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IS THIS YOUR DREAM?

by Alas Negras

The chirping of crickets was getting David nervous. It had been easy for the man to sneak onto the ranch, but he needed to stay alert. He knew the owners were sleeping, but one mistake and he'd end up shot in the face. He slipped into the shadows, sticking to the block wall, his hair standing on end. Not rushing, he approached the front door. Twenty, ten steps. Counting helped him to keep his nerves at bay. He had an uneasy feeling that the ranch owners could hear him, no matter the distance. As he gripped the metal latch of the door, the feeling was multiplied a thousandfold. Beads of sweat trickled down both his temples as he tried to open it stealthily.

To his immense relief, there was not a squeak. The interior seemed to be painted with oil; it took him a few seconds to make out the shapes of the enclosure. He heard the horses fidget, alert for the intruder. There was some snorting, but no neighing. His heart calmed a little. He breathed in, letting his lungs fill with the scent of horses. Mixed with straw and alfalfa, that wild smell enhanced his heartbeat and made him feel alive. His nervousness turned to excitement. Sliding a hand down to his pants, he noticed his bulge growing by the minute. With also growing confidence, he looked at the animals around him, allowing himself to blurt out a few words aloud.

“Good evening, damsels."

More snorting. It was fortunate the mares were so well trained. It was one of the reasons he had chosen this ranch. Accustomed to the comings and goings of stallions and owners, none of them would bother him until he was finished. David had watched the facility for months. He knew the schedules, ins and outs, every worker and every surveillance system. The owners hardly ever leave, but today they'd had a party and would most likely be exhausted. By the time it was daylight, he'd be done. Hopefully more than once.

Smiling at that thought, he reached into his pocket and fondled the vial. If someone found it in the act, it'd all be over. His dreams, his reputation and his life would be shattered. A small price to pay for fulfilling his true dream.

His fascination began in childhood. His neighbour had always owned horses and he had grown up watching them from the fence, too shy to approach. While other children were fond of dogs and cats, David was drawn to these great beasts, tamed by beings with only a fraction of his strength. Or so he thought at first. He soon realised that there was an unspoken pact between horse and handler, a bond where both were equals and helped each other to be better. All their strength and speed, coupled with a skittish but impetuous spirit, made him fall in love with them completely.

His life revolved around horses. His few friends owned or fantasised about owning one. For David, his desire went beyond that. He wanted to join them. He wanted to have the most special of connections, the deepest of connections. To abandon his humanity and be part of them, just for a second. That secret, more intense every day, took him to the strangest forums and chats on the Internet. Images and stories of all kinds fed his fantasies, to the point of constant daydreaming. That cycle, though unstable, was enough for him. Or at least it had been until GhostHorse69 appeared.

Others would have questioned the appearance of a man offering impossible things. When it came to horses, David couldn't think straight. It didn't take him long to believe all of his words. The offer was too tempting. To be a horse, for one night. And not only that. To be just like Impavido, the stallion of his former neighbour. That impressive specimen had never hesitated when he had a mare in front of him. They all lifted their tails for him, without complaint or kicking, receiving his thrusts with whinnies of pleasure. While other stallions could only ride two or three in the same day, Impavido could ride six in a morning. All his foals were strong and healthy, to the point that instead of taking him to farms with mares, it was the owners of the mares who brought them to Impavido.

Today his fantasy would come true. In one gulp, he swallowed the entire contents of the vial as images of the stallion kept flashing through his mind. His pants had a considerable bulge. Not despicable for a human, but soon it'd be much more: a true mast of equine flesh. If it worked, that is. That pessimistic thought didn't last. Having seen it in person, he trusted Ghost. The fluid, he explained, would not only alter his DNA, but was composed of a concentrate of energy-dense molecules that would transform into proteins and carbohydrates: everything his body needed to reach the size of a real horse. It was something he had always noted to be false in all the accounts he had read. Covering that aspect put his mind at ease. He gladly paid one thousand dollars for it. For that and the antidote, of course.

He took off all his clothes, afraid to change too quickly. He left the antidote on top of a bale of hay. It was a plastic vial, ready to be chewed and sipped when he had no hands. Ghost's ingenuity and anticipation amazed him. Excited, he began to watch the mares more closely. Almost all of them were in heat, as he expected. Their pussies pranced occasionally, accompanied by the most exquisite of odours. Hard as a rock, he examined his options. They were all beautiful, yes, but one in the background caught his eye. It had to be new. Blonde mane, sorrel coat with a white cord on her head. Calm, she walked over to watch him when he approached. The blue of his eyes was as beautiful as the ocean. He gulped and got closer to her, opening the door. She would be the chosen one.

He wanted her to feel comfortable. He greeted her, complimenting with soft words, a sincere praise for her beauty. She allowed him to approach without protest after sniffing him a couple of times. Rarely had he seen such a calm mare. He leaned against her neck, enjoying the tickle of his well-groomed coat. At the same time, an itch began to spread through his body. He kept stroking her, knowing the changes wouldn't take long to become visible. She licked his fingers, sniffing him curiously, knowing there was something off about him. David was grateful for the lack of light; the thought of looking like a horse-human hybrid was somewhat frightening to him. However, he couldn't deny his curiosity to see and feel the changes.

The hairs multiplied on his body. Areas where it had never grown before now had a fine layer of black and white hairs. He shook his arms, letting out a chuckle of surprise. It was coarse and tough, growing longer around his wrists. My fur, my own fur. He stroked it, soothing some of the itch he felt, though not for long. The bones began to creak, breaking and reforming along several points. First the chest, growing in volume, with the ribs protruding outward like a barrel. The arms and legs followed, lengthening as if in the throes of puberty. It didn't hurt and the confirmation that this was real only excited David even more.

Between gurgles and glups, his guts were reforming for a new diet where meat had no place. His stomach barely grew, but his large intestine and cecum did, where new bacteria would help him digest all kinds of plants. If he had still been wearing his pants, they would have burst now, unable to contain him. David sat up, feeling too heavy to stay on his legs. He opened his mouth, noticing his tongue hardening, widening. The mare still gazed at him, cautious.

“Don't -neigh - worry about me. Soon -neigh- I'll be ready for you."

Palpating his body, he noticed the next series of changes. His fingers shrank, the phalanges had disappeared to form compact bone, coalescing around a single central finger. The fingernails turned black, lining up in a crescent shape; now the sensitivity of his hands was almost nil. No, not yet, please. He palpated his crotch with the pseudo-hoof. His erection throbbed, moist from the constant pre he kept spilling. Surrounding it with his hooves, he rubbed as best he could, noting how it grew under his caresses. Oh god, it's big. It'll be twelve, no, fifteen inches. It's imposing...

The moans he emitted changed, more and more similar to animal grunts. A few whinnies abandoned his mouth as his penis lost all traces of humanity. The medial ring appeared just before its length began to darken, a few flecks of pink remaining. His scent became more concentrated, creating a musk that permeated the entire stable. The mares pounded the ground with their hooves and flicked their tails away, noticing the presence of a virile stallion nearby. David could smell them too. Staggering, he stood on all fours, noting with amazement how his thin limbs supported the increasing weight.

New tendons were born, helping him maintain his balance. The joints were set for the new posture; walking on two legs was now a thing of the past. Duslor shook his head, feeling the itch increase more and more there. The bones lengthened to the front, stretching the skin, shifting the eyes to the sides. He could no longer look straight ahead, but was aware of everything around in the stable without barely turning his neck. His neck muscles grew massively, settling in between the large vertebrae. The rest of his body soon followed, reaching the shape of a large draft horse, weighing nearly eight hundred kilograms. At the rear end, a tail soon appeared, getting covered in black hairs as it developed.

Those changes were the most visible, but David was lost in the small details. The rush of air he expelled after breathing, the dull colours of his new vision, the small muscles beneath his grey fur that he could contract at will to shoo away flies. He felt an enormous strength, capable of tearing down walls. It was almost as if he had been reborn in the body of a god. He could have spent hours admiring his new body, revelling in every sensation, but the mare by his side had a different idea. Duslor's ears curled back as he noticed the snout at his crotch. A warm breath and a lick made him shudder from nose to tail as his member hit his belly. The mare nudged him, playfully, seeking more. With his new nose, David knew she was at the peak of her heat. The time of greatest need, the absolute urgency to seek a male. Luckily, David had no intention of disappointing her.

His muzzle went straight for the source of his attraction. Unlike an ordinary stallion, he didn't limit to a quick touch. He kissed that delicate cleft, devouring her juices with slow licks of his powerful tongue. He moved down to her bouncing clitoris, and as he took it into his mouth he almost came all at once. That prancing button was attacking straight to his pleasure centres, calling to his reproductive instinct. His whole body seemed like a machine out of control, his balls burning with the need to release the generous load inside. A load he had to put inside that mare. That animal instruction was the only thing that managed to tame his desire. He pulled away, still dazed from such an overload of sensations.

It only lasted a second. Then he leapt forward, trapping the little mare under his powerful legs. She didn't run away, though it would have been difficult in the cramped space. With no hands, David had to repeat the attempt several times, trying for the perfect angle as his snorts went out of control and his hooves crashed violently to the ground. Firm and determined, he grabbed her by the neck, biting down on those beautiful manes and plunged suddenly inside her with a neigh that felt like a gong in a stadium. The soft walls welcomed him, shifting to a wet sound as his lubed cock thrust all the way in. Relentless, he never ceased. She was his mare, his and only.

Even the wildest fantasies were no match for what the mare had in store for him. Her body milked his cock with great care, he could feel it pounding deep into her vagina and her pushing back slightly. The animal instinct was unleashed and he could only imagine reaching the ultimate level, breaking all barriers and turning that female into the receptacle of his seed. To fill her, to fill her with new life. A strong, healthy foal imbued with the strength and might of its father, brave as he was, and then another and another.

The pressure was about to escape from so much humping. David knew it and increased the pace, grinding his hips against the mare's cheeks, bringing their hot bodies together as much as possible. Then he noticed something painful around his throat, cutting off his breath all at once. Two human figures had entered the stable and one of them was holding a lasso that extended to his neck. With another oppressive tug, he lost his balance and slipped off the mare. All the pleasure he had built up was diluted in a mild orgasm, staining the ground, wasting his impressive load. Whinnying in fear and confusion, the two humans took the chance to surround him. By the screams he knew they were the owners of the stable. Still confused by the speed of events, the tugs were dragging him out of the stable.

“Fuck Mark, what the fuck is this male doing here?"

“Hold him tight, Sam!"

No, no! Let go of me! Frantic whinnies came out of his mouth as he tried to speak. He reared up on his hind legs, not realising that the ceiling was too low. His attempt to scare them off ended with his head impacting the hard ceiling. His vision blurred and he fell onto the straw. So close to the antidote, he couldn't give up. He tried to get up, but the owners got in the way. Covered in ropes, he closed his eyes and gave up, exhausted.

***

Memories were hazy from that point on. The ropes. Being dragged to a different stable. The smells of the mares getting farther and farther away. Someone feeling his head, where he had been injured. They were all intermingled. He opened his eyes carefully, noticing too much light all at once. It was already daylight and he was still at the ranch. He was in a stall and his sense of smell told him there were no other horses nearby. As he got to stand on all four, he noticed the rope was still tied around his neck, hooked on the wall. He tugged and bit, trying to free himself, without success. This time he heard the humans approaching and braced himself. Five men were there, including Mark and Sam.

“Hello boy," said Mark, being the first one to approach. “You scared us to death last night, yeah. Sam thought you'd killed yourself. You sure are hungry, aren't you? Come with me, slowly. Easy, easy."

I'm sure he's scared of what happened last night, he thought. The truth was that David had been pretty aggressive, at least for a horse. They took no small amount of precautions with him. Aside from the number, more than one had guns hanging from their belts. Running away was the option his body was asking for, but the stupidest. I need the antidote to be human again. It has to be in the stable, next to my clothes. If I play cool, if I don't give them trouble, maybe I can surprise them and get back there.

Convinced of his own words, he behaved perfectly. Not a tug on the rope, he even ate the hay that was offered to him as he walked. The truth was it was pleasant, its flavor was tender although somewhat dry. The delight was comparable to eating a croissant. They opened the door and led him outside. He soon picked up the stable location, but he stuck to his plan until he saw where they were taking him: a squeeze chute at the back of the ranch. He paused for a moment, unsure whether to proceed.

The thought of going in there didn't amuse him at all. However, it was too late to back out now. Running toward the barn might work, but he was surrounded by people. If he got aggressive and tried to run them over, they would tie him up again... or worse. Resignedly, he let himself be led, showing his displeasure with a huff and lowering his ears. The metal door closed behind him, leaving him trapped in the narrow metal frame. The tension around him dissipated and he could see everyone relax at the sight of him trapped.

“A mad beast, I tell you," Sam commented. “I don't know who tamed him, but they did a lame job."

“Honey, he's just scared and confused. Don't you see he calms down if you treat him better?" he stroked him under the chin. “Good horse. Your owner will be here shortly, don't worry."

If his hearing wasn't so fine, David would have been sure he'd heard wrong. He had no owner, no one responsible. Did that mean he'd been sold? In one day, just like that? He shook his head around and banged on the door, but the metal resisted every blow, designed to withstand the most quarrelsome horses. He considered jumping out, but he had almost no room. If he broke a leg, then he'd never get the vial. Once he managed to process that, he calmed down again. It was obvious they were wrong. If that supposed owner came, he would see he wasn't their horse. They would open up and take him back to the barn and there he'd run out to the stable, no matter what. If he had to run someone over, so be it.

“Oh, they're here."

David looked up and saw two people. The first was a fortyish, broad-shouldered man with a curly black beard. He didn't recognize him, but the other was GhostHorse69! Blond, thin and wearing silver-rimmed glasses, the guy was unmistakable. He was carrying a black medical bag. Relieved to see him, he whinnied happily, pranced and tried to get his attention.

“There, there!" said Mark, patting him to calm him down. “Well, here's your boy. What a mad horse, I thought he was going to throw us all up in the air."

“My apologies for all the trouble. Robert Sandford" said the forty-year-old man with a powerful voice, shaking hands as he went. “This young man ran away in the night apparently and we've been searching like mad. Thank you so much for looking after him."

“Do you know if there was anyone with him?" Sam interrupted, with a raised eyebrow. “We found some clothes in the stable."

“Clothes?" Robert was puzzled, but then he smiled and answered quickly. “Oh, yes. This nutter crashed into the clothes we left outside to get dry. Some of those must have gotten caught on him. I'll pick them up now. I hope he didn't give you too much trouble."

“A little to be honest, but don't worry. We're here to help. And you are… "he said, looking at Ghost."

“Cain Smith, nice to meet you," he said, shaking Mark's hand. I'm Mr. Sandford's veterinarian. He asked me to come here to make sure his horse is in perfect condition after all he's been through."

“If we can borrow your chute, I'd like to do it here before we take him to the trailer," said Robert.

“No trouble at all!" Mark replied enthusiastically. Take as much time as you need. If you need some help, just let the guys know."

Yes, yes! Watching the owners drive away filled him with indescribable joy. Now all they had to do was collect his things, take him to a secluded place where he could drink the vial and he'd be human again in no time. The two men watched for anyone nearby before turning their attention to him. Duslor rapped gently on the fence. He wanted to get out as soon as possible. However, the man named Robert patted his neck and stroked him.

“You're very naughty, Duslor. Escaping from me... don't worry, you'll soon be safe and sound with me."

Duslor. What kind of name was that? He wanted to tell them his real name, but he couldn't. This whole performance made no sense to David (or Duslor, as they decided to call him now). If the guy was with Ghost he had to know what had happened. He stirred again, trying to get their attention, but they both ignored him. Ghost/Smith opened the medical bag and pulled out a stethoscope and purple gloves.

“Let's take a look at your pupils and mucous membranes," he said, putting on the gloves with a slap sound. “You don't look dehydrated, but I need to give you a full examination."

It was outrageous. Refusing to be treated like a common horse, he bucked, whinnied and tried to get out of there by any means possible. They weren't frightened of him. Robert handled the rope firmly, pulling as soon as he resisted. He didn't know how to get rid of them. He didn't have as much control of his body as he would have liked.

“Easy, easy. Smith, if you don't mind…"

He tried to look in the direction of the vet, but another tug prevented him. A second later, he felt a peck on his neck. Now he could see Smith injecting something into his neck. Alarmed, he kicked with such force the metal door buckled, but remained firm. It didn't take long for the medicine to kick in, causing him to calm down against his will. Stop this game at once, leave me alone, he wanted to tell them, but only horse sounds erupted. Undeterred, the veterinarian continued his inspection. Duslor could only watch and wait. It was humiliating to notice the doctor's gloved hands roaming over his body without the slightest respect for his privacy. Especially when he decided to use the thermometer on his rear.

“A young, healthy draft horse, with everything in its place," declared Smith, cleaning the thermometer. “Undefined breed. Good teeth, proper conformation, hooves are fine, temperature and hydration normal. Abundant ashy coat and no bald patches. He just looks a little hungry."

“Oh, my poor thing, we can't have that. Bring him some hay. I'll wash him while I'm at it, he looks very dirty. Did you roll around in those stables a lot, Duslor?"

That's not my name, you morons! The patronising tone annoyed him, but there was nothing he could do. What did they intend to do after all this game? Was it a way of punishing him for being a nuisance to them? He hadn't asked anyone for help, he could manage on his own. He could only wait for them to finish, the sedative was still active. He watched as the man brought a bucket and a sponge. Still offended, he refused to eat the hay Smith offered him.

The sponge circled around his back, then on his forelegs. His situation was no better than before, but the man seemed to know what he was doing. Even after what he had just experienced, he enjoyed it. He couldn't help it, it was part of being a horse, part of what he had always wanted. Little by little he relaxed. His new skin was more sensitive, vital for bonding with other horses through rubbing, and he loved being washed. The remnants of dust and straw he had got after his night in the stable came off.

“Good boy, good boy. You look much better like that, don't you? Relax, everything will be fine."

Those hands were a luxury. He whinnied softly, letting his ears fall to the sides. He didn't feel like complaining, just enjoying himself as the hand lathered his abdomen. The water was warm and the heat of the day was intense. He ducked his head, feeling the vigorous strokes of those hands. Then the fingers reached out further and touched an unexpected area. His ears stiffened and his eyes snapped open, accompanied by a groan.

“Yes, a good pretty boy. Not bad endowed here, not bad at all."

This is bad, this is bad. The sedative had made his penis come out without him noticing. Now that guy was holding it and massaging his testicles with the soapy water. Of course, he knew that was how horses were cleaned, but he wasn't an ordinary one. Or did he really think so? He wasn't at all sure what to think. Ghost didn't seem to take any notice of him as a human being either. Had he forgotten about him? Or was there something he was missing?

“You're going to be very happy on my ranch," the forty-year-old continued, in that relaxed, slow tone that was used to speak to animals. “Big meadows, hay of the best quality. You can run all you want, until you get tired. And then bathe in the pond on hot summer days. If you're good, maybe I could take you to be ridden by my nephews, I'm sure they'd be happy to have a horse of their own."

He didn't know if it was the water, the sedative or maybe even a certain inclination of his, but his body felt good with those intimate caresses. Just like last night, his cock grew hard under the man's firm handling. Soaked throughout its length, her hands moved up and down with ease, worshipping his mast of flesh. His legs trembled as that man continued his task, tireless. His balls tensed, thrilled at the opportunity to release his load once more.

“Such a cock, you sure made your mare very happy. Hot and horny under you, submissive and all willing. Showing her who's the boss, spilling all your cum inside her. Oh, not that."

Robter laughed. Duslor snorted, thrusting his hips against the hand responsible for his pleasure. Despite the teasing, he was very close to finishing. However, Robert stopped and stood up when he heard Smith.

“Can we stop the game now? I've got better things to do than watch a guy jerk off a horse."

“I've paid you the agreed price, you should have asked for more. Anyway, I was done cleaning him up. Now we can proceed with the last step."

With all this, the feeling of anger flared up in him. He had been used, manipulated, treated like the stupidest of horses. Had he been able to break free, he would have elbowed them both. The metal frame shook violently as he showed his anger.

“What a spirit, yes. It won't last you long, though," said Cain.

The vet arranged himself between Duslor's legs. He could see him extend a handful of tools he knew well: scalpel and emasculators. His whinnies became desperate, but no one seemed to pay any attention to him other than those already present.

“You see, my boy, the drug you took cost a pretty penny to develop," said the man as Smith prepared a sterilising solution in the bucket. “A lot, to be honest. And believe me, I don't waste money. Did you think a thousand dollars was the real value? Add a few more zeros."

Even sedated as he was, Duslor could feel panic rising.

“No, no. I've invested too much money in you to let it go to waste. But you're too brave like this. We're going to have to… calm you down."

He felt his tail being wrapped in a bandage, being forced out of the way. A cold, smelly fluid dripped from your anus to his balls. Smith's gloved hands spread it and rotated every inch of his scrotum insistently. It was real. He was really going to do it. Bound and weak from the drug, he tried to resist, but when he moved too much the world spun around.

“I can't wait for you to meet Storm," the man commented, ignoring Duslor's uneasiness, as if what was happening didn't matter in the least. “He's my Palomino horse, black and handsome. We have a very special bond, you know, very few would understand it. We've done a lot of things together, but I'm just a simple human, with many limitations. You, on the other hand, can do so much more…"

He let the words slide slowly from his throat, as did his fingers on his rump. Duslor noticed two pricks. The first, the man's fingers invading his anus, which was now a tight ring protruding from under the tail. The other was from a needle, injecting his fluids directly into his testicle. He whinnied and twitched, unable to get rid of either of them. He received only calm taps and a few complicit chuckles. Both men were ready to get to the end of each of the activities.

“Shh, shh. It will be over soon. Now just concentrate on me. That's it, listen to your master's voice," his tone was entirely that used to tame beasts. “You need to prepare for Storm. He is so strong, so impulsive... I don't want him to hurt you on your first time."

As the fingers continued to violate him, the vet proceeded with the second prick. The lidocaine left his eggs inert, waiting for their end. He noticed how Smith tugged on the spermatic cord, how he pushed them down for ease of extraction. Even with the anaesthesia, the movements over his sensitive scrotum were enough to maintain the erection Robert had created. He would have blushed if he could.

The scalpel worked its way through the thick skin of the scrotum, slicing through layers until it cut through the tunica albuginea. The change in pressure caused the internal fluid to spurt out, a small stream of clear liquid. Whitish to pinkish in colour and veins running along its surface, the testicle made its appearance. About the size of a ripe orange, it was ready to be harvested. Duslor snorted, tilting his head to the ground. The sensations were strange and contradictory. It didn't hurt, but it made him shiver as Cain poked at it, parting the adhesions with his fingers. Robert's fingers had stopped bothering the moment he had stopped squeezing. Now inside, he could feel them probing the inner walls, digging in further, searching.

“Ah, here we go."

A new moan reverberated in the air as they found his masculine point of pleasure. Further down, the second testicle hung in the air. Sweating and twitching, he was more aware than ever of what was about to happen. To them he was just a horse and they were doing the same thing they had probably done to dozens, perhaps hundreds of them. A simple routine operation, necessary to make many feisty stallions tame. That thought made his cock thump in his gut again.

“It doesn't take long, you'll soon be able to take your place," he said calmly. His hand balled into a fist and squeezed, forcing Duslor to take it in. “A life as a horse, with no worries, no stress, no jobs. Days and days of rolling around in green pastures, being petted, brushed, and getting compliments on your great looks. That's what you wanted, wasn't it? Why fight against it?"

Those words were right on target. Even if they had never included the part where he lost his crown jewels, everything else was true. He had dreamed of shedding human life since he was a child. It was his longed-for dream and now it was so close to his grasp. If he went with Robert...if he agreed to be his....

Crick.

He almost fainted from the powerful impulse that coursed down his spine. The emasculators had bitten into the spermatic cord. Not only that: so strong was the clasp of the metal pincers that they had snapped it in two. The testicle fell to the ground, rolling for an instant until it lay still. No blood came out. The tool hung there, securing the compression.

“Halfway there already, boy," he laughed, mockingly mouthing the last word. “Just a little more."

Just a little more was all Duslor needed. His thoughts were lost in the haze of unrelenting sensations. His instinct took over, controlling his body, stripping away everything non-essential to enjoy that moment. Pleasure and only pleasure. If his tail had not been tied, he would have wagged it willingly and loudly by now. His abused bowels received that arm without any problem, just as they would do with the cock of the stallion Storm in the future.

Crick.

Duslor's hips thrust wildly in a final whiny as a stallion, poking the air as if he were with his beloved mare. Spurts gushed from his portentous erection to stain the ground, between his legs. His precious fertile load, the last he would spill. Both testicles now lay together on the ground, no one paying attention to them. Thus, for thirty long seconds, Duslor rode an orgasm uncomparable to those of his lost humanity.

“Good boy, good gelding."

He could hear Ghost suturing the incisions. He didn't care. He was a gelding now. Pacified. The perfect animal to be tamed. Exhausted, he thought of that sorrel mare that had so fervently raised her tail for him. It seemed almost a century old. Everything about that night was hazy. Maybe, just maybe, she'd have a foal and his lineage would be continued.

The only thing certain was that now, he'd know what it was like to be a mare as well. And part of him sought to experience that moment, again. That was now his new dream.

THE END