The revelry grows louder as you and Rachel trudge through the lush forest. The afternoon sun filters wistfully through the canopy of leaves overhead.
“Who do you think is carrying on like that?” Rachel asks, adjusting her thin glasses.
“Dunno,” you say. “Hope they brought enough for us.”
Rachel rolls her green eyes. “You know I don’t drink. Not that you haven’t tried.”
“Perish the thought. I’m a gentleman.” You have admitted to yourself that you’d like to go out with Rachel. She’s pretty, intelligent, ambitious, and can give you a
run for your money (literally) at 8-Ball. You’ve always enjoyed her gift for music, too; she could easily make a living playing the flute.
“So you say.” A low hanging branch catches a lock of her curly brown hair as she steps toward the sound. Her movements are only partially altered in the process
of moving through the brush. Was it anyone else, you’d think the sideways slide of her butt was meant to tease you.
You begin moving through the opening just as Rachel stops moving.
“Oomph!” You collide with her in a failed attempt to cease your momentum. You tumble to the lush grass, landing clumsily on Rachel. Her glasses fall from her face
as she is pancaked into the ground.
“Ow! Geez, Rachel, what’d you…”
Your words are cut short by the sight before you. This clearing is populated by men and women, many of them drinking and smoking, some dancing, a few playing
instruments, and a few having sex! Even more amazing is the fact that they’re completely naked, and obviously not human! Every one of them has a pair of goat’s
hind legs, complete with shining hooves and swishing tails. Their lower bodies are covered in rich, dark fur, ending above their crotches. Two horns protrude from
their heads; the females’ are short, the males’ are curved like a ram’s. Their ears are pointed and furred, like a goat’s, but still protrude from the sides of their
heads. All have long, curly hair, and the males have thick beards and much body hair. You chance a look at their crotches. The females have normal looking
vaginas within their fur, with large, firm breasts and well-sized erect nipples. The males appear to be sheathed, but you imagine they must be well hung, judging by
the size of their thick sacks.
“Satyrs,” you say to yourself. “No fucking way!”
“Gaa,” Rachel manages. “Impossible.”
Your voices catch the attention of one of the males, and he rises on his hooves to walk over to you. “Greetings, friends! I am Cedius. Have you come to worship
Pan with us?”
“Pan? Who is Pan?” Rachel’s voice is mechanical, confused. You notice her gaze lingering a little too long Cedius’ sheath. You can’t help but feel a bit jealous.
Cedius laughs, a hearty bellyful. “Why, the God of dance, music, and sex! He is the one who bestows upon us the finer pleasures of life. We worship him, and
share in his desires. This, he blesses us with his image.” He reaches down and takes Rachel’s hand. Timidly, she accepts. The other satyrs approach and introduce
themselves to her as she is led into the clearing. She smiles weakly in response.
“Come, friend, join us in our celebration! Speak your desire, and we shall attend to it with you!”