The Satyr

Chapter 8

Becoming the Satyr

Artur’s seventh Dark of the Moon saw his transformation complete. For two days before he’d felt restless and a little on edge. He recognised the signs, since he’d seen them many times now in Daffydd.

“You’re ‘becoming’, my love.” Daffydd grinned. “Prepare to be the satyr for the next few days. We’ve no choice at this time.” He laughed. “I think a couple of the guys here will need more than the usual chastity belt and rubber suits when they get an eyeful of Artur the Satyr.”

“Don’t, love …” Artur shook his head. “I’m having enough trouble keeping control as it is.” Grinning weakly, he asked, “What’s it like? I mean we usually spend a day at most in the satyr form, and change when we want to … now it’s going to be …”

“What’s it like being an ordinary man, unable to be anything else, love?” Daffyd rested his hands on Artur’s shoulders. “We’re going to be in one form — the satyr form — for four or five days, then we will revert to how we are now.” He grinned. “Just relax and let the Beast deal with it. Sure, we’ll be in the cages, but that can be fun as well …” 

“That’s just it. We’ll be caged. Is there a reason we can’t stay in our bower? The chamber you and the Beast … “

“You know what … I don’t think there is. The Beast tells me that until the problem with Rhodri Chelyn, that’s where he and his host usually lived.”

It didn’t take much persuasion. Mr Merthyr had learned, since Artur’s and Daffydd’s day at the pool, that, while the satyr in them was still fond of playing jokes and of teasing the family, he could be trusted. The only momentary awkwardness was that the ‘change’ hit Artur early. 

He’d just finished bringing the cows into the barn when he felt himself change. As always, it began at his feet, and then very quickly spread through his body. He sprouted his horns, great curled adornments to his head. His rubber suit vanished and left him naked and magnificent in the middle of the barn. The animals were silent, all focussed on him as he stood, frightened and bewildered at the speed of the change. The men around him stopped their work and stared, then Daffydd was beside him.

“This way, beloved. There is a place you can wait out of sight until we can be secured to walk back to the grotto after sunset.” 

“No,” Mr Merthyr stepped forward. “Artur, I thought this might happen.” He signalled the others. “Warn everyone to go in doors and stay there.” He smiled. “Here, on the farm, we are free from strangers and we all know who and what you both are. Since you ‘became’ we all sense a difference in the satyr, and in yourselves. Daffydd I will test this new agreement. Change to your satyr form, and walk Artur back to the grotto now. Not to your cages, to your lair. When the Dark of the Moon is past, we will talk about the future arrangements.”

Beside him, Daffyd ‘changed’, then took his hand, and kissed him.

“Let’s go, my love.” He grinned. “Most of our family have seen us in this form, and those that haven’t … Well, now they will see that we are not monsters.”

Together they walked across the open land, enjoying the breeze, the evening sun, and their freedom to be. Entering the grotto, they opened their ‘lair’, entered, and, as the door closed and sealed, embraced. They both ‘heard’ the satyr saying, ‘Thank you. We look forward now to this new existence.’

“So are we!” Their mouths locked in a passionate kiss and for a long moment they struggled for dominance. Then slowly Artur surrendered, and for the first time as a full satyr surrendered himself to the sexual demands of his lover, satyr, and partner. The entry of his penis into Artur’s anal opening completed his surrender and won the approval of their shared Beast of the Forest.

They emerged at the new moon, sexually sated, deeply in love and fully reconciled with their satyr master. Standing on the top of the mound covering the grotto, they watched the sunset and the thin crescent of the moon rising, then embraced, kissed, and walked down to where Mr Merthyr waited to greet them as they resumed their human form. 

Daffydd’s father was right, the satyr in them felt different to Artur’s first encounter with the beast. It no longer felt angry, instead being far more gentle, though still prone to mischief. One of its favourite tricks was to ‘whisper’ suggestive comments about one of the cousins, or to remind Artur that he’d enjoyed fucking, or being fucked by, Daffydd. Or bring him to a spontaneous ejaculation when he was concentrating on some task — thereby flooding the rubber suits he usually wore for working with his own cum. 

Sometimes, especially after a swim in the secret pool, Artur wondered how many youths were affected by his spontaneous ejaculations in the water. The Beast always teased him about this. 

“Why does this bother you?” The beast asked as Artur’s sperm erupted in the water. The ‘voice’ chuckled. “Those affected would thank you if they knew — and will enjoy themselves and their lovers thanks to us. Consider how much pleasure you give Daffydd, and how much you enjoy your sex with him. Neither of you would have that enjoyment had you not admitted me … and acknowledged your love for each other.”

Artur could see there was no point trying to explain to an Elemental like the satyr that his world had a different view, or that some of those ‘infected’ in this way might suffer for their orientation because they lived in communities intolerant of Gay men. The satyr sensed the mental resignation.

“You are wrong, Artur.” The satyr voice told him. “I do understand this. I am myself forced to live in your world, sharing the bodies of you and Daffyd and many others before you because my own realm does not tolerate those like me. I was banished and would have ceased to exist had I not had the fortune to encounter a man of the same taste who admitted me to his body in return for my help in providing him and his clan with a safe haven …”

“You were banished? By whom?” 

“The rulers of my realm, of course. You call us myths, legends, elementals, even gods and demi-gods. Others call some of us ‘angels’ or ‘demons’, some even call us ‘daemons’, sprites, fairies … we take many forms. There are as many sorts of us as there are animal, bird or piscatorial creatures. And, like you, we are individual. For those of us similar to humanity, there are kings, queens and councils — and I am deemed to transgress the bounds of my kind. I prefer male partners above the female and satyrs are fertility beings, our role to foster and promote it where it is needed. If a woman is infertile, we are supposed to encourage fertility, where the male is lacking, we excite him and install the desire … we are supposed to promote procreation. I did not. So I am banished.”

Curious, Artur wondered if there were others like his Possessor.

“Of course. As you were already ‘Gay’ and are not unique in that, so there are other satyrs like me. Some have been or will be banished, many hide their orientation and force themselves … I did not.” The voice was now sad. “Banishment usually means to cease completely. Without a ‘host’ body to possess, we do not survive in this world. I told you, I was fortunate, I found a body willing to share his life with me in return for my help.” Pausing, he said, “His descendants have prospered.”

“They have.” Artur hesitated. “But I think you have paid almost as heavy a price as those you compelled to host and serve you.” When there was no response, Artur said, “Not all boys and men like us are as fortunate as we. I wish there were some way to help them …”

 The change in relationship between Daffydd and Artur and the satyr that possessed them brought benefits. Imperceptibly the crops increased, the cows and sheep became healthier and more productive and the relaxation of the insistence on controlling or restraining them when it was Dark of the Moon, meant more freedom for them and less work imposed on the cousins, and other family members. 

Because they liked it, both Daffydd and Artur chose to wear rubber suits beneath their working outfits. These were tailored to accommodate their huge genitals, and Artur noticed that several others adopted similar outfits. Occasionally some serious bondage formed a part of their sexual relationship, the cages previously used to restrain and control them at night and during the Dark of the Moon, now became a playground in which one of them would submit himself, in his ‘human’ form, to the lust and pleasure of the other, who had given himself into the complete control of the Satyr Beast.

The changed relationship and the more relaxed atmosphere brought another change, a greater freedom of movement. Now, and strictly in their ‘human’ state, they could visit the hamlet by invitation, and enjoyed developing friendships among the cousins and their partners. For these they always locked themselves into chastity belts, and surrendered the keys to a ‘keeper’ on the farm. It was on one such visit that Artur got at least a part answer to his question about the impact of his regular ‘seeding’ of the pool.

“My brother, Gryffud, wrote saying a that all the men and boys in their village seem to have become Gay.” Arwen Merthyr laughed. “Have you two put something in the water?” 

“Gryffud?” Daffydd laughed. “Oh that’s priceless, so Affon Llamedos is now going Gay? I bet he loves that, he was always giving me grief when I was small. What about his son? What’s his name? Oh, yes, Cadfael.”

“Cadfael’s fifteen now, and apparently having trouble keeping his cock out of trouble. Gryff has written to Cadoc — Daffydd’s father, he explained to me — for advice.” Arwen grinned.

In his head, Artur heard the satyr chuckle and say — you know the answer, my dear servant.

“Is it happening anywhere else?” Artur asked, aware that Affon Llamedos was only some fifteen miles downstream of the source of the river that ran through it, and the Lamedos valley. The stream from their hidden pool flowed into it.

“Medoc said that the clubs in Caerffydd were enjoying a boost — a lot of young people joining, and much more tolerance of open gayness.”

Walking home Daffydd chuckled and squeezed Artur’s hand. 

“You know that our pool stream flows into the Affon, and that’s the prime source of water for Caerffydd. I know you often shoot a load swimming …” Daffydd grinned. “Wasn’t it Caerffydd that you and your Mum lived in?”

“I was hoping you wouldn’t make that connection …” Stopping, Artur turned and kissed him in the gentle moonlight. “It was, but I didn’t intend this and I didn’t know this would happen.” I laughed. “But it would be funny if …”