Serving The Herd

Commission for Modmyths by Stygian Solstice (solstice-sings.livejournal.com - solsticefox on furbid)

Feel free to share, distribute and promote this if you like it, but please do not alter it in any way.

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Like many major scientific discoveries before it, the technology that would give rise to the Infinity Project was an accident. In 2133, when scientists were frantically searching for a way to create faster-than-light travel so that humanity could escape their overpopulated and wasted world, a researcher named Samuel Worthing found something else: the existence of the Multiverse, an infinite number of alternate realities. The potential of this discovery was not lost on him, and with approval of the United Earth Administration, he shifted his focus to developing the Infinity Project.

Eventually more and more resources were devoted to the Project, as it soon became obvious that faster-than-light travel may never be realized. Within thirty years, with the resources of our world reaching a critical point, one that would push humanity over the brink into an irreversible downfall, our world began to populate others that did not yet have any existing populations. The drawing of resources from these other realities saved our own, and left humanity with an infinite and unending venue for expansion, and a lack of any worry that we would ever become fully extinct.

By the year 2200, over five thousand Alternate Reality Earths (ARE) had been discovered by the Infinity Project, many of them mirrors of our own, but a few of them were uninhabited and ripe for the picking. These worlds were mapped, and given designations.

In 2203, an even greater discovery was made: the Altered Physics Universes (APUs). Many of these worlds were incredibly dangerous, where the very laws of physics were different. A wise man once said that anything that man can possibly imagine, exists somewhere in creation... and the existence of the APUs proved this. There were realities where dragons, magic, and even gods were not simply mere flights of fancy.

One of these worlds, designated APU-12 by the Project staff, but fondly named by various colonists as 'Horsehome', was a world where humanity had long since died out, and great herds of creatures that most resembled the mythical centaur, roamed the plains of what would have been the Canadian prairie. On the world of Horsehome, the principles of 'magic' were rigid and ritualized, though most true scientists refuse to call it by such an anachronistic name...

---

Elijah sighed as he stopped typing on the datapad, running his fingers through the red hair that, along with his accent, marked his Irish descent quite clearly. He looked over what he'd recorded on the screen and then hit the 'delete all' button with a sound of disgust.

"You still trying to write your book, Eli? Seriously?" Came the voice of Elijah's assistant, Essa Van Neyes, a fellow researcher on Horsehome. She closed the door to the pre-fab hut that served as their workspace and stepped up behind him. She patted his shoulder and said softly, "You should just stop trying, y'know, and accept that you're a mythobiologist, not a writer. Take your notes, and then give it over to a ghost writer."

Eli turned to Essa and gave her a sour look, his thin lips curled into a frown. He gestured at his assistant with the datapad, "Let's not talk about what we should be doing, Essa, or did you not forget you're here against your doctor's advice?" He touched the woman's rounded belly purposefully, implying she'd somehow forgotten the fact that she was eight months pregnant.

Shaking her head, Essa sat down next to Eli and let out a resigned sigh. That particular exchange had become almost routine over the last month, ever since Eli had gotten it into his head to try to write a book about his time spent studying the centaur herds of Horsehome. Not that they'd been able to study much; the chieftains of the herds seemed to have a preternatural ability to see through their cloaking technologies. Even their remote drones seemed to find themselves discovered within five hundred metres of any gathering of more than three centaur. To date, not a single human had managed to draw more than some basic observational hypotheses about group structure, biology or even language. What was more disturbing was that any humans caught by the herd were never seen again; they simply disappeared without a trace.

Essa pressed a button on the datapad at her station, and a holographic display appeared in front of her. If she and Eli didn't make some sort of major discovery about the herd they'd been watching from afar, their funding would dry up. "So, anything promising from the long-range scanners, Eli?" she asked lazily, figuring that she already knew the answer.

Much to Essa's surprise, Eli did have some news for her, "Actually, yes. Nine new foals have joined group A. Eight male, one female." At this rather startling revelation, Essa turned her chair to face Eli. As she did, the holographic display followed her, staying in her line of sight in case she needed to access her notes.

"Wait, what? Are you sure?" Essa asked in a hushed voice. If Eli was right about the gender of the foals, then they had just enough data to prove a theory that Essa had put forward a few months ago. By her estimation, the ratio of male to female births was abnormal, and shouldn't be able to support a herd that size. The last group of foals had been completely lacking females, the one before that had six males and one female. Twice was an odd coincidence, but a third was an almost disturbing trend.

Eli nodded, "Come with me to the scanners, Essa, and see for yourself. I have a proper vid of their arrival with one of the elders." He grinned wickedly, "Been waiting for you to ask me about that, Essa. Are you up to a little trip to the listening post?"

Essa nodded enthusiastically and stood up from her chair, her enthusiasm making her move faster than she had in months. Eight months pregnant meant that she couldn't move very fast at all, but when spurred on by the possibility of new funding for their research, she found she could move like the wind.

---

It took Eli and Essa close to half an hour to walk the distance to their listening post on the periphery of the herd's territory, marked by a series of intricately carved wooden poles that were just within sight of each other. The centaurs almost never crossed the invisible lines between these 'totems', and Eli had once theorized that they were the boundaries between the territories of two different herds, though nobody had ever found any trace of this 'dead herd'.

The listening post was cleverly disguised, not by cloaking technology, but by a stand of shrubbery and trees that was rare on the prairie. With some advanced fabrication techniques, they had made a almost impenetrable barrier. Essa slipped through the hidden entrance to the listening post and stepped up to the computer terminal there. She tapped a few buttons and a half dozen holographic displays appeared in front of her, each one linked to a long-range camera trained on the land beyond the totems.

Behind her, Eli waited patiently, shifting position from one foot to the other. Normally he was the first to enter their listening posts, which was his right as the de facto head researcher and mythobiologist, but he'd chosen to defer to her in this situation. His 'assistant' was the one who had put the theory about birth rates being abnormal, and he'd already seen what she was looking at.

Essa found group A almost immediately, and put her finger through the display that showed them, dragging it in front of her and enlarging the display considerably. She counted the number of foals in the group and shook her head in wonder. Eli had been right; only one female among them. "So either they have someplace else that they keep most of their mares, which is quite possible given the structure of some of the old tribal societies from Primus, or they really do have an unusually skewed birth rate. But if they do, the number of foals should be diminishing eventually. Nothing we've ever seen points to the possibility of a harem mentality, and most of the females have always seemed to be... much more highly valued."

Eli shook his head a little, shrugging. "This should be enough to get more Project funding at the very least. Give us another year out here." He stepped up beside her, running his hand through her straight black hair affectionately, a gesture of familial love rather than anything romantic. They'd both agreed that they'd avoid that sort of thing, especially since Essa was married.

Suddenly, something on the display caught Eli's eye. "Essa, what count do you have for group A? Not just foals, but total numbers?"

Essa blinked and pulled up the count, then frowned in confusion. Yesterday there had been forty-five in the group. Nine new foals and the elder that accompanied them should make the count fifty-five, but scanners found only fifty. "What the fuck?" she breathed. Usually one or two would break off the herd to scout, but never five. She looked at the other five displays, seeing if the five missing centaur had been recorded on any of those, but came up with nothing. She stared at group A for a while, then said, "Where's the chieftain and his bodyguards? There's only one of them left right now."

Eli's eyes widened in surprise. Five scouts wasn't completely inconceivable, but the sudden and inexplicable departure of the group's leader was unheard of. In almost two years of observations, the group had never been without it's chieftain, an unusually large stallion with his long brown hair pulled into seven distinct braids. The same could be said of his burly bodyguards, four males and one female, all of them with their own hair pulled into six braids.

Eli activated the sub-terminal next to Essa's and called up the records. Sometime in the middle of the night, the chieftain had disappeared along with his three male bodyguards, and oddly enough, they'd all taken off in different directions, and had quickly passed out of the range of the listening post. Their behaviour was incomprehensible and completely bizarre. "Alright, Essa, get back to the camp ASAP. I'm going to the other three listening posts, starting with the one that their chieftain went off to."

Essa began to protest, "I can make it to one of them, Eli. I'm not an invalid!" She looked at him with a fiery mien, but Eli remained firm. The hike to where they were was short, but he wasn't about to let an eight-month pregnant woman overexert herself when it wasn't necessary.

"No, Essa. The nearest one is a five kilometer hike, and I'm not going to have you exert yourself that much. Go back to camp and co-ordinate, get an info dump from the other listening posts when I activate them." He tapped a few buttons on the terminal in front of him, shutting down his own display.

For a moment, it looked to Eli like his assistant was going to argue further, but she gave a resigned sigh and shrugged her shoulders. "Alright. You'll need me there anyway. Be quick about it, okay?" She twisted the ring on her finger nervously, and Eli could tell by her troubled expression and the way she began to chew on a lock of hair that she felt that something was very wrong.

Eli gestured toward the door, letting Essa go first as he shut down all the monitors in the room. He turned off the light in the small chamber and stepped out after her. He grunted in surprise when he walked right into Essa. "What the hell, Essa?" he exclaimed, "Don't just stan..." He trailed off as he finally saw what had given his assistant pause.

In front of them were the missing members of group A. The three bodyguards had their spears leveled at them, and one of them barked a command in his language. The implication was perfectly clear : don't move. The chieftain approached Eli and poked him in the chest, saying "Tas'nah". Eli stood dumbfounded, his jaw working, but no sound coming out. For once, the talkative mythobiologist found himself struck completely dumb.

The chieftain then cantered over to Essa, who had pressed herself up against the doorway to the listening post. From this close, Essa could see every fine detail on the chieftain's body, from the numerous little scars on his bare chest and his flanks to the intricate set of braids, each one bound near the tip by a simple hemp tie. "Please... please please please let me go, I've got a baby... let me go, please, let us go," she moaned.

The chieftain didn't even give any indication that he understood what Essa was saying. His hand ran over the swell of Essa's belly, and he gave an almost consoling look at her. He poked her chest as well and then said, "Mir'han." He turned to his bodyguards and nodded firmly. Two of them dropped their spears and drew hollow tubes from their pouches, fitting darts to them.

Before Eli could react, both bodyguards had taken aim, and he and Essa were both shot with those feathered darts. The last thought that flitted through Eli's mind before everything went black was something akin to 'Fastest acting sedative I've ever seen...'

When Eli woke, the first thing he was aware of was a splitting headache, the kind he had only ever gotten after his college-age drinking parties. The next was that he was completely naked. He blinked in confusion, pushing himself on weak and wobbly arms, trying to shake the cobwebs from his head. That simple motion made him moan in pain. "Fucking... hell..."

"Eli? Oh god, Eli, I thought you were dead..." The sound of Essa's voice came from his right, sounding as weak and groggy as Eli felt, and he crawled in that direction, noting as he did so that he was crawling on a dirt floor. As he crawled, his vision grew more clear, and he began to get a better look at his and Essa's shared surroundings.

They were in a wooden cage, about ten square metres, crudely but solidly constructed out of thin wooden posts held together by hemp twine. The top of the cage was open to the air, and it was obviously night on the eve of a new moon, for there was little light but the pinpoints of far-distant stars in the sky. For a moment, his vision and hearing were still muddled enough to make the groggy researcher wonder why the cage would have an open top.

It didn't take him long to figure out the answer to the question. A distinctly equine scent filled the air, and he became aware of the muffled sound of hooves and hushed voices all around him. As his eyes focused on the darkness all around him, he could make out the outlines of many centaur. Whether they were sleeping, or standing watch, he couldn't tell, but he didn't want to take any chances.

"Essa... we're in trouble..." Eli croaked. In the far corner of the cage, he could barely make out Essa's outline. Moving close to her, he could she was naked just as he was. As he wrapped his arms around her, the entire area was bathed in light.

Essa cried out in surprise, and Eli cringed, his eyes trying to adjust to the almost blinding light. All around, equine bodies and human-like torso stirred, every one of them facing the cage. If Eli had any hope of escape, it was dashed to a million pieces the instant that light had begun to shine. They were with the Great Herd; the massive grouping of thousands of centaur that aerial observations had only glimpsed once or twice.

Their immediate area was a mass of centaur bodies so thick that Eli simply couldn't comprehend how he'd not been able to see them, hear them or smell them up until now. Hundreds of torches were on poles in the milling crowd, and about fifty feet, there was a raised stone platform with a long ramp leading from the base to the top. Two large stone and iron poles were in the immediate centre of that platform, each inscribed with runes that glowed with a soft blue light. "Altered physics..." Eli breathed, unwilling to call it what Essa did: Magic.

Suddenly, one of the centaur, an older one by the look his wizened face and mostly gray hair and mane, stepped to the side of the cage and gestured at it. Without warning, the wooden bars rippled and twisted out of the way, allowing the old stallion to step in. He pointed at Eli and Essa, saying, "Mir'han y'kall," and two of the other centaur stepped around him and grabbed Essa by the arms.

"Get away from her!" Eli snarled, and started at them, a flash of rage filling his heart. "Take me!" The instant he moved, though, the old centaur that had directed the other two gestured, and Eli suddenly felt as if he were trying to move while encased in solid concrete.

Essa screamed as the two centaur dragged her out of the cage and into the throng, "Please! Don't hurt my baby, don't hurt me! Don't kill me!" There wasn't any reaction from the centaur other than a tightening of their grips. Then Essa was lost to his sight as the throng closed behind her two captors.

The older centaur remained in the cage, and gestured with his hand again, letting Eli move again. For just a moment, Eli considered trying to attack the wizened creature in front of him, but the glitter in those sharp eyes almost seemed to challenge him. If that wasn't enough to stop Eli from attacking, he felt a wave of confusion go through him at the other thing he saw in the old stallion's eyes: compassion.

Eli looked out from between the bars of the wooden cage with a mixture of dread and, if he wanted to be completely honest with himself, a small measure of detached scientific curiosity, as Essa was dragged up the platform. His chest ached at the terror that was plain on her delicate native American features; for all the stories they'd heard of what happened to any of the researchers that had been captured, nobody really knew what happened.

Essa's hands were held over her naked and swollen belly protectively as she continued to beg to be let go, but no matter what she said, the expressions on her captor's faces were stony and unreadable. One of them poked at her smooth backside with the butt of his spear and said something guttural and harsh. All the other centaurs that ringed the dais laughed uproariously, a few of them cheering and shaking their spears in seeming agreement with the speaker's statement.

As soon as Essa was in the middle of the platform, the two stallions who had brought her there tied her arms to the posts. Then one of them did something rather curious; he reached out and stroked back Essa's black hair over her ears and leaned forward to kiss her on the forehead. He murmured something that Eli couldn't hear from that distance, though it looked almost as if he was trying to reassure the terrified woman.

The male that had spoken the soft words to Essa stepped back and held out his spear so that the whole dais was ringed by centaurs with spears. A few moments later, the spears parted and the first female centaur that Eli had seen since they were captured stepped forward. She was dressed in an incredibly ornate headdress and had every last inch of her bare torso and face covered in runic symbols. Though the makeup hid her features, Eli could tell she was quite venerable from the pure white hair that was pulled back in a braid that reached halfway down her back. She began to prance around the helpless researcher, her arms waving in the air and her voice raising into a chanting cadence.

All around, the gathered throng began to beat spear against shield in time with the female's chanting. As the ritual reached a fevered pace, Essa began to scream, whether in pain or terror, Eli couldn't tell. Though he couldn't see it clearly, the naked researcher's skin had begun to... ripple. The first indication of what was happening was when short, coarse black hair began to cover her body from her waist down.

Eli could hardly believe what he was seeing; he shook his head and blinked, trying to dispel the sight as his assistant simply began to change. Even as it happened, Essa's screaming faded and petered off. It was obvious from her dumbfounded expression that what was happening wasn't as much painful as it was nearly incomprehensible.

As Eli watched, his assistant sprouted a second set of legs, and her body began to twist and writhe, growing and changing into... a horse's body! They were turning Essa into one of them! Even the swell of her pregnant belly seemed to migrate, the bulge flattening and slowly following the rest of her feminine parts. In the same fashion as her belly, Essa's ears elongated and migrated to the top of her head, changing their shape into horse's ears.

After what seemed like an eternity, the woman who was Essa Van Neyes had been completely transformed into a centaur. Presumably, Eli thought in an overly detached manor that he would later identify as a symptom of shock, her unborn child had been changed as well. Essa soon slumped against the bindings that held her form, looking completely pole axed, as the same male who had touched her before stepped forward and said something to her.

Equine ears perked forward, and Essa stared at the male in shock, then said something in response to the male in the same language. She pointed to her now smooth belly, her expression stricken and terrified, not for herself, but for her unborn child. The male said something else and embraced her gently. There were a few more words exchanged, and the male unbound her arms and led her away. Essa had always only been concerned with her child's welfare, no matter how much she worked, she'd always been careful. He knew that the only thing that could have subdued her was a promise that her child was safe and would remain safe and unharmed.

"Of course..." Eli murmured, shaking his head, "Few females. And Essa's pregnant. She has to know she's safe..." That same train of thought carried on further, and Eli felt a knot of dread form anew in his belly. He was male; there were far too many of those, so what in the world was going to happen to him?

"Tas'nah, makalo yah," The old stallion stated, making Eli whirl around, his expression a rictus of fear. The old stallion called out, "Sarash, Tasn'ah, ruhao mikhada frach!" He gestured again at Eli, and suddenly, his whole world went black.

Eli woke from the 'magic'-induced sleep only minutes later, or at least he assumed it had to have been only minutes, though he couldn't be sure. He was now the one bound at the top of the platform, arms over his head. He began to shiver, raising his head to look out over the Great Herd, lit by a mass of torches that stretched out far across the plains in front of him.

It seemed as if every single centaur he'd ever seen was out there. He made some quick calculations in his head, and his stomach clenched when he realized that the size of the Herd was much greater than any estimation they'd ever made. There had to be over a hundred thousand gathered there. He wondered how they could have remained unobserved; but then answered his own question... the same thing that had kept him unaware of the throng around the cage. It was magic.

The throng parted, and two centaur began to canter up the ramp to the top of the platform. Eli was surprised to find out he recognized both of them. The first was the chieftain of 'group A', his chestnut brown braids now numbering at eight. The other was the same ancient looking female that had performed the ritual that had resulted in Essa's change.

Essa! How could he have forgotten Essa? Eli looked out over the throng, hoping to see Essa's raven-black hair, a colour of hair that would be surpassed in rarity among the assembled centaur by Eli's own hair colour. He was surprised to find her, of all places, at the bottom of the ramp, her expression serene and almost... content. "Essa, snap out of it! Do something!"

Essa only shook her head as if she couldn't understand Eli, smiling almost sadly, her equine ears twitching. She pointed at the chieftain and said, "Brak'las." She then pointed at herself, "Mir'han." She then pointed directly at Eli and said softly, "Elijah Fiennes.... Tas'nah."

The chieftain, Brak'las, stepped forward, and smiled at Eli. His hand reached out to touch Eli's fire-red hair, and he shook his head in wonder. His hand stroked over Eli's belly and gripped his penis tightly. Braklas smirked and then said something to the ancient mare beside him, who cackled and shook her head, stomping her hooves in mirth.

"Tas'nah..." Brak'las murmured in wonder. He suddenly gripped Eli's head in both hands and leaned down to kiss him on the forehead the same way one of the stallions that had led Essa to her fate had done to her. "Tas'nah."

Brak'las took a few steps back and turned around, walking to the bottom of the platform and patting the rune-inscribed mare almost playfully. She kicked back at him with her rear leg, connecting with his flank lightly, making Brak'las grunt and swat at her.

As the old mare approached, Eli felt a strange calmness overtake him. The runes on the ritualist's naked chest glowed with a soft red light, and Eli braced himself for the pain, believing that it would at least start with agony.

It started with an itch on his rump, a gentle but insistent feeling that made him want to scratch, but bound as he was, he couldn't do a thing. The itch soon deepened and began to spread, and Eli craned his neck to see what was happening. He yelled in surprise at the sight of the short, thick, fiery red hair that had begun to spread down his ass and legs, starting at the back.

The itch continued to spread out and grow more insistent, traveling up his spine. He knew what was happening there... he could see the mane-like strip of equine hair that ran down Brak'las' own back. He knew that he was beginning to grow a similar mane, this one the same fiery colour as the hair on top of his head.

Then came the pain he'd expected, but it wasn't nearly as severe as he'd have expected. The unnatural calm that had him feeling oddly detached from the experience allowed him to ignore the pain and observe the change as it overtook him.

His chest and pelvic area rippled unnaturally, and he could hear bones snapping and popping even over the rhythmic clamor of the ritualist's chanting and the crashing of spear on shield all around him. Two bumps appeared, pushing out from his waist, and bloodlessly tearing through flesh. Two perfect hooves emerged, followed by long legs, themselves covered in the wiry red hair that had begun to cover his original ones.

The moment those hooves hit the stone beneath, the itching grew worse, more intense, moving inward and spreading all over everything below his ribs. He could feel bones snapping, popping and twisting. There was no mistaking what was happening; instead of simply fading, Eli began to feel that popping and twisting where nothing had been before. He closed his eyes, letting out a moan, knowing that if he were to turn and look, he would see a powerful equine body forming.

Twisting, snapping, snarling, popping, itching... moment after moment it grew more maddening, the sensations getting more intense until Eli thought he would begin to scream, not in pain, but sheer frustration at the interminable and alien feeling that had grown in him.

Eventually, though, the change completed, and where once he'd had shapely, muscular human legs, he had a horse's body, covered in fiery red wiry hair. He let out a sob, and then looked at the hooves and legs that had replaced his old ones.

It was then that he felt the itch return, this time at his chest, and then at his balls and cock. He stamped his brand new hooves, perplexed by the situation. Only when he saw his chest begin to swell did he realize just what was happening. His nipples thickened and darkened, areolas growing larger, and breasts began to form. "No... no! Oh god, what are you... NO!"

The itching at his groin had intensified, and started to move inward. This wasn't like the other changes though; he wasn't growing anything... in fact the feeling began to move and shrink, migrating up to his rear and pushing inside into his body. Soon, Eli could feel the completely alien and utterly terrifying feeling of his equine tail brushing against his newly-formed mare's sex. So preoccupied was he that Eli didn't even notice the sensation of his ears elongating and migrating to the top of his head.

The wizened ritualist in front of Eli finally stopped her dance, chest heaving with exhaustion, "It is done, Brak'las. The ritual of transfiguration is complete. It's always harder with men. Are you sure you wish to attempt the rest? The Storran herd will take the new mare..."

Brak'las shook his head, gazing at the newly-changed Eli and stepping around the ritualist. "No Elder Rui, this one deserves a chance. I will not fetter her such," He declared, "It is my right to offer."

Eli stared at the two, shaking his... her head. It was only as he tried to understand what the other two centaur were saying, that he'd realized he'd understood every word they'd said. Eli shook her head vehemently, scarcely able to believe what had just happened. The chieftain laid a hand on her shoulder and said, "You are afraid. Confused. Understand that this was necessary. You do not have any choice in your life now, yes, but... Tas'nah... you need not fear at all either."

Eli stamped her front hooves on the ground in an imitation of an indignant stomp, and almost snarled, "My name is Elijah Fiennes, damn you! Not Tas'nah! Why are you doing this?" She demanded, eyes narrowed. "I'll fight you! Keep me in these bonds, or I'm going to kill you." She stamped her hooves a again, and the chieftain simply laughed.

"Fiery, like your mane. A worthy prize. It is the source of your name... it means 'red like morning sun' in the old tongues. Perhaps when you have borne some foals, you will be trusted on hunting parties. You will understand. You will come to love your life, but first, you will be bred. And as the one who captured you and named you, I claim the first right." As he circled Eli, a bit of his stallion shaft slipped free from its' sheath.

If there had been anything that the newly-made mare hadn't been expecting, it was that, though in hindsight there wasn't any other logical explanation for being made into a mare instead of a stallion. "W-wait, no. I d-don't... I don't want that!" Despite her denial, a peculiar scent caught her nose; the scent of stallion preparing to rut. Her nostrils flared as she instinctively drew in more of that scent and she felt a warmth begin to grow in her loins.

The chieftain laughed, tossing his mane, and then stepped forward to meet his mare's gaze head on. "You do. Your body does. It's what it was made for, dear one. I know this is hard for you, but it will happen, because it has to." He reached out to stroke back a lock of the fiery red hair that spilled down over Eli's shoulders. "I can smell your scent. It's growing, changing. You must accept that this will happen whether you like it or not, Tas'nah."

Eli jerked and pulled on the bonds that held her to the two poles, trying to rear up, heavy breasts bouncing as she did so. "I'm Eli. E - L - I, not Tas'nah. I'm not your mare, I'm not your breeder!" She insisted. "I'll get free. I'll leave! I'll find other teams and tell them!"

"Elijah Fiennes is dead, Tas'nah," the chieftain said softly, and pulled one of Eli's datapads from the pack around his waist. He held the device up so that Eli could read it and said softly, "What does this say, Tas'nah. Read it."

Eli frowned, her eyes narrowing, trying to shake off the effect of the chieftain's scent. The thought of that massive, mottled shaft pushing into her hot warm depths kept on worming itself into her thoughts. When she finally focused on the datapad, she frowned in confusion as she realized that the words were totally meaningless and incomprehensible to her. She could remember where certain buttons were and what they did, but the text was as foreign to her as the centaur language had been before her change. "What did you do..." she breathed, her horror rising anew.

"Your very perception, your perspective on the world around you has changed, Tas'nah. You would have to relearn everything." Brak'las cantered around her, his hand resting on her rump. Suddenly, his hand was running up her vulva, making her half-whinny in something between surprised pleasure and indignation.

Again, Eli felt herself envisioning that heavy shaft pounding into her, filling her. For just a moment, she felt her resolve waver, but then she snarled, "Fuck off! I'm not your mare!" She kicked out with her left leg and felt a thrill of triumph fill her when she felt her hoof connect with something solid. The grunt of pain that ensued told her that her kick had definitely struck home.

Brak'las stepped around her, and she could see a mark on his side; he'd apparently been able to dance aside a little, anticipating her strike. Still, Eli could see that she'd drawn blood, and she smiled triumphantly, until she saw the look on the stallion's face. He looked almost frightened, not for himself, but for her. "Please listen, Elijah. Please. Let me tell you, alright? I won't touch you again until this is done. Maybe understanding will help in this. One way or another, you will serve the Herd as a breeder... whether it's pleasant or not will be your choice."

Eli frowned, confused, and then said softly, "Fine. Tell me." She couldn't imagine just letting it happen. She was not just going to stand there and let it happen. What kind of insanity would that be?

"We were made by humans. Not like you, you are different. Not humans of metal birds and wheeled things that let you travel faster than our herds. Humans of magic and war." Brak'las said softly, leaning close, "They made us to fight for them, but they made us imperfect. To prevent our breeding over them... they stunted our mares, skewed our birth cycles."

Despite herself, Eli felt her ears swiveling and perking a little. Ruins of empires that had crumbled hundreds of years ago had been found. There had even been some evidence that there might be humans still existing on 'Horsehome' somewhere. Eli had never imagined that the centaur herds might have some insight into them.

"Still, they made more and more of us, and for a while, they kept our herds stupid, like a draught horse. But as the wars grew more intense, they... gave our herds more sapience, more identity. When finally the wars ended, they didn't realize what they had created. An army of thousands upon thousands of centaur, chafing at the bonds they'd been given, and totally immune to their magics." Brak'las stared at Eli, letting that sink in.

"We fought the victors, ground them beneath our hooves. These tales have been carried from generation to generation for many years. We chased them into the mountains far to the west. Many died, but they live still, hiding, only coming out to scavenge for food, the rockiest places and caves marking their homes. They rely on magic to hide, to make it seem like they are not there..."

Brak'las looked to Elder Rui and gestured, "The only magics we can work affect others, not us, all but one magic that we managed to take for ourselves, but I will tell you of that later." He reached up, just about to stroke her cheek, but remembered his vow to not touch her till he was finished.

"The transfiguration requires a soul, a heart, and so we must do this. We have few mares, Elijah. Almost none. Please understand why we do this. I do not enjoy forcing this on others that have their own hopes. Many of us do what we must though. If we do not take humans... any humans we find, and make them into mares, then we will die out. Even so, thirty generations ago, the Great Herd would have numbered at ten times this size."

Eli shook her head in denial; but as she looked into Brak'las eyes, she knew he was telling the truth. He had no reason to lie... he'd already told her of her fate, and in this massive herd, she knew that if they wanted to force her to breed, they could. And if she could believe that Brak'las told the truth, she had to be able to understand this herd's desperation. In the waning days of humanity, before the Infinity Project, the remaining governments had undertaken draconian, but necessary, efforts to preserve what was left of Earth. Was this no different?

"So why tell me this? Why not just tie me up and breed me like some fucking horse-whore or something?" She asked, looking at Brak'las, shivering as she felt her mind once again going to that half-emerged shaft, thick and heady with equine musk. "Why not just be done with it?"

Brak'las reached out and took Eli's chin in his hand, meeting her gaze unwaveringly. "Because that's what's going to happen. They were going to give you to the Storran herd, they are going to, but I made a request first. The Storran herd is low on mares, and they will claim you. They hate humans... any mares they claim from human stock are left hobbled, terrified, kept in pens. Bred every single time they can, fed herbs to bring on season days after foaling. They take it as revenge."

Eli whined in fear at that thought, dancing her hooves around on the ground, her whole body shivering. "Oh god no..." she whispered in horror. She began to pull and jerk on the bonds holding her. If magic couldn't work on her, she'd just tear herself free and impale herself on the spears of the assembled centaur.

Before she could fight any more though, Brak'las laid a hand on Eli's shoulder, and then said softly, "You have a choice though. As a chieftain, it is my right to ask any mare to bond as a mate. I told them I wanted you."

Eli blinked, even more confused now, "I don't..."

"Elijah, let go of your old life. Accept this. I promise, you will run free on the plains. Your fetter will be my heart. You will not be able to go without me at your side for more than a day. I will teach you everything I know, all that I've been taught." Brak'las laid his forehead against hers, his voice worried, "You just have to let go of Elijah, and be my sweet Tas'nah. Your spirit and heart would not last in the Storran herd."

"But I... I don't want this..." Eli stammered, but a small voice in his mind. Why not? You've wanted to learn... this could be your chance? "Why not just take me then? Bond me?" She stamped her hooves on the stone platform, looking almost accusingly at Brak'las. A firm shake of the chieftain's head told Eli that it wasn't that simple.

"You have to accept it. You can't just take it. It must be mutual, willing. You must let me do this. Embrace the act, the mating. When my passion flares inside you, you have to want to do this. A part of my soul will become as yours, and yours will become as mine. That is the one magic that we can work on each other. Please... let yourself go. Let the old life go, and I promise that you will be happy, my dear Tas'nah, as my mate. Yes, you will breed, but not all the time, and not relentlessly. And when you can no longer foal, you will join the hunting parties. Stop being Elijah Fiennes, sweet fire-hair. I do not want to see your spirit crushed."

Eli looked into the chieftain's eyes for a long time, knowing that now was the last chance she would get. If she rejected Brak'las offer, there would be no going back from it. As she looked into those eyes, she could tell that she was more than a potential mate to him... he truly wanted to save her from that fate. The choice was easy when it came down to it... stubbornly cling to an identity she could not hope to ever reasonably return to, or find a measure of freedom as... Tas'nah, bonded mate of Brak'las.

It was a long time before the words finally came, a soft whisper that spoke volumes in only a few words. "Mate with me..." Tas'nah said softly, her decision made.

Brak'las smiled, and his hands trailed down to his new mare's chest, cupping her breasts. "Thank you. You're ready to let go of Eli? Let go of what you were, and accept what you are?" he asked, gently massaging her chest. The look in his eyes held something new... an unbridled passion and desire that Tas'nah realized he'd been holding back until this point.

Tas'nah closed her eyes, thinking of everything that was now irrevocably behind her. Begging for scraps and funding from the directors of the Infinity Project, camping out in soulless little huts, gathering petabytes of data that would in the end be meaningless to anyone but a few other mythobiologists. A life of thankless toil with no real reward but the enrichment of one's own knowledge. That wasn't a life she wanted; she had to admit that she'd never expected any recognition for the research she'd done. She had always just wanted to learn everything she could about the majestic creatures that ran on the plains. She would do that now, just not in a way she'd ever dreamed of. "Yes... I'm Tas'nah..." she said, her voice trembling.

Giving a toothy grin, Brak'las reached his hands up and unbound Tas'nah's arms. "These won't be necessary anymore, my dear..." He waved off Elder Rui, and then pranced about in front of Tas'nah, obviously showing off that he'd managed to tame the fiery mare.

Tas'nah felt her vagina clench and her face flush when she saw that Brak'las was showing off something a little more. Every single inch of his stallion's shaft had dropped free of its sheath, revealing a huge, mottled pink and black shaft. Oh god... I'm going to... that's going IN ME? Tas'nah asked, surprised that she didn't think of that possibility with anything but anticipation.

"Brak'las..." she whined softly, hugging herself, feeling thousands of pairs of eyes on her, "Please..." Her nostrils flared again, and the scent of fully aroused stallion dominating her senses. She clenched again, and felt a dribble of fluid dribble down her right leg.

The excited chieftain needed no more urging than those two words, and he cantered around behind Tas'nah. "You're not going to kick again, dear?" he murmured huskily, running his hands down his mare's rump.

Tas'nah shook her head, realizing afterwards that she'd tossed her head in a very equine fashion. "No! N-no! I won't!" she stammered. Released of the horror she'd felt at first, she began to embrace the sensations that filled her. She danced back against Brak'las stroking, and said almost desperately, "I'm ready..."

Running his finger up Tas'nah's netherlips, an act that made her let out something between an ecstatic cry and a whinny, Brak'las said. "Yes, you are." Without any more preamble, he reared up, his heavy body coming back down across Tasn'ah's broad back.

Barely suppressing the last fleeting impulse to try and run, to reject what her whole body wanted, Tas'nah grabbed the long strips of leather that had so recently bound her against her will. She wanted something, anything, to help her keep her balance as she felt Brak'las shifting his bulk on top of her.

Brak'las was thrusting erratically, trying to find just the right position. A few times, he got close, leaving tiny smears of viscous pre-come against Tas'nah's rump and belly. Finally, though, his shaft pushed against the lip of that slick, dripping passage. "There we go..." he groaned, shifting position a little more, "Thank you, my dear one."

"Yes..." Tas'nah breathed, the heavy weight of the chieftain's frame on her, and the feeling of that thickness resting ready to push forward making her clench again. She danced her hooves a little, wanting nothing more than to be filled, to know just how it felt to be bred. She felt Brak'las tense, and then all thought fled from her mind as he thrust himself home.

Nothing could have prepared her, no description or observation of the act could have given her any inkling of what it would feel like to be impaled upon that length. She could feel every inch of Brak'las pulsing member, from the slightly flared crown to the veiny shaft behind it to the pronounced medial ring and beyond. "Ohmygodohmygod...." she babbled, feeling her slick walls ripple in response to the penetration.

Brak'las bent his torso forward and leaned his head on her shoulder. "Describe it, Tas'nah," he half-commanded, half-requested. His strong arms wrapped around under her outstretched arms to once again cup her firm and heavy breasts. He didn't wait for her to respond before pulling out and then thrusting forward again, hilting himself fully, his heavy balls swinging forward and slapping against her belly.

For all that Tas'nah wanted to do so, she found she couldn't form the words necessary to do as she was bid. It felt right, it felt deeply satisfying, it felt perfect; almost as if this had always been what she had been meant for. With every pounding thrust of the equine shaft inside her, she felt her body rock forward and her vaginal walls ripple and clench.

Massaging his mare's breasts, Brak'las chuckled, redoubling his thrusts, each time drawing himself out almost completely and then slamming back home. His fingers pinched Tas'nah's nipples, rolling them and tugging at them, then gently flicking at them. "Can you feel it my love? Can you feel me?"

It took Tas'nah only a few seconds to realize just what the stallion was talking about. As the pace of the thrusting inside her slick passage increased, and her own pleasure grew, she felt something inside her mind, something reaching out, grasping, seeking. It wasn't invasive, it was... searching, seeking.

"Oh my... god..." Tas'nah gasped, feeling her own mind doing the same... reaching, touching, seeking, trying to meet and embrace the touch of Brak'las soul on hers. "That's why..." she breathed, realizing that there was no need for words. Brak'las would hear her, know she understood why he'd insisted that she accept his bond.

"Yes," Brak'las growled, his thrusts becoming more erratic, "Yes my love, let me in... become... mmngh... one with me... become my soul-mate, accept my bond..." There was an edge of something approaching fear in his voice as he hugged her tight, kissing her neck and shoulder.

Tas'nah moaned, and then finally she let herself go completely. There was a single moment of total clarity, total perfection, and she could feel both the probing touches of Brak'las mind and the very physical presence of that thick equine shaft in her go still. The last act had to be hers, she understood, and with not a trace of hesitation, she embraced fully the destiny that had been offered to her.

"YES!" Tas'nah screamed, both in mind and body. Minds touched, bodies tensed, and she could feel a great swelling deep inside her, even as she felt waves of bliss overwhelm her. Wave after wave of pleasure crashed through her unabated even as warmth filled her belly, and for a moment, an instant of pure ecstasy, she realized that she was not only feeling her own orgasm, but Brak'las' as well.

All conscious thought fled, all awareness of anything but her soul and her mate's grew dim. She could feel that she was loved, and that she loved in return. It was an eternity before she felt the swelling in her loins lessen and Brak'las pulling out of her, completely spent.

The chieftain stepped around her, taking her chin and lifting it to meet his gaze. She felt only wonder when she realized that one of his braids had turned the same fiery red as her own hair, and that one of his eyes was a deep emerald green. It didn't take her long to realize that she'd been similarly changed. "I love you, my dear Tas'nah. My mate," Brak'las said.

Brak'las took her hand in his and gave a gentle tug, and together they walked off the platform and down the ramp. She could feel his presence in her mind, his honest and passionate love and his proud concern for his her. Their herd.

Elijah Fiennes died that day, in every way that mattered. His memories lived on, but to Tas'nah, there was no better future than the one ahead of her. And as the life took hold in her womb, she left the remnants of her old life behind without even the slightest regret.

Tas'nah was free.