Destiny's Detour
Destiny's Detour
Step by step, one heavy hoof after the other, that was how Agarus was going to make this journey.
Three days of travel from home had put him a good distance along the way. He had found the sparse pines of the forest's edge that morning and now skimmed along its border; the grassy, featureless steppes beyond stretching as far as he could see. He was glad his voyage didn't take him across it. The land was lush but offered no shelter from the elements - the wind, the rain and, worst of all, the blazing sun.
No, Ag would stick to the tree line and be grateful for what little shade it gave. He was hot enough already, puffing and trickling moisture all over as he went his way. It wasn't the weight of his packs that made his journey such a labour, as heavily laden as they were across his flanks and on his back, jostling and creaking with his stride. They certainly didn't help, but they weren't the cause. Something far worse was to blame.
The centaur was in season.
Summer was waxing and Agarus's monthly cycles had begun. For one week every month during the warm season his powerful, stallion body became achingly fertile. His libido, which was already a force to be reckoned with, soared to new heights and for those days he became so hot it was as though he had been engulfed by a ferocious fever. Such a state certainly did not aid in his efforts at travelling.
As for his destination, that was intrinsically linked to the centaur's unfortunate condition. He was heading east, away from his herd's land and to the valleys where the Chalk Hides made their home. Though they were a smaller herd than the Round River - Agarus's own - a centuries old tradition demanded that he should exchange gifts and bear the foal of any stallion there of his choosing. Normally such a duty would fall to the chieftain's first daughter, but Ag had neither sisters nor brothers. It was just fortunate that he had been gifted in such a way that let him continue the old practice.
Yet, not so fortunate, perhaps, for the centaur himself.
Though he did his duty without protest he had come to loathe the journey deeply. It was one he had to make every fertile season and it was a long and arduous struggle when your body was so ravaged by heat. Every mile became ten in the effort they demanded to conquer them. The whole while, too, his belly would gnaw itself painfully raw with the sheer need to be bred. By the time he arrived he would be ready to lift his tail for the first male he met, even despite his burning resentment at the way they treated him like prize mare to be wooed.
It was not that he was treated with disrespect; the Chalk Hides knew their place. No, it was the pathetic posturing and bravado - the hoof-stomping and clamouring to win his attention. The ceremony was an honor and there was no shortage of stallions ready to try their luck. Yet even the best made Agarus scowl. There was no dignity to be found in any of them.
Still, he plodded onwards. It was his obligation and he would not disappoint his herd. As he went he fanned his coarse tail side to side - wafting the powerful scent of a fertile mare as he did - to cool his aching, swollen sex.
Before night came, and well on schedule, he reached the ruins of an old lookout tower perched on the rolling hillside. It was along his route so the centaur made use of its shelter each time he came past. As he entered the small, grassy courtyard he noted that the stony remains of his fire pit seemed undisturbed since his last visit, as far as he could tell. That was a good sign. The area was remote anyway, but the fewer visitors in his absence the better.
After making sure the tower itself was empty the centaur settled down to make camp, dropping his packs gratefully and starting work on the fire. Soon enough he was fed and watered, and the flames reached high enough to keep him warm through the night. His body was a furnace, but without the fire the constant sheen of sweat on his hide would be licked chill by the breeze and keep him awake and shivering.
Eventually, after some hours, he fell asleep and dreamt of being mounted mercilessly by a stream of faceless studs.
In the morning, late enough that the sun was no longer touching the horizon, Agarus was woken by a sound. He didn't know what that sound was, or where it had come from, but he woke with that ominous feeling of dread and certainty. Someone was near.
For that moment his constant, grinding lust was paused and instead it was adrenaline that made him stumble up to his hooves. He grabbed his spear, a rough-shod thing, from the wall and, in as easy a pace as he could, made his way out of the courtyard.
At first, when he peered his head around the crumbling stone wall he couldn't make out a thing. It was just a moment later, however, when both parties spied each other at once.
It was another centaur - a stallion, and a big one, lingering cautiously in the trees. From the look of him he had been caught mid-stride, now standing frozen in place upon seeing Ag.
The creature was unlike anything he had seen before from any other herd; powerful and immensely muscular, but set apart most by swarthy, bronze skin and strange, tribal markings. A strong stab of need made Agarus snort, but caution won out and he held his ground. He was about to speak when the interloper did so first.
"Ashka anai'oh wa?"
The look on Agarus's face must have given away his lack of understanding. The huge stallion took a few steps closer and that's when it became apparent he was armed. His spear, an impressive-looking weapon in comparison to Ag's own, wasn't brandished high but it still seemed threatening.
Agarus scowled, stepping back from the wall to keep the distance between them.
"I am sorry. I forget myself." The chestnut-furred interloper's accent was impossible to place, but his voice deep and his tone calm enough to stem the tension. "Do you understand me now?"
"Aye."
"I do not mean to intrude on you. Your, ah-" He hesitated, as though careful to choose each word. "Your partner. She is in season, isn't she? I have been following her scent."
Another jab of aching need came, this one ending in a twist that made the grey stallion scowl. "There ain't anyone here but me."
A look of puzzlement crossed the new centaur's handsome face. "You don't have to lie to me. I don't mean to harm any of you." He placed his spear on the ground slowly as though to emphasise the point. "I could smell her from a mile." It might have been the scowl that prompted him to quickly add, "...But if she walks with you perhaps I am being disrespectful."
A small prickle of self-consciousness struck Ag. Did he really stink that strong? It could be that this year was worse than the others. Still, the careful demeanour of the other stallion helped to defuse any lingering apprehension. Agarus's expression settled into something gruff, but far less aggressive, and he stepped out to reveal himself fully.
"I ain't lyin' to yuh. It's just me." As he came he flicked his tail and set the other stallion with a firm look to force home the implication.
"But-..."
"Aye."
The darker-skinned centaur made a few tentative steps closer and then, when Ag didn't move away, took a more confident stride until both were face-to-face. Or as face-to-face as they could manage. Agarus soon realised the extent of the height difference between them. It was at least a foot, perhaps more. He had never met a centaur so large. He stood his ground, meaty fists clenched at his sides as he met the other's eye.
"It's you? No." A grin was starting to pull at the big stallion's lips, brow still knotted in perplexity. Agarus just nodded in reply then swatted his tail against his flank to waft that heady, fertile reek forward. The newcomer snorted suddenly, taken aback. "By Quianis..."
Ag hadn't realised it at first but he'd started to smirk. He offered a hand out. "I'm Agarus."
The larger stallion looked down at it for a moment, perhaps unsure of the custom, but eventually took it and squeezed tight. The seeds of his grin blossomed all the way across his face as he did so. "Thunderhoof."
"Looks like yer a long way from home, Thunderhoof."
"Longer than you could imagine."
Ag's breath was still heavy with his ever-present heat, but he was controlling himself admirably - especially in the face of such a huge and potent-looking creature. He knew that, if this handsome stud was the least bit intrigued, he was playing a dangerous game. If he took foal before reaching Chalk Hide valley they would be fiercely displeased.
He willed his eyes not to go wandering - to stay on Thunderhoof's face and not slip down to that muscular chest, or over the bulky, powerful curves of that equine body. He was especially careful not to look down between those rear legs - each one broad and strong - to glimpse a smooth, veined sack so fat and glutted with stallion seed it seemed ready to burst.
Spirits...
"Perhaps we could rest together a while? I have come a long way, and you seem like interesting company." The sound of Thunder's voice tore Ag's attention back and he grunted, then nodded.
"Aye. I was set tuh go on t'day, but I could spare the time." Stepping back he gestured over his shoulder, "I'm camped by the tower."
When he turned to leave he flicked his tail shamelessly to give Thunder a view of his doughy equine mound. He regretted it instantly, though, as the thought of the younger stud's eyes on him made him wink - the bulb of his fat, wet clit slipping out vulgarly with a 'slick'.
He growled quietly to himself - feeling a small trickle making its way down the back of his nuts - and kept on walking. So much for keeping his cool.
Thunderhoof saw everything. The entire, lurid display. As outlandish as the notion was it seemed that the brutish stallion wasn't playing a trick.
The sight of that lushly swollen, tear-drop sex - weeping and winking as it was in ripe fertility - stoked a powerful urge in Thunder's stallion half. No matter how unnatural it looked, nestled in the broad rump of something so undeniably male, it was still a thing of feral beauty. The sudden drive to lunge and mount, though irrational, was one he had to resist quite physically.
"Alright." The bemused grin on his face was gone, quashed by the dry-mouthed realisation of just how lewdly, enticingly endowed this crude creature was. He shook his head with a quiet hiss of breath through his teeth. What a strange twist of fate. "I'll, ah, be with you in a moment."
His spear was still on the ground some distance away. As he moved to pick it up Thunder used the time to try to clear his head.
This certainly wasn't what he had been expecting. His nose had caught the heady reek of a wanting belly some days ago and he had followed it in growing eagerness. He didn't know what he'd find, or if he would even be fulfilled, but it was his right as a stallion to pursue a fertile mare. Now that he had found 'her', though? Well, the surprise almost managed to give his libido pause. Almost.
Spear in hand he traipsed back up the small knoll, braced himself, and then into the tower yard.
Agarus, who seemed busied with rifling through a rough-hewn pack, barely looked up. "I can't offer yuh much in the way of food." At odds with his words, though, he pulled out a hefty leather parcel. Unwrapping it revealed a stack of thick, dry biscuits - a traveller's rations. "Can't hunt fer anythin' fresh. Not like, uh-" He gestured backwards with his head, then held the stack out towards Thunder. "Not with the way I am."
Thunderhoof raised his hand. "I appreciate your kindness, but no, thank you." Agarus just grunted and began to pack them away again, not taking any for himself. As he did so Thunder watched on, noting the faint wisps of steam curling off the grey stallion's hide in the coolness of the morning. "It must be difficult for you?"
"I'm used to it."
"Will your journey take you far?"
"Depends on what yuh think is far. Another three days, at most."
As they spoke and as he watched Thunderhoof found himself quickly coming to terms with the shock of this new stallion's nature. His gift from Quianis had come with a staggeringly healthy boost to his libido and, in his travels, he had mounted creatures female _and_male. He held a deep appreciation for the forms of both, so he was certainly not repulsed by the burly centaur before him. In fact, something about the exotic taboo thrilled him. Who knew how many foals such a strong-looking mare could bear? Suddenly his curiosity had all but burnt away to that one, single question. His good-natured smile gave way to a smirk. "That is a long time to go wanting."
It seemed to take a moment for him to realise the tone, but when he did Agarus paused his rummaging and raised his head to fix the larger stallion with a firm look. He didn't speak at first, looking thunderously gruff, then eventually gave a smirk of his own. "Yer bold fer a young 'un, I'll give yuh that." Turning his body he folded those brawny arms across his chest with casual defiance. "But I ain't lookin' fer a stud." For someone so resolute, though, Thunder caught the smaller stallion eyeing him up quite openly. "How old are yuh, colt?"
An odd question, Thunderhoof wasn't young by his people's standards. "Older, perhaps, than you think." He shot back, approaching the smaller centaur on slow hooves to loom over him. "Certainly old enough to know the scent of a desperate stallion, even when he is pretending otherwise."
Agarus snorted harshly, moving away. "Aye? Any fool with a nose could smell it. Yer wastin' yer time."
Thunderhoof moved too, not to follow, but to keep the distance between them even. In short order both were walking a slow circle, eyes on each other as they went. "If you weren't so wet beneath your tail I might have believed you." Thunder hadn't caught a glimpse back there since his first look, but he spoke with utter certainty and the gamble paid off. Agarus's tail clamped down self-consciously over his rear and he did nothing but scowl.
It was at that moment the larger stallion realised, with a powerful bolt of lust, that they were surely courting in earnest.
"Why do you deny it?" Normally gentle and kind, something in that rich, earthy scent brought out the stud in Thunderhoof fiercely. It surprised him with its surging intensity and made him tense and flex his massive body as he strutted. It made him feel _powerful_and the urge to rear and stomp and bear his teeth was almost overwhelming. Yet, he resisted. Instead of loosing his animal side wildly he focused it, grinning arrogantly as he flaunted his strength. "I want you, and I know you want me. Why don't we satisfy each other's need? Is it not that simple?"
They trudged a feral dance far older and stronger than either of them realised - led on by instincts woven through every inch of their equine bodies. Hoof after heavy hoof they went, their eyes roaming one another, yet never straying for too long before locking their gaze again. Each time they did Thunder felt a stab of aggression that pushed him to lunge. He didn't. His grin just spread wider and his fists clenched tight.
The other stallion took his time in responding, so Thunderhoof gave them reason to hurry. He was already growing fat in his sheath, so when he let himself drop his immense equine cock spilled out with some heft behind it. Even for a draft stallion he was generously endowed and with another rush of pride he realised that fact hadn't gone unnoticed. Agarus's eyes were drawn to the spectacle immediately and remained there as his panting grew heavier. Bit by bit, throb after throb, Thunder's incredible tool plumped up; swinging luridly with his steps as it did. When it hit a certain girth he squeezed hard and it lurched, hitting the bottom of his broad, barrel belly with an audible smack then straining tight - every lump and vein on show.
"No." Agarus finally rumbled, breathless with his shaken resolve. "It ain't." He was sweating and the sun glinted off each little drop as they walked their circular route. "I- I can't." 'Can't' was a big change of tone from 'won't' and Thunderhoof certainly didn't miss the significance. "I can't take foal yet. I got a duty tuh my herd."
The larger stallion came to a halt, prompting the other to do so too. That last note rang true and, as savagely heated as he was, Thunderhoof was given pause. His muscles twitched with loaded, rut-fuelled tension but with effort he was able to temper himself and remain still.
"I understand that kind of burden." Thunder finally spoke in rolling baritone. Duty was a notion he knew all too well, bringing solemn memories of home. "I won't ask you to forsake your people - but think of what they need, and think of what you need." After another pause he added, "If you tell me their need trumps yours I will leave immediately."
That wasn't a gamble. Thunderhoof truly meant it. It was painful to say - and the thought of walking from such a ripe mare at this point even more gut-wrenchingly agonising - but he wasn't prepared to cajole or force himself upon this strange new centaur, even if the stallion inside him demanded it. It took every ounce of his will, but he stood firm and strong; struggling, yet prouder for having conquered his base urges.
Some of that pride must have shone through as Agarus's defiant scowl softened. At first he seemed entirely blank, but soon he snorted derisively, his brow knotting and his panting mouth pulling up at the corner. "Yuh don't mean that."
Thunderhoof didn't budge. He only nodded.
"Liar." The smaller stallion bristled, lips peeling back into a tusked snarl. He approached slowly - until they were so close Thunder could feel the heat washing off Agarus's muscular front - and glared up into the larger stallion's face; scrutinising it.
For the longest time Thunderhoof didn't respond; his warm, brown eyes sober in the face of Agarus's hostility. He was entirely unmoved and entirely sincere, waiting on the word that would send him plodding back into the forest unsatisfied.
As long as that moment felt, however, it passed. The smaller stallion's anger faded and in its place was left only panting, laboured disbelief.
"Yuh-..."
Agarus took a step back. Desperate need was etched all over his face, but more than that was something deeply profound.
Respect?
Whatever it was Thunder didn't see it long. The smaller stallion's resistance collapsed - the game was over. He turned in place, bearing his huge, fertile rear backwards as his tail bobbed high. In that one motion he accepted Thunderhoof as his stud, signalling his _need_to be bred, and his body echoed the primal sentiment by winking lewdly again. There was no clearer invitation he could give.
That fierce urge to mount seized Thunder's body the moment he saw his prize, but he defied it again. Agarus's equine sex looked achingly tender; its lips so engorged that it was split down the middle by a sliver of stark pink. Every time it winked, which it did so without restraint, it gave a view of the succulent softness inside and it looked irresistible. Thunderhoof moved to cup his hand over it gently, that bulging clit wetting his palm over and over with each internal clench.
It was perfect and Thunder's cock was standing so hard it could barely bob under its own weight. He placed his exploring hand on the side of Agarus's rump instead, then a grin split his face wide enough to ache. Finally.
The dam that had been rumbling so ominously and for so long inside him burst with incredible force, and Thunder allowed himself to be swallowed up by the roaring tide of aggression.
With an explosive snarl he heaved his bulk into the air, his forehooves pedalling dangerously, before crashing down over Agarus's back. The smaller stallion barked with the strain, and immediately Thunder's hips began to piston - the face of his prick pounding and squelching against his mare's moist cleft, violently seeking entrance.
Both males stumbled unsteadily with their precarious position and combined weight - Thunderhoof's tail flying with his frenzied effort. Before their frustration hit an unbearable high, however, Thunder hit the bullseye and in a glorious instant they were complete. Their groans almost drowned out the long, lurid squelch of their bodies joining - the studding stallion burying himself from tip to root as his flanks bulged and strong rear hooves stomped to cram every ounce of him inside. It was obvious he was mounting no young filly, yet still he had to force himself in through a flare-crushing, hoof-tingling squeeze. For all Agarus's heat-engorged suppleness Thunderhoof's prick was just too vast. He was a stud among studs, and a tight fit was all he had ever known.
Only a scant inch of him was left outside when Thunder found his companion's limit, and both of them were snorting like animals with the depth of their breath. There was a furnace deep in his mare's belly, and the heat blazing off it scalded the head of his equine cock. He knew that that was exactly where he needed to be to deliver his payload - to drown his trembling mare's fire with stallion seed.
"Are you ready to take my foal?" As he growled, low and breathless, he grasped Agarus's biceps, drawing them back and upwards for leverage. The smaller centaur didn't resist and instead arched and groaned his compliance, his head bowed as his body clenched and drooled around the aching mass of hard horse flesh inside.
Thunderhoof could feel the smaller stallion overflowing - warm juices trickling down over his nuts with every internal squeeze. He didn't pause to enjoy the sensation, though. He couldn't. He needed to breed, and he needed it now.
Immediately his hips began rolling, unsteady at first but picking up in pace until he was hunching and rutting with the power of a wild stallion. There was no grace, no care or deliberation. Bearing his teeth he hammered the burly body below with a single, animal drive: to plant as many heavy foals as he could in that fertile belly.
"Aawugh!" The smaller stallion groaned harshly through gritted teeth. The sound was desperate, but Thunder felt no sympathy. The width of Agarus's rear hooves gave away just how badly he needed that brutal prick sawing into him. "Yuh- Yuh makin' me cum! Yuh makin' me cum!" He suddenly gasped.
Despite the warning, however, Thunder felt no change. Squelching, equine nectar rolled in streams down Agarus's muscular rear legs, and the squeeze around the larger stallion's girth was already as tight as could be. With a snarling grin he didn't slow the pace one bit and pummelled the choking, shaking mare through what must have been a torturously intense orgasm.
Streaks of frothy, equine sweat covered his hide and the earthy, masculine scent of Thunderhoof's body wrestled with the stink of estrus in the air. That was the herald of his peak - the reek of the sheer potency he was about to inject deep into the bulky stallion below. He could feel it already - he was about to flare - and he made no effort to put it off. He had primed his mare with gouts of sloshing pre-seed and now the pleasure crackling down his shaft gave him no choice but to bring their rut to its roaring culmination.
Four more hard pushes were all he could manage - each one against more resistance than the last as his massive flare bloated and bloated - before Thunder crashed through his climax with a vicious and utterly victorious shout.
Just as nature intended, when that merciless flare lodged in Agarus's deepest recesses and began to bloom it pulled his cervix open, breaking the tight seal on his womb and letting a gob of their slimy, mixed fluids ooze through. The smaller centaur cringed brutishly at the sting of the internal stretch, but the pain was overwhelmed in an instant.
The big stallion roaring and sweating and sitting so heavily over Agarus's back blew hard and beginning with a thunderous kick of that vast, curved cock the stud-mare's knees shook as he was burdened with a flood of molten seed. It came in such a generous amount that the deluge never paused; gooey spunk gushing out even between the clenches that squeezed it into fierce jets.
In spite of its owner's submission Ag's bulging cervix trembled in its attempt to cinch closed, but it could not. It was violated completely, and gulped down every bit of scalding, foaming horse spunk that bathed it and surged on through. The mare had been defeated, and bred. He pressed his humanoid torso back against Thunder's front and closed his eyes as his broad underbelly rolled and gurgled with its fluid load.
Rarely so happy about being in such a position, Agarus had to admit that, in that moment, he couldn't have been more content. Every jerk and sharp, arrogant hunch the rutting stud above gave made him tingle with the aftershocks of his own climax. Another set of sparks prickled across his hide when he began to feel the growing hang of his gut. Thunderhoof poured his animal pleasure into the smaller stallion without hint of slowing for more than a minute before it became too much and sloppy heat rushed back over his shaft.
Agarus was completely full, and though the tight ball in his gut bordered on uncomfortable he let out a groan of deep relief, thrilling in the sensation of hot spunk washing out of him - over his own fat, rut-bruised nuts and splattering to the ground in creamy globs. It stank of ripe, bitter virility and the smell made Agarus's nostrils flare. With the brutal musk of stallion sweat all around it made for a powerful cocktail.
It had been many summers since the smaller stallion had mated with a male that had warranted his respect. Thunderhoof had proved to be the stud he had been waiting for. He had no doubt that he would take foal - and a strong, healthy one besides. Perhaps he might even take two. The thought made his glistening hide twitch and shiver.
The breeding eventually lost its momentum and Thunder's reserves ran dry. Both were gasping in tandem, and Agarus's heart was pounding so hard in his chest he felt he had galloped for miles. They stood there, gleaming and panting and oozing slick spunk between them for a long time. Agarus didn't protest to bear his stud's weight - having that brutal ram of a cock stewing and softening inside him prolonged the dimming of his pleasure, and that was something he wanted to hold for as long as possible.
"Do you feel better?" Thunder's hands had slid up from Agarus's arms, where they had surely left bruises from the force of their grasp, and rested gently on his shoulders. He was still pressed back against the larger stallion, and their bodies were stuck with the sweat between them. With another stallion he might have bristled at the tone of those words, but he could see Thunderhoof's smile without turning around and somehow that gave him ease.
"Aye." Agarus rumbled. He sighed heavily through his nose and as he did he let himself relax into the larger stallion's grip. "Yuh must'a shot a gallon..."
"Perhaps." Strong thumbs massaged the muscles of his back comfortingly. "I am... blessed in that regard." After a pause Thunder added, "You seemed to take much of it."
Agarus didn't reply, he just kept his eyes closed and smirked as he enjoyed the attention.
Minutes passed with both stallions locked so intimately before Thunderhoof spoke again. "Is your heat satisfied?"
The answer was yes, and even thoughts of Agarus's herd and his duties could not bring him any regret. For the first time in years he was content to bear foal - Thunder was a powerful creature and on physicality alone Ag felt a tentative sort of pride to consider the foal they might create between them. Surely it was not too much to ask to choose his stud this time, after so many years of service?
"It is." Agarus grunted, but an unsubtle nudge of Thunder's hips and the soft squish beneath his tail that followed made him hesitate. "...But we'd better make sure, aye?"
This time he craned his head to return Thunderhoof's grin.