Two Centaurs and Their Son

Rain. Hard, pelting cold rain. Nothing romantic about being out trotting in it, just an urgency to get inside someplace warm, preferably warm and with something warmly refreshing, like….our favourite, hot Honey flavoured Bourbon drunk neat. Two is better but three, at least the size we drink them, suggests it’s time to take a nap.

That day, however as we galloped on trying to keep mud from splashing too far up-no Centaur likes a muddied belly-we were keeping to the road that ran by the river. Brett touched me and pointed to a place on the other side normally fully exposed but now covered with the rapid rise. We went on but were conscious that if the river came much further up, as it had in the past, well, the old song, “River Stay Away From My Door” would have real meaning.

This was on both our minds when Brett grabbed me, swung me around and started to pull me down the bank. Immediately I could see two men in a boat, clearly started, earlier, fishing but now in real  danger of being up the river without a paddle. They’d had a rope which, apparently, they’d loosely tied to something on the shore but it had come loose. What was saving them, and barely, was a young man who’d grasped the rope and was trying as hard as he could to pull the boat closer to shore away from the stronger current; It was a valiant effort but….he was losing. Nothing for us but to run down, jump in, grab him and the rope then all three of us, the man and the two Centaurs, pull the boat not just out of the current but up on the banks.

Their gratitude was obvious and immediate, particularly the son who was clutched by his father now safe he could shudder in fear for what might have happened…..and would have. Strong swimmers that we are, I really doubt we could have got into the main flood and successfully pulled them. Then there was the man, he’s the real hero, caught the rope before it could be pulled into the water and….lost for further capture. They wanted to do something for us but, of course, we said our payment was in their safety, part of what Centaurs do, we’ve learned over centuries, was save mortals from themselves. Finally less shaken they went to their vehicle and drove away leaving many thanks and promises to do a good deed for another.

Brett and I looked at their departing car and were slightly disgusted. Under a tree, they’d forgot the man, the one who attracted us and settled the ending, the happy ending, not the tragedy it might have been. There was only one thing to do; Brett picked him up, put him-he proved to be a teen-aged man- on my back, apologized for not having some sort of cover but, if he’d hold his arms round my chest, we could very quickly get home, get him warm, feed him….he was almost in tears of gratitude; I do not think it even occurred to him that the now vanished fisher folk were the ones who owed him the greatest gratitude but...he was too tired, too warn out to notice and, really, Centaurs are good judges of character, he wouldn’t have cared.

As quickly as possible we got him into our place, got his clothes off, found good, wool blankets to surround him, quickly got a fire going-which felt good to all of us. Laying him just away from the hearth, we checked him to see if...anything was wrong, there wasn’t save he was extremely tired and, I suddenly wondered, could he be hungry? Now, our home, his emaciation was all too apparent, his too bright eyes didn’t suggest, but said he was either on very short rations or had nothing to eat. Well. Brett got down, folding his legs under him as we do, took this kind man into his very strong arms and gently asked a few questions.

His name was Tommy, he’d been working for a farmer, whom we knew-slightly- not far, but….the work had run out so he was let go. Okay but that meant no farm house meals, no warm place to sleep, nothing. He was as well and truly alone and on his own as they come. Brave lad, he tried to smile it off, said the walking was good exercise, helping with the boat was exciting….while my Centaur and I looked on this good person and knew what we would do.

First was food. While Brett held him, he let Tommy dry his tail, curry his main, underbelly, I made the most restorative drink I knew then, just to make sure, added more than a good lashing of  Brandy; Once he’d drunk all this good food, we wanted him to rest while we worked how to take him in with us for...what other alternatives were there? Turn him back into the rain, even though fed? No, he’d already proved he was an exceptional lad so he had earned our thought plus food, shelter, let the future decide itself.

He must have been far more exhausted than we thought. Yes, he got the whole mug down but it wasn’t many seconds until his grateful eyes looked at us and asked, if maybe he could rest for a few minutes then….go…..he didn’t want to bother us. We would have answered but, to do so, would have had to wake him. I made a warm, soft pallet for him on the floor in front of the fire. He’d, without thinking about it, removed his clothes so he snuggled into a heavy blanket that would not only keep warm but the weight would give him the feeling of security, he would not just nap, but sleep.

It was peaceful, the two of us relaxing back on our haunches, watching Tommy so lovely now that he was fed and resting...it took little conversation to decide he’d found a home; If there’s one thing Centaurs can always use it’s a lithe man to scurry around where it’s inconvenient to us. And, yes, while we can curry and dry each other, it’s a fool who does not recognize the pleasure of another doing it, so….Tommy had joined our household. One thing...his clothes. Brett and I never wore them; What would look more ridiculous than a Centaur trying to put on boxers...or a jock large enough to hold our equipment? We knew what was stored in our undercarriage, we knew our large horse-like balls were easily visible when we flicked our tails but….that’s how it is with Centaurs.

“Beau….what if we trained him to be, well, like us? No clothes? Once he’d fed and worked a bit, he has a damn fine body that will only get better….I don’t know if you’d agree but, you know what we’ve always, well, sorta wanted but….”

I stopped him. “Yeah, a pony to raise to become one of us but….he can’t.”

“Doesn’t mean we can’t raise him...how old do you ‘spose he is? Cept for being far too thin, he’s got a real fine body-watched him in the river, look good mounted on either of us...eventually…. but his age...I’ll guess 15 but, say, how did he get to that farm? Someone just drop him off….you know, buddy, I’ll bet he’s been on his own for a long time. Too long for a kid like that, got to have got lonely...what about his people?”

Somehow in my mind I saw a sad past, Tommy, real young, left with...somebody who passed him on to somebody else then, finally he got to the farm….”

“And now he’s ours.”

“Do you think….”

“Maybe, course we can’t make him stay but if he would well, okay, he’s not a pony but he could be our…..”

“Say it.”

“ He could be our son….”

We looked at each other and, big strong galutes that we are, I could see his tears through mine. A son. ‘Course if someone came along to say, sorry, men, we forgot him six or eight years ago, nice of you to keep him….They’d find out what getting kicked by two Centaurs felt like...in all the places it can really hurt. Tommy was ours.

Or that was what we wanted, couldn’t just have him wake up and then tell him, “Guess what, you’re ours….gonna be our son.” Given his life to that moment, he’d had to mature fast, was almost a man, he could make his own decisions. And, truth to tell, not everybody wants two Centaurs for Dads….maybe he would want a real father….Fuck, what am I saying? We’re real fathers, real men, just got bigger and everything a man’s got just….more of it plus can they run all day? Carry heavy loads? Don’t mind the weather? Love one another…..hell no, they couldn’t so….  But... if he didn’t want us well….I guess we’d sure offer him our home and a place to sleep, food, plenty of that, let him get stronger then when some man comes along….just smile, sort of, let him go….but even if that happened, for now and until we knew what would happen, he was our Tommy, our son….

I took Brett into my arms, kissed him, stroked his broad back….figured, easy, make a saddle for Tommy, fit either one of us, proud to carry our son on our backs, sides, we could go a hell of a lot faster than some man, even a man running.

We wanted sex, good Centaur sex, just a matter of who let their horse pole down fastest and hardest. I won so, while  Brett pawed the ground...shame we can’t reach down and under on ourselves and give that horse cock a good pull. Couldn’t suck it either, least ways not when your partner was sticking his up your ass, that good, long dark piece of meat sliding way up in you. Don’t know how humans can accept that short snout they got, someone cheated them. More ‘n one told us they was sorely jealous, those apple balls, that Boa Constrictor dick….man would they like something like that. To  which we always reminded them….how’d they wear pants? Our nuts alone weighed a good three pound and that doesn’t include the big, round size plus the bag they hang in. Shit, that can reach our fetlocks if we released them, really let them hang, like we did in the Pride Parade.

Back there  Brett had his hooves up on my back, slamming his meat into me, my nuts swinging back and forth, getting clonked with they hit my legs but, damn, even that little pain just added to the good feeling of being fucked by a Centaur who loved you, nothing we could do to each other really hurt cuz it was just something you did to prove your love. Even when Brett had me rare up and tied my front hooves to the pole then whipped me, I knew he loved doing it so it felt like painful love. Same as when I’d sneak up, jump him then almost rape him, get him down on the floor, my fore legs wrapped around his belly, my fuck toughened, mushroom headed fire hose stuck up his ass...Jesus he was deep and felt so good. Could tell he was getting into it, he contorted, tried to force his horse cunt lips further down my fattening staff….oh yeah, he was getting off. I could feel his stiff member, laying on the floor ready to eject a line of crème two feet long followed by a stream of Centaur Jizz like no other cum in the world….some few guys could testify to that...fact is...we’d been approached about letting ourselves be milked then put up in a jar or something and sold….always wondered exactly what they’d do with it? Maybe get their human woman full of it, see if she’d get knocked up and….maybe...they’d have a Centaur for a son. Never knew it to work but I bet there’s them who’s tried.

Jesus Brett was up and at ‘em To-Day. I was getting the drilling I needed by the Centaur I needed it from. Just stood there, pinching my tits, wondering at how much I loved him….but….what was eating at my dick? Looked down, Holy Shit it was Tommy!! Doing a right smart job….I hadn’t ever been fucked and had my dick sucked and, damn, it felt good.

Brett noticed, pulled out, came around, sat down by Tommy who let my dong fall out, looked embarrassed….

“Son, what the hell are you doing….?”

“Uh, well, the men on the farm always made me suck their dicks so I figured, maybe if I do it here you might…..” The rest of the sentence, we both felt certain from the way we looked at each other was, “let me stay here.”

Hard for both of us to pick him but we tried. Kissed him, laughed, told him about...wanting a son and hoped that maybe, if he liked us, not right away but, maybe, well sometime, he’d stay.

“Fuck, I’ll stay now….” That’s when he started to cry the relieved sort of crying that comes after fear is abolished.

I picked him up, took him back to the fire, put him some place warm then we both settled down beside him. We got a question I guess we didn’t expect.

“If I worked real hard….I mean at widening my ass….suppose you could ever fuck me? I like that a lot.”

It wasn’t a question we could immediately answer simply as neither of us had an answer, the question had simply never come up.

To buy some time….I laid him on his back, started to cup his balls, rub his dick which was almost immediately hard. He reached up, caught my head and pulled it down to the wavering stalk, already pushing out pre cum in a goodly amount.

While I gently took him in my mouth, Brett eased a finger under his tail then started a slow journey to his man pleasure spot….we were interrupted  by our new son who had an idea.

“Hey, I know how to fist, bet if you can hit my G spot, I could go up yours...I mean...I don’t know if you have one….” I pulled him up and to me.

“Oh yeah, we got one, a big one and nothing would give either of us more pleasure….say, Brett, what if we stood with our asses to him and he double fisted us? Never had that, bet it would be terrific...”  

“Wow, I fisted lots of guys, get my handball in there and I bet you guys got perfect asses for a whole arm….I guess you’ve had that done to you….huh.”

“ Well, not by our son…..”

He looked shocked… “Your son, you mean it, me?”

We just smiled, “Yep, our son….if you want to stay and I think you said you did but wanted to say that about being our son again cuz now, well, lets all get on the floor while I blow you and Brett figures out how to get his hand up your ass, wanna get to that prostate….”

It was a full evening. Had to roll over a couple of times and add a log or two. Guess our son had been broken in….I figured maybe it wasn’t a good time to ask how he knew what he knew about men and sex but he sure did.

The months went by, we really did become a family to the extent that our brother Centaurs began to think of him as their nephew and the humans just saw us as a family, little different kind of family, but our son went to school, played ball, did very well at his studies, made friends….some of whom he brought home and, I’m afraid, taught them some things he knew. Once, his best friend came to me and, real shyly, asked if he could try and give me a sucking...that was his word. He quickly added that Tommy told him it would be okay….later that evening Tommy learned that the hand on a Centaur is just like the hand on a human man, it hurts when you get spanked along with the talk about trying to get your friends to ask if they could blow us….that answer was NO. What they did with their own fathers…..

One day, just before Christmas, Tommy came in, stomping from the cold but almost out growing his clothes not only from height gain but the muscle he’d added. Just like his dads, barrel, chest, broad shoulders, six pack only his ended in a man sized dick not to mention a pair that would soon be low hangers.

On that day we called him to us, had him strip, blindfolded him then explained we had something for him, something all Centaurs have, something we had that he’d admired. I could hear the intake of breath as we put his steel Centaur collar on him. When we let him look all he could do was stand in front of the mirror and stare. He was so proud, we showed him where, if he wanted, he could take it off but he backed away, said he’d have it welded on before he’d take it off. We’d put ours on so what you saw was a herd of men, bare chested, strong, grinning, a family of Centaurs just as if it was meant to be.

And so it went on. That Spring Brett said to me…. “I’m concerned, I think Tommy’s getting prematurely bald….you noticed?”

Well, no. As with any demanding parent, and I was one, when he left the house in the morning, the only way he could have been cleaner was if we’d made him drink Drano. No sloppy clothes, jeans clean with a knife edge crease down the center, ALWAYS boots, always. We had an outfit for him when he rode us. Knee high shining polished black boots, his English saddle, polished black leather jock with a silver stripe down the front of the pouch, the narrowest possible straps, of leather around him and through his crotch, polished leather harness for his shoulders, mirrored aviator rimmed glasses as well as a black leather barracks cape trimmed in silver….just so he’d have a place to put his hands as, clearly, we weren’t about to wear-except when we privately played-a bridle with leads, there was a strap from under the saddle that allowed him to arrange his hands in a very masculine way. And, okay, so we encouraged him, he had a butt plug-you could see the black, wide leather end of it, as well as a sound that kept his man’s cock stiff and almost at attention. To see the three of us was to know you’d seen something…..important. Clearly a family that loved each other but this business with his hair. Tommy was fastidious and, if he was going bald, I knew he’d be devastated….no man 16 wants to have to think about male pattern baldness. Brett and I were substantially older than him and, predictably, we wore long, thick pony tails. What else? But Tommy? Bald?

That evening after dinner we all were gathered on the floor-easier for a horse’s body to sit down there-with Tommy when I brought the topic up. With my hand on his head, and as gently as possible, I said we were concerned about his hair loss. He ducked his head, Jesus, maybe we were right, bald, but came up with a huge smile.

“Thought two smart Centaurs would have figured it out….I can’t be a pony but….I sure as hell can grow a mane. I’ve been pulling the hair from the sides of my head out, just leaving a wide center and….in a few years, well, it will sorta look like a mane, something every horse and Centaur has. I wanted to surprize you but I guess….

We both grabbed him, laughing, maybe a tear or two but nothing he could have done would have pleased us more.

“Since you brought it up and, obviously, you want it, how about each of us, now, take a side and started plucking? You know….it will take a lot of patience cuz some of it, even a hair or two will grow back and then….no point in shaving it, just rip it out.”

“You mean it? Now? The two of you would help me be a kinda pony?”

“We’d love you however you were but this…..just understand how special, how personal a gift to us this is…..now, get up, head for the can...and whatever we use to start yanking!...”

In a time when ‘Mohawk’ hair cuts were normal, Tommy showing up with what looked like one caused no comment and, of course, he didn’t actually tell anyone the real purpose. His coach just said it looked great on him, sort of reminded him of his fathers…..

Predictably his sport was track and field. With us as his Dads? What else? Even without our coaching he would have been at least very good but we knew ways around a field that improved vastly what he could do. Obviously, he was a long distance runner…..by then a marathon to him was just what we did when we went out for a walk. Hurdles? He could jump over a five bar from a standstill not to mention his excellence at the Steeple Chase...although his question as to where the steeple was flummoxed both of us. Never got in a water hazard, cleared obstacles, just like a horse….Only thing, the school insisted he wear a uniform as opposed to when we went out-fuck, we never wore clothes so neither did he. Well, in public, kinda had to but, when the weather was good, he wore as little as possible.

Summer and every kid, although we hardly thought of him as a kid, needs a job but….it was the first time a weird form of discrimination hit; Our guys who had businesses were mainly Centaurs and, of course, the young they hired were the spawn of Centaurs, young men who would grow to be….like us, not Tommy.  Because of our strength, much of the work our buddies did was really relying on that strength and endurance of a horse, we could carry large loads and weights on our back easily, the young Centaurs were learning to do the same. Our Tommy, strong as a beast but...upright. No back on which to stack or allow him to carry, just a very strong body, to look at him was to know that.

Time to have a visit with Aegis, the oldest Centaur, the wisest person, Centaur or not, I ever knew.

He received us kindly, even however old as he was, he was magnificent, not white but silver hair, a mane down his still human back-ours were still growing-that swirled about almost washing the air with silver. He was casually sitting on his front porch, waved us in, got up, gave each of us a genuine hug the held me back and looked into my face.

“There’s a problem with Tommy, only reason you’d be here...so, gentleman, perhaps I should offer you a drink...matter of fact, sun is over the yard arm, I’ll join you. Bourbon?”

While he went off to get the glasses, Brett and I looked at each other, why were we there? Aegis, fine as he was, wasn’t in the job hunting business, but I suppose we hoped, he might have an idea….he knew and liked Tommy...if he’d help….

We all took a companionable sip or two then Aegis, flat out said, “What’s wrong with Tommy?”

“No work...none of the Centaurs will hire him, they’ve got their own young men and….they’re all young Centaurs, do more work than Tommy, not stronger, our kid is a beast….” Aegis chuckled. “With you two as fathers there was no other possibility, beast he is, but I good one I’ll wager….comes from fine stock.”

Had to cut that off. “He’s just not a Centaur.”

“No, he’s not….but he’s your son, your young man and you love him so whether he’s got four legs or two, shouldn’t make any difference. Your men are too stupid and too protective then only thing to do is go out of species and find something for him. As you say, Ox strong, good looking, excellent confirmation, that’s not a worker you turn down only thing is to find where the boss is that’s smart enough to see that he’s a good man for a job and….if he hires him, he also gets an in with what some consider a sort of closed society….”

Brett leaned his head against me. “But...Aegis, Beau and I, we’ve tried to think, we know he’d be good at anything but finding anything and we mean anything, hard knot to crack.”

We sat there, sun was just considering going down.

“Where’d he come from?”

“ That ranch? Fuck they threw him out with...nothing. He wouldn’t go back there….and we wouldn’t let him go back. Ever. Hurt our son? No.”

Aegis raised his voice. “And I say he should go back. You do what I tell you and you might be pleasantly surprized, there’s lots in this for him and you...not to mention work. Take a couple of deep sips and then I gotta plan.”

Walking back, slowly, somehow we didn’t want to reach the house and Tommy and Aegis’ plan. Slowed some more, almost stumbling. What can you do to put off something you don’t want to do? Well….there’s sex. Finding a secluded place we easily jumped the fence and actually found a pleasant patch of grass by a blue pond. Other than scattering a few frogs, felt good as we laid down, worked around and took each other’s horse cock in our mouths. Didn’t start to suck, that just meant we’d have to finish and, before that, we had to think.

What Aegis wanted was for us to return Tommy to almost a life of slavery; We’d seen him when he left, or was thrown out, starving, emaciated, but still...had the spark of humanity in him to rush into a river that really could have killed him and saved….two men. We’d helped, probably actually did provide the strength but it was our Tommy, never knowing we’d come along who rushed in, tried to help. Believed he could save their lives and, at the end, they only saw us. Our muscles, our Centaur bodies that saved their lives forgetting the man who, without him, would have died, as would he, in the torrent but never once until life departed him in the water would he have not believed he could still save them. That was our Tommy. Centaur brave and strong just not….Centaur conformed.

He rode me down the road as close as we thought safe, away from notice. In his torn pants, his worn shirt, his boots that were held together by laces where laces usually didn’t go, he looked the epitome of a stranger, a desperate man who needed a job. Of course, beneath the loose flowing shirt, the flapping pants held up by a rope belt, not possible to see the sleek body, the rippling muscles but most of all the suppressed anger born of remembrance of the last time.

We turned home, each in our beloveds arms hoping, praying for his safety that he would come home...to two Centaurs who loved him for whatever he was and now hated other Centaurs for their rejection of our son. A son raised in their tradition and only due to a genetic quirk was not like us...at least physically for inside him, he was as much a Centaur as any of us, perhaps more for he now faced a known enemy who would not be pleased to see him.

Summer is, I suppose, meant to be a time of relaxation, play, enjoyment, families going to the lake not, as we did, going to bed each night anxious, beyond concerned, worried for our son. In the interim we’d heard stories, ones we believed, as to how the men who wandered in, desperate for work, were treated; The word that most often came up was...slaves. Some even said, once you were there, getting out was just about impossible and, we shuddered, if it looked like you were strong enough to run well, they had a solution to that. Out in the old barn, tied down, given two choices, star or leave but if you chose to leave, you did so without your nuts. Impossible to not imagine the gulp of a young man, just worked hard, maybe had a sweetheart he’d like to see but...tied down, some fancy instrument...but the razor blades they were slipping into the two sides clearly meant business. Had to think quick as they didn’t jack around waiting for some two bit tramp to make a decision. Some said just to hurry the process, they’d clamp down on one nut, cut it right in half…..but the other run? Stay or leave with just some skin hanging down…..

Beau sat up, a sweat like men do not get save in war or when threatened with their lives being taken. “Brett, can’t do it, cannot leave him there…”

His partner, his love, rolled up, took him in his arms, held him but whispered in his ear, “The moment we turned and let him go, all we could do was wait until whatever happened, happened. Have faith in Tommy...for all that we made him be a gentleman...we also taught him how to be a sonofabitch, fight dirty, take what he wants….Can’t go back for him...either he comes to us, however he is or…..”

“However he is….you mean...if he’s been gelded...”

“If what we hear is right, could happen but we’d heard that before Aegis told him, and us, he had to go back….”

Beau got up, shook his tail, his man mane that, over the summer had grown to the point you could almost see it. Brett kept his like a show horse, clipered short but a perfectly cut flat top, both Centaurs were fine looking animals just now...fine looking worried animals.

School started, coach came by concerned that one of his best men hadn’t showed up. The Centaurs smiled, tried to find an excuse but...there wasn’t one….they told coach how Tommy couldn’t get a job so…. He went back to the ranch where he came from, now almost a year ago. Three men stood there, two fine Centaurs and a great man who cared about his team but knew the rumours….

“I could run out there, believe one of the sons once went to school...maybe spot him….” But he knew he couldn’t. They stood. From eight hooves and two feet silence spread as if it were a tide receding waiting to come back, knock them down with the awfulness it might carry...He turned, not finding exit words, just waved a bit…. “let me know….” They couldn’t answer, what they might have said covered by the sound of leaves blown away.

The first real fire, the one that they could justify as it was truly cold outside so, fire. Laying there, speaking to one another had stopped, when?, they couldn’t remember only knowing that memory was now their enemy and would be forever. It was grotesque for them to even privately remember a day in the bathroom when they pulled his hair out, on his way to making a mane, like theirs. But now? If they’d said anything, it would be to guess that had been shaved off, now he must  be hungry, wondering why they didn’t come for him, jump the fence, grab him, even if they’d cut off his balls, his fathers...but that was their imagination, no way of knowing if it was real.

Weeks later. Night. The knock.

Sadly Brett went to the door expecting it to be the Sheriff, good guy, come with bad news. Forgot to turn on the porch light. A tall figure in a black cowboy hat pulled over the hoodie lined part of a denim jacket, warm, not even open at the throat, good Levis, good, if worn, boots…. “Hey Dads…..” And that was all he had time to say.

Hours later their Tommy, naked under warm blankets, looked at with four eyes that could almost stanch tears could do nothing but stare, smile, cry, touch him, trade turns picking him up, holding him….son of a bitch, whatever happened out there, he had his balls, seemed bigger, lower and his cock! Getting to be almost like theirs, a real horse cock plus the mane, must be five inches longer, almost beginning to flow down his back, his skull tanned.

“One thing….don’t ask cuz it would just make you angry and there’s no purpose in that now. Whatever went on with me….that’s over, no point in discussing it….wouldn’t help you or me. Just say, Aegis was right, I did learn a lot….All I need now is my two Dads to help me become more of a man….fuck those kids who didn’t want me because I won’t grow up to be a Centaur. Fuck their fathers who were frightened that their sons, however many hooves, however long their dongs would get, however heavy their nut sac would be….all they’ve got is a grown up pony unlike me, the man, the man two real Centaurs raised to be a man who can take it.” He stopped realizing he’d made a sort of speech but the audience was struck by the truth.

“Dads, first night home, I gotta guess I know two Centaurs who are almost blue balled waiting for their son to suck ‘em empty. Well, I’m their son and, damn, I’m thirsty for that  smooth Centaur crème...wish I could take you both, working on it, but, Brett, guess we’ll get you started, then Beau then back until there’s a swamp of cum here on the floor….

A hand went out, took Tommy’s nuts, gave them a squeeze which popped a nice spurt of pre cum. He just grinned. “Guess there’s another animal that’s blue balled….you can flip for me.”

The next morning on the news, terrible fire at a farm quite a bit West of town...seems some fool cowboy was smoking in the hay loft and, well, dry hay, fire….only odd thing, the owner was found almost cremated with a cuff around his wrist but, as a neighbor said, he was a bizarre person, used to put a hanging galllows by the mail box…..

Two Centaurs, standing close together, tried to watch it but their attention was diverted by the feeling of two, large, greased fists, one in each ass and going deep….Guess they could tell him, now that he’d grown out enough in his cock, they’d be proud if he’d jump up and mount one of them. Then the other. Hoped to make it a family tradition….just like manes growing down the back of a man who, anymore, kinda seemed almost like a horse.