Bad Timing (at least for her)
She's A Lady was used to being bred. It's just part of being a racehorse, after all. But even still, her humans tie her up, put her in a pen, the works. So when a colt comes along, there's nothing much she can do except go along for the ride.
She's a Lady (barn name Lady) loved racing, but hated the other part of her job. Mating was... fun enough, she supposed, estrus hurt and having a stallion on her scratched that itch, but birthing hurt and watching her foal be given away so she could go back on the track was an agony that could never have words given to it.
But so it goes, and so she stood docile as she was tied up, her legs hobbled, a halter put on her head and tied to the sides of her little breeding stall. This was all routine to her, of course - she'd be bred anywhere from five to seven times over the course of the receptive part of her estrus, and she'd had nine foals, was well into her career.
She gave a put upon sigh as one of her human's ran his hand through her man, murmuring soothingly as they left to get her Stallion of the Season.
Lightning on the Field (barn name Fella) smelled something strange.
He was a bit of a cuss - as he'd heard himself be called - and had wormed his way out of his pasture again. So what? There was a whole world out there to see, so much to do, so little time! So when his mother (not his real mother, he'd learned, but a suckle-mother, his mother was back on the same track his humans hoped to put him on) wasn't looking, he'd found that loose bit of fence and out he'd gone!
And 'strange' usually meant 'fun', and he didn't know how much time he had before he'd be nabbed and back into his stall he'd go. So he followed the smell and found something rather odd.
He'd never seen a horse like it - small and almost stubby, but very striking, a handsome honey with black accents. Maybe at some point he'd learn she was an Icelandic Horse, but more than likely not, but where he and his were all long and lanky, she was not. When he trotted closer to her he recognized what he rather thought were grooming ties, her head held very still in place and felt sorry for her - he hated being tied in place to be groomed.
Though he'd never seen a horse that was to be groomed penned in like that, wood on both sides. How would the humans get to her. He whickered a greeting, the mare pinning her ears and giving him a sour eye and - wow, rude! - and then he was behind her and never had he seen a horse tied up as she was, her legs bound with what he thought were reins going under her stomach, had this mare done something bad?
Where was that smell coming from, though?
This was not a place for foals, and Lady tried to convey it to the colt. But either he was obtuse or ignoring her on purpose, because he trotted passed her and circled around, and something settled uneasy in her stomach when he stopped at her bound legs, just passed where the wood stepped at her flanks. Okay, she thought as best a horse can, you've taken a gander, you can go away now.
But the foal didn't, and she jumped as best she could as a hot breath blew over her nethers.
The colt sniffed at her rump - oh, so that's where the smell was from! - and realized she looked rather odd. He'd seen plenty of rumps before, it came part and parcel with being eye-level with suckle-mothers after all, but never one like this. Something was glistening as though wet and, as he watched, it dripped. Startled, he squealed and danced back, wall-eyed, before daring to trot forward again with all the false bravado of a young colt, leaning in and pressing his nose to where it came from.
Scare me again, I dare you!
The mare jolted, and he humphed, just give me a minute! It was hot against his nose, and the scent... oh, the scent was intoxicating. He blinked and... maybe it tasted as good as it smelled? took a long lick, finding it didn't taste particularly good but sat wonderfully on his palate, and something burned in his stomach, his groin feeling tight and then there was a slight chill on his own nethers as he threw his head back with a whinny, curling his upper lip to try and get as much of the smell as he could.
Oh no, oh no, the mare squealed her displeasure, well in tune with stallion behaviors and, though she couldn't see the colt, she could hear him behind her and knew that sound, recognized it from what courting her stallion 'suitors' had been allowed. She hopped, tried to kick but her hobbles pulled tight after only the slightest movement, and she squealed again, tried to kick the foal as a hot breath pressed against her estrus-soaked cunt, followed by another shrill whinny.
Oh, this was a new feeling. A wonderful feeling. His erection (though he was a horse, and didn't know such a word, and even if he had he was too young to know such a thing, wouldn't have the 'birds and the bees' talk for quite a while) was beginning to hang, surprisingly big for such a small thing, far too big in relation to him, almost big enough to be counted as a stallion's size.
Instinct seized him, then.
He reared up onto his hind legs, stumbling on tiny hooves, and mounted the mare, young enough that, despite being of a much larger breed, he could only barely manage it, who squealed in panic and horror - no, she refused to be mounted, refused to be bred, be a foal! he didn't know what he was doing, she refused to be a part of this! - but the humans had done their job well, so all she could do was arch her back and pin her ears and squeal as he began to buck his angular hips, jabbing his blunt cock against her lips one, two, three times before finally slamming into her hard enough she lurched against her bindings, her squeal broken off, and then he was drawing back and fucking into her down to his ring, and then all the way to his base and then it was onto mindless breeding, his testicles slapping against her, biting her nape as they had yet to put her on bite guard to help keep his balance though he could only barely reach and, despite herself, she couldn't help but to flag her tail to the side and to lean forward, bracing against the surprisingly-strong foals mindless, desperate, rough fucking.
Like a stallion, he didn't last long, only a few more pumps of a cock that was easily as large as any of her studs' before throwing his head back and squealing his pleasure, cockhead flaring as he began to fill her with thin, watery colt-seed, balls drawing up and throbbing over and over again as he filled her womb, pumped her with more seed than she'd ever had from a stud before, dancing from hoof to hoof before finally falling off, cum that looked just like her estrus-slick splattering to the ground as his cock pumped one, two, three more times, little watery splurts that would easily go unnoticed.
The colt pranced around, excited in this new-found fun, and butted his head against hers in a 'thanks' as she shook and rattled, then was gone before the humans came back, leading her stud.
The humans were none the wiser. The stud, though, could smell sex in the air, and had to be held back he was so violent in his breeding.
Every day after, the colt came to visit, and was horribly disappointed when, six days later, he didn't find the mare, but another one, far too big for him to jump on.