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elaine and percher cheval created by laser (artist)

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Artwork by the incredibly talented laser

Élaine character created by furryjibe

Ceremony

The fighting had finally stopped. After hours of brutal, costly war, there was victory. But such a heavy cost would demand something more.

The raising of the army had been glorious. Transports had arrived from every colony packed with fresh, excited colts right out of basic, their bodies massive and muscled from training. Assembling on the warships, they had formed endless lines of glorious horseflesh, standing at attention shoulder-to-shoulder in the same tightly packed formations of their ancestors when the first emperor, the great Neighpoleon himself, built the greatest empire the universe had ever known.

These magnificent colts were the descendants of those brave stallions of a distant age, heeding the call of revolution to upend their world and rebuild it anew. This new empire would cast out every civil tradition of horse, ending the age of the beasts of burden. From then on, horses were beasts of war. That first empire had thrown itself completely into militarization, every colt conscripted into service until Neighpoleon had the largest army on the globe. They were brutally trained, their bodies worked until hardened and muscled, their actions sculpted by relentless discipline until the planet rumbled under the heavy, stomping hooves of long lines of war studs, fearless in battle. The wars had been costly, fields turned red with equine blood. The wars had been long, colts marching over soil littered with the bones of their own sires. Mares had been pressed year round, called to support the war effort by bearing colt after colt, the army relentless in its hunger for male flesh. It had been a massive transformation, one that turned the equine empire into the ultimate war machine, a machine that would go on to conquer the globe.

World conquest did not state the empire’s appetite, however. After the passing of the great Neighpoleon, the second empire had turned itself toward escaping the planet. And centuries after those first forays into space, the empire had expanded into a massive interstellar hydra, equine colonies dotting hundreds of worlds, wars being fought on countless fronts.

Much had changed since the first empire. The ancient musket had been replaced with the letum ray, a rifle that fired a visible beam that could kill a soldier on contact regardless of armor. The result was a brutally efficient weapon that assured a clean, bloodless death to its victims. With armor rendered uselss, the only defense against the letum ray was size: the larger and more muscular the soldier, the more likely he could survive a direct hit. That had driven the equines to bulk up their soldiers even more, their training tripled to increase muscle mass, draft breeds mixed into the genetic lines to ensure larger, more muscular colts. But with time the letum rays had been improved until even the biggest stallions could not survive a direct hit. And by then, the frenzy for bigger studs and the vanishing interest in armor had led the second empire to abandon the glittering blue uniforms of the first. From then on, colts would serve naked, not a scrap on their immense bodies, sent to war with nothing but their weapon. Their bare flesh would be a tool of intimidation as much as an interest in economy, their army embracing a tradition of naked compulsory military service for every colt. It would not be long before the rest of society had followed suit, nudity seen as the ultimate show of support for the brave boys marching to war.

Though much had changed, much had remained the same. The disciplined lines of colts heralded back to the traditions of the first empire where bodies would pack tightly and fire en masse, would stand still to accept the volleys of musketshot and cannon without fear, colts expected to hold their positions even as their brothers were cut down by brutal fire. Such tactics were still in use for this great battle. Often the march was all that was needed; on more than one occasion, an opposing army would be awestruck at the arrival of the horses, at seeing those huge numbers of young studs, hooves clopping in lockstep, bodies bulging with thick muscle under taut flesh, long manes flowing like flags as they strode their naked bodies forward in a display of glorious courage, every colt prepared to fight, unafraid to die.

In fact, they would even look eager, the thrill of battle so deeply ingrained in them, every massive cock throbbed on the battlefield, every shaft erect, every medial ring thick, every flare bulging, every cumslit yawning open with thick threads of sticky pre. Those massive, veiny members would point outward like bayonets, facing as forward as their gaze with heads high, eyes ahead, unafraid to look straight into enemy guns. With their giant, heavy testicles hanging low, every stud would bare his fertility, making sure the enemy knew their bodies were as virile as they were strong, every colt prepared to sire his own replacements. It was not unusual for an army to lay down their arms in surrender at such a sight without a shot being fired, overcome by such a perfect display of horse flesh.

But this had not been such an army. The bovines had long been a thorn in the side of the horses, attacking their colonies over hundreds of skirmishes. The horses detested the bovines and their lack of discipline and order. They had assumed the bovines lacked the ability to organize. Certainly with their noisy lowing and ugly horns, the filthy cattle could never be too serious a threat, and no doubt they would run like sheep at seeing the horses on full display, showing the size of their army, the discipline of their colts. The bulls would run like cowards before all that bare stallion flesh marching, throbbing, erupting with immense ejaculations, so turned on at the prospect of victory.

But the bovines had stunned the horses with an army larger than any they had ever encountered, a massive counter effort larger than they could have planned for. No one had ever seen so many bulls committed to war before, so much bulging, solid male beef armed with letum rays, stripped naked, ready to do battle with the equines. It had been a shock, but the equines were already committed, and retreat had not been an option since the first empire.

The battle had exploded brutally as the first waves of colts were decimated, young studs falling as glowing beams slammed into chests, disrupted tissues, and fell muscled boys like flies. The equine commanders had been forced to order more colts to the front faster than expected as horses all across the battlespace marched over a sea of death, striding over the growing piles of slain boys. With every moment the escalating war had made clearer the assured death of colts arriving at the front. As great clouds had swirled over the rising violence, the spray of beams had lit up the sky like tiny bursts of lightning, every deck of every warship carpeted with dead stallions and bulls, neither side showing restraint, both sides ordering more and more meat into the grinder.

As the battle dragged into hours, battalions that had not expected action were called to the front. Word had traveled through the army of how bad the fighting had gotten, just how quickly casualties were rising, how rapidly commanders were sending colts to the front lines to die. As word spread, colts had grown nervous, stomachs knotting as fresh boys became aware this would not be a simple parade, that they would see combat--brutal combat. In their cramped transports, colts had sweated in the sweltering heat of young stallion bodies pressed like sardines. They had felt the ships diverting, heading to the slaughter. Hooves had clomped with tension, sweat dripping down bulging muscles, massive shafts throbbing and pulsing, spitting thick pre. What would have been disciplined silence turned to grunts and snorts, whinnies of tense excitement, the heat of the steel box rising with that of the blood of the naked studs inside.

Knowing this mission could be their last, colts had turned to kiss their warhorse brothers, lips pressing, tongues gliding, a moment of desperate affection in their last moments. Cocks had frotted as colts looked each other in the eye, hands resting on sweaty chests, squeezing at thick pecs and firm nipples, feeling the hearts thumping with tension inside. The blood in every colt had been flowing faster as more and more felt their transports lurch toward the fighting, the sounds of war faint but present through the heavy walls. Boys had snorted and whinnied, unable to hold themselves back as erections ejaculated powerfully, flares bulging as their bodies involuntarily streamed gouts of hot seed into the packed masses of young males, naked, glistening horseflesh painted with cum. The colts had felt seed splattering their backsides, sticking under their tails, drooling down their legs and collecting under their hooves. And as they had stomped, the thick white cum of many boys was stirred into the transport floors. In that rising tension, cocks had pushed up against tailholes, rubbing at tight puckers, dousing them in hot cream.

In any other situation, the boys would have been too disciplined for such acts, their focus purely on the march ahead. But as the word had spread and gotten louder, as it had become more and more clear the commanders were ordering as much horsemeat to the front as necessary for victory, they could not help themselves. Erections had lurched, shafts had gushed, bodies had been drenched in virile seed thick with sperm in a hundred spontaneous orgies, a last pleasure before being killed in action. And by the time many transports had reached the front lines, their heavy hatches dropping open to loose all that fresh colt flesh, a flow of mixed horse cum had spilled onto the decks as thousands of conscripted boys did their compulsory duty and marched out to die.

Similar scenes had played out in the battlespace as some casualties, shot in an arm or leg, would linger for minutes before succumbing to the letum rays. In those weakened moments of assured death, many had kissed their fallen brothers, put their lips upon their bulging shafts, helped each other ejaculate in a desperate effort to breed despite there not being a mare for miles. Some had even kissed at the lips of dying bovines, able to honor their enemy in assured death, knowing the bulls were noble warriors who were giving their lives as bravely as any equine for their own empire.

And it had been for several more terrible hours that the war ground through so much flesh, claiming so many lives. Word finally came to the commanders that the bovines had been defeated, the last of their army retreated, the battlespace claimed for the horses. Then the casualty reports came in, the losses staggering, entire colonies having given all their boys, ships filled with fallen colts. It had been a victory but at a truly brutal cost.

Word would get back to the empire. Mares would learn of the death of their studs, colonies would find their boys never returned. While the empire was fully devoted to the demands of war, such a sudden, unexpected loss of prime young horseflesh would cause a great dip in morale across the stars. A message would have to be created to help ease the coming pain for the empire.

The commanders set to work. A propaganda event was ordered, a video drone prepared on the deck of one of the last warships untouched by the fighting. A location was chosen to best use the magnificent clouds of the planet with the streaming sunlight above, and an order went out to the surviving sergeants to locate a conscript for the ceremony. Finally, a call was made to the nearest outpost to send their valkyrie, a mare with the noble duty to keep the warhorses inspired.

In short order, a magnificent mare arrived. Her drafter body gleamed like molten bronze over her muscular figure, her hooves oiled and sparkling. She stepped off her transport and onto the deck with a massive wobble of her enormous breasts. She was utterly stacked, her tits immense yet firm, the bronze globes capped with thick pink teats, her mounds as perfect for pleasuring studs as they were for nursing foals. With her rich blonde mane and tail neatly braided, she was everything the commanders had hoped, a paragon of feminie horse ideals: strong, voluptuous, and fertile. As she strode proudly into position, her nudity showed her devotion to the war effort, her desire to be bare like the brave colts who had died that day. When she was informed of just how many boys had fallen, she gasped, a hand to her lips, then to her breast, then to her nipple. She straightened herself as her slit got wet, dripping at the thought of all that fine male flesh given in service to the empire.

A moment later a transport arrived, the hatch opening up to let out a single colt. The commanders delighted in who the sergeants had found. The young conscript was perfect, his body massive and muscular, his skin a near perfect gleaming white. His rounded Roman nose drew a comparison to Neighpoleon himself, his face looking like those thought to have been part of the first empire. The commanders were delighted to learn the colt was, in fact, not a colonist, but a native of the first world, directly descended from warhorses serving under the first emperor himself. Truly, the sergeants had chosen well.

The warhorse dripped sweat, steam rising from his white skin, his pink nose, and pink genitals, having arrived freshly from battle. There had been no time to clean him off, his arm and chest still bearing scrapes from the mad pressing of colts to the front, his mane soaked in sweat and sticking to his mighty neck, his cock still raging erect from the thrill of war. A commander stepped in to stroke that massive shaft, smearing it in glistening oil, making the enormous member gleam. The oil would help accentuate his cock on camera, ensure all who saw the images would see the virility of this common grunt, this rank conscript proudly performing his duty to the empire. As the warhorse stepped into position, the mare looked up at him and showed him a blue sash representing the highest award offered to rank infantry. In a sign of his devotion to the empire, the colt kept his eyes up and at the horizon, ignoring the sash as if all had done was what was expected of any colt called to serve. She shuddered and licked her lips at the smell of his body, raw and male, his musk scorching hot off his skin and mixed with the smell of his brothers, those who had pressed against him, had ejaculated on him in the midst of battle. It was a good smell for a warhorse.

The mare softly asked for a report from the battle, and he told her how his entire battalion had been killed in action, that they had marched fearlessly under withering fire and he saw so many boys giving their lives for the empire. The mare offered her sympathies, but the colt assured her it was only his proud duty, his flesh ready to be sent in again. Her slit winked and oozed at that. And his shaft pulsed at the scent of fine, fertile mare.

Finally, she introduced herself and asked his name. She was Élaine. He was Percher.

The camera began recording as Élaine held up the sash to drape over Percher’s massive shaft, throbbing and oiled in front of her. As she lifted the sash, she recited the script she had been given before arriving, thanking the stud for his brave service, for risking his young life for the glory of the second empire. She thanked him for continuing the glorious traditions of the original emperor himself, for being fearless in the face of almost certain death, for standing strong to protect the mares of the empire like her, kept safe by the courage of their young studs, so they may continue to breed and bear strong colts for the war effort.

That set Percher off. At the last words of her speech, before the sash could be draped over his bulging member, he ejaculated. Massively. His cumslit opened wide and released a thick jet of hot, sticky horse jism, fresh from his immense, swinging testicles. Élaine gasped as she was quickly washed in steaming hot jism, the cum heavy and frothy, thick with packed sperm showing how virile this boy was. It soiled her face and shoulders, stuck to her mane, gushed down over the massive swells of her gargantuan breasts to coat her nipples before dripping in thick rivers down her abs and over her crotch, the seed tickling at her trembling wet cunt.

Her pussy gushed juice as the colt erupted on her. And a great beam of sunlight broke through the clouds revealing the mighty warships victorious in battle. All right in front of the camera.

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