Swapping Bodies with a Centaur Pt. 01

This is a short work of erotic fiction containing furry, or anthropomorphic, characters, which are animals that either demonstrate human intelligence or walk on two legs, for the purposes of these tales. It is a thriving and growing fandom in which creators are prevalent in art and writing especially.

All work is fiction intended for fantasy only, regardless of content, and consent must always be acquired when engaging in any sex act with another adult.

Please note that all characters are clearly over eighteen and written as such in all stories.

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Paul puffed out his cheeks, hauling his back higher up over his shoulders. Damn, he perhaps shouldn't have spent so long at the workshop getting the dent out of his round shield, though his supplies were already weighing him down. As a rookie adventurer, he perhaps needed a little more time to gain muscle and bulk to himself, though Paul still wasn't sure that a heavyweight sword wielder and damage giver was something that he wanted to become. He had time though, after finishing his adventurer training, and was keen to get out in the field. There was plenty of treasure out there to be claimed, honour to be gained and challenges to bring new experiences.

It was mostly the treasure he was after though, if he was honest. No matter how many monsters he had to go through to get them, his hair dark brown and curling around his ears. He'd probably grow it longer, while he was out adventuring, but he wasn't sure still how he was going to get his tent out there or if it was even needed as well as a sleeping sack.

Ah well, he thought, making his way to his room in the inn to sling it down, grunting with the effort, though at least everything was packed ready, even if he was barely able to drag it with him. Maybe he'd take his cue on how much and what to bring with him from the rest of the group that he was going to meet up with in the morning. With that in mind, he paused, glancing in the broken mirror set atop the room's rickety dresser (the bed was in little better condition, even if the mattress was passable and had fresh, clean sheets), green eyes looking back at him.

He could do it. He could follow in his father's footsteps. He could do it, he could match up to his shadow, the shadow in which he had lived for too many years. It may have been his first time striking off on his own, but he was determined, clenching his jaws so that a hard, firm line set into it.

It would all come right, now that he was through his training. That was what Paul had to remember, always.

There was still plenty of time, however, left to kill that evening, and Paul traipsed back down the staircase, stable and wide even though it creaked, to the main body of the inn, where food and drink were served. In the corner was a piano with a man who looked like he had dragon blood in him, from the horns and the tail, the spines at the back of his head, tapping away on it, playing a light yet jaunty melody that somehow managed to add ambience to the bustle. Too many people from all walks of life crowded together, drinking and eating, making merry and making deals, though Paul was only there, that night, for food and drink.

Perhaps a little more drink, to ensure that he kept his nerve for the next day...

Of course, he would go through with it, though flagons of ale were not strong, not at that inn. It led him to buy more and more, spending his small amount of coin, though he hoped that he would acquire more swiftly on taking on adventures and missions. There were always tasks to be completed, those in towns and cities, of course, not wanting to venture out into the wilds, not daring when there were adventurers to do that dirty, wearing work for them.

Yet he bought more of the weaker ale, his food eaten and the cracked plate taken away, alone at his table. With a comfortable buzz on, the edges of his world softened and eased, as if everything had taken on a lighter edge. Sitting back in his chair to survey the room, people playing cards, others trading, some simply sitting, taking their leave of the day in any way that they pleased, he observed the room.

Paul was so caught up in people watching, however, that he didn't catch the light clip-clop of bare hooves on the floorboards, not amongst the clamour of human lives being led in the inn. Only when her shadow cast over him did he look up, his lower jaw slightly slack, though Paul clamped it back closed as swiftly as possible.

"Hola," the centaur said with a smile that revealed her white teeth, evenly lined, a cloak cast over her shoulders despite the summer warmth. "¿Cómo te llamas?"

He floundered, shaking his head, the heat of a blush flooding his cheeks, even if it was there from embarrassment and not anything else. At least, not yet.

"Er... Paul rubbed the back of his neck, shaking his head again. "Sorry, I don't speak...Spanish?"

He took a guess, though he was not also well-versed in languages and that was something that he hoped to pick up a lot more of out on adventurers, particularly German and Spanish, as different as the languages were. When he'd thought of them, vaguely planning out what he wanted to learn, he had chosen what he'd thought would be the most useful to him on adventures. So much had come with a single focus in his life that, honestly, he had not had as much time as he could have wanted to look at anything else.

And that included love and romance and simply talking to members of the opposite sex, who he preferred, Paul swallowing hard. She was tall and gorgeous, that much was openly clear, her dark hair with summer hints of brown on the edges of her curls, though it was black at its root. Her lips curved into a pleasant smile, looking at him expectantly, though the centaur's tail was held loosely and comfortably over her strong, bay hindquarters. Her horse half had to be something like a light destrier, though not with too much muscle. Speed rather than using her equine body for force and attacking had to be her forte, he noted dimly, though the thought did not linger in his mind for long.

The centaur smiled, cloak rustling, though she was modestly dressed in a long, flowing blouse tightened at her human waist with a tied, cloth belt. It showed off her figure, Paul shifting back in his chair and shrugging, wondering if she was going to say something.

"Sorry, I didn't mean...to be rude..."

Her smile grew a little wider.

"Ah, of course. I only thought that such a young, handsome man such as yourself would have an arsenal of languages under his belt..."

She spoke smoothly, though her Spanish accent was still there, even if he could not tell which region of the world she was from, evidently Hispanic with richer, darker skin that drew his eye. She was spellbinding, though she seated herself close to him, her equine half "sitting" on the ground, though those there knew her well enough that they understood that any kind of staring or mockery would hardly go down well with her. There was something about her that screamed power, a woman comfortable in her own skin and position.

Or maybe that was just him applying things that were not really there to the situation... Paul didn't care. But he didn't know why she was there, sitting with him, either.

"It must be lonesome to sit here all on your own," she said smoothly, offering her hand to him to shake, delicately yet firmly. "I am Sofia. And you are?"

Paul grunted, trying to clear his throat. Why was he suddenly so stuck with words? She was so hot... Exotic, even. But that was hardly something that he could say to her face! It wasn't the sort of thing that he should say to any woman's face. He sweated, his palms slick as he rubbed them dry on his trousers. What was wrong with him? And she was so beautiful, older than him, obviously so, but with a maturity that made him want to fall at her feet too. Well...perhaps at her hooves.

"I'm Paul," he tried to say, though the words came out a bit strangled, wanting to try, wanting to talk, wanting to say anything. "Um... What brought you to the inn tonight?"

That seemed as good an opening as any, though Paul missed how Sofia's eyes glittered.

"Oh... I enjoy a little company, from time to time," she said, yet he was not clued up enough on women to catch the implication behind her words. "The inn is bustling, so busy. There are always so many coming through here, but I've never seen anyone quite like you Paul."

He didn't know why he was so hot under the collar, but he resisted the urge to shift in his seat, putting a smile on his face and tipping forward. Although the words stuck in his throat, he leaned forward onto the table, knowing that that made him look interested. Of course, she had been the one to approach him, but Paul wanted to at the very least try to see whether he could manage to have a conversation with her. Even if nothing more was surely going to happen.

It could have been as simple as Sofia seeking out some company on a lonely night, seating herself down in the inn for food and drink, just like him. Or it could not have been. He was too caught up in her spell to understand either way.

"Are you also an adventurer?" He asked, forcing himself to be bold, to do something to keep the conversation moving forward. "I have just... Oh, you just looked like you were the type."

Just in time, he managed to stop himself from revealing that he was younger, that he had only then completed his training. That could have been a disaster! Sofia, however, watched him carefully, drawing her shoulder blades back a little. Even seated there, as comfortably as she could, she was still taller than him, her black tail spilling out softly across the bare floorboards.

"In a sense," she said, eyes sparkling, Paul leaning in a little closer to her, hardly even aware of what he was doing. "I enjoy the pursuit of finery... Is that where your interests lie too, Paul?"

She used his name a lot and he wished that he had the courage too to use her name. He wanted to know, wanted to touch her, though that was something that he very much knew that he should not do without her permission. He couldn't do that, but she could, reaching across the table to lay her hand, as if it belonged there, on the back of his arm.

Goosebumps leapt to the surface of his skin and he froze, forgetting how to speak.

"I... Uh... Yeah..."

She smiled, leaning in a little closer.

"It must be wonderful," Sofia breathed, "to go out on adventures, to have the whole world at your fingertips. Tell me, how is it?"

He gulped, shaking his head. That wasn't something he had experience in either, but it was hard to think of anything with her touching him, his mind racing, trying to drag up everything he could.

"I wake up every day wondering where I'm going to go next," Paul said, desperately grabbing at a version of the truth. "I... I always want to go to new places and, in doing this, I...finally can. Really, it's a dream come true. Not all get to and, well...I know I'm lucky."

He hoped that was a good enough answer to put her off the scent that he hadn't been out on any adventures yet, but that was not, in fact, what Sofia was after. Not as the centaur slunk in closer and closer to him throughout the night, only breaking the contact with his skin to send his heart aflutter by touching another part of him. His thigh, his arm, his shoulder, his hair. Not a touch was reciprocated from him, frozen in indecision, not knowing where he stood or what he was even supposed to do.

But she did and she scooted in closer, letting his skin brush hers, a smile on her face, ducking her head as if shy.

"There are a great many here, but not one Hombre quite like you, Paul."

He swallowed hard, licking his lips, but no matter what he did, he could not get his heart rate to slow. Was inexperience that potent? He tried to be suave, tried to be slick, but it all fell flat. Yet the centaur didn't seem to react at all, always finding a way to make the conversation flow more easily between them again, laughing at the right times, putting him at ease.

He bought her drinks and the night wore on, forgetting that he was supposed to be out adventuring the next morning, on his first challenge. It was better, he thought, to enjoy the moment in a way that, honestly, he hadn't gotten the chance to before. But he wanted to try, closing his hand gently over hers, trying to convey with his eyes that he wanted to get to know her better.

Hell, Paul wanted to do a lot more than that with Sofia, but he didn't have the nerve for that, oh no... That was fine, that was okay, he would let her lead, if she was so much more experienced than he was. That would surely still set him right and he wouldn't turn away, get flustered and always be left wondering.

"I'm going to use the lavatory," she said delicately, rising with a groan as she unfolded her equine legs from under her. "And then I shall be back, Paul... Wait for me?"

He gulped and nodded, a smile stretching across his face.

"Yeah... Yeah, that sounds great," he said, meaning every word. "I'll wait."

She nodded to him, turning around with a flick of her tail and cloak, though he couldn't help but watch her backside leave. It was a little strange to watch the hind end of a horse, yet a centaur was so very different to that, he reasoned with himself, that it was not too strange. He just had to get used to meeting all kinds of magical creatures while he was adventuring, something out of his realm of comfort so far.

If he could spend more time with Sofia, however, he would be very happy indeed, wherever it led.

He smiled after her, although, when he leaned back and felt in his hip bag for his coin purse and money...it was gone.

"Fuck!"

Paul sat bolt upright, whipping around, grabbing at his bag, searching the floor -- yet it was gone and he didn't know what to do, no money in sight, not even the bag that he had been so sure had been tucked away within. Of course, there was more in his room, but there had been a fair amount left in there that he was planning to pay for Sofia's drinks with at the very least!

"Yeah, she does that."

Paul spun around, grabbing the back of his chair so hard that his knuckles turned white. A grizzled, older gentleman with white and grey sprinkled through his hair, chewed on a medicinal plant that was also known for its relaxing qualities, a magical leaf that turned his teeth, temporarily, a pale blue.

"What do you mean?" Paul asked, though his sinking heart and stomach already knew the answer. "What are you talking about? How do you even know what I'm looking for?"

The man grinned, showing that he was missing a tooth.

"She's got your wallet, lackey. It's long gone now, aye. But don't you worry, it's happened to everyone new around here, whether they stick around for longer or not. You're not the first and you'll by no means be the last."

Paul growled, standing, slamming his fist into the table. Heads turned at the thunk, flagons jumping on the surface.

"How dare you talk about Sofia like that!" He all but snarled. "She's so kind! And she's coming back in a moment -- that will prove her innocence!"

Others chuckled, shaking their heads. Although Paul's heart hammered, his resolve, as tentative as it had been, faltered, wavering.

What if...he was wrong?

Others laughed, people that he didn't know, all taking in his embarrassment. Scowling, he tried to wait, tried to sit down and look like he wasn't bothered by any of them there at all. But they still looked and chattered amongst themselves and, by the time the last call rang out, he had to admit that Sofia most certainly was not coming back.

Frustrated, he shouldered his way through the crowd settling their tabs, embarrassment turning him aggressive, as if he could soften the edge of it if only he was a little more bolshy, taking up more space. Everyone seemed to understand, however, even if he cursed about never lowering his guard around a stranger ever again under his breath. No one heard that, not even as he muttered, but the heat of humiliation searing down his neck was not something that he could so easily set aside.

The innkeeper let him settle up by fetching money from his room, though the walk of shame back down was more embarrassing than he could have imagined. He muttered his thanks before making good his exit, wondering if he would ever be able to show his face there again. It hardly seemed like the sort of thing that anyone would hold against him, especially as he had settled his tab, but they had all known, apparently, and nobody had done anything?

He groaned, throwing himself down on the narrow bed, an arm flung over his face. His buzz was gone and all he wanted was to slink into a fading sleep, sweeping away the turmoil of the day. He couldn't understand why a creature, why anyone, would thieve supposedly for a living, for surely she was strong enough to hold her own in any kind of living she chose for herself. Yet maybe he was not to be held accountable for what someone else, least of all a centaur, chose to do...

I wish I'd not been so foolish...

Meanwhile, Sofia settled down under the trees, with the cladding of darkness around her, looking through the bag that she had swiped. Being part equine, she had better night vision than most humans, though was perhaps not quite on par with a full-blooded non-anthro equine -- not that she would have wanted to be either. Life was hard enough for her, being a centaur, as it was. Theft, however, was one way for her to ensure she got by in life, as long as she didn't steal from the wrong people.

Her lips curved up in a cruel smile, though it faded swiftly, not holding its place on her face. It was not personal, not for Paul, just a matter of doing business and she held no bad feeling towards him at all. His cloak was slung over her back, what she had filched from the back of his chair, the coin bag heavy enough to catch her attention, though, to the centaur's disappointment, there was very little of it inside. It was mainly the wait of the leather bag, a couple of coins left in there and a trinket of some kind.

"A man like that should have had more on him," she muttered with a scowl, fishing out the trinket and rolling it over between her fingers, biting on it gently to test the quality. "Bleach..."

It didn't even feel like it was a real crystal -- worthless! Sofia cursed under her breath. It had not even been worth her time, though she had no other choice than to shoot her shot in places just like the inn, trying to find enough for her next room, her next meal, not yet knowing anything else in life. And just where was Sofia supposed to go if she was to get out of thievery, especially when it had been as lucrative as it had been before?

The centaur sighed and shook her head, settling down on her belly under the tree, her equine forelegs tucked under her while her hinds twisted a little, kicked gently out to the side while one lay mostly under her body. She wished that that was not where she had gotten her start, her criminality, if she was quite honest, but it had been the only way for her to feed her family when she'd been in her teens. Those brothers and sisters had all grown up and had their own lives, even if it was hard to stay in touch with them, but she had not changed. Sofia had only had theft and that was how she had continued with her life.

If only she could go on adventures like that young man, as foolish and as trusting as he had been, she thought wistfully. Maybe then she would not have to turn to theft, but being a common thief was all she had.

She did not return to the same inn, but she needed somewhere to spend the night, even if she had very little money or treasure to her name at that time. Sofia tucked herself away in the room of an even shadier inn, though it was at least one that had a lower bed for her, even if it was awkward for any centaur to use any modified human beds to sleep. She still wanted to be refined, a little more dignified, even though she had spent many nights too sleeping out in the open, or under the trees, all when she had not known what else to do. Sometimes, Sofia had not had a choice.