The Long Road

The Long Road

This one's for Anon, who's complained for years that I haven't done a good story with a centaur girl and a human guy. So 8,500 words, and no transformations or weird kinks -- just a meet-cute, a little alcohol to loosen inhibitions, lots of happy sex, and a happily-ever-after. Enjoy!

The road seemed to go on forever. Mike's feet felt like leaden weights, but if he didn't keep moving, he wouldn't even get close to the next village by nightfall, and the only thing he disliked more than being stuck on this interminable road was being stuck here at night. He looked up, and to his chagrin the dusty road seemed to go on forever through the trees, dead straight, with no end in sight. Somewhere up there was Orian, today's lonely destination, but it might as well have been just a story.

Not that he had anywhere to go. Or any reason to go there. Orian was just a place, a place to sell things, for -- for no reason anymore.

He glanced back, and there was a figure in the distance, approaching on horseback. Female, by the look of her, but just a dark silhouette against the brighter shading of the trees. He wondered if she was friend or foe. Not that it mattered: If she was coming to rob him, she wasn't going to get much from a lowly travelling merchant with the world's tinies satchel of coins and a backpack of junk that nobody ever seemed to want to buy.

He kept plodding, one foot in front of the other. She'd likely out-pace him soon, and pass him with a wave and keep going. Maybe she was nobility, or a knight. It didn't matter. Not a whole lot did. Tricia had left him for a guy who had money and shiny teeth but who was otherwise an objectively worse person in every way, leaving Mike with very little to plod towards. Orian would have made them money, and he'd have returned home to Tricia with what little he'd had, and -- he sighed. It didn't matter.

The figure behind him was closer now, and he could hear the hoof-beats. He glanced back but couldn't really make them out, and kept walking, just staring down at the dirt. A minute or so later, the figure pulled up beside him.

"Hey, traveller," she said. Her voice was pleasant, not gruff, not sharp, not too high or too low, just a friendly with the tiniest hint of a melody in it.

"Hey," he replied, not looking up.

"Where are you headed?" she asked.

"Orian," he said.

She kept up beside him. "What's in Orian?" she said.

"Nothing, really. Just where I'm headed. I'll get a room at the inn tonight, try to sell in the market tomorrow, move on to the next town the day after."

"You're a travelling merchant?" she asked.

"Eh."

"You wouldn't happen to have a biscuit salve?" she said. "I scraped my knee back a few miles ago, and it's been stinging pretty badly."

He paused, shrugging. "I should have a few," he said. He looked up at the road ahead. "You have money?"

"Not a lot, but hopefully enough to heal my knee," she said.

He looked up at her, and then did a double-take and stumbled backwards.

"Hey, easy, are you all right?" she said, holding out a hand.

"I'm fine -- I just -- what -- what are you?"

She grinned. "Oh, I guess you've never seen a centaur before," she said, shrugging.

He definitely hadn't. He'd heard the word, once, but hadn't really associated it with anything -- they were monsters of some kind, chimeras, something about a magic spell gone badly wrong somewhere up north? The girl beside him wasn't exactly a monster, but she definitely wasn't human either. She had wavy brown hair down to her shoulders, over a white blouse and brown corset, but then at her waist she just seamlessly blended into the rosy-brown horse underneath her. The shirt didn't do much to cover up her waist, so it was pretty clear that her pale skin just blended into the beast with no obvious dividing line where she was definitely a woman on top and definitely a horse below.

"Shall I wait for a portrait?" she asked snarkily, and he realized he was staring.

"Sorry, sorry, I just -- wow."

She shrugged. "Yeah, I get it. Some days I think the same thing."

"You -- weren't always like this?"

"Hah, no, a year ago, I was just plain Lyssa, ordinary girl from an ordinary farming village, and today, I'm now one of the exotic magical creatures of Lareth." She spat at the ground beside her.

"That's -- wild," said Mike. "You -- I mean -- how did it happen?"

She bristled. "Crazy lunatic wizard wandered into my village, fell over in the middle of the town square and died. Apparently he'd spent years studying chaos magic, and the moment he died, a thousand rhems of magic exploded out of him, and we all ended up as freaks and monsters." She patted her side. "Mostly centaurs, but a few people who were farther out just ended up with hooves or horns. Ruzette got lucky and just ended up with a third tit, but me, no, I'm not that lucky, and here I am all horsed up where a girl should be. Say, do you have those salve biscuits?" she said, leaning forward and gently rubbing one of her legs. "This is really killing me."

Mike nodded, and dug into his pack for a moment. He held up the little beige pieces of stiff cloth, each one lemon-shaped, spelled three towns back by a low-grade sorcerer to heal minor injuries. "Two for a copper."

"That's generous," she said, holding out a pair of coins from her little coin-pouch. "Two coppers at least."

"Listen, thanks and all, but I don't gouge my customers. One copper, seriously."

"We're in the middle of nowhere," she said. "My knee would be killing me for another fifteen miles without you. Take it, in good health."

She forced the coppers at him, and then took one of the salve biscuits. Carefully, she lowered her hindquarters to the ground and leaned forward. Reaching down, she applied it to her left front leg, and winced for a moment in pain before sighing. "That helps. It's dissolving the thorn, I think."

"The pricker bushes grow tight back there," he said. "I had to pull out one myself."

"You're a lifesaver. You have a name?"

"I'm nobody, just a lowly merchant. But you can call me Mike."

"Well, hello Nobody Just a Merchant, I'm Lyssa of North Avondale, and I'm a centaur, and I'm honestly pleased to meet you." She stood back upright. "You seem like a decent enough guy. You need a ride?"

He coughed. "Is that, uh -- appropriate?"

"Seriously, I'm a horse, Mike. At least it ought to do somebody some good. Also, I could really stand the company."

He winced looking up at her, but as tired as his feet were, he wasn't one to complain.

* * *

Which is how he found himself uncomfortably close to a very pretty girl. If he thought too hard about the fact that he was sitting on her, his brain started to rebel, but if he just focused on her soft brown hair, his libido would start to kick in, and then he'd have to remind himself she was, in fact, not a girl, but half a horse. More or less. She didn't smell like one, though: There was a faint whiff of berries and flowers, and he couldn't quite pick out what it was, but it was exceedingly pleasant.

And she was a chatterbox. She demanded he tell her everything about himself, and in spite of his best judgment he found himself answering all her peppered questions about his former girlfriend and how they'd been a couple and how he was sure she'd been the one right up until he caught her in bed with another man. Lyssa had very little sympathy for her, and she explained that before she'd turned into a centaur she'd been wooed by many men and even slept with a few but had never once cheated on any of them, and it was a terrible thing to do and Tricia ought to be ashamed of herself and Mike had no reason to feel as bad as he did because he was really a great guy, really, and even kind of cute, and he'd surely find a nice girl eventually.

She asked him about his business, and he pointed out that for a merchant, he wasn't a very good one. He'd lost money for years, slowly, buying and selling wares and traveling between towns, and no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't seem to turn a profit. Every "perfect deal" seemed to collapse: Sometimes he'd arrive too late, and a village didn't need his wares anymore, or sometimes he'd have what a village needed, but it was just barely the wrong style, and he'd sell only one or two, or the absolute worst problem: He'd have exactly what a village needed, but would only have one of them.

For her part, Lyssa was looking for -- well, anything, really. The magical accident that had turned her into a centaur had transformed most of her village as well, but she never really felt like North Avondale was home to begin with -- it was just the tiny little place she'd grown up, and she'd always assumed she'd leave. The only men worth courting already lived in other villages, and now that she was a horse, they wanted nothing to do with her. So she'd bid her parents goodbye, and her village goodbye, and had taken what little money she had, and she was now wandering wherever the roads would take her, either toward a cure for her condition, or toward a town full of centaurs like her -- not that she'd ever heard one existed -- or just toward some kind of answer as to what she ought to do with her life. Her prospects felt bleak, and Orian wasn't really a destination: It was just another possible place to find an answer.

At irregular intervals she'd turn back to him in the middle of their conversation, talking over her shoulder while not actually watching the road. He wondered exactly how she did it, and eventually managed to ask her, whereupon she replied that it simply came naturally: You just started walking, and as long as you didn't intentionally stop, you'd just keep walking without really thinking about it. He could have deluded himself into thinking they were both riding a horse and she was just looking back at him, if he didn't know better that she actually was the horse, but pretending that she was just a girl riding with him was a little easier to digest.

The sun was setting by the time they reached the outskirts of Orian, a little farming town of stone houses with thatched roofs, one noticeably larger than the others with the sign of an inn hanging out front, and a wooden stable poking out from the back. Mike was certain there was no way he'd have gotten here without her. He insisted that he owed her a huge debt, which she refused to let him pay, saying that the salve biscuits were worth more than anything he could have offered, and finally, he offered to just buy her a drink instead.

She paused.

"I, uh, sometimes -- usually -- they don't always allow centaurs into the inn," she said softly, her voice audibly crushed. "I was just going to -- stay in the stable. There's a roof over your head, and straw to lay on, and oats to eat. It's not fancy, but -- it's better than sleeping on the ground."

"Straw!?" he said incredulously. "You're a person! You should have a room!"

She sighed, stopping. "Listen, you've been great," she said, "but most people don't treat me like -- like I'm still me. They see the horse, and that's all they see, and the girl in front is just -- the front."

"Listen, you're coming into the bar, and I'm going to buy you a drink, and then I'm going to make sure you get a bed. You don't deserve to sleep in a stable, no matter what -- I'm sitting on."

She shook her head. "Don't say I didn't warn you."

* * *

They walked up to the inn, and Lyssa, who'd just a moment before been lively and vivacious, shrank visibly against the looks of the villagers, who had clearly never seen such a creature. Mike slipped down off her back, glaring at all of them, and then went inside the inn, beckoning for her to follow. She ducked to pass under the lintel, and they both stood inside, the door closing behind them. The fire crackled in the stone fireplace against a far wooden wall, and it seemed to be ringed by eyes of every last one of the menfolk of the village, honing in on the strange horse girl. Cold mugs of ale dropped to tables, and the room grew eerily quiet.

Mike stepped up to the innkeep. "I need a room."

The innkeep glared at the centaur girl. "You got a weird horse," he said.

"She's not a horse, she just looks like one," he said. "I need a room for me, and a room for her."

"You want to put a horse in a room?" said the innkeep incredulously.

"She's a lovely maiden, not a horse, and she requires a bed like any other lovely maiden." His dignity felt struck; how dare they treat her like she was just a beast? Lyssa was a person, just a girl who also happened to have a tail. He slapped a few coins on the table angrily, pretending to show off. In truth, those two coins were nearly the only ones he had, but the innkeep didn't need to know that.

The innkeep's eyes shone, and he reached out and snatched the coins. "One night, and see to it them hooves don't damage my floors," he said. "Back door, last two rooms on the left."

Mike nodded, smiling smartly. He put down another gold coin, the very last he owned. "And a pint for anyone who's willing to say what we all can plainly see: That this lovely pretty girl is the loveliest prettiest girl in town," he said.

The room paused for a moment -- then the drunkards cheered, toasting the horse-girl's health, and Lyssa's jaw never stopped hanging open for the rest of the night.

* * *

Some time before midnight they wisely retired. Mike felt slightly drunk, although he would have been far drunker had he been able to afford more than two pints for himself. Lyssa didn't seem drunk at all, and he was jealous that she could likely consume as much ale as she wanted without ill effect. There were perhaps benefits to weighing a thousand pounds. He trundled down the hallway with her, wobbling slightly, and stopped. He bid her good night, and then they both quietly slipped into their rooms.

Mike closed the door, locking it, and dropped his pack against the wall inside. The room was largely barren, save for the bed and a single wooden chair sitting beside it. A tiny window high near the ceiling leaked in a hint of pale moonlight.

He sat down on the bed, shaking his head. What exactly had he done tonight? He had only a half-dozen silvers and a few coppers left to his name, having spent nearly everything he had on -- what? So a bunch of strangers wouldn't hate the weird centaur girl he'd just met? Ten hours ago, he hadn't known any of these people, and he'd at least been able to hold his own, poorly, but now he wasn't even sure he'd be able to afford provisions to walk to the next town. It all reeked of spectacularly bad judgment on his part. He wondered if he ought to just wander into the wilderness and be eaten by wolves already.

Stripping to just his undershirt, he lay back on the bed and pulled up a blanket. It wasn't the most comfortable he'd ever slept in, but it was tolerable. As possibly the last bed he'd sleep in for the next month it was really quite enjoyable.

Mike lay still for a while, his brain addled by some combination of alcohol and confusion over his life choices. Maybe Tricia was right to leave him. He'd tried his best, but it never seemed to result in anything other than a slow, steady slide toward complete failure.

There was a click.

His eyes blinked half open. Some damned thief was trying to break in: Quietly, carefully, but determinedly, the lock was being picked or turned, and in a moment, a large dark figure slipped inside. He moved to sit up, but suddenly with a loud clop! the figure was at his bedside, pressing him down, and it was Lyssa, not a burglar, kneeling beside the bed, holding him down and forcing him to silence.

"Sssh, sssh!" she said. "Relax, it's just me."

He stopped his struggling, and the door swung shut, lightly tapped by one of her hind hooves.

"What are you doing here?" he said.

The moonlight reemerged from behind a cloud, faintly illuminating her face. "I couldn't sleep," she said.

"Uh -- "

"I was thinking about you," she said, her voice the tiniest bit shaky.

"You were thinking about -- me?"

She pulled back from him, and he sat up a little.

"I -- ah. I just don't -- who even are you, Mike? Nobody's this nice to me. They see the horse, and not the girl, and that's as far as it goes. You got a whole tavern to smile at me. To laugh with me. To drink with me. Fuck, one guy even groped my tits tonight, and I couldn't decide whether to punch him in the face or flash him. Nobody sees me as a person, not for a year, but you didn't just do it, you got other people to do it too."

He shrugged. "It just -- it seemed like the right thing to do, you know?"

She shook her head. "Just amazing."

"Is there -- uh -- something you need?"

"You spent every last penny you own on me tonight. Sssh, don't deny it, I saw you do it. I know you don't have anything, but you spent everything you had just to give me one happy moment, and it was the best night I've had in ages. So I want to return the favor. Need to return the favor."

"You don't owe me anything," said Mike, starting to roll over, but she pulled at his shoulder and made him turn back.

"I do," she said.

"Seriously, you don't -- "

She put her finger on his lips. "I do." She took a deep breath and leaned in a little closer. "I didn't realize what I was missing until tonight. I haven't felt like myself in so long I'd forgotten how it felt. For a few sweet hours, I was just a pretty girl, and they didn't see the horse. I need to make sure there's no doubt about how thankful I am for it."

Her hand slipped between his legs, cupping him gently, and his eyes went wide.

"Lyssa --!"

"If you want me to stop, I'll stop," she said.

He lay nervously silent.

"I promise you'll enjoy it," she said.

"What -- what are you going to do?"

She grinned, and he caught a flicker of her teeth shining in the moonlight. "What would you like? I've done -- quite a lot before."

"I don't, I mean, I -- it's -- "

"Have you been with a girl before?"

"I had a girlfriend," he said nervously. "Used to. We, uh, kissed. But we didn't -- " He trailed off. He definitely hadn't done what he'd caught her doing.

"Oh, you poor thing, you're so nice, and you're cute too. You deserve way more than just a kiss from a girl. All right. I want you to just get comfortable. Lay back, and you let me do everything. I'll take it nice and slow. And if it's ever too much, just say the word 'peppermint,' and I'll stop."

" -- peppermint?"

"Something you won't say by accident," she said, a hint of a smile in her voice.

"Oh. O -- kay." His voice squeaked a little, but he lay back on the pillow and got comfortable, like she asked.

She loosed the three buttons on his long undershirt and pried it back, leaving his body bare and cool in the night air. She leaned forward, and he could feel her soft, silken hair brush against his bare chest, the long, soft strands sweeping along his prickling skin like a fine royal sheet. Then she paused on the next sweep, softly kissing the middle of his chest before resting her face against him. Tricia had never been this close. If anything, she'd gone out of her way to avoid touching him. But Lyssa -- oh! She seemed to be everywhere, her arms and face and hair and now her torso, her soft bare skin lay on top of him as her hands ran gently through his hair. He realized that her bare breasts were pressed against him, and stiffened a little, but she lifted herself up, leaning upwards, and whispered at him, inches from his face.

"Sssh, relax, I won't hurt you," she said.

He had to take her at her word: If she'd wanted to hurt him, she was surely strong enough to have done so by now. He softened a little, laying back, and let her continue.

Her hand slipped down now, down his body, slowly but deliberately, taking its time to snake from his shoulder all the way to his stomach, and then to his waist and his leg, bypassing the area he was slightly terrified that she'd dare to touch. He desperately wanted her to, but -- at the same time he was worried she'd recoil at doing such a thing, so he was relieved when her hand slipped down his leg to his knee.

And then it started inching back up his leg on the inside.

He started to grow nervous, and she clearly recognized it and spoke again. "Relax. This will feel good, I promise."

He nodded, and her fingers slowly slid upward along his leg, closer and closer to his member. He'd been trying very hard not to let it stiffen -- one didn't show such things to a lady! -- but now it was getting impossible not to react, and he gasped as her fingers slid right between his leg and his testicles before gently cupping them. Her hand was -- there -- and it was amazing -- and he could barely hold his focus anymore, his body stiffening again, but for a very different reason as her fingers began to slide up his shaft. If she wanted to touch it, and she wasn't rebelling at touching it, he wasn't going to fight anymore.

"See?" she said sweetly. "You do like that."

He nodded, at a complete loss for words.

She shifted her position, closer to him, hovering over him, and something soft rested against his face. And then something else. His addled mind took far longer than he expected to realize that the soft clouds were her breasts, round and shimmering in the moonlight, and then her left hand was on one of them, gently guiding her nipple to his lips, and he kissed and suckled instinctively, savoring the salty sweet taste of her skin. Nothing came out, but he couldn't stop himself from trying to make it happen.

And then her fingers were wrapped around his shaft, loosely sliding from one end to the other. He'd taken care of his own needs before, of course, but it was nothing like her touch. Electric sparks seemed to dance in his mind, and it was everything he could do not to lose focus. She seemed to be everywhere, her face kissing his chest, her hair covering him like a blanket, her nipple in his mouth, one of her hands gently stroking his chest while the other steadily stroked his shaft, getting him harder and harder. He thought his mind would burst at the seams.

Then she slowed, mercifully, and he took a moment to catch his breath. She pulled her breast loose from him and smiled down.

"Was that good?" she said.

"That was amazing," he said.

She smiled, her silhouette softly lit by the moonlight. "It's not over. I just thought you might like a moment to rest."

He nodded. "Thanks, yeah, that was -- I didn't even know it could feel like that."

She sat upright, still illuminated in the moonlight. "I -- you said it tonight. Do you -- really think I'm pretty?" she said. "Even though there's -- the horse?"

"You're -- beautiful," he dared.

"Even with the horse?"

"I mean, it's weird," he replied. "But the human parts of you are still beautiful even with it. By the gods, you're gorgeous. And it's not a bad horse. Sleek. Strong. You obviously take care of it. But honestly it's the last thing I'm thinking about right now."

She smiled again weakly. "I'll take that. You're the first guy in a year who's looked at me like I'm still worth looking at. That's also part of why I'm in here. It's kind of shallow, but -- you called me pretty, and -- I was hoping I could see you squirt that thing, more for me than for you, to just remember what it's like to have a man want you enough to even think about sex."

"You'd -- want to see -- that?"

She grinned. "I've seen it before, you know," she said. "I had boyfriends, once. But it'd be the first time in a long time. I'm not going to ask you to get anywhere near my back end -- I don't want to think about you having to put up with that -- but I'd be flattered if you jerked off to my face and tits."

He nodded.

She stood up and slipped over to the wall, where lonely candlestick was hung. She struck a flint and lit the candle, the warm light filling the room, and making her body glow a warm orange from head to tail. She turned back to him, and he realized that she really wasn't wearing any clothing: She presumably hadn't been when she was resting on him, with her skin touching his everywhere, but he hadn't put together that she'd snuck into the room naked. Her bare breasts, round and full and pert and pink, glowed in the candlelight.

"I wasn't kidding, you really are beautiful," he breathed.

"Shame about the horse, though, right?" she said.

He shook his head. "Even that part of you looks beautiful," he said.

She turned a little pink, and her tail twitched. "You're just saying that."

"I'm saying that you're gorgeous," he said. "If I died right now, I'd have no regrets. You'd be the last thing I'd take with me to the afterlife. I'll never forget how you look right now."

She turned redder, her tail swishing. She pointed at his dick and nodded once.

He caught her signal and started stroking his shaft, slowly and steadily, just enjoying how amazing she looked. She struck a pose, her arms up over her head, watching to see his reaction. Sure, her lower half was strange, but bare in the candlelight like this, her body looked right, as if she was always supposed to be a centaur. She wasn't fully human, but did it matter? Whatever she was, she was gorgeous and sexy.

She bit her lip and inched closer, her hooves surprisingly quiet on the wooden floor. She lowered herself beside the bed, carefully scooting her hindquarters as close as possible.

"Don't hide," he said, pausing.

"But -- "

"Don't pretend that part is ugly," he said. "It's different, but it's part of what you are, and I don't want you to hide yourself. I promise it's not going to make me stop."

"But -- "

"No 'buts.' Come on. Don't hide. I promise I'll keep going."

It was her turn to be nervous as she scooted her hindquarters out from beside the bed, laying on the floor, feeling far more exposed by her back end than her front.

"I told you: beautiful," he said, and he started working his shaft more.

She watched him for a moment, first his eyes, and then staring at his hardened shaft as his hand slid up and down, and then back at his eyes. He clearly was willing to continue despite her 'infirmity.' She leaned in, putting a hand on his waist, smiling gently at him, and then she took over, her hands sliding in to join his before evicting them outright.

Then she flashed him a smile, and she slipped her lips over his shaft.

"Ah!"

He leaned back in the bed, groaning, as lightning bolts shot outward from the touch of her lips. He'd never experienced anything like it. It was warm, it was heavenly, it was -- it was moving up and down, her lips and her tongue gently massaging him, sucking him until it felt like his entire body would be swallowed by her, but still she kept going. Whatever ability he had to focus was gone, and the only thing that existed was her lips, her lips, her heavenly lips, wrapped around his member, her teeth gently brushing his skin as her tongue gently licked along the sensitive underside.

She worked him slowly for a while, and then sped up, and he began to wonder if this was an elaborate plan to break his mind, but still she kept going, driving him mad as he grabbed at the sheets, trying to hold on for dear life. Involuntary sounds escaped his mouth, his body shaking, and he was sure he was getting close, but --

He pushed her back just as he almost came.

"What's the matter?" she said, looking hurt.

"Wait, wait," he said, breathing hard, nearly panting.

"What? Did I do something wrong?"

"No, no -- let's -- let's do it for real," he said.

"What?"

"For real," he said, "with you. I'm laying here and dreaming about being inside you, but not like this. This is amazing, but you deserve it too. It shouldn't just be me."

"But the horse -- "

"What about it? It's a part of you, isn't it?"

"I mean -- "

"Were you fused to a horse, or did you turn into one? Is that something else's body, or is that all yours?"

"I -- I just was turned into this," she said, a little shaken. "I was just working in the yard, and next thing I knew I was hit by a blast and knocked over, and then there was a horse growing out of me, and it's been there ever since."

"Then it's all you, isn't it? That's not an animal back there. It's you."

"It's a horse," she said, scowling. "It doesn't matter how it got there."

"It's you," he said. "It's a beautiful, amazing, perfect girl who's already given me the best night of my life. And I don't want to lay here just imagining what it's like to be with you while you do -- seriously, that was amazing, but I want to celebrate the real you, all of you. If you're willing -- I want to do the real thing with you."

"Mike, seriously, that's a horse back there," she said. "It's weird and creepy and -- "

"It's not weird, and it's not creepy, and it's not a horse. You're a centaur, right? And that's what a centaur is. It'd be the privilege of my life to get to touch your -- your vagina for real."

"Horse cunt." She bristled, but he was wearing her down.

"Your vagina, just horse-shaped," he insisted.

"Mike, I -- I can't ask you to do that. That's not -- it's really gross if I imagine you having to get anywhere near that thing."

"You're not asking me. I'm asking you. Let's do this the right way. I promise I won't reject you, no matter what it's like. Do you want it?"

She bit her lip again. "I do want it." She breathed hard. "I want it a lot."

He sat up. "Then don't turn me away," he said. "Maybe I'm drunk, but I don't feel like I'm making a bad choice. All I see in front of me is a pretty girl who's nice and who gave me a ride all the way here and who I'd die to have a chance at, and here she is naked in my room and I'm not going to pass it up."

She sighed. "I -- all right. Just promise me -- you won't talk afterward about -- any of what you have to do to do -- that," she said. "I don't want to think about -- you putting up with -- any of what it looks like back there."

"I'm not putting up with anything," he said. "I'm getting the most perfect night I've ever had with the most amazing girl I've ever met."

She stood up. "All right. I warned you. Please let this not be the wrong choice. But if you really want to -- I won't say no."

* * *

Lyssa slowly turned, one soft clop at a time, pivoting in place, her eyes never leaving him as her humanity got farther and farther away from him while her equine rear -- she hated the thing. A thousand guys in a hundred towns looked at it and saw a beast. It was a curse, and it had ruined her life. As it neared Mike, she grimaced nervously, dreading that he'd finally react like all the others.

Instead, he gingerly stepped closer, and put a hand on her rear, looking up at her eyes. She winced, biting her lip again, and he put his other hand on her rear, and then hugged her.

"Stop, that's -- too weird," she said. "You're holding a horse's ass."

He paused. "Would it be easier if you didn't look?"

She turned away from him. "I guess."

His hands were still on her rear, but if she squinted, she could almost imagine that she was on hands and knees, with him holding her rear properly. That was exciting, enticing -- she'd always loved being in that position, feeling her man coming up behind her, holding her, knowing she was about to be claimed. Taken. Used.

There was a wooden scraping noise, and her revelry was broken as she caught him trying to slide over the chair with one foot.

"Oh, Mike, this just isn't going to work," she said, realizing what he was doing.

The chair stopped, and he got up on it, bending slightly to the right height. "I can make it work," he said, resting his hands on her rear again.

"I'm flattered, and this is really hot, but -- "

His finger slipped over her nether lips, sliding upward, and she stopped mid-sentence. She hadn't been touched there in a year. A year! Or was it ever? This body hadn't been touched there ever. And the soft touch! She shuddered, trying not to squeak as the sensation swirled through her body and up to her mind. It wasn't right -- he was doing it with -- to --. The thoughts started to fall apart. A very nice boy was fingering her pussy. Whatever. Whatever. She'd given him warnings. He wanted to do that? Something that weird and disgusting? It was his problem now. Fuck! After a year of nothing, she'd gotten her first drink of water in the desert and she wasn't about to give it up.

His fingers went up and down her dark slit. For a man who had no experience, he was doing marvelously well. A finger slipped inside her and she gasped.

"That okay?" he said.

"Oh, fuck, don't stop," she breathed, not looking back.

And he didn't. Hand up and down on her slit, and his fingers inside her, one, two -- she hadn't realized she was that tight a fit. She hadn't been that tight as a human, and now that she was a horse it didn't seem right that she'd be so tight, but when a third finger slipped inside it nearly broke her mind, and she stumbled a little, crying out before biting her knuckle. There were other guests at the inn, and the last thing she needed was one of them realizing what they were doing.

Not that she cared at this point. She glanced back once, and he looked her right in the eye and smiled before continuing to work her. She turned away, trying hard not to think about what he was doing. And he was doing! She hadn't gotten laid in a year, and there was a period where it'd been a weekly occurrence, talking the boys in the village into meeting her behind Keffler's barn, and she hadn't realized how badly her libido had been crushed by getting turned into a centaur. It had come roaring back and was pounding in her skull now, demanding back payment for a year's worth of skipped orgasms. She leaned back into him, pressing her rear into his hand, feeling it build and build.

"Can I put it in?" he said, slowing for a moment.

"Oh for fuck's sake please," she whimpered. "Hard. I need it hard. Hard so hard inside me fuuuck I'm gonna lose my mind -- "

She watched as he lined himself up, crouching on top of the chair, and pressed his tip against her dark, engorged, teardrop-shaped nether lips. They were dripping wet, just like his fingers, but were surprisingly resistant as he slid his shaft inside her.

"Ahn -- " she cried.

"Are you okay?"

"Hurts a little, but it's so good, soooo good," she said, turning away to avoid looking at what she really didn't want to see.

He pushed the rest of the way into her, holding her hindquarters tightly, and she groaned and moaned all the way in.

He paused. "Should I keep going?"

"If you stop I'll buck you out that window," she growled, pressing back into him, and she smacked him with her tail.

He pulled out and pushed back into her, gently, and she gasped again, bracing her legs. He wasn't even remotely strong enough to move her, but if she didn't brace herself, she'd simply collapse. Instead, he started thrusting at her like she was a stationary object, an immovable wall of girl that could just be pounded at.

That suited her just fine: Her pussy was getting rocked, and not only was he doing all the work, she wasn't even being squished into a bed. She simply leaned back into it, savoring the orgasm as it built. It occurred to her that horses were normally just one-and-done: She had a body built for just a quickie in the field, but he was nailing her like a man, over and over and harder and harder --

-- and suddenly the orgasm was too much, and she finally, blissfully came, swallowing a cry, thrusting and smashing against him. The waves of pleasure wracked her from her head to her tail. She pounded back hard against him, over and over again, and he pounded her back in reply. At last she shakily slowed, her body feeling hotter than a forge, and then it was done. She stood still, her hooves anchored to the floor, trying to figure out how to think with her mind again.

He slowed a moment, and paused inside her, and she caught her breath.

"You okay?"

"Fuuu..." It was barely a word.

"I'm glad," he said.

"This was supposed to be about you," she mumbled.

"I'm good," he said.

"Mmm," she said. "No you're not. You were supposed to get yours -- and then I was gonna go back to my room -- and rub my pussy on the bedpost for a while -- and then I was gonna sleep. Fuck, I didn't think, hah." She giggled. "Hah, I didn't think I was gonna get laid for real. Not in this body, not with that damn tail, wow, I can't believe it."

He grinned, gently squeezing her rear. "I'm glad."

"Seriously you have no idea how much I needed that, holy sweet Goddess Adia be praised. I never figured I'd have the chance again unless I managed to someday find a centaur guy who wasn't a complete prick. And they all are, every last one of them I ever met."

"I hope you don't think I am," he said. "I'd do that for you any time you want."

She twisted at her waist, glancing back at him. "You're not a prick, you're a saint. Sexy saint. And I honestly don't know why you would, but I'm not complaining." She reached out and took his hand. "You're so far away, but I can still feel you inside me. Amazing. I wish I'd met you a year ago. I wouldn't have spent a year hating on something if you liked it that much. Even if it's a goddamn horse."

"I wish I'd met you a year ago too," he said, giving her hand a gentle squeeze.

And then she gave her pussy a squeeze. "Don't you get soft on me."

He winced. "I'm not!"

She grinned, breathing deeply. "All right, cute boy, if you don't mind fucking a -- my hors -- my back end -- why don't you take your turn now? This was supposed to be about you. And now that you've put the idea in my head, I want you to come inside me. I want to feel it where it belongs. I can blow you any time, but tonight's special. Specialer than special. It can't be less than everything tonight, can it. Can it..." She trailed off, and he wondered if she was talking more to herself or to him.

"Are you sure?" he said.

She squeezed his hand -- and then squeezed his shaft. "Trust me, I'm sure. Don't you dare pull out. This is the real thing. Go for it. All of it."

He bit his lip this time, but nodded, and he started to work her slit, their eyes locked, their hands still clasped. Every time he thrust, she'd give him a helpful gentle tug, and every time he pulled back, her smile grew a little wider.

"Go on," she'd say from time to time. "Harder." "More."

He was speeding up, and somewhat to her surprise she felt another wave growing in her own loins. With the dam at last broken, it was easy to have more flood through, and as she held onto him, breathing words of encouragement, she realized that another was building, as much from the clasp of his hand as from the pounding of his shaft inside her and the slap of his body against her soft coat. Centaur sex was different and weird, but if he didn't mind, she was past the point of worrying about it. She'd been so completely alone for so long, and in a sudden moment it was all right, in a new way, and by the gods if this was what it took for her to have a happily-ever-after, she was at last sold.

He pounded harder now, and she could feel her own getting bigger, and she expected to hold it off until he was ready, but she was too happy, too safe, too right -- and it exploded far before she was ready and she cried out again, this time with full equine lungs. Fuck the other guests: She was having an orgasm, and she was going to enjoy it, and she didn't care who else knew. Fuck the guests, fuck the floor, fuck that candle, fuck everything. She gripped his hand tightly as her clit spasmed under him, its intensity frying her insides from back to front, and for a few blissful moments, nothing else entered her mind but sparks of happiness and the feel of a lovely boy who was making it right, making it all right --

-- oh, wait, he was still going. That thought mumbled its way through her head as he sped up, inspired by her own orgasm, then suddenly he burst, gasping, releasing inside her, his hot sticky bursts filling and warming her like the hearth by a fireplace in a rainstorm. She held his hand tightly, making sure he knew that what he was doing was what she wanted, all of it, every last drop, and then he collapsed on top of her, his torso plastered like a blanket on top of her equine rear while he breathed so hard she nearly worried he was hurt.

They stood like that for a little while, the candlelight gently flickering beside them. Lyssa was in no hurry to push him off: He was a human, and he comparatively weighed nothing. At one point she was fairly certain he was asleep, which suited her fine too: If he wanted to use her as a bed, she was more than happy to oblige. She was plenty large enough for it, and she was happy to keep him that close.

She sighed happily. Well -- so what if she was a horse? Maybe she'd overstated the case to herself. Mike was cute and sweet, and he'd been able to look past it in a single day. This little merchant was infinitely kinder than any boy she'd ever slept with, and all he needed was a little bit of confidence. He could do amazing things, if he was motivated, and she resolved to be as much motivation as he'd ever need. He needed her, and she needed him, and it was possibly the sex talking, but she felt she'd found her answer. His future was her future. She wondered if Adia had been looking out for her, or if the meeting on the road had simply been the best of all possible luck, to balance out the horrible luck that had turned her into this in the first place. Maybe that was Adia's doing too. Not that Lyssa was especially religious, but she was happy to attribute their meeting to whatever entity might claim responsibility --as long as she got to keep him, the gods could have anything they wanted from her.

The candle had burned fairly low when he snuffled and snorted and woke and realized where he was laying. "Oh -- I -- sorry, I -- "

She reached back, gently ruffling his hair. "There's nothing to be sorry about," she said.

"But I -- I mean, I put my -- inside you -- "

"I should be the one apologizing for what you had to put it into," she said.

He smiled up at her. "It was really good, though."

"If you like it, I won't tell you no," she said. "I just burned off a year of self-loathing. I'm still a centaur, but you don't know how good it feels to know that there's at least one guy out there who still wants my tail. Literally." She swished it gently against him.

He laughed softly.

"Uh, should I get down?" he said.

"You're light as a feather, and I can sleep standing up," she said. "You don't have to get down if you don't want to."

He nuzzled his face against her soft rear. "I don't think I want to."

* * *

Lyssa paused. She tapped Mike on the shoulder. He'd been sleeping on her back as they'd traveled the long road through the trees, sitting backward and leaning against her torso, and he snuffled and snorted and sat upright. She always loved it when he made that noise. The wooden cart behind them rolled to a halt.

"Huh, wha --?"

She tapped his shoulder again. "Does this place look familiar to you?" she asked.

He looked around, and scratched his head a moment. "Oh, yeah. This is the road to Orian, right?"

"Yeah."

"Isn't this where we met? I recognize that rock, and those trees." He pointed.

She blinked. "By the gods, it is," she said.

"That was a long time ago," he said, leaning back against her, and nuzzling against her hair.

"Almost a year," she replied wistfully. "It's hard to believe it's been that long."

"Huh. You think they forgot us at the inn by now?"

"Mike, dear, they know us at every inn now," she said sweetly, tapping his head. "And you know why we're not welcome back."

"I've been thinking maybe we could fashion some rubber into special shoes for you, and we could get a leatherer to make straps to hold it on."

"You really think that would've prevented the time I broke a wall? Or accidentally kicked a chair in half?"

"No." He chuckled. "Shame, really. It might have been nice to visit where we first -- "

" -- fucked?" she said, grinning.

He huffed. "I was going to say 'met,'" he said. "Ah, well, stables again it is."

"Think of it this way," she said, waving at the cart behind them. "We're making lots of money now, right? And as long as we keep staying in stables and barns, we're saving up."

"You can have the money," he said, cuddling up against her. "I have everything I need right here."

"Silly boy." She leaned back and kissed his hat. "But I'm glad you're mine."

He chuckled in reply.

She looked up toward the road ahead. "To think that if it wasn't for getting turned into this, we'd never have met. I'd never have left my village, and I'd never have gone down this road at all. To think what I'd have missed out on!"

Mike cocked an eyebrow up at her. "What you missed out on? How about what I'd have missed out on? I met a cute exotic pretty girl here a year ago, and now she's my business partner, my wife, my best friend, and my horse. And she fucks me stupid every night. I really couldn't ask for more." He rubbed his head against her, and then leaned back, lowering his hat.

She laughed. "Listen, you. If you weren't the best thing that ever happened to me, I'd mad at you right now."

"For what?" he said, tipping his hat up slightly.

"For calling me a horse," she replied, poking at him. "And it's your fault: I was having a perfectly miserable life all by myself just being a freak and a monster. I could've gone like that for years, but no, I had to meet a boy who completely changed my outlook on life. It's entirely your fault that I'm now one hundred percent centaur and damn proud of it from head to tail."

He chuckled, adjusting his hat back down.

She glanced back over her shoulder at him. "Let's gallop," she said suddenly.

"I never should've let you fall in love with your body," he said. "I was having such a nice quiet relaxing ride."

"Pssh," she replied. "I feel like celebrating us, the way only a centaur can. I'm going to run the entire rest of the way, and then when we get there, after lots and lots and lots of bouncing, I'll be all hot. And sweaty." She raised an eyebrow. "And dripping." She leaned back at him. "And I believe you're in love with my body too."

He shook his head and sat upright, laughing. "All right, all right, you win, you win. I never could say no to you."

She laughed, and bolted.