Just past three in the morning, John laid on top of his bed, deep in thought. His encounter with the satyr left his head swimming with questions. Why him? Was there any way he could get his human body back? Sex or masturbating seemed to trigger a change, but lately, nothing happened. What about Brian? John was so torn up that he and Brian called it an early night, leaving each other to think. John's orc instincts began to grumble about the lack of sexual activity. It had been an eternity since he had had sex. Nearly...John looked at the clock...eight hours. John smirked and began to stroke himself, but didn't feel like continuing. He had to find answers.
Still not tired, John got up to use the toilet. After doing a poo (which he wasn't sure whether to be proud or ashamed of) he wiped and flushed, then decided to brush his teeth...well, tusks. John stared at the long-haired, red-eyed, green face in the mirror. John spit out the toothpaste and washed it down the drain. The funny thing was, even for an orc, he wasn't all that ugly. In fact, he felt he was actually pretty good looking. Feeling his cock poke out of his sheath, John struck a pose in the mirror. His thick biceps bulged as he felt his incredibly cut pectorals and abdominals. "If I was only the correct color," John thought, "I would take this body over my old one in a heartbeat."
With a coy smile, John stared at his reflection. He was beginning to realize that his is what he always wanted. He always fantasized about what it was like to be a mythical creature. Maybe this transformation wasn't worth questioning. His orchood now clamoring for attention, John moved his thick green hand over the fully engorged member. He loved having a penis this big, and he was glad he could share it with Brian. Closing his eyes, he imagined thrusting into Brian's new large, yet tight rear, with him howling with pleasure. Growling, he knew that he was about to coat the mirror. His hand moving back and forth at rapid speed, he gritted his teeth as he felt his body begin to tense up.
"I hope I'm not interrupting," a familiar voice cut through the room. Startled, John wheeled around to face the satyr, smirking an evil...smirk. "Go on, off you go," the satyr said, moving his hairy hands in a circle. "Wouldn't want to give you blue balls. Well...bluish-green balls. Or would it be greenish-blue?"
"You!" John hissed. "You're back to torture me more?" He stomped over to the satyr, trying to appear as menacing as he could. He wound up, preparing to take a swing at the goatman.
"Wait," the satyr said, holding up his hand. "I just want to talk to you."
The sudden sincerity in the goatman's voice gave John pause. He unballed his large hands and crossed his arms over his thick chest. "You turn me and my boyfriend into monsters and now you want to talk?"
"Look," the satyr said quietly. "I'm in big trouble. I need your help."