dappered | Shiro open post

[Matt nods approvingly, affectionately, nosing along the centaur's side, tail twitching back and forth in impatience. He likes the feel of twitching, sensitive skin under his hands, likes feeling the working of the stallion's powerful muscles, likes the sounds rumbling in the cramped space. Too cramped, actually, and with a scuffle of small hooves and the gentle scrape of nub horns against the underside of the equine belly, the half-calf is carefully getting down on his knees under the stallion, sighing in approval.

It's actually probably safer under here, especially once Matt reaches out to untie the rope hobbling the centaur's back legs, then shifts onto his knees, his ears just long enough to flick against the underside of the stallion's stomach. He hums appreciatively as his eyes adjust to the darkness, just in time to see the centaur's inner thighs shivering, the muscles alongside his sheath working as his cock slides into view, right into Matt's eager, soft hands.

There's only a heartbeat of hesitation, because the stallion is huge, thick and hard and hot, and Matt's mouth shouldn't be watering, and he shouldn't immediately begin stroking along the massive length, fingers barely reaching around the thick girth. He's squirming on his knees, thighs pressed together hard, tail crooked instinctively and held to one side, soft pleading sounds filling his throat until he finally gives in.

It's explicitly taught to any stablehands responsible for milking any gladiator beasts that the process be quick, efficient and clinical. It's a chore, same as mucking out stalls or hosing down the hallways, and it wouldn't do to condition any of the gladiators to anticipate it as anything more than a simple release. Matt undoes that the second he leans in and lets himself drag his soft, hot tongue up the length of the stallion's cock, moaning loud and shameless at the taste, hands tugging harder, sliding quicker over what's now slippery from his mouth.]

[ leave it to the galra to take anything remotely pleasurable and turn it into some kind of unpleasant mechanical process. they'd started shiro gently with multiple attendants, soft hands stroking his skin, playing with his nipples and his thighs and even his equine hole, easing him into the process. half the attendants pleasured themselves at the same time to get him used to the scent and sounds of it until his body became conditioned to respond to much less elaborate preparations. the simple act of leading him to the milking stalls and clipping his short lead to the sturdy post there was enough to get him responding, or just a brush of contact around his belly. for the most part these days he's not even milked by hand but by machine, a few perfunctory caresses to get his cock unsheathed and then guided into the flexible rubber molding of the suction tube. more rarely they pull him from his stall and lead him to a machine mocked up in poor imitation of a mare, clearly designed to stimulate his equine instincts, and jerk his lead forward until he has to rear up and mount. he usually has an audience for that, as if it's somehow entertaining to watch him thrust violently into a mechanical sex toy, spurred on by deliberately timed lashes of the whip.

sometimes, of course, they bring him to a slave, or bring slaves to him, putting on a different kind of performance that is almost always about edging him until he can barely think straight, until that last release is the culmination of sheer animal need. he hates the loss of control but there's something horribly satisfying about giving in to the mindless pleasure, mounting a warm body and emptying himself inside, breeding instincts finally satiated.

if anything, this feels more like those early sessions when he was still being conditioned, still being coaxed to proper responses, when the attendants had touched him like they were actually interested. his shaft flexes in the boy's hands, stiffening further and bobbing up towards his stomach, and shiro can't help planting his hooves when the hobbles are undone and thrusting a little, soft equine grunts escaping him at each movement. the brushes of velvet calf ears tickle his stomach and he's careful with his shifting, restless hooves, keeping them well away. he can hear the half-cow making intoxicating little sounds too, can smell honest arousal off him, and shiro's nostrils flare wide, pulling in deep lungfuls of the scent. the half-cow smells delicious, wet and willing and fertile, and then shiro shudders all over at the first hot touch of a mouth on his straining cock. ]

[The sounds the stallion makes, though rumbling and imposing, are also enough to make Matt's chest ache with pride and something like affection, mind all but blank with happiness -- he's helping, he's doing good, he's being good, and it's probably horrifying on some level that such a shameless, illicitly lewd act makes him react like this, but it does. He's wiggling happily on his knees, both hands eager and a little clumsy as they squeeze and stroke the heavy, hot weight of the centaur's cock, making up for lack of finesse with eagerness.

The cramped quarters are already overheated from the stallion's shuddering panting, and the sounds Matt's making -- wet, obscene, filthy sounds, gulping and groaning and trying to swallow down as much of the enormous shaft as he possibly can, chin and throat streaking with saliva and precome, eyes half-closed in drunken bliss at the taste -- are impossibly loud, echoing against the stall walls. When the stallion thrusts, cock sliding thick into Matt's throat, making him grunt softly in surprise, it's too much for him to handle anymore.

One hand keeps working along the stiff length, but the other moves, shoves between the too-tight fabric of the shorts the calf wears and his swollen, slick sex. Matt moans in relief, shivering as he ruts down against his fingers in time with his mouth over the stallion's cock, wishing they had more room, maybe one of the stalls equipped with a breeding bench that would put him at the right height, bent over and on display. He can feel and hear the centaur shivering and shuddering above him, knows it wouldn't take much -- if any -- convincing to get him to mount up and feed his lovely fat cock inside a warm willing body.]

[ they could certainly move to one, if the little half-cow would be so bold as to untie him and lead him out of the box stall by his halter like it was official business. shiro groans behind his bit, wishing furiously that he could see what was going on. the noises and scents are driving him crazy, the hot vise of the calf's throat tightening around him just for a second before shiro pulls back, worried about pushing too much or too fast. just the feel of that soft, clever tongue tickling over the head of his cock is overwhelming, teasing along the veins and greedily lapping up the fat drops of precome he's producing.

then a new scent wafts up, and shiro jerks mindlessly at his restraints, snorting in helpless eagerness over the smell of a breeder's slick permeating the warm closeness of the stall. he wants to bury his face in it, wants to drag his tongue over it, and his cock jerks and twitches violently, gushing out a stream of precome. ]

[Honestly, Matt's becoming more and more tempted to do just that, move to one of the bigger stalls, pretend he's supposed to, that it's just business as usual. He feels hollow, empty, even taking three, four of his own fingers, free hand clumsier over what it can reach of the stallion's shaft. Hopefully his eagerness to relax his aching jaw, to take more cock down his throat makes up for that, though.

The gush makes him grunt, soft and surprised, but he takes it like a champ, swallowing eagerly, ears twitching, tail flicking like a contentedly nursing calf. With some effort, he forces himself to stop fucking down on his own hand, dragging his slick fingers loose and going back to stroking the thick cock with both hands. Now he can taste himself on the overheated flesh, moaning approvingly, tongue flicking eager and coaxing at the dripping head. It's not ideal, but it's enough, it'll be enough to make the stallion come down his throat, in his mouth, over his face.]

[ it's enough. shiro's body is too well conditioned by now to hold out against such eagerness, especially with the rich, delicious scent of a willing breeder filling his nose. his stallion instincts make him strain forward, jerking against the chains, but in this case it's better that he doesn't have free range of motion to pump his hips. he rears briefly, an aborted mounting attempt that pulls his cock away from that warm, wet mouth for an agonizing second, and lets out a long, harsh groan as his balls tighten and he starts to come, the head of his cock flaring wide as hot seed begins to spurt. soft, rhythmic grunts accompany each pulse and he can only imagine what's happening below his belly, how messy he's making his partner. ]

[Messy is an understatement -- Matt gamely tries to swallow as much as he can, lunging forward to get his mouth back onto the stallion's pulsing cock, gulping and choking until his stomach aches with fullness, warm and heavy. He has to pull back to breathe, but it's still coming, hot and thick, over his face, his chest, soaking his thin tunic so it sticks to his skin, transparent and slippery.

And perhaps he should be disgusted, should recoil, but instead he closes his eyes and breathes, ragged and sated, one hand still stroking gently along the stallion's heavy shaft, the other reaching up, resting palm flat on the twitching belly above his head. He's covered in come now, warm over the bridge of his nose, in his hair, on his bared neck, and yet there's a feeling of disappointment at the last twitching pulses of the centaur's climax, dripping over his fingers as he finally slips his hand away.

There's a pause, broken only by their almost-equally-shaky breathing, and then Matt laughs, licks his lips, laughs again, softer. He's barely aware that his shorts are soaked as well, that he came untouched, just from the taste and feel of the stallion's come.]

[ mindless animal pleasure blanks out his thoughts for a few long moments after, enjoying the satisfying rush of endorphins as his cock twitches and pulses in matt's warm hand and finally begins to soften, still stretched to full extension but hanging down limply between his hind legs. his nose is full of pleasure scents, the sharp smell of his own ejaculate and the soft, exciting smell of his partner's come.

he champs at the bit in his mouth and lets out a series of quiet, affectionate nickers, responding to the sound of the half-cow's laugh. ]

[Matt's fingers linger, still amazed at the weight and size of the stallion's cock, even relaxed and limp. He's still aching, throbbing between his own drenched thighs, and he feels like he could easily go again, could stroke the massive beast back to full arousal and take him properly this time. But the soft sounds draw his attention, and, knees wobbling, come cooling and drying, sealing his thin clothes to his shivering body, he crawls to one side, stands.

Fingers dragging through the mess across his face, Matt absently sucks the digits clean, standing as tall as he can on little hooves, reaching to untie the rope around the stallion's human wrists. He can't reach the gag, but if the centaur bends down, perhaps he --

-- and then the smell, the sound, the shape all comes together in a moment of gut-clenching clarity, and Matt forgets about everything else because he knows. He knows. His voice is very very hoarse, eyes wide, tracing the familiar features in the half-lit stall.]

...Shiro.

[ he hasn't heard anyone say his name in so long it's almost like a foreign word now, something that he has to stop and take a moment to recognize.

then he jolts against the chains in shock as matt moves forward enough for him to see, looking down at the familiar face distorted by galra influence. the hair color hasn't changed, but there are tiny horns curling through it. ]

Matt?

[ his voice is muffled by the bit in his mouth, the name almost unrecognizable. ]

[Matt falters back, hands coming up to cover his face, like that'll somehow undo what he just did. What they just did. He backs up, into a corner, shoulders hunched, eyes squeezed closed.]

I-I'm. I'm so. I'm sorry.

[ he tries to reach out as matt backs away, not understanding-- what the hell is matt apologizing for? but he's brought up short by his chains, and jerks his head reflexively, pulling hard at the restraints. whatever matt's sorry for, they're not going to be able to talk about it with a gag in shiro's mouth. ]

Get this-- get this out, Matt, please.

[ except it's more a string of garbled syllables while shiro paws angrily at the ground like a real horse. ]

[Matt startles at the sounds, the pawing, suddenly aware that Shiro (who's always been bigger than him) outweighs him by a few hundred pounds of pure muscle now. But he still hurries to obey, shivering now, because realistically he's soaking wet and while it was warm and perfect a few minutes ago, now it's cooling and making him cold all over.

Still, he stands up as tall as he can, shakily pulls out the bit, long velvety ears down and back in something between submission and fear, tail twitching anxiously. He unties Shiro's wrists too, leaving just the chained-in-place harness still on, the padlocks too much for his trembling hands. Then he takes a step back, hunches inside his clinging, sopping wet clothes and looks down at his hooves.]

[ shiro doesn't let him go far. he reaches out as soon as his hands are free to try and pull matt into him, desperate to hold him and offer comfort. the stiffness of his muscles and his jaw can wait, all he wants is wrap his arms around matt's small, vulnerable frame and protect him.

even if he is absolutely covered in shiro's own fluids. the stallion part of him doesn't mind that at all, maybe even finding a tiny thread of satisfaction in scent-marking a partner. ]

You're alive, [ he whispers. ]

I can't believe-- are you okay? Are you hurt?

[ he sinks down helplessly to his knees in the front, trying to get a better view, his legs folding awkwardly. ]

[Matt lets out a soft, startled sound, still expecting -- what? Anger? Violence? Something, he's been so primed by every interaction over the past several months, always expecting a kick or a shove or, worse, hands where he doesn't want them, where he can't escape them.

In contrast, being in Shiro's arms again is bliss, shivery and soaked as he is. Matt can only hold back a moment before wrapping both arms around Shiro's warm, solid frame and clinging as tightly as he can. He's conscious of their changes -- Shiro is more muscled, bigger, shoulders rippling under shaky fingers, while Matt is all softness, plush hips and curved thighs, nothing sharp or angled about him. It makes him blush, even more than the fact that he's literally covered in Shiro's come oh my god.]

I-I'm okay. I'm okay. I'm not hurt. Are-- are you? Did I--

[The idea that he might've, that he'd caused Shiro any pain, any distress, makes Matt shudder, ears back and down, hooves shuffling anxiously.]

I'm fine, I'm okay.

[ aside from being a blood-sport gladiator and having been turned into a centaur, anyway. he's fine physically. matt feels small in his arms, shivering and fragile, and he can't help holding him tightly, petting matt's hair, a deep rumbling whicker coming out of his throat.

it takes a real effort to pull back so he can grip matt by the shoulders and really look at him, checking him for injuries. ]

You're a stable-hand?

[It shouldn't, it really and truly shouldn't, but the soft rumbling feels good, it comforts and soothes Matt on a deep, instinctive level. He cuddles closer, ears flicking against Shiro's warm hands, hooves tapping on the floor of the stall. Cold as he is, he's content again, reaching up and slowly tracing his hands down Shiro's bare back.

He blinks a couple times at the question, shakes his head, then shrugs, managing to look somehow demure even debauched and filthy as he is.] N-Not a very good one. I'm uh. I'm not really sure what my, uh...role here is. Yet.

[That's only partially a lie -- he's heard rumors, stories about the stallions and bulls that go into the gladiator ring, come out pent-up and furious and needing an outlet. He hasn't seen anyone else like him, just the machines, but he's heard talk of the Galra deciding to try something more...realistic to soothe and reward the warriors. He hadn't wanted to think about it before.

He's sort of thinking about it now, and it shows on his face, blushing vivid red under the mess.]

[ shiro's ears pin back unhappily as the thought occurs to him as well. most of the stable-hands and other handlers he's seen have been a variety of species, but none of them so... delicate, perhaps. everything about matt's altered form seems softer, vulnerable, right down to the way the galra have dressed him in such skimpy clothes.

which. are literally clinging to every curve of his body, because they're still soaking wet with shiro's own jizz. he can't believe they did that, either of them, he can't believe matt encouraged him, he could smell how aroused matt had been and that he'd climaxed as well, but he also can't believe that he could have literally just drenched a random stranger in semen without ever seeing their face first, just because they'd touched his dick. just because it's what shiro's used to.

he shudders to think of what matt might be used to. he's heard of horses and other stock animals bonding with cats or dogs or goats for companionship, sharing their stalls, but somehow he doesn't think the galra are worried about their gladiators' delicate feelings.

apologizing over the situation means they'll have to talk about it, and shiro doesn't know if he has the courage for that right now, so he just focuses in on other details. small solvable problems. matt's shivering in his arms. he's wet and chilled. ]

You're cold. There's-- there's a grooming station in the wall panel behind you, it'll have a hose with warm water, and towels, dry clothes.

[ the larger box stall he's usually put in for the night has an even more extensive grooming station with a much wider variety of supplies, not to mention a comfortable carpet of woodchips and hay for shiro to lay down on, but this one has a drain in the concrete floor. the cramped quarters and restraints make it easier for shiro's handlers to hose him down without a fight.

of course, the spacious breeding stalls with their custom furniture are also supplied with hot water and a host of useful accessories, and might be less likely to be disturbed, but he doesn't know how well that suggestion might go over right now. ]

-- oh! [Matt beams upwards, ears flopping happily, tail twitching, suddenly nothing but delighted and pleased, even though he's cold and shivery. He finds things are simpler these days, that any emotions or desires tend to be complete and overwhelming, take over his thoughts and drown out anything else. So the idea of warm water and fluffy towels completely removes any other anxious thoughts he might've had about what he'd just done to, with Shiro.

He wiggles free, immediately peeling off the completely-transparent silky tunic, letting out a soft sigh of relief once the uncomfortable clingy fabric is gone. He's still damp, but almost pleasantly, moisture beaded over his soft stomach, his slightly plumper chest, his rounder hips. Shiro gets a pleased, mildly bashful look, then Matt's wiggling out of the too-tight shorts as well and -- yeah. Yeah, he's definitely been altered for breeding. Receptive breeding. He's even blushing, mostly because the cool air feels good, makes him break out with goosebumps and shivers.]

Is. Um. I'm going to. Clean up. [He says it lamely, turning red again and quickly turning around and bending over which. Is not helpful at all, likely.]

[ try 'mind-breaking' as shiro wrestles with the shock of what's been done to matt's body-- those are new parts, those are lady parts --and also the awful flood of helpless arousal that suddenly washes over him at the sight. he twitches his tail, agitated, disgusted at himself. matt's probably had to deal with aggressive males this entire time, galra or altered humans who didn't even try to fight their bestial sides.

at the same time, he's not looking away. matt's skin looks so soft, he can't help imagining himself burying his face against it, nuzzling and licking. the floppy ears look soft and silky, and the tender pink buds on his chest are begging to be touched, enough that shiro's momentarily glad that he's still more or less chained in place. if he were loose, he's not sure that he could control himself.

aaaaand then matt turns around and bends over, almost like he's presenting, and shiro makes a noise like he's been punched in the gut and has to haul himself back to his feet, concentrating on fiddling with his blinders and other restraints as a distraction. ]

S-sure. Take your time.

[ 'let me know if you need any help' almost leaves his mouth, and for a second he's tempted to put his own gag back in. ]

[It isn't quiiiite presenting, but it's something damnclose. The stall is cramped and it still smells like sex, like virile stallion and the sounds Shiro can make now, rumblings and whufflings, all seem to be tangible as well as audible. Still, Matt seems shameless about being naked, bending and turning on the warm water and letting out a soft groan as it trickles out over his shivering skin, dappling his stomach and thighs and hips with water.

He shakes his head, hair wet and curling, then glances over his shoulder, blinking innocently at Shiro.]

You okay?

[ shiro jerks his gaze away, not even sure when he'd stopped working and started staring at the way the water beads on matt's skin. he wants to lick away every drop and help matt with his grooming, which is certainly a thought he's never had before. ]

Fine! I'm fine.

[ a lot of his restraints are insultingly easy to do, just carabiners and simple locking mechanisms that anything with fingers could undo, as if the galra were pretending that he really was a stock animal. the only ones he'd have difficulties with are the hobbles around his hooves that matt already unlocked; shiro would have to lay down or contort himself to try and reach those.

he braces all four hooves and shakes himself violently, chains jingling as bits of harness come loose. the body harness wrapped around his barrel isn't going anywhere, but it won't hamper his movement while there are no tethers attached to it, and it would look infinitely more suspicious if shiro wasn't wearing any harness at all. someone would know that he'd had help getting out of his. ]

[Matt isn't blushing at all. The water's just warm -- wonderfully so, and he may or may not be letting out tiny pleased groaning sounds as it runs over his skin, leaving him deliciously clean and sleek feeling. He tries to make quick work of it, but he can't help lingering a little, hands stroking over his chest, low on his stomach, ghosting between his legs -- just a tiny bit, just enough to make himself shiver at how wildly sensitive he still is.

Then he's quickly turning off the water and tugging one of the enormous fluffy towels to wrap around himself, letting out a soft sigh. Turning around, he gives a little bit of a start at how...big Shiro is. Rationally he knows he knew, he had to have known to...do what he did. But it's different now. It's Shiro.

So, clearing his throat, looking down at his hooves, ears down against his head, Matt tries and fails to make his voice louder than a hesitant mumble.] Are...did you...need help cleaning up?

[ keeping his gaze firmly averted is almost a torture itself, because he has to listen to the soft splashing noises and the little sounds and wonder, and his imagination has no moral objections to fantasizing about where matt's touching himself.

he jerks a bit when matt addresses him directly, guiltily yanked out of his inappropriate thoughts. ]

I-- you don't have to. You don't have to do anything that you don't want to, Matt, I'm not going to treat you like a-- a personal servant.

[ even if it would feel nice to get his harness all the way off and his coat rinsed of all the sweat and accumulated dust. ]

If... if you want, you could lead me over to one of the breeding stalls. Those have a showerhead that I can work on my own.

I want to. [Matt says it very firmly, toweling off his hair until it sticks up everywhere, then trying in vain to smooth it.] I couldn't just. Leave you here.

[The suggestion makes him perk up considerably, tail twitching happily, and he quickly pulls on the clothes -- which are all enormous and don't fit at all, falling off his shoulders and hitting mid-thigh. He decides just the shirt is enough for now.

Then, hesitantly, he reaches out, smooths one hand over Shiro's side -- the horse one, the one rippling with muscle and feeling warm and tickly with that unique silky-coarse horsehair texture.] Okay. Um. Am I convincing enough? [Have an awkward pose and one sleeve flopping over his free hand.]

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