The Satyr

Chapter 2

Encounters of the mind

In bed Artur lay awake thinking about his encounter, and trying to remember what he knew about Daffydd’s family and the residents of Hilltop Farm. There wasn’t a lot. The farm was always neat and well kept, seemed to pay its way comfortably. Mr Merthyr and his wife were the current owners, and Daffydd was their youngest son. There were several other men who worked there, all relatives, who lived at the farm or that end of the village. Mr and Mrs Merthyr seldom mixed socially, but were always friendly and helpful when anyone appealed to them, and treated the residents who were not family with respect and generosity. No one in the hamlet went hungry, cold or uncared for.

The family had owned the farm for generations according to the records and the villagers, who added that the house was haunted, and there was a family curse as well. The form of haunting and the details of the curse were never discussed, but there was a suggestion that the family possessed psychic abilities, and jokingly, that they had magical abilities. Artur smiled as he recalled that, and the suggestion Daffydd had made that the swimming hole was invisible to anyone other than himself and his friend. The animals never seemed to have trouble finding it, how could it be invisible to other humans?

Thinking about Daffydd, Artur felt his cock stiffening as he realised that he knew what Daffydd’s handicap was. There was no way to disguise that strange, thick, nine inch long appendage, more like a sort of muscular ‘trunk’ than a penis, and always, apparently, solid. And the huge scrotum just made it all the more prominent. It was even more obvious if it were encased in that strange metal and rubber ‘restraint’ he now wore. His hand found the key on its thong at his neck. His mother had remarked on it at supper. It had a strange design, and was an odd metal, harder and darker than anything he’d ever seen. In fact it seemed to absorb light.

Holding the key with one hand he smiled as he stroked his erection, remembering the wonderful sensation Daffydd had invoked in his member with his mouth, and the beautiful sensation as he’d fucked him. The whispered voice startled him.

“Whenever you want me, Artur. Any time you want me … My sex is in your control … you have my key.”

“Where are you?” Artur looked around in alarm. “How’d you get in here?”

“I’m in my own bed on the farm, Artur.” The whispered voice had a hint of amusement. “When you hold my key, and your beautiful organ, and call me — I can hear you.”

“What are you? Some kind of ghost? How are you doing this?”

“I’m no ghost, my dear Artur. We are connected now that you have fucked me, and the bond will get stronger each time we are physically joined.” There was a pause as Artur digested this. “You have heard the story of a curse on my family?”

“No … wait! Yes. Yes, something about a family member who is some kind of sex deviant?” Artur paused. “Is that you?” He whispered, seeing in his memory, that very thick, very long and beautifully formed penis and the hefty scrotum below it.

“Yes, it’s me now, it was my uncle before me, and his uncle before … it runs back a long way.” There was a silence. “You saw my cock and my balls. I have given you control of them. They will remain in the restraint until you release them. Only you can, and only you can help me escape the full impact of the curse.” 

“How must I …?”

“I think you’ll work it out. I’m not allowed to tell you what I will become, or you what you must do to help me, it is forbidden for me. You have to ask me to do it. You have to want to love me, and you are the only one …” The silence grew. “Speak to my father. He will be in the village tomorrow. Please?”

Artur slept badly, his sleep troubled by strange dreams, some very erotic. Daffydd featured in all of them, sometimes heavily restrained, at others in strange looking rubber or leather suits and in some as a half human, half animal. At breakfast he told his mother he needed time to focus on some freelance work he had. Returning to his room, he dropped his jeans, and played with his organ until it slowly stiffened. Grasping the key on its thin leather string, he stroked his cock slowly and whispered to himself, “Can you hear me, Daffydd?”

“I am here, Artur.”

“I’m at home today, Daffydd. I will help you, if I can, but can your father come to my house and talk to me? I think I understand what you are asking of me, but I need to know what it means for me and my mother …”

“He will come to you, but you must be alone when he talks to you.” Daffydd’s whisper paused, then he heard, “Thank you.”

Artur stroked his erection gently, trying to imagine that he was at the pool and in Daffydd’s hands. He reached his climax, caught his cum in his hand and then, on impulse, sucked it into his mouth and swallowed it. 

“Artur, Mr Merthyr, from Hilltop Farm, is here. He says you wish to talk to him?” His mother’s voice conveyed her concern. 

“I’m coming, Mum.” Artur cleaned his hand, once more sucking his cum from his palm and savouring the taste. Pulling up his brief and fastening his jeans, he ran downstairs to find his mother talking to a tall and very handsome man. An older version of Daffydd — but without the huge bulge at his crotch.

“Artur, this is Mr Merthyr. You know him and used to meet his son?”

“Hallo, Mr Merthyr. Yes, Mum, I know Daffydd.” Shaking hands he said, “Daffydd said I could help him with something and you’d tell me how.”

“I hope so, Artur.” The man had a very melodious voice, and a calming presence. Artur noticed that his mother, normally very nervous in the presence of men, especially strangers, was relaxed and smiling. “Where can we talk privately?”

“Take Mr Merthyr to the gazebo, Artur. You can be completely private there.” To the visitor she said, “Some coffee? I’ve just made some. You can take it out with you.”

“Thank you, that will be very welcome.”

Carrying the mugs, Artur led the way through the house and into the garden behind where they settled into the bench running around the inside of the creeper bedecked gazebo.

“Daffydd has told me of your meeting, Artur, and I see he has given you the key of his being.” Smiling, the older man settled on the seat, cradling the coffee mug. “He believes you are the one who can alleviate the curse he is under, but I must warn you, it has serious implications for you as well.”

“This curse … is it the reason his, um, co … I mean … penis is so large? Is that why he locked himself into that chastity thing?”

“That’s part of it.” Mr Merthyr paused, watching a butterfly flit among the blossoms. “Daffydd is doomed to spend his life, as my brother did, as a beast, part human, part creature of the forest, alone and confined in his lair, unless he can find a human lover who is willing to offer himself to share the curse … Someone who truly loves him for who he is rather than simply for his sexual tastes.” Pausing again, he drank some coffee. “It’s an ancient curse, and it hits one son in every generation. Daffydd is this generation’s victim. We cannot completely escape the curse, and the victim can only retain his humanity if he finds someone willing to sacrifice his own being to the beast and share his life. If he cannot he will become the satyr and must then live as one. Breaking, or rather, mitigating the curse requires true love and a willingness to accept the restrictions it will bring.”

“What sort of restrictions, sir?” Artur recalled some of his dreams. “Does it mean wearing rubber or leather and being chained up?” He had a further thought. “What sort of beast is he becoming?”

“You’ve dreamed of this?” The older man nodded. “Yes, it does. And having genitals like his — and he’s not fully grown yet.” He paused, then touched Artur’s hand. “At present he is human for three weeks in four, then the satyr he is becoming dominates for a week. In another year he will spend two weeks as a satyr, and a year beyond that three. If the curse is not arrested by the fourth, he will remain a satyr and, like my brother, spend the rest of his life caged, and always restrained …”

 Artur tried to imagine this. His image of a satyr a rather fairytale one of a half man, half goat playing a pan pipe in an idealised forest or garden setting.

“What would I have to do to break this … curse?”

“You must submit yourself to him in his satyr form for one night. You must want to do it because you truly love Daffydd, not because of lust — satyrs can arouse anyone to lust. If you succumb to the lust, he will become fully a satyr, and you will be permanently enslaved to his lust.” He paused. “Daffydd is entering his satyr state at the moment. You must see him in that condition before you make any further decisions. I will fetch you on Friday night, late, and take you to see him, but you will have to be dressed protectively. I will bring what is necessary.”

“What will happen if I get this wrong? Will it affect my mother?”

“Whatever happens, Artur, your mother will be provided for in every respect. If you succeed, you will still be able to visit her and she, you. If not … visiting will be inadvisable and you will never be able to appear in public again — like Daffydd. You will be a satyr at least a few days in each cycle of the moon, but your sexual organs will prohibit any normal activity even when you are not.” 

“You say this satyr is a …” Daffydd tried to think of the right word, and couldn’t. “The satyr is Gay? Aren’t they usually ..?”

“Usually, yes. This one is … Gay … and barred from the elemental realm. To exist here he needs a host. At present Daffydd is becoming that host, replacing my brother, and we, his family, and those close to us, benefit — as will your parent.”

Artur had a lot to think about after Mr Merthyr departed. Quietly he slipped out and went to the swimming hole, then sat still deep in thought as he tried to explore his true feelings for Daffydd.