One day Stefan decided to wander from the village, drawn by the lure of the forest, which seemed mysterious and magical to him. He loved the sweet trilling of the birds, the gentle whisper of the leaves rustling in the breeze.

He followed the path taken by the village woodsmen at first, but soon strayed into the darker reaches of the wood, where no one ever went. After a time he came upon a small patch of curious looking mushrooms. He loved the mushrooms his mother put into the thick, hearty stews she made in the kettle, and would often pluck them from the pot as it hung over the fireplace in their cottage. He didn't recognize this particular kind of mushroom, but he was hungry and soon had gobbled many of them down.

Satisfied, he continued on his way, and soon came upon a beautiful meadow, which was cleaved in two by a babbling stream. The cool clear water glittered in the sunlight, and seemed to giggle at Stefan, inviting him to join it. As he found himself sweating now, though he didn't feel exerted, Stefan quickly shed his tunic and breeches and tossed aside his leather boots. His stomach had begun to pain him as well, a sick feeling welling from deep inside.

Suddenly Stefan realized his thirst had become unbearable too, and so he plunged into the stream, and drank until he could not drink any more. He splashed and swam, and the little brook cheerfully babbled it's secrets to him. When he grew tired, Stefan crawled onto the grassy bank and sprawled naked in the sun, and soon grew warm and sleepy.

He awoke in the late afternoon to the sound hooves trodding the ground, and a gentle voice imploring him to wake.

"Hello, little one," said the voice. "Why do you sleep during the day when there is so much beauty to see? And where have your clothes gone?"

Stefan's eyes flew open now, and indeed he saw that his clothes were nowhere to be found. Even more surprising, he saw that the voice was issuing from the mouth of a centaur! Of course he'd heard stories about the curious looking beasts, half man and half horse. The woodsmen told the village children that if they strayed too deeply into the forest that centaurs would capture them, and take them home to be cooked and eaten. But the creature in front of Stefan now did not look as if he would do any such thing.

"No doubt they were stolen by wood gnomes while you slept," said the centaur. "They are known for such trickery. Come, boy, I'll help you find your way home. But I warn you, I can go no further than the place where the path of the woodsmen ends, for they fear my kind, and would seek to hurt me."

The centaur extended his hand, and Stefan found himself taking it, mesmerized by this gentle creature's voice. The hand was strong and firm, and the arm it was attached to even stronger, for it easily swung Stefan onto it's back. They set off toward the village, the clopping of the centaurs hooves like a ticking clock, counting down the short time they would have together.

"Why do you not speak, boy?" asked the centaur. "Are you afraid me as well? Can't you see I mean you no harm?"

"N-no," stammered Stefan. "It's just that I never believed you were real. Your kind, I mean."

The centaur laughed deeply, his torso swaying and the taut muscles of his back stretching beneath Stefan's hands, where he held on for purchase. "Never believed in us? Why, I 'm as real as that jackdaw you hear calling from the trees!"

"Yes," said Stefan. "I never dreamed I'd meet anyone like you, though."

The centaur grew quiet for a moment, and then Stefan felt a strong hand brush against his bare calf. The centaur turned his head slightly to look back at Stefan. "Nor I you," he whispered. Stefan shivered and nearly swooned from his perch. He clenched his knees together reflexively, his bare skin driving against the soft fur of the centaur's flanks.

The centaur groaned in pleasure, and suddenly quickened his pace, but Stefan worried he had hurt him, and loosened his grip. "No," the centaur moaned. "Please, I like it." He reached back and pulled Stefan close to the taut sunkissed skin of his muscular back. Stefan felt his nipples grow hard as the flesh of his chest pressed against the centaur. A strong sweet musk rose from the creature, and Stefan inhaled deeply, drinking it in.

"Touch me," whispered the centaur. "Know me."

Stefan's arms encircled the broad chest, his hands roaming the supple flesh, finding the centaur's nipples like an explorer discovering treasure. "Yes," growled the centaur. "Squeeze them."

Soon they were lost in a world of carnal delight. They lay together in the soft moss that carpeted the forest floor, exploring each other's bodies, finding new and exciting ways to draw pleasure one another. The centaur knelt and took Stefan in his mouth, and nearly brought him to completion, but stopped short, as Stefan shuddered and gasped with a bittersweet mixture of pleasure and pain.

"Not yet," said the centaur, winking. "Not yet. You must give yourself to me first," he said. "And we will journey to heaven together." The centaur grabbed Stefan and spun him around, his strong hands digging painfully into the flesh of his arms. He drove the boy down, and mounted him from behind, and though it hurt Stefan, it felt wonderful too, and he cried out in pleasure-pain. Soon the centaur grasped Stefan's throbbing shaft, and pumped while thrusting into him. And as Stefan felt himself reaching climax, the centaur exploded into him, a gush of hot centaur juice flooding his asshole. In the end, it was all too much. Stefan felt dizzy and sick, and the world spun around him, and then there was only blackness.

When Stefan awoke, it was dark, and the forest no longer seemed magical. It felt scary, terrible. He felt dampness between his legs and reached down, discovering a frothy pink substance leaking from his backside. He couldn't remember exactly what had happened, but he felt a horrible sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach. He had thought he was alone, but suddenly he heard a familiar voice in the darkness, and a flame sparked as the hairy woodsman lit his pipe and puffed on it.

"Those were some good shrooms, man," said the woodsman. "Pretty, pretty, pretty...good."

Had to share this story originally posted by improbablewobble in reply to this post:

/r/funny Thread Link -