Gumdrop Ch. 13

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Author’s note:

IMPORTANT: I put chapter 12 in the BDSM category, so if you have not read it there yet, I suggest you do before continuing with this one.

As absurd as the concept of a hucow is, I tried to take it quite seriously, to delve in the psychology of a hucow and her owner, in search of what this admittedly strange fetish means, at least to me. Therefore, beside the tropes of the genre (kinky sex, humiliation and de-humanization), you will find the musings of a young girl who chooses to become a cow in a quest for true love and a place in the world.

From this chapter on, I will attempt to do the same (albeit in less detail) with ponygirls.

I hope that the result is an original and refreshing take on these matters.

All kinds of feedback are appreciated, especially those about grammar, as English is not my first language. Also, if you decide to give me a low score, please, take a minute of your time and tell me in a comment what you did not like!

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13. What ponygirls run for

The first day of the new year, I was brought back in time to the past one, for I was woken up by the sound of an alarm clock instead of a crop. I was sleeping with my face plunged in Cupcake’s black dreads, that combined the soothing effect of her smell and protection from the light. When I raised my head to protest for the disturbance, almost reaching for the snooze button, I found Aaron sleeping in his overalls next to Cream Pie, who, up until a few moments before, had been resting with her head on his chest. I mooed inquisitively and she told me that Aaron had resolved to sleep directly with us, so that he would not lose time going home and then coming back a few hours later. With the lack of sleep we were both suffering from, it was a miracle that we managed to understand each other.

Cupcake decided that the commotion was worth opening her eyes. Cream Pie smiled a little questioningly and we knew what she meant when we both nodded. Then many things happened fast. A naughty snigger appeared on Cupcake’s face, Cream Pie lunged her head towards Aaron’s boot and I grabbed Cupcake from behind, to prevent her from making the terrible mistake of waking up Aaron with the crop as a prank. She moo-groaned and dived between my udders to get back to sleep. I knew that, even though she had just a few minutes before Aaron was up and about, she would still be able to doze off and that earned her a kiss on the head.

In the meantime, Cream Pie had managed to undo Aaron’s overalls with the sole use of her mouth, an impressive feat if you ask me. Then, with a satisfied smile, she pulled down his underpants and began to lick his cock. She had changed so much from the day she had come! Now she was a real cow, just like us, perpetually horny and not ashamed of it.

She took her time and savored his member, before properly sucking him. He must have been really tired, because he came in her mouth without waking up. Cream Pie looked at me wondering if we should not just let him sleep. I knew I wanted to, but it was a terrible idea. We had to be milked. My udders were aching and, judging by her restlessness in my arms, also Cupcake’s. So I rolled her over, while she protested with annoyed moos, and we all began to lick Aaron’s face, like cows would do. This worked, because he woke up with a groan, looking really dazed:

“What the fuck?” he mumbled.

We all mooed, causing him to squeeze his eyes.

“Don’t do that!” he begged, getting up, massaging his forehead.

After spending a lot of time rubbing his eyes, he took the crop from Cream Pie’s mouth, who had been nudging him with her head, and stretched his arms. As she displayed her ass, he began lazily whipping us and we crawling to the fence. To avoid falling asleep while the milking machine worked on us, he did not sit down and stared at us blankly the whole time. On my part, I was looking at the pony, who was sleeping on her own hay bed. Why did they not let her sleep with us? As I squinted my eyes, the answer became clear. There was a big dildo protruding from the wall. Why was she allowed to fuck herself? She also had a drinking trough! Then I remembered the conversation I had overheard between Ava and Daria and finally I understood its meaning: ponies could not be fed sperm. In hindsight, it was obvious that she would not be reared in the same way as us: she was a different kind of animal, after all.

Aaron deliberated not to wash us now and do it after our naps. We could not agree more. He slept with us, in the hay, even allowing us to use him as a big, warm pillow. The rest of the morning went on in repetitions of what had happened so far. We did not even eat properly, but it was not a problem: during the party we had had more than enough semen to last us till noon.

Routine was established again by none other than Ava, in case there was any doubt. Whereas Aaron looked a (hot) mess, she was impeccable, her makeup as fierce as ever. She was wearing an attire mocking illegal bahis the traditional elegant British horse riding outfit. Her riding boots and leather gloves looked normal, but her tweed hunting jacket, black and neon pink, was all patched up and covered in studs and was so long that served as a dress. Instead of breeches, she wore fishnet stockings. Finally, she had a leather collar that featured a bow-tie made of metallic mesh. She woke up Aaron with the crop, making him curse:

“Come on, man, these cows need milking and, by the looks of this, some discipline! And for fuck’s sake, holster your cock!”

Cream Pie had already found her way back to the man’s member, which was limp and looking almost as exhausted as him, and was now staring at Ava with intense hatred. We were milked and a little hastily washed. As we drank our semen, now ejaculated by two plastic penises at a time, to compensate the meals we had lost, we watched Ava leap over Fudge’s fence and wake her up with the crop. Fudge whinnied! I was so amazed that I got a squirt of sperm in the eye, which now was burning. I wondered how they managed to force her to emit that kind of sound. Even though Fudge’s neigh was quite different from the real thing, resembling more like a person’s impression of it really, forcing it looked a way more complicated job than forcing someone to moo, because you could not just get away with something relatively simple as forcing air through the nose at every vocalization.

Ava was now holding Fudge’s jaw in her gloved hand and had pulled her close to her face. The pony looked extremely intimidated, for Ava’s satisfaction.

“You are dressed like a horse, as if it was Halloween. You may have deluded yourself that being a ponygirl is just that and fucking weirdos.” she was telling her, full of contempt “But I’ll show you the truth, you will become a horse, not pretend, I will transform you in the most beautiful animal in the world, a wild, free rider of the steppe, strong and yet elegant. People will admire you, will cheer for you and all of them will be so enthralled by your beauty that they will pay dear money just to spend a few minutes with you!”

Fudge opened her eyes wide, as mesmerized by Ava’s, and gaped a little. At that, Ava smiled and kissed her, driving her head to hers, with a passion and a smugness of somebody that had just conquered the queen of the ball. I had to admit that her speech caught me by surprise. She was not all discipline after all.

When we finished, we were corralled at the feet of one of the wooden pillars that supported the loft, where Fudge had been put on a sort of sling that ran under her chest and stomach and was hanging from the ceiling by a chain that split in four to grab every corner of the fabric. Her limbs were dangling helplessly, while a strap between her hind legs prevented her from sliding off the harness. We were put in line, waiting for our turn with the thing. I was first and so had a good position to admire her body.

She had a really nice ass, with firm butt cheeks. I noticed that both her thighs had a script tattooed in the back, “Enjoy” and “da view” respectively, and remembered that Ava had a similar tattoo, which in her case read “You” and “wish!”. I wondered if it was a standard one for ponygirls: since they raced, it made sense to mock the opponents behind with the very legs that had beaten them. Sassy!

All of a sudden, the sling started to hoist up the pony. That was how we would reach the loft! I had indeed been wondering, since the only way up was a ladder, clearly not suited for us. The contraption had to be a standard way to lift cattle, as animals could not use elevators. We were all mooing a little, because it did not feel exactly safe. Fudge neighed again, clearly not at ease.

One by one we were strapped and later reached the top, were we would find Ava with a remote in her hand ready to unstrap us. The loft now contained all our yokemills plus more gear that had to be for Fudge, like a very sophisticated-looking treadmill.

As Ava freed the last cow, Cupcake, we all approached Fudge a little. We had not yet been introduced to our new stable-mate: how rude!

“Yeah, I forgot. Fudge, these are Cupcake, Gumdrop and Cream Pie.” said Ava, curtly.

We mooed cheerfully, even though Cream Pie was a little colder, perhaps because Fudge chuckled when she heard her name. On her part, the pony whinnied jovially. Even though we had not been given permission, we were just too curious and we got closer. We now realized that she was really tense, as it was normal the first days. So we limited ourselves to a kiss on her cheek, which she seemed to appreciate. Finally, I could read the tattoos she had between her hips and on her lower back.

The first read “Make me your bitch!” and the last word had been slashed and “biscuit” had been written just above it, as if someone had corrected it to make it less vulgar, with little success. I found it funny. The one on her behind was better though: it read “Fuck my illegal bahis siteleri ass, daddy!” and “Fuck” had been corrected into “Fudge”. Her right butt cheek had been branded like ours. She seemed to be curious about us too and explored our bodies with her eyes. Cupcake was clearly dying to play with her and was eyeing lustfully her nipple rings, but Ava brought her back to reality:

“Enough! We are here to keep your asses tight and to make you” she barked, pointing her crop towards Fudge “a champion!”

We were put on the yokemills, which unfortunately were all oriented in the direction of the wall, preventing us from watching the pony’s training.

“So, Aidan told me that you’ve been learning for a couple of months how to run on hooves. Go on the trotmill and show me.” said Ava, after a while. I guessed that the trotmill was just a treadmill for ponygirls.

We heard a snap and a loud neigh. Ava obviously did not think it was important to ease Fudge into being whipped. Small wonder. As we pushed our yokes, we heard the horsebreaker give several instructions to the pony, who received periodic whipping and whinnied every time. I did not know if she was making mistakes or was just being “spurred” by the crop. Anyway, unfortunately for us, Ava seemed perfectly capable of handling both our whipping and Fudge’s.

When we were finished, we found Fudge, panting on a mat, her ass covered in red streaks. Ava had used a different kind of crop for her, one of those that are used by carriage conductors. I also noticed for the fist time that Fudge’s hoove-supported boots were thigh-high, whereas ours ended just below the knee. The additional part looked somewhat bulky. Indeed, after a closer inspection, I realized that underneath the elastic fake horse hide, there was a sophisticated-looking padded brace, like those people use after a knee injury, to prevent the articulation from bending sideways. The objective was probably to save her from the much greater risk of accidents that could occur when one runs on high heels.

“You are not a complete disaster.” commented the woman, as if she was paying Fudge a special compliment.

The pony seemed on the verge of crying and I had a fit of anger towards Ava. We rode our cattle lift back to the ground, to be milked and fed, but Fudge stayed on the loft. The rest of the afternoon was spent by us napping and resting: there would be clients only at night. Fudge stayed up on the loft all day, except for her feeding, that consisted in some sort of brownish paste. Ava made her run and rehearse several movements, but also gave her suggestions on clients and how to wear her harness. That was kind of nice of her, but it did not prevent the pony to start crying once back in her enclosure.

“Don’t look at me that way!” said Ava, addressing us defensively, as she was putting us back in our enclosure “If she wants to be a champion, she needs to be broken first!”

We were all watching the horse and wondering how could someone that had been in the very same place as her, be so harsh with her the first day. Perhaps that put enough pressure on Ava to prompt her to comfort the pony a little. She sat on a pile of hay, in front of Fudge, who was hugging her knees, while the barn fell silent: we all wanted to hear what she was saying.

“I’m not gonna lie to you. This is not the last time you are going to cry here.”

Well, that started on the right note!

“I’ve been where you are. The first months are hard. I am going to be harsh with you, I’m going to make you hate me and yourself.”

Cupcake looked at me, half alarmed, half “what the fuck?”.

“They say that horses need to be tamed, you see. They say that they are wild and with pain they think they can break their spirit. With ponygirls, it may seem that the technique is the same. They could not be more wrong. I’m not going to tame you. I am going to break you, but only to set you free. There is a wild horse in you, I told you this morning. I bet you felt it when you ran track, the adrenaline, the wind sweeping on your face… You could leave the world behind you, that’s how fast you were.”

It was not an act, I could feel it in her voice. She really knew what she was talking about and Fudge seemed to agree, because she had raised her head and was watching Ava with a rapt look.

“When you became a ponygirl, you did it because you had just lost your dream, you thought that you were never going to get that feeling anymore. I’m telling you, this is how you get it back and this time, you are going to feel free all the time, not just for a brief moment. But you’ve got to embrace it. Just like when you ran, you are going to leave the world behind. So that is what I am going to break, your ties with it. It is going to be painful as a surgical removal of a bad cancer, but it’ll make you happy.”

This said, she went on her knees and kissed the pony again, tenderly, slowly hovering her now glove-less hand on her naked body and finally reaching her awaiting pussy. canlı bahis siteleri I had never seen a woman fucking another one with her hands, outside of porn I mean. Cupcake sighed and I looked at her. She made her cute shy smile and, remembering my previous thought about porn, I had an idea. I went on my knees, pushed her hindlegs apart and her chin up, so that she understood that she was to watch Ava while I went down on her pussy. Cream Pie seemed to understand my intentions, shrugged in a very “oh, what the hell” manner, and crawled in front of me to do Cupcake’s ass at the same time. She removed her tail with her mouth and also had the clever idea of giving, from time to time, a look at Fudge, so that we could synchronize our friend’s orgasm with hers. After a while, the stables were filled with loud moos and neighs.

Later in the afternoon, Aidan appeared at the door of the barn, making me jump on my knees, immediately followed by Penelope, whose presence pushed me on the hay again. They both went to see Fudge and talk with Ava, who was still there, petting the pony after the girl had cleaned with her mouth the woman’s hand from her own juices. Penelope did most of the conversation:

“So, how’s my pony going?” she asked, scratching benevolently her blonde mane. Fudge seemed to enjoy it, but not enough to find relief from the tension of meeting her owners.

“She has some familiarity with her hooves, but she’s far from using their damper springs efficiently. Today we mainly concentrated on the foot movement cycle during trotting. When she has that right, I’ll teach her galloping for dressage.” said Ava.

“Do you think she can be ready for the first races in May?” inquired Penelope, now stroking the horse’s back.

“Well, maybe: we don’t want to rush it, dear.” intervened Aidan.

“Oh, she will be ready.” promised Ava, with a slightly ominous tone. I could not see from that far, but I was pretty sure that Fudge shivered.

“Good.” commented Penelope, as she gave a kiss to Fudge, “Can I see her trotting? You know, just ’cause…”

“Sure.”

“I’ll check on the cows, darling.” said Aidan.

While Ava put Fudge on the cattle lift and Penelope went upstairs through the ladder, my man walked towards our enclosure.

“Hello, my love.” he said, keeping his voice low and kissing me on the forehead “I see that you’ve been eating pussy.”

I mooed my love too and smiled timidly, making him hard. My fellow cows came close too, offering cover from Penelope.

“Good, it strengthens the herd’s bonds. Have you had fun, yesterday?”

I mooed yes, but the other cows, mostly out of courtesy, did not say much. Cupcake eyed the loft and mooed quizzically.

“Oh, the pony? You like her?”

We all mooed happily. Then I remarked the point looking back to her own corral and mooing inquisitively: would she ever join us?

“Oh, soon, Gumdrop, but not yet. She needs to be broken, according to my expert.”

Cupcake mooed questioningly again.

“You should probably ask Ava, I’m sorry. I’ve always been more into cows. I took Fudge just to convince Penelope to move.” he said and, as he saw me frowning, he added “She likes the relationship between a pony and her owner.”

What kind of relationship could it be? Would it help me drive her away? I had to find out. Unfortunately, it was time for our milking. To my surprise, Aidan fucked me in the ass and milked me by hand, with his wife present, albeit still in the loft, deep in conversation with Ava about Fudge. I was even allowed to eat his semen! This was good news: he was testing his bounds with Penelope. After he had fed us, he brought us to our clients of the evening.

“Here, to our new year together.” he said, bringing a tiny bottle of champagne to my mouth just before I entered the breeding room.

I drank it eagerly: it had been so long since the last time I had tasted any kind of beverage different from semen or water! I kissed him and went in the room, where I would make him proud.

The guy was a newbie and came early. I was fetched back by Kam, who told me that I could nap, because I would not be mounted again that night. In our still empty enclosure, the hay had just been changed and was all fuzzy and messy. Soon, I was joined by Cupcake. We both knew that Cream Pie would take longer and that probably gave her the idea. With a naughty look in her beautiful black eyes, she explained to me her plan: we would lie down and cover ourselves with hay, so that, when Cream Pie came back, we would scare the shit out of her by suddenly springing out.

Needless to say that I could not resist the temptation and soon enough I was covered in hay, waiting for our friend. After a while, I heard neighs and, after a dew minutes, two women’s voices. I could not see anything, but I knew very well the sounds of my stable, to the point that I was sure that Penelope and Ava had just brought back Fudge to her enclosure and were now whispering in the proximity of mine.

“So, what do I need to do now?” asked Penelope.

“Nothing yet. I need to establish a relationship of my own first.” answered Ava “I need to earn her trust and to break her a little more. Then, she will be badly in need of something to hold on to keep going.”

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