FSE

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"Hey!" was all that Will had time to say when something flashed out of the darkness and grabbed his wrist. All he could see of who or what that had grabbed him was a flash of an olive-skinned hand, soft and smooth but also surprisingly strong. The nails were short, and looked dirty. Although it had surprised him, it didn't hurt too much.

Will's feet moved automatically to keep him from tumbling over in the dark. He wanted to ask what was going on, but as they moved further and further into the dark, taking odd turns, he had to turn his attention to several things he usually took for granted: not running into a wall, not tripping on the stones under his feet, not losing his shoes. Forced into a fast jog that he wasn't dressed for, he tried to ask what was going on and almost bit his tongue.

"Come on, slow-poke!" The voice came from the dark figure pulling him around. Whoever had grabbed Will seemed used to running around in the dark, unlike Will, who wanted to explain just that, but didn't get the chance. His free hand swayed in front of him, helping to keep him from being pulled into a sharp corner as he was dragged along by someone who seemed to bounce from one direction to the next.

As they ran, Will nearly fell over as the uneven ground snared his foot. The floor sloped upwards gently. He could feel it burning up the back of his ankles as his tendons stretched in the brief moments his feet were able to rest on the ground. "Are you taking me out?" Will asked, finally able to catch his breath enough to say something. The person dragging him along seemed to find that very amusing, and a loud, boyish laugh echoed around them. "That wasn't an answer," Will thought, but they were taking another turn, and he had to focus on not stumbling too much.

Will became aware a moment too late that he was about to lose a shoe; he'd stepped on the laces, which had loosened and flopped around. Now the frenetic dashing felt even more awkward: the stones were cold on his feet, and even more slippery with his socks. He would have preferred bare feet. "Can we stop?" he asked at the next moment he had a chance.

"Do you want to sit here in the dark?" It appeared the answer was no, as they kept moving as the person who seized him continued pulling him along. Will was sure that it was a guy; the shape of the hands he'd seen had stayed in his imagination, and the voice leaned towards the male end of the spectrum. "Don't be such a baby! We're almost there! You're going to love it!"

"I just need..." Will trailed off; he knew it was pointless to keep protesting, especially with those oddly sharp fingernails digging into his wrist. They continued to weave through the darkness until the floor changed again. Instead of sloping upwards, there were stairs. Will did fall over, slamming his shins on the steps. "Ow! Fuck! You should have warned me!"

"Why, slow-poke?" The grin was almost auditory. "We're almost there? Can't you smell it?"

Whatever it was Will was supposed to smell, he couldn't. He did notice that it was getting lighter. He could actually see the edges of the steps. While he wasn't too happy with being dragged off, this was at least something different than wandering around. As his leg still throbbed, he scrambled on the steps to get to his feet. His wrist had been let go. He realised that he could, if he wanted, go back. That would mean going down into the dark, alone, and trying to figure what turns they had taken and backtrack. Turning downwards, he frowned; that option seemed really bad. He shuddered, imagining being trapped or lost in the dark.

Light music trickled down the stairs, as soft as the light streaming down the stairs. There were voices too; even though they were muffled, you could tell there was a lot of laughing and cheering. It sounded like a party to Will. "About time!" he thought, a faint smile forming on his face. "We're finally getting to the good stuff!" Continuing up the stairs, he squinted as his eyes got used to the light again.

"Come on, keep up!" The guy dragging him away from his friends turned, hands on his hips. Will was finally able to see something of him other than the hand that had grabbed his wrist. It was only an outline, but Will's first instinct was "costume". The tangled nest of hair on his head was thick and dark and might have been natural, but two lighter spikes suggested horns and couldn't possibly be real. The arms were lean, toned things with an outline broken by fuzzy hairs. The chest was also lean, outlined by two narrow, inward-sloping lines. The legs looked like he was wearing pants made from hair; the small lump on the back that might have been a tag started to look more like a short tail.

"I could have gone faster if you turned on some lights," Will complained. He was ignored as the other man had already turned, leaping easily up several steps. Groaning, Will chased after the moving shadow.

Since he was in control of his own movements now, Will found the going a lot easier: fewer rapid turns and more light helped. He stopped for a moment to yank off his remaining shoe, as the stairs were smooth enough he didn't need to worry about his feet, and half of the socks were already going to be ruined that damaging both wasn't going to make much difference.

The party sounds were getting louder, and the stairs were getting lighter. Will could hear distinct voices now; as well as the cheering and laughing, he could now hear drinking and some deep grunting sounds that fired up his imagination. "Some party!" he thought. The guy he was now voluntarily following was out of sight; the stairs curled around a corner, and he had moved too quickly for Will to keep up. Not that he had far to go, he learned; there was a loud cheer, and he recognised the voice that yelled out in response.

Near the top of the staircase, the stairs turned from normal stone to marble; slightly old, weathered marble to be sure, but one that still retained its beauty. Will almost slipped, crouching over the stairs to yank off his socks. Along with the sounds, he could catch some of the smells: a strong grape smell - someone up there really loved their wine, he thought - and a blast of deep, rich, pollen-heavy air. If it was faked, Will thought, it was pretty good; strong, but not overpoweringly chemical. In his bare feet, he rounded the corner to where the stairs flattened out.

As Will made his entrance, the party-goers all let out an especially loud cheer. "Hey!" a dozen figures said in unison, ones that could wave doing so before they went back to what they were doing. Will had to stand there for a moment, dumbfounded as his senses were overloaded. The sky was bright, clear, and blue above him as he stepped out of something that looked like an ancient temple. His feet landed in grass that twisted and twirled around his bare toes as his feet disappeared. The grass cushioned him from any sharp bits of the stones he was standing on. The area was ringed by a thick circle of trees, ones that seemed to radiate age. They blossomed, thick with flowers and fruit. A broad tangle of vines grew around the temple, grapes dripping off of them. Nearby, among the marble statues and smooth rocks, was a large barrel with a heavy iron spout jutting out of it like an aroused cock. Will blinked, then realised that was intentional.

That didn't come as too much of a shock. Appearing to have stepped into a mythological paradise was certainly surprising; what had robbed Will of his ability to do anything else but stand there, open-mouthed, were the people at the party, even though "people" and "party" were slightly stretching the definitions of those terms. Each of the beings in attendance were certainly male, as Will was the only one with any kind of clothing. Above the waist, they even appeared more or less human; there was a variety of skin tones, shapes and sizes, but what they all had in common was an ageless, youthful vitality and that below the waist the humanity seemed to stop abruptly. The hairy legs certainly weren't wearing pants; human legs did not bend the way theirs did, nor could they be that narrow where theirs were. They had the hooves and short tails of goats, along with the horns and dark, sharpish fingernails. All of them also had massive, throbbing erections jutting out of sheaths, with large testicles dangling between their legs to help fuel the lust of their bodies.

The satyrs all seemed to be involving themselves with the others in some way. Some seemed to be really going at it, teaming up in groups of two and three to energetically suck on, or thrust into, or jerk off their partners. Others were a little more laid back: playing some pan-pipes while another satyr's mouth was on his skin flute; others drank wine from wineskins while fondling and groping the satyr sitting next to him.

Feeling a hand on his wrist again, Will pulled his eyes back into his head as he turned to look, his mouth still hanging open. Even though he hadn't seen him clearly, he could recognise the satyr that had dragged him here through his skin and lean outline. "Welcome to the orgy! Try to relax and have a good time!"

"Thanks, but..." Will began, wanting to explain he had come here for a bachelor party - a straight bachelor party - and that he didn't have a problem with these guys having fun, but he wasn't particularly interested. He was interrupted when they were approached by another satyr, one with a wider chest, pale skin and deeply black goat fur, who proceeded to press a wineskin into Will's hands.

"Come on!" the second satyr encouraged. "You can at least have a drink!"

"A drink! Yeah!" The cry went around the group from all of the satyrs with free mouths.

"It's just wine," the first satyr insisted, as he and the second moved closer, and started making out. "Just normal wine. Nobody's going to make you do anything you don't want to do here. I just brought you here because I thought you looked like a fun guy."

With the two satyrs getting friskier with one another, Will stepped away from them as they slowly slid onto the grass around his feet. He walked through the grass, the weight of the wineskin in his hands. The group seemed fun, he thought, and as time went on they noticed that none of them ever seemed to give him more that a polite smile or a nod before they went off to top up their wine or find another satyr who was up for some fucking.

For the first time in his life, Will couldn't think of anything to say. Instead, he just wandered around, carrying the wineskin with him as he looked at the statues. They were of satyrs as well, in various sexual poses. "Why does that not surprise me?" he muttered to himself, letting a grin spread over his face. After a while of standing there by himself, he raised the wineskin to his nose, and gave it a sniff. "Whoa!" He jerked his head back. It smelled very potent, and he wondered if maybe it had been laced with something else.

"Still..." He looked down at the wineskin again, feeling the wine sloshing around in there. He wasn't a big wine drinker, but he was curious what this would taste like. He looked around, watching all the satyrs having fun. Will's forehead creased, squeezing on the wineskin gently. He felt like a square in a bunch of circles, and didn't care for that feeling at all. "I could at least give it a sip." Lifting the opening to his mouth, he tried to pour a small quantity of wine into his mouth. He failed, spilling a glass worth down his shirt. Spluttering, he squeezed the opening closed, passing it to a blond, laughing satyr that had broken off from blowing one of the flautists to come and rescue him. "Thanks," he coughed, and smiled.

"You might want to take off that shirt," the blond satyr suggested, "and sit down. The wine can pack quite a punch."

"Yeah," Will agreed. His head was spinning slightly, although he felt that was more to do with almost drowning himself in wine. Working off the buttons of his shirt, starting with the ones stained purplish-red, Will wriggled free, wiping off the wine that had gotten onto his skin as he sat down on the ground, underneath one of the lewd satyr statues. He looked down, checking himself out. He smiled: he looked good - all that time at the gym had paid off - and he felt good. He reached up, scratching at his chin bristling with new hair. His hands shifted to his ears, scratching behind them. Will stroked the light, fuzzy back of his ears, admiring the way they stuck out of the sides of his head. He glanced over at the satyrs, a thought trying to surface, but the intensity of the wine was so great he felt he was getting drunk just by smelling his shirt.

The blond satyr wandered back, the wineskin freshly filled. "Maybe you'll have better luck this time?" He grinned down at Will, bending over to catch himself with one hand as he gave the wineskin back to Will. At that angle, the satyr's large, throbbing corpse was stabbing in Will's direction. Will examined it with one half-closed eye. The satyr offered, "You can touch it if you're curious. I've been touched a lot, heh, it's not a big deal if you're curious about what it's like."

"Thank you, but no," Will grinned. He closed his eyes for a moment, trying to think of something to say as the wine seemed to warm him. "I'm not..." He paused, scratching at a nub that seemed to be bulging from his forehead. "I mean, I'm sure you're attractive and everything, I'm just..." He grimaced and squirmed.

"No problem," the satyr grinned. Bright, white teeth shone back through his lips. "You look uncomfortable, though, in those pants." Dropping his arm down, he bounced from all fours back onto his hooves, running towards a pair currently humping like wild animals, inviting himself in as he wriggled beneath the lower one. Will watched him grab the cock, guiding it into his mouth as he also stroked his own, goat legs stretched out wide beneath the others.

"I didn't say you couldn't stick around," Will grumbled, dropping the wineskin next to him. He'd really wanted to talk to the blond satyr: his head was buzzing with so many questions. He looked down at his legs, shifting around to try to dislodge something that had gotten caught under his buttocks sometime after he'd sat down. The satyr had been right: he did feel uncomfortable in his pants. Some of the wine had dribbled down there, and he was feeling kind of sticky. His buttocks felt stiff too, and he had a nasty itch on his legs. "Must be the heat," Will thought; after the rather chilly dungeon, coming out into this balmy, warm spot had left him feeling slightly sweaty.

Fidgeting with the buttons on his fly, Will popped his jeans open. He let out a moan: already he felt a lot better. It was easy to forget how confining wearing pants could be, especially when they were ones you wore only to look good. He looked over at the satyrs: they all seemed to be pretty good looking, or were at least damned confident to hang around in the nude. He could appreciate that, as he shifted from buttock to buttock as he pushed the seat of his pants away from his waist. His legs seemed to want to breathe in the air, the hairs on his legs standing straight up and wriggling, as if they were growing as he watched.

Will ran his hands over his legs, scraping his fingernails to get at the deep, stubborn itch. He looked down, wondering why he hadn't trimmed and cleaned his fingernails; they looked strangely sharp and dirty, and he felt lucky he hadn't accidentally cut his leg. Going back to push his pants off, he felt something fleshy and furry spring up behind him, something that was not just attached to him, but a part of him. Through his tail, which he stared at with his pants around his ankles, Will could feel the pressure of the marble base of the statue he had sat underneath. "Weird!" he said to nobody, lifting the wineskin up to his lips. The buzz from the wine was starting to go down, and he was starting to get a throbbing headache. Taking a sip, he stopped it back up with the cork, subconsciously rubbing the nub sticking out of the end. He sat that way for a while, his mouth hanging open; the tightness in his boxers reminded him that he'd been interrupted doing something else.

The wineskin went back down beside him, and Will shimmied and kicked his legs free of the jean. "Whew! That's a lot better!" He grinned, waving his feet about; they'd been feeling stiff before, but now it wasn't so uncomfortable. He liked how big they looked, long rather than wide. Will itched at his legs; it was strange just how much running his fingers through the growing hairs was like when he came out, running the grass underneath his toes.

Scratching felt good; really good. Will had noticed the growing bulge in his pants as he scratched himself. He looked down at the wineskin suspiciously, as if it were responsible for him becoming aroused. Sexual thoughts suddenly dislodged from the recesses in his brain by the wine as it washed through Thinking of being horny made him scratch at the short horns, two hard nubs emerging from his forehead.

Looking around, Will watched the satyrs. None of them seemed to be paying him very much attention. "If anyone asks," he told himself, "I'll tell them thank you, but I'm not interested." He had to rip through his boxers: his tail had made its own escape route out the back, and Will was too drunk to try to thread it back through. "Besides," he announced to nobody, in a voice that was, perhaps, a little too loud, "they're ruined, so I won't be able to wear them again, even if I wanted to."

Tearing his way out of his boxers while sporting a throbbing, growing erection felt excitingly manly. Will let out a triumphant squeal of excitement as the fabric finally gave way, the wineskin sloshing and rolling away as his hand smacked into it, the rough half of a pair of boxers clutched in his fingers. "Oh no! The wine!" Will snorted with laughter, grabbing at the wineskin as he dropped the remains of his boxers onto the grass around him.

Sitting there in the nude, Will took another gulp of wine. It no longer had the same kick, but that was fine. He didn't want to get too drunk: if that happened, he'd start losing control of his cock, and he didn't want that when he was feeling so incredibly relaxed and horny and just generally feeling right with everything in the universe. Grabbing his cock like a joystick, he waggled it around, intense spikes of energy running through his body.

Heading to take another gulp, Will's feet tingled as his toenails grew, the flesh of his toes linking closer together as a pair of goat hooves budded out of his feet. The two satyrs he met earlier - the olive-skinned one and the bigger one with the pale skin and black fur - wandered over and sat beside Will, panting and musky. "How are you feeling?" the olive-skinned one asked.

"Pretty relaxed," Will answered, handing the wineskin to the other two so they could share in the good vibes. "How about you?"

"We're doing fine, thank you!" They all chuckled. The two satyrs flanked him, their hands finding their way onto Will's thighs. Chocolate-brown hairs had spread over his legs, and they seemed to know all the spots where he felt so itchy.

Will reached out his arms, resting them over the satyr's shoulders. He let out a contented sigh. "You know, you satyrs are all right!"

"Glad you think so!" the black-furred one spoke. "All we want to do is hang out and relax with our friends. Talk. Play music. Get drunk. Fool around..."

Will was barely listening. His horns were pushing further out as he stared between their cocks and his own. It was strange, looking between his and theirs, how different they seemed. "So, if you don't mind me asking," he asked, "what does having one of those feel like?" He pointed his finger at the cock sticking out of the black sheath.

"You can touch it, if you want," the satyr offered. Will thought his smile was very kind, very understanding, and kind of handsome. "If you touch both at the same time, that would explain it better than I could, right?" The argument made perfect sense to Will, who reached out, sliding his hand down the thick, pink rod. The black-furred satyr shuddered. "Just be careful though. I've been using it a lot and it's very sensitive."

Gripping the satyr's cock in his hand, Will gently stroked it, then stroked his own. He marvelled at how slick it felt: it was like the foreskin had pulled completely away from the head, and the shaft. Will squeezed his own cock's tip between two fingers, shuddering as his increasingly furry hips squirmed. "Wow, that would be so cool!" he thought. His hand left his own cock, moving over to rub the satyr's sheath. That was thick, and quite warm; he stroked the area with his fingertips, the black hairs curling around his fingers. His eyes went between it and the balls straining against the black-skinned scrotum dangling between his legs. "It's weird how different your skin is."

The satyr just smiled dreamily, reaching an arm around to cup Will's head. The olive-skinned satyr's hand wrapped around Will's cock. The strokes were firm, but soft. Will didn't bother trying to stop him, or tell him he wasn't interested; it would have sounded stupid coming out of his mouth as he fondled another guy. If their junk seemed strange to him, then maybe his seemed strange to them, too. The olive-skinned satyr was very good at it, too, doing tricks that seemed to leave his shaft feeling extra-sensitive; he didn't want to stop that from happening.

"That feels really nice," the black-furred satyr told Will. "Don't feel you have to keep going if you don't want to."

Will blinked, and looked him in the face. He was overcome with just how handsome the satyr seemed. They all were, although for different reasons. They looked into each other's eyes for a moment, arms on each others shoulders, and Will felt himself leaning forward, lips opening to ask something, only suddenly he didn't want to ask anything. The black-furred satyr was leaning forward two. Their horns clacked together as they started to kiss.

When their lips touched, Will felt as though his hands were trembling too much. He let go of the satyr's cock, rubbing his hands over the firm, smooth muscles on his chest and back as they inched forward. Their tongues writhed against each other, like two lovers frantically going at it under the sheets. Still feeling hands on his own cock, Will pulled away. He'd been so lust-drunk he'd almost forgotten the other handsome satyr sitting beside him. "Sorry," he apologised, "I don't want to leave you out. You're doing a great job with my cock."

"I'll say!" the olive-skinned satyr grinned. "And I've barely gotten started! Take a look!" Will looked, shocked at how long and thick it looked. The head jabbed out from between the well-tanned skin of the satyr's hands, the familiar mushroom shape still there, but very distorted. The purplish flesh of it had brightened too, closer matching the satyr's own erections. Farther down, he could see his nuts pressing against the edges of his sack, looking as full as they had ever been.

"Wow!" Once again, Will was left dumbstruck. "That's... that's so cool..." He looked between the two satyrs, licking his lips. "Sorry, I don't want to leave either of you out of this."

The black-furred satyr leaned over, giving Will's changing cock a stroke of his own. "I've got an idea about that!" His eyes lit up. "Watch and learn!" He squirmed around, reclining on the ground with his head close to Will's crotch. The olive-skinned satyr squirmed out of the way, putting his head into the black-furred crotch, grabbing the other satyr's cock and taking it into his mouth. The black-furred satyr did the same to Will.

Will had gotten his dick sucked before, and he had enjoyed it. This time, however, it was different: the feelings were stronger, more intense, more pleasurable; especially with the extra length of powerfully sensitive flesh. The satyrs were also very talented at it; the one on his cock was at least. "Makes sense," Will thought. "A guy's gonna know what feels good when it comes to a dick." He closed his eyes, letting the pleasure waves splash up against his legs, his groin, his chest, his head.

When he opened them again, Will looked at the remaining erection in their triangle. It seemed wrong, to him, that it should go untended. The satyrs had made him feel exceptionally welcome and comfortable: the wine, the suggestions on taking off his clothes, the personal exploration. He felt like he wanted to give back. He shifted around, drawing closer to the warm groin. He reached out carefully, taking the satyr's erection in his hands. He licked his lips, opened them, letting the sticky, salty flesh slide between them as he looked at what the other satyrs were doing, and copy them.

They writhed together as the last few traces of Will's human legs disappeared. The hooves stretched and thickened. What had been his feet elongated further; what had been his ankles shrank down; his legs continued moving towards the more bestial, quadrupedal end of the slider. His balls thickened and swelled, his cock stretched out in the satyr's mouth, expanding into a similar size and shape as the one in his mouth.

More of the satyr's cock surged into Will's mouth. His hips gyrated, pushing himself deeper. It was his first time, but it felt so easy, so natural to him. It was a better buzz than the wine had given him, by a wide margin. He reached out, grabbing onto the furry hips, inviting their thrusts as the cock filled his throat for brief moments, wine-tinged saliva dripping down his cheek.

The triangle continued for a while, undisturbed. The tension in the balls and cocks grew, their bodies churning as the sensation echoed from body to body, multiplying as the surge passed between them, their energies feeding on one another. Warm legs pressed up against his head; his pressed up against someone else's. It was an intimate, yet anonymous act: Will didn't know their names, and he didn't know if they knew his. Nor did it matter; all that mattered was the ramping excitement surging through them.

The tension was overwhelming. Time seemed to fragment in his mind, and everything seemed to happen all at once. Will couldn't contain all of that raw power inside, and it exploded out of him, in a hot rush of excitement that shook his body to his core. His mouth filled with hot fluid, salty and thick and as sweet as wine. It surged in him, and out of him, lighting bolts going off in his head as they writhed below the sightless eyes of the shadow above him.

Sagging and giggling, when all three were done they slowly congregated into a warm pile. Will embraced the other satyrs, enjoying their masculine smell and their supple aliveness. He closed his eyes, enjoying the moment, listening as they talked about all sorts of lewd stuff he had to look forward to in the coming days.

Will opened his eyes, as someone tapped him on the shoulder. He looked up, the blond satyr smiling down. "Hey, want to help me make some more wine?" His eyes suggested that that wasn't the only thing that he wanted to do with will. Despite only having just ejaculated, Will's body was starting to ache for more.

Will smiled, and reached out his arm. The blond satyr pulled him onto his new hooves. The other two slid together, starting to kiss. Walking on hooves came natural, and this time he was fine when the satyr grabbed him by the wrist.