“Because of your muscles?”

Duncan bites back his first response, which would have been, “Because you have the IQ of one?” and instead attempts a conversational tone. “I’m guessing it’s because you have the strength of a horse?”

Horace grins, proudly, but shakes his head. “Nope. It’s ‘cuz I’m built just like a horse — in a certain part of my body.”

Now Duncan knows he is definitely not imaging things, because Horace very deliberately and slowly grinds his crotch against Duncan’s back. Duncan resists the urge to shudder and turn around and slug the mammoth lout in the face. Instead, he tries to change the topic.

“It was kind of you to come along to keep us safe, Horace. I feel bad about taking you from your duties. I’m sure you will be missed.”

“I’m happy to do it, Love. And I’m sure you’ll think of some way to properly thank me soon enough.” With this, Horace’s hand moves up from its position around Duncan’s waist and grabs hold of his right breast, giving it a squeeze.

Duncan, in surprise, jumps and cries out, “What are you doing?!” Horace just laughs and lightly pats the breast, saying, “I’m sorry. I couldn’t help it! They’re just so... so... squeezable, aren’t they?”

As mortified as Duncan is, he can’t fully blame the stable boy. Had he been in a similar position, he likely would have tried to get his hands on those breasts, as well. In fact, if given enough time and a measure of privacy, he wouldn’t mind checking out this body thoroughly, despite the fact that it was his own. Temporarily his own, he keeps reminding himself.

Again, trying to change the topic, Duncan took another tactic. “Surely you must have a girl back home, waiting for you? What would she say about you grabbing me like this?”

Horace snorts a laugh of derision. “I have many a girl waiting for me back home, Dearie. A horse has many riders, you know!” Again, Duncan feels the grinding behind him, and an unmistakable protrusion pressing into his lower back that causes Duncan to want to gag.

Horace continues. “I did have plans for this evening to meet up with a little scullery maid for a cocktail. I was planning on bringing the cock, and Cynthia was going to bring the tail, if you know what I mean.”

This time Horace emphasized his words with a pinch of Duncan’s ass. Although this again resulted in a surprised jump, Duncan was somewhat distracted. “Cynthia, the scullery maid?” he thought. “But she has been warming my bed for many a night over the past month!”

“But I understand from Felix— I mean — Captain Argyle that Mirantia’s castle is home to the most handsome of men in the land — the prince. I imagine it must be difficult to compete for women with such a prized specimen of manhood,” Duncan says, in what he hopes is a convincing feminine singsong voice.

“Aye, Prince Stewart is a fair-looking bloke, for sure,” says Horace, “but there are plenty of damsels for one and all.”

“Not him!” says Duncan, perhaps a bit too forcibly. “I’m told there is a younger brother, who is such a picture of physical perfection that women throw themselves at his feet.”

“Oh, the Spare!” says Horace. “You mean Prince Duncan. Aye, I s’pose he’s ok, but if there are any women falling at his feet, it’s probably ‘cuz they tripped.”

Duncan turns around angrily at the unmistakable sound of laughter from the horse behind them, but when he looks, he sees the pirate innocently examining his fingernails, as if they were the most interesting thing around.

“In fact, the lass I was to meet tonight has said some fine things about Prince Duncan,” offered Horace.

“At last!” thinks Duncan, but aloud he prompts, “Such as?”

“She raves about his hair and wonders what his secret is to making it so soft and shiny. I’ll wager you know a thing or two about how to do that, don’t you, Love?” Horace runs his thick hands through Duncan’s locks. “Maybe when we get back, I can get you and Cynthia together and we can have ourselves a double cocktail? What do you say to that?”

Again, Duncan feels the rough hands on his breast, and he fights the urge to jab his elbow in Horace’s ribs. Just then, he hears Felixia’s voice from behind.

“So, Donkey, do you really think they will be able to cure her condition when we get to Eight Falls?”

“It’s ‘Horse,’ Captain.... or ‘Horace,’ if you like. And I don’t know about what you will find there. There are some pretty powerful magical chaps there, and they can do pretty near anything, but I wouldn’t be in such a hurry to look for a cure.... At least not until the lady and I have a chance to really get to know each other, anyway, if you know what I mean.”

Duncan squirms to minimize the uncomfortable poking in his back, but Horace just takes that for encouragement and presses even harder against his back.

“Oh I’m sure she is looking forward to that, as well,” says Felixia. “She’s an absolute wildcat in bed — sexual prowess surpassed only by the Felechon, I’m told.”

Duncan shoots an angry and questioning look at Felixia, but Horace revels in this news. “A wildcat, you say? Well, we may need to take a break now and let our horses rest for an hour or so...”

Felixia says, “It would be nice if we could get a cure to her other condition first, of course, but I wouldn’t worry about that — the rash and itching will pass after a few days, and the painful boils are hardly ever contagious.”

It takes a few moments for Felixia’s words to sink in, but when they do, Horace’s hand freezes in the midst of its groping. “What’s that you say? Rashes? Boils?”

“And we don’t even know if that fellow on the ship caught his condition from this girl. For all we know, his penis would have swollen up and painfully exploded on its own, even if he had not bedded this gorgeous creature. Now, about taking that break....”

Duncan catches on and says, “Oh, I am looking forward to getting to know you, Jackass — I mean Horse. And don’t worry at all — they say Syphella’s Syndrome is hardly ever contagious; we think it was just a coincidence that all those men in our village died in such a gruesome, horrible, nightmarish way. Shall we stop now so I can express my appreciation to you?”

Horace pulls his hand away from Duncan’s breast. Duncan notices Horace’s skin is starting to feel a bit clammy. “Syphella’s Syndrome, you say it is?” asks Horace. “Who is this Syphella person?”

“Oh, that’s me,” says Duncan. “I’m sorry; we didn’t get properly introduced. Captain Argyle, would you give Zebra and me some time alone so I can properly introduce myself to him?”

Horace doesn’t bother to correct Duncan about the name, but he does bring the horse to a stop and quickly dismounts. “I think we will stop for a bit, Lass, but I’m feeling a bit poorly — I think I’ll have to take a pass on your kind offer. Excuse me while I go take a quick wash in the creek.”

“Shall I come and help scrub your back?” asks Duncan, eagerly.

“No!” says Horace, retreating a few steps. “I’ll be quite fine on my own.”

With that, the stable boy hurriedly retreats to the creek, and Duncan and Felixia hear him dive directly into the water, without taking the time to disrobe.

Once he is out of earshot, the two disguised travelers burst into laughter. “Oh, Felixia, I was ready to throttle you, for sure, but I have to hand it to you, that was the most fun I have had in years!” says Duncan, holding his sides.

Felixia, for her part, is rolling around in the grass, tears of laughter coming from her eye and the eye patch. “Oh, you did so well, Prince Spareling! I couldn’t have played it better myself!”

When the two recover from their laughter, they turn their eyes toward the horses. “Do you think we should wait for Horse Boy? I’m pretty sure he can find his way home on his own. We can even leave him a horse, if you want. I promise not to grope you nearly as much as he did if we share one,” says Felixia.

“I’m not sure he will even come back,” muses Duncan. “It wouldn’t surprise me if he has already burned his clothing and is making as much distance between us as possible.”

“So shall we go on without him?”