Down Home on the Ranch (Saturday, continued)
Fran stood in the shade of a big maple tree
, eating a late lunch and thinking. She'd spent the morning pulling her Mistress's little cart, which had been a rush - she loved the tinkling of her bridle bells, and the sounds of her hooves as she trotted over one of the little wooden bridges over the creek. And she loved the feel of her muscles straining against her creaking harness, as she hauled her Mistress up the trail to the top of Big Tit Hill. Once at the base of the nipple-shaped spire, she'd been allowed a cool drink from the little spring while they looked out over the view. From up there, you could see the whole valley -- from spring to creek to pond -- and all of it was her Mistress's private world, excepting the black ribbon of roadway in the distance.
Now her afternoon was passing quietly in one of the bottom meadows she'd seen from the hilltop. The sky was clear, and there were barn swallows wheeling and swooping. Eat some grass - stand in the stream and have a deep drink -- eat some more grass -- have a pee. It's a full life.
But she had a problem. She was fairly sure she'd hauled her Mistress's cart and admired that view from the hilltop lots of times before, but she wasn't actually sure. The thing was, she couldn't seem to remember much of anything that had happened to her before that very morning, when she'd woken to find herself standing in the barn. It was weird -- she knew she was in her own stall, all right, but it felt like she was seeing it for the first time. Then her Mistress had come in to groom her. And although Fran had immediately recognized her beloved owner's smiling face, she couldn't have said what they had done together yesterday -- or any day before that.
So here she stood, trying to remember. And nothing was coming to her. Nada. Still, she felt great -- why worry? No doubt it would all come back, in time. She continued to graze the sweet grass, moving steadily from one choice morsel to another.
Eventually she munched her way into a corner where a wood fence met an old stone one. She had her head between the rails, trying to reach a prime bit of grass on the other side, when she heard voices close by. And then two creatures she somehow knew to be humans stepped out of the bushes ... and stopped, dumbstruck.
Fran considered the situation. She seemed to recall that people weren't welcome in the valley (there it was again - a foggy memory out of the blue). Similarly she was pretty sure her Mistress had never driven her near the road she'd seen from the hilltop. So, for some reason, outsiders weren't supposed to see her wearing her harness. But she was wearing nothing at all, and these two seemed harmless - they were females, clearly of breeding age. So that was all right.
They stared at her for a long moment. Finally one of the girls, whose worn dress and tangled red hair made her look like a wild thing, boldly stepped forward to the fence and said, "What are you?"
Fran opened her mouth to say, "What kind of a question is that?" Instead she neighed, and then began to suspect that it was actually a rather good question.
The other girl, whose long and blond hair was equally untamed, said, "It can't talk, fool." After leaning down to examine Fran's chest, she added the obvious. "Hey! She's got boobs!" With that she slid her hand over one of the smooth and prominent tits in question.
Red studied Fran carefully, her head cocked to one side. "Why would somebody take the trouble to shave off all of her hair, paint her black, and then dip her mane and tail in rubber?"
"I don't think anybody shaved her," said Blondie, who had moved along to rub Fran's side. "No stubble. Her skin feels like plastic or something. But kinda nice."
Meanwhile Red was stroking Fran's neck and telling her what a pretty creature she was. "You know what we're saying, though, don't you? Well, you're not a unicorn, anyway." She scratched the spot on Fran's head where a horn wasn't.
Blondie laughed. "As I recall, unicorns only appear before virgins. So it's definitely not one of them." She gave one of Fran's fat nipples a final friendly tweak, and then shrugged and pulled up the tuft of grass Fran had been trying to reach. Feeding it to her, she said, "Maybe she's related to those llamas we saw at the fair."
"Nah -- llamas don't have boobs. Nothing's got boobs 'cept people," said Red. "I read it in a book," she added, defensively. "Look at her skinny waist, and her face. She looks more like Auntie Olive. Except for her hooves. And the shiny skin." As she spoke, she fished into the knapsack, shuffled aside a towel, and produced a carrot from her lunch. Fran gobbled it up with delight.
"And her tail, and the ears, and the nose," Blondie added.
"I don't know about that. Auntie April has a pretty big nose." The two laughed.
By this time, Blondie was standing with her feet on the bottom rail, reaching over to rub Fran's neck. "I think you're beautiful!" The three were friends for life.
When Fran heard the hooves in the distance, she looked up to see a big black stallion trotting across the pasture.
The unfamiliar beast pranced over towards her, nostrils flaring. Fran could see he was excited by something - his giant black cock extended so far it was brushing the grass.
Hey,
she thought,
put that away ... there's people watching
. And then she wondered where