Steeds, Fillies And Love

The Grha hauled away on the grunting Swansea's neck. He followed as did Marie and Michelle.

Chapter 7.01 The Great Circle

The Arctic Ocean's surface froze solid aeons ago. It took global war and planetary conquest to warm it until the Davis Straits flowed cold but strong all year round. The great north remained even then tundra strewn with frigid blizzards.

The Grha claimed these desolate lands as their new home beyond the stars. New cities and alien place names littered the great circle of the north: Spitsberg, Finndla, Norge, Novzemyla, Kolma, Komi, Anadyr, Yukon, Ellesmere and Groenlund. Humans were barred from these lands. Further south remained slightly contested.

Fillies, and one steed, visited here and there around the Great Circle racing and often winning. Beating Sluts, Maids, Geishas and other breeds. Celebrating often with wild sex and frivolity.

Chapter 8.01 Decisions

Ty Mytar addressed his greatest winner of all time as he held a small vial of recently ejected human semen: "It has been a year and indeed you have used your Quebeckers well."

Swansea attempted to smile but his gag stopped him from ever talking.

"Experiments. As I said. The Quebeckers can breed. Only drugs inhibit growth."

A violation of the treaty! Involuntarily he struggled with his bound hands but steel never yields.

"You will have sons and daughters."

Swansea swore but only mildly. Mytar never noticed nor would he have even if Swansea could talk. The Grha had no gods and never ever got upset. Some human philosophers claimed that they had no soul or at least no emotions. They fought well though but without passion or compassion.

"This one," a stable hand came forward with cute Marie tagging along in her best racing gown. She looked delightful with her pretty face looking up at her Grha master with admiration and love. "Is lame." She had been limping recently. "You have owned fillies, you know the choices."

Indeed he did. Retirement as a mother or mother aid. Sale to the Grha. Death. Rebirth as a clone.

"There is another possibility. She can serve as a brood mare. A replacement filly of the same breed will be running behind you in the future." The large black orb that was the Grha eye glowed and grew. 'Decisions. This is yours too. Then again what is a decision? A choosing of potentialities. It is never good to choose. Just do as has always been."

Swansea nodded, just perceptibly. Mytar agreed in turn. Swansea noticed that his prick tickled and was growing stiff. He would miss Marie he supposed but he could imagine her suckling a newborn quite contentedly. But what would she think as her belly grew huge for the first birth in a thousand years to a filly clone. Ah, she would be quite surprised.

Chapter 9.01 Competition Arises

A tall Greek with a duo of statuesque Aegean Nymphs won the Spits 1 kilometer chase. Swansea had a fine view as they paraded through the winner's circle as he waited his turn for second prize. Inevitable of course, steeds would become common in time. Many men would accept the job. A life free of responsibility, to be alone and left to run and screw.

The steed's cock tented his aquamarine tunic impressively. His dark haired beauties behind him strained at the hard yoke they shared between their sleek legs anxious to rape their great steed. Yes, he would be covered shortly by short dinky tunic hems as they bounced and humped.

Then it was Swansea's turn. He promptly followed his leash. He had finished second but it was enough to be rewarded again and he could hardly wait to be ravished by Michelle and Mikey. He could listen to their rapid panting and minute squeaks of joy leaking from their gagged red mouths.

Chapter 10.01 The Only Way to Go South Again

Past thirty a racing team usually had passed its prime and with the influx of thousands of raw steeds in the last five years this had also further diminished Swansea's popularity. He had circled the Arctic shores a hundred times performing before enthusiastic audiences and knew the nameless sands of every racing stadium and dome.

Mytar had news.

"You are washed up. You know what that means."

He knew. A short life but a glorious one. He had three sons and six daughters. One day they would be placed in harness and trotting rapidly around the same courses he knew so well.

"Still, a choice."

Swansea wondered and blinked in question.

"But not yours."

Of course. Mytar played idly with his prick, remaining still curious on its functions and knowing the Grha would never comprehend the mysteries. Never. Ever.

"We will send you home or at least south. We will add tits and pretend you a sport clone."

A shemale. Well it would fill his white lace bra. His cock would remain as stiff as ever and many orgies remained for him in his life. It was good for him. His fillies would continue to jump and rape him many more times.

Chapter 11.01 Liadline Again

Plump melon sized tits bounced pleasantly as Swansea trotted to his place in the inspection chamber at Liadline. Automatically, he spread his legs and his handler hooked his leash to the ceiling. As he had for over a decade he wore the stripes of a Quebecker. Today he wore stylish platform heels for the one kilometer trot.

A few men gathered, curious as they had been in many race tracks in the Canadian Steppes in the past year over the exotic combination of cock and tits. The Grha merely evaluated him quickly and then his fillies for their athletic prowess. The humans wanted more as he could tell from their odors.

The men cupped his sensitive tits and he could not stop the quivering body reaction. His nipples tingled and his lower body swayed. The men noticed and liked the reactions. He wondered how many would wager on him based on his sexuality? The Grha judged on other body specifications and usually misjudged the sexual factor or bet on it based on unknowing reasoning.

The hands all felt the same to him after awhile but he did respond to the raw scent of testosterone. Either way he reacted some and hoped the race would come sooner rather than later.

Jack Lacey abruptly squeezed his left nipple. Swansea recognized his old friend from bygone mythical days when he had been still a wild untamed mustang. His cock wobbled with an extra strong pulse as Jack lazily explored his breasts and patted his sweet rump. His eyes danced and his breath wavered.

Lacey never knew whom he had in his hands. Never cared. He went back to Marie and young Mikey and made them jump as he caressed their stiff clitorises. A Grha meanwhile cupped his own hot balls wondering their use.

Lacey returned to recheck the frantic gyrations of Swansea. The shemale welcomed the comfort of his strong hand on his crotch where his yoke would shortly ride. He signaled with his eyes and fluttering eyelashes.

Mytar lingered in his offices quarters nearby. Lacey went to him and Swansea prayed both for and against. He was terribly confused. His body demanded while his mind swooned at the thought. His cock ruled.

Inspection time ended with the third gong and Potar once more secured them to their lower yokes and straightened their bikini panties. He noted their extra excitement and soothed their heaving breasts with his familiar hands. He then brought the agitated fillies to their postposition.

With a sharp jab at his cock Swansea erupted from the gate anxious to beat off the relentless youthful competition. Down this far south he had only fillies to fight and they served as easy prey still. He rapidly trotted dragging his sexy pair of pretty fillies with him. Jolts of electricity gave him strong impetus and precise turning directions. Flashes of bare knees and wholesome rounded tits goaded him on. Inevitably it seemed he won and collected the usual accolades.

Time had dimmed some reflexes. He and his fillies were more amenable to their handlers nowadays and would wait to be undressed before indulging in post-race coitus. Tonight, as feared and expected, matters were different.

A nameless stable hand clasped his leash and gathered the other two fillies in the same fist. Other Grha unhitched the friendly heavy yoke and race carriage and straightened their hems. Potar removed their victory necklaces and blinders. Then he swatted their rumps and told them to play. A handler covered them with a hair blanket leaving only a hooded shroud to peek through.

A Grha tugged at their leashes and they followed despite their aching need to fuck. They proceeded through a side tunnel that bypassed the public inspection chambers where fillies stood even now as gawking crowds inspected their legs and crotches for the next prance race. They weaved their way through a back parking lot across to the rear entrance of the human hotel. From there they climbed five flights to gain entrance to a relatively spacious apartment.

To enjoy three meters by three meters as opposed to a stall...Swansea remembered those ancient days with fondness and yet fear. What could he do with so much space? The stall seemed so much more appropriate. He yearned for the familiar comfort and a teasing naked Michelle.

Jack Lacey accepted the fillies' leashes from the handlers who gave them over with a grunt. The handler left slamming the door behind leaving the hapless fillies alone with a strange man. Afraid of him they shifted nervously from fancy heeled foot to fancy heeled foot.

Lacey smiled. They could see his interest where it filled his trousers. He gently tugged and passed a hand to scrape lightly all of their stiff nipples. The fillies whined. Lacey renewed his satisfied smirk. He noticed the shemale's tall prick pushing up at her dress hem exposing a trace of stocking top. He tapped the cock and made it wobble causing instant distress for Swansea and eliciting a saucy hip wiggle and high pitched squeal.

Pulling them along to the bed, Lacey liberated them from their panties and gags and let fall their dresses and bras to their slim waists with straps snagged on pointy elbows. Of course, their left ankles were secured to the bedpost before he did all this foreplay. His fillies panted with knees and lips slightly apart. Michelle murmured in soft quasi-French. Mikey just breathed hard with an occasional quasi-French monosyllable. Swansea remained quiet, uneasy and wound up.

Lacey preferred certainty and clipped tiny clamps onto each of the fillies's pert noses. Mouths would not unexpectedly close now and delay his satisfaction.

Lacey stripped revealing his magnificent screwing tool. Swansea had never realized how big it was before. It stood on its own and had a length a centimeter or two longer than Swansea. He would have been a magnificent steed with his endowments. Lacey stepped forward and commenced playtime with his lovely fillies.

He had Michelle and Mikey concentrate on either side of his chest with a pleasant alternating pattern of him sucking on their tits or them nibbling lightly on his nipples. He clasped their firm behinds in his square brawny hands and nudged them where he wanted them from that convenient command position. Swansea's task developed into the most important of all. A free human hand grasped the back of his head for the first time ever and he rapidly sunk to where Lacey's prick radiated heat millimeters from the warm wetness of his mouth. Lacey pushed insistedly and Swansea swallowed reluctantly. Immediately he found the foul tasting cock in the back of his throat gagging him and looking for entrance. Lacey pumped Swansea's head and face fucked his old friend.

For the moment Swansea succeeded in foiling his imminent throat rape. It was a small and temporary victory for a sexy little filly. Even so with his nostrils nipped his breathing verged on strangulation. Knowing this Swansea hurried the orgasmic process by adding swift tongue lashes around the shaft and hot wet kisses on the head. Success erupted soon splashing his nose and lips and dripping from his chin.

Below his own urgency built and, with sparse movements of his thighs, seconds later he shot his load into the bed. His cock had once more decided his fate.

Swansea continued to nibble happily at the still swollen purple head. Michelle and Mikey snuggled close and content to the human, happy to be of service. They combined in covering him with their warm filly flesh.

In the morning Swansea foresaw the fierce and sudden ravishing of his virgin throat and was content. He loved his role in life and a firm yoke, up close and personal, poking through his white thighs. He loved Michelle and Mikey. He had wonderful children and kind Grha owners. What more could be asked for in a world too complex and awful to otherwise contemplate?

And he loved Lacey. He pressed his face near the prick's warm surface with his lips extremely close. His breath would tickle Lacey and would arouse him in time. He passionately kissed the helmet like head and wiggled his ass. Lacey rubbed his head. He licked with the tip of his slick red tongue the tender prick head of his old friend and human.

One day he hoped to see Lacey's offspring in a lower yoke harness and a short dress. It was inevitable. One day the world would be sane and the Grha would have all the former Earth rulers serving as pack animals or racers. What could be more right to do in the world?

Epilogue

Domestication must begin somewhere.

In the Arctic a revolution dawned. Amorous fillies chased countless steeds. Wild orgies erupted after every race as the fillies ravished and assaulted their beloved horny steed. Dedicated fillies and steeds learned proper respect and obeyed the instructions transmitted to them down a leash, flashed into sensitive nipples or aroused crotches or transmitted up from an intimate yoke.

Further south Grha hands gripped at the leashes of new and reluctant steeds intending to bring them north to a new way and freedom for humanity. The rookie steeds hesitantly followed their new owners.

Life is love. Happiness is in the eye of the beholder. Life is as it is and so it is.

Does it matter?