Children believe the parental woven stories about Christmas of a joy old elf name Santa Clause. He being as much a giver of gifts set under the Christmas tree, as he is a manner of keeping the child doing what they know is right throughout the year.

Such was a part of my childhood, but the stories as told became very real. It began as a letter written to Santa, asking him for what I had hopes of getting as Christmas presents. My letter told what I wanted, but wished as well he should bring for my brother, and parents.

My brother was not always so nice and brotherly, he would make me look the fool or when with his friends they would beat me black and blue. I felt though a sense of unity with him and in my letter to Santa, I asked for him getting a present he must have loved and wanted.

I wrote of brother reading and enjoying the pictures of ponies standing with their male members showing, of mounted over the rumps of mares, and he, my brother going into the bathroom and setting there for hours of private meditation. As a gift for him, I asked of Santa to give brother his greatest desire come true, whatever that was!

When Christmas Eve came around, I had a plate with several cookies and a glass of chilled milk, waiting for Santa Clause to come into our home.

I was in bed when the clatter on the roof suggested to me that Santa had arrived. I was in my bed, but able to see out into the hallway, as I saw brother run past my bedroom door. He had his camera and wanted badly to get a photo of Santa Claus, if there were such a person.

That was the last time I saw my brother as looking like he were any sort of a family relation to our family. He went downstairs and I heard him exclaim something nasty, and he had an argument with whomever he met in the living room. Brother yelled, cried the word "No, oh shit," several times and then all was silence.

I dared not leave my bed until the coming light of morning and Christmas day. I was the first though to venture downstairs, running to the living room to see what Santa left there for me.

There in the living room lay our Christmas tree on its side, fallen, or knocked over during the turmoil at earlier evening hours. There too amidst the strewn presents stood not brother, but a wild-eyed, mostly white and some brown a pony. I thought it was my pet pony to ride and love. In time, I would learn the pony knew more about me, and teach me what it was like being as him.

Father and mother seemed a bit upset, they seeing my pony and the lack of brother being anywhere in the house, as father said, “One pony and no son meant, somebody insulted Santa and…no-way, his fool son ran away from home!”

Whatever happened, I got ride of my brother and gained the pony to become my pet, me to train and later learn to ride, as care for him. He was quite smart and the winter months to springtime he seemed to relax, as if enjoy being my pet pony.

It was late springtime, about May my pony became irritable and jumped the pasture fence, running to where we pastured the mares. He gave me my first true understandings about the bird and the bees. As he in his exuberant manner of mating fornication with a mare, what was his mental essence, that of my brother surfaced, he finding in with his passionate feeling times the reoccurring ability then to speak. Whenever he stood mounted and mating, fully amid his thrusting grunts and moaning, he spoke of his having argued with Santa.

The essence of the conversation turned terse, brother telling Santa he was a horse’s rear. Santa asked brother to dare repeat his nasty comment, brother said he slipped up and repeated it not quite the same way. He said,” What I want you, you a… horse’s ass, I want you to give it to me…” and the next word he remembered was then, while I was watching him. As his memories flooded back and he knew what he was, what he became, and felt then the feelings of a stallion pony mating a mare, he seemed as if his being a pony was fine with him.

Brother found his ability to talk, as converse with me came only when he as a pony stallion stood with his erection long and still pink, his cock sunk deep inside the rump of a mare. At varied times I would put a mare in with him in the box stall and as he would pleasure his maleness, we would talk about all sorts of things.

A friendlier as rekindled relationship began between my Welsh pony brother and me!

I looked where he said he had hidden his many books and magazines. I discovered our mother found them first and for some odd reason, she put then into the attic. I suspect she kept them as a remembrance to her lost son, he who she was sure he ran away from home. I took a few of the pictures to brother, and asked of him to show his wares, as I compared his to those shown in pictures, ones with crusty globs and stained.

Brother had by chance gained his true wish, although he never expected it to come from Santa. Enrage an Elf and things can happen. As the next Christmas arrived and gone, brother remaining a pony. I showed him my next years wish list for mailing to Santa, mentioning in it that I wished by pony returned to being my brother. We realized, as brother felt terrified at the prospect of being a pony stallion for life. It took him months to get the feelings sorted out and his hopes changed to being a pony stallion and used for stud. When human he worshiped pony cocks, and having then his own, he toyed with it often, as often in plain view of others, friends of mine, and family, mother particularly.

As Christmas was to arrive again, my brother and pet pony had sired with nine mares, giving them all healthy as quite intelligent foals.

That Christmas I mailed off my letter of thanks to Santa, informing him of how happy he made my dear brother, and asking for then of Father, as what he had a special want.

When brother was gone, our family began to split. Mother went to do what she liked best and father did his seeking pleasures away from our home. They would argue at night, after they put me in bed, but I listened to what each said about the other, trying to lay the blame for brother running away from home.

Father worked hard and when he would come home, he would complain about his boss treating the hired help as if they were animals. He thought about that a lot, and when he felt alone in his troubles, my father would talk of what he wished would happen to his boss, or of what the man said father needed to become, that to make the man happier. That is what in my letter I wrote to Santa about, asking of him a favor as my gift, if he could help our family over the troubled times.

Come Christmas and the plate with cookies and glass of milk was where it should be, by the fireplace. Father had stayed awake that evening long after mom went to bed, and she put me into my bed.

Then there was the same clatter up on the roof, and I knew it had to be Santa arriving.

The next morning I went cautiously down the stairs, as to the living room, not knowing what I might see there, remembering the year before and what became of my brother.

There set father asleep in his favorite lounging chair, he had a letter in his hand. I took the letter from father and I read it, the letter came from the company where father worked. It was an announcement of his boss leaving the company, and father advanced in status, replacing his mean boss.

I was so happy for father and looking to see the Christmas tree and for my presents, I saw there on the plate without any cookies had on it an envelope. I picked it up, opened it and read it, a letter from Santa for me.

I read the note, Santa thanking me for my letter and for giving him an idea. Santa included a photo, that of brother being his pony self, he mounted again and mating an all black pony mare and doing it in our barn. Brother was our only pony and my pet, we owned no other. Santa wrote, he having made a special stop to the home of a mean old man and boss of father. He thought to reason with the man to be cheerful in life, but an argument ensued. The evil man made lurid comments and in his verbal abuse said he was getting... well financially bred by his lazy workers.

Santa thought then to give the man what he expected from life, and let brother show him an evening of what it is like when bred. Come the morning our small home-style farm had there the mysterious arrival of a black pony mare. The mare when first I saw her looked as if she were cross-eyed, but later, when with brother doing his thing, he suggested as why she would be looking so, as worn and looking a bit used.

That is what happened in our family, the other and more sordid happenings are a commonplace now. Brother has a companion, a sterile black pony mare who the veterinarian said she could not conceive, but that did not stop my pony brother from trying.

Photo use authorized by Makloox

Our smaller family is one of closeness between loving parents and a joyful girl growing up, I know that Christmas is a special time for giving and for some the getting what they have coming, as gifts to make others happier!

Thank you for listening to me ramble! 

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