Centaur Maiden Tales One

Monstergirl Definition: Centaur/ide

Old Ermor Medical Classification: Theratofemina Equus Centaurus (Sub-races such as deer-bodied Theratofemina Cervus Centaurus are in low numbers across Dunia)

Centaurs, monster women with the upper body of humans and the lower body (and legs) of horses have always been a minority in monster lands, and those of humans due to awkward means of carnal contact after the Succubus Curse. The aloof, graceful, smaller, yet fierce Eastern Centaurides find few interested men to live with them, and they do not have the viciousness of dark elves to capture men except for a few Xiongnu tribes who may one day threaten to conquer the world.

The more friendly, stronger, larger yet milder Western Centaurides, living in forts and near human cities have the meddling Inquisition to contend with, and those living in Monster Girl Empire are often drawn to urban cities, losing their clan identities and themselves to pleasures of civilized life, usually becoming used and preyed on; if not by civilized life, then by dark elves: a centauride mount can be worth a fortune if properly tamed. And gregarious, cheerful Western Centaurides were ideal draft horses and mounts for strict tamers who could awaken their love of bondage.

*-*-*-*

Khitai Flower.

Anon's hometown was built on a flat plain, bordering an incredibly high, yet singular mountain on eastern Ermorea, looking as if it was carved by the hand of a distant God in times lost; the mountain looked incredibly out-of-place to a geographical observer and historian. Years ago, the old Monster Lord passed through there, despoiling the land in haste and carving a bloody, dead path throughout the wondrous grasslands of Krai. Now, in the last decades, humans and some surviving monstergirls started to settle, restoring what was defiled.

Anon knew the mountain was revered, quite holy in fact, to a very strange race of monster women; creatures who had males of their own. Not anymore.

Centaurides.

They visited his people every spring, settling near Anon's hometown and erecting giant circular tents called yurts before packing up and leaving for the ruined, yet warmer plains of Khitai in winter. Anon found them to be very exotic people, with faces of eastern peoples like the Zhong, but rounder, thinking features and strong bodies from the waist up, with the bodies of beautiful horses from the waist down.

Their bodies were confusing. Once grown, the boys of Anon's town would giggle and chuckle, joking about things best not mentioned near smaller children. It was the first time he asked his parents about things and words that earned him a slap on the head.

Spring fair couldn't wait. Anon wanted to see them up close when centauride mothers and their daughters would trade with the village. The centaur women made the world's finest cured meats, leather, and crafted goods that could only be made by tireless, strong hands wielding delicate precision. At least they were "the best" to Anon's people...

The village, on the other hand, produced...

Apples. And anything related to apples, from cider to jam, from sweets to cured, apple-glazed snacks. The mountain, as despoiled by Maou as it was, was the ancestral place where all apples bloomed for the first time in Dunia and had healed itself and the land around it the moment Maou died. It had a guttural name Anon could barely pronounce. Anon's people settled on the ruins of the destroyed Khitai city, having been farmers from Krai, a black-soiled, fertile steppe region, now also despoiled by Maou. Defying logic, the Krai folk decided to migrate eastward, past the Maou's rampage and heaps of bones, to settle the plains around a mountain that seemed to be rich, fertile, and surrounded by apple trees. How Maou's black hordes left this miraculously fertile oasis amongst the steppes intact, no one knew until shamans of centaurides explained them a year later.

The centaur women revered the land around the mountain. They didn't just come to trade; often, some centaur women would pull aside and speak to young men in hushed voices, then disappear for several days. The boys didn't always come home either. Anon was old enough to guess what happened.

After all, a race of all-female monster women would need someone to bring forth the next generation, and more than one centaur foal called a human "Papa!"...

*-*-*-*

He was young. She was small. Her body was no taller than a strangely golden-colored Shetland Pony, her body below the waist clad in Eastern silks and red felt-and-cloth skirted clothes akin to a barding on a horse. Her mother was equally well-dressed, sporting an elegant, bright, pointy hat made from velvet fabric and embroidered with golden threads, while her little centaur daughter went bare-headed. They hawked their wares: bows and farming tools adorned with rope-embroidered ornaments. Her daughter was nibbling on a candied apple; her horse-like ears flicked with joy as she was "standing" near the stall, a much smaller and cuter version of her statuesque centauride mother.

Anon was young, and being an eight-year-old, he had nothing to do but stand near his parents' apple stall. Curiosity spurred the human onward, and he found himself slowly drawn to approach the small centaur girl with gentle features, small, deep-set eyes, and plump, pale cheeks. Once she saw her, her small eyes widened for a moment, and he could see her eyes glitter in curiosity.

"Hello?"

The centaur daughter just closed her eyes and wiggled her ears, mumbling shyly and waving at him.

One must keep in mind that Anon was young, and was absolutely useless in social conversations being a precocious smart-ass. So when he opened his mouth, the awkwardness of his age and sheer inexperience opened the worst kind of words to start a conversation.

"Are you some kind of horse?"

That wasn't smart.

The centaur girl's eyes narrowed in anger. She puffed her cheeks, tiny cute nostrils flaring like a breathing dragon. Her expression became irate, just when the cute little monstergirl was happily trotting around and enjoying the early lazy years of childhood, this insolent human just walked up to her!

"ARE YOU SUM KIND OF MONKE!?" She retorted angrily in broken, accented, and childish Common, scooching close to her mother. Her mother chuckled, caressing her hair and bending down to face Anon:

"It's rude to ask like this you know..." She frowned playfully, pulling the little girl close. "Aida, he is just ignorant." She consoled her in her language, caressing the centaur girl foal's hair.

His father shouting his name meant trouble.

When he turned, he found BOTH his parents glaring at him, sealing his fate.

"ANON! YOU WILL COME OVER RIGHT NOW!"

Aida stuck her tongue out at him as he sullenly retreated to his family stall for a grilling.

*-*-*-*

It wasn't particularly a nice first encounter. His ears still hurt.

Next year they met again.

Anon was sullenly sitting as human and horse-woman traded, haggled, shouted, and exchanged gifts. There he saw, the little centaur Aida having grown a little and watching a maypole with children running around it.

Seeing him, she stuck out her tongue *again*, made an ugly face, and galloped away, her long, flowing Khitai red barding flapping in the wind.

"Monkey!"

The year after that, Anon started to learn a craft and stuck to it.

He learned how to craft and fit horseshoes since the centaur women paid handsomely for hoof care.

They were beautiful, eastern women in gaudy red clothes and lower bodies of beautiful horses, wearing huntress gear and giant bows, and were flirty with the local men. And they were soft on young boys, often tipping them extra for hoof care and errands run.

Life was good.

*-*-*-*

He was eighteen, working in his father's smithy shop.

The centauride clan had left the area for several years, intending to help Zhong Guo in rebuilding after Maou's rampage. But this year, the centaur women had returned to trade with the plainsfolk. The village was overjoyed, and the booming trade had kept everyone busy again!

Suddenly, the sound of hooves roused him from his daydreaming.

"Excuse me..."

It was a centauride.

She was no doubt one of the Khitai, distinguishable by her magnificent red dress, entering his and his father's humble shop. She stood before Anon, her exotic features radiant as the beautiful centaur woman of the East flashed a gentle smile. Her delicate features, and narrow, gleaming, dark eyes shone with great interest on looking at Anon.

"Anon, right? I'm Uldiz." Seeing his blank expression, she stomped a hoof and shook her head, chuckling. "Aida's mother." She added; her Eastern upper half and equine lower half were displaying heights of grace.

He nodded slowly, wary, and intrigued. How did she remember, and particularly, *him*? After at least nine years?

"My daughter needs her hooves cleaned and re-fitted, but she was far too shy to ask you. And I would like to see your skill firsthand before I can tell her she can trust you. After all, she is a bit skittish around men."

Anon nodded like an idiot, eager to prove himself to the magnificent horse-lady of the steppes who always paid in generous silver.

"Please... come in..."

The centauress entered what seemed to be a strange mix of a barn and a shoe fitting room, constructed from applewood everpresent around the great mountain that loomed over Anon's town. Removing her gigantic cloak and some of her clothes with a knowing smile, she gracefully laid a strong, equine leg on a wooden platform.

Setting a stool next to her leg, Anon got to work. He started scraping the dirt, then gently, chiseling the excessive hoof that had grown over time, making extra certain he wouldn't dare hurt a magnificent centaur lady.

Uldiz smiled, watching him work. Her almond eyes shone as his soft, gentle hands effortlessly started trimming her hoof, not even hurting once when he slowly pulled the horseshoe with tongs and scraped the excess hoof before preparing the new horseshoe. Her delicate, soft hands handed on his arm, her exotic voice purring like a cat. Anon could see that her fingernails were perfectly trimmed, her knuckles and fingertips showing mild signs of callouses, owing to a lifetime of hunting.

"You have great skill, young man."

"Thanks, ma'am," Anon answered with some effort.

She smelled great. Her scent was like a perfume but with an intoxicating, otherwordly flowery tang, mixed with hay, and an aroused woman's scent: not that Anon knew what the last part was, but somewhere deep inside his young psyche, it was energizing, arousing, invigorating. And the way she leaned close to him, was making Anon uneasy.

Centaur women were blessed with great proportions of their human halves, for obvious reasons. And despite his tries to look away, Uldiz's breasts, so delightfully squished together in her tight red Khitai robes, showed a delightful, straight narrow valley that Anon could not look away from. Even her ass was shaped differently than that of a horse, with human curves and lighter skin color than her tawny brown equine lower half.

Uldiz smiled kindly, knowing where he looked, his hands resting on her flank. And to his surprise, spoke:

"I'm sorry. It's my fault." She gathered her robes, politely holding his shoulder as her cute horse ears wiggled and sank in shame. "You are a young, healthy man, and it's only natural." Then her eyes gleamed. "I now need the back hooves cleaned and replaced. Is that alright?"

Anon gulped, nodding. "Leaving a job half-done would be wrong."

She winked. "Then I trust you'll be gentle."

Anon's knees shook a little. Was she reading his mind?

He got behind her, Uldiz looking back with a smile and raising a hoof to rest her knee on a stool with a pillow.

Anon could not help but stare at her large, round behind. As much as a horse's body was part of it, it belonged to a beautiful woman. Uldiz covered her red face with shame and looked away, squirming when Anon nervously coughed, lifting a hoof and resting it on a small stool, slowly scraping the dirt and nail with a chisel, gently tapping the iron instrument with the wooden mallet used by him and his father. It was a soft, wooden tool, polished to a pleasant, shiny appearance.

The soft, wooden tapping sounds were followed by scraping sounds of centauride toenails, the unpleasant slow bending of the old, worn horseshoes, and the eventual insertion of the new horseshoe with the hiss of iron, followed by the unpleasant smell of burnt hair, or nails. Anon kept working through every hoof, careful not to peek too much at the barely covered, round, shapely hindquarters of Uldiz, who herself was looking away, red-faced, and bit her lips.

Despite having the body of a horse, and that finding it attractive would be aberrant, Anon couldn't help. Perhaps it had something to do with Uldiz's pure grace and beauty, that it felt good to work with such a centauride's body. But it felt to touch the centaur woman and caress her legs, even if absentmindedly.

Uldiz seemed to enjoy the sensations, staying very quiet, her red face buried in her hands as Anon caressed her flank and hindquarters after being done. After what seemed to be an awkward silence, she spoke in a quiet voice, reaching into her robes fishing out several silver coins, and pushing into his hands with a delicate, henna-painted pair of her own:

"Thank you."

Then, much to his shock, Uldiz embraced him close, allowing him to feel the warm, soft upper body of the Khitai centauride, her soft belly, and surprisingly large breasts (hidden inside her red centaur robes. Slowly looking around, she held his head, strong, yet beautiful hands clasping around his face. It was as if she was inspecting him either as a potential lover or...

"Say, Anon...Have you met Aida ever since we returned?"

Anon shook his head slowly, awkwardly embracing the centaur matron who seemed to be quite touchy-feely with him and lost in warm, lusty feelings.

"I was...Actually..." The centaur mother smiled, touching her forehead to his, then stopping and suddenly recollecting her clothes and posture as she heard familiar hooves thundering, accompanied by a shout in a foreign language:

"Mama! MAMA?" Anon could remember the beautiful voice's owner.

"In here, Aida!" Uldiz looked disappointed and frustrated all of a sudden. Anon didn't understand why.

Anon couldn't understand the foreign language they were shouting at each other in. Later, he'd learn it was the flowery language of the Zhong.

Aida had decided to visit him for a shoe change. Anon could see Uldiz quickly slapping herself to disperse her blush.

It couldn't be...certainly? That the mother centaur herself...

"HOOOOI!!!! I ask a question!" Aida's angry, almost guttural, Zhong-accented angry voice woke him up from a momentary daydream.

Aida, the first centaur girl she met was here. Outwardly she was the spitting image of her mother, albeit slimmer, and younger, but with fierce, pointed features as opposed to her soft, gentle-faced mother. Unlike her, she wore her hair in a topknot and was armed, otherwise, her clothes were the same as her mother's, only one size smaller. Her face had an air of arrogance, and youthful vitality, and a glimmer in her eyes hinted at a subdued interest in him.

*-*-*-*

Anon waited for Uldiz and Aida to finish arguing, the younger centauride stamping her hoof and crossing her arms, then dropping her arms and sighing in resignation.

"Mother says you are skilled. You are good... shoe fitter, yes?" Aida spoke in her barely out-of-puberty voice, trying to formulate the words, her wary eyes looking the now handsome youth up and down, a far cry from the skinny kid when they had just met. When Anon corrected her word as "farrier", she would have none of it.

"I'M NO HORSE!" Was her squeaky reply, calmed down by Uldiz who spoke to her at length in Zhongwen. After a brief argument, she relented, climbing the fitting stall like a princess, head held high.

"Hurt me, and I will kick you to death! Then Mother will avenge what you did!" Her flashing eyes made Anon gulp, Uldiz quietly chuckling to herself in a corner. It didn't take a sage to realize that had Aida not arrived early, Uldiz might have very well sampled him for herself.

Long, quiet, sunless nights, after all, were lonely, and as the centaur mother as she was, Uldiz was a woman, a poor, poor, widowed centaur woman who had needs, not all of them carnal.

The steppes were cold and lonely at this time of the year.

*-*-*-*

If Aida were hurt, it would not be due to Anon's carelessness, but Aida's burning glare intimidating him every time he scraped a bit of hoof and went for his tools.

What took moments with Uldiz, took at least half an hour with fidgety Aida, who would smack Anon's head (albeit weakly) every time he touched her leg rather than her hoof.

"Pervert son of a sixty thousand painted whores! Go die!" She hissed and babbled in her language; luckily Anon didn't know her tongue, and the flowery, colorful Zhong insult flew over his head, while Uldiz rolled her eyes and flashed an apologetic smile at Anon, her hooves rubbing the floor in boredom.

After an agonizing hour and a half, he was finally done with the arduous task of changing horseshoes. However, he had shown great skill and inflicted no pain, partly due to Aida's death glare and sword dangling from her belt. When the process of cleaning and re-shoeing the hooves was done, the young, petulant centauride instructed him with a grunt to hold a mirror, which she used to inspect her hooves.

"Is good work for human boy," Aida grunted in Common before turning to her mother and speaking incredibly fast in Zhong, her brow furrowed.

Satisfied, she tossed a gold coin in his hands and galloped away, her mother sighing in relief, much to Anon's surprise, before turning back to regard Anon.

"She is skittish, but she doesn't mean ill. Aida was often upset about your first childhood gaffe, and can sometimes hold childish, funny grudges." Uldiz spoke, watching her beautiful daughter gallop away. "I blame lack of a father figure..." She trailed off, her tone and dismissive gesture, as well as the fidgeting of her horse half a clear sign that she didn't want to pursue that line of discussion.

Anon looked back, closing the shop's door to avoid a cold draft.

That's when Uldiz softly took a step forward, reached out, and was about to lock the door, her soft, heavy breasts shamelessly rubbing on Anon's arm.

That moment was when he felt the most energizing erection he ever had. He wanted to grab her hindquarters, bend her over the stable railing, and...

Slow as he was for a human, his newly discovered hormonal rush and his desires finally lit a little lamp in his brain. He leaned forward, grasping Uldiz by the waist, holding her close. Her face was flushed, and her body was warm, so warm.

Of course, Fortune would direct Anon's heart (and body) somewhere else. And as same Fortune would have it, Uldiz would find someone more fitting for her cold, poor body taking refuge in the village.

*-*-*-*

"Evening!"

It was Anon's uncle, Karl who owned the shop. An older version of him, a man in his mid-forties with a three-day stubble and shaggy, silvery-brown hair that let itself go to his shoulders, he was hardened by decades of hard work from his childhood. A widower silver fox for all intents and purposes, he slapped on Anon's shoulder and barged inside, taking his green, feathered hat off and hanging it on a nail.

"Helping the old lady, eh?" He winked at Anon before laying his tools on a table. He bowed before the centaur mother, kissing her knuckles with a flourish, creating an awkward moment. Yet, he defused it by himself, pointing to a small, brown object that looked like...