The Transformation Story Archive Mythical Beings

Regenesis, Inc.

by Bill Hart

"You, dumb shit." said Jerry Phelder to his reflected image as he swallowed another half-dozen aspirin in an attempt to get rid of his monster headache. "You know you shouldn't have gotten drunk, you fool. You knew you had to go out to look for work today."

But then Jerry hadn't expected the fight with his ex-wife.

He'd gone to her place to tell Phyllis she wouldn't be getting the child support money this month. He just didn't have any. His unemployment benefits had run out last week and he was still unemployed with no upcoming prospects. There was no money coming in. How could he pay anything out. But still they were his children and he felt bad about be able to provide for them. In the seven years since he and Phyllis had finalized their divorce, he'd never missed a support payment. Neither had he ever been late. He was proud of that. And he thought that would buy him some leeway for a month or two, certainly no more than three.

But he'd been wrong. Even though he'd promised to make up any payments he missed with interest, Phyllis blew up. She called him a "deadbeat" and a "poor excuse of a father." She told him she have him arrested and put in jail if he didn't make his support payment in full and on time. And if he didn't believe her, then he could just wait and see how long it took the cops to throw "his lazy ass" in jail.

The fight degenerated into childish name-calling on both sides. In frustration, Jerry angrily left his ex-wife's house, slamming the door behind him. He'd ended up in "Bart's Downwind Bar," spending what little money he had on booze he didn't need.

How he got home last night was mystery.

Almost as much a mystery as the weird flyer he found folded up in his shirt pocket.

Fantastic Employment Opportunity

Participate with ReGenesis, Inc.

No previous experience necessary

Excellent medical benefits

Salary negotiable

Long-term Commitments

Strangely the flyer gave no phone number to call, but it did state that applicants should apply in person at 13 Griffen's Egg Road. On the back of the flyer were handwritten instructions in an unknown hand and a time 10:45am.

Jerry assumed he had met someone at the "Downwind" and talked about his job and/or his money problems. He must have made some sort of appointment with whoever the person was for 10:45 this morning. "You might just as well go." he said to his reflection. "It looks like a reasonably decent opportunity. And you sure as hell haven't anything to lose."

Jerry had no problems following the instructions. But he was glad that they'd been written down because he definitely would not have remembered them, just as surely as he did not remember who had given them to him last night or anyone he might have met.

When he arrived at the address, Jerry was shocked by the immensity of the building. It might have been only three stories tall, but it appeared to stretch for miles in every direction he could see. Strangely, there were no windows, just solid nondescript walls, on both the first and third floors. Adding to its strangeness, the building had only one entrance on the first floor for as far as he could see.

As he entered through the door, Jerry had expected to find the company's reception area, which he assumed would have to have several lights to adequately compensate for the lack of windows on the floor. But instead of a receptionist, much to his surprise, there was only a poorly lit stairwell with a single flight of stairs that ended at another doorway.

After climbing up the stairs and passing through the doorway, Jerry found himself standing in a wide-open, apparently naturally lit reception area. This was sure one strange place, thought Jerry.

Sitting behind a desk was an attractive young woman, dressed in what was apparently a company uniform. Jerry assumed, and hoped, she was the company's receptionist.

"Hello, sir." said the young woman as Jerry approached her desk. "May I help you, sir?"

"I hope so." replied Jerry, hoping the young beauty had not noticed him staring at her. He pulled the flyer from his pocket "I have an appointment." he bluffed. "I talked to one of your people last night and they gave me this flyer." Jerry hoped that his scenario was close enough to what had actually happened to prevent him from being tossed by security.

To Jerry's relief, the woman simply answered "We've been expecting you, Mr. Phelder. Now, are you interested in vanished species or mythological species?"

"What?" Jerry asked.

"Are you interested in vanished species or mythological species?" she repeated. "These are the areas in which our company is currently researching and investigating."

"What's the difference?" asked Jerry. "And are you really sure I don't need any experience?"

"Absolutely certain." She smiled at him. "The company shall teach you everything you need to know past that which is plain common sense." she replied. Then continuing, as if from some memorized script, the woman answered his initial question. "Vanished species are those that at one time actually existed, but are now extinct. These are animals like Dodo birds, passenger pigeons, wooly mammoths, Tasmanian wolves, or just about every type of dinosaur ever known. On the other hand, the mythological species are those that have never existed, except, of course, in our imaginations - until now. Some examples are dragons, griffens, unicorns, centaurs, and satyrs."

"What's a centaur?" asked Jerry, suddenly and inexplicably curious.

"Centaurs are half man, half horse. They have a horse's body, but where the head of the horse would normally be you have the torso, head and arms of a man." recited the receptionist. "They were previously known only from Greek mythology."

There was something about centaurs that appealed to Jerry. He wasn't exactly certain what it was, but he was certain it had started when the receptionist had mentioned centaurs. He found himself answering her question as if somehow compelled. "Mythological, I think."

"Very well, Mr. Phelder." smiled the young woman. "You'll need to speak with Dr. Sinclair. I'll go get him. Please have a seat."

Jerry wondered if she was married, or seeing someone. She had such a nice smile. If she were unattached, he wondered if she would consider going out with him some night after work - that is, if he were actually hired. Jerry stared as the pretty young woman came out from behind her desk. He was taken completely by surprise to see her sitting in a wheelchair, her legs and lower body from just above her waist covered by a odd wool-looking blanket that for all intents and purposes appeared to be soaking wet. Jerry was amazed. He had had no clue whatever while talking with her that she was apparently confined to a wheelchair. He hoped she wouldn't think it a "mercy date," when he asked her out after work.

But before Jerry could recover from his surprise and take a seat, an older man with graying hair came through the the door behind the receptionist's desk. "I'm Dr. Robert Sinclair." said the man as he extended his hand to Jerry. "But you can call me Bob. We try not to be overly formal around here. There are just too many titles floating around here to keep everybody straight otherwise."

"Jerry Phelder." replied Jerry as he shook the doctor's hand. "If we're going to be informal, then I you can call me Jerry."

"Very good, Jerry." replied Bob. "Margie and Vincent have both said that you're interested in mythological species?"

"Margie? Vincent?"

"Margie is the receptionist you've been talking to. Didn't she give you her name?" replied Bob looking back at the woman who had silently resumed her place at the reception desk. "And you talked to Vincent last night. Don't you remember?"

"No, she didn't." replied Jerry. "At least I don't remember her giving me a name." Then, hoping Bob would buy his story, he added "And last night, he said his name was Vinnie."

"No problem. But I'll need to speak to Margie. She's new here and still a little uncomfortable with all of our informalities." said Bob. Jerry saw Margie blush. "But she'll get used to it in time. Just like you will if you decide to stay with us. Now, Jerry, which mythological species most interests you?"

"You know, I never really thought about mythological species before today." said Jerry, totally relieved that Bob had not made additional references to his forgotten meeting with Vincent last night. "But something did sorta click in the back of my mind when Margie mentioned 'centaurs.' I don't really know why."

"That's an excellent choice, Jerry." Unnoticed by Jerry, Bob smiled. "Let me show you our centaur area."

Centaur area, thought Jerry. How can a mythological beast have its own area?

Bob and Jerry entered the sparsely populated office areas through the door behind Margie. For all intents and purposes, they were totally ignored by the working staff. Bob led Jerry to another door located in Jerry had thought was a supporting pillar near the center of the room. When Bob opened the door, Jerry could see that the only stairs inside led up to the third floor.

Once upstairs, the stairwell opened into a long hallway dotted with several doors of its own at staggered on sides and at irregular intervals.

Twice as he followed Bob to what he had called the "centaur area," Jerry had peeked through opened doors as they passed. He could have sworn he saw men with goat's legs and hooves in one room, while in the other, there had been horses with long sharp-looking horns extending from their foreheads.

Jerry was starting to worry that he'd gotten involved in something way over his head, especially since everything seemed so strange. Adding to his worries, was the apparent lack of any security - at least, any visible security.

Finally Bob stopped just outside one of the doors. After opening it, he motioned Jerry to follow him inside. Once in the room, he saw an enormous wooded area behind a glass pane that stretched from the floor up to ceiling of the small room they were in. Within the area, behind the glass, Jerry saw what he could not believe.


Real centaurs.

Jerry could only see a couple of males. He wondered if there were more. And were they ever huge. Except for the short hair on their human heads that matched the color of their horses' bodies, the males were otherwise totally hairless.

But he saw plenty of females. All of them had long flowing hair matching their tail color that flowed down across their backs to where their human torsos joined their equine bodies.

All of their human halves, regardless of gender, stood totally nude.

"I thought Margie said that centaurs were mythological..." said Jerry, obviously stunned. "They don't..., eh, can't..., exist."

"That used to be true." replied Bob. "But what used to be is no longer true. We've discovered a way to create them."

"That's impossible!"

"Take a real good look at them, Jerry." said Bob patiently. "Watch them walk about. They live and they breathe, Jerry. Tell me truthfully, Jerry. Do they look like they don't, or can't, exist to you?"

"Well, no. I guess. They look as alive as either you and me, Bob." replied Jerry. "They look fantastic. This is really remarkable."

As Jerry continued to stare at the inhabitants behind the glass, Dr. Sinclair asked, "How would you like to join them, Jerry?"

"What?" answered a confused and startled Jerry.

"It was a very simple question, Jerry. How would you like to join them? We have the means to transform you into a centaur."


"But what, Jerry? Its a very simple procedure and its completely reversible, if you want it to be. As an added incentive, while you're a centaur we'll provide for all your everyday wants and needs. And we'll also maintain all of your outside obligations for the duration of your stay. You won't have to worry about your ex-wife throwing "your lazy ass" in jail for missing that support payment. It's a totally no-lose situation for you, Jerry."

"Is it really totally reversible?" asked Jerry, who was thinking of the centaur fillies he'd seen. They were a lot them to consider. And the overly endowed and very naked fillies were a definite plus with respect to possible selling points.

"Completely, Jerry. It's guaranteed."

"And you'll pay my child support?"

"For as long as you remain a centaur." replied Bob.

"Is it possible to try it for just a little while. You know, to see if I like it?"

"Of course. If that's what you want. But you will have to remain a centaur for at least a week. The procedure is very costly - that is it is not costly in terms of money, it's physically costly. It is far to dangerous for any person to have it performed on them twice in less then a week."

"Well... Okay, then. I'll give it a try."

"Excellent, Jerry. Vincent was certain that you would." said Bob. "Now we'll just go back to my office so you can read and sign our standard contract. Then we'll be all set."

"What standard contract?"

"Oh. Its not all that much, Jerry. It just your basic everyday 'cover everybodies' collective asses' legalese as required by the legal department. It essentially covers the conditions of your transformation into a centaur and back, as necessary. It also enables us to set up the necessary legal mechanisms and environment for us to assume all of your debts and obligations while you are here. All you have to do is read through the contract and then sign it, but only if you agree to all the legalese."

The standard contract made War and Peace look like a short story - a really short, short story. There was so much fine print in it, that Jerry's eyes hurt from the strain of trying to read it all. Finally, Jerry, after having failed to read anything out of the ordinary in the mammoth document, grew weary of the legalese. He skipped over the final ten pages, not even bothering to glance at their content, and signed the contract.

"Excellent, Jerry." said Bob, as Jerry returned the signed document to him. "Are you ready to begin?"

"What? Now?" asked Jerry.

"Of course, now. Why not?" answered Bob. "There's no time like the present."

"Sure. I guess, I'm ready." responded Jerry. "It's like you said, 'why not?'"


The two men took an elevator down to the ground floor. It was the first elevator Jerry had seen in the building, but he knew there had to be others. How else could all of those centaurs be on the third floor? They would have never have fit in any of the stairwells he had been in.

As he had already done several times this day, Bob led Jerry to a door, which they then entered together.

It was a dimly lit room, with a thick curtain covering the entire wall opposite the door through which the two men had entered. Drawn on the floor were three circles, one much smaller than the other two. Inscribed within all three were pentagrams. And at the points of all three pentagrams stood unlit candles.

"Take off all your clothes, Jerry." said Bob. Then he pointed toward the smallest circle. "Once you've stripped, then go stand in that circle. Don't touch any of the lines and, whatever you do, don't break the lines of circle once you're inside."

As he undressed, Jerry watched an old man with long gray beard and wearing a long flowing robe enter the room. He was followed by two other men, dressed in blue jeans and T-shirts. They led a fine looking golden palomino into the room.

As the two men positioned the horse into the closer of the larger circles, Jerry took his place in the small circle. Then the two men, one at each occupied circle, lit the candles at the points of the circled pentagrams where Jerry and the palomino stood.

The old man in the robe began chanting.

Jerry didn't understand a single word of the language in which the old man spoke. But peculiar feelings of movement began passing through his body. Even though he knew otherwise, he and the palomino seemed to be getting closer and closer with each syllable the old man chanted.

Suddenly Jerry could no longer move any part of his body. From the corner of his eye, he could still see the horse as it seemingly continued drawing ever nearer. The feelings continued until impossibly to Jerry's senses, he could swear he was sitting astride the palomino's neck.

Then numbness spread across his legs. In Jerry's mind, it felt like his legs had been separated from his body. He felt a need to stretch his arms. And as he did, he watched awestruck as the palomino's head slowly faded from his sight. Then slowly the lost feelings began to return to his legs. But they felt different now. He could feel the increased power that now flowed through them, unlike anything he had ever felt before. And even better, he realized that he did not have just two powerful appendages - he now had four.

The old man stopped chanting.

There was a deafening crash of thunder.

Jerry could move once again.

Despite all the motion he had sensed, he found himself standing once again in the pentagram, but he knew something odd had happened. Jerry felt strange. He looked down at the candles. They were newly lit at each point of this pentagram; they should be have been completely melted away. Looking around the room, Jerry noticed that the circle where the golden palomino had stood was now empty. Not only that, but the small circle where he had been standing was also empty. At these vacated circles, no candles burned.

"What happened?" asked Jerry, looking down at Bob. At first, he was surprised to look down at Bob, since he remembered them as nearly the same height.

"You are now a centaur, Jerry." replied Bob. "We have employed recently rediscovered arcane knowledge, magic if you prefer, which has merged you and the palomino into a single entity."

As if on cue, the drapes that had covered the wall fell away to reveal a giant wall-covering mirror. Jerry stared at his reflection in the mirror. In spite of the now now-white hair on his head that matched the color of the palomino's tail, he thought himself magnificent. And he was absolutely certain that every filly he had seen upstairs would absolutely adore him.

"It will still take several additional hours for your formerly two bodies to totally adjust to one another and adapt to being the single entity we have created. There will be a period of give and take between, until, at the end of that adjustment period, you will be as totally and completely a centaur as if you'd been born one. You will be able to do anything a centaur can do in anyway a centaur can do it. And at that time, even a genetic scan would fail to reveal the presence, or even a trace, of human DNA.

"During this transition time, we will have to leave you alone. But I, or one of my assistants, will be constantly monitoring your progress from outside through its conclusion. I'll return to speak with you when this transition period has completed."

Dr. Sinclair exited the room, leaving Jerry all alone.

Jerry didn't like being left alone. No one had said anything about being left alone. It was a small room. And more or less empty. Bored, he wandered aimlessly around the room for several minutes.

He strolled up to the mirror to stare once again at his reflection. Somehow his face looked smoother. But he hadn't really looked at it all that closely since before his transformation. He decided it must have something to do with the lighting in this weird room. And then he noticed there was no stubble on his face as he ran his fingers across its eerie smoothness. But he hadn't seen a bearded centaur earlier. He assumed there were none. But that was alright with him, he'd always considered shaving a pain.

As time slowly passed, the more impatient Jerry became. And as his impatience grew, so did his frustration. He wanted to scream out to the world that he hated being alone. He wanted - no needed - someone to talk to. As a result of his frustration, he paced slowly and nervously back and forth between the door and the mirror.

All of a sudden, something was crawling down his neck. And whatever it was, it quickly crawled down his back and stopped. He assumed it must be an insect of some kind, until he reached back to brush whatever it was away and found only white hair. He tugged on it gently and was surprised to discover it was attached to his head. Quickly Jerry returned to the mirror.

"What the hell." he muttered. His hair was now quite long. It flowed down his back to the place where his human torso met his horse body. Even though his new long hair was white, the same color as his tail, Jerry was bothered by the thought that it could just as easily been described as platinum blonde.

"I don't no way my hair grew so long, but it's a good thing that I won't be growing breasts." he muttered. "Otherwise, I'd look a lot like one of those fillies from upstairs."

Once again, Jerry ran a hand across his face. Was it softer? Or was his imagination playing tricks on him. At least, he still looked like himself in spite of his flowing mass of long white hair.

Suddenly, pain began to spread across his face. As he brought his hands up to his face, he could actually feel his face rearranging in his hands. He heard the sound of his bones breaking, then felt them as the mended together again. Then once again that awful breaking sound, followed closely again by the mending of bones and the flowing of skin into different shapes.

The pain was excruciating. Jerry screamed in agony. It started deep and low, but quickly spiraled upwards in pitch and tone. Abruptly the pain subsided.

"What the hell..." he started, startled by the sound of his now soprano voice. It sounded so breathy and feminine.

Once again a surprise awaited him in the mirror. "Holy fucking shit!" he heard his new soprano voice swear. The face looking back from the mirror wasn't his. It wasn't wasn't even remotely his. The face reflected by the mirror - his face - was now that of a young and beautiful woman.

"What are they doing to me?" he frightenly muttered still surprised by the sounds coming from his mouth.

There was a dull ache near the bottom of his ribcage. It was nothing like the agonizing pain he'd endured moments before as his face rearranged, but as he watched awestruck in the mirror his waist narrowed, taking on a decided feminine centaur appearance.

Unwilling to speak and hear his voice, Jerry thought, if it were not for my flat chest, then no one could tell me apart from any of those fillies upstairs.

"Oh, no. This can't be possible." he whispered after realizing what was happening to him. "They're changing me into a centaur alright - but not a stallion. I'm changing into a centaur filly."

Jerry felt an odd tickling sensation that started in his nipples then quickly spread across his chest. Unable to draw himself away from his changing reflection, he watched his nipples enlarge and form little nubs. As the tickling feeling spread, Jerry felt himself become aroused. In the mirror, he watched in wonder as his breasts inflated as if they were balloons.

Staring in the mirror, Jerry realized that he was indistinguishable from all the over-endowed centaur fillies. He was just like all the others now.

Still aroused, Jerry unconsciously reached up and touched one of his newly blossomed breasts. He was amazed at its firmness, as well as its increased sensitivity. He became aware of the necessity of the increased musculature connecting his human and horse halves to support his ponderous breasts. Absently, he rubbed a hand across a breast. He couldn't believe how good it felt, or how good it made him feel. He moaned softly, unaware that a visitor had arrived.

"Congratulations, Jerry." said Dr. Sinclair. "I see you've adjusted very well and quite quickly."

Startled by the doctor's voice, Jerry spun about to face him. "What the hell did you do to me?" he asked, but he thought his new female voice lacked conviction.

"We did just what we talked about, Jerry." replied Bob. "We made you a centaur as specified in the contract you signed. The spell invoked to fuse you and the palomino mare worked even better than we'd expected. We had actually expected a longer adaptation period would be required. But the mare's genetic femaleness overrode your own maleness faster than we calculated. Each time we transform someone, we learn something that helps improve its efficiency."

"What the hell are you talking about?" asked Jerry angrily. "We never once discussed changing me into a female."

"Jerry... Jerry... Jerry..." stated Bob. "It was in the contract you signed. You did read the contract you signed completely, didn't you? It is clearly stated in the fourth paragraph of the third from the last page that the party of the first part - that's you - gets the choice of mythological species while the party of the second part - that's us - reserves the choice of gender. It's a simple paragraph, Jerry, but it is perfectly legal and binding."

"But why me?"

"Again the answer is simple, Jerry. We already have three stallions in the centaur area. That's really more stallions than we need. But what we really need are females - lots of them. The women who come here generally are more interested in helping return the vanished species. Those women that do consider mythological creatures take one look at the centaurs and generally balk at being transformed into fillies. But the men never balk at being transformed into centaurs. They take one look at the herd and see that the fillies greatly outnumber the males and leap to the totally false conclusion that they'll become stallions. Even you have to admit that that is a poor conclusion for a species which has adopted a harem mentality. But men do tend to adjust nicely to harem life."

"I'm not gonna adjust!" exclaimed Jerry. "I don't want to be a girl. It just isn't natural."

"Grow up and look in the mirror, Jerry. You look very natural to me. But I am surprised you don't feel more natural now."

"No." insisted Jerry. "What do you mean?"

"Tell me, Jerry. What did you think of our receptionist Margie? Did you like her?"

"Of course, I liked her." answered Jerry. "What's not to like about a beautiful young woman?"

"And would it bother you, if I told you she wanted to sleep with you, Jerry? She told me she was extremely disappointed to find out that you'd accepted a transformation before she'd had the chance."

Jerry blushed. "We still can. But you'll have to change me back first."

Bob grinned an evil grin. "You know Jerry, I wonder what you'd think of the young man that Margie had been before we transformed him into a mermaid. And I'd really be interested in knowing what he'd think of your wanting to sleep with her. Margie adjusted very quickly. I am surprised that you have not adjusted mentally, but in the end you won't be any different than Margie."

"But you have to change me back. That was in the contract too." Jerry was certain he'd found the loophole he needed. "If I'm not completely satisfied you have to change me back. And I sure as hell ain't satisfied."

"The contract requires you to wait at least a week. Otherwise, you might end up as twin piles of organic glop. The required waiting period is very real. Maybe in that time, you'll change your mind."

"I don't think so, Bob. From my viewpoint, it seems my adjustment period is over. I'm not going to stand for being one of those fillies. Of course, you could satisfy me by making me a stallion instead."

"But I already told you, Jerry, the project already has all the stallions it needs.

"That's tough, Bob. But that's the deal. You change me back into me and I walk away, or you make me a stallion. The choice is yours."

"I'll have to discuss this with the entire board of directors. I can't promise you anything until after I speak to them. It's highly unlikely that they'll have an answer for you before tomorrow morning. That should be alright with you, since we really aren't in any hurry considering the requirement of a week between spells. However, you will have to stay in this room until a decision is made, unless, of course, you change your mind.

Jerry laughed. "That's fine. I'll stay here." he told Bob with a smile. "And don't slam the door on your way out."

But his gaiety faded soon after Bob left the premises. Jerry began to fume, as once again he paced back and forth.

"I can't believe I'm going to be this way for a week." he said to his reflection as he swept his white hair away from his brow. He stared at himself appreciatively in the mirror. "Too bad you aren't me, babe."

Suddenly Jerry's thoughts were interrupted. He thought heard a noise coming from the shadows across the room.

"Who's there?" he asked nervously.

There was no answer, but Jerry began to hear something breathing.

"You can't deny you're out there, whoever you are. I can hear you breathing." he stated. "Who's there?" he asked again.

"Me." came the gruff reply.

"Who are you?" he asked nervously and slightly frightened.

"There is no need to be frightened, filly." replied the same gruff voice. "I am Tark. A friend."

"If you're a friend, then why do speak from the shadows?" asked the frightened Jerry. "Come out of the shadows where I can see you."

Almost immediately a large male centaur, who Jerry remembered seeing earlier in the "centaur area," stepped out from the darkness. "Is this better, filly?" asked Tark.

"How did you get in here?" asked Jerry. "There is only one door in this room and its locked. I know, I tried it. They won't let me out of here."

"We have our own ways of visiting any place within this complex, filly." replied Tark. "We always visit those who the humans have changed into our form before they bring the transformed ones to us. The overly confident humans never detect our visits."

"We?" inquired Jerry. "Weren't you human once?"

"We is me, Brak, and Styx. We are the stallions from the herd of many steps above." he answered. "We may have been human once, but there are no things human of relevance or importance to us any longer."

"Why are you here?" asked Jerry.

"I have come to visit with you, filly. According to the covenant agreed upon in times long past by myself and Brak and Styx, it is my time of First Visit to the changed. I am very pleased that it is my time to visit. You are very beautiful, filly."

Jerry blushed, unfamiliar with how to accept a unwanted compliment from a male. "Look all you want, buster." he told Tark. "Because I'm not staying around very long."

"Seven days is a long time, filly. Many things have been known to happen in far less time."

"The only way I'm staying here past the seven days, Tark, is as a stallion, just like you."

"That will never happen, filly." stated Tark emphatically.

"Oh, really. They're discussing it right now."

"Yes. We know that humans talk now of that which you want. But it still will not come to pass, filly. They are sore afraid that you will spoil their great experiment. As a result, they will eventually decide to make you a stallion."

"See. I told you." gloated Jerry. "They had no choice."

"You're are correct in that, filly. The humans have no other choice." replied Tark. "We knew that would be their choice. But we have another choice, filly. We do not want, nor do we need, more stallions in our herd. We need more fillies. Our harems are too small now and another stallion would only make them smaller still. With the speed, these humans take to increase our harems, we will need another stallion for many years to come. The humans know that to be true."

"I guess they'll just have to change me back and then I'll be outta here."

"I do not think so, filly." replied Tark. "It would be a great shame if the herd were to lose a filly as beautiful as you. Do you not agree?"

Again Jerry blushed.

"Come here to me, filly." said Tark.

"No." Jerry replied, refusing to look at or come nearer to Tark.

In response, Tark approached. "You have spirit, filly. That is good." Gently Tark stroked his hand through Jerry's long white hair. "Are you aware that you have the softest and most silky hair I have ever touched, filly?"

"What are you trying to do?" asked Jerry.

"I am trying 'to do' nothing, filly." replied Tark. "I only wish to compliment you. If you doubt me, then seek the truth from my eyes, filly."

"Oh, no. I don't want to do that. And you can't make me."

Tark's hand slipped away from Jerry's hair and began caressing softly one of his ample breasts. "Look into my eyes, filly." he repeated.

"I won't... You can't..." moaned Jerry.

"Look into my eyes, beautiful."

He called me beautiful, thought Jerry, as the female hormones coursing through his body evoked feelings that betrayed the wants of his male mind. As Tark's light caresses of his breasts continued, Jerry turned to Tark and gazed entranced into Tark's eyes.

"Look deeper, filly." he told Jerry. "And now look still deeper. Most excellent, filly. Now listen to the truth of who stands here with me.

"Who you are is one you no longer are. The you who is now is now the only you that is.

"Who you were is one you no longer were. The you who was now is now the only you that was.

"Who you would be is one you will no longer be. The you who will be now is now the only you that will be.

"Now close your eyes, filly."

Jerry's eyes closed.

"Your name from the before is unimportant and now forgotten. Chara is she who is now the only you that is. Chara was she who is now the only you that was. Chara will be she who is now the only you that will be.

"Now is the time to sleep, Chara. Sleep until the humans come in the morning. When you wake, you will tell them of your desire to join your kind."

Tark turned slowly and began to walk back into the shadows. He stopped and turned slowly back to the sleeping centaur filly. She would make an excellent addition to the herd and to his harem.

"I will exercise my right of First Claim, which is mine by the right of First Visit, Chara. Tomorrow, when the humans bring you to us, you will join with our herd, and thereafter be of my harem. And when the night comes, we will each come to know the other better.

"This will make the humans happy, because they will falsely believe their spell has adapted your thoughts to those they wished you to have. Also, they will be happy because you will have accepted the form they made of you.

"I will also be happy, Chara. Brak and Styx will be envious that the most beautiful filly ever brought into our world will be of my harem.

"And you will be happy, my beautiful Chara. For in the morning following our First Night, you will be carrying our foal."

Tark turned back toward the shadows. And as he entered them, he left the room in the same fashion as he had arrived. He could wait until tomorrow, but the wait would seem interminably long now.


Regenesis, Inc. copyright 1997 by Bill Hart.

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