Beverly Taff's Mare’s Tales ~ 34

Veronica, Jacqueline, Jennifer, & Cynthia	(Names of Centaurs.)
Margaret.	(Doctor Friend.)
Bernadette, Jeanette & Susan.	(Older Children.)
Nicholette, Christine & Pauline.	(Younger Children.)
Jemma.	(Jacky’s Baby Centaur.)

Whilst the new femi society was evolving there was of course another group evolving in parallel.

As I mentioned in Chapter 30, Jacky and her centaur friends had been extending the genetic boundaries of centaurism. Jemma was of course the first true centaur to be born of Jacky’s equine womb.

She had been evolved primarily from mainly female components because my friends had been nervous about introducing any male genetic elements that may have been affected by the comet’s radiation. However they had been forced to use a frozen sample of my old sperm to activate the egg’s division and provide sufficient genetic material. This was to ensure a proper chromosome count and avoid breeding a haploid or freemartin. My centaur friend’s work in reconciling the differential chromosome qualities of horse and human to facilitate the natural genetic conception of a true centaur had been a stunning advance in genetics. It was the clearest evidence yet, of my centaur friend’s total satisfaction with their own partially equine condition that they had been happy to advance with a genetically true centaur.

Jemma had grown to become a delightful child and would eventually become a stunningly beautiful palomino centaur. Her sleek glossy golden blond coat complemented her crowning head of ash blond hair and beautiful flowing tail. We all knew that when she reached maturity, human heads would inevitably spin and eyes gape whenever she made an appearance. Her stunning human beauty, more than equalled her graceful equine, arabesque form.

As my friends and I watched Jemma take her first wobbling steps, we quickly realised that when Jemma reached a certain age, (Centaurs grew at the same rate as humans and enjoyed the same biblical ‘three score years and ten’), she would naturally wish for childhood play friends and in later years, sexual partners. Indeed, it would have been cruel to deny her what had become (through our actions,) her centaurian rights.

As soon as I had returned home from my yacht voyage and learned of Jemma’s existence, my friends approached me and requested, nay demanded, that we use my sperm to do for centaurs exactly what had been done for humans.

They readily recognised that the centaurs would also be affected by the ‘feminism’ now inherent in my sperm, but they equally felt that it was unfair to leave Jemma as a lonely single, and therefore vulnerable centaur, when I and my four older centaur friends, shuffled off our mortal coils.

(Let us not forget that my centaur friends and I were not getting any younger.)

We had already moved to ensure the preservation of our genetic science by introducing our own children to our hard-won genetic secrets. This had meant spending long hours educating them to our own self imposed high academic standards. (We also felt we held high ethical standards, for we had only ever moved to remedy disastrous circumstances when they had befallen us or others.)

The centaur solution had been our own voluntary decision arising from my friend’s crippling train accidents.

The Femi sperm decision had been made because we had spent our student lives avoiding unwanted masculine attentions and suffered endless attempts to force their way into our knickers.

Before my friends had finally become centaurs they all had appalling stories of their time as limbless students at university. One would have thought that the more intelligent males of the old human species would have respected a girl’s inability to fend off unwanted attentions but it was not so. All my friends had endured some of the most grotesque and humiliating offers whilst they had persevered with their early studies at college. They had all suffered uninvited groping, crude suggestions and in several instances, determined physical efforts, before one or more of us had managed to arrive in time to prevent a serious sexual assault by the perverts going too far.

None of my friends had actually suffered rape but it was not for the want of men trying! It seemed that the old race of human men had never learned the real meaning of the word, ‘NO!’

The femi men development had been something of a ‘get-back’ at the old male dominated society. In youth my centaur friends and to lesser extent, myself had suffered quite enough at their hands. There was to be no more patriarchal bullying!

We held that because the comet was not of our making then we certainly could not be held responsible. Any efforts we made to ameliorate the human race’s problems were entirely down to our own perspectives and us. If anybody wanted to avail themselves of our services, they would have to abide by our conditions. It was pure luck that Bernadette, Nicholette and I had been far, far down south in one of the remotest spots on Earth. It was ironic that I was actually using that time partly to escape the pressures of an oppressive male society when the comet had presented me with a heaven-sent opportunity to turn things around.

Call me a resentful, vengeful bitch if you will, but an individual is what the world makes him or her. I for one had been tired of the endless oppressive overbearing attentions of men who thought they saw an opportunity whenever it presented itself. The fact that my hermaphrodism was still an issue whenever it came up was proof enough to me and indeed, my intimate friends. We all held that any individual’s sexuality is strictly his or her own affair!

Ask any woman, (or trannie who can pass,) what it’s like to sit at a bar and simply try to enjoy a drink or watch the screen without inevitably being pestered by some conceited, sexist, overbearing (usually drunken,) idiot.

Anyway, what was done, was done. Femies were here to stay and in truth most of them thoroughly enjoyed their new special status. Except for the occasional ‘homosexual femi’, a femi’s new feminine ‘mind set’ fully complemented his physical circumstances.

The mental changes were a huge part of the puberty thing for femies. As they passed further into puberty and on to full maturity, femies increasingly enjoyed being femies! They particularly enjoyed rearing the children!

Our researches into centaurism also incidentally provided homosexuals of both the new genders with excellent ‘get-out’ clauses.

After their astounding success with Jemma, (Jacky’s genetic centaur child,) my friends had taken my sperm and started to experiment with the femi gene. They wanted to create centaur stallions.

The problem was that a natural stallion was even more aggressive and competitive than a man and the last thing my friends wanted was a four-legged rapist able to capture just about anything alive and abuse it. The trick was to create a centaur endowed with all the gentle caring attributes of a human femi but enjoying the powerful earth-shattering physique of a stallion.

If there was one thing my centaur friends relished, it was the ability to hurtle around savouring the ecstatic freedom and joy that their equinity gave them! Even in their middle years, Jenny, Jacky, Vee and Cye could still give a wild turn of tremendous speed if the fancy took them.

Jenny, in particular, would savour the sheer exhilaration that her stallion’s power gave her. I had to confess, it was almost orgasmic for me to watch Jenny relishing her speed as her long glossy raven hair and tail streamed out like a banner behind her.

There was now also the wonderful sight of young Jemma gambolling and prancing playfully beside her on long stiff foal legs as she bolted in pursuit of Jenny and went hurtling around the park. Jenny laughing for the sheer joy while Jemma scampered and squealed with sheer delight after first having learned to walk then trot and finally gallop.

In later years, centaur football games put human football in the shade and there were no sexual divisions.

There might have been different ‘positions’ on the field suitable for stallions or mares but that was always the case. Both rugby and American football, had always provided scope for all types of physique, but for centaurs it mattered little. All of the four new centaur genders carried the same attributes of speed and agility.

After a few years we had finally managed to create suitable centaur stallions. Naturally, because of the femi gene, a third of the centaurs had fully functional dual genitalia between their forelegs whilst the remaining two thirds of the centaurs had proper human vaginas. If they wished, all centaurs could conceive human children through their human vaginas and bring them successfully to parturition.

This sexuality however was not always reflected at the equine end of those same centaurs. Some femi centaurs had a stallion’s penis and some ‘real-girl’ centaurs had a mare’s vagina. Here again the ‘social equine split’ was one stallion’s penis to every two ‘mare vaginas’. This gave a diversity to the sexuality of centaurs that made them the envy of the new humans, especially the gay humans. In effect there were four differing sexual variations amongst centaurs.

Like my friends however, all the new centaurs had beautiful female human torsos and delicate feminine features. This human femininity was also mirrored in their personalities. All the new genetically engineered centaurs were gentle caring creatures (Or I should properly call them individuals!), with intense parenting bonds.

Centaurs did not commit rape, and furthermore they held tremendous affection for the new human race. There was never to be a case of ‘The Sabine women’.

Naturally, (just as they had between my friends and me,) relationships developed between centaurs and humans. The laws had to be adapted to accommodate this development, but centaurs were accorded the same sentient rights as humans after having long ago proved their humanity in all pertinent matters of life. (And of course, like my friends, all centaurs defecated via their human anuses. None of them ‘shat in the street’!)

Humans and centaurs were to grow up sharing all their pleasures and passions except for the running abilities of centaurs. No human, femi or new-girl could hope to keep up with a centaur, whatever the centaur’s gender.

It was this furious athletic centaur freedom that the homosexual femi’s so admired. Homosexual femies usually did not relish childbearing and wished usually to continue as ‘boys. Puberty for them became a nightmare as their bodies betrayed their sexuality. Some gay human femies dreamed only of being able to imitate centaurs for a centaur’s speed and athleticism would give them back their boyhood freedoms.

For lesbian new-girls the same options became attractive. Attachment to a horse of their chosen sex would retain their athleticism whilst endowing them with whatever sexual preferences they had concerning the horse’s body. Thus human gays of either gender could choose to have an additional penis or vagina courtesy of being grafted to a horse.

Our genetic secrets and our surgical skills were by now extended under licence into the general community where gay femies and lesbian new-girls availed themselves of ‘The Beverly Hart Clinics’.

Large hospitals sprang up in the main centres of population where our special reassignment services were in greatest demand.

Gay femies and lesbian real-girls would be seen nervously arriving at the clinic doors accompanied by a pre-prepared genetically compatible horse of their chosen sex and colour, (and good gracious were there some colour variations!) Not only were there all the traditional colours of horses, like palomino, appaloosa, blacks, bays, duns and greys but my friends had even borrowed the genes of other species. Zebra stripes, tiger stripes, leopard spots okapi stripes and even giraffe patches and dozens of others were available to the surgically altered femies and they availed themselves of the options with gusto,

In fairness to the natural-born centaurs though, they tended to stick to the traditional ‘horse patterns’ for they felt it unfair to lumber their children with some exotic option that might in later life cause distress.

In stature and shape however all the horses were naturally of the same breed thus giving the surgically altered centaurs the same attributes as their naturally bred cousins. Centaur’s human heads came to approximately the same head-height as real girls. This avoided any potential for induced competition stemming from stature.

It was a real delight to see ecstatic gays and lesbians emerge trotting from the clinics savouring their exotic new colours, (if they chose them,) centaur athleticism and exciting new mobility.

Usually the ‘lipstick’ lesbians chose mares because their femininity would be compounded in the additional capacity to enjoy female equine sex, which indeed most of them preferred. ‘Bull-dykes’ however, usually chose stallions with a view to engaging in penetrative sex. This percentage simply reflected the same percentages, as there were ‘bull dykes’ and ‘lipstick lesbians’ in the old society.

The same percentages were reflected in the gay femi scene. Most ‘masculine gays’ chose stallions but the effeminate gays often chose a mare.

Nevertheless, all the femies still carried the ‘milk gene’ and centaur femi upper breasts (that is the breasts on their upper human torsos,) had to be extra well supported as they indulged in their vigorous newfound freedoms. The mare’s breasts found near their nether quarters were not affected unless she was pregnant.

These equine nipples allowed the femi centaurs to indulge the luxury of suckling additionally from their equine breasts if they chose to. Many femi centaurs did, because these equine nipples were every bit as sensitive and erotic as their human nipples. If the femi centaurs wished to suckle long term as mares however, they had to take ‘lactation tablets’.

At the parenting groups it was not unusual to find femi centaurs suckling from all four breasts simultaneously and occasionally sharing their upper milk with their human friends babies.

After surgery the gay femies lost their slender vulnerable waists and the subsequent frailty was now gone. The main reason being that the gay femies usually chose to be grafted onto stallions with the immensely powerful neck and shoulder muscles.

When surgically adapted to the femi’s torso, the stallion’s powerful musculature provided superb support for a femi’s overly large breasts and slender shoulders. Thus when the neck muscles were realigned to provide thoracic and abdominal support. The new newly grafted individual would be able to display an attractive ‘eight-pack’ instead of the conventional ‘six-pack’. ‘With their specially adapted bras and reinforced double d cups, gay femi centaurs invariably savoured their newfound freedom and sexuality.

For an effeminate gay femi with his mincing gait and limp-wristed behaviour, the choice of a mare’s body would be complemented by the more slender supple flexibility offered by a mare’s graceful neck. They could still indulge their girlish actions and behaviour.

All such ‘altered’ humans enjoyed the same agility, speed and athleticism as a trueborn centaur. Another aspect of our genetics was that such altered humans could conceive a centaur foal if they possessed a mare’s body.

However the femi gene was a persistent indestructible factor and it affected centaurs child-rearing in much the same way as it affected humans. Just like their human counterparts, pregnant femi-centaurs would be found indulging in (what was to them,) the immensely satisfying practice of breast-feeding any young centaur foal that chose to suckle. One would see them in the same maternal groups either lying down with the helpless newborn centaur in their arms or standing relaxed as one or two older, prancing ‘foals’ tugged eagerly at their large heavy human breasts or less obvious mare’s breasts.

With this femi milk gene a shared reality, the maternal groups became a mixed up jumble of centaur and human femies all savouring the lactatious bond with their babies.

Unlike their human counterparts however, femi-centaurs shared the same spatial awareness as their real-girl-centaur colleagues. It was an essential factor if they were to enjoy the same physical prowess as ordinary centaurs.

This same spatial awareness could be returned to gay femies by implanting the horse’s spatial sensibilities into the femi’s human brain when they were grafted together. It was one of several important options discussed before surgery. Invariably all the gay femies attached to stallions chose the option, and indeed lots of the effeminate gays attached to mares did as well. However, perversely, some effeminate gay femies chose to remain spatially inept for they enjoyed the mothering and breast-feeding condition still available to them. Not for them the hurly-burly of the sports field, much nicer to mince and prance like circus horses as they indulged their double femininity.

Thus were the human femies allowed several alternative outs from the gentle, fulfilling, delicate state of femi-ism and child rearing if they wanted it.

It was satisfying or me and my friends however, to realise that no ‘ordinary’ femies ever chose to leave their happy rewarding femi condition. Our ideas about a ‘new society’ had been proven correct and the proof of the pudding was in the eating. The breast-feeding and mothering rewards of femi’sm were just too delightful for the vast majority of human femies and natural born femi centaurs.

During my middle years, one my greatest delights was watching the young centaurs growing up. I considered Jemma to be my own daughter, for the masculine components of her conception had been achieved with my sperm. (Although without my knowledge, or indeed, my permission!) However I was more than prepared to forgive my friends for the pleasure of watching Jemma grow was compensation enough. Additionally it was wonderful to watch Jacky savouring the total satisfaction of being able to indulge all her own female characteristics especially when one considered that Jacky had been born a real boy with trans-sexual dysphoria. Our efforts had come a long, long way.

So it was that the new society evolved throughout my middle years. I was now able to sit back for a while and savour what I considered my successes as my children matured around me.

This is a brutally dark, cathartic, autobiographical faction, (part fact, part fiction,) with no romantic pleasant ending.

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� 2002 by Beverly Taff. All Rights Reserved. These documents (including, without limitation, all articles, text, images, logos, compilation design) may printed for personal use only. No portion of these documents may be stored electronically, distributed electronically, or otherwise made available without express written consent of the copyright holder.