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Mornings

Mornings, from when I awake until about noon became a tedium, as often so bland, a pony wishes it could lie back down and go to sleep again. The waking for me now, me being but an animal my bodily form, it has become likened to a hulk of bulk on four legs.

I have not become a round-belly pony as yet. Round belly ponies having grazed on the bounty of dark green grasses and became from long days of doing little exercise, they become fat, act logy, are dull of wits. Even being a pony can, from lack of exercise cause ill health!

I suspect, or at least for these first few years of being a pony, me a stallion, that a combination of my human memories couple well with the equine lifestyle to arouse me often to lay chase of a mare. I have heard Bobby tell his father that my style of courting a mare is as anything but a calm, lip nibbling taunting and touching of a mare before the actual time we fornicate, breed.

I need on occasion to think, to consider as try to count the many numbers of time this stallion pony gains his erection. Mare scent causes the male reaction of getting a penis erection; all natural enough there. As well there are times when grazing, or when at peace and standing like we were so many living statues, hearing our gut grumbling while it digesting, works the bulk of what we eat through our body I can gain a time for an erection.

My becoming aroused and getting an either flaccidly stiff erection, it hanging down from my sheath, is bloated but soft its texture, I gain some delight by feeling of its weightiness. Often, I act as lazy, and feeling my need to urinate, let go the flow before the penis drops from out the sheath; me then soaking my sheath skin with acidic urine, urine what can cause the sheath to become infected, therefore painful.

Hygiene is important, even to a pony. Without having hands to hold as make use of a toothbrush, I often like to floss my front teeth by crunching at a fence rail. A wooden fence rail works to clean my incisor teeth, keeping the teeth but not so my gums. My years as a human helps me to think while at the watering trough to take a mouthful of water and tongue-flush the water around in my mouth.

A human cannot know as sniffing of the scented air in a barn, what I do by being a pony realizes that from grazing, my morning breath stinks!

Friend Bobby knows when my exhaled breath smells sour to him, he being as partially changed, is becoming a buck goat, has with him a pocket full of candy peppermints, and often gives his prize stud pony something to raise memories of when I lived as do humans.

Mornings and the ration of grain is given to me, as well the mares. I like the flavors of mixed grains, oats, wheat, and rye. The grain is coarse fibers, similar to the diet of a human feeling the need to mix a glass full of metamucil, to add bulk into their diet.

The morning first urination happens, either before the grain coming, or after, like when munching the flavorful kernels, it arouses me, stiffening my masculinity, and can cause me a sexual urge, I would stand there likened a statue as I relish my first of that day time when masturbating tickles my delights for being a male pony animal.

Urges mix with masculine delights to arouse in me that feeling to push, raising my tail and evacuate my bowels there in my stall. As most of the time I tend to wait, waiting until I am released out of my stall, led then along the stables main aisle, my hoofs beating against the paved brick floor, and there I gift Bobby a heap of my bodily wastes, keeping the straw in my stall as still clean for when I wish to lie down.

I watch the mares in the mornings, nothing there in the barn to watch, no television or human distractions to spark my imagination away from seeing the ponies doing what I try not to mimic. The mares are ignorant equines and do not know or have any thought about the word hygiene. The meares rise to stand and after their night of slumbering and snoring, the evacuate their bodies of wastes there at the opening to their stalls. Mares tend to like the scent, the smell they give to their stalls; to me they stink. Although their urine tickles my sinus, sending through my brain the idea of and a dire want to mate with a horny mare.

It is boring for a pony who was born human and grew up with the human distractions entering their lifestyle. Being a pony and the morning along with any time during the daytime, comes times when the swishing of a tail to brush and tickle is a simplistic sort of joy.

That rustling sound of coarse haired tail being flicked, and the sensation of it brushed across a furred body pelt, makes me relish being a pony animal.

When we are led from our stalls to mingle in the corral before allowed to enter the green pasture, every morning happens the deciding of who is chief of the pecking order. A nasty feeling mare can cause me injury, the worst has happened to the two geldings, they act dull of wit, yet if smelling of mare urine, their masculine urge remains, causing them an erection, giving the nasty feeling mare a target to bite. Big or little bites done to the male tool causes great pain and later, when healed, leaves a pink colored silhouette of what the mare bit and ate.

My human intelligence works well to give me warning and I fight with the mares for a day of me being dominant, the herd stud. After so long a time of me being what I became, me a pony stallion, those dirty mares have not got the better of me come the morning. I feel sad for Tommy and his deluded partner Joe, as they lost much their testicles and most of their real feelings as male equines, shall not know the pride felt from mating with a mare.

Mid the morning, or by the clock, about 10: am, and the day begins with mindless time for grazing, eating, munching. I remain always alert to the other equines with me in the pasture. We wandering, tend to mingle, and if not careful of another animal, one might get drenched with mare urine or the possible road apple flopped on the head.


Written by Vaulthurst

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