Tea Biscuit

XI

Beth and Amy had the best seats in the house, if they had only sat down. They stood in the Owners' Box three rows back, right at the starting line when Abby, Beth's daughter, coaxed her nervous mount into the gate. Amy's Pride loved to run, but the noise and tumult of race day always evoked considerable anxiety. While Beth had been Abby's birth mother, the two women had raised her together and she called them each “Mom.” Their daughter's accomplishments filled them both with pride. The petite Beth had been a jockey too in her younger years. She remembered her races up on Ethan, her favorite mount. She guessed that in the bad old days she and Ethan might even have been sweethearts, given the crushing social pressures. He might have been the dashing captain of the football team, now banned, and she a preppie cheerleader. She still thought of him fondly, though the thought of intimate relations with a male made her queasy like some perverted fantasy of the patriarchal age.

Abby looked great up on Amy's Pride in her red in gold silks. Her hair was tied back in a neat ponytail under her racing helmet. Amy's Pride was a magnificent creature, saddled and bridled like all the Ponies. Like all the Ponies, the ring at the end of his sex was attached to his navel ring, lifting his penis from between his muscular thighs and exposing his fat scrotum underneath. His left side of his penis and scrotum were painted a deep red and the right side a brilliant gold, showing proudly the stable colors.

Neither had taken a seat when the gate fell and Abby guided her mount skillfully through the crowded field. They grabbed each other's hands, when their daughter saw a sliver of daylight and spurred her mount forward. He answered her challenge with all of his considerable strength and burst ahead of the talented field. His long legs reached out forcefully and devoured the distance. Going into the first turn of the half-mile oval, he was already in the lead by a head. Abby hunched over in her saddle and urge him on. His powerful strides pounded the hard packed track. Abby had trained him mercilessly and his arduous conditioning served him well in the backstretch.

Abby had known she wanted to be a jockey like her birth mother since Mommy Amy had given her piggyback rides as a toddler. She had hounded her brother for rides relentlessly and good-natured fellow that he is, he had usually indulged her.

A hot sun beat down on the track. The crowd roared. Amy's Pride felt the warmth of Abby's breath on his neck. Her hands rested gently but firmly on his control rods, reminding him who commanded and who obeyed, despite their easy camaraderie. Sweat poured from his body. The sun beat down strongly. Exertion had transmuted her usual subtly perfumed scent into something magical. He felt her fierce desire to win. Her competitive spirit was steadfast and unyielding. He knew her as thoroughly as she knew him. He desperately wanted to please her.

However, Amy's Pride was not the only talented Pony in the field. Wing Song II matched him stride for stride. The Pony and his jockey carried the blue and silver of High Gate stables. His male parts were painted in blue and white stripes to match his jockey's colors. He too was a marvelous specimen, thoroughly trained and skillfully ridden. He too had a courageous spirit and a huge desire to win. He was a champion and the son of champions. Amy's Pride heard Wind Song II's pounding stride and heard his heaving breaths.

Wind Song II was also suffused with a competitive spirit. His jockey went to her lash, coming out of the final turn and Abby answered ferociously. Victory was within her reach and she would not lose it now.

Amy and Beth held hands and watched breathlessly. Their grips on each other's hand became almost painful. Their eyes were fixed on the track.

Amy's Pride rose to the challenge and tapped some previously unknown reservoir of strength and will. He was a magnificent creature. The other Ponies were also outstanding physical specimens. He had trained hard. Abby had worked him diligently, showing him that yet more strength always remained if the spirit was willing, no matter how his lungs and body screamed in protest. The other Ponies had trained hard also. However, none shared the life-long bond he shared with his jockey. Wind Song pulled even for an instant coming out of the last turn into the home stretch but Amy's Pride surged ahead at the finish.

The crowd cheered. Arms raised in triumph, Abby guided her mount on his victory lap. Towering over the shorter Beth, Amy bent down and embraced her lover. They kissed. Their kiss and the contact of their bodies reverberated with all the love and pleasure they had shared in their long years together. Frustrated with awkwardness of their posture, Beth stepped up on a chair and for once looked down on Amy and they kissed again.

Madison raced down from the stands to congratulate her girlfriend Abby. Abby and her mount had already taken their hard-won place in the Winner's Circle. Amy's Pride knelt in the dismount position. Reporters and photographers mobbed Abby, leaving Madison alone with the male. He stared at the ground. His powerful chest heaved while he tried to catch his breath. His depilated skin was streaked and torn with the evidence of Abby's quirt.

Abby's love of racing had always puzzled Madison. Abby doted so on her mount that sometimes Madison found herself jealous of the silly beast. His ass bore Abby's mark indelibly. Abby had branded him herself. She had shown Madison the brand and told her how nervous she had been. Her hand was shaking but her mothers had insisted that she brand the creature herself. There's a special bond, they told her, between a Pony and the girl who brands him. Somewhere, she had found the strength to calm her trembling and place a clean brand.

Madison found his physical size intimidating though she knew that he had been thoroughly trained. Any violence against women would not be tolerated. A dangerous male would not be re-trained; rather he would be put down. Kneeling, he was still almost as tall as she. She viewed the creature ambiguously. He made Abby so happy but Madison found him at best hygienically challenged. Dripping as he was now with perspiration, he reeked of a distinctly unpleasant musky aroma. His bathroom habits were at best suspect. She found his blatant display of his grotesque male paraphernalia repellent. Images of him forcing himself into the hidden places of a woman's body made her physically ill. However, she took a certain pride in her paint job.

Still, he had made Abby so obviously happy, she couldn't help but feel a modicum of compassion. “Hey, Pride,” she smiled, “great run!” She tussled his hair fondly.

Abby saw Madison and broke away from the crowd. “Madison, we did it!” she crowed exuberantly. She and Madison embraced joyfully. Madison loved to make Abby orgasm. Abby threw her arm around Pride's thick muscular neck. “We did it!” She planted a quick messy kiss on the side of his face. Pride turned his head toward her, but she was already hugging and kissing Madison again.

Madison wasn't certain that she wanted to kiss Abby after Abby had kissed the male. However, she surrendered to the moment and kissed her friend warmly. Abby looked so hot in her racing silks. She was so vital in her triumph. The hot pressure of their bodies and the mixing of the fragrances of their scents were too thrilling for fastidiousness to prevail for long.

“Did you bring it?” Abby asked.

Madison reached in her pocket and found the apple. She handed it to Abby.

The apple immediately gained Pride's attention, despite his fatigue. He loved anything sweet after the bland diet in the stable. The apple was so red and shiny and fragrant.

The apple looked great to Abby too. She almost took a first bite but remembered her manners. She offered the apple to Madison who took a great bite. The sweet aromatic juices ran over her lips and chin. Next, Abby took her bite. Arm and arm, Abby and Madison fed Pride the remainder, careful to avoid his eager teeth. He ate greedily, consuming even the seeds and core.

Still hand in hand, Amy and Beth reached the Winner's Circle. Hugs and kisses around, they congratulated their daughter and shared their joy with her dear friend, Madison. Beth grabbed Pride's bridle in both hands and kissed him warmly on the forehead. “Great run, Pride!” she said and studied his face.

Prides' vocal cords had been altered and he was unable to answer her with words. He answered her with his eyes. Amy had been his birth mother and Amy and Beth had raised him together with his younger sister Abby. When he had still been able to speak, he had called them both “Mommy.” Happiness illuminated Beth's face and gave him great joy. A tear rolled down his cheek.

Gently, Beth brushed away his tear. She was so proud of him. Amy had been his birth mother. Beth had charted the temperatures and wielded the turkey-baster with her own hands. Beth herself had coaxed the sperm from Ethan, his sire. Amy had just stood there and watched. She and Amy were so proud of both their children. Suddenly, she remembered she had brought him a special treat, a tea biscuit like Ethan loved.