The Faun section of the book on Nymphs and Satyrs catches your eye immediately. The chapter heading seems to call it out as dealing with more modern ideas and portrayals. Though you remember reading all about Satyrs in your books of Greek mythology as a younger man you haven't given much thought to modern and postmodern ideas about them. Laid out on your couch you flipped through the pages to the section on Fauns.
The chapter starts with a single large illustration of a female figure with a pair of white goat-like legs, curling horns, and a flat caprine nose in a freckled face. She is dressed in a sheer dress, transparent enough that her ample curves and dark nipples were visible through the fabric. You shiver and shake your head a bit, flipping past the page and beginning to read. While the chapter calls out modern depictions of fauns and satyrs that depart from the Greek myth in many ways it spends a great deal of its time focused on satyresses, a concept non-existent in Greek myth but popular afterwards.
As you read about the attributions of fertility, beauty, and wisdom to satyresses in contrast to male satyrs you roll your shoulders, adjusting the book on your belly. You feel drawn into the story that the author weaves in their example. A young satyress who is a guardian to the young of a village, protecting young mothers especially until she falls in love with a beautiful young man and becomes a mother herself. As you read you shift on your couch, feeling your shoes and jeans grow uncomfortable and tight. You try to pause reading and fix the issue but discover that you cannot stop yourself from reading further.
Your breath catches in your throat as you try to force yourself to look away from the next short story and you feel your jeans digging into your waist tightly, notice that your belly has grown flat and taut even as the front of your shirt starts to lift up. You let out a whimper, unable to give voice to your fear and surprise as you continue to be transfixed by the story even as you notice your body changing in the corners of your eyes. As you read a story about a fauness using her woodland magic to hid a soldier during the Spanish Civil War your breath starts to come in fast desperate gulps for air. Your chest is heaving and your t-shirt is rising and falling over soft breasts. Your head feels heavy with new weight and you feel your ears flicking alongside your head in a motion that no human could ever manage.
Though you cannot look away from the next page in the chapter, you manage to sit up, breasts swaying and sensitive nipples dragging over fabric in a sensation thrillingly new to you. You press your thickening and furry thighs together, the denim of your jeans creaking as you struggle to stand, feeling a pain in your backside and stumbling out of your shoes onto your new hooves. You tip-toe on hooves awkwardly covered by cotton socks, making your way to a mirror as you read further. The pain in your backside and thighs grows stronger and you hold the book with one hand as the other one desperately and blindly scrabbles to undo your pants, finally undoing the button and squirming out of them, seeing white furred thighs beneath, your blue boxer-briefs straining over a round ass and wide hips.
As you turn to the last page of the short chapter you tug the briefs down with a delicate feminine hand and reveal a last glimpse of your shrinking penis, receding into the thick black form of a female goat's puffy sex. You swallow and as you finally find yourself able to look away from the book your finger gently pokes the sensitive flesh. "What the..." you say, your voice strange and feminine, filling the space, as you realize that somehow, some way, the book has transformed you into a beautiful and inhuman satyress. Standing bottomless in your living room, clothes arranged around your ankles you start to...