I had taken the train far North, and while the long drive up to Spike's estate was a little tiring, it was worth it.
We'd been collaborating on a special project with one of the major drug companies to produce a what was popularly but erroneously termed a centaur pill, that would probably have more to do with the fashion world than with the military applications that had spawned its initial funding. I was glad of that; peacetime uses of the formula lent themselves to far more congenial applications, and Spike and I had the advantage of being able to obtain an early form of the prototype.
“You're going to like this,” Spike had told me over the phone as I'd called from the rental car counter.
“You mean you've tried it?” I said, a little worried. A lot worried. “It's not even ready for human testing!”
“Not to worry, man,” Spike said, his voice reassuring and confident in its youthful tones.
My mind had wandered all along the long drive up the parkway. I found myself giving undue notice to the usual deer sightings and to the horses in the distant paddocks along one leg of the trip. What had Spike done? I tried to imagine him as a centaur and failed, for the pill wouldn't have made him into an actual centaur.
Actually, although centaur was a code name for the product, it was incorrect to call it a centaur pill because it altered the human structure fundamentally, but didn't take away from its core humanity or add elements of another species, which a centaur pill would have.
The early formulations attempted to replicate the parts of the human anatomy that provided mobility, in order to render a more advanced human platform, so to speak. Whereas the human is a biped, the pill would create a quadrupedal platform, essentially replicating elements of the torso, the muscle and bone structures of the legs, hips and of course the sexual anatomy, and creating in effect a four-legged human. The proprietary literature surrounding the project used a the term humantaur, but those of us moving the project forward preferred the short form, boytaur.
Boytaur was especially appropriate since the early models were developed around the male anatomy for simplicity's sake, although female versions could certainly be developed as the basic studies eventually advanced to that point.
I was amazed to find myself in the foyer of Spike's lovely country castle, as he modestly called it. It was really a stately home, not a castle, but nestled in among the hills and trees, set far back from a seemingly endless expanse of front lawn through which a lovely stream played. At any rate, I had let myself in as Spike had invited me to, using the key which had been sent to me in advance.
I wondered what he would look like as a boytaur. I didn't have to wonder long. Down the sweep of polished oak stairs came the sound of running feet, like a bevy of swimmers hurrying down to a meet. I looked up and met the wonderful boyish smile of Spike, his clean hair freshly spiked (the source of his nickname), hands plunged deep into the accommodating pockets of his dark satin robe—and barefoot, to be sure, with six very healthy-looking feet nimbly carrying him down to meet me, his six handsome feet thumping and kissing the polished stairs with their fine muscular soles.
I was tongue-tied, but I'm sure Spike couldn't miss my wide-eyed stare—he smiled, his eyes full of laughter. He was beautiful as a boytaur.
“I hoped you'd like me this way!” he smiled. All the legs finally made it to the landing. I wanted to hug him as I walked up to him, but maybe I was feeling a bit shy in his wonderfully physical presence. I couldn't stop admiring the three pairs of legs, the three pairs of really beautiful male feet, on display from under the curtain of his robe.
“Don't say it—” he laughed. “I know what you're going to say. It was supposed to be four legs. Well, I might have made a mistake in the dosage or the formula may be off a bit, but I'm glad of it.”
“I am, too,” I had to admit. The formula was farther along that any of us had dreamed possible. He was completely healthy and strong, radiant in fact. I found myself amazed and aroused at the beauty of this handsome six-legged youth, and it was evident that the six legs and the six nice feet were working together wonderfully, even as they stood there together, a small forest of elegant hindquarters behind Spike's front legs.
I realized I was skipping even the basic courtesies. “Good to see you, Spike,” I blurted, extending my hand.
“You, too,” he smiled warmly, as I gave him a welcoming shake with both hands—realizing that my hands were wrapped around a large, warm, welcoming foot!
“That's the surprise—or the rest of the surprise!” he laughed. I found myself not letting go of the foot—it was beautiful, like his others, even more so, set off as it was, displayed at the end of his long, slender arm. He pulled his other arm out of the other robe pocket, and sure enough, hanging heavily from the wrist, another large, beautiful male foot. He put both of them together in my clasp, and I instinctively brought them to my lips to kiss, and he welcomed the kiss. They were so warm and sweet on my lips, heavy in my hands, the toes giving my hands a little squeeze. I kissed them again, loving them, loving their sexual beauty on him.
“Maybe the formula will take some more development,” I said, blushing at my forward display of attraction for his beautiful wrist-mounted feet. He seemed to sense my feelings and put me at ease, leaving his feet in my hands and shifting the six big guys under him to walk all of the a little closer to me. He brought my hands up to his lips and kissed them, then gently placed his handsome feet on my shoulders, bringing one up to brush my cheek with its large, smooth inner edge, then with the long, curved outer edge. I caught it and kissed it again on the sole, then on the toes, holding the other beautiful foot to my shoulder.
“I love you like this,” I said, meaning it with all my being. It was more than just a business interest that drove me to work this project with Spike—I had dreamt of him four legged since the day I first heard of the project, and somehow I had not only come to spearhead the project, but to enjoy the miracle of his willing and enthusiastic participation. I sensed that he knew how much I would love to see him four-legged, and I felt I was correct in guessing that his love of the project played a part in his current many-footed state.
His eyes met mine, smiling, as I held and kissed his beautiful feet, seeing him shift subtly on his six floor-bound feet, my hexapod boytaur. “You've had a long journey, and I'm ready for some quiet time,” he said. “Care to join me?”
I couldn't help but smile, and felt the pull on my hands as his feet together drew me to him, and in a graceful ballet of many legs, his six handsome feet found their steps turning one again up the stairs; I accompanied Spike towards the next floor of the lovely mansion, feeling the gentle bumping of long legs against mine as he took my arm in his, a large foot stroking my forearm as I held its mate warmly in both my hands.