Unknown - Bea_s pony

I waited until I was sure they had gotten out of earshot before stepping into the living room and retrieving my camera. Very quietly, I pulled the door shut and stepped out into the cool Texas evening.

I slept through breakfast the next morning. Jack had already left for the office when Helen appeared in the bedroom quite excited.

"Someone's found Clyde," she announced.

I opened one eye and looked at my sister. She was holding a slip of paper in one hand and begging for my attention.

"Where?" I managed to ask.

"It's some kennel north of the city. The police picked him up running along the highway and brought him there." She was elated. "Isn't it grand? I'll be so glad to see him again."

I stepped out of bed and put my robe on. My sister was reading off the name of the kennel from the slip of paper.

"Are you certain it's Clyde?" I wanted to know.

"It must be," she assured me. "I just talked with the man who runs the place, and his description was uncanny. It could not be any other dog."

"I'm glad," I said, coming up to her and giving her a kiss on the cheek. "You're very fond of Clyde."

Her bosom heaved slightly and pushed gently against my own.

"Quick!" she said, grabbing both my arms. "I'll fry you an egg while you get dressed. I want to go over there this morning." She turned and ran in the direction of the kitchen.

I stepped across the hall into the bathroom. Removing my robe I sat on the toilet and reached for the hand mirror behind me. I was curious as to my condition and spread my legs.

Spreading the lips with the first two fingers of my right hand, I moved the fingers down two or three times more, separating the folds as much as I could to get a good look inside.

The soreness seemed to have disappeared. I ran the tip of one finger inside. The opening seemed normal. I tried two, and then three fingers. It stretched easily but was elastic enough to offer some resistance to being opened.

I breathed a sigh of relief. Everything was returning to a state of normalcy.

Spreading my legs a little wider, I held the mirror a foot away from it and tried to get an idea of its overall appearance. The outer lips didn't exactly close over everything. Well, I wasn't sixteen anymore either, I told myself.

The amount of hair growing around that region of me always struck me as excessive. Except for my head and under my arms I was not a hairy person, and could never understand why I had such growth down there.

I held the mirror closer to examine it. Hair grew thickly on both sides and down under. Rising slightly, I looked further on down and saw it growing around my asshole, although much more sparsely.

Sighing, I put the mirror down and stood all the way up. With two fingers, I gently tried to squeeze the outer lips shut. They mushed together nicely, but pouted open again immediately when I let go.

Helen was calling me that breakfast was about ready, and I turned to other matters.

She sat and watched me eating. Her conversation was very animated. I knew she was impatient to get out to the kennel and tried not to appear uninterested. She was planning a bath for Clyde the minute he got home, she told me.

As she knew the way, I let her drive although she offered the chore to me. While I listened to her talk I kept doing a little exercise I had been taught once which was supposed to strengthen the muscles around the opening to the vagina. It must have seemed to Helen that I was not paying attention.

"You're miles away, aren't you?" she was asking me.

I took notice and blushed.

"What are you thinking about, Bea?" she queried.

"I was thinking about a man having one the size of that pony's." Actually I had just come up with the thought in reply to her question.

"How would you ever find him?" Helen wondered. "Even if you did, he might be too hard to live with. You know? What kind of a husband would he make? Every girl around would be chasing him." She was thinking of Jack.

"I wonder though, does a man ever have one that big? Is it possible?"

We were passing a farm where some horses were grazing.

"Maybe you should move up to a horse," Helen suggested. "They're even bigger!"

The thought of something even bigger yet stuffing into me was a randy idea but frightening.

"Come on," I said. "I thought I was going to be killed." She was getting me excited talking about it that way. "Were you able to see? Did he finally get it all in?" I asked.

"I," she paused, "I think so. I couldn't believe it."

"Where did it all go?" I asked, amazed. I held up my hands in the manner of a fisherman. "It must have been this long," I said, looking at the distance between them. "Now, if you take that same length and lay it across me here," I explained, moving my hands to my body, "the end of it is way up here."

She shot a glance at where my hand rested. It was almost exactly between my breasts.

"It can't possibly go all the way up there, or can it?" I wanted to know.

"It stretches nice," Helen giggled.

"Let's see how you do when your turn comes," I said to her.

She giggled some more. We came to a crossroads, and Helen turned the car to the right. About two miles down the road we saw the sign indicating the kennel and turned into it. Pens were all around us filled with dogs of many different breeds, and the animals collectively made one great racket as we got out.

The noise brought a man running out of what must have been a private house at one time, but had been converted to an office and other facilities for the kennel.

"You the ladies for the collie?" he asked immediately. At our acknowledgment he motioned us to follow him, and we walked back along the pens to a small brick structure that looked of recent construction. A number of bricks that had not been used were still piled off to the left.

The man was tall, about six feet five or six inches, but had an enormous pot belly that hung out over his trouser belt. In profile the trouser belt made a diagonal line up to where it clung to the small of his back. His trousers were rather floppy, he had no ass to speak of, and were too long.

He yanked out a mess of keys from one pocket and looked through them until finding the right one.

"Here we go," he said, unlocking the door.

We followed him inside. About six stalls lined each side of the wall. They were very clean and seemed to incorporate every convenience available to the up-to-date kennel operator.

"We keep the real good dogs here," he informed us. "Your collie is in this one." He pointed to one marked number nine.

Helen walked over and called out Clyde's name. The big collie came up to the gate, wagging it tail, but I knew instantly Helen was looking at a dog other than her own.

"Oh, Bea," she said, disappointed. "It isn't him."

I came over and reached through the bars, patting the dog's head. "You could fool me, Sis. It's an amazing likeness," I told her.

"It's the eyes," she said, "and the coloring on the nose. See that pink splotch just at the beginning of the nose? Clyde has no pink on his nose. This isn't as good a dog as Clyde," she concluded.

He was a beautiful dog nonetheless.

"Too bad!" the man said. "Make a nice pet. You have kids?" he asked Helen and then fixing his eyes on me as if to ask the same question.

We shook our heads.

"Be good pet anyway," he went on. "Cops found this poor guy running along the interstate. Well," he declared, "somebody's going to claim him. Too good a dog."

We walked outside to the car. Helen was dejected and had little to say. The man wished her luck, and we drove off.

About a mile along the road her thoughts had absorbed her attention a little too much, and she failed to notice a wide truck coming in the opposite direction.