Tass
The smell was really starting to get to him. At first it hadn't been that difficult to ignore, just a single mare in the herd coming into heat a little early, but as the days grew warmer and the sun spent more time in the sky the rest of the mares followed suit, and the enticing scent was beginning to play tricks on the colt's mind.
He'd long since given up on just trying to close his eyes, as his inner eye was doing anything but helping him to not think about raised tails - in fact the images playing on the inside of his eye lids were far more vivid than simply keeping his eyes open and watching as the herd's dominant stallion, his sire, claimed his right with the mares.
Tass perked his ears a bit when one of the younger mares nickered suggestively to him, but quickly turned away when the nicker was followed by a stern gaze from his sire standing a little farther away. With a deep sigh he started walking, but when his ears picked up the all too well known sound of his sire hurring at the mare who'd just tried to get his attention he spread his wings and let the wind carry him faster away from the mating couple.
It only took him a few beats of his broad, steel grey wings to notice the draft. Craning his neck around he quickly saw the reason; the mare's invitation had finally overcome his self control enough to make him drop. Or maybe his self control had been overcome before that and the dropped part of his stallionhood was what had inspired the mare to invite him. There was no way of knowing for sure, but he did know he couldn't lay a path over the herd as he'd intended, he'd be the laughing stock for days if not weeks.
It's not that there was anything inherently wrong or shameful in his current condition, for a species with no need for clothes and living in tightly knit herds there was nothing uncommon in seeing a dropped stallion or a mare with her tail raised for one reason or another, but showing off the way he would be by flying over the herd like this would still be cause for some mirth. Anyone but he would find it hilarious.
He grumbled inwardly and veered left, turning away from the herd towards one of the lower mountains nearby. He needed solitude, a feeling that had become more and more common to him during the winter, and was an almost daily occurance now that he had to constantly ignore those alluring scents, the raised tails and ...
He shook his head forcefully. "Stop it," he muttered to himself. "Stop thinking about it, you won't get a chance anyway."
Admonishing himself didn't really do the trick, of course. He still had the scent of mares stuck in his nostrils, though the cool mountain air helped to a certain degree to clear his mind. He landed on a small shelf halfway up the cliff side from where he could barely make out the herd in the distance, dots of color against the green grass. Personally he was all but invisible, his grey hide and wings easily missed against the granite wall.
Spring hadn't really claimed the mountains yet, and it was cold up here - but then, cold was just what he needed to make his dropped length finally retreat back where it belonged.
"It's not fair!" he suddenly yelled out, his voice echoing through the nearby canyon. A large rock on the ground got a furious kick with a hindhoof, sending it first against the wall of the cliff, then ricocheting over the edge.
"Probably not, but ..." began a voice a few body lengths above him. Tass immediately lowered his head at the sound of his sire's voice.
"Yes, sire, I know I'm supposed to ignore your mares," he sighed. "Yes, sire, I know I'll have a herd of my own someday. Yes, sire, I know I'm not the first colt to be interested in mares who are not his."
"Yes, sire, I know absolutely everything you intend to say," came the stallion's mocking reply as he landed on the shelf. Compared to Tass the stallion was a magnificent sight, with a cream colored coat and wings sporting a wide variety of colors that would make a rainbow jealous. Of course, he was an adult stallion while Tass was still counted among the colts with colors to match, quiet, dull and inconspicuous so most predators wouldn't notice him. Or most mares, for that matter.
"I left, didn't I?" he shot back at the stallion and turned away from him. "Do you know how hard it is to keep ignoring them?"
"I was your age once," his sire responded calmly, a single step forward bringing him up alongside his son. "And yes, I remember exactly how much willpower it took to not take the chance, consequences be damned. Never did, though."
Tass glared at him with all the selfrighteous anger of a hormonal teenager. "Is this the lesson about how your abstinence as a colt resulted directly in having a herd of mares to call your own?"
The stallion's laughing whicker felt awfully out of place to Tass' glum mood. "No, actually, I have another stallion who greedily went after one mare too many to thank for leaving his herd unattended just as I was passing by," he laughed. "Though I suppose the morale of that story has nothing to do with this matter."
This matter, Tass repeated to himself. Typical way to phrase it, making light of the trouble he was facing. He was steadily going crazy trying to keep himself under control, and all his sire - the only real obstacle preventing him from giving in to ancient instincts - could do was shrug it off and mock him.
He was about to say something to exactly that effect when the stallion beat him to speaking first. "No, it's definitely not easy at your age. All those mares, just out of reach. Not quite old enough to set out on your own seeking your own herd or a bachelor band to join up with. No, not easy at all." The stallion turned his head slightly to watch his son with one eye. Tass stood silently without returning the look. "Right," the stallion continued after a few seconds. "I do have a suggestion to make of you that may make things a lot easier for everyone. Care to go on a flight with me tomorrow?"
"So some no-good bachelor can steal your herd while we're away and you can blame me? No thanks." It wasn't entirely true; his days as a foal weren't so far behind him that he no longer remembered being able to play rough with his sire, but those days had been replaced with suspicion and constantly being on alert. He longed for the past though he'd never outright say so, but somewhere deep within he actually would like a day with his sire where they didn't seem to be mortal enemies.
"That won't be an issue," his sire assured him. "And if it becomes one, what kind of stallion would I be if I couldn't chase off a usurper or two? Okay, how is this then. I swear on my role as the protector of this herd that I have no intent of letting harm come to you on our flight tomorrow."
This made Tass at least glance his way. That was a very specific promise, and in fact his next suggestion would have been that his sire would have him experience an 'accident'. "Very well," he replied reluctantly.
"Splendid!" the stallion exclaimed immediately and spread his wings. "Now if you'll excuse me, I do believe I'm falling behind in my duties." With that he threw himself off the side of the cliff, allowed himself to drop nearly to the ground, then with a few hard wingbeats leveled out and soared across the grasscovered field in the direction of the mares.
"Duties," Tass grumped. "That's what they call it now?"
Tass didn't return until after the sun had gone down, and he was thankful that his dam had been one of the first mares to come into season and so was now through it. While it had been easy enough to ignore her - any good colt learns to ignore his dam in more than one meaning of the word - he wasn't entirely sure what it would be like to spend the entirety of the night with that warm, sweet scent filling his nostrils.
Even without that disturbance his night was haunted with dreams of mares of all sizes, ages and colorations, all with the one thing in common that they were in heat and he was the only stallion around. And yet, somehow, something would constantly happen in those dreams that prevented him from acting as a stallion and mounting them; by the time it was a tree that uprooted itself and kept getting in his way while uttering various odd phrases about rings and running he woke up. That was just too surreal.
The sun had only just risen, the sky still painted in reds and yellows, and most of the herd remained fast asleep, save for the stallion who as at that moment coming towards him at a brisk trot. "You're kidding," Tass mumbled, but he managed to force himself to his hooves before the danger of getting trampled came too close. "You really mean we're leaving this early?"
The stallion spread his wings triumphantly and launched himself just over the colt's head. "Oh but of course, why wait? Trust me, you are going to love this."
Tass seriously doubted that would be the case, but he stretched himself out and took flight as well. "So where are we going?"
His sire didn't answer, opting simply to turn sharply in the air - accompanied by a couple of admiring nickers from below where the mares were starting to wake up - and sped off into the distance, towards the rising sun. Tass turned as well, heard no admiring nickers whatsoever, and went after his sire. For a moment he considered doubling back to the mares and trying his luck before the stallion could return, but he suspected that would only end in catastrophic failure.
He fell into place a little behind and to the right of his sire, his shorter wings having to beat faster to keep him airborne, and the landscape quickly rushed past beneath the two. They cleared the grassy field in a matter of minutes and passed over the large forest bordering it, staying just high enough that their hooves only on rare occasion touched the leaves of the trees.
Tass had never been beyond the forest before; his sense of adventure had been strictly limited to exploring the dark paths between the trees where predators could lurk behind every corner. That the largest predator in the forest was the fox didn't matter to him, his imagination easily conjured both wolves and bears.
It took him a bit by surprise that the forest ended abruptly at the edge of a steep cliff tall enough that anything which fell over the side was certainly doomed if it didn't have wings, and even then the rocky outcroppings would probably be the bane of those too slow to spread said wings and put some distance to the cliff.
Below the cliff stretched wide fields of grass, interspersed with the occasional patches of forested land, and from this high up it was obvious that these plains were home to numerous herds. It had never occurred to Tass that the higher he got, the farther he could see, as his wings had only grown strong enough to carry his weight reliably for extended periods of time the previous summer.
The view was breathtaking. He'd known there were other herds, of course - over the winter three mares had shown up whose herd stallion had succumbed to the cold, and so they were seeking another herd to join up with for protection. He had just never imagined that there could be so many herds, or that the world could in fact be so big. Indeed, this day was turning out to be one of learning one new thing after another.
"Let's see, where are they?" his sire nickered, his wings beating slowly so he merely hovered in place while scanning the land below. "No, no, hell no, no ... Ah!" he suddenly exclaimed, which made Tass immediately try to follow his gaze to guess what the stallion might be seeking. He could be referring to almost any of the herds below them, and while it was impossible to make out most details from this height every herd had a few members of colors special enough to be easily recognized from afar, and by recognizing those you recognized the rest of the herd.
In his own herd's case, it was his sire's creamy coat and the two black and white mares, twin sisters born a couple of years prior to Tass. Anyone who saw those three in a herd would know with certainty which herd it was.
"Tell me, Tass," his sire said, still hovering next to him. "Do you ever think about why things are the way they are?"
It was an odd question, and Tass eyed the stallion suspiciously. This was very unlike him, there was no way they'd flown out here just to have a philosophical discussion, and he had obviously been looking for one of the herds so why weren't they flying down to meet them? His sire never hesitated with anything once he had an idea.
"A bit," he replied slowly, then continued with feigned confidence. "It's because you don't feed yourself to a wolf and leave your herd to me."
Again came the stallion's amused, nickering laugh. "Oh, how you remind me of myself at your age, son. You'll make a fine herd stallion one day." A beat of his wings sent him circling the colt. "Where do foals come from?"
"Let's fly home and I'll show you," Tass retorted immediately. He was kinda enjoying this exchange even though he had no clue what his sire was really getting at.
The stallion gave a single nod. "Come," he said. "It's time you learn a few things about our kind." He leaned forward, folded his wings in close against his body and dove straight down. Tass blinked in surprise, then sped after his sire in what almost amounted to a freefall.
The two came to a surprisingly smooth landing in the grass. It was taller than Tass had expected, some of it tickling against his belly and chest, and when he took a mouthful of it he found it to be satisfyingly juicy.
"So is this your scheme, your plot to be rid of me?" he asked, still crunching the grass between his teeth. "Show me a wide field of good food and hope I can't find my own way home?"
The stallion simply chuckled and pushed through the grass in the direction of the herd nearby. Tass stayed back, reluctant to get any closer. He felt unwelcome enough at home, there was no way the stallion of this herd would take kindly to two intruding males, and if one of them had to end up in a fight he preferred it to be his sire.
The first sound he heard was that of a mare greeting the arriving stallion. Tass winced, knowing all too well that one of the next sounds would be that of an angry stallion charging down to defend his herd, especially when he heard his sire reply with his usual seductive hurr. There was a single moment where Tass considered simply spreading his wings and heading home, but then he heard a rather unexpected question from the mare who'd greeted his sire.
"is that your son back there?"
Tass wasn't surprised at the fact he'd been spotted, the grass did only reach to just under his belly, but more by having a mare actually afford him attention while talking to his sire.
"That's him, yes," the stallion replied. Not "He is," but "That's him." Tass wasn't stupid, that small difference meant that, for one reason or another, the mare had known about him in advance. Hesitantly, still with ears perked and eyes scanning both ground and sky for an attacking herd stallion, Tass followed in his sire's path and came up alongside him.
The mare was obviously older than his sire, her solid black coat starting to get some white hairs here and there which almost certainly hadn't been there in her younger years. Her wings were similarly black, but her mane and tail had an eye-catching silver hue. Her gaze was sharp and direct, and everything in the way she stood said that she was the herd's lead mare.
"Yes, I see the resemblance," she nickered, turning her head this way and that to look at the colt. Tass wasn't sure he liked the way she was looking at him, but he stood his ground. She was a lead mare, an authority, and while he would challenge his sire's authority all day long because he knew exactly where the line was and how not to cross it, he would err on the side of caution with an unknown mare.
With her examination seemingly complete the mare nodded to herself and smiled. "What's your name? Can't keep calling you colt."
Tass raised his head a bit to appear more confident than he felt. "Tass, lead mare."
"Tass," she repeated with a warm and gentle tone to her voice. There was something very motherly about her that made Tass almost instantly like her. She was clearly one of those lead mares who claimed that title not through strength, but simply because it was unthinkable that a herd would not follow her. "I'm Luna. Been looking forward to this day, I imagine?"
Tass looked at her with an expression of clear confusion, and then turned to look at the stallion next to him. After a moment the mare, Luna, turned her head and glared at his sire.
"You didn't tell him," she said, her tone suddenly not quite so warm and gentle. "Sun, seriously. Why would you not tell him?"
Tass perked his ears. That was the first time he'd heard someone address his sire by name, all the mares of the herd simply called him stallion, same as he had just called Luna lead mare. He'd known that his sire had a name, everyone did, but he'd never known what it was.
The stallion didn't seem all that phased by the mare's anger. "Tradition," he defended himself. "My sire never told me, his never told him, and so on. We just keep it a surprise, no harm done."
The mare shook her head in disbelief. "Have you forgotten just how confused you were? Because I haven't."
Tass looked behind her where most of the herd had started to draw closer to meet the two strangers, and he realized they'd been standing here for too long. It didn't make any sense, why wasn't this herd's stallion in the process of killing them both? Where was he, and why was he allowing them to speak with his lead mare for long enough to catch the attention of the other mares.
Confused. Yes, that word described Tass' state of mind right now. Nothing here made any sense.
"Fine," the mare snorted. "Just ... go graze or something and I'll do your job for you."
To Tass' great surprise his sire bowed respectfully before the mare and took a step back with his head low, a very submissive move for a herd stallion. A single flick of her tail brought the entire herd to a stop at a far enough distance to offer what passed as privacy for the two. Tass watched them for a moment, trying to make out if one of them was the conspicuously absent herd stallion, but his attention was broken when the mare started speaking.
"First things first, young one." The mare sighed, shooting his sire one last angry glance before focusing on Tass entirely. "I trust you at least know how foals come to be?"
Tass gave a cautious nod. "My sire asked the same question on the way here," he replied.
A soft smile spread on the mare's face. "Oh good, then we're not starting from nothing. Do you know why there are so few foals, then?"
That question gave him pause. No, it wasn't something he'd considered, but now that it was brought to his attention those two things didn't add up. He frequently saw his sire covering one mare or the other of his herd, but he only had a single sister his age, and last year ... He cocked his head quizzically. "There were only three foals born last year in our herd," he spoke out loud.
Luna nodded, not surprised at all. "There are ways for a mare to choose if she wants to have a foal or not. Most decide to only have one every two or three years, allowing them to focus on one foal to adulthood at a time. Tell me, did your dam give you a brother or sister last year?"
"N-neither," Tass studdered. All these things he'd never thought about before were starting to give him a headache.
Once more Luna gave him a nod, as if satisfied with his answers. "Now, some mares decide to go even longer without foals. Some don't feel they can take proper care of one, others perhaps want a few years without all the responsibility it entails, still others may not be able to have foals again even. What do you think they do?" When Tass wordlessly shook his head she continued. "Have you ever heard of the mare herds, the herds who aren't claimed by any stallion ..." Tass instantly perked his ears expectantly when he saw where this was going. "... AND who do not want to be claimed by one?" the mare quickly finished, instantly crushing his hopes and making his ears droop.
"So that's it?" Tass snorted. "He brought me down here to introduce me to a herd with no stallion which will never be mine?"
Luna slowly shook her head, which only served to make the colt even more perplexed. "It's funny, your sire said the exact same thing. You are confusing two things now. The reason the mare herds do not want a herd stallion is because we do not want to feel pressured to have foals, it does not mean we wish to be without the company of a stallion." She watched him for a moment, one ear giving a flick at a buzzing insect. "Your sire really deserves a kick for not telling you any of this. It is your second foalday today, isn't it?"
Tass gave an involuntary shake of his head, not in denial, but because he was having trouble following the course of the conversation. "It is, yes. Why?"
"Do you remember a year ago, when your herd stopped calling you a foal and started calling you a colt?" Tass nodded slowly, that had happened around his first foalday. "So after today you should no longer be called a colt, but a stallion. Or a young stallion, anyway, for the next year." Luna watched him intently, her eyes holding his in a tight grip. "Do you know what that entails, Tass?" she asked.
"He'll know in a moment," came a soft voice just behind him. The colt positively jumped, his head turning so fast he nearly pulled a muscle in his neck. He wasn't sure how he'd managed to not hear a full herd sneak up on him, but he'd been focusing so much on the lead mare that he hadn't been able to pay attention to much else.
"What our dear lead mare is trying to say," said another of the mares, a dun colored mare only a few years older than Tass, "is this." Without further explanation or shame she turned her rump to him and raised her tail, followed by an inviting wink of her folds.
Tass was dumbstruck even before the smell of mare in heat hit him, and without even really knowing what he was doing he slowly reached out his muzzle towards the mare. His nostrils flared wide open at the pleasant scent, and for a few seconds he was completely lost in it. Then reality hit him, and he yanked his head back to look over his shoulder towards his sire. This had to be a trick, an excuse to beat him up or something worse.
But his sire merely gave a light shrug that ruffled his wings, before he demonstratively turned away and continued grazing as he'd been instructed. He wasn't going to interfere.
It took Tass a few seconds before that last part sunk in completely. His sire was not going to interfere. He was going to ignore what his son was doing with this herd full of mares in heat.
The curious and inquisitive side of him started asking why he was being allowed to do this, but just as he opened his mouth to put words to the question - and probably get a lengthy explanation from the old mare - another of the mares backed up to him with her tail raised, and the breath he took to start speaking instead filled his nose with her delicious scent. The question could wait, he had no way of knowing if this was a limited offer.
He wasn't really paying attention to the mare herself, only registered her color as a shade of brown with a black tail, didn't even look at her wings. She'd backed up so close that her rump quite literally occupied most of his field of view when looking in front of him, and it guided his focus to the source of the scent.
He'd never been this close before, at best he'd managed to catch a good view from a distance of a peeing mare, but this, this was something else. Her dark skin lay exposed in front of him, glistening in the morning sun. Her sex consisted of a delicate long fold down the length of the dark skin, ending in a wider droplet shaped opening where a few yellow drops clung to her before inevitably falling to the ground. He carefully reached his muzzle forward those few inches that still divided them, still half expecting another stallion to show up and chase him off, and the moment his nose touched against her she raised her tail even higher and winked invitingly at him.
A more experienced stallion would have mounted her right then, but Tass still had a lot to learn and remained mesmerized by the scent coming from her, and the view of the dark rosy skin inside her sex. He could feel himself dropping, the mottled shaft sliding out of his sheath, unfolding and firming up in a matter of a few seconds, his reaction purely instinctive but none the less exactly what he wanted. He sniffed at her, rubbed his muzzle lightly against her and let his tongue brush over her to get a taste as well. She really seemed to like that, arching her back and pressing herself more heavily up against him, but before he could rear up over her another mare backed into his shoulder, nudging him away from her.
He wanted to object and tell the new mare confidently to wait her turn, but he nearly choked on his words when he looked at her. Her color was one that was very rare among his kind, a coppery red matching the rising sun, with mane, tail and wings the blonde color of the tasteless straws of dried, dead grass. She was, in a word, the most beautiful mare he'd seen, at least for as long as he'd been actively looking at mares. His reaction was obvious to everyone, the hardened length bopping between his hindlegs suddenly swinging up and slapping loudly against his belly.
As if on cue the other mares took a couple of steps, some of them muttering with disappointment, but all respecting that he'd made his choice of who would be first.
The red mare stood with her side facing him now, but only turned so far that he could still look under her tail. He reached out towards her, just as he'd done with the other mare moments prior, and slipped his muzzle between her rump and the hairs of her tail. The scent that greeted him was wonderful, filling his nose in a single breath and caressing his mind.
A light nudge of his muzzle made her wink expectantly, and again his firm member slapped up under him. To have a mare this beautiful, it was more than he'd even dared imagine in his dreams at night. He'd thought that maybe in many years, when he had his own herd with hundreds of mares in it, he'd go find the most beautiful mare in the world, but here she was. Right here in front of his muzzle, offering herself willingly to him. He inhaled again, the heavy scent rolling around in his head and making his entire body feel warm and eager to be close to her.
He brushed his nose along her moist folds one more time, then pushed her tail aside with the bridge of his muzzle when he tossed his head back and raised it up high. With his upper lip curled back the arousing scent rolled back and forth in his mouth and nose, filling him with emotions and desires he'd so far only glimpsed when watching his sire covering one of the herd's mares. He took a step forward, bumping his chest up against the mare's rump, and stood there slowly swaying back and forth with eyes closed and just his sense of touch to confirm she was still there.
He wasn't sure if he was dreaming, or maybe he'd slipped on his way down from the cliff shelf and was either dead and in the afterlife, or at least suffering a serious concussion with hallucinations. When he opened his eyes again and lowered his muzzle he realized it didn't matter; what mattered right now was the fact that a mare in heat was within his reach, and he was not going to let that chance pass him by. With his best imitation of his sire he arched his neck and hurred encouragingly, stepping up along her and reaching his muzzle out to her. She turned her head to him, keeping it demurely low to avoid seeming dominant, and lightly touched her nose to his.
He still had the scent of her heat in his nostrils, but he puffed out warmly against her soft nose and inhaled her breath in turn. There was a sweet scent of clover to her breath, detectable even over the far sharper and more potent scent of heat. "What's your name?" he nickered warmly to her.
"Auburn," the more replied with an equally warm and pleasant tone of voice. She made sure to keep herself quiet and unthreatening, though she did push her muzzle a little tighter against his to lead him towards the inevitable conclusion.
"I'm Tass," he introduced himself to her, feeling strangely awkward. Every moment that passed his feigned confidence seemed to fall apart and was replaced with youthful eagerness and uncertainty. "Would you let me mount and breed you?"
There wasn't really any other way to ask; she had already offered herself to him in the most obvious way possible, and he had just as obviously shown how readily he would accept that offer, but the spoken question was part of the ritual he was used to seeing from his sire. The mare's reaction, however, was not.
With a loud squeal she tossed her head away from him, forehooves both leaving the ground at the same time as she turned away and ran. Tass stood in dumbfounded silence as she left his side, quickly deciding that obviously he was back in the dream where he never got to actually cover any of the mares, and he glanced suspiciously off to the side for the walking, talking tree that had made him wake up. When he was satisfied there was no tree he turned his attention back to the red mare to see where she'd run off to, and found she hadn't run at all; she'd stopped only a few steps away, and now stood with spread hindlegs, her tail so high it fell back over her rump, and her wings held low and out from her body.
She was watching him over her shoulder with a wry smile in her eyes that beckoned him closer, and the moment he stepped closer her soft, puffy folds were parted by a thin stream of urine which only served to make her scent even heavier in the air. Tass quickly closed the distance, his still hard member swinging wildly from side to side under his belly, and he reached her just as the flow of pee ended. With a toss of his head that looked a lot more experienced than it really was he ducked his down to press his nose against her freshly wet folds and inhaled the scent.
It was nothing short of intoxicating. Fresh, warm, arousing, and with a firm grip on his thoughts that made him almost dizzy. His shaft swung up under his belly again, and by now she had him so helplessly aroused his hips followed it up with a light thrust into the empty air. He knew he needed to have her, and he reluctantly dragged his muzzle up along the curve of her rump to rest it just over her tail base.
"Let me?" he hurred to her, unable to put together a proper sentence in his practically drugged state. Permission was all that mattered now, to convince her that he should be allowed to cover her.
He could hardly believe neither eyes nor ears when she gave a small nod and nickered, "Of course I let you."
He let out a triumphant deep nicker as he reared up over her. With a couple of steps of his hindhooves he pushed himself up over the curve of her rump and onto her back, and his forelegs rubbed along her flanks. He was overjoyed, the pleasure that had been denied him for weeks was finally about to be his, but when he pushed forward with his hips he only felt the cool morning air surrounding his shaft. He tried again, pushing himself further towards the mare, and felt warm fur against his dropped member. Fear struck him when he realized the previously rock hard erection was abandoning him now, moments before his victory.
In frustration he pulled himself back down from the red mare's back and pressed his muzzle to her folds again. The scent filled him, he could practically feel it flowing in his veins, and it only took a few moments before he once again felt his stallionhood firming up between his legs. He cast a look up over the mare's back, she was waiting patiently for him to be ready to cover her, but his confidence was in full retreat now. What if it happened again? What if he couldn't cover her properly? What if ...
His train of anxious thoughts was interrupted by the grey mare who had first offered herself to him. She gave his shoulder a light nudge and tossed her head to Auburn. "It's like that for all colts," she nickered assuringly. "It's all the excitement, it gets easier once you've tried it a few times."
There was something comforting about her words that made Tass calm down, and although he was hesitant to humiliate himself by proving unable to act as a stallion, he was even more hesitant to just give up. He raised his head up over the red mare's rump again, and after a moment reared up over her. This time he knew almost exactly what to expect, and he easily slid into place over her back, his legs hugging around her to hold her close. He tried slapping his hard shaft up under him, just as he'd seen his sire do once, but rather than feel it hitting under himself it slapped up between the red mare's thighs and refused to go higher.
He froze. Was mating really this difficult that he kept making mistakes? First too far away, now too close, would he ever get it right. He leaned his weight back onto his haunches to dismount the mare for the second time in as many minutes, and he felt like a fool in doing so, but before he could step back he felt something under his sensitive length, nudging it upwards. He held his breath when he looked down his side and saw the grey mare with her head under him, clearly helping him free from between the red's legs. Then the mottled flesh swung up under his belly, stayed there for a moment, and fell back down against the red mare's folds.
He had no doubts that this was right. The grey mare quickly took several steps back to bring herself clear of the couple, the red mare arched her back up under him in eager anticipation, and he felt warm, wet skin against his tip, rippling when the mare winked herself wide open in front of him. He allowed instinct to take over, leaned forward over her shoulder, and thrust his hips towards her.
At first it felt like he had missed his mark, his erect shaft bending as it pressed against her folds. But then she winked again, opening herself to his pressure, and he sunk into her hot inner passage. He let out a gasp in surprise when the mare's sex enveloped his, her inside smooth and slick so he easily sunk into her. That first thrust into her would easily have taken her virginity was she still a virgin, and it buried more than half of his length within her body in one fluid motion.
He lowered himself over her, nuzzling at her neck and letting his grey wings hang down over her blond, the tips of his feathers reaching the ground. Even now, in the process of mating with her, he couldn't entirely believe his luck. Gone were the suspicions directed at his sire, gone was the glum mood brought about by adult urges in a colt's body, there was only the burning desire aimed at the red mare underneath him.
He slowly pulled back, the muscles in his hips relaxing to drag him back out through her passage, only to quickly push himself back into her even before his medial ring had popped free between her folds. More of his length vanished into her, his broadening tip bumping up against the mare's cervix. He put enough force behind his desire to breed her that the mare rocked forward under his weight, but she quickly pushed back against him before he could bring her out of balance and reinforced her position by stepping just her forehooves a little ahead of her. Tass didn't think about it at the time, but it was obvious he was far from her first lover.
The grey colt nuzzled tenderly at the base of her mane, the fast bursts of breath from his wide nostrils making the fine hairs fly back and forth over her neck while his hip pulled him back out through her. It was harder this time, his flaring tip offering resistance through her slick passage, but it was a good way for him to be sure that he didn't pull back too far. His tongue played out against the red hide, tasted her, and was followed by a gentle nip of his teeth. The mare immediately tensed, and on a sudden hunch Tass nipped her again on the shoulder, just over her wing joint, and didn't let go.
It was like pressing a button on her. Her back arched more under him, pushing up against his belly, and her highly raised tail flicked against his thigh. Her wings shuddered between his own and his forelegs, and a quiet cry of pleasure managed to work its way out through her lips before she could hold it back. With the certainty of doing something absolutely right that one loses with age Tass thrust into her again, driving his already throbbing shaft deeply into her body.
His flare pressed snugly up against the mare's cervix, surrounding it and aligning perfectly with the small opening leading deeper into the womb. He pressed himself up in her, his body rising up over hers so he had to stretch his neck in order to maintain his careful bite on her skin. There was a moment where it felt like time stood still around him, and then he was overcome with a feeling of pleasure so much greater than when he first sank into her warm embrace.
For the first time in his young life, but certainly not the last, his balls gave up their contents into a flow of thick fluid, and his achingly erect member pumped it into the mare in three bursts, the last of the three a long, drawnout flow of his fertile essence directly into the confines of her womb. His heart pounded in his chest, his blood rushed through his ears so loudly he could hear nothing but its hiss, and the world seemed to shrink down to be just him and the mare underneath him.
There were no words to adequately explain how he felt just then, in that one moment when he went from being a colt to being a stallion, though he would try to do so often later on. He felt accomplished, strong, virile, desirable, and even a little bit frightened at all the things that had just happened. A short while after the final pulse of his seed into the mare's body he released his grip on her coat, licking at her and nickering softly to apologize if it had been wrong of him, but she simply craned her neck around and touched her nose to his with a gentle puff.
"You did just fine, stallion," she nickered tenderly. A warm feeling filled him at those words, the first mare to call him a stallion. He wanted to spread his wings and fly up as high as he could, up where he could cry out his triumph for everyone to hear, but he didn't. The moment was still between him and the red mare, there was no one else for whom it was important that he was now a stallion. That she knew was all that mattered.
He didn't want to dismount her. It had been so difficult for him to get up there, and to voluntarily leave seemed somehow wrong, so he stayed on her while his erection dwindled, his flare slowly pulling out through her passage while his stallionhood retreated into its sheath. It stayed between her folds for just a moment longer, spreading them wide when it finally pulled free of her, still dripping both with his seed and her urine, the same mix that followed it out of her. He took that as his cue to finally dismount her, and as soon as he was down she turned away to clean her passage with a quick gush from her bladder.
He inhaled her scent with perked ears. There was something different to it, a faint trace of his own scent now, the definitive proof to anyone that he had bred her. He smiled, stepping up along her and nuzzling at her neck. He didn't say anything, words seemed somehow flat and pointless compared to what they had just done, and she seemed to share that sentiment. They stood like that for a long time, while his hoof-sized flare grew smalled and eventually pulled back into his sheath with the rest of his member.
"You know," she finally said to break the silence, and gave an amused glance back over her shoulder. He followed her gaze and saw the rest of the herd gathered up behind them, except for the lead mare who was just then, quite unsurprisingly, being serviced by his sire. "Stallions do have a few duties to tend to, don't they?"
He smirked. Duties, sure, that was one thing to call it. He was just about to object, about to say he was still exhausted, but when the grey mare who'd helped him cover the one he desired most moved up right in front of him with her tail raised, he realized he wasn't that exhausted after all.
There were duties to tend to, after all.