Disclaimer: This story contains content that should not be read by people underneath the age of 21. It is 100% fiction and has no bearing on reality whatsoever. The author does not condone illegal and immoral actions described. I don't own the film The Wizard of Oz (1939), or any characters and make no profit from this story. Please read the story codes above to ensure that you are not going to be offended by, or otherwise dislike, the content. This was written for the prompts 'Ignore, Idea, Indio'
Description: Every part of The Horse changes color except one, and Dorothy knows how to cure him.
Content Codes: f-zoo, cons, pwp, first, messy
Wizard Of Oz: The Horsecock Of A Different Color
by JD ([email protected])
During the widespread partying before the Wizard was to return them to Kansas, Dorothy slipped away to the stables. She hoped they would be left untended having seen the cabbie celebrating. Still, she was pleased to see they were clean, and that The Horse of a Different Color was mostly well cared for. She stopped at the stable door, and gently ran her hand down his nose.
"I had an idea of your problem as soon as I saw you. You're all those pretty colors, but just one down there... then the Cabbie, kind as he is, why he said you were the only one! He hasn't studded you, poor thing."
The Horse nuzzled her face, and softly licked her neck. Dorothy felt a shiver right down to her feet as she pulled the bolt on the door and stepped quickly inside. She could feel his left eye turned back on her as she ran her fingers along his muscular body. She had wondered if she would feel the changing colors of his hair, and saddened that she didn't. Dorothy re-bolted the door and lifted her skirt up, before pulling her entire dress over her head. Her simple farm undergarment followed it to a neat pile on the floor until the 16 year old farm girl stood naked but for the Ruby Slippers.
She continued rubbing his flank, gently murmuring to him. Dorothy didn't want to scare him, though perhaps he was too intelligent to be startled as an ordinary horse might. She dropped to a squat in the hay, and reached for his sheath. The Horse's large scrotum, and the hair along the shaft above it, maintained a changeless indigo color while the rest of his body cycled through the other shades. She began stroking, gripping firmly. The strength in her hands and forearms came from farm chores. The Horse's strong scent was intoxicating for Dorothy; her breasts were flushed and her nipples erect, while her pussy grew wet and her glistening labia opened slightly. She had not once considered simply relieving him with cold professional detachment. Dorothy's hormonal teenage lust was too great.
When the flared horsecock emerged, as indigo as the sheath, Dorothy pressed her lips to it and kissed with a soulful moan. The Horse whinnied softly, and she sensed an almost human desire. Why couldn't he talk like the Lion? She raised enough from her squat to press the thickening shaft against her chest as she stroked and licked, and felt the slick precum dribbling down to her stomach. His musky juices smeared her firm breasts as she swallowed the heavy flow. Dorothy's pussy ached to be rubbed and touched, but she needed both hands for The Horse. He'd grown bigger than she'd imagined in the long days since she'd first seen him and had that idea she couldn't ignore.
Curing his indigo balls.
Dorothy dotted wet lipped kisses all over The Horse's glans; it was far bigger than it had been, and the farm girl wanted it inside her. She groaned at the thought, and stroked the sensitive horse flesh harder with her strong fingers. He was twitching and snorting, thrusting in her hands enough that she had to squat lower to avoid being knocked over. She instantly missed his heat between her breasts. Soon, with a tossed head and a wild neigh, The Horse spurted. Dorothy caught the first hot blast in her mouth and swallowed eagerly. There was too much for her to drink it all, and between mouthfuls she let him cover her face and hair, her breasts, and even pointed him down between her legs. She thrilled to the hot squirts into her bush, close to climax herself
When he was finally spent, she used her hands to wipe the cooling mess from around her eyes and saw with pride that his sheath was changing color in sequence with the rest of his great strong body. Dorothy stood, only then noticing the ache in her calves from squatting, and rubbed her fingers lazily into her pussy. She wondered what Aunty Em or Uncle Henry or mean old Miss Gulch would say to see her near naked, dripping with horse come.
He was cured. She ought to ignore her new idea. But she couldn't. This was the Land of Oz, and things worked differently to Kansas. At the very least, she had an idea that the power of the Ruby slippers would protect her. Dorothy walked with a series of wet splats and bent over the hay rack, her pert pale ass presented to the aroused horse. She heard his movement, the rearing, and then that great flat cock finding the spot between her thighs; rubbing against her clitoris. Dorothy groaned wantonly, and pushed backwards. Though she had never so much as kissed a boy, she felt herself opening wet as a winter storm as he pushed in with near human skill. Dorothy's passionate scream as she was taken scare birds, but went unheard by anyone else.
His breathing sounded like a train pulling out as he towered above the squealing girl and thrust his sticky so-hot cock into her tight slick sex. Whether by the magic of Oz or the slippers, Dorothy stretched without tearing and knew only mind blowing satisfaction as The Horse fucked her with strokes that bounced her off the clean wood, while sweat and horse spunk dripped into straw. Her climax was near instant, continuous, and she screamed wordless passion as The Horse of a Different Color screwed her like a mare in the long minutes before his second peak. His climax was a fire in her belly that would burn for life.
She collapsed, panting and shaking, until she could pet and thank him. Dorothy washed herself off with the stable tap afterwards, dressed, and left. The smell lingered.
Soon after her return to Kansas, Dorothy walked to the nearby stables. The stallion there cocked his head as she spoke,
"...and you were there."
If you've read all the way through please review by email to [email protected] or on the forum if you have access. Come on, won't cost you anything but another few minutes of your time. Tell me what you liked or didn't like. At least point out typos, please! You can wipe your fingers first. Thank you!
Citation: "...and you were there." taken from The Wizard of Oz (1939)