on the out side of love
"On the Outside of Love" By Mr. Mad and AdobeFats
When we were first married our love was strong, we saw a future and had faith in each the other that we would reach our greater goal. It was during that time when she began to find fault with me, she having joined some association of women. At the first she met with her club or group once a week, usually for an evening. Later, she would meet with various women on a regular basis, and when she came home and I dared to ask about her meeting, she became insulted.
The one time I became insulted was when returning home to our house in the suburb to find the moving van there and told she had sold our house and purchased for her plans a rural farm. I stood there dumbfounded until I saw two of her crony women friends come out of our house, they with her, stood there and all laughed at me for being upset.
I stood there feeling stupid and laughed at until I thought of my collections of things and wondered if the movers were loading only her things of all of our furniture. Without a word to the three ladies..., when I wanted to walk inside the front door my entering was blocked and I pushed back outside by two of the women, they being muscular and strong as if they were male wrestlers.
They escorted me to my car and told me to get inside and gave me a map as to where I should drive to what was where I was to reside with my wife. The brash way they picked me up and literally carried as dragged me to where I had parked my car was equal to how terse their words were to me to drive and not look back.
The drive was more than another hour of time away from where I worked, making for me the thought then of needing to drive more than two hours each way to and from work every day. My thinking of that and the tussle of those two women and my wife and the other women laughing at me had me distracted. To feel distracted is to mentally dwell on one thing, and ignore all the rest of everything around you, not thinking to suspect anything more would go wrong still.
My arrival at the rural farm had me stop at the cresting of a hill where I sat in the car and marveled at what the wife bought in place of our tidy home. There before me lay spread out a green farm of lush pastures, and hundreds of acres, three barns, some odd outbuildings, and in a grove of Maple trees was a house, a large home with front and rear porches, it looked more lavish than my wildest dream of ever owning so much land.
Coming to the driveway entering the property I did not pay proper notice that only her name was posted on the mail box setting along side the main road.
Ignoring the warnings I should have taken into account, I proceeded to drive up the newly paved driveway and came to park the car in front of the house. As I got out of the car a young woman who I had never before seen in my life came out of the house to meet and greet me. She addressed me as the Mister of my Misses, and that she was to show me around what the club had helped find and procured for us to live at and become a business as well.
Neither I or the wife knew anything about farming, we were born and raised city dwellers so why she went out and bought this farm, I was as much again befuddled. Trustingly, I followed along with this very pretty and well endowed young woman, she her figure was sexy, but her butt swayed as she walked, her breasts being large bounced so alluringly to me, it was as if by being near her I was under a spell.
Given the grand tour, I was quiet while she showed me the various attributes of the farm, making mention that the plan the wife had was to breed horses for use and sale as sulky racers. She had inside information given to her by the Ladies of Power association, and they with her were planning how best to use the farm to make the Misses quite rich.
When she led me inside what was a lavish stable, seemingly new as the smell of freshly cut wood prevailed the entrance to the barn, I stood there with eye watering, tears running down my face. The young woman took this as a sign I was in envy of it all, but she did not know I was highly allergic to freshly cut wood. She took me by the hand, her fingers enfolding with mine and led me along the main aisle, it made of brick paver, the stalls on both sides were of cut wood with wrought iron bar doors and a strange sort of latch, the like of it seemed to delicate to hold if a horse were to shove at it.
As I made mention about my concerns of the latches, she suggested I should walk inside a stall and me give it a try to get out. Foolish now that I did as she suggested, as when once I entered the stall and turned to look as she closed and latched the iron bar door, my feet felt a burning sensation the like or kind I never felt before.
I kicked away the straw that covered the stall floor only to find there concrete and nothing to cause me the searing pains I was feeling and feeling it spreading upward. Struggling to walk toward the stall door, the young woman just stood there with a smug smile, as if what I felt was what she had planned and wanted.
Walking was impossible, so I shuffled my way to the stall door and wanting to reach past it to unlatch the door, I could not raise my arms. I moved to where I pressed my head and face to the iron bars, feeling then such a shock I fell over backwards and was knocked unconscious. When I awoke I discovered myself as being stripped naked, a leather strapped bondage like thing snuggly fitted about my head and clipped to a steel ring below my chin was a chain tether. The tether was just long enough to allow my walking around inside the stall but not so long as to allow me getting within three feet of the stall door.
Distracted again and my mind a mass of wonder as worried what the Ladies Association was to do to me. They liked to humiliate men and did so to in front of the wife, their objective from the first was for the wife to be rid of her husband. Everything around and outside that stall was a scurry of movement, I strained my eyes in their socket to see what I could. I was nervous for obvious reasons and wanting in the worst way to gain my freedom for this insulting situation.
The more I stained the stranger I felt as if my mentality was fading and my ability to understand what people said was as gibberish. My realization of what had happened was clouded by that obsession of gaining my freedom away from that stall, that stable, that farm, and she who was as that woman who put me inside that stall. As my frustrations peaked I screamed my feelings of insult about this humiliating sort of captivity, the cry echoed the stable but it was not a yell of a man. Instead or of difference what exploded out of my wide open mouth was the cried whinny of a nervous horse.
As I heard my own whinnied cry for help fade off into the corners of the stable, I stepped back and thought then to take a look what why I made such a stupid sounding yell.
Suddenly, she, that pretty woman who gave me the grand tour was standing out front of the stall door. Her smile tended to quell all my fears and her scent was to me as arousing a smell as I had even known before then. She spoke to me, saying that my awakening that morning was the beginning to my new lifestyle. She said my wife need not divorce me, as a human woman could or would not ever marry a stallion horse. She stood there and told me that the static feeling I first felt when walking into the stall was the spellbinding cast there for me and in due time for other men to become of a valued worth as a commodity for use and or sale.
Then is when I took note I was seeing the world around me in various shades of grays, my vision had changed, as had me and my senses, the ability to hear being just as keen as was the sense of smell.
Abilities had varied, changed as had I, and by me becoming as is a horse of form, so I was as a horse in my brain. I remembered face and knew them as friends or foes, but the learned knowledge of reading, writing, and other humanistic needs to converse were not mine anymore!
It was announced then that my wife wished not for me to be as some draft horse clod, but as her sleek steed to ride and talk to, to tell of how I was but then an animal and she my master, owned, and keeper. The wife fought for me to become as her Palomino horse. I was her prized animal, and if I obeyed her every command, she would let me breed, as mate with mares.
Oddly the thought of mating with a brute mare did not insult my mind, as with a sniff of the young woman I knew from it she was having her period and I snorted at her, feeling my maleness coming quite erect. I was naked and felt no feelings that clothes were needed. I was acting in many ways as if born to being a horse. Unknown to me then, but it was the spellbinding ways of the stall that made of me to act as would a horse and animal.
The young woman left me standing there with my massive erection and the scent of her driving my mind wild with lust, as I did in true equine standards and masturbated with wondrous a feeling of spewing my semen on the straw of my stall. I felt not embarrassed for doing what to me in time previous to then I would have never done of not needed as the wife was always quite willing.
I ignored time, and was calmed and standing, watching, and feeling at ease when there by the stall door stood she who I knew was my wife.
She smiled, and had a look about her face as if she was appreciative of what the spellbinding stall made of her weakling husband. She opened the stall door, and with another woman, they began stroking my neck, back, down my legs and commenting. I stood there as would any a domesticated animal, letting the two females touch me, or did until one fondled my larger feeling big balls, and that is when I tried to bite her.
That was the first time ever when I wanted to hurt she who was my wife. It took the transforming of me into her steed before I realized how much she had learned to dislike the man she married. Her group she belonged to had changed her mind about men in general, and to which I discovered I had married then a witch.
A witch, she my dear love of my life had chosen the gaining of power rather than the love and trusting relationship there can be between a woman and her man. The farm and the stable was a place of privacy where their coven could do the many blandishments to men who they disliked, or stood blocking their womanly plans of greatness.
The wife had me be the first to come a feel the strangeness of entering the spelled stall and gain from entering of it more than just bulk, it changed my whole perspective about life, love, and what females are at doing.
Life became a wealth of sensations coming often as a flood of mindboggling that to me as a newly formed horse caused some frantic moments. The tail is as much a thing to help show my moods as it is a weapon against the nasty flies. My skin can jiggle just by thinking about some bug being a bother, as is my long mane another way to rid my head and face from pesky insects.
Bugs were a pest to me as a human, but with becoming naked and living that way, the insects like to go where I would rather keep as private, but they do help to keep my tool clean.
When in pasture the need to graze becomes as mindless a thought process, and I as do the others in pasture, we forage as if it were our last chance to eat for the year. The tummy becomes full it allows then the beast to fade and the human, thinking mind to prevail its dominance. With many hours in a day as time enough to think, as wonder, I think of she who had this planned from some beginning when she joined her following.
Those early pangs of love felt about her have passed into a sense of companioning. It is a mutual thing between the animal and the caretaker, she who feeds and brings water, as well, another who with bit and bridle does force this large self to wheel and turn, to do her bidding lest she bring upon me pain.
I am a belonging, and the thoughts of this at times infuriates me to galloping wild like across the pasture. The other who be horses or ponies there know too the aggravation we all know for having lost much to be treated as we are, as are animals. They come and follow, as with the exertion and exercise of muscular bodies the feelings of woe pass and we slow to a walk, calm, sigh, and return again to that mindless grazing of grass.
Days or months, the want and ability to note the passing of time is meaningless to when one is an animal. The consideration of time is ignored, and the one and only timely thing the predominates our thinking is the whiff scent of a spicy smell informing of a mare coming into her time of season.
Arousals are many and they who be caretakers take care to give only a few of the hornier stallions their time with a mare. She who is my keeper is friendly allowing me time and much time with a mare as often. It is a time when what matters is the realization of a sensation, the sniffing, licking, mounting, thrust, and sliding in as back the long sensual shaft, it is the one thing that makes what we must be as something we stallion enjoy our beings.
Mating becomes a quick passing fancy to my mind, as the need is to deal with those upright females, and they, no matter how lovely they might smell, they are not interested in a stallion wishing to add them as another great conquest made real. In one well remembered time past there was the episode between me and she who showed me first the stall where I changed of form.
She came and was in her time, it caused me to want to know her better. As she was working to saddle me, I swung my head around, and with lips spread and teeth apart, I bit at her waistband, and did with a harsh twist, rip off her those dark colored jeans.
Oh wow, she became hostile, but it opened up my ability to smell her, she did not believe in wearing anything under her jeans, she must have liked her freedom!
Freedom it was as with her scent I became aroused and with my head and bulk body did push her into a corner. She was powerless without her thing that if pointed at an animal made the beast do what she wished as done. She I had where I wanted her, like she were a mare trapped between the pasture fence and horny me.
She learned then of my wrought passions, of my soft nostrils as they pressed in at her loving place of scent. My tongue came next as it does to slick the mare for the coming entering, but finding her as minuscule when compared to the many a mares, my passion for her faded, though my maleness wagged and swung, bumping my belly and dribbled spits of liquid.
Spiteful as are all the upright females, she took compassion on a rowdy stud, and clipping a rein to the head halter she while half naked, walked her lover to a stall holding a recent convert to the herd.
Unclipped the rein and she told us to have our fun time, she the keeper left me there, me the gallant Palomino stud and she a dainty still Palomino mare.
The being as a belonging item to be owned was strange enough to get used to the fact, but the living life as a brute animal, whether being a male or those who were females, it takes some time to feel at home being what they made of us.
Considering the life I live of ease and lack of concern to morals, I cannot hate her for what she did to me!
This body, my mind, the senses that relish the knowing of what or who is near, all what is me now, I cannot find it in me to hate anything except insects. I always look forward to seeing her who is my keeper, and she who I know only as my master. Either my come and brings me feed or drink, there is this inkling in my thoughts, a suggestion there that for whatever was the reason, I should lash out, to bite, to kick, to hurt them as they had so hurt me. The memory of them is as much a tasking of me to want to harm them, they who I know I appreciate, they keep me content in so many ways, they are my keepers, my beloveds!
I seem to be happy with the two hers around, I long for her to be near and still I do not know the why there is this wish to love a she who is a witch. I ponder it often when in pasture, as if she ever wanted was not me. We mated and from that there is a temporary time of bonding, but to her and the way she acts, her wish was to own me, control me, and remind me who is the true master over all males and beasts.
I would shed a tear for what was and is lost to me, but being what I am, the ability to cry was lost along with my own soul.
Beware the females as they hope and plan to rule of all who be male!