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           I'm certain you all know of the book known commonly as The Golden Legend. You know, the one written by Jacobus de Voragine. What? You've never heard of it? Fame is so fleeting.            How about the Speculum Hisoriale? You remember, the one written by Vincent of Beauvais. Again nothing? Well, that's all kinds of right in my book, which I've not written yet by the way. If I did, you wouldn't remember my name either.  I go by Beyaz Ruzgar.  It's not a name you'd be likely to forget. Oh, and who am I? I was St George's horse. Yes, that St George, the one who went down in history as killing a dragon. What a load of road apples! Not only did he not kill a real dragon, he wasn't who he claimed to be either. And yes, I can prove it. I was his horse after all. The real George was the son of Theodore of Amasea. His father was a fierce warrior, and not of the pale skinned type that came from the lands up north. He was a true scrublands and desert dark-skinned man, rough and ready and keen with his sword. George was a carbon copy in many ways. But the poor boy never got to slay a dragon. It was only by a chance fate that there ever was anything akin to a dragon in the first place, but that's going to take some explaining so I'll come back to her in a moment.  What? Oh, you see the dragon was a she. How do I know such a personal detail? Now you're just getting intrusive with your questions. Besides, I'll tell you when I'm ready and I'm not ready jus yet. George was a fully armored knight, but not in those gaudy trappings that came into fashion in the high European courts hundreds of years later. Those fellows were pretty much highborn idiots. Only a self absorbed dandy would have had armor constructed for looks over utilitarianism. George had the necessary components; a breast plate and helmet, plus plenty of thick leather covering his arms and legs. This allowed freedom of movement on and off a horse. Trust me, I appreciated it. It meant I had less weight to carry. Besides, it was hot enough in this region. Draping yourself in the trappings of an oven was ridiculous. As for me, I first came into this particular story with George's father. I was purchased from traders in India, and I made the long trip to the north of Africa with a few other stallions. Needless to say, the excursion was going to prove to be boring. Thankfully, we were a handsome looking lot; me especially, and the traders learned quickly they could earn some extra money loaning us out as studs along the way. That went over well with me, who had spent thousands of years breeding the fillies of Siberia and upper China, and before that, the vast expanse of North America, leastwise in those areas not covered in ice. There was something about the squeal of a pinned mare that got my blood going. What's that, you ask? Thousands of years? Yes, I didn't stutter. Why do you think I get bored so quickly? When you've been around as long as I have, life needs to be hopping along or else I go out of my mind. And no, I wasn't captured. I found that humans were an interesting lot. They made cities, with towers and walls, they waged wars, they made ships to sail the waters, and they never looked bored. It seemed like the kind of crowd I wanted to be in. I simply wandered into a temple complex and was initially taken in as some sort of god. I didn't feel like a god, but these silly humans had some strange concepts. I held a high position   as some sort of local deity for a few measly years. That lasted for such a short while because the place was ransacked by invaders, who captured me as a prize.  Whatever. As long as it wasn't boring, I didn't care where I went or what I did. What's that? That seems a highly impertinent question.  Fine, yes. I know, I know, how can a horse write a story? It's kind of hard to do with hooves instead of hands. I'll get to that; don't rush me. To explain that now rushes us past the part of the story on our dear St George, and for now I need to continue with some background, otherwise you'll never believe me. Then again, you'll not likely believe me anyway. Your loss, not mine. I've been there, and done that. Take my name, for example. It's not my given name, which would be impossible for you to verbalize properly with human vocal cords. Beyaz Ruzgar is Arabic, and was given to me by George's father. It means White Wind. So keeping to the Arabic, you could describe me as an efrit. What? You don't know your tales from the lands of sand and fables? OK, fine; think of me as a genie. I know you all know what that is. Except you really, really don't. I'm not a genie, nor an efrit; these are terms you folks came up with to describe those things that you couldn't comprehend. I'm alien to this world, but not in the sense of your little green men concepts your science fiction writers have come up with. And yet, I did not originate on this planet. In terms of how long I've been here, there are groups of you out there that can't grasp a world older than 6000 of you solar cycles (you humans are really stupid sometimes). I've been here for roughly sixty five to sixty six million of those cycles. I told you I got bored easily. After what I've seen, it takes something interesting to get my mind going. No, I didn't arrive as a horse. That's a stupid notion. There were no horses on my home world. In fact, it was getting to be that there wasn't much of anything living on my home world. It was old, ancient even in comparison to the rock you call Earth and we as living entities were drifting out to other planets to colonize them. The ship we were in was the size of what you call an asteroid, because in fact it was just that. Rather than build a ship from the bottom up, it was quicker to mine the inside of a giant piece of space rock, outfit it with engines, hibernation chambers, and everything else we might need for a long trip. Once completed, a hundred thousand of us climbed aboard, went through the mind transference, and our bodies packed away in tight chambers for the long trip. Our minds were deposited in special retention cells. For you modern humans, you might think of them as flash drives, though really the comparison is hardly accurate. This procedure allowed us to remain active mentally while aboard ship, communicating with each other, playing games, following the sensors as we ripped through space. The trip was to last in the neighborhood three hundred Earth years. You see, we weren't headed for Earth, but a different system and planet altogether. But that's moot now. The engines developed a flaw, causing them to overheat. When an engine in your modern automobile overheats it's no big deal. A ketron/quasi-singularity drive overheats and a ship goes supernova. The pilots found a solar system that was close enough to pull over in for repairs, which would take a goodly amount time. Once we pulled into the solar system, we found it was too late. The ship was no longer responding properly to the controls. Let's just say we hit this place with the force of a miniature planet. Our minds were contained in a special portion of the ship that was created to be able to be jettisoned, which the pilots did at the last possible moment, sending us  backward, away from the planet. But alas, the pull of the ship dragged us down anyway. We hit the planetary surface a full 180 degrees from the ship's impact zone. On the other side the explosion ripped a crater over a hundred miles wide. The force of it ended most of the life on the poor unsuspecting planet, including the creatures you now refer to as dinosaurs. With the explosion went our bodies, our technology, everything but our consciousness and our knowledge. Even then, some of the storage devices cracked open. That's when we discovered that our consciousness could live on in non-corporeal form, leastwise for a little while. We could live in rock that held similar composition as our storage devices, a composite of silica quartz and other similar chemicals. Even more fascinating, we discovered we could inhabit other living creatures. Of course, by the time we discovered this, many of them were dying off because of the damage our ship did. But a hundred thousand minds need somewhere to go. So we made the best of it. We now had to deal with a dying planet, dying animals, and our minds sitting inside these poor creatures. But we gave them intelligence, such as we could, and directed their species survival, if possible. We had nearly destroyed the planet, but we did what we could to salvage it. Is that enough background? No? Well, deal with it. I can't tell you everything right now. I'm off topic as it is. St George.  I was discussing St George. George wasn't a saint back then; no one was. I'm still not sure what constitutes one, for it seems they were only valued as such once they were dead. But George was a good enough human. I mean really, you monkey-men value yourselves rather highly, for a species that kills, mutilates and suppresses itself to no possible future gain. George was a bit on the arrogant side; a Christian (religion, another thing that tickles my sense of irony), and an esteemed fighter, for all that fighting will ever get you. We were traveling, the five of us, into the regions in what you call Africa. Not the deep jungles, but the northern sections, closer to the sea called Mediterranean. It was George riding me, his page Jasham and the ass he was riding on, and yet another carrying their belongings. It was during these travels that he heard the tale of the dragon. I was curious too (as a horse, I couldn't speak the language, but I sure as heck could understand it) and listened intently. I had met a few of my former ship mates in China, remarkably still maintaining their original bodies. They hardly looked the same though, from those original dinosaurs. Scales grew out into long dangling whiskers, or into spikes, and their original colors had changed from the camouflaged patterns to an array of reds, yellows, blues and greens. A few even had vestigial wings, from taking over flight-based reptilian forms. Their bodies had outgrown the wings, forcing them to stay on the ground. However, not a single one could breathe fire. That concept was a human invention. These comrades of mine eventually had to forego these bodies due to harassment from humans. It was sad really; to have lived so long in the same body was something to be proud of. But now, at this remote spot was perhaps the last holdout. I was curious who it might be, for while I didn't know everyone aboard ship , we had shared a common consciousness and purpose. I had lost track of many of them, for time tends to separate you from each other. Sixty five million solar cycles is a long time. I had no idea how many had died; their minds fragmenting and blending with the atmosphere even as their borrowed bodies decayed and rejoined with the earth under their feet. The story about the dragon was being told by a local sage, who thought his knowledge gained in a few short decades was the greatest in the world. We were in a city called Lasia, in what is now modern day Libya. The land was ruled by some human called Selinus, as the Latin-using Europeans seemed to call him. His real name was Saleh, which means righteous in the local tongue. I never met him long enough to know if he was or was not. Like I said before, humans were rather conceited. The locals' tale told of a huge and evil creature that decimated the countryside around a large lake. Now large lakes were not something that abounded here in the middle of the shifting sands. That in itself was a rarity. The town affected by the dragon was Gaberoun. The lake was hardly fresh water, being less salty than the ocean, but not fresh enough to drink. How long the dragon had survived there, no one could say, seeing as desert surrounded the oasis on all sides for many miles and for many centuries. It had likely found the place during better times and had become stuck due to the encroaching sands. I was curious to know more, but that had to wait until we reached the lake. It turns out we weren't the only ones heading there.

We encountered an entourage that included a rather respected person included in their ranks. It was none other than the ruler Saleh, who it turns out had a daughter called Sazah, though in later works her name was mistranslated into Sabrah. I just thought you should know that. I believe in accuracy. Anyway, she was coming withher father for reasons that were not immediately clear to us. It turns out that the whole area was influenced by the presence of this dragon. It seems that the locals had started feeding it, in the form of sheep and such, to keep it at bay. Then they started feeding it their children. Apparently the matter had grown so bad the king created a lottery to chose who would be fed to it, in the end finding that his daughter's name was drawn. He offered his riches to anyone who would go in her place, but everyone refused. We were at Lasia when the royal caravan passed through. George decided to tag along at the back of the line, since he wanted to see if he could fill the shoes of being a true hero. It was during this leg of the journey that the poor fellow came down with some sort of illness. His page knew nothing of healing, and by the time the two humans realized how sick he was, the caravan was well ahead of them. To cut matters short, George died in his sleep from a high fever. Rather anticlimactic, I know, but I'm reporting the facts, not embellishing them. The page was at a loss as to what to do. In the end, he stripped the body of its armor and clothing and buried George in the sand. He was prepared to return to Lasia, but I put a thought in his head that he seemed to fancy. He pulled on the armor, jumped astride me, and continued on the journey as if he really was George. Since no one had paid him much attention, the deceit would be easy enough to pull off. You see, I had come this far, I wanted to find out if this was one of my long lost comrades or not. I had put into Jasham's mind that he should assume the place of George, since no one would know the difference. They didn't look alike, but George was always in his stupid armor anyway, so even he could claim to be anyone. So could Jasham. When we arrived at the town by the lake, he wisely sold one of the asses so that no one would question why he had two. I was sad to see the little fellow go, for I had plugged him on many an occasion. Hey, don't judge me; females were often hard to come by. Besides, he never complained, even when my tip threatened to tickle his tonsils. Oh those were the days... Ahem. Sorry about that. I was reminiscing.  Getting back to the dragon; the king's daughter was to be given up as a sacrifice the very next day. Since the king had commandeered a chunk of the land farther away from the lake to set up camp, I put the idea into Jasham's head to set up closer to the lake, to prove his bravery in full view of the royal entourage. In truth, I wanted to get a chance to sneak off and see if I could find this dragon myself. It was my sole reason for sticking around now, and if the dragon was real, then it had to be one of my people. If it was one of my people, then it behooved (no pun intended) me to see if I could help. The stories of feeding this dragon sheep and people were the only thing that threw me off. As far as I knew, we had only ever taken the bodies of herbivores. Killing  anything that was a higher life form was generally against our beliefs. Sure enough, we made camp not far from the lake. I could smell the water, as well as the salt, so I knew enough not to try and drink it. The locals had set up stills, using the heat of the sun to evaporate and the cool and collect the vapor as pure water. Jasham bought several bagfuls to tide us over. When he went to sleep, I pulled my tie loose and wandered along the lake. Moonlight lit up its surface, which was unbroken by wave or ripple. I exerted my consciousness out towards the center of the lake, hoping to catch the attention of whomever, or whatever, was living there. It took a few moments for a disturbance to begin, unsettling the water with greater and greater turbulence.  A head broke the surface and turned to face at me. I felt the return of a mental touch. All I caught was something about meeting me on the other side of the lake and the head sank bellowing the water. I took off at a run, reaching the other side in minutes. She was already there, water streaming off her immense bulk. One look and I knew she was out of my league. After sixty five million years, I had no idea what type of dinosaur she had originally been. Those creatures had no external ears to speak of, but she had sizable ones that unfolded as the water dripped away. She had facial scales so long they looked like thin tentacles flapping in the breeze. Everywhere her body showed signs of great age and great change. She had needed to adapt it to the ever evolving world she had found herself forced into. The teeth that were exposed as she opened her mouth were a far cry from how they began, I was certain of that. They were quite capable of tearing flesh as well as any plant material. She stood in the water, a bit wary of me, I suppose. I projected to her who I was, and I could see her body ease as she mentally spoke back. I am so very glad to meet you again, after all of these years. It is too bad we had not met up before, but this world has evolved to leave this type of creature behind. As I see you already suspect, I was one of the few living in the lands to the east. I moved to get away from humans, but the species has a tenacity you have to admire. I came here to escape them, but between them and the sands, I am trapped, and I know of no way of leaving. Then she noticed the body I was in.

How long have you had this form? I haven't considered changing bodies, but perhaps it's time? I told her my history, as much as I felt she needed to know. I mean, a thousand years is a lot to absorb, much less a million. I told her of some of my previous bodies, and what had become of them. She confessed that transferring from one to another scared her. She was afraid of getting lost or dissipating during the process. I did a little laugh, telling her it was easy, when one made the right choices. At this point she came clear out of the lake, showing her immense bulk. Whatever she had been, it had to have been one of the smaller, long necked plant eaters. But now the head was enlarged, the neck shortened, and the scales thick and covered in algae and mosses. Despite the multitude of green hues, vivid colors showed in places, indicating just how much she had transformed her body over the passage of time. She was eying me up and down. You are male in this form, she stated matter-of-factly. I went down on a front knee, mimicking the human symbol of respect. Yes, as a matter of fact I am. It seemed to suit my personality. She bobbed her head. This form is female, which suited me. Gendered sexes are unusual, don't you think? What was I to say to that? Oh, I don't know. I've grown accustomed to what these bodies can do, and the feelings that come with breeding. Since adopting this body, I have mated with tan mares of the steppes, striped horses of the lower part of this land mass, black ones of the other continent, and furry coated ones up north. I find the experience to be most gratifying. She sighed. I have not ever had that experience. It was all I could do to keep this body functioning for so long. I had to adapt it to deal with changing food, climate and disease. When I began, after the crash, all it could do was eat plants. I have coaxed it into being able to handle just about anything, from fish, to humans. I find that latter to be a disgusting thing, but since they provide them, and food is scarce, what else am I supposed to do?  She sounded depressed. I was dwelling on the first part. I had, in these numerous forms, enjoyed the pleasure of breeding so many times I had lost count a few million years ago. Breeding helped to re-establish life on this planet. This comrade apparently had not engaged whatsoever, continuing to live as a solophicea, or a hermit as you might understand better. She should have abandoned this body long ago, but here she was. Well, these bodies are not the same, but perhaps I could help you in that aspect, I replied hopefully. She looked down at me, craned her neck to look at herself, and then turned to me again. I don't see how that would be possible. My body is far larger than yours, and there would be no way of your reaching the necessary opening to complete the act.       I had spent enough time among humans to know that there was more than one way to have sex. This was especially true in India, where they wrote books on the subject. I explained my proposal. All you need to do is roll onto your back. I'll straddle your tail. I'm rather confident I'll find the opening to be within reach. She was bemused by the idea. I have nothing to lose, so why not?  She dropped and rolled, her body sinking a little into the sand. I trotted up the length of her extended tail, sniffing as I went. Her opening, what you humans refer to as a vagina or cloacae, was right at the base of her tail. It was also in the perfect spot for me to reach. I used my tongue to lick the slit, for it was as tight as a yearling's rectum. It took me a good fifteen minutes before her natural lubrication kicked in. This part of her physiology had not seen use once in those intervening millennia. The body was rumbling and vibrating under my ministrations, which I took to be a good thing. Many mares had nearly collapsed to the ground under the probing of my tongue. Unlike other stallions, I also didn't mount and blow. Hell, what was the fun in that? Quite a few equine ladies ended up with sore privates by the time I was through with them. I was hoping this would be the case here even if she was likely to handle me batter then they did. I moved up farther, until my front legs were locked against her back ones. My cock was out, found the slit, and I pushed as hard as I could. The tip wiggled in, and then the rest slowly followed. I hadn't been in something this tight since I cornered a young sacred cow back in India. That little bovine girl found out that a stallion pumped by the gallon. But here, on this huge and ancient body, such tightness seemed out of place. But I wasn't going to argue with the situation. The hole was wet and tight and I could sink my full length in and not hit bottom. I could sense her immediate pleasure through our mutual mental connection. It was obviously the first time her body had sensed true pleasure in a very long time. I adjusted my rear legs, for they kept sinking in the sand, and locked my front legs even tighter. I then went to it with gusto, driving in and out with unrestrained enthusiasm. I don't know how big a male counterpart of her form would have in the way of a cock, but what I had seemed more than sufficient to fill her present needs.  The main problem was keeping the noise down. Thankfully, with the king in town, the whole place was still mostly awake and noisy with raucous song and men clashing swords to show their skills at battle. Still, between my whinnies and her bellowing moans, I was certain we would be discovered. Thankfully and somewhat unbelievably, we weren't.  My first raging climax filled her passage full of cum. Despite my earlier boasting about managing to hold on to myself for a long time, her reptilian body was quite the change for me, and thus I was both intrigued and aroused by it. For her part, her hole and tunnel constricted around me in a way a mare, or even the enticing anus of another male, had failed to ever do.  And being able to penetrate her fully was quite the turn on. My second overflowed it. By the third, we were both covered in it. That was over an hour later. By then, even my body couldn't recover enough to pump the blood back to the organ necessary for continuing with the mock-mating. I slid off and fell to the ground. Her mind reached mine. That was a most pleasant experience. I thank you. Would it be possible for you to find a suitable body for me to change into? Something like yours maybe? It seems I have missed much in keeping this old thing alive. Perhaps it is time to move on.  I was in agreement there. I have been in this body for a long time too. It's a good body, but there comes a time when you need to let go. I have an idea that may suit both of us. She was all aquiver with the details of his plan. When I was done telling her about it, and she had agreed it was worthwhile, she returned to the water and I to the camp. I settled down to sleep, but never quite made it fully comatose. There was too much running those my mind. I was still awake when the sun crept up over the dunes. It was a good thing too, for the king's entourage swept past. To the forefront was a litter carrying the princess. I hit Jasham with a hoof to wake him up. He jumped up, saw the procession, and gathering George's armor, sword, and spear, followed after them as quickly as he could. He nearly forgot he had a horse to ride, the fellow was so dense. We arrived at the lake just as the princess was tied to a dead date palm tree. The sand around it was literally black from the spilt blood of all of the previous sacrifices. It was evident my comrade wasn't one to ignore free food, even if it did turn her stomach to do so. Once the princess was secured, I placed in Jasham's mind to ride forth to challenge the dragon. Everyone thought him a fool, but the king declared that if he should slay the dragon, the princess and many riches would be his. Jasham was a fool, but an offer like that made even my pressing on his mind pointless. Humans were easily swayed by sex and money. I contacted my fellow being who was hidden just below the surface of the water. She came forward, her head rising first, followed by her scaly neck, shoulders and so on until he massive frame rose from the water like the leviathan she was. Few humans, even amongst the local population had ever witnessed her in full sunlight. Most of the time they dropped off their sacrifice and ran home to hide, coming back the next day to make sure the offering had been accepted. The princess screamed, the king uttered oaths, and half of the crowd fled. I think a good portion of those present had assumed the dragon to be a mere legend. But Jasham, his sense of duty and honor stoked by me and ready for anything, rode me right up to the water's edge. He bellowed curses at the dragon, and then retreated back to the dry sand until she emerged totally onto the land. She and I had rehearsed this in our heads, so I hoped it would come off without a hitch. She headed for the princess, with me and my rider running interception. She pulled back as we swept past; Jasham's spear grazing her flanks, but doing no damage. Those old scales were thick and tough! She turned her attention to us, bearing down like a maddened elephant. I felt Jasham lose control of his bladder, but he remained firm in the saddle. I could sense he was having second thoughts about this. But he had little choice in the matter now. We were in the middle of a battle. I turned and doubled back so quickly that he nearly fell off. His spear was askew and totally missed its target. We turned to make another pass. This time the dragon stood her ground, knowing that one of us should hold still. Since I was on the attacking side, it should be us who remained on the move. Jasham gathered his courage, held the spear as tightly as he could and charged. The point nearly snapped before it slid between two scales and sunk in right to her heart. Her eyes went wide and she looked fearful just before the light in them was extinguished. A roar went up from the crowd. Everyone was rejoicing except for the princess, who had passed out and was hanging limply from her restraints. The king barked orders to have her freed. Jasham was off of me and prostrate before the king. I had to steady his mind, reminding him that he was now George, not a mere pageboy. If he had told the truth, the king might have executed him for his impersonation, even if he had just saved his daughter. As it was, Jasham pulled the deception off flawlessly, though at the same time he would never be able to return home. It hardly mattered, for he and the princess were married that day. She seemed aloof about the whole thing, like she had a preference for someone else, but then, what princess ever loved the man she had to marry? Tales were told and songs were written, celebrating the defeat of the dragon. Jasham and Sazah traveled with the king's entourage back to the capitol, with myself and the last remaining ass trailing at the rear. That little equine vixen knew what I was capable of, and with the other ass gone, figured I would be up to my old tricks. But we were in mixed company, and I decided that discretion was the better part of honor. Besides, I wasn't going to need unloading any time soon. There was a dragon body rotting in the desert sun that had a large dose of me in it. Once at the palace, Jasham, aka George, was tutored in the ways of ruling. I was left in the stables, soon forgotten. I wasn't lonely, for there were plenty of other horses around, male and female. Even the little ass was close by. I soon earned the nickname "devilish one", for I was equal in buggering a stallion as I was in breeding a mare. I was never a problem for the handlers, but all they had to do was turn their back for a moment, and I could be found cock-deep inside someone. They eventually got the idea and let me have my way. I was even kind enough to allow the humans a chance at buggering me. I suppose it was like a mouse raping a lion, but hey, I was an equal opportunity kind of being. If it made them happy, then they were more apt to make me happy. And it wasn't boring. I think I already said I hated being bored. One day some weeks after we had arrived at the palace, the princess came to the stables, with the firm command that no one discuss her presence here. She came down to see me. Without a word, she climbed up upon me; bareback, and rode me around the courtyard for a while.

She seemed like a nice gal, and I felt bad for her, being presently stuck with a man she had no feelings for. But she was alive, and she should at least be happy about that. I projected this thought at her. When she was done riding me, her mood seemed lighter. It was only a mental thing, I know, but still, she seemed happier now than when she had first entered the stables.  It was that night that she returned. She had a bag of food, a skin of water, and she was dressed in commoner's robes. She saddled me up, climbed into the seat and rode me down into the city. In the morning, the gates were opened and we were the first to leave. No one knew she was missing for several more hours. By then, we had made good time into the desert. We headed north until we hit the coast of the sea, and then turned west, back towards the lands that George had hailed from. But instead of going there, we rode northward. Here and there, we encountered humans; it was a fact of life now. They were turning into the dominant species. At one stop, she found a handsome young fellow with good looks and strong muscles. She had me stabled behind an inn, and invited the fellow for a romp in the straw. They were together all night. In the morning, it was just the two of them, with the deceased carcass of an eighteen thousand year old horse laying still on the straw. The two went off together, the princess and the young man, after purchasing another horse to replace the long-in-need-of-dying original that had been me. They traveled north into Europe, but came back down into the region of the sea again. Their darker skin made them stand out, and the light skinned northern tribes distrusted them to no end. They settled along the sea, keeping a low profile for a long, long time. How long? Well, that's a good question. You see, the dragon died so that my fellow creature being could live. When she left the wounded beast, she fled into the body of the princess. We don't like commandeering any intelligent entity, but when it's a matter of survival, you do what you must. She married Jasham because she knew she had to, and she wasn't entirely disappointed. She had just found a newly exposed fascination for sex. In the end, her preference was for me, and I was still a horse. When we left, I told her to find a body she liked. She finally did, and you know the rest. We have been around for a while now, not sixty five million or eighteen thousand years in the same body, but we're here still. We change and adapt, and we move a lot. It doesn't do well to outlive everyone; questions begin to be raised that are hard to explain away. Oh; and sex. She hasn't had her fill yet. Oh, that's not to say I haven't tried. We went for seven days once, nonstop. I thought my heart was going to give out. It's pretty damn hard to make up for millions of years in the time we've had together, but she keeps trying. I don't mind one bit. Every once in a while I recall all those mares (and stallions), and I think to myself that when we change again, it will have to be back to horses. But she has other ideas. I'm willing to try anything...once; even if it lasts a few thousand years. What else have I got to do? Besides telling you this story, I mean.             It's time to go. I can hear her calling, and I guess I have dallied here with you long enough. Time to go and see if we're going to break our personal best. After all, a week in the grand scheme of things is barely a water droplet within the expanse of the great sea. Like I said; you humans live rather short, uneventful lives. But I have a few tricks up my sleeves. She's always ready for something new.