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The stables were quiet, which was hardly unusual for a Saturday evening. Marshall loved the work, but he was tired enough to prefer the calm. The handful of boarders wouldn't be there for anything short of an emergency, and the two stable hands were at home, leaving him to do the last check on the horses before turning in. Just him and his charges on a warm summer night--warm enough that he didn't need a shirt over his tawny fur. The buck's antlers were growing long enough that only button-on shirts were feasible.

Sunset had passed a few minutes ago, and the security light above the stable door flicked on as he approached. He unlocked the door and hit the switches inside, bringing light inside the stable as well. Some of the horses stirred at the change, but they were reacting more to his presence than to the light.

Let's have a trouble-free night, fillies and gentlecolts, he thought. The east side of the stable was only half-filled for the weekend thanks to some competition two towns over. As he walked down the line, he found the remaining boarders calm and content, save for the two who leaned their heads out for attention. He slipped the well-behaved one a peppermint, and dodged a nip from the rascal. "Oy. No biting," he said, and kept moving back despite a whinny of protest. The gelding's owner was a little too indulgent. "Behave tomorrow and maybe we'll talk, kay?"

He chuckled to himself. Some would call it crazy to talk to the horses, but virtually every owner and his own employees did the same. Something about the beasts made forging that connection easier, even if they didn't exactly return the favor. He kept walking. The west side of the stable was a little longer and housed his own horses for rented rides and breeding--or rather, the owner's horses, but Marshall had a growing stake in the business. With her being gone most of the time it seemed like he'd be taking over in the next few years. All but two of the stalls were full, and he let himself walk slow, inspecting the feed, water buckets, and inhabitants. Everything was relatively tidy, and the sight of a clean stable and happy horses lifted his spirits. When he neared the end of the line, a stamping in one of the stalls drew his attention. He sighed and cautiously poked his head over the divider. "What's the matter, Silver?" The mare in question whickered in an almost plaintive tone. "All right, hold on." He unlatched the gate and slipped inside, locking it behind him, and reached out to her. A stallion further down the line gave a low whinny, and she answered back, shifting about like she wanted to run over. He did some quick math, and it dawned on him. "Ahh, just that time of the month." His hands roamed over her muzzle and neck, guiding her head close so he could soothe her better. "It's alright. You'll get through it, and we'll find some nice and handsome stallion for you. Kay?" He patted her, and stealthily brought a peppermint out onto his other hand.

She picked up the scent fast, and he chuckled as her velvety nose tickled his palm. He knew she wasn't in pain or anything, but part of him still felt bad. Hell, he thought, there are nights I might as well be in rut or whatever, myself. Living on the farmland edge of suburbia didn't lend itself to a very vibrant nightlife, and as much as he enjoyed the quiet, there was a difference between alone and lonely.

Silver whickered, and lightly headbutted him. "Sorry, mints won't cool you down the way you're looking for." He knew nothing would; at least, not unless he took matters into his own hands, so to speak.

He made a mental note to call the friend of a friend who could bring a breeding stud in the next month or two.

He gave her one last rub before stepping back outside her stall, whistling a high note. Haggling over the contract and costs would be a necessary pain, but it was one less complication on his tired mind. At least, it was until he got to the end and looked into a vacant stall that wasn't empty. There was a horse in it. Less worrisome than other things that could be in it, but not exactly a welcome end to his night. You're not where you're supposed to be, he thought, then drew up short as he got a better look. The horse had what looked like a pure white coat, or perhaps silvery-gray--it was hard to tell under the fluorescent lights. They didn't have any horse like that, owned or boarded, and it wasn't a familiar breed. "Where did you come from?" he murmured, looking in vain for any information on the stall door or paperwork nearby. It hadn't been there in the morning, he was sure, and he would have been notified if a new arrival came in during the afternoon. He reached for his cell phone, intending to call the help and see if it had slipped through the cracks, but a white sheet caught his eye inside the stall. If the paperwork had been forgotten inside, he'd have to get it, and that meant entering a stall with a horse he'd never met. The beast stood unmoving, head lowered, like it was asleep. She, he corrected himself as he stepped closer to get a better view. The mare woke once he reached the door, and turned to look at him. "Hey, girl," he murmured, slowly raising a hand level with her nose. Her ears perked forward, and her approach was languid, filling him with a little confidence. "Looks like we haven't been introduced. I'm Marshall." She paused a foot away from his hand, then slowly, carefully resumed her approach, sniffing at him. "That's it. Just wanna figure out where you're supposed to be. You'll be a good girl, right?" Her velvety nose touched his hand, and a quiet nicker was her seeming response.

"That's it," he said again, letting her explore a little before reaching up to stroke her muzzle. Her eyes were a surprisingly bright amber, for a horse, and he could've sworn she was watching him more intently than the average equine. "You're really soft, aren't you?" His hand moved to her neck, stroking and scratching her white coat--a well-groomed horse had smooth hair, sure, but he'd never felt anything quite like the mare's. "Don't suppose you'll back up and let me sneak in," he said, and lightly pressed on her muzzle. To his relief, she did, and he worked the latch in a smooth motion as he slipped through the door. "Good girl." He brought up a peppermint for her, and chuckled as she licked his hand clean, trailing her tongue up to his fingertips.

Good, she's more affectionate than bitey. He sidestepped a couple times until he was in range of the paper on the far end, and grabbed it with his spare hand. It was a bill of transfer, but nothing was filled in except the name: Lilah. Somebody's getting a talking-to tomorrow--or earlier. Hell, I'd better make a couple calls before it gets too late. "Hey, Lilah," he said, and she perked her ears. "Looks like I'll have to step back out and figure out where you came from, hm?"

She nosed at his hand again, looking for more peppermints, or just attention. He didn't want to pamper a stranger, but at least he could keep scratching over her neck. Her mane was like spun silk--or at least, it probably was. He hadn't felt silk before, but little else could've been that smooth and soft. And the smell! A well-kept horse usually smelled good, sure, but the mare was something else entirely. He couldn't put a finger on it. "If it turns out we're keeping you, whatever shampoo you use would probably cost as much as this barn." He leaned closer, getting another whiff. Herbal something, maybe? No, not quite. She whickered again, almost like she was laughing with him. It really didn't help the tendency to keep talking to the horses when they did that. When he turned to leave, she took a step in front of him. A slight toss of her head, and a nuzzle to his shoulder, had him sighing and resuming his petting. Another minute won't hurt. She seemed to especially enjoy having the sides of her neck scratched, and leaned into his hands. She traced her muzzle over his chest--he was wary of being bitten, having been tricked a few times in the past, but he didn't stop it just yet. Her breath warmed his furred belly, and her even warmer tongue started to stroke his fur.

"Real friendly, aren't you--whoa, girl." He steadied himself as she pushed her nose against his belly, and gave a firm enough lick that it nearly slipped under his waistband. She breathed out again, and he planted a palm on her nose to push her away. The warmth remained, tingling as his fur settled back into place, and his heart beat a little faster than he'd have liked. "Gotta buy me dinner first." She whickered again. Marshall could have sworn it was a chuckle. Uncanny. It didn't help that the stall felt rather warm, and he was more than old enough to know it wasn't the temperature; granted, he was also more than old enough to know it was definitely nothing but the temperature. In his younger, hornier years--not much more than a decade ago, but long enough by his count--he might have dreamed up some fantasies of a beautiful mare who could talk, but then, the teenaged brain could fantasize about anything. The present day was different. Horses were animals. Magnificent and beautiful animals, sure, but they couldn't talk, let alone say in certain terms what they wanted and why they wanted it. Pretending otherwise was wrong--abusive, even. He'd have fired and reported any hands or clients that tried something with his horses.

But, it wasn't a problem, and he put it out of his mind. It was just a warm, sleepy, lonely summer night. The tightness in his sheath was a coincidence, and would wait until his nighttime shower. "Alright, Lilah, you gotta let me out." He moved his hand to guide her away from the door, and she turned with his lead. "Good girl."

Obedient, at least. He folded the transfer bill and stuffed it in his back pocket. Affectionate as all hell, but I can deal with that if she's obedient. How long he'd be dealing with her was the next question, and one he could solve once he was out of the stall. He gave Lilah one last look--and saw a long patch of unkempt coat along her side. "What happened here?" He leaned closer, tilting his head to look for any injuries before touching the scruffy mess. The rest of her coat was perfect--pristine, even. "Did you scrape against the wall or something?"

No answer was forthcoming, of course, so he sighed and looked around for a brush. Just one thing after another with this mare. There was a spare just outside the door, at least, and he allowed himself a minute more to groom her back into a presentable shape. She relaxed as he stroked her side with the brush, and it didn't take long for most of the tangles to straighten and look as beautiful as the rest of her. And he had to admit, she really was a beauty. If she wasn't theirs, he'd be loathe to let her go. The hair on her haunch was less cooperative than the rest, and he put a little more effort into straightening it out. Her tail swished back and forth, drawing his eye to the motion--and he forced his attention back to the job, not wanting to get distracted when he was close to being done. He couldn't let himself look, not even if her tail was tilted to the side. He looked. Only for a moment, but it was enough to let him see her nethers. His heart jumped, and he dropped the brush. For crying out loud, Marshall, this isn't the backseat of a car at prom night. He swallowed, despite his mouth going dry. Get a hold of yourself. His fingers shook a little as he smoothed over her coat with his palm, lingering on her hindquarter.

She snorted, softly, and leaned into his hand. His heart started to thud against his chest as his fingers drifted onto her rump; she really did smell nice, and feel nice, and some part of him wondered if all of her felt as nice. It was wrong, though, and he sucked in a breath, steeling himself to pull away despite the blood pulsing in his loins. Touch me. It was an odd thought for him to have--or maybe it wasn't his. It didn't matter. He didn't move. When Lilah did instead, his fingers touched soft skin and damp heat. A tremor ran through him. It was just coincidence, an accident, and he could forget about it if he left. Instead, two of his fingers curled, parting her folds. She was wet, and hot, and curiosity drove him to slip the fingers in up to the knuckle. A faint, slick sound met his ears as her powerful muscles clenched around the digits. Wrong became more than a little relative. He slid another finger in, then the fourth. She could probably take his entire arm, but he didn't try. A muskier, sort of tangy scent reached his nose--her arousal smelled familiar, not unlike a doe's. She was winking, squeezing, and all too receptive. It was too much. He sucked in a gasping breath and pulled his hand from her slit. I need to think. He stumbled to the side and tried to ignore the slick juices practically dripping from his fingers. Just make it outside, you can rub one out later. His face felt flush, and he panted, trying to cool off as he stepped towards the door. Or maybe sooner.

He didn't notice Lilah moving with him until he'd reached the latch. She stopped just shy of touching his hand, gazing at him, and gave a quiet little nicker. He tried to swallow. The mare stood at just the right angle that he could see her tail still flagged to the side, inviting him; while he couldn't see around the curve of her haunch, the sight and feel of her was seared into his mind. "Should I stay?" He wasn't sure who he was asking--she couldn't understand him. But, when he let go of the latch, her muzzle intercepted his hand--or maybe he reached for her--and the brush of velvety warmth over his wet fingers melted his resolve. Strong lips and a broad tongue cleaned each digit of her own juices before she trailed her snout down his chest, and belly, until she reached the tent in his shorts.

Some part of his brain tried to tell him she was just an animal, that this was taking advantage of her, but he didn't listen. Let alone believe it. Slow rubs soon made the fabric trappings uncomfortably tight, and he reached down to readjust his package. Instead, the button came loose, and the combined efforts of her teeth and his fumbling fingers tugged the waistband down until the pants dropped to his ankles. He had the presence of mind to step out of the legs and lay them over the door, at least, but that left his half-erect shaft free to bob in the air in front of her. She wasted no time in nuzzling the length with her velvety nose, then licking at the narrow head. The tingling warmth built into a sort of buzz, and before he could react, the mare opened her mouth and took his now-stiff manhood into its warmth.

Not possible, the last vestige of his thoughts cried out. No way a mare would know how to... Her tongue rippled and glided over the underside of his cock, coaxing a groan from deep in his chest. She gazed at him the whole time with her red eyes--no, amber. Why did I think they were red? Lilah made a sound and suckled him without biting, somehow, and the thought no longer mattered. How wrong it was didn't matter either. His palms caressed the sides of her head, steadying her as his hips started rolling, but the finger-curling waves of heated pleasure stopped when she pulled back, despite his best efforts to hold on. He whined, desperate, about to grip his shaft and go the rest of the way himself, but her whicker caught his ear, and he looked up to see her turned around with tail aside to present her swollen pussy. She looked back over her shoulder and licked her lips. Please, help yourself. He wanted to, so he found the nearby step stool and bent over to drag it closer--and got a good whiff of her intimates as he centered it behind her. He wanted to taste her, like she'd tasted him, but the ache in his cock was too great to ignore, so he stepped up. She leaned against him and whinnied; the touch of her silky soft coat sent a spurt of precum onto her back. He clumsily wiped it away, still wishing he could quench his parched mouth with her juices, but his other hand was already guiding his length into her slick folds, and he pushed forward until his length was half-buried inside her. "Oh, shit," he gasped. His hands flew to her hips as she pressed back, taking him the rest of the way. Rings of muscle worked over his length; at first, he could tell she was built for something thicker and somewhat longer, but she got tighter, and tighter, until he couldn't remember the difference. An ache built in his loins as he started to thrust, an all too familiar tension, and his spirits fell--he wouldn't last long. It didn't matter, though: she fit him like a glove, squeezing in all the right places, slick and inviting even though he wasn't her species. He wondered if all mares felt like this, if he'd been missing out by not disobeying every moral and natural law. She caught his eye. The answer is no. Heartened by that, he fucked her harder, ignoring the churning in his balls and hoping she'd get some measure of satisfaction--if she felt pleasure from their coupling at all; he wasn't sure if horses did. Her panting and soft sounds suggested otherwise. It didn't matter. The tension spread through his loins, heart beating faster and breath coming in pants, fingers digging into the coat he'd just brushed. He felt the moment building, building past the point of no return. She clenched around his shaft, and shudders ran through his body, briefly immobilizing him as his loins throbbed hard. His balls tightened, but to his faint surprise didn't release their load into her depths. His cock was still hard as iron. He could keep going.

So he did. Heat built in his chest as he rutted her like a breeding stud, his hips and balls slapping her ass as she kept rocking back into him. His fingers and toes tingled, or maybe they were numb. He closed his eyes and listened to the slick, sliding sounds, felt nothing but her, and smelled nothing but her impossible body and the horribly taboo sex he desperately needed more of. Another, louder, groan tore its way out of his throat. It was all he could do to keep breathing. His knees shook as his loins spasmed again without relief. Fire burned in his chest as the pleasure consumed everything but his need for the mare. "Oh, g-god," he gasped, "Li... Lilah. Please." He didn't know if she could understand him. It didn't matter. Nothing else mattered. His throat tightened, and he choked out a whisper. "Let me..." The tightness gripped his lungs, his heart, pulsing with each clench of her walls around him, growing into an ache like the one in his loins. Every fiber of his body felt overcharged, electrified. He couldn't think. He could barely breathe. He looked up at her. Red eyes met his.

Another squeeze, right as he hilted, and the tension broke like a dam. His long, guttural moan filled the stall as he pressed himself as deep as physically possible, leaning on her back. His balls were so tight it was like her inner walls were clenching them too, and he gripped handfuls of her coat to hold on as his legs nearly gave out from the throbbing in his loins. Thick ropes of his hot seed sprayed into her depths while she kept him completely immobile in her full-length grip. Stars flared and obscured his sight of her back, and her eyes.

Marshall panted, hard, trying to steady himself, but each movement in her sent another shock through his body. He held on, cock twitching but only shooting blanks. He didn't know how long he stayed there, how long until she relaxed and let him breathe. He finally managed to push himself off her back, despite shaking arms, and pull himself out. Not a drop of seed followed, though he knew it had been a huge amount. His shaft softened somewhat without Lilah's embrace to keep him stiff, but it didn't withdraw into his sheath.

He stayed standing, barely. The sight of her puffy lips stirred his lusts again, but he had nothing left to give. He stumbled off the stool, and made a clumsy kick to move it aside. His pants were nearby, where he'd hung them on the door. Reaching down to put them on meant kneeling on the ground, and he struggled to pull them up his legs. Everything felt like lead. Standing upright meant stumbling until his back found the stable's wall. He slid down to the ground, sitting, his heart pounding and breathing heavy as his lungs still craved air. The fog wouldn't lift from his thoughts.

A white blur appeared in his vision. He tried to ignore it, to rest, but a flash of color drew his attention: red eyes, bright enough to be glowing--or maybe it was the light, he couldn't tell. His tongue felt as weighted as the rest of him. He worked his mouth a few times, trying to ask what had just happened. Lilah's distinctly un-equine chuckle was his sole answer.

Despite the sheer exhaustion gnawing at his consciousness, his heart skipped a beat. What... what the hell did she do to me? "Oh, don't be dramatic." Her voice was smooth, fittingly deep, yet unmistakably feminine. "It's nothing permanent. You'll bounce back tomorrow, right as rain. Maybe a little soreness--you were rather eager." Nothing permanent. He'd just fucked a horse--she wasn't one, but she still looked and felt too much like a mare. And he'd rutted her.

She licked her lips. "And wasn't it fun? All the excitement of breaking a taboo without any of the shame and guilt. If only we'd had a little more time to explore." Her tongue brushed his cheek, then his lips; for a brief moment he felt a familiar, tingling warmth coiling in his loins before the exhaustion took hold again. "Mm. Thanks for the gift, by the way. So warm, so potent. You were a real treat." She chuckled again, then turned and pushed the door open with a hoof. He was certain he hadn't unlocked it. He wanted to ask so many questions. "Are you... will I see you again?" It shouldn't have been his first choice, and he wasn't sure he wanted it answered, but the post-fuck glow did a marvelous job of smothering his fear. She looked back over her shoulder, and winked. "Don't bet against it, stud." Then she was gone, and he couldn't keep his eyes open any longer. He awoke with a start; light streamed into the stall, but once he looked around, he realized it was just from the overhead fluorescents. A few moments of fumbling with the phone in his pocket gave him the time: twenty to eleven. I passed out for two hours? He remembered checking on the horses. Silver was antsy, but okay. Then he got to the end, and... nothing. Or maybe there was something, but he couldn't put his finger on it. Despite the best protests of his sore muscles and the lingering cloud of fatigue, he stood up. The stall smelled a little odd, but nothing aside from some of the bedding and a brush was out of place. His shorts were wrinkled from sitting on the ground. He smoothed them down, then stopped. A piece of paper was in his pocket, one he wasn't sure had been there before. He took it out and looked it over. It was a bill of transfer--it wasn't blank, he thought, at least until he looked it over again. Nothing, not even a name. He shook his head. It was late, and he was exhausted, too exhausted. Sundays were light work days, so if a good night's sleep didn't put him back on his feet, he wouldn't be terribly missed if he took the day off. He remembered being tired, but enough to make him crash? "Don't tell me I'm getting old already," he grumbled to no one in particular. He stumbled out of the stall, closed the gate, and looked around one more time before turning out the lights and leaving. Something nagged at the back of his mind, like a word on the tip of the tongue, or a thought just past remembering. He was too tired to worry about it. When sleep took him again, fragments of memory trotted past, whickering, flashing red eyes and whispering in his mind--but even when he could recall them, he was never quite sure it was real. In the end, he didn't give it much thought.

It was just a dream. It didn't matter.  ===Thank you for reading! Please leave a fave and vote if you liked it, and a comment if you want to express why. I have no idea if posting this is wise, given my stance on bestiality and consent, but I, uh. I may have more where this came from. Stupid sexy maybe-supernatural-maybe-dream-succubus-ish ferals...