Special Delivery 8
Tik Tik wants to learn more about Anicetus, so he tells her of one of his earliest sexual encounters with a biped.
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“So you seek novel experience?” Tik Tik asks, tapping her nose. Then why do you give everyone a ride? It sounds like it would be too samey!”
“It is tradition when coupling with bipeds, and I like to couple with bipeds.”
“Tik Tik wonders what being a centaur and coupled be like.”
He snorts. “It’s something you cannot experience, so you shouldn’t worry about it. Seek the indulgences you can have, but do not lament those you cannot.”
“We see eye-to-eye on many things,” Tik Tik says, standing up. She lifts a hand to him, “But not entirely on everything.”
Tik Tik snaps her fingers, and her form elongates with the magical energies that swirl around her. Her scales harden, sharpen, and lengthen. She emerges from this transformation with darker scales, standing tall and looking down to Anicetus with her hands upon her hips. “As you can see, Tik Tik is no stranger to transformation.”
“And you can transform into something like a centaur?” asks the centaur.
The taller Tik Tik rubs the back of her horn, shrugging. “Tik Tik hasn’t tired yet.”
“Then, that is still something we cannot attempt,” the centaur shakes his head.
“Aw, why not?” whines the kobold, whimpering as he passes her for the camp.
“I will not let you endanger yourself in such a way.”
“Pinning myself to your dick wasn’t exactly safe, you know.”
He stops by the fire. In a flash, all the water on him crystalizes and shatters in the wind, turning into a fine mist by the flames. He glances at her, the ghost of a smirk on his lips. “That,” he says, sitting by the fire, “is a risk I am well acquainted with. “
Tik Tik snaps her fingers, and she returns to her natural state in a puff of magic. Hopping from the rock, she scurries on Anicetus, placing a hand on his back leg. “Then, it must have been the first time for you sometime, right?”
He looks to the fire, lowering himself, hands upon his knees. “Yes, there must be a first time for everything, indeed,” he says, the glow of the fire illuminating both their chests.
“Sounds like a story. Ani can tell Tik Tik,” The kobold says, patting him on the haunch. “Was it a good story?”
The centaur closes his eyes, his chest lifting, and then he blows out a long-winded exhale. Taking another breath, his icy gaze stares at her. “To be honest with you, my first time with the harness was nothing special. It was nothing compared to my first time with a biped.”
“Ooooh,” Tik Tik hops up and down, rubbing his side. “Tell Tik Tik all about that one. Was it a wonderful story?”
“Is that something you want to know before I tell it? Or are you more thrilled by the surprise?” As he looks to her for the answer, she doesn’t respond, save to smile back at him. She plops beside him, rocking her legs back and forth, supporting herself with her arms as she leans back.
He shrugs and looks to the fire. “It happened in my homeland,” he begins.
* * *
Anicetus may be a stud of a centaur, but there was a time he was younger—just turned to the world of adulthood by the laws of the cosmos and the rules of his tribe. At a bright and excited eighteen, the stallion was ready for action.
There were the mares, of course, and there were plenty of them to satisfy and to be satisfied by. He had his time with them, that is certain, but in the grand scheme of things, there are many other things to be had and many different people to experience.
As a scout and as a nature walker, Anicetus often makes first contact with many people or monsters that cross the paths of the herding centaurs, and usually, they spot him first. Such is the case when he galloped along the fields, only for the mountainous green warrior to spring out, wielding sharp and serrated swords in both hands. Through her tusked mouth, she growls, gripping her weapons, staring at him with a battle lust.
But he keeps her back with his kicking forelegs, stomping down on the ground and snorting out a demand. “Who are you?”
The warrior sneers, glowering at the equine defender. “From the looks of things, I’m the same as you, big guy.”
The horseman snorts. “You’re a biped, and I am of the centaur.”
“I meant me and you are scouts, ya dingus!” The green-skinned woman says, lowering her blades but not sheathing them.
“I see…,” Anicetus responds, stepping around her with a slight and uneasy gait. So, are there more of you coming this way, then?”
“And there are more of you going that way,” she responds, sheathing her weapons. “Name’s Godara. My tribe is travelin’ through here for the first time. What about you?”
“Anicetus,” he responds, nodding curtly. “It is the same for us.”
“What’d I tell ya,” says Godara, placing her hands on her hips. She smiles widely and produces a hearty laugh. “We’re the same!”
“Our demeanor says otherwise,” the equine curtly, nodding.
“Oh, I’m sure there’s more in common between us. I just gotta poke at ya until I find it.” She walks around him, examining every facet of his icy blue body. “But maybe in a cold land like this, you know how a gal can keep warm, huh?”