It started at the farmhouse - Prologue
This is a work in progress. I mean, this piece is a work in progress. Obviously, the larger story is a work in progress, but I will probably be working some edits on this piece as well. Comments are welcome and solicited! Also, sorry about the no-yiff piece, it TOTALLY picks up later on!
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I don't know why I bought the farmhouse. I honestly don't. It was an estate sale, the previous owner having passed on and his heirs wanting no part in it. It was built prior to WW2, but you'd never know it to look at it. It was in great shape: modern wiring, updated plumbing, new roof, fiberglass insulation (why, yes, I DO have an aversion to asbestos in old houses). It sat smack in the middle of 40 acres at the end of a half mile of driveway. The 40 acres was partially wooded, but mostly pasture. I never did get a very straight answer as to why there were pastures. The old man wasn't a farmer, didn't keep any animals that anyone was aware of. They certainly affected my decision, though. I've always wanted to raise horses.
I'm an IT guy. I'm a technical manager working for one of the megagantic government contractors. We work with FEMA, NOAA, NSF and NASA, none of this defense department crap. We do the fun stuff.
My team is pretty scattered supporting various installations all over the country. While this means a fair amount of travel for me, it also allows me to work entirely from home. That works for me. I'm not antisocial, but I appreciate quiet and solitude. Maybe that's why this place spoke to me so much. The first time I saw it I knew that I'd be living in this farmhouse for a very long time. I just assumed that I'd be living there alone.
My first night in my new home ended up being eventful to say the least. I blew through the settlement with mounting excitement and grabbed the keys from my realtor like they were dipped in gold. She offered to accompany me to the place, but I declined politely. I wanted to be alone when I introduced myself to my new house.
I opened the front door and walked in and immediately noticed the smell. The place smelled different. The smell was the same as it was the week beforehand, a mixture of grass and honeysuckle, old cedar, and a gentle hint of mildew (it IS an old house...) . But now that smell was mine. I owned it. And it was now the smell of home.
I took my time and inspected the house. I went room by room, touching walls, listening to my footsteps echo on the hard wood of the floors, and simply absorbing the character of the place. I had scheduled the movers for shortly after noon, so I had some time. I drove into town for some lunch (reveling in the fact that I now had to 'drive into town') and returned just in time to get in everyone's way and continually change my mind about where everything went. It was over shockingly fast. I had no idea how little stuff I had!
That's completely untrue. My old townhouse was fully furnished, and, if I do say so myself, very nicely decorated. It's just that this place was HUGE! 7 bedrooms, 4 full baths and almost 8000 square feet. I retraced my steps from earlier in the day, reassessing the character of the house in light of my woeful lack of furniture. That was the point at which I began to wonder exactly why I'd bought the house. Don't misunderstand, I loved the place. I was over the moon for this house. But, it slowly began to dawn on me that I had no earthly idea why I'd bought it. It was simply WAY too much space for a single guy. Even if I furnished all of the rooms, what was I going to do with them? Sleep in a different one every night of the week? And, what about the bathrooms? How the hell do I keep this place clean? What'll it cost to heat this place?! I was shocked that none of this had occurred to me beforehand. I spent the rest of the evening on the (big) front porch with a bottle of wine contemplating my future and wondering what I should do with the place. Well, two bottles of wine. It was a lot to think about.
I struggled with sleep that night. I stared at the unfamiliar ceiling and scowled disapprovingly at the way the moon lit the room. Tomorrow. Curtains.
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I was startled awake the next morning. It took me a moment to realize what had startled me. There was a hand on my chest. And the hand was covered in fur. As was the leg that was draped over mine. I was unsure about the seemingly very large chunk of meat that was nestled between my butt cheeks; I couldn't tell if it were covered in fur. There was hot breath in my ear, and something prickly on my neck and with I jolt I realized I was being spooned. By something furry! I tore the hand off my chest and jumped out of bed. I think I tried to yell, but all I remember saying was, "what?!" I think I meant it to be, "what the hell?!", but my mind got ahead of my mouth and my mouth had to skip words to catch up.
So, it was a horse. I mean, half a horse. I mean, not like in the Godfather, I mean he was built like a man, but covered in fur and sporting a very horse-like head. Between his horse ears and down the back of his neck there was a what could only be described as a mane. He was .. well, gorgeous. I mean, it didn't strike me as such at the time, but remembering back on it now I can see that he was simply beautiful to behold. His fur was a light brown color, hinting at gray in places blending into a muddled white on his chest. His fur seemed to shimmer and his eyes shown a burnished gold color as he lazily opened them. He sat up, yawned and stretched. His chest was massive: its motion as he stretched seemed reminiscent of the drift of tectonic plates. His arms bulged, his stomach rippled, and his shoulders seemed ready to support the weight of the world should Atlas want a day off. I could clearly see the outline of brawny thigh muscles under the sheet and only then noticed the hooves dangling off the end of the bed. Suddenly, the proportions shifted in my mind and I realized that he must be seven feet tall!
He looked over at me, his eyes still drooping and drowsy. "Morning." He said it blithely. I never really knew what blithely meant until he said, "morning," so blithely.
"What?!" My lexicon seemed to have shrunk dramatically.
He inspected me, his head cocked to one side as if he weren't sure if I met his standards. Then he smiled slightly; a sly, mischievous smile like he'd seen something in me and wasn't about to tell me what. Without a word he rolled over, lifted the sheet off himself and climbed out of the bed. He started walking toward the bedroom door and looked me in the eye as he went past. "I'll put some coffee on," he said. "We need to talk."
"What?!"