The Threads of Time
by Josh Dugan

The fresh sea air filled our lungs as the wind whipped our hair. No longer
did the occasional rolling pitch of the cruise ship affect me, because after
several weeks on board I finally had my sea legs, all four of them. The
captain, also a centaur (everyone aboard the Centaur Cruises gay luxury liner
was a gay centaur), had cheerfully told me that I would get over my initial
aversion to the shifting pitch of the floors, and I had hoped he would be
right. 

Happily, that had finally occurred, and I and the other passengers could now
get our hooves planted firmly on the tilting decks of the ship without a
second thought, even going up and down stairs. Needless to say, the going had
been a bit rough at first, and I have to tell you that there is nothing more
grim than the sight of a bunch of seasick, droopy-tailed centaurs clinging to
the railing of a pitching ship.

But now all was well with all of us, and we were all healthy and well-fed, as
well as well-exercised. The designers of the Centaur Cruises ships, gay
centaurs themselves, had built in every amenity for us -- open decks with
seeming miles of  varied terrain for every kind of outdoor running, from
cantering to galloping. The libraries were vast and well lit, and, like the
rest of the ship, outfitted with furniture well-suited for the comfort of
centaurs. Of course, there were archery games. The mirrored bars and
restaurants and gyms multiplied the opportunities for star gazing and for eye
contact. And the socials were continuously arousing, one of the ongoing
delights aboard ship, with a chance to meet, dance with and enjoy hundreds of
other gay centaurs. 
There were nearly two thousand gay centaur guests aboard, not to mention the
eight hundred centaur staff, all beautiful, all achingly gay. Treatment was
absolutely first class, and we were made to feel like well-hung royalty,
which of course, as centaurs, we are.

One of the benefits of the several stops we made along the many continents we
visited was the chance to meet gay centaurs in other countries at our ports
of call. I mention this because on the cruise I had struck up an immediate
friendship with a very handsome Hextaur, Eddie Wong, who invited me to join
him at one of our ports of call, where he had been invited to help seed the
hextaur gene pool.

I had heard of hextaurs, centaurs who have an extra set of hindquarters, with
a full complement of six legs, each pair well endowed with a prodigious and
easily-aroused centaur sex organ, but Eddie was the first hextaurI had ever
met. He was used to being stared at, he told me, but that was just a part of
being a rare species. 

Hextaurs had evolved from the poorest centaur classes, probably before time
began, and had managed to survive although they were exclusively male and
gay, because their additional workload capacity made them indispensable to
the larger centaur world, and because they had evolved an all-male
reproductive ability. A small community of them thrived in China, where they
were mainly involved in taxi work, specializing in shuttling large groups of
people at once. As such, they were no threat in an economic sense to rickshaw
operators, who could take only one or two passengers maximum and were no
competition for the hextaur jitneys. In fact, many gay rickshaw operators
formed lifetime alliances with the hextaurs, as their daily lives and mutual
sexual attraction were continuously interwined.

The hextaurs had designed their jitneys, were were elaborate taxi coaches, as
Eddie illustrated for me. They mounted to the hextaur like a wagon, but rode
up over the hextaur's four hind legs. They reminded me somewhat of the
elephants we had seen in India, with their little passenger pagodas high atop
the elephants that rocked and tipped as the huge beasts lumbered along.

But Eddie's gay hextaurs had designed far nicer carriages, with plenty of
room and visibility all the way around. They were especially suited to
tourists and sightseers, and could hold nearly a dozen people, Eddie said, or
a couple of centaurs. Naturally, the gay centaurs formed a major part of
their business. 

What an amazing species, I told Eddie, truly amazed and aroused at the tale
of the hextaurs. He beamed with pleasure, and promised he would take me on a
ride in one of the hextaur carriages. His gay hextaur friends and relatives
were from some of the region's tallest and most attractive hextaurs in the
gay hextaur gene pool, if not the richest. In addition, they were accorded a
special honor among hextaurs.

Why was that, I asked Eddie. It was, he explained, because one branch of the
family was unique even among hextaurs. It was not unlike a royal branch,
except that this was more of a priestly caste, and they had produced a gay
breeder hextaur, true leader, once in a generation, a rare and fertile type
of hextaur who was specially endowed with great wisdom, insight, beauty and
sexual prowess. It was these rarest of all centaurs - beyond hextaurs - who
served as the pinnacle of centaurdom, acting as leader, priest, poet and
prophet, and at the ceremonial and reproductive center of the entire hextaur
community.

How were they beyond hextaurs, I asked, already trying to deal as a centaur
with the natural envy I felt for my six-legged friend.

The priestly caste were legendary, Eddie explained. Their origins were
shrouded in myth, but they were believed to have been the founders of time
itself. It was they who had first divided the endless continuum of existence
into the span of years. All had been endless and undivided from the birth of
the universe, but the priestly caste that founded the hextaur race had
stormed forth into the universe, chasing all from their path, and popping the
very threads of time with loud explosions as they tore the fabric of the
continuum with their yearly tirades.

Thus had the years and the centuries been marked from time immemorial. We
were about to see the reenactment of the ritual of the birth of time, and the
annual seeding of the hextaur gene pool, Eddie told me.

I had not expected to find anything of such incredible interest on this
cruise, but I had to admit I was fascinated with the history of Eddie and his
hextaur family. It was with great excitement that we came to Eddie's port.
Sure enough, among the crowds greeting the Centaur Cruises ship were several
hextaurs in splendid attire. "Those aren't my relatives," Eddie said. "The
Wongs are a worker class. See over there."  And sure enough, waving at us
with broad smiles, were Eddie's bare-torsoed cousins, sweating but happy,
pulling their exotic Hextaur carriages, burdened with their loads of
tourists.

One of the Hextaur carriages came our way. It was bedecked with a single
silken ribbon that cordoned off its gate, which I later learned meant the
carriage was reserved and not available for hire. Eddie and his fellow
hextaur cousin exchanged greetings, a deep kiss  and a hugg as their
formidable hextaur organs began to engorge and arouse; and then the hextaur,
breathing a little heavily, smiled at both of us and bid us climb into the
carriage.

It was no easy matter for me to get up into the carriage, which although it
would hold twelve people, was just barely big enough for two centaurs, much
less one centaur and one hextaur. I was a little clumsy in my aroused state
after seeing two beautiful gay hextaurs kiss. But my newly earned sea legs
helped me steady myself and with a pull or two from Eddie, I was soon up and
comfortably positioned beside Eddie. 

It was odd to be moving while we were lying on our horse stomachs, our
horselegs folded beneath us. And yes, the carriage did pitch and yaw a little
bit, but being so high up, the wide-open view made up for everything. Just
below and in front of us were the broad, sweating muscular shoulders of the
taxi hextaur, making his way among the crowds. Eddie spoke with him, and
translated for me, pointing out many historic points and handsome hextaurs in
the colorful port city.

After an hour's ride, we disembarked. Again, it felt odd to to feel the earth
solid and stable beneath my four hooves, so rock steady after the continuous
motion of the ship and the pitching of the hextaur taxi. But we were soon
lost in the swirl of life in Eddie's gay hextaur village, where lanterns were
being lit in anticipation of the Chinese New Year's celebration.

Though the village was not overly crowded, it was full. But it sounded like
it had a million centaurs galloping through it at all times. Eddie laughed
when I mentioned that. "Pure physics," he said, slapping my shoulder. "You're
used to centaur towns, where everyone has four legs. Here, we all have two
extra. That's a lot of extra hooves making noise!" I smiled, looking around.
The elegant six-legged gait of the hextaurs was indeed noisier by half than
that of the humble centaurs such as I. 

"You haven't seen anything yet," Eddie smiled slyly. "Wait until you see the
New Years Dragon."

The sky darkened pink and then purple and finally grey, then black. Handsome
hextaurs were everywhere, excited and aroused, many with arms around each
other. The town was alive with the arousing tang of the handsome hextaur
bodies and the glow of lanterns. I could sense as well as see the obvious
sexual excitement of the hextaurs as they readied into position for the New
Years celebration. 

Then it began. Rockets and firecrackers split the air, making a cacophanous
racket as young hextaurs galloped about, lighting off the massive strings of
firecrackers. "The popping of the threads of time - that's just what it would
have sounded like," Eddie said. I had never thought of it like that. It was
deafening, for sure. 

And then came screams of fright and delight, with the clatter of dozens of
hextaur hooves as young hextaurs, many clumsy with the strong hextaur wine,
ran about and sexually taunted the giant New Years dragon - a huge
papier-mache head fearsomely shaking and wagging at the youngsters, and long,
snakelike dragon body undulating this way and that on dozens of hooves, amid
the racket of firecrackers.

The air flashed and blinded as firecrackers exploded and smoke filled the air
with the sweet, acrid bite of firecracker smoke, and the great dragon charged
all the young hextaurs, who scrambled away on their six hooves, laughing and
daring the dragon anew, flaunting their bodies and their massive, dripping
hextaur sex organs. 

The great parade continued to gather aroused young males, as new crowds of
aroused hextaurs screamed and ran before the firecrackers, the streets
echoing with the clatter of their hooves as well as the dozens of hooves
beneath the snaking body of the dancing dragon.

"You have just seen the origin of the Chinese New Year celebration," Eddie
Ting told me, beaming with pride. "What happens now is that everyone goes to
the great temple where the high priest puts on his special robe to open the
doors to the New Year." 

We followed the crowd through the lantern-lit streets, with dancing flames of
torchlights waving and fluttering in the hands of the aroused young hextaurs.

"We will have a special view," Eddie smiled, nudging me over to the waiting
Hextaur taxi. The smiling taxi hextaur motioned us up into the carriage, and
soon after, we  settled our centaur bodies comfortably, with Eddie taking a
moment longer to arrange his six legs. 

The hextaur taxi headed forward, pitching and yawing. We were soon at an
excellent spot near the temple doors, surrounded by hundreds of  aroused gay
male hextaurs, many of them mounting each other. At the appointed moment,
firecrackers went off by the dozens and torches blazed higher. The great
dragon danced and bobbed up the temple steps to the doors, bedevilled by
dozens of firecracker-lighting hextaurs. 

Then a great gong sounded, and the young hextaurs galloped down the steps,
replaced by several dozen tall, aroused hextaur attendants in royal robes,
who stepped up to the now-still dragon, removing the papier-mache head and
the long, snaking costume of the dragon body.

I was at first confused and then amazed by what I saw. "I told you you hadn't
seen anything yet!" Eddie smiled, looking proud and triumphant. I couldn't
believe my eyes.

As the attendants removed the giant papier-mache dragon head, the high priest
of the hextaurs stepped out from underneath it, glistening in the firelight
and still breathing hard from his exertions of running around under the huge
dragon head. He was an extremely tall and noble-looking hextaur, and
attendants dried his sweat-glistened torso with thick towels, also drying off
his hextaur equine portions and dabbing at the precum-slick protuberances of
his enormously huge aroused penises. 

But wait! The royal-robed hextaur attendandants rolled back the dragon
costume, gently peeling away the costume of the long snake-like dragon body,
revealing the rest of the dozens of horse legs -- but they were all joined
together! They were all the legs of the priestly hextaur, a long line of
dozens of aroused and extremely well-hung hindquarters, joined by a seemingly
endless equine body. 

The fireworks crescendoed and the attendants held a magnificent robe above
the four long, upraised arms of the priestly hextaur, lowering it
majestically onto him. 

Now suitably robed and regal, he took a few steps up to the temple doors, his
dozens of horselegs moving up a few steps in turn as his huge, heavy penises
bobbed and swayed, and shouted a loud proclamation, which the crowd echoed.
"It means that the threads of time are now broken and a new year has been
created," Eddie explained to me. 

The noble hextaur pulled the great temple doors open and entered, and the
sexually aroused crowd went wild with cheering and the explosions of
firecrackers. The train of penis-encumbered legs followed regally up the
steps for quite some time, until all were up the steps, with the last pair
marked by the great, brushed tail of the priestly hextaur, garnished with a
massive ribbon of red and gold.

"See, I told you this was the origin of time," Eddie affirmed. "Wow," I said.
"That's quite a leader you have there."

"He is a very rare creature," Eddie nodded. "Of all the royal family he will
sire, there may be none like him for many generations. That is why there have
been so few like him since time began. Other than here, you would never see
one like him doing the dragon dance. It takes dozens of people to imitate
that. Centaurs and hextaurs can do it in some towns, but it takes a lot of
people to make up the rest of the dragon body anyway. You saw the real thing,
just as it was when time started."

"Such is his potency that the lucky young males that make love to him may
bear a gay hextaur offspring, and with his many legs, he may bear several
hextaurs himself. It would be very rare that a hextaur or a high priest would
bear a multi-legged priestly-case leader such as himself. But all want to
make love to him, and all want to bear his child or have him bear theirs. I
myself will have an audience and a dalliance with him. Our hope is that my
genes may refresh the hextaur gene pool and create thousands of new hextaurs,
and possibly a new leader such as you have seen here tonight."

And Eddie Wong took his leave of me, only for the time it would take to make
love to the high priest and to be impregnated by as many of the the high
priest's potent, vilrile penises as possible, to perpetuate the gay hextaur
race.

My ears rang all the way back to the hotel, and the next day all the way back
to the ship. But no wonder - they had never been prepared for anything such
as this. It takes a while to recover from the popping of the threads of time.
I made love to the taxi hextaur who had driven us about, and, with Eddie, we
formed a triangle of endless and satisfying, maddening centaur/hextaur love.