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You Get What You Give, 1 of 2 comidacomida copyright 2019

Roen had had self-image issues ever since eighth grade. Despite being well above average height, he was particularly thin for a young Horse, and he didn't like how he looked. It also didn't help that, as time went on, he was starting to be the butt of jokes. As one of the few Horses that went to his school there wasn't much to compare him to, but when he looked around and saw some Bears, Bulls, Dogs and even a few CATS who were growing more solidly than he was it only further reinforced the fact in his mind that something must have been wrong with him.

His mom and dad recognized that something was up by the time he became a freshman. They'd always been supportive but, when Roen looked at his Dad who was, by all accounts, a fairly thin and relatively unspectacular man, the young Colt knew enough about genetics at that point that he worried he didn't have much to look forward to... even if his mom was a Clydesdale there was a good chance that Roen would be scrawny his entire life.

Granted, he did look more like his mother-- chestnut fur with a white muzzle, white star on his forehead, and white 'socks' on his hands almost up to his elbows and along his legs half way up his thighs. He also had the tell-tale feathering along the same areas, with thicker hooves like his mom. He got luxurious and shiny fur elsewhere from his dad, plus a long, flowing mane... and apparently his slight build. As his eight grade year came and went he grew even more depressed, enough so that his parents intervened, and suggested that if what he really wanted was to build some muscle, perhaps he should consider getting a physically demanding job.

Living in a semi-suburban area on the outskirts of a big city meant that most physical jobs were usually restricted to workers over the age of eighteen; the majority of under-eighteen positions were usually light physical activity and involved retail, fast food, or something just as menial so Roen was limited in options. Fortunately, considering the affluent nature of the area, there was a ranch just on the outskirts of his neighborhood and, he learned, certain activities in the agricultural sector were open to staff as young as fifteen, which meant that, as a summer job he qualified since he was almost 16.

So it was that part way into his freshman year, Roen worked at the local stables. Aside from the promise of some actual physical activity, there was something calming and centering about dealing with animals-- the kinds of horses that had four legs and didn't judge him, pick on him, or make fun of him. It was the best of both worlds, as he was able to focus on self improvement rather than get stuck in the mindset of being everyone's punching bag due to his slight build. It was frustrating at school, but, at work he was free.

The first week of work had gone off without a hitch, and the teen happily did anything and everything requested of him. Most of the staff at that point had signaled him out as the 'teen to watch' among the small work crew of hired high school students and he'd happily learned to expect praise and kind words when he completed the tasks he was given. It probably helped that he was also one of the few teens who actually bothered giving it their all; Roen was dedicated to succeeding at his job since it was the only thing he could think of to increase his chances of actually filling out instead of remaining a scrawny Stallion his entire life.

During his second week at the ranch, however, Roen hit a bit of a snag. After completing a delivery of three bails of alfalfa, the young Stallion had denied his biological needs long enough that he really had to go to the bathroom; there was an acre and a half to walk if he wanted to get to the toilets and he doubted he'd be able to make it. Fortunately, it was the quiet side of the property and he opted for a much better resolution and, after glancing around to make sure none of the staff were around, he unzipped, and let loose. His urination was interrupted when someone called him out on it. "Just whadda ya think you're doin' there, Little Guy?"

The deep baritone made him jump and his stream was interrupted before rapidly restarting, causing the splash-back to dribble all over. Roen moved to cover himself despite continuing to pee, as he looked up to see who had spotted him. The only observer was a big, black four-legged draft horse. Roen was confused immediately. "Uh... was... that you?"

It was normal for two-legged horse to communicate but there were very few breeds of four-legged ones that could talk and Roen had made the mistake of not knowing that the Talking Shire was one such breed. The enormous stallion snorted at him, ears flicking backwards in annoyance. "Yes."

Roen's muzzle quickly went slack as he stared. "You... can talk?"

Not only was the Talking Shire good at talking, but he was apparently just as good at getting in Roen's face as the two legged kind. The poor teen also made the mistake of starting off on the wrong hoof with him by peeing next to the horse's enclosure. "Yeah... and it should be as obvious as the fact that you're pissin' on MY post."

Based on the sign posted to the enclosure, the Talking Shire was named Bart, and it didn't take much for Roen to see that Bart was unhappy about being disrespected by another stallion peeing in his 'territory'. Roen was quick to apologize. "Oh... I... uh... sorry."

Bart flicked an ear, stamping a hoof on the ground as he added flatly. "That's all sunshine and flowers, Little Guy, but I don't see ya stoppin'."

It was true, of course; Roen continued to pee. "Oh... I... uh... I already started and it's.... kinda hard to stop once I--"

The four-legged Stallion looked down, actually STARING at the teen's penis and stream. Eventually awkwardness and embarrassment won out, and, despite still needing to go, Roen's muscles tensed up and he couldn't actually pee. Bart's follow-up statement came out as bland as his dismissive expression. "Voila. Bart does it again. Now fuck off you snot-nosed colt. Yer done here."

Roen quickly fled, racing back across the property to finish peeing at one of the out-houses. He was so embarrassed that he didn't go anywhere near that side of the ranch for the rest of the day. If things could have ended up with that being the final word, perhaps the time at the stables wouldn't have been so bad but, despite Roen's repeated apologies, Bart seemed to make it his life's duty to go out of his way to terrorize the poor teen.

As Roen's job occasionally put him near Bart, the Stallion seemed to actually seek him out and even went so far as to make 'Little Guy' Roen's permanent nickname. At first the teen thought it was in reference to the difference in their body sizes since Roen was barely six foot tall, which didn't even come close to the four legged horse's withers. Roen, however later learned that it wasn't the only reason.

Bart, as the prime breeding stallion at the stables got all the mares he could want, and yet he still seemed to enjoy playing with himself when not dallying with the females. Lacking any hands, the Talking Shire would make the most of his erection by tighten his groin muscles, slapping his enormous flesh against the underside of his belly; during one particular afternoon while mucking out Bart's stall, that sound was what had caught Roen's attention.... and he just kept staring.

That lengthy, astounded gaze did not go unnoticed by the Bart, who looked at Roen with his ears up and an obvious air of superiority splayed across his muzzle. He gave his member another firm 'thwack' against his belly before asking "Like what ya see, Little Guy?" followed by another 'thwack'. "You jealous that yers is so tiny?" at which point he repeated the motion with another 'thwack'. "Oh... maybe ya just like watchin'..." yet another 'thwack'. "..or are ya one a them queers?" The final word was punctuated with a another simultaneous 'thwack'. "Oh... I bet yer wishin' that you could trade places with one of my mares, ain'cha?"

Roen had never really given much thought to his sexuality. Things weren't the same as they were back when his parents had gone to school, and the young Stallion knew that a few of his classmates were openly gay, but he himself never really gave it that much thought. Still, regardless of what was going through his mind, his eyes were still transfixed, and he hated how much Bart teased him for it. He tried to formulate a response. "I... uh..."

The breeding stallion just whinned a "Ha!" and trotted off out of view. The teasing got worse after that; Bart never failed to take any and all opportunities to use him as a butt of jokes. Moreover, the laughing didn't just end between them, as Bart often called in the other teens to take part in the ribbing and, once or twice, even a few of the adults who, despite not taking part in it, were still an added embarrassment for Roen.

It got so bad that, by the time summer vacation came around Roen didn't want to work at the stables any longer. The short time being physically active had some noticeable results as his muscles were just starting to show, but he couldn't take the emotional strain Bart put on him. The young Stallion didn't know what it was he was going to do, but he knew he couldn't keep his job. A week before his Sophomore year started, Roen finished his shift but, before leaving, went up to the main building to speak with the ranch's owner.

Louis Turnidge, or 'Lou', as everyone called him, was a middle-aged Bull whose family had owned the land there long before the suburbs where Roen lived had even been drawn up as a plan. He was the third generation operator of the ranch and he was also a really nice guy. When Roen offered his resignation, Lou right to ask why the teen was quitting, but he didn't; everyone at the ranch knew about how nasty Bart could get and none had missed how the breeding stallion had taken a great dislike of the teen.

So it was that Roen's time at the ranch came to an end. School started much the same as it always had but, having already been given the taste of how much good some physical activity could do for him, the teen enrolled in his high school's weight training class. True, it helped him keep working on his physique, but it didn't help him on the cash side, and he'd come to enjoy having a few extra bucks in his pocket, so that left him looking for another job.

Eventually, Roen found employment elsewhere, going to work for Mr and Mrs Lox, a Coyote couple from upstate who opened a small restaurant in town. Life continued at a blur as he used elective classes to keep up his weight training and worked at the restaurant through the beginning of senior year when, sadly, the eatery closed when Mr Lox passed away and Mrs Lox moved to be closer to her grown kids. By then, Roen decided his best course of action was to take some time of of work to focus on his studies.

* * * * * *

In the four years between Freshman and Graduation Roen had grown up (and out) a lot. He was no longer the shy foal full of self-doubt and, though he was still an introvert, he no longer shied away from others; he'd become comfortable in his own hooves and managed to look people in the eyes when he spoke with them. He was happy, content and confident enough to go looking for a summer job before starting college. As it turned out, one found him instead.

Roen was in town, making a few purchases for his mom at the local grocery store. Even though a lot of other students from his graduating class left home, the Stallion was content to live with his folks through college since the commute wasn't that far and he could save some serious cash. It worked out well since his parents tended to worry and, having spent most of a year without any income, Roen certainly couldn't beat the price.

He was just finishing up in the produce aisle when he practically ran into a Bull; he and Louis recognized one another right away. Roen spoke up first, holding out his hand for a friendly shake. "Oh! Mr. Turnridge! Hi!"

The Bull was all smiles, slamming his large, weathered palm into Roen's before gripping his hand and shaking it firmly. "Well damn, son! I remember saying you wanted to fill out some, but it looks like there's two of the old you now!"

Roen smiled. "Well, you still look the same, Mr. Turnidge! I'm just surprised to--"

The Bull took his hand back and gave the Stallion a condescending gaze. "It was true back then and it's true now, Son... You call me 'Lou'... I'm old enough without having to have you kids call me 'Mr. Turnidge."

Lou always made fun of his own age, despite barely having been over forty, so that was nothing new but, Roen realized, once the Bull had called attention to it, there were a few more gray furs around his snout and his previously dark-brown head tuft was showing a little gravel in with the dirt-- still, for being in his mid-40s, that wasn't bad in Roen's mind. The Stallion didn't bother calling any attention to it, choosing a different topic altogether. "It's been awhile, Lou. How're things going?"

The Bull shrugged. "Well... life keeps moving forward, I guess you could say... but we're a bit short-handed at the ranch. I don't suppose you'd happen to be looking for some work, would ya, Roen?"

Memories of Bart reentered the teen's mind and, for just a moment he was hesitant to speak any further; it felt like his own personality had jumped back into the forefront of his mind and he felt the ground's magnetic pull on his eyes as his shoulders drooped and he lost his breath. He cleared his throat once to speak, but found his muzzle filling too fast with saliva so he swallowed again before addressing the question. "Oh, uh... that's really nice of you Mr Tur-- uh, Lou, but, uh...

As if immediately realizing where his reluctance came from, the Bull quickly spoke over him. "Oh, and you don't have to worry about ol' Bart anymore. He's not the top breeding stallion anymore.... he's calmed down plenty and he won't be giving you any trouble."

The statement brought an immediate wave of relief to crash against Roen's hesitance and he felt the tension and weight leave his shoulders immediately. Although the regression had passed, the young Stallion was still a little ill-at-ease about the Talking Shire. "Oh... well that probably makes things easier for everyone there. Is he still in 5-D?"

Despite being near the back of the ranch, the stall and yard for 5-D still happened to be adjacent to a walking-area from one side of the south east corner of the ranch to the south west one, which meant that Bart had often been able to bully, chide, and insult Roen even after Lou had realized that the teen shouldn't have been working with the stud; in the back of his mind, Roen was concerned that everything would pick up right where it had left off even if Bart wasn't part of his daily activities.

Lou reached out and placed a hand on Roen's shoulder. "Nah, Son... that's the new stud's enclosure. Once Bart dropped out of rotation he got pretty damn ornery so we moved him back to 6-B."

The sixth building was located in the south western corner of the ranch, and the B stall was the absolute furthest one from just about anything. Despite how bad Bart had been to him, Roen wondered just how much worse he could have gotten. "That bad, huh?"

Lou shrugged. "Well, after what he did to you, we started to see some signs that things weren't going to improve so eventually we figured that'd be best for everyone. Even though he's still technically a breedable stallion he wouldn't be in high demand to sell, so we're stuck with him. Government regulations require that anyone who owns a Talking Shire has to accomidate for retirement at a reasonable level of comfort, so 6-B is the best option because it keeps him out of the way and he's still taken care of."

Roen knew that sentient four-legged horses had a lot of protections under law, but he never really considered what 'retirement' would be like for an animal-- even a sentient one. He tried not to smile as he thought about the hyper-sexed, egotistical Stallion being shoved in a corner to be forgotten. "Wow... that must drive him crazy."

Lou just nodded, no sign of humor on his muzzle. "Yeah... well, just like anyone used to the spotlight living without it he has his good days and bad... but you don't have to worry about him anymore. So... what do ya say, Son? Since you're not a colt anymore I can off you your old pay plus another $120 a week. Sound good?"

Roen looked down to the Bull's offered hand and a number of thoughts ran through his mind. He DID need a job and, since he was no longer at school he didn't have access to the weight rooms so he'd have to do something about upkeeping his level of fitness. Lou also said he wouldn't have to interact with Bart. A split second later, their hands met.

* * * * * *

One week later Roen walked back onto the ranch and it brought a smile to his lips. The young Stallion truly did love the hard-but-meaningful work and he went back at it with a passion. The day went by in a flash. He'd made enough of an impression during his summer working there that several of the stable hands remembered him from before and, in many ways it was like a homecoming. The first day went amazingly, as did the second and the third. It wasn't until day four that anything marred his time there.

On the fourth day, Roen was having just as an amazing time as the first three. He had helped move some hay, distributed oats to the animals in buildings one and two, and even had a chance to meet Haberdasher, a young up-and-coming Talking Shire foal, who, being dramatically unlike Bart, was as pleasant as he was outgoing. The two hit it off well and he spent most of the early afternoon 'foal-sitting'. As the day slowly came to an end, Roen had been asking himself just why he'd ever left the ranch and then he received the final task of the day: he was asked to put way some tack in building six.

The teen carried several old pieces of gear in a wooden crate under one arm, using his free hand to unlatch the door before opening it. He was barely three steps into the building when he heard a voice-- the voice. "Finally found the time to come over and gloat, eh?"

Roen set the box on one of the many shelves to the left of the entrance and took a deep breath; he knew there was a chance that it'd happen eventually, so, he reasoned, better to get it out of the way. Squaring his shoulders the young Stallion strolled over to the last stall on the left and peered inside; Bart was gazing out at him. The older stallion was barely past his prime and still very much enough of a magnificent horse that it was hardly noticeable physically... but there was something very different in how the Talking Shire presented himself; Bart looked... defeated. It could have been easy to take a free pot shot or two at the four legged horse but that just wasn't Roen's way. "Hi, Bart."

The Talking Shire snorted in response. "Heh... 'hi'... yeah. Sure. Go ahead-- out with the rest of it... I'm sure you've been waitin'."

Despite what Bart obviously expected, Roen had no interest in kicking him when he was down. Instead, the young Stallion started a conversation. Three years prior he never would have been able to face the bully of a horse but Roen wasn't the same as he'd been back then. Once Roen got him talking, in fact, it was evident that Bart wasn't the same either.

They talked for over an hour; Bart never apologized for how he'd been but Roen wasn't about to demand one. As their talk progressed Bart became a little more open, apparently having been all but ignored by everyone (mares and staff) since he'd been 'retired'. The stallion spoke angrily about it, obviously frustrated that he'd not only been pushed out of the spotlight but that his 'personal needs' were no longer a topic of concern.

Their discussion finished with the older stallion adding "Fuck... at this point I'd even settle for letting you get me off... I'd rather have some queer's fingers help me drain my nuts than sit here being ignored."

Roen nodded thoughtfully. "Well... I guess some things DON'T change."

Turning, he walked out of the building, leaving Bart unfulfilled. It wasn't revenge, per se; Roen saw it as training, and Bart really DID need to learn how to deal with people. The Talking Shire neighed after him. "Wait! Hold on! Where you goin', Little G-- Roen?"

Roen lingered at the door, but only because Bart corrected himself and had actually used his name rather than the condescending nickname. Before leaving, the young Stallion gave a succinct farewell. "I'll see you tomorrow."