Coleman was a bit irked to have been put out of the running. He was a prized racer, sure he was getting on in age, being about 40 (in human years anyway), but he could still rip around with the best of them. Though despite this he was begrudgingly happy to be in a paddock, meandering around getting the good grass and clover. The lack of jockey on his back was wonderous too, they were annoying little buggers.
Coleman had turned into the barn for the night and was talking with the horse one stall over, a Clydesdale stallion about the same age as him, maybe 5 years younger. He'd been at the barn for the majority of his life and Coleman had noticed him when he arrived at the farm. The Clydesdale was huge, not overly tall, but wide. His stomach pressed against his legs, his neck was swaddled in fat, and his ass rose up above his back. Every step he took was accompinied by a fit of jiggling and the Clydesdale was absolutely happy about it.
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