230. Interlude: Centaurian ‘Liberation’, Part 1 [Demure] (R-18)

I ride with the Herd. Twelve Centaurians thundering along in war formation present a front that nothing in this Region can match. We Outriders probe for weaknesses, distract high-priority targets, and protect the Herd from aerial assaults. The Cataphracts plow through anything sturdy enough to withstand a rain of arrows. Together, we are unstoppable. 

That's not what worries me.

War on open ground as a concept was solved centuries ago by Queen Solaris. Centaurs have the mobility to kite tougher land monsters. Pegasi have flight to pick off fast runners and land-bound monsters with impunity, as well as challenging Harpy air superiority. Unicorns have the magic to deal with the weirder opponents who might challenge us. Conventional wisdom says the only places safe from Centaurian expansionism are Elvish Forests, Harpy Mountains, and Goblin Fortresses. That's if you don't count aquatic settlements and underground warrens, of course, but it's not like we'd want to conquer, I mean, we can't live there anyway. Don't think about irrelevant details!

Also, Moonbow split off from the group while saying something about finding a new belly rider, so they're only eleven of us. At least she has Sugarbee, Bailey, Pippin, Sea Breeze, Gilliflower, and Fuji with her. They must not recognize me (they didn't say hello), but I remember them from when Applejill introduced me to her cousins a few years ago. I heard that most of the Apple family goes into cavalry training, with Applejill as a rare exception.

"I can't believe Queen Solaris only sent us twelve of her Cataphracts! Twelve. There's not even a single Winged Hussar in sight!" Gloaming Glimmer bemoans as if this were a sure sign of our monarch's displeasure. I can't exactly disagree—this 'war' would've been over in an instant if we'd been gifted even one of those flying nobles for this operation.

"Well, darlin," Applejill tries, "Maybe ol' Queeny just believes in you a whole bunch. Ever think of that?"

Fuchsia bounds forward and shouts, "Yeah, yeah! The Queen believes in you super hard, Glimmer! This'll be a piece of cake! Er, a mini-muffin," she shrugs while biting into a lemon poppy seed confection.

Uniqua nods and tosses her hair. "We haven't seen anything yet that justifies a serious response. You worry too much."

"Glimmer, there's s-something ahead," I attempt to raise my voice, which catches as I register what I'm seeing.

Their heads whip up to where I point. 

It's a pink cloud of mist hanging low on the ground. Those caught in it are unable to resist joining a massive orgy of Wolves, Harpies, and Goblinoids. There must be hundreds of monsters going at it in the tangle of bodies. 

This smorgasbord of carnality has me panting and sweating in seconds. It's so... dang... hot. I want to throw myself into that mess, but I'm afraid of getting someone p-p-p-pregnant!!!

Whew, sorry about that, Spike. That was a big load I just blew in her tummy. The shaky tail that finds my cunny tells me she'll need a break soon even if she's trying to be brave and stick it out. 

Glimmer's dower frown breaks into an eager grin when she sees the orgy, "Oh, free Subordinates!"

We slow to a halt, and Applejill trotts forward. She unslings a coil of rope before whipping it up into a noose spinning overhead. "This'll be like shooting mermaids in a barrel! Ya' can't miss!"

"A-Applejill, isn't that a c-cruel metaphor?" I whisper under my breath. They ignore me as usual. 

The Talented Roper lets fly into the orgy and gives a tug. She drags a Dire Wolf out by the leg even as he claws at the ground. Grass-stained on his limbs, and sporting a confused erection, he shifts into his canine form when he sees us standing over him, armed and armored. It's not us I'm worried for, though.

No, what worries me is that people like him are going to get hurt.

One Cataphract by the name of Ruby-Frost aims a hoofed kick that sends a spray of blood flying from the man's face. I wince. Another named Ambrosia lays into the half-concussed Wolf with a flogger until chains sprout from a blossoming spiked collar. They work with brutal efficiency as a third Cataphract, Pound Sweet, draws her lasso.

I keep telling myself that their lives will be better as Centaurian citizens. Free food, healthcare, housing, and all that, right? 'He'll be set for life once we get home!' 'Don't sweat the details, Demure.' But it's not working. This is too brutal.

"It looks like the three of you have things under control here," Glimmer assesses the Cataphracts' work, then points toward the distant sounds of combat. "Demure, Fuchsia, stay with them. I'll lead the rest of us to the battle over in that direction. Start sending everything you recruit to reinforce us and Moonbow's group in a fifty-fifty split. I want both battles won by the time the Wolf Lord duel is decided!"

"Is it smart to split up the Herd like this, sugar?"

"It's smart because it's my idea," Glimmer retorts, her reply coming in hot and fast. "Even the Cataphracts listen to me because I'm the Unicorn. Queen Solaris, in her infinite wisdom, bestowed the Pen Pals Talent on me. Don't dispute my orders, Applejill. Look forward to serving as my cocksleeve tonight. Now, come on."

Uniqua lays a reassuring hand on Applejill's arm as Glimmer trots off on her own, the proud Unicorn expecting the others to fall in behind, with Fallawater, Cameo, and Autumn Rose following close on her hooves. "She's under a lot of stress to succeed in this assignment. Try to be a good cocksleeve tonight and relieve some of it, yes?" Then Uniqua turns to Fuchsia and me with a broad grin, saying, "Alright, darlings, pick out some pretty ones to be our belly riders. Tatah~"

It's not unusual for Centaurians to resolve emotional friction with a good ass-pounding. In fact, it's a time-honored traditional form of team building, but I can tell Applejill still rankles at this disciplinary action to her innocuous question. I don't have time to concern myself about that, though. While I contemplate, Glimmer's group leaves line-of-sight and the Cataphracts have already pulled a Goblin and a Hob out of the mist by the time I return my attention to the field.

My allies immediately start laying into these poor monsters with relentless lashes. Both Goblinoids quiver and holler and moan on the ground, hog tied in a flash, unable to find relief. Each blow makes me cringe in sympathy. "S-stop! They can't help it!" 

It's one thing to convert normal monsters using the flogger. Working around the nature of the Pack bond (it being loyalty-based magic) using the flogger's pleasure-inducement to force an orgasmic surrender stretches the limits of what we can accomplish with our tools. It's another thing altogether when they've clearly been Drafted against their will. In that case, converting a Subordinate becomes a contest of ownership between the potential monster Masters or Mistresses. But only if you try to force it. 

"Y-you can't overcome the Ogre General's Draft like that!" I explain with my arms outstretched as I stand over the fallen Goblinoids. My Bound Bunny drapes himself over my shoulder as he stands on my back and waves his prehensile leather straps to emphasize my point. Donny can't speak past his ball gag, but he's an expressive little fella regardless. "They need to choose to become Deserters." 

All our magic can do is open the door for them to walk through. At least, that's without a Forth Tier Centaurian present. 

Ruby-Frost shrugs and moves on. "They can be your job, then." Our allies switch focus back to taming the Dire Wolves for now. I sigh with relief.

"Wow, you're so smart, Demure! Knowing important things and all that!" Fuchsia is a bit of a headache to deal with. Not that she's bad, or anything; it's just that she isn't very... conscientious. She'd know this stuff too if she listened in class. 

"T-thank you. Help me with convincing them?" I gesture at the captive monsters we have tied up. They're still severely affected by the strange, lusty mist, so it shouldn't be too difficult.

Kneeling, I unbutton my top to let my heavy breasts burst out into open air. Fuchsia copies me to double the effect, or nearly so, as her size doesn't quite match mine. Both Goblinoids' eyes widen at the size of us, and neither hesitates to come at our invitation, lust-struck as they are.

The tiny male Goblin struggles to get a grip on my melons as he begins humping my underboob. I provide a helping hand on his back to hold him up and spit into my cleavage for lubrication. He's so small and my breasts are so large that his prick is completely lost in my soft valley. I can feel him, though, and his ejaculate eventually squirts up through the crevasse as he climaxes loudly.

Fuchsia nurses the Hob woman while diddling her cunny until she unravels as well. We both whisper promises of what the Herd can do for them through the whole affair.

But is Centauria really what's best for these monsters? After all I've seen, I'm not so sure. I can't speak my doubts out loud, but they claw at my conscience. I'm no longer the fresh-faced filly who believes everything she's told. Still, there's little I can do except ease the transition of those in my path. 

The military insignias on the Goblin and the Hob's uniforms wither and crumble away as they become Draft Dodgers. Individual wills don't usually count for much among Subordinates; they couldn't do this themselves without another Third Tier or above monster attempting to convert them. Unfortunately, though collars sprout on their necks, they don't gain the bonus stats or abilities from becoming a Leathercraft Subordinate. That won't happen until the Ogre General is defeated. 

"Yay! More troops for Glimmer!" Fuchsia's enthusiasm is blessedly uncomplicated. I don't know how I could go on at this task without her ebullience.

The Cataphracts continue roping monster after monster, reeling them in, flogging them until they convert, and battering them bloody if they resist. Fuchsia and I 'handle' the Goblinoids. Wolves, Gobs, and Hobs stagger away from our impromptu station in two scraggly lines going either direction per Glimmer's request. 

Ambrosia pulls a different kind of monster from the pile. 

A Harpy? No, "T-that's a Rainbird," I announce without thinking as I stand there stupidly. Smooth, Demure. Maybe try doing something instead of just gawking next time!

My allies whip their heads around to look at me, and then back to the lassoed lass with additional caution. She's clearly out-of-it after being freshly dragged from the pink mist. The girl is covered from hair to talon with various bodily fluids of questionable origin. Her luscious lips kiss the air as if questing for whatever partner she was rudely ripped away from.

Oh, how I'd love to introduce those sweet lips to my big thing downstairs... But, no. I can't let my thoughts drift. This is an emergency!  

Before I can act, the sharp crack of a bone breaking cuts through both the air and the Rainbird's stupor. It seems Pound Sweet got too 'enthusiastic' with subduing a Dire Wolf nearby. I wince as a howl of pain escapes the wounded Canine's throat and the Rainbird goes on high alert while levitating into the air. 

"What are you doing to him?!?" She instantly sees the scene for what it is. The empathy and anger in her eyes is plain as day. Shame stirs within me, which is silly because we're helping these monsters, right? "He was being good; not hurting anybody! Gale thinks the five of you need a time-out!!!"

Pink mist swirls around her like an extension of her body. It coils for a moment like a snake preparing to strike. I don't know how she acquired such a potent chemical weapon, but she clearly knows the power of what she's wielding. If she takes us out, she could easily gain the Evolutionary energy to Tier-up. Wait, scratch that, if she's even partly responsible for this orgy, she might be sitting on her Evolution right now! That's especially true if she had any prior accumulated experience. She's one good nap away from Evolving into a Rainhawk and swaying the outcome of the war. No, no, scratch that, those locks of hair look like they could be Evolution Tokens! Multiple Evolution Tokens. That's a potential high-Rank threat. Did the enemy seriously leave a monster capable of turning the entire war on its head unguarded? Are they crazy or stupid? Is this a 'crouching Tiger-kin, hidden Draconic' situation?!?

This is bad! Not only is this Rainbird potentially much, much more dangerous than she looks, we Centaurs are especially susceptible to lust-based effects due to our sky-high base libido. One whiff of that mist, and we'll be lost to lust. My allies are no dummies, and know this fact as well. 

Fuchsia and I aren't mentally ready to launch into combat after servicing the Gobs and Hobs a minute ago. Neither of us are the hardened-veteran type. The Cataphracts, on the other hoof, leap into action with drilled alacrity. 

Firstly, they separate to come at her from multiple angles, left, right, and center. Gale is a straightforward bird and blasts the middle with that pink, serpentine cloud. Pound Sweet drops like a stone. Uh oh, the Rainbird just added another Third Tier subdual to her banked experience! The others are too quick to get caught, though, escaping the initial volley. 

I finally get my head on straight as the two remaining Cataphracts close in from opposite sides. "Fuchsia, work that ass—intercept, intercept!" 

It's hard to believe I was able to say that without stuttering, but I don't have time for embarrassment.

My pink-haired companion catches on quick. As the mist subsides, the seduced Cataphract is a quivering mess, stripping naked with desperate need to free a painfully erect equine shlong. Fuchsia runs over, hikes up her skirt, and flaunts her flanks in Pound Sweet's face. She's instantly pounced upon with rude vigor and relentlessly rutted. 

It's a good thing Fuchsia followed my instructions, not that she's needed much excuse to get dicked-down. If the compromised Cataphract ran into the orgy, not only would we lose her in the pounding press, she'd no doubt sow several sadly lethal pregnancies before the day is through. At least I won't have that on my conscience.

Meanwhile, the two Cataphracts who evaded the first blast are closing in on Gale. The Rainbird is a powerful monster, but not a well-drilled combatant or a Third Tier just yet. Pink mist swirls nearby, another batch summoned by her cloud magic, but there's a gap in her coverage that our forces exploit. They charge her and, in her inexperience, she commits to peppering Ambrosia with Rain Pellets as she waits for the swelling lust cloud, thus exposing her back to Ruby-Frost. A deadly mace swings for her skull.

The nightmare-image of my beloved Hooded Falcon partner, Kiki, lying broken and bleeding on the ground in the place of this avian woman, head like a cracked egg spilling yolk on the ground, flashes through my mind. My reaction is visceral, instinctual, in complete defiance of logic and my best interests. But I can't let that happen to a cute bird, even if she's a stranger. NO!

My hands reach out on instinct, reflexes activating faster than thought, but my palms are empty. Donny the Bound Bunny, meanwhile, is fully on my wavelength after the work I did last night gently inducting him as my new, enthusiastic partner. His leather straps flick out like snakes to intercept the Cataphract's arm. 

There's a sickening crack, followed by blood splatter as the weapon hits home—if at a reduced velocity thanks to our meddling.

"Damn, only a grazing blow," the Cataphract growls as she turns to glare at me through her visor. Ruby-Frost shakes an arm wrapped in strips of leather at us. "Let me go so I can finish this. The Rainbird is an unacceptable threat as long as she's alive."

Giving downed monsters the 'double-tap' is a basic tenant of our training. The last thing you want on the battlefield is a monster surviving a nearly-lethal blow only to gain an even stronger Evolution from their deadly crucible. It's rare, but happens often enough that it has to be accounted for. Expect, this time is different... If it were Kiki, I wouldn't let anyone touch her. "N-no!" 

"I've got it," Ambrosia says while charging forward. She's already shaken off the remnants of the rain pellets that splattered uselessly across her armor.

I undo a critical buckle on my undercarriage and give the order, "Stop her, Spike!"

My Collared Lizardwoman companion slithers off my shaft with sinuous, practiced movements and shoots forward from beneath my skirt. We're an experienced duo at this point. Not only does she intuit my desire with naught but a few words, my belly rider and I have trained this fast-dismount to surprise our foes. Ambrosia neither anticipates my betrayal nor accounts for Spike's tail tangling their hooves, and goes down in a clattering heap.

For some reason, Centaurians never expect a belly rider to fight with such fervor alongside their partner...

"Let me go!" Ambrosia struggles to free herself from Spike's pin. Such a task would be easy in most scenarios. Armored Centaur monsters are no slouches in ranged or melee combat. It's just that Spike knows how to press a girl's buttons after spending so much time with me, and she has intimate knowledge of how vulnerable Centaurs are to assaults on our sexes. The Collard Lizardwoman has already fished out the equine's cock and slipped a tail-tip into her pussy. "Ngh! Ahh ahnn!"

The first Cataphract tugs on Donny's leather straps and asks, "What are you doing? This is treachery—I'll have you court-martialed!"

I understand what she's saying, but I don't see it that way. I still love Centauria; it's where I grew up. I love my squadmates, even Glimmer. I love Kiki, Spike, and my new little Bound Bunny buddy, Donny. And I love all the cute, sexy monsters out there! It's one thing to force Subordinate Bonds on monsters because I'm told it's what's best for them; it's another to let my ally execute a helpless girl in cold blood. That's something I just can't abide!

All that is hard for me to put into words, though. 

"D-don't hurt her! T-this has to be some kind of m-misunderstanding!" I splutter. The Cataphracts aren't buying it. In another second, they'll both be able to free themselves, Pound Sweet will finish screwing Fuchsia, and all three will be back in the fray. I'm in major trouble.

Then a pink light washes over us so bright it momentarily dyes our faces before fading as fast as it came. We all take a breath. An aura hits me that makes my knees go weak. That's when I fully register that the Rainbird had tattoo markings on her tummy. I hadn't noticed in the chaos, but she's an Echidna's companion! I'd only heard tales of such in filly stories, but they say the God Beasts were all former lovers of ancient Echidnas... Oh, my. "H-horse apples."

One look toward the source of the light, and I nearly wet myself with terror.

A voice as cold as a blizzard, as loud as thunder, and completely done with this shit booms, "Hey, that hurt."