Excessica Anthology BOX SET Winter (88 page)

With her ability to look
ahead in her life, for the first time The Mare saw a way that having someone
riding her could be a shared experience—if her rider would cooperate. In
fact, he should just keep his hands off her reins altogether and just let her
do what she already did best.

* * * *

In a way this almost
seemed expected to Carl. Since riding her two days ago he'd been unable to get
the unusual experience out of his mind. He'd caught himself thinking about how
sensual it had been every hour since. How smooth, warm, and powerful she'd felt
under him. How easily she'd followed even his lightest requests. How
intelligent she seemed. He'd been too distracted to notice her physical
reaction to their ride at the time, but to him it had been intimately erotic in
a way riding never had been before. She even smelled good.

And he'd dreamed about
it vividly both nights since, as if this mare was somehow inside his mind. It
was only that he was new and felt he still had a lot to prove that had kept him
busy otherwise. If she had waited only a little bit longer he would have come
back to her.

The Mare stood stock
still as he mounted her again, but this time not out of shock. She only wanted
to make it as easy and welcome for him as possible.

Now as they rode into
the countryside Carl felt as one with this horse. He felt her powerful body
again moving smoothly under him. Soon he felt he was starting to pick up the
horse's feelings as well—and she was feeling it like he was.

Carl had started to
guide her after mounting. But when she appeared to shake her head, then trotted
off as perfectly mannered as any horse he'd ever mounted, he'd dropped her
reins and allowed her to take him where she wished.

As he stroked her neck
it felt as if he was stroking his own, although many times more responsive. He
felt the warm body underneath him as much as he felt himself sitting on it.

Soon he could feel the
gentlest touch of the reins on her neck and knew no further instruction was
necessary from him to her. He spoke softly to her, her ears turning back to
hear his words. They reached a consensus as to their destination together. In
addition to his own undeniable erection, he felt a growing heat and hunger
beneath him.

* * * *

As for The Mare, when
she quit trying to command her rider and just shared feelings with him a
two-way communication opened up for the first time. It wasn't words per se as
much as touches and feelings, but it was rapidly growing complete—and
satisfying!

Soon they came to a
meadow The Mare remembered from when she was young and had run free here. She
stopped and Carl knew to get off, removing her saddle and reins as well.
Although he gave up all control over her in doing this he knew that The Mare
wouldn't leave him.

Carl ran his hands over
her, feeling that contact both through his hands—and her mind. The Mare
now rode his mind the way he rode her body to a more complete understanding of
pleasure than either had ever imagined before. His mind strengthened her
thoughts the way her body multiplied his own physical abilities.

Every place Carl touched
her seemed on fire. She loved affection, and he was willing to provide it in
endless amounts. And unlike the horse she used to be, The Mare's improved mind
was more than capable of having her body respond fully at any time of the
month—to the right male!

When Carl's hands
finally reached her always sensitive teats she stomped her feet in excitement
as the multiplied pleasure surged through her. Despite being out of season, her
vagina was now trembling and squirting lubrication.

* * * *

Carl knew what she
wanted, and somehow out here with only the warm sun shining down on the beauty
of nature it all seemed okay. It wasn't a man and animal any longer, but just
two minds with one thought between them. He stepped on a rock behind her to
match her height, while she backed right up to him, swishing her tail aside in
invitation.

This was the first time
The Mare had willingly accepted a male into her mare-hood. While she'd
obviously had stallions in her before, it had never been out of conscious
desire. And although no human male in existence would ever match even a small
stallion, this intimate offering of herself, and being taken as such by her
chosen lover, was the first time this experience was ever this intensely
enjoyable.

Although not hung like a
horse in any sense himself, Carl did well for a man. As he entered her, he reached
around her body to pull them tightly together. Then he used one hand to reach
down to her swollen teats once more. Although only tight right at her vaginal
entrance, it was very wet and very hot inside her—and that felt very
erotic!

She was able to communicate
where her most sensitive areas were, and feel his full enjoyment at being
inside her warm, welcoming, moistness. This triggered unexpected and an
unplanned, contraction on her part that resulted in their first climax
together.

In addition to the
feelings that part of her body was sending her, The Mare now felt Carl's
reactions to being inside of her as well. She loved how much he liked being
inside of her like that. Experiencing both her and Carl's strong reactions to
this coupling was more than enough for The Mare to quickly reach a second
climax.

She responded with a
strong series of contractions that gripped Carl more tightly than he would have
believed possible for her, which continued until they both were fully
satisfied. What should have never worked well at all between them worked better
than anyone could have ever expected, bringing them together inseparably in the
process.

Afterwards they wandered
around the meadow together, touching and stroking and communicating as they
wished. They'd bonded, although there was still much to learn about each other.

When Carl finally
reached up to her in what he called his Kissing the Horse, to gently massage
her tender, responsive mouth and atone for the bit he'd placed in it earlier,
all was forgiven. The Mare made it plain to him that he could do this with her
absolutely any time he wished.

* * * *

That night Carl left the
saddle and bridle behind to be picked up another time, riding The Mare home
bareback instead. Although the issue of whether or not to wear a saddle no
longer mattered to her, this brought them even closer to each other.

Carl soon moved into the
barn and they started spending all their free time together. They quickly grew
expert at pleasuring each other and were soon usually seen near the end of the
day riding off together for a couple of private hours. The Mare ensured that no
one else ever found this unusual.

She also ensured that
the ranch ran smoothly, defusing conflicts between the other animals before
they drew undue attention to the operation overall.

Her closeness with Carl
stimulated The Mare's mind far beyond anything that had happened before. Soon
she was riding Carl's mind now as easily as he rode her body. And in the same
way that she could carry her rider further and faster than he could travel on
his own, he carried her mind far beyond anything it could have ever otherwise
managed, showing her entire new understandings about the world around her and
whole new ways of thinking about things and herself.

Soon, for the first time,
The Mare realized she wanted more in her life than she'd ever imagined for
herself before. It was just that these changes weren't ones she could ever
command for herself. She'd need a new kind of help.

* * * *

There's instinctive
knowledge that animals have always had, even though most people have forgotten
about it when they moved away from nature and into cities and buildings. One
day The Mare realized she knew something significant, and what it meant. She
ordered one of her stable hands to open the gate and galloped off through it.
When Carl came back after finishing his chores for the day she was gone.

* * * *

"The witch's
house?" he questioned the hands.

"That's what we
call her. No one knows if it's true."

"But in these
parts," another one replied, "when one speaks of the Witching Hour,
it's never idle talk. Things we can't understand or explain sometimes
happen."

Carl was more than
willing to accept that explanation. He was already living what he knew he could
never explain to any outsider.

It was too dark to go
now. The trail was dangerous at night they warned him—and with more than
just natural hazards. So Carl spent a fretful night before setting out in the
morning with the imprecise directions he was given. It was going to take a
natural empathy if he was to successfully find his destination.

* * * *

A witch had lived in the
forest for longer than anyone could remember. Probably not the same witch, but
nobody had ever wanted to check too closely to find out.

Maybe it was just an old
woman living off the bounty of the woods. But you never found her house by
accident. You had to have a reason for going or you'd never found her house at
all.

Carl had a reason, as
had The Mare.

The door opened at the
first knock, to an old woman who looked the part.

"A handsome
man," the witch said with a young woman's voice and an ageless smile,
looking him over as though he stood naked and available before her.
"Handsome enough to make me question my calling in this life."

Carl didn't know what to
make of this. He wisely kept his mouth shut.

"I might taunt you
further," the Witch told him, "since there is little enough
entertainment out here otherwise, but I sense true love has brought you
here."

With that, she stood
aside to reveal the loveliest woman Carl could imagine. Naked and full bodied,
just the right amount shorter than him to make a perfect match, with flowing
dark hair, pale skin, green eyes, red lips, large well-shaped breasts and hips,
and long beautiful legs.

"Carl," she
said tentatively, as if in fear of his reaction to her. Or maybe she was just
timid about her ability to speak at all.

"Brownie," he
responded, stepping forward to take her tightly into his arms. She felt
wonderful!

"I'd wondered why
that spell had struggled so hard to escape from me," the witch commented,
not that anyone was really listening. "Now I know what it had been seeking
out."

* * * *

It took Carl and Brownie
three days to get back to the farm. They kept stopping just to enjoy holding
each other as they could manage now. The witch had given her a simple homespun
outfit to wear and some wooden shoes. She only managed to keep wearing it about
half the time, although that hardly bothered either of them. She'd already
spent her whole life being naked to the world.

The mental link they'd
enjoyed before seemed gone now and with it, Brownie's ability to control those
around her. However, she said that being ready and able to enjoy sex with him
any time she wished, plus sharing his bed and his life fully now, more than
made up for it. Besides, they could really talk with each other verbally and
there was so much she wanted to say. Looking at her now Carl wasn't so sure
that she wouldn't continue her domination over any male she
encountered—just in different way.

Even in her new form,
the old feelings of intense pleasure at having her teats lovingly handled
remained. And her beautiful chest made them a joy for her lover as much as for
herself.

Besides, there are other
ways to control weak men. And while Brownie remained very well equipped in that
department with her lovely face, figure, and manner, she didn't really expect
to need those abilities any longer. Carl's devotion to her was never in
question. And somehow she still managed to have her musky aroma.

* * * *

The only sour note came
when Carl found out later the price to be paid for all this. And that was only
because he really didn't understand it initially.

"What do you mean
she gets our first female child?" he asked his now very pregnant wife in
seeming outrage.

"That is her
price," came Brownie's soft reply. "And I don't mind," she
added, snuggling her growing, milk-heavy breasts against him for yet some more
of her favorite attention

"But why? What good
thing could she possibly want with a child?" he demanded, visions of
Hansel and Gretel dancing in his head.

"A witch must be a
virgin or she loses her powers. They reproduce by adopting a female child to
raise and teach the ancient ways. It's a very lucky girl who ever gets this
opportunity."

"And don't you mind
because?"

"This will be my
fourth foal, and all have gone to good homes. Besides," Brownie added with
a grin. "Don't you want to make more babies with me?"

Carl had no good answer,
so he hugged his lovely wife tightly to him instead.

About
D.B. Story

D.
B. Story is a writer living in the southwestern United States. While that
territory can cover anywhere from New Mexico to Hawaii he declines to be more
specific at this time. His use of the time-honored artifice of writing under a
pseudonym comes from the necessity to still maintain a day job and the habit of
employers to Google new applicants to discover what stupid things said
applicant is willing to foolishly do, and then doubly foolishly post for the
world to see afterwards. Such invasions of one’s personal life become an unnecessary
distraction. D. B. Story has long had interests in both Science Fiction (since
first discovering his mother’s secret cache of Ace Doublebooks stashed under
her bed) and writing. In fact, anything he has enjoyed participating in he
eventually has a desire to create as well. He seriously began writing (although
not selling) stories ten years ago due to a dissatisfaction with what he was
reading at the time and the belief that he could do it better. He started out
with the interaction between humans and the sexy robots they would inevitably
create and later branched out to other erotic Fantasy and SF genres. During
that time he has written everything from flash fiction to a 402,000 word novel
and a screenplay based on his other writings, as yet unsold. Whether his
writing is actually “better” he admits he must leave to his readers to decide,
but he likes his stuff a lot. He has often said that, “Writing time is always
good time.” He also says that with the advent of cheap computers, word
processors, eBooks, and the Internet that times have never been better for a
diversity of writers to be heard.