A Centauress on her wedding day

“Congratulations on your wedding. I am going to be your photographer for the rest of the day. The photographer for the ceremony had to go home for a family emergency.” The new photographer said. He wore black, with light grey hair and had a large camera and a bag.

“So she's just going around with her arse on display?” the photographer said “Sorry, did I say that out loud?” He apologised as he turned red.

“Does this make my ass look big?” The centaur bride exclaimed. She had dark skin on her human half and chestnut hair with three white sock on her equine half. She was wearing a long strapless wedding dress. The dress was draped over her flank falling to her knees and her equine rump was hanging out as the material had ridden up as she had trotted over to the photo location.

It had been designed for a human as centaurs didn’t normally wear clothes. She had worn the dress to follow the human traditions of marriage. Her husband was human and most of their friends and guests were at least humanoid, with just her herd as other centaurs. They had all rented clothes for the event as to appease the wishes of their venue. They had opted for an outdoor wedding as they could not find an enclosed venue large enough to hold a herd of centaurs.

“Yes, darling, your arse is bigger than my torso.” The human groom replied flustered and unprepared for the question. He saw his wife staring daggers at him for that answer. He was tall for a human. He had dark skin, short black hair with a neatly trimmed beard. He wore a white shirt and black trousers, having removed his jacket and tie after the ceremony.

“Rule 1: This question is a trap. Never say yes, but no can also be wrong. Say how good she looks in the item of clothing and change the subject.” The photographer muttered under his breath, relived that the attention had been taken away from his blunder.

“You're saying I'm fat. You think I'm a freak, a monster. I bet you're cheating on me with some human. Some normal arsed, skinny, little human. Is it Sharon? I bet it's Sharron. I've seen her always strutting around on her two legs in skinny jeans.” The bride said hysterically.

“You think I would lower myself to ploughing some human? I'm ploughing Carol the Elf. Her tight, skinny body makes me so hard.” He blurted out, insulted. Sharron was his sister-in-law and he didn’t want to ruin his brother’s marriage. Then he realised what he had said and that he had just ruined his own.

“You’re what! At our wedding! You know she is my friend! You only just met her today!” The bride shouted! She stormed off, flicking her tail in his face as the ultimate centaur insult.