Winged Centaur, by Josh Dugan

It was so many years ago, yet I remember it as if it were yesterday. And now,
I can scarcely imagine how the world could have survived for so many
centuries without him and his kind.
I remember it well. I had read with a mixture of arousal and fear the stories
about the winged centaur. He was reported as dangerous and sexy, and accounts
of him had the same type of love/hate repulsion/allure reserved for highly
skilled and elusive criminals, such as cat burglars.
The winged centaur would prey on the beautiful, alighting from the sky and
capturing his prey and having his way with them, and though they would
protest at first, they would fall helplessly under his sway.
He was said to be irresistable, with the gentle beauty of a muscular god and
the power and the grace of a magnificent steed, all the more beautiful
because of his graceful white wings which bore his potent body forth with the
ease and beauty of a swan's flight.
An encounter with him changed one for life, as his sexual prowess was
undemiable and the potency of his urgent, burning come would  overpower and
change the human body, making it appealingly, yet not completely,
centaurlike. 
Those he captured he would first confuse with his beauty and gentleness,
alluring and arousing them, and they would invariably succumb to his
sweetness and magnificent body. He would bear his naked, aroused prey away on
his giant wings, and while in full flight he would hold his human prey to his
massive frontal genitalia. Seeming drugged by his beauty and potence, his
prey would feel no fear at all, only wild joy, as they screamed and groaned
with pleasure.
The winged centaur's powerful frontal loins would pump endless jets of his
thick, hot, potent come, filling and distending the rumps of his helpless,
aroused prey.
More than the initial distension of their hindquarters, their minds became
distended as they begged him for more, and became hopelessly in love with the
winged centaur. He would grant them all that they wished, as his capacity for
pumping their hinds full of prodigious quantities of his centaur-come seemed
limitless. 
Their beautiful bodies would be overcome by the quantity and potency of his
come, and as they became confused and enamored, able to think only of him,
their bodies would emulate him, and they were left to face life forever in
love with him, wandering, dazed, forever aroused, and forever four-legged,
their beautiful human legs lengthened and now four in number. Like him, they
became hugely endowed with potent genitalia between their front legs and
their back legs, with prominent, ponderous male genitalia for his male prey
and the female equivalent for his female prey -- though the women also
develped beautiful, enlarged breasts, six in number.
Their added bodily appendages and limbs served only to heighten their intense
physicality and yearning for him, as their minds constantly thought of his
his beauty.
Their long graceful foursomes of legs writhed through the night and their
genitalia ached with desire as they dreamed relentlessly of him, of his
beautiful stallion's body, his immense and irresistable genitalia, his
magnificent winged horse-shoulders, his godly human torso, and the
unforgettable sweetness of his gentle, beautiful male lips, eyes and face.
The world press chattered and clamored at his helpless prey, and tabloids
bloomed daily with reported sightings and also with authenticated stories and
photos of the beautiful, enamored victims, whose beautiful four-legged bodies
lived only for him, ever-aroused and aching for him.
Along with the clamor and alarm was desire, as many of the type who would be
his victims, the statuesque and beautiful, yearned to be with him and to be
transformed by his potent virility. The beautiful poured forth upon the
streets and the beaches, wandering into the hills and the countryside in the
hope of being ravished and transformed by the winged centaur's massive,
endless pulses of centaur-come.
In their loneliness for him, the ravished prey would wander and gather,
finding solace in one another, speaking of him far into the night as their
four legs entwined and their huge frontal and hind genitalia gently coupled,
although the males also comforted their fellow males, and the four-legged
women gently tended each other's aching femininity. The four-legged women and
men feasted on each other's beauty, their appetite for huge sextets of
breasts repeatedly sated, as the giant, pendulous double genitalia of the
males also satisfied them.  They spoke of the winged centaur and in long
four-legged walks would comfort each other arm in arm, the beautiful potency
of their gentalia a welcome and frequent solace as they thought about him and
about each other.
And throught the long afternons and the endless nights they would gently
nurse each other or playfully mount each other, the men and the women, the
women and the women, the men and the men. 
Those of the beautiful that ached for the day that they would be prey to the
male centaur would also be welcomed by the four-legged, and a community of
gentle and arousing urgency grew, joined by new wanderers from the world
over. two-legged and four.
I guessed I knew who he was, the winged centaur. If he was mythical, the
myths were only attempts to capture him by word of mouth. He was one of the
priestly caste of centaurs, probably immortal or nearly immortal, who would
spawn legions of descendents. How had his race diminished centuries ago? How
was he the lone descendant, unmated and alone?
For as potent a creature as he was, no human could bear his child, although
no human body could withstand the potent and transforming life force that
burned urgently and ceaselessly within his multiple aching centaur loins. 
Nor could his lower-body mates, the horses, bear his child, although they,
too, transformed under his mounting. The fields and paddocks where the winged
centaur's urgent visits transpired began to boast splendidly transformed
mares and stallions, with second and third sets of hindquarters and
genitalia.
But his strongest need for replication was in the beauty of the physically
magnificent human body.
His wings bore him lightly to earth one day.
The sprawling community of his beautiful lovers and would-be lovers found him
in their midst at long last, and they feasted him and fed him . None were
spared his sweet excess, and all stumbled with intoxication and arousal as he
covered and entered them. In the marathon full-moon bacchanalia that ensued,
humans two- and four-legged and horses four- and six-legged romped and
feasted, blinded with love and lust, human and animal, gay and straight, all
pummelled and pumped with his potent centaur-come as well as each other's.
While this might have been the lifeblood of the tabloids and the media, the
real story has been the re-emergence of the centaur race, with the ancient
drives of natural selection forcing their way through into the present
century. To this day scientists and theoreticians  debate and review the very
happenings I have just recounted, and while no one is yet certain of what
combination of events or attractions or loves produced the classical centaur
race as it has reappeared in our time, there is no doubt that an aching need
and absence in the world has been filled.
And that is how I remember the dawning of our gifted age.
The best and favorite feature of the community of the winged centaur, now
that it has grown  far beyond its original boundaries, is the beautiful new
generation of centaurs, who with their multi-legged horse and human cousins,
have spread love and gentle beauty over the face of the earth. While they
have indeed given immortality to the winged centaur, none can say if or when
another like him will ever come forth.