ClothesHorse
Clotheshorse
I thought I'd seen everything working in a sporting goods store at the corner of Mulberry and Rye Avenues. I didn't think anything surprised me in the mediocrity of stocking shelves, putting price tags on every individual package, cleaning up after others' messes, and helping customers find what they wanted.
I thought T.V. Had introduced me to every scenario of cheesy romance and fiction, I thought there was nothing out there for me but a job looking after the athletic needs of others.
*laughs casually*
Let me begin from the beginning. You see, I was born human in a society where equines are predominantly in the top of the hierarchy. I hated their haughty ways; their cruel ways they entertained themselves whenever they were bored. I was fun for stallions on more than one occasion, and I don't think there was a decent one of their lot. I guess if your somebody's toy for long enough, you don't care for anyone of a particular group.
I hated all horses. They disgusted me; made me want to spit on them or throw stuff. Sometimes, when hate lurks deep inside the shadows of the body, you forget who you are; incensed with the sole need to cause harm to another without care for repercussions or punishment. Some days my pain was like that; like I wanted to hurt something; make it die in utter agony, that I forgot what kind of a person I was.
*Scoffs*
"Person"
Not a horse; in no way socially equal to the equines of this city, in no way free.
One day, when I was putting tags on cans of tennis balls with a clerk label gun, HE walked past me through the isle until he came to the end, where he looked at the replacement strings for old style racquet's; the kind with the little leather notches on the outside of the hoop. The thread was made out of one of two types of spun plastic string.
He looked over the different brands; we carried five-two high quality and three generic. The stallion was a very athletic creature. His fur was a white gray, and his hair and tail were a dark red like smoldering cinders in a pile of dying ashes mixed with the black of unburnt charcoal.
His eyebrows were slightly raised and he had the crook of a grin, giving an impression of haughtiness. All equines had that look of content smugness, but he seemed more dignified and courteous for the look of his somber but spirited fire opal eyes.
I had clocks spinning in my head as I looked him over in his navy blue tennis shorts with a white pinstripe on the outer seam and a blue metallic letterman jacket.
And the pink of his muzzle and ears-and the bridge of his equinesque 'Roman nose'-and the perky lift of his tail as it swatted back and forth lazily like a long streamer in a gentle breeze.
It is LOUD to look at him, each chime, each peal, each ring. Bells in my head with every glance I steal to gaze at his physique. Every second, his eyes oblivious to my curiosity as they travel the lines printed on the packages of twine spindles-
And yet, every time, his ignorance burns into me, further into haste; a jump into insanity from the cliff of denial.
I hated all horses.
Except for this one.
And he did not know I existed.
He leaves as I hide my embarrassment by devoting all of my attention to putting these stupid labels on all of the tennis ball containers.
Around the aisle to the next; but dare I follow his gait-do I go into the next section and tell him what is on my mind?
Can I bear the uncertainty of more possible cruelty by yet another member of equine 'aristocracy'.
I have been pushed down for so long, I cannot tell if there are any such creatures left who have any mercy or tenderness. Call me faithless, but a man can only be shoved so long before he acknowledges that some things will never change, despite how we want them to so badly.
I put him out of mind as he strolls casually away and into the clothing section. His hands wander all over the rack for some generic Elcon T-shirts, stroking his chin as he turned his head this way or that to get a better angle of it. I supposed he wanted to see how good the shirt looked by itself before he went to try it on.
I wanted to laugh as he studied a five dollar shirt with the attention to detail which a jewel cutter had. He didn't care about the price, I guess. Cheap shirts can look as good as Georgi Armani if you wear the right jacket and tie. Besides, it's not the shirt you pay for, it's the name. You don't pay $120 for a shirt that took two dollars to make unless it was a REALLY high-end retail name.
He snorted lightly and hopped on his springy equine-like ankles when he felt confident in that proper 'look for less'. I wanted to see him in the fitting room-to look at his fine elegant physique, but I knew that I would probably get fired for doing that, as it was a breach of customer privacy to do so.
He held a red paper shopping bag in one hand, wagging his lengthy red and black fiery spirited tail, his ears flitting back and forth catching the various noises of conversation and other normal sounds of the store; stuff falling down off shelves, hands grabbing packages, loose objects shaking in boxes like Christmas presents or sometimes like maracas.
He loved red, it was obvious. The shirt he had chosen was a smoky burgundy with chocolate brown outseams on the sleeves. The tag flapped noiselessly, sliding against his hand as he walked toward the changing booths.
When he received a pass from the person working there, Wendel Watts of the hockey section on normal days, he went in with the pass hung on the outside red curtain by way of a little alligator clip attached to the pass/sign. I really felt strangely defeated, like I had been cheated out of a worthwhile love. Maybe I was wrong; maybe I was a secret admirer. But that didn't make me want him any less.
It was true, I wasn't overly gay; in fact, I was most definitely averse to the thought after some of my equine tormentors got more comfortable with my body than I would have liked. It was different with him. When I saw him-saw those eyes-I neither feared nor hated him, and his body was not disagreeable to me in any way.
I didn't know what to do; my desires torn in half right down the middle like two cliffs nuzzling a wide chasm.
On one side was the love, the desire, the fucking passion-
And the other was the hate, the anger, the pain as black as a sunless day.
Now was the time for a decision, what would I do? What choice could I ultimately live with making? I was literally like Shakespeare's Hamlet; trying to decide if I should kill my uncle; whom killed my father for the crown.
"Wendel. There's a person over by the goalie masks asking which design can stop a puck at a hundred miles an hour. He says he plays in a really tough street league." I declare, walking up to the changing area; price-gun dangling, barely held in my nervous hand.
"Did you direct-Is he sure-Wait-" Watt was flustered as he played nervously with his black employee shirt.
"What?" I ask, confused. I had to play this right or I might never see the horsie again.
"Okay-okay. Did you direct him to the Avant-Gard model?" Watt asked, adjusting his glasses on his face as his name badge jiggled with his man-breasts.
He WATCHED lots of hockey; he didn't play-sometimes he had time to be a goalie, but that was the extent of his capability.
"I thought you said Avant-Gard masks shatter over 80mph."
"No-no. That was um...Diamondback custom I was talking about. Those guys are cheap; use crappy fiberglass." Watt corrected, as he looked over a delivery roster on a clipboard. "I think we still have twenty of those in stock unless we sold some on my day off yesterday."
"Doubt it, hockey season is starting late this spring for the rollerblade variation. We only sold three of those this month."
"What did you recommend?"
I pause, thinking of the worst one I can remember.
"Blackkannon fireball."
He raised an eyebrow in response.
"Your fucking with me, right? We only recommend those things for peewee games and halloween."
"Yeah I am. I think I sold him on the diamondback." I respond.
Watt scratches his stubbly chin.
"I thought so. It should be safe, but I'm going to go-" He paused uncertainly. "But I can't leave here. Your free-range today for stocking and pricing-can you fill in for the changing booth position for me while I go help that poor canuck bastard about to buy a diamondback 'faceshatter' goalie mask. Cuz you know-if someone hits it hard enough, it'll shatter like glass."
"Yeah. Yeah. Sure. Who's in right now?" I nod, even as he hands me the clipboard and his walkie.
"This horse guy came with a red T-shirt. That's all the people I have so far."
Then he leaves, Going off towards the hockey section in a hurry with all haste.
Before I go take a peek though, I look at the black security camera bubble above on the ceiling. The guy who did security was my friend, so I knew he wouldn't turn me in for peeking, and he'd probably have the cameras pointed the other way so it wouldn't be recorded on video later.
That just left being caught by the customer or someone working the floor. This store had a distinct employee ethics policy, but you couldn't prove anything if there was no proof, and a guy was clever enough to formulate an excuse and bullshit his way out of it.
Giving an almost breathless sigh of anxiety, my hand reaches shakily for the curtain and draws it ever slowly back an inch-enough for me to see the pretty horse in just his white boxer shorts and admiring his lean physique. I stared at his butt under that pretty lifted tail-couldn't help not to-and was captivated by the way the undies hugged his naked form like a spandex and cotton layer of skin.
As he stared in the mirror and proudly examined himself, i saw the roundness of a sheathe and large testicles seem to expand from the shorts like one half of a vase outline. It was just so captivating to wander my eyes over his handle-I certainly fantasized about holding him by it in the small space of this minute.
His white-grey fur shone like polished ivory as he grinned and his eyes flitted actively over every detail of his body. The stallion was a proud and beautiful creature, and though I disliked dealing with many of his kind, I only prayed he could be different-that he could treat me not like a human being, but a lover.
And then his eyes stopped-and a thoughtful look washed over his face like melted stone. His gaze embraced my own and for the longest time-I was neither afraid nor nervous for being discovered. Perhaps this is what I always wanted to have happened.
"Hello there." He remarked with a soft gust of his nose.
I was too shy to say anything; a god speaking to me and asking for my lowly opinion of his craft. Lust glowed on my mind and all I could think of as I inhaled his musty horse stink into my lungs was the probable size of his penis and the possible use of it on one of my more covert openings.
My body refused to react as that gentle yet firm hand grabbed my shirt and yanked me hastily inside the changing booth-then the fire overcame me as his eyes burned my soul with stallion fire, and I was forever changed by his keen glare.
"I know you like what you see." The stallion whispers, nibbling my ear and sending little passionate tingles through my body.
If he were truly an expert in breeding, I would like to see how he made me into his utterly defenseless mare-slave for his harem. It was a mixed feeling when I thought of being submissive to a horse. Horses who controlled everything but my freedom-but now one had seemed to come to even take that from me. Such was a fleeting need, as I realized in every moment within his presence, liberty was hollow without his rebellious elegance.
The ears flitted with energy and rapt interest. The eyes danced like ruby stars. Perhaps it was this moment that stuck out in my mind.
He took my hand gently in his and placed it on his warm and pliable sheathe. "This could be yours." He mused, licking my face.
I shivered as my fingers traced every detail and cleft of his equine bulge, passion blasting through me like sunrays on a summer day.
"God..." I whispered; not realizing I had said it.
The singular word made him give a thin smile as he whipped his tail with lustful energy. "That's right." He breathed out in a husky erotic way.
The stallion's skin gave a slight shiver as my cold flingers slid over his fit stomach and creeped under the waistband of his boxers ever carefully in reverence of his greatness. I felt the slick short fur about his sheathe and a shyness overtook me that would have made me withdraw were his own hand not guiding mine around his personal features.
"Don't be shy." He spoke; a whisper no louder than an exhalation of breath.
I calmed myself enough to enjoy the strange and exciting feel of his genital cleft...
His other hand took mine at my waist and firmly placed the palm to his bulging pair of testicles. When I felt the heat of the orbs begin to saturate into the skin of my hand through his undies, I shuddered and was struck dumb with the overwhelming lust of my desire.
A fierceness overtakes me and immediately, my hands clamber for his waistband and rip his horts down in one sudden tug-his triangular hood of flesh jumping up and bobbing into my face like the shy tip of a monstrous iceberg of horseflesh.
My head drifts toward it and a personality of deep lust overtakes my body with incomprehensible emotions of demand and power, my tongue flicking out rapidly like a snakes to slap into the shallow cavity and stab repeatedly against the glans with rough animalistic licks as the taste of his smegma, musty sweaty crotch-fur stink, and pre-ejaculate slides down my throat and the flavor of his equine male mist travels into my nose; a blush overcoming my face like an angry sunburn.
I shudder briefly from the loud kind laugh and the gentle hand on my head as I eat out his sheathe and begin to stir the monster from it's cave with every savory dart of my tongue...until the head peeks out and I slap it around the sensitive rim with my lips and take the soft squishy flesh briefly in my mouth; the sensation of the organ in my face devastating me with the aura of ultimate masculine power.
"Good little filly." The horse snorts out, giving a sudden squeal in surprise as I pierce his urethra and penetrated deep inside to savor the taste of his musty dried salt from his piss.
The organ begins to creep from its hiding place and slither towards the ground before slowly rising and stiffening into a spear-
I could only stare at the long black mamba and drool-fear of the massive power of it overcoming me.
Taking it in my hands, the flesh immediately tingled in my fingers and grew more rigid until it was two feet long and ready to stab through me like a javelin of horsemeat. Licking the head, I find that the glans will no longer fit in my mouth, much to my surprise.
But I know the horse has a different idea.
"Bend down for me." The horse demanded softly, licking his lips in passion for the sight of my slim human form.
Those words shook me harshly to the core with horror and respect, and though I dreaded what it would feel like to be savagely penetrated by the bulging shaft and head of the stallion penis, a curiousity drove through my loins and compelled me to do as he asked like I were a puppet on his strings.
"Y-Yes..." I managed, doing as he asked, more nervous and afraid than I had been in my entire life. Men die or suffer great injury from such extreme sexual play as this. It would be terrible if I became the next Mr. Gloves.
I was on all fours in the cramped space of the fitting room as he stared curiously over every portion of my body-before ripping my clothes off in vicious tears-I lay before him naked and utterly defenseless to his strength and his masculine power.
"Pretty creature." The horse remarks, smiling in interest.
His silk furred hand glides along my head...down my cheek...down my neck...creeping over my shoulder like a thick downpour of water...slides down my back like a silk tassel-ever gentle...and then the hand twists on the heel of the palm as it spins around my hip to cup my slender fleshy buttock in the strong warm grasp.
"I love my mare's buns." The elegant creature mused, an ecstatic enchanted roll of his tender eyes.
My skin was hot with fever as moments passed and the long sought domination would come over me...into me.
I felt my cock jump with a spray of juice as the giant organ stabbed my asshole and began to scratch and burrow against my anal rim frantically for entrance. It wasn't helping that I had this musky male body draped over me like a horseflesh blanket as my cock threatened to explode any second from all the stimulation.
In countless seconds of bouncing and jiggling around my buns like a rubber snake, the pink horse member found my cherry...and sunk in easy like a lead weight into a harbor as my body twitched from the pain and spasms of desperation vibrated through my thin muscly arms with every hot breath of horseness against my back and the unmistakable slam of satin sheer thighs against my rear.
In and out, it felt like a jackhammer and it seemed just as likely that the horse would split me in half easier than old pavement as the pulsating, throbbing megacock began to dribble warm seed into me like lukewarm caramel. I knew that I was being used as a cumdumpster for a stallion's most carnal urges, but I didn't care-today I was the mare, and my heat was so strong that I lusted for every stallion in this city to deposit their seed into my slutwomb with wild sweaty thrusts like this stud was now.
We were both wet and stank strongly, but all I could think about was servicing the huge dick as the sweet bitter aroma of horse crotch began to fill my nose with equine passion. Soon, I would be lost in the maelstrom of mareness and desire to be bred with an animalistic simplemindedness.
Big pink balls tapped at me like spanking jawbreakers of satin hot skin as the lubricant dripping cock continued to hammer my ass like nothing short of a battering ram of stud meat.
This wasn't a horse; it was a path of chaos beating heavily into my soul with juicy hard studly thunder. My body trembled and shook with every ram. It felt like an earthquake under the firm dominant body of the fire-maned stallion.
I shuddered and nearly collapsed when lightning striked, and the normally shy equine slammed hard into my pathetically loose slime dribbling hole and shot cum out like a gun; white juice streamers erupting out of there as he filled my manwomb with more horse cream than it could hold, and then I collapsed with him on top of me.
It was unmistakable bliss I had found with the elegant beast as the charming male creature began to nibble affectionately on my hair and taste the sweaty locks as if he were sampling a mare's pussy with his tongue and flehmen.
"You taste good, you know." He remarks with a blush as his cock continues to pulse in time to his hearbeat.
I simply smiled and waited in the changing booth while he bought some cheap replacement clothes for me to wear since he had wrecked my old ones in his studly haste.
"Yeah...I wonder how YOU taste." I reply, feeling horse cum leak into my underwear as we walk out of the store as inconspicuously as possible, the stallion holding my arm as if leading me somewhere.
It felt appropriate to have him do that; I wanted to be his maretoy, and it seemed he was one of those unique stallions who lusted only for one thing.
Me.