Joey watched as the starter fired his gun, and the horse-girls flew out of their starting blocks. Joey blinked at how quickly they ran, legs pumping, tails and manes streaming behind them. They would put human runners to shame! shi mused.
Sara seemed to think so as well. Shi seemed to be reveling in the strength and speed of hir new body and had quickly taken up a position at the head of the pack -- or perhaps herd would be a better term. Joey frowned and signaled at Sara to pace hirself. Sara at first seemed to ignore hir, but then slowed slightly, allowing one of hir competitors to take the lead as they rounded the track to complete the first lap.
Joey cheered for Sara as sie went by, clapping hir hands and trying to ignore how feminine hir voice was and the bouncing of hir new bosom. Sara gave an impressive neigh as sie went by.
"Sie's running very well today," said a nickering voice behind Joey. Hir eyes widened as someone patted hir bottom in a very familiar way. "You've done a great job as a first year coach."
Joey turned to see the girl's track team coach, Lorna Summers, who was now a muscular Clydesdale morph. Sie towered over Joey, but somehow Joey did not feel intimidated. Instead sie found hirself thinking how sexy the coach looked today. Hir white mane and tail were braided into long french notes, and hir deep black coat and the white feathering at hir wrists and ankles and been brushed thoroughly. I think I'm in love, Joey thought to herself in slow wonder.
"Ummm, thanks Coach," said Joey, turning back to the track. At the halfway point, Sara was running strong just behind the leaders.
"Coach?" wondered Lorna in hir rumbling yet feminine tones. "Why so formal, Joey?" Lorna put a strong arm around Joey and gave hir a brief squeeze.
Joey's eyes widened as sie realized that reality had adjusted in more ways than one. Sie was Lorna's assistant coach -- and apparently more than that. Joey realized that sie should be freaking out over this...but instead the coach's arm felt nice around hir shoulders. And instead of the familiar feeling of an erection, Joey felt a warm wetness beginning under hir skirt. I guess I know who's the mare and who's the stallion in this relationship, thought Joey.
The runners thundered by on their final lap, and Joey struggled to concentrate. Sara was turning hir head to look at Joey every few steps, waiting for a signal. Joey waited until only a hundred yards remained before giving hir what sie wanted. With a toss of hir head, Sara began to run flat out. The quarter horse-morphs around hir tried to keep up. Thier flaring nostrils and the sweat that darkened their coats told Joey that they were out of it. Whinnying, sie cheered Sara on as the Arab-morph crosssed the line well ahead of hir pursuers.