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He'd been a fool.

Persair had hoped that he'd be able to find a new life. Live safe, without fear of being made the plaything of a stallion or killed by one for being a threat. Had fled from his herd as the season neared, taking only that which he could fit in his satchel for fear of being hunted down for thievery, had dared to stay perhaps a bit too late, running only when he spotted the bands beginning to draw near in hopes of luring mares away.

His kind - those rare ones born only one in a thousand, only one in a hundred not killed at birth - were treated either as a hole to fuck, worse even than the mares, or were viciously attacked, often killed, by the bands, considered some strange sort of competition, worse than the other stallions, and though he was in no way competition he feared for his life and so left the grasslands of his birth.

He should have known better, though. Just because he'd never met a human - had only heard tell of them - gave him no excuse. There were centaurs that ran with them, some as companions, as partners, as equals, others as mounts or pets. His grasslands had yet to be invaded by them - the trains and caravans had yet to breach the valley - but they were nearing, as the bands that had visited while he was still just a colt had told them.

But he hadn't been quick enough. Had been confused, for a moment, when he saw what he'd taken to be a very strange centaur, off and wrong. He'd never seen a human, so it was only when they neared that he'd realized what it was he was seeing, a human atop a tamed horse (he did, though, know what a horse was, they shared their valley with them, after all) and had whirled about and fled.

But the human hadn't been alone and, before he knew what was happening, there'd been a handful of humans atop horseback, and more centaurs than he could count, on his heels. He'd run - he was a fast thing, though with the body of a wild morgan he wasn't the fastest, but they were stocky horses and centaurs, built for hauling and such things, so he'd led them on quite the run, darting this way and that, leading them down tunnels and offshoots, managing to lose them for a time before one would catch up with him and the chase would start again.

And then he'd taken a corner, and a lasso had cinched tight around his torso. He'd gone to his knees and another had cinched around his neck before he could rise. He'd nearly strangled himself fighting, but two stallioncentaurs were enough to hold him down as he was hogtied like little more than a common animal, his arms bound behind him and a handkerchief tied around his face to gag him, keeping him from biting, before he was flung across a handsome bay's back and they went on the longest trot he'd ever gone on - he'd fallen asleep before long, too exhausted to fight.

He'd woken up in the middle of a small, temporary pen, arms still bound behind his back, wrists tied to a hitch-post with enough slack that he could trot a small circle. A trough held hay and water and he stamped his hooves at the indignity - treated like a common animal! - even more so when he spotted the stallioncentaurs sitting around a campfire with the humans, their horses tied to hitch posts not far away, talking and chatting and sharing food and water like the best of friends.

Persair screamed, and raged, and tore about the pen, but they ignored him completely.

For three days, he was ignored. They refilled his trough when the time came, but when he spoke to the stallioncentaurs - in their shared tongue, as he knew not a word of the human's tongue - they acted as though they were humans in that they didn't understand him, and the humans did the same. He may have set out on his own, but he was a communal creature - may have been largely a stallion, thus made to set out from his herd, but he was also made to find a band and travel in it - and he also was part mare, and thus made to want a herd, to need interaction and family and not this.

On the fourth morning, though, he was hogtied and gagged again. They didn't bother to throw him on a stallioncentaurs back (or even a regular horse,) instead having one of them drag him over to a strange little thing, four thick posts placed in a rectangle, a tree at the head with the iron ring of a hitching post driven into it far above his head. He eyed them warily, but could do nothing as he was moved into the middle of the posts, hearts sinking into his hooves. "What do you want with me!?" he called, but again he was ignored.

One of his legs - his right foreleg - was loosed from the ties, and though he fought, managing to land a good kick on one of them, there was nothing he could do as a padded (thank the sun!) cuff was put on his lower leg, a rope fastened around the nearest post over and over before being brought over and tied to the cuff. And then the same was done to his left foreleg, and then he was being released from the ties as they did the same to his hindlegs, tying them so tightly to the posts that his legs were splayed out, all four legs pressed against the posts.

"What are you doing!?" he bugled, trying to stamp his feet, but he was bound so well he couldn't so much as twitch them, could only stand braced on the ground. His chests rose and fell with rapid, panicked breaths, and his pointed ears twitched, looking over his shoulder and trying to make sense of the humans' and stallioncentaurs' whispering.

Finally, one of the stallioncentaurs came over, so big it towered over him, ignored his shouting and unbound his hands, another quickly grabbing them and holding them in place as they were put in cuffs similar to the ones on his legs, tied together in front of him, and then they were yanked up so hard he would have been pulled up if it weren't for his legs being bound to the posts as one of them reared up, winding the rope through the massive hitching ring, then throwing it up and over a branch, catching it before doing it again and again, trotting to the other side of the tree to use those branches before finally sliding it down through the ring and tying it tightly - unless Persair managed to get his hands on a knife, he'd never manage to get free.

One of them patted his shoulder before twisting his hair and, when he yelled, slipping something into his mouth. He grunted, tried to draw his head back, but it went to work putting a strange sort of harness into place, tugging the straps tight (but not too tight, he was careful about that) and adjusting it until it sat just so. Persair threw his head, gritting his teeth on the strange bit, but the stallioncentaur grabbed him by the jaw and adjusted the bit so his teeth settled into it in a way that wasn't painful, holding his mouth in an 'o'. His eyes flared wildly, and he wriggled, twisted and writhed his fingers, but was damn well stuck, couldn't move an inch, could only turn his head to try and watch the stallioncentaurs as they walked over to the humans, their jobs done.

They left him be for the rest of the day.

His shoulders started to ache, and finally he rested his head against the tree, dozing. There was nothing he could do - he'd spent hours trying to get free, and it was only that they'd put cushioned cuffs on him that he wasn't bloody - and so all he could do was nap.

That night though, one of the stallioncentaurs came over to him, a dark haired human on his heels. The young cuntstallion snorted loudly, bared his teeth, but could only make a sound of shock when the human pulled his dark tail out of the way as the stallioncentaur traced a finger over the lips of his cunt, starting to flush with his season. "Tomorrow for sure," the stallion grunted, nodding in satisfaction,

"You're sure this'll work?" the man said, sounding uncertain,

"Yeah, I've seen it myself. Just like a mare, trust me." and they walked off as a human approached, a bucket of water in his hands, a stallioncentaur at his heel with more than a few on his massive arms.

Persair squawked as he was splashed with chilly water, shaking his head and glaring, and then was splashed with more and more. The pair ignored him, instead set their buckets aside and went to work cleaning him, brushing him down like some tame horse and, though he'd hate to admit it it was nice, better than any grooming he'd had before, and he slumped against the tree with a sigh, the stallioncentaur making an amused sound low in his chest, patting his flank and making him flinch.

And then there was cold on his cunt as the stallioncentaur took his tail in hand and he made an undignified "Hey!" sort of sound, garbled by the bit, rocking forward to try and get away but there was nothing he could do as they washed his cunt clean, too.

He was left to his thoughts for the night.

Persair woke to a hand on his rump, and a low burning.

He squinted, came to awareness slowly, turned his head to find a pair of humans chattering nonsensically behind him. The centaur tried to yell, but of course the bit stopped him. He tried to stamp his hooves in irritation but was too well bound to do even that, could only flick his tail in irritation and then his tail was being grabbed and he couldn't do even that, could only make a low sound in his chest as he tugged at the ropes that held his arms in the air.

The men were tying his tail up, some strange sort of fabric around the base of it and braiding the rest, and he grunted, tried to snap, but even the centaur he could see approaching, eyeing his bared cunt appreciatively, didn't respond. To his humiliation, his cunt winked, and slick dripped down his legs - his estrus had hit him full force during the night. Sweat darkened his fur and slicked his skin, and his chest rose and fell with rapid breaths. His cock, small even for a regular horse, dangled between his legs, dripping pre-cum on the dirt. One of the men chuckled - a universal sound - at the sight of the patchwork colored organ, nudging it with his boot, and Persair saw stars, his penis twitching and spraying pre-cum on the ground.

The men laughed - another universal sound.

Now you have to understand - there's a myth, not common, but not uncommon, that a foal out of a centaur will be stronger, smarter, faster, and so from the moment he was born Persair had been warned to be careful that, if things came to worst (because a stallion was, unfortunately, affected by a centaur's estrus), he was to eat a certain mix of herbs that would prevent anything from taking root in him.

So when he smelled stallion on the air - not stallioncentaur, but stallion, his heart galloped, faster and faster, then skidded to a stop. No, no, they wouldn't dare! His head snapped to the side, only able to stare in horror at the sight of the massive horse - a quarter horse, he thought, but massive for one, with a gleaming brown coat. It surged against their grips, ropes tied to its harness but it screamed, lurched and tried to get to him and he screamed his own panic, yanked frantically at the hitch, pulled at his legs until they screamed with pain, but he couldn't move an inch, his eyes burning with the start of tears, screaming and screaming and screaming, tried to clamp his tail over his rump but one of the humans grabbed the rope dangling from his tail and pulled it to the side like he was some plain breeding mare, and then his body was betraying him as he pissed, advertising his fertility to the feral stallion who he wanted away from him and he choked on a humiliated sob as centaur and human alike laughed.

The stallion's massive cock jerked, spraying its stomach with its pre-cum, as it threw its head back, its upper lip curling over its nose as it tried to draw in more of the scent. It hadn't been sure at first - this was a very strange looking mare, and it swore that was a penis! but that smell was familiar, was mare and fertile and he surged forward and was allowed to this time, mounting the mare and gripping her tight - he knew how to deal with a mare who didn't want him, after all.

Persair nearly buckled beneath the beast of a horse - would have, in fact, if it weren't for the way he was bound. He screamed, tried to throw it off, but the bindings were both a blessing and a curse, keeping him from being crushed but also keeping him from being able to flee as the horse jumped onto his back with a grunt, that massive, blunt cock beginning to jab at his rump and he bellowed 'no, please!' sounds, unable to do more with the o-bit that kept his mouth dangling open obscenely, and the stallioncentaurs only grinned, stood back to get a good view as they watched the Quarter Horse try to find his mark in the squirming 'mare', grunting its frustration until, with a whinny of triumph, its rounded tip caught Persair's gleaming, winking lips and sunk in, the horse dancing on its hooves as it fucked to the base without giving the much smaller centaur an opportunity to adjust.

Persair screamed.

It hurt, fuck, did it hurt, but it hurt so good, he needed something inside him, needed to be bred, needed that itch scratched, needed to be fucked and bred like the mare he was, but not by this, not by a feral stallion, not with these monsters grinning and watching - the humans had tents in their pants and the stallioncentaurs weren't ashamed of their dripping cocks, flexing their muscles to bounce them off their stomachs.

The stallion was as quick as any horse was - its hips pumped rapidly, harshly, slamming their hip bones together with each thrust hard enough to hurt, the massive base of its cock spreading the centaur's lips obscenely, its penis gleaming with a mixture of their fluids, Persair positively soaking, a nasty squelching sounding in the air. The centaur began to moan, lolling his head back and drooling around the bit, as the stallion found something deep inside of him that left his own cock twitching, spurting pre-cum, and he longed for something tight and warm around it, something living and fertile but he didn't have one so all he could do was clench around the stallion without thinking, panting and grunting and groaning like a true, feral mare, driving the stallion on until, one - two - three, it slammed to the hilt and bit his horse-shoulder so hard the skin broke, shrieking as its cock began to throb, its tail flagging to show off its balls as they drew up, filling the young centaur with its fertile seed.

Persair came.

He threw his head back and screamed as his own testicles drew up, the human grunting as he tried to hold his tail in place, his cock twitching over and over as he painted the ground and his stomach with rope after rope of white cum in time with the stallion's seed soaking his womb, slurring nonsense against the bit. His legs shifted against the bindings, trying to move with his pleasure, and his vision whited out, his human half slumping, only held up by the ropes that held his arms.

More than one stallioncentaur painted the ground with their own cum.

The stallion pulled out its cock, dismounting and letting the humans lead it away, the young centaur's cunt remaining stretched in an obscene 'O', the darker skin of his lips painted completely white with the horse's copious cum, still leaking its seed though most of it was trapped in his womb, dribbling down his legs and painting his hooves, darkening the ground beneath him.

They bred him every day of his estrus, and it wasn't long before his stomach began to swell with foal.