Feralshy

The sun-dappled forest is alive with the chatter of birds and rustle of small creatures in the underbrush. A wild mare picks her way delicately through the foliage, pausing occasionally to nibble on a particularly lush patch of greenery or investigate an interesting scent. Her coat is the pale yellow of fresh butter, dappled with leaves and bits of twig.

Although she moves with the sinuous grace of a creature born to the forest, she is in fact a pegasus. Her feathered wings flutter gently at her sides as she walks, betraying a hint of nervousness.

Suddenly, the wild mare's ears swivel forward and she freezes, listening intently. The sound of unfamiliar bipedal footsteps reaches her, along with the low murmur of a male voice. She creeps forward with infinite care, peering through a screen of branches at the strange creature invading her domain.

It is an unfamiliar being, like a hairless ape walking on its hind legs. It's body is clad in garments the likes of which the wild mare has never seen. It looks soft and entirely out of place among the ancient trees.

Burning with curiosity, the wild mare ghosts closer for a better look. Despite her caution, she fails to notice a dry branch directly in her path until it cracks like a thunderbolt beneath her hoof. The creature starts at the sound, head whipping around to stare straight at her hiding place.

The mare's heart races, but she can't seem to tear herself away from his piercing gaze. Slowly, she takes a tentative step out from the shadows, then another. Her body is tense, ready to bolt at the slightest hint of threat. This close, the creature's scent reaches her - a complex mélange of musk, soap, and something else unidentifiable yet not unpleasant. It's like nothing she's ever smelled before.

The wild mare slips silently through the dense foliage, her nostrils flair as she catches an enticing, unfamiliar scent on the breeze. She freezes at the edge of the trees as an odd creature comes into view, striding along a narrow path. It appears to be a male, but unlike any she's encountered before - tall and relatively hairless, with only a patch of dark fur on his head. His body is shrouded in strange coverings, leaving much to her imagination.

As he draws closer, the wild mare's body responds to his alien allure. The first heated twinges of her season stir between her haunches, coaxing glistening nectar from her untouched petals. Her eyes rove over his form, marveling at the exotic male in her midst. He carries himself with an air of easy confidence, so different from the nervous, scrabbling creatures she's used to.

A twig snaps beneath her hoof and the male starts, swinging around to peer in her direction. The wild mare tenses, poised for flight, but something keeps her rooted to the spot. Her blood thrums with the instinctual urge to present herself, to entice this virile stranger into filling her with his seed.

Before she can overthink it, the wild mare steps out from the treeline. Her movements are slow and deliberate, wings flared, head lowered submissively. She turns, lifting her tail to display her swollen, slick folds, flushed and ripe with the overwhelming need to be bred. Her eyes meet his, pools of raw, primal hunger. She whickers breathily, her wanton invitation hanging in the air between them.

The dappled sunlight filters through the thick canopy, casting shifting shadows across the forest floor. A lithe, butter-colored form darts between the trees, barely disturbing the underbrush. The mare pauses, sniffing the air, her wild mane cascading over her shoulders. The scent of ripe berries wafts towards her and she creeps forward, keeping low to the ground.

As she reaches the berry bush, the wild mare rears up on her hind legs, using her front hooves to pull the branches down. Her tangled tail swishes back and forth as she plucks the juiciest morsels with her teeth, the sticky juice dribbling down her chin. A few stray berries tumble to the ground and she lowers herself to lap them up with her tongue.

While she eats, the mare absentmindedly rubs her hind legs together, feeling a familiar ache building between them. The musky scent of her arousal mixes with the sweet aroma of crushed berries. She knows her heat is approaching. Soon she won't be able to focus on anything except the overwhelming need to be mounted and bred.

She shakes her head, trying to clear the fog of lust. She needs to return to her den and prepare. Grabbing a few final mouthfuls, she bounds off into the undergrowth, her wings fluttering restlessly. As she leaps over a fallen log, she can already feel the first trickle of her juices dampening her coat, the pheromones saturating the air around her in an irresistible invitation to any male creatures in the vicinity…