Beth’s Tea Biscuit.  She stepped up on Tea Biscuit’s thick thigh and swung her right leg over his saddle.  She settled herself awkwardly and set her long legs in the stirrups.  She grasped his control rods firmly.  Amy took a great deep breath.  “Up!” she commanded.

Nothing happened for a full second.  Amy began to doubt her ability to command the large male.  Then Tea Biscuit rose quickly to his full height.  Amy hung on for dear life.  She scrambled to regain her balance.  Beth, Julia, and Daphne were heading up the trail toward the Red Lake Reservoir. 

Julia spurred her Bigfoot and he surged forward.  Daphne followed close behind on old Lucky.  Life had changed for Daphne since the tragedy with Noblesse Oblige and changed for the better.  She conquered French with Julia’s help.  Somehow or other, she had learned how to listen.  Daphne had friends and was finally doing well in school. Three years zipped by and everyone wondered where the time had gone.  Soon, Amy and Beth were off to the city.  Daphne would be going to graduate school.  Julia juggled two job offers.

Amy still sat there, perched in Tea Biscuit’s saddle.  Beth waited for Amy.  Jim Dandy, her mount seemed much more patient than she.

“Go, Tea Biscuit.  Go!”  Amy urged, sounding a bit frantic.  Tea Biscuit just stood there.  The reigning rods made hearing difficult.  Tea Biscuit did not move.  Intact males tended to be lazy, impulsive, and prone to violence.  Amy’s frustration mounted.  “Tea Biscuit, please!” she pleaded.  “Pretty please.”

Beth sighed and shook her head.  “Kick him, Amy.  Just kick him.  Don’t argue with him.”

Amy kicked him but tentatively.  Her rubber heels had no spurs and Tea Biscuit barely felt them.

“Kick him, Amy. Hard!”  Beth called.  Amy kicked him harder and her mount ambled ahead.  Amy struggled to keep her balance in the high saddle.

The women talked and laughed on the steep trail up to the Reservoir.  Julia rode in front on Big Foot and Daphne followed her on Lucky.  Amy followed on Tea Biscuit and Beth brought up the rear on Jim Dandy and kept a close eye on Amy and Tea Biscuit. 

Tea Biscuit envied Lucky for his precious burden.  He wanted to carry Beth, just like in the old days.  Although he was Daphne’s Pony, he had had many opportunities to carry Beth and sometimes, it was just like in the old days.  He delighted in every flash of her smile and every touch of her hand, no matter how inadvertent.  He relished every sound she uttered and the mere sound of her voice. 

Tea Biscuit kept looking back at Beth whenever Amy gave him enough slack on his reining rods.  He slowed down, trying to get closer to her, trying to catch some whiff of her perfume.  Amy was too tentative a rider to keep him strictly to task.

He felt the pressure of Amy’s thighs on flanoks through her coarse jeans.  Her weight was nothing to him despite the challenging grade of the steep trail.  He felt the warmth of her body and her warm breath.  He inhaled the scent of her perfume.

Tea Biscuit envied Amy for her relationship with Beth.  He had been totally oblivious in high school when Beth was his jockey.  He had had years now to think about things in the long quiet nights in his stall.  Loss of the ability to speak had not deprived him of his ability to think.  He had been alone while Amy was with Beth.  Tonight, they would lock him in his stall and Amy would go home with Beth.

    The women dismounted.  Saddles and bridles were stripped from the Ponies.  Beth removed Tea Biscuit’s gear and Tea Biscuit was grateful for the attention.  The Ponies were given water and hobbled in the shade.

Julia and Daphne spread out the picnic.  Beth and Amy stripped to their undies and swam out to the raft. 

Tea Biscuit pulled against his lead and tried to watch Beth disrobe.  He may have become accustomed to being naked himself.  His nudity now evoked no comment or interest.  Ponies were always naked.  Once upon a time, a woman’s female parts were called her “shame.”  Now a woman’s female part were celebrated as the source of pleasure and the origin of life, but not so casually flaunted.

Beth was certainly fond of Tea Biscuit.  She certainly had no sexual interest in the male.  Her preferences were known and unambiguous. 

Tea Biscuit may have been unable to put a name on his powerful feelings.  He was endlessly thrilled by the soft curve of a female breast, the full ripeness of a female ass, or the secret place between two shapely thighs.  His frustrated urges bordered on the desperate.  Unable to speak, he moaned his desperate longing.  No one paid him any attention.

Julia looked out at Beth and Amy cavorting on the raft.  She pointed.  “Yuck!” she said.  “I hate public displays of affection.”

Daphne looked at the couple and smiled, a little bit embarrassed herself.  The day had been wonderful.  Daphne was filled with gratitude for her good friends.  “Julia, thank you for all the help in French.  And Beth, thank you too.  Thank you for your help that terrible day.  Thank you for your trust and encouragement in the difficult time that followed.  Thank you for Tea Biscuit.  I wish I knew how to make this up to you,” she told them later after they had returned the Ponies to the stable.

“Well,” Beth began tentatively, “Amy and I have one request before you geld him.


Caitlin supervised the collection.  Beth and Daphne washed Tea Biscuit with even more care than usual.  Tea Biscuit was confused when Beth removed the ring that pierced the glans of his penis.  Amy just watched anxiously

The dummy, popularly named Marianne, a plastic life-sized female on her hands and knees with her round female butt high in the air and her female parts blatantly exposed, looked ridiculous to Beth.  However, her skin and hair felt real enough and the electric blanket had made her feel life warm and life-like.  Caitlin slipped the sterile plastic sleeve into her always-welcoming plastic vagina and splashed her with a musky scent.

Beth looked at the dummy and then at Amy.  Amy’s anxious expression reflected Beth’s ambiguity.  Beth snorted.  “Don’t worry, Amy.  As cute as Marianne is, you’re still my girl.”

“Did someone bring her soiled panties?” Caitlin asked.

Amy looked at Beth.  Beth looked at Daphne and Daphne looked at Amy.

Beth shrugged her shoulders.  “I can help,” she volunteered and disappeared into the rest room.  She returned a few moments later, panties in hand.

Tea Biscuit was even more confused when Daphne cuffed his wrists.  He didn’t recall that he had done anything wrong.  No one seemed at all angry with him and the dreaded cattle prods hung untouched at their belts.

Daphne held the lead attached to his nose ring.  Amy held his right arm and Beth held his left arm.  Caitlin trailed as they led him stumbling to the rarely used stall.

“Tea Biscuit, meet Marianne,” announced Caitlin.  “She’s a real stag-hag slut.”  “Stag-hag” was demeaning jargon for a female who preferred sex with males.

Blindfolded, Tea Biscuit couldn’t see anything.  He felt Marianne’s warm buttocks against his naked thighs. He leaned forward and nuzzled her hair and inhaled her scent.  Something stirred inside him.

“Fuck her, Tea Biscuit fuck her good,” Daphne urged.

Tea Biscuit felt a warm hand rest softly on his flank.

“She wants you,” Beth whispered in his ear.  “She really wants you - so bad.” She took his cock softly in her hand.

Caitlin pressed the warm panties against Tea Biscuit’s face.

The scent filled Tea Biscuit’s head.  He wanted Beth and she was so close.  In his imagination, he saw her naked at the Reservoir.  Beth whispered something unintelligible and her warm breath seared his face.  He wanted her so desperately.  He pictured the soft curve of her breasts and her tight sassy female ass.  He imagined the warm, wet place hidden between her thighs. He wanted her so.  In his fervid mind, she wanted him too.  He was rampant.  Without volition, he thrust against Marianne’s always accepting body.  He slid right into her vaginal opening.  He thrust again and again, the intense sensations erupting from his sex driving his rhythmic thrusting.

Caitlin pulled on a latex glove.  She reached between his thighs and gently cupped his balls.  “That’s it, fuck her good,” she implored.  His breaths came in gasps and grunts.

“Fuck her good. Oh, she wants it so bad,” Amy pleaded.  Perspiration made Tea Biscuit’s naked body gleam in the soft light.  His strong thighs pounded Marianne’s firm plastic ass.  With his powerful assault, Marianne shook on her sturdy anchors.

Caitlin slid her index finger forward and pressed against the under side of Tea Biscuit’s cock.  He groaned as if in pain and erupted.  Gobs of sperm gushed into the waiting receptacle.   Tea Biscuit threw himself forward onto Marianne’s back.  He rested and gasped to catch his breath.  Exhausted, every muscle was limp.

Caitlin wasn’t quite finished yet.  She jammed two fingers up his muscular ass, plunging past his anal sphincter.  Tea Biscuit groaned and tried weakly to twist away.  Undeterred, Caitlin found his prostate gland and massaged it vigorously – forcing a second orgasm and a then third, emptying him of sperm.  He was totally spent.  His fourth orgasm was totally dry and unproductive, leaving him with a dull ache in his balls.

Beth rubbed the back of Tea Bsicuit’s neck.  His skin was hot and sweaty to her touch.  “Do you think he’s in love with little Marianne?” she quipped brightly.

Tea Biscuit was crying real tears when they pried him off Marianne and led him stumbling back to his stall.

“Good night, baby,” Beth comforted him before locking the door of the stall behind her.  “I’ll bring you a cookie tomorrow.


Beth and Amy would have had the best seats in the house, if they had only sat down.  They stood in the Owners’ Box three rows back, right at the starting line when Abby, Beth’s daughter, coaxed her nervous mount into the gate.  Amy’s Pride loved to run, but the noise and tumult of race day always evoked considerable anxiety.  While Beth had been Abby’s birth mother, the two women had raised her together and she called them each “Mom.”  Their daughter’s accomplishments filled them both with pride.  The petite Beth had been a jockey too in her younger years.  She remembered her races up on Ethan, her favorite mount.  She guessed that in the bad old days she and Ethan might even have been sweethearts, given the crushing social pressures.  He might have been the dashing captain of the football team, now banned, and she a preppie cheerleader.  She still thought of him fondly, though the thought of intimate relations with livestock made her queasy like some perverted fantasy of the patriarchal age.

Abby looked great up on Amy’s Pride in her red in gold silks.  Her hair was tied back in a neat ponytail under her racing helmet.  Amy’s Pride was a magnificent creature, saddled and bridled like all the Ponies.  Like all the Ponies, the ring at the end of his sex was attached to his navel ring, lifting his penis from between his muscular thighs and exposing his fat scrotum underneath.  His left side of his penis and scrotum were painted a deep red and the right side a brilliant gold, showing proudly the stable colors.

Both Beth and Amy still stood  when the gate fell and Abby guided her mount skillfully through the crowded field.  They grabbed each other’s hands, when their daughter saw a sliver of an opening and spurred her mount forward.  He answered her challenge with all of his considerable strength and burst ahead of the talented field.  His long legs reached out forcefully and devoured the distance.  Going into the first turn of the half-mile oval, he was already in the lead by a head.  Abby hunched over in her saddle and urge him on.  His powerful strides pounded the hard packed track.  Beth and Abby had trained him mercilessly and his arduous conditioning served him well in the backstretch.

Abby had known she wanted to be a jockey like her birth mother.  Mommy Amy had given her piggyback rides as a toddler.  She had hounded her older brother for rides relentlessly and good-natured fellow that he is, he had always indulged her.

A hot sun beat down on the track.  The crowd roared.  Amy’s Pride felt the warmth of Abby’s breath on his neck.  Her spurred heels rested gently on his flanks, reminding him who commanded and who obeyed, despite their easy camaraderie.  Sweat poured from his body.  Exertion had transmuted her usual subtly perfumed scent into something magical.  He felt her fierce desire to win.  Her competitive spirit was steadfast and unyielding.  He knew her as thoroughly as she knew him.  He desperately wanted to please her.

However, Amy’s Pride was not the only talented Pony in the field.  Wing Song II matched him stride for stride.  The Pony and his jockey carried the blue and silver of High Gate stables.  His male parts were painted in blue and white stripes to match his jockey’s colors.  He too was a marvelous specimen, thoroughly trained and skillfully ridden.  He too had a courageous spirit and a huge desire to win.  He was a champion and the son of champions.  Amy’s Pride heard Wind Song II’s pounding stride and heard his heaving breaths.

Wind Song II was also suffused with a competitive spirit.  His jockey went to her lash, coming out of the final turn and Abby answered ferociously.  Victory was within her reach and she would not lose it now.

Amy and Beth held hands and watched breathlessly.  Their grips on each other’s hand became almost painful.  Their eyes were fixed on the track.

Amy’s Pride rose to the challenge and tapped some previously unknown reservoir of strength and will.  He was a magnificent creature.  He had trained hard.  Abby had worked him diligently, showing him that yet more strength always remained if the spirit was willing, no matter how his lungs and body screamed in protest.  The other Ponies had trained hard also.  However, none shared the life-long bond he shared with his little sister.  Wind Song pulled even for an instant coming out of the last turn into the home stretch but Amy’s Pride surged ahead at the finish.

The crowd cheered.  Arms raised in triumph, Abby guided her mount on his victory lap.  Towering over the shorter Beth, Amy bent down and embraced her lover. They kissed.  Their kiss and the contact of their bodies reverberated with all the love and pleasure they had shared in their long years together.  Frustrated with awkwardness of their posture, Beth stepped up on the seat and for once looked down on Amy and they kissed again.

Bella raced down from the stands to congratulate her girlfriend Abby.  Abby and her mount had already taken their hard-won place in the Winner’s Circle.  Amy’s Pride knelt in the dismount position.  Reporters and photographers mobbed Abby, leaving Bella alone with the male.  He stared at the ground.  His powerful chest heaved while he tried to catch his breath.  His depilated skin was streaked and torn with the marks of Abby’s stick. 

Abby’s love of racing had always puzzled Bella.  Abby doted so on her mount that sometimes Bella found herself jealous of the silly beast.  His ass bore Abby’s mark indelibly.  Abby had branded him herself.  She had shown Bella the brand and told her how nervous she had been.  Her hand was shaking but her mothers had insisted that she brand her brother herself.  There’s a special bond, they told her, between a Pony and the girl who brands him.  Somewhere, she had found the strength to calm her trembling and place a clean brand.

Bella found his physical size intimidating though she knew that he had been thoroughly trained.  Any violence against women would not be tolerated.  A dangerous male would not be re-trained; rather he would be put down.  Kneeling, he was still almost as tall as she.  She viewed the creature ambiguously.  He made Abby so happy but Bella found him at best hygienically challenged.  Dripping as he was now with perspiration, he reeked of a distinctly unpleasant musky aroma.  His bathroom habits were at best suspect.  She found his blatant display of his grotesque male paraphernalia repellent.  Images of him forcing himself into the hidden places of a woman’s body made her physically ill.  However, she took a certain pride in her paint job.

Still, he had made Abby so obviously happy, she couldn’t help but feel a modicum of compassion.  “Hey, Pride,” she smiled, “great run!”  She tussled his hair fondly.

Abby saw Bella and broke away from the crowd and her mount.  “Bella, we did it!” she crowed exuberantly.  She and Bella embraced joyfully.  Abby threw her arm around Pride’s thick muscular neck.  “We did it!”  She planted a quick messy kiss on the side of his face.  Pride turned his head toward her, but she was already hugging and kissing Bella again. 

Bella wasn’t certain that she wanted to kiss Abby after Abby had kissed the male.  However, she surrendered to the moment and kissed her friend warmly.  Abby looked so hot in her racing silks.  She was so vital in her triumph.  The hot pressure of their bodies and the mixing of the fragrances of their scents were too thrilling for fastidiousness to prevail for long. 

“Did you bring it?”  Abby asked.

Bella reached in her pocket and found the apple.  She handed it to Abby.

The apple immediately gained Pride’s attention, despite his fatigue.  He loved anything sweet after the bland diet in the stable.  The apple was so red and shiny and fragrant.

The apple looked great to Abby too.  She almost took a first bite but remembered her manners.  She offered the apple to Bella who took a great bite.  The sweet aromatic juices ran over her lips and chin.  Next, Abby took her bite.  Arm and arm, Abby and Bella fed Pride the remainder, careful to avoid his eager teeth.  He ate greedily, consuming even the seeds and core.

Still hand in hand, Amy and Beth reached the Winner’s Circle.  Hugs and kisses around, they congratulated their daughter and shared their joy with her dear friend, Bella.  Amy grabbed Pride’s bridle in both hands and kissed him warmly on the forehead.  “Great run, Pride!” she said and studied her son’s face.

Prides’ vocal cords had been altered and he was unable to answer her with words.  He answered her with his eyes.  Amy had been his birth mother and Amy and Beth had raised him together with his younger sister Abby.  When he had still been able to speak, he had called them both “Mommy.”  Happiness illuminated Beth’s face and gave him great joy.  A tear rolled down his cheek.

Gently, Beth brushed away his tear.  She was so proud of him. Beth had charted the temperatures and wielded the turkey-baster with her own hands.  Beth herself had coaxed the sperm from Ethan, his sire.  Amy only stood there and watched.  She and Amy were so proud of both their children.  Suddenly, she remembered she had brought him a special treat, a tea biscuit.


#2 2015-10-13 05:54:43

From: San Francisco, CA
Registered: 2015-07-10
Posts: 95

Re: Tea Biscuit

Wonderful story! Thanks for sharing!


#3 2016-01-02 08:21:28

Registered: 2015-07-24
Posts: 21

Re: Tea Biscuit

I love it! Thanks!


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